Chelsea and Swindle

by James K. Pratt

  Pain shot through Tuk’s body as he tumbled to the ground. The goblin tried to gather his breath, but he could only breathe shallowly.

  Minutes later, two guards hovered over Tuk.

  “You killed my family,” Tuk said to the wizard.

  “What?”

  “You killed my tribe.”

  “When?”

  “A week ago.”

  The wizard’s expression darkened. Could that be fear? Tuk understood suddenly that it must have been fear, because if the goblin was alive, Seth must not be.

  The guard clamped a chain on Tuk and took him away.

  Chapter 13 Chains

  When they first plopped Tuk into his prison cell, he cried. Later he felt sort of happy. He, after all, did everything he could against great odds. At least he tried to avenge his family. Many cowards would have hung their heads low. Others might have waited until the adventurers were too old to fight, but that would have given them more time to live.

  There was a little regret that Chelsea and Swindle might be sad, but otherwise Tuk knew he did what he could.

  The metal door to Tuk's part of the prison creaked open. Tuk paid no notice until he saw it was the white-bearded wizard, Corvinus. Another man accompanied him. Both wore nice clothes. Why come see me? Who is this other man?

  The wizard stood only a few feet from the prison bars.

  Tuk squatted over his poop bucket. “I am busy. Come back later.”

  The wizard curved a smile and his eyes remained hard. “Relieve yourself all you want. Seth is missing. What have you done with him?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “The goblin lied,” said the other man.

  Tuk knew his tribe’s wise men could do spells to detect lies. This other man was likely a wise man too.

  “Did you kill him?” The wizard asked.

  “What if I did? He deserved it. You attacked my tribe for no reason.”

  “He spoke the truth.” The wise man’s face turned hard at the wizard.

  The wizard looked at the wise man from the corner of his eye. “Just remember whom the royals call heroes, and who just paid you.”

  Tuk growled. The wise man blinked and looked down. The goblin knew that the wise man realized he was being paid to do something that was morally shady at best. Humans hated goblins, but it was understood that goblins who minded their own business were to be left alone. But Tuk’s tribe had not been left alone.

  “You know the right thing to do, human,” Tuk said, “When a goblin does something wrong, we at least take pride in it. You humans puff righteousness over yourselves like cheap perfume to hide your moral stench.”

  The wise man stood and kicked the bars. “Shut up, goblin.”

  The goblin laughed. “Did I tell the truth? Did I tell the truth?”

  The wise man sneered. “You people rob farmers, burn down villages, and rape our women.”

  “My tribe never did any of that. We hunted and we fished, but never did we touch something that was not ours. Was that the truth?”

  The wise man ignored the words and just swallowed.

  Tuk’s gaze stayed on the wise man. “Your philosopher folk speak of something called a conscience.” Tuk chuckled. “When times are good you people wear your righteousness like a jewel, yet you discard your conscience when times are bad and call that wisdom. If something is good, then it’s worthwhile in bad and good times. Are you a righteous man, wise man?”

  “Our title is cleric. I’m not a tribal wise man, you goblin fool.”

  “Ooh, cleric. What is this cleric thing you are?”

  The wizard spoke next. “Tell me what happened to our rogue, or I will hurt you.”

  “He did it to himself. He dragged me to the tombs where we take our chiefs when they die, and the tomb shut him in.”

  He looked to the wise man who nodded. “Then what happened?” the wizard asked.

  “He died.” Tuk smiled. “Oh, then the hate brought him back and I heard him pounding on the door with rage and nowhere to go.”

  “I suppose Seth and you have something in common,” the wizard said with a smile.

  “Take your small victory,” Tuk said. “It’s amazing how a little child can get under your skin.”

  “What, you’re not a midget?”

  “No, I am seven.”

  “He speaks the tru—” the Cleric said until the wizard glared at him.

  “You don’t sound like you’re seven,” the wizard said.

  “Life is short. We only get to the age of sixteen if we are lucky. Few live as long as humans.”

  “That everyone knows. Is he still there?” asked the wizard.

  “No, it was noticed that something was undead in the woods, so some adventurers killed your little friend and burned him.” Tuk grabbed the bars. “You will join him soon, fool.”

  Lightning jumped from the wizard’s hands and hit the bars. The bolts made Tuk squeeze the bars for a few seconds. When it was done, he stumbled back in pain, unable to move.

  “That should teach you to mess with your betters,” the wizard said and then turned away.

  Tuk knew better than to speak but said his piece anyway. “If you’re proud to be better than a seven-year-old goblin, then you are a fool and I will kill you soon.”

  “No.” The wizard stood. “You will hang.”

  “I’m too light.”

  “Someone will give you a good yank,” said the wizard. “I’m sure of that. And oh, if you do see my friend in hell, tell him I sent you with my complements. I’m sure the lesser creatures in hell receive special treatment as they do here. No doubt he will reward you for your treatment of him in this life.”

  Chapter 14 Visitors

  Tuk knew he was going to hang. That did not bother him, if only for one fact—no one would care. All those he loved were dead. And now the happy little boy would die unloved by a world that did not want him to exist. He told himself death was good. Living in this world did not seem right. Death would be the end of what was terrible existence.

  A door clanked open. Most of the time people didn’t come by unless it was to visit or give the prisoner food scraps. Food was not due, so Tuk looked to see who was getting a visitor, and to his surprise, the visitors were for him.

  “Tuk! Look at you.” It was Chelsea with Swindle.

  “Sorry about everything.” There was real feeling in the half-orc’s eyes, and Tuk decided he liked Swindle.

  “We plan to come to the trial,” Chelsea said.

  “No.” Tuk shook his head wildly. “I have no chance.”

  “Maybe not,” an older man’s voice said, coming through the door. “But, if you let me, I might give you a fighting chance.”

  Tuk’s eyes widened with surprise. The man who just entered was one of the humans from the Philosophers’ Square, Purin.

  “Why?” Tuk asked, confused.

  “Because your case is just, and because your case brings out a flaw that humans will hate to have brought out.”

  “And what flaw is that?” Tuk asked.

  “Pride. All human flaws revolve around self-centeredness. Humans and elves see themselves as gods over the other races and do not see that they are becoming as savage as the worst orc tribe. I fear, as humans grow stronger, they grow morally weaker. Perhaps if we make a strong enough case, I can help some listeners see this evil.”

  “And if you don’t stop your people from killing me?”

  “Then sometime soon the city will slowly but surely become more savage. There will be, without realizing it, a great sickness that will destroy us, and my nation will fall.”

  “Fine, save me if you can.”

  “They will hate me for trying.”

  That puzzled Tuk. How could someone so smart be so stupid? Why help people who hate you for doing the right thing? Then he decided he’d never understand these strange people.

  Chapter 15 Trial and Error

  At noon, Tuk’s trial began. He was charged with trying to steal
the bone knife and attempting to kill the wizard. The wizard Corvinus argued that Tuk reaching for the knife proved his murderous intent. He further claimed he found the knife as loot from another goblin warren one year ago.

  Up above, a princess watched over the trial. Prinus said she could overrule the court, but that had not happened in years.

  Tuk looked over his shoulder for Chelsea and Swindle. They were not present.

  No one has my back, he thought.

  He had told them that he didn’t want them at the trial since the whole thing was hopeless, but now, alone, a big part of him wished they had come. He hoped they ignored his words and were just coming late.

  * * *

  At eleven that morning, Mina approached Swindle and I as we swept the stone floors around the courtyard with our fellow orphans.

  Mina shook her head as she approached with her black robes. “You’re orphans? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “When I hired help from the Adventurers’ Guild, I expected…” she paused, considering her words. “Well…I didn’t expect orphans.”

  “I assume people judge you to be of lowly character because you are a necromancer,” Swin said. “Maybe you should not judge us as less able simply because we are orphans.”

  Swin had a way with words; it wasn’t always the best way though.

  “Morn picked us because we are trustworthy. He knows Swin personally,” I said.

  “I suppose that’s what I get for hiring cheap help,” she mumbled with a shrug.

  “We did your job did we not?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  Other children were looking at us wondering why this young lady, Mina, who looked at least somewhat rich was talking to us.

  “Well, I have a job for you and it needs to be kept quiet,” Mina said.

  “We’d love to hear it, but we need to keep sweeping the grounds before we go to a friend’s trial.”

  The necromancer’s eyebrow rose. Watching us sweeping the grounds must have made her think twice about hiring us.

  “Damn it,” Mina said. “I will pay for dinner if we go now.”

  “You insulted us. Make it a nice dinner to make up for it,” Swin said.

  Shut up Swin.

  Her face was unreadable for a second. “Fine.”

  Swindle and I dropped our brooms. Morn wouldn’t mind as long as we were earning money.

  I remembered the bottle of ichor I had filled with the undead monster’s blood. In fact, the other day I had narrowly saved a fellow orphan and would-be thief from drinking it. They apparently thought it was some sort of magical potion. “Before we go, miss, I have undead ichor. Are you interested?” I asked Mina.

  The necromancer looked skeptical. “Where did you get it?”

  “You know the rogue whose banner is hanging outside the palace barracks? I got it from his undead corpse,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could.

  After the shock vanished from her face, her gaze switched from me to Swin as if to see if this was a joke. After a long pause, she asked, “What happened?”

  We told her everything. We did not mention the green girl since we did not know if we could trust Mina. Necromancers tended to be a rather untrustworthy sort. All wizards, for that matter, tended to be a slippery lot.

  “I’ll buy it for a silver piece,” she finally said.

  That was an honest price. I ran to my room and came back.

  When she gave me the silver piece, I finally felt what it must be like to be an adventurer. The call of money must be very strong because having that coin made me want more. This is what keeps people on the road as adventurers, I thought.

  We sat at a table at the inn. Mina had chosen a corner where we could be alone. Like all inns, it was smoky, with more than a few pipes clouding the room. Others ate quietly.

  She looked around and then whispered, “I found information on my missing grandfather.”

  “And it’s something you wish us to keep quiet,” I added.

  “Yes,” she said. “My grandfather has wound up with ghouls. I think he has been turned.”

  We both gasped at her words.

  She continued. “There is more. The ghoul pack is here, under the city.” She held up a hand knowing what I was going to say. “I told the city guards. One, they are not sure if they want to believe me, and two, they are more concerned about security for a goblin trial. They fear a riot.”

  “We know him,” Swindle said.

  “But why is Tuk’s trial such a big deal?” I asked.

  “Because of those in the slums near where you live. Goblins, orcs, half-orcs, and other races see themselves in this goblin of yours. The elves and rich humans fear that if Tuk is killed, the ‘lesser races’ will spill their anger out onto them.”

  Swindle nodded. “Several goblins and orcs have come up to me. They’ve asked me about my friend Tuk and all of them believe Tuk will not get a fair trial. I’ve wondered if there might be a riot.”

  “If there is a riot, the ghouls will surface. They will feed, and they will make more of their kind.”

  “How do you need us?” I asked.

  “I need a small party to come with me.”

  I stood. “We are not veteran adventurers. Get someone else.”

  “I’ve asked four different groups already. Most have other engagements.”

  “And the others that didn’t?” Swindle asked.

  “Many adventurers don’t like fighting the undead.”

  “If they don’t, we should think twice then,” I said.

  “Hear me out. I will throw bait down into the sewer where they live.”

  “What is bait for ghouls?” The answer came to me as soon as I said it.

  “I’m a necromancer, silly, and they are ghouls. What do you think I use as bait?” She continued, “It should distract many of them away from their den long enough for us to go in and do what we need to do.”

  “But if finding your grandfather is the goal, wouldn’t he be with the ghouls eating the bait—”

  “He’s in the early stages. I should be able to find him in the ghouls’ den and kill him.”

  I had heard there was no cure once you were turned by a ghoul, but I didn’t know how they did it. Some said it was like with vampires; just a bite that turned people.

  But there was something that bothered me. Why now? Even if the ghouls came to the surface, wouldn’t the guards handle them?

  “We lack the experience. We can’t fight ghouls. In any case, I think you shouldn’t worry. The city guards have got this covered.”

  “Look around. There are many people of the poorer lesser races.” She looked to Swindle. “No offense. The city guard won’t protect the lesser races who will be hurt by this riot.”

  “Go on,” Swindle said with a shrug, no doubt used to the term.

  “The orcs, minotaurs, and goblins are angry because they know no matter how hard they work or how honest they are, people see them as less than the most dishonest human or elf.”

  “You think this is going to be a big riot if he hangs?” I asked.

  It was Swindle who answered. “Even my people see themselves in Tuk. When the city hangs Tuk, they’ll see someone like themselves murdered by the so-called ‘goodly folk.’ Mina’s right. If this is as bad as I think, there is enough anger to destroy the city.”

  “But wait, goblins and orcs are hanged all the time.”

  “This is a kid,” Mina said.

  I pretended to believe Swin and the necromancer, but I really didn’t. The city had always been this way. It was strange to think it might be different from one day to another—or not exist at all. Until that time, I had never thought about it.

  “No one else can be trusted to keep the secret that my grandfather was turned.”

  I understood what she meant. There was shame in having a family member turned into a monster.

  Mina continued. “My plan is not for us to attack the ghouls. Most of the ti
me, ghouls run from a fight. They want to live as much as the rest of us. On some level, they are reasonable—sort of. I can keep us safe. Your inexperience that you mentioned is not an issue because I have magical scrolls and torches that will help us to be safe.”

  “We have to be at Tuk’s trial,” I said.

  “He didn’t want us there,” Swindle said.

  I thought about it. The city really needed us. “We’ll help you,” I said, “but the second things get too dangerous, we run the other way, together.

  She nodded. “Fair. That’s what I want too.”

  “Tell us more about what you hope to accomplish.”

  “Just the ghouls’ den being discovered might cause them to scatter and maybe leave the city, or at least think about it. I also want to speak to my grandfather before I—”

  “Kill him,” I finished.

  “Yes. It has to be done. What has happened to him is worse than death.”

  * * *

  The philosopher stood before the judge and the jury. Trial by jury was rare. Tuk saw them as a gaggle of human and elven idiots. Humans did stupid well. Not that Tuk thought his own people were particularly bright.

  * * *

  Mina threw barrels of meat down the manhole. I didn’t ask what kind. That’s a question you don’t ask a necromancer. Each fell with a splash and floated in the dark underground river of the city sewer. We walked a few blocks and then went down another manhole. Mina seemed to have a good understanding of the city sewer system.

  “It comes in handy with this line of work,” she said.

  I didn’t ask how. It’s not like she did this often, or so I hoped.

  We climbed twenty feet down. Concrete walkways shouldered the sewer water rushing in the dark tunnel. Rats scurried away from Swindle’s torchlight. Mina said the torchlight was magical. The sewer’s smell flooded my nose with a deep, awful, pungent odor. I tried not to heave; the others didn’t seem to be as bothered.

  Inhuman cries echoed in the stone tunnels of the sewer. They rattled my nerves, sending a frightful chill down my body.