Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats (9 page)

"So much for an easy trip," Glorious muttered.

"I think she's saving the easy for the high parts, dear," Blissful called back.

"Oh. Yes. Oh dear."

The altitude slowed them considerably, the last day the younger Sisters were assisting the Elders, and as the Sun set, they climbed the Observatory of the Three. Blissful and Answer took two sides of the apex, the north side vacant, their Triad of the Dark Crescent broken. Curious, Delight, and Elegant stood on the fourth tier, a powerful Triad of the Waning Half. The Triad of the Full Moon, Furious, Glorious, and Happy, climbed only to the third tier. Idea, Justice, and Kindly stood on the second tier, and from the first tier, Never looked up longingly at the Triad of the Half Moon. Next year, she should be there. Only the untouched teenagers, Opinion, Particular and Question, stood below her. Catti and Zam stood a bit away, allowed only to watch, as the witches hailed the rise of the Full Moon.

Never could feel the heat of the earth below her, responding to the pull of the sun and moon. They chanted their greetings, and then from the fourth tier, Curious began the song of the expectant mother. With every verse, another expectant mother joined in, until all the tiers were singing. As the moon
crossed overhead, the warm red earth light and the pale moon light joined and twinned, moon and earth in the powerful dance.

The power glowed, reaching up to embrace the elders, and down to touch the youngest.

Opinion turned her hands over, a look of wonder on her face as she gathered the glow together in a ball in her hands. Idea cried out with joy and added the Daughter Song to the chorus. Particular swung her hands, leaving trails of glowing color hanging in the air. Kindly threw her head back, laughing in her exuberance and added a second voice to the Daughter Song.

Question stood quietly, dark and untouched.

Down the hill a few steps, Catti and Zam exclaimed over the faint glow on their fingers, as it flickered uncertainly. They couldn't do anything with it, but it was there, awaiting their maturity and training.

And so they came home with five Sisters of the Full Moon, and five Sisters of the Crescent Moon where they had walked up with only three of each, and with two new initiates, and one girl who seemed rather shockingly relieved.

Brother Inquisitor Surgi planted the consecrated Flail of Ba'al in its black iron stand and sat down to rub his tired arms. The six balls on the six chains were symbolic of the god, but heavy to carry all day.

"Just one more day to this Village of Ash, you say?" he called to the two mercenaries.

"That's what everyone says, Brother Inquisitor." The taller one's voice was a bit muffled as he climbed out of his fine chain vest. "And the witches themselves said so."

The brother nodded, but still kept a close eye on the mercenaries. They'd been examined and found to be fouled by their fornication with the witches. By assisting in cleaning out the nest, they would redeem themselves. He hadn't mentioned the century of Holy Warriors following a day behind them. If these men weakened, they'd be on the fire before the witches. Perhaps it would be a good idea, anyway.

The little one, who was the brother’s height and broader, agreed. "The mercantile last night said we should reach it early tomorrow afternoon." He licked his lips. "And you say you can protect us from arcane powers? And we should be certain that not a single one of the witches is a virgin before she is thrown on the fire?"

Brother Surgi looked at him with contempt. No doubt they were both looking forward to that part. He, of course, had never had carnal intercourse, had remained pure to better serve the Great God Ba'al.

He had chosen this camping spot, an untouched clearing out of sight of the road, eschewing the obvious, usual camping area, where they might have been found and ambushed. He was a bit proud of his cunning, but it was making a bit more work for the pair.

"Oh ho! How about some fresh meat for dinner?"

The brother followed his glance and spotted the three goats staring at them. "No, my sons, those are rather obviously male goats, and they stink inside and out. The flesh is barely edible."

"Yeah, all right." The smaller mercenary resheathed his knife and  tossed the belt over to his bedding. "Phew! They do stink! G'wan, you lot, bugger off!"

"Maaaahahahaha!"

The brother shuddered. It sounded so much like human laughter, he stood up, and grasped the Flail.

***

Never walked through the sheep herd as she climbed the path to the forest. She kept a wary eye out for the black goats, but they were on the far side of the herd. The Sheep Man was frying up a hot lunch at the hill top, and hailed her.

"Like some lunch, young lady?"

She got a look at the contents of the pan and wrinkled her nose. "No, thank you."

He chuckled evilly. "I thought
you witches ate nads for breakfast."

"No
t in the literal sense," she snickered. "I didn't think this was the time of year you cut your lambs." Damn big lambs!

"It's not. Those goats were getting a bit out of hand
." He speared a chunk and nibbled at it.

"Ew! I really don't want to eat
those
." She held her nose pointedly. "What about the three that ran away?"

"Can't leave the sheep long enough to track them down.
World's going to have to deal with them."

"Well, with luck somebody's salting them down right now."

He laughed and she hiked on. The summer heat was building up and the baby felt like a hot bed of coals, radiating heat. Her new shifts were, so far, sleeveless, and she didn't mind that the, also sleeveless, light vest didn't quite meet in the middle any more.

Even the coolest pool was too hot, but she sat on the rocks in the fine spray of mist from the waterfall and pulled the ingots out of her bag. She had mastered copper, and easily twisted the ingot into fanciful shapes, then drew it out fine and braided it. Tin was tougher. It tended to snap and break, so she worked it slowly, soothing the temperamental substance. She channeled the power carefully away from the warmth of her daughter, and gently mixed the two metals together. They resisted at first, but she was patient, and slowly coaxed the blend into the shapes she desired. A hollow rattle with brass beads inside, some clacking toys, a round lipped cup with two handles, a bowl, and a plate.

"Not that I need them yet, my darling girl," she addressed the swell of her belly. “but soon enough."

And then on to the iron ingot. Answer had suggested that building on another bedroom would allow her daughter and granddaughter to put their babies together in the room between them, so the adults would all still have their private space for meditation. And sleep, although that was less important. So she needed hinges and knobs.

She was being watched. The feeling grew the longer she worked, and she subtly listened until she had the sensation located.  To the side, just out of her peripheral vision. She leaned forward to put down the first hinge, picked up another iron bar and sat back, but turned a quarter of the way around.

A goat was lying there, perfectly still, watching her. Black, long straight vee of horns.

"Hmm, haven't seen one of you up here in a long time. You're neglecting your sheep, although what additional punishment the Sheep Man could mete out is hard to guess."

"Maaah!"

"Sorry, I don't speak goat."

It snorted and got up and limped back into the forest.

***

"They were murdered just yesterday, Father Inquisitor."

Father Favio looked around the defiled campsite and tried to be coldly logical. "Are you sure it was murder? They could have been trampled."

"The trackers are experts. They assure me that only three goats left tracks here, however much they ran around. Large goats, mind you, but goats d
on't do things like this!" the Holy Captain pointed at Father Surgi's naked corpse. "Note the swollen, engorged abdomen. He bled to death inside after he was violated with some manner of sharpened stake, his anus shows rips, and he's bled a great deal from it."

Father Favio wasn't inclined to examine the body too closely. From the smell, it had leaked a great deal of other things as well.

Father Favio turned away and looked at one of the other bodies. Almost naked, some ragged remains of clothing clung to wrists and neck. One of the contaminated men seeking redemption. He had been slashed across the abdomen, gutted. The father frowned; he'd seen enough battles to know a clean sword cut from this jagged rip. He leaned closer. "What is this . . . substance in the wound? It's all over the body."

"It appears
that the men who did this masturbated all over the corpse. They may have even raped him in the wound as he died." The captain sounded horrified.

"Great God Ba'al!" Father Favio stepped apprehensively over to the third corpse. It was badly battered, most of the clothing torn off, but there were no mortal wounds. More dried spume coated the man, as he lay face up and sightless. He could see dried runnels around the gaping mouth. Something that had clearly been thick and slow in dripping. He leaned closer. The mouth and throa
t were completely blocked with the substance . . . He turned away, feeling ill.

"I want the hideous perverts who did this. I want them alive, to stand in Ba'al's judgment for the
world to see."

"The trackers picked up some prints leaving the camp
site. A man with the goats." The Holy Captain's eyes shifted to the largest body. “Wearing that man's boots. The trail disappears on the road, but since we didn't meet him, he must have left the road. I have the trackers looking for where he and the goats left the road, and which direction he went. I doubt a simple goat herder saw anything; probably he just rifled through anything the murderers left behind. A single man couldn't have done this murder, but he might have seen something." The captain shifted uneasily. "The Flail is gone."

"They dared!" The inquisitor clenched his fists. "I'll leave Initiates Diste and Jess here, with a hand of Holy Warriors, to follow up on the goat herder. Most likely this is the work of that foul pyramid of witches." He hesitated as his logic pointed out that females couldn't have . . . befouled the bodies. But they could have accomplices, who would, of course, be depraved. He nodded decisively. "We'll march through the night, then confront this evil village. Only the Great God Ba'al knows what horrors we will find there."

***

Mayor Agate Accure marched into the
tavern and stalked over to the Sheep Man.

"How did he escape?"

Never hid a grin as Justice stiffened indignantly, looking like she'd like to charge out and defend her man.

"Remember what I told you about the best way to break an unknown spell?"

The mayor dropped her voice as she leaned over the table. ". . . with a goat?"

"Doubt it was . . . "

"I insist . . . "

The Sheep Man tapped his fingers on the table, but nodded reluctantly. "I expect they went south. Looking for, umm, more ways to break more spells."

"The same way, you mean. Who knows who they will find."

The Sheep Man fingered the chain around his neck. "All right, I'll leave tomorrow."

She glared. He sighed. "Tonight. Right after dinner, Mayor Agate the Accursed."

Justice's shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her swelling stomach.

"Go out and have dinner with the man, Justice." Never gave her a bit of a shove. "He's even been bathing regularly. He almost doesn't smell like a sheep anymore. Go."

"It’s a spell, he smells as bad as he wants to, whenever he wants to. And I'm a witch. Witches do not marry, and they do not form long-term attachments to men. "

Never smirked. "I'm sure it's just a brief friendship, augmented by the lingering effects of the wine. How much did you drink?"

"Seven or eight bottles over about five days."

Never felt her mouth drop open. "For five days? You two . . . "

Justice sighed. And walked out to dine with the father of her children.

Well, that explains how the Sheep Man lost track of his goats. The only surprise is that he had any sheep left, after five days of that wine.

***

Holy Private Cuffe was not a happy boy. His father, a devout adherent of Ba'al, had made it clear that his children would serve Ba'al. In as much as he had been told that his elder sister had served by being thrown into the flames as a babe of two months, Cuffe had considered five years of unpaid servitude in the Army a cheap price to pay for his father's holy reputation. And as soon as his conscription was up, he was going to leave Wallenton forever, go to Karista, or anywhere else for that matter, and never, ever set foot in a temple of Ba'al.

He was trailing Initiate Diste, who was following a scout. He was delighted to be getting further away from the sickening scene of the murder, but leaving the road and going deep into the forest wasn't much of an improvement. At least it was still light. The days were still long so they had at least another two hours of light to find this man with the goats.

He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, then a thump that was somehow distant and painless. Even hitting the ground didn't hurt. Something jerked his head up and around and then it thumped back to the ground and he stared dumbly up at the bits of deep blue sky between dark leaves. There was screaming, a clash of swords . . . he rolled over and sat up, touching his head. There was blood on the back of his head, and the side of his head and the top of his head . . . and for a moment there were two trees in front of him, but he blinked and got it back to one. There was a tree beside him, too, and he used it to get to his feet.

The gloom under the trees lightened ahead, in the direction of the screaming and laughing. The laughter wasn't quite right. He staggered forward and saw Holy Corporal Loto swinging his sword at a man . . . no. A monster. It was man-like, standing up, and holding the Holy Flail of Ba'al in his right hand. But the left that he threw out for balance ended in a hoof. And horns, the spiral horns of a buck goat curved from his head. The creature swung the Flail, and the six chains and six balls wrapped themselves around the corporal’s sword arm. Sword and blood flew as the goat-monster jerked the Flail. The corporal staggered but stayed on his feet. The Flail pulled free, spun, then snapped out to wrap the corporal's head. When the flail was jerked back, the holy corporal's head was jerked around with it. Cuffe heard faint crackling as vertebrae broke, and the holy corporal hit the ground limply.

Cuffe touched his head uncertainly. Just thinking about turning his head caused all the muscles in his neck to seize up. Had he been hit with the Flail? The holy symbol of Ba'al?

The goat-man freed the Flail and turned to survey the rest of the clearing.

Cuffe looked too. Two large goats were rolling things around the clearing. The things bore some resemblance to his fellow holy private, and the scout they had been following.

Then he spotted Initiate Diste, climbing to his feet, and trying to run.