Purgatory

Carn deals with his feelings of alienation, but an overheard conversation may change everything.

3.

Purgatory

 

He hurried down the steps and out the back gate of the ducal keep.   He had told them he didn’t relate to the Goblinoids.  In fact, aside from Mutt and the Queen’s Honor Guard, he found all Goblin races rather disgusting.   Most of them were foul, stupid, dirty creatures that loved cruelty and pain.  

Those that rose above their natures were alright, but these were few and far between, so he disliked the vast majority of the humanoids that he met.

Of course that was one of the main reasons that Celathon had selected the Bugbear form for the curse he’d paid to have cast upon him.   But more important to Celathon had been humbling him by forcing him to face an eternity as a brute.  

It has been most effective, Carn mused as he trudged slowly across the courtyard toward the Muddy Boot.   Those who knew him nodded and a few spoke as he passed, but many of the refugees just stared suspiciously as he walked down the street with his head bowed.

He could hear a few rude remarks about his motley appearance and size, but as always he pretended not to hear them.   Honestly, he didn’t blame them at all.   He didn’t belong here.   He didn’t belong anywhere, actually.   But he had no choice but to live.  

He’d tried dying before -12 times in fact- and though it was very painful, he was cursed to be restored - eventually- to full life.  

 

Carn really didn’t want to talk to anyone right then, so he veered off around the Inn.    The Inn’s old root cellar was his frequent reflection spot and he dusted off the snow from the low earthen roof and seated himself with a deep sigh.

Across the courtyard was the stables and the yard was full of milling people of all shapes and sizes.    Then he remembered - the refugees!   These would be the human, Elf, Dwarf and Halfling refugees, all waiting for Amala to speak to them.   Only a few ducal guards patrolled the area, for these were civilized races.

Halfway across the yard, a mixed group of children constructed a snowman, while near them, their older siblings selected teams for a snowball fight.

Numerous heads turned and stared at him as he sat on the cellar roof watching the children play.   He could almost hear their words.   Suspicion and disgust, mixed with fear.   It was always the same.    Thankfully his passive and relaxed pose eased some of their apprehension and no-one raised alarm, though he knew all the eyes of the mothers and fathers were tracking his every move.

Carn couldn’t help but smile as he watched the children rolling the balls of snow.   They were so carefree and innocent.   Even with war threatening them and with an imposed exile, they were still children and found a time for play.   Most of them were humans and Halflings, though several seemed to be Elven and one stout child was obviously a Dwarf.   Yet they all seemed very happy to accept each other.  

Suddenly a snowball with a small rock hidden within, smashed into his left temple, sending a stab of pain and flashes of light dancing around him for an instant.

Mischievous adolescent laughter filled the air while several other snowballs - thankfully minus a rock core- pounded him.

Carn stood up and caught two of the missiles while glaring at the group of boys.  His dexterity surprised them and his stern look unnerved all of them.   As a group they raced out the far gate, hoping to avoid trouble.  

He let them flee, dabbing the blood from his wound with his fingers, then using one of the intercepted snowballs to numb it.

A group of little girls were holding hands in a circle nearby and staring at him while singing an old human nursery rhyme.

‘Hairy, Hairy Bugbear,

Don’t eat me,

Go back into,

Your bramblewood tree’

 

He smiled and casually walked over to them, expecting them to turn and run screaming to their mothers.   To his surprise, they didn’t flee but just stood there wide-eyed, looking at him.

“Do you know the other verses to that rhyme?”   He asked gently and they shook their heads shyly.

‘Ugly old Bugbear,

Wart on his snout,

Stamp on his toes,

And watch him shout!’

 

The girls nervously giggled at the words, especially when he mimicked hobbling around on one foot as if someone had stepped on his toes.

‘Smelly fat Bugbear,

Covered with fleas,

Scratches his hide,

Full of disease’

 

He clowned around, acting as if he was scratching all over and the little girls began to laugh and clap for a few moments before half a dozen mothers rushed forward to confront him.

“What are you doing?” One asked angrily, “You leave them alone and get back to where you belong!”

Carn bowed slightly, “I meant them no harm.   I work for the Duke and Duchess.   My name is Carn.”

“You work for them?” Another mother asked, suspiciously.

“Yes, ma’am.   Lady Amala, a daughter of the Duke, will address you shortly as soon as she finishes speaking to the Goblinoids.”

They looked at him with puzzled expressions and he knew they were wondering why he wasn’t at this other meeting.   He certainly didn’t want to embarrass himself further, so he just added, “She sent me on ahead to tell you she’ll be here soon.”

“And you really work for them?”   An Elven mother asked.

“Yes.   Actually, I was working as an armorer for the Dwarven Armorer’s Guild but I was asked to help speak to the refugees.”

“Then why aren’t you over there speaking to some of your kind?”   One of the mothers asked.

“They wouldn’t listen to me, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t sound like a Bugbear.”

“I was raised around humans.” He lied the usual story easily.

 

This seemed to calm them some, so he continued speaking.

“I’ve been here about two years, and the Duke and Duchess have been very fair and kind to me.   As you can imagine, there are no other Bugbears living here.”

“Aren’t they Drow?   The Duke and Duchess, I mean.”

“Yes, but they are not like those in the Underdark.   Duchess Aurei lived her entire life here in Westmark.    They are well loved by those in the Duchy and are faithful servants of Yesh.”

“So they will allow us to settle here?”  

“Yes Ma’am, as long as you follow the laws of the Duchy, you are most welcome here.”

“Do you like it here?” A Halfling mother asked him.

Carn touched his temple, which still stung from the rock, “Most times, yes, indeed.”

“So you fit in here… as a Bugbear?”

“As best as can be expected, yes.   You all should have no problems adapting.”

They seemed comforted by this and wanted him to tell them more, but he didn’t want Amala or the others at the Ducal Keep to see him speaking to them and then worry about him causing problems, so he very politely told them that Lady Amala would answer all of their questions better and he hurried away.

He forfeited lunch at the Muddy Boot, realizing it too would be full of refugees.   It was growing more and more crowded in Westmark, and now with his embarrassment at the Ducal Keep, he felt extremely out of place.

Knowing that it was the lunch hour at the Armorer’s Guild and that all the workers would be away, Carn went back and sat at his workbench.   He couldn’t focus on his work, however, and stared blankly ahead, replaying the events of the morning.

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to fantasize.   Centuries of caution and separation should have overwhelmed loneliness and attraction.   How could he have been so foolish?   What had come over him and why, even now, did the same wonderfully impossible thoughts come to his mind?

“Idiot” He said aloud to himself, “You’re growing weak.   You heard what she said to Linel.   They both laughed at you.   What a fool you are.”   He looked down at his huge hands and fingers and hated once again - for perhaps the millionth time- what he saw.

There was no hope for him.   There was no escape at all.   They had insured that for him.    For a moment, there had seemed to be the insane possibility of… what?   What was he hoping for, exactly?   Friendship?   Understanding?   Love?  

Those were now foreign to him.   It was time to go.   Avoid the awkwardness, or some patronizing words.   Better to leave now and allow the passage of time to blur or erase the vast majority of his experiences.    Perhaps not all of them, but given enough time, even the oldest, deepest pains might fade away.   This he sincerely hoped.

 

Carn got to his feet and began pacing back and forth in the empty workshop.   It has seemed so right here in Westmark.   They reminded him of his people.   Especially Amala.   That was the problem.   He’d not really spent any time with her until the ride back through the Faesidhe forest.   But though she didn’t really resemble her physically, the girl certainly had the personality of Sialia.   Independent, fiery and determined, but with a charming streak of innocence. 

Of course, she was her granddaughter, so perhaps that was it.   He’d known this after overhearing Aedric and Snoe talking about it during the long wagon ride when they retreated from King’s Reach.  

Perhaps that knowledge had unknowingly made him focus on the daughter of Duke Eleazar that best shared her personality.

Whatever the reason, he could not help but be drawn to her.  

 

“She’s not the same person.” He told himself, glancing out the workshop window to the Ducal Keep.   The Goblinoids were dispersing in a peaceful manner, so apparently she and the guards had disarmed the situation to avoid a riot.   Carn shook his head to clear the vision in his mind of the Drow girl.  

“Not the same, you fool.   Don’t torment yourself.   You’ve avoided all entanglement with females for so long; don’t let yourself be hurt in a new way.”   Again he spoke to himself, but he knew that he’d lied to himself.   He HAD been hurt by a woman before, though in truth, it wasn’t her fault, or his.

“I never knew.” He whispered, as if perhaps she could hear his excuse for what happened.   If it hadn’t been for her brother’s hatred of him, perhaps things would have gone much differently.

But that was long, long ago, and he had spent three eons suffering from the curse that Celathon had contracted to have cast upon him.   He could still hear the disembodied demon mocking him.

‘You shall suffer for an eternity, until your very life you grieve!   Pain and rejection shall be your bread and wine.    Loneliness and heartache will be the air you breathe.   Cast out from your own, you shall have no home, no people and no hope.’

‘But when despondency overwhelms you to the point of death, it too shall elude you.   For as long as I exist in this world, you shall not die, nor escape this curse.   You may be mortally wounded and experience terrible agony and suffering, but you shall not die, and will slowly - painfully- recover from even the most grievous wounds, only to live more of your miserable, wretched life.    We shall be bound together, and you will never forget my words to you!   Listen well, wretched one, and remember my name!  For there is none who can withstand the curse of Mazzikim’ruhin!’

 

The sound of someone coming up the stairs to the main entrance of the Guild building broke Carn’s waking nightmare.   Before he could blink it away and glance out the window, he heard the doors open and the somewhat muffled voices of two people engaged in a conversation as they walked toward the Workshop where he stood.

He recognized the voices; it was Amala and Linel.

 

Carn moved quickly across the room and slipped into a large storage closet, then swung the door almost shut and waited.

Moments later they entered, in the middle of a conversation.

“I just don’t know what got into him.”   Amala was saying as they entered the room.    “Carn?   Carn, are you in here?   Hello!”

“No-one’s here.”   Linel commented, “Isn’t that odd?”

“No; they’re probably at lunch.   He probably went over to eat with them.”

“Not surprising - most Bugbears never fail to miss the chance to eat.”

They both laughed, but then Amala replied, “Yes, but really, Carn is not your typical Bugbear.”

“So you’ve told me, but you must admit, Lady Amala, he certainly didn’t seem very smart this afternoon.”

“That’s what bothers me, Linel.   He’s smarter than that.   At least I thought so.   Thank Yesh, we got them all calmed down.”

“That was thanks in no small part to your great charm, Lady Amala.”

Carn felt his fists clenching upon hearing the Faesidhe Elf’s flattering words to the girl.

“You are too kind, Linel.   I didn’t think Carn would act like that.”

“How long have you known the Bugbear, Lady Amala?”

“Well, he came here about two and a half years ago - I think- but he really didn’t say much and he just hung around Mutt and Thorm’s bunch, so I really didn’t have many dealings with him.   He befriended Snoe, and I just learned today that he and Mutt are Bitter Dregs!”

“A Goblin and a Bugbear as Dregs!”   Linel laughed at the idea.

“They both are exceptionally smart.”

“Well, Carn’s not here apparently, so-“

Linel’s words were interrupted by someone entering the workroom.

“Yes?”  Amala said.

“Pardon me, Lady Amala.” A young man’s voice responded, “I did not mean to intrude, but I have been sent to you with a message.”

“From whom?”

“Your aunt, Zeatt.”

“Aunt Zeatt?!   Is she here in Westmark?!”

“No ma’am.   Mage Keith was contacted by Message spell by Reverend Mother Zeatt with a message to General Luca.  But he told me to relay the message to you, as Reverend Mother Zeatt did not know you were in Westmark.   Shall I recite the message to you?”

“Yes, of course!   Please do.”

“Very well.   Reverend Mother Zeatt spoke these words to Mage Keith through the Message spell:   ‘We are within the city of Hor’olorbb and the city is without magic due to the nearness of the Gem of the Oscinate.   I was asked by Eleazar to leave the radius of the spell and contact you with news.   I am casting this spell after retreating five miles outside of the city, where the radius of the Gem does not affect.’

‘We have learned that a Great Dragon has been possessed by a demon and this demon is the same one that is manipulating the followers of Torrin.   This demon has the Gem of the Oscinate around the Dragon’s neck.   The Dragon is said to be ancient and huge, with perfect scales that resist all attacks.   The Underdark is filled of smoke and fire as if it were the pits of Hell.'

‘The humanoid forces driven before the Dragon are nearing Hor’olorbb and the assault will commence soon.   We will attempt to withstand him as long as possible.   But if Aedric’s group does not make haste with the spell they seek, we will be forced to retreat or be killed.’

‘Make preparations for our failure.   The humanoids and the Dragon will surface near Tarmard and we have dispatched Alis and Aeric to warn them.   We suspect that after destroying Tarmard, they will attack Westmark.    The Gem will prevent all magic in a 10 mile radius around it.   The humanoids are not your main worry.   The Dragon will be invincible if we don’t stop it, and it has the Demon’s intelligence.’

‘If we were to manage stealing the Gem around the Dragon’s neck, it may be possible to exorcise the demon from the Dragon, though I am not certain this can be done.    If it is possible, we have learned that the demon is named Mazzikim’ruhin.’

 

“Mazzikim’ruhin!” Carn exclaimed upon hearing the name, and forgetting his desire to evade Amala and Linel, he rushed into the workshop.

Amala, Linel and the messenger looked up in alarm as he ran forward to them.

“Carn?  What in the world-“ Amala started to say, but he cut her off.

“Mazzikim’ruhin!” The Bugbear said to the terrified young messenger, “You said the demon’s name was Mazzikim’ruhin?!”

“Y-yes…” The boy’s eyes were as large as saucers.

“Are you certain?   Absolutely certain that was the name Zeatt said?” Carn knelt down slightly so as to not intimidate the young man.

“Yes, sir, I am quite certain.”

“Carn, what’s going on?” Amala asked him, puzzled by his excited reaction and sudden appearance.

“I have to get to your parents!” He responded with a wild look on his Goblin face.

“Get to my parents?   Are you serious?  Why?   Carn you’re acting insane.”

He ignored her remark and ran to the door of the workshop.

“Where are you going?” Amala called after him.

“I’ve got to find a way to reach your parents as quickly as possible.”

Amala started to speak, but Carn had already run out of the building.

“He’s nuts!”  She told both Linel and the messenger as she hiked up her dress skirt and ran after him, wondering what had come over him.

Reviews

[Elina]

"If we were to manage to steal the Gem..." Perhaps "...manage stealing the Gem..." ?

I'm really loving this, so far!

[Eddie Davis]

Thanks, about 60% of the way through the book there is a new character you may find familiar.