by J C Gilbert
“OK, that wasn't funny. And can you just not do that kind of thing again?”
“Geez Alex. Well I guess I'll try. You always come up with the worst kinds of games.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. The confrontation was over.
We walked through the scruff and brush. As we walked, I noticed the beauty of the place. Where at first it seemed to be a land of dead and dying plants, I started to see the little things. There were little white flowers which clung to old rocks, the rabbits here and there scurrying out of our path, the circling eagle overhead searching for its prey. It was unlike any land I had been to before. It was open and windswept and dramatic. I wondered what it would look like when it rained.
We had been walking for perhaps a half-hour when we came to a stream. It was not a wide stream, but it was not one that we could pass by hopping from rock to rock.
I took off my shoes and socks and held them in one hand. With the other arm waving for balance, we crossed the stream. The water was crisp, cold, and quick moving. I wondered if the water had come directly from those mountain caps, thawing in the spring sun and rushing over the plains.
Once on the other side, I pulled my dry socks over my wet feet. It felt strangely comforting. I had just pulled on my shoes when Elaine froze.
“What is it-” I started, but she raised her hand to silence me, scanning the horizon.
“Come with me,” she said in a whisper.
She crouched and started edging down a side path. I did likewise, bending low. It didn't take long for my legs to feel like they were going to fall off. When Elaine stopped again, I fell to a knee. We were at the top of a small hill and there was a clear view of the surrounding area.
“They are near.”
“Who are?”
“Goblins. Look!” Elaine pointed to someone standing in a clearing. It was Mason. He was talking loudly and pulling on something, something big.
“Pickles!” cried Elaine.
Sure enough, a giant harnessed duck was being dragged reluctantly out into the open.
“We have to help him.”
“No we don't, he has my duck.”
“Elaine, that's the man who you set on fire.”
“Well, he is doing very well for himself. Increasing in assets.”
There was movement in the grass. At first, all I could see was motion, but then I saw them. Some two dozen figures were snaking towards Mason, leaving behind them a trail of dented grass.
“They will have him soon!” I said, urgently.
“Lucky us, I guess. They will take him back to camp now, and we will have a night of not having to worry about goblins. Sounds like a win-win.”
“That's not a win-win at all.”
“Isn't it? Well, it still works out for me, so that's OK.”
I couldn't watch him get caught. “Come on, Hank,” I said, getting to my feet, “let's do some good.” I scampered down the side of the hill.
“Who the F is Hank?”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I needed to make some kind of distraction so that Mason could get away. But what? My sudden movement had caused a few of the goblins to look back over in our direction, but as of yet, none had started my way. From this distance, they looked like nothing more than stooped figures. Elaine joined my side.
“What do you think you are doing? We will just get caught alongside the duck thief. Be smart, let's go.”
“We need to create a diversion. Any ideas?”
“We could sneak off as quietly as possible. That would be fun.”
“Come on.”
“Look, Alex. Being caught by those things is no party. What do you think they will do? Put us in a nice little cage with a view and ask us about our opinions on important matters? No, they will poke you full of holes just for the pleasure of watching you writhe as you bleed to death in the dirt.”
“That was graphic.”
“No shit.”
“So you are just going to let that guy get killed like that? He probably wouldn't even be in this mess if it weren't for you.”
“Stop it with the guilt trip already.”
“You haven’t shown even the slightest hint of guilt!”
“Look, fine. If I help him escape will you shut up about his hands?”
“I think that's a fair trade.”
“OK, let me think,” she covered her mouth and frowned. “Wait, do you hear water down here?”
“I think there is a creek.”
“Good, we can use that.” She darted off into the thick shrubs. I followed after her.
“This isn't a trick is it?” I called as I ran. I almost collided with her as she looked out over a shallow stream, gurgling its way down from the mountains.
“There isn't much power here,” she said shaking her head. “Come on, we will need to make sure that we are as close as possible to the goblins.”
There was a shriek.
Elaine and I made eye contact and then hurried along the creek, tracing it closer and closer to where we had seen Mason. At last, we got to a curve in the creek where it bent away from the scene. It was as close as we were going to get.
“What are you going to do?”
“There are spirits in every stream,” said Elaine. “They linger in natural bodies of water. These are where the barriers between worlds are at their thinnest. Streams like this one are close to a very particular sort of afterlife.”
“Afterlife?”
Elaine looked at me, eyes sparkling. “The dead,” she said.
“Right. The dead. This is fine,” I said, trying to keep my head level.
Elaine brought her hands together as if in prayer, looked up, and then separated them. A thin band of white light formed between her palms. She manipulated the beam in an intricate weave of movement.
The creek gushed and swelled.
I watched, wondering what I was about to see tumbling down those rocks. Surely there was something less creepy we could do to distract the goblins?
There was a sound from somewhere in the shallows of the creek. A neighing?
Then, quite suddenly, a shape cantered out of the water. It was a horse made entirely of still flowing water. It tossed its head, reveling in its freedom.
The horse might have been an impressive sight if it wasn't for the fact that it was only a foot tall.
Another horse appeared and then another. Elaine directed them toward the goblins, fierce concentration fixed in her face.
Soon there were dozens and dozens of the horses galloping through the undergrowth leaving a spray of fresh mountain water wherever they went.
They were pretty freaking adorable.
After a time Elaine’s arms began to wilt, and she dropped them, collapsing back. I caught her in time, and she steadied herself against me.
“They are pathetic,” she said, watching the last of them disappear.
“They are amazing.”
“These are the spirits of the great horses of old. They deserve better than a creek.”
“They deserve a cuddle.”
Elaine shook her head. “Come on,” she said, leading me off after the horses.
We could hear the goblins before we could see them. There was a shriek, then another. “Get em,” one bellowed.
We entered the clearing just in time to see the panicked clan hacking at something at their feet. It was quite comical. Mason had seized the opportunity to mount the duck and was now trying to control the beast which was itself quite spooked by the horses. It took off on its own accord, fleeing for its life.
The goblins were shorter than people and had sickly green skin. They were draped in furs and armor which looked like it had been scavenged. Their faces were almost entirely made up of solid nose. Their eyes were tiny and black, and their ears were long and full of rings.
Elaine was laughing.
“We did it,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, I guess we did. Not quite as powerful as if I had a great river, but I have to ad
mit that it was effective.”
“Can you teach me how to do that?”
Elaine smirked. “You want to learn how to summon the dead? Somehow I don't think it's quite your thing. No offense.”
I was prevented from replying by a sudden voice.
“What have we ‘ere,” it said.
Startled, we spun around.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Elaine and I were back-to-back now. There must've been around thirty goblins all waving their spears at us, cursing us, asking frequent questions.
“Which of you is the human?” asked one.
“Come on, Grek. You can't just ask which one is the human,” said his companion.
“Where are your weapons?” asked another.
“We don't have any,” said Elaine.
“That's embarrassing,” said one of the goblins.
“Would you like to borrow one?” asked another goblin.
A spear cracked against his head. It sounded like it must've hurt, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
“You can't just go around lending humans weapons, you fool. It fosters dependence. I mean, there are just two of them now, but just you wait. Will you be willing to hand out weapons to the hundreds of humans that will come to this land when they hear about your free weapon give away?”
“They just look so sad.”
“You know what? We should take them back to the village. That will cheer them up. Have a nice roast. Bit of a singsong.”
“We are fine, actually,” said Elaine, “we may look sad, but that's just because humans have upside-down faces. Well known fact.”
“Do you want me to turn yours up the other way?” asked one goblin, menacingly.
“No.”
“This one is tricksy. Time to tie ‘em up,” said the goblin with the most impressive looking hat. He was apparently their captain.
“Let's have ‘em for dinner.”
“We could cut off their legs and feed them to each other. It ain’t so bad if you eat someone else's legs. Doesn’t count.”
I inched my hand towards the bag containing Elaine’s book.
“Don't move,” said Elaine in a whisper, “those spears are poisoned. If they manage to catch us with one of those, then we won't be waking up tomorrow.”
“That's a nice thought,” I said. Dread drenched me like a sudden rain.
“Now are we going to have to tie you up. Are you going to play nicely?” asked the captain.
“We’ll come, we’ll come,” said Elaine.
“I don't like that quiet one,” said the one called Grek. He pointed a knobbly finger my way. “Can you say something, please? She is creeping me out.” His voice was higher pitched than his companions, and he was short, even for them.
“Everything creeps you out,” said his more threatening friend.
“Humans especially,” said Grek.
“Hello,” I said. The goblins looked at me, confused. Shoot, even goblins think I’m awkward.
The goblins led us single file down a long and winding trail. It vaguely followed the river for a time and then veered off towards the mountains, joining up again with the river further east. The foothills of the mountain range were densely wooded. The sun was setting now and the first of the evening stars twinkled in the sky.
After my initial shock at seeing these creatures, I relaxed a little. They continued to threaten us periodically, but these threats were punctuated with such innocent banter that it was hard to take them seriously. They even walked comically, waddling this way and that, bumping into things, scratching themselves at every opportunity. I also had the comfort of knowing that it would only take me a moment to disappear. They could not point the spears at us forever.
Underneath the tree's canopy, small lights were lit. It gave the impression of a music festival. A very budget music festival. I had never been to a music festival, but I had seen pictures. The goblins themselves lived in a great variety of makeshift huts and hovels. Some had fires inside, the smoke rising up through the center, weaving through the trees and into the night. Others were cooking in the streets, roasting small objects on tiny spits.
I got the feeling that they did not see outsiders very often. There was not a single pair of eyes in all the village that did not look up to see us as we walked.
“What have you got there?” was the most common phrase uttered as we walked. It wasn't said so much with curiosity, but with all the insinuation of an old drunk trying to remember what it was like to have a good time.
Now that they were home the goblins lost discipline and scattered. Soon there was only a handful guarding us despite the best efforts of their captain. The remaining goblins lead us through the village and out the other side down a muddy path and toward another river.
The river was wide and weedy. They maneuvered us onto a rickety raft and rowed us over the inky dark waters to a small island. The island might have formed from years of gathered silt and a few enterprising seedlings. In the center, the goblins had erected a cage of iron.
They shoved us into the cage, and a great lock was put on the door.
“You can't eat iron, can you?” asked Grek.
“They are humans, not elves,” said the captain.
“So they can eat iron?”
The captain looked uncertain. Another goblin whispered something in one of his ears. “Not very well,” he said. “Anyway, little humans, have we got something in store for you?”
“How would they know?” asked Grek.
“We have Gormfull in store for them,” said the captain.
The goblins started laughing together and climbed onto the raft.
“Just you wait!” called out one of the goblins as they rowed away.
“It is not as though we can do anything else,” muttered Elaine.
“What do you think Gormfull is?” I asked.
“It is probably some chicken they call a shaman, or a goddess made of sticks. I don't know. Goblins are messed up.”
“So how do we get out of here?”
“It seems like we have been in the situation before.”
“Yeah, but I was on the other side of the bars last time.”
“And a lot of good it did you.”
“I freaked out okay, I'm sorry.”
“I know. I'm only kidding,” said Elaine.
“Can you do anything with the water? Like, make a horse?”
Elaine looked at me with incredulity. “Oh yeah, summon the spirits of the dead twice in the same day. That sounds like a fantastic idea.”
“So that's a no?”
“Hey, why don't you do the disappearing thing you do.”
“What about you?”
“Come back for me of course. You just need to reappear on the other side of those bars and get the key to let me out. I think the one by the tree there has it. He has to fall asleep eventually, right?”
Sure enough, a shadowy figure was now getting himself comfortable by the base of a great tree.
“I can do that,” I said.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Wait, it looks like they are coming back,” said Elaine.
I peered across the water. A goblin with a particularly large head was climbing onto the raft. He rowed toward us. A strange permanent smile wended across his green face. It was not a pleasant smile. It was the smile of someone who did not know what else to do with his lips.
Once he was on shore, he waddled up to the cage and introduced himself.
“Pleasant evening, ladies. My name is Gormfull. They call me Gormfull because of all my Gorm,” he tapped his head. “Got it?”
“You keep it in your head?” asked Elaine.
“Bang on.”
“Takes up a lot of space, does it?”
Gormfull looked puzzled for a moment and then launched into his speech. "I have been sent to speak to you as a sort of ambassador for the Goblin Nation. We are a small nation, a small nation of small beings, but we are a proud nation. However, we have ne
ver been recognized as a legitimately established government amongst the peoples. It is my ‘umble request that on this suspicious day that we start the all-important talks towards goblin recognition."
“I think that wherever a goblin goes, he will be recognized,” said Elaine.
“That is very kind of you to say, madam. However, it has been the experience of myself and my brethren that Goblin Kind are not recognized wherever we go. We are treated as a nuisance, as pests, as murdering outlaws.”
“Well you are, aren't you?”
“Look, miss, murdering isn’t outlawed for us goblins. Semantics, see?”
I wasn't sure if I had anything to offer this conversation. But it struck me that there might be some good social justice which could be done here. I couldn't exactly rely on Elaine to draw that out, so I gave it a go.
"Gormfull, hi, speaking on behalf of humans, I was wondering if it were possible for goblins, that is to say, the Goblin Nation, to consider some reforms in their laws around murder."
“Oh, please,” said Elaine, audibly rolling her eyes.
“Speaking on behalf of myself,” said Gormfull, “I would be perfectly willing to have a look at that. I have hardly murdered anyone at all. It's just not really in my nature. Never really acquired the taste. Gave it a go, sure. Life is short. But I'm afraid that I never quite understood it.”
“Great,” said Elaine.
“But unfortunately for you, and myself, I do not make the rules around here. Goblins are very particular about leadership, you see. I don't quite fit the mold.”
“How do goblins choose their leaders?” I asked.
“By election, generally. Oh, and threats. The threats are a vital part of the process.”
“I thought there was something about a sword and a lake,” said Elaine.
“Yeah, we gave it a go for a while. But we had to give that up. You see, too many of our good goblins got lost in the lake.”
“They drowned?”
“No, it was a very confusing lake. Good goblins would set out, and they would wander about for days and days. Some would starve out there. There was even another community started on the far side of the lake.”