Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats

by Pam Uphoff

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

  "Great God Ba'al!" Father Favio stepped apprehensively over to the third corpse. It was badly battered, most of the clothing torn off, but there were no mortal wounds. More dried spume coated the man, as he lay face up and sightless. He could see dried runnels around the gaping mouth. Something that had clearly been thick and slow in dripping. He leaned closer. The mouth and throat were completely blocked with the substance . . . He turned away, feeling ill.

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

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

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

  ***

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

  "How did he escape?"

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

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

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

  "Doubt it was . . . "

  "I insist . . . "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Seven or eight bottles over about five days."

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

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

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

  ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The goats abandoned the other men to race after the initiate.

  The goat-man laughed, or rather maahed, sounding more goat than man. Cuffe thought about running himself, but he could barely stand. He looked up at the oak he stood under, as well as he could, and very carefully started to climb. He'd heard of goats that could climb pretty good, so he went very high. He shakily unbuckled his belt, and reached around the slanted branch he lay on and rebuckled it at its last hole. Cuffe couldn't see the clearing, but he could hear a man's screams and the goats' laughter. He thrust fingers into his ears and cast his mind about for something to pray to. Ba'al was right out, and Ba'al had driven all the other gods out.

  Eventually the sounds stopped.

  Cuffe laid his head down quietly, vowing to not move until broad daylight.

  ***

  The thunderous knocking rolled Never out of her bed instantly. She gulped at the twinge of nausea. It was well past midnight, she could feel the moon's pull. She opened the door and the Sheep Man rushed in.

  "Where's . . . Answer, there's a century of church troops on the road, an hour away at the most."

  "Ba'al?" The Eldest of the Sisters of the Moon had been only a few steps behind her granddaughter. Her voice was icy cold.

  "Yes. There's an inquisitor, complete with a Flail, leading them."

  "Right. Sensible of you to have not rung the emergency bell. Never, throw on your hunting clothes. I want the Sisters of the New, Crescent, and Half Moons out in the field with their bows. Your Triad on the West side of the Valley, watch out for scouts, keep an eye below. If we start killing, you kill as many scouts as you can find, then swing around to their rear to block a
ny retreat. If we must fight, we will kill every single one of them."

  "Yes, Sister."

  Behind her, Happy was sent to rouse the other witches, and the Sheep Man was dispatched to the tavern, the mayor's house, the butcher's and Lady Gisele's in that order.

  "And the Auld Wulf absolutely last!" Answer raised her voice. "We want to talk first, not just jump in and start killing!"

  Never rushed back out, bow and quiver in hand, and ran down to the basement where she kept the rest of her arrows. She muttered under her breath, but it was no use complaining about the difficulty of carrying sufficient arrows for a full-up battle on a scouting mission.

  Ten bundles of ten in a sling designed for the purpose and she was out the door.

  "Likely, Mostly. This way." She waved her friends west.

  Question ran up. "Are we with you?"

  "No, you and the Halfs are east. Watch for their scouts, don't kill anyone until the fight starts down here, unless you need to. I'd recommend the Tallow Hill and then head south."

  "Thanks, Never." The girl darted off, grabbing her friends, and homing in on her mother's Triad.

  Kindly, despite her name, was their best commander, and would give that group detailed instructions.

  Never could see Answer arguing with Harry and shook her head. Harry had always been odd about roads. Now she knew why. She grinned slowly. The God of the Roads didn't protect scouts out in the woods.

  The three women left the hubbub behind and were quickly absorbed into the silent night. They trotted across the river bridge and the alley devolved into a trail that split and wandered and disappeared. She took them at a southerly angle in between two little hills and into the thin forest beyond.

  ***

  Cuffe considered it a miracle that he made it to the road alive. He turned west and walked. He ignored the black shadows that circled him. The road felt safe, and in his concussed and shocky state he prayed to the old god of the crossroads, the God of Travelers, to keep him safe.

  After a while the goats went away. He walked past the defiled campground, not even turning his head. He just walked.

  He sort of remembered a night, or maybe two. The shadows were long before him when he walked through the gate, the guards drawing back from him. He vaguely thought one followed, as he continued walking until he reached the Holy Sanctum. The floor looked inviting, so he accepted.

  He woke on a hard bed.

  "Confess your sins, Holy Warrior! You have failed."

  He croaked and would have cried if he had had any liquid left in his body. A cup was held to his lips and he swallowed. It was taken away too soon, and he whimpered a little.

  "Confess your sins!"

  "The goats!" he croaked. "They aren't really goats, they turn into people. They killed everyone."

  "What are you taking about? The witches turned themselves into goats?"

  "Male goats. Huge. Black. Monsters." He licked his lips and got more water.

  "The witches in the village of Ash have monstrous goats?"

  "We never got to the village. The evening of the second day we found a campground . . ."

  Eventually they got the whole story, and he got enough water to cry.

  Before nightfall he was on a barge on his way to the city, to testify at the Grand Temple. With a large guard.

  ***

  Answer joined Mayor Accure in the middle of the street. Blissful and Harry hustled out to join them. In front of the grange barn, the eight Mages of the Compass formed up, and Answer could feel the change in the wind. It was going to storm today, no doubt about it. The clouds were building up against the mountains.

  "Are you sure you only want three witches on the west ridge?" Blissful looked worried.

  "Yes. Those three are a strong Crescent with all three pregnant and Never leading. They are also very good archers, and good at woodscraft. There just isn't enough cover on that ridge to fall back into if things go bad. Those three should be all right, but every additional witch would be one more witch with no place to run to."

  Harry growled, he wasn't happy with any of this.

  Agate patted his shoulder. "Roads can be used for good or bad, Harry. You can talk to them and ask their purpose, but if they are coming here to destroy the village, just step aside."

  He harumphed. "Once they have reached their destination, the safety of the road no longer protects them. And I have children."

  The mayor patted him again, and looked out at the delegation advancing in the pre-dawn light. "Ba'al! They're as bad as wizards."

  Answer looked around. The Auld Wulf was out of sight. He might be gray-haired at the moment, but he was too obviously in fighting trim to be one of the greeters. If they had to fight, he'd no doubt pop up in the thick of it. The Sheep Man was home, with his flock.

  ***

  Father Inquisitor Favio halted and looked over the group that awaited him. One of the women was middle-aged, a big strong peasant by the look of her, even though her clothes were fine. The other two women and the man were elderly. The man was propping himself up with a spear, but hardly looked dangerous.

  The Father Inquisitor returned his attention to the old women. Oh yes, they looked just like he'd always thought witches would.

  The big woman addressed him. "Good morning, Father. I am Mayor Agate Accure. Welcome to Ash. To what do we owe the honor? Or are you merely passing through? Where are you bound?"

  "This is our destination, and our purpose is to rid the world of witches."

  The man with the spear relaxed, and smiled. "We're all law-abiding citizens here, subjects of the king. The Church of Ba'al has no writ in our village."

  "Those who protect witches are corrupt, and their souls can only be cleansed in the fire."

  "Father . . . do you have a name?" the so-called mayor asked.

  "I am Father Inquisitor Favio. I demand . . . "

  "Make no demands. Turn your army about and leave us in peace."

  Father Inquisitor shook his head sadly and raised his voice. "I pronounce an anathema against this village. Burn it, and its people to the ground."

  He stepped smartly backwards, then. The holy captain was behind him to his right, with six men in ranks. The holy lieutenant was behind him to his left with another six men. As was the procedure, he backed up between them as they marched forward, spreading out and the officers with the main body of troops called out orders.

  It was all gratifyingly neat and orderly until the ground heaved beneath his feet, and boulders started flying.

  A deafening crack and after-image of lightning hitting the company, and suddenly the Father Inquisitor was wondering if he'd brought enough troops.

  ***

  One chained wizard, five very large goats, three hundred sheep. Running.

  What was left of the Holy Century's tidy formation disintegrated as the baaing stupid animals first rammed through them, then, confused, tried to run back home, and being sheep, couldn't figure out what direction that was. The ewes, at a couple of hundred pounds each, were problem enough. The rams were larger and living up to their names, and the black goats took out two millennia of frustration and anger on the generously displayed targets.

  "Those damn creatures of yours would be a hell of a lot more effective if they wouldn't stop to rape someone now and again!" Harry yelled across several sheep backs as he looked for another holy warrior to send to Heaven.

  "What?" The Sheep Man looked around. "How the hell are they finding virgins in Ba'al's Army?" He deflected a sword swing and kicked, reversed his swing and decapitated the soldier.

  "Kinda backwards, but since Ba'al was supposed to be constantly frustrated, what with having six nads, somehow celibacy has wormed its way into the religion." Harry slashed the razor-sharp spearhead across a soldier's throat, then twirled the spear to crunch the base into another's temple, and looked around for more to send to their just rewards. "Look at those damn goats!"

  The Sheep Man shook his head in disbelief. "I thought I
put an end to that when I castrated them. Somehow you just don't think about giving a man a blow job when you think of deflowering a virgin." He bashed a Holy head in frustration.

  "Still a spell breaker, eh?" Harry cursed the sheep as he was staggered.

  "Not the best, but it does seem to be working well enough." The Sheep Man slid between sheep to the nearest goat and grabbed it by the horns. He jerked it up face to face. "When you're done, you get the hell out of here and don't ever let me hear about you again. Got it?"

  "Maaaah!"

  "You can't rape anyone except these Ba'al lovers, and Don't Kill People."

  "Maaaahahaha!

  "Oh, all right. After today, don't kill people unless I specifically tell you to or they worship Ba'al. Got it?"

  "Maaaah!"

  "Good." He dropped the goat and waded back through sheep to join Harry who was circling a squad that had managed to stick together.

  The Auld Wulf was on the west edge of the battle, mowing the pathetically over-matched soldiers down without any compunction at all. Dust devils danced about, whipping dirt into eyes.

  The Sheep Man felt a larger gust building up and backed away from the squad. Harry was doing the same. A brief whip of air yanked at him, then the miniaturized and concentrated whirlwind hit the soldiers squarely and knocked them down. He leaped in and worked with icy efficiency, leaving not a man alive.

  The Auld Wulf was getting clear of the sheep, and the soldiers were trying to combine and stand against him. A goat charged, knocked one man into two others. It dashed off as the Auld Wulf's sword swung.

  Harry's boys and the farmers' sons that were too young to be in the mage compass, and all of the mage women from teens to grandmothers, had joined the fight, swords, spears, long pikes and hooks in hand. They were sticking to the edges of the battle, and fighting in teams as they'd been drilled. The witches on the east ridge must have run out of scouts, they were down within bowshot now.