Chapter Twenty-Nine
~
More permanent structures, little more than wind breaks and reed-roofs to block the morning frost, had been struck on plateaus on the north side of the original encampment. The high elevation no doubt wore upon the goblins. They held to the heights for security, but the valleys below woulda been considerably more comfortable, balmy in comparison. Neither would be habitable by the end of the Harvest Moon. The snows would be accumulatin’ here long before frosts hit the midlands.
Taiz’lin circled the saddle connectin’ the two mountain peaks. There were few about, only two tents remainin’. By the lack of activity, most were no doubt huntin’, or searchin’ for anythin’ to supplement their diet of veal and elk. I well know that hunger. Because of it, I learned to recognize the distinctive scent of twenty different funguses, and when the different berries ripened.
By the time Taiz’lin landed, a dozen goblins gathered, thankfully, hands empty of weapons. The gray-haired clan leader trudged toward us. The two former-hostages slid down Taiz’lin’s shoulder and hurried to their papa’s side. They spoke quickly. I kneed the dragon, wishin’ he’d translate, but Taiz’lin ignored me. There probably was little mystery—spoke about how they were treated within the Hamlet, how the humans collected them early this mornin’. Their version would still be interestin’ to hear.
The elder nodded, and his bull younglings fell behind him as he strode forward. I climbed down and gave the aged-one a courteous bow. The goblin bull answered it in kind. He spoke softly, Taiz’lin translatin’ for me. The bilateral message disconcertin’ at first.
“My patience is thinnin’.” He jammed a fist at the ground. “We agreed with the other ogre to remain here until a meetin’ could be held. I understand yar people below have an illness spreadin’ among ya, but the summer is racin’ by. We won’t have time to build dwellin’s for our families.”
Dwellin’s? So they intended to settle no matter what. Was it just a courtesy, the meetin’? My mind froze in mid-thought. Realized my mouth hung open, and shut it. The clan leader glared, waitin’ for me to answer.
Do I have a right to speak for the hamlet?
Taiz’lin relayed my misgivin’s in the goblin’s tongue, then added, “Dangerous for ya to ignore the Covenant.” The dragon growled as he spoke the last consonant of the word covenant in Standish.
“A new pact has replaced it,” the elder argued.
“Grants tradin’, huntin’ rights, little more,” the dragon said.
The elder’s two bull younglings stepped forward, stood shoulder to shoulder with him. The other goblins neared. A burnin’ sensation settled in my stomach.
“My people dwindle to nothin’ from the meager offerin’s in the eastern desert, what used to be plains. I won’t bear it any longer. We have always been a fierce people. Ya’ll regret the day ya chose to stand before us and new homes.”
“I suggest we let the humans find them and deal with ’em,” Taiz’lin said. “Diminish two foes without liftin’ a talon.”
He repeated the rockslide sound, though it was more reserved. Evidently the elder understood it for what it was. The goblin’s expression intensified. The red of his cheeks darkened.
“Ya mock me, dragon?”
“Why bother to mock. Yar hunters couldn’t find a bumblin’ human three miles from yar camp. If a militia came down on ya, ya would be slumpin’ into yar gruel, wonderin’ what that was stickin’ from yar back.”
The elder and his younglings clenched their hands into fists at their sides.
“Why did I give ya the chance to talk?” I asked. “Let me take it from here.”
“Fine,” echoed ominously in my mind.
When I finally originated a thought that might have a chance at calmin’ the goblin, Taiz’lin refused to translate. I glared up at him, or at least at the bottom of his chin loomin’ above. The dragon looked away slowly, as though bored.
“Don’t do this to me,” I begged.
The dragon remained silent.
After several more attempts to wrangle peace with Taiz’lin, I gave up and shrugged my shoulder at the elder, gave him a bow, and remounted the dragon, with effort, since Taiz’lin didn’t offer his knee. The dragon launched so quickly the goblins didn’t get appropriately clear. I heard their angry shouts.
Taiz’lin and I remained quiet the entire way to my cabin. It gave me plenty of time to think about the situation. There were few optimistic scenarios. The only reasonable one bein’ the humans searchin’ the forests meant possibly the Hamlet would actually be left out of any hostilities. But only for the time bein’.
If goblins came to exact revenge, others joined those already here, the Hamlet would be the only face of their enemy. It could be wiped out. A peaceful people would be gone, and a new war would have begun.
~
Ike laughed as I recounted what happened on the far mountain. I glared at him, shocked.
“Ya never should have allowed him to speak in the first place.”
Taiz’lin’s growl outside broadened Ike’s smile.
“This isn’t funny,” Lucas complained.
Ike sighed. “We could have wandered out there for months lookin’ for them, if we didn’t have a dragon that could find their night fires from the sky. Those humans won’t dare get out of their precious saddles. They might scuff their pretty boots.”
Ike looked down at Lucas’ leather-bound feet. Which I thought was a tad funny, though I worked to keep the humor off my face.
“So the soles of our feet aren’t as thick as yars,” Lucas muttered. “Neither are our skulls. We can track. Reason where they might be.”
Ike made a rude sound no human with their dainty little noses could reproduce. “All the goblins have to do is stay out of the valleys, and they’ll not see a human.”
“They can’t stay in the elevations,” Lucas said. “It’ll be unbearable within weeks.”
Ike snorted again. “Those humans will give up long before that. They’ll miss their coffee, and hot breakfasts, their soft beds, and hot water to wash their delicate little hands.”
Lucas puckered his brows and lips. “This is serious.”
“I’m taking a nap,” Ike said. “Taiz’lin’s gonna hunt, then join the others relocatin’ the babes and wrinkled.”
Outside, Taiz’lin launched, and Ike did as he promised, lyin’ down on his bedroll and turnin’ his back to us. I peered at Lucas, who shrugged and walked out onto the porch. The chair there screeched against the boards, and the back of the chair clacked against the wall as the young human leaned back. The rail creaked—his boots pressin’ against it.
I turned to Delia, hopin’ for one of her infrequent smiles. It wasn’t to be forthcomin’. The woman picked up a gatherin’ basket and strode out the door.
“And what do I do?” I said softly to myself.
“What would ya normally be doin’, if the outside world hadn’t intruded on yars?”
I glared at Ike’s back. But it was a good question. Spyin’ on the witch that lived three miles to the west was the only thought that came to mind, which occurred mildly entertainin’. I smiled, and traipsed after Delia.
When I caught up with her, she pointed above her and demanded, “Snap off that limb.” I looked around at the thick forest debris, wonderin’ what was special about that particular branch, but her face darkened quickly so I did as she bid. She retrieved her foldin’ knife, one of the gifts from the Hamlet, from a pocket, and cleaned unnecessary twigs until she formed a Y at the point of the thin’.
Done with her trimmin’, she moved from tree to tree usin’ her new utensil to rake back the leaves. Poor humans. They need a proper snout. I sniffed out a promisin’ site for her and waved her over. She gave me her natural glare, but followed me. No smile resulted from her discovery. She didn’t even give me a glance as a reward, but she followed me silently, deeper into the forest.
“Lookin’ for any particular kind of fungus?” I asked her.
Her glare shifted evil with resentment. How would she act if she knew I’d killed her friend Faeylin? I immediately regretted the thought. The image of the bull’s blood-covered body never treated my stomach well. To remain her friend, with whatever benefit that accorded, she must never discover the goblin’s fate.
“Did you ask about Faeylin? When you met with the goblin clan leader?”
Her question made me jerk. Dreaded she read my mind. But her expression remained unusually calm. There had to be some kind of—mental leakage. Neither of us had mentioned the goblin. Her eyes lifted into the trees, watchin’ the birds or somethin’ else that caught her eye.
“I did not.” I heard the stress in my voice, hoped she didn’t notice. “I will the next chance I get.”
“Findin’ my house burnt, he may have already forgotten me.”
“No man or bull would likely forget ya that easily. Ya aren’t one to forget.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I mentally groaned. Everythin’ angers the lass. “It wouldn’t be yar gentle nature.” My words came out sharper than I meant. As the thought escaped my lips I wished my mind never imagined it. She needed no excuse to hold a grudge.
But her expression wasn’t one of anger. There was hurt. That was even worse, maybe.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She was quiet for a full five minutes, givin’ me too much time to think about my lunacy.
“You shouldn’t be sorry,” she finally said. “I recognize I’m quick to—see fault. I listen to how Lucas and Ike exchange insults and can’t believe they could even like each other. But they care deeply for each other, don’t they?”
“Closer than any two bull siblings I’ve ever met,” I said.
“That Ike is an arrogant snot with an evil mouth. I don’t see how a gentle soul like Lucas can suffer such behavior.”
I thought back to the sneaky practical jokes I’d witnessed Lucas pull on Ike the little time I’d known them, the subtle digs, and outright challenges.
“Why are you smiling like that?” she demanded.
She had stopped, and I turned to face her. Either she was already besotted by the lad, or— I thought about how Lucas acted around her. He’s the perfect gentleman. Even though he acts aloof—could he truly be as impressed with the witch as that, to hide his true nature—impressin’ her with his gentlemanly wiles?
Insidious, evil, wretch.
How could anyone fault him, without raisin’ the ire of the blinded damsel? It’s difficult to compete with a creature that devious. Not that I could ever compete.
She is a human. I’m an ogre.
But— I fear I’ll never be able to hold her as a close friend, if she’s enamored with the human. My heart ached.
I imagined her matin’ with Lucas and movin’ to the lair on the other side of the mountains. I’d never see her again.
“Now you look like you’re gonna cry. You ogres are emotional creatures, aren’t you?”
“Ya’ll never know,” I said softly.
~
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