Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves (34 page)

The last few devotees were crawling and limping out of the unholy sanctum. I looked up to the idol's mouth, not yet able to make the strenuous climb. I forced myself to work my way around the altar to where one of Dorga's legs spasmed like a snake with a broken back. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was touch the gruesome member, but suffered worse from the image of the god reassembling. I gritted my teeth and dragged it to the edge of the fire pit--stopping once until a bout of dizziness passed. The fire would not hurt the limb, but the leg would not be able to escape the giant bowl without human assistance. I forced myself to repeat the effort with the other leg.

I was wondering if the torso could caterpillar its way to the fire pit when a motion at the edge of my vision made me look up. Morgana was hesitantly seeking handholds and making her way down the idol. I circled the torso and walked to stand beneath the statue's crossed legs. I caught my breath as the witch's daughter almost lost her grip. Even from where I stood I could see Morgana was still trembling. Placing my foot on a brass toe, I pushed myself up to where I could grab a fold of the bronze skirt that circled the corpulent waist of the idol.

I was standing on the statue's lap when she dropped the last few feet into my arms. We embraced like the sole survivors of a shipwreck.

"Oh, Jak," Morgana whispered as she pressed her face into my shoulder. I brushed the side of her face and kissed her forehead.

We stood silently locked in each other's arms for several minutes. I took a deep breath and placed my hand under Morgana's chin to lift her face upward.

"I, ah, believe your mother was not in Dorga's mouth."

Morgana's lips pursed while her forehead slightly wrinkled. She swallowed, opened her mouth then closed it again. My remark had brought her back to our surroundings and situation.

She pushed herself from my arms and said, "What do you know? I guess I am a witch after all."

"Ah, how wonderful. Your mother will be so thrilled."

"And what about you, Jak?"

"What about me?"

"I, ah…" The thought that the bewitching young woman was really a witch was disconcerting. Then I gazed down into her pale face drained from fatigue and dark blue eyes that were intently examining my own. Her body had tensed while waiting for me to speak. "I, ah, think it be great. I, ah, you know… I think everyone should realize their full potential. Some people are musical, others good at, ah, sewing, or playing kneeball. You just happen to be good at blasting great holes in solid rock."

She fell back into my arms.

Voices drew our attention. A large group of Dorga's guards and a number of Reverian Assassins stood at the door surveying the damage. These were not spineless devotees, but hardened men who had become even harder during their employment by Dorga. A guard pointed to Dorga's torso as it flopped about with renewed energy like a landed fish. A harsh order was given and they began threading their way through the ruble.

"I can truthfully say that at this moment I am very happy you are a witch," I sincerely answered her question again. "I believe it is time to smite."

"I cannot," Morgana all but sobbed. "I do not know how and I am too weak. I was only able to summon the power before because of the horrible fear Dorga provoked."

I looked around. There was nowhere to flee. I gazed vainly about for the dropped sword. It would have been useless against so many anyway.

"I wish--" Morgana began, but was cut off by a frightful din coming from behind the guards. Several to the rear had already fallen and the others turned in confusion. I had hoped Berrick's messages to the King had brought royal troops, but that was not the case.

"Well, if it is not another damned thing after another," I again exclaimed. The attacking force was made up of Blackwatch Goblins! They had succeeded in tracking down the murderers of their slain kin.

By now both Morgana and I were too numb for any reaction to this new twist. I sat down on the rubble and was joined by Morgana. We mutely watched the battle as if it were some marionette theatre on the streets of Duburoake. Morgana gasped and I turned in the direction of her gaze. Leading a pincher movement of the goblins was a man dressed in a black leather coat that dropped to his knee-high boot tops. It had to be Lorenzo. I have never seen another use such exotic blade work. He worked his way through the opposing host like a farmer cutting wheat.

At one moment the battle seemed to be a stalemate, but the outnumbered guards and assassins were eventually overwhelmed by the ferocious goblins. The hall was again silent except for the scattered moans of the wounded. They quickly ceased as the goblins picked their way through the downed foes and callously dispatched any survivors.

Lorenzo broke away from the others and picked his way through the fallen stones and bodies until he stopped where we sat.

"Glad to see you left something for us," he spoke while looking about the shattered temple hall. "This place looks like shit."

I smiled weakly in return, too weary to stand for a greeting. "It took you long enough."

Chapter Nineteen

It was a wonder I could fall asleep to the cries of Dorga's followers being hunted through the temple. The Blackwatch Goblins do not like to leave a job half done. Lorenzo had assisted us away from the continuing mêlée to a priest's quarters. Morgana and I meekly protested at being guided to a large bed, but both found ourselves almost immediately asleep.

I awoke to find myself alone in the room. I blinked my eyes several times and stared at the ceiling before the past events came back to me in a rush. Someone had taken off my boots and I stumbled about the quarters until finding them at the foot of the bed. I was about to open the door when it swung open by itself. A goblin stood in the doorway with folded clothing.

"Spasm says these are for you. Says you also stink and should bathe before you come out."

I was about to make a rude retort until I remembered what I was facing. Blackwatch Goblins can be cranky when provoked.

Either it was the same goblin or another when I again went to the door. They all look alike in their misshapen little way, but he greeted me with a smile most noticeable for its blackened stubble of teeth. He motioned to follow and we journeyed for a dozen minutes until coming to the suphall. Lorenzo sat at a table with Morgana--and Morganna. The mother witch had arrived. She looked up at my entrance with an intent look on her face. No one spoke until I was seated.

I looked around nervously. It felt as if I had interrupted a wake. Morgana returned my smile from across the table. It was not as an enthusiastic a greeting as I would have wished for, but at least she did not seem overly distressed.

"You are not what I would have pictured as a suitor for my daughter," the witch, or should I say older witch, slashed to the chase.

"That is funny," I answered as bluntly. "You are not what I imagined as the mother of someone I was suitoring."

She attempted one of her frostbite stares, but after Dorga, I was not as easily intimidated.

"And yet you do have a few endearing qualities. If foolhardiness can be mistaken for courage, you have shown that in following my daughter by throwing yourself to a piss dragon."

"And you are not half bad for a witch."

"Please, I did not mean for this to be a mutual admiration party. What I have to say is that I will approve of you courting my daughter if you understand one thing."

I waited for the "thing."

She sighed deeply as if contemplating the forced adoption of a two-legged dog. "Now that Morgana has finally found her talents, she must be properly schooled in them. This will take several years. I do not want you overly distracting her from her studies. She still believes she wants to be a fir…, a private inquisitor. A foolish notion that I believe she will outgrow. But until she has matured into her powers, you will only see each other on weekends. This would not be my first choice, but Lorenzo keeps rudely reminding me that you did save her life."

After the stony reception, it was more than I had hoped for. Morgana reached over and took my hand. I squeezed back.

"The goblins have gathered up Dorga's body parts and will see to it that they do not reunite until I have safely disposed of the head," Lorenzo spoke. "They are a bit miffed that they have found the parts inedible. We rounded up the maidens so they will be out of harm's way until the King's troops arrive. We also found a friend of yours holing up in the high priest's quarters. It appears the case is closed."

I sat back and breathed the proverbial sigh of relief. No more assassin attempts or cursed priests bent on world ascendancy. Life could return to normal, or as normal as it can get when seeing a witch.

"Well, let us be off. I cannot wait to get back to the King's Wart Inn with this tale. I will not have to buy myself an ale for weeks."

The older witch gave me a disapproving glare. Yes, things might never get back to normal, but a trained private inquisitor is always ready for all adventures. Oh, I forgot, I hate adventures.

Also by Dan Ehl

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Rogue Phoenix Press

Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor

and the Temple of Dorga, Fish-Headed God of Death

As a private inquisitor, Jak Barley’s job is fairly mundane-finding errant debtors and missing property, or proving the unfaithfulness of roving spouses. It’s not a vocation that makes many friends.

Though a frequent patron of dark, wretched bars seldom visited by the more fastidious citizens of Duburoake, he still can be squeamish about some things--such as ghosts and rabid magicians.

Barley’s latest cases are just that more upsetting, dragging him into contact with sinister specters, malicious mages, irate harpies, creepy death deities and royal plots.

It will take all of his backstreets cunning to stay alive, as well as the help of alchemist Olmsted Aunderthorn, his half brother, who uses the latest metaphysical laboratory techniques in solving crimes.

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