Disillusioned, p.23
Disillusioned, page 23
“Sanity is an illusion,” said Grimble-Quandrasi.
“Don’t you see what he’s doing?” Vergil said, turning to one guard and then the other. “He has no interest in goblin rights. He wants to destroy all of civilization!”
The goblins shrugged. “Humans got a lot more to lose than goblins,” said one of them. The other nodded.
“But that’s...” Vergil started, then realized he had no idea how to respond to this argument. It was true; with a more advanced civilization, humans had more to lose. And if that’s all these goblins cared about, there wasn’t anything he could say to change their minds. He sighed, turning to watch the golem stomp toward the most populous part of the city. In the distance, he could hear the screams of people who were watching from windows and doorways. Soon their houses and shops would be rubble, and many of them would die, and there was nothing Vergil could do about it.
The golem had reached the edge of the square, marching right past Handri and Marko. Vergil sat helplessly on the ground as Grimble-Quandrasi, flanked by his two goblin guards, watching gleefully as the creature advanced.
And then it tripped.
Vergil didn’t believe his eyes at first, but he couldn’t imagine why Quandrasi would effect such an illusion. The golem had just passed the the first row of buildings when it suddenly fell flat on its face with a tremendous crash. A glance at Grimble-Quandrasi confirmed Vergil wasn’t imagining it: the goblin-illusionist looked furious.
“Blast you, you worthless slab of granite,” Grimble-Quandrasi snarled, “get up!” He took off running across the square, his entourage of goblins following closely behind. Vergil got to his feet and went after them.
Soon Vergil saw the cause: the golem had fallen victim to the same trick Lagorna had pulled on the CAGE goons who had been chasing him and Handri. A very thick rope, braided together from slimmer cords, had been pulled taut across the street the golem had entered. Several dozen goblins had evidently offered themselves up as bait, luring the golem down that street, and then darted out of the way when the golem fell. At least, Vergil hoped they had all gotten out of the way. These goblins, along with dozens of others, had begun swarming all over the golem’s fallen form, in an apparent effort to pin the creature down. Vergil didn’t see Lagorna among them, but he had no doubt she was behind this. She hadn’t fled town after all.
“Get up!” cried Grimble-Quandrasi again, as he approached the feet of the fallen golem. He waved his staff at it, and the creature stirred. Goblins continued to pour out of the alleys, climbing on top of the golem. “Get up!” Grimble-Quandrasi shrieked again.
For a moment, Vergil considered making another grab for Quandrasi’s staff, but the two guards with the halberds still flanked the illusionist, and the CAGE goons were forming a rough circle around him. There was no way Vergil would get to him.
Lacking any other ideas, he ran past Quandrasi’s entourage to join the rapidly growing group that was weighing down the golem. But as he neared the golem’s ankle, the creature’s leg twitched, knocking him backwards against a wall. He struck his head on the brick and fell to the ground, stunned. A few goblins were thrown off, but goblins were fast and agile climbers, and many more of them continue to spill out of the alleys to climb on top of the golem. On the golem’s back, they were now stacked three and four deep in some places. Would it be enough to keep it down? And what would they do if they succeeded? Take shifts on its back until they could chain the thing down?
Glancing at Grimble-Quandrasi, Vergil saw that he was leaning on his staff and sweating profusely, his eyes fixed on the golem. He closed his eyes and murmured inaudibly. Then, with great effort, he lift his staff and brought it down hard on the concrete. The golem’s body jerked in response, as if energy had been transmitted to it through the pavement. The golem managed to raise its head, despite the sixteen goblins currently perched on it. Slowly and haltingly the golem began to rise. The goblins on its head and back shrieked and howled as they lost their grip, tumbling and striking other goblins on the way down. Many of them rolled down to its legs or fell to the street, and as the burdened lightened, the golem moved with more ease. In the street, goblins screamed and ran in all directions. They had nearly stopped the golem, but Quandrasi had somehow managed to impart enough strength to the golem to foil their trap. If only Vergil could get Quandrasi’s staff away from him, he might still stop it—but what chance did he have? Even if Vergil could rally the goblins, there was no way such a ragtag band could fight their way through the CAGE goons.
But as Vergil turned to look at Grimble-Quandrasi, he saw that something strange was happening. The air had begun to shimmer around Grimble-Quandrasi, the way it had when the illusionist had transformed in the past. Grimble-Quandrasi leaned with both hands on his staff, looking like he was about to fall over. His eyes were closed and he swayed like a drunken man. As the shimmering intensified, Vergil realized what had happened. The golem derived its strength from Quandrasi, channeled through the staff, and Quandrasi had exerted so much effort prodding the golem to its feet that he’d lost control over his illusion. Vergil pulled himself to his feet.
As the golem stood up, Quandrasi opened his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. But a moment later a look of concern came over his face as he noticed that the members of his goblin entourage were now staring open-mouthed at him. For it was no longer their leader, Grimble, who stood before them, but a strange old man in a blue robe. Quandrasi looked down at his robe and then back at the goblins. “Okay,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, holding his hand. “I can explain.”
As the goblins continued to stare at Quandrasi, Vergil walked toward them.
“You’re not Grimble,” said the goblin with the eye patch. The two guards with the halberds glanced at each other nervously, reassessing their allegiances.
“No,” admitted Quandrasi. “I am not. But I’m continuing Grimble’s work. I have sent the Hate Golem into the human part of the city to tear it down, so that goblins can finally have their chance at rule!”
But the golem had been apprising its situation and, having apparently decided that there were no longer any good targets in the vicinity, turned around and began to stomp back toward the square. Quandrasi smiled weakly at them.
“That thing doesn’t care who it kills,” said a familiar voice behind Vergil. Vergil turned to see Lagorna striding toward Quandrasi. “It will destroy your homes and kill your families and friends. That’s exactly what Quandrasi wants.”
“How do we stop it?” asked the goblin with the eye patch.
“Take the staff,” said Vergil.
“No!” cried Quandrasi. “You don’t know how to control it! You don’t know what will happen!”
“I have a pretty good idea,” said Vergil. He nodded to Lagorna, who took a step toward Quandrasi and held out her hands.
“You’ll never take me alive!” Quandrasi shouted, and suddenly purple smoke billowed up from around his feet. For several seconds, the whole group was blind. Then the breeze carried the smoke away, revealing that Quandrasi hadn’t moved. The goblin guards had gripped his arms tightly.
“Well, that didn’t work,” said Quandrasi.
Lagorna held out her hands again, and Quandrasi handed her the staff, muttering curses under his breath. “Now what?” she asked.
“Destroy it,” said Vergil.
“I’ll do it,” said a booming voice from the square behind them. Yurgi, covered with plaster dust and blood, was hobbling toward them.
“Don’t,” Quandrasi pleaded. “It’s my creation. Everything I worked for!”
Vergil handed Yurgi the staff. She set it on the ground and unceremoniously stomped on the silver globe. Then she picked up the staff and broke it in two, doubled the pieces, broke those as well, and then did it one more time. She handed the pieces back to Quandrasi, who accepted them with a dejected look on his face.
“Watch out!” someone screamed. Looking up at the golem, Vergil saw that its hands had fallen to its side, and its head drooped. The golem swayed back and then forward.
“Get out of the way!” cried Vergil. “It’s going to fall!”
The goblins scattered, and Yurgi hobbled out of the way. But Quandrasi continued to stare morosely at the splinters in his hands. “All my work,” he murmured.
“You’ll find another purpose,” said Vergil, glancing up at the golem, which was definitely leaning their direction. “Something productive. Gardening, maybe.”
“No,” said Quandrasi. “This... this was all I had.”
“It doesn’t have to be!” cried Vergil. “Just come with me. Please!” He gripped Quandrasi by the arm, but the man made no sign of moving, and Vergil simply didn’t have the strength to move the man against his will. A shadow swept over them as the golem fell, and Vergil released the illusionist. He dashed out of the way as the colossus fell, and was thrown to the ground by the concussion under his feet. A cloud of dust erupted around him, and Vergil quickly covered his face with his shirt to avoid breathing in the stuff. He crawled away from the scene, his eyes closed, until a huge hand gripped him by the arm, helping him to his feet. Yurgi.
As the dust began to settle, Vergil and Yurgi strained to see what was left of the golem. Not much, it turned out. The statue was unrecognizable, just piles of rubble strewn across the square. It was as if the hatred that had animated it had also torn it apart. Somewhere under all that mess was the crushed body of Quandrasi. Maybe it was for the best that he hadn’t survived. Vergil would like to believe in the possibility of redemption—after all, his own views on goblins had undergone a significant change over the past few days—but it was hard to see how a man driven purely by the desire for destruction could ever become a productive member of society. In any case, the matter was settled: the hatred and malicious delusions of Quandrasi would plague Dis no longer.
Chapter 20
Cleaning up the debris of Unity took over a week. After the mass confusion and terror of Quandrasi’s assembly, unrest in the city subsided significantly, mostly because nobody was quite sure anymore who they were supposed to be angry at, or about what.
Marko had been rushed to a doctor shortly after the golem fell, and he received the possible medical treatment. Unfortunately, despite the recent advances in medicine due to the adoption of zelaznium-based technology, the field of microbiology was still in its infancy, and a rampant infection required Marko’s leg to be amputated below the knee. Handri offered this development as proof that germs were real, but Vergil pointed out that the application of potions to “kill the germs” hadn’t worked, suggesting that evil spirits were the more likely candidate. The matter was never decisively settled.
Yurgi and Handri recovered fully from their injuries, and each returned to service for their respected bosses. Marko, for his part, was just happy to be alive. Chagrined that he owed his life to Vergil, Marko offered to restore to Vergil what he had cheated him out of. Vergil insisted this wasn’t necessary; all he really wanted was to live the remainder of his life in peace on his estate. Marko assured him that he would see to the repairs on Vergil’s estate as soon as possible.
Vergil, whose fame had been spreading rapidly even before the assembly, was widely considered the hero of the day, and many urged him to run for office now that Thameril had fled the city and Grimble had been found to be an impostor. But Vergil declined, insisting that he had had quite enough excitement. It was time for him to transition gracefully into old age and try to enjoy whatever time he had left. Besides, he argued, Lagorna had been the true hero; it was her rallying of the goblins that had led to the Quandrasi’s unmasking and the destruction of the golem. With Vergil’s endorsement, Lagorna ran for the open seat in a special election, and won handily. Her first act as the new mayor was to release the prisoners who had been thrown into the dungeons on trumped up charges by CAGE. She then got the council to set up a quasi-governmental body called the Human-Monster Organization for Reconciliation. The purpose of HuMOR was to try to put the antagonism between humans and goblins in the past. The results of HuMOR’s efforts were mixed, but you can’t please everybody.[4]
Marko met with the council several times to talk about the problem of goblin unemployment, which was the root cause of much of the discord. With Vergil’s blessing, he offered to rebuild the Goblintex mill, updating the construction to make it safer and more humane for the workers. The project was approved, and several dozen goblins were hired to build the new mill.
Marko also hired several goblins to work on the repairs to Vergil’s estate. Vergil and Handri stayed at Marko’s apartment until Vergil’s estate was livable, then moved back in. The goblin workers had resided there as well, and Vergil made room for them in the estate while they finished the repairs. Many of them stayed on after the construction was finished, helping Vergil and Marko with gardening and other projects in exchange for room and board. The house was often crowded, but Virgil enjoyed the company.
Vergil lived for another twelve years after the fall of the golem, doing his best to avoid politics and rarely venturing into town. He spent most of his days sitting outside in the sunshine, reading. Sometimes he read old books about the land of Dis of his youth or about the Battle of Brandsveid, but more often he would read about the wonders of zelaznium and the technological advances it had made possible. There was plenty to read on the subject; every week he would send Handri into Avaress on his bicycle for another satchel-ful of books. At least once a month a brand new book would appear detailing some wondrous new invention that somebody had dreamed up, and Vergil would devour the book in one sitting. He didn’t know what the end result of all these changes would be, and he doubted he would live to see the final result, but he knew that Dis would never again be the land he remembered from before his slumber.
It was, by and large, a happy existence. Only one thing occasionally bothered him, usually on rainy days when he was forced to sit inside, where he had trouble reading with his failing eyes. His thoughts would drift to the day that the golem fell, smashing into a million pieces, and how he had been unable to save Quandrasi from his own destruction. What bothered him wasn’t so much the idea of Quandrasi being crushed but the fact that he hadn’t actually seen Quandrasi crushed. It was certainly possible that Quandrasi had been as disheartened as he had appeared, but Quandrasi was also an exceptionally talented actor and illusionist. Had he faked his own death to escape justice for his crimes? As far as Vergil knew, no body had ever been found, but that meant little. The cleanup efforts had been chaotic and largely unsupervised, and by the time Vergil had thought to ask to be informed when Quandrasi’s body was found, the remnants of the statue and much of the broken pavement had already been carted off. Vergil assured himself that escape would have been impossible; Vergil had avoided being crushed by mere inches.
And yet... if anybody could have escaped, it would be Quandrasi. Vergil kept his suspicion to himself; there was no point in fanning the flames of fear in Avaressa. But many times before Vergil died, he found himself wondering if hate might someday rise again to threaten the civilization of Dis.
* * *
[1] These days, Dissian historians are no longer required by law to be named Victor, but the term remains as a pejorative appellation for historians whose simplistic methods harken back to the legendary incompetence of their forebears.
[2] The first known use of zelaznium was in the accursed Blades of Brakboorn, which were given to the kings of the Six Kingdoms, eventually transforming their owners into wraiths in his service. The first intentional attempt to harness the power of zelaznium, however, was the creation of the Mirrors of Milah. Both the Blades of Brakboorn and Mirrors of Milah were instrumental in bringing about the Battle of Brandsveid, which is recounted in detail in a previous volume of the history of Dis, titled Disenchanted.
[3] You probably don’t want to know either, but in case you do, you can find the answer in Disenchanted. These footnotes seem to be developing a theme.
[4] Some argued that the organization should have been called the Human-Monster Organization for Urban Reconciliation, but such proposals were rejected by those of sounder mind.
Robert Kroese, Disillusioned
