by Pam Uphoff
The Sheep Man slipped through sheep and stabbed a staggering soldier. No pity allowed. They had come here to kill, and they would die. Every single man and woman of them.
He wasn't soft-hearted enough to even regret the women in this perverted army. They had come to kill his child, and her mother. They were going to die.
"God damn it all." He waded through sheep again. Apparently they were going to be raped first. "Must you?" He stabbed the poor gallant sod who was trying to rescue the damsel. "Oh, I suppose you must. But you had better learn how to get on peacefully in this world pretty damn quick."
He left the goat to its entertainment and ran, dodging sheep, as he saw a trio of soldiers charge Harry. The Old Man went down, but Fossi dashed into the fray and drove his spear into the back of the nearest soldier. The Sheep Man took out the second, and winced at the amount of blood on Harry's shirt.
"Excuse me," Gisele stepped past him. "Drink this, Harry. Fossi, you need a bit too. Nil, behind you?"
The Sheep Man spun and stabbed the charging soldier, and left the wounded to the expert.
***
Never felt the flow of power as Answer and Blissful attacked. She drew back the arrow already nocked and sent it into the armpit of the leader of the men on the west ridge. Mostly and Likely took down their targets, and then it got a bit difficult as the remainder took to cover and started firing back. Twice they linked hands and reached into the earth to discover the locations of men, and do something about it. Once the earth split and then closed around a man. For the other a boulder rolled down the hill. He dodged it, but not the arrow Never sent to the place he needed to be.
With the ridge cleared, they worked their way south, and then east to come up on the wagons from the rear. The wagoneers, cooks, grooms and whatevers who usually took no part in fighting were arming themselves. The reserves had been called up. The witches split up to cover different angles of fire, and commenced to use up most of the rest of their arrows.
The besieged men, realizing how few opposed them, tried charging. Mostly faded into the forest and circled, as Likely and Never picked off the soldiers. The ones still on their feet veered for Never. She lingered to shoot off two more arrows, then slipped between trees and away. The women looped around, and picked off the men until the soldiers regrouped with their wagons tipped into a credible fort.
"So, time to clear rocks from the field?" Never grinned at her friends. "I know right where I want to dump them . . . "
It was a bit hard from out of arrow shot. Magic was a short-range effect. But they called up boulders from just under the surface, and heaved them. Several hit the wagons, or inside their improvised fort, and then the Triad of the Half Moon came in from the west and the ground swallowed the Ba'alist in a single large crack that spread, then closed.
The combined group moved north with caution, and was quickly caught in the rout of the Ba'alists. Men and sheep running without thinking. And the goats. As she watched, one of the black goats charged a man, knocking him flat, and then disarming him with a few flicks of a horn.
Never frowned at the very ungoat-like behavior, and sent an arrow into a soldier coming to his fellow's rescue. The goat jabbed with a horn, ripping the man's pants off. It was getting visibly excited, with a huge stiff pizzle dripping and oozing. It looked diseased. And then it jumped on the man's buttocks. Never jerked her eyes away and shot two more soldiers as they came within easy range. The goat dismounted and as the man scrambled to escape, the goat lunged sideways, and one of its straight horns stabbed up under the man's rib cage and into his heart. The goat jerked itself free, and looked around the baaing confusion. It ran and gutted another soldier with a sideways hook of its horns. The third soldier apparently aroused it again, and it started a repeat of its disgusting performance.
Looking around, she could see another goat stabbing and slashing away at soldiers with its thick curved horns, and then stopping to give one special attention.
Down to her last three arrows, Never kept an eye out for soldiers getting too close to her. Of course, then they would be close enough for magic attacks . . . When the straight-horned goat finally killed its latest victim, it was rather closer than she liked. A third goat charged off into the woods after an escaping soldier. Judging by the screams, that one was getting the whole treatment too. Ick. The nearest goat easily dispatched two more soldiers. She sliced one who was getting close enough to be dangerous to her with a wave of her hand, blood and gore going everywhere. Then the goat charged in and tumbled another, twisting around quickly to rip the man's pants off. This time she got way too close a look at the goat's oversized parts, as a second goat charged in and rammed it and took over. Undeterred the first goat dove under the soldier to suck like a foal. Ick, ick, ick.
Never considered putting the man out of his pain, but she really didn't want those goats mad at her. They each seemed to have a human hand where a hoof should be.
Maybe it was the goats she should be shooting.
Opinion trotted over and gave her another ten arrows.
"Thanks!" She dropped two soldiers trying to slip around the confusion of the main mass.
"Never, what are those goats doing?"
"Something really disgusting. Concentrate on killing soldiers, eh? Think about the goats later." I sure am.
Apparently satisfied, the goats both backed off, then the straight-horned one stabbed their victim. The spiral-horned one ran off into the forest, and Never shot the first of a group of soldiers, threw a magical slice at the second and ducked the sword swing of the third, backing quickly as she dropped bow and reached for her knife. A goat hit him from the side, knocking him off balance. Rearing, the goat was taller than the man, and it slashed a straight horn across the man's neck. Blood sprayed and the man collapsed.
"Thank you." Never grabbed her bow. Did I just thank a goat?
The beast looked around and charged another clump of soldiers. The Holy Warriors of Ba'al fled screaming before it. Never shook her head in disbelief. There weren't many soldiers left, but at the rate they were fleeing, they were going to be chasing soldiers for weeks. She took aim and shot a soldier dashing for the woods.
Unless the goats got them all.
***
Never got a lot of practice moving dirt over the next few days. When all the bodies were buried, the mages brought the rain and washed away the blood. Their only loss was a teenage mage boy named Cont. Harry and Kindly had been badly wounded. Gisele fussed over Kindly, and ignored Harry, who had taken to his bed and was apparently going to sleep for a good long time. Never had a small cut on her arm that she didn't remember receiving, and Fossi was bragging about his scar.
They took turns patrolling the woods for strays. Both men and sheep. The Father Inquisitor had not been found, dead or alive. Of all the people to escape, he was the one who could do the village the most harm.
They'd moved the church wagons and stock up to the high meadows, along with the sheep. Harry's boys had drawn the duty of guarding the flock, as the black goats had disappeared. Never was rather glad, but . . . where were they? The thought of the goats wandering about out there wasn't a good one, either. Not after what she'd seen them do during the battle.
She was in the tavern, eating with most of the village, when Harry limped out of his bedroom beneath the stairs. He looked uncomfortable, as if doing something shameful. "There's another army on the road. Three thousand men, I reckon.
"Thousand?" Answer spoke for them all. "Did you say three thousand?"
Harry nodded.
Everybody exchanged looks.
"We'll have to run. We can't fight that many." Blissful looked across to her fellow Sister of the Dark Crescent. Answer nodded reluctantly. Never considered the implications of hiding in the mountains, in the snow, all winter. Delivering her baby only to watch her starve or freeze.
The Sheep Man fingered his chain, and the whole room held its breath. He looked up and saw everyone's eyes on him. "Guess it's time to t
ry it. But be ready to run. I haven't broken it yet and I've been trying off and on for over six hundred years."
Never put her fork down, and appetite gone, joined the cleanup detail. There weren't many requests for pie.
The last dish taken care of, she stepped outside the kitchen door to cool off and admire the crystal-clear night sky for a long moment. As she stepped back in she found Question just coming up from the cellar, a wine bottle in hand.
The girl flushed guiltily. "Goodnight, Never." She popped through the kitchen door and trotted off into the darkness.
Never looked around the kitchen. How much of this could they pack? Should they give up on communal living and split into small family groups? How long would the Ba'alists stay? What would they leave behind? A smoking ruin? Wretched damned Church of Ba'al.
***
The Sheep Man answered the knock on his door, and stepped aside to let Question in.
"Father," She started then looked down and shuffled her feet. She was holding something behind her back.
He waited.
"When you, when Mother . . . why didn't you use taking her virginity to break the chain?" she glanced up, and blushed, looked back at the floor.
"I've taught you about layered spells? One on top of another on top of another?"
"Like you put on the evil wizards. Obey. Stay in the Valley. Be goats."
"Right. The first thing they did was break 'Stay in the Valley' so they could get away from me and work on breaking the rest. There's a web of several hundred they'll have to work through. I'll confess that I never considered the ramifications for the virgins of the world, should they ever escape. Suppose I ought . . .
"Well, anyway. For me, the worst spell was 'stupid.' I fought that spell constantly. I could see around it, act normally smart for a few days, then a moment's inattention and wham! I'm a simpleton herding sheep. That was the first spell I broke. It was incredible, to be able to think, to not have to fight for it all the time."
"Oh." She stared at her feet, brow wrinkled. "But if you can break the chain spell, you can deal with the army? Three thousand people, all at once?"
"Most like." He ran his hands through his graying hair in frustration. "I can't figure out what sort of weird twists the conspirators put on the chain, but I'm working on it. There has to be a seam, a break, otherwise they couldn't get it on in the first place. It'll be some odd trigger I'm not likely to encounter accidentally." He snorted. "Or at least I haven't in nearly a thousand years. And unfortunately there's no virgins around volunteering their virtue for a brute force break," he smiled, trying to joke.
She held out a bottle of wine. "This is that special wine, to make people enjoy doing it. I'm a virgin. I volunteer."
"No!" He backed away from her. "No. Never. Not my own daughter."
His fist closed around the chain and it disintegrated. He opened his hand and stared in disbelief at the crumbling rotted metal links. "Well. Who would have thought refusing to be seduced by my own daughter would be the key." He started laughing and grabbed the girl and whirled her around. "Give me that bottle. I know someone who needs it."
***
"Ah, there you are, Father Inquisitor Favio!"
The black goats that were trying to climb the tree backed away hastily and disappeared into the forest as the Sheep Man sauntered into sight, the mayor on his heels.
"We've been looking for you for days now."
"We were terribly afraid you didn't want to join your holy warriors in their reward," the mayor smiled genially.
The Sheep Man frowned a bit after the goats. "Father Inquisitor, these goats generally only get excited over virgins. You weren't silly enough to take a vow of chastity, were you?"
"There's nothing silly about it!" The Father Inquisitor tried climbing even higher. "The highest calling requires the Inquisitor to be one with Ba'al in his frustra . . ." a snap triggered a cascade of crashing thumps, and the man landed half-stunned at their feet.
The Sheep Man glanced from the inquisitor to the mayor and back. "Well, Mayor. We aren't finding any signs that Maleth has hung around. Like it or not, you may need to use the crude method if you want to break that spell."
"Damn it, Nil. That's disgusting. I'd rather spend the next nine hundred years as a human. And I don't think he'd perform, anyway. And don't tell me to suck him like a goat."
"I was afraid it would come to this." The Sheep Man shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a bottle of wine.
"I'm not drinking that," she told him.
"It's for him. And a half a glass would be good for you." He pulled the cork and dribbled a bit in the inquisitor's mouth. The man blinked and swallowed, recovering fast, swallowed greedily, grabbing the bottle. The Sheep Man placed his hands on either side of the man's head and stared into his eyes . . .
"What are you doing?" Agate shifted impatiently. "Let him drink, get this over with."
"I thought I'd make him a bit less repugnant to you," the Sheep Man pulled the half-empty bottle from the man's hands and stepped back a bit.
The inquisitor sprang to his feet, his eyes pinned on the Mayor and widening. "Hello, beautiful! Let me show you what I've been saving up just for you." His hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it.
The mayor snatched the bottle and took a deep swig. "I'm going to need this." She lifted her head suddenly. "He smells like a dragon. A male dragon."
The Sheep Man nodded, stepping around her and walking off. He could hear clothes ripping behind him. From a larger distance he wasn't sure if it was screaming he was hearing, or if they were just excited.
He stayed barely within hearing range until all the ruckus died down, waited a bit longer for discretion, then strolled back to see if Agate was through.
She was about done, gnawing the large thigh bones.
Dragons were not the gigantic creatures of fable, but their hollow bones and thin whipcord muscles, and the long wings and longer tail, made them look a lot larger than the equivalent mass packed into a human form.
"Thank you, Wizard, that was a delicious way to break a spell. I should have listened to you centuries ago."
"Anything for a lady. You have been an excellent mayor. Are you sure you don't want to . . .?"
"A dragon understands about money and treasure. But I am leaving. Find another." The silvery blue dragon licked her lips and shook out her wings. "Why now, why have you suddenly worked to free me from Maleth's spell?"
"I promised to aid you, as I was the cause of Maleth not being able to remove the spell himself." He paced around in a circle. "After I deal with the army—after I kill three thousand helpless men and women—I'll either be so soul-sick that I can't go home, or I will have become so corrupt—again—that I should not go home."
"Such scruples are not something a dragon should understand." She sprang into the air, wings laboring to gain altitude. "Farewell, King Wizard."
"Farewell, Agate Wind Lady." The Sheep Man tidily buried the few remains, wondering if he'd managed to change the essential essence of the man sufficiently for Gisele's fertility potion to work. Perhaps the last dragon would not be alone too much longer.
He thought wistfully of home, but when he reached the hill that looked over the valley from the south, he stopped. According to Harry, the army shouldn't be far away. Three thousand trained soldiers. It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed that many in a single day. They hadn't called him the Tyrant Wizard for nothing. He settled down in the long grass to wait, thinking invisible thoughts. Magic being what it was, Harry would protect the army while it was on the road. Here, within sight of their goal, they would cease to journey, and Harry's protection would disappear. Hopefully while they were far enough from the village to give him enough time to do what needed doing.
Chapter Nine
Mid-Summer 1352
Wallenton Road
The Inquisitor General of the Holy Word of Ba'al was a tall, strong woman. Not for her the palanquin or even a carriage. She rode a warhorse at th
e head of the Army of Ba'al, three thousand strong.
Holy Private Cuffe was terrified of her. He had plenty of opportunity to be terrified—her gloriousness wanted him close by, so she could ask about his experience. Again and again. A few of the courtiers licked their lips and fairly drooled over the details of Holy Initiate Diste's death. The Inquisitor just sat, no expression at all on her face.
"The Black Goats of Scoone." She booted her black stallion forward. The fat creature was actually quite lazy. "Who would have thought a simple accusation of witchcraft would bring us the challenge of a lifetime. A legend surfacing to pollute the world."
They had stopped at the brother inquisitor’s campsite to examine the stinking remains. Two weeks had not improved them. Then Cuffe had to take them to the site of the initiate's death, pointing out where he himself had been whipped with the Holy Flail and been left for dead, and which tree he had climbed.
The Inquisitor General even climbed his tree. "Holy Private. I apologize for doubting you."
He quivered in terror, but only once had someone suggested that if he could climb a tree, he could have fought the unnatural goats. The Inquisitor General had simply looked at that person, and asked how the Holy Church would have been served if a survivor had not brought word of the atrocity.
They rode on then, as it was only midmorning.
"We will camp halfway between here and this village. In the morning, we will rise fresh and prepared for battle."
Three thousand men take a bit of organizing, but these were professionals, grimly ready to do anything for their god. They had camp set up and a healthy meal cooked and eaten in a remarkably short time. The sentries were out, and Cuffe jerked awake over and over the whole night, dreaming of the black goats. In the morning he forced down the light breakfast he was going to be fighting on, and took his place with the foot soldiers backing up the Inquisitor General herself.