Chapter Twelve
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Ike and Lucas appeared sullen as we broke camp with a decision still to be made. Seventeen fires. Up to seven goblins sleeping by each, maybe. That’s certainly no huntin’ party. It’s large for even a raidin’ party. More like an entire clan.
Perhaps they tired of the desert heat in the east, and meager huntin’. I ran through the conversation the other two had. Might it be wise to welcome the goblins, accept them as inhabitants of the region?
The thought of a clan of goblins livin’ within a day’s hike made my skin crawl. But just a few years earlier, a human wouldn’t have been found sleepin’ beside two ogres. Times change. But no clan would survive a winter in the peaks. If they traveled south, to the foothills of the Wildes, the situation would be more acceptable.
Settlin’ near the Valley—not so.
“If their scout hadn’t been so ready to notch an arrow, we could be negotiatin’ now,” Ike mumbled.
“How many scouts might we cross between here and there?” Lucas’ words weren’t truly a question. I assumed it was just fodder for thought—a warnin’. And not very optimistic, in my mind.
“But peace deserves a chance to talk,” Ike said. In my mind, fear and peace tend not to go hand in hand.
“Then we better keep our warrior out of sight.” Lucas hooked his thumb at me. What? Since when—?
I looked down at my jerkin, more at its dark, red stains. My only nice jerkin, too. I threw the cold water in my cup over the embers and withdrew my hatchet at my waist, whackin’ the remainin’ stump to dislodge any hidden sparks. Ike and Lucas emptied their own cups, and Lucas stirred the muck with a stick.
I smiled inwardly. The human and ogre live together, are partner-merchants, probably rarely apart, even though Ike has a mate. Ikas. The single name for the ogre and human companion amused me.
“What are ya smilin’ about?”
I met Lucas’ blue eyes. I didn’t want to share my joke. “I—I look forward to watchin’ Ike traipsin’ into a camp of goblins to make demands and set rules. They’ll shake in their boots no doubt.”
“I don’t see how that’s so funny,” Ike said, pressin’ his cup inside his bedroll.
“Guess I have a whimsical imagination.”
Ike growled, an honest ogre sound from deep in his chest. He drew his kit across his shoulder, turned, and set off in a southeasterly direction without a word. The decision must have been made. I smiled, amused that Lucas followed without any further discussion. Then again, I followed without regard for my private concerns. The three of us would likely end up torn apart by lances. If we made it that near the goblin camp. Otherwise it would be arrows through the chest, or worse, through the back.
Goblins aren’t known for their integrity. Yes. A cowardly attack would be the way we’d perish. Fifty, sixty miles in the wilderness. Our folk would never know what happened to us. I fantasized about Delia cryin’ over my death. Yep, not too realistic.
Would she even notice? Or simply continue to enjoy the serenity of my cabin?
Ike kept a slow pace as we gnawed at our jerky. When he looked back and found my and Lucas’ hands empty of breakfast, he pushed into a run. The first mile was the toughest. It reminded me I’m no longer a young bull, but a bull without an adjective. Refuse to consider myself a mature ogre. But my joints ached from sleepin’ on the cold ground. Had nothin’ to do with age.
I kept my staff readied, full of ethereal energy. It tingled uncomfortably, so I moved it often from one hand to the other. With my mind’s eye I warily searched in a circle around us, not just before us. Goblins are well known for movin’ quickly. An image of dyin’ from an arrow in my back passed through my mind frequently.
Not that they would stop with one arrow.
And not that I terribly fear the possibility. No ogre bull fears death. It’s an opportunity to set one’s jowls and growl. At least that’s the story we’re told when we’re mere bullies.
Ike paused at the creeks we passed so we could get our fill of water, but didn’t give us time to eat again until early afternoon. We neared our destination. We rested muscles for a half-hour, but not our minds, stayin’ acutely aware of our surroundin’s. I never set my staff down. A hand constantly gripped it.
As we readied to push on, Ike remained sittin’ for a moment glarin’ off into the distance. Assumed he didn’t linger out of exhaustion. My mind worked, arguin’ with myself. I wished Ike would put his thoughts to words, because we prolly shared the same sentiments. But I didn’t feel it’s my place to speak. Not my trek, my burden. I’m just along for the fresh air. It’s Ikas—I smiled over the combined name—responsible for the security of the Hamlet.
~
Within the hour I halted our march, sensin’ the perimeter guard. A broad perimeter it was. Only fearful folk set such extensive defenses.
“On the crest,” I whispered, pointin’ at ten, twelve, and two o’clock. “They’ve heard us, but I don’t think they’ve seen us.”
Lucas opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, shook his head.
We stood silently for a moment. Ike finally removed his bow from his shoulder and handed it to Lucas. “Keep good care of her for me.”
He kept his quiver, no doubt to show his bow remained behind with a friendly force. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and walked forward, his make-do peace flag held high in the air.
I drifted toward the brush to the right. Lucas stepped to the left, and disappeared into the brown and green. From the clump of undergrowth I selected to steal away in, I only caught sight of Ike one last time. I heard shouts, runnin’ footsteps. Fear for the young ogre pierced my shoulder blades. An eerie forebodin’ fell upon me, which I couldn’t reason away.
The winter stories at the hearth, of the wickedness, evil deeds performed by goblins durin’ the wars, rushed back to me in vicious detail. Goblins aren’t ones to talk. They killed and took what they wanted, even killed for no reason. Ogre-kind may have aligned with goblins durin’ the wars as a necessity, there’s no natural kinship between us. There’s nothin’ stoppin’ them from takin’ Ike’s head today.
Gods, stay with my friend.
The sun fell through the canopy and lingered below the hidden horizon. Full shadows replaced diminishin’ slices of light. Lucas would be gettin’ very chilly soon. He’d need a fire unless he kept movin’, active. What was takin’ Ike so long? How much did they have to say? Was the ogre still alive? If not, why hadn’t a war party come seekin’ me and Lucas?
I decided. Took a few seconds to intensify the wards reachin’ out from my staff, to conceal my footfall, the scrape of limbs draggin’ across me, and exited the underbrush. Lucas hid forty feet away. I knew exactly where, though I couldn’t see him. I hurried, less afraid of makin’ noise now. The human jumped when I pulled branches back to reveal him.
“Whaa—?” The lad already rocked with shivers.
I held out my hand to silence him, and pointed where two goblins hid thirty yards away. “I’m checkin’ on him,” I whispered. “Retreat a mile and build ya a fire. I’ll return before mornin’. If not, head home.”
“No. I’ll go with ya.”
“Did ya hear me comin’?” I asked.
Lucas shook his head.
“A deaf troll could hear ya. Do as I ask.”
The human grimaced. It was no doubt hard to leave his life-long friend behind to someone else’s care. He finally nodded.
“Give me ten minutes to put some distance between us, then make all the noise ya want. Uh—never mind—guess ya don’t have to work at it.”
Lucas smiled, and I made my way toward the goblin camp. Despite the growin’ chill, sweat poured down my sides as I passed between two guards, one nestled in an outcroppin’, another sittin’ with his back to a tree. I decided dusk-sight isn’t a goblin’s best sense. But then I was gettin’ a little unfair help from the ethereal.
With my mind’s eye, I searched for goblins I might have missed, when Lucas moved out of his hidin’ place. As slight as humans are, they can certainly make a heavy footfall. It was almost comical the unease generated in the two near guards. They readied their bows and shifted anxiously. Lucas no doubt sounded like a one-man army attackin’.
Humans and their footwear.
I hurried forward to take advantage of their distraction. Quickly found myself above the tree line, leavin’ me nothin’ but scrub to hide behind, and the dark. The clan had chosen an excellent camp. I wasn’t even aware we were so high in the mountains. It occurred to me that it also made the goblins susceptible to attack from the sky. Perhaps they aren’t aware Black Lake is home to dragons.
I crept forward, watchin’ cookin’ fires comin’ to life. The terrain flattened. The area lay in a saddle reachin’ between two peaks. Most of the fires nestled in the bowl where the goblins would be protected from the icy breeze from two directions.
Movin’ slowly from one clump of scrub to another, I made my way into the shallow depression of the main camp. I listened to the soft murmurs around me. Tried not to think about bein’ surrounded by the most hated, feared race in the world.
There would be little moon tonight. No rescue from the air. The sky lost the last of its purple hue and the mountain top turned utterly black. Cold, and black. I smiled. I could move freely, as safe here as in my own cabin. If a goblin didn’t carry a torch toward me, they’d never know I’m here.
~
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