Fate Deals the Cards Temperance

  Chapter 17 On the Outside, Looking In

  Axelrod slogged through the ankle deep mud of the melting swamp and sloshed up to the boggy hillock The lord inquisitor’s tent occupied. “Still no reading, my lord. It seems to no longer manifest. We found another of those circles of soil, though.”

  “Well? What of it, man?” Peltier barked, deep in another foul humor.

  “It’s gotten bigger, sir…” Axelrod mumbled.

  /

  “Has he gotten bigger?” Hessen asked nervously, when she stepped out of the lodge and into the wide clearing where the students gathered, awaiting the words of the elders…

  The gob stood as tall as a small human and massed as much. With his long, well muscled limbs still marred by faint traces of the worst abuses he had suffered in the hands of the conclave’s hunters, he seemed a nightmare made flesh to most of the gathered students. Those who remained, anyway. Many fled when he emerged from the bower.

  /

  I stood up straight in the clearing and took a long, slow stretch, letting my body truly unwind after so long… immobile. Hunger gnawed at me, as did thirst still, but the business at hand was more immediate and pressing.

  I could smell them, so many of them all around, horny girls, frightened, terrified in fact; but the ones for whom tummytime had come knocking didn’t run far. The ones who still smelled of me were coming to grips with the sad reality; they had achieved nothing.

  I took a few minutes to warm up in the clearing, while Emmie, Alba and Sarafina made themselves comfortable for the show. Before too long, I heard the rustle of the lodge entrance flap, the woven reeds rattled softly as several women exited into the starry night.

  I stopped my slow, tranquil dance of languid stretches, which was just eye candy for my girls by that point… and to frustrate the furtive watchers in the bushes, when my hosts emerged onto the scene.

  Some I knew by scent… Jameela, I’d heard her name before somewhere, she smelled dusty, like a cat lying in the sun, too satisfied by her position to consider moving, no matter how tempting the prey.

  Violet reeked of outrage, anger, disgust and a healthy dose of me… She’d had a ride at some point and was deeply upset over the whole deal. She wanted me dead with a cold, zealous conviction that had nothing to do with me, but with how things should be.

  Hessen just wanted to hear me scream, watch me writhe and bleed. It oozed from her scent her aura and the venomous glares she raked me with constantly. I got the distinct impression that she held that view of all males, not just me.

  I’d put on my shorts and kilt for the big meeting, since I wanted to be seen as more than just ‘that dork over there in the corner’ no one listened to that guy. Those went away when I started my little burlesque show outside the lodge, since I was accustomed to working out nude. Only during the runties’ lessons did I restrain my thang, cause, dang, bro.

  I didn’t have a spear out as I danced under the stars, my bare feet whisking over the grass in time to the beat of my heart and the music in my head, but I followed the forms by habit.

  Whoever had taught me the form had done a splendid job; while old, forgotten me’s effort and dedication paid off. I reaped the benefits in range of motion, balance, grace, footwork, timing. I had all the elements needed to put a pointy something, right where your foe would rather not have a pointy something shoved. Better yet, I had style.

  A short vision of that pale, red haired muse flashed before my eyes, twirling and chiming as she danced, danced with me. I blinked away the tears and settled down in a balanced, low stance, my knees slightly bent and feet wide. I stamped my feet in turn, hand on my knees, raised my face to the sky and howled.

  “Doskoi!”

  No one laughed… not even Sarafina. I felt like a complete loser and a huge weeb; but hell, these bitches deserved a smackdown, not a comedy show.

  I took a beat or two to let the echo of my shout die, before I nodded at Hessen, who growled and threw off her fur robes. Taller than the usual and lean, she wasn’t young, nor old, I hadn’t seen a middle aged goblin before.

  Her hair was dark, shot with a few strands of silver, long and braided into a no nonsense plait against her skull. Muscular and fit looking, she had only a hint of tummy and little jiggle anywhere. Her long black knife of fine obsidian was businesslike too, clenched in a long gauntlet of close-braided spider silk and palm fiber that guarded her to the elbow, while leaving her taloned fingers free.

  In her off hand she clutched an odd shaped shield, rimmed with shards of jagged flint, glued in with resin and lashed in place with rawhide. The thing was oval, with a long ‘tail’ that protruded a foot from the lower, most rounded point. It looked like an oar, but made for paddling asses.

  I liked the design and made a mental note to steal it, without getting too close a look at it right now.

  I swept her a graceful bow, tucking my erect member under my elbow, cause I’m classy. Still bent low, I looked up, meeting her anger, hate filled eyes and smiled.

  Shall we dance?

  On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?

  Shall we dance?

  Shall we then say Goodnight and mean Goodbye?

  I liked that one and it worked before, so why not? The King and I was a classic for a reason! Hessen spat something evil in my direction as she approached, not an obscenity, but a curse, an honest to goodness witch’s curse! It struck my aura with a soft chiming sound and dissipated, which she didn’t appreciate.

  “Cheating slag!” She snapped at Sarafina, who only smiled and waved idly at the furious witch. She kept her full attention on me as she circled slowly, her knife held low, ready to gut me.

  “You face me, witch.” I muttered, spitting a little blood for the privilege.

  “Naked and empty handed… I’ll spill your bowels in the dust and eat your balls for breakfast at sunrise.” She whispered back.

  “Maybe you just want good fucking?” I pumped my pelvis at her a few times, smiling like an idiot with my hands on my hips. I did a short, booty-slapping, knee-waggling, butt-fucking end-zone dance that sent her into a rage.

  She rushed me fast and low, her bare, taloned feet digging into the turf as she launched herself at me. Her suicidal lunge had a sly trick; a rolling leap to the side at the last instant, while lashing out with her black volcanic glass knife.

  Keen, jagged glass whisked by my belly, so close I felt the wind of its passage, but not close enough. The heel of my hand lashed out as my hips swayed just enough to let her blade pass. My strike hit home, sending her sprawling in the dirt at the edge of the clearing, several yards away. I picked up her fallen knife, dropped when her shoulder dislocated, and slipped it into my shadow with a flashy twirl.

  I did jazz hands at her, displaying my empty claws, as she struggled to her feet, gasping with pain and hunched over. She staggered toward me, awkwardly crabbing along, favoring her injured shoulder, only to leap at me again. Gripping her oar shield by the ‘tail’ she whipped it at me, using it as a very effective stone-edged war-club.

  Her versatile weapon was not unlike the macuahuitl I used to murder those knights… so long ago, in another life.

  I spun to the right and plucked the coarse hemp net I used for catching skeeters, out of my shadow. I flung it out in her path as I dodged her, entangling the keen, jagged weapon and the rest of her in the loose, tough fibers.

  Once again, she sprawled to the dirt, rolling away desperately as I pursued her across the clearing.

  I snatched her weapon away, ripping it from her hands and from my net, then dropped it into my shadow as well; while the watchers were distracted by the ringing slap to the face I delivered to my entangled victim.

  I grabbed the net full of furious, injured goblin witch and shook it loose, tumbling the creature back into the dirt, then tucked the net away too, with a little twerking for the audience. They were unprepared for the clapping booty cheeks, but it was for Sarafina and my wives in the VIP box, not the general admission crowd.

  “We done here, yet?” I asked the gasping furious witch at my feet, when my ass cheeks stopped jiggling. “Nub wanna kill you.”

  Her raking claws, slashed at my junk were all the answers I got as she scuttled at me, slashing with the sets she could still move. Whether feet or her working hand, she just wanted blood on her claws and wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Sadly, I was faster and more agile, in addition to having reach, weight and strength on her, so it was an exhausting, humiliating and desperately shameful exercise in futility.

  “Enough.” The oldest, most wizened witch in the group of geezers finally grumbled. “Kill her.”

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  “No.” I answered, with one foot on Hessen’s back, pressing her into the dirt and her good arm wrenched into a painful submission hold. “Ghnash tired, cranky, been abused and used. No More.”

  “King Ghnash wishes to retire to his harem, rest and recover… If the Hessen clan wishes to shame itself further, by all means, go ahead.” Sarafina called out insolently, from her seat on the furs with my wives. “He can humiliate you further another night, mother Hessen. Though, I suspect you will not survive another encounter. Even king Ghnash’s mercy is not inexhaustible."

  Sara turned to the eldest witch and smiled. “Well, great mother Bella? Are you satisfied?”

  “He is not an animal… A brute and still a savage, but not a beast.” The crone declared firmly. “You claim he is a witch of some kind… that remains to be seen.”

  “That is what you will see when the sun comes up, great mother.” Sarafina replied smugly. “Come along, Ghnash. You need a proper bath and a rest.” Alba and Emmie joined us as we departed, headed for the low hills to the east; where the faintest tinge of peach colored light was showing to my sensitive eyes.

  In a copse of oaks, on a rocky hillside above a swift flowing, rocky stream my clan waited among the trees. Lined up front and center, the runties were all seated together with Saphie, holding the flutes and drums I’d made for them, from scraps, hides and bones.

  “Papa must be tired. We’ll help you.” Sapphire chirped merrily. “I remember how!” Her little panflute came to her lips and started one of her favorite improvisations. A sweet number in the key of D, her lilting song drifted like a butterfly on a summer breeze, light and unpredictable, but always landing just where she wanted. “Go on papa. We won’t look. Make home.” She whispered, while Jasmine, Coral and Lyre took up the melody on turtle shell drums and a bamboo flute.

  Saphie’s pipes always tugged at me, pulling gently at my aura and on something else; something dark, but not sinister. Like the scent of home on the wind, it pulled her into my music more fully, drawing her into my tune.

  Her brigade of runties did the same, to a lesser degree, but when they played the toys I’d made them, all together; there was a distinct feeling of… connection.

  That feeling followed me, as I stepped out of the trees and onto the rolling hills above the sea, glittering under the stars to the west. The salt breeze lifted my flute’s song into the sky, out on that lonely, windswept hill.

  By now, the girls understood how their chief’s weird abilities worked, kinda. They understood that if they stared at me, nothing would happen… Only when I was out of sight, obscured or in motion, could wonders appear from my shadow. They also knew that my morning and evening practices were vital and respected those boundaries too. It felt good, thinking on the people around me who respected me and showed it consistently, even if they weren’t all as enthusiastic about my dick as Emmie.

  As I danced and piped our home into being on the hillside, I reflected on just how good I’d had it lately, restless hormones and frustrating genitals notwithstanding.

  Sweat stung in the scratches and abrasions left by my captors’ ropes and beatings, but the pain served me, in my trance, helping clear my foggy head. Soon a towering cloud of steam lofted into the sky, rising to join the fog rolling in over the sea and up the hills as the sun rose.

  I sank into the bath at long last, with my little knights in training splashing in soon after.

  When Emmie, Alba and Sarafina joined us a while later, the kids took a powder. Clever rascals all of them.

  Alba watched with keen interest as Sarafina bathed me, as was the witch’s habit, scrubbing me entirely, without waking the sleeping sea-monster in the bath. “Touch, without sexual intent, can build trust and affection… and is safe, within limits.” She told the pale, slim girl who still got nervous, whenever Ghnash junior bobbed to the surface of the bath.

  Emmie snorted a little, but remained quiet, when Sara scrubbed ‘her tushie’ with careful and thorough hands. “Yes, child. I only clean his bum. You are the mistress of the back door.” Sara whispered in Emmie’s ear, despite my feeble protests.

  We floated together for a while, watching the sun slowly climb closer to the horizon, until I had to escape into my den, to really sleep at last.

  /

  Out of the mires and on hilly grasslands at last, Peltier was in an ebullient mood, when Axelrod gave him the news. “A few degrees off due west, my lord… Perhaps tomorrow we can get a range measurement.”

  “Oh excellent! Let’s make haste and run this creature to ground.” The lord mumbled cheerfully.

  /

  I woke, groggy, a little suspicious and more than a little hungry, when I sensed some unfamiliar gobbs enter my domain. I got big mad a moment later, when an unwelcome visitor bumped into the aura of denial and repulsion at my border.

  Hessen was out there on the edge of my garden, wondering why she was afraid to follow the others and failing to control her emotions. That meant she would start to turn in one direction or another, unconsciously avoiding my perimeter, without really understanding why or how.

  I ‘watched’ the show for a while, as Hessen failed again and again, growing more furious each time she was misdirected. Lying in my nest, with Alba sprawled across me, snoring like a drunken ogre and a smile on her face; it was just a perfect moment in time.

  /

  “Sarafina! What spell is this you’ve cast? The law will not allow favoritism in conclave! What is shared with one is shared with all! If one of us enters we are all welcome! This is the law of conclave!” Mother Hessen yelled from the edge of papa’s garden, making lotsa noise and disrupting the songbirds she was teaching to whistle her latest tune.

  “Shh!” Saphie insisted, as she stepped out of a berry bush under the sloe trees, which were in full blossom. “You’re messin’ up my spell! Birds won’t listen if you keep screamin’ like that.”

  Hessen blinked a few times, too confused by actually being addressed by a runtie, never mind being scolded by one. “Go find your mother and tell her to beat you for speaking to your elder.” She snapped at the child. “If you delay, I will have you branded for insolence.”

  The whelp cocked an eyebrow at her and shrugged, confirming her insolence and bad upbringing. Furious, the elder threw a stone at the brat, who danced away from the battered witch’s projectile with ease.

  “I’mma tell on you!” The runtie vanished into the canes and bushes, in a swirl of pink plum blossoms.

  “If your stone had struck princess Saphie, your bowels would be decorating these lovely plum trees before mid-day, sister Hessen.” Sarafina whispered from just across the inscrutable boundary. “Even so, I fear his patience with you has run out.”

  “Release this hex and let me pass! You know the law!” Hessen yelped at the crone, who was seated on a low plum bough, among the petals.

  Sarafina leaned back on her idyllic seat and sighed with pure delight, fluttering her eyelids at her rival intolerably. “This is no spell or art of mine, nor of any of the sisterhood. Do you think I could create such a wonder? Not on my life. It springs from chief Ghnash. Fear what you have enraged and abused, sister. He will not allow you entry, there is no appeal, no law to bind him.”

  Sara giggled merrily and hopped down from her perch, a smile still spread all over her face, peeling back decades, if not centuries of cares, revealing the goblin lass underneath the wrinkles. “Weep for what you have lost, sister.”

  /

  Eldest Bella sank into the green pool of herb scented water, letting the heat soak into her bones and melt her into a drifting cluster of flotsam. “Impossible.” She whispered to the foggy expanse of the sky.

  “True.” Fogdew sighed softly nearby, just as completely wrecked by the wonder of the thing.

  Sarafina slipped into the pool with a sigh of bliss and smiled at her sisters. “Better than some smoky old lodge, no?” She asked, cheeky and irreverent as always.

  “The abundance of the garden, this pool of eldritch… whatever, and that.” She pointed just up the hill, where the house loomed above them, the chimney dribbling smoke into the sky. “These are the king’s gifts.”

  “It all springs from him, whatever he is?” Violet asked, far less sure of herself than just a day ago.

  “King, is what he is.” Sara replied calmly. “He may forgive what you have done… He is a strange one, but gentle at heart.” She shrugged at Violet, who found that just about as reassuring as one could expect.

  “Violet clan should step very carefully, I think.”

  “Stars! Of course I captured him!” Violet gasped at last. “Did you see the tushie on him? I darted his neck, to leave it unblemished!” She moaned and rocked back and forth in the bath. “And that cock! Wild and savage as any… but there was something…”

  “That ‘something’ you felt is a sane mind; like mine or yours, sister Violet… Get your claws into that idea quickly, I beg you.” Sara whispered. “I beg all of you to grasp this impossibility.”

  “I am curious as to how you got all these bellies filled, if his seed is empty.” Bella muttered, as she sniffed the air. “Or are they filled?”

  “They are not.” Sara giggled so happily it almost hurt her face. “This is a charm wrought by Ghnash’s hands. It halts tummytime for a full turning of the season.” She let that ripe fruit dangle there, waiting to be plucked.

  “And then?” Bella finally asked, waiting to hear the awful side-effects such efforts always created.

  “And then nothing, the king gives her another amulet for another season.” Sara replied. “The spell is impossibly complex, but works so simply. A girl wishing to be filled, must only set aside the amulet and find some babygoo.”

  “Why did you not tell us of this?” Violet demanded sharply.

  “Would you believe, without seeing all this first?” Sara shot right back. “Your… unfortunate encounter with the king is a difficulty we must overcome together, sister. First you must learn to see him as something more than a beast.” She murmured to the gathered witches.

  “To that end. we shall all wait here and watch what happens, when he rises at sunset.”

  On cue, Beryl began serving a meal to the elders, up on the lawn beside the pool. The girl was a marvel, in so many ways.

  /

  It was obvious that Hessen wasn’t going to figure out how to force my ward. She lacked the strength of conviction needed to push through, so I drifted off to sleep; tossing and turning in troubled dreams of a green monkey throwing poop at Saphie… Dumb monkey.

  When sunset approached, I went up to resume my routine… And found an audience waiting, watching my pupils as they stretched and warmed up under Saphie’s command.

  “The troops are ready, King-papa!” She squeaked happily when I appeared. I nodded, hoping for a blood free breakfast. I could smell it; Beryl was making wild rice and duck congee, up in the kitchen.

  Without a word, we began the first form, The Trailing Spear. We progressed swiftly and smoothly until The Leaping Spear, where things got more complex. I let the kids fall off one by one; just like always, as they got tired, tripped, lost the rhythm, or forgot the steps, they would land on the lawn, giggling, gasping and watching.

  The kids studied me while they recovered and caught their breath, determined to do better tomorrow; which made me focus on doing better tomorrow, too…

  We cooled down for meditation time with a round of Saphie’s hated breath control exercises, followed by music practice, like always.

  /

  The conclave watched in silence, as a male, of all creatures led a pack of runties through lessons and practices similar in some ways to their own, but distinctly unique. Watching the unfocused, uncoordinated, silly kids fall in and follow with diligence and intensity was fascinating all by itself…

  “Is this your influence?” Violet asked Sarafina in a tense whisper.

  “None of mine. He just does this; every morning and night and they follow.” She shrugged again, that same evil smile on her lips. “Infuriating, isn’t he?” She asked from behind her claw, to hide her smirk.

  Fogdew let a slow, throaty growl of pleasure pass her lips, as the kids scampered away and the male departed without speaking to them. “Mysterious…”

  “I can’t get a single scrap of information from him; only wonders that inspire more questions.” Sarafina cooed happily. “I think I like that about him, after all.”

  As they spoke and sipped tea on the lawn, The tiny leader of the runties darted into the pool, splashing down with a gleeful giggle, followed by her silent cat-girl attendant. She swam over and climbed onto the lawn with her elders, curling up in Sarafina’s lap with a satisfied little sigh.

  “Princess Sapphire, meet the elders of the conclave. Sisters, this is the princess, Saphie.” She leaned down to speak to the child, her voice soft and fond.

  “These wise elders wish to know more about your King-papa. What would you have them know?”

  “Hmmm…” The child purred and cooed for a moment, considering the weighty matter. “It hurts him to talk. Listen to the music, not what he says.” She announced after a while. “Bedtime!” Just like that, she dashed away, her attendant hot on her heels.

  /

  Out in the hills, I had a good long scratch on an alder tree, stretching out under the stars. It felt good, natural and free, roaming the night alone. On a hilltop not too far from home, but breezy and barren like a piece of the moon, fallen to earth, I sat down on a fur pulled from my shadow, followed by my latest experiment.

  It wasn’t a banjo, or a shamisen… but it did twang nicely and stayed in tune. A snapping turtle shell, skinned with frogodile belly-hide and strung with braided croc-gut and spider-silk led into an iron bamboo neck, with tied rawhide and gut frets and a frogodile bone bridge. Goblin claws even made fine fingerpicks, once blunted on a hardwood tree.

  ‘Bellflower Lane’ rang out over the hills, a simple little tune grandpa always warmed up on, before a little Scruggs style fingerpicking.

  “See you, Violet.” I grunted at the goblin woman skulking in the bushes, listening.

  “I think you do see me, king Ghnash, now perhaps I finally see what Sarafina sees.” She growled, as she stalked into my little hilltop clearing.

  “How do we resolve this terrible debt between us?” She demanded, as she sat down on my fur and wedged her ass against mine, until I shifted over, making space for her. She grunted with satisfaction and leaned against me, looking up at the stars, once she was beside me on the fur.

  “Big debt. Big-big angry.” I grunted, when she settled herself. I kept playing idle bluegrass improvisations in the vicinity of D minor the whole while. I considered that a very approachable and conciliatory key, good for jam sessions and loose noodling.

  I let the music wander from my fingers, picking out simple tunes on a primitive banjo under the stars, with my rapist… Goblin life was just full of contrasts.

  She sat there, leaning against me, listening for a while, then left without another word.

  /