Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats (12 page)

He stayed barely within hearing range until all the ruckus died down, waited a bit longer for discretion, then strolled back to see if Agate was through.

She was about done, gnawing the large thigh bones.

Dragons were not the gigantic creatures of fable, but their hollow bones and thin whipcord muscles, and the long wings and longer tail, made them look a lot larger than the equivalent mass packed into a human form.

"Thank you, Wizard, that was a delicious way to break a spell. I should have listened to you centuries ago."

"Anything for a lady.
You have been an excellent mayor. Are you sure you don't want to . . .?"

"A dragon understands about money and treasure. But I am leaving. Find another." The silvery blue dragon licked her lips and shook out her wings. "Why now, why have you suddenly worked to free me from Maleth's spell?"

"I promised to aid you, as I was the cause of Maleth not being able to remove the spell himself." He paced around in a circle. "After I deal with the army—after I kill three thousand helpless men and women—I'll either be so soul-sick that I can't go home, or I will have become so corrupt—again—that I should not go home."

"Such scruples are not something a dragon should understand." She sprang into the air, wings laboring to gain altitude. "Farewell, King Wizard."

"Farewell, Agate Wind Lady." The Sheep Man tidily buried the few remains, wondering if he'd managed to change the essential essence of the man sufficiently for Gisele's fertility potion to work. Perhaps the last dragon would not be alone too much longer.

He thought wistfully of home, but when he reached the hill that looked over the valley from the south, he stopped. According to Harry, the army shouldn't be far away. Three thousand trained soldiers. It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed that many in a single day. They hadn't called him the Tyrant Wizard for nothing. He settled down in the long grass to wait, thinking invisible thoughts. Magic being what it was, Harry would protect the army while it was on the road. Here, within sight of their goal, they would cease to journey, and Harry's protection would disappear. Hopefully while they were far enough from the village to give him enough time to do what needed doing.

The Inquisitor General of the Holy Word of Ba'al was a tall, strong woman. Not for her the palanquin or even a carriage. She rode a warhorse at the head of the Army of Ba'al, three thousand strong.

Holy Private Cuffe was terrified of her. He had plenty of opportunity to be terrified—her gloriousness wanted him close by, so she could ask about his experience. Again and again. A few of the courtiers licked their lips and fairly drooled over the details of Holy Initiate Diste's death. The Inquisitor just sat, no expression at all on her face.

"The Black Goats of Scoone." She booted her black stallion forward. The fat creature was actually quite lazy. "Who would have thought a simple accusation of witchcraft would bring us the challenge of a lifetime. A legend
surfacing to pollute the world."

They had stopped at the brother inquisitor
’s campsite to examine the stinking remains. Two weeks had not improved them. Then Cuffe had to take them to the site of the initiate's death, pointing out where he himself had been whipped with the Holy Flail and been left for dead, and which tree he had climbed.

The
Inquisitor General even climbed his tree. "Holy Private. I apologize for doubting you."

He quivered in terror, but only once had someone suggested that if he could climb a tree, he could have fought the unnatural goats. The
Inquisitor General had simply looked at that person, and asked how the Holy Church would have been served if a survivor had not brought word of the atrocity.

They rode on then, as it was only midmorning.

"We will camp halfway between here and this village. In the morning, we will rise fresh and prepared for battle."

Three thousand men take a bit of organizing, but these were professionals, grimly ready to do anything for their god. They had camp set up and a healthy meal cooked and eaten in a remarkably short time. The sentries were out, and Cuffe jerked awake over and over the whole night, dreaming of the black goats. In the morning he forced down the light breakfast he was going to be fighting on, and took his place with th
e foot soldiers backing up the Inquisitor General herself.

Two hours later they crested a hill and examined the pretty little village that was the focus of this abomination. The officers called back orders to shift the soldiers from their marching order to a broad front.

"We have arrived," the Inquisitor General declared. "Now it is time to cleanse the world of this blight on the . . . "

The troops had fallen quiet behind him—completely and absolutely quiet. Cuffe turned, tried to turn
, his head and couldn't.

But he could see the I
nquisitor General turn her head when
she
noticed. She reined her horse, but it was stiff as if dead and stuffed for the Temple Museum.

"Why
, Inquisitor General! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Male tones, accented.

A man strolled into Cuffe's view, very tall, bulky, wearing clothing that looked suspiciously as if it had been raided from holy stores—or perhaps from the luggage of a brother inquisitor. He swung a Holy Flail in his right hand.

The Inquisitor General jerked at the immobile horse as the man strutted in a circle about her, looking her over. His coal-black hair was short and neat, his eyes a warm honey brown.

"I'm so glad that you came yourself. I prefer women, you see. These appalling male virgins are useful." He detoured to pat Cuffe's cheek with his left . . . hoof. "But disgusting." He shrugged. "I suppose I could make do, but since you're here, and handy to where I need to be for a bit of revenge . . . Dismount."

Cuffe watched as she sprang down, drawing her sword in midair, ready to fight. The creature whipped the flail and wrapped her hand. The chains had small sharp edges on them, and he could see them tearing her hand as the creature jerked. The Inquisitor General clung to the sword. She was jerked away from her horse even as her left hand reached for her own flail in its holder behind her saddle.

"Maaahahaha! I think not!" The man shook his head and horns curled from his head.

"Foul beast! Begone, Black Goat of Scoone! You have no place in this world."

He jerked her to him, the flail still wrapped around her hand. The s
word fell from her hand as the chains dug in. He stepped around behind her, reached around her waist to pull her to him and rubbed his crotch against her buttocks. "Oh, yes, I think you will like the shape I've lived in for the last six hundred years. Now that it is under my control, I find that I like it too." He ran his hand up and down her front. "A holy virgin of Baal! What a prize." He threw his head back and yelled. "Can you hear me, Ba'al? Is there enough left of you to know that I am going to have your holy virgin?" He nuzzled into her neck—and his face seemed longer, more like a muzzle. "Mmmm. But I like my virgins with a bit fewer garments about them." He flipped the flail and managed to release the Inquisitor General's hand. He threw the flail to the side. The Inquisitor General  twisted out of his hooved grip, but the monster grabbed her tabard and jerked it as she leaped for her sword.

She twisted and ducked out of the garment, snatching the sword, pulling . . . she couldn't move it. It was as frozen as her army.

She leaped for her own flail, but the goat grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her back into his embrace. He ducked his head and twisted his horned head. The Inquisitor General's shirt tore as if cut with a knife. She wrenched free and ran, but he was on her in two strides, spinning her, chasing her around the horse. "Oh, look at the stallion! My brother! Big balls and a dick on hooves. What am I to think of a virgin who rides a stallion!"

Cuffe could only see her legs. She seemed to be trying to kick the monster, but he must have caught her foot, for he laughed and a boot was thrown out from behind the horse. She ran again, but again the
goat-man caught her. Her shirt was in shreds, and Cuffe cringed as he saw her pants stripped off, the second boot trapping one pant leg. The monster pulled the pants and dropped the Inquisitor General on her butt. She jerked her foot out of the boot and backed cautiously away, fists balled. She backed all the way to her troops, and spun to pull at the Holy Captain's sword. It was stuck and the goat-man laughed. His face was definitely a muzzle now, black-haired, but the mouth still had human lips.

He pulled his shirt off as he stalked the woman.

"I have a sword you can use," the monster jeered, thrusting with its hips.

She backed further, circling
. The
thing
followed her. Its chest was hairy and black. It kicked off its shoes and stood on hooves. Its legs bent wrongly. They backed out of sight. Cuffe could hear footsteps, running and then a thud.

"Ba'al, look at
my
holy flail! Oh,
stupid
man who wanted to be a god. Now you can't even take your own virgins—so I will do so for you."

"Remember this, Baal? Remember breasts and
this
!" Thud, crash, a masculine curse.  "I'm going to take
your
virgin, Baal, and then I'm going to take
your
church. It will be mine, it will serve me. Every holy virgin will be mine, and you can watch me take them."

Something bumped him, then the
Inquisitor General backed past him, the creature still following. It was naked, its penis a spurting dripping horror.

"Maaaahahaha!" it grabbed her, threw her down on her back.

The breath was forced from her in a painful bark, then as it stood over her, spraying, she gasped. “Ba'al! God above all!" She threw herself toward the flail on the ground, short of reaching it by a handspan. "I am yours and yours alone!" The flail  twitched, then flew to her grasp. She swung it in one smooth motion as the goat leaped at her. It wrapped his neck and head. She rolled and Cuffe could see the muscles cord along her arms and shoulders as she got both hands on the handle, a foot against the goat's shoulder, and jerked. He heard the snap as the monster's neck broke.

The hold on his body broke with that snap, and he fell backwards, staggering.

The Inquisitor General jerked the flail free. "Ba'al! I am yours!" She lowered the flail, placing the chained end on the ground, and placing the butt of the handle in her crotch, bore down. She flinched, but knelt there, blood dripping down her legs. "All praise the power of Baal."

"BA'AL! BA'AL! BA'AL! BA'AL!" Cuffe roared with the troops, then the Holy holy captain
was helping the Inquisitor General rise and Cuffe dashed forward, to snatch her tabard from the ground and place it over her shoulders. Then ran for her pants, her boots.

He knelt at her feet helping her dress. "I have never seen such strength, such bravery," he whispered.

Suddenly people erupted from the village, running up the hill. The captain called them to battle formation, but the first person coming was a young woman.

"You've saved us, you've saved us! You've killed the beast!" She threw herself at the ground and kissed the
Inquisitor General's  boots. Other women were right behind her, cheering and crying.

Of all the village men, only the butcher and the gnarled old
tavern owner survived. There wasn't a single child to be found.

"There's the farmers, I don't
think
the beast killed the farmers, it needed slaves to work the fields, and the sheep herder, he's simple. No one has dared go down to the mill to check on the millers." The old man wept. "Thank the Great God Ba'al you came! The beast spared all the pregnant women. It said when the babes were born it would eat them in front of their mothers, and then do to them what it did to all the rest. To their husbands and children as they watched and cried!" He burst into sobs and when he collected himself humbly asked for help getting kegs of ale up from the cellar. "For if ever an army deserved a feast, yours does."

Incredible amounts of ale were brought up and drunk, and lambs were slaughtered and roasted, and a steer for the officers, and the finest wine. "I've been saving it for years."

The army stayed for three days, then packed back up for their return to the city.

The
Inquisitor General mounted her horse, the stallion prancing and arching its neck, showing off as it never had before. The work horses out in the field galloped over to the nearest fence and neighed. The stallion was dropping its shaft, neighing at the mares and Cuffe shuddered. He'd never ride anything but a mare from now on. He never wanted to see another penis. Ever.

The
Inquisitor General wasn't very sympathetic either, and put her spurs to the horse's sides, leading the triumphal return to Karista. The Black Goat of Scoone was packed in salt in the lead wagon. Stuffed and mounted, it was destined to be the prime display in the Grand Temple's Museum.

***

"Let me get this straight." Answer was trying to sort out everything that had happened. "The mayor has turned
back
into a dragon and flown away. Seven of your goats are turning back into wizards as fast as they can find virgins to rape. And you bred the Inquisitor General's warhorse to every single mare in the valley. So we will be short of plow and wagon teams next year. Anything
else
?"

The Sheep Man was looking quite pleased with himself. Damn man, magicking the flail into the woman's hand and making sure the goat's neck was broken, before mentally calling the witches to send them out to
cheer
Ba'al.

It had worked like a charm. The man was going to be insufferable for
years
.

"Nooo, I think that about covers it." He waved a casual hand. “Don't forget those horses we got from the first Holy Army. We'll sell most of them and keep enough for the plowing."

"Ah. Good. Now. Who is going to take over the tax books? Harry?"

"He's asleep again. Maybe the Auld Wulf or Gisele?"

***

Lefty camped on the north shore of the lake. The captain had been pleased with his map of the Old Road sections through the mountains, and reacted appropriately to a hint that knowing where in the World the road went might be a good idea.

The ancient maps he'd seen had shown a city in the desert. The old maps he'd seen had called this area part of the Scoone Empire. The maps from before the Auralian war had this as inhospitable desert inhabited by savage nomads, possibly related to the Veronians.

The newest maps he'd seen had this all labeled as unknown territory.

So he was going to know it.

The very edges of the lake bore the only traces of animal life to be seen. A thin bands of reeds and sedges and grass failed to encroach on the hard black lava that surrounded the lake. But there were little frogs on the reeds, big frogs in the reeds, and insects of every kind.

Fish too. He'd stuffed himself on fresh flame broiled fish, and wondered how he was going to cook any more.