Housekeeping
Hi everyone! This time, Terry meets a talking horse and fights a pig demon. Let’s see how THAT goes!
Aloysius
Terry awoke about two hours later because nothing about where he found himself was comfortable. He was surprised he’d slept as long as he had, honestly. His dreams had become unpleasant as well and offered him no relief. Dreams of finding Delores an aged crone in some village. Dreams of finding her grave, surrounded by her children and grandchildren from some marriage because why would she wait for him? But these were of his own mind. There didn’t seem to be anything of prophecy to them.
He stood, shouldered his saddle bags, and set off the way he had come. As much as he might despise the little man called Humphrey, Terry felt that he’d won a bet or a contest of some form against him the previous night. He thought that games and their rules were honored here. After all, that’s how it was in the stories.
He walked for a long time until he passed what he’d call a bayou back home. It was lovely in the morning light and he stopped for a moment to take it in.
“Uh, hello?” a voice said. Terry sighed. He looked around and all he saw was a horse a little ways out, sunken up to its neck. It was an odd horse. It was a soft yellow in color with a gray mane. It’s eyes looked shockingly clear and thoughtful and its face was expressive.
“Who said that?” Terry asked loudly. He addressed the horse. “Your rider somewhere around, fella?”
“Nope!” the horse said. “Just me! I just KNEW you’d come back!”
Terry looked around again.
“Is there an ogre with an Scottish accent somewhere?”
“Uh, nope! Just me! Can you help?”
The voice was so light-hearted and friendly that Terry knew he was going to.
“Sure. How’d you get out there and how are you stuck?” he asked.
“Well,” the horse said, “it’s a long story. There was this butterfly and...”
Suddenly, the horse sank lower and its eyes went wide.
“TOO LONG. SHORT VERSION. GONNA DROWN. PLEASE HELP.”
Terry dropped his bags and quickly fished out the rope he kept there. You should always carry a rope with you. He tied some quick, loose knots he knew, and started swinging the rope over his head. It didn’t really look like it did it in the movies, but it was the correct way to swing a lasso.
“I’m gonna get this around your neck and pull it tight,” Terry said. “I want you to grab it with your teeth without biting through it. Just enough to take some of the force of the pull. Don’t ask how I’m about to do this. Just trust me. It’s just what I do.”
The horse nodded vigorously and Terry tossed the rope. He got it in one throw. One thing he’d learned as a squire, you miss a few displacer beasts and you learn accuracy pretty quick.
Terry tensed himself and concentrated on not hurting the animal as he did so. He felt something in him... help? He gave the rope a pull with all his strength that had him bent over in the opposite direction. As soon as he felt the weight at the end come free and a high pitch voice start to scream, Terry dropped and rolled to his left. The horse landed on its side in the road. It laid there panting savagely for a minute, before raising it’s head to look at him.
“THAT WAS NEAT!” the horse said excitedly. Terry watched as it rolled onto its front knees and got itself standing. “Who are you, Mister?”
Terry smiled and got the rope from around the horse’s neck. He was still exhausted, but at least he could still do his job.
“I’m Terry Lingal, Errant Apprentice.” The horse tilted it’s head and looked at him curiously. “It’s like a knight.” The horse blinked at him. “I’m a hero.” Terry settled on.
The horse’s face lit up. It was a shockingly expressive animal. Everything it did reminded him of a person. Or a puppy.
“A hero! That’s great!” it said excitedly. “My name’s Aloysius!”
Terry smiled and nodded.
“I’m a horse!”
“I’d gathered,” Terry said. The horse was extremely enthusiastic. He patted him on the neck.
“Well, Aloysius, you’re free. Just don’t go wandering around near bogs again. I probably won’t be there the next time.” He smiled and started walking back down the road. He still wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He heard the “clop-clop” of hooves following him. He stopped and looked back. Aloysius was there.
“Can I come with you?” the horse asked.
“I’m sorry, Al. I’m looking for something and you probably have to get on home.” Terry wasn’t about to keep saying “Aloysius” over and over. He’d gotten used to nicknames with Delores. She didn’t like her name, so he’d called her “D” for short. He, personally, loved her name. It was beautiful. It always had been.
“I don’t have a home,” Al said, and Terry frowned.
“You don’t?”
“No. I’ve tried finding it but there’s no where that feels like home when I concentrate on it, and I can find anything.”
Terry blinked. He was King Idiot.
“You can find anything?” Of COURSE this is what Humphrey had meant.
“Yep! I’m a magic horse!” Al beamed with pride.
“So,” Terry said slowly, “if I told you someone I’m looking for, you could find them for me?”
“Oh yeah! That’d be easy! And I can carry you! Did I mention I’m a horse?”
“You may have, yes,” Terry said with a grin. “Ok. Al? Do you mind if I call you Al?”
“Not at all! I like it!” Al said. Terry had never met anyone in his life with this much enthusiasm or unbridled joy. BRIDLE! Of course!
“Ok. First, before we find who I’m looking for, I need you to lead me to a town. I need to get a saddle and bridle of some form. Is that ok?” Terry asked. He’d ridden horses before, he’d lived on a farm after all. He’d prefer to not ride bareback, but this was a talking horse. He needed to ask permission. It only seemed right.
Aloysius did this little trotting dance in place.
“EEEEEEEE! Yes! Absolutely! I get to be a mount! For a hero!” Terry smiled and patted the horse’s neck again.
“Ok, buddy. Until then I REALLY need to ride you. Even if it is bareback. I’m exhausted.” Terry managed to do a single hop onto the horse’s back and carefully gripped his mane.
Aloysius started a cheerful trot.
Terry allowed himself a glimmer of hope. Something good had finally happened.
The village was a bit of a ride. Terry stopped short of town, dug in his saddle bags, and found the sack of gold that Humphrey had left him. It was not an insubstantial amount as far as Terry could tell. He also found a power bar and devoured the thing and polished off his canteen of water. He was going to need to pick up quite a few things.
He held the sack in one hand and with the other pulled out the Mercy. The Mercy was the one gun that the Order had allowed the knights. It was powerful, violent, and Terry hated it. He’d used it three times as a last resort and once as a first resort. He stuffed the bag into the pocket of holding and stared at the gun. He checked and it had no shells. You never rode around with that thing loaded. You could lose a leg. Or your lower abdomen.
“Good riddance,” Terry said, then hurled the unloaded gun into the woods. Something might find it, but there was nothing they could do with it without ammo. Maybe some gnomes could gut it and put it to use.
As Terry rode into town, he saw it was full of humans. He hadn’t been sure what lived in this valley, and there was a part of him that felt disappointed it was his own people. Those people gave him looks as he passed them on the street. He didn’t think he looked that alien. Or maybe it was Aloysius. The horse’s head was hung low and he walked like he was trying not to be noticed.
“This isn’t your first time here, is it?” Terry asked.
The horse swung his head to the side and gave him a remorseful look.
“I might have gotten on some people’s nerves here the other day.”
Terry stroked Al’s mane.
“Well that’s ok. We’re just here for a few supplies. We’ll be on our way soon enough.”
He looked around and saw a stable with a store attached. Well, the sign’s drawing hinted that’s what it was. It had a horse and anvil on it. Terry couldn’t read whatever passed for writing in the Everywhen. Al came to a stop out front and Terry hopped off just as a man came bustling out the opened door.
The man was balding with a handlebar mustache, wide with giant arms, a foot shorter than Terry and wore a sleeveless shirt and a leather vest. The very image of a villager from one of the fairy stories.
“No! No, you take that horse and ride right the hells on, boy. He’s not welcome here.” The man said waving a finger like a summer sausage. Terry thought he might have some dwarf in him.
“Don’t worry, sir. That’s my intention. Al’s going to wait right here while I buy a saddle.” He turned to the horse. “Right, Al?”
The horse nodded but remained silent. He looked sad. How big of a jerk did you have to be to make a horse sad?
The man looked at Terry doubtfully.
“You’re not from these parts. Where are you from, boy?”
“The wide world, sir.”
The man’s eyes widened.
“By the Greenman. Someone’s come through again.”
Terry tried not to act too hopeful. Or desperate. “Someone’s come through here before? A woman?”
“No,” the man said. “Probably a couple of decades ago. Some fat man in fancy clothes. Lost as a child.”
The man looked Terry up and down, suddenly appraising.
“Not like you. You seem to know what you’re about. If the horse stays out here and keeps his mouth shut, we can do some business.”
“What did he do?” Terry asked.
The man gave a heavy sigh. “The horse is known in these parts. He asks... questions.”
“What’s wrong with asking questions?” Terry asked.
“You’ve just met him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll see.” Was all the man said as he turned and entered his shop. Terry followed.
Inside was everything one might need for riding. Saddles, bridles, saddle blankets, even feed bags and feed, along with more things than Terry could put a name to. He looked around and was familiar with most of it, but he didn’t know the first thing about quality.
“I see you already have saddle bags. You had a horse before?” the man asked.
“Sort of. I had... well, it was a wide world thing. Our version of a horse.” Terry realized he had gone about this all wrong and held his hand out to the man. “Terry Lingal, sir. Errant Apprentice. And you are?”
“Tulmos,” the man said. He took Terry’s hand and shook. It was firm, but not aggressive. Terry smiled and the man’s earlier standoffishness left him.
“So,” Tulmos said, “You’ve the bags, but you’ll need everything else. It won’t be cheap. Not for good equipment.”
Terry grimaced. He could probably afford what he needed. Probably.
“I’ll tell you what, Mister Tulmos. Why don’t you show me what you feel I need and then we can discuss the cost.”
The man smiled as he began selecting equipment. Before he’d gotten past the saddle itself, a large, older man with white hair dressed in black finery rushed in the opened doors. Terry saw he had a silver chain around his neck with a medallion dangling there. It had a Greenman face on it.
“Who in the nine hells brought that horse back here?!” the man said, pointing at Aloysius. The poor animal’s ears were drooping.
“Mayor Gethwin,” Tulmos said, “that would be my young customer here. He’s stopping for riding gear. To ride the horse out of town. Away.”
The mayor, Gethwin, looked Terry up and down before walking up, hands on hips.
Terry just met his stare and smiled.
“He’s from the wide world, Mayor.” Tulmos added.
That stopped the mayor short. His expression went from upset to shocked.
“AH,” he said. “I see. Well, as long as you’re just passing through. WITH the horse, then that’s fine.”
“Uh, Terry? Do you have a sword or something?” Aloysius shouted into the building.
Terry was out the door like a shot, followed by the mayor and Tulmos both. He hopped from the wooden porch of the shop and looked in the direction Al indicated. There was a large group of somethings coming his way. Curse his timing. There was always something.
“By The One, they’ve come back again,” the shopkeeper said. Terry frowned. This had the makings of a problem.
Tulmos was getting too old for this. Horses sticking their head into his shop and disrupting his work, young men from the wide world showing up, the idiot mayor’s ire over the horse, and now Zindel and his Demon Pigs were back. Elseth was supposed to be a quiet town in the Rushy Glen. That’s why he’d moved here from the capital.
But the giant Demon Pig was walking down the street using his spear as a walking staff. Surrounding him was his “army” of demon pigs. All twenty of them this time. They marched with military precision. Each as ugly as their leader and each as wide as two men. They were seven feet tall if they were an inch. All of them wore the same color green, sweaty undershirts, the same kind of old, dented armor, and the same type of spear. They must have found a supply cache.
The mayor was already running up to meet Zindel as townspeople rushed inside the shops and government buildings. The young man, Terry, followed a short way behind the mayor at his own pace. There was something dangerous in his casualness.
Tulmos should have gone inside himself, but he was tired of this. He was too old for this. Let them see him for what he was. A former horse handler for the army. The talking horse thankfully stayed back by his shop. It had sense when it decided to use it. More than Tulmos did at the moment, anyway.
“Tribute day has come!” Zindel shouted, and lifted his spear high. The army raised their spears in unison and shouted a loud “HOO-RAH!” Even the birds stopped singing at that. Gethwin approached, dry-washing his hands.
“Lord Zindel!” the mayor said with a sickening smile on his face. “I didn’t realize it was tribute day! Surely that’s later in the week?”
The giant pig man leaned forward and got right in the mayor’s face. Tulmos had to unclench his fists. He saw young Terry NOT unclench his fists.
“Are you telling me you DON’T have my payment for your protection, mayor?” the pigman grunted.
“It’s not that! It’s just that I’ll just have to organize everything. It may take some time.”
“What do they protect you from?” Terry asked, which stopped the mayor in his tracks. He stared at Terry in surprise. He hadn’t even realized the young man had followed him. Tulmos leaned toward Terry.
“You’re going get yourself killed like that, boy. Or us. You, I’m not as concerned about. No offense,” he said. The young man chuckled.
Zindel straightened his bulk and laughed. A moment later, his army laughed with him. All at once.
“Why, I protect them from ME, whelp!” the monster shouted.
Terry did not flinch. He looked around the town and then back at the army. They all stood at attention.
“You haven’t done anything yet. They’ve actually paid you?” the strange young man asked.
Zindel saw Terry watching his army and to Tulmos’s surprise, Zindel looked nervous. Suddenly, the pigmen in the army started muttering to each other. Tulmos couldn’t make out individual words though. Just mumbles.
“Of course we pay him!” the mayor said. “I will not have my people murdered by an army of brutish-UH-fearsome pigmen!” With that, the mayor ran to the nearest building and pounded on the door, demanding this week’s tribute.
Tulmos watched as Terry approached one of the pigmen. It sneered at him. To Tulmos’s shock, Terry poked the thing in the arm and nodded.
“Something wrong, boy?” Zindel said, rounding on him. “Something bother you about my men?”
Terry walked up to the pigman and looked into his eyes. The boy was brave, Tulmos could give him that. Brave, but foolish.
“You,” Terry said, “are a bully.”
Tulmos thought even the wind stopped blowing. The mayor had started running to another building, but Terry’s statement had stopped the man. Zindel’s brow furrowed. He stepped back just enough to bend and get right in the young man’s face.
“Yes. Yes I am. And what are you going to do about it, little man?!” he shouted.
Before Tulmos could register what happened, Terry had whipped his arm back and punched Zindel right in his piggy forehead. The pigman went flying backward and skidded to a halt on his back in the middle of the street. As soon as he hit, the army that Tulmos had been sure would kill the boy simply vanished.
The mayor ran into the street and waved his arms like an idiot, apparently thinking they’d gone invisible. Terry walked up, stood on Zindel’s chest, grabbed his horns, and gave a mighty pull. The head came clean off. Tulmos ran up. There was just no way this was happening.
It was a mask! Terry threw the thing down. Tulmos saw an old man’s head sticking out of the neck of the monster. The young man reached down to the neck hole and heaved. He pulled the chest open with a terrible squeal of metal.
As Terry lifted the man out by the collar, Tulmos stared.
“Weatherby!” he shouted.
“You know him?” Terry asked. Gethwin staggered up beside Tulmos.
“He was the former mayor! I won the last election against him,” Gethwin said, wiping sweat from his face. “How did you know?”
“First off,” Terry said, “there was sweat on the shirt collars.”
“So?” Tulmos asked. “There’s sweat on all of us.”
Terry smiled.
“They’re pigmen. They shouldn’t have been sweating at all.” Tulmos slapped his forehead. He felt like a fool. He knew both animals and monsters and had missed it.
Guards finally came running up and Terry hopped down and handed the old man over to them. Weatherby began waking up.
“And the army?” Tulmos asked. He couldn’t help grinning now. “What was all that about?” Terry smiled back.
“Duplication spell. It makes hard light duplicates of the caster. I fought a necromancer once in Yazoo that tried that crap. You have to concentrate to control them and keep them summoned.” He got right in Weatherby’s face. “I dealt with him the same way.”
“But why?!” Mayor Gethwin asked Weatherby, who was now fully awake.
“Mining, you brain-dead idiot!” Weatherby shouted. “I was working with a mining consortium in the capital when I lost that election. I figured if I ran everyone off I could move in and turn this into a company town for them. But you were all too stupid and stubborn to run. I still could have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for this boy!”
Terry groaned. Tulmos wasn’t sure why. The boy turned and saw people coming out of the buildings now and they were all beginning to talk about what had happened. They’d seen. Good. Tulmos hoped people would remember this. Terry tapped a guard on the arm before they left.
“Can I have just a moment before you haul him off?”
The guards looked at the mayor, who didn’t seem to know what to do. They nodded anyway. Terry took on a hard look and old man Weatherby swallowed.
“I’m on a quest right now, but if you don’t think I’ll come back here to check on this town? You’re wrong. Because this is what I do to bullies. I stop them.”
Terry pulled a sword from inside his coat and the blade glowed brightly, even in the daylight. The mayor staggered back and Tulmos watched in awe. Terry walked to look inside the suit.
“Well?” Tulmos asked.
“Levers, pulleys, runes on everything. It’s a powered suit,” the boy said. He raised his sword over his head with both hands. As he brought the blade down it grew and cut the suit cleanly in half. The blade stopped glowing and Terry put the sword away before turning back to Weatherby, Tulmos, and the mayor.
“I always come back when I’m needed,” Terry said. The guards seemed to take that as a dismissal from the young man and escorted Weatherby away.
“Will… will you stay for a time?” the mayor asked. “We can hold a feast tonight in your honor.”
“No,” Terry said simply. “I’ve got something to be about. Besides, you need to rebuild your stores if you’ve been giving them to that idiot for weeks.”
The mayor looked like he’d been slapped and Tulmos stood there with his arms crossed. He hadn’t stopped smiling. For a while Tulmos had been toying with the idea of running for mayor after the last two elections. He thought he might stand a chance in the nine hells of winning it after this.
“Well, if you’re determined to leave,” Tulmos said, “and you still need the riding equipment, I can probably see my way to giving you a discount.”
Terry scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyes.
“You don’t have to do that, Mister Tulmos. I’m not in this for reward.”
Tulmos finally frowned. Bloody heroes.
“This isn’t a reward. We’ll consider it a trade. Goods for services. You make up the difference with your gold.”
“That,” Terry said, “I think I can do, sir.”