Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  “Of course not, Grandmother,” said Spitemorta as she sprang to her feet to begin pacing. She thrust her face at Demonica. “I'm just fed up with your ordering me about all the time as if I were some backward nobody without a lick o' sense.”

  “Then quit acting the part, sweetheart. It's your act that has me convinced,” she said as she put her hands on her hips and studied her. “You know, you really do need to calm down. Do you suppose letting your emotions run away at every trifle is good for you in your condition? You know, it's bad timing for you to be pregnant, but whatever you've done, you need to get complete control of yourself before you even have a prayer of controlling the entire world.”

  Spitemorta drew a furious breath.

  Demonica shushed her with a shake of her head and a raised finger. “How long ago was it that you came to me for help in controlling your own subjects? Think about what I arranged for you. You need to think. Maybe I'm working in your best interests. Maybe you need to think before you say something regrettable.”

  “All right Grandmother,” she said with a contemptuous sigh, “I'll accept that you have my best interests at heart for the time being.”

  “Good,” said Demonica without a trace of a smile. “I suggest we take the Staff back to the ship for a bite to eat and a rest. Otherwise, it will be a long afternoon up here.”

  As the ravens traded croaks and clicks far above, Spitemorta held out the Staff, threw her leg over it and waited for Demonica to settle herself behind her.

  “I'm on. Let's go eat, Rouanez Bras.”

  ***

  Hubba Hubba gave a shrill two note whistle as he and Pebbles sprang into flight from the top of the coach door, waking Lukus with a start.

  “What...is going on?” he said, sitting forward to rub his head. “Wow. It's getting to be evening.”

  “Yea,” said Soraya, “You've been asleep all afternoon.”

  “Didn't I hear Hubba Hubba?”

  “He and Pebbles have gone to take a look at Sweet Pea before it gets too dark.”

  “We're that close? What are we stopping for?”

  “We're at the rocks at the edge of the Jutwoods. We've stopped to clean up at the spring before crossing the fields to town.”

  “Oh,” he said, twisting around in his seat to unlatch the door, “but couldn't that wait until we got to the inn?”

  “Great-Grandfather thought we should clean up a bit so we'd be more presentable when we got to town. You know how particular we Elves are about our appearance, especially when we're so seldom seen by Humans these days.”

  “Well, this Human is here to say that the rest of his race has no idea what a loss it has suffered by shunning Elvenkind,” he said with a decisive nod. “And I vow to do my part to put an end to such idiotic behavior.”

  “I know you speak the truth love,” said Soraya with a smile, as she reached for his hand, “but keep in mind that a good lot of your people don't agree with you. You'll have to be patient then, and perhaps one day they will.”

  “You're expecting problems when we get to the inn in Sweet Pea?”

  “Nothing we can't handle, I'm sure,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “There'd better not be.”

  “It'll be fine. Please don't get upset.”

  “I shan't,” said Lukus, “unless upset is due.” He stepped out of the coach, stretched and then helped her out. A great horned owl traded booming hoots with a couple of others off through the trees. “They're early. It's still a while before dark.”

  “It's overcast,” she said, taking his arm. “They're always early when there'll be no stars nor moon.”

  “Wow!”

  “What?”

  “This is the exact spot where your brothers waylaid Rose and me and took us to meet you,” he said, giving her a hug as they walked. “I didn't know anything at all about this spring though.”

  Soon they had washed up and were under way again, lurching and swaying in and out of ruts and over rocks. “Well, I'll have to admit that none of your family seems worried,” said Lukus.

  “That's because there's nothing to get worried about. It's simply prudent to make certain that no one finds fault with us.”

  “Having to do that is what bugs me,” he said with a gravelly mumble.

  “I know,” she said with a smile, “and I love you all the more for it, but it's just the way things are.”

  ***

  “It's getting dark, dear,” said Demonica as she stepped into Spitemorta's berth.

  Spitemorta glanced up expressionless from her skinweler and went right back to projecting her final image of herself, hard at work for the citizens of Loxmere-Goll. At last she set it down with a smile and picked up the Staff, as though Demonica were not standing right there.

  “Well,” said Demonica, “You certainly look smug for a troll goddess with a skinweler.”

  “Do I now?” said Spitemorta. “I may feel smug, but I certainly didn't let my good subjects see me as a troll.”

  “That's comforting, Rouanez Pouezus.”

  “I've just been having a most satisfying session with the skinweler.”

  “Have you? By all means tell me about it.”

  “Pouezus?”

  “Why, that's Headlandish for heavy, 'Heavy Queen' in this case.”

  “That's hateful.”

  “But temporary.”

  “You're a mean grandmother, Demonica.”

  “And curious. I still would like to know how your 'satisfying session' went.”

  “All right, I suppose a heavy queen does have certain obligations to spiteful parties. I just got to thinking that my subjects needed to see how bad the Elves should be, particularly since we are planning on annihilating them. I mean, it should be helpful having the people hate them.”

  “By all means. You're starting to think. Good. So what did you show the people, exactly?”

  “I showed how Elves live in self-indulgent grandeur and leisure, how they have more riches than even the crown and yet grasp about for more, and how they are wantonly wasteful with their plenty. I also showed them conspiring to destroy the sukere crops with the dragons and Niarg, and I showed them having a riotous celebration when the deed was done. Finally, I showed them plotting to conquer Loxmere-Goll.”

  Demonica threw back her head and laughed. “My, you were having a time of it, weren't you?” she said. “I wish you'd invited me to sit in. I'd have enjoyed that.”

  “Really? Well next time, then.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” she said. “But right now we need to get back to the troll caverns. We need to show up just as they're coming out. Whoa! Something just hit me.”

  “What?”

  “The spell of tongues won't work on them.”

  “So? Now what?”

  “Well, that means that I've got to learn how they say 'follow me' in their speech.” said Demonica as she paused to rub her chin. “So, I'm going to wave aside for a moment the spell of tongues which I've cast on you, and you are going to say, 'Follow me,' until I have it right. Go.” And with that, she mumbled something as she stirred the air in front of Spitemorta.

  Spitemorta looked Demonica up and down with a knitted and heavily ridged brow. “Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja,” she rumbled.

  “Phnyr-sniff...agh!” said Demonica.

  “Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja!” boomed Spitemorta.

  “Phnyr-sniff-dyri-ja?”

  “Duda!” thundered Spitemorta. “Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja. Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Demonica, nearly rattled. Spitemorta was indeed commanding as a seven foot troll. “Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja.”

  “A-oofn!” barked Spitemorta, clapping her beefy hands. “A-oofn, a-oofn! Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja.”

  “Phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja...phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja...phnyr-sifn-dyri-ja. Got it!”

  “A-oofn.”

  Demonica quickly stirred the air again. “Got it,” she said. “Let's get topside right now. We need to get going.”

  Spitemorta n
odded and bounded up the steps, anxious to be done with her persona as the great troll goddess, Fnadi-yaphn. The sooner she could be herself, the better she would like it. She was astride the Staff at once, standing as obligingly as she could, with as much Staff sticking out behind as she could manage by the time Demonica caught up, dressed in a heavy robe with a bodhran tied across her back.

  Since their ship had weighed anchor in the middle of the afternoon, they didn't have far to fly, and it seemed that they had scarcely gotten aloft before they spied the giant colonnade of bluffs.

  “Looks like we timed it well,” said Spitemorta, pointing to the startling multitudes of trolls milling about in front of the cave mouths, far below.

  “Perfect,” said Demonica, “Now we need to get their attention.”

  “How?”

  “Drop down and fly really low until they all see us, then shoot clear back up here. In fact, do that two or three times. Then we'll land. That ought to have 'em good and awed by us for a moment or two.”

  “That gives me boundless confidence, Grandmother,” said Spitemorta as she pointed the Staff down and without warning dropped into a heart stopping plunge that made Demonica shriek and grab onto her. She leveled off and hurtled along the ground in front of the trolls before shooting skyward.

  Demonica wailed and dug in her nails. “Are you wanting me to vomit or what?” she cried.

  Spitemorta slowed at her apogee without a word before heading back down. She flew by the trolls again before shooting into the sky and plummeting down one last time to settle before the awed attention of every single one of them standing outside the cave.

  Demonica immediately stepped off the Staff, struggling to keep from stumbling, as the trolls stared at her agape.

  Spitemorta stood tall with a fierce scowl and planted the Staff with a thud as she studied her people with blazing red eyes. The entire beetle-browed multitude stood in open-mouthed paralysis. “I am your Great Goddess, Fnadi-yaphn!” she thundered.

  With a stir of urgent murmurs, the trolls carefully backed away from her.

  “Good. I've got them,” she thought as she glared at them. “Where is Nafnarr-fafyr?” she thundered.

  The trolls gasped and shrank back. A gnarled and ancient white haired one came forth from amongst them, pausing here and there to chant and shake a small drum rattle, stretched with Elf hide. Spitemorta was startled at the sight of his loin cloth made of Elf scalps, but forced herself to ignore it.

  The old troll shuffled to a halt directly in front of her. “I be Dyrjin-yryy,” he said. “Nafnarr-fafyr nobe here. I speak for him nohere.”

  Spitemorta took a step toward him. “You withhold the whole truth, old shaman!” she thundered as she smacked the ground with the heel of her staff. “Nafnarr-fafyr watches our every move from the Land of the Dead!”

  The old troll threw himself face down on the ground before her. “Truly, Great One,” he said, as his voice cracked. “You truth-speaking. Nafnarr-fafyr does see us from Land-of-the-dead. Please see that I be your-servant. Why have you good-graced us with your big-to-look-at?”

  “Rise!” barked Spitemorta as she folded her arms.

  The old one tottered quickly to his feet and met her red eyes with his dark fearful ones.

  “I've spoken with Nafnarr-fafyr in the Land of the Dead!” she thundered. “He's not pleased. I'm not pleased, either. You've run away from the Elves. You're afraid of your quarry. Your quarry kills your king, your very brother and scores of Dyrney. And what do you do? Do you make the Dyrney proud? Do you hit the Elves in their sleep? Do you have a victorious vengeance feast of Elf flesh? No! You flee across the Eternal Mountains and cower on this side, only eating Elves that foolishly stray far up the slopes.”

  “True! True!” wailed the shaman as he fell back onto his face, trembling. “But the Elves findy-grab our hole-in-hill and some giant thump-jerk threw in a horror-fire, killing, killing, killing, crush-ripping us to pieces! And when we run-fly hole-in-hill, they jump-bite us with their gut-rip-birds and bloody-rip us limb from limb. They would have kill-chewed all Dyrney.”

  Spitemorta looked aside to see a very large troll in his prime with a jagged scar from his temple to his waist, tramping straight for her through the crowd. He came to a proud halt well out of her reach. He too wore a loincloth of Elf scalps.

  “I be Gnophn, Thunder-man. And you-be wrong. Nafnarr-fafyr is my brother. Now tell us why you've come or hump-scramble.”

  Spitemorta paused to raise an eyebrow, and without warning thrust forth the Staff, blowing out of the ground a deep pit with a deafening concussion, knocking Gnophin flat on his back and flinging stones far into the air to come rattling down the bluff face.

  Scores of the nearby trolls were thrown flat with Gnophin. Scores more fled in all directions, but most stood paralyzed with fear, watching as Spitemorta walked calmly around the crater to plant her knee with all her weight on Gnophin's chest as she grabbed his windpipe and squeezed mercilessly. “You will never speak to me in that way again!” she rumbled. She stood up, watching him cough and gasp.

  He sat up, heaving.

  “Of course, you now can plainly see that I'm your great goddess who rules all Dyrney, and of course you'll bow down to me...” she said quietly as he stood up. “...or I'll blow your stinking pieces all over the hillside!” she roared.

  Gnophin threw himself face down at her feet at once, where he groveled, whimpering his apology and his pledge to serve her for eternity.

  “Then rise,” she commanded. “Stand amongst the rest of the Dyrney while I address all of you at once.”

  Gnophn scrambled to his feet and scurried to get amongst his fellows who were beginning to stand as they dug dirt out of their eyes and brushed sand out of their hair. All fell to a hushed silence.

  “Dyrney of the Eastern Continent!” she rumbled rhetorically. “Hear me well! You have been cowards and have shamed your fallen ken. You have shamed your ancestors. You have been condemned to wander in the Dead-world of the bright mists, where all are alone, hungry and fearful for eternity.” She got quite wide eyed at the sight of the entire multitude of trolls falling onto their faces, moaning in terrified dread. This was fun. She went on: “I have come to offer you this, only this one time. I offer this one chance to escape this endless doom. Hear me well!” She paused, savoring the sight of them. “You must avenge the deaths of Nafnarr-fafyr and all those Dyrney who fell with him. You must live once again on Elf meat. Long ago there were Elves who ran away from the Dyrney and crossed the sea. Your ancestors were shamed by their escape. These Elves live there now without the horror fire and gutrip birds of the ones who killed Nafnarr-fafyr. If you eat them, you will erase the Dyrney's first shame. And if you eat every last one of them, you will end the shame of not avenging Nafnarr-fafyr. Only then will you be spared eternity in the bright mists.”

  “How are we to cross the endless eye-sting-water?” said Dyrjin-yryy, stepping forth.

  “I have great ships to bear you across the sea,” she rumbled, “but you must come with me now, this very night, with no hesitation whatsoever. If you refuse you are doomed. But it is your choice. If you are willing to end your shame, follow my servant.”

  She paused and waved a hand at Demonica. “To the ships of your salvation!” she thundered, as she stepped across the Staff and sprang aloft. “I will watch over you all from the sky!”

  “Phnyr-sifn-dyrija!” cried Demonica, turning all eyes her way as Spitemorta hovered. She took her bodhran off her back, and with a flourish began beating out a marching rhythm on it with her two-headed drumstick as she stood in place and tramped in time with her feet. “Phny-r-si-fn...dy-ri-ja! Phny-r-si-fn...dy-ri-ja! Phny-r-si-fn...dy-ri-ja!” she cried.

  The beetle-browed multitude began tramping in place at once. “Phny-r-si-fn...dy-ri-ja! Phny-r-si-fn...dy-ri-ja!” When Demonica began to march, the entire hillside of trolls fell in step behind her, taking up the chant.

  For a long time, Spitemorta hovered above, wa
tching, as the great grey owls wailed in the timber below. The moment that she was satisfied that all were indeed underway, she sped away to the ships like a shot.

  Chapter 94

  The sun was just beginning to set as Lukus helped Soraya out of the coach with Ariel and Daniel before the driver pulled away with it, leading the mounts. Lukus stood with Hubba Hubba and Pebbles on his shoulders and his Elven family all about him as they beheld the sod roofed three storey brick and timber building with the neatly painted sign above the door. “Suds and Steer,” he said with a shrug. “I don't remember that. But I don't remember what name it did have, for that matter. Well if it's changed hands, I sure hope the cook's still the same.”

  “We'll know soon enough,” said Soraya as she raised her hood.

  Lukus frowned at this, particularly when King Neron and all three of Soraya's brothers did the same. He drew a breath, but Soraya caught his eye.

  “Just remember,” she said, “these people have rarely seen Elves for at least a human generation.”

  “Yea?” he said, hiking his brow. “I can understand curiosity, but if they treat you poorly because you look different, I'm afraid that makes them idiots.”

  “Man, I remember how it was as a crow,” said Hubba Hubba.

  Soraya slipped her arm around Lukus's waist and gave him a squeeze as she caught knowing looks from Danneth and Jerund. “Well, Let's go see what kind of reception we get,” she said with a deep breath, as if they weren't already on their way.