Chapter Eighteen
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Bent Nose and Big Ears would have closed the gap between us more, prolly, if their long legs allowed it. As it was, I feared one of their booted feet would trip me any moment. The glares from the humans lanced deadly. Bows in hand, they formed an unfriendly receivin’ line forty feet from the Lake, but allowed us free access to pass. I know my three companions scanned the crowd as I did.
Reachin’ the edge of the throng, the wings of a dragon unfolded just past the Inn, and launched, risin’ just high enough to glide toward us. It was one of the riderless ones that flew off to pass the word a neighbor was in need, days ago. But now a smallish ogre with midnight-black dreadlocks sat on its back. When the dragon landed within feet of us, settin’ the goblins into unsettled chatter, the ogre slid off its back and hurried to Ike. The two grasped forearms, and bumped shoulder-to-shoulder.
I recognized the smaller ogre now. He helped me select my own gift for Delia—the book of poems. The orc called the bull the “Hamlet’s poet.”
“How was yar journey, little sibling?” He didn’t say sibling. He used the human term, brother.
I glanced quickly between the two. Hard to believe Ike was the younger of the two, perhaps a hundred pounds heavier, a head taller. But the Poet had the more mature features. But rough and sharp. Not gentle like his sibling’s. Without a snout and tusks, the older sibling could have hidden comfortably among a crowd of humans—though he still would have been much better lookin’. Guess humans can’t help bein’ so—homely.
“Ya can see we connected with the clan.” Ike pivoted ninety-degrees and nodded at the two goblins, then motioned to me. “Did ya meet Asr?”
I took Asr’s hand and introduced myself. He stepped forward and introduced himself to the two goblins, without a bit of reticence, a generous smile welcomin’ them. I almost laughed when the goblins offered their names. Though Bent Nose had obviously experienced a broken nose some time in his past, his name actually sounded close to Bennose. Big Ears owned a few extra vowels, a J or a G addin’ an extra syllable, but came close to what Ike and I had been usin’ for his name.
“Where’s Lucas?” Asr asked.
“How long have they been here?” Ike asked quickly, a thumb jerkin’ at the long line of humans behind us.
The tan dragon bull whipped its head left and right and growled. Behind us, the two goblins took a step backward.
“Sorry,” Asr said. “This is Tir.”
The dragon stepped forward, performin’ a recognizable bow with its long neck. Its heavy, acidic breath surrounded me, smelled like coffee left over the fire too long.
“Welcome back, Morgan,” the bull dragon said in a deep, gravelly throat.
The dragon stood—more erect, the only way to describe it, and stepped forward and extended a fist of ten-inch talons sharp enough to etch granite. Tir’s head hovered ten feet above me. The bull twisted its head so one shimmerin’ eye looked down on me.
I paused, before finally graspin’ the back edge of its claw, a tendon ridge as thick as my whole forearm. Tir pushed down in a reasonable facsimile of a handshake. The dragon’s head wobbled, lips parted displayin’ a row of teeth that would give the toughest warrior a good nightmare. But it was nonetheless intended as a smile, I figgered.
The goblins stepped back again. They obviously held no interest in shakin’ hands with a dragon. But the dragon bull seemed satisfied with the one greetin’, and waddled backward, lowerin’ its head so he could be part of the conversation again.
“He likes to practice his greetin’s,” Asr said softly.
“Taiz’lin and Iza are on the way,” Tir said.
“Share every word,” I heard in my mind, as the bull dragon launched into the air. The five of us braced against the blast of air and kicked-up debris.
“They make demands?” Ike asked.
Asr turned with us as we continued for the Inn. Its veranda seemed to be the Hamlet’s meetin’ place.
“Nothin’ more than ya’d expect. Want to kill goblins. Free humanity from threat. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ him face-to-face with yar guests.”
“Johanson?” Ike asked.
“Who else? This nonsense always has his signature.”
“Is Maertin here? These two don’t speak much Standish.”
Asr twisted his head around for a moment to glance at the two goblins close on our heels. “That isn’t convenient. Suppose Yoso knows enough to translate?”
“Would ya mind—”
Asr interrupted his sibling. “Invitin’ Maertin to join us? Nah. Ya mind if Taiz’lin joins us so we don’t get lost?”
Ike laughed hard. “Don’t coddle Tir’loch. Never heard of a dragon gettin’ lost.”
“Never hurts to take precautions.”
Ike chuckled, and rammed his sibling with his hip. The slight-built Asr ricocheted off me and back into Ike.
Asr didn’t bother shootin’ his sibling a grimace. “Don’t make fun just because I don’t care for wanderin’ about lost like ya do.”
“Never would consider teasin’ ya. Ya’re my favorite bull sibling.”
Asr expelled air out his snout. “Ya only speak that way when ya want somethin’.”
Ike laughed with that free humor I hadn’t seen from him for days. The ogre clearly appreciates his bull sibling’s company. They spoke as though they held a rare rapport.
Ike’s tone flipped as we turned away from the Lake, up the Inn’s rutted lane. A human, taller and broader than most men I’d ever seen, exited the door of the Inn and stood at the top of the veranda’s stairs. He held a ridin’ crop in his hand that he slapped against his leg. He wore shiny, black ridin’ boots that rose to his knees. An open, black, long-sleeved tunic over a white shirt. He looked down at us but otherwise didn’t acknowledge us. Ike, in my peripheral vision, didn’t appear to acknowledge the human either.
“Where’s that overprotective golden queen?” the man shouted as we neared.
Asr turned to Ike and opened his mouth to speak.
“Not now,” Ike said quickly to his sibling. “Will ya ask Tir to spread the word we need the clan elders to meet tomorrow?”
The two siblings whispered privately for a moment. I couldn’t hear what they said, but did hear Asr speakin’ with Tir a moment later. My staff vibrated in my hand. More quiet conversations, almost out of earshot, blended across my consciousness, dragons talkin’ to dragons. Shivers flowed across my shoulders. Could I be experiencin’ some fantastical dream? Would explain some thin’s.
“I’ll get a jacket and go for Maertin,” Asr said. He left us at the foot of the stairs leadin’ to the veranda. Tir landed in the grassy field a hundred yards west, sendin’ the goats that wandered within the near fence into a tizzy.
The human said, “Seems like we need to go through this every year, doesn’t it, ogre?”
Ike didn’t answer. He climbed the steps and stopped in the center of the flight and waited for the human to step aside, as though the remainin’ ten-foot breadth of the stairs wasn’t enough for him to make his way around the human. There was no walkin’ around anyone for the young ogre today. He glared at the man, dark eyes unblinkin’, narrowed. A history existed between the two which I longed to hear.
“The new Covenant you thrust down my throat last year—”
“There was no knife at yar back.” Ike walked past the man.
I hesitated on the veranda, considered introducin’ myself to the human, but Ike left the Inn's door open. So I followed. The two goblins stayed close. The human let out a strange sound, a grunt of sorts, but nothin’ like one an ogre could form. What did the sound suggest?
The lobby was filled with the Inn's residents, though it was mid-afternoon. Perhaps humans don’t fish or do whatever they do at Black Lake in the afternoon, because the dinin’ hall was filled too. There were four six-chair tables pushed together in the middle of the big room, the only tables not fully occupied. The white-haired troll hen, the Hamlet’s matriarch, sat there leanin’ over a steamin’ mug. An ancient troll bull, I assumed her mate, sat next to her.
Ike crossed to her and planted her a kiss on the cheek, tusks clackin’, and slapped the bull’s shoulder hard. The troll looked up through a pair of human-styled spectacles and grinned, a grin that could make an ogreling giggle for no particular reason. Maybe it was the glass discs hangin’ across his nose. Ike pulled out the chair next to the hen and sat.
“Wherever ya’d like,” the troll hen said with a slow whisk of her arm. “We have plenty of time to get acquainted before the elders arrive.” I guess she spoke Goblin for a moment.
Maybe we wouldn’t need Maertin.
Bent Nose and Big Ears shared a timid smile with her before sittin’ directly across from her, where she left her arm point long enough for the hint to be unmissed. The human stomped in and stood at the threshold of the dinin’ room, glarin’, as though he waited for his own invitation. But none was forthcomin’ from the troll hen or anyone else.
I stood back for a moment too. Should I find somethin’ else to occupy myself? After all, I’m not a member of the Hamlet. Don’t speak for anyone.
As though she read my mind, the troll hen said, “Don’t be bashful, Morgan. Ya can represent all the settlers in the outlyin’ hills. Come. Sit down.” She pointed to the open chair next to Bent Nose.
When I settled, a server set down mugs in front of the four of us. The rich aroma of coffee, a humans’ drink, wafted from my mug. Ike eagerly blew on the quaff, then sipped loudly. He made a proper-ogre grunt of approval.
The two goblins smelled the brew with wrinkled noses. I have to confess I didn’t blame them. Would have preferred a cup of tea myself. The troll hen reached out her long arm to the three of us.
“Eina,” she said.
The goblins and I shook her hand, then her mate’s. Yoso was his name. Eina and Yoso. I’d crossed the path of both of them before, but couldn’t remember hearin’ the bull’s name before.
The human strode toward us as two elves crossed from the lobby. The human said somethin’ loudly, his tone angry, but it was washed out as the trumpet of several dragons erupted outside. Ike spilled his coffee and lurched forward, hands clasped over his ears. A knifin’ pain struck me through my temples as dragon and rider shouts crushed into me.
The din blanketed the shouts of Eina. She reached an arm around Ike’s shoulders. The resoundin’ bugles ratcheted louder, but the emotional message struck me harder. The terror and agony of loss pressed the air out of my chest. Cramped my gut.
Lucas! Lucas! Lucas!
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