A Bad Day for Grumpy Goat
A Bad Day for Grumpy Goat
A Bad Day for Grumpy Goat
by
De Writer
(Glen Ten-Eyck)
© 2014 by Glen Ten-Eyck
2889 words
Writing begun 09/04/14
All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author and/or the terms and conditions of FimFiction.
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“If it wasn't you, then who was it?” demanded the constable at the door.
I glared back at him and retorted, “I have no idea! Finding criminals is YOUR job, not mine!”
It wasn't only him that was taken aback. The ten or twelve other ponies with masks for face and flank, torches and pitchforks actually stopped cold and started to think, which is poison for almost ANY mob.
Something had set off another Goat Mob out to destroy a goat, any goat, for some imagined wrong. A similar mob had burned down my house in Ponyville. In spite of three torches left in the remains of the thatch, the insurance pony had grinned and stamped “Claim refused!” And wrote under it. “Fire caused by smoking carelessness.” I don't smoke. But I was steamed.
I moved way up on the mountain after that. I went into town perhaps once a week. Now town had come to me. Again.
Sarcastically, I snorted, “Now what, exactly, is it that has you idiots all the way up here?”
The constable snarled, “Grave Robbery! Some Goat done break into the cemetery and steal a body out'en a fresh grave! Deny that if you can!”
“Just a moment, Constable. Let me see!” I brought out a big telescope and aimed it down slope and across town. I made shooing noises and gestures at the mob and they actually got out of my view. With some careful fiddling with focus, I found it.
I gestured grandly, “Look there, Constable! Is that it?”
He peeked through the lens and snapped, “Sure is! What you got to say now, GOAT!?”
“That you really should look at the scene of a crime before you jump to conclusions, CONSTABLE! That grave is empty because They have not put the pony in it yet! Feel stupid enough now?”
One of the masked mob took a look and dropped his torch. “That IS Old Mary Dobbins' grave, Constable. She won't be buried until this afternoon. Darn. Whole morning wasted.
“Can't even burn him out for some fun. Sucker lives in a danged cave!”
As he said that, I grabbed my telescope and slammed the door in their faces. An iron faced door. Made of heavy timbers set into stone with concrete. Like he said, it would not burn.
It was a dejected mob that left. Good thing too.
The corpse that they were looking for was in the next room. It was due to good planning on my part that there were TWO empty graves in the cemetery. Almost felt sorry for the constable. Almost.
I did it! I got away with it! If you are going to be a necromancer, step ONE is get the corpse! Now for Step TWO . . .
I carefully followed the directions in the NECRONOMIPONY (subtitled Necromancy made Easy: a manual for beginners in the Art) while drawing the Main or Pentacle of the Work around the corpse.
I added the Pentacle of Summoning next to it. I was just starting to add the third pentacle when there was a knock at the door.
Checking the spy hole, it was the constable. Looked to be alone. I picked a steep climb for a reason. Mobs are lazy!
I opened the door a little. Enough to let him know that my “burglar chains” were real heavy iron and that there were FOUR of them. I was kind truculent as I demanded, “What now, Constable?”
He replied, “At first I was steamed about how you done that to me in front of them other ponies. Then I figured that you had no choice on that. They followed me up the mountain to “get that Goat” and I didn't send them packing like the law says I should'a.
“Then I gets to thinking about the grave that was robbed. It was back in the Shady Grove part of the cemetery. It was a goat done it, no question of that. Lots of tracks. Thing is, goats like you is little guys. No way you coulda got that body up here, even with a cart.”
Puzzled, I asked, “So what brings you back?”
He looked down and scraped the ground with a hoof. “I owes you an apology. Should of thought first.”
I was just about totally floored. An Official pony being polite? To a Goat? Unheard of. And we have big ears!
I offered, “Constable, did you get to the spring before you turned about?”
“Nope. Some things is more important nor a drink o' water.”
That did set me back. An apology to a goat was more important than a drink?
“Wait right there, Constable.” I went and got him a tumbler of water from my supply jug. Hoofing it out, to him, I said, “I know the regulations. That is a long, dry climb to do once. Twice, a total pain. If you keep it quiet, I will too. Use your brain and take the water.”
To his credit, he did. And gave back the tumbler. As he turned away, I shut the door and went back to my Working. Feeling that I was missing something important that I could not put a hoof on, I double checked the last pentacle against the book.
According to the NECRONOMIPONY, I was ready. I lit the candles and began the invocation to call forth the Litch King.
For reasons that will become obvious, I am going to omit some vital details of the ritual, like just about all of them. I lit the candles as specified in the Necronomipony. Each had its particular little incantation which I did. Being careful not to step on or blur any line, I entered the Summoner's Pentacle and set the Book on the tall stand.
The assorted rituals and various gestures took quite a while. No matter what some may think, this sort of magic is not some simple wave of a wand or toss of a horn.
It is work. Hard, exacting work. Why bother then? Several reasons. Power. Money. Fear. Revenge. Those will do for a start.
Really, what I was doing now, working to raise a dead pony, was the fault of the very townies that burned my house in town. I was taking extension courses in the Abnormal Psychology of Ponies from the Non-Equine University. I was six months from a degree and surprisingly high paid work.
Because I am a goat, my mail was often opened and/or vandalized. Word got out that I was studying Necromancy. I was, but only as a part of the Abnormal Psych course.
The mob had a great time burning my place and being sure that every book, note or any other thing related to my studies was destroyed. My future career went up in those flames. Really pissed me off. I got away, beaten and singed. And looking for revenge.
I completed the last incantation. If this was real at all, there was no turning back.
It was and there wasn't. The column of sulfurous smoke that appeared in the Pentacle of Summoning convinced me of that. I was only mildly surprised that something this difficult had worked on the first try. Most of my easier spells, like the Everlasting Candle or the Glamor had taken anything up to a couple of weeks to get them right.
The smoke settled or cleared in some way. None got out of the pentacle. It was what else was there that was more than a bit frightening. The yellowed skeleton of an Alicorn, the Litch King, that stood there, eyes like balls blue flame glaring at me.
I do not quite know how to describe it but the glare turned to a grin. A delightedly evil grin. I mean he was bare bone. An expression should have been impossible. It wasn't. It was definitely a grin.
He looked about the room and, in particular, at the pentacles and their candles. In a carefully not laughing voice, he said, “Let me guess. You used the Necronomipony, textbook edition from the Non-Equine University. Right?” There was a definite undertone of giggles in his voice.
That did not bode well.
I decided to assert myself as the Master here. “I have summoned you here to re animate this dead pony as a slave to serve all of my want and need.” I gestured at the corpse in the Main pentacle. “I seek to use the awakened dead for my revenge on those who have wronged me.”
The Litch King yawned behind a hoof. “I do believe that I have heard that whole cant before. Some have real grievances and others imagine them. In the end, it matters not.
“Since you are a goat, I would guess that your grievance is real.”
I nodded shortly. “It is. A Goat Mob burned my house, library and all of my notes. I was only about six months from getting a degree in Equine Psychology. There is some really well paid work in that field. Three and a half years of work went up with my house. I was beaten and near burned to death. I know who did it, too.”
The Litch King nodded slowly. “That actually does make sense. I think that you may be going about it poorly.” He raised a hoof. “Let me explain.
“Re animation is fine. To do it to a whole corpse like this one,” he gestured at the dead pony in the pentacle, “is to create a creature that can be damaged or destroyed pretty easily. Worse, the harm to it, is reflected onto you, the Master.”
I have to admit, that gave me pause. I had not thought that through properly. I did trust the Litch King not to lie. That was part of the spell that called him forth.
I asked, “If you are willing to help me to my revenge, oh, Mighty Litch King, what then would you recommend?”
He actually shrugged, bones clacking a little as he did. “A disembodied spirit servant that will do whatever you want it to would likely serve your needs better. If you want any part or all of it to be visible at any time, you could cast a Glamor on it to make it seem to be almost anything.”
He paused, laying a hoof along side his snout in thought. “Tell you what. I can do that for you. I will take the body and leave the cleaned and aged skull behind. It will stay with the spirit servant where a head would normally be to give you and any who come to you for magical assistance, a clue to where it is. You can also take it off of the servant and later restore it, letting the servant body be completely invisible to the untrained while it is doing your will.
“Properly presented, that floating skull can also be used to scare those customers into paying you well! About time that you started to earn the big bits!”
I have to admit it. The thought of good money hooked me into the idea. “It sounds good, Oh Mighty Master of the Dead. (The Necronomipony recommended the use of flattering titles.) What is needed to create this spirit bodied slave to my will?”
The Litch King looked over at the dead pony in its pentacle and then back to me. “It is still a form of re animation. All that is needed is your order to carry out the Necromantic Operation.”
Hit by a thought, I asked, “What of the possibility that this disembodied spirit slave might try to rebel against my orders or attack me to return to the dead?”
The Litch King waived a hoof dismissively, “Won't and can't happen. The only will controlling the Servant will be YOURS.”
I nodded and then asked a question that had been bothering me. “Why are you, a Lord of the Undead Ponies, helping me so much? I know that you have really torqued a LOT of ponies that summoned you.”
There was that amusement again. “First, most of them are just after POWER. Second, most of them have tried to push me around by their magics. I am sure that you can grasp why I push back when they do. Third, you, yourself. Beyond the Summoning, you have been both respectful and willing to listen to advice. Fourth, I find your honest desire for revenge and what you are willing to do to get it amusing. Is that clear enough?”
I nodded. From the safety of my Summoner's Pentacle, I commanded, “It is indeed. Therefore, Do the Operation, Oh Lord of the Undead!”
He reared up dramatically. His wings of bone reached up as POWER gathered about his horn! His wings snapped down as the vast Power was released. Impossible as it seems, they created a huge blast of air in the chamber. All of the candles were extinguished, plunging the room into darkness! The Flare of POWER in my eyes was the last thing that I remembered. And the laughter as the Litch King disappeared.
I really do not know how long it was before I regained consciousness. Being a back room in a cave, it was still pitch dark. Fumbling about, I found the Necronomipony laying open, face down. Then a familiar form. A candle.
I lit it with the Everlasting Candle spell. Its light was weak for so large a room but it was enough. Unfortunately.
The whole, intact corpse was still where it was when I started. That made no sense. The Litch King had said that he was going to take all but the skull.
Instead, the corpse was there laying in the intact Main Pentacle. Looking for the others confirmed that the Litch King had destroyed both his Pentacle of Summoning and my protective Summoner's Pentacle. That should not have been possible.
I was beginning to think that something was VERY wrong.
A fragmentary reflection in a broken mirror revealed that I was right. It was VERY wrong! The candle that I was holding? Floating with no support. It made ghastly lights and shadows on the yellowed, aged looking goat skull that stared back at me in the various bits of the reflection.
What I was seeing explained two things really well. One was the amusement of the Litch King. The other was his laughter as his Necromantic power was released.
Having nothing else to do, really, I began to straighten up the mess. As I picked up the Necronomipony and automatically began to straighten wrinkled pages, a small bundle of pages fell out of the back of the book.
I gathered them up and found it. The first of the scattered pages was labeled Errata. ERRATA! A list of MISTAKES in the main text?
It was irritating to constantly put down the candle to handle the pages and then pick it up again to read them. I got hit by an inspiration of sorts. I reached up and took my skull off. Using the Everburning Candle to melt another one, I dripped wax on my skull and stuck the Everburning one into it. Success! Once I replaced my skull, I could both handle and read pages with out any problem. It was plenty bright enough for that.
Digging through the Errata I found it. The printer had accidentally swapped the Main or Pentacle of the Work with the Summoner's Pentacle of safety from the Litch King or whichever of several other supernatural Powers was called to the Pentacle of Summoning.
Checking the book, I found it in the Translator's Forward. “Serious sudents of the Art or of Abnormal Psychology should check the Errata sheets in the back of this book. For most purposes, the switching of one drawing for another rarely makes any practical difference. It can make a difference in some studies and so the sheets should be checked before citing any reference drawn from this book.”
That reminded me, I still had bits to earn and the Litch King had not lied to me at all. Except by withholding something that WAS right there for me to find, had I looked. My studies of Equine Psychology might pay off after all. I found a big piece of mirror and looked at myself in it. A goat skull, even with a candle on it was not very impressive.
Using a Glamor, I created the appearance of glowing, snake like eyes to suggest evil. That helped. A lot actually. Still something missing, though. Then I smiled. The Glamor added FANGS. Big fangs. To remind clients gently of what might happen to THEM, if they tried to sharp their way out of a deal.
I finished tidying up the mess and got ready to return the corpse that I no longer needed. I had a good idea of where to return it to. Could not go back to the cemetery. It was being watched. I figured that it could be found in a botched pentacle in a particular pony's back yard . . .
A botched Pentacle? Like I had already done? I thought that through. As I wondered if, maybe, the Litch King had anything to do with the printer's errors, I heard, barely at the edge of hearing, a chuckle emanating from deep underground.
--THE END--
Author's Note
This is the first of a series that tie into my only slightly twisted Ponyville and MLP in general.
I have several more Grumpy Goat *tails* if this one gets any interest.
