Book 2: Dirt Diver’s Dance
Busting In All My Dreams Ch: 23
The count’s most experienced warband was not best pleased by the news that their lord was planning on venturing into the unknown with a party of part time Adventurers… Even if it was most of Ginger Dreadnought. The defunct Adventure band still cast a long shadow locally; even if most of the world considered the tales of their exploits too improbable to believe.
“Colette… If you and the Ascots follow me into the dungeon, who will look after my wife and my home?” Liam asked reasonably, over lunch with the entire band.
“Your wife is capable of looking after herself… Oh foolish count.” Tawny grumbled from her seat beside her husband.
“Perhaps you should sit at home, knitting and preparing the nursery.”
“Beloved, please… not in front of the Ascots, you’re embarrassing me!” The count mumbled pitiably, as his wife turned the tables on him.
“We need to at least explore the entrance and secure it. Ivy is the only mage in my domain qualified for the work that isn’t too young, or too crippled for the task. Wilford and Harry are excellent; but I’ll not send my brother’s kids into danger… and Gary is not available.”
The count surveyed the table, weighing the forces arrayed against him. Tawny looked cranky, that meant he had won, but at a price… She would extract her pound of flesh later, in private.
His elite warband remained unwilling… but they didn’t get a vote. It was time to play his final ace.
“The duke is sending us a team of veterans, his warband will be here in a week. If I’m not back by then, feel free to come chasing after me.” That settled most of the overt complaints neatly.
#
Dannyl and his trio of kids rolled into town just before noon, The older Adventurer broke away from their group at the edge of town, pedaling for the palace on the hillside. “I’m gonna check in with his lordship. You guys are at liberty ‘till fourth bell.”
Maya and Frankie had a long list of things to buy at the market, freeing them up for some much needed private time, while Rio had an equally impressive list of stuff they needed from home.
He pedaled through the garden gate and found his mother in the yard, her Adventure gear, weapons and armor laid out, as she checked everything over carefully on the wide, sunny lawn.
“Ah, splendid! Where be your brothers and sister?” She sang merrily, a wide and eager smile on her face.
“I rode in with Maya and Frankie, the others are all still up on the valley side, investigating.” He answered carefully. “Are you going on a job?”
“Aye, ‘twill be a brief jaunt through the dungeon mouth, just a bit of exploration and snooping.” His mother almost sang with her eagerness. “Your poor papa is all butthurt and cranky over the matter; so he will be a handful, methinks. I leave him in the care of yourselves and Kree. Mind that he does no foolishness, my sweet Rio.”
“Mom! You know how he gets when you go Adventuring!” Rio complained weakly. Each time Shai had gone out on an Adventure job, it had been awful. Gary spent the whole time fretful, anxious and insufferably worked up, every time.
“Nae this time, lad… He seems to be taking the news better than I’d hoped…” She paused to reflect on that for a moment,then shrugged. “Perhaps ‘tis simply that he has Mariah to distract him and Ward, once more able to visit. That must be it.”
Those excuses and explanations rang hollowly in her own ears, Rio let an expression of sincere doubt roll across his dark, handsome face… and linger there. “Yeah, or maybe he has another scheme afoot… where is he? Hiding in the workshop?”
“Nae, he’s up on the plateau, in Liam’s grove. My lad is visiting with some old friends at last.”
#
Rio cranked up the road, past the temples and through the arbor gate. He broke a sweat pedaling up the steep, smooth paved road to the former necropolis above the town.
His breathing was even and deep, as he flew up the tree lined road and into the young forest that the count had been cultivating for more than a decade now.
Vines and moss covered forgotten mausoleums and gravestones, among the widely scattered mature trees. Shrubs, thickets and brambles engulfed regal crypts, grand obelisks and elegant statuary, just as thoroughly as the verdure obscured the humble stone markers of common graves.
The windy, barren plateau that once lay under the shadow of a demon’s wicked temple of undead human bones and had been a domain of empty graves was now a pleasant, overgrown ruin.
Birds and insects sang in the midday sunshine; a stream chuckled in its rocky bed, adding its merry, stoney notes to the song, before plunging off the sharp escarpment into the valley below in a short, rainbow spray of mist.
Rio paused at the broken gates, overrun with moonflower and morning glory vines to the point that only the crumbling tips of the fallen stone archway could be seen, peeking out near the top of the massive heap of flowering vines. He rode through the crumbling gateway, into a cool, fresh, thriving wilderness of new growth forest.
A few mighty trees towered high into the blue, cloudless sky; a sequoia, a hemlock and a few more giant trees that he didn’t recognize yet, reached for the distant sun. Smaller, but equally mature trees were scattered all around, spaced out with obvious care and attention, so that they would encourage undergrowth and allow wildlife to flourish.
The young man took deep, gasping breaths of the fresh, invigorating breeze, soaking in the natural essence and vigor of the druid’s grove his uncle had created here, on the ruins of tragedy and horror.
Countless generations of humans had lived, loved and died in this valley over untold centuries, but so long ago that even faintly remembered legends that still survived, were built on the hazy ruins of unknown civilizations that had gone before.
Below the plateau, dug into the very bones of the mountain range, a terrifyingly vast catacomb lay, filled with the mortal remains of uncounted people, deposited over unguessable centuries, one culture replacing the one before… and after, yet another, as the tides of time rose and fell.
Nearly a thousand years before, a nightmare had descended on the latest mortal society to take root in the steep valley. She arrived in the night, called by a forgotten cult for their own mad reasons. Of course, she had devoured the cultists first, as was traditional…
Endless miles of silent crypts and massive ossuary shrines had all been plundered by a demon of undeath and shadows, to create an abhorrent, lifeless empire to rule forever.
Every bone, scrap of flesh and wayward shade had served the creature’s wicked will, patrolling her shadow haunted kingdom of death for centuries, slaying and consuming any living mortal foolish enough to enter her realm… Mostly.
Rio smiled grimly, remembering the first demon he’d ever seen with his own eyes, when he was barely five years old. Papa and mama had defeated the filthy thing, the creature had been finally rooted out and her army returned to death’s slumber.
Papa had imprisoned it in a magical container, with help from their aunties and uncles; planning to interrogate her, before doing what was needed.
A foolish and wicked woman had succumbed to the demon’s whispered promises… and had learned firsthand how such beings treat human souls and bodies.
Poor Maddy had been awful, selfish and nasty, but when she released the imprisoned creature, she had been possessed and devoured immediately by the ravenous, amoral being. The promised wealth and power would be hers; as an undead servant, enslaved to her new mistress’ Will and slowly consumed to re-invigorate her battered spiritual essence.
Vixoreath, shadow demon of death and pain, walked out to wreak her vengeance, wearing the guise of the stupid bint who’d released her…
Rio and his siblings had battled the creature to a standstill, their barely awakened gifts contesting with the weakened entity from beyond; until papa had come home to save the day.
Rio shuddered at the memory of his father’s rage… He’d never seen, before or since, the naked, unholy thirst for vengeance, concealed behind his papa’s smiling, blandly forgettable face.
His father had seemed a demon himself that day, as he shredded the monstrous, incorporeal immortal with his bare hands.
He banished those dark memories and focused on the task at hand, finding papa in the wide, overgrown forest. Trails and paths wound throughout the enormous expanse, since open graves and forgotten crypts lurked everywhere among the verdure.
He pulled his bongos from his shadow and caressed the skins gently, bringing a soft rumble and thunder from the instrument. After a few seconds, a tall, black draped shadow rose from an open mausoleum nearby, gliding silently down a trail to the northeast.
Rio followed his deathless guide along the rim of the plateau, all the way to the far edge, where the mountains climbed higher, barren and implacable.
His papa was seated on a boulder, looking out over the valley with a small, dark haired, brown eyed woman sitting in his lap, playing a tiny panflute into the yawning void.
“Papa, auntie Willow… am I interrupting?” He asked softly, once his guide had slipped back into the shadows.
“Oh, Rio! We’re just hanging out.” Gary sighed. “Your Mom’s getting ready for an Adventure…”
“Quit sulking, boy! She’s spent enough time nursemaiding you. It’s time to get back on your feet.” The ancient dryad Willow grumbled, still holding her instrument to her perfect, pink lips. “You must remember that you live in a ‘magical world of freaking wonders’, my friend.” She did a pretty sweet Gary impression for that last bit, bringing a smile to the faces of the man and his son.
She kissed his cheek and rose from Gary’s lap to embrace Rio fondly.
“I’ll take my leave now. You boys play nice…” Willow muttered softly, as she slipped into the sade of a willow tree and vanished.
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“Thanks, Willow… sometimes I forget that.” The musician sighed through a bittersweet smile.
“I guess you and the others will be my ‘nursemaids’, while your mom’s away.”
“Shush, boy.” Kree scolded him, peeking out from his messy hair, as usual. “I haven’t needed to sting you for a while… don’t ruin a good thing!”
“Shush yourself, Sugarbee… and Mariah, stop tugging on my ear.” He said calmly. “We’ll go sugar free tonight, if you don’t behave.”
“Come on, dad, let’s go back home and pack your stuff. Mom said you’ll be staying with us for a couple weeks.”
Rio spoke gently, gripping his father’s shoulder firmly, as if he might try to flee.
“I’m not an invalid, son.” He sighed. “I’m already packed… old habits die hard. I guess we’re staying in the foothills?”
“Yeah, under that triangular peak; about three miles off the main road. It should take two hours to get there… all uphill. Are you good to ride, or should we get the cart?” Rio helped his dad to his feet and smiled.
They were as different as father and son could be; Rio stood tall and lean, always balanced and ready to move with a dancer’s grace. His dark skin and cap of tight, kinky black curls showed the contrast.
His father’s dark brown, messy hair, brown eyes and sun bronzed skin had the sheen of good health, while his body was more sturdily built than his slender son’s lithe form. Any fool could see there was no blood relation, just as even a fool could also see the love between the two, as they strolled through the garden in companionable silence.
“How’s everybody doing? Your new Contracts settling in?” Gary asked while he slowly put his bike gear on.
“Yeah, It’s pretty awesome… Though, my bond with Cernunnos’ is just a fae Contract. He’ll release me when I can finally bond with Eponna.” He sighed softly while he helped his dad armor up.
Once, papa would perform a silly dance move, take a twirl in place and re-appear fully kitted out, while his contemporaries could easily spend fifteen minutes… or even longer getting geared up properly. Thanks to his handy storage ability, Gary had put on and adjusted his armor once… and after that magical ‘fuckery’ took care of the details. Now, he had to produce one piece of his gear at a time, being careful to manage his gift.
Extracting things from his storage ability was fraught and perilous, these days. With no Contract supporting his Agility attribute, he could easily overpower his crippled gift and accidentally dump his whole manna pool. If that happened, he would wind up blacked out on the lawn, with a load in his shorts within a few seconds.
Remembering those carefree days brought a smile to both men’s faces as they worked at the mundane task. They were so different, but as close as father and son could be. Once Gary was geared up, they traded roles, the older man checking and adjusting his son’s gear with care.
Their bikes were at the gate; leaned against a forgotten jadite obelisk; just one of so many ancient grave markers. A few still bore faint traces of where some ancient text had been carved into the weathered stone.
No one was going to steal a bike from the clan of strange Adventurers whose patriarch was the local mad witch. Double certainly, no one would be stealing bikes within the haunted and forbidden grove. Count Liam owned the strange place and he allowed entry to anyone…. Anyone who dared to climb the long path from the temple ward and brave the dark rumors that still clung to the plateau. Few did.
“It’s so different now, this place…” Rio sighed as they mounted up, carrying their conversation onto their comms earrings, seamlessly.
“Uncle Liam has done something amazing up here!”
“He’s settled in and made this place his home, son. When a druid does that, magic takes root and the spirits of the land, earth, water and sky all thrive…” Gary replied as they took a leisurely downhill run on the wide, well paved road. “The haunted grove near Wheatford is the same… steeped in the magic of nature and quietly powerful in some really subtle ways… as a forest should be, in this world.”
“The haunted grove is Liam’s too, dad… Even though you own the land, it’s his in all the ways that really matter.” Rio didn’t ask, he just let it hang there as they rode for a while.
“That’s true… I never could slip anything by you kids.” He complained gently. “I’ve never felt like I belong anyplace, at least not in that way, so it’s never happened for me. I left traces of my presence all the time, back when we were Adventuring. “
“I remember… Every place we set up the house was changed after we left. The soil was dark, fertile and deep, the water ran pure and magic welled up from the earth…” Rio sighed softly.
“Yeah… an acre here, an acre there, I guess I did my part in a small way. The effect fades from the land, if we don’t revisit it often, like our place by the clay pit in Wheatford and Kai’s island.” The musician sighed wistfully.
“I miss that old turtle. We should go visit her, once all this mess is cleared up with the pantheon. It’s all too complicated right now. I can’t escape the feeling that I’m forgetting something super important.”
“We’ll figure it out… Together, pops. Let’s go find Frank and Maya. We have a bit of a ride back home.”
#
Count Liam rode with Shai, Tallum, Dannyl and Ivy, all mounted on bikes and without baggage or a supply wagon, rolling up his wide, carefully maintained roads into Adventure. Their presence reminded him of the old days, their single year of wild and hectic chaos, ending with chaos and upheaval in the heavens and the mortal world.
A few companions were missing and the absence was jarring; so too was the silence in which they rode. Shai refused to use her gifts or put her magical sash of bells and chimes into play while there was a chance her husband might become ensnared in the music and magic.
A mile beyond the last house in town, Shai cut loose at last. She released her home from its temporary, magical existence by the lake. The sensation of her inn and workshop fading from reality was familiar… Though, this time Shai felt a potent sense of energies being restrained and compressed, as the structure faded away into moonlight, sunlight, shadow and magic.
The feeling was energizing and invigorating, just a little, so she shrugged and let her own gifts loose a little; her sash of metal links, bronze chimes and silver bells began to sing out and jingle musically.
Controlled by her subconscious Will and subtle gifts, the bells and chimes played the melody and rhythm of a song from her husband’s repertoire of music from another world. Old familiar sensations carried the Adventurers away, lending them tireless energy and buoying their spirits.
When Shai spun her husband’s long dormant gifts out among her close friends and kin, that old sense of possibility danced over their souls, whispering into their hearts:
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Perch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs…
LIam smiled and joined in the familiar ritual, when Tallum’s low, rumbling voice took up the song. The big man scatted nonsense words as he pedaled, laying down a wordless, acapella bass line.
Soon, Ivy and Dannyl began to sing in harmony, following Liam’s own voice. ‘Three Little Birds’ called the local songbirds into the tune, lifting their melody into the sky in response to the gentle magic hidden in the music.
After a few extra choruses just to enjoy Bob Marley’s melody for a little longer.
They didn’t really understand ‘Reggae’, ‘Classic Rock’ or ‘JukeBox Poetry’ but the music stored in the mad fool was too good to deny, even if the lyrics rarely made any sense at all…
‘Ventura Highway’ led into ‘Werewolves of London’, one of Liam’s favorites… he loved the howling parts…
Strange songs poured out onto the quiet woods, as they pedaled away, up into the foothills.
Head out on the highway…
Lookin' for Adventure
And whatever comes our way…
#
Frankie and Maya were in the market ward, shopping and wandering around on foot, enjoying the afternoon and a quiet date, without any weirdness or magical nonsense at all. It felt nice to just be normal people, shopping together for the afternoon. As fourth bell began singing out in the warm pine scented air, the two young Adventurers started heading for the craft ward, to meet back up with Rio.
Their brightly lacquered wooden and bronze bikes were parked at the count’s civic forge, racked beside the mundane steel versions available for sale or rent from the two huge ginger blacksmith twins that ran the place.
A few locals had embraced the two wheeled lifestyle in the last few years but it was slow going. Horses and wagons still provided most transportation and the locals were deeply suspicious of new things, even if the count himself rode on of the things, when he wasn’t mounted on his snapdragon familiar.
A few apprentice smiths were riding around the forecourt and street, practicing with the devices and amusing onlookers with their faltering antics when the young couple arrived.
#
A pair of journeyman carpenters were eyeballing Maya and Frank’s bikes in the smithy courtyard, drawn by the wooden laminate frames that supported the shining bronze and steel metalworks of the absurdly complex ‘drive train’. The craftsmen were peering at the frames, measuring parts, taking notes and whispering among themselves in hushed tones.
“...It looks like cypress, I can’t tell under all this lacquer…” The tallest of them was muttering, when Rio and Gary parked their own bikes on the wood and steel rack outside the forge.
“It’s a six layer, cross grained laminate, of yew, ash and plum wood. All of the lumber is dryad haunted and wrapped in monster spider silk fiberglass.” Gary sang at the startled crafters, when they all jumped up and started looking shifty and embarrassed.
“These aren’t secret, just don’t try and mess with any of my bikes. They can be dangerous, if mishandled.” He smiled at the young carpenters, which did little to reassure them.
“I’ll give you the specs and a material list; but steel is a better choice, you don’t have an enchanter with the skills required.”
Rather than sticking around for the promised specs, the men scampered for the carpenter’s ward; they didn’t run… but they didn’t dawdle either.
“They’ll come around, pops.” Rio mumbled awkwardly. “Word has gotten around that you’ve declared blood feud with Healer… They all think you’re deranged.”
“Oh? Is that all? That’s fine then!” Gary’s mood brightened visibly, as he headed into the forge to visit his wife’s cousins. A merry tune whistling tune rose, as they strolled across the smithy yard, in time with the steady, water mill powered trip hammers and bellows.
“Dad… are you ok?” Rio asked gently. “Should you be whistling?”
“Hmm? I’m not whistling, son. You know I can’t… not without getting super sick.” Both men paused, searching for the source of the tune for a few long seconds. It seemed a little distant and soft, but distinct and very sweetly performed.
“It’s your shadow, dad.” Rio whispered in the noisy smithy yard. “Look down… Slowly, don’t spook him.”
Gary took a side-eyed glance at his shadow; uncertain what to expect. For years it had simply been a shadow, like anyones’… just a regular, run of the mill, everyday thing.
The pool of darkness spreading from his feet was perfectly ordinary, if the person casting the shadow were a child of ten or twelve; rather than a large, muscular man.
The shadow child wore a flat topped, wide brimmed hat and loosely flowing garments of some kind; they fluttered in a breeze that didn’t touch the two men standing alone on the flagstones.
While they stood watching carefully, the shadow swayed and twirled in place; as if the being were dancing, while playing a flute that cast no shadow.
Only the entity’s flickering hands obstructed the bright sunshine, as he or she played a sprightly rendition of ‘Merrily Kissed the Quaker’, on an instrument that wasn’t ‘real’... whatever that meant in this circumstance.
Yet, the music still could be heard; slightly less distant now, as the tune reached its finale in a high flying skirl of gracenotes and ornaments. The performance seemed as if the creature were showing off, displaying their skills for an admiring audience. As the last few notes faded, the shade bowed gracefully and slowly faded into a normal, mundane shadow.
“Ok, that was weird.” Frankie mumbled from behind the two men. He and Maya were at the smithy’s yard entrance; standing a few yards away, watching the thing happen.
“That used to happen all the time…” Rio muttered to the younger lad, with a wide, ecstatic smile on his face. “Like, all the time.”
“Hi kids!” Gary chirped when he turned around to greet them, smiling in a way that was just a little wild eyed and crazy… just a little. “There you are! Let’s head back and link up with the others. We’ve gotten a little scattered around… It feels like we might be forgetting someone. Where’s your uncle Rolf?”
“Lord Rolf is escorting duke Mubarak’s party back to Wheatford, they will sail from there on the duke’s yacht.” Sir Francis Pangbourned complained from the gateway.
“I will be lodging in the count’s palace, while I continue to study this matter. If anyone was interested in where I might be…”
“Don’t be like that, Frank… Wait, weren’t you trying to act all high and mighty the other day? Demanding answers and intruding on my work during an important ritual… Oh, shit…!” Gary paled for a moment, seeming startled and upset by some remembered detail.
“Gang, we packed up the house… with Dana, the goddess of Healing still in the basement.”
“You… what!?” Frank asked, suddenly equally alarmed.
“Look, my life is really complicated…” The mad witch complained. “I can’t remember every little thing, all the time.”
“What do you think will happen?” Rio asked gently.
“Uh, I dunno, last time a foreign spiritual being got into my non dimensional storage gift, I got possessed for a little while.” He paused and closed his eyes for a long moment, checking out his internal… whatever he was. “Nah, I’m good, she’s not in my mind. That other time it was a disembodied human soul. I think she’s just gonna be stuck in my Pockets, for a little while.”
#
At first, disorientation buffeted holy Dana, goddess of Healing; that was followed by the strange sensation she’d been wrestling with for some time, beginning to expand throughout her essence.
Pain… That new sensation bloomed and spread through her, bringing several new variations on the theme of discomfort that she had not previously experienced.
Nausea and desperate hunger were new to the party and deeply unwelcome.
Her guts were roiling and churning abominably, ravaged by an endless and eternal hunger. That was all new as well, since the divine being did not hunger and had no digestive tract to upset. Likewise, her whole body felt heavy, weak, wracked with pain and sluggish; a body she did not possess.
She heard Marduk’s awful pet speaking, heard it so loudly it was almost as if she were speaking… Her eyes cleared, revealing a wide, stone paved courtyard; filled with the deafening clash of metal hitting metal and the sound of human voices.
“Oh… fuck me…” Dana mumbled, while the filthy creature mounted some strange construct of mortal craft and began riding it up a wide, well paved road with three young mortals pedaling along beside him.
Dana felt her legs, lungs and backside, wracked with aches and shuddering weakness… His legs, lungs and backside. With slowly dawning horror, Dana realized that she was a helpless passenger in the disgusting, mortal body of the oblivious witch. An unwilling and very unhappy passenger with a front row seat for the whole parade.
She screamed in the silence of her own essence, as the horrible wretch pedaled off into the foothills, blithely unaware of the goddess he was taking along for the ride.
#