“Digging below us, the great dwarf Kings ruled,

Amassing their riches, ruling their realm,

Did they disappear, or were we all fooled,

By vanishing shield, plate armor, and helm?”

— The Ballad of Sir Joe, by “Golden-Voiced” Garbeaux.

“I think he’s coming to. Gar? Hey…” Warm, soft hands caressed my face, and I reached up to grasp them. Opening my eyes required effort, focusing them doubly so. Finally, I was aware of Aimee, standing over me, holding my face as I held her hands, “There he is,” She smiled.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Muttered McGrue. I looked over as he stared at me, grumpily, “Mind letting go of my girl’s hands?”

Aimee withdrew, “Sargon, please.”

“I’m just saying. You’re never this concerned when I’m hurt.”

Struggling to comprehend, all I could do was watch as Aimee became animated, upset with McGrue, “You never go down like this. You’re tough. Come on. When I was exhausted you doted on me. Now Garbeaux needs a little help back to, well, reality. Look at him.”

“Yes, you’re both vulnerable. You both need help. Lots in common,” He was acting like a child. “I’m going out there in greenface, over and over, alone, risking my neck while he just lays there. How is that fair?”

“What … what’s happening,” I asked, sitting up.

Aimee immediately glared at McGrue, “Yes. What is happening, Sargon?”

McGrue fell silent, avoided eye contact, and stepped away, followed by Ignus, “Uh,” I shouted, pointing, “Ig … Ignus!” The blasted wraith was rubbing McGrue’s shoulders, paused long enough to cast a baleful glance back at me, wave, and then went back to it.

Aimee grimaced, “Oh … you can see him too?”

“Oh yes. I got him good,” said Ignus, laughing.

“He’s real? Oh gods, he’s real. But … he’s touching McGrue.”

“What?” shouted McGrue, spinning around, passing through Ignus, “Who? Did you say Ignus?”

Aimee held out her hand, “McGrue, don’t freak out. Ignus the Black … he’s been with us this whole time. Don’t worry, he can’t do anything, but I see him because I hold the Black Baton, and he apparently drained Gar. He’s mostly recovered, so it should wear off soon.”

McGrue scowled deeply, “What do you mean he’s been with us?”

Aimee sighed. Withdrawing the Black Baton of Ignus, she glared, then turned the wand in air, as if she were stirring the air before her, “Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?” The misty, smoky form of Ignus started to flow into the baton.

“The big deal is that you tried to kill us the second you had a host. Now … it’s quiet time.”

Ignus clung to McGrue, who still saw and felt nothing. He looked me straight in the eye, “Me? I didn’t … host?”

“No! Come on, I’ll be good,” shouted Ignus, “I just wanted to kill all the gods and be worshiped in their place. Is that so bad?”

“Yes,” said both Aimee and I. Ignus’ ethereal form disappeared into the Baton, his screams of objection fading away.

McGrue looked around, suddenly paranoid, “Hold on … who got possessed?”

“No, dear, I … because of my level and because I’ve had some practice now, Ignus can’t possess me. He almost got Gar two days ago. We were both talking to him.”

“So he’s here?”

“No. I mean … yes. I’ve just pulled him into the Baton. The second I have to cast he’ll start haunting me again, and possibly Gar. I don’t really have a frame of reference for how long he stays bound to someone who wields his … home. I know the Baton has to be nearby, because I don’t see or hear him when I leave it behind.”

My jaw dropped open, “Wait, back in Bagatelle … that’s why you left the Baton in the carriage?”

“Yes. He never stops trying to possess anyone who holds the Baton, which is unpleasant, even if he can’t possibly get me… The fact that he’s trying…”

McGrue walked up to her, rubbing Aimee’s shoulders, “I had no idea.”

My heart started to race, my ire rising, “Neither did I! Why wasn’t I told that I was being handed a soul-sucking fiend?”

“That’s a great question, Gar,” Aimee sighed, “It could be that I thought you could handle it. After all, the only person Ignus has possessed was a willing criminal. Or … it could be that I was fighting exhaustion and you invoked my sister!”

“Fair,” I raised my hands defensively, “ That’s fair. But you could have mentioned, at any time, that he was hassling you. We were barely aware of Ignus’ presence until he possessed Jimmy Quick.”

She leaned back into McGrue, “Also fair.”

McGrue gave Aimee a final squeeze, “Okay, now that we’ve had this breakthrough, do you think we could get on with it? I’ve been doing recon, daily, and I’m frankly sick of risking my neck solo.”

“Sure,” I struggled to my feet, my skeleton crackling like underbrush crushed underfoot, “Ouch … how long … did someone say I was out for two days?”

***

“And this is where LePhisto’s rally is supposed to take place. Two days, evening. Goblins don’t keep good time so … not sure exactly when in the evening,” McGrue pretended to inspect a crack in an ancient stone wall. He gestured with a hammer and chisel, projecting an air of purpose.

“Ah, yes,” I announced loudly as a goblin passerby glanced our way, “Just need to cook some wood ash, make a little concrete, and that’ll patch good.” We waited a moment, then returned to our conversation, “What are you suggesting?”

“Obviously we can’t take all these goblins, but if we can stage an attack, you, me, and Joe, Aimee controlling the damned zombie from hiding, maybe we can take out LePhisto.”

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“Er … but won’t that just lead to our deaths?” A goblin mime spun around to look at us, “I mean, if this stone wall finishes collapsing, we could be crushed!”

“C’mon,” whispered McGrue, leading me around to the other side of the wall, “The stage will be that way, toward the outer wall. From there it’s two turns to get to the bakery cave. We’ll stage the carriage just outside. We hid it just down the hill from the cave once before, nobody noticed it.”

“Right. So your plan is to … what exactly? Have Joe run at LePhisto while we run away? And Aimee stays behind with Joe’s zombie?”

McGrue curled his lip, peering at the far wall, “Okay, I take your point. She can’t stay either. But Joe’s obviously the key. Wait a second,” he nodded at something in the distance, looking alarmed, “Is that a fucking ogre?”

I followed his gaze to spot a bizarre figure. Massive hands, feet, forearms, head, and gut, the massive figure had the general appearance of a goblin but was between twice and three times their height. He was so distant that making out detail was difficult, but one thing leapt out to me, “Is that … gold?”

“Bloody hell … it’s a crown. Those goblins, they’re like infants to him. Is that LePhisto?”

“Must be. Let’s keep out of sight, c’mon,” The courtyard was bordered by old, ruined buildings and the fort walls, and the space for the stage was blocked from that monster’s view. I took a few steps, stopped short, and pointed at a short heap of gravel and dirt where the stage would be.

“What is it?”

“Not sure. We need to get a closer look,” I checked my fake goblin ears, “My disguise look good?”

McGrue squinted, then nodded, “Yeah. Do I look okay?”

“No, you look like a goblin.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

We stood up straight, motioned as if playing charades, and then I swept my hand from the wall to the heap, “Yes, I believe this is the way.” I moved, and McGrue followed my lead, and we pretended to be tracing an imaginary line, out of LePhisto’s sight, to the heap.

McGrue walked around me to the other side of the gravel, “Oh, Gabbo… I see it,” and he brushed the top, disturbing some pebbles, “An old sinkhole, maybe?”

I nodded, “Probably an old foundation of basement like our hideout.”

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

“Think about it,” I tossed some of the gravel aside, “The hideout, the architecture, everything not built by goblins, it looks like dwarven make. What are dwarves known for?”

“Hoarding gold?”

I couldn’t help but glare, “McGrue, no.”

“Digging holes looking for gold,” his eyes flashed wide, “Tunnels!”

“Two walls in the hideout are collapsed, debris. One faces pretty much this spot we’re standing on. What do you think the odds are that there’s a tunnel from there to here, waiting to be excavated?”

McGrue flinched, blinked at me several times, and chuckled, “That’s your idea?”

I scowled, “Yeah. Why?”

“How’s it help us?”

Rubbing my face, I tried hard to not shout, “We get Joe under here, turn him loose, then run back home. Aimee said he always returns to the holder of the Baton. Once he’s killed LePhisto, he’ll come to where we are, probably the carriage by then. No way the little goblins can stop him.”

“Brilliant,” he whispered, “Maybe you’re not a complete idiot, Gabbo. Worth checking out, anyway. Let’s go tell Aimee what we found.”

***

“That’s a tunnel, alright,” grunted McGrue. “What do you think, Aimee? Got any spells to clear that out?”

Withdrawing the thick, black wand we called the Black Baton of Ignus, Aimee swirled a shadowy energy out and into the rocky debris. Her eyes flared white, “Hm. This blockage doesn’t go far at all. About six feet. What’s beyond is a tunnel that’s five, maybe six feet tall, stone floor. Remarkably clean!”

“Thats my power she’s using. Sight Beyond Sight. I could use that at will back when I had my body,” said Ignus, wistfully, “I miss having a body.”

“Gah! Son of a bitch!”

“What? What is it,” shouted McGrue, drawing his ax, “Goblins?”

“Ignus, leave him alone,” moaned Aimee, “Stop picking on Garbeaux already.”

“It’s not my fault,” said Ignus, feigning sorrow, “He’s just such a manpulatable little elfling.”

Aimee glanced between me and the cursed wraith, “Elfling?”

“Y’know, I’m just not going to react any more,” said McGrue, “It’s just easier. Let me know when there’s something to kill.” He retreated to a flat patch of moss beside the underground spring.

I rubbed my face, “It’s nothing. There’s an elf in my lineage, several generations back. I’d ask my parents how far back if I were talking to them.”

“Oh,” she glared at Ignus.

“Is that all I’m getting out of this little bombshell? The boy had that tidbit buried way down. I thought for certain his shame at his heritage would spark fireworks!”

“Shut up, Ignus,” we both retorted.

Aimee furrowed her brow, “You’re not really ashamed, are you?”

“No! I actually hope to gain Elvish longevity next time we’re able to be certified. It’s just so expensive. There was no point in mentioning it.”

“But you don’t talk about your family.”

“Of course not. You were convinced to join up with a savage, bloodthirsty knight, Aimee. My parents basically sold me to him. I had no say,” I glared at Ignus, “You really are evil, aren’t you?”

His fleshless skull hovered before me and Ignus glared, “You don’t know evil, Garbeaux. Evil is a label laid on the doers by those afraid of change. I restored life, changed it, created it. For all purposes save station, I am a God!” He began to laugh manically before flashing from existence.

“What the? Ignus?” I reached out, foolishly, running my knuckles into rough stone, “Ow!”

“Gar,” asked Aimee, “Are you okay?” She gasped, “Oh! You can’t see him any more can you.”

“No, why? Is he still there?”

“McGrue,” Aimee shouted, “About 48 hours! Gar can’t see Ignus any more!”

“Can you?”

“Uh … yeah. Get back over here!”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled McGrue as he came back, “So how we getting through this mess?”

“Well,” Aimee gestured to McGrue and myself, “Either I use the deathblast ability of the Baton, or otherwise drain my magical stores and deplete my power, or…”

Silence, beat, I finally broke the silence, “Or?”

“Get digging, boys!” She turned away, brushing past McGrue to take his place back by the flowing water. We boys shrugged and, as she suggested, we snatched up shovels from the grain pile and started digging.

***

With a heart-stopping crash the last heap of packed earth fell into the tunnel, and we looked upon a smooth, near-glistening tunnel beyond. “Aimee,” I called, “Can we get a light stone over here?”

Walking over to us, Aimee snatched up a pebble, it lit up, and she pitched it down the hall as far as it would go. She took up a handful of stones, “Lead the way.”

“Okay,” McGrue led the way, squinting, “Ignore this intersection. The stage is definitely over this way.

“Another light stone, Aimee,” I asked, sheepishly.

“I’m running out of suitable stones, Gar. Maybe when you get certified you could go for a vision upgrade or something?”

She tossed a lit pebble, it bounced, passing through a doorway. I smiled as we approached the room that must be our goal, “No, I like the idea of not dying in under a century. Maybe vision some time down the road.”

“If you make it that long,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

We reached the chamber. Stairs descended into a damp mass of old peat moss, stinking and putrescent. Stone debris from the supporting arches overhead laid everywhere, especially in one corner where a dim pinpoint of sunlight illuminated, “This place … it must have been magnificent when it was new.”

McGrue spat, “Yeah yeah, dwarf shit. Great. Am I the only one wondering why it’s so nasty down here?”

“We’re underground, Sargon.”

“Uh, yeah, so is the tunnel we just came from.”

With great apprehension, I turned back towards the entrance into the chamber. It was growing brighter, and oddly green. With a strange noise like a wine bottle being corked, the door closed, “What…”

Swelling inward was a mass of what looked to be liquid, contained in a flexible, flat square. Within were glowing orbs, like eldritch eyes, glaring balefully down on us.”

“My light stones,” muttered Aimee.

McGrue did a double take, “What? Are they?”

With a “Phoomp!” the thing popped free, then tumbled down the stairs like a giant die, flattening, then pulling itself up into a shape the size of the hallway it just squeezed out of.

Aimee scrambled away from it, “Shit. Cube!” We stepped away from the freakish monster, drawing our weapons, as it quivered, trying to choose a victim to devour.