Book 2: Dirt Diver’s Dance

Sunday Morning Coming Down Ch: 48

“You really should let me meet your witches…” Ghnash urged Daisybelle, sitting at the breakfast table in a cozy, stonebuilt inn that strongly resembled his own house.

It was uncanny, both the resemblance to his own and in the way it felt real… super real. It was almost like an actual stone house that was just magical enough to be slipped into the void between worlds… If one had a dimensional storage gift that could accommodate it.

“No, papa. They asked for some time to get fixed up and heal their wounded… You know how you get.”

“Bahh… dumb longshanks.” He grumbled, trying to conceal how much and how quickly he’d come to like and trust these humans… What he had seen of them.

Truth be told, every one of them he’d met so far had been a draught of cool water in the desert to the agitated goblin king.

He understood why Gandree had slipped right into his own family, the boy was one of the cards… Which card remained to be seen, but he was family, no doubt about it.

These people were not any kind of Gary, no matter how diluted. They felt good, though. They all felt… right. Even when they eyed him suspiciously, because he got a little too ‘goblin’ for their comfort…

Even though they were obstinately hiding several members of their group from him. He smelled them, so terribly familiar and yet strange… Garies, a few at least! They were hidden away, while he was kept closeted in the enclosed ‘Guest Compound’. Prison, more like.

“We have injured and exhausted people recovering under my care, as their physician.” The young and impressively disciplined count had informed the king, when he demanded access to the ‘secret Garies’.

Ghnash admittedly got a little flustered and may have accused the human count of ‘hoarding’ and a few other less savory things, until Daisybelle used her new and powerful ear grappling techniques to subdue him.

The miserable little traitor.

“These people are my friends… let them rest and recover.” His youngest princess murmured, looking worn and sad herself. “Let us sleep the day away, papa. I’m tired too.”

Ghnash ruffled her hair and smiled, wrapping her in a big hug. “Yes, daughter… No good comes of hurrying such things I suppose.” He patted a finely wrought stone mace of deep green jadeite, fixed to a shaft of gleaming, well rubbed blackthorn wood.

“At least Juniella’s whomp comes home…” He sighed, petting the little goblin sized weapon.

“One of her new sisters will inherit her legacy. Thank you daughter.” He sighed and rested his chin atop her head.

“Where’s that boy of yours?”

“Downstairs, craftin’ stuff.” She muttered fatalistically, caught between her promise and lying to her king papa. “You should sleep, papa. You can play with toys and tools with the boys later…”

Daisybelle knew her papa was not going to sit still, once he heard the truth she’d been dancing around all night. She also had strict instructions to keep him busy and out of the mysterious workshop, below the common room floor.

“I promised I’d keep you up here…” She whined. “Daylight is here, we should rest!” Daisybelle watched helplessly, as her king ignored her and went to the workshop door, whistling one of his favorite tunes.

‘Gone to Buy Sugar’ was so silly and naughty, she couldn’t help but giggle at the simple melody and the fond memories it evoked.

The little goblin sighed and followed her papa through the door, not very eager at all to get scolded by her new friends for failing that simple task. She couldn't help but sing one of her favorite verses, on the way down the stairs…

Gone to buy sugar,

from the girl round the way

Gone to buy sugar, it might take all day…

Gone to by sugar, round the break of day,

I took a cute young laddie for a roll in the hay,

She sang merrily, belting out a naughty favorite from the human town, drawing a giggle from her papa, who’d started it off anyway.

We won’t get in trouble if nobody sees,

Won’t get caught if nobody hears….

The haywain driver has wax in his ears!

#

Shai stirred slowly and painfully, floating in the familiar hotspring grotto, hidden behind the waterfall. Gary was there, still ashen faced and unconscious, but breathing evenly beside her.

Without any conscious thought, she pulled her husband’s status information into her own sight, plucking the controls from his sleeping mind’s slack grip.

The poor fool’s Mana, Stamina and Etheric pools were still depleted, but they were refilling; just incredibly slowly. His red health pool was depleted by half and stuck there, ticking up, then down, as some lingering effect drained his life force.

She watched for a few long seconds, until that red bar ticked up once more and stayed there; resuming its monotonous cycle of gain and loss from that new, slightly higher position. He was on the mend, just terribly slowly.

With difficulty, she staggered out of the bath, dried herself and dressed, still feeling ragged and worn.

Behind her eyelids, she traced the other tiny pinpricks of light, emotion and sensation that drifted through her internal map of the compound. Her youngest boys were all four present and healthy, as were most of her other comrades and kin. She kept ticking them off one by one, gently brushing each drifting mote with her senses; seeking a full tally of the costs.

She delicately brushed each of her kids, sneakily searching for any other wounds or lingering effects… All she found were exhaustion, bruises and a deep, lingering sadness for the missing warg. They were scattered around the house and yard, doing their own things…

Harry had a few scratches and a mildly sprained wrist from his hectic descent from his perch in the magnolia tree. Perry bore scratches on his neck and face, along with some bruises, the result of a tough, hickory smoked zombie’s armored forearm knocking his helmet clean off in the initial rush of stampeding dead.

Lindsey’s broken arm was the most severe of the children’s wounds, but had been treated by Liam’s skilled hands, while she ‘slept’.

Those minor injuries, along with a score of other, lesser scuffs and scratches were scattered over the group…

When her senses found the Ragamuffins’ houses; particularly Wilf’s house, set off alone in a walled off section of the compound, behind its own wards and hedges, she dug deeper. Slipping her senses through their spells with practiced ease, she explored their section of the compound.

The new guests, Ace, Daisybelle, Gandree, the wargs and the supposed Goblin King were all in Wilf’s house, sequestered there while the family got things cleaned up.

Her gentle touch on the still new, familiar, very bright and usually cheery mote of light that was Daisybelle found her glowing listlessly, seeming dim and lackluster.

The pervasive sorrow wafting from her made it clear that the darling little creature’s missing dog friend was not coming home. Her kids shared that grief with their new comrades; though they were busily working in the inn and yard.

Shai felt several strong connections forming already, bonds of camaraderie and affection between her kids, the silly goblin girl and the short, clever, new boy.

Gary seemed especially close with the dwarf lad, her husband had bonded with him swiftly, now he was almost paternally fond of the boy.

“I’m nae ready tae adopt a dwarf and a goblin…” She sighed through her exhausted smile. She staggered into the common room and was immediately hugged up by Amy, who pressed herself against her mother’s breast so fiercely that Shai couldn’t understand her question.

“How’s papa?” She asked gently, when her face was finally out of her mother’s bosom.

“Mending slowly… We must wait and see how badly he’s damaged himself, love.” She murmured in the little blue songbird’s ear. “Let him rest, aye and me as well, love. I’m still spent and wrecked.” She mumbled.

In a trice, Amy had her mother upstairs, tucked in with the curtains drawn, in blissful comfort and quiet. Shai eased back in the cloudlike bedding and slowly checked her internal map once more.

Gandree and the remaining wargs were huddled closely with Daisybelle, in Wilf’s house, with the two newest ‘guests’ in her home; Ace and ‘Ghnash’. They seemed to be in the workshop, working some craft or other and behaving as guests should.

Satisfied that no one was in, or up to trouble, she left the kids to work through all that together. Just brushing them with her senses and withdrawing discreetly; they would be stronger for the bitter medicine of grief shared…

As she pulled away, her lingering senses touched the newest element in her home. The chaotic, swirling morass of strange sensations that represented the mysterious ‘Goblin King’ that she’d heard so much about from chatterbox Daisybelle.

When she brushed her senses discreetly over that creature’s pinpoint on her map, the reasons for Liam’s insistence that he be isolated from the rest of the compound became clear.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The little man’s aura was a writhing mass of reaching tendrils and feelers of undirected and mindless Will; instinctively touching and exploring everything and everyone around.

The invasive and sneaky threads of unconscious, not exactly magic couldn’t be seen or felt by normal senses, however refined they might be.

Only intimate familiarity, long experience and exposure to a very similar effect allowed Liam and herself to sense the subtle and invasive element. The pair had helped Gary master his own, similar spiritual effect… or defect, years before.

The phenomenon existed in a place that most scholars and mages considered to be theoretical at best, lingering in the shadows of rationality, just outside the ‘normal’ magical energies of traditional magery, drifting unseen around every living soul and work of directed spellcraft.

It… Or rather, he felt like Gary had, so many years before; when his gifts had been growing wildly at the very beginning.

Gary had been a swirling morass of undirected magic, then… mutating in unexpected ways and constantly changing under the influence of external forces and divine meddling.

It was clear, this being had much in common with her husband; he felt familiar, but unpredictable, feral and… unsafe.

Unlike Ace… or the dark, alien presence that she’d felt from the ‘Necromancer’, the little ball of energy representing ‘Ghnash’ felt... Unstable and completely relaxed at the same time. As if he’d traveled very far and come home at last; only to find, like Odysseus, a place he didn’t recognize.

Some portion of the strange being’s unconscious mind was reaching out, trying to manipulate his surroundings, to change them to match his expectations and preferences. It was as though he was attempting to assert dominance over the compound and bend it into a shape of his design.

She felt his Will, reaching out and unconsciously trying to change the nature of Wilf’s home, to make it more familiar to his own soul… and failing hard. Wilf’s house was built of stone, lumber, sweat and labor… not drifting magic and illusion spun from light and shadow.

“Oh! Aye, we can’t let that one inside…” Shai murmured softly into her pillows. She came away with a distinct sense that her Gary and this creature should definitely not meet, until her boy was back on his feet.

She used the mental tricks from her own version of Gary’s bizarre Interface gift to tuck a ‘live feed’ as he called it, displaying his pools in the corner of her eye, where she could monitor him ‘remotely’. She giggled again, smiling as she thought on the weird world her boy had been born in, so far away and long ago.

Shai nodded in satisfaction, as she noticed his health pool had ticked up a mite farther.

Confident that he was on the mend, she slipped into a restful, deep sleep, leaving Ace and the goblins to her big, rowdy family. She needed to see the inside of her eyelids, desperately.

#

Captain Padilla grumbled sourly, as they huddled under the overturned longboats, hidden in the mangroves on the far side of the island. When that boney lizard bastard flew over, they’d all bailed over the side together and dog paddled for shore in the stormy darkness.

The light blessed the four men, delivering them together and un-eaten by sharks or monsters, onto the swampy shore. Lost among the mangroves, on an island that was no doubt crawling with stray zombies, they had come to a decision.

Deep in the night, with no sign of the legendary draconic foe of the sacred light, they made a desperate gamble. Fearfully, the four made the long, terrifying swim back to the galley, to loot it for supplies. When they had successfully rowed two longboats around to the far, windward side of the island unobserved, they considered themselves doubly blessed.

The vast, outdated and decrepit bireme hulk had never been intended to sail home. Like the ramming vessel, it was a near wreck, destined to end here, regardless. It was a standard tactic, now that the temple of light was being pushed back on every side by the demented and wicked forces of the filthy tarot infidels.

That the modern and fully functional flagship had abandoned the operation at the first sign of trouble should have been no surprise, in hindsight. They should have had the standard complement; a score of living marines and at least six necromages on each of the three assault ships, if they were meant to succeed.

‘Unless this was all that could be spared…’ That thought shook Padila just a little.

Lomax and Fernando weren’t even proper necromancer lords, just jumped up commoners; cult ritualists with field promotions. Padilla’s veteran’s eye had pegged the rest of the necromages in the doomed shore party for outcasts and misfits too. Certainly the captains at least should have all been full necromancer lords, not just sleepy, half retired old lord captain Dale and the two young, noble ritualists serving on his vessel.

Padilla kicked himself mentally for being a blind fool. If they’d cut and run before losing their oarsmen… With a little quick and dirty salt curing, they could have pirated up and down the islands for weeks before the rowers rotted out too badly.

Now they were stuck on this nowhere island, with two weathered but serviceable longboats, very little food, only the one basic chart showing Port city and the surrounding waters, a few simple hand weapons… and nothing at all to help deal with the absolutely ravenous, monstrous, insidious mosquitos.

That was why, on a warm sunny morning, on a tropical island, the four sailors were huddled under their overturned boats, sweating.

From all around, the low, constant drone and buzz drilled into their ears, raising gooseflesh on the damp, itchy and miserable men. Bernard had been bitten by two of the nocturnal variety, flitting down on silent moth wings and tranquilising him with their venom.

The poor bastard would have been a dried husk if Padilla hadn’t driven his dirk through the awful things again and again, wailing in manly and courageous fervor… not terror. The blood got everywhere… The bugs were relentless and more than enough to drive them off the island alone…

The island that was occupied by wandering stray zombies, but also, an unknown force led by not just one, but two of the light’s most wanted infidels.

The idea of being caught on the open water, in a tiny longboat by the legendary dracolich, the Chariot was another kind of terror entirely from mere blood sucking monster vermin.

Just the thought that ‘Ace’, the terrifying Demon Lord of the Turtle islands might be on this barren rock was enough to make his bowels churn…

#

Ace felt an inexplicable desire to sneeze for some reason. He shrugged it off with ease, just like the vicious scolding he was currently receiving; since an octopus had a lot of ‘shoulders’...

“...You two can wait up here! Now I have to cleanse his inscribing tools and purify his ritual space, so you guys can just sit and think about what you’ve done.” Gandree scolded them fiercely, with their butts planted on the sofa by the fireplace.

“Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll make you a snack.”

He stomped away and closed the door, emphatically not slamming it, before Ace let out a chuckle at his own witty inner monologue.

“Ace, why are you giggling?” Ghnash grumbled. “You wanted to see what was in that jar too… I didn’t know it was stinkbombs.”

They had both been banished from the workshop, sent back up to the common room to cool their heels after meddling once too often with the kid’s projects.

“They act like I didn’t help them last night… I’m not a slacker, like you.” Ghnash sniffed at the blue doll creature. “I smelled nothing of your magic or works last night…”

“Uh, yeah… When I’m in my environment, I’m just murder on living mortals, bro. The undead are kind of a weak spot for me. My brand of necromancy is super specialized and…”

He shrugged and shook his featureless armored doll head. “Let’s just say, there’s a reason they didn’t send a troop of living warriors after me. I can’t manipulate bodies… if they’re dead. I can commune with spirits and do some spooky shadow stuff’; but most of my skills are now, obsolete.” He rapped his knuckles against his wooden chest lightly.

“This handy little toy does the job with no nasty zombie side effects.”

Ghnash peered at him, looking at the human sized, if gaunt and spindly wooden doll with keen interest, noting some of the more obscure lines of text concealed under the thick, glossy lacquer finish. “I must meet the crafter of this. I think he’s the one the Magician needs.” He grunted sourly.

“Where did you get this, junk trader?”

“Your daughters are always so charming and delightful, I see now, where they didn’t get it.” Ace sniffed at the gobbo. “It’s a loaner from our host, if you must pry...”

“Lead me to this host… double quickly!” He whispered harshly. “I must speak to them!”

“No can do, buddy. He’s sick and we’re supposed to stay here, as their guests.” Ace mumbled happily. “Relax Ghnash, we’re in a comfy house, right on the water… The kids are friendly and fun and the seafood couldn’t be fresher...”

“Bahh, Ghnash has king stuff to do. A mission to complete and a debt to the Magician that can never be repaid…” The little man grumbled.

“Cover for me if you will, or at least don’t snitchy-snitch.”

He’d barely finished speaking, before Ghnash slipped from view, vanishing into the shadows.

“Aww, crap.” Ace sighed, sitting back on the sofa with a guitar on his wooden lap.

“That kid thought of everything…” He murmured quietly, noting the artfully crafted pads of magically preserved leather on the fingers of the doll.

“They play just like real, living hands…” He sighed, as music began to tumble from his fingers for the first time in so very, very long.

Time lost meaning, as he rambled and noodled up and down the instrument; playing with the unfamiliar controls and learning his way around the odd strings of braided spider silk and silver grass.

He was beyond rusty, more like his skills had petrified, becoming a rigid and inflexible thing, like a cocoon that the insect inside had long outlived the need of. He struggled against those restraints, fixated on breaking through and touching something more…

‘It’s been a while…’ Ace thought to himself, when he heard the workshop door open, some time later.

“Where’s king papa, Ace…?” Daisybelle demanded sharply, her sweet voice carrying a deadly edge.

#

Ghnash was pretty impressed with himself so far. Sneaking through the inn yard and into the private baths had been an intense challenge to all of his well honed skills. Not just because of the complex and almost impenetrable net of wardings, blessings, divine sanctifications and occult boons from outside dimensions that simply littered this place.

The people were all alert, well trained, highly skilled and very sharp indeed. Not just them, several familiars roamed the place, including at least one flying creature, a pixie of some kind. He’d avoided that being very carefully, the fae were tricksey at any time.

He called on lady SpiderBoobs’ gifts, for a bit of wall crawling magic, when things got too difficult. Swiftly skittering up and over the rough, natural stone he discovered a hidden, private grotto; open to the sky and accessed by a passage hidden behind morning glory and jasmine vines. There, floating in the pool was his quarry; a human Gary, if a very weak and shabby one.

He clambered down and shed his robes, slipping in among the water plants and reeds to examine the wretch. The man was loosely tangled in the vegetation, it gripped and held him in place as if it had a Will of its own. Likewise, the plants parted for him, allowing his approach, as he evaluated the poor thing.

“Bahh.” The goblin scoffed. “This can’t be… Weak and damaged… No good good.” He bent closer, taking a long, slow sniff of the unconscious man evaluating him with greater care.

“No, no… gone rotten inside. Well, can’t be helped… Need a shovel and something for a headstone or marker…” He grunted.

“Family; can’t just tuck him into any old unmarked grave or tip him down a canyon…”

With a sigh, the little man started hauling the limp body from the pool and out into the woods beyond the bamboo thicket.

#

The post action debrief in the main room was not going well. “We were completely unprepared for an undead raid! It was a near run thing… We lost one ally and nearly lost Gary and Shai.” Liam scolded the team leaders gathered for the lecture.

“This is my fault, more than anyone else's… We had no lookouts posted, lax security and piss poor organization.” He sighed, slumping into a comfy chair by the fire.

“No one leaves the compound alone. Full parties of six or more only. No one leaves without at least two TalkieWalkies™ in the party…”

“We really need to discuss that name.” Ivy whispered, drawing a glare from the count. “Shush, Tallum! Liam’s scolding us!” She whispered much more loudly to her enormous and very patient husband.

The young count pinched the bridge of his nose and did a well practiced breathing exercise to clear his mind, while Tallum scolded his wife… The meeting was breaking down quickly, so he pressed on.

“Harry, climbing that tree…” Liam smiled at the lad; he was nervously fingering his flute and looking super embarrassed.

“I know… I got stuck up a tree, like a kitten with no sense.” He sighed dejectedly. “I had to wait for the goblin fire department!”

“That was a sound strategy, given what we knew. If we had been facing a force of living men or monsters you could have created all kinds of silent chaos in their ranks… Even so, you got one of the necromancers.”

He swatted a hard, swordsman’s hand onto the huge youth’s shoulder. “Poison, drugs and venom are great, but we need to be versatile, above all.”

“I have a ton of blessed silver needles dipped in the sap of a dryad haunted strangling fig and more coated with latex from Ward’s sacred golden fig tree…” He mumbled, lost in thought, rather than excuses.

“I was ready for natural undead and immaterial shades. I just didn’t have anything prepared for necro zombies… and that flesh golem.”

Harry started chewing on that bone before Liam finished with it, so the count moved on.

“Amy, your combined team did very well…” His gaze switched to the small, red haired man lurking on the periphery of the meeting.

“Dannyl, your stunt worked out, because they had very few necromancers controlling that horde. They were slow and clumsy because the controller was so over burdened. With a few more necros on their side, we would have been in even worse trouble…” Liam insisted, when the young man seemed less than fully impressed by the gravity of the danger.

“Those zeds were heavily preserved and armored, if they had managed to get even a couple hands on you…”

“No chance. I was moving too fast and taking too many hands and fingers with me. I had it, bro.” Dannyl insisted in return.

“That’s ‘count bro, sir…’ Journeyman Adventurer Dannyl.” The compact warrior lord snapped, his voice hard, but a warm and reassuring hand landed on the smaller man’s shoulder, while the words were ringing in his ears.

“I won’t tolerate that kind of risky behavior… from anyone.” He shot a significant look in the direction of the baths and the hidden grotto where Gary was soaking, again.

His gaze locked into Gary and Shai’s empty seats, a concerned and mildly angry expression that was loaded with a good measure of self doubt as well.

“He’s done it again and nearly destroyed himself, again.” Liam sighed. “It’s exhausting… and it’s really hard to yell at him when he wakes up days later!”

A few long minutes of general grumbling and complaining followed, with the entire group swearing to keep ‘a closer eye on the mooncalf’ at the end.

#