Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  "You don't really want to be alone your entire life," Boil said. "No one wants to be alone forever."

  "I do. Sounds pretty peaceful, me and my pipe. I'll get some goats to keep me company. They don't talk back or kick over cairns."

  "What about other trolls? Is there someone from back home maybe?"

  "No. There isn't anyone there I want and believe me when I say the feeling's mutual. My real home was my garden in the Russet Woods until you and those nasty, warmongering humans came into my life. Now I've got nothing but a pipe, a shovel, and a baby, and the baby's only borrowed."

  "Technically you have a pretty tough pair of overalls, too. That increases your permanent belongings by a third!"

  Grump rumbled a low growl. "Not funny."

  "Well, I thought it was." Boil crossed his arms and wrinkled his pointy nose. "Y'know, I told you what I really wanted to do with my life, what was in my heart of hearts. I want a new life for the people I know are suffering. It might sound stupid, but that's what I want to do. You're telling me in your heart of hearts that after you get your wish all you want to do is grow some vegetables and pet goats until you die?"

  Grump shrugged and leaned hard against the wall. "Trolls are simple."

  "You're more than a troll, but whatever." Boil yawned and flopped onto his back. "Wake me up before sunrise and I'll keep watch while you're asleep."

  A long silence fell, but that didn't quiet the thoughts racing through Grump's mind. What did he want in his heart of hearts? A garden. Forgiveness. Peace. Yes, he wanted all these things, but something else stirred beneath them. Something that had been with him since the beginning.

  "I want to end my Hunger," he said.

  Boil practically back flipped back into his seat. "I knew there was something!"

  "The Hunger is always with me, always calling in the back of my mind. It wants violence. It craves pain. It feeds on blood. Every step, every breath, it's with me. I—I look at things—no, at others—and I think how easy it would be to tear them apart, how I would laugh as I bathed in their blood while they screamed. I control it today, but what about tomorrow? When will the day come that I give into it? If ... If I do, I'm afraid I'll never come back, and I'll be just ... just like the others. The Hunger will be the troll and I'll be the voice in the black."

  Grump stared at the world beyond the cave's mouth. A breeze curled around his jaw and cooled his warm knees. He eventually looked down at Boil and smiled. "I guess that's what's in my heart of hearts."

  He would rip the Hunger from his chest if he knew he could. But he couldn't. And while he wanted nothing more than it gone forever, he knew there was no cure.

  "And that's what you'll wish for?" Boil asked.

  "No," he murmured. "I wish I could, but no. The Hunger and I will live and die together, I'm afraid."

  Boil rolled to his knees and smiled. "You know what? I think you will beat that Hunger one day. You probably don't even need a wizard's help."

  "Eh, if wizards could cure Hunger they would've done it back before their war. We cause too much trouble for folks with mojo." He looked down at Rose and ran his finger across her cheek. He paused at her brow and frowned. "She's warm."

  "Probably the fire. Might want to back up a bit."

  "No, something else. It's a heat from within. She didn't feel like this earlier."

  Boil scampered over and pressed a green hand on her flushed brow. His lips mirrored Grump's frown. "She's got a little bit of a fever. Not bad, but not good, either. Feels like her skin's a little clammy, too."

  Grump's heartbeat picked up its pace. "I don't know human ills. Do you? What could it be?"

  The greenskin shrugged. "Hey, I didn't know I'd be carting a baby from one end of Oya to another. Your guess is as good as mine."

  "I don't have any guesses! Do we get water? Make a moss paste? Boil, she can't die. She can't!"

  "Calm down, big guy." Boil pinched his chin and turned to the forest. "There's a town in the marshes called Alberlilly. It borders the ruins of Carrika, and I'd bet my left—"

  "Boil."

  "What? I was gonna say left hand. Anyway, Alberlilly's a town of miners and glorified grave robbers. No doubt they'll have an enterprising healer ready to serve the sick and injured."

  Grump stood and brushed off his knees. "Then let's go."

  "Uh, it's almost sunrise. Won't do Rose any good to have you turn into a statue."

  "But she—"

  "Grump. Relax. Get some sleep. We'll make it to the town in a few days and get Rose all better. I promise."

  "How can you make such a promise? You don't know how these humans work on the inside! And how're we supposed to even talk to a human, let alone get them to heal her?"

  Boil planted his fists on his hips and jutted out his jaw. "You get some rest and let me take care of things while you take care of Rose. Keep her cozy. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be okay. Boil's got this."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Sighing Marshes

  Grump cradled Rose against his chest. She had warmed during the day while he slept, and sweat beaded on her peachy skin. He ground his teeth and huffed as he swiped insects Boil had scrounged, tossing the squirming critters into his wide mouth. His teeth crunched down. Slick innards rolled down his throat. He grimaced—vegetables seasoned with salt and garlic tasted much more appetizing—but he didn't have the luxury to cook a stew. They had work to do.

  "So how do we get to Alberlilly?" he asked, tucking Rose into her satchel.

  Boil cracked his neck and waved southwest. The Ridge's sloping foothills rolled toward mists gored by bent treetops reaching for the sky like fingers clawing from a grave. The soupy forest blanketed the land until it vanished beyond the horizon.

  "The Sighing Marshlands," Grump murmured.

  Boil crossed his arms and nodded. "The ruins of the old ages and the scattered settlements of human thugs and criminals. It's the line that separates the worlds of fair folk and greenskins."

  Grump itched at his scar. "Why would humans live so close to our hordes?"

  "Humans like to live everywhere. They're like a bad foot fungus if you don't take care of 'em. Doesn't help that Old Carrika was destroyed near greenskin lands, either. To this day, gold's found in the streams and rivers of the marshes. Poor saps think they'll strike it rich. Usually, they just get dysentery or reed fever and end up in a funeral pyre with a bunch of other nameless fools."

  "Sounds lovely. I'm sure they'll be a pleasure to meet."

  "You've got an odd way of being pleased. Alberlilly's a stinky, sloppy little pit of a town, but it's nice and out of the way. Plus, it's got plenty of places for you to keep out of sight if we've got to keep you hidden." He flashed his pointed grin and winked. "But I aim to see it doesn't come to that."

  "Then what're we waiting for?" Grump swiped his shovel from a blackened pine's trunk. "Alberlilly. Funny name. Sounds like a flower."

  "Flowers get prettier and smell nicer the closer you get. Alberlilly's just the opposite. Like Elyse said, it's one of their farthest outposts. Everything out there is just..." Boil shrugged and kicked a rock. "It's just ruins. Ruined cities and ruined men. The Wizarding War may be over, but it hasn't stopped ruining. I'm not sure it ever will."

  Grump shuddered at the thought. "They spoke of the war back in the swamp, but only in whispers. I heard the West was where it all began, where the gods made us and mojo first appeared. Things were different then. Elves were more than drunken tree climbers. Trolls could walk under the sun. It was all fancy fairy tale kind of stuff they told little ones."

  "Goblins believe something kind of like that. After the emperor dug the well that struck the mojo waters, the wizards drank it and got the most power from it. All the rest of us got little drops here and there, but nothing except maybe gods or the emperor could bring a wizard low."

  "What happened to them, Boil? I mean, I almost thought the wizards were a myth. Sure the humans and elves have their mages. Goblins
and shamans can sometimes spark a fire. Dwarves have their soulsmiths. There're the fae and the haunts and countless others who can charm wolves or sprout thorns using a little mojo, but what happened to the wizards? Why'd the strong ones disappear if they could supposedly take on gods?"

  Boil slowed his pace. His chin dipped as thoughts swirled in his round, red eyes. "From what I've gathered, Oya had two types of wizards. There were the Ebon Robes and the Amber Circle. During the war, they nearly destroyed Oya. Two of 'em thought that wasn't such a good idea. They banished the others and tore the ocean to keep us safe. That was that."

  "Until this sign appeared in the sky and a wizard reappeared looking for a goblin's help."

  "That about sums it up," Boil chirped, bouncing on his heels.

  Grump stroked a tusk and nodded. "So which wizard is ours? Ebon, or amber?"

  "Does it matter? No matter the color of their robes, they're not split neatly into good or evil. It all depends on the choices they make, not the color of their robes."

  "Then what's the difference?"

  "It's in how they see the world. Ebon thinks the world respects power. Amber thinks it needs guidance. Of course, they think their guidance is the only right kind, which I think is what kind of started the war in the first place."

  "I just need to know if Rose will be safe. What does the wizard want with her? What's Rose's part in all this? I've been thinking, and there're too many questions and not enough answers."

  Boil huffed a little sigh. "It's not for us to question. Rose is going to a wizard, not a wet nurse. You're not getting cold feet, are you? Grump, I told you I've got a debt to pay, and it sounded like you had one too. Are you still with me or not?"

  "Of course I am." He glanced down at Rose's satchel. "But Elyse suspected these human wars are the work of someone beyond them. I just want to know this wizard's going to protect Rose and not put her in danger if—ancestors forbid—the Wizarding War isn't as over as we thought."

  "Oh and she'd be so safe with a troll and a goblin marching through the wild?"

  "You know what I mean. Don't be dense."

  Boil arched a brow. Grump rolled his eyes. "I'm being a worry-wart, I know. But Rose is my charge. Mine. I won't put her in danger if I can avoid it."

  "She'll be safer with a wizard than with fair folk, I can tell you that much. Humans will always war. It's what they do. They look at the stars and see signs and get in these tizzies. It's their nature."

  "And the trolls hide in the deepest swamps," Grump said.

  "While goblins dig so deep we forget the sky."

  "And the dwarves build their fortresses in crusty peaks."

  A grin split Boil's lips. "And the elves get drunk and sing in trees."

  He laughed and took a deep breath. "If you say it's safe to take her to this wizard, then I'll believe you."

  "It's safe. I promise! Green—"

  "Don't say greenskin's honor. That is not a thing."

  "It is!"

  Grump finished his chuckle and stopped, placing a hand firmly on Boil's shoulder. "Boil?"

  The goblin looked up at Grump and flashed a smile. "What is it, buddy?"

  "The wizard of Grand Mountain wants Rose. Tell me true. You've got no idea why?"

  "I was sent for a box. I found the box. I didn't know what was in the box. As far as I can tell, me and you are the only ones who want to keep Rose safe. And since the wizard sent me, I figure the wizard wants the same. Isn't that enough?"

  "Didn't you ever wonder why Rose was in the box in the first place? I mean, she's a baby." Grump pulled her from the satchel and placed her squarely in the crook of his arm. "She had to have been born in the East and put in the box there. The human who gave me the key wanted her with his people really badly."

  "Ugh, Holger of the Order. One of a bunch of self-righteous jerks who're just as bad as the blackthorns, if you ask me. They think they're the champions of the Amber Circle. They're obsessed with bringing them back. Has something or some such to do with a silly human prophecy."

  "Could they be dangerous? Maybe they think Rose will bring their wizards back to Oya."

  "I happen to have it on very good authority their prophecy is a bunch of wyvern spit and they're just as bought off as those assassins. Difference is the blackthorns make you sign a contract and keep a record of the deal. The Order only needs some gold passed under the table."

  Grump nodded, still gazing at the infant in his arms. "Who are you, Rose? Why are you so special?"

  "If a wizard wants something bad enough to come out of hiding and grant wishes for it, you better bet the humans will move mountains to get it." Boil's eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers. "I've got an idea! Maybe when we get there, you can ask yourself?"

  "You're right," Grump said as they marched into the lowlands. He wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with his knuckle. "I've got my own theories on things."

  "Enlighten me. Who is Rose?"

  The first trails of mist closed around them like ghosts' gowns in a breeze. Grump touched the birthmark on her hand. "Don't you see? She's a wizard. The sign in the sky. The Order and the blackthorns. The wizard of Grand Mountain. It all points to one thing: Rose is a wizard, and the folk who figured this out want her for themselves."

  Boil mulled on Grump's words as he ducked beneath a branch. "Interesting theory. So you think Rose has some mojo?"

  Grump ripped the branch from the tree and tossed it behind him. "I think she's got more mojo than anyone in the world."

  "Well then, I guess it's doubly important we get her to someone who knows how to master mojo."

  Grump pressed the back of his hand against her brow. "First we need to get this illness cured."

  "We'll be to Alberlilly soon enough, buddy. Soon enough."

  Grump slipped Rose back into the satchel. Together, they marched deeper into the chill, soupy fog.

  Boil pointed between the gnarled, twisted trees. "See?"

  Grump frowned at the three crows squawking from a leafless branch. He snarled at the birds, and they shrieked, tearing into the cloudy night.

  He followed Boil's finger into the dense grey. In the distance, diffuse gold points emerged from the darkness. Grump lingered in the shadow of a spindly black ash. "So that's Alberlilly?"

  "Lights from its gate I'd wager. Humans are so terrified of the dark. It's pretty funny when you think about it. When the sun's up, you can see exactly where their softest parts are. But at night, it's a hundred times harder to stab them where it hurts most. If they had any sense they'd live a little more like greenskins." He turned to Grump and looked him up and down. "Speaking of greenskins, they're also terrified of things that weigh about as much as three of them put together. You can't really go marching in there tusks out with a smile on your face like it's your birthday. We need a disguise."

  "How do you expect to disguise me? Dress me up like a horse? Humans aren't that stupid. Or blind."

  Boil scratched his chin and looked around. "Too bad I don't have mojo." He grinned slyly and flashed his brows. "Or do I? Check out my pocket."

  "I don't want to go anywhere near your pocket, thank you very much."

  The greenskin giggled and pointed away from the light. "I think I see a barn over there. You see it?"

  Grump squinted into the darkness. After a few blinks, a large structure appeared in the sifting, serpentine fog. "I see it."

  "Good! Follow me and be quiet about it."

  Boil dashed into the darkness, leaving Grump cursing behind him. "You stupid goblin! You remember what happened last time you left me? I'm not rescuing you from a bunch of haunts again! Boil? Boil!"

  He slowed when the greenskin didn't answer. The barn swelled before the parting mists. Wood dark as swamp water formed its sides. Splotches of bright grey lichen patterned the structure's rotted planks. Mushrooms sprouted in spongy patches around its foundation. Bales of old, wet hay slumped in pyramids by its wide, broken doors.

  Crickets chirped and frogs croaked
. An owl hooted and flapped from a window, tearing through the curled and crooked branches of a nearby sycamore.

  Grump paused at a broken fence bordering the barn. He leaned on a splintery fencepost and glared into the darkened doorway. A gust rattled through the trees and hit the door. It groaned like a banshee's mournful sigh and whacked against the wall.

  "Boil," Grump hissed. "Get out of there!"

  No reply came. Grump slipped the shovel from his back and held it steady before him. "Damn that goblin. Damn that stupid, careless goblin!"

  Quiet as a field mouse, Grump vaulted over the fence. One step. Two steps. Dewy grass tickled his ankles. Clouds once hiding the moon drifted beyond its milky eye, and now open in the sky it bathed the field in hues of silver.

  Grump's heart rapped against his ribs. He was nearly to the doorway now. He reached forward, using his shovel as a prod. The steel blade tapped against the doorframe. Slowly, so achingly slowly, he stepped into the building.

  His elbow hit the door, and it groaned. Grump winced, clenching his teeth.

  Movement shifted in the shadows within. Two glittering orbs bounded toward him.

  Grump stumbled back. Hunger thrashed through his blood as his knuckles whitened on the shovel's handle. They wanted to hurt Rose. They would try and take her from him. He would break them. He would bleed them. He would make them—

  "Grump!" Boil bounded from the darkness. The goblin paused at the moonlight's edge and wrinkled his nose into a crooked wedge. "Don't look at me like that! It's scary."

  Grump's Hunger faded. He mockingly reflected Boil's wrinkled nose and planted the shovel in the mud. "You ran off. Again. Boil, I swear you're going to be the death of me. Do you ever think before you do things? Even once? By rights I should just smash you and walk the rest of the way myself because you're going to give me a heart attack before I ever meet this wizard of yours."

  "If you're thinking, then you're not living, I always say. You've got to learn to just do stuff, Grump. The world doesn't move as slow as a garden, you know?"