Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 36 Comin Round The Mountain

Dannyl’s roaring machine announced his return while the coaches were still a third of a mile from the waiting cluster of houses, shining in the afternoon sun. He motored up and disengaged his whip from inside his bike with an effortless twist and tug. The long, serpentine, barbed chain obediently coiled back up into its rectangular case of leather and wood, ringing and whirring softly as it sorted itself away.

Benny, Maya and Frank were all lounging in the garden, on the patio near the steaming outdoor bath. They waved to their ‘supervisor’ as he rolled up with a wide, bug spattered grin on his face. “I took the main road back, it’s pretty loamy out on the trails.” He sang happily, as he peered around the garden, before heading for the main house. “I gotta rub Wilf’s nose in it…”

“The terrible trio are in the workshop…” Maya warned the veteran Adventurer. “It’s pretty intense in there.”

He paused on the threshold and grimaced with awkward indecision. “They’re running the forge today.” She pointed to the tall chimney rising over Wilf’s high peaked, red tiled roof.

A dense cloud of pale gray smoke and steam rose into the cloudless summer afternoon, with occasional sparks of flaring, eldritch, definitely not fire erupting from the chimney pot. Swirling, half seen animal forms twisted, sprang and danced in that towering column of vapor and smoke, always flickering and swaying at the edge of what might be a trick of light and shadow…

Or perhaps something uncanny was peering in from beyond, only faintly perceptible to mortals for a few, fleeting instants; those chancey moments when sensitive souls found themselves caught between heartbeats and breaths.

Dannyl’s hand still rested on the handle of the sliding door, feeling a swiftly oscillating thrill of something primal thrumming through his fingertips.

“Oh, no thanks…” He murmured as he joined the kids and, he now realized, sir Kermal and his familiar.

“Sasha! Kermie!” He chirped happily as the moth nuzzled and fluttered her dusky wings around his head, buffeting him with her joyous welcome, as moths do. “I have a little treat just for you… and something special for you, Kree and the birthday girl when we get home…” He murmured from inside the fluttering cloud of wings and shadows.

Sir Kermal sighed with long suffering, good natured misery as his familiar mauled the handsome young lad. “Don’t mind me… I’m just your bonded companion…” He put on an elaborate performance of hurt feelings that nobody bought for a second, while his moth fluttered over to perch on his back, nibbling on a piece of maple dryad rock candy.

The rest of the party rolled in a half hour later, sweaty, dusty and tired, but largely enchanted by the glorious vistas of the high mountain valleys in full summer. Birdsong, the fresh scent of conifers and sun warmed loam, small life flashing through the bracken and ferns, amid trickling streams and shady dells… Even the three sea captains were looking wistful and dreamy; now that they were riding in carriages, rather than perched atop horsies.

It took a while for the arriving group to get settled back into the little hamlet, since the main house remained mysteriously off limits for another half hour. Eventually the chimney’s output reduced to a single, thin streamer of steamy smoke and the strange, thrumming sensation left the house.

A few minutes later Wilf, Amy and Rio appeared; sweaty, tired and covered in soot, ash, grease and metal filings. They headed for the bath after greeting their guests, then splashed into the outdoor pool in utter exhaustion.

“We had a busy day…” Frank muttered happily, as the remaining team members got busy serving a very late lunch, slash early dinner to the weary travelers and their horses.

#

After so many years, waking again in the familiar dreamworld of her childhood fancies felt like coming home again. Marduk was seated on a bench, outside her door, waiting patiently for her arrival, it seemed; at least he was drumming the heels of his golden sandals on her grassy turf and twisting the divine ringlets mercilessly.

“Oh, Becky… I wish I could have been here to welcome you home last time! I felt awful, missing out, so I shooed Maple away for the evening.” He chirped merrily, as he hopped onto his feet with an eager smile.

“She had pressing matters of her own to address anyway.” The tiny god looked down at his toes and blushed a little as he reflected on his awkward confession.

“I’m glad you were here this time, Ducky.” She murmured into the divine curls, her warm, mortal breath drifted down the collar of his raiment like a summer breeze, it soothed and calmed the anxious god; just as his embrace eased her worries, like before the stupid pantheon ruined everything...

“Will I be able to come back…? If Gary gets better?” She whispered softly as hope bloomed in her breast. In her dreams, it was surely alright to be a little selfish…

“That remains occult, my dear.” Ducky pointed up to the gloomy, abandoned inn on the precipice. “His strange, high house in the mist remains cold and empty… though a light flickered in a window for a brief moment, not long ago.” He tapped his chin with one perfectly manicured fingertip and sighed wistfully. “Perhaps… Some issues must remain hidden, while others are simply unspoken.”

“What does that mean, Ducks?” She demanded sharply. “Don’t try to play ‘inscrutable divine schemer’ with me, boy! I’m not some petty cleric, to be fobbed off with ineffable platitudes! I swaddled your bare behind, the day Gary pulled you back from the abyss!”

Marduk, god of man’s Wit, Wisdom, Lore and Knowledge sighed gustily and winced. “You’re as bad as he ever was, Becky my love. Other gods get obedient, humble servants and worshippers…”

Marduk took her by the hand and led her across the bridge, out into the misty realms occupied by the gods, fae and divines; complaining all the while.

“Even a well managed devil cult can usually be counted on to at least remain polite and deferential, when addressing their patron… Why am I blessed with such willful and obstinate worshipers?!”

“Uh, huh… If I’m so intolerable, why are you smiling so hard your cheeks are getting red?” She demanded sweetly.

“This is a grimace of divine fury, puny mortal!” He managed the lie in this realm, where only truths could be spoken even by the gods; since the truth was written across his childlike, joyous face.

“Fear the wrath of your divine master!” He sighed at last, as they arrived at a table surrounded by chairs, with a lovely tea service laid out for company.

“You will suffer for your impious attitude, mortal child!” He scolded sweetly, while he poured a cup for her and sweetened it with small cubes of crystalized dryad maple sugar.

“Jasmine tea, your second favorite.” He smirked viciously. “Blackberry tisane is a sacrament reserved for the respectful and pious.”

“My god is strict, but just.” She replied humbly, using her teacup to hide an irreverent little smile at the excited deity's antics.

A few seconds later, if such ideas mattered in a timeless dream realm… A tall man with dark, sun-browned skin, radiant eyes of iridescent colors, bearing a magnificent rack of antlers on his brow, stepped into the little parkland and smiled. He wore simple huntsmans’ leathers and was followed by a small pack of lean, fierce looking wolfhounds.

The man bowed slightly to the god and spoke with a smooth, urbane accent and a rich, clear voice. “Apologies, lord Marduk, Beast is unable to attend and hopes that humble Cernunnos may serve as his proxy.”

“More than acceptable, my friend… join us while we await the others.” The small god smiled and began pouring another cup. “This is Becky Ward, a mortal, but she can hear you speak and can withstand our presence, lord Hound.”

“Mmm… I’d seen her around, but dared not approach, lest she be blown away…” He murmured, leaning across the table for a better look at the dark skinned mortal woman with plaited curls and a smile of irreverent amusement on her dusky pink lips.

“I too have seen you, in the past. We never spoke then.” She said with a little giggle. “Something tells me we have more company coming, I’m sure we’ll get the chance to speak later.”

“Sister Joy!” Marduk cried from the edge of the little garden park. “Splendid, splendid! I do love a good tea party!”

Joy was tall and inscrutable, swathed in expansive folds of shimmering green silk and wearing an ivory mask bearing an unremarkable, almost abstract smiling face. Only the smile and dancing eyes, filled with Joy were distinct features or even vaguely recognizable. Only those eyes and that smile of deep and abiding pleasure were important.

With her came the brazen, blazing, armored form of Brigid, goddess of Poets, Hearths and Forges, who greeted Becky with a long and familiar hug, while Joy stood nearby, enjoying… everything.

Ward, god of Death and Vengeance arrived hand in hand with Ipet, goddess of Justice and Thirp, spider goddess of Secrets, Weavers, Spinners and Lovers.

“Excellent! I’d hoped for a good turnout!” Marduk cheered when the seats began filling up. He bustled about, playing host and enjoying himself immensely. “I’ve never thrown a party before… it would have been mortifying if no one showed!” He led Eponna to the last seat, settling himself in beside her with a pleased little gasp of happiness.

Becky sat and listened with rapt attention, as several members of the pantheion chatted, gossipped and caught up, much the way she did, when encountering a childhood friend after an absence.

She failed to comprehend those overheard conversations, despite her gift translating the words they spoke. The problem seemed to be a complete lack of context and commonalities. After a while she surrendered her attempts at eavesdropping and just watched the way the divines and fae interacted; observing their mannerisms and movements.

Many seemed tremulous or perhaps even frightened, but resolute, as they gathered in the wide garden park. A few beings she recognized moved through the throng; Ward was there, in the crowd and studiously avoiding her vicinity. He shot her a wink and smile that shouted: ‘Just go with it!’ silently from across the lawn.

Joy was always at the center of activity, both fae and divine, though otherwise the two groups mingled and interacted comparatively little. The fae contingent swarmed in the trees, or sat on the lawn in small groups around the periphery, while the deities occupied the center of the garden.

There was plenty of overlap where the two factions met and there seemed to be little friction between them, but with immortals, who could say?

“Friends, fae, divines…” Ducky spoke up after the extended catchup sesh; drawing the attention of the group with his divine aura… and a spoon tinkled merrily in a teacup.

“Let us begin this meeting and get on to the heart of the matter, before our mortal guest must wake.”

The chatter fell silent, as the small god summoned a large chalkboard into being, angled so that everyone could see it clearly. Drawn across the surface, in colorful chalk, complete with adorable little flowers doodled in the corners, was her brother’s ‘Character Sheet’:

Gary Ward: Unique Humanoid* Mortal*

Class: Druid, Craftsman, Witch

Age:14*

Rank:Unranked/Underranked/Deranked*

Might:Copper minus, Beast, divine Contract, Homebody, The Hive, The Sun.

Resilience:Copper minus, Ward, divine Contract, Fractured Soul, Quietus Moon, The Moon

Agility:Unranked, Pockets!, Sleight of Mind, The Hierophant. Critical error, spear Wanderer’s Legacy not found… consult a witch or deity for assistance.

Will:Copper minus, Brigid, etheric Contract, Artisan, Bound in Flesh, The Hanged Man.

Mind:Copper minus, Ipet, divine Contract, Interface, Unlivening, The Endless Dance of Death.

Animus:Copper minus, Joy, divine Contract, Familiar Stranger, Entrainment, The Fool.

*These values have been modified by an outside influence.

“We must find an immortal being that is able and willing to form a Contract with the wreckage of this boy… That is proving a tall order, so far.” Marduk declared firmly, tapping the notation for Gary’s Agility stat with a long, bronze tipped pointer rod.

“The object of human artifice he once bound there, has found a new owner; so that is out. Becky’s mate is the current owner of the thing and only death can sever that bond.”

He glared sharply at the gathered group and waved his pointer to encompass a surprising number of disparate beings who had gathered for the meeting.

“No shortcuts… The mortal currently bearing that weapon received it as a bequest from the boy… Interfering there will end poorly, I promise you.”

As Marduk spoke, the fae and deities had gathered closer together, allowing an even larger contingent of beings to draw nearer to the crowded clearing.

Becky lifted her gaze from the snack table and scanned the throng of entities gathered all around, peering from the woods, lingering by the plantings and generally snooping.

“Who are all these beings?” Becky turned and asked Thirp softly. “Are they also gods?”

The spider goddess sighed tiredly and shook her head. “Not all immortals are gods, my dear, nor does immortality rest easily on every soul that bears it. Rumors of an ending for the endless, have spread far and fast in the spaces between worlds. Some are merely curious or thrill seekers, come to peer at an oddity, while others may have come seeking something that cannot be found elsewhere… Death.”

“Ok… that’s super creepy, Ducks.” Becky grumbled as she began to wake.

#

Duchess Jaspreet smiled at her silly husband, happily coaching Ishmael and Sarafina in the sword before breakfast, supervising their two on one battle against the youngest of the greenie Adventurers.

Three giggling kids strove against each other with leather wrapped training swords, dressed in suits of worn and battered quilted armor and light helmets of laminated wood.

Back and forth across the dusty, roadside camp his kids scurried, pursued by the relentless blonde teenager, with her long hair coiled up in a tight, braided cap under her helmet. A few brassy yellow curls escaped and drifted like a halo around her face, glowing in the morning sun. Her rosy, red apple cheeks and joy filled smile had Ishmael blushing and fumbling under her gaze, as she swatted and poked him around the training circle; while parrying and dodging Sarafina’s clumsy attacks with ease.

“Keep a firm wrist and address your point to the foe, son! Up off your heels, Sarafina, keep in motion and watch her, not her sword!” The proud duke cheered and waved, circling the battle, crowing in delight when Ish dodged a backhanded slash and slipped closer to her. He shouldered the girl off balance for a moment, using his slightly greater mass to break her rhythm… Before she leaned forward, quick as a striking desert adder and planted a kiss on his cheek.

The stunned lordling turned at least three shades of red and stumbled in place for a moment, on suddenly weak and trembling knees.

The smiling orphan girl spun away with a liquid giggle and cocky little swaying dance, while Sarafina’s wild lunge for Stacy’s middle crashed into her brother’s vulnerable, butterfly infested abdomen.

“Well struck, daughter…” Jaspreet sang out from the breakfast table, with the other noble ladies. “But your brother was on your side, was he not?” She asked sweetly, once Sara was washed up and changed for breakfast.

“Yeah… He’s gonna be pretty mad…” She mumbled, bright red cheeks displaying her embarrassment to the company. “Stacy’s sneaky.”

“Hmm… I think perhaps your brother will forgive you…”

Jaspreet replied, with a glance back over at the training circle. Stacy, the cute blonde orphan girl was bent over Ish, gently helping him finish heaving and gagging, among the laughing and jesting warriors.

“Yes, you may rest easy, my dear.” She murmured softly, when her son flopped down on his butt in the dust; sitting back to back with Stacy, to eat breakfast with the Adventurers.

They chatted and ate, facing away from each other, but leaning against each other in a subtle kind of intimacy and camaraderie.

When the company mounted up, Ish wound up riding beside the cheerful, outrageously pretty girl, with Sarafina at his other stirrup, thick as thieves, all three.

Jaspreet caught Abed smiling fondly out the coach window at the trio, lost in his own contemplations.

At home, the daily emergencies, pressing duties and constant demands left poor Abed little time to play with the children… Now he was savoring these moments and unwinding into the cool, calm, easygoing man he always was in private, even among common warriors and Adventurers.

“We’ll be extending this vacation, my husband.” The duchess whispered softly in his ear. “I am having simply too much fun.”

“My duties to Shiraz and her people outweigh the momentary desires of even my beloved wife…-” He fell silent as the duchess’ quick, nimble fingers deftly braided her long, dark hair into two silky pigtails… those same fingers flicked open two buttons on her neat, white shirt, while her long legs crossed, revealing white, lace kneesocks with tiny pink bows at the cuffs.

“Is that something new from Jennah?” He asked hoarsely through a suddenly dry throat.

“Yes, my dear husband… but these are naughty little vacation underthings, not dutiful duchess bloomers.” She sighed winsomely as her fingertips trailed over his collar, invading the ducal hairline with gentle, sensual scratches. “I’ll change into something more conservative and sensible when we stop for lunch.”

“But… Twintails longsocks is my favorite…” He gasped pitifully. The hellish vixen sneered at her pitiful victim, knowing full well he was in her absolute thrall. “You are so cruel!”

She raised the back of her hand before her shapely red lips, to hide her evil, cackling laugh of victory. “Yes, cruel indeed, but I will have what I want, husband; or I shall discover an interest in high collared, flannel nightgowns.”

Her wicked, crowing laugh carried out the coach windows, floating on the clear morning breeze; which sent shivers of unnameable dread down the spines of a few of the men.

Just before noon, they crested a pass between three peaks and looked down on the valley of Foresthome and county Kinnis proper, in its verdant, unspoiled glory.

#

On the other side of that valley, the tall pines gave way to sequoias and hemlocks as the foothills spilled out onto the valley floor in an unruly heap. Spread out before the weary travelers lay a sea of green and pleasant forests that undulated over low, rolling hills, shady dells, creeks, streams and rivers largely run wild.

Thin streamers of smoke indicated a lonely cabin or camp, otherwise one might suspect that this was a slice of true wilderness; despite the wide, well surfaced road and the small city, barely visible on the far side of the valley.

That smooth, wide road and their well rested horses made for easy going, as the party strung out a little and ate up the miles. Early afternoon found them at the outskirts of the city of Foresthome, a thriving little town surrounded by the overgrown and reforested remains of a once flourishing city.

Houses and buildings were scarce at the farthest edge of the reviving community; eventually becoming a real town by the lake, below a small keep on the hillside.

Most of the structures were either wooden and newly built on freshly cleared land, or ancient piles of the local tufa stone, rebuilt and repurposed for new occupants.

The party clattered past a team of workmen busy restoring an ancient stone house, laying fresh, white plaster over the coarse lava stone walls. Roofers were putting new, bright red glazed clay tiles on and smirking, while below them, a carpenter and a mason argued bitterly over whose team was behind schedule.

The whole crew stopped to watch the vanguard of mounted warriors ride by, followed by three coaches flying ducal pennants and the diplomatic ensign of the empire. The silly blue dog cart and a half dozen mounted servants followed, with the bike riding kids of team Ragamuffin trailing after, lending an air of whimsy to the procession.

Muddy, filthy, bedraggled and smiling like deranged people, the kids pedaled along, leaving clots of forest loam, tracks of mud and general filth behind. With a nod in triplicate, Wilf, Amy and Maya cut off to the right and vanished into a narrow trail that disappeared into the woods just a few yards off the road.

Fifteen minutes later they rattled back into the group, even dirtier than when they had disappeared. Breathing hard and grinning like fools, they fell back into formation… At which point, Rio, Benny and Frank dipped to the left, plunging down a game trail with a shared whoop of excitement.

Kermal Singh sat on a plush coach seat beside his wife, Becky Ward, high priestess of the cult of Knowledge, like a responsible nobleman and knight… While watching the kids explore the damp forests all around them on those marvelous machines. His legs twitched involuntarily when the trio reappeared, riding down a narrow track and bouncing onto the road in a messy spray of mud, leaf litter and smiles.

“Sorry, Kermie…” His beautiful wife murmured in his ear. “We’ll get out and explore too, I promise.”

“Yeah… I’ll sneak you away from the noble doings at some point.” He grumbled in mild annoyance as the coaches and ducal guards followed the road up to the count’s ‘palace’ above the lake… overlooking a familiar inn and its steaming outdoor baths.

#

A sign by the gate read ‘Closed’ and a fluttering rope of knotted, colorful rags stretched across the opening. The sensation of creeping dread and unwelcomeness that interlopers would encounter, just across that gaily decorated cord was the real deterrent. Only a dedicated trespasser could violate that boundary, which would alert the master and mistress of the house.

The gaggle of bike riding kids and loose adventurers tumbled over, ducked under or slipped around the rope barrier with joyful cries of delight. The Ragamuffins racked their cruddy, muddy bikes against the stable wall, as the resident equines snuffled and whinnied their friends home.

Sandi came trotting out first, head high and her golden mane braided across her dust colored neck, baring her teeth in a wide, horsie smile.

Wilf, Amy and Rio hugged up on the pony mare, as a few other hooved friends came out to greet the kids with ecstatic little snorts and whickering equine laughter.

Dannyl was already in the bath, floating with the others, loose and relaxed into a pile of drifting ginger flotsam.

“Demonic orange blossom honey! It was one giant outsider bee, the thing took over a forest of wild citrus trees and made a real mess… Wait till you taste it!” His eyes were closed, as he chatted with Kree and Mariah, who were perched in the flowering jasmine near the pool.

Gary and Shai swooped down on the muddy, loamy kids and started hugging and squeezing all six at random, while they were still trying to shuck their bike gear.

The tempest of affection and welcome washed over the Ragamuffins, warm, familiar and long absent, they let themselves be swept away into the pleasures of hearth and home.

#

The palace was large, compared to the much diminished city it loomed over. It was also still slightly ramshackle, with one whole wing still uninhabitable, due to the roof and floor having both fallen into the basement in ages long past.

What was intact and livable displayed a cozy, homey aesthetic that felt less a count’s palace on the fringe, than a prosperous farmer’s pleasant and unassuming home.

Weapons and armor stood on displays, banners and trophies from the count’s exploits covered the walls, yet the palace remained warm and welcoming.

Plants in pots and hanging baskets flourished everywhere, mingling with the fresh scent of the herbs drying in the rafters of the great hall. Magical glowstones, rather than lamps or rushlights lit the space, as the only ostentatious display of wealth.

The groups of noble travelers landed barely two hours apart, straining the count’s hospitality beyond its limits, as retainers jostled for primacy and pride of place in the crowded keep.

No amount of easygoing acceptance and reasonableness on the part of their primaries was going to prevent the status minded from pressing the limits and trying for superior accommodations… even when there were none to be had.

Eventually, the dukes and duchesses, the empress and her consort and all the other lords trooped off into a private lounge usually reserved for the lord’s family and closed the door on their entirely too diligent retainers.

#