by L. L. Bower
“When we were through with the ogres, we turned to help the dragon mothers,” Chearon says. “The battle became more intense and more real than we ever intended.”
He sighs. “We lost a couple of wonderful centaur warriors and a few of the younger female dragons who were not yet mothers, but we wounded or killed enough of the male dragons that the remainder retreated. One of the females later told us that some of them followed the males to make sure they didn’t circle back. About the time the females returned, Crisa sent up another signal that the babies were ready to pick up. And you know the rest.”
Tumea rubs his bearded chin. “I’m surprised the dragons turned on each other. Did you ask what caused the males to abandon the females?”
Chearon replies, “One of the mothers said that Galdo promised the males a new era of dragon supremacy. The females begged them not to turn dark, for the sake of the children, but they followed Galdo anyway. As they left to serve the sorcerer, they took the babies with them.”
Ah, so it was the fathers who kidnapped the dragonettes, not Galdo.
“The females were then forced to work for Galdo because their children were held hostage, but the males served Galdo because they wanted to. One of the females told us she believes the males have been deceived and that Galdo will bind all of them into slavery, not allow them dominance.”
Chearon grins. “I told one of the female leaders I was impressed with their ability to fend off their male counterparts, and she joked, ‘Hades has no wrath like a dragon scorned.’ ”
That last statement brings chuckles around the table. I remember hearing a similar human adage and wonder again how many of our human expressions have their origins in Fairyland.
Chearon leans forward and places his hands on the table. “Now, for the real reason we came. We needed to explain to you in detail, more than a hummingbird could pass on, what Galdo is up to now.”
Chapter 23 – Galdo’s Army Builds
I look around the table. Every eye is fixed on Chearon. Without his powers, what can Galdo really do?
As if he’s heard my thoughts, Chearon says, “Galdo has authorized horrendous attacks on remote pixie and garden gnome villages. Two brutal invasions have come to our attention this evening, via the hummingbirds.
“Thanks to your training, Calen, two garden-gnome fighters captured a perpetrator. Under duress, he professed the sorcerer’s name over and over, telling his interrogators, in a language that one of them understood, how Galdo will be king, and how there will be more invasions in the future. We immediately sent troops to other outlying pixie townships and gnome villages to protect them from further attack—”
“And get this.” Pholas interjects. “The invaders attacked only the children in these two villages.” He stomps a hoof and snarls.
“Are you talking infanticide?” Mordea asks, as a deep line appears between his brows.
Chearon scowls. “I’m afraid so. They targeted the youngest and most innocent.”
Crisa, with tears in her eyes, says, “That’s horrible. What kind of monsters would assassinate children?”
Mordea slams his fist into the table, causing the coffee mugs to jump and slosh. “There’ll be a hot place in Hades for those beasts. Children should feel safe in their own homes.”
I’m glad it was Mordea who hit the table and not Geryen, who probably would have broken it.
“Abominable.” Tumea bares his teeth. “Who’s been doing this killing? I’d like to get my hands on such brutes. I’d tear them apart.”
“Goblins,” Pholas answers. “On Galdo’s orders, they broke into homes, while the little ones slept, tried to subdue the parents and murdered the children.”
I pound my fist into my hand. “I should have made sure Galdo was dead when I had the chance.”
Crisa cocks her head. “I wonder if these acts are in retaliation for what the gnomes did to Galdo’s lab.”
Pholas and Chearon look confused.
“To catch you up with what happened yesterday,” she says, “ground gnomes invaded Galdo’s lab by tunneling underneath it to rescue Calen, who Galdo recaptured in order to steal his weather ability. I neutralized all of Galdo’s magical powers.”
Pholas exclaims, “Really? Then how is Galdo still exercising dominion over these dark ones? And why go after garden gnomes and not ground gnomes?”
Crisa places her finger on her chin before she answers. “Ground gnomes, because they live underground and are physically stronger than their cousins, wouldn’t be easy to overcome. The above-ground garden gnomes, on the other hand, are easy targets. But I don’t know how Galdo is getting the goblins to do his bidding.”
“But why attack pixies?” Chearon asks.
Baru raises a hand. “Could Galdo have found out that pixies were partly responsible for my successful escape from the leviathan and behemoth?”
Chearon’s eyes enlarge. “We haven’t seen such abominations since the Seven Years’ War.”
Simean interrupts with, “Yeah, I remember killing a behemoth. He was a formidable enemy. If Galdo conjured them, then his magic is much stronger,” he looks at Crisa, “pardon me, was much stronger than we realized. Of course, he must have cast that conjuring spell before Crisa neutralized him.”
Chearon sighs. “So Galdo has a motive for attacking pixies and gnomes. What I don’t understand is, why target children? With my own children, I’d fight to my last breath to protect them, and many goblins were killed by parents desperate to save their children. Why would goblins risk their lives for such a cause?”
Crisa shakes her head. “Especially now that Galdo has no magic power to wield over them.”
As I listen, a possibility crosses my mind, but I dismiss it as too horrific to consider. Yet the more I mull over these attacks, the more logical my idea becomes. “I have an idea why children are being targeted. I hope I’m wrong, but...”
Simean gazes at me and gasps. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? I can’t believe anyone would build an army that way. But then Galdo has no ethics of any kind, and only he would think of something so appalling.”
“Okay, you two.” Geryen pounds his leg. “Spit it out.”
I sigh. “As heinous as it sounds, Galdo could be making more bogles. We know that a bogle is formed when a fairy performs an atrocity against an innocent. And who’s more innocent than a child?”
Simean remarks, “And goblins were once fairies, so they could become bogles by committing a dark act.”
Our suggestion creates quite a stir around the table. When everyone finally simmers down, Geryen says, “No, that can’t be. Not even Galdo would stoop that low, would he? Is he that desperate?”
“Think about it,” I say. “We’ve cut his dragon fleet in half by aiding the mother dragons, who switched to our side. Bugbears have started to distrust him, as Berb told us.” I look at Pholas and Chearon and explain, “He’s Grog’s cousin.” I pause. “Plus we learned that some of the ogres are ready to mutiny. Even if he doesn’t know about all these threats to his power, Galdo probably suspects trouble.
“His army is shrinking, and the number of battle-ready light ones is increasing. Bogles can’t be defeated, except by wolves, so he’d have a ready-made army that’s almost invincible. It’s a diabolical idea, but a clever one.”
Rampart, who’s been lying on the floor, yips at me. I understand him to say, “No! I attack bogles.”
Tumea asks, “But how did he convince the goblins to fight for him?”
“I can make a guess,” Simean says. “Having had contact with goblins when I was champion, I learned they desire the acquisition of power above all else. Being small, I think they have Napoleon complexes.”
“What’s a ‘Napoleon complex?’ ” Mordea asks.
Simean leans forward. “The term comes from a French military leader, a human named Napoleon Bonaparte. He was short in stature and used brutal war tactics to be taken seriously as a dictator.” He takes a deep breath. “So, if someone h
as a Napoleon complex, he or she overcomes feelings of inferiority by dominating others.”
“Sounds like goblins to me.” Mordea looks thoughtful. “They’re short and aren’t respected by either dark or light beings. Becoming bogles would move them to the top of the Fairyland power chain, where they could evoke fear from their enemies and respect from their comrades.”
I can’t help but ask, “Are they trying to make up for their shortcomings?”
Groans travel around the table.
I lift my hand. “Sorry, bad joke. But now that we know the why and how, what are we going to do about it? Will the centaur troops be enough protection for the other pixie and gnome villages?”
“No!” Tumea pounds his fist into his palm. “Who knows whether they’ll limit themselves to pixies and gnomes? The only way to stop this genocide is to go after those goblins directly. I say, each of us needs to travel back to our clans and gather troops to attack them where they live, before they ever reach the villages.”
Mordea strokes his beard. “In all my travels, I’ve never seen a goblin settlement. How do we find one?”
Crisa says, “I can answer that. Why you haven’t found them, Mordea, is because their main objective is to remain hidden. They prefer abandoned or unoccupied places, like animal burrows or rotten logs. They love stink, and the worse their environment smells, the better. Those who live in communities often inhabit moldy ruins where they can build makeshift roofs. They’ll also settle beneath crumbling bridges or dank caves.”
“How will we discover them in time to save more children?” Tumea asks.
Crisa smiles. “Ask the hummingbirds to help. They can quickly scour the countryside for goblin settlements and report back.”
Geryen says, “I think I should go home and recruit as many of my kind as I can to aid us in this effort.”
Claymont nods. “I will too.” And Baru pumps his fist. “Mermen will unite in this valiant cause!”
Mordea slaps his hand on the table. “Let’s do this!”
Tumea’s eye lights up. “Some tomtes could shapeshift into goblins, infiltrate their ranks and attack from within.”
“Marvelous idea.” Geryen gives Tumea a punch in his good arm. Tumea winces and rubs his arm.
“The next time I have a crisis, I’m bringing it to you all,” Pholas says. “I like your spirit. You latch onto a problem and wrestle with it until it’s solved.”
Chearon grins. “Those goblins don’t stand a chance against this bunch, and time is of the essence if we’re going to prevent the deaths of more children.”
Crisa purses her lips. “I’ll get word to Loudon, so he can pass along a message for our goblin allies to flee from their settlements. That way, they won’t get killed by accident.”
“Sounds good,” Mordea comments. Everyone around the table nods.
“I wish I could help you all.” I place my forearms on the table. “But it sounds like my next few days are spoken for. After we visit the king though, I’d love to join in the battle.”
“Me too, as soon as my strength returns.” Simean pats his stomach. “And if I keep eating like this, that won’t be long.”
Crisa smiles. “I think you all can handle a bunch of goblins without Calen and me for a few days. Our mission may also aid your efforts when we return.”
Mordea looks quizzically at her.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go into more detail.”
Geryen suggests, “Let’s leave in the morning to gather our troops and engage the hummingbirds, so they can start the search for goblins. Calen and Crisa have to go to bed early, but the rest of us can stay here and talk about divvying up different regions of Fairyland. We don’t want to overlap when we attack the goblin dens.”
Crisa glances around the circle. “Are you sure you all are strong enough to make the journey?”
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve just received a renewed sense of strength,” Tumea proclaims. “Nothing like a good cause to get me going.”
Murmurs of assent follow.
“It’ll be lonely around here without you all.” I yawn. “But who am I to talk? I leave tomorrow for the king’s palace.”
Pholas takes a deep breath. “I’m excited that all of you have taken up the challenge, but it’s time we were on our way. Thank you, Crisa, for the delicious coffee and cookies, and thanks to all of you for your encouragement.” He gives two thumbs up, a gesture I taught him. The others look puzzled, so Pholas adds, “It’s a sign of approval from Calen’s world.”
As soon as he says this, the diverse numinals around me also give him thumbs up and wish the centaurs a safe journey home. Looking around the table, I marvel at how I don’t think of mermen, giants, tomtes and centaurs as odd or mystical. Instead, I think of them as friends. Thanks to the royal fairy’s touch, I’m able to interact with these supernatural beings, who most humans don’t know exist. While I miss Gambole, my human college buddy, I now have a whole new set of friends, as varied as creation itself.
I yawn again. “I have to get a good night’s sleep. I’m up before the roosters in the morning.”
Crisa escorts the centaurs to her rock door and opens it. Rampart and I tag along to see my friends off and say goodbye. When Crisa has secured the front of the mountain again, the coffee dishes clear themselves from the dining area. Crisa tells me they’ll be washed and dried by magic, so we can head off to bed.
She stops me in the hallway before we go to our respective bedrooms. “It’ll be cool in the morning, so you’ll want to dress for the weather. Do you have a hat?”
“I have my helmet.”
“You can’t wear your helmet. That signals you’re ready to do battle.” She mutters some words, flicks her wrist, and a tan Indiana Jones-style fedora appears in her slim hand. She grins. “Truly an adventurer’s hat, wouldn’t you say?” She hands me the hat, and I chuckle. She must watch human movies too. I flip it onto my head and bow.
Then I think of my friend Grog, who’ll be left all alone in this place. “Will Grog be able to fend for himself without you around as cook?”
Crisa smiles. “I hope so. The stone food box in the kitchen is full, so he won’t starve. He likes peanut butter and banana sandwiches the most. I was sure to leave him with plenty of ingredients.”
“I keep forgetting he’s just a youth, with a youth’s taste buds.”
“And a youth’s appetite.” She raises one eyebrow. “I wish Baru would’ve stayed longer to give his foot more time to heal, but he’s determined to travel with Claymont tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about him. You know how tough mermen are.” I yawn.
“I do,” she responds. “Good night.”
“See you bright and early. At least the early part.” I grin.
Chapter 24 – Off to the Land of Fairy
In what seems like the middle of the night, Crisa and I have dressed, eaten, attached Rampart’s pack to him and slung on our packs, well before anyone else stirs. Crisa and I are wearing jeans, long-sleeved shirts and hiking boots. On my head is my Indiana Jones hat, and Crisa is wearing a straw one.
Grog returned from his errand late last night, so Crisa was able to instruct him on her security measures.
“But then he said he had to leave again,” Crisa says, “on an urgent family issue, a matter of life and death.”
I scratch my head. “That’s strange. He told me he’s had little to do with his family in the past.”
Crisa frowns. “Well, I was not pleased, I can tell you. I’m relying on him to keep this compound safe in my absence, and he seemed so proud to be charged with that responsibility. Now I don’t know what to think.”
“When I saw him, he said his head hurt, so I wonder if he’s getting sick.”
“Let’s hope he’s well enough to care for my place.” She sighs.
I stop to retie my hiking boot. “I wanted to tell him goodbye, but I’ll see him when we get back.”
Crisa opens th
e entrance’s rock wall, and we walk through. After she closes it behind us, she activates the security system. Grog knows how to enable and disable the security now, but after everyone takes off, he and Esmeralda will be the only ones left in the mountain.
Stars glitter in the sky, but there’s little other light because the moon is obscured by clouds. Since we aren’t in “dark” country yet, Crisa’s wand illuminates the ground in front of us.
Though the air is cool when we leave, we don’t put on our coats. Crisa claims we’ll soon work up a sweat.
We barely get started when she stops abruptly in front of me. “We’ve forgotten one very important preparation for our journey. We haven’t asked the Creator for guidance and strength.”
“You’re right.” I bow my head.
She clasps my hand, which causes my heart to flutter, and prays, “Creator, be with us, guide us and keep us from harm as we travel through these areas of darkness. In your name we pray.”
“Amen,” I finish, and Rampart yips.
She then heads northward to an area I’ve never explored before. At first, we weave along the forest floor on a narrow game trail. I’m sore from yesterday’s workout, but my muscles soon warm up, and the achiness subsides.
Then, as we turn east and start to climb in elevation, the trail disappears. Crisa uses a machete from time to time to remove any brush that blocks our path. We reach an area of thick trees, and I realize I’m no longer cold. I huff and sweat, while Rampart isn’t even breathing heavy. Even Crisa looks cool and dry.
Is that because she’s nearly immortal, or is she in better shape than I am? I’ve never seen her physically tired either, although using a lot of magic can weaken her. Does she even sleep?
I, on the other hand, am a poor physical excuse for a champion right now. My muscles twitch and burn, like I’m slogging through heavy sand, and my stomach growls. If only I’d eaten a bigger breakfast and gotten a better night’s sleep. I was too nervous about the unknowns of this trip to eat or sleep much.