Book 2: Dirt Diver’s Dance
Don’t Stop Believin' Ch: 47
Shai sat cross legged on Audrey, who was currently a moving carpet of vines, leaves and flowers, crawling up the mountainside in the dark.
The giantess loomed over Gary touching him here and there, in the midst of a chaotic nightmare that had taken over their pleasant afternoon on the beach.
The musician was flat on his back, stained with his own filth, staring at the sky and chanting his bizarre lyrics in a voice that echoed and boomed from their enchanted instruments.
Which one of these words don't you understand?
I'm caught in a mosh!
Talking to you is like clapping with one hand!
What is it?
Caught in a mosh!
Made by his own hands in better days, when his strength and abilities were at their zenith; they answered his call, even in his current state. The old enchantments and bits of his essence strung through those intricate spells and inscriptions responded to his Will, carrying his strange Entrainment gift out into the stormy night.
Beyond thought or reason, Gary’s wildly unpredictable powers and abilities mingled with his deeply damaged mind and soul creating a realm of madness, chaos and whimsey.
Invisible threads of his essence and soul drifted over the island, entangling any creature that had ears to hear. The undirected witchery dragged the entire island; friends, foes, beasts and simple creatures, into his mindless working of Will and magic. The dead heard his call, urging them to join ranks, form up and follow orders, concepts and urges inscribed in their very bones.
The living in his family felt the touch of his spells, buoying their spirits and strumming heartstrings with encouraging chords that were felt, not heard.
The insensate throng that the island teemed with, the crawling, blood sucking and dark haunting jungle denizens also felt the call, rising to feast on the detritus of several hundred human corpses, scattered far and wide…
And he might have whispered to the skeeters, hints about a few living humans lurking nearby, without the benefits of his potent vermin wards.
‘That’s going to be good.’ He thought to himself, as he feverishly tried to get as much as he could packed into the tense, thrumming net of magic he’d cast over most of the small island.
#
In the lightning, darkness and rain, Shai ran her hands over his body, feeling about blindly between flashes of lightning, seeking any hidden injuries from the battle.
There were none, she knew that, since she’d removed his befouled clothes and armor herself, stashing them in her dimensional storage gift as they carried him away. But it felt better to be doing something, rather than just staring at his Mana and Stamina pools, sitting at rock bottom and his health pool, bubbling in a sickly and disturbing way, with a bit less than a quarter remaining.
He’d stopped draining his life away, when his accursed guitar fell silent; his hands unable to carry on, but still locked around the damn thing. She dragged herself out of her ruminations before she could think about it as a ‘deathgrip’ and upset herself further.
‘That would be unhelpful’ Shai thought, eying the faint marker lights of the remaining slave galley, still blockading the lagoon and the sprawling undead melee she felt, but couldn’t see, raging on in the dark.
Her husband remained insensate, but still kept driving his music into the horde of undead brawling on the invisible plain below. She could feel them through her connection to his gifts, his music and his soul… what remained of it.
“Do… Do you hear music?” Lindsey asked above the noise and rain. The poor girl was leaning on her young familiar, Flash the warhorse yearling and looked barely awake.
“I mean, more music. From there.” She pointed off to a distant point in the sky, to the east, where Port city lay.
“Flash hears it, so do I.” She stumbled, nearly falling to the volcanic stone of the trail as she gasped for breath.
“Shush girl, lie still.” Shai whispered in her ear, as the exhausted and careworn giantess gently caught the slim maiden and laid her on the plant monster’s ‘back’ beside her husband, carefully tucking several vines around the unconscious girl to keep her aboard the moving plant creature. “I beg ye tae carry one more, Audrey.” The red haired warrior woman sighed, as she leapt to the trail and started marching along, beside her son’s new favorite horsie.
“We’ll watch over them together, Flash.” She cooed gently in the familiar’s ear.
While Shai was occupied, something that wasn’t lightning illuminated the sky with a terrible roar of madness and rage. Behind that bestial cry of challenge a smaller, higher voice seemed to chant and gibber something into the wind and noise.
“Gods above and below…” Liam whispered, looking back from his position at the tail of the column marching its way loudly up the volcano’s side.
#
Amy sagged onto a stone beside the trail up the mountain, gasping and nearly spent. Rio and Wilf each caught her under a shoulder and helped her to keep moving up the volcanic cone, headed for the cave at the top and safety…
Papa’s music had stopped, but Shai and the Dreadnoughts were still playing, keeping the magic going as they marched. Shai had passed Gary’s faltering spell to Becky, who spun the strange magic through her harp and passed it back into the swirling and complex tapestry hidden in the music.
Amy could taste the familiar spells and the unique flavor of her papa’s broken mind mixed in, but fading as he drifted farther from the living world.
The familiar sound of a shamisen came to her sensitive ears over the rain and thunder, a shamisen playing along and rocking hard, louder than any normal instrument could be…
Her eyes scanned the group, borrowing Shiro’s night vision for herself, and then dipping into his senses at the head of the column… None of them were missing, or holding a shamisen.
None of them were in the sky to the east, riding something with bat wings, a long, serpentine neck and a tail that sliced the sky behind, bearing four wicked blades of bone at the tip.
“Oh, shit! Dragon!” Amy called, her well trained voice cutting the storm and music without the aid of the comms system. The group scrambled even faster at her cry, hustling up the narrow trail, following the moving patch of foliage that was carrying the wreckage of their father up the slope.
As if aware it had been spotted, the great beast belched a plume of bright blue and spectral flame into the sky, lighting up the battlefield and mosh pit. Under an eldritch glow that lingered, cast from a massive, slowly growing ball of flame and lightning, the undead danced on. They hurled themselves together, colliding and bashing against each other endlessly in a tight group.
The enormous golem of meat and blood stomped the skellies flat frequently, or plowed them under its moving bulk, heedless of the smaller forms.
The spartoi still leapt and capered, knocking themselves to pieces and reassembling themselves without a care; locked into the compulsion hidden behind the music.
The hideous dragon dove down, revealed in its lambent fireball’s glow, drawing fresh gasps of horror from the exhausted family on the mountainside. The beast’s rotten, tattered leather wings were riddled with holes and should never have allowed the skeletal monster to fly, but then, there were no muscles to pump those wings either…
“Undead dragon…” Rio remarked, with a fatalistic note in his voice. “What do we have for a flying behemoth like that?”
The clouds parted, as the horror on wings wheeled, vomiting another streamer of fire across the sky, burning away the drenching storm overhead with supernatural energies and dragonfire.
The stars and sky spread out, as the storm collapsed; revealing the two moons, in all their beauty and splendor, illuminating the awful scene more fully.
“Look closer. It has a rider, maybe… if we took the rider out?” Wilf grumbled, glaring at the thing, as it banked lazily above the island, seeming focused on the deadman’s party on the plain. “Kree?” He suggested weakly.
“Dad’s half dead, bro. No chance.” Amy declared confidently. “We’re almost out of here, we don’t need long… What if we keep them busy for a while…” She gave them a grim smile. “Then, when they dive on us, we give them a sound and light show? They might crash if we hit it hard enough.”
“Denied.” Sir Kermal said firmly, stepping from the darkness with a glare on his face for the plotting teens. He joined their march and scowled at each in turn.
“Sasha and I will delay that thing as best we can, you and the rest will evacuate when you reach the void maw, no questions. No debate. Orders from your mother… and Gary.”
Only the crunch of boots on wet volcanic rock and gasping breaths accompanied the music for a few steps, until the beast roared again.
They looked back, as the monster dove, slashing through the broken storm, strafing the mosh pit with eldritch fire. A name drifted up from the flaming nightmare scene, shouted triumphantly for all to hear.
Wilf grunted with pleasure, smiling at the burning skeletons and the flash roasted golem, slowly toppling over in a meaty, smoldering heap.
“Does anybody know this Leroy Jenkins person?”
#
“King papa?” Daisybelle asked softly, through tears, warg fur and snot. “Was that king papa’s voice?”
‘Yes.’ Peony answered her rider, as they plodded up the wet stone trail near the back of the group.
‘He rides the wind on the Chariot.’ She growled; already deeply upset, ready to bite anything even vaguely unfriendly and displeased by the arrival of something so… unnatural. ‘His mount is deeply unclean.’
Jasmine grumbled too, but the dwarf clinging to her harness was listening… This was pack business, not for outsiders, even beloved ones.
“Shush… We ride at king papa’s command. What he rides is his concern.” The little goblin sobbed, as she scolded them gently. Daisybelle raised her voice to hail the weirdos all around, before anyone did anything stupid. “Hey hey!” She yelled. “That sky lizard is family! Stop running!”
It took a few more tries to get the Adventurers to believe her… It would have been a pretty tough sell by daylight, in an alpine meadow, so she just kept working on them ‘til she got through. Getting the frazzled and battered team to buy into her story after an undead raid was a big ask.
“That’s my uncle, the Necromancer, who’s really a giant skeletal dragon…” She explained again, pointing to the slowly circling nightmare. “I hear king papa riding on his back, rockin’ hard…”
She delivered a weak and tear streaked smile, her head sticking up from the warm, concealing ruff of her mount. “Daisybelle is a disco girl, though.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Strung out on the mountainside trail, under the wings of a circling undead dragon that was allegedly, ‘uncle Necro’, the team nervously tried to plot a next move, any kind of next move.
Wilf, Harry and Liam stood over the moving bed of vines, silently evaluating Gary’s raggedly breathing wreckage, still clutching his guitar in bloody fingers and sprawled on the mat of vines and leaves Audrey was using to carry him up the mountain. Lindsey was laying beside him, pale and unconscious along with Shai, who was just too tired to walk without falling.
“How about, we leave Gary, Shai, and the other injured here; the rest of us go down the mountain and talk to this dragon of Daisybelle’s…” Harry suggested.
“Between us we can fix the houses and do some cleanup… Any remaining zombies or necromancers can go ahead and fucking try it.”
“That’s most of a good idea.” Wilf rumbled, tireless and imperturbable as ever. “We can’t move pops through the maw like this…” He glanced down on the ragged man, concern obvious on his face.
Streaks of blood and bile stained his bare chest, where the rain hadn’t rinsed it away leaving a sticky, nasty film on his body. His pants were best not examined or discussed, there was a lot going on there and Audrey the Rendroot Bush didn’t mind a little extra ‘organic matter’ in her life.
“Yeah, he’s a mess. Let’s get him into the pool right away.” Liam agreed, turning his eyes down the mountain, seeking some hint of sanity in the wild and tempestuous night.
“Once we have control of the battlefield, I want walls and a constant watch. As for the light cult remnants on the island… They are going to have plenty to worry about and we won’t be surprised again.”
He nodded at his snapdragon familiar, who quickly budded a bright red and yellow bloom from her myriad vines and branchings. The blossom swelled and elongated, swiftly becoming the familiar floral maw Audrey used for most things, which usually meant eating any ‘not people’ creature that was unfortunate enough to stumble into her range.
The flower gaped open, as the vines conveyed the wounded musician into the hungry creature’s mouth. She gulped him down and munched him about for a few long, sloshy seconds, until she spat his guitar out onto the mat of vines, glistening wetly, but smelling much better…
After a few seconds more of the sassy snapdragon noisily masticating the musician, Audrey delicately vomited a ‘cleaned’ Gary back out onto the mat beside Shai and Lindsey. He was, if not thoroughly cleaned, at least no longer a horrid mess of filth.
When the careful and gentle vines landed Gary beside his unconscious wife again, she simply rolled over and hugged onto him, on instinct. Shai’s toes did keep tapping in time to the silent bars her husband was constantly muttering to the moons, so high above.
Lindsey, who was beyond exhausted and clutching a broken arm, reached out with her undamaged limb to gently grab the count’s cloak of magical falling leaves, tugging weakly and silently asking for an update with her big gray, tear filled eyes.
“Shai just exhausted herself beyond human endurance, trying to keep her husband alive; while he desperately tried to tear himself to pieces.” Liam said, loudly enough to reach his unconscious brother’s ears as well.
“She’s completely wrecked, leaving her body and mind drained, but not dangerously so.”
He soothed his cripled friend and comrade, unsure how much was getting through to Gary, while he updated Lindsey.
“And Gary? Is he…?” She whispered up at the count.
The musician was sprawled there bonelessly, staring at the sky through half lidded eyes, his lips still calling the dance silently in his dreams.
“The gods alone know. He always hurls himself at things that any sane being would flee, blithely pays costs at which even the mad would balk and dances on the edge of destroying himself…” The outrageously handsome young count smiled and shrugged. “He’s an utter fool, but I love him anyway.”
#
Tallum and Ivy elected to stay and watch over the incapacitated trio, with the wargs; while the rest went back down the slope… To talk to Daisybelle’s ‘uncle Necromancer, the dragon’.
#
“I missed this…” Dannyl cheered, as they trooped down the rugged trail. “I haven’t had this much fun in years!”
“What was that you shouted, before you did your mad cartwheel through a swarm of zombies?” Liam asked conversationally, like they weren’t doing anything noteworthy at the moment.
“I picked it up in Gary’s brain a long time ago… It kinda means, ‘may the emperor live a thousand years’ in one of his weird foreign languages…” Dannyl grinned madly and chuckled a hearty laugh at the moons.
“So no one but Gary and his kids could ever understand what you shouted…” The count murmured, a lingering question in his voice.
Dannyl grinned, mad and crooked. “It sounds cool, though… Right? I wanted to give those skeletons plenty to think about.”
“Another bloody, mad chunni…” Liam sighed, as his boots kept crunching and splashing along, headed toward where the colossal, flaming death-lizard was coming in for a landing, on the blasted and reeking plain below.
#
Watching a carpet of creeping vines convey what was left of Gary up the mountain like that was damn creepy, but super easy on the debilitated man, he just floated along, a few inches above the rugged trail.
Count Liam did that on the march sometimes, when he wanted to be an asshole, Ivy reflected, while watching the scene through her familiar’s eyes.
He wasn’t unhappy about being down on the plain with the others. Poor Otho had hung around with Gary enough that a skeletal dragon wasn’t going to chase him away from his territory… He’d peed on all that stuff first!
Ivy kept up a soft spoken play by play, for the benefit of Tallum, the wargs and the three friends sacked out under suddenly clear skies.
#
Gandree Clansward, Daisybelle and Ghnash, the goblin king were all lined up, standing beside a tall, heavily cloaked and shrouded man, who was slowly and carefully addressing the gathered Adventurers.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t mention anything about a man who can become a dragon… or vice versa, We like to keep our little secrets when we can.”
“Yes…” Liam nodded soberly, still in his scuffed and muddy leonine armor, his cloak of falling silver leaves drifting carelessly behind him on an eldritch breeze.
‘The cape’s super useful… not just awesome.’ He tried to convince himself, as he faced the odd and oddly familiar alien beings. “That’s more than reasonable, sir…?”
“I’m Gary Ward, but my brothers call me the Necromancer… A persona I‘ve embraced for the time being…” The tall man in the heavy cowl and cloak said gently.
“In truth, I’m the Chariot, the swift flying agent of change, bearer of chaos and traveler of the realms… For now, please call me Necro. There are way too many Gary Wards around.”
The man waved his large unnaturally pale hand, gesturing to the little green man, who was busily scanning the battlefield with bright, eager eyes.
His voice was smooth and low, calming as he spoke, unlike the grinning and capering goblin king’s.
“So many bones! Oh, this stink is good! Good good witchcraft! Good to confound stupid blood-magic necromancy!” He gasped, his long green ears twitching and rotating as if he could still hear the music, echoing in the jungle.
“Beast magic, music magic…” The goblin chittered, as he squatted down to stab his long green fingers into the muddy soil, all the way to the knuckles. He ripped a clump of the bloody, stinking, scorched turf up and sniffed it like a gourmand, exploring every subtlety and nuance of the fistful of dirt and grass.
He gently rubbed the wet earth and vegetation in his fingers, letting it crumble and fall away slowly. In a few short seconds, he had a small ball of wiggling worms, nematodes and grubs in his surprisingly large, long fingered hands.
He eyed the ball of crawling and squirming things for a moment, as they twined and entangled on his fingers.
None of the tiny creatures fell away or escaped, instead they climbed and crawled back together, whenever one little crawly dislodged another creepy, in their endless, squirming dance.
“The magic continues, touching all that live and breathe in this place…” He murmured happily over his strangely obedient vermin, then he popped them into his mouth with a delighted smack of his lips and quick chew.
“The spell is subtle, sneaky and very clever. Low magic too… very sneaky.” He mumbled around his squishy mouthful.
“Yes, Ghnash, I’m sure… but we are introducing ourselves to your daughter’s friends. We can explore this effect later, brother.” The Necromancer said gently, slowly easing the exuberant little green man back into the conversation.
“I’m sure we’ll quickly reveal its secrets, together.”
“Bahh!” Ghnash grumbled a little sourly, eyeing the gathered humans. They were battered, muddy, soggy and looked awful, leaning on spears or sagging against each other under the warm, golden moonlight.
“I’m Ghnash… King of all goblins and lord of the goblin dungeon.” He spoke quickly, biting off each word and darting his eyes all around the group. He seemed feral and unpredictable, yet he addressed them with an aura of confident authority.
He chittered his teeth at them and leered at Dannyl and Liam, who towered over the little man, despite both men frequently struggling with that mighty foe: the high shelf.
“Who is casting this spell? Where are your witches?” He demanded, peering at the small group that had actually approached the pair.
“None of you, though you smell of that one’s coven…” He took a long, slow sniff and grumbled. “Familiar!”
“Forgive my brother…” The Necromancer sighed, as he enfolded the over excited goblin in his cloak, somehow containing the exuberant creature in the voluminous folds.
“He’s going through some things… He gets a little primal, a little too goblin’s goblin, if you understand me.”
Daisybelle chittered her teeth at the Necromancer, incensed by his comment. The act seemed to be a combination of laughter, flirting and a challenge to a blood duel.
“King papa smells like fresh smashed goblin girl… He musta stuffed one of them babyful.” She took a long sniff and grinned, her sharp white teeth snapping at the moons, as she and her two wargs let out a soft, yipping chorus of melancholy joy.
“My pack lost one… and gains one.” She sighed, when her howl faded away.
Ghnash’s green, muscular arms shot out of the Necromancer’s cloak, where he remained imprisoned. He unerringly snatched up the little gobbo and dragged her in with him, while the tall, dark form smiled benignly from within his dark hood.
“Goblin’s gonna gob.” He sighed, while the two odd creatures consoled each other inside his cloak.
“I would like to meet the architect of this remarkable warding and… I guess there was a structure here before the zombie attack?” The dark figure spoke with self assurance and confidence that grated against Liam’s expectations…
“We also like to ‘keep our little secrets where we can’ master… Necromancer.” The compact warrior count grimaced behind his mask, as he spoke the name… or title, whatever.
It felt super odd to talk to a self confessed necromancer without first putting some steel in him… “Several members of our party are currently acting under my orders in their own capacity… Please leave them to their work.”
“I see…” The man said, shifting about nervously as the moons rose higher in the sky. The moonlight strengthened, no longer obscured by the dissipating storm; with the light the fellow’s confidence and aura of mysterious power began to dissipate.
“Unfortunately, my time here has run its course.” He leaned forward, speaking into his billowing garment full of goblins “Ghnash, Daisybelle… I must depart, the charm you made me has begun to fail.”
The little man clambered out of his large companion’s cloak and smiled, his softly weeping daughter clutched in a princess carry, her face pressed into the collar of his simple brown robes.
“Sorry, I got all alpha gobbo. Riding a dragon into battle playing sweet thrash metal is kinda…” He shook his head, long ears waving ridiculously and continuing to sway for a little while afterwards.
“My big brother is having trouble acclimating to the local environment, he needs to boogie. Pardon his rapid departure, please, it must be pretty uncomfortable for him right now.”
The dark cloaked man was already gone, he vanished in a soft rustle of leather wings and a scent of warm earth, exotic resins and spices from distant lands.
#
Becky dried to stifle a smile and giggle at the silly little man and failed pretty hard. The black cloaked Gary stood as tall as her Gary did, towering over the gathered Adventurers. He seemed deeply alien, so calm and assured, not at all the way real Gary was… This being was, in many ways completely unlike him, despite speaking in his voice and sharing his mannerisms. The more she conversed with the creature, the less of her brother she saw in him.
Ghnash, however… was more of the Gary she knew, packed into a tiny green dynamo and cut loose from the trappings of ‘civilization’ as most people thought of it. He could switch moods even more swiftly, was just as quick to ignore minor slights and seemed far more bold and inquisitive.
“I smell that same witchcraft, picking up the loose threads, weaving the magic into a new form…” The little man hooted, seeming more feral again, suddenly. He sniffed and snuffled, searching for the source with his ears twitching to and fro and eyes scanning everything eagerly as well.
He peered about, taking little hops and giddy capers when he caught the soft strains of music and song, from over by the lagoon where the mess was thickest.
“I’ve found your witches, let’s go lookie see!” He hooted, until Daisybelle snatched his ear in an iron hard grip that the Dreadnoughts present recognized well.
The goblin lass had mastered Shai’s formidable art and was merrily engaged in active treason and reg-ear-icide, twisting the long, sensitive lobe viciously.
“Captain Liamz said no no to meeting the others, until they are ready…! Papa Ghnash is a lot to take, after what they’ve been through.” She gave the royal lobe another crank, drawing a yelp from the king. “We shed blood together today, papa. Respect that.”
“Bahh, these longshanks seem… familiar? Somehow? Maker mez brane hurt.” He grumbled and mumbled, becoming more goblin and less man for a moment.
“Gahh! Nub gruk…”
She dragged the king off by his ear, still kicking and thrashing, headed for the baths.
“Come soak with me… This bath is like yours, but no smell of goblin nookie.”
“Mmm…” He grumbled as they walked away. “Tell me of Nightshade; I’ll tell you who I stuffed royally babyful… You get six guesses first.”
“Weirdos…” Liam muttered, as the pair wandered off across the wasteland,headed for the baths. Their voices were quickly lost, strolling through the rising eldritch mist of the Ragamuffins’ music and the Clown-Shoes’ ritual to repair and rebuild the inn and compound.
#
In the form of a skeletal wyvern four feet long, the Necromancer flitted through the void, taking the entrance at the peak of the volcano, by simply flying up and through.
On the other side, he wheeled and gained some altitude, savoring the stink of Light cult activity. The storm continued unabated over the dark valley, less violent in the high mountains, but far colder.
Even the frigid depths or outer limits held no fear for a being who had transcended mortality long ago and surrendered the weaknesses of the flesh in the process.
The cold, wind and rain were meaningless… but the slow, burning ache of exposure to the awful, inimical glare of those two moons crisped the edges of his shadow.
The warm, golden green glow was invisible to mortal eyes, lost in the thick clouds and rain. The empty sockets of the lich saw all, in stark detail. To him, the world was bathed in light, a glow that was steadily burning away at his very essence.
He felt it still, the lingering protection of the goblin king’s fetish, it was glowing softly in the moonlight as well… and quickly crumbling away in his claw.
Burning black pinpoints of undead flame scanned the mountain passes, searching for the stench that was whirling on the breeze; necromancers, two of them. They had escaped to this world, one so unwelcoming to his essence that he couldn’t bear to linger any more.
He belched a huge gout of ethereal blue dragonfire into the sky, venting his fury a little, before he dashed back down to the void maw, resuming his more compact form as he swooped into the cave mouth. He winged through the opening and turned off the path, into the byways of the ether, where immortals alone can linger.
Flying for home, he thought about his lovely little crypt in the ancient necropolis above that peaceful little town… and the woman he’d found in that little community.
She was the baroness of the land, and the love of this lifetime… When she passed, he might not find human comfort and acceptance for generations after…
The Necromancer shook off those thoughts. To her he was the Lich Lord, a fearsome wizard with an unearned bad reputation and a desire for a peaceful, simple life among the haunts… That was the man he would have been for her entire life, pretending to age alongside her until the end.
The inevitable end, when she would slip into his shadow and join his night parade, like every mortal in his sad realm.
He tried to avoid thinking about how many friends, lovers, allies and dear ones were watching over his shoulder. The beings he considered foes caught in his drifting net of darkness could suck it… and suck it hard.
He cracked a grim, toothy smile as he flew for home. If Ghnash could improve his fetish arts, or with a little more planning, he could raid a bit farther afield; closer to the prime world, where his essence couldn’t ordinarily endure.
He chomped down an imagined demon, sighing a short, flickering bonfire of anticipation over his ragged, decayed lizard lips.
#