NOVEL WEB Chapter Thirty-Four: Your Slave
Joseph breathed heavily as he followed after Nine, with Prolo just behind, dragging the still unconscious Varig on Joe’s dragonscale coat. While Joe would have preferred this be a quick and silent trip, Nine would not allow the latter.
“Me woman then told me that I can’t throw a rock at a cave roaches, tolds me that is bad luck, pah!” Nine said, exasperated, “I don’t wanna splat ‘em with me club, hittin’ them with rocks stops the gooey stuff from getting all over me.”
“That’s crazy.” Joe replied for the fiftieth time.
“Right!?” Nine agreed, “It is crazy, why would throwing rocks at bugs be bad luck? Reminds me of this one time-”
“That’s crazy.” Joe replied for the fifty-first time.
“Right!?” Nine agreed.
Joe let out a suffering sigh as the goblin continued to prattle on. He had already gleaned all the useful info that was possible from the little freak. Joe knew how many goblins were in the camp, the weapons they had, as well as where they kept their food and water supply, among other things… and Joe hadn’t even asked about that stuff. He had been intending to, but Nine just put it out there in the open without any prodding whatsoever.
“I would really prefer if you’d stay quiet.” Prolo said, straining to sound polite.
“Why do you gotta be mean to him?” Nine asked, “Joey hasn’t said too much of nuthin’.”
“He wasn’t talkin’ to me.” Joe pointed out.
“The beardy hasn’t said nuthin’ at all!” Nine exclaimed, “Ya can’t be mean to someone what can’t talk back!”
Joe and Prolo then both sighed.
“How much farther?” Joe asked, cutting Nine off from another rant, “Varig ain’t got much longer.”
It was true, this past hour had been hellish for the dwarf, if the pained cries and ragged breathing were an indicator. Joe himself was having trouble keeping up with Nine due to his own injuries, the ache in his shoulders, the pounding of his head, and his muddied thoughts making this ‘short’ trip feel like it lasted an eternity. Prolo, while not as worse for wear, was still dragging a heavy dwarf across the entirety of Old Ugals, sometimes having to hoist Varig over some rubble to continue on their path. His breathing was strained but the boy didn’t relent, fully intent on saving Varig just as much as Joe himself was.
“Probably ten minutes, or maybe fifty, An hour, two maybe.” Nine said confidently.
“What the hell?” Joe questioned, “What kind of math is that!?”
“Dunno what that means.” Nine replied, “I just knows it won’t take much longer.”
“There’s a big difference between ten minutes, and two hours pal.” Joe said between heavy breaths, “A big one.”
“Do you know what a minute even is?” Prolo asked, voice strained as he continued to drag Varig, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m genuinely curious.”
“Minutes like…” Nine paused, “Phew, ‘bout sixty hours?”
“No.” Joe shook his head despite the ache, “Not even close, that’s totally wrong.”
“Sixty seconds, Nine. Seconds.” Prolo emphasized.
“Seconds?” Nine asked, a gnarled hand cradling his warty chin, “But we ain’t even had firsts yet.”
“...Wha-” Joe began before Nine cut him off.
“Hadn’t had dinner yet.” Nine nodded, “Can’t have seconds without firsts. That’s just silly.”
Joe let out a heavy sigh. Talking to Nine was more exhausting than the fight with Jilamaka. At least in the moment it felt like it. After a few more minutes of Nine’s gabbing, they finally reached the edge of Old Ugals, to which Nine pointed to a small, inconspicuous tunnel.
“That’s the one what leads to the huntin’ camp.” Nine declared proudly, “It’ll be a tight fit for you tallers- ah sorry.” Nine said quickly, raising a single warding hand, “Talls I mean.”
Joe stared at the tunnel, which was half his height. He and Prolo would have to crouch down in order to pass through it, but someone of Nine’s height would be able to walk through no problem. Joe groaned but didn’t voice a complaint aside from that, bitching about the tunnel wouldn’t make it bigger… he just had to get this over with. Prolo stared at the tunnel with similar apprehension, but other than that, said nothing.
Nine led the way, with Joe and Prolo right behind, hunched down as they followed after the little green freak. Joe’s legs burned keeping this pace with the goblin, and Prolo’s breathing became more labored as he maintained the same squat, still dragging Varig. During the rest of the miserable trip, Nine continued to talk, much to Joe’s irritation. Thankfully he didn’t have to suffer Nine’s stories for too long, as they soon emerged into a tall cavern.
Joe’s quads screamed in agony at their poor treatment, but it was paltry compared to the pain of his skull, which had only worsened with the effort of moving through the tunnel. Ahead, Joe could see a series of tents, illuminated by Fumu in glass jars. It looked just like Nine had described, from how the tents were arranged in a circle all the way down to where they smoked the rats. There were around twenty tents in all, and the number of goblins occupying the camp seemed to be half that number. The hunters must have still been out and about.
“Camp sweet camp!” Nine declared, urging Joe and Prolo forward, “Shaman is this way, follow!”
“Is he gonna want somethin’ for fixin’ up our pal?” Joe asked, putting most of his weight on his poleaxe as they went.
“Yeah I told ya that already!” Nine shouted, “Keep your brain-ears open bigger.”
…Had he told Joe that? It was hard to recall amidst both the brain-fog and Nine’s ceaseless chatter.
“What would be the price for such magic?” Prolo asked, “Surely it won’t be something as simple as gold.”
“Gold shmold.” Nine said dismissively, “That stuff is useless! We use rat-tails for current-see, lasts a longerest time but still rots away event of lee.” Nine nodded as the other goblins began to take notice of their presence. “Cause of that we don’t get… uh… enfatshion? Yeh, no enfatshion.”
Joe, despite his grumpy mood, cracked a half-smile, just for an instant. Thankfully with his mask on, there was no way for Nine to see it. If the goblin did, that might have encouraged him. Nine led them further into the camp, his fellow goblins looking on-edge as they stared at the new arrivals. What would they have done if Nine hadn’t been leading them?
“Hey!” Nine waved to his kindred, “It’s all good.”
The goblins then all nodded their heads emphatically, losing the edge in their stare and approaching the group of them. Nine urged them to a halt as they reached the center of camp, the dozen goblins coming to surround them. Was this a trap? Joe’s hand tightened on his poleaxe, but much to his surprise… and chagrin, they all began yapping.
“Ooh is a humie!” One shouted, “I met a humie once, shoved my head in a ladderine or whatever it was called, stinky!”
“Two humies and a beardy.” Another said, holding up four fingers, “Five in total yeh?”
“No! Stupid idiot!” Another reprimanded, “Clearly das two.”
“Two is my older brother!” Nine shouted, “These ain’t me brothers!”
“Not Two, I said two!” The same one replied, crossing thin green arms.
“...Wha?” Nine asked, scratching his chin.
“Da number!” A goblin offered.
Nine considered, before snapping his fingers, “Ah I gets it. Yoo are all slow-in-the-minds though, they is three.” He finished, gesturing to Joe and the others.
A round of gasps then emanated from the small gathering, hands going to chins or slapping faces.
“Nine is so smartest.” One stated, tone somewhat envious.
“Ya know,” Nine started, “That reminds me of-”
“Where is the Shaman?” Joe said quickly, cutting Nine off, “We don’t got much time, our friend here needs healing, and me too.”
“Probably cost you extree for that.” Nine replied with a shrug, “And remember I ain’t doing this for free neither.”
Joe glared, “What?”
“I want chocolate!” Nine shouted, “Gimme a square or five!”
“No way, you should have been up front with me about this.” Joe said, shaking his head.
“Joseph…” Prolo whispered, “He did mention it.”
“He did?” Joe asked, squinting.
“That’s right I did!” Nine yelled again, exacerbating Joe’s headache.
He felt a bit of heat in his face as a mote of anger was drawn out.
“Half a square.” Joe said sufferingly, reaching into his pack.
“I said a square or five!” Nine yelled again, driving the spikes of pain deeper into his skull.
“If you yell again I’m gonna kick your ass.” Joe threatened, his anger bleeding into his tone.
Nine’s eyes widened in shock, “I don’t have a donkey…” He shrugged.
Joe exhaled sharply out of his nose, “Just don’t yell at me again, or there’s gonna be problems. You’ll get a single square, and that’s it. I’m being generous here, but you gotta bring us to the Shaman first, or you ain’t gettin’ it. Understand?” Joe asked.
Nine nodded, the other goblins chatting amongst themselves, apparently trying to ascertain what ‘chocolate’ was.
“Fine…” Nine pouted, “Don’t got a donkey you can kick but whatevers.”
“Shaman, now.” Joe demanded, fist clenching.
“Alright jeebz…” Nine whined, turning around before approaching the largest tent in the camp.
It, like the rest of the tents, appeared to be made of a patchwork of animal skins, some patches still having hair on them. It was sloppy work, Joe could stitch a far better flesh tent if he had the desire to. He frowned at the thought, why would he ever want to do something like that? They stopped just outside the tent, Nine going in by himself before emerging with an old and knobbly goblin.
Shorter than even Nine, the wrinkled creature before Joseph looked just as he himself did before he was de-aged… if Joe had been warty and green anyhow. A wispy white head of hair stretched down to the Shaman’s stooped shoulders, the rat bone mask he wore keeping it from his eyes. The two prominent teeth of the mask were a deep yellow, sticking out just past the Shaman’s long nose.
“I’m Shaman, whaddya want.” It asked in a scraggly grumpy tone, “My fifth nap of the day has been smack-re-riced to speak with yas.”
“Let’s cut to the chase.” Joe started, “My buddy the dwarf there got hurt bad, I heard ya got magic hands, so can ya heal him?”
Shaman nodded, “Yeh.”
“Oh, well great.” Joe said with a smile.
A moment of silence passed, Prolo dropping the sleeves to knuckle the small of his back in the meantime.
“Are you gonna do anythin’?” Joe asked, gesturing at him with his free hand, “Yer just standing there.”
“I need some chores done first,” Shaman said, “Go and clean the lateriney cave and pick me fifty glow-caps from Old Orals, after that, I need yas to go give a nice rock I found to me nephew in the camp what’s south of here, after that I’ll heal your buddy, now lemme go get the rock. It’s real shiny-like.” Shaman concluded, turning away.
Joe expected to have to give something in return for this service, but these errands that Shaman wanted to send them on would take far too long, Varig could very well pass on while they were out doing these things. He needed to get Varig healed now, not later.
“Woah pal.” Joe said quickly, “I ain’t saying no, but you gotta heal our friend now before I do anything for ya.”
“Nah.” Shaman said, “He’ll probably be alright, he’s just sleepin’”
“He’s unconscious cause of how hard he got hit.” Joe said with a sigh, “He’s gonna die unless ya heal him right now.”
“I’m da Shaman here,” He replied sharply, “If he was gonna die he’d be super quiety like, listen to the beardy.” Shaman pointed to Varig, who let out rattled breathes between pained groans, “He’ll probably be fine till you get the chores done, I gotta finish my fifth nap-”
“How about I give ya something instead of doin’ those chores?” Joe asked, “Ever hear of chocolate?”
“Eh?” Shaman asked, “Can’t say that I have.”
“Nine, tell him how good it is.” Prolo gestured, “Quickly please.”
“Ah yeh.” Nine nodded, “I only brought him here to get another square of it, tastes real good like, super sweetly.”
Shaman then ran a hand through his wispy beard, “Sweetly eh? Well that does sound nice-like, that reminds me of the time-”
“Yeah.” Joe said quickly, cutting Shaman off, “I can give you a square of it if you heal our friend right now, and if you heal me after him, I’ll see about gettin’ those chores done for ya. Deal?”
“Yeh, sounds good.” Shaman said, yawning, “Just gotta finish my fifth nap and I can get around to it.”
Joe’s jaw clenched, “What?”
“I’m an oldy, oldies need napsies.” Shaman explained, “Should just be an hour or so, maybe two, five, twelvty, who knows?”
“Naw, you said you would heal him now for the chocolate, so get to it.” Joe ordered, “This is serious, he ain’t gonna last that long. Just heal him up and then ya can take that nap.”
“Magic don’t work too well without me nap laddy.” Shaman shrugged, “Just be patent.” He said, wagging his finger.
“You’re going to heal him now.” Joe said, eyes going wide as his anger rose.
“Listen, sir Shaman,” Prolo began quickly, stepping in front of Joe, “He won’t last till the chores are done, I beg of you, please heal him.”
“Can I get that square now?” Nine asked sheepishly, “Please?”
“Give it a second.” Joe replied sharply, “Are ya gonna heal him or what Shaman?”
“Nah, trust me he’ll be fine.” The old goblin replied dismissively, “Yer over-re-itching, beardy’s are tough-like.”
“I ain’t asking.” Joe said, voice becoming cold as stone.
“Dontchu take that tone with me!” Shaman shouted, driving spikes of pain through Joe’s temples, “Why I oughta!”
That was the last straw. The agony in his head, the shouting, Varig’s dire condition, Shaman’s attitude- it was all too much. His wrath bubbled forth and before he knew it, he shouldered Prolo aside and tackled Shaman, snarling like a rabid animal as he pinned the little freak to the stone, a large hand wrapped around its throat. The goblin stared up at him in shock as crimson began to creep in at the edges of Joe’s vision.
In a frozen tone, Joe threatened, “I’ll kill you unless you do it, now.”
Shaman sputtered and coughed, unable to reply as Joe hoisted him in the air with a single hand, his aches and pains momentarily washed away in the heat of his anger. Prolo drew his blade as the other goblins approached, clubs gripped apprehensively as they stared with wide-eyes at the scene unfolding. Nine had dropped both the rat tails, using both hands to hold the sides of his head as he watched on in apparent horror.
Joe then set Shaman down, and gave a swift kick to his rear, sending him scrambling toward Varig with a yelp of pain. Joe then grasped his poleaxe in both hands, and made a point of hovering the hammer-head right over Shaman’s skull. When the goblin turned, mouth wide open and no-doubt ready to shout expletives, he froze, eyes going wide as he looked up at the poleaxe. Audibly, Shaman gulped, turning back around and promptly approaching Varig.
“Is this wise?” Prolo asked, “If we make enemies of the goblins, we may have trouble returning to Ugals afterward.”
“If they try,” Joe said with heat, “I’ll kill them all.”
The gathered goblins all then took a step back, with one even fainting.
“We won’t causes treble, h-honest.” Shaman whimpered, “I won’t take my nap just please don’t kill me-he-heeee!” He wailed, hands moving to cover his eyes.
“Get it done then.” Joe ordered, “Or I’m gonna paint your camp with a fresh coat of brain.”
Shaman cried as he laid hands on Varig’s brow, the creature shaking as a dim orange light spread out from his hands and enveloped the dwarf’s body. For an instant, he was radiant, the glow around Varig illuminating the entire cavern before it died down just as quickly. Shaman fell back on his rear, breathing heavily as a hand clutched his chest.
“He’s… he’s a bit betta.” Shaman said, “Rest of it’s up to him now…”
“What do you mean by a ‘bit’?” Joe asked, “He’s still hurt?”
Shaman flinched, “My magic helps boo-boos not broken bones- that’s the best I can do I swears it!” He pleaded.
Joe glanced the dwarf over again, seeing that his breathing was a tad bit better, but not by much, and his groans were quieter than before. This was still not enough.
“Do it again.” Joe ordered, pointing to Varig.
Shaman blinked, “Again? But I-”
Joe flipped his poleaxe, bringing the blade close to Shaman’s throat, “Again.”
“Joseph.” Prolo urged, “Calm yourself.”
Joe ignored Prolo as he pressed the blade to Shaman’s throat, “Is there a reason you haven’t done it yet!?” He shouted, “Do it you ugly freak!”
Shaman yelped and crawled back over to Varig, breathing heavily as he once more laid hands upon him, the glow returning once more, albeit slightly dimmer this time around. Varig’s breathing became more normal again, but it was still ragged. Shaman’s hands shook as he laid down, eyes becoming heavy.
“That is all I can do.” Shaman said, “M-my chest hurts.”
Joe ignored the pleas, “I don’t care, again.”
Shaman’s eyes widened, “B-but if I do it more then-”
“Again.” Joe said coldly.
“Joseph.” Prolo urged again, not turning away from the surrounding goblins.
Shaman then crawled weakly over to Varig, laying hands on him once more, the light barely lighting up Varig’s armor this time, rather than the entire cavern. Shaman’s hands collapsed, and Varig’s breathing again improved, but only marginally. Joe leaned down, grabbing the goblins hands and placing them on Varig.
“Again.”
“I-” Shaman rasped, “I can’tnt do it-”
“Now.”
“Joseph that’s enough!” Prolo exploded, his face going red as he half-turned to face him, “You’ll kill him if he keeps this up.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Joe said, his voice still holding its cold edge, “Now heal him again.”
Joe’s world turned on its side as a firm boot pushed him down to the stone. Joe turned his head, seeing Prolo standing over him, a sneer on his face.
“That’s enough!” Prolo exclaimed, “They may be goblins but this is too far!”
Joe growled, quickly rising to his feet before promptly falling to his knees as the world spun. His wrath made him forget the pain he suffered, but a concussion was still a concussion.
“He’s gonna die if we leave him like that!” Joe screamed, “If he dies I can’t go back to Ugals!”
“Your actions are reprehensible,” Prolo commented, his frown deepening, “A good man wouldn't force a creature to kill itself, no matter what the reason is.”
Joe stood shakily, “Varig’s more important than that little green freak.” He said snidely, blinking quickly as a fresh sheen of sweat appeared at his brow.
“So you will treat him like a tool because you think he is beneath you!?” Prolo shouted back, “Do you realize what you’re doing here!? In this moment, you have made this creature your slave!”
Joe’s skin went cold, “You better watch what you say next.” He said, the corners of his vision reddening to the point where it appeared that a tunnel of red surrounded Prolo, “You little punk.”
Prolo flinched, but did not take a step back, “I won’t let you hurt them, even if they are goblins.” He finished, his free hand going to the pistol at his belt.
Joe breathed heavily through clenched teeth, eyes as wide as they could go as he stared down the younger man. Just one quick swing of the poleaxe and he could sever Prolo’s head, after that, he’d shoot all the goblins and press Shaman into healing until it died-
His breath caught, and in an instant shame overwhelmed his wrath. This boy, the one that had taken him in when he first arrived in this world, and here Joe was, planning on how he was going to kill him. Guilt ate its way through its stomach, his grip slackening on his poleaxe as Shaman huffed and puffed at their feet.
“What will you do, Joseph?” Prolo asked in a neutral tone.