Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves

by Dan Ehl

  Hurry where? I looked about in confusion until he grabbed a wrist and placed my hand in a notch cut into the stone. His light led my eyes to an array of more cuts leading upwards.

  "Quick, here they come," he snapped before gripping the magic torch in his teeth and reaching for his own handholds. I began pulling myself up when I realized that more spider pups were on their way and Lorenzo's retreating light would soon leave me in the dark.

  I was not quick enough. Even though I had scrambled up at least eight feet and was still climbing, one of the spiders was faster. Coming at a full run, it leaped, smashed into the wall, and began sliding back down. An extended leg, one of a pair of scissor-like front claws, snapped shut on the toe of my left boot. I almost lost my grip from the burning pain that flashed up my leg. Lorenzo grabbed an arm to keep me from being jerked from the wall. The spider's weight suddenly vanished and I looked down to see it fall upon one of its siblings. I also observed in the wavering light that the spider had sheared through the tough leather and about an inch or more of boot tip was missing.

  Lorenzo began urging me to continue climbing and I turned again to the task, though the pain in my right foot made it difficult. My mouth was dry and I felt weak and shaky when we reached a ledge well out of reach of the spider pack. Lorenzo made me lie down and though he was trying to remove the boot as gently as possible, I had to grit my teeth with eyes closed.

  "It's not as bad I thought, it only took a next-to-the-big-toe," he observed.

  "Very funny," I wearily replied and pulled myself to my elbows to view the damage. "Turd! It really did take my next-to-the-big-toe. Look, I have been amputated. Those vile creatures have crippled me."

  "Calm down, it's only a next-to-the-big-toe."

  "Only one-next-to-the-big-toe, only one-next-to-the-big-toe! I don't see you with a next-to-the-big-toe missing. My gods, my next-to-the-big-toe is gone," I cried as I stared in horror at my mutilated foot.

  Lorenzo had pulled a small pouch from his tunic. He extracted a tube of ointment and squeezed a jell over the bleeding stump.

  "I will have to stitch it or you will never be able to walk."

  "You can't until you retrieve my toe."

  "What?"

  I actually believed I heard surprise in his voice for the first time. "You must retrieve my toe so you can sew it back on."

  "I believe a wolf spider has already eaten it."

  "Then you must kill the spider and gut it."

  "I don't think the spider wants to be gutted."

  "You must retrieve it. I do not want to leave quaint tracks on a seaside beach like some wolf once caught in a trap."

  "Jak, just lay back," I heard his voice echo more than even in the great cavern. "There is venom that coats the talons of the giant wolf spider. I believe it is affecting you."

  That was the last I heard before spinning down into a deep, dark pit.

  Chapter Seven

  "So, you are finally awake."

  I forced open one eye that felt as if it had been partially glued shut. Lorenzo was leaning over me, half lit by his magic torch.

  "I was hoping this was but a nightmare and I would awaken to bright sunlight and singing birds--morning greetings that I usually detest," I moaned.

  It took all my strength to prop myself against the wall and view my foot. The lower part was hidden under bandages.

  "Will I be able to walk?"

  "I am sure members of the health profession would frown upon you using your foot this soon, but we haven't much of a choice unless you plan to convalesce in this cave."

  "I had to slice your boot partly open; your foot is swollen," Lorenzo explained as he began slowly sliding it onto my foot then bound it with hemp twine.

  I was not aware I had been tensely holding my breath until he finished, and I exhaled a large gasp of air. Lorenzo helped me up and I found myself balancing on my good foot and leaning against the wall. His magic torch let me see below the ledge. The floor of the tunnel was empty.

  "They're looking for new prey," he answered my unspoken question.

  I gathered my courage and placed weight upon my maimed foot. The pain was bearable, though I wondered how it would hold up to a long march.

  "I guess I can become accustomed to having only a single next-to-the-big-toe," I attempted to jest. It was not the great loss I had felt under the influence of the spider's venom. Now I was just worried about getting out of these caverns alive.

  "Where is Snorg?" I asked as my thoughts turned to the spider battle. "Is he still on his perch?"

  Lorenzo's light swung to the ledge where I had last seen the dwarf. It was empty.

  "I don't know," answered Lorenzo. "I lost track of him while I was attending to you. He might have continued on or..."

  He didn't have to continue. We both stared at the far ledge in silence.

  I climbed hesitantly to the floor, gingerly testing my wounded foot at each step. Though my flesh crawled at continuing through these abysmal warrens, there was no course but for us to proceed. With Lorenzo occasionally steadying me at rock-strewn sections, we navigated the twisting bowels of the mountain. I peevishly grumbled to myself once more about adventures--swearing never to again take part in such undertakings.

  "I am going to seek a new profession," my grumblings finally took tongue. "This is madness. I have Reverian Assassins seeking my demise, I have lost a next-to-the-big-toe, and any second a horde of giant wolf spiders may come back for the main course, me--and, I get paid in coal. What kind of profession is this?"

  Lorenzo remained silent as he led the way behind his magic metal torch, its beam playing over the glistening grayish columns that stretched from ceiling to floor.

  We continued in silence. The dull ache from my foot was playing on my nerves, but I refused to keep on whining.

  "All right. Which are the stalactites and which be stalagmites? I forget," I asked, half to really know and half to end the oppressive near silence of faint drippings and cave gurgles.

  "You'd just forget again."

  "No, tell me" I urged.

  "It's best not to strain yourself when recovering from an injury."

  "Don't play me the daft invalid, is that a stalagmite?" I asked of a giant, melted candle of stone as we entered another cavern.

  "It is caused by thousands of years of evaporation that tediously leaves behind layers of minerals."

  A skulking suspicion entered my mind. "You do not know. Ah hah, you cannot remember which be which, either."

  "Don't be ridiculous," Lorenzo muttered.

  "Then tell me which is which."

  "No."

  "Why?"

  "Because."

  "You forgot."

  "Did not."

  "Otherwise you would say."

  "It is all a devious ploy of mine to keep your mind off the demise of your next-to-the-big-toe."

  Our conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by a faint echoing cadence of many booted feet and quarreling voices. Lorenzo tugged on my jerkin and we sidestepped into the recesses of one of the many pocks lining the tunnel. I squirmed until I found the least uncomfortable squat. Lorenzo crouched with his curved saber drawn across his knees. I fumbled for my own blade and waited.

  The voices grew from unintelligible murmurs of speech to black mutterings. They did not sound like a happy crew. The wavering flickers of torchlight began playing on the glistening stone opposite our cramped cloister. Squatting beneath the overhang where I could not completely lift my gaze, I viewed thickly muscled legs descending from kilts of black and gray. The limbs were like stubby tree trunks sheathed in ancient and gnarled vines. The boots were short and broad.

  From experience, I knew their upper torsos to be ensconced in thin lacquered layers of black leather, said to be as impenetrable as iron. Under these stiff vests were woolen tunics of dark red--so shadowy as to be almost black. And crowning their swollen heads would be tightly fitting helmets made from oak roots and more lacquered hide.

&nb
sp; They could only be Blackwatch Goblins and they seemed in a hurry. By the time all had passed, at least one hundred of the misshapen mercenaries were now ahead of us. Several times I heard mentioned "Reverian Assassins" and not in kindly tones.

  "Quickly," hissed Lorenzo. He was out from our hiding spot and trotting down the cave before I could clamber to my feet and painfully stretch to a standing position. Not wanting to again roam these caverns by myself, I hastily hobbled after him.

  "What is your rush?" I growled when I reached his side. My aching foot kept me to a limping gait.

  "We have a free ticket out of here," he answered in a half whisper. "I doubt we will run into any more spiders with these soldiers leading the way."

  "Wolf spiders will look adorable if we are discovered by Blackwatch Goblins. You can tell them by their plaid kilts of black and gray. They are warrior assassins. Their battlefields are back alleys or gloomy recesses like we now travel. I have never seen this many in one camp, but even a dozen bode ill."

  Lorenzo replied, "Well, we can hope they bode ill for those we pursue."

  "And we can wish a ton of rocks drop upon their heads or they emerge to be struck by lightning," I snorted.

  "That, too," he said. "But it is more likely our goblins would be such agents. I noticed one of the passing sword belts adorned with a scalp that looked very much like it had once perched atop a Reverian Assassin."

  I chewed on this morsel for a minute and found it very savory. Blackwatch Goblins against Reverian Assassins. It might take a handful of the goblins to best one assassin, but there were at least a hundred of the Blackwatch. Now that would be a sport on which to wager. My heart lightened just a bit to think there might be one less foe, and that they might even be an ally of sorts. Still, it does not pay to count one's cabbage snails before they are cooked.

  "I guess that is possible," I agreed. "It would be nice to think that not all dire threats are directed at me. Goblins and dwarves are distant relatives. It could be the morgue dwarves called for help. Who knows what bonds these underground dwellers share?"

  "You seem particularly contentious when speaking of these goblins," Lorenzo observed.

  I waited to build up my breath before answering. We had fallen into a trot that would not have taxed me before I lost my next-to-the-big-toe. "They spoiled a perfectly good case of mine about two years ago. I had been hired to solve a sinister episode in a small village not far outside Duburoake. I was narrowing in on the villain when a rabble of these dark goblins attacked me in a back alley and ate the suspect."

  "Ate the suspect?" Lorenzo blurted, another one of the few times I have been able to surprise him.

  "He was an annoyance to many because of his lackluster social skills. Someone besides my client obviously did not need official documentation of his sins before taking action. I barely escaped by way of rooftop. Goblins hate heights. I might have still risked my safety to save the rogue if he had not been accused of such sinister outrages."

  "Still, they were just accusations," Lorenzo noted.

  "All my clues were conclusive," I puffed as I carried on the conversation while hobbling down the rock-strewn path. It was a challenge to remain at the edge of the goblins' torchlights where we could still see our way and yet not attract their attention. "I was moving in with leg irons and handcuffs when they came pouring down the alley like a flood of junkyard pigs. By the time I gained a secure vantage, there was nothing left of him but a bit of gristle, scraps of rag, and a scattering of gnawed bones."

  "You paint a pretty picture. Is that how they usually conclude a task?"

  "No," I admitted. "Most provincial inns will not serve goblins and I expect they were hungry."

  "But with your proof, you could still solve the case."

  "But I did not produce the culprit. My client would not accept a bucket of bones and I was out the time and expenses. Those bumpkins love to underpay anyone from the city."

  Lorenzo made a sympathetic clucking sound and we continued down the dismal tunnel.

  "So, how do these Blackwatch Goblins, Reverian Assassins, the witch Morganna, Frost Ivory, and your seven dwarves all fit into this?" Lorenzo Spasm asked after we had gone several minutes with only my occasional grunts upon stubbing my stub and breaking the silence.

  That was a good query. I had been putting off such reflections amidst the recent turmoils.

  "Are they connected?" I asked.

  "They all have one nexus," Lorenzo observed.

  I quickly reflected upon the last two days. "And what be that?"

  Lorenzo answered with one simple word--"You."

  He was right. It must be the slight fever and remaining shock from my wound that had prevented me from reaching such a simple observation.

  "They are all connected to me. But are they connected to each other? A man who is beaten by two thugs in one day could just have two enemies. Two enemies who have never met."

  "Do you believe that?"

  Damn that Lorenzo, forcing me to think when all I wanted to do was limp to the side of the tunnel and sleep.

  "I don't know," I finally gave up. My thoughts remained scattered and out of reach. I wiped a glaze of clammy sweat from my forehead with the cuff of my tunic. "I cannot imagine anyone paying a king's ransom to hire Reverian Assassins just for my dispatch."

  "It does seem like a bit of overkill," laughed Lorenzo.

  I ignored my friend's fondness for puns and continued, "Or anyone who could even afford such assassins. That the witch Morganna must be involved because of Frost Ivory seems the only explanation. All that has a certain simple logic until the Blackwatch Goblins are added to the brew. I cannot believe such a great number could be gathered so quickly in response to the attack upon the morgue."

  "I guess we will just have to ask them."

  "Sure, splendid idea," I agreed sarcastically. "Why not just bolt up ahead and tap one of the goblins on the shoulder and ask him."

  "Won't have to," Lorenzo replied, giving me just enough time to raise my gaze to see three Blackwatch Goblins blocking our way with drawn swords as we turned a sharp corner of the tunnel.

  I stumbled in my abrupt braking and halted only an arm's length from the loathsome trio. The ireful gleam in their eyes stayed my hand upon my own blade.

  I had forgotten how rancid Blackwatch Goblins smelled, like the putrid odor drifting from some weedy ditch containing the maggot-covered remains of a hapless roadway kill.

  The trouble with being this close to Blackwatch Goblins, even viewed only by wavering torch light, is that you can clearly see the prolific amount of scabs, flaking skin, and oozing lesions that seem to be the normal landmarks of their cracked and wrinkled hides.

  "Why you follow?" grunted one in the guttural tongue of Blackwatch Goblins, which made even the Trashmound Goblin dialect seem melodious.

  I waited several heartbeats for Lorenzo to take over, but he remained silent and several steps behind me. The goblins' facial expressions said they were becoming impatient and the one who had questioned our tailing their band began waving his sword dangerously close to my throat. It was plain they would just as soon skewer us and rejoin their comrades.

  "Ah, following you?" I tried not to squeak in goblin. "Why, we were not even aware there was anyone else wandering these burrows."

  "Why you here?"

  "Here? Yes, we were just out for a walk when we saw a tunnel and wondered where it went. Stupid thing to do, I know, as they say inquisitiveness killed the tongue grubs."

  I clamped my mouth shut. Any adage that ended with a demise was not a wise choice to voice to Blackwatch Goblins.

  "Ps-s-s-t," I hissed under my breath at Lorenzo. "You are so witty, say something."

  "I'm afraid I am not that fluent in goblin dialect."

  "Well give it a try," I hissed with more than just a little pique. I could understand some of their tongue, but holding a conversation was beyond my limits.

  The eyes of the goblins shifted to my friend, as well
as the tips of their blades, as Lorenzo began his halting address.

  "Forgive, ah, speaking. Know only from old goblin my nursemaid," Lorenzo spoke slowly. Though his speech was broken, there is something about Lorenzo's presence. The goblins seemed entranced by his voice, even though he spoke at almost a whisper. "My, ah nanny, would speak thus..."

  "I did not know you had a goblin nursemaid," I whispered, and received a scowl as an answer.

  Lorenzo took a deep breath before quoting his nanny then began reciting in perfect goblin what could even be considered classical of the Third Era, "You putrefied remnants of half-digested liver flukes. I'd rather smear my body with goat butter and jump into a colony of army shrews than smell your slime encrusted feet with nails like rotting clam shells and hair that sprouts from your hide as maggots erupting from corrupting flesh. Your mothers in their blind hound-like heat fornicated with the most simple-minded of mates, so they begat even dimmer-witted goblins."