Her hand tightened on her staff. Why did everything become a reminder of that day?
Cletus startled the guards as he flipped down from above, striking the ground between them. He waved goodbye to the children, singing another round of his made-up friendship song, then rushed to catch up with Tarah. “Pretty Tarah, can I hold Willum’s axe again?”
The imp didn’t react to the question, but Tarah knew he was dreading such an eventuality.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, thinking it best not to raise Theodore’s ire further. If he did ever get the chance to finish telling Cletus about her pregnancy, the gnome would never shut up about it. Likely the whole city would hear. Cletus’ face drooped in disappointment.
“How about Esmine?” she said and tossed him the staff. Cletus’ grin reappeared and he sent the staff in an intricate series of spinning moves.
As they entered the forested area near Beth’s house Esmine popped into existence in front of Tarah, her child-like face scrunched up in irritation. “What makes you think I like being handled by him any more than the imp?”
Tarah was certain that the rogue horse was sending the illusion to her alone because Cletus didn’t seem to recognize her presence. His wide staff swings came dangerously close to striking the child. Her reply was mental. I know it’s not a big deal. You feel no discomfort. Besides, he’ll tire of your staff quickly like he always does. His chain is all he cares about.
Esmine watched the gnome for a moment. “I must admit that he really knows how to handle a staff. I’d say he’s better than you.”
Tarah arched an eyebrow at the illusion, wondering if that was supposed to be a jab at her skill. It didn’t matter. It was impossible to take offense where Cletus was involved. I wouldn’t believe anyone better than him, no matter the weapon.
“Too bad he’s so stupid,” Esmine said. “Otherwise I might think of having him replace you.”
Tarah sighed. So the rogue horse was trying to bait her into an argument. Esmine knew Tarah didn’t put up with people calling Cletus stupid. What’s got you so bothered, Esmine?
“Jealous of an axe?” the imp suggested, breaking his self-imposed silence.
“I heard that, Teddy!” Esmine snapped, her mental connection with Tarah allowed her access to the imp’s comments.
“The imp is right!” Tarah realized. “This is about jealousy. Both of you need to calm down about this! For mud’s sake, friendship is not an exclusive contract!”
“Friendshiiiiip!” Cletus sang, adding dance steps to his staffwork.
Tarah switched to mental communication again. She didn’t need the gnome using everything she said as lyrics to his new song. It means that you care for what your friend wants, even if that means they spend time with someone else. It’s about giving, not receiving.
“How tedious,” said Theodore.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Esmine added. “If I’m the one giving all the time, then you’re the one receiving all the time and that means you’re not a good friend.”
“Ho-ho! A logic quandary from the rogue horse!” the imp laughed.
You’re not listening. It’s not about who is receiving what. It’s . . . Tarah pursed her lips. True friends don’t care about who receives more. It’s not a blasted contest! Both of you give.
Esmine scratched her head. “But if both of us keep giving each other stuff, and neither of us takes anything, where does it all go?”
The imp truly cackled at this remark. “Piles of gifts lying around everywhere untaken. Ha! Nonsense!”
Tarah rolled her eyes. This kind of talk wasn’t her strong suit. Come to think of it, neither was the concept of friendship. She hadn’t known much of it in her life. Not until recently. Maybe she wasn’t the right one to be trying to explain this to two ancient bound souls.
You know I’m not talking about physical things! Neither of you need that kind of stuff! We’re talking about the gifts of companionship or advice or whatever. The point is that both friends give so both friends benefit and neither of you cares who gave more. No one keeps track or uses a ledger.
“It’s a basic concept, Terri,” the imp replied. “Whether I agree with it or not.”
“Yeah. We aren’t stupid like Cletus,” Esmine agreed with a snort.
Then get it through your heads! If your friend spends time with someone else or finds a lover, you don’t complain or harass them. You support them! That way you stay good friends.
The two weapons were quiet for a few moments.
“You’re right, it is tedious,” Esmine said.
“It is far too much work,” agreed the imp.
Then it’s you two who are stupid! Tarah snapped, then said aloud, “Cletus is the smartest of us when it comes to this.”
Her comment startled the gnome who stopped his staffwork mid-swing and turned to stare at her. “I’m the smartest?”
Tarah walked up and put her arm around the gnome. “Yes, Cletus. When it comes to friendship, you’re the smartest.”
Beaming, the gnome began to sing again, “Friiieendshi-.”
Tarah placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t sing it. What makes Cletus the smartest type of friend is that he gives of himself to everyone and never asks for anything in return. That way he becomes friends with everyone he meets. You see?”
“Then can I hold the axe now, Pretty Tarah?” Cletus asked.
“No,” Tarah said, taking the staff from him and marching forward. She ignored the sarcastic replies from the two bound souls. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
She rounded the next bend in the trail and Beth’s house came into view. It looked nothing like the other houses in Malaroo. It was a single story home made of wood with a shake roof. A covered porch wrapped all around the house.
Tarah found it comforting, like a small piece of Dremaldria had been planted here. Smoke curled from the chimney, telling her that Beth was at home, and she could smell freshly baked bread in the air.
“Oh, good. It’s eating time!” Cletus declared and clambered across the porch to enter the front door. Tarah could hear Beth berating him for going after the still-cooling loaves.
Tarah was actually grateful for the distraction. She didn’t want to have to explain why she was carrying Willum’s axe. She darted around to the back of the house and across the training circle to the guest house where she was staying.
It was a smaller version of the other house, just two rooms with a small table and chairs, fireplace, and three Roo-style grass mattresses. One each for her and Cletus and a third that hadn’t been used since the behemoth’s attack.
“I’ll be back soon,” Tarah told the imp and before he could reply dropped the axe onto her mattress.
She returned quickly to the main house where Cletus played with Sherl-Ann while Beth was finishing up her dinner preparation. It was mutton stew with plantains, shallots, and wild garlic. Beth was just shaving hard white cheese into the bubbling pot. Tarah’s mouth watered instantly.
Beth knew it would be some time yet before Hilt arrived home. Lately, the warrior was stuck in meetings at the Palace so late that he ate before returning. So they went ahead and started dinner and while they ate Tarah recounted the events at the meeting and what she had seen in Aloysius’ memories.
Beth found the news quite disturbing, but complimented Tarah on her increased skill with her abilities and the restraint she had shown when talking to the Protector. She and Tolynn were constantly having to reign Tarah in, especially when it came to Djeri.
Tarah didn’t mention any of the events after that and luckily, Cletus was too busy cleaning the dishes to notice that she had left Willum’s axe out of the discussion. Normally she and Beth would spend the time after dinner sitting by a bright lamp while Beth sewed and Tarah read, but Tarah excused herself early saying that she was tired. She was grateful when Beth didn’t question her. The woman was well aware of the exertion Tarah went through each day.
The sun had sunk just below th
e treeline by the time she entered the guest house. She had just sat in a chair and removed her boots when Cletus caught up to her. He trotted up to the house and pressed his face up to the fine mesh that covered the window.
“You really going to bed already, Pretty Tarah?” Cletus said, his pointy nose pressed so hard against the mesh that it threatened to tear through.
“I am. It was a long day.” Tarah said as she loosened the cords at the sides of her leather armor.
Cletus whimpered and looked mournfully out at the training circle behind him. “But there’s still light! Don’t you wanna spar with me for awhile first?”
“Not tonight,” Tarah replied. “Why don’t you go play with Sherl-Ann until Hilt gets home. I’m sure he’ll take you up on that.”
The gnome sighed. “I guess,” he said before heading back to the house.
Tarah pulled her armor off over her head and set it on the table, then grasped the front of her undershirt, shaking it to air it out. The armor she wore was runed to keep her feeling cool in the heat of the day but the humidity in the air was oppressive and as soon as she took it off sweat tended to pour from her skin. Tarah wouldn’t take the armor off at all if not for the inevitable smell.
She walked into the second room and her eyes were drawn to that third mattress where Djeri’s sword and helmet now lay. For the first week after the disaster Tarah had thought them lost, swallowed up with everything else in the valley that day. But thanks to Cletus . . .
Tarah was tempted to reach out as she had done so many times and touch the items, reliving Djeri’s memories. Shaking her head, she turned away and faced her own mattress where she had left the imp’s axe. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and picked it up.
“All that talk of friendship and you drop me here without so much as a word?” the imp griped. “You wound me, Terri.”
“I said four words to you,” she corrected. “And they were true. I just didn’t want to have to explain you to Beth.”
“Ho-ho! This must be some dream for you to be keeping this secret from the witch,” the imp observed. The two previous conversations Theodore had with Beth had not gone his way and his feelings toward her were disdain mixed with a healthy respect.
“I just didn’t want to tell her about it until I had a better idea what it meant,” she said, then lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes. “So let’s get started.”
“Eager are we?” the imp asked. “Ho! You are too awake to fall asleep that quickly. Your heartrate is too fast.”
“Then use your magic, imp. I know you don’t like waiting around anymore than I do-.” Tarah’s thoughts were yanked into nothingness.
The next thing she was aware of was standing on a grassy hilltop. There was a stiff breeze and she could see the expanse of Malaroo before her. To her left was the City of Roo-Tan’lan and beyond it the Jharro Grove, the leaves of the ancient trees flickering green and blue with the wind. To her right was the vast swampland and in the middle of it, a mysterious ancient city of vine-choked pyramids.
“Ho! Human dreams always have the landscape wrong. Everything is too close together!” said the little red man sitting on Tarah’s left shoulder.
“I think it looks beautiful!” said the child-like figure sitting on her right shoulder, a dark-skinned elf girl. “Though you’re right about everything being too close.”
To Tarah’s dreaming mind there was nothing odd about these two interruptions. It was as if those two figures were always there. On the hillside in front of her was a pathway that forked at the bottom, one way leading to the Grove while the other led to the swamp.
“You’ve put on some weight,” the red man observed. He was a dapper gentleman wearing a luxurious red suit. The suit matched his skin.
There was a stirring in Tarah’s abdomen and she reached down absently to rub the belly that distended in front of her. The baby was active, kicking in a way that might not be natural but it was the way Tarah imagined it would feel. The leather armor she wore was fitted exactly to her pregnant frame and she was not at all surprised that it was her old moonrat armor. That seemed natural.
“A storm comes,” said the child and Tarah looked to the south where a mass of dark clouds had formed.
The clouds rolled northward sweeping over the sky until all was covered except for one break in the clouds, leaving purest sunlight to stream on the Grove. Then there was a rumble under her feet. At the edges of the swampland the earth swelled.
A mass of light green flesh burst up from the earth and reared into the air. Then, like a great wave, it rolled northward towards the Grove. It built in width and height as it went, consuming the earth before it.
Tarah’s heart quickened and she looked down the pathway. The Grove was in danger. She looked to the south and at that city in the swamps.
It was far in the distance, yet she could see it as clear as if it was right before her. Djeri was standing atop one of those square-topped pyramids. She couldn’t see his face because he was completely clad in his uncle’s armor, but the armor no longer shone as it once did. Troll slime oozed from every joint, covering it in a dull green film. Behind him, wicked dark tentacles rose, swaying threateningly.
“It seems you have a decision to make,” said the red man. “The green wave or the slime-dwarf.”
The child agreed. “Where will you go, Tarah?”
Tarah swallowed, shaking her head as the green wave grew closer. This was wrong. This was . . . different than before. This was . . . the dream.
“Stop!” she cried. The scene froze. She grasped the two figures on her shoulders and threw them to the ground in front of her. Her staff appeared in her hands and she raised it over them. “No games!”
“Okay, then!” The red man disappeared in a swirl of smoke that grew into a small tornado that dissipated, replaced by the figure of the imp. Theodore was a short portly creature with white skin, red eyes and a pointy nose. He wore lavish finery and his forked tail rose lazily behind him. His voice didn’t sound within her mind in this place. It was as if they were really talking face-to-face. “I was simply observing. That is what you wanted, isn’t it, Terri?”
“It’s Tarah! And I wanted you to guide me like you did before. Not just observe. Part of this dream is what’s going on in my mind and you wouldn’t be able to see that!”
The imp shrugged. “My-my. Then perhaps you should have given more instruction before we began?”
“You sent me to sleep too quick,” she said before turning her ire on the elf child. “And what are you doing here?”
Esmine grew to her normal size. “I wanted to see too so I followed him.”
Tarah frowned. “Fine. So you are both here. Tell me, Theodore. What do you see so far?”
“I see a, ho-ho, very pregnant woman with a decision in front of her,” he said with snicker. “It seems pretty straight forward. You can go to the Grove or the Troll Swamps. Neither place looks like a pleasant place to be at the moment. Tell me what was going on in that mind of yours during this part?”
Tarah frowned. “Every time it’s the same. As I stand here I know that my decision is crucial. I have to choose what I will fight for. The Grove or . . . Djeri.”
“The answer seems pretty obvious to me,” Esmine said.
“Hmm. What happens if you choose the dwarf, I wonder?” Theodore asked.
Tarah’s brow furrowed as she recalled the past dreams. “I flounder through the swamps with an army. Many people I know are there. Sir Edge, Willum, Jhonate, and many others that I don’t know. We fight to those ruins. I use Esmine’s powers to clear the way to Djeri and as I get there, he takes off his helmet and . . .”
“What does he look like?” Esmine asked. “Ugly? Sharp teeth?”
Tarah winced. “I don’t know. Every time this happens I look away and see the Grove crushed by that wave. It-it disappears completely and then everything goes black and I wake up.”
“Bad decision,” Esmine said.
Tarah s
cowled at her. “You’re not being helpful.”
“Interesting indeed,” said the imp. “What happens when you choose the other path?”
“I don’t know,” Tarah said. “I haven’t chosen that path yet.”
“What?” Esmine yelled.
The imp let out a low chuckle. “How many times have you had this dream?”
Tarah bit her lip. “Five or six,” she mumbled.
“Ho-ho! Well, at least we know where your heart is,” he replied.
“Tarah!” said Esmine, betrayal in her small face. “You would let the Grove die for him?”
Tarah looked back at her, her jaw working as she tried to decide how to respond to her. Djeri was her love, the father of the child in her belly. “Every other time I’ve dreamed this I didn’t know for sure what would happen.”
“Well then!” said Theodore, rubbing his long-fingered hands together. “I think it is about time you choose the other path, don’t you? Let us discover what happens together, Terri.”
Swallowing, Tarah nodded. “It’s Tarah,” she said. “But before we do this, tell me. What happens if the Grove is destroyed?”
The imp cocked his head. “It is your dream, is it not?”
“No, I mean in real life,” she specified. “What happens?”
His brow rose. “Now-now, Terri-.”
She grabbed the front of his fine shirt. “All right. I’ve put up with it so far, but let’s stop this right now. My name is Tarah and that is what you will call me. Don’t you remember how this went last time?”
His lips pulled back, baring pointed teeth. “You take too much! I have not yet bargained for my services. I help you with this dream without requiring payment. Give me this!”
For a moment Tarah considered smashing his face with her forehead. But she held herself back. Was she being too prideful about this? He had a point. Compared to his usual antics, he was being a gentleman. She let go of his shirt. “Okay. I think I can let this go. Call me Terri if you want. I will try to think of it as a friendly nickname.”
Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6) Page 13