Chapter Thirty-Four
~
I jerked, instantly aware the bloody scene was a dream, not pre-sight—which is always less clear, crisp. Still, I grabbed my chest for the arrow that penetrated my heart. No arrow. Sweat beaded my face. I took a deep breath. The moments passed, the pain subsided, less an agony than terror.
I looked to my left and right. The family sleepin’ around me seemed undisturbed by my start. I thought of the missin’ Delia, who had been at arm’s-length the previous two days. I lay back and considered what woke me. Not pre-sight perhaps, but a premonition of a decidin’ incident, which would take place soon? I closed my eyes and relived the dream.
~
Arrows flew in the air at the low-circlin’ Taiz’lin. They embedded in his flesh, ignored. Iza, aground, roared a threat that vibrated across the mountain peak. Bows rose against her. Ike ripped apart the thong restrainin’ his wrists as though it was parchment and lunged for the goblin leader.
“Stop, or I’ll rip his head off,” the enraged Ike shouted.
The goblin guard hesitated, but Iza’s extended wings, bellow, and raised talons were too much a threat to ignore. An arrow flew into her chest, followed by more. Ike had to do as he threatened—they were killin’ his dragon’s mate.
An effortless jerk and the goblin leader’s neck snapped. A second, stronger wrench tore the flesh. Blood flung in a broad arch, showerin’ every goblin within thirty feet. More blood flowed from the trunk of the dead elder, washin’ Ike in gore.
The ogre thrust the goblin away, roared an ancient battle cry unheard in centuries. A new assault struck him in the chest, six, seven, eight arrows. Lucas leapt from Iza’s back to join his friend. He caught Ike as his knees hit the ground, lowered him as arrows struck the unarmed human.
~
I reached out and cradled Bacchus, as the dyin’ Lucas had Ike. I pressed my head hard against the polished black ash. Tears flooded my face.
“Can’t happen like that,” I whispered to Bacchus. “We have to do somethin’.”
My skin tingled everywhere it touched the staff. I lay there for hours, unsure if I ever slept. The jays were the first indication mornin’ neared. I rose quietly. As the first to wake, I placed a quarter-block on the fire and half-felt my way across the dirt floor to where the sick lad slept. I listened to his calm breathin’ and gently placed the back of my hand against the boy’s forehead. It was dry, and cool. I smiled. Another life saved.
I took a bowl to the hearth and served a ladle of cold gruel from the pot. Grimaced. Not the tastiest thin’ to start the day, but I needed somethin’ in my stomach. Drank down what I could, and used a finger to push the rest into my mouth. After wipin’ the bowl out with the towel on the table, I let myself out.
The still chill was a relief from the stale air inside. I walked to the sleepin’ dragon. Looked like a rolled up mountain. It took a moment to figure out where his head was, curled under his left wing. I lifted the taloned sail and crawled under it, feelin’ my way along the sinuous neck, for his head. The spicy scent of the dragon’s breath indicated I had found it in the pitch black.
I reached out and rubbed Tir’s snout, whisperin’ his name.
“Ya would have been a snack for doin’ this to Taiz’lin or Iza.” The dragon’s voice sounded like gravel stirred in a pan.
“We need to find Delia, to continue with the ill. I have to go to Ike.”
“No one has explained to ya, ogre? Dragons don’t like mornin’s. Not at all. An hour or five of sunnin’ is the first matter at hand every day.”
“It’s important, Tir. Please.”
“Is the sun even up?”
I cleared my throat. “It means the life of Iza, Taiz’lin, Ike and Lucas.”
“Didn’t think the sun was up. I can’t fly without light.”
“Can ya wake Syl? We need to find Delia.”
“I may yet eat ya myself.”
I slapped him hard across the snout. “Then let many die, dragon, it’ll be upon yar shoulders.”
“But I’ll have a happy belly, ogre. Ya’ll make a fine snack.”
Tir’s voice sounded as though he was fallin’ back to sleep.
I kicked him in the chin.
“Ow”
“Up. Take me to the goblins, or I’ll skin ya while ya sleep and sew a few hundred suits of fine clothes out of yar hide.”
“Boastful, as I would expect from an ignert ogre.”
It took me another five minutes to get Tir to unfurl his wings. The dragon finally cracked his lids. Two luminous eyes glared at me.
“What happened to ya?” Tir asked.
“What do ya mean, what happened to me? Nothin’ happened to me. I haven’t been able to budge a lazy dragon to give naught a chance for anythin’ to happen to me.”
“Yar hair, fool. What happened to yar hair?”
I humored the dragon by grabbin’ a handful of dreadlocks and pullin’ them over my shoulder. There was nothin’ caught in them.
“The other side,” the dragon slurred.
I figgered the dragon was stallin’, but decided the fastest way to get past it was to investigate. Pulled back a length of dreads from my left shoulder. Was nearly totally white. The light, somehow? I twisted and walked out from under the wing. Standin’ under trees, in a moonless, sunless world, it didn’t make any difference.
I compared hair from one side and the other.
Black. White.
I stared.
“I don’t like risin’ early, but I don’t lie,” the dragon drawled.
I shook my head.
A mystery to unravel another time. Couldn’t have been my pre-sight. Could it?
I climbed atop the stretchin’ dragon. The creature’s hide felt soft and warm. I ached from the rocky ground, missed sleep. Why didn’t these silly humans layer their floor with planks? Even the ridges of the dragon’s spine were more comfortable.
Tir mentally groaned the first ten minutes of the flight. The eastern sky was a magenta that reminded me of the blood of my dream. I rushed toward a race of people known for their ferocity, who are backed against a wall, at the edge of survival. What could I say or do to possibly calm them? Blood had been drawn. I had drawn it. I’m their enemy.
“Ya’re on a fool’s journey,” Tir told me.
“A fool with a noble mission,” I said. Noble? I’m a humble ogre bull. Nothin’ noble about me.
“We will inscribe that upon yar headstone, ogre.”
“Right below that scratch, he wished to save his friends.”
“Would have to be a mighty headstone. I suggest simply, he erred.”
“Tis yar queen sibling too I’m tryin’ to save.”
The dragon trumpeted with mirth. “Will be a fine day a scrawny ogre like yarself saves a queen with the stature of Iza’loch.”
I ignored the continued ridicule. “Iza, of the Lake. That’s pretty. Why do none of ya use it? The first I’ve heard it.”
Tir didn’t respond for quite some time. He overflew a group of fires and circled, studyin’ the shadowed terrain for a place he could land, to leave me, as we agreed.
“The five of us were given the same title,” he finally answered. “The ‘loch gets tiresome.”
We raced toward the ribbed horizon. I hadn’t noticed the dragon plunged for the Earth, his motions vastly more fluid than those of Taiz’lin or Iza. Iza’loch.
“I’ll likely never find ya again,” Tir said as he thrust downward to land. “Ya’ll be on yar own.”
The landin’ was harder than I anticipated. In the dark shadows, the dragon obviously misjudged his height above the ground. We both grunted. My face plowed into the neck ridge in front of me. Bacchus clamored to the ground. My snout numbed after the initial pain, and my eyes watered. I half-fell, half-slid down the dragon’s back.
“Stick to flyin’ when the sun’s up.”
The dragon growled, and launched. I dove to the ground to avoid the talon-tipped wings, chucklin’ to myself. Might as well find humor in the little thin’s, when ya’re walkin’ to yar own death. Needed to stop thinkin’ that way.
Not a positive manner to approach a difficult situation. Somethin’ my papa said once. Accept the worse and endeavor to improve it. Papa wasn’t otherwise much of a philosopher. A stoic sheep drover, and a humble clan council member. I had respected him tremendously—up to his last decision, dealin’ with my future. That old tic in my chest revisited.
I wiped at my snout, and found a smear of blood across my wrist.
“Figgers.”
I claimed Bacchus and struggled to orient myself. Where were the fires? I sniffed the air, and strode forward, on knees less confident than I wished.
“Tis just a task of convincin’ what is best for all concerned. Nothin’ more.”
My hand burned where I gripped Bacchus.
“If ya know what’s best for all, I suggest ya share it, ’cause they’re just over that rise.” I hoisted the staff as though the thin’ needed a better view.
I turned my arguments inward. Last thin’ I needed was to be found out too early. At least the sky brightened—easier for a goblin to sink an arrow into my heart without ever havin’ to listen to my blatherin’ about a plan that hadn’t yet come together in my mind.
I reached out with his mind’s eye. There must be a sentry on the ridge. It was irritatin’ I couldn’t find him.
The terrain leveled makin’ it easier to walk. Didn’t have to worry as much about sendin’ a stone tumblin’ down the mountain announcin’ my unwelcome presence. Still no sentry. I walked on. Smelled the tell-tale stench of smothered fires. I picked up my pace. They were movin’ out early. For what? Or whom?
~
The camp was empty, the air heavy with the remainin’ swirl of the fires, mornin’ fog, and dust kicked up by the rush of boots. I sniffed the air, and followed south.
The scent quickly faded. They moved fast. I sprinted down the slopin’ valley. No longer any need for stealth. The goblins were near their destination, otherwise they would have been pacin’ themselves.
I cursed their long legs and pushed harder. The valley narrowed into a gorge and descended steeply snakin’ along the rushin’ creek that forged it. The goin’ was miserable. I fell again and again over boulders and fallen trees, pummeled knees, toes, and scuffed the heels of my hands. The gully opened into a broad basin and the scent became dramatically fresh. There were sweatin’ bodies just below, hidin’.
I froze and studied the lay of the ground. The trees were thick left and right of the flood channel, where multiple valleys fed the basin. A shallow Lake meandered below. I remembered this place. Had seen it from the air three times now, a natural trail for a militia to follow west. An ambush was set.
“Oh. Now what do I do?” I stared into the shadows. If there were goblins hidin’ there, I couldn’t make them out. But they were there.
Suck up yar fear. Walk down the middle of them.
My knees wobbled. A familiar question kept lurchin’ into mind. What was I doin’ here? Had no answer. My life had been uneventful, peaceful, even borin’ weeks ago.
Step after step.
No arrows sprang for my heart. I pulled all the reserve power I could muster, buildin’ upon Bacchus’ strength for the moment I needed it. My hand ached with the pent-up energy from the ethereal.
To the right, the bark of a broad oak moved, a face, eyes flashin’, glared at me. Others became obvious, crouched behind every rock, bush and tree. Anger poured from all around me.
I walked down the middle of it. A new scent came to me on the slight breeze. Men just settlin’ into their saddles that mornin’, chattin’ overly-loud on the first leg of the day’s journey, one more like days past, uneventful, taken for granted no foes would show themselves.
I stopped ten feet from the toothy scowl of what must have been the goblin force’s leader. He said somethin’ softly. What, I had no idea. I stopped and raised Bacchus. The aura of power circled the two of us. The near-goblin’s eyes broadened.
“Not today!” I shouted at him. I turned to each of the goblins now comin’ within sight and repeated my command. “Not today! I demand ya to allow the peace one more day!”
~
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