Chapter 9
He hated rain. It was cold and wet and uncomfortable, and if you were out in the open there was no escaping it. It would find a way to get you. Even roofs could not always hold it at bay. It had a habit of being able to slip and slide in everywhere and anywhere, and turn the most beautiful day dull and gloomy.
And he hated rain even more when it brought its friends out to play. Thunder and lightning could take something as peaceful as a simple dream and instantly morph it into a Hellish nightmare when the storms came out to play. He would jerk himself from slumber, gasping in terror from them, only to wake to another one, from which he could never escape no matter how often he tried.
Normally he would have been sleeping at this hour, but the storm made him shove aside any thoughts of rest, although his body and his mind craved it dearly.
He could not, should not, and would not sleep while the tempest roared outside the castle, waiting for him to let his guard down. He might be tired, but sleep was not worth the torment that awaited him in his nightmares. Not by a long shot.
Creeper walked slowly through the castle's dim hallways, the spaced out torches on the walls igniting ahead of him to light his aimless stroll, and a few moments after he passed them, flicker out with a whiff of smoke.
Almost immediately after he had returned, he had became aware of something different. The castle was not entirely as he remembered it. The moth-eaten, frayed curtains were still there, as was a handful of broken-down places in the walls with vines and elements coming in, and the cobwebs, but the halls and many of the rooms looked as if they had been swept and dusted over.
New furniture seemingly appeared out of thin air, torches lit and extinguished themselves, fires were in the fireplaces, strange voices could occasionally be heard conversing with his master, and the castle's spider population had plummeted drastically. Creeper hadn't seen hide nor hair of the eight-legged creatures in weeks, save for the massive cobwebs that still hung in odd places.
The castle was actually taking on the appearance of being lived in, and used for more than just a lair for evil men to plot and undead creatures to hide away in. A kitchen had appeared on one of the lower levels too, so Creeper didn't have to worry about starving. He could eat in peace to his heart's content if he so chose.
Another thing that was different was the silence. It was so foreign. He was used to it being loud with the Horned King's men, who frequently drank and fought amongst themselves, but the un-natural silence now was a little unsettling. Especially when his Master made next to no noise. You would never hear him til it was too late. Creeper shuddered at the thought. No one was here except his Master and himself now. And the gwythaint.
With nothing else to interest him, Creeper spent most of his time with the dragon in one of the stables. It was only a beast, but it gave him something to do. He let it out of the barn for daily flights, making sure it stuck close to the castle in case any pesky humans were nearby. Hardly a threat, but still. . .the gwythaint enjoyed the exercise, and he greatly preferred the company of the creature over his Master's anyway.
He had no idea how his Master was back. It made no sense. He had watched him get ripped to pieces, consumed by the Cauldron and the castle destroyed with his own two eyes. And then, a month later the gwythaint that had escaped with him decides to return for some reason, and the whole thing is nearly exactly as it had been before the Pig-Keeper came.
And Creeper's misery was now double-fold, having experienced the exhilaration of freedom, only to have it yanked away from him and have himself thrown back into the servitude of the Horned King, as if nothing had ever changed and his brief days of freedom had been nothing but a dream.
He thought occasionally about the Pig-Boy, wondering what he was up to now. He knew his master well enough to know without a sliver of a doubt, the hatred he held for that boy knew no bounds, and no doubt he would lure the boy here eventually and even the score between them.
Creeper allowed a sick little grin to spread across his face. He would so enjoy watching his master kill the boy. After seeing the shock on his dying face. That Pig-Keeper had brought the little goblin nothing but grief, and he didn't much care who made him pay, as long as he got to see the action.
His master had not called on the goblin to do much of anything since he had returned, except keep out of his way. Which mostly meant to stay out of his sight. His master seemed to be in a brooding rage most of the time lately, and Creeper was more than happy to remain invisible.
As he ambled toward the ground floor, he remembered the fireplace that now sat on the side of the large room by the massive double doors leading to the outside courtyard. He felt chilled and damp, and sitting by the fireplace seemed like a good idea. It could never help the cold feeling in his chest, (he had tried it already) but it made him feel a little better.
With a little more spring to his step, he skipped around the corner and prepared to bounce down the stairs, when one of the great doors came open and a figure stumbled inside.
Creeper, well hidden by the thick shadow that blanketed the steps, had stared in complete shock for nearly three full minutes at the figure now standing by the fire rubbing its hands together, before he started to stare in complete panic. If he told his Master he'd be furious. And if he didn't tell him. . .
Creeper shivered violently at the prospect of both. Go to his Master now and get punished, or not tell him. . .and pray the human left immediately. If he opted to carry out his first thought and fetch his Master, every second wasted would only make for a greater punishment. He had to admit to himself though, seeing someone else be at his Master's mercy did hold a great deal of appeal to the goblin (here he smirked at the thought) but if there was a chance the human would leave quickly then there would be no reason to tell him anything, and although there wouldn't be any action with this option, there wouldn't be any potential punishment either. His Master had ignored him for the most part the last several days, which was rare, and the goblin didn't want to break the chain of good luck he'd been granted.
Rubbing his throat tenderly, he decided on an awesome plan.
'I'll just scare the human off!' He thought.
'Yes, genius! Utter genius! Master will be so pleased I ran it off all by myself! But what if he's not? What if he wanted it to stay?'
He wrinkled his brow in frustrated confusion. After his years of being under the Horned King he had learned that what he thought he should do in a situation always seemed to be the opposite of what his Master really wanted him to do and usually ended up with him getting beaten. Biting back a whimper he shook as he thought this out.
'My first plan was to fetch him, so that must be wrong. If I did he'd probably be angry that I couldn't handle a simple problem like this by myself. He never wants to be disturbed unless its good news, and this isn't exactly good.'
He scratched his head, determined to figure out his Master's way of thinking.
'So, if the first plan's wrong, the second one must be right. I'll scare the human off! Master's in his chambers and he won't hear a thing!'
The goblin nearly cackled out loud at his own cleverness before wrinkling his brow again in thought.
'But how?'
He looked around himself fruitlessly, searching for anything he could use. He wasn't exactly afraid to tackle the human with his bare hands, but humans were a lot bigger than him and if it ever got a good grip on him it would be over.
He tiptoed slowly up the stairs, keeping one eye on the human, looking for anything he could use. Suddenly, to his immense relief and delight, he spied a broom propped up against the staircase, as if it had been left in a hurry. A mostly-empty serving trolley (no doubt on its way to the kitchen) sat beside it.
Nearly twenty minutes of working with bated breath and watching the human down below later, he stood back to glance over his work.
The handle end of the broom now sported a cluster of forks and butter-knives glinting maliciously in the firelight, tied tightly on with at least three napkins and half the broom bristles. The other half of said bristles were scattered all over the floor from the multiple times they had broken when he tried to knot them. What used to be the broom's bristle-end now resembled a badly plucked chicken. What little straw was left spiked madly in every direction like an angry cat.
The fine china dishes that Creeper had neatly (And very cautiously) stacked up on one end of the trolley consisted of five plates, no two the same size, three goblets and a wine glass.
Plus the teapot.
And the sugar bowl.
Creeper didn't even think about why these items were all laid out together, but they would suit his need perfectly. Grinning madly, he carefully wheeled the trolley through the shadows to the top of the stairs, positioning it on the very edge of the plunge. Biting back a cackle for all he was worth, he scurried back to retrieve the upgraded cleaning tool lying on the floor and made his way back to the trolley, careful not to let the broom hit the stone floor and give everything away.
Carefully climbing up the stair rails and slowly lowering himself on top of the trolley, Creeper fixed his grip on the broom handle and looked down. The stairs suddenly looked much longer and steeper than they had before.
Much, much longer.
Creeper suddenly didn't like this idea so much. His palms were sweating and he was trembling as the nervous jitters started making him rethink everything he was about to do. So many things could go wrong. . .and if he failed, his Master would not be pleased. . .
Creeper shivered at the thought.
'Maybe th-this wasn't such a goo-good i-i-d-d-ea. . .maybe I should just go get Master anyway. . .'
Creeper's nose twitched and suddenly tickled. He had wanted to get warm earlier, but having changed his mind, his nose had apparently lost patience and decided to take care of matters itself. He felt his chest constrict slightly, and his eyes bulged as he realized what was fixing to happen.
'Oh, no, not a sneeze!'
"Ah. . .ah. . ."
He held his precious broom-weapon with one hand and tried to hold off his doom with the other, covering his nose and mouth in a feeble attempt to prevent nature from taking its course.
"Ah. . .ah. . .ha. . ."
His attempts were now making the trolley roll back and forth on its wheels, a hair's breadth from the edge. And his breaths were getting louder.
"Ah, Ah, Ah. . ."
He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. Waving the broom around for balance, he attempted to dismount from the trolley so he could set the broom down and use both hands to shield the next blast, but he never got the chance.
"AAAACHOOOOOOOO!"
And then many things happened all at once. The sound of his sneeze echoed off every wall for yards around, the force of it threw him off balance enough to make the trolley roll forward the hair's breadth it was missing to tip downward, and he gripped it in a panic as the front wheels hit the first step.
'NOOO!' He thought in terror as the steps loomed up below him. 'I'm not ready yet!'
The trolley, having been given a little shove, was more than happy to go the rest of the way and the front wheels hit the second step cheerfully, jolting Creeper further off balance. The dishes rattled a warning as the trolley's front wheels hit the third step down.
Creeper's eyes bulged in panic as he managed to right himself on the cart again, still clutching the broom-thing with one hand. He made a wild grab for the stack of chinaware and missed as the trolley's front wheels hit step number four.
Now the back wheels hit the first step, and the goblin realized he was past the point of no return, and no amount of wishing would put the trolley back on the level ground he had started from.
The trolley, now free from the bindings of a completely flat surface, picked up speed with the back wheels loosed as well and the front wheels smashed into step number six like it had said something offensive.
The smart thing to do at this point would be to bail off immediately before he was seen, but Creeper wasn't thinking. His mind had gone blank in horror back on step number three, and all he could do was numbly grip the trolley as they descended, staring with bulging eyes at his destination.
Suddenly, something grabbed Creeper by his shoulders from behind, yanking him loose from the trolley and making him drop the broom, which he had clung to faithfully since the beginning. The trolley didn't seem to notice it had lost its jockey and continued on its merry way down the stairs, the dishes rattling ominously.
Creeper opened his mouth to yell in surprise but something covered his mouth to keep him silent. He instantly knew it wasn't his Master, but one of those invisible things that had started hanging around.
They both watched in horror as the trolley picked up speed, bouncing down the steps like a happy schoolgirl. The broom. . .or what was left of it, anyway. . .fell off the trolley on step number ten, and all of Creeper's hard work fell apart. Those napkins were so flimsy. . .
Some of the silverware, now freed from its bindings to the broomhandle, opted to rest on the steps, but most of the other pieces decided to race the trolley to the bottom and chased madly after it, doing end-over-end flips like silver gymnasts. The trolley decided it couldn't be bothered with the dishes anymore and started jarring them off with every step it cleared.
The dishes bellowed the Warcry of Fine China Everywhere as they rattled and crashed together multiple times before bailing off. The first one to go was the gallant teapot at step number fourteen. The smash of breaking china as it shattered into pieces was the deathbell for its remaining partners.
Now on step number twenty the trolley may as well have sprouted wings. Like a ship at sea it rode down the stairs like a madman, china smashing left and right as it surged toward ground level at an alarming rate. The silverware, determined not to be outdone, bounced down the stairs right behind it, some coming to rest on the steps, their momentum lost.
Creeper didn't even think to look at the human's reaction, all he could do was watch the flashing dishware fly gracefully through the air to shatter, almost in slow-motion, with the silverware dancing along and the trolley continuing on its merry way.
When it hit the ground floor Creeper estimated it was going at roughly the speed of a huge boulder that had been thrown off a mountain. It was flying.
Now on flat ground once again, the trolley could now thankfully, finally, coast to a stop. . .or it would have, if the rug hadn't been in the way. . .the material snagged the front wheels, tossing the trolley into the air like a toy. Determined not to go down so easily, the trolley's speed helped it as it flipped end over end across the floor, glinting in the firelight.
The grand finale was when it smashed straight into the wall right by the fireplace, before falling over onto its side with a groan. The final crash marked the end of the performance, as it lay there motionless, its wheels humming madly.
The complete silence that followed was nearly deafening. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Only stared at the destroyed trolley and the wake of destruction it had left.
Creeper gulped as the Invisible yanked him up and slid up the steps in the shadows, before sliding behind a door and into another hall. It was completely furious with him, and he blanched when it hissed softly in his ear.
"You can go fetch your Master. Now."