"Duck," Dave groaned as consciousness flowed back into his mind. His face felt like a gorilla had slammed it into a brick wall, and he was surprised he could speak at all, or even breathe for that matter. When his vision cleared, he saw Julian and Tim standing over him. Tim's face was already a bruised and beaten mess. Judging by the expression on Julian's face, his own face must have looked even worse.

With a bit of effort and a lot of pain, Dave managed to sit up. Cooper was pissing on the tree whose acquaintance Dave had recently made. He recognized it by the low-hanging branch bereft of a section of bark. He could feel bits of the bark swimming around in his bloody mouth. Julian's horses were gone, which either meant that more than two hours had passed or that Julian had managed to find a way to accidentally kill them before the spell duration ran out. Dave gave each option equal odds.

"Zombies?" Dave forced the question out of his overtaxed lungs.

"Gomblies," said Julian, grinning stupidly.

"What?" Each syllable that escaped Dave's lips caused him an excess of pain which he would have preferred not to have had to endure. He would have appreciated more succinct answers to his questions.

"I made that up while you were out," said Julian. He sounded very proud of himself. "It's a cross between zombie and goblin."

"It was either that or zoblin," said Tim.

"You made…" Dave spat out what was either a chunk of bark or a tooth. "…the right call." The words were flowing easier now, but not so much so that he wanted to use more than he had to. He looked up pleadingly at Julian.

Julian shrugged. "They didn't follow us. I've got Ravenus keeping an eye on them in case they change their minds. Sorry about your face."

"It wasn't you," said Dave. "It was the gods. I'm being punished." He held out a hand to Julian.

Julian helped Dave to his feet. "For what?"

"I don't know," said Dave. "Excessive violence? Maybe they thought I should know what it feels like to get hit in the face with a blunt instrument." He gestured up to the tree branch.

"Doubtful," said Cooper, having finished pissing on the gods' instrument of justice. "I'm way more violent than you. And you're really slow. The fight's usually over by the time you show up."

"Thanks, Cooper."

"Don't mention it. Also, you're kind of a pussy."

"Hey Cooper," said Tim. "Lay off, would you? He's having a rough day."

Cooper crossed his arms. "I was only trying to help. You know, figure out why the gods are pissed at Dave. Didn't you say that there aren't any dumb ideas when you're brainstorming?"

"I wasn't talking about yours."

"Hmph," said Cooper. "Well you should have made that clearer."

"There's an easy enough way to test Dave's theory," said Julian. Everyone looked at him. "Heal yourself. If the gods wanted to teach you a lesson by hitting you in the face with a tree, I think they got their message across. If your healing still doesn't work, it must be something else."

"I guess there's some logic to that," said Tim. "Couldn't hurt to try."

Dave touched the tip his finger to the tip of his nose, discovering it was about half a centimeter back from where it was supposed to be. "I heal me." There was no orgasmic rush of healing magic. No cathartic release of pain. His nose hurt from him touching it.

"Again," said Julian. "I'm sorry about your face."

"Let's head back to town," said Tim. "We need to find another cleric who can heal us."

The walk back to Cardinia was long and agonizing. Dave brought up the idea of camping out for the night so that Julian could cast his Mount spells again, but the suggestion was quickly – and Dave admitted, wisely – shot down. Julian, the elven sorcerer, probably had more Hit Points than the rest of the party combined. If they ran into so much as a dire gnat, they were fucked. With Ravenus scouting ahead of them, they eventually made their way to the relative safety of the city walls early the next morning.

Fortunately, the Temple of Halor appeared to be a twenty-four hour establishment. The exterior of the building was simple brick and mortar. It was larger than any other building in the vicinity, and better constructed, with patterns of bricks poking out just a bit further than the otherwise flat surface in the shape of Halor's Star. Dave recognized the symbol from the –

"Oh shit," said Dave, suddenly wide awake. "I know why the gods are pissed at me."

"Why?" asked Julian.

"A few days ago, I checked out a book from the library."

"You see?" said Cooper. "This is why I don't read."

"Shut up, you dumb shit!" said Dave. The others, Cooper included, stared back at him in surprise. "This is all your fault!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Cooper. "What did I do?"

"Gentlemen!" said a young half-orcish cleric from the now-open front doorway. He was dressed in a gown of golden silk. His head was clean-shaven, adorned only by a thin, gold-threaded headband. His underbite was not so pronounced as Cooper's. He clearly favored his human parent more, and could almost be considered handsome by human standards. Taking into account the -2 penalty half-orcs get, he must have rolled a hell of a Charisma score. "This is a house of worship. Kindly take your bickering down to the – Oh! It appears you have been injured."

"We were attacked by goblins," said Tim.

"Zombies," said Dave.

"Gomblies," said Julian.

"Come inside at once," said the half-orcish cleric, "and bear witness to the healing power of Halor, Father of Gods." Somewhere from within the temple, a gong sounded.

They followed the cleric inside, except for Ravenus, who asked Julian for permission to catch a bit of sleep on the roof. The walls, columns, and ceiling were coated in some kind of gold-flecked paint. Dave guessed there was some Light magic mixed in with the paint as well. The polished, hardwood floor reflected the light from the walls. It was as bright as noon inside the temple, and only about half a dozen candles burning. The reflection of their flames in the gold flecks of the paint wouldn't account for even close to how bright it was inside. In contrast to the humble exterior, the inside of this place was truly befitting of Halor, the God of Light. There was probably a symbolic reason for the contrast, but Dave's face hurt too much to contemplate it.

Dave was overwhelmed with awe and a compulsion to confess his great sin. On the other hand, his face hurt like a son of a bitch, and he was afraid he might be refused healing if he admitted his offense to the gods. He reasoned that he could do both, so long as he did them in the correct order. Get healed first. Confess second.

"My name is Tamun," said the cleric as he led them straight down the center of the great room, toward an altar on which stood a statue twice as tall as a man. Halor. Both altar and statue were covered in the same Light-infuse paint. "Brother Benedict!" Tamun called out. "Brother Stansibold! Brother Murkwort!" After a moment, three figures came from three different directions, each dressed in identical golden gowns. Two were human, the third was a goblin.

"You're a goblin?" Julian blurted out.

"Do you have a problem with that?" asked Tamun severely. His tone suggested that it wasn't all that uncommon for visitors to have a problem with that. Dave sensed that some of those visitors may have even taken issue with a half-orcish servant of Halor.

"What? No!" said Julian, fishtailing in the other direction. "That's totally cool. Some of my best friends are goblins."

Tim elbowed Julian in the hip.

The clerics formed a line, shoulder to shoulder, in front of the altar.

Tamun raised his great, half-orc arms. "Kneel before Halor, Father of Gods, and know his mercy!" The gong sounded again. It sounded like it was behind them this time, but Dave didn't remember passing any gongs on his way to the altar.

Dave knelt before Tamun. Cooper and Tim knelt before the two human clerics. Tamun shot Julian an ice-cold, tight-lipped, Sam Jackson stare. Dave looked over. Julian was still standing up. The goblin cleric was staring sheepishly at the ground.

"What?" said Julian.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable," said Tamun, "if Brother Murkwort changed places with Brother Benedict or Brother Stansibold?" His voice could have frozen nitrogen.

"What? No! Come on, man. It's not like that," said Julian. "I wasn't even injured. I didn't want you to waste a –"

Tim reached up and punched Julian in the back of the knee. Julian dropped to his knees and stayed there.

The sides of Tamun's lips curved upward, ever-so-slightly, in a satisfied grin. He placed his hand on Dave's head and nodded to his fellow clerics. They, likewise, placed their hands atop his friends' heads.

"Halor," said Tamun. "Father of Gods, Giver of Light!" The mysterious gong sounded again. "Shine your light upon the souls of these, your unworthy children. Mend the flesh. Cleanse the spirit. Make them whole, that they may shine your divine Light upon others. By the Light of the Father."

The other clerics repeated, "By the Light of –"

Dave missed the last part of the repeated blessing, as his face cracked. Blood rushed through his head like the dial had been cranked up from 2 to 10. His vision abandoned him. The only sound he could hear was the rush of blood through his ears. The pain in his face was so intense that he thought maybe the gods weren't finished with him.

When the pain subsided, Dave knew his face was whole again. Before his sight returned, he smelled the evidence of Cooper's successful healing as well.

"Don't be such a baby, Brother Stansibold," said Tamun. "People respond to Halor's healing Light in different ways. It will wash out. Go and change your gown. Brother Benedict, Brother Murkwort, please fetch a mop and bucket."

"Right away, Brother Tamun," the two lesser clerics said in unison.

"Rise, dwarf," said Tamun.

Dave got slowly to his feet, his vision returning but still very blurry. "Thank you. Do we… um…?"

"Speak your mind, dwarf."

"This is awkward," said Dave. "What do we owe you?"

"Halor does not prostitute his Light for coin," said Tamun. "However, it is the custom for one to leave a donation to the temple to show one's gratitude."

"We'll give you what we have," said Dave. "It isn't much. Tim?"

Tim tossed a small coin pouch to Tamun. "You can keep the pouch. It's worth a silver piece."

Tamun opened the bag and looked inside. He frowned. "You are indeed fortunate that Halor does not prostitute his Light for coin."

Dave felt the rush of blood again in his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "We can come back with more later."

Tamun placed the coin pouch on the altar. "Unburden your heart, dwarf. Your body is healed, and yet I sense there is still a rent in your spirit."

"I made a mistake," said Dave. "The gods have stripped me of my own powers."

"You must understand, child. You have no powers. You are but a vessel through which the gods do their will."

"Yeah, okay," said Dave as reverently as he could. "You know what I mean though, right?" Dave had never been this nervous talking to a priest back in the real world, likely because he didn't believe in their god.

"I do," said Tamun. "Speak to me of your sin, and we can see what may be done to set you back on the path of Light."

"I borrowed a book from Cardinia's Great Library. Saint Whistlethorn's Encyclopedia of the Gods."

"I am familiar with the text."

"I was just trying to educate myself, you know? What with me being a cleric and all."

Tamun pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, but eventually nodded. "Knowledge is a noble pursuit."

"I was reading in a quiet, solitary corner of the tavern when I needed to go relieve myself," Dave explained. "When I returned, I discovered Cooper in my seat, looking through the book." He hated the idea of throwing Cooper under the bus, but he had to get the truth out.

"That was an encyclopedia of the gods?" asked Cooper. "I thought it was porn." Everyone looked at him. "What?" he said defensively. "Some of those goddesses are hot, and they were doing some weird shit in some of the pictures."

"Please forgive him," said Dave. "He can't read."

"Continue with your story," said Tamun.

"So when I get back," said Dave, "Cooper gets up and leaves all hurried like. And when I look at the book, I see he'd sneezed all over the pages. It's just covered in yellow and green slime."

Cooper snorted. "I sneezed? You thought that was sn— Ow!" Julian had knocked him on the head with his quarterstaff. "Dude, that fucking hurts." After catching Julian's reprimanding glare, he added. "Oh shit, right. I totally sneezed. I think I'm coming down with a cold." He sniffed, but for the first time in his existence as a half-orc, his sinuses were clear as could be.

Dave no longer felt any qualms about throwing Cooper under the bus. He hoped it was one of those big double-decker buses they have in England.

Tamun stared, frozen and open-mouthed, at Cooper for a moment. He snapped out of it and looked at Dave. "So the pages were covered in mucus." To Cooper he said "Please allow your friend to finish his story uninterrupted."

"I did my best to wipe it clean," said Dave. "But the ink smeared and the pages stuck together."

"The sin was not yours, but your friend's," said Tamun.

"But it was my responsibility," said Dave. "I was the one who checked it out from the library."

Tamun grinned. His teeth were pointed like Cooper's, but much straighter and whiter. "This is an issue between you and the librarian, not you and the gods. Saint Whistlethorn's Encyclopedia of the Gods is a respected historical work, but it is not considered a sacred text. Tell me, what did you do with the book?"

"I returned it."

"In its sullied condition?"

"Yes."

"Did you bring the defacement to the librarian's attention?"

Dave looked at the floor. "No."

"I'm surprised at you, Dave," said Cooper. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Julian conked him on the head again. "Shut up," he whispered.

"Your friend is correct," Tamun said to Dave. "Such behavior is unbecoming of a servant of the Light."

Dave sighed.

"But I do not think," Tamun continued, "that this is why you have been punished. Shameful as it may be, this is still a minor offense. There must be more to this story."

Dave looked up at Tamun. "Nope," he said. "Honestly, that's about it." He felt some sense of relief, but knew that he still had a problem.

"What did you do after you returned the book?" asked Tamun.

Dave laughed nervously. "I high-tailed it to the door, praying that I could make it out onto the quad before the librarian found the sticky pages."

Tamun's eyes widened. "You did what?"

"High-tailed?" said Dave. "It just means that I walked briskly."

"You defaced images of the gods, and then prayed to those same gods to spare you from the wrath of a librarian? Would you kick a tiger cub and seek protection from its mother?"

"It sounds pretty bad when you put it like that."

"You have heaped insult onto offense," said Tamun. "Your punishment is just. Praise be to the Light, the gods are more merciful than I might have been."

"I'm really sorry," said Dave. "How can I make this right?"

"You must atone," said Tamun. He placed his massive palm on Dave's forehead. His claws dug, straddling the line between uncomfortably and painfully, through Dave's thick hair and into his scalp.

Not daring to try to move his head, Dave looked up as far has his eyeballs would allow. It wasn't enough for him to be able to see Tamun's face. "Um… should I say a prayer or write a letter of apology or something?"

"Your careless words cast you into darkness," said Tamun. "It will take action to put you back on the Path of Light."

"I could wash dishes, or –"

"Do not speak, dwarf," said Tamun. "I require concentration."

A few awkward moments passed while Dave silently bore the discomfort of half-orc claws digging into his head. Finally, Tamun spoke.

"I see the goblin necromancer. He rides upon a black worg. Beside him flies the banner of OuiJas. The goblins who attacked you, did they seem organized?"

"Not particularly, I guess," said Dave.

"They didn't fight like goblins are supposed to fight," said Tim. "They should have been hiding up in the trees to ambush us with arrows. And they should have known that, even if they managed to take down one or two of us, they couldn't have hoped to have survived that fight. And they all went for me. It didn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense," said Tamun. "You are, at least to the lay observer, the smallest and weakest of your group. It's a common battle strategy to concentrate on a single kill rather than merely wound many."

"That still doesn't explain why they just charged into battle kamikaze style."

"Simple," said Tamun. "Their purpose was to die. If they could take one of you with them, all the better."

"I don't understand what purpose that would serve them," said Julian.

"Theirs was not the purpose being served," said Tamun. "They were most likely magically coerced or promised rewards in the afterlife. The leader pulls their strings. He seeks to build an army of the undead."

"What's the point?" said Julian. "He already had an army of fanatically obedient followers."

"That was no army," said Tamun. "Imagine if he had gotten lucky and killed you all. You would now be his undead servants. Zombies do not require food. They do not tire. They do not complain or disobey. You yourselves can testify they are stronger dead than they were alive."

"My ass can testify," said Cooper.

"We've heard enough of your ass's testimony today, thanks," said Tim.

"This is good news for you," said Tamun.

"What's good about it?" asked Dave.

"The path to your redemption has been made clear." Tamun tightened his hold of Dave's head. The pain from his claws fell to the back of Dave's mind when he felt the sudden and searing heat coming from the half-orc's palm.

"Yah!" cried Dave as his forehead sizzled.

Tamun removed his hand, and the pain was gone. Dave turned around.

"Whoa," said Julian.

"Wicked," said Tim.

"What the fuck is that on your head?" said Cooper.

Dave felt his forehead. It was still a little tender, but otherwise felt normal enough.

Tim spit on the blade of his dagger and polished it with his sleeve. "Try this."

Dave accepted the dagger and held the blade in front of him. When he adjusted it to just the right angle, he could see his forehead reflected in it. There was a tattoo right smack in the center of it. The center of the tattoo, accounting for the majority of the whole, was a solid black circle, a little smaller than a golf ball. The circumference of the circle was lined with the same luminescent golden pigment which coated the interior of the temple. Wavy golden lines, a millimeter thick at the base, and thinning out into points a centimeter away, radiated out from the round center. A solar eclipse.

"You have been marked as one whose spirit is lost in shadow," said Tamun. "Appease the gods, and you may once again walk in the Light."

Dave pointed to his forehead. "Will that get rid of this… I mean it's cool and all. I just would have preferred it on my chest, or back or something."

"When you have fulfilled the task the gods have placed before you, the mark will vanish."

"What task?" asked Dave.

Julian sighed. "We have to go kill all the gomblies, don't we?"

"And the necromancer goblin," added Tim.

"Shit," said Cooper.

"That's impossible!" said Dave. "We already had our asses handed to us by them, and I don't have any magic. How are we even supposed to find them again?"

"You have an unholy mark on your face," said Tamun. "Evil will find you."

"That's reassuring."

Tim yawned like a man three times his size. "Do you guys have a place we could crash? Maybe get a drink first? I'm wrecked."

"I cannot permit you to stay here," said Tamun. "Your friend's face bears an unholy mark."

"Come on, dude," said Tim. "You put that there."

"I am but a vessel."

Cooper laughed through his nose. His sinuses were nice and clogged again.

"What?" said Julian.

"He said 'I am a butt vessel'."

"No he didn't. And what would that even mean anyway?"

"I have no idea," admitted Cooper. "That's part of what makes it so funny. So much is left to the imagination."

"I must ask you to leave this place at once," said Tamun.

"Come on, man," said Tim. "We've had a rough day. We're fucking exhausted. Just let us crash here on the floor for a couple of hours."

"If you will not leave peacefully, I shall have you removed by force. Brother Murkwort?"

The goblin cleric looked up from his task of mopping Cooper's shit off of the polished hardwood floor. His eyes had been heavy with exhaustion before, but there was a certain glint in them now. He pulled the wooden handle off the head of the mop and held it horizontally atop his open palms. As he whispered a small prayer, the mop handle began to glow with a faint green light.

"He's casting Magic Weapon," said Dave. "We should go."

The others stood, dumbfounded, like it was the first time they'd ever seen someone cast a spell before.

Brother Murkwort held his enchanted mop handle by one end and looked at them severely.

"Do you guys see what I see?" asked Tim.

"I see that we're about to get our asses ki—" Dave saw it.

The four of them spoke in one voice. "Yoda."

Brother Murkwort swung the glowing mop handle in wide, complicated arcs behind his back and above his head. He started slowly, and the movements grew faster and faster until he was standing in a glowing, green cocoon. He advanced.

"Take me!" said Cooper, dropping to his knees. "This is how I want to die."

"NOOOOO!" cried Julian, Tim, and Dave as the Jedi knight brought his lightsaber down to split Cooper's face in half.

"Ow," said Cooper as the only slightly magically enhanced mop handle bounced off his head.

"We should go," said Dave.

"All right," said Cooper, rubbing his head.

"Do not return until you have atoned for your sin!" Tamun called out after them as they exited the temple.

Cooper gave him the finger. "Whatever you say, butt vessel."

Julian laughed. "Okay. It's pretty funny."

The temple door just barely missed Dave's ass as it closed behind him.

"So what do we do now?" asked Julian.

"I guess we head back to the Whore's Head," said Dave.

"Sounds good," said Cooper. "I need a drink."

"What you need," said Dave, "is a fucking urologist."

"I don't think I can make it all the way back to the Whore's Head," said Tim. "I'd rather just crash here on the street."

"Not in this neighborhood," said Julian. "The Kingsguard would pick us up in no time for vagrancy."

"That doesn't leave many options," said Dave. "Best we start wa—FUCK!" He swatted away a giant cockroach that had just flown into his face. The stunned insect fell to the ground. It was as big as Dave's finger, and Dave had thick dwarven fingers. As soon as it got its bearings, it scurried back toward him on its creepy-crawly legs. A shiver ran up Dave's spine from the encounter, but he kept control of himself enough to bring his boot down on the bug.

"This just isn't your night," said Julian. He called up to the roof. "Ravenus! It's time to go."

"Five more minutes!" said the bird.

"Now!"

Ravenus peeked over the edge of the roof. "Oh all right. Ooh! What's that?" He flapped down from the roof and greedily gobbled up the squashed cockroach.

Dave was just getting ready to start the long trudge back to the Whore's Head when two more cockroaches flew all up in his face.

"Yahahahoohahoohooha!" cried Dave as he swatted the huge bugs away. "What the fuck is going on!"

Dave didn't have to worry about these two cockroaches getting in his face again, as they were devoured by rats when they hit the ground.

"Yawahawahaaa!" said Dave, jumping into Cooper's arms.

Cooper, of course, dropped him on his ass. "Fuck, you're heavy."

Five rats were nose to nose with Dave, squeaking at him as if trying to communicate.

"I think they like you," said Tim.

Dave bounced up to his feet and kicked a rat, sending it flying to the other side of the street.

Cooper called out after it, "You were too good for him anyway!"

No matter how Dave stepped, danced, or hopped, he couldn't get away from the growing swarm of vermin. He had to sweep his arms continuously all over his armor like a madman to keep it free of cockroaches. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"What's all this noise?" demanded a Kingsguard, coming around the corner of Halor's temple.

"Help me!" cried Dave.

The Kingsguard actually started laughing. "Looks like someone displeased the gods."

"What's so fucking funny about that!"

"Calm yourself, dwarf. The vermin won't hurt you."

Dave did not calm himself. He continued dancing and brushing away cockroaches.

"Excuse me, sir," said Julian. "You appear to have more of an idea of what's happening here than we do. Might you shed some light on the situation?"

"Creatures of the night." The Kingsguard nodded toward Dave. "The rats and bugs, they're attracted to the unholy mark on your friend's head. It's been far too long since the last time this happened."

"I can't help but find it odd," said Julian, "that you take such pleasure in watching my friend writhe in a swarm of vermin."

"Oh, I take no pleasure in that," said the Kingsguard. "It's a disgusting sight to behold for sure. But it's great for the city. We need a good rat purge every now and again. It's probably a good time to mention, I'll need to escort your friend out of the city at once."

"But we need to rest," said Dave. "We've been awake for nearly an entire day." He was too exhausted to continue sweeping the bugs away. They crawled all over him, through his hair, under his armor. While he would prefer they not be there, the worst of the terror was behind him.

"Good luck with that," said the Kingsguard. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're covered in cockroaches and rats."

Dave sighed, ejecting a cockroach which happened to be crawling across his mouth at the time. It spread its brown, papery wings and flew right back into his face. He started walking.

Tim, Julian, and Cooper walked in a wide arc behind Dave, giving the growing swarm of rats plenty of room, while the Kingsguard strutted ahead of him like they were in some kind of goddamn parade.

Other guards they passed, as well as the few residents of the city who were up and about this early in the morning, actually cheered as the procession passed. At first Dave assumed they were mocking him like a bunch of self-righteous pricks, but through the squeak of rats and the flap of cockroach wings, he actually began to make out words of encouragement.

"Good luck on your quest!"

"May you walk in the Light again!"

"Thanks for clearing out all the rats!"

One pretty young woman stepped out onto the top balcony of a three story building as Dave passed underneath. She smiled down sympathetically at him, plucked a rose from the vine entwined around the railing, and tossed it down to him. It was, of course, immediately devoured by rats, but Dave appreciated the gesture.

"Seek the Light," said the Kingsguard escort, stopping just before the open gate.

"We're going to die out there, you know," said Dave.

"Have faith, son. The gods will provide you with all you need."

Dave had heard similar bullshit back in the real world, usually only involving a singular god. The Kingsguard's words did little to encourage him.

"So," said Julian after the gates closed behind them. "Should we like set up camp or whatever?" He spoke loudly to account for the distance away from each other they all stood and the noise from all the rats now surrounding Dave.

"Do you honestly think any of us could sleep right now?" Dave shouted back.

"So what then?"

"I'm going to go find those gomblies and get rid of this curse."

"But you know we can't take them. They've probably got more gomblies by now."

"Then I'll die!" shouted Dave. "I'm fucking tired, and I'm crawling with fucking bugs and rats. I can't live like this."

Dawn was breaking as Dave trudged through the meadow, headed to where they'd had their previous encounter with the goblin necromancer and his gomblies. The rest of the group followed. The noise wasn't as deafening out here, presumably because the rats were busy consuming whatever food they could hunt or scavenge in the tall grass.

"Cooper," said Julian. "Would you mind carrying me?"

"What are you, six years old? You can walk just like everyone else."

"It's going to be a long walk," said Julian. "If I can get my four hours of meditation in, I can have spells ready when we meet the gomblies… or in case we need to make a speedy retreat again."

Cooper sighed. "Fuck. All right."

"Oh that's adorable," said Tim.

Dave turned around. Julian was sitting snugly in Cooper's arms, elf head nestled peacefully against half-orc man-tit, slender arms wrapped around fat, leathery neck. They looked like they should be crossing a threshold.

"Keep moving, shithead," said Cooper. Dave turned back around and kept moving.

Only when the thick grass of the meadow gave way to the first trees of the forest did it become clear just how many rats had joined Dave's entourage. It must have been in the tens of thousands.

The sun was high in the sky when Ravenus reported the first zombie sighting.

"He's just over that rise," said Ravenus, settling on higher tree branch than he normally would when giving a surveillance report, presumably to keep a healthy distance away from a horde of hungry rats. "Funny thing is, this one's not a goblin. It's a half-elf."

"That can only mean one of two things," said Tim. "Either it's a wandering zombie not associated with the goblin necromancer or, more likely, that fucker has had a busy night, and his undead army is growing."

"That would be bad," said Julian.

"Hey," said Cooper. "How long have you been awake?"

"A few minutes now."

Cooper dropped Julian and stretched out his arms. "Dick."

"Okay," said Tim. "Dave, you stay here and try to keep your little friends as quiet as you can. The more we can pick off one-at-a-time, the fewer we'll have to face when they finally catch on."

It was as good a plan as any. Dave agreed.

"Julian, Cooper," said Tim. "You guys go hide behind those two trees. I'll run ahead, shoot the zombie, and run past you. When he passes between the trees, you two beat the shit out of him. Got it?"

"Got it," said Julian.

"Good plan," said Cooper. He and Julian took their places behind their respective trees.

Tim pranced silently ahead of them on tiptoes until he disappeared over the rise. After a moment, Dave heard the familiar snap of Tim's crossbow being released.

Seconds later, Tim bolted back into view, darted between the trees, and turned around, already loading his next bolt.

After a few more seconds passed, a jarring sound clanged out from right around where Dave guessed the zombie was supposed to have been.

"What the fuck is that?" asked Cooper.

"It sounds like a cowbell," said Julian.

Tim ran back to the top of the rise. "Hey, man! Knock that shit off!" He fired another bolt. The ringing ceased.

Dave ran up to the top of the rise. There was no point in trying to keep quiet now. A dead half-elf lay on the ground, a bolt in its neck, a bolt in its eye, and a fucking cowbell in its hand. "What the hell was that all about?" His entourage of rats descended on the corpse, leaving behind nothing but bone and bell a minute later.

"We're so fucked," said Tim.

"What's with the cowbell?" asked Julian.

"Why didn't it chase you?" asked Cooper.

"Those weren't its orders," said Tim. "Zombies follow their creators' simple commands. Usually the command is 'Kill anything that comes near', but there's no rule that says you can't have them wander about and raise an alarm."

As if on cue, the undead began to shuffle out through the trees on the northern and western perimeter of their visibility. The first wave was at least two dozen strong, mostly gomblies, but sprinkled here and there with other humanoid creatures. Dave knew that there would be far more than that. He looked down at the skeletonized half-orc corpse and smiled.

"The gods will provide," said Dave.

"Like fuck they will," said Tim. "We've got to get out of here. Julian. Do you have your spells back yet? Can you summon up some horses?"

"No," said Dave. "The gods will provide." He picked up the bell and rang it as hard as he could.

"What the fuck does he think he's doing?" Cooper shouted over the clanging of the bell.

"I think a cockroach must have crawled into his brain," said Tim.

Dave paused in his bell-ringing. "You guys may want to climb up some trees or something." He rang the bell some more. "Praise be to Halor, Father of Gods!" He couldn't be sure over the sound of the bell, but he thought he might have heard a gong.

Sure enough, more and more zombies shambled out from the trees. There must have been over a hundred. When they entered the rat zone, the furry little bastards went to town on them, devouring their feet almost instantly. The zombies stumbled and were overwhelmed by a swarms of rats. The rat mounds shrank like deflating balloons until there was nothing left but bone. Not a single zombie came close to within striking distance of Dave.

When the last of the zombies collapsed before him, Dave saw the goblin necromancer and his standard bearer off in the distance, atop their wolf mounts.

"There they are!" cried Dave. "Get them!"

Cooper hopped down out of his tree. "Julian! Horse me!"

"Horse!" said Julian, and a black stallion appeared next to Cooper. Cooper unstrapped his greataxe and charged after the goblins.

The standard bearer dropped his standard. He and the necromancer began to flee.

"Magic Missile!" shouted Julian. A golden bolt of magical energy left behind a trail of sparkly dust as it swerved around trees and eventually zeroed in on the necromancer, knocking him off of his steed.

The sight of a charging half-orc on horseback brandishing a greataxe must have trumped the black wolf's loyalty to its rider. It bolted, as did the still-mounted standard bearer.

"FUCK YOU!!!" Cooper shouted, swinging his axe underhanded into the stunned necromancer. Dave couldn't be sure from this distance, but he doubted the pile of gore Cooper's axe had just created would be sufficiently in-tact for any other necromancers who happened by to be able to animate.

A couple of cockroaches crawled out from Dave's hair and flew away into the forest. He noticed the congregation of rats seemed less dense as well.

"Dave!" said Tim. "Your tattoo is beginning to fade!" He held out his dagger for Dave.

Dave accepted the dagger and held the blade up, adjusting the angle until he found his reflection. Sure enough, the black was fading, and the gold was losing its shimmer. "Oh thank god," he said. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Well you can rest easy," said Julian. "I only used one Magic Missile, so I can summon two more horses. Tim and I are small enough to comfortably share one, so you and Cooper can each have your own. We'll take it slow so you can even nod off in the saddle."

"You know," said Dave. "I think I just might do that." He gave his body a good shake, and a few more cockroaches fell out of his armor.

"Horse!" said Julian. A short and sturdy brown horse appeared next to Dave. It was perfect for him. In fact, he might even be able to climb up on top of this one without Cooper's help.

"Horse!" Julian said again. A sleek, chestnut-colored mare appeared next to him, perfectly suited for himself and Tim.

"You fuckers ready to roll?" asked Cooper, trotting up on his own horse.

"Just a minute," said Dave, staring at the reflection of the fading tattoo on his forehead. "I don't want to take any chances." When the mark had completely vanished, he handed back Tim's dagger. "Okay, guys. Let's – Ow!"

He looked down. A rat had crawled up his boot and bitten him on the knee. He smacked it off. "You ungrateful little shit."

Just then, all three horses began to scream. Rats were climbing up their legs. Cooper's horse threw him off and started bucking wildly. Four more rats tried to climb up Dave's legs. Even more were scurrying toward him.

"Run!" cried Tim. He, Julian, and Dave ran away from the rats, and the rats let them go, favoring the three immobilized horses.

Cooper ran out of the frenzy with about ten rats still clinging to him. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Shit! Ow!" said Cooper, as he rolled around on the ground shaking rats off of himself.

Dave, Julian, and Tim watched helplessly as, one by one, the horse-shaped mounds of frenzied rats suddenly collapsed as the magical horses inside died and vanished.

The walk back to Cardinia, and even still farther to the Whore's Head Inn, was a long, arduous, but fortunately uneventful one. They finally arrived in the late afternoon, and immediately crashed on the floor and fell asleep. All except for Dave, who was forced to sleep out back in the animal pen until he sorted out his cockroach problem.

⁂

[ Cornholed ]

"This must be the place," said Tim, looking up from the scrap of paper in his little hand.

The house wasn't anything Julian would call fantastic. It was a nice place, large and wooden with a wrap-around porch, but it wouldn't have looked out of place back home. Beyond it was a seemingly endless sea of bright green corn stalks. It reminded Julian of the time he had to drive through Indiana.

Ravenus circled above catching large flying insects, but Julian could feel his familiar's hunger for decaying flesh. His stomach turned with a mixture of desire and revulsion at the thought. It wasn't always pleasant to share an empathic link with a carrion bird.

"You should probably go up and knock," said Tim. Whenever they came across a door, there was an evolving protocol forming for which one of them would approach it. If there was reason to believe the door might be trapped, Tim would check it out first. If they were in a hurry, Cooper would smash it down. If they spent too long talking about it, Dave would get impatient and suffer whatever consequences came from just walking up and opening it. But in a case such as this one, where they were reasonably sure that no one on either side of the door wanted to murder anyone on the other side, the task fell to Julian. He had the highest Charisma score of anyone in the party. He was The Face.

Julian only had time to take a single step off the dirt path when the front door of the house swung open.

"You the boys Skip Wiggins sent?" said the white-haired gentleman at the door.

"Who the fuck is Ski—" Julian, Tim, and Dave all glared at Cooper. He knew better than to talk while Julian was using his Diplomacy. "Sorry."

Julian looked back at the owner of the house and flashed what he hoped was a charming smile. "That's us!" he said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

The man stared back at Julian for a time. His coal-black eyes betrayed no hint of offense or amusement. He was short for a human, but as short as Tim or Dave. He wore a simple white cotton tunic. A beige shawl covered his shoulders, and a matching wide-brimmed hat shielded his sunburnt face from the sun. He had bushy white eyebrows and a handlebar mustache. The most curious feature was the medallion, a red stone a little smaller than a golf ball, the man wore around his neck on a simple silk cord. It wasn't particularly decorative, and didn't really go with the rest of his outfit.

He rubbed the white stubble on his chin as his eyes moved from Julian to Dave, then to Tim, and finally to Cooper. He spat a mouthful of something brown on the sun-baked earth near Cooper's feet.

"Y'all s'posed to be warriors?" he said.

"That's right, sir," said Julian. "We were told that we would be well-suited for –"

"You look like a bunch of cob gobblers to me."

Julian's face remained frozen in a stupid grin. He was unsure of how one was meant to respond to that.

"I guess you get what you pay for," said the man. "The name's Chester. Come on up an' set down a spell. Can I get you boys a drink?"

"That would be lovely," said Julian, leading his friends up the front steps.

"Gertie!" Chester shouted into the house. "Fetch us a pitcher of lemonade."

"Do you have anything stronger?" asked Cooper, ignoring his friends' glares. "I'm sorry. I'm just fighting a big fucking hangover."

Chester nodded, then shouted back into the house. "Throw a squirt of corn piss in it!"

Julian stopped before reaching the top step. His friends did likewise. Not visible from ground level, the section of porch in front of the door was covered by a great blue rug with a silver floral pattern. It looked very expensive.

Chester sat down on the rug and invited them to do the same. "Don't be shy now. Just take your shoes off first."

Julian and Dave, the only two of them who actually wore shoes, removed them, and they all sat down on the rug.

A moment later, a tall, thin woman emerged from the doorway with a tray. She might have been attractive back in her day, but that day was long past. Likewise, the faded pink dress she wore was likely at one time a tasteful and elegant showcase for the beautiful young woman inside it, conservatively cut below the knee, but revealing well-toned arms in their entirety. Now it was ragged, dirty, and threadbare, and the arms it revealed were flabby, the hands and forearms red and chapped.

"Dammit, Gertie!" said Chester. "This ain't no occasion to be usin' our fine glassware!"

"But your guests."

Chester gestured at Julian and the others. "These are hired mercenaries, not foreign dignitaries. Ain't a one of 'em even human." He turned to Julian. "No offense."

"Um…" said Julian. "None taken?"

"I'll go an' fetch the wooden cups."

"Aw hell," said Chester. "Y'already done wasted enough time. Just set the tray down an' get back inside. Y'oughtta be shamed of yourself lookin' the way you do."

"Yes, Pappa," said Gertie, setting down the tray in the middle of the group.

Chester called out after her as she retreated into the house. "Any these glasses get broken, it's comin' outta your ass, hear?"

No response came from within the house.

Julian, Tim, Dave, and Cooper stared at each other uncomfortably as Chester poured the drinks and passed the glasses around.

"The hell's wrong with your arm, boy?" asked Chester, staring at the leopard fur band around Dave's forearm. "That some kinda gang affiliation?"

"No," said Dave. "It's… I don't like to talk about it."

"Well let's talk business then," said Chester, raising his own glass.

Cooper swallowed his entire glass at once. Dave downed his in a quick series of gulps. Tim only got half as far on his first go. Julian took a careful sip. Gertie had obviously thrown in more than a 'squirt' of cornpiss. The drink tasted like lemon-flavored rubbing alcohol.

"We understand you have some kind of problem in your cornfield?" said Julian.

"Ankhegs," said Chester.

"Gesundheit," said Cooper. Chester narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chester," said Julian. "I'm not familiar with the term."

"Ankhegs?"

"Gesundheit," Cooper said again.

Chester stood up and brandished his crossbow. "You makin' fun of me, boy? I got a mind to put a hole in that big ugly head of yours."

"Please, sir!" said Julian, scrambling for a Diplomacy check. "That won't be necessary." He looked at Cooper. "You say another goddamned word, and I'll shoot you myself."

Cooper pouted.

Chester sat down with a wide grin. "Well there you go, son! That's how you deal with the lower races."

"The lower races?" The question escaped Julian's lips before he had time to think better of asking it.

"Sure," said Chester. "There's a natural order to life. We humans is at the top, with you elves just below us. And then come…" He looked at Tim, Cooper, and Dave. "… well, the rest of them."

Tim swallowed down the rest of his drink, presumably to give his mouth something to do other than respond to Chester's proposed natural order to life. Dave refilled his own glass, then Cooper's and Tim's.

Diplomacy had taped the wing back onto the burning airplane. Now it was time to hit the eject button. "So, what's an ankheg?"

"Ain't none of you boys been out the city in your whole lives?" said Chester. "I'm gonna have to have a word with Skip."

"Ankhegs are large predatory arthropods," said Tim. He hiccupped. "They burrow under the ground. We've fought them before… back home."

"Well there you go!" said Chester. "At least one of you's got half a brain rattlin' round in his head."

"It was my understanding," Tim continued, "that ankhegs *hiccup* were good for farmland. Don't they aerate the soil or something?"

Julian gave Tim a thankful smile. He knew Tim had a temper, and that rednecks were one of his biggest triggers. He was probably making continuous Concentration checks to avoid punching this asshole in the face.

"So they're like dire worms?" asked Julian.

Chester frowned at him. "What?"

"Arthropods, stupid!" said Tim. "Like lobsters and spiders and shit."

"How the hell am I supposed to know what an arthropod is?"

"You get the Discovery Channel, don't you?"

"All they ever play is fucking Amish Mafia!"

"I may have to rethink the natural order of life," said Chester. "Can one of you tell me what in the Abyss these two are arguin' about?"

Cooper made a show of how tightly his lips were sealed and shrugged.

"We were talking about ankhegs," said Dave. "And how they aerate the soil."

"Now that's right," said Chester. "You have one or two ankhegs in your field, and that's a blessing from the gods. Not only do they aerate the soil, but they keep rodent populations in check. And that's just fine."

Julian listened intently. Even racist assholes were interesting to listen to when they were talking about a subject they genuinely knew something about.

"But sometimes," Chester continued. "Sometimes the balance is tipped. Ankhegs themselves don't have a lot of natural predators, but they's too stupid to watch over their eggs after the mating season. Those eggs is fair game for whatever other critters is crawlin' around underground, and so most of them never even get to hatch. But on occasion, a whole nest will get through the winter unmolested, and then you got problems."

"What sorts of problems?" asked Julian.

"Well it's one thing to aerate the soil," said Chester. "But you get too much aeration, and it undermines the structural integrity of the land. I got sinkholes formin'."

"I guess that's pretty bad," said Julian.

"Oh that ain't the worst of it," Chester went on. "What do you think happens when all the rabbits and rats is gone? All those crawly basterds gotta eat somethin'. They've started attacking my field hands!"

"Do you use zombies?"

Chester glared at Julian. "What kind of sick question is that?"

"I'm sorry," said Julian. "It's just that I know a guy up the road who –"

"Simon Peppercorn."

"Yeah, that's him."

"You boys best steer clear of folks like that," said Chester. "He's a practitioner of the Dark Arts."

"Who the fuck is Simon Pep—"

Julian knocked Cooper on the forehead with his quarterstaff. "I warned you."

"We's a good gods-fearin' family," said Chester, raising his chin and puffing out his chest. "We use slaves."

Dave facepalmed himself. Tim swigged back an entire glass of 'lemonade'. Cooper farted.

"Gods have mercy, boy!" said Chester, waving his hand violently in front of his face. "You practice some Dark Arts yourself, don't you!"

"Excuse me," said Cooper.

"I say it's about time we went and had a look at the cornfield."

"Good idea," said Julian, springing up to his feet.

"Set your skinny ass back down, son," said Chester. "You ain't gonna see nothin' from ground level. Anyways, the ankhegs can sense the slightest tremor in the ground. It's how they hunt."

Julian started to sit back down. "Then how are we going to –"

"Giddap!" said Chester.

Julian's ass met the rug a good half-second before it was supposed to. It took him a moment to make sense of that, but he soon discovered it was because the rug had risen off the porch.

"A flying carpet!" said Tim.

"Awesome!" said Dave.

"Fuck yes!" said Cooper.

Julian just sat where he was, exhilarated and a little terrified, even though they were only about a foot off the ground.

"Heh heh," Chester laughed. "You boys is easily entertained." He brushed his hand along the carpet's surface. The carpet responded by moving in that direction, hovering out past the front steps out over the open ground.

They were now about ten feet off the ground. Falling from that height probably wouldn't even do any damage, but Julian scooted back away from the edge just the same.

"Get this baby moving!" said Tim, hopping up to his feet. "I've got to take a leak!" He stumbled past Dave to the back edge of the carpet, looking as though he was certainly going to fall off. He caught his balance just in time.

"Hold on!" said Chester. The carpet accelerated out of Cooper's fart cloud at a surprisingly smooth rate.

Tim let a stream of urine spray behind them as they circled around the big house. "Woooooo!"

"Sit down before you kill yourself!" said Julian. He took another small swig of cornpiss lemonade to intoxicate the butterflies in his stomach.

When Tim was finished, he returned to the group, tying the rope that held his pants up. "I've always wanted to do that."

"What?" said Julian. "How would the idea even occur to –"

"It's true," said Dave. "He's mentioned it a few times before."

"Ain't no feelin' in the world quite like that, is there?" said Chester. He steered the flying rug past the house and out over the sea of corn.

Julian's long ears sliced through the air as the carpet picked up speed. The view from above opened his eyes as to just how vast this cornfield was; it stretched for miles in every direction. It also made plain imperfections in the otherwise homogenous pattern of stalks.

Chester slowed the carpet until they were hovering over one of these imperfections, a roughly circular hole in the ground, about five feet in diameter, leading downward at a sharp angle.

"Ankheg burrow," said Chester.

"Cornhole," said Cooper.

Dave and Tim laughed. Pissing off the back of a magic carpet must have done wonders for Tim. The rare sight of him laughing all but forced Julian to chuckle along.

"This ain't no pleasure cruise," said Chester, who had obviously not found Cooper's comment quite so funny as the rest of them had. "The observations you make out here might very well save your worthless lives. So you might want to –"

"Bwwaaarrrrrggggghh!" roared something from about fifty feet away. It was a terrible sound, like a bobcat choking on a squirrel which hadn't yet given up the fight. Julian looked toward the noise. Sure enough, a section of cornstalks was shaking violently, some of them tipping over, others sinking straight down.

"Well here you go," said Chester. "The perfect opportunity for you boys to educate yourselves on what you're up against."

The carpet meandered above the stalks until it reached the fightin-progress. Julian recognized the goblin immediately for what it was. The creature it was desperately hacking at with a sharpened piece of wood, he could only assume was an ankheg. It was only partially exposed. It's head looked like that of a brown grasshopper, but with enormous mandibles. The two exposed legs reminded Julian of steel fence posts, but with hooked claws at the end. The back end of a crossbow bolt appeared in its thorax, right below its leg. Julian looked to his right. Tim had fired the shot.

The creature hissed as it released its hold on the goblin's leg and turned its attention toward them.

Chester, strangely enough, had not yet even raised his own crossbow. He must be wanting to assess their ability. Still, that was some pretty cold shit when one of his own workers' life was on the line.

"Magic Missile!" said Julian. He was too spooked by the ankheg's appearance to focus on a form for the spell, so it just came out as a white glowing blob of magic. It did its job though, exploding into the side of the thing's face, shattering the exoskeletal cheek and part of its right eye. Unfortunately, the parts that did the biting seemed to still be fully functional.

Dave stood at the edge of the carpet, mace ready, waiting for the ankheg to come within striking range.

"Don't be a pussy," said Cooper, kicking Dave in the back.

"Shiiiii-" said Dave on the way down. The end of his scream was drowned out by the crashing of corn stalks.

When the ankheg bent down to bite Dave, Cooper leapt off the carpet onto its back. "Fuck you, you husky bitch!"

Riding piggyback on an enormous insect proved more challenging than Cooper had apparently accounted for, and he dropped his axe in order to hang on. The ankheg swayed back and forth, trying to shake him off, but Cooper had his left arm firmly locked in a chokehold around the creature's neck. He punched into the cavity Julian's Magic Missile had opened up, and then pulled out a fistful of brown and red goop that must have been the mashed remnants of its brain.

The creature stopped writhing and slumped forward over Dave, taking Cooper with it, head first into the ground.

"Ow," said Cooper.

"Impressive work," said Chester. "If not a tad unconventional."

"It might not have killed you to jump in on the action," said Tim. The kettle was beginning to boil.

Chester shrugged off the comment. "Bolts cost money." He looked down at the goblin. The pitiful thing's left leg was torn up pretty bad, but he remained standing. His white burlap shirt had been ripped wide open, revealing skin underneath that appeared to be worse off than the skin unshielded from the sun. It was pink and blistered, like second degree burns. "What you got in your hand, son?"

The goblin looked up like he'd been caught fucking Gertie. "Oh this? Ain't nothin', sir. Just a little chunk of wood is all."

"You know goblin's ain't s'posed to carry no weapons out here," said Chester, fingering the stone that hung from his neck. "Leave it to these here professionals to take care of the ankhegs. You just mind the corn."

"If y'all ain't happened by just when you done, these professionals wouldn't have done me a whole lot of good."

Chester scowled at the goblin with fiery hate in his eyes. For a second, Julian thought he might have to intervene. But the moment passed. Chester's face relaxed, and so did Julian.

"How's that leg of yours?"

"Oh, it ain't too bad," said the goblin. "I might need one or two days to recuperate, but I should be back to work in no time."

"One or two days, huh?" Chester flashed a broad smile. "Why not make it a week?"

"That's mighty generous of you, sir, but I reckon I'll only be –" THWACK A bolt in the forehead dropped the goblin to the dirt.

"What the fuck!" Tim cried, jumping off of the carpet.

"Give a gobber an inch, and he'll take a mile."

It took Julian a second to realize Chester was talking to him, being the only one left up there on the carpet. His mind reeling, he had no idea how to respond. Was he still even trying to be diplomatic at this point? "Excuse me," he said. He hopped backwards off the carpet, catching the edge briefly with his fingers, hanging on just long enough to halt the momentum of his fall.

"Y'all ain't had to worry 'bout that ankheg," said Chester. "Gobber woulda finished him off."

"He didn't stand a fucking chance, and you know it!" said Tim, plucking the bolt out of the goblin's forehead. Bright red blood poured out of the wound and ran down the creature's dusty face. Tim dragged the body behind the ankheg corpse, which Dave was still struggling to get out from under.

"Ha!" said Chester. "He didn't need to." He raised his eyebrows and tapped his temple. "It's brainpower what makes us the higher race. I have Gertie soak all the gobbers' laundry in a special batch of poison 'fore she hang it out to dry, just for this sort of eventuality."

That explained the chemical burns.

"You sadistic son of a whore!" said Cooper.

Julian whacked him on the head with his quarterstaff. "My apologies," he said to Chester. "My acquaintance has more heart than brain."

"Hey fuck you, dude," said Cooper. "Did you see what –" Julian gave him a look like he was going to hit him again.

"Well that's real sweet," said Chester. "You know I once saw a sick dog suck milk from a sow titty."

"Is that right?" said Julian.

"I shit you not!" said Chester. "Funniest thing in the world, I tell you…"

Julian's eyes remained focused on Chester, to give the appearance that he was still paying attention. But the bulk of his concentration was on Dave and Tim.

"I heal thee," whispered Dave. It was barely loud enough for Julian's hyper-sensitive elf ears to pick up. There's no way Chester's Master Race human ears would have heard, particularly not over the sound of his own blathering. When he heard the sound of muffled groaning, he sighed and turned his attention back to Chester.

"… but that don't matter none on account of we don't have room in the house for another nephew anyway."

"But what about Bosley?" asked Cooper, who had obviously been fully engrossed in whatever Chester was talking about. "How did he react to Eli running off with Leopold's eldest daughter?"

"Bosley?"Chester hunkered down to a squat and cupped a hand around the side of his mouth. "He's the one paid for the gods-damned taxidermist!"

Cooper's eyes widened as he placed his fingertips over his mouth. "Fuck me!"

Chester raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "I know, right?"

"Excuse me," said Julian. "I hate to interrupt, but I'd like to know more about the job." Hoping that a little farm lingo might ease the transition, he added, "Daylight's a-waistin'."

Chester stood up and frowned. "So it is. Well, ain't much 'splainin' needs done. You fellers take all the time you need and kill as many ankhegs as you can. When you're done, come on back to the farmhouse, and I'll give you one gold piece for every head you bring back."

"Yes, sir," said Julian.

Chester sat down, and the carpet began to pivot in the air toward the farmhouse. "Good luck!"

Julian waited until he lost sight of the back of the carpet through the corn stalks. "He's gone."

Tim and Dave stood up and stepped out from behind the dead ankheg. Between them stood the shirtless, shaken, but very much alive goblin. His leg was nicely healed up, the hole in his forehead had disappeared, and even the burns on his torso had disappeared.

"Hello," said Julian, attempting a comforting smile.

The goblin responded with a timid nod of his head.

"My name is Julian. It's nice to meet you, Gobber."

"Julian!" cried Dave. "No!"

The goblin's timidity evaporated in an instant. Its red eyes grew wide. "Who you callin' a gobber, you big-eared bitch?" He pushed Dave out of his way and started marching toward Julian.

"Huh?" said Julian, taking a step back.

"I'm pretty sure that's like the goblin N-word," said Dave.

"What?" cried Julian, crashing backward through stalks of corn. "I'm sorry! I thought that was your name!"

"Oh, you a funny man," said the goblin. "We gonna see how funny you is with no teeth." He was somehow incredibly menacing for a three-foot-tall creature.

"Come on, man! We just saved your life!"

"You 'bout to wish you hadn't."

Cooper stepped in front of the goblin. "Just calm the fuck down. Julian didn't mean anything."

"This don't involve you. Best you just step out the way."

"That's my friend," said Cooper. "So yes, it does involve me. If you'd just take a second and chill – The fuck?" Ravenus swooped in and pecked furiously on Cooper's head. "Ow! Fuck! Knock it off!"

"Ravenus!" said Julian. "What are you doing?"

Ravenus narrowly avoided Cooper's fist and settled on top of Juliian's quarterstaff. "I'm sorry, sir. I sensed you were being threatened."

"Not by Cooper."

"Dave?"

"No."

"Surely not Tim."

"No."

"But that only leaves…" Ravenus cocked his head to the side. "You felt threatened by a goblin?"

"I inadvertently made an offensive remark… for which I'm very sorry."

"But he's just a goblin," said Ravenus, just before getting knocked off of his perch by a flying ear of corn.

"Nice shot," said Cooper. The goblin grinned.

"I deserved that!" Ravenus said from behind several rows of corn stalks.

"You speak elven?" asked Julian. It was the only explanation for him being able to understand what Ravenus had said. Well, either that or he was just a major dick.

"That's right," said the goblin in a British accent. "I speak a couple other languages too."

"Hey hey, none of that shit," said Cooper. "You guys speak English."

"What's English?" asked the goblin.

"Or common," said Cooper. "Whatever the fuck it's called. Just knock off that crazy bird language bullshit."

The goblin looked confused, but Julian didn't feel like explaining how game languages worked.

"What's your name?" asked Julian.

"They call me Nutcracker."

"Do I want to know why?"

Nutcracker grinned. "Not firsthand."

"Have you guys sorted all of your shit out?" asked Tim. "We should try to kill an ankheg or two before night falls. You're welcome to join us, Nutcracker."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"We'll cut you in on the coin," said Tim. "Besides, have you given any thought as to what you're next step is? I mean, your master thinks you're dead."

Nutcracker laughed. "I don't reckon he can tell one of us from another."

"Why don't you just leave?" asked Julian. "I don't see any walls or guards or anything. What's to stop any of you from leaving anytime you want?"

"You seen that big stone Mister Chester wear 'round his neck?"

"Yeah?"

"That's what's called a property stone," said Nutcracker. "Now I don't know the magic behind it, but they got a wizard at every slave auction. They take blood from a newly purchased slave and do what they do. Whatever it is binds us to that stone."

"So what happens if you try to leave?" asked Julian.

"I tried a few times," said Nutcracker. "You reach a certain point and you just want to come back."

"Interesting."

"Same thing happens if you get a mind to do harm to Mister Chester. Like right now, for instance. He done murdered me today, but if he was here right now, I couldn't bring myself to lay a hand on him."

"Because of the stone?"

Nutcracker nodded. "Mmm hmm."

"What if you destroyed the stone?"

"I seen a couple fools try it once," said Nutcracker. "They snuck into the house and grabbed it. This was before Mister Chester took to wearin' it 'round his neck all the time. They banged on that thing with hammers and rocks for a good twenty minutes before Mister Chester come 'round on that flying carpet of his. He shot them both dead, and they ain't put so much as a gods damned scratch on the stone. Damn thing's nigh-indestructible."

"Have you thought about –" The ground rumbled beneath Julian's feet. "What was that?" he asked, having a pretty good idea of what the answer was.

"Take this!" said Tim, tossing his short sword to Nutcracker. He loaded his crossbow.

Nutcracker snatched the sword out of the air by the hilt and made a few practice swipes against some corn stalks. The stalks weren't exactly worthy adversaries, but Julian could tell that this little goblin knew his way around a sword.

"What's going on?" asked Ravenus, poking his head out of the fallen ankheg's giant eye.

"Ravenus," said Julian. "Fly!"

Ravenus flapped his wings, spraying Julian with a bit eyeball goo, and took to the air.

Julian, Dave, Tim, and Cooper stepped this way and that, like they were in a drunken square dance, trying to figure out exactly where the approaching ankheg was most likely to emerge.

Nutcracker stared straight at a certain spot on the ground, sword held high with both hands and pointing down.

The ground disintegrated exactly at the point where Nutcracker had predicted. The massive bug emerged. Brown exoskeleton with a red underbelly, it was easily fifty percent bigger than the previous one.

Nutcracker dug into its underbelly with his sword as it burst out of the hole, putting a nice big gash in its side.

The ankheg swiped at Nutcracker with one of its massive legs, sending the goblin flying into the maize. The little guy had some fight in him, sure. But he still only weighed about forty-five pounds.

When the ankheg had fully emerged from its hole, it was as big as a city bus.

"Yah!" said Dave, swinging his mace at the creature's head. The ankheg dodged Dave's clumsy swing, knocking the weapon out of his hands with a swipe of its mandibles.

"Shit," said Dave as his mace disappeared down the ankheg's hole.

The ankheg made a sound like an old person snoring, only much much louder, and opened its mandibles wide, spraying a jet of dull green liquid into Dave's face. It sizzled on contact.

"Yah!" cried Dave. It was decidedly different in tone and pitch than his previous 'yah'. He covered his face with his hands and ran around like a headless chicken. "My eyes! I can't – Wha? FUUUUUUCK!" He accidentally followed his mace.

"Ha!" said Cooper. "Dave just got cornholed!" He swung his axe with both hands. The ankheg raised its center leg to deflect the blow, but wound up minus a leg for the effort.

Tim fired a bolt into the creature's back for whatever good that did. It seemed more distracted by its missing leg.

Julian didn't know what else the day had in store for them, and thought it best to conserve his magic for now. He brought his quarterstaff down hard on the ankheg's rear end, but failed to smash through its hard shell.

Understandably pissed off about its severed leg, the ankheg grabbed Cooper with its two front legs and brought its mouth down on Cooper's head. It immediately released him, hissing and standing upright on its hind legs, leaving itself wide open for Nutcracker to charge out from the corn stalks and plunge Tim's short sword deep into its soft underbelly.

There followed a moment of hesitation, as if the ankheg couldn't decide if it was dead yet or not. Tim made the decision for it, firing a bolt right into its face.

Nutcracker rolled out of the way as the giant beast's body smashed a previously unmolested section of cornfield.

"Nice work," Julian said to Nutcracker.

"Yeah," said Nutcracker. "Um… you too." Julian didn't think he meant it to be as condescending as it sounded.

"Hey Dave!" Tim called down the hole. "You okay down there?"

"Yeah," Dave shouted. "Never been better." His tone suggested otherwise.

"Do you need some help getting out?"

"No," said Dave. "You guys should come down here. I think I found something."

"What is it?"

"Some kind of stone surface."

"Probably just bedrock."

"Dude," said Dave. "I'm a dwarf. I know stone. This is man-made."

Tim looked at Julian. Julian shrugged.

"Okay, fine," said Tim. "We're coming down."

The incline of the tunnel was steep enough to slide down, but Julian made his way down carefully, afraid that the whole tunnel could collapse at any minute. Corn roots held the soil together most of the way down, so at least there was a bit of comfort in that, but not quite enough to offset the anxiety he felt at the slightest possibility of being buried alive.

"Hey Dave," said Cooper. "Do you think you could heal me? I got scratched by that ankheg."

"Sorry," said Dave. "My face melted off. I just used up my last Heal spell for the day for that."

"Damn," said Tim. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

"It wasn't. I only used two spells for myself. The rest I used on Nutcracker."

"How many spells did he need?" said Cooper. "He's a goblin. They only have what, like four Hit Points?"

"He must have Fighter levels," said Tim. "He handled my sword pretty well."

Cooper snorted.

"That came out wrong."

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked Nutcracker.

"Give me your dagger," Dave said to Tim. Tim held the weapon out in Dave's general direction, but it was obvious that he couldn't see. Even Julian's Low Light Vision was barely functional this far down. Dave, Cooper, and probably even Nutcracker had Darkvision, and could see perfectly fine with no light at all.

"With the proper leverage," Dave grunted as he worked the dagger between two stone tiles. "I should be… able… to…" He sighed as he hefted the three-foot-square, two-inch-thick slab of stone from the place it had been resting, undisturbed, for who knew how many hundreds of years. He slid it onto identical slabs further down the ankheg tunnel.

"I don't know about this," said Julian. "Something feels wrong."

Dave peeked inside. "You guys!" He sounded more excited than Julian had ever heard him sound before. "We've hit the fucking jackpot!"

"What is it?" asked Tim.

"Gold!" said Dave.

"Gold?" said Nutcracker.

"Sacks of it!"

"Let me see!" said Cooper, crawling past Julian.

"Hey," said Tim. "Stop pushing."

"You guys keep your voices down," said Julian. He had a strong feeling in his gut that something bad was going to happen.

"Damn it, Cooper," said Dave. "Wait a second. There isn't enough room for – Waaaah!"

Dave crashed into the floor below them. The sound of his armor slamming into the stone floor made it pointless to continue reminding anyone to keep their voices down.

"Oops," said Cooper. "Um… are you okay?"

"Fuck you!"

"Don't worry, guys," said Cooper. "He's okay."

"What's down there?" asked Tim.

"It must be some kind of treasure vault," said Dave. "There's gold, but there's also a bunch of these tiny stone statues everywhere. Whoever this belongs to must have a thing for rats. The detail on these is exquisite. I can't even find any chisel marks or anything. And there's hundreds of them. Take a look."

"Not bad," said Cooper, holding a little rat statue in his hand.

"Not bad?" said Dave. "That's a magnificent work of art. I'd love to meet the guy who makes these. It's too bad he wastes all of his talent on rats though."

"Artists are weird," said Cooper. He passed the stone rat to Julian.

Dave was right. It was an impressively detailed piece of stone work.

"We can admire the art later," said Tim. "Tie one of those gold sacks to the end of this rope. Cooper, you go back up the tunnel and pull when I tell you to."

The first sack of gold came up with no problem. It was almost as big as Tim. The comparison was easy to make, as Tim gave it a great big hug and crotch thrust when it surfaced.

"We are getting the fuck out of here tonight," said Tim. "Ready for round two?" He hopped down into the cornhole.

"Holy shit!" said Dave.

"What's wrong?" asked Tim.

"Guys!" cried Dave. "I'm not alone down here. Throw me the rope, quick!" A few seconds later, he cried, "Pull!"

"Jesus Christ!" said Cooper as he, Julian, and Nutcracker pulled on the rope. "Dave has put on some serious fucking weight."

"What the hell?" said Julian. They were barely making any progress. "It's like he's made of…" Julian suddenly remembered the rat statue. "Oh shit. Cooper! Rage now!"

"Good idea," said Cooper. "I'm really angry!"

Julian watched as Cooper's elongated shadow on the fallen cornstalks widened. Suddenly they all started moving backwards very quickly. Tim came out of the hole first. What followed was exactly what Julian feared. The other end of the rope was wrapped around the forearms of a terrified-looking stone statue of Dave.

"Fuck!" said Tim. "He's turned to stone."

"What could do that?" asked Julian.

"Could have been a number of things," said Tim. "Medusa, basilisk, cockatrice, I don't know."

"Can we, um… fix him?"

"Not without a high-level wizard," said Tim. "And likely a shit ton of money."

Julian nudged the sack of gold with his foot. "We've got a shit ton of money."

"That still leaves us short a wizard."

"Old Man Belmont lives just up the road," said Nutcracker. "He's a wizard."

"A powerful one?" asked Tim.

"They all powerful 'round here," said Nutcracker. "This is the Garden District. Rich folks retire here. Most of them is powerful wizards and clerics. Mister Chester's the exception, havin' done made all his money on corn. I can take you there if you like."

"I thought you couldn't leave the farm," said Julian.

"Oh I can go that far," said Nutcracker. "No problem."

"How are we going to carry him?" asked Tim. "Cooper's Rage won't last more than another few minutes."

"I can summon a horse," said Julian. "We could just drag him behind. I don't think he'd feel it, would he?"

"I'm not as worried about that as I am about breaking him." Tim picked up the stone rat and handed it to Cooper. "Squeeze."

Cooper wrapped his gigantic sausage fingers around the stone rat and squeezed. The veins in his forearm bulged out like coaxial cables. After a muffled crunch, he opened his hand. The rat was in at least five or six pieces.

"Yeah," said Tim. "I don't think dragging him behind a horse is going to work."

After about thirty minutes of trial and error, they managed to rig up a harness out of Cooper's leather bag and the rope still attached to Dave's arm. They were fairly confident that, if they took their time, they'd be able to carry Dave and the sack of gold between two horses before Julian's Mount spell duration expired.

"Okay," said Tim. "Do your thing."

"Horse," said Julian. A sturdy gray draft horse popped into existence in front of him. "Horse," he repeated, and a brown horse of similar build appeared right beside it. The perfect horses for this particular situation. His magical skills were improving.

They tied Dave facing headfirst between the two saddlehorns just above his center of gravity so that , if left to his own devices, his feet would fall to the ground. Once Cooper and Tim were mounted, Julian tied Dave's feet to Cooper's waist. Julian and Nutcracker mounted the other horse. As long as the horses walked together, they would be fine.

Julian addressed the horses together, hoping that would keep them nicely synched together. "Horses, walk together slowly." The plan worked better than he had hoped. The horses movements were perfectly synchronized. It was like Riverdance.

Nutcracker navigated them through the maize until they were far enough away from the house that they could safely travel on the road without being seen. They passed a couple of goblins here and there along the way. Nutcracker put his finger over his lips, and the other goblins went back to work like they hadn't seen a thing.

"I was wondering," said Julian, once they were on the road. "And I'm sorry if this is a sensitive question."

"Then don't ask it," said Tim.

"I have to know," said Julian. "How is it that you all came to be slaves?"

"Julian!" Tim snapped.

"It's just that I've seen other goblins around Cardinia. They seem to be doing all right for themselves."

"Well good for them," said Nutcracker. "We ain't slaves because we's goblins." He shrugged his shoulders. "We's cheap because we's goblins. We's slaves because we was captured in war."

"So you're saying there can be slaves of other races?"

"What kind of fool question is that?"

"We're not from around here."

"I ain't from 'round here neither," said Nutcracker, "which, sadly, is the reason I came to be on the losin' side of the war."

"Oh." Julian was curious about how things worked, but he didn't want to pry too deep into Nutcracker's personal history.

"To answer your question, anyone can end up a slave. Don't matter what race you are. I had a human on the auction block on my left, and a minotaur on my right. Both fetched a hell of a lot more coin than I did."

"So all captured soldiers become the slaves of their enemy?" asked Tim.

"Not all," said Nutcracker. "Some choose death."

"Huh?"

"Every soldier gets a choice. Some folks feel they let down their king or country or what have you, and deserve death. Some is more scared of getting' a bad slave master than they is of death itself. Some prefer a quick death from a fellow soldier to the indignity of being a slave. Me, I figure death's gonna come sooner or later whether I want it to or not, so I'll just keep on livin' and see what else life has in store for me."

From there, they traveled in silence but for the perfectly timed rhythm of hooves on dirt. It was only about another hour before Nutcracker pointed out Old Man Belmont's tower on the horizon.

From a distance, the tower looked pretty much like what Julian expected a wizard's tower to look like. Tall, thin, impractical. But as they got closer, he saw that the tower was merely the focal point of a series of smaller buildings. What's more, he could hear children playing and laughing.

"Does Old Man Belmont have kids?"

Nutcracker laughed. "No, not for a long time. He got him some pretty little grandkids though. You best let me off here. Won't do none of us no good for you to be seen with me."

Julian stopped the horses, and Nutcracker dismounted, careful not to jostle Dave.

"See you back on the farm?" asked Julian.

Nutcracker nodded. "Good luck."

"Do you think we can trust him?" asked Tim when Julian started the horses moving again.

"With what?"

"The money."

"I don't see how he has much use for it," said Julian.

"What if he tries to make a deal with Chester?" asked Tim. "Secure his freedom for some information on some hidden treasure?"

"I don't think he'd have time for all that," said Julian. "Chester would most likely just shoot him again anyway."

"I don't like it."

"Ravenus!" Julian called out.

A few seconds later, Ravenus flew into view and settled atop Julian's quarterstaff. "Yes, Master Julian?"

"Would you mind flying back and keeping an eye on the hole we just pulled Dave out of?"

"Of course, sir!" Ravenus took off into the sky.

"Feel better?" Julian asked Tim.

"A little." It would have to do.

The property was surrounded by a cobblestone, chest-high wall. It must have been meant only for decoration, as it would have kept out only the very laziest of would-be intruders. The wall was interrupted only in one place, by an archway constructed of rough-but-shimmery blue-gray stones. There were no gates, and the arch was just large enough for two riders to enter on horseback abreast of one another. It occurred to Julian as they approached the arch that the sound of children's' laughter was now conspicuously absent.

They stopped just short of passing under the arch.

"Belmont," said Tim, reading a brass plaque mounted on the arch. "I guess we're at the right place."

"Should we just go in?" asked Julian.

"I don't see a bell or anything," said Tim.

"Fuck it," said Cooper. "Let's just go in."

A cool breeze blew through Julian's hair, which was odd, considering he was wearing his sombrero. He looked up and discovered that the giant hat was hovering about a foot above his head. "Well that's interesting."

"OW!" cried Cooper. "What the fuck!"

When Julian turned to look, Cooper was holding a crossbow bolt in his hand. The tip was rounded to a nub, but it still left a nasty welt on his chest.

"That hurt, you little shit!" Cooper said to the little blonde-haired girl who was suddenly standing on the wall, on the left side of the arch. She might have been about nine or ten years old if she was human. Judging by the size of her pointed ears in proportion to the rest of her head, Julian guessed she was half-elven. He wasn't sure how quickly they aged. In her left hand she brandished a wooden sword. In her right, she wielded a miniature, and apparently quite functional, hand-crossbow.

"Who goes there?" said a young male voice. Julian looked at the other side of the arch. A half-elven boy, maybe a year or two younger than the girl, stood atop the wall unarmed, but with his left hand raised confidently in the air. His hair was a thick, wild mess of autumnal colors. His grinning teeth seemed a little too big for his mouth, and his eyes were two different colors. He was going through an awkward phase, but Julian guessed he'd be handsome when he grew out of it.

Julian tried to grab his hovering sombrero, but the little boy jerked his hand higher, causing the hat to ascend just beyond Julian's reach.

"State your business here!" demanded the little girl. "What's that you've got tied up between the horses?"

"None of your business," said Cooper.

"You're ugly," said the girl, matter-of-factly in the cruelly honest way that children are wont to do.

"Your mother's a whore!" shouted Cooper. Julian shot him a severe glare. "…rrible dancer." It was as good a save as Julian could hope to expect.

"No she isn't," said the girl. "My mother is an excellent dancer. She's performed for the Duke and Duchess of Windhollow-Brandyshire." Her tone carried a certain smugness that suggested that she'd just put Cooper in his place.

"Oh," said Cooper. "I guess I was misinformed."

"He's stupid, too," said the little boy, waving his hand in a circular motion, causing Julian's hat to do somersaults in the air above his head. "Let's ask Poppy to turn him into a pig so we can keep him."

Julian had no choice but to move the conversation forward. "Is your Poppy in? We really need to see him."

"He's 'round back by the stable," said the girl, "arguin' with Mamma."

"Come on in!" said the boy. "My name's Stamen. That's my sister, Pistil." He hopped down off the wall, and Julian's hat fell into place on his head.

Julian started the horses through the stone arch. As they passed underneath it, he was blinded by a sudden flash of white light. Before that could even register, he was falling through the air. He almost caught himself with his feet, but fell over backwards, stopping when his back met the unforgiving hard-packed dirt path below him. His vision came back pretty quickly, the light having come and gone like a camera flash.

"Oh, my ass!" said Cooper.

"Oh, your ass!" said Tim, who had landed on his back between Cooper's legs.

The half-elven boy and girl were crippled by fits of laughter. Stamen was rolling around on the grass, while Pistil was hugging the arch to avoid falling off the wall. Both of them were wheezing like hyenas choking on mustard gas. A Tom and Jerry cartoon might well have killed them.

The horses were gone.

Tim rolled away from Cooper's legs and toward the Dave statue. A look of terror swept across his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Julian.

Tim peeked under a piece of Cooper's bag that was wrapped around Dave. "Oh shit."

"What is it?" asked Julian, hoping he was wrong about what he presumed the answer would be. He wasn't.

Tim pulled out a piece of Dave's head. The statue had fractured just above Dave's right ear, diagonally down his face to the mass of beard under his left jaw. "Oh my god, what have we done?"

"Does that mean he's…" Julian couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Why didn't you keep track of the spell duration for those stupid horses?" Tim snapped at Julian.

"The spell duration had nothing to do with it!" said Julian. "We had a good half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes left before the horses timed out. There's some kind of anti-magic magic in this arch!"

"Dude," said Cooper. "Flip it over and see if you can see his brain."

Julian's first instinct was to club him over the head or at least tell him to shut up, but curiosity got the better of him. He nodded to Tim.

Tim flipped the chunk of Dave's stone head over. Disappointingly, it turned out just to be solid stone on the inside.

"He might not be dead," said Julian.

"His head's fucking cracked in half!" cried Tim.

"We have to try," said Julian. "Hey Stamen. Take me to your Poppy." The boy was still red in the face, tears streaming down from both eyes. "Come on, move your ass. This is an emergency!"

Stamen reined in control of his laughter and stood up. He and his sister led them around back behind the center building. Tim carried the stone head fragment, and Cooper carried the rest of the statue. As they approached, Julian could hear the aforementioned argument in progress.

"You ain't given him a proper chance, Daddy." It was a woman's voice, speaking elven.

"Proper chance!" responded an older man's voice. "Y'all been married ten years already, and I ain't seen a copper piece of rent money."

"He's workin' his tail off," said the woman. "Raisin' two kids is expensive."

"Don't I know it! It's me been payin' for them."

"That ain't fair, Daddy. You know he does the best he can."

"He plays an accordion in a tavern. I reckon I don't have to remind you who bought that."

"Don't even bring that up. You said yourself it was a birthday present." The woman's voice was beginning to crack.

"Aw don't go an' get yourself all worked up again. Everyone makes mistakes, Daffodil. I warned you 'bout gettin' involved with a human. I just hope you won't make the same mistake again once this one finally plays his last note."

"Daddy!"

"I think we can find him from here," said Julian. "I don't know if you kids should be hearing this."

"Ain't nothin' we ain't heard before," said Pistil. "Daddy and Poppy don't get along so well."

They finally rounded the corner to the back of the house, and Julian saw something he never expected to see. A fat elf. The old man had really let himself go by elf standards. Add to that the fact that he was wearing overalls without a shirt, and he wouldn't have looked out of place at Wal-Mart. He also wore a huge burlap satchel, presumably filled with carrots, like the one he was currently feeding to a horse.

"Well what have we here?" he said. He spoke in the Common tongue, the courteous thing to do in mixed company.

"Excuse me, sir," said Julian. "Mr. Belmont, is it?"

"Aye, that's me," said Old Man Belmont. "This is my daughter, Daphne.

"Pleased to meet you," said Daphne, acknowledging only Julian. She curtsied, lifting the sides of a dress made of corn husks and rose petals. The flora of the garment was not at all withered, as if she had tailored it less than twenty minutes ago, or it was being kept alive by some other means. Even the two twigs holding her orange hair up in a bob boasted vibrant green leaves.

And who might you be?" asked Old Man Belmont.

"My name is Julian, and…" He couldn't think of a very good segue. "We were wondering if you could help our friend." He gestured behind him to Tim and Cooper, who held up their pieces of Dave. "His head fell off."

Old Man Belmont frowned. His flaccid jowls sagged like distorted reflections of his pointy ears. "I'm sorry about your friend there, but magic don't come cheap. A spell like that's like to cost more than you fellers can afford. There's costs involved on my end, you see. Spell components, time spent researching, simple supply and demand. This is a business, you see. And I have a reputation to protect. I can't just give away spells to any vagrant who walks in off –""

"We've got money," said Cooper, reaching into his bag.

"Cooper!" cried Tim. "Don't –" But it was too late.

Cooper pulled the sack of gold out of his bag and dropped it on the ground. A few gold coins spilled out of the top. "How much?"

Stamen and Pistil gasped. Their mother's mouth hung open.

Old Man Belmont's fluffy white eyebrows rose as he looked at the sack full of money. "Um… that much."

"Awesome," said Cooper. "What are the odds of that? Talk about a lucky break."

Julian and Tim glared at him.

Cooper frowned. "What?"

"Bullshit!" Tim said to Old Man Belmont. "You give us your honest price, or we'll take our business elsewhere."

"I've told you my price, little feller," said the fat old elf. "Mind you don't jostle those pieces too much on your way out. When those rough edges grind together, tiny little bits crumble away. The more dust you lose, the less of a chance he'll survive the conversion back to flesh."

Tim looked at his hand. His fingertips were already white with dust. He pursed his lips and looked at Julian.

"Cooper," said Julian. "Talk to Mr. Belmont for a minute, would you?"

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to Tim alone," said Julian. He looked at Old Man Belmont. "And elves have an excellent sense of hearing."

Old Man Belmont shrugged and nodded.

"So," said Cooper. "Magic, huh?"

Julian took Tim by the arm and led him around the side of the house. "We've got to pay him what he wants."

"We could get this done somewhere else at a fraction of the cost!"

"Look at your goddamn fingers!" said Julian. "They're coated in Dave's powdered brain!"

"Ew," said Tim, wiping his hand on his pants.

"Don't get greedy," said Julian. "There's plenty more gold where that came from. The more time we spend squabbling over a few coins here, the bigger the chance Chester takes note of our absence. If he starts asking the right questions to the right goblins, there's a chance he could get to the rest of that gold before we do."

Tim stood quietly for a few seconds, presumably trying to find a hole in Julian's argument. "You're right. Let's go."

Diplomacy. Natural 20.

When they came back around to the back of the house, Cooper, Old Man Belmont, and Daphne were huddled together like they were plotting to kill Caesar.

"Well up to that point," Old Man Belmont was saying to Cooper when Julian and Tim returned, "Rodney hadn't never been with a woman."

Cooper folded his arms and scowled. "And she just left him there on the island?"

"Could you love a man who said the things he did to her uncle?"

Cooper pointed at the ground and raised his voice in anger. "I could love a man who –" He paused thoughtfully. "Wait, where does that leave Bernard's pet pig?"

Daphne put her hands on her hips and leaned in closer to Cooper than most people could stand. "There never was a pig to begin with."

"Of course!" said Cooper, slapping himself on the forehead. "It all makes sense! That heartless bitch!"

"Excuse me," said Julian. "We've come to a decision. We'll pay the money."

"Well all right then," said Old Man Belmont. "Let's get started." He took the carrot satchel off of his shoulder. "Stamen!"

The young half-elf boy stood at attention. "Yessir!"

"Make yourself useful." Old Man Belmont tossed his satchel to the boy, who fell over under the weight of what looked to be a couple hundred carrots. "Follow me, gentlemen. Bring your friend."

The fat old elf led them to the tower.

Aside from its height, the tower was a pretty mundane affair. A simple column of gray stone, punctuated here and there by a seemingly arbitrary pattern of windows. The top of floor was wider around than the rest of the tower, like a tuna can on top of a stack of Coke cans.

Old Man Belmont walked into an unimpressive, doorless entryway, little more than a rectangular hole in the wall.

The inside of the first floor was even more of a letdown. It was magically lit by permanently enchanted stones such as Julian had seen in any number of dungeons, cellars, and even city street lamps at night. But here, why even bother with the light? There wasn't much to see. The inside walls were the same bare, rough stone as the outside. The floor was just plain dirt, bare except for a small circular rug in the center. Most notably absent was any obvious means of getting to the second floor. There were no stairs, no ladders, not even a hole in the ceiling.

Old Man Belmont waddled to the center of the room and sat down on the little rug, almost concealing it entirely with his girth. The rug began to rise vertically into the air.

"My way up is only big enough for one," said Old Man Belmont. His belly shook as he chuckled. "So long as that one is me. You fellers take the stairs. Meet me on the second floor."

"What stairs?" asked Julian, but the old elf disappeared into an illusory plaster ceiling.

"These stairs," said Pistil.

Julian started. He hadn't even realized that she'd followed them. The girl had the makings of a rogue in her.

Pistil grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the wall to the left of the entryway. The dirt settled on the first two invisible stairs which presumably wound around the inner wall all the way up to the second floor. The steps were only about six inches tall, and three feet long. The ascent would be a gradual one.

Pistil ran up the first two semi-visible steps and kept on going, running on what looked like nothing but air. When she was about a third of the way around the circumference of the tower, and about six feet up in the air, she jumped over a two-foot expanse of nothing and landed on her feet on some more nothing.

"You have to watch your step!" she called down at them. "There are gaps."

"Gaps?" asked Julian.

"Poppy says it won't do much to stop a determined intruder, but it might piss him off a bit." She continued running up the stairs, jumping over a pattern of gaps that only she knew.

"I'll take the lead on this one," said Tim, handing off Dave's stone head to Julian. He scooped up two fistfuls of dirt and started carefully up the stairs, letting the dirt trickle out of his hands as his feet found each new step.

Julian placed his right foot on the first step. Despite it appearing to be nothing more than a thin layer of floating dust, it felt like solid stone beneath his foot. He brought his left foot onto the step, and there he was, standing with nothing between his feet and the ground but six inches of empty space. He was already dizzy with vertigo.

"Move your ass, dude," said Cooper. "Dave's heavy as fuck."

"Oh right," said Julian. "Sorry." He took another step, and then another, this time finding the second tier of elevation. After climbing a few more stairs, he had the pattern down. Just when he got to the point of confidently placing one foot ahead of the other, he discovered one of the gaps that he'd forgotten having been warned about. His foot plunged down into true nothing, sending his whole body tipping forward.

Must save the head! He was only about six feet in the air, so he resisted his instinct to reach his hands out for something to catch himself. Keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Dave's fragile stone head, he let himself fall. His face met the step beyond the gap pretty hard, invisible stone scraping against his cheek. Painful as it was, it did break his fall, and he might have been able to get back on his feet if he'd had the use of his arms. Unfortunately, the weight of Dave's head just served to drag his face down the side of the invisible stone slab until he found the bottom of it. He free-fell, landing on his head on the dirt floor of the tower. He would surely have broken his neck if the game rules allowed for that.

"Mind the gaps," said Cooper. "The first one's easy enough to spot. It's marked with your face." He stepped over the gap above Julian in one long stride. Julian set aside thoughts of his sore neck, and the dirt that was sticking to his bleeding face and rolled out the way… just in case Cooper shat himself right there and then. It wouldn't have been the first time Cooper had shit on him. His friend had many fine qualities, but continence and timing were not among them.

Further up the wall, on the other side of the tower, Tim was stopped before the third (and hopefully final) gap in the staircase. He tossed what little dirt he had left in his right hand ahead of him. From his position on the floor, and with blood sticking his right eyelids together, Julian couldn't tell if any of the dirt had settled onto a step. It must have, though, as Tim took the leap, landing confidently atop another invisible step. A little further along, and Tim's head was almost touching the ceiling.

"There's no hatch or anything," said Tim, raising his arm. "It's just solid – Oh, there it is." The end of his arm disappeared into the ceiling. "Cool." He kept walking until he completely disappeared into the second floor.

"Sweet!" said Cooper, stepping over the second gap.

Julian groaned as he got back to his feet and limped back toward the first stair.

"Poppy said for me to come and get you." Pistil's voice came from behind and above him.

Julian turned around. The little half-elf girl was descending on her grandfather's miniature carpet. That looked much better than trying to climb those damned stairs again. He hobbled toward the center of the room, arriving there just ahead of her.

"Just will it up, and it will take you," said Pistil, hopping off the carpet.

"You're not coming?" asked Julian, taking a seat. The carpet was a little bigger than Old Man Belmont's girth had made it seem. "If this thing can hold your grandfather, I'm sure it can hold both of us."

"Stairs is more fun!" said Pistil. She darted off toward the first step. "Race you to the second floor."

Julian didn't even acknowledge the request enough to refuse it. He concentrated on the carpet. "Up?" he said. The carpet rose slowly, like an elevator.

"Ew!" said Pistil. She had already cleared the first gap, but stopped short before one strangely visible brown stair. "Somebody shit on the stairs!"

She and Julian looked up at Cooper, who had reached the top of the staircase. Evidence of his faux pas was still clinging to his inner thighs. He paused, wide-eyed and tight-lipped. If there's an appropriate thing to say in that set of circumstances, Cooper wouldn't have been the one to know. He turned away and hurriedly disappeared through the ceiling.

Pistil stepped back and got in a few strides before clearing the visible stair.

Julian looked up as the rug brought him closer to the false ceiling. The illusion was remarkable, complete with cobwebs, dust, and knots and imperfections in the wooden beams. It really looked like something he was about to smash his face into. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and hoped for the best.

"Ah, there he is," said Old Man Belmont a few seconds later.

Julian opened his eyes. This was more like what he expected the inside of a wizard's tower to look like. The round walls were lined with shelves full of haphazardly arranged scrolls and leather-bound tomes. On one side stood a wooden desk, atop which sat an assortment of beakers, as well as a long rack of test tubes, filled with liquids of varying textures and colors. Some of them bubbled, some smoked. Julian guessed these were potions in the process of being brewed. Behind the desk stood a cabinet with glass doors, through which he could see what he figured were the finished products, all neatly lined up and labeled in uniform glass jars.

Old Man Belmont stood in front of a smaller table, flattening out a rolled up parchment. "Yes, this should do."

"That's not fair!" wailed Pistil as her head emerged from the illusory floor at the top of the staircase. "I woulda won if this one didn't shit on the floor."

Tim shook his head. Old Man Belmont looked at Cooper.

"I have irritable bowls."

Pistil pointed furiously at Cooper. "You'd better get back down there and clean that shit up, or my Poppy's gonna –" In a sudden puff of smoke, she turned into a black cat.

"What the fuck just happened?" said Cooper.

"She's got a lot of spirit, that one," said Old Man Belmont. He placed the wand he was holding back into the sleeve where it must have come from and bent over to scoop up the cat.

"Is that your granddaughter?" asked Julian.

"Go on now," Old Man Belmont said to the cat. "Play with your brother." He tossed it out of an open window.

"REEEEOOWWWWWW!" Pistil protested on her way down.

"Ow!" screamed Stamen from outside. "She scratched me!"

Tim stood on tiptoes to look out the window. "You have a way with children."

Old Man Belmont looked at Cooper and pointed to a spot on the floor next to his table. "Just put that here, big feller."

"Careful!" said Tim as Cooper set the Dave statue noisily on the floor.

Old Man Belmont ran a finger along the rough surface of the fracture. It came away white. He frowned as he rubbed his fingers together. "Now you bring the rest of him."

Julian touched the floor next to the rug to make sure there was an actual floor there to touch. His hand went right through it. He mumbled a Detect Magic spell to himself, and his eyes were bombarded with color from all sides. He concentrated on the floor. The rug hovered in the center of a ten-foot-diameter circle of illusion, except for a two-foot-wide beam of real floor leading out from the carpet to the main floor of the second level of the tower. Satisfied, he walked across the beam and placed Dave's stone head into place. It didn't feel like it was going to stay put.

"If I let go of this, it's going to slide off."

"Wrap the rope around it," suggested Tim.

Julian did so. "Why didn't the rope turn to stone like his boots and armor and everything did?"

"He wasn't in complete possession of it," said Tim. "We were holding the other end. Cooper, put me up on the table."

Cooper picked up Tim and placed him on top of the table next to the statue.

Holding Cooper's shoulder to steady himself, Tim wrapped the rope around the two pieces of Dave's stone head until they were fastened together as securely as they were going to be. It only amplified the already-present look of terror on Dave's face.

"All right," said Old Man Belmont. "Now you boys take a step back."

Julian, Tim, and Cooper spread out, giving the fat old elf as much room as he could possibly need.

Old Man Belmont cleared his throat and began to read from the scroll. Julian couldn't understand a single syllable of what he said. This was magic well above his pay grade. The incoherent chanting went on for a minute or so, Belmont waved his fat arms about occasionally, but Julian didn't think that was actually a part of the ritual. He was probably just an animated talker, like an excited Italian.

After a loud crescendo of magical gibberish, he removed an expensive-looking dagger from the sleeve that Julian was all but certain he had just put his wand in. He grabbed the blade of the dagger tightly with one hand and winced as he jerked it out quickly with the other. He smeared his own blood over the parts of Dave's head which weren't obscured by rope, being a little more generous with it along the fracture line. Satisfied with the head, he spread his bleeding palm over the rest of Dave's body. He didn't coat it completely; more like a haphazard stroke of blood here and there, like a preliminary house painter who goes through with a brush and marks the sections of wall that are supposed to be painted. When Dave was smeared up pretty good, Old Man Belmont stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"How do we know if it worked?"

"How in the Abyss do you think you'll know?" said the old elf.

"Oh right," said Tim. "I suppose that was kind of a stupid question."

"You don't have to worry about the spell working," said Belmont. "I'm an experienced wizard."

"That's a relief," said Julian.

"What you've got to worry about is whether or not your friend there will survive the process."

That was less of a relief.

The blood on the statue began to sizzle and smoke. The stone itself took on a decidedly less solid state, the surface writhing and bubbling. Even the parts that weren't meant to be fleshy, such as Dave's armor, expanded and contracted as though life was coursing through it.

From within the writhing stone, Julian could hear the faint beginning of a low moan. The surface of the stone seemed to decide on a shape it liked and hardened. Just when it looked like solid stone again, it began to crack everywhere all at once, like there was a real Dave in there, but coated in a layer of eggshell. His right foot stepped sideways, breaking away massive chunks of the brittle white substance. He lost his balance and fell hard on his face.

"Oh!" cried Dave. "My fucking head!"

"He's alive!" said Julian.

Old Man Belmont nodded. "He has a strong will."

Julian wiped a tear away from his right eye. "He gets a bonus because of his high Wisdom score."

"What? Who? Where am I?" Dave was freaking out. He rolled onto his back, leaving behind flaky white chunks, and pulled frantically on the rope. "Why are my arms tied to my head?"

"Take her easy there, sonny," said Old Man Belmont. "You've just been through an ordeal."

"Who the fuck are you?" cried Dave, pulling even harder on the rope.

"Dude," said Tim. "Chill the fuck out before you strangle yourself."

"What's going on?" Dave was anything but chill.

"Cooper," said Tim. "Sit on Dave while I untie the rope."

"Wait, no!" said Dave. "I'm chill! I'm chill!" He stopped pulling on the rope and sat up.

"Now just sit still," said Tim. He had Dave untied in no time.

"Yaaaaaah!" Dave moaned, cradling his head in his hands. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"Here you go, son," said Old Man Belmont, thrusting a jar of clear liquid in Dave's face. "Take a swig of this."

"Is that a potion of healing?" asked Julian.

"Naw," said Belmont. "It's just a jar of cornpiss. I buy it off the feller up the road." He grimaced. "Aye, the corn will taste sweeter when it's feeding on his miserable corpse."

Dave was greedily gulping back the cornpiss. Cooper was wrist deep into one nostril. Tim and Julian exchanged a glance.

"Because he's human?" asked Julian.

"Huh?"

"Is that why you don't like your neighbor?" Julian pressed on in spite of Tim's warning look. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation you were having with your daughter about her husband. I just got the impression that you don't really care much for humans."

"Aye, that's rich!" said Belmont. "I'm the bigot! I can't even buy a crate of cornpiss without him wantin' to gnaw my ear off all day long 'bout the hierarchy of races, or whatever he calls it. I'll go through two or three jars right then and there just to drown out his yappin', 'fore I can find a polite way to excuse myself."

"I'm sorry," said Julian, "I didn't mean to –"

"And I got nothin' personal against Marlow," Belmont continued. "He's a gentle enough husband and father. He's just not what you'd call a protector or provider."

"Who's Marlow?"

"My son-by-rights," said Belmont. "He's a bard, for crying out loud! Imagine that, my own flesh and blood married to a bard."

"Bards suck," said Cooper.

"You said it, pork pie!" Belmont laughed, slapping his knee. "Course, havin' them all stay here means I get to spend as much time as I like with my mongrel grandkids."

Julian frowned. "Is mongrel really the preferred –"

"Don't matter none anyways. He won't be 'round for long."

"Why?" asked Julian. "Is he sick?"

"He's human!" said Belmont. "God's be damned, boy! Keep up with the conversation."

"I'm sorry," said Tim. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think you've taken enough of our time as well as our money. We really should be heading out."

"Did you really not mean for that to be rude?" asked Julian. "Because it actually sounded pretty –"

Old Man Belmont laughed. "Don't bother me none. Y'all get on your way now. You get into trouble again, just come on back here with another sack of gold."

"Oh my god," said Dave, stumbling toward the center of the room. He held the empty jar in his right hand and rubbed his temple with his left, right where his head had been split in half. "My head feels a lot better, but I think I'm going to throw up."

"Dave!" cried Julian. "Wait!"

"Is there a bathroom in this – WHA!" Dave fell through the fake floor.

Cooper snorted. "Dumbass, you should have taken the stairs." He was descending the staircase, his lower body already obscured by the illusion.

"Fuck that," said Tim. "I'm going out this way." He climbed up onto the window sill, and out the other side, leaving only the tips of his fingers visible. A second later, those disappeared as well.

Julian thought he'd try his luck on the stairs again. Going down turned out to easier than going up. The first third of the way down was tricky. Tim must have run out of dirt by the time he got up that far. After the stair that Cooper had shit on, the rest of the way down was easy, as Cooper was kind enough to leave behind big brown footprints.

"You okay, Dave?" Julian said to the lump of dwarf spread out on the center of the floor.

Dave turned his head toward Julian, gave him a weak 'thumbs up', and puked on the floor. "Better now." He reached out his hand for Cooper to help him up.

"I've carried your fat ass enough today," said Cooper as he walked out the tower's exit.

Julian supported Dave as he hobbled out behind Cooper. They found Tim limping as well.

"That grass wasn't as soft as I thought it would be."

The four of them started back toward the property's front gate.

"Goodbye!" shouted Stamen.

Julian turned around. Stamen and his sister, who had since turned back into a half-elf, were waving frantically at them, bright smiles on their faces. Old Man Belmont and his daughter stood behind their children, also smiling. Julian smiled back and waved. They might have just extorted every last bit of cash he and his friends had out of them, but they were nothing if not friendly people.

"Who the hell were those people?" asked Dave once they were on the road back to Chester's farm.

"Forget about them," said Tim. "What's the last thing you remember before blacking out?"

"Corn," said Dave. "And there was a hole."

Tim's lips quivered. He pressed them together tight.

"Cornhole," said Cooper.

Laughter and snot exploded out of Tim's nose.

"Fuck you guys," said Dave, waddling ahead of the group. "I'm suffering here."

"Dammit, Cooper," said Tim, wiping his sleeve across his face. "There's a lot of money riding on this. We need to know what's down there. Julian, you think you could use some Diplomacy on him?"

"Screw that!" said Dave. "Stay the hell out of my head with your stupid Diplomacy. I'll tell you what I can remember as it comes back to me."

Tim ran to catch up with Dave. "You saw something in the hole. Some kind of creature. You told us you weren't alone down there, and that we needed to pull the rope."

"Yeah, I remember," said Dave. "It looked like a fat Komodo dragon, except that it had eight legs."

"I knew it!" said Tim. "A basilisk. I totally called that."

"There was a door on the other side of the room."

"Of course there was," said Tim. "We accidentally stumbled into the treasure room of someone's secret lair."

"Please don't say you want to go explore the rest of it," said Julian.

"Fuck no!" said Tim. "Anyone with that much gold and a pet basilisk to guard it would kick the shit out of us. We need to go back in the way we came, keep our eyes closed, get the gold, and get the fuck back out of there."

"Dude," said Dave. "That lizard thing was big."

"They aren't very aggressive," said Tim. "And they're lazy. If we don't mess with it, it'll probably leave us alone."

"I'll admit it didn't look terribly ferocious," said Dave. "But I don't know if I'm willing to gamble my life on having to fight it with my eyes closed. I mean, what if there are more of them? What if we get caught by whoever lives in the –"

"Something's wrong!" Julian felt an intense, non-physical tug, like his soul had just been kicked in the nuts. "Ravenus!"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Dave.

"I don't know," said Julian. "Maybe he's hurt. I don't know."

"Maybe he looked at the basilisk."

Cooper laughed. "Stupid bird."

"Goddamnit," said Tim. "If we have to pay to get that fucking bird unfrozen, it's coming out of your cut."

"I have to go," said Julian. He ran ahead of the group as fast as he could.

"Wait!" said Tim. "Shit! Come on, Cooper. Let's go."

"Come on, guys!" said Dave. "Wait for me!"

Julian's heart was pounding by the time he reached the cornfield. He had a compulsion to go to the farmhouse. His gut told him that's where he would find Ravenus.

Figuring he'd get to the house much quicker by going through the field, rather than around it, he turned sharply and barreled through the first stalks of corn. Inertia carried him pretty far, and stubborn determination carried him still farther. By the time he realized that going around the field would have been the quicker option, it was too late. Doubling back and going around would take even more time than just continuing on his way.

"Shit!"

"Get out of the way!" Cooper called from behind him.

Julian stepped aside as Cooper rushed past him, smashing down cornstalks without sacrificing hardly any speed at all.

"Why good evening there, gentlemen!" said Chester once they had made it through the maize. He was sitting on the top step of his back porch. "You know I thought you fellers might turn up. I had Gertie make us up some more lemonade. How goes the hunt?"

"You son of a bitch!" said Julian. "Where's Ravenus?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My familiar!"

"Oh, you must mean the bird," said Chester. "Don't you worry 'bout him. He's just fine. He's takin' a little nap inside."

Julian stomped toward the porch stairs. "You'd better bring him to me right now, or else I'll –"

"Easy there, son." Chester stood up, not exactly brandishing his crossbow, but making certain it was visible. "Else that little nap might turn into a very long one."

"You think that crossbow scares me?" said Julian. "I've been shot before. How much of a match do you think you are against the three of us? Well… four once Dave shows up."

"It appears you are correct," said Chester, his toothy grin never faltering. "You have me severely outnumbered and outmatched." He scratched at the stubble on his chin. "And yet here I am, not in the least bit afraid. Now why might that be?"

"Fuck this," said Cooper, stepping forward. "Let me just pound some sense into this little bitch."

"Stop!" said Julian. Chester had a point. He was way too confident given his apparent odds should it come to a fight. He was rich, and this was a world full of magic and monsters and shit that Julian didn't know anything about. "What do you want?"

"Come on up and set down a spell, and we'll talk."

"Fine."

Julian, Tim, and Cooper took their places on the carpet behind glasses of lemonade which had already been set out for them. Two more glasses were unaccompanied. One was presumably meant for Dave, and the other for Chester himself.

"Where's the other feller?" asked Chester. "The little fat one?"

"Dave will be along shortly," said Tim.

Cooper snorted. "Good one."

Tim glared at Cooper, and then turned back to Chester. "He's slow."

Chester stood against the railing and peered out into the corn. "That's all right. We got all the time in the world." He held his crossbow conspicuously behind his back. "Hey gobber!" he shouted. "Yeah, that's right, you. Get on over here. I think I dropped somethin'."

Cooper snarled quietly and began to stand up. Julian kept him at bay with a hand on his knee.

"I'm not going to sit here and watch him shoot another goblin in the face," whispered Cooper. "If he pulls that bow, I'm gonna make him eat it."

"Take it easy," said Julian. "We don't know that he's going to – Tim!" he said as quietly as he could while still conveying his alarm and disapproval. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tim was dipping a torn scrap of dirty white fabric into one of the unaccompanied glasses of lemonade. He looked at Julian and placed his finger over his lips.

"That's right!" said Chester. "Right down there." The next thing Julian heard was the unmistakable splatter of urine hitting a surface from a significant height.

"That mother fucker," whispered Julian, pressing down harder on Cooper's even more resisting knee. He looked at Cooper. "Still, it's not worth getting anyone killed over."

"Woo hoo!" cackled Chester. "Gotcha!"

"Yes sir, Mister Chester," said the goblin from below with poorly feigned enthusiasm. "You done got me real good."

"What… the hell… is going on?" said Dave between panting breaths.

"We's just havin' a bit of fun is all," said Chester, giving his dick a vigorous shake. "Get on up here and join your friends."

Julian nudged Tim's arm. Tim nodded, pulled the scrap of fabric out of the lemonade, and shoved it in his pocket just before Chester turned to face them.

Chester took a seat next to Tim, behind the glass of tainted lemonade. Dave took the place between Chester and Cooper.

Chester raised his glass and grinned. "To new business opportunities!"

"I'm not interested in new business opportunities," said Julian. "I just want my bird back."

"Well I am interested," said Chester. "And if you want to see that bird again, you best tell me what you all was haulin' between them two horses earlier today."

Shit. He must have spotted them leaving from his flying carpet. Julian was prepared to give up the gold, and was pretty sure that his relationship with Tim would recover after enough time had passed, but he was only willing to do that as a last resort. "That wasn't anything," he lied. "We were just… um…"

"It was gold," said Tim.

"Tim!" said Dave and Cooper. Julian, too, was surprised. He wasn't sure what was going on in Tim's head, but he was pretty sure he could rule out concern for Ravenus and respect for other people's property.

"And there's plenty more where it came from."

"Well well now," said Chester. "Seems the little runt knows his place."

"Here's the business opportunity I propose," said Tim. "We take you to the vault hidden under your cornfield, and you give us the bird and let us go on our way. We keep the money we've already stashed away, and we never see each other again."

Tim's lie about them having money stashed away confirmed Julian's suspicion that he was working some kind of angle.

Chester frowned. "I must say I don't much like the idea of a couple of husk suckers like yourselves stealin' money off my property and gettin' away with it, but I'm man enough to admit when I don't have the upper hand. I'll accept your proposal."

Tim smiled and raised his glass. He and Chester clinked their glasses together and drank deeply.

"I want Ravenus first," said Julian. Whatever Tim had in mind, this was a point Julian intended to stay firm on.

"Aye," said Chester. "I'll get your bird. Just remember though. You folks try to double-cross me, and I got o'er a hundred gobbers says you won't make it out of that cornfield alive."

Julian looked at Tim. Tim nodded.

"Deal," said Julian. He clinked his glass against Chester's, and they both drank. It burned going down. The mix had to be at least forty percent cornpiss.

Cooper needed neither an invitation nor a clinked glass to start drinking. His glass was already empty.

Chester stood up and opened the door. "I'll just go and grab us a bit more refreshment." Julian started to speak, but Chester cut him off. "Yes, and your gods damned bird too."

Julian waited until the door closed behind him. "What the hell was that you were dipping in Chester's drink?"

"A scrap of Nutcracker's shirt," said Tim. "He said it was poisoned."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"What? Fuck that guy. He's an asshole."

"That was your big plan?" said Julian. "We poison him and run off with the gold? How can you be so stupid!"

"I've got an Intelligence score of 17!" said Tim.

"Fuck your Intelligence score," Julian snapped back at him. "That guy is an established member of the community. He's rich. If there's an investigation and we get caught, are you going to gamble all our lives on the 'He was an asshole' defense?"

"Relax," said Tim. "That's not enough to kill him. He'll just think he ate some dodgy fish or undercooked meat or something."

"Wait," said Dave. "If you weren't trying to kill him, doesn't the whole plan fall apart?"

"I never said anything about killing him being a part of the plan," said Tim. "I just poisoned his drink for fun."

"That's kinda fucked up," said Cooper.

"So what's the plan then?" asked Dave.

Tim shrugged. "We take Chester to the gold."

Cooper frowned. "This plan sucks."

"I wasn't finished," said Tim. "When –"

The door creaked open as Chester stepped out backwards. In his left hand he held a full pitcher of lemonade. In his right he held a bird cage. He farted.

"Excuse me," he said, uncharacteristically embarrassed. "Dunno what's got into me." He handed Julian the cage. Ravenus lay flat on his side.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Julian.

"He'll be alright," said Chester. "I just gave him a little sleep aid is all."

"You poisoned my bird?" Julian glance quickly at Tim to acknowledge the smug grin he knew was waiting for him.

"I ain't poisoned nothin'," said Chester. "It's just a harmless sleeping potion. He's a noisy critter, he is."

"It's true," agreed Cooper.

"Shut up, Cooper," said Julian.

"Gentlemen," said Chester. "I believe we's gonna have to take this next round to go. Somethin' don't sit quite right in my belly." He sat down and placed his palm flat on the carpet. It rose with a jerk. Cooper rescued the pitcher of lemonade from tipping over and poured himself another glass.

The carpet swerved and dipped as Chester struggled distractedly to follow Tim's directions. The ride this time wasn't smooth like it had been before. It was like a roller coaster, but with neither a track nor the implied guarantee that you weren't going to fall off and die. Julian held onto Ravenus's cage. Dave held onto Julian's leg. Cooper, to his credit, attempted to crane his neck over the front edge of the carpet as he vomited, but everyone wound up getting a little taste of the spray. Tim spilled his cornpiss lemonade onto his crotch, but Julian had a sneaking suspicion that he did it on purpose to conceal a crotchful of actual piss. Chester's face was red and sweaty when the carpet finally touched down near the huge, dead ankheg. Julian was happy to be on solid ground again.

"Go on now," said Chester, stumbling off of the carpet. "Where's this treasure you –" He stopped mid-stride, clutching his gut and shutting his eyes tight. His cheeks ballooned as he puffed out long, controlled breaths. "God's be damned! What did that woman put in the porridge?"

"It's right down in that hole," said Tim. "We'll just be on our way then?"

"Ha!" said Chester. He wiped a hand across his forehead. It came away dripping with sweat. "Nice try, half-stalk. You fellers first." With obvious effort, he waved Tim ahead with his crossbow.

"Okay," said Tim. "Gentlemen?" When he had the rest of the group's attention, but while Chester was still distracted by his own intestinal problems, Tim closed his eyes and held them shut for a few seconds. Julian and Dave nodded their understanding.

"Dude," said Cooper. "Wake the fuck up. This is no time for – ow!" Julian kicked him in the calf. He looked down at Julian.

Julian blinked his eyes hard three times, and left them shut for an entire second on the fourth blink.

"Oh…" said Cooper. Julian could only hope he got the message.

"We can get a move on whenever you two cock munchers are done battin' eyes at one another."

Shit! Julian had been caught. Chester seemed to have regained a bit of his composure. Distraction!

"Um…" said Julian. "Don't your insults usually have a corn theme to them?"

Chester shrugged. "There's only so much you can do with corn."

Cooper sighed. "And I bet you've done it all."

"All right, smart guy," said Chester. "You first!" He pointed his crossbow at Cooper. Get on down that –" He doubled over in pain. "I swear I'm gonna kill that bitch."

"Come on," said Tim. "Let's get this over with." He hopped down into the ankheg tunnel that led down to the underground chamber.

Dave followed after Tim. Julian removed Ravenus from the cage and tucked him into a shirt pocket, snugly under his serape, just in case he should wake up at an inopportune moment and happen to make eye contact with a basilisk. He stepped down into the tunnel. Cooper stepped in behind him, followed by Chester.

"Any you fellers bring a torch?" asked Chester. "I can't see shit down here."

"Why don't you be the light holder?" asked Julian. "It's safer for you that way."

After some labored breathing, Chester said, "Fine. Just hurry it up."

"Light," said Julian as he touched the tip of the bolt loaded into Chester's crossbow. He hoped that Chester might think twice before shooting anyone, lest he lose their only source of light.

"Right down there," said Tim once they had reached the square hole in the chamber ceiling. "Enough gold to double your acreage."

"Why don't you hop down there first so I know it's safe?"

"I'd be happy to," said Tim. He handed Cooper one end of his rope. "Hold this."

Cooper found some decent footholds and planted his feet firmly on the dirt. Tim fed the rope through his hands and gripped it tight before hopping down into the hole.

The rope pulled taut, and only slackened again once Tim had touched the floor below them.

"I can't believe there's all this gold in one place!" said Tim. "I just want to dump it all out and swim in it!"

Chester had heard enough. "Alright, it's my turn." He grabbed the rope and wrapped it around his wrist a few times. "Now you just lower me in. I ain't so spritely as that young feller. I'd most likely break a hip, hoppin' down there the way he done."

Cooper lowered the rope until it started to slacken again.

"This your idea of a joke, son?" asked Chester.

"Huh?" said Tim.

"Where's the gold?"

"What do you mean?" asked Tim. "You can't see it?"

"There ain't nothin' to see," said Chester. "Why are your eyes closed?"

"They're still adjusting to the sudden change of light," said Tim. "What do you mean there's nothing to see?"

"I mean there ain't no gods damned gold!" said Chester. "Only a couple ugly gobber statues.

"Shit!" Tim said what Julian was thinking.

"Boy, I'm warnin' you!" said Chester. "You don't play games with me, or else I'll –" He groaned. "Gods be damned, I can't hold it in anymore. Do me a favor and turn around, would you?"

"Uh… yeah," said Tim.

After a series of precursory farts, Chester groaned like he was having a sword slowly pulled out of his gut.

"You guys okay down there?" asked Cooper.

"I've got a few scraps of fabric if you need them," said Tim.

"Just keep where you are and mind your – Gods be damned! What is tha—"

"Chester?" said Tim. There was no answer.

"Tim!" said Julian. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," said Tim. "My eyes are closed."

"Come back up."

There was a small cracking sound, followed by a crunch. "Shit!" said Tim. "I just ran into Chester. I think I broke part of him off."

"Grab the rope!"

"Okay, I've got it. Pull me up!"

Julian, Dave, and Cooper pulled on the rope. It was heavy lifting, meaning Chester had never let go, but it was still a lot easier than pulling up Dave had been.

Tim emerged first, and helped finesse the squatting statue of Chester through the square hole.

"Check out the size of the deuce he was dropping," said Cooper. It poked out of Chester's backside like a straightened squirrel tail.

"He probably eats a lot of corn," said Julian. "It's weird that his poop also turned to stone."

"It hadn't dropped yet," said Dave. "Technically he was still in possession of it."

"That's all really interesting," said Tim. "But what the fuck happened to all the gold?"

The answer came from the surface, as the cornfield above exploded in goblin laughter and cheer. Either that, or someone had set a badger loose in a cage full of cats.

"What are they so excited about?" asked Dave.

"They've got a bunch of gold?" suggested Julian.

"But what can they hope to do with it?" said Tim. "They're still stuck here on the farm so long as Chester has – Oh shit." He looked at Chester's chest. The medallion was missing. Two fractured ends of petrified string hung down from the statue's neck. "Go! Go! Go!"

Julian scrambled up the ankheg tunnel as fast as his hands and feet would allow. When he surfaced, the cornfield was in chaos. Thin plumes of white smoke billowed out from several random locations. The goblins had made a halfhearted effort of trying to torch the crop, but the stalks were all green, so the fire wasn't spreading.

"Where's the carpet?" cried Tim as he popped up out of the hole.

"Huh?" said Julian. He had forgotten about the carpet. He looked down. Sure enough, it wasn't where they had left it.

Just as Tim looked skyward, a white bundle of fabric hit him in the face.

"Ah! My fucking nose!"

Julian looked up. A black rectangle barely interrupted the already very dark sky. A silhouetted hand waved down to him. "That's for helpin' us out," Nutcracker called down to them. "We's mighty grateful for what you done!"

Julian picked the bundle up off the ground. It was a hastily knotted goblin shirt. He untied it and looked inside. "There's like ten gold coins in here."

"You sons of bitches!" Tim shouted up at Nutcrracker, shaking his tiny halfling fist. "Come back here with the rest of our gold!"

"Sorry folks," said Nutcracker. "We gots to make a new life for ourselves now. That takes coin. Y'all take care!"

"Fuck you!" Tim shouted as the carpet grew smaller against the night sky.

Julian waved goodbye until the carpet finally flew out of view. "Cheer up," he said to Tim. "We did a good thing today, and ten gold pieces isn't such a bad haul."

"Fuck you, too," said Tim. He folded his arms and sat on the ground. It was kind of adorable.

"What's going on?" asked Dave. He and Cooper were hauling the Chester statue up out of the ankheg hole.

"The goblins made off with all the gold," said Tim. "And the carpet!"

"Ah well," said Cooper. "Good for them. Easy come, easy go."

Tim sulked even harder. "I hate all of you."

"What do we do with him?" asked Dave, his hand on Chester's stone head.

"I guess we'll take it back up to the farmhouse," said Julian. "Let his wife decide what she wants to do with him. She might have to barter off a few acres of the farm to Old Man Belmont. That is, if she even wants him back at – Cooper, what are you doing?"

Cooper was on his knees behind the statue. "Just leaving something for him to remember us by." He broke the end off of Chester's stone turd and shoved it deep into the statue's wide open mouth. "If I had the money, I'd pay to see him get restored myself."

Julian felt movement under his serape. He pulled out Ravenus and set him on the ground. "Hey, buddy! How are you feeling?"

Ravenus shook his head and stretched out his wings. "A bit groggy, to be honest. What happened?"

"We've got a long walk back to the Whore's Head," said Julian. "I'll tell you about it on the way."