Chapter Thirty-Seven
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“What do ya mean he doesn’t feel there’s enough game? How much did he have in the eastern desert?” My shouted words fell flat against the granite cliff, any echo covered by the constant rush of water from the fall.
“He said the creeks would be unreliable for water,” Maertin translated. “He complains there’re no lakes within several days’ hike.”
Like there are any lakes east.
On the Western Plain, my family relied on a well. Rain the only source for our field of barley, our vegetable garden. Not that we ogres eat many vegetables. But the pigs loved ’em.
I re-centered my thoughts. It had been a perfect solution, but the goblin was— He held out for more, that’s what he was doin’. He still wanted to settle on the banks of Black Lake. He baited us. Bluffed. The southland must be a hundred times better than where they came from.
I growled, long and deep, stared at the elder. His two sons stepped forward, their hands on their knives, puttin’ themselves between me and their papa..
“Calm yarself,” Ike whispered. “Remember, we’re in the middle of their camp.”
I glared at my friend.
“We flew over a healthy herd of elk with at least forty cows, most with calves,” Ike said. “The dragons go there to hunt, for goodness sakes.”
I turned back to Maertin. “Ya know the area?”
“Hunted there long before we began sneakin’ higher into the Range. Doesn’t have near the resources as yar parts, but it would provide for them.”
“Then ya agree he’s bein’ greedy?” I asked.
Maertin refused to answer. He cocked his head and looked away. His discomfort in makin’ eye contact could mean a lot of different thin’s. Didn’t wish to speak for the elder’s clan, or was afraid to make it worse.
Maybe the odds aren’t as lopsided as I assumed. Goblins are known for their ferocity in battle—and willin’ness to die. But leavin’ the families of the clan behind with no hunters?
Wish I was home. Prolly be tendin’ the ill. Exactly what I should be doin’.
The elder interrupted my thoughts. Maertin translated. More demands. He was pilin’ them on high. I shook my head without even lookin’ at Ike. Confident I didn’t need to.
“Then we prepare for battle,” the elder said.
“Ya prepare yar clan to evaporate like the mornin’ mist,” I shouted.
The elder and his counsel glared back at me as Maertin translated.
“He says I may go,” Maertin said, “as long as I don’t aid yar side in the comin’ battle.”
Ike stepped near Maertin and lowered his voice, as though he didn’t want the elder to hear. Did he feel the goblin understood more Standish than he let on? Prolly. Always a good strategy to look less—aware wasn’t the right word.
“Be willin’ to hear any suggestions ya might have, my friend.”
Maertin said, “I’d get on yar dragon quickly, without askin’ permission, hope he lets the two of ya leave with me.”
“Not the kind of suggestion I was hopin’ for,” Ike said.
“Best I got.”
“Best ain’t good enough.”
Ike turned to me. “Do we still bring the Hamlet here, try to keep them apart tomorrow?”
I muttered, “Without anythin’ to offer Johanson, stoppin’ war would be like tryin’ to keep water from flowin’ through yar fingers. If they have their hearts set to kill each other, not much gonna stop ’em. They’d just wait us out, or go through us, anyway.”
Ike asked Maertin, “What’s yar bet on the outcome, the humans agin’ yar friends here?”
Maertin had obviously been thinkin’ about it. “Depends on the quality of the human militia, but the horses are the difference, the edge. A goblin runnin’ can’t release an arrow. A man on horseback at a full gallop can.
“The goblins must leverage their physical advantage and fight in close, with their long knives and axes. If the humans don’t understand that, they will lose many. But they have more to lose.”
A shootin’ pain thrust through my chest, similar to pre-sights I’d experienced in the past, but there was no vision. Just an awareness. There would be few humans left on their horses at the end of the battle. But there would be no goblins standin’, either. Neither outcome was acceptable.
“What?” Ike asked. “I don’t like yar glare.”
“How many ogre archers could the dragons get to the battle?”
“Ya want us to contribute to the bloodshed?” he roared.
I sent energy into wards, similar to but greater to those I created the night I crept into the goblin encampment, that silenced my footsteps. I grasped Ike by the jerkin and pulled him near.
“The goblins fight, they die. They hope to make the cost too high for us, so we will come to terms. If the odds were so high—”
“And I thought we were gonna protect ’em. Ya want us to line up against ’em?” Ike shook his head. “Ya have a strange way of stoppin’ a war. But tilt the edge, and the old gray-haired ass might change his mind.” Ike took a shallow breath. “Six dragons. We have a good ten hours of flyin’ time. Six per trip— I could get over three-hundred.”
“Would they follow ya?”
“I’m their clan leader,” he practically shouted. “They will do as I command.”
“Gents,” Maertin hissed, “ya’re makin’ our hosts anxious. I hate wizards and yar majic. Ya don’t think they can see yar—light—thin’?”
“Have Taiz’lin put it into motion!” I released the wards and the strong aura around us fell. “Tell the elder we’ll go meet with the human general and have him stand down. If they promise to live peacefully, we’ll help them build their settlement on the Lake’s South Shore.” I shoved my hand toward Ike to stop him from arguin’. Of course we would never put them on our backdoor.
When Johanson dances on his own grave, goblins will settle on the South Shore.
Before Maertin finished translatin’, a broad smile crossed the goblin elder’s face. How long would it take him to figger it’s a ruse for the three of us to get out of the camp, time to prepare? By their expressions, his sons didn’t believe the offer for a moment, though others raised a celebratory chant, thrustin’ their bows in the air. The din upset Taiz’lin. On the crest above, a dragon trumpeted.
The eldest son shouted at the gatherin’ throng. Maertin didn’t bother to translate the demands. I had a pretty good idea he recognized they would lose perfectly good hostages if his papa let us leave.
Maertin puffed up his chest and shouted back, indignance that didn’t have to be translated. Neither did the threats and insults from the two goblin siblings. Bacchus didn’t shiver in my hand, though. That gave me a sense of comfort.
The shoutin’ quieted. The clan elder nodded, and jerked his head in invitation to leave.
“Let’s get out of here,” Maertin hissed.
Ike and I followed the goblin for the windin’ path that would take us to Taiz’lin. The angry voices of the two siblings rose again.
Just ignore them. Walk casually. Don’t react.
Half-way up the cliff the three of us surrendered any attempt to save face. We sprinted up the narrow path. Ike vaulted onto Taiz’lin’s back, yanked me behind him. Maertin was only half up Taiz’lin’s shoulder when the dragon launched. I barely heard the goblin’s scream over my own. Both Ike and I gripped what we could of the goblin. Ike held him at his elbow, me his waist, prayin’ whoever sewed his pants used a tight stitch.
Not gonna make it! Not gonna make it!
Somehow the motion of the dragon’s wings propelled Maertin against us. He lay along the side of the dragon, against our left legs. Long, terrifyin’ moments passed until the goblin managed to get his long leg over Taiz’lin’s back. But he had no leverage to swing his trunk up.
“I’ll never sit another dragon in my life,” the goblin screamed.
“Concentrate on livin’, and not what ya’re gonna do later,” Ike shouted back. “On three, Morgan!”
Ike counted down, and we yanked. My heart rushed into my throat as the motion made me feel I was gonna go over the opposite side. Somehow I managed to right myself, and Maertin clawed his way over my shoulder, into the neck ridge behind me.
I tried to swallow but couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe either. I thought of Tir’s gentle ways. Would Asr’s dragon have put us through this? I felt a yank on my jerkin, a hard prick in my shoulder, and looked back. Maertin was extractin’ an arrow from a fold of my jacket.
Holdin’ up the arrow, Maertin shouted, “Thank yar dragon, for not dilly-dallyin’.”
I cleared my throat and managed to fill my lungs.
Taiz’lin said, “Delia’s outraged ya’re divertin’ her dragon. She says she has sick to visit.”
I almost smiled. But guilt for not bein’ there to help the witch drove it away. How many might be ill now? Twenty? A hundred? Why was I even in the wilderness, wagin’ war—or plannin’ one? I had never even considered myself connected to the Hamlet or its community before. Is my plan makin’ a bad situation worse?
Ike pointed down at the ground. “Taiz’lin says that would be the best valley to sit in wait for the goblins, if the humans can ride through the night. Good open ground. There will be a half moon tonight. Should be possible.”
I nodded, the valley unseen, but didn’t answer. I wanted no more involvement. I closed my eyes and wished it was all a nightmare. Vertigo made me reopen my eyes.
Curiosity made me look down to study the passin’ terrain. It was odd Lucas wasn’t a rock throw away on Iza. Where were they, already musterin’ an ogre army?
Twenty minutes later Taiz’lin veered to the right, and dove. Several columns of riders could be seen through lapses in the canopy below.
A wave of nausea welled through me. Hunger made it worse. I tried to remember the last time I ate. It may have been cold gruel two days earlier. Tea didn’t count. Goblins are pitiful hosts. It’s a wonder my mind worked at all.
Maybe it isn’t workin’. Maybe this is all a dream. Nightmare.
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