Critical Failures VI (Caverns and Creatures Book 6)

by Robert Bevan

  The goblin's yellow neck skin felt dry and leathery, like an old woman's tit. Its tiny red eyes bulged as it tried to scream, but only squeaked out a weak groan. Chaz squeezed harder until even that was cut off. He started to tire, and he wondered how long it actually took to strangle someone to death. It normally went a lot faster in movies.

  Finally, after enough time had passed such that the act of murder was actually getting boring, the goblin stopped resisting. Its arms went limp and fell to its sides. Chaz slammed its head against the ground a few more times to make sure.

  When he was satisfied that his goblin adversary was sufficiently dead, he peeked over the cart for any impending attacks. Cooper and Nabi didn't appear to care too much about keeping goblin survivors. They were employing all of the restraint of someone bingeing on a Party Size bag of Doritos on cheat day. Goblin body parts were strewn around the forest floor. Dripping bits of gore hung from branches like Christmas tree tinsel. Some poor bastard's intestines were dragging behind Cooper's right foot like a strand of toilet paper as he chased some other poor bastard whose intestines were about to meet a similar fate.

  “Chaz!” said Dimplethorn. “Let us out of here!”

  Chaz examined the net. Individual ropes looped around a cord running around the rim, like a drawstring bag. The drawstring cord ran through a hole in the side of the cart, down to a hook on the bottom where it was tied off. This was obviously a precautionary measure to avoid allowing captured prisoners to release themselves.

  As soon as he untied the cord, the opening of the net expanded quickly, then the whole structure collapsed as if it had been a living net monster that suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack. The next thing Chaz knew, about a dozen stray arrows rose from the ground and hovered in the air, pointing one way and then another, looking for a target. Unfortunately for them, it appeared that Cooper and Nabi had deprived them of their opportunity for vengeance.

  Cooper's Barbarian Rage finally tapped out, flowing out of his ass in a long extended fart as he leaned against a tree, sweating profusely. He looked like shit, bleeding from a multitude of arrow wounds. Chaz hadn't bothered to count, but Cooper might have had more arrows in him now than he'd had in the Pool of True Sight. He couldn't possibly have more than a couple of Hit Points left.

  The group of floating arrows moved simultaneously away from Cooper's fart cloud, drawing his attention.

  “What the fuck?”

  Some movement in the bushes from the other direction caught Chaz's eye. Two more goblins stood and took aim at Cooper's back.

  “Cooper!” cried Chaz.

  “What?” Cooper snapped back, annoyed.

  THWANG! THWANG!

  The first arrow lodged in Cooper's right ass cheek, but the second one went in one side of his neck and out the other. Cooper's eyes widened and glazed over as arterial blood gushed out of his neck.

  “THERE!” cried Dimplethorn. All the arrows swarmed at the two goblins who hadn't noticed them until now.

  One of the goblins said something that Chaz could only assume translated to, “Holy fucking shit!”, and started running away while the other one fired an arrow harmlessly through the swarm of arrows descending on them.

  The flock of angry pixies hacked at the goblin who'd fired the arrow like it was the Ides of March. They splattered so much goblin blood on each other that Chaz could make out some of their forms. Their bloodlust not quite sated, they flew after the goblin who wisely, albeit lately, decided to run.

  “Try to take that one alive!” Chaz yelled after them as he ran to Cooper.

  He was no doctor, but Cooper looked as dead as any of the goblins whose entrails were currently decorating the forest. After snapping the fletching off the back of the arrow in Cooper's neck, he pulled the shaft out through the other side, causing blood to flow out more quickly.

  Shit! I made it worse. Come on, Chaz. We were so close. Think of something.

  “Come on, Cooper.” Chaz wiped unexpected tears from his eyes. “Don't you die on me, you crazy fuck.”

  “Is he okay?” asked Ravenus, hopping to Cooper's head and giving it a poke with his beak.

  “Does he look fucking okay to you?”

  “He looks dead to me. Mind you, that's an amateur opinion. I thought you both were dead only yesterday.”

  Knowing he was going to regret it, he asked, “What should I do? And I swear to god if you say anything about eating his fucking eyes, I'll roast you over a fire.”

  “You needn't be rude,” said Ravenus. “I've seen you use magic before. Have you any spells which might be useful under these circumstances? The fat one with the hair growing out of his face sometimes uses magic to heal wounds.”

  “Dave? He's a cleric. I'm a bard.”

  “A bird?”

  “No, dipshit. You're a fucking bird. I'm a bard.”

  “What's a bard?”

  “I sing and play musical instruments and shit.”

  Ravenus cocked his head to the side, blinking up at Chaz. “That doesn't seem like a particularly useful skill set.”

  “It makes magic happen. You saw me make an acorn glow. I can also use it to charm people, or put them to sleep, or... Actually, I don't even know what else I can do with it. I can't remember the last time I checked my spells. Keep an eye on him for a second and try to not let him die.”

  “And just how am I supposed to...”

  Chaz ignored Ravenus's bitching as he sat in as comfortable a position as he could manage, closed his eyes, and brought Zanzifurl's pipes to his lips. He blew a soft melody and focused on that, tuning out everything else in an effort to clear his mind.

  In the clarity of his meditation, he was able to observe the power of his music. He couldn't see or hear it exactly. It was as if he could feel it on some super-conscious level, and understand how he might manipulate notes and lyrics to produce real and tangible effects.

  One such effect he was surprised to discover was the ability to Cure Moderate Wounds. He was so excited at having discovered it that he nearly lost it. Forcing himself to calm down, he concentrated on understanding how the spell worked until he felt it become part of him.

  He opened his eyes and looked at Ravenus. “I know what to do.”

  Like any of the spells he'd come to understand, Cure Moderate Wounds simply required an appropriate song. The only one that came to mind off the top of his head was Marvin Gaye's Sexual Healing, but he didn't feel comfortable singing that while touching Cooper. Touching, unfortunately, was a necessary part of casting the spell. It was also kind of a logistical problem, as Chaz needed both hands to play the pipes properly. At least that issue was easily enough solved. Chaz removed his shoe and placed the sole of his bare foot on Cooper's face.

  Ravenus eyed him curiously. “I feel it would be remiss of me to not suggest that what you're doing right now might not be very helpful.”

  “Shut up. I'm trying to think of a song.” Chaz blew a few notes into the pipes and figured he'd start the lyrics simply and see where it went from there. “Cure Moderate Wounds,” he sang, then tried to think of something that rhymed with wounds. “Hear my moderate tunes.”

  Cooper coughed weakly, and Chaz could see that blood was no longer flowing from the hole in his neck.

  Holy shit, it's actually working!

  Not wanting to lose his momentum, he quickly thought up some more words for the song.

  “If ever you're harpooned...” Now he needed something good to bring it home full circle. “Cure Moderate Wounds.”

  “What the fuck are you singing?” said Cooper. “And why is your foot in my face?” He still looked like shit. The song could obviously use a little refining. But at least he was unquestionably alive.

  Chaz removed his foot from Cooper's face and put his shoe back on. “I just saved your life. I can cast Cure Moderate Wounds now.”

  Cooper winced as he sat up. “Hang on. Did you just level up by watching me kill all those goblins?”

  “No,” said Chaz in
dignantly. “I actually killed one of them myself. And I assisted on two others. As for the spell, I don't know how long I've been able to cast it. I keep forgetting to update myself when I level up.”

  “Dude, you're already useless enough as a bard. Not using what few powers you have, it's like you're training for the Uselessness Olympics.”

  “You know what? I'm getting a little tired of being –”

  “WHAAAAAAA!” cried a goblin inexplicably flying toward them like a short, big-headed, terrified Superman. Its cry stopped abruptly when its flight turned into an eight-foot free-fall and it landed hard on the ground in front of Chaz and Cooper.

  “Alive, just as you requested,” said Dimplethorn. “Please let us know if you change your mind.”

  The goblin sat up. Its eyes were dark and puffy. It was bleeding from both nostrils, and a few of its teeth appeared to be freshly missing. Dimplethorn and the others may have spared the poor creature's life, but not without beating the shit out of it first. Chaz could scarcely believe that those same tiny hands which had so delicately caressed his dick were capable of this kind of ferocity.

  “Hey, Shitbag,” said Cooper. “Do you speak English?”

  The goblin's eyes darted back and forth like he was considering making another run for it, but focused on Cooper when he picked up Nabi.

  “W-w-w-what is English?”

  Cooper shook his head. “Fuck this smart-ass motherfucker. Pixie friends, beat the shit out of him some more.”

  “Wait!” said Chaz, holding his hands up toward where he guessed the pixies might be hovering. He looked at the goblin. “Do you speak the Common Tongue?”

  The goblin squinted at him, then turned to Cooper. “We now converse in the Common Tongue, yet your companion asks if I speak it. Is he...” it tapped a finger against its temple “simple of mind?”

  “You mean, like, retarded? Yeah, something like that. He's a bard.”

  “Hey!” said Chaz. “Fuck both of you guys. I was just... Never mind. You've got a lot to answer for, buddy. Let's start with why did you and your companions try to kill us?”

  The goblin looked genuinely shocked. “You attacked us! We were merely defending ourselves.”

  “Don't get cute with me, Fuckface.”

  “How dare you!” The little shit was now more angry than scared. “You murder my friends, hold me here against my will, and now you call me this... Fuck Face? My name is Gwlaarkb'harac!”

  Chaz and Cooper looked at each other, then back at Gwlaa... then back at the goblin.

  “I'm sorry,” said Chaz. “I'm never going to be able to pronounce that.”

  Cooper nodded. “If it's all the same to you, I'm just going to stick with Fuckface.”

  Chaz didn't want to get too sidetracked with what to call Fuckface. He wanted to get back to his interrogation.

  “I'm not talking about this time. I'm talking about the first time, a few hours ago, when you jumped us at the Pool of True Sight, killed the satyr and the old druid guy, and kidnapped our pixie friends.”

  Fuckface's expression changed to surprised. “That was you? My apologies. I thought we killed all of you.”

  “You came pretty fucking close!” Chaz pointed to Ravenus. “We'd both be dead by now if this bird hadn't thrown up in my mouth.”

  Fuckface cringed. “I don't even want to know how that –”

  “Why did you attack us?”

  “It wasn't you we were after. We needed the pixies. The Dark Lord promised to craft special magical weapons for us, imbued with their spirits, much like your friend's axe.”

  “Who is this Dark Lord guy anyway?” asked Chaz.

  Fuckface shrugged. “Some dwarf we tried to ambush in the woods a couple of months ago. He was all alone, and looked like an easy target, but he was much more powerful than he appeared. He spared our lives in exchange for our services. Then he paid us well, fed us good food and quality wine, and equipped us with armor and weapons far superior to what we're accustomed to fighting with.”

  “What's his name?” asked Cooper. “It's not Dave, is it?”

  “He never told us his name. He insisted we call him Dark Lord. We all thought it sounded stupid and laughed about it behind his back, but...” Fuckface gestured around at the creepy forest almost entirely sapped of fauna. “He appears to be living up to the title.”

  Chaz didn't like this sound of this at all. “And where might we find this Dark Lord?”

  Fuckface nodded in the direction they'd been headed in. “There's a cave just over that way.”

  “Morning Glory Hole. We've heard of it.”

  Fuckface hung his big head guiltily. “We were meant to be guarding it, but we thought that since the forest was mostly cleared out, except for your group, we'd go on a pixie hunt and have them ready for when our master awakens.”

  “When is he due to awaken?”

  “When he's drained all the life from the forest.”

  “That could be any minute now.”

  Fuckface shrugged. “Could be.”

  Chaz turned to Cooper. “Then we need to get the fuck out of here, right? We could just carry Fuckface like a football and use him to get past the Dark Ones and out of the forest.”

  Cooper stared blankly at Chaz for a moment because Nabi apparently had some opinions on Chaz's suggestion.

  “Did you forget what we came here for?” he finally asked.

  “I've never been very clear on that, actually.”

  “Neither have I.” Cooper stared at his axe. “So, what did we come here for?” He nodded while Nabi explained, then addressed Chaz. “We have to confront the Dark Lord, stop him from draining all the life out of the forest, and then either force him to rejoin Nabi's proper body and spirit or kill him.”

  That sounded like a pretty tall order for a weakling, a moron, a goblin, a sentient axe, and a bird. They were like The Breakfast Club, except perhaps even less qualified for the task that lay ahead of them.

  “I love every part of that plan,” said Dimplethorn. “Let us go forth and fist the Dark Lord's ass!”

  Chaz and Cooper exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  Dimplethorn's colloquialisms needed some work, but Chaz felt a little better knowing his invisible flying friends would be tagging along. Judging by Fuckface's fucked face, they could be savage little monsters when they were pissed off about something.

  “Nabi says it's too dangerous,” said Cooper.

  “What?” cried Chaz.

  “You need to return to the glade and continue expanding the Light Ward perimeter. Start moving it toward the edge of the forest.”

  “Cooper!” Chaz realized he was pleading with the wrong person and grabbed Cooper's axe with both hands. “Nabi, please! We need your friends to help us. We got our ass handed to us by a gang of goblins for Christ's sake. You can't expect us to go in there and take on the guy who beat those same goblins into submission, and who's only gotten more powerful since then.”

  “Don't worry,” Dimplethorn whispered in his ear. “I believe in Nabi, and I believe in you.”

  Chaz let go of Nabi, turned to his left, and whispered back to the empty air. “I don't even believe in me.”

  “When you return, I'll have a surprise waiting for you.” Dimplethorn kissed Chaz on the cheek, then flew away. The others flew off with her, their well-wishes and words of encouragement fading in the breeze as they flew back to their glade.

  Chaz sighed. “If she wanted to give me one more handjob, I wish she would have done it before we marched to our deaths.”

  “That wouldn't incentivize you,” said Fuckface. “I've been learning some new things by observing how the Dark Lord motivates us to do his bidding. I feel that, under the right set of circumstances, I might be able to take on a leadership role of my own some day.”

  “I'm not the smartest guy in the world,” said Cooper. “But I expect there's more to leadership than jerking off your employees.”

  Fuckface scowled at Cooper. “I never said he
–”

  “Guess what,” said Chaz. “You just got your first leadership position. You're going to lead us into Morning Glory Hole.”

  Chapter 46

  “I think we should return to the Whore's Head,” said Julian.

  Stacy smiled to herself. She'd known this was coming, and wondered how long he'd been mustering up the courage to bring it up. “I agree.”

  “Really?” Julian tried to turn around to look at her, but soon discovered that he wasn't an owl. He faced forward again to guide his horse over the rocky terrain.

  “I'm sure Ravenus is there waiting for you.”

  “I certainly hope so, but there's also the matter of –”

  “We need to bring the die there,” said Stacy. “I was wrong to want to keep it hidden from everyone else. What if we hadn't survived that fall in the desert? What if we'd gotten eaten by dwarven cannibals? We'd be dead, and everyone else would be that much more likely to be stuck here forever. I get it. I'm not the big badass I thought I was.”

  “That's not true,” said Julian. “You're every bit that big badass. But there are always going to be circumstances beyond our control. I think we'll both rest easier knowing that the die is as safe as can be, and not solely our responsibility anymore.”

  Stacy heard the babble of running water nearby and thought it would be a good time to give her bad-ass a rest. “I think we're far enough away from the dwarves that we can stop for a quick pee break. How about you?”

  “That sounds just fine to me. I've been holding it in for a while. There wasn't a really opportune time to go before we left the village.”

  Stacy hopped down off the back of the horse and rubbed the soreness out of her butt cheeks. She led the way through some half-dead-looking bushes and found a little stream running down the gradual slope. She wondered if this stream fed into the considerably larger one which formed the southern border of the village they'd just left.