Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story

by James Maxstadt

  That was why she looked so tired and worn out.

  “What did that do to you?”

  She shook her head, not looking at me.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I mean, if I didn’t, we wouldn’t have any more time together. This way…”

  “This way, what?”

  “This way we still have a long time. Just maybe a couple of years less.”

  “You gave up some of your own time? For me?”

  She nodded, still avoiding my eyes.

  I put my hand on her chin and gently turned her face to mine.

  “Don’t you ever again…,” I started, but then stopped.

  How could I say that? I would lay down my life for her. She gave us more time together and saved how many others in the process?

  “You’re an amazing woman, Lilly,” I said. “All the time in the world won’t be enough.”

  We stayed quiet for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts.

  “There’s something else, Duke,” Lilly said.

  “Oh? The banshee wasn’t enough?”

  “We found an old text, buried in the library in the wizard’s area. It told us something.”

  “Go on.”

  “According to that scroll, banshees don’t simply show up on their own. They have to be sent.”

  I sat up straighter and looked at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re like some kind of hired killer. Which means someone, or something, sent it here.”

  The implication of that was frightening.

  “Sooo…?”

  “So, we don’t know. The Watch is aware, and the Palace Guard and the Royal Family have all been informed. Something, or someone, is targeting Capital City.”

  Great. As if we didn’t deal with enough already.

  I thought back over the last couple of days. The fear and anguish that so many people went through. Father Magnus’ charity and caring. Lilly’s sacrifice.

  The more I thought, the angrier I got. Sure, there were problems here, what city didn’t have them? But there was an awful lot of good, too.

  Still, what could I, a lowly Nuisance Man, do about it? Well, plenty, really. Show me who or what it was, and I had a little, metal ball with their name on it.

  In the meantime, I learned another lesson. Life was short, and it could come to an end at a moment’s notice. You needed to hold on to what you had, enjoy your time here and not waste it.

  “Your father still say we have his blessing?” I asked Lilly.

  She pulled away and sat up, staring at me with wide eyes.

  “Duke, are you…”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  I was about to say more, but she was kissing me then. I took that as a yes.

  PARADISE DEFERRED

  Being killed sucks. There’s no two ways about it, even if the reason you were killed is a perfectly good one. But there are after-effects that linger when you come back to life, even if you didn’t go too far toward the other side.

  One of those, I was finding, was a lack of satisfaction with the world around me. When I was dead, even for those few minutes, I experienced the promise of a place of peace. A place where all the cares of this world would be forgotten, and all you would know would be contentment.

  I could have gone, if I chose to. It was right there, within reach. All I needed to do was pull a little harder and the cord that still tied my spirit to my body would have snapped, and I could have entered paradise. It was very tempting, and I almost did it.

  But there are things here in this world that make life worth living, and one of those was doing everything in her power to save me. Even against the pull of paradise, Lilly stood out to me. I didn’t want to enter that place without her, and more, I wanted more time with her here. So, I ignored the draw, did what I needed to, and let myself be pulled back into my body.

  It’s not a decision that I regret. I’m happy to be alive again, and happy to be with Lilly, who over the last few days has gone into full-blown wedding planning mode. I know a lot of guys get annoyed with that whole thing, but I’m getting a kick out of it. She’s been talking to her sister, and to friends, and I swear she’s accosted random strangers on the street to ask questions about colors or flowers. The one person she hasn’t really asked is me. It’s probably better that way.

  No, my life with Lilly was great. What I’m having a problem with is everything else. Nothing that I do, that I usually enjoy, is bringing me happiness. Jessup has noticed, and remarked about it the last time I was with him. My drinking game was off, and I didn’t even try to match him mug for mug as I usually do. I called it quits early and returned home, midafternoon, well before I needed to. The ale didn’t taste that good, the conversation wasn’t holding my interest, and the tavern, a local favorite called The Barman’s Choice, seemed rundown and seedy. Understand, rundown and seedy is the way I prefer my taverns. Usually.

  And what did I do when I got home? Nothing. Nothing at all.

  I sat in a chair, staring out the window, watching Capital City flow by. Not paying attention, not noticing anything in particular, or even enjoying all the different lives I saw. It didn’t feel important.

  When Lilly got home from the Watch, she found me in that same place. I told her I was tired, and inferred that I drank more ale with Jessup than I really did. Not that I wanted to lie, but I didn’t want her to worry.

  Since then, I’ve gotten better at hiding what was going on in my head. I was sure I’d get over it, but in the meantime, there was no reason to give Lilly anything to fret about.

  Still, it was hard to get the memory of that perfect place out of my mind.

  “Are you going to work today?” Lilly asked me as we ate breakfast.

  I shrugged. “I guess. I’m actually getting kind of tired of sitting around the house all day, so I might as well.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Ever since the attack by the banshee, Lilly was keeping a pretty close eye on me, which made acting as if everything was normal a little tougher.

  “Sure. I feel great. You know me. If I don’t have to work, I’m not going to. But it’s time.”

  I smiled at her over my cup of coffee, and she seemed reassured. A short time later, we walked through the door of the watchhouse together.

  I kissed her goodbye, and walked over to the desk.

  “Hey, Sarge.”

  “Duke. Glad to see you back up and around. Close call last time.”

  “Yeah. But we got it. No more banshee.”

  “No,” he agreed. “No more banshee. But, we still need to figure out who sent it. There’s all sorts of noise being made about that. From way up on the hill.”

  “Above my station,” I said. “If anyone comes up with anything, let me know. If I can help, you know I will. But until then, I guess it’s business as usual. Anything good today?”

  “The normal. Nothing crazy, run-of-the-mill creeps and miscreants. By the way, congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Sarge. I’m a lucky man.”

  “You are that, Duke. But also, I’m happy for you. Nice to see something good happen to a friend.”

  “Damn, Sarge. You’ll make me blush.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he growled. “Now get to work. Loverboy.”

  I laughed, rapped on the surface of the counter with my knuckles, and strolled over to the Board.

  Sarge was right; there was nothing out of the ordinary on there. There wasn’t even anything particularly challenging. There was mostly a bunch of goblins, as usual. Goblins, as a group, are pretty stupid, but don’t know it, so some of them think they can become criminal masterminds; but in reality, they make dumb mistakes, choose the wrong victims, and are horrible at covering their tracks. I’m convinced that if all there ever was on the Board were goblins, the NHLF would never have been born.

  A couple of bug-bears and a gnoll rounded out the group, and that was it. No minotaurs, no golems, no band of orcs, nothing like that. On most days, I
would say my goodbyes to Sarge and go find something else to do for the day. Goblins were strictly entry level stuff, and the bug-bears and the gnoll weren’t much better. But today was different. Today, I thought, might be a good day to ease back into the game.

  I took down one of the goblins, who went by the name Gallowswing Woundbringer. Even for a goblin, that was obviously a made-up name, and he probably thought it made him sound fierce. He was apparently mugging folks, but being a goblin, wasn’t very good at it. So far, according to the notice, he stabbed a man in the back of the leg, causing some pain and bleeding but no serious harm, and chased a group of school kids with a knife, presumably after their lunch money. That was bad enough, but not worth being put on the Board for.

  No, our friend Gallowswing upped his game when the kids got away from him. He went after a man and woman walking home from an evening out, minding their own business. When he threatened them with his knife and demanded their money and jewelry, things went south. The man refused and stepped forward, ready to defend his wife. Gallowswing panicked, lashed out, and caught the man just right. He bled out a few minutes later, while both the wife and Gallowswing stood over him, looking on in horror.

  Gallowswing took off after that, leaving the wife plenty of time to get help, and describe him to the Watch. And now here he was on the Board. Stupid yes, but now he was going to have to pay for his crime.

  “Kind of low level for you, isn’t it?” Sarge asked when I brought the notice over.

  “Usually. I don’t know, guess I’m bored. Plus, this creep deserves what’s coming to him.”

  “Well, happy hunting.”

  Gallowswing turned out to be fairly easy to find. I headed for the Stews, that area of Capital City that’s been settled by a lot of different races, with more arriving by the day. Most of which are law-abiding folk, trying to get by and provide for themselves and their families. But of course, some, like Gallowswing, threatened to ruin it for everyone.

  Which was why almost everyone I talked to was happy to point me in the right direction. It wasn’t long before I stood outside a run-down flop house, exactly the type of place that someone like Gallowswing would run to.

  I walked in the door and to the reception desk, if you wanted to call it that. There was an orc sitting behind a thick pane of glass, who barely glanced up when I approached.

  “2 ingols an hour,” he croaked out, his voice muffled behind the glass. “12 to stay for the day. Anything gets broken in your room, that isn’t already, will cost you another 20. Cash up front.”

  “I’m not looking for a room,” I said. “I need some information.”

  Now the orc looked up, his eyes taking in the boots, the cloak and especially the gun at my belt.

  “Nuisance Man?” he asked.

  “Got it in one. I’m looking for a goblin who calls himself Gallowswing Woundbringer, if you can believe that.”

  “What makes you think he’s here?”

  “Because everyone in the neighborhood says so. Look, he’s a creep, and he’s going to bring a lot worse than me down on the area if he’s not taken care of.”

  The orc considered this, and I let him think. The fact that he was sitting in this dump, with its peeling paint, cracked floors and unidentifiable odors, told me that he was one of the Unhoused. One of those orcs that either willingly left his family, or was driven out for some reason. Either way, odds were that he wasn’t exactly an upright citizen himself, and having attention from the Watch focused nearby wasn’t going to be good for him. I figured that he would come to the right decision, and soon enough, he did.

  “He’s upstairs. Room 312, but you know how goblins are. Good at hiding, but I haven’t seen him come back past here.”

  I didn’t put a lot of faith in that. Goblins were experts at hiding and sneaking, and the orc was barely paying attention to anything. Still, it was as good a place to start as any.

  Sometimes with goblins, it’s best to move quickly and try to get a jump on them, before they can sense you coming. I ran up the two flights of stairs as quickly as I could, and burst into the third floor hallway. It ran straight to the other end of the building, with 3 doors on each side.

  I passed door 301, then 307, 391, and 348, in that order. Don’t ask me why. Someone obviously didn’t have the knack of counting, or stole the room signs from other buildings and used what they had. The last door on the right was room 312.

  I tried the handle, but as I suspected it would be, it was locked. I raised my fist, and pounded hard and fast on the wood.

  “Open up!” I yelled. “Gallowswing, I’m here for you!”

  Melodramatic, I know. But I was trying to startle him, and it worked. The door didn’t open, not that I expected it to, but there was a high-pitched squeal from inside, and the sound of someone skittering around.

  I backed up a step, and kicked the door with the bottom of my boot, near the handle, as hard as I could. The building had seen better days, and hadn’t been taken care of, so the door sprang open. I could have kicked it half as hard and it still would have opened right up.

  It hit the wall behind with a crash and started swinging back, but I was already moving through it, drawing my gun as I did. I said “goblin” in a loud voice to make sure it heard me, but kept my eyes moving around the room, looking for where Gallowswing could be hiding.

  It turned out that I didn’t need to bother. He was standing in plain sight, near the window, which he was trying in vain to open. I didn’t know if it was painted shut, stuck because of years of accumulated filth and grime, or nailed closed, but it was resisting his best efforts.

  He turned when I barged in, and held his hands out in front of him.

  “I’m sorry!” he squeaked, and I grimaced. At the best of times, goblins’ voices grate my nerves raw, but when they’re begging, it’s even worse. “I didn’t mean to kill him! I only wanted the money!”

  “Too late for that now, Gallowswing,” I replied, bringing my gun up and aiming. “You should have gone into a different line of work.”

  I prepared to pull the trigger, but…there was something stopping me. Not physically. I could pull it, if I wanted. But I was having a hard time wanting to.

  The thought of that place of perfection, that paradise, was suddenly in my mind, and it didn’t feel right to sully it. Like if I pulled the trigger and the little, metal ball flew out and killed Gallowswing, I was somehow betraying the memory of that peaceful kingdom that I glimpsed.

  But this was my job, and goblins like this needed to go. There was no place for them in our city, and if I let him off, he would do it again for sure. His remorse would turn into relief, which would morph into pride, and he would end up believing that he was the terrible scourge that he wished he was. He wouldn’t be, and someone, somewhere, would show him how wrong he was, but in the meantime, some other innocent person was going to get hurt, or worse.

  He needed to go.

  I took a deep breath, and steeled myself. But I still couldn’t do it. There was simply no way that I could bring myself to kill him.

  I lowered the gun, and stood there, my head bowed, breathing deeply.

  “What is this? Some sort of cruel game?” Gallowswing whined.

  I couldn’t answer him. My mind was whirling, fighting against itself. I wanted to pull the gun back up, pull the trigger and end him, but every time I readied myself to do that, the thought of paradise stopped me.

  Slowly, Gallowswing moved away from the window and worked his way around me, staying close to the walls. When he reached the door, he turned and ran, his footsteps echoing in the hall, down the stairs and gone.

  I had failed. I couldn’t do it, and now someone, somewhere, was going to pay the price.

  And what did this say for my future as a Nuisance Man?

  That night, I fessed up and told Lilly what was going on with me. She knew I took a goblin off the Board, and was surprised. News travels fast around the watchhouse. I told her that I was bored, and wanted t
o get back in the game, but that it didn’t worked out that way.

  I asked her to sit and listen, while I told her what happened and why. I told her about the way I’d been feeling since that evening with the banshee, and how I failed to kill Gallowswing today, and what was in my mind at the time.

  When I was done, Lilly sat quietly for a few minutes. I hoped she was taking it all in, rather than thinking of ways that she could get herself out of this, and away from a Nuisance Man who was now useless.

  “It’s understandable,” she finally said. “I should have thought of this.”

  “Why would you have?”

  “Because you’re not the first person to be brought back. There have been others, although it’s rare. It’s hard to do, and, well, you know the cost.”

  “Others have reported the same thing? A glimpse of paradise?”

  “Some,” she said. “Not all. Some talk about seeing exactly what you’re saying. A place of peace and contentment. Others report a place of agony and despair that they were being pulled toward, no matter how hard they resisted. That’s actually more rare, though”

  “Then there are more of us destined to go a good place than to a bad one?”

  “Not necessarily. The procedure doesn’t always work. Sometimes, the necromancer isn’t strong enough, and can’t hold the spirit near the body. It’s thought that the pull of the bad place is strong enough to overwhelm a lot of spirits wills, and they get taken, which is why we don’t hear about it as much.”

  “But you have no way of knowing that.”

  “Not really, but we can make a pretty good guess. One of the main things that the procedure has been used for is to extract information from a really bad person, when nothing else has worked. You know, the type that kills someone, and then keeps playing games with the family, refusing to say where the body is, or leading them on wild goose chases. Every now and then, someone has enough, and a necromancer gets called in to do this. They get paid well for it too. They’d have to, or the cost to themselves would be way too high. And no one ever does it more than once.

  “The creep gets shown a glimpse of what’s waiting for them and, if they come back, is usually more than willing to talk. But they tend to get lost more often. The worse the person is, the bigger the chance that they’re not coming back. No great loss to the world, but not much information gained either.”