Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Ch 11 Army Of Me

  Amy and Wilf were having tea with one of the relatively mellow Garies on the patio and having a lovely time. Deuce had a relaxed outlook on life and a softer, rounder face than most of them… Some of the men and one of the women looked like any monster that tried to take a bite would be nursing broken teeth at best.

  “I was found on a mountainside, alone and naked as a baby. The monk who found me took me in and did his best to raise me as a human and his own son… But he comes from a race of sentient Llamas, so there were some challenges.” Deuce smiled sadly. “There’s a human colony in the valley, so he knew what I was. My father assumed that I was an abandoned child and took me in.”

  “You were raised among Llamas?” Lindsey asked quietly, also deeply interested, now. “What was that like?”

  “I have the faded and worn out memories of my life on earth to fall back on, otherwise I might have had more trouble adjusting to life among the monks.” He said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Even so I was a pain in the ass!”

  “It sounds like you love them...” Mariah whispered in his ear. “Be honest, uncle.”

  “Yeah, I do… those wooly old farts never push their religion at me, not even a little, not in all these years. They do love answering questions, though.”

  He chuckled sadly. “They named me Grrruuuruduudu Wiwisuss…” The sound he made was a low rumbling growl that resolved into a wet, snotty, hissing cough. “Llama speech is a little… So I go by Deuce of Wands, when I’m on Tarot business… which isn’t often.”

  “No?” Daisybelle asked, intrigued by the fellow. “You do not…” She shrugged. “Do whatever the others do?”

  “No way! I run a little shop and music school in a quiet little mountain town… The Llama folks love my specially adapted panflutes and I sell human instruments too.” He sighed and smiled at the slowly darkening sky in the east.

  “I never even knew why I was… different until Necro showed up one day, about twenty years ago. I’m not really like the rest of them…” He smiled sadly and shrugged at the quiet little gathering on the patio.

  “I’m no warrior or mage, just a craftsman and music teacher. I always suffered from unexplainable dreams and possessed strange gifts, but that’s all.”

  “I think that most of us feel the same way…” Harry murmured. “It’s all he ever wanted to be… all any of us probably ever wanted to be.”

  At that point Rio came charging up in a tizzy, excited over something or other…

  “Strength is taking on all challengers in the sparring ring over by the lake shore…” Rio gasped excitedly. “They say Hermit is going to wrestle him!”

  “Oh, this I gotta see!” Deuce of Wands shouted gleefully. “Wheel, I want ten gold marks on Hermit!” He shifted mood rapidly at the news, the slightly pudgy man displayed some very pronounced smile lines in his cheeks and a merry twinkle in his eyes, now that there was something stupid happening.

  “No gambling, sorry. House rules.” Wheel of Fortune almost wept as he told the awful news, delicately dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a lace hankie. “It’s all that count’s fault!” He griped and moaned bitterly as they strolled along with count Liam to watch the happening.

  “TyrannyI tell you! A bit of wagering adds spice to life and brings people together! What kind of frontier town is this guy running?”

  “Gambling is only forbidden on the grounds of the inn, these are house rules, not the law of the land…” Liam puffed his pipe at the fancy dressed nimrod and smiled wickedly. “Complain to your hostess, if you must.”

  “Oh… bother.” He mumbled dejectedly. “That woman is… formidable.”

  Most of the people on the grounds, including almost all of the Garies, rushed to the lakeshore, eager to watch the event.

  Early evening was moving in on the inn by the waterside… and the promised answers were still nowhere to be found. The spectacle of the thing though, it was something to behold, like a family reunion inside the head of a madman…

  Beyond the music, which was deeply weird and super catchy, in turns and always unexpected, as expected, the carnival atmosphere and throng of very odd people created a surreal scene.

  Strength was Gary, brown hair and eyes, large and muscular, like almost all of the gathered men; but nine feet tall and muscled like freaking atlas.

  He was not a pretty, elegant bodybuilder or sculpted model of human perfection… He was slabs of muscle and bone piled into a roughly Gary shape and expertly moulded into the proper appearance by a masterful sculptor, one possessed of no sense of aesthetics or subtlety.

  Across the circle of packed sand and soil, the brown haired giant faced a furry white spider the size of a warhorse.

  Hermit seemed almost comical, with prettily colorful tufts of long, fluffy fur at his leg joints and along his flattened, ovoid abdomen. Significantly less comical, were the sharp silver fangs that glistened in his not even faintly human ‘face’ and rapidly twitching, alien mouth parts.

  “He says: ‘If you insist’…” Rio translated for the non-Garies, who gathered on a low rise to watch the odd happening.

  “Hermit speaks through body movement and dance, so he will only appear to be fighting in complete silence.” The tall, dark skinned, athletic young man murmured to his listeners. “He also seems unwilling to participate, so this could get weird fast.”

  /

  “Come on Hermit… give the Garies what they want!” Strength roared at his opponent. “I’ve challenged you every time we’ve met, but there’s no excuses this time!” He jeered at the furry arachnid. “You are the only blot on my perfect record! Undefeated by any living Gary!” He crowed.

  “Ah, but you have never faced Ghnash, the goblin king, nor Ace, the Lovers either…” Hermit paused and groomed his mandibles for a moment, just to annoy Strength. “Or in fact, the Fool.”

  “Yeah! And Necro smashed you flat!” Someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Living Garies!” Strength yelled back at his critic. “I clearly said living Garies!”

  Jeers rose from the crowd, as Hermit did a lively little shuffle step that needed no translation. “Let’s Do This!” He declared in the universal language of dance.

  With speed that was surprising in such an enormous man, Strength dashed for the spider, his shoulders low and his center of balance ready to move in any direction.

  Rather than dodge, Hermit leapt at the fast moving giant, engulfing him in eight long legs and a few sneaky tricks.

  Tackled off his feet by the flying arachnid, the pair tussled and wrestled madly on the lawn for a few long seconds. They struggled together, moving too swiftly and subtly for the spectators to really see the action, beyond flashing limbs and the sounds of the oddly quiet scuffle. After a few long seconds of grappling and lightning fast close quarters combat, Strength staggered back, stunned by a blow to his sternum that echoed across the lake.

  Laughter erupted from the crowd, as the huge man shook his head to clear the fog… And realized he was wearing a big, poofy silk baby bonnet, securely fastened to his head with spidersilk cords. The ruffled, powder blue accessory set off his eyes and eased the rugged planes of the big man’s face in some very pleasing ways… It was absolutely darling.

  “Oh, very fetching, brother! You are beautiful!” Rio translated for the gathered friends, while the Garies laughed and roared their approval.

  “You sneaky…” Strength charged back in, his sweet headgear lending just the right level of gravitas to the moment. He flew at the spider, bellowing a wordless shout of rage, his hands reaching for the creature’s vulnerable leg joints.

  With a quick leap forward that ended abruptly, he evaded the giant’s rush. His own momentum was arrested by a length of stretchy web; secured in a tree nearby, by Hermit himself. The spider halted mid leap and then flew high above the confused man… And came crashing down, leading the way with his armored belly plate, right to Strength’s face.

  When the giant struggled back to his feet, he wore a cute pinafore, embroidered with duckies and bunnies and securely fastened where he would need outside aid to remove it. Below, he sported a big silk diaper, cunningly folded to appear as if it were fully loaded with a stinky.

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  The regalia attached over his clothes, cunningly knotted in place by the cruel arachnid warrior monk. Even more interestingly, the spider seemed to have bonded the pretty, pretty attire to the man’s garments and person rather firmly, using his adhesive… substances. The giant struggled in vain to remove them without aid, especially the bonnet.

  “You guys suck…! Why can’t we ever take anything seriously?” Strength complained to the crowd of giggling Garies. He grumbled and griped, as he tried and failed to vanish into the crowd.

  “I don’t know about that guy…” Tallum mumbled in the direction of the frustrated man-mountain.

  “Strength is really a nice guy, he’s just…” The Star stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Brute strength is almost never the right answer and that frustrates him a lot, cause when it is the right answer he’s the right guy. There are only a few of us that could handle him like Hermit just did.”

  “I couldn’t even follow what they were doing…” The big smith rumbled softly, with Ivy seated on his lap.

  “Hermit is a gentle and contemplative soul…” Star murmured to the smith and his lovely wife. “He is also an apex predator, one born from a world where that has a whole different meaning.”

  He smiled and fondly contemplated the gathered crowd of men, women and oddities.

  “A normal male Arachnean, possessing only animal intelligence is always considered an SS class threat, in any civilized world they might wander into.” Star’s whisper was tense and excited as he spoke.

  “Strong, fast and with hyper acute senses, any Arachnean is a fearsome foe. On top of those natural gifts, he is a skilled martial artist, a talented cultivator in late bronze rank… and he’s terribly venomous.”

  “I am gold ranked now… Star.” Hermit whispered from his instrument of bones, hides and silk, strumming a sweet and mellow refrain to create his words.

  “Darn you Hermit! You scared me again!” Star gasped, when he could speak again, a few seconds after the spider appeared from the bushes without warning. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “I believe that the count is a qualified lay healer, if you feel unwell, Star. Though, I suspect that perhaps your cardiac symptoms are the result of staying awake all night indulging yourself with those bat women…” Hermit replied icily.

  “I myself had a restless night, for other reasons… A deity invaded my dreams last night, offering a bargain. It seems that on this world, natives Contract with spiritual and divine beings to facilitate personal growth and development. I am considering such a bond, for myself.” The arachnid sang through his ‘voice’ of bones and silk, ignoring Star’s complaints entirely.

  “You too?” Star asked carefully. “She is a spider goddess, I suppose…” He sighed warmly, as if remembering something fondly. “She’s a stone cold fox… or spider. Whatever, she’s hot.”

  “You have… encountered the divine lady, Thirp?” Hermit asked, his mind flashing to the glimpses and hints he’d been finding in his troubled dreams. “How did you contact her?”

  “I slept with Ghnash’s cruddy goblin banana hammock under my pillow…” He shrugged and grinned. “She’s a real handful and she mentioned wanting to meet you…”

  That final, offhand remark set off a tiny explosion behind Hermit’s secondary eyes and sent washes of warm, pleasant sensations shivering through his exoskeleton. He couldn’t escape the feeling that somewhere, a door had just been unlatched and a visitor could come calling at any time.

  “She mentioned me?” He asked softly.

  “Oh, yeah! She didn’t talk about you much at all… But I got the feeling that her interest in Contracting me was at least partially because of you… and him.” Star nodded to the Fool, still capering about and trying to meet the whole gang.

  “You Contracted her? The lady Thirp?” Hermit demanded, just a little more sharply than was his usual way.

  “Yes, I did… And we are getting along just fine…” Star grumbled at the spider. “Wait… are you…” A slow, evil smile spread over Star’s face as a low chuckle rose from deep inside him.

  “What?” Hermit demanded, growing agitated with his brother, for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

  “Nahh, it’s fine…” The man in skin tight red leather pants and a ruffled shirt, unlaced to his navel bowed to the giant jumping spider, then vanished into the mob.

  “I understand little of that one…” Hermit sighed, as he settled in beside Becky and Amy in the late afternoon sun.

  “We are all so similar, yet I find myself struggling to relate to them…” He sighed to the girls, as Shai joined the tea party, bearing a stack of sandwiches.

  “I find you all much less… difficult to relate to.”

  “That’s cause Becky, my mom and a few others are members of Thirp’s cult.” Amy cooed, resting her back against Hermit’s abdomen and enjoying the scent of his fur. “I’m gonna Contract her, once we kick the crap out of a few members of the pantheon for torturing my dad.”

  “What?!” Hermit demanded, as the girl settled in and munched on a sandwich among his legs.

  “Yeah, it’ll all come out soon, just relax. The meeting starts at moonrise, that’s when we will have the undivided attention of the pantheon.” She giggled a cruel and slightly mad little laugh; her high, tinkling voice sent chills through the spider being’s senses, warning of danger.

  Before Hermit could demand answers, The armored wasp familiar, Kree came buzzing up, followed by the wargs, Daisybelle and her new pup, all working together to drag an enormous water beetle up from the lakeshore.

  “Uncle Hermit! We caught you something tasty tasty!” The goblin lass cried. “These are delicious!”

  The water boatman beetle was a common lake monster and highly territorial… but lacked any real offensive abilities. Fishermen often drove them away with simple fishing spears, though they seldom slew the beasts, since they only ate water weeds and algae.

  “Oh… I love these, but catching them is usually beyond me.” Hermit cooed happily. “Thank you very much Daisybelle, excuse me while I enjoy this in private…” Hermit scuttled off with his eighty pound beetle held in his mandibles, Completely failing to notice how neatly he’d been distracted.

  “Amy!” Kree scolded her sweetly. “No spilling the beans early! It’s lucky Shiro was listening in and snitched on you!” That drew a soft mewl of complaint from Shiro, who was nestled between Amy’s breasts, as usual.

  “Our feud with the pantheon is our own…” Amy scolded the little wasp girl, with a side eyed glare at her familiar. “And we will prosecute it in our own way, in our own time, miss Kree.”

  She glanced at the horizon, where the sun was just slipping behind the mountains. “It’s almost time now anyway.”

  The soft rustling of Hermit, as he enjoyed his meal, was only mildly distressing; since he was off behind a rose arbor, doing spider stuff to that big dead bug, out of sight.

  A slight stir began in the crowd of Garies, scattered across the lawn and garden, until a short snippet of flute music rose above the low din, cutting through and bringing a moment of quiet to the chaotic scene.

  “Gentlemen, ladies, everyone… Welcome to our home, officially.” Gary’s voice rolled out from his instruments, wherever they were scattered among the crowd. In a mob of musicians given free reign over the expansive shop stock and several private collections, there were plenty of them floating around.

  “I’ve met almost all of you, for the rest… Hi, I’m Gary Ward, just like you!”

  A weak laugh rolled from the crowd, followed by equally weak jeers and cries of ‘Off the stage!’ and ‘Get the hook!’ though the man speaking was still lost among them and there was no stage at all.

  “Yeah, I guess that joke gets pretty old… and it sucked to begin with. I know a lot of you are still wondering why I called you all here today and what the hell is up…”

  He chuckled darkly as a small gap began to appear in the mob in the garden.

  “Word has been going around that I’m the ‘Original Recipe’ or some such nonsense.” He scoffed audibly at the idea and laughed.

  “As far as I’m concerned, we are all Garies, equally and fully, whatever our lives have made of us…” He shrugged and continued on. “Certain beings have decided that I’m ‘Prime Gary’ or some such nonsense; I’m fairly certain that decision has more to do with their agendas and desires than with us.”

  Dark chuckles rose from the crowd as he spoke, and a few angry rumbles. “Outside forces have taken an interest in us, forces that are not inimical or evil, but who do not understand the mortal condition. Today I need to bully one of those beings, just a little. So if you could just play along…”

  Out on the lawn, Gary shooed away his… siblings? Whatever; he spent a minute clearing a wide swathe of lawn, where he began driving wooden stakes into the turf in a circle. Soon he had a braided cord of spider silk strung around the poles at waist height, decorated with fetishes of all kinds.

  There were sutras, written in spellwrought inks, on paper derived from haunted lumber, carved teeth and bones bearing elaborate scrimshaw etchings too tiny to really see and even more miniscule wonders, dancing on the evening breeze.

  In the center, he placed a shallow, irregular bowl of white clay, a poorly wrought and amateurish attempt at the potter’s art. In the bowl he placed a small idol, carved in humble chalk and richly dressed in perfect miniature ceremonial robes of Healer’s cult. Those possessing keen eyes in the crowd giggled inanely at the silly, slipshod and awesomely eighties face painted on the tiny idol in bold colors.

  “We’re playing with dolls, gang!” Gary shouted cheerfully, before pricking his thumb and running a thin stream of blood into the bowl. He poured a splashy liquid from a clay jug into the dish, dribbling it in very carefully, to keep his precious dolly dry.

  “Now we wait for a minute or two…” Gary remarked happily, while smearing violet salve onto his thumb. How many of you have met an actual god so far?” A few hands went up, as well as a few exasperated sighs.

  “Yeah, religion… it almost always sucks ass!” He grinned at the gathering and chuckled again. “It almost always sucks. Today we get to use faith and dogma as a bludgeon… For Great Justice!”

  /

  On the endless meadow of wildflowers, where Eponna’s herd ran and played in the starlight of the madman’s moon, a procession of beings marched down from the Strange High House in the Mists, above the roiling, storm-wracked sea. A long parade of immortals, divines and spirit beings trooped silently down the path and out onto the meadow, to confront one of their own.

  The group spread out as they neared the standing stones, and the golden pavilion Dana had erected there, to appear as if she were present by her own Will.

  Likewise, she kept her right hand concealed among her draping robes of white and gold, lest the others see her shameful imperfection. Her hand once more bore the red, swollen aspect and painful throbbing of a severe burn, a condition heretofore unknown among the divines.

  In the starlit meadow, among the wildflowers and under a sky of drifting bubbles, ribbons and stars, an ominous quiet fell. The coalition of divines, lesser immortals, fae and local spirits formed a loose semicircle around the Healer’s billowing silk bower and her coterie of subordinates, somber and still.

  After a moment of awkward silence, with Dana glowering at the gathered beings with poorly disguised fury and disdain, Marduk spoke… “Dana, my beloved sister… We have tried to help you see reason and we have failed. Now you must face up to what you have done… and pay the price of your actions.”

  “And who will make me pay this ‘price’, Marduk? You, a diminished and feeble deity with a miniscule cult, led by a child? I think not!” She snapped. “Mortals are mine to protect and nurture, mine to watch over and heal! It has been so, since they came to this world!”

  “As ever it was, sister.” Marduk replied mildly. “None seek to change that, or interfere with your divine role…”

  “Lies!” She spat, furious beyond all decorum, her dignity forgotten. “Your filthy… Thing encroaches on my domain constantly, even now! He deals in healing balms and medicines… and that spring of rejuvenating waters…” She gasped, spittle flying from her lips. “Even going so far as to seduce my own cultists into blessing the births of new mortal flesh… Mortal children born under its aegis, in its filthy shadow domain, beyond my sight!”

  “You are furious, because he has healing abilities and allows the childbearing mortal women to deliver their young in his home, in the waters of his bath?” Gemma the Crystal Crab asked in the silence that fell after the Healer’s tirade. “That seems pretty stupid.”

  “Gemma!” Ignis scolded her in a not very well hushed whisper. “You shouldn’t just tell a major deity that! Even if she is truly an idiot.” His warm, woody voice of crackling flames and hissing embers carried over the clearing at least as well as Gemma’s, since he was feeling like being a pain in the ass tonight.

  “Even if she is being a raging cunt.”

  The meadow fell so silent and still after that, the sound of starlight ringing against a dew dappled fern frond seemed almost deafening.

  “In any case… we are here not to prosecute the matter, but to bear witness.” He sighed and shook his golden ringlets at the divine Healer and her minions, clustered around her golden divan, incongruously sitting among the mossy standing stones.

  There, among the wildflowers and under a sky of stars and swirling ribbons and bubbles, the gathered divines watched as a rift slowly opened between the world of men and the world between, a place only the mad can find.

  “Hello again, Dana, sacred goddess of Healing… I’ve come calling.” Gary Ward, the mad witch growled at his radiant prisoner, through a rent torn in the veil itself, like a ragged window into the mortal plane.

  “Do you have my pound of divine flesh ready?”

  /