Boquillas still had the spear point in him and it was causing him some real agony, but it wasn't the kind that would finish him, only make him even angrier.
Blue energy shot from his fingers and struck Irving but suddenly flamed off as the spear tip continued to move inside him and cause further damage every time he repositioned his body to send out more spells.
"Hey! Irv! Think you know what you could do with a sword with a real steel blade?" called a friendly, familiar, but unexpected voice from just over and behind him. Irving looked up and to his complete astonishment saw Macore standing there holding a huge sword, the kind out of King Arthur. "Watch it! It's heavy as all blazes!" the thief called, and threw it down with all his might.
Boquillas whirled at the sound of Macore's voice and thundered, "So! Now we are virtually complete! Come, thief! I will give you something to remember me by!"
"Me first!" Macore shouted back, and tossed a bag of something at the creature that struck one of the huge horns and burst, spreading a powder all over him, including his eyes.
Macore grinned. "That's one for the professor!" he said cheerily. "Iron filings'll do it every time!"
Irving picked up the huge sword with both hands and, not stopping to think for a moment, rushed right at the huge creature, slashing as he struck.
Pieces of entity began flying everywhere. The giant pseudo-satyr roared and lashed out, but he was blinded, in agony, and nearly helpless against the slashing and cutting sword whose blade was the smoothest and sharpest Irving had ever seen.
"Hey, Joe! Got another not quite as big or fancy!" Macore called, tossing a smaller version to the still-implanted nymph, who caught it and began using it with gusto.
Macore then sat back on the rock and relaxed, watching the show and giving occasional pointers.
He didn't have to. All life went out of Esmillio Boquillas as soon as Irving brought him down with cuts to the legs and then severed his neck from his shoulders.
LOOSE ENDS
At Quest's end the details shall be explained for the benefit and edification of the survivors.
— Rules, Vol. VIII, p. 404(a)
"IS HE REALLY DEAD THIS TIME?" MARGE ASKED MACORE, turning up her nose at the mass of charred and rotting flesh and limbs on the altar.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure he is," the thief responded. "Of course, you never know about the likes of him or the Sea of Dreams. If enough people start believing in him, he may be impossible to kill completely. On the other hand, what's the difference? You got to figure that he's stuck in the Sea of Dreams, and there's gonna be nobody else there but lots of superpowerful godlike beings all of whom received a bill of goods by him and then got double-crossed. I think if he does survive in some form, he'll quickly be nostalgic for the old lake-of-eternal-fire business. Out of our hair for good, anyway."
Marge kissed him. "But how in the world did you manage to turn up here just in the nick of time, and with an iron-based sword?"
He shrugged. "I was late. What can I say? I got hung up, and everybody started doing things before I figured. Next time warn me and I won't oversleep."
"That's not what I mean! Why and how are you here in the first place?"
"Oh, I've always been fairly close. I told you I have a lot of contracts and old debts down here. I came across on the same ship you did. Had one hell of a time staying out of sight"
"Then that was you!" Poquah breathed. "So!"
Macore nodded. "You're getting to be too much a creature of habit, Poquah. I read you like a book then. In fact, I got so confident, I even decided I could risk briefing Junior there so long as he didn't realize it was me. I spotted the girl in my disguise as a minor demon and figured she'd be a hell of a lot better off with you."
"That explains it! I thought he was being warned off!" Marge exclaimed.
"I had to give that impression, but I knew no son of Joe's would leave a pretty damsel in distress. Something in the Rules about that, I think. Besides, I did want you all to know the situation with her before you made your decision." He drew a deep breath and continued.
"Anyway, after that I was able to stick pretty close for a while, but Ruddygore decided that you were going on the straightforward path and drawing all the attention, see. That let me get here direct while you all went off to Castle Rock. Man! That was some show punching you all through! Seeing you come in like a rocket from Hell guarded by its legions was the height of absurdity. Damn near split my gut."
"Very funny, We were walking into this bastard's trap, and you were laughing," Marge grumped.
"Awwww… It's not all that bad. I figured, he, wasn't out to kill you. He coulda done that anytime, and he was clearly out for revenge instead. So long as you were alive, we could always fix what was wrong later."
"Fix! What…?"
"The McGuffin, of course. I stole it maybe four, five days ago. Those two never even knew. Neither did Boquillas. I'll tell you how I did it sometime, if I don't write my memoirs. Damn! I'm still good!"
"You stole the McGuffin three days before we got here?" Even Irving was appalled. "And we did all this for nothing?"
"Not for nothing, certainly. I wish I coulda been here early enough to have seen old Joel's face when he found out I'd switched birds, though." He dropped the smile and got serious. "Look, it's more complicated than you think. The McGuffin has great power, but it has really strong limits. You can feel that evil vortex yet, can't you? Ruddygore still hasn't completely got it closed. It's kind of nasty, since everything you do with it also has all sorts of other consequences. It has a kind of ruthless logic to it."
"But he'll get it closed, right?"
"Sure he will. And he'll get us out of here, too. He got me back here with the swords and all sorts of stuff." He paused. "Look, we also wanted Boquillas, which is trickier than you might expect. You can't kill with that thing, for one example., So, dealing with the Baron, maybe once and for all, was a priority. Second was Joe and her friend. Without Boquillas out of the way, we couldn't get 'em completely out of the Baron's clutches, I told you, it's complicated, but it'll work out."
"So what do we do until he does work it out? We're still surrounded by a nasty enemy throughout this forest, we've got virtually no supplies, and there's little left to protect us. Not to mention that both Joe and his friend there are gonna give us little Boquillases any time now."
Macore shrugged. "I only take orders. But I know we'll be protected if we stick around here, and I have some supplies for a couple of days. Maybe we can just start renewing a few old ties, huh? Ruddygore's not gonna leave us in the lurch. Not now."
A lot of sorcery and spells had flown around in those minutes, particularly the last ones, as they discovered when they all tried to relax and get their bearings during the day and evening that followed. The worst thing in fact was keeping Macore from telling or, worse, singing the entire saga of Gilligan's Island to them.
Irving found that his power, his spells, seemed to have vanished completely. He was certain that something else had changed about him, even though the others couldn't see anything and he couldn't put his finger on it. There had been an initial blast from Boquillas, and it had certainly done something.