Squib Ep.37 - Pup Dream
(Start at the beginning here)
The Dryad lead them deeper into the glade, Squib remembering with some familiarity the sights and sounds of a path he’d traveled only once before. The place was magical, he knew, protected by the power and authority of the Ancient One who’d forever dwelled there. It wasn't that he hadn't tried to explore it’s depths, rather that every attempt had seen him lost, turned around, expelled from the area after a dizzying haze that he couldn't hope to make sense of. It was nothing like the surrounding swamp that in theory anyone could navigate. So it wasn't for a lack of skill, nor wanting that he’d failed. Rather he’d learned that a will stronger than his had been set against him, and that the very nature of the swamp would conspire against him at its behest.
It wasn't until he was invited, drawn, summoned, by both the will of the Dryad and that of his own; the base needs sprung from nature itself, that he’d been permitted to make his way into the depths of the Glade. There he’d met the Dryad for the first time, yet in many ways felt he’d known her his whole life. Like an old extended family member who spoke to him kindly, and fondly, with much love, as if she’d known him before he could remember. Though she also expected something of him, a demand that he’d stand up straight, to carry on a legacy, to do his part to make her proud. This had been a strange experience for the Goblin who’s youngest years had been mired in the garish and chaotic ways of his Goblin kin. Who’s time since then had been spent as a vagrant, wandering in loneliness, callus from the path of utter survival, busy in the fancy of nothing but his own personal whim.
Returning to this glade after so many seasons of journey, with the purple powder he’d been asked to retrieve now tight in his hand, to tie together the loose threads into one conclusive knot, only now could he taste the fruits of his success. Now all he wished was to savour it.
The narrow earthen path, flanked by moss, surrounded by trees gave way to a peaceful clearing. At its center a shallow pool, crystal clear, illuminated by a natural glow provided by energy radiating off the local plant life. Around the pool, as near to symmetrical as was possible, grew a ring of trees. They looked ancient and were evenly placed, some with paths passing between them to the north, east, south, and west. Living among them were all manner of small creatures, mammals, insects, not to mention the odd fairy or two. The latter, upon seeing the outsiders coming, responded accordingly by taking flight into nearby foliage. The sense here was quaint, timeless with both life and age, stuffy in its closeness, and peaceful with the exception of the goblin and his human companion.
The Dryad stepped aside, “Welcome to my home.”
Despite the placidity, Squib felt tense but did his best to express his respect all the same. He nodded, then made his way toward the pool leaving Bandana to marvel at their surroundings.
“Business now.” Squib proclaimed, the volume of his voice lowered despite his intent. He kneeled at the water's edge, looking to the Dryad expectantly in his haste for her to join him. She walked to his side, knelt beside him, drew forth the pouch and opened it carefully. The purple powder within sparkled off the incandescent light but otherwise seemed as lifeless as ever. The Dryad took a moment to properly check the amount, sifting her slender wood-like fingers through it just to be sure, and came away content
“Here, cup your hands,” she drew a handful and poured the sifting dust into Squibs comparatively childlike hands.
“What is it for?” Bandana asked, her attention now focused as she watched the process play out.
“It is a regent, a rare material with unique magical properties. It can be used for many things, but for Squib, it is a means with which to heighten the power of the pool.” Carefully the Dryad dusted her hands so that every possible grain made its way into the collected pile in Squib’s hands.
“What does the pool do?” Bandana asked, now staring at the pool.
“It also has many uses, I formed it when I came here centuries ago to serve my purposes. One such purpose is a keen sight, to keep one eye on the width and breadth of my swamp.”
“Images in the water? Like the Witch and her bowl, a scrying eye.”
The Dryad nodded. “Yes. I know of whom you speak and she possess such power. We’re not so dissimilar, her and I. She is something akin to a daughter to me, a chosen steward of the swamp.”
“She showed us what was coming, something evil buried beneath the earth, before the sky turned green and the dead rose from the swamp. She wanted me to seek you. Why am I here?” Bandana asked.
“Patience!” Squib barked, the powder still cupped carefully in his hands. “My time, me first, maps and medallions can wait.” He might have said more, acted out more, but here on the cusp of his long journey, steadied by the precurious nature of the powder in his hands, before the pool of vision, he was bound to a concern for care. “Now what?” He asked.
“Scatter it. Let it begin.”
An impulse of caution caught Squib, the instinct of survival, something in the proclamation from the Dryade causing hesitation. For a moment he considered the danger of the unknown, remembered the harrowing experience of the Witch and her dish. Yet there was rarely any gain without its risk, and what risk wasn’t worth taking for this end? Squib drew back his hands and scattered the powder in a wide arc. It sparkled as it fell, settled on the surface of the water; came to rest and slowly began to saturate; descended to the pools depths. Around the treetops a number of small fay creatures shifted to positions overhead as all interest was drawn toward the center of the pool. Moments of silence passed where only the breath of those in attendance could be heard, and as time dragged on it became more apparent that nothing was happening.
Squib frowned. This was hardly what he had come to expect, though having never done this before he was not sure of his expectations either. He looked to the Dryad.
“Look deep.” She said in a suggestive tone, pointing vaguely to the center of the pool. “What you are searching for is there, I promise you.”
Squib returned his gaze, a mite more skeptical but not beyond trying.
“What is he looking for?” Bandana asked.
“Has he not said? Hmm, I am not surprised. With the powder at work the pool will offer him a reflection of his purpose, the genesis of his desire. Why not look for yourself? See what you might gleam.” The Dryad stretched out her arm and pointed toward the depth of the pool once more.
Squib tried to ignore the conversation and focus on the task at hand. While hard to block out the irritation he soon forgot when an image began to form on the water's surface. He pricked up his ears, his eyes drawing wide, and the sensation of awe and wonder gripped him.
He found familiarity in the image, more memory than discovery as a scene from an all too familiar past played out before him. The raid on his village, the gray goblin horde washing into his tribes hovels, bringing fire and knives as they had through years of skirmishes, after generations of war. He was only young at the time and even seeing it now, from the unfamiliar visages the pool offered, such as a birds eye view, there was no faulting his imagination for creating more numbers of their enemy than were true. Bloody brutal battle ensued. Stabbings and chaos, the hunger of flames consuming everything it touched, and amidst it all one lucky pup of a goblin escaping through a secret way. He wasnt the only one however as the pools image did not remain on Squib. It showed a second goblin, a young female pup, experiencing a similar fate.
Squibs ears shot higher, his eyes darting to keep track of the image, a response not so dissimilar to the instinctual reaction he expressed when seeing a darting rabbit.
As the goblin pups fled into the swamp to be embraced by darkness, and were shrouded in the quiet of which they shared, the image faded leaving Squib eager for more.
New images formed. He watched as a series of unrelated events from his life faded in and out, and weaved between them the same of the unknown female, the two strangely similar to one another. Two wayward Goblins, lost and without a tribe, living out their days through harsh survival, wandering from one place to the next as they learned how to get by. Their paths crossing in places but never in time, a baffling set of circumstances that could be construed as ill fated, or pre-ordained depending on where your thinking lay.
Another familiar scene emerged of the sunken temple, this time with a series of known and unknown events. Squib recognised his own arrival, him sneaking past Bandana’s sisters, and descending into the depths of the ruin. What surprised him was seeing the events leading up to his arrival, of Anna and her Sisters in the temple, the scuffle with the boggars, including Anna’s descent into darkness. He recalled, with some annoyance, the journey within including his first meeting with Bandana. He relived the relief he felt when stealing her away from that place intact, intent to take her to the Witch. What he wasn't expecting to see were Anna’s two sisters catching sight of their escape, albeit from a distance, and the small but fruitless pursuit that followed, concluding with their anger and dismay.
“My sisters!” Bandana blurted, her already keen interest heightened. She dropped to her hands and knees to get as close a look at the pool as she could.
The image followed their story after that. The search through the swamp continued but, obviously, never found its rightful end. Instead the two happened upon someone else, the similar looking, presumably only other green goblin in the entire swamp. The female pup was a goblin-grown now, and easily mistaken for any other, at least to the human eye. The scuffle was brief, the skill and motivation of the sisters set against the she-goblins will, and with equal parts trickery and effort the goblin female was captured and in their possession.
The questioning was harsh, the treatment brutal, but it garnered no reply. The search for Bandana was lost and the two, low on supplies and without any leads, abandoned their efforts to return south.
The final image showed nothing but a wall, the room dimly lit, the faintest visage of rows and rows of lines etched upon the stone. The scene panned to reveal a row of bars and a squat, ugly figure walking on the other side. Squib recognised the man, if he could be called such a thing, as Igor, the Silkwood Towns prison guard. He bent wordlessly to deliver a meal with a cup of water through the grate which, once he’d departed, was jumped on by the female goblin who’d been waiting like a caged creature in the corners shadows.
Squib frowned, growled, roared with frustration toward the treetops causing the assembled Fay in their branches to scatter. For all the years, trials, and effort it took to get to this point, to finally learn that another green goblin still existed, that it was from his clan, and she a suitable mate in age of maturity. To begin his journey with the purple powder from the Town of Silkwood; travel to the farthest reaches of the swamp which was now plagued with undead; have the goal of his desires back at the beginning where his journey began; for her to be locked up in the same cell as he was no less; It was all too much not to scream. So scream he did.
(Continue to Ep.38)
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