Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  A tide of pale scarabs rattled by the firelight receded into one of the passageways, but no bones remained where they had piled. Boil frowned at the empty cavern. "Funny, scarabs don't eat bones. Where’d that geezer go?"

  He turned, and as he did the light washed over a familiar face.

  "I knew you'd come back," Ember said, flashing her perfect smile.

  Boil squealed and scrambled into the tunnel, waving his torch around like an enchanted sword searching for a dragon. Her giggle ricocheted off the walls. Boil swallowed his heart and cursed, waltzing back into the room with his chin high. "Oh hey, Ember. I totally saw you there. Was just checking behind me. Thought I heard a mine master or something and wanted to make sure you were safe."

  "Hello, Boil." Ember strolled from another tunnel lightly pulling at the braid hanging over her shoulder. "Greenskins from the east belly sure are different than the ones from the west. I bet you're the only one here who'd ever even think of coming out after torch fall."

  Boil tried crossing his arms like Skar had, but his torch only made the gesture awkward and hot. "I'm probably the only one who's ever even seen the high mountain too. You want adventure, you stick with me."

  "Adventure's all I ever wanted."

  His smile widened. He lowered the torch before his skin blistered and stepped toward her. "Me too."

  She bit her lip and glanced at the spot where Skar crushed the old digger's leg. "You scared the scarabs away."

  "Yeah. We're too late to save him. Too bad about that. I brought him some food."

  "Oh, good, I couldn't steal that much. He's still hungry. C'mon."

  "You couldn't wha…?"

  Ember sprinted down a tunnel without answering. Boil darted after her, his torch hissing as the flame bent against the wind. They rounded a corner and came to a rock pile clamoring up a dead end. At its base, Urt cringed at the light and thrust his palms before him. "Please, no! Don't kill me!"

  "It's okay, it's just him," Ember said.

  Boil nearly dropped his torch. He'd only come here to impress Ember. Turns out she'd beaten him to the punch. Maybe she wanted to impress him? The thought of one digger helping another out of the goodness of their hearts was foreign in the mines, something only whispered about in stories of fair folk and fae. Boil propped his torch against the wall and approached the two diggers.

  Urt frowned at Boil with his good eye. The other had melted into the fleshy bruise puffing like baked bread around it and wouldn't see rock for days at the very least. "I might've survived if you hadn't shown up with your stories of gold."

  "You didn't live this long to be that stupid," Boil snapped. "I brought some food. You want it or not?"

  Ember slapped his shoulder. "He's scared. Try to be nice."

  "I am." Boil dug into his pocket and brought out a handful of bugs in his slick, open palm. For some reason, Ember saving Urt before he got the chance rubbed him wrong. She pinched his cheek and winked, and all the sour thoughts melted like hot wax.

  He tossed the insects to Urt, who greedily lobbed them through the broken arch of his teeth. The least the greenskin could've done was thank Boil for the delicious and decidedly risky meal, but the goblin couldn’t seem to muster a thanks between his mouthfuls.

  "His leg's no good for a while," Ember said. "We've got to find a place to keep him safe or else Skar'll get him at torch light or the scarabs at the next torch fall."

  "What's with the rocks?" Boil asked, motioning at the rubble.

  Urt slurped down a worm and wiped his lips. "It's what broke my teeth is what! There's a kind of rock behind it I can't eat. I chomped down, my teeth cracked, and my cry caught Skar's ear."

  "A rock that diggers can't eat?" A rush of adrenaline coursed through Boil’s blood. He went to his knees and grabbed Urt's arms, leaning close to the quivering greenskin. "Did it have a taste?"

  "I don't remember...."

  "Think! Did it have a taste?"

  "Well ... no, I guess it didn't."

  Boil hugged Urt, rocking him side to side. He lurched to his feet and grabbed Ember's wrists. "It doesn't have a taste! Can you believe it?"

  "I, um, maybe?" She pulled away from him and narrowed her eyes. "What're you getting at?"

  To a digger, every rock had a specific taste. The more precious the rock, the sweeter the bite. This was a truth all diggers—no, all greenskins—knew, like water being wet and air being dry. Except, as Boil discovered once what seemed like ages ago, not all rocks did actually have a taste. He found that out the hard way, when he accidentally found the tasteless stone in the east belly.

  No matter how hard he gnawed, he just couldn't get a bite through that rock. But then one day not long after torch light, he discovered the tasteless rock's weakness and how to chew through it. And so he chewed until he found the room with his secret treasure and the knowledge of the world beyond the mountain. The tasteless rock brought hope. It also brought the belly’s collapse and killed every greenskin he knew, but Boil never mentioned that to the others. Why bother them with such a silly detail?

  "We think all rocks have taste," he said, "but really not all of them do."

  Ember's eyes widened. She glanced at Urt and smiled before snapping her attention back on Boil. "Go on."

  "There's a rock that tastes like nothing. It's an old rock. It's a hard rock. I found it in the east belly, but I ate through it."

  "Impossible." Urt rolled his eyes and glared to the side. "My teeth weren't rotted. They were just as good as yours."

  "Maybe better." Boil grabbed the torch and headed for the rock pile. Urt deserved a snippy reply, but Boil didn't make it. He didn't like the ornery greenskin much, but Ember did, so for her Boil held his tongue.

  He went to work clearing the rubble. Sure enough, behind it he spotted the familiar drab black stone displacing the normal granite. Boil danced on his heels as he pressed a palm to the wall and felt the rough grain against his skin. He snickered, and it tumbled into a laugh. Luck really did have an eye on him.

  "Okay, you know something you aren't telling us," Ember said.

  Boil spun around. Ember ducked beneath his torch’s whipping flames and puckered her lips. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Sorry ... Again."

  "Emperor plate your tongue with gold? Out with it!"

  "This rock can't be eaten by diggers, Ember. It's too hard." He swiveled to the wall and jammed the torch against it. The fire didn't hiss and die. Instead, it flared, and the dark stone trembled. With both hands he twisted the torch against the stone.

  Long cracks spread across its face. Boil grinned and tossed the torch aside, cracking his knuckles.

  "You're crazy," Urt said.

  "Stop! Don't break your teeth," Ember pleaded.

  "Just watch." Boil chomped the stone, and it shattered like brittle glass.

  Black grains crumbled around the messy gouge his teeth left. Chunks fell to his feet, revealing a tiny hole framing darkness.

  Urt gasped. "You actually ate it!"

  Boil licked his lips and slapped the wall. "Secret's fire. Nothing breaks this stone if it's cold. But heat it up and it'll crumble like dry quartz."

  Ember clutched her braid and pressed a finger onto the broken rock. "There's something on the other side. I feel air."

  Boil sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah. It's real stale."

  "What do you think’s waiting on the other side?"

  He winked and turned his grin on Urt. "A safe place for our friend, and maybe a few treasures. I found a secret beyond the tasteless wall in the east belly. I learned about the world beyond the mountain, so I can only imagine what kind of stuff might be waiting here."

  Urt sucked in a breath. He pressed his body against the tunnel wall as he dug his nails into the ground. "The world beyond the mountain? With wolves and humans and trolls and giants and things that crush good diggers?"

  Slowly Boil turned to the cave wall. He spread his arms and inhaled the ancient air filtering from the tiny ho
le with the widest smile a digger could manage. "The world beyond the mountain, where a great torch called the sun shines and there are no ceilings. Welcome to our way out, my good greenskins. Soon, we won't be diggers anymore. Soon, we'll be something better, something higher."

  "I like being a digger," Urt grumbled.

  Ember's hand glided from Boil's shoulder to the small of his back. "Tell me about the sun," she said.

  "I'll tell you what I can." Boil clamored up the rocks and motioned for his torch. "It'll take a few hours to make a hole big enough for Urt. Help me eat through this stuff, and by torch light you'll know the sun better than any other digger in the under mountain."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Farlain Forest

  Farlain drew ever nearer as the swamp Grump knew receded and the forest he feared approached. A tide of knotted pines, crooked elms, and unfriendly firs gradually replaced the cypress maze of Blackwood Swamp.

  Dark skies appeared in patches overhead, choked with a frothing storm that pelted Grump with angry rain. He inhaled through his nose, detecting the sweet aroma of pines and wetness of a storm oppressing the air. Somewhere in those wet shadows, the thirdborn waited.

  "Deeper," Grump growled. "You’ll be hiding deeper in these woods, Brother. Too far for me to turn back to the blackwoods once your trap is sprung. You want the sunlight to catch me, to do the work you couldn't. Coward! Where do you hide? Where will I find and kill you? Where!"

  Hunger raged through every fiber of Grump's being and addled his thoughts with the promise of Crush's blood. He licked his lips and vaulted through the trees. Branches cracked and splintered from his passing. Intermittent lightning painted this wet grey world with dazzling white and drowned his roars in cracks of thunder.

  With a snarl, he leapt onto an elm and expertly darted up its branches. Grump thrust above the last layer of leaves and squinted in the downpour. Rain ran in lines down his face and dribbled from his jaw. He blinked, staring into the rolling blanket of Farlain. Somewhere in this world, his father raided the fair folk who called it home. Somewhere here, his younger brother plotted murder.

  While the Blackwood Swamp's trees dwarfed Farlain's, not even Grump's home compared to the sheer immensity of this archaic wild. The elves, fae, and wild humans who made these trees their home kept a watchful eye on the swamp; they might already know Grump crashed into their territory in a maddened rage … but if they did, he didn't care. More likely than not, the elves sought shelter in their tree houses and drank their wine until they forgot all the glory they lost to the rise of man when the great war that tore the ocean reached its end.

  "Come on, Brother. Show yourself to me. Give me a hint. It's what you want, isn't it?" Grump squeezed a branch until it shattered. He watched. He waited.

  And then, he heard it.

  Lightning flashed, and the wind howled. In that wail, he caught the hint of a panicked goat's bleat. Grump hurled the broken branch toward the sound and dove from his perch, smashing into the ground. His fingers dug into the sopping soil, and he vaulted toward Bah's panicked cry.

  Hands strong enough to crush a tree trunk propelled him through the forest like an arrow from a hunter's longbow. Chunks of mud and rock and moss flew in his wake. A sharp branch sliced him on the shoulder, but he hardly noticed.

  The tempest crashed with its full fury over Farlain. Water poured in fat lines from the branches. Not a dry patch of skin remained on his body. Mud coated his arms to his elbows and caked his legs to his knees. Scratches crisscrossed his cheeks and bled down his neck, but the Hunger devoured any hint of exhaustion or pain. His wounds gave him strength. They ignited his rage.

  Grump crashed through a thorny vine and slid onto a rocky ledge overlooking a massive chasm scarring the woods. He roared, twisting and clawing at the ground as he slid closer to the edge, but his fingers found only flat stone slick as ice from the mighty torrent. His toe caught on a stone and sent him reeling. He slammed against the rock and rolled awkwardly, thrashing for any handhold while the momentum of his sprint slung him toward the precipice.

  His legs spilled over the edge. He smacked the rock one last time, crying out. His fingers caught a jagged point and yanked his burly body to a stop.

  Grump dangled over the chasm, legs swinging wildly over the dizzying drop. Wind howled around him, slapping his loincloth against his leg. The dagger in his belt slipped and tumbled into the gorge's black mouth.

  Teeth clamped tight, Grump grunted and struggled onto the ridge. He stared at his knuckles, at the rain pitter-pattering over his bruised and bloodied skin. Slowly, those hands made fists.

  Bah's familiar cry pierced the storm. Unlike last time, it came from nearby.

  Grump leapt to his feet and twisted around. "Bah!"

  On the opposite side of the gaping gorge, Crush strolled between two old oaks leaning heavily on one another. Over his shoulder he carried Grump's little goat. Mud caked her shiny fur while rain fell in gleaming droplets from her hairy chin. She kicked at Crush, but no goat could make a troll so much as flinch.

  "Hello, little brother!" Crush waved casually and blew a kiss. "Welcome to Farlain. It's a wonder the elves haven't gotten you yet! If I could hear you romping through the woods like a loose boulder down a mountain, I'm sure they've got a legion of rangers and a few of their deadlier druids heading this way, thorny arrows at the ready. They'll stick you like a pig when they find you. Or maybe they won't? Storms pass so quickly these days, and the sun won't be long now."

  "Put her down!" Grump roared, beating his chest.

  Crush snickered and swatted the air. "Oh, look at the secondborn with his mighty Hunger. You think I fear you? Grump, no one fears you. We all know you're a freak. Trolls don't fear freaks. They laugh at them."

  "I am not a freak, Crush!"

  "Yes, you are. You're different. You're not troll enough, and you never have been. It's why Father said I should kill you. Mother might have protected you, but he doesn't care now that she's gone. He's a true troll. Thorn even abandoned you once you took a liking to this goat. You're alone. How's that feel? I'm liked in the hamlet. But you? They've never liked you. They've always laughed at you, ever since I could remember."

  Grump's heart twisted. He blinked, lips contorting with the frustration behind them. He just wanted a way across the gorge. He just wanted Bah back and his stupid brother—no, all the stupid trolls—to vanish from his life forever.

  Crush noticed Grump's eyes casting about and flashed a smile that showcased his sharp tusks. "Bet you thought you'd get a fight. Bet you thought you'd show me your true Hunger and teach me a lesson. You're such a fool, Grump. You never really had the Hunger. I'm not going to fight a freak like you. You're too dirty for a troll."

  "Shut. Up!"

  "Or what?"

  Grump's lip trembled. He wanted Bah. She did not deserve his brother's cruelty. "Fight me, coward!"

  "Are those tears?" Crush leaned forward and blinked. His eyes widened, and he reared back, slapping his knee. "Tears for a goat! Oh, Grump, you are something. I'll tell Father you died sniveling and begging for mercy. I'll spread rumors through the hamlet that you made friends with elves and kissed the fae and danced with wild men. They'll spit on your memory, and soon, they'll forget your name."

  "They're ... they're not tears! It's just rain." The tears he tried hiding rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away and snarled. "Just rain!"

  Crush stepped to the edge, so close his toes dangled over the lip. Lightning thrashed through the storm's belly. The thirdborn grabbed Bah by the neck.

  Grump's heart sank into a cold pit, then promptly shot into his throat. "Crush, don't do this! She's done nothing."

  "That's what you don't get, little brother. It doesn't matter. You'd die for it, wouldn't you? No troll would die for another, much less a stupid goat. But you're no troll, are you, Grump?"

  Crush tossed Bah into the canyon like she was little more than trash, not even worthy of eating. Bah flailed and cried, and then she
fell.

  A force deep within Grump exploded. He slammed his hands onto the cliff and hurdled into the chasm, wind whistling in his ears. Rain assailed his face as he raised his arms above him and soared in a mighty arc.

  Crush shook his head, his gaze locked on Grump. "Good riddance," he called, his voice barely audible in the maelstrom.

  Grump's brother spit and disappeared into the woods as Grump swept Bah into his arms, cupping her against his chest. She bleated and cried, kicking at his stomach. Grump clutched her tight and rolled so his back faced the ground. As they plummeted into the gorge, he stared blankly into the sky.

  Something crashed against his back. Branches snapping. Leaves rattling. Gashes. Cuts. Pain.

  A knotty branch hit his elbow at an angle, breaking bone. Grump screamed. His Hunger faded. His muscles relaxed.

  He smashed against spongy ground. Air blasted from his throat, and his back crunched.

  Wide leaves swept gently over his face. They blocked much of the storm, but a few raindrops persisted through the ragged space between the green. He sighed, his arms unfurling. Bah jumped out of his fading grip and bounded off his chest.

  She turned and bleated, shaking rain from her coat. And then, she ripped a mouthful of grass from the ground and started munching.

  A laugh bubbled from Grump's lips, carried on his blood. He coughed and faced the sky, or what appeared of it through the leaves. Morning would come soon enough, and with it the storm would clear and bring the sun. If he didn't find cover, the thing that blessed the world with warmth and life would steal both from him.

  Grump smiled. He did not move. He simply closed his eyes and slept.

  Bah's eyes swelled before his own. Grump blinked as his world slowly focused. His goat stared at him, mulling on leaves sticking in shredded, slobbery bits from her teeth. Spit collected on her lip and oozed onto his shoulder.

  Grump frowned and wiped the glob from his skin. Thick leaves covered him like an emerald coffin, so he pushed them aside and leaned onto his elbows.