John woke to the sound of feet running down the hall outside his room. He was still very tired and wanted a drink of water. He stretched and Dingo Boy, seeing that he was awake, rolled to his feet. The dog’s tail started wagging in wide arcs, then a lazy circle, and a grin spread over his muzzle. He walked from the foot of the bed to the head of the bed and started licking John’s face. “Okay! Okay!” he said, “you love me?” The Heeler growled at him. It wasn’t a threatening growl but a grumbling one. “Yeah, you love me.” Dingo Boy growled some more and side-eyed him.
“John! Check your stats!”
“No good morning Nath-esh?” the Warrior asked.
“Fine. Good morning! Now check your stats!”
“Maybe after breakfast.”
“John!”
“In fact… I need to get dressed, use the bathroom, take Dingo Boy for a walk…”
“Oh come on John!”
The man laughed and asked, “Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Because it’s motivating for you,” said the gun cheerily.
“Yeah, it’s motivating to see that I have a long way to go before I make it to Heaven and see Lynn again.”
“It should be. I’m sure you’ve made progress toward seeing her. Besides, if the journey is long shouldn’t that motivate you to push harder?”
“That might motivate some people I guess,“ said John, “others just get discouraged by the size of a task if it’s too big.”
“Is that why you don’t want to check your stats? You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”
“Before I didn’t realize I could lose people doing this. It was all theory until it became practice.”
“You know you’ll see the little Cook again. You said it when…” the gun trailed off.
“When we buried her? Yeah I said it and I meant it. Mean it. I resent the screen, the whole system.”
“You resent a system that has a second chance built in? A second chance that brings you redemption and helps the people whose lives you touch during your journey?” The firearm sounded incredulous.
“Some help I am. I got her killed.”
“She got her killed.”
“Shut up…”
“No! Shame on you! Would you throw her sacrifice away? Do you think she didn’t know what was likely to happen when she attacked that brute? Quit being a… a… a CRAPWEASEL!” The Angelic Shard was furious.
Several moments of silence passed. “A crapweasel?” the man started to chuckle then laugh.
“Well… not everyone is good at profanity… You’re on a dangerous journey and people around you will get hurt. Some of them will get killed. You won’t be able to stop that but you will always be able to honor them and make any sacrifices count
“How do I make this one count, kill the whole tribe?” John sat up in bed.
“She was a good… well… goblin. Her tribe killed people and will kill more. They’ll push this town to ruin and it’s full of good people.” Dingo Boy barked his agreement and John realized that the firearm had been talking in both of their heads. “I can’t say she’d want you to kill her tribe. What I can say is that I’m sure she didn’t want to be a part of the evil things they did.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there.”
“I also think she’d stop that evil if she could.”
“Yeah,” said the man thoughtfully. “Okay. Last night you said Dingo Boy would be able to tell if any of the hobgoblins or goblins we come across are good. How does that work?”
“I’m not telling you until you check your stats.”
The man laughed out loud and said, “Fine. But I’m going to get dressed, use the bathroom, and eat first.”
“Uuuuuuugggggghhhh! After you see to your human necessities we come back here and you check your stats or I’m spending the rest of the day singing the song that never ends in your head!”
John walked into the common room and found fewer people than he expected. There were several children as well as some young teens, mostly girls, and half a dozen women. They must have been the survivors of the attack on the farms Gregory had told him about. Tannyah had said they were staying at the Inn. Mayor Huewen said the town would rebuild their farmhouses when the Kiningdom Burruh threat was handled.
He scanned the room for familiar faces and saw the Barmaid come into the room from the doorway at the far end of the bar. He guessed that must be the way to the kitchen. At the near end of the bar was the backdoor that led to the yard with the outhouses. He started for that door when the Innkeeper, following Tannyah out of the kitchen, saw him and then the merle Heeler with him and scowled. “Can’t have thet dog in heah!” he bristled.
The Barmaid spun around and said, “Oh Dad! Thet’s Dingo Boy right theah. He’s the politest dog ya’ll eveh meet.”
“Tanny, we can’t have a dog wanderin’ around the common room, beggin’ for food and disturbin’ customers or guests.”
“He ain’t gonna do thet. Should be nice to him. His owneh, John, agreed to lend a hand with our,” she lowered her voice to a whisper that the Warrior could clearly hear across the room, “goblin problem.” Several of the women in the common room heard her and turned to look at John.
“Thet man can’t do a thing ’bout them goblins. He’s half the size of the smallest town gahdsman we got!” the Innkeeper chuckled.
“Didn’t hear what happened last night? Thet fella killed three hobgoblins an’ almost a full dozen goblins jest outside the gate. Sebastian an’ the boys climbed the wall an’ watched six of them goblins go down, an’ the dog,” here she leaned close to her father and told him something in a quiet whisper. He pulled away in shock and started to grin. He leaned in again and asked her something in a whisper. She nodded and then started to pantomime. She shook her head then pulled an imaginary object from her mouth and threw it on the ground. Her father erupted in a belly laugh. When he recovered he turned John’s way.
“Awright, awright, the dog can stay. Jest make sure he minds his mannehs. No beggin’ at the tables an’ no pi… well…” he glanced around at the many women and children in the room, “see thet he visits the yahd regulahly.”
“Yes Sir,” said the Warrior, “I’m John by the way.”
“Call me Owen, John. Got wind of some stories concernin’ ya an’ thet dog. Maybe we’ll get ’round to talkin’ ‘bout them?”
“I’d like that Owen,” John said. He and Dingo Boy headed out the back door to attend to the morning’s more private business.
When the Warrior returned to the common room with his buddy he found six women all sitting at a table together. An extra chair had been pulled up so two of them could sit at one end. The spot at the other end of the table was open. When they saw him coming one of them stood and said, “John, is it? Gladith Peregin heah. Care to join us for some breakfast?”
“Okay,” the man replied hesitantly and sat in the open seat at the table. Dingo Boy sat next to him on the floor and watched a table of children nearby.
“Appreciate ya joinin’ us heah,” Gladith said as she sat.
“It’s my pleasure,” replied John. The expectant looks on their faces prompted him to add, “can I help you ladies with something?”
“We jest wanted to say thanks. Name’s Anna, by the way,” said a blond haired, blue eyed woman to Gladith’s left. “Set round the table theah’s Gudrun, Jennifer, Ruth, an’ Margaret.” Each woman smiled or waved in succession. All of them were wearing their hair up in practical hairstyles like buns or braids. They had on modest blouses of various colors and loose linen pants. They were the kind of clothes John’s mother wore when working in the yard with his father before he passed. The thought of his mother caused an empty pain in his chest. She was still grieving his father and now, he knew, she was grieving him too. That caused him to feel sadness, a kind of grief, for her.
“Know anythin’ ’bout what happened… thet night? Anybody say anythin’ to ya?” asked Jennifer. She was the youngest woman at the table. Her hair was a sandy brown that matched the light brown of her eyes. Her blouse was light pink with lacing in the front. The Warrior guessed she was in her early thirties but it could have been her late twenties. All of these women worked outside in the sun and weather judging by their shared complexion.
“That night?” asked John. He wondered if she meant last night when he fought the goblins at the gate.
The oldest woman at the table, Ruth, who had grey hair, hazel eyes, and a light blue blouse with frills at the neck glanced around at the children and teens in the room and said in a low voice, “The night we lost the fahms.”
“Oh,” said John, “yes I heard. I’m so sorry for all you’ve lost.” He glanced around at them and saw pain and grief he’d missed before. “Gregory told me about that last night.”
“I’m glad it was him who told ya, he knows…” Her words failed her and Gudrun reached across the table and squeezed her hand. They held hands for a moment then let go.
Margaret, a woman with black curly hair that reminded John of Gregory’s, cleared her throat. Her piercing grey eyes were hard. She leaned forward and said, “Ayuh, we heahd ya’re off to thet place to kill them monstehs.” A few of the children in the room looked at John. Some of their faces showed fear, some hope, and some the same hardness that was in this woman’s eyes. Dingo Boy trotted into the middle of the room, laid down, and started wiggling on the floor to scratch his back. The younger children descended on him scratching and petting and cooing. John could hear the growls of pleasure and hoped the Heeler’s ‘talking’ didn’t frighten any of them.
“I’m going back there,” said John, “but…”
“Ya been theah?” asked Gudrun, placing an open hand over her chest in shock. Her brown eyes were wide. A lock of brown hair that had escaped the bun on her head fell into her face and she brushed it away. “But them big rats an’ worse things are in thet place! How’d ya ever come out in one piece?”
“I had help,” he said but he didn’t elaborate. The women at the table heard the sadness in his voice. The hardness in Margaret’s eyes softened.
“Made it out alive an’ ya’re willin’ to go back theah?” asked Gudrun fretting with the cuffs and hem of her cream colored top unconsciously. “What makes ya willin’ do such a thing for strangehs, anyhow?”
“It’s the right thing to do,” he said.
“Well, by Gorry, John, ya’re a wondeh, ayuh.” said Ruth.
“Gorry?”
“Well, naturally,” Ruth said. “ya’re a blessin’ come from Gorry, thet’s plain as day.”
“Breakfast’s ready, heah ya go,” said Tannyah who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She placed plates of scrambled eggs, cheese, pickled vegetables, and sliced bread on the table as well as a jar of jam. Margaret immediately grabbed the empty plate in front of John and started to fill it with food. The Barmaid left and returned a few moments later with small wooden cups and a kettle of strong tea. She also had a plate of scraps that John guessed was uneaten food recovered from customer’s plates. She put it on the floor near his chair and Dingo Boy came over to eat it. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna go to waste with him ’round,” she said, nodding at the dog who looked up at her and wagged his tail.
“Don’t feed him in the common room!” called Owen from behind the bar. The merle Heeler spared him a glance and a snort before returning to his plate.
“Ayuh, bettah if I feed the dog in the kitchen” said Tannyah with her green eyes laughing. “Nobody cares, Dad.” No one did. Dingo Boy finished his plate and, later, was called over to finish the plates of several children and clean a few that had nothing but crumbs to lick at. Owen watched all of this with a frown on his face but didn’t make a fuss about it.
It was a good morning for the Heeler. The food was tasty, not as tasty as the food John cooked but still tasty. There were a lot of plates to clean and children to pet him. He would enjoy their time here, for a while at least. He could feel the beacon off to the northeast and he wanted to follow it but he knew that would have to come in its time.
All the plates were cleaned and Tannyah had collected them and taken them to the kitchen to be washed. Dingo Boy glanced over at the bar and saw Owen Jacobs watching him like a hawk. He would have to do something about the Innkeeper. He walked over to the bar and leapt onto a stool where he sat like he was a customer. The move would have been impossible without his Acrobat skill. Owen looked at him with a considering eye.
“Well, thet was a dandy. Jump like thet, I’da thought it was a cat doin’ it not a dog.” he said to the Heeler. What an insult! Swallowing his pride, Dingo Boy rummaged in his pouch for a moment then produced his red ball. He turned back to the Innkeeper and nodded at him with the toy. “Ya’re a smart one, aren’t ya?” In response he lightly tossed the ball onto the bar with a slight flick of his head so it rolled toward the man. “Hey! Ya’ll get drool all oveh my bah!”
Dingo Boy’s use of the mind-leash was subtle. He connected to Owen with a very light touch and sent no words or images, just a subtle desire to throw the ball which he increased until the man reached out and picked up the toy. He tossed it toward a corner then looked surprised he’d done it. Dingo Boy put the icing on the cake. He backflipped off of the stool, landed lightly, and pranced over to get the ball. Several people in the common room gasped and more than a few children laughed. Owen actually clapped several times. When he trotted behind the bar with the ball and dropped it at the Innkeeper’s feet he got a pat on the head and another throw of the ball.
The game of fetch went on for almost an hour and involved several children and a few of the teens. Every so often Owen himself would call the Heeler to him so he could have his turn. It ended when Nath-esh said to both John and the dog, “Okay, okay, it’s time to go back to our room and take care of business!”
John and Dingo Boy left the common room to groans of disappointment, even Owen Jacobs looked a little sad to see the dog leaving. Once they were back in their room John retrieved the silver bowl from the Cattle Dog’s pouch and put it down so he could have a drink. Tannyah had given him a bowl of water but John had a very strong feeling the dog preferred the water from the mystical bowl.
The Warrior sat on the bed, focused, and said, “Status”. The translucent blue screen appeared and he saw immediately that his level was now 12. He’d hoped it would be higher than that, so many chimes had sounded since he’d left the grey place and started his journey. He scanned through the data. None of the stats in the group labeled ‘Incarnate Stats’ had the green aura he’d seen when his Prudence stat had increased before. That didn’t surprise him but he wondered if his incarnate stats could be increased. He saw the green aura on all four stats in the group labeled ‘Cardinal Stats’, Prudence was now 35/100, Justice was 30/100, Fortitude was 27/100, and Temperance was 33/100. All of the ‘Theological Stats’ also had the green aura so they’d all been increased as well. He read through them and saw that Faith was now 13/100, Hope was 12/100, and Charity was 12/100. He remembered what Nathanael had said about his level being tied to his theological stats. It was set to the lowest of their values. At the bottom of the screen he noticed a message that said, ‘1 stat point unused’. That hadn’t been there before had it?
“You’ve had some growth!” said Nath-esh in a congratulatory tone.
“Yeah,” said John distractedly, “what’s this message about an unused stat point?”
“Ohhhh! You got a stat point to spend?”
‘It looks like it. How did I get it?”
“Didn’t you ask Nathanael anything about your stats?”
“Well, we got a little off topic when he was showing me the status screen… wait… you were there. Why don’t you know what we talked about?”
“I must have been less than an hour old at that point! I was busy exploring my anchor!”
“So this was something Nathanael should have told me about?” John asked.
“Well… yes and no. This is just some cheese that slid off the cracker.”
“Okay, fine, what about this unused stat point?”
“You earned it! When you live out the cardinal virtues you raise the values in the cardinal stats section of your status screen. Every time one of their values reaches a multiple of ten you get a stat point to spend.” The revolver was in teacher mode now.
“I get a stat point for living out those particular virtues? Why are they so important?”
“By embodying them you become more likely to increase your theological stats. You could say that you become a better person the higher they get.”
“A better person?” asked John.
“Yep. As you increase them you become a better judge of situations by using wisdom as well as more fair in how you resolve problems. You also become braver and able to exercise restraint when tested by temptation in its many forms.” The gun was obviously enjoying his lecture.
“Alright, I see how that could make for a better person. How does that help increase my theological stats?”
“Faith is a measure of your trust in God and his promises. Hope is your desire to receive God’s promises, and Charity is the measure of your love for God and, through that love, your ability to love His children. The perfection of the cardinal virtues provides the strength of character needed to perfect the theological virtues,” lectured the revolver.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” John said flatly.
“Maybe. For now.” said the Angelic Shard, “Someday you’ll grow up and see I’m right.”
“Very funny.”
“I know, I’m hilarious,” snarked the gun.
“So… this stat point that needs spending. Can I use it to get closer to Heaven? Increase my theological stats to increase my level?”
“Sorry but no. As I mentioned, you get a stat point to spend every time you increase one of your cardinal stats to a multiple of ten. Looking at your status screen you got this one when you increased your Justice stat to 30/100. You can only use stat points to increase one of your incarnate stats.”
“I was just wondering if I could increase those. You mean I can use the point to get stronger, faster, smarter, and the like?”
“Yep. The journey of the Purgated is full of sticks, this is one of the carrots. Balance, Creation is full of balance.” The gun mused.
John was silent for a moment as he did some figuring on his fingers. Then he said, “If I max out my cardinal virtue stats I can max out my incarnate stats!”
“Yep. Lucky you. Some of the Purgated have too great of a gap between their cardinal stats and their incarnate stats to do that. It’s not a requirement. Plenty of people reach Heaven without doing it.”
“I could be the perfect man.” The Warrior said wistfully. Clearly not listening to Nath-esh. “How do I spend this point?”
“You focus on the stat you want to increase and say…”
“Increase?” John guessed.
“Bingo. How are you going to spend the point?”
“I don’t know. I hate that my Strength stat is only 4/10. Can I increase that by working out?”
“Nope,” said the gun, “the upside of being one of the Purgated is that you heal really, really fast and you can eat anything without getting fat. The downside is that working out won’t improve your body and neither will dieting. It’s all linked. Your physical form is constantly restored to reflect the values of your incarnate stats. That’s how your rapid healing works.”
“That’s kind of great. Stronger, faster, smarter, and more by increasing your cardinal virtue stats. Which tends to lead you to increase your theological virtue stats… I think I’m beginning to see the wisdom of this system. Why isn’t life like this?” the man asked the mystical being inhabiting his firearm.
“Carrots and sticks, John, carrots and sticks.”
“I’d like to raise my Strength stat but if I’d been faster when the hobgoblins came into that room… Increase,” John said. A green aura lit up around his Speed stat and it raised from 5/10 to 6/10. “Dismiss,” he said and the status screen vanished.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t have raised your Charisma?”
Before John could answer the gun a hurried knock came at his door. “John?” Tannyah’s voice was trembling. “Runneh brought a message jest now. Hobgoblins outside the gate, John. They want ya out theah. They got ‘hold of Sebastian an’ the boys, an’ they’re hurt somethin’ awful. The hobs’ll kill them if ya don’t come right away.”
When John ran into the common room he saw that it was empty save for the Innkeeper behind the bar, a very worried Tannyah, and a thin blonde teenager in long shorts and a billowy red shirt. The Runner saw John and Dingo Boy and cocked his head toward the door which caused his short golden hair to form a temporary halo around his head. He made a beckoning gesture as he turned and ran for the door. “Name’s Aidan Herm,” he said as they reached the cobblestone street, “Betteh keep up!”
John ran as fast as he could, his heart was thundering in his chest. In the daylight he saw Knollburah in greater detail than he had the night before. It was a lovely town. The cobblestone streets, cobblestone fences, backyard gardens, and strange Americana gave it tourist trap levels of quaintness. It wasn’t the right time to appreciate the aesthetics of the town but he couldn’t help it. They virtually assailed him. He glanced down at the Heeler and saw a picture of pure joy running next to him. “You crapweasel! You’re loving this aren’t you?” he puffed at the dog. ‘Crapweasel’? Where did he get that?
“RUN JOHN!” the young Runner shouted. The urgency in his voice spurred the Warrior on to greater speed. As they ran he realized Aidan was lightly jogging while he was running at full speed. A stitch formed in his side but he pushed through it. He hadn’t run like this since the Army and that was more than a few years behind him.
They rounded a corner and, in the distance, John saw the gates he’d come through the night before. The Runner leaned into a sprint and almost doubled his speed. Dingo Boy looked up at his buddy, gave a laughing grin, and raced ahead as well. John was astonished to see that the dog was barely able to gain on the lanky youth.
The man reached the gates panting more than the dog. He caught his breath faster than he would have in the past and wondered if it was his accelerated healing or the stat increase to Speed that was responsible for it.
“He’s heah now! The man’s heah!” yelled the guard at the top of the wall. It was a different guard than the one who was at that post the night before.
A guard with long blonde hair and burly arms standing near the gate asked, “Figuhe we open the gates with them hobgoblins out theah?”
John spotted a ladder leading to the top of the wall and started up it. He glanced at the blonde man and said, “Don’t open them gates until this is over.” It was the line of an action hero. He wished he felt like one. He was still a little winded from the run and climbing the ladder reminded him that his Strength stat was only 4/10.
“By Gorry, would ya look at thet theah!” said a guard with long dark hair. He was pointing at the ladder below John. He looked back and saw Dingo Boy climbing the ladder after him.
When he reached the top he found a platform below the ridge of the wall. There was enough room for six people to stand together if they weren’t concerned about personal space. There was no safety rail, their local OSHA rep would be aghast. Looking over the parapet he saw Sebastian, Gregory, and Timmon kneeling on the ground. Behind them were half a dozen hobgoblins wearing cloaks to protect them from the sun. The hunting part was in bad shape. They’d been beaten severely and Timmon had a stab wound in his side. Blood was pooling under the young man and he looked pale.
The creatures on the ground spotted John and the one behind the Hunter called up to him, “King say you come. You hurt King. Cook dead. Your fault. He want eat you!”
Rage boiled up in the Warrior, “Let them go!” he commanded.
In response the hobgoblin grabbed the Hunter by the hair and pulled his head back. He drew a wicked looking knife and, as he moved it toward Sebastian’s exposed throat, John jumped from the top of the wall.
He wasn’t sure if he shouted the profane word or if it came from the guard behind him. As he began the fifteen foot drop he drew Nath-esh and heard the chime of a stat increase ring out. The sensation of falling and vertigo rushed over him. The hobgoblin’s knife was less than an inch away from the Hunter’s throat when the hole appeared in his green forehead and he jerked backward. The crash of the gunshot rushed across the countryside. A second hobgoblin fell, this one behind Timmon, as the Warrior hit the ground. The loud ‘boom’ of the shot punctuated his landing. His ankles did not snap like twigs. He was surprised and delighted by that. They didn’t even hurt as much as he had expected they would. He was still crouching from triumphant, heroic descent when the Cattle Dog, who had leapt after him, crashed into his back.
“John!” yelled his revolver as he flew out of the man’s hand.
“Nash!” John yelled and dove for the firearm. A massive clawed green foot stomped on the Warrior’s hand and he cried out. The hobgoblin, still grinding John’s hand into the ground, bent down and picked up the revolver. With a sly smile he straightened up, pointed it at the man sprawled on the ground in front of him, and shook it meaningfully. Nothing happened. He shook it again with the same result. He banged it with his off hand while pointing it at John’s head and still nothing happened. He turned it around and looked into the barrel and a hole appeared in his face and the gun flew out of his hand. The report echoed off of the walls of Knollburah.
“Quick John, get me!” As soon as the weight was removed from his hand the Warrior was moving, scrambling for the gun. He saw the other three hobgoblins coming for him. Two drew swords and one held a long knife. When John reached Nath-esh and tried to pick him up he realized how badly damaged his hand was. Two fingers were bent the wrong direction, his thumb wouldn’t do as it was ordered, and a bone in the back of his hand was poking out of the skin. Blood dripped from the mangled mess. Adrenaline must have masked most of the pain. The sight of the wound made him feel sick. He swallowed hard, pushed past it, and grabbed the gun with his left hand. On instinct he rolled and a sword struck the ground where he had been.
“Die!” roared the hobgoblin as he brought it back up for another blow. When the Warrior finished his roll he raised his gun and shot the hobgoblin through the chest. The gunshot rang out and was followed in quick succession by two more. The last two creatures fell with holes in their heads. The revolver’s cylinder glowed brightly as Nath-esh reloaded all of the chambers at once.
“Timmon! No ya don’t, Timmon! Hold on theah!” Gregory’s voice was desperate. John looked over from where he crouched on the ground and saw the muscular young man sprawled on his back. His face was a ghostly white and his lips were turning blue.
“John, you’ve got to help him!” Nath-esh said.
“Nash, there’s nothing I can do. I have basic CPR but nothing that will help here.”
“You are one of the Purgated! You’re a Warrior but you can be a Healer too! Go to him and I’ll tell you what to do.”
John rose to his feet. He glanced at his right hand and saw that the bone was no longer poking through the skin but blood still seeped from the torn flesh. The pain he had in his ankles was gone. He reached the figure laying on the ground, bleeding, and knelt next to him. “Okay Nash, what now?”
“Pray John.”
“What?!?! I thought you were going to talk me through some procedure. Give me some way to heal him.”
“I just did you crapweasel!”
“Oh,” said the man dully, “that’s where I heard that before.” He looked at the pale face laying in front of him. “I can’t do this.”
“You can!” The revolver’s voice sounded uncannily like Nathanael’s. “You ARE worthy.”
“Please help him,” the Tracker grabbed John’s arm, “please.” The Warrior nodded at him and drew a shaky breath. He laid his hands on Timmon’s chest.
“Lord, I am not worthy,” John said, “not in my eyes at least. Maybe you see something I can’t. I know you healed through your apostles and I’m sure through plenty of other people too. I’m not what any of them were but I guess I don’t need to be.” Was he praying? This didn’t feel like a prayer. He didn’t know many. Certainly none that fit this situation. He closed his eyes and simply said, “Oh Lord, make me the instrument of your will. Please heal him.” He’d never meant anything so much in his life. Three chimes rang out overlapping each other, their beauty was startling. John felt warmth suffuse him and flow out though his hands. He looked down into Timmon’s pale face and watched as it filled with color, a flush coming to his cheeks. There was no sign of the beating he’d taken. All of the wounds were gone.
“By Gorry!” breathed the Hunter.
“By God,” John said.
“Same thing,” said Nath-esh.
Dingo Boy stood over the Packer licking his face as the young man sputtered and tried to push the dog away. John heard a couple of familiar voices through the gates behind him. “Them hobgoblins are dead, Raif. We gettin’ them boys in the gates now?” asked Tannyah.
“Grab thet crank theah, Tanny. We’ll do it ourselves!” said Joy.
“The Mayah’s gotta give his okay!” came the voice of a guard.
“He’ll be awright with it if he wants his suppah tonight or any otheh night” proclaimed the Barmaid. “Thet goes f’ ya too, same as him!”
“Raif, figuhe we ought t’ get them boys inside?” asked another guard.
“Griffon, she don’t mean it.” said the first guard.
“Ayuh, I mean it sure as watah’s wet an’ air’s dry!”
The two guards had a muffled argument then the ‘thunk’ sound of the cranks being put in place came from each gate, almost in unison.
“Gonna be awright to walk, cousin?” Sebastian asked Timmon.
“I’m awright, I feel jest fine,” said the Packer.
“Ya ain’t fine. Ya died Tim! Ain’t no way ya’re fine!”
“Ain’t no ain’t Greg, it’s jest no way ya’re fine,” Timmon corrected.
“I ain’t Tim. Them hobs beat us bad, real bad. Ya got it the worst, one took a knife to ya!”
“Ayuh, I figuhed one did but take a look,” Timmon pulled his bloody shirt up and there was no stab wound to be seen. It was completely gone.
“By Gorry,” breathed the Tracker.
“I see yar hand’s lookin’ a good deal betteh, John,” said Sebastian. John looked at it and saw that his fingers were aligned and his skin was unblemished. He flexed his fingers and found that it was still painful to do so. “Yar dog heals awfully quick too, don’t he?”
“It’s a long story,” said the Warrior, “and I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Some kinda monsteh, John? A greateh one than them ya killed heah today an’ before thet?” Sebastian asked.
John met the young man’s eyes and said, “I’m no monster, great or small.”
“Ayuh, I can believe thet awright, but I don’t figuhe ya’re any kind of ordinary fella eitheh.”
Before John could respond the gates swung open and a couple of dozen goblins flooded from the woods on each side of the road. They were dressed in cloaks as the hobgoblins had been and they were carrying knives and hatchets.
Dingo Boy smelled the goblins when the wind shifted. He stopped harassing Timmon and started reaching out with his mind-leash. There were a lot of the creatures and they were readying an attack. Their goal was to destroy the mechanisms used to lock and unlock the gates. When they started to swing open the goblins broke cover, running from the woods. He reached out to all of the non-goblin minds around him. More than a dozen mind-leashes all at once. He made them solid, poured through them an image of the attacking goblins and with it the knowledge that the goblins were intent upon damaging the gate locks. His vision dimmed for a moment and the connections all failed. The strain was intense. He shook it off. With a snarl he ran at the nearest enemy, leapt onto his chest, and started savaging his throat. He heard Nath-esh start roaring and his ears rang. He looked up to see goblin after goblin fall. Timmon grabbed one of the diminutive green creatures by the foot and swung him up then down into the ground with a sickening ‘thump’.
Dingo Boy heard a few clicks and John yelled, “Nash!”
The goblin pinned under the Cattle Dog stopped struggling and he looked around for his next opponent. Timmon had his victim by both feet and was using him as a blunt instrument of destruction. Blood flew from the corpse’s mouth as the Packer knocked several other goblins to the ground with it. Sebastian and Gregory, injured and moving like it, smashed the downed creatures on their heads with large rocks. A goblin staggered and fell with an arrow in his chest and Dingo Boy saw the guard atop the wall drawing his bow with another arrow nocked. Two guards had stepped through the gates with swords drawn. Each one took up a position in front of one of the gate mechanisms intent upon defending it.
“Bastian!” cried a female voice and the Heeler turned to see Tannyah and Joy with large metal gate cranks in hand running out to help the hunting party. One of the goblins leapt in front of them and the young women started beating him mercilessly with their improvised weapons. Another goblin was coming at them from their blind side and the dog tackled him, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and bit with all the force he had. There was a ‘crunch’ sound and his prey went limp, he shook the body for good measure. Nath-esh started roaring again, the shots didn’t come as fast as the first six had.
“Back!” yelled the dark haired guard as he defended his gate from two hatchet wielding goblins. He stepped forward and took them both in the neck with his weapon in a single swing. One of their heads toppled to the ground. The other goblin fell backward and clutched at a gaping wound in his throat.
“Get in the gates!” Yelled the guard from atop the wall as he shot an arrow into the last goblin remaining on his feet.
Tannyah helped Sebastian limp through the gate and handed her bloody crank to the guard she passed. “Awright, my love?” she asked.
“Love?” asked the young man with his arm around her shoulder. “Been stealin’ glances back an’ forth long enough then, time we sayin’ somethin’?”
“Ayuh, bout time,” she said, her cheeks flushed.
“I almost lost ya today, ya damn fool man” Joy said to the muscular Packer walking next to her as she passed her own bloody crank to a guard. “Who do ya figuhe’s mendin’ thet hole in your shirt, huh? Ayuh, thet’s my job now, I guess.”
“Weren’t it always? ” asked Timmon, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“He died, Joy. Go easy on the poor fella. Dead for sure, but he ain’t no corpse now.” Gregory said.
“He ain’t a corpse now, Greg!” said both Timmon and Joy at the same time.
“Ayuh, thet’s jest what I said!” the indignant Tracker replied.
John walked along behind the group of twenty somethings, amazed at their strength and resilience. They lived hard lives but didn’t focus on how hard life was. They focused on living the life they had. “He wasn’t dead, was he?” John asked the Angelic Shard.
“He was only mostly dead,” returned the revolver.
“And I healed him?”
“The Almighty healed him through you.” corrected the gun.
“Can I do the same for them?” John asked, watching the Hunter limp along with Tannyah’s help.
“You can try. Quite frankly you don’t pray enough. Praying over them couldn’t hurt, it’d be good practice. Just remember you’re a Warrior not a Healer.”
The Warrior pictured dramatically laying hands on the two young men and then nothing happening. That would be a little embarrassing. It was a good thing the healing worked on Timmon for more than the obvious reason. “How did you know it would work for Timmon?”
“Angelic intuition,” said the revolver.
“It was a miracle. That’s a pretty uncommon thing where I come from.”
“You’d be surprised. Ever hear of Fatima, Lourdes, Gharabandal, or Medjugorje? There’s plenty more too.”
“So miracles are actually common on Earth?” John asked, mystified.
“Maybe not common… In life it takes an awful lot of faith to channel as much of God’s power as you did today but some folks have it.”
“So I have more faith now? Did my stat jump up?” John asked hopefully.
“Nope. Channeling God’s power works differently for the Purgated. You have proof to supplement your faith.”
“I hadn’t considered that.” The man was quiet for a moment then asked, “What about Gorry? Is that their version of the Almighty?”
“Not their version, it is the Almighty.”
“What about the other two parts of God and what part is Gorry? The Father or the Son or the Holy Spirit?”
“Gorry is the three parts of God as you know them perceived and acting as a single entity in this world.”
That was a lot to digest. John remembered Nathanael saying something about Creation having several different theological systems. He thought that pertained to Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. He hadn’t considered that every world would have a different relationship with God.
“Think them otheh huntin’ parties are gonna be safe?” asked Joy. The question broke the Warrior out of his contemplation and he realized they were at the steps of the Wolf’s Head Inn.
They were sitting at the same table in the common room that they’d occupied the night before. John was at the end of it again but this time Sebastian was to his left and Gregory was to his right. Tannyah was next to Sebastian and Timmon sat at the other end of the table. Joy was next to Gregory but her chair was scooted so far down she was actually next to the Packer.
“Do you mind if we try something?” John asked the Hunter and the Tracker, looking first at one then at the other.
“Jest as long as it don’t call for haulin’ nothin’ heavy or bouncin’ about,” said Gregory.
“No, Gregory, you won’t have to do any of that. No worries.”
“Afteh thet mess today, call me Greg. Didn’t need to come out theah. Lots of men wouldn’t have.”
“Call me Tim, ayuh. Thanks for the help. It was really good of ya.” said Timmon. Joy, sitting next to him, nodded enthusiastically.
“Ayuh, time’s come ya call me Bastian, John.”
“Thank you, all of you, I appreciate that very much. Do me a favor and put your hands here on the table.” Both men did and the Warrior placed his hands over theirs and closed his eyes. “Dear Lord, today you worked through me to heal Tim. Please extend your grace to these two men and make them whole once more.” A stat raise chime sounded and when he opened his eyes he found them staring at him, still injured. He wondered what the chime was for.
“Tried to do for us what ya did for Tim theah?” asked Gregory.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look like it worked though.”
“Them words ya spoke, what were they?” asked Sebastian, “Ya were prayin’ awright, but ya didn’t bring Gorry inta it. Ya said ‘Lohd’ or somethin’ like thet.”
“Lord. It’s what I call Gorry, it’s the name my people call him. One of His names at least.” The Warrior said.
“Wheah’d ya come from, John? Wheah are yar people?” asked Joy. The sincerity of the direct question pinned John down.
Dingo Boy wasn’t sure why Joy’s questions caused John to feel anxiety but he knew what the ‘Good Boy Contract’ required. He jumped up from the floor where he’d been laying and trotted to the backdoor whining urgently as he went. John said, “Sorry, I need to take him out.” to Joy and followed. Once outside the dog started marking things at his leisure. John followed him and said, “Thanks.”
The Heeler reached out to John with the mind-leash, made it very solid, and said, “You’re welcome.”
John stopped in his tracks and shook his head. “Did you just think at me? Talk in my head like Nath-esh does?”
“Yes.” said the dog.
“How?” asked the man. The Cattle Dog just snorted and went back to expanding his territory. He claimed the cobblestone wall to the left of the inn’s backdoor and the vegetable garden beyond it in accordance with the rules of the ‘Good Boy Contract’.
“It’s his changed nature,” Nath-esh said in his mind. “You know how you speak and understand any language?”
“Yeah, but I’m not talking in people’s heads.”
“You aren’t but, when you talk to people there is a connection formed between your mind and theirs. That connection is how you understand their language. Dingo Boy forms the same kind of connection but he uses it in a different way. I think he has more control over it.”
John was less surprised than he felt he should be. Nathanael had said something about this but he hadn’t elaborated. “What do you mean by ‘a different way’,” asked John.
“He sends images sometimes and feelings too.”
“You said he could tell if the hobgoblins and goblins were good or evil. Is this how that works?”
“Yep. He can do an awful lot with his mind-leash,” the revolver said proudly.
“Mind-leash? Is that what you call it?”
“That’s what he calls it,” said Nath-esh.
John had been experiencing moments of intuition, had that been Dingo Boy all along?