The Goblin Wood

by Hilari Bell

  “How could you let Mother talk you into this?” Jeriah asked again. He sounded furious, but his hands were utterly gentle as he carefully cleaned the cuts on Tobin’s back with a soft rag soaked in witch heal.

  Tobin lay warm and drowsy on the pallet in the shepherd’s hut where Jeriah had taken him. He felt almost too comfortable to answer. After the first sting, witch heal had a numbing effect, and the throbbing pain in his back had subsided. The fire, where broth was heating, combined with the sunlight pouring through the holes in the east wall to heat the abandoned shack beautifully.

  “Well?” Jeriah demanded.

  “She talked. She cried. You know Mother. Besides, she was right; they’d have been much harder on you.”

  “Dung!”

  “Don’t swear,” said Tobin automatically.

  “All right, but of all the—” Agitation made Jeriah clumsy, and Tobin winced. “Sorry. No, I’m not sorry—you almost deserve this. I’ve never heard anything so stupid in my life. Give me one good reason why you should take the blame for my actions.”

  “Because they might have killed you.”

  “And you think Father couldn’t have bribed them for me, just as well as you?”

  “Yes, but…” He stopped himself, but Jeriah wasn’t slow.

  “You’re not sure he would have? Well, maybe he wouldn’t, but he had a right to know the truth, and I always knew I was taking that chance.”

  When had his brother’s voice become so steady? “So how did Mother talk you into agreeing?” Tobin asked. “I…wondered about that. Especially when you didn’t visit me.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” said Jeriah grimly. “Mother didn’t talk me into anything. I know her too well.”

  “Then what happened?” Tobin turned in time to see a blush wash over his brother’s face.

  “She drugged me.”

  “What?”

  “She drugged me. She’d just come up with her ‘wonderful’ plan and I’d refused. I might run off, but there was no way I’d let you take my punishment. She got hysterical, and when she finally started to calm down, she got herself a cup of tea. She said she needed it, soothing, you know? She got me some at the same time, and I didn’t want to upset her, so I drank it and—”

  Tobin’s shout of laughter woke the pain in his back and he gasped, twisting. Jeriah pushed him back gently.

  “Don’t do that! Anyway, I started to yawn, and the next thing I remember is waking up locked in the attic storeroom with an awful headache. The second in three days, I might add.”

  Tobin chuckled in spite of the pain. “You thought you knew her so well.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think she had drugs in her tea cabinet! I should have. She’s always been fiendishly effective, our feather-headed mother.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “What could I do? I yelled at the girls every time they poked food under the door, but Mother had them completely mesmerized. Finally I twisted a hinge off a chest and filed through the door so I could lift the latch, but it took days. Then I stole a horse and came straight here. I got in just after sunset, and by the time I found out what was happening they already had you in the courtyard. I knew I couldn’t stop it in time, so I got this place ready and went to get you. I could kill Mother for this.”

  “You don’t have to go that far. But when I get home, I’ll—When you get home, you’ll have to take away her drugs. Where do you think she got them? And why?”

  “No idea. But you’re the one who’s going home, big brother. As soon as I’ve told Father the truth. You’re supposed to be the good son, remember?”

  “No.” Tobin rolled to his side and seized his brother’s wrist. “You’re not the bad son, you’re just—”

  “A traitor?” Jeriah met his eyes steadily.

  “Jeri, why did you do it?” How long had he wanted to ask that question?

  “Because I believe it was the right thing to do. Tobin, look how much is wrong with the way the Hierarch governs this land. We thought if we could put our own man in his place—”

  “The Hierarch is chosen by the Bright Gods themselves!”

  “I’d be more impressed by that if the Bright Ones didn’t express their will through the council of priests. We thought we could—”

  “Don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know,” said Tobin wearily. His father wasn’t the only one to see the world in terms of right and wrong, with no middle ground. “Were you going to kill the Hierarch? What made you think you could get away with something like that?”

  “We weren’t going to kill him. He’s an old man, in his seventies now. We just wanted to be sure the man we’d chosen would replace him. My part would have been to keep an eye on the opposition. I was going into his service—who’d suspect me? I was going to report…well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Jeriah!” Tobin gripped his brother’s wrist. “Promise me that you’ll stop this. You can’t go on—”

  “Don’t get upset.” His brother pushed him down again, the gentleness of his hands a startling contrast to his grim face. “We can’t go on with it. The man we intended to be Hierarch was hacked to pieces eight days ago.”

  Tobin had never seen that bleak determination on his brother’s face. It frightened him far more than the old, impetuous wildness. “Promise that you’ll stop trying. Master Lazur all but told me that he suspects you. Think things through, for once in your life! Think what you’ll cost Father if you try anything else. It would kill both of them to lose you.”

  Jeriah pulled his hands away slowly. “I can’t promise. There are—there are things more important than family. But I promise to think it through, and to be sure as I can that what I do is safe and will succeed. All right?”

  “No! Jeri, I’m going to go mad out there, not knowing what you might be doing while I’m gone. Promise you won’t do anything. Swear it.” He knew he was using his brother’s guilt shamelessly, but he didn’t care. Jeriah had always been idealistic, but the will and ability to act on those ideals was new and terrifying. To his astonishment, his impulsive brother thought for a moment before answering.

  “All right. I won’t start anything until you’re clear of this mess. I swear it. I’ll try to work within the system, until then. Is that enough?”

  “No,” said Tobin. “But it looks like that’s all I’m going to get. When did you grow up anyway?” How had he failed to see such profound changes?

  “A long time ago.” Jeriah smiled. “You were too busy mothering me to notice. And since I didn’t want you to notice too much, I didn’t bring it to your attention. Speaking of growing up, I’m going to tell Father the truth.”

  “Don’t. If you tell him, it’s all been for nothing. I can make it right myself.” Even a few hours ago, he might have hesitated to tell Jeriah his intentions, but this new Jeriah had proven he could keep a secret—and a trust. Tobin told him everything—the barbarians, the sorceress, Master Lazur’s plan. Jeriah looked very thoughtful when he finished.

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “It sounds like he expects you to get killed right after you plant that stone—if not before! Tobin, I—I couldn’t get along without you to keep me in line. You know that, don’t you?”

  Tobin gripped his brother’s hand. “I would have believed that, this morning. I won’t get killed, Jeri. I could have died anytime in the past three years, but I didn’t. I’m not a hero. I’ll be careful, and I’ll come back. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The Hedgewitch

  The woman ran from the burning cabin carrying an armload of blankets and an iron pot. Flames licked up her skirt and caught in her long blond hair. She dropped the blankets and ran for the creek, slowed by her heavy pregnancy. Her man caught her and pushed her down, rolling her over, beating at the flames with his bare hands until they were extinguished.

  Makenna turned her attention to the building—burning nicely, she judged. No chance they could put it out, just the two of them. No chance to save
more of their household goods, either. She glanced up as Cogswhallop crept soundlessly into the bushes beside her.

  “Got the animals away when they were busy about the fire,” he reported. “The barn’s just starting to burn, but it’ll go fast.”

  Makenna nodded with satisfaction. “They won’t be back.”

  Cogswhallop cocked his head thoughtfully. “They’re a stubborn pair.”

  “And vicious.” The tactile memory of extracting Maddit’s body from the human’s trap washed over Makenna, sickening her even now. Cold, sticky blood, pouring over her hands, soaking her britches as the iron spikes pulled free of his flesh. She had to take several deep breaths before she could speak.

  “The walk back will take it out of ’em,” she said coldly. “Two days, no food, no shelter—that’s hard on a pregnant woman. My mother said they need lots of rest, when they’re big like that. They won’t be back. You’re certain you found all their traps? The one that got Maddit was well hidden.”

  “I’ll take my lot, and we’ll do a thorough search once the humans have gone.”

  “Do that. And if you have any problem springing them, let me know. If I never have to tell another goblin their life mate died on one of my missions, it’ll still be too many.”

  The shrill, grief-stricken keening of Maddit’s wife echoed in her memory, and the thought of the loneliness that lay before the little woman cut even more deeply. For the goblins, life mate wasn’t an empty title. But at least she had the children. Makenna discovered that her eyes were wet. She wiped them impatiently.

  “You can’t save us all, gen’ral,” said Cogswhallop. “Not with the best plans. Sooner or later, something will go wrong.”

  “I’ve learned that,” said Makenna shortly.

  “Aye, you just don’t believe it. You’ve hardly lost a handful, in all the battles we’ve fought. And won! Think how many you’ve saved—not how many you’ve lost.”

  “There is that,” Makenna admitted. How many times over the years had Cogswhallop supported her? He could be hard, as hard as any human soldier in the midst of war. Soldiers had to be hard. But his loyalty was truer than any she’d known, except her mother’s, and Makenna relied on him more than she’d ever relied on any human.

  These humans had gone to the stream and were wrapping wet rags over their burns. Makenna’s conscience twinged, but she ignored it with the ease of practice.

  She remembered the tiny force she’d started with—only six goblins, for Miggy was too young to help then. Now there were almost sixteen hundred goblins, living in half a dozen villages up and down the wall, who were willing to aid her. She’d actually rescued very few of them—the rest were refugees from human persecution. She could offer them nothing but a safe place to rebuild their lives, but she gave them that, defending the Goblin Wood against all humans who sought to invade it.

  She paid her troops in buttons, string—in pinecones if there was nothing else to hand. They repaid her with miracles of courage and cleverness…and she loved them. They were her people.

  A rustling in the undergrowth made her head snap around. Erebus joined them, wheezing from the long crawl, spectacles sliding low on his sweaty face. Makenna smiled and began to greet the Bookerie, but Cogswhallop got in first.

  “Clumsy ink-finger! Haven’t you been told not to blunder in when we’re in a fight?”

  “The sentry said the fight was over,” said Erebus with his usual placid indifference to Cogswhallop’s insults. “He assured me it was safe as long as I didn’t let them see me. I’ve got some news, from my cousins in Brackenlee, that the mistress ought to hear.” Beaming, he held out his hand, and Makenna pulled off one of her trading buttons and gave it to him.

  “There’s a big group of settlers moving up from the south, over two hundred, they say. And they claim they’re going to settle beyond the wall.”

  Cogswhallop whistled softly. “That’s the biggest lot we’ve had to deal with yet. That’s four times more than that troop they sent.”

  “Aye,” said Erebus. “But remember what happened to them?”

  Makenna snickered. She’d sent Spoilers in to rot their tack and weapon belts. Two days later, when she knew the leather would be ready to crumble, she’d sent a mob of Flichters in to spook their horses. The memory of the resultant chaos brought a grin to her face. Even Cogswhallop smiled dourly.

  “Have your friends keep an eye on them, Erebus,” Makenna told him. “I’d like to know what their plans are, and when they’ll be passing the wall. It’s only fair that they get the warning. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be wiser than these two.” She nodded in the direction of the young couple. They were gaping at their burning home, instead of starting the long walk while they still had light. Foolish, as well as vicious. Makenna dismissed them and crawled back through the brush. Five years of guerrilla warfare had made her almost as silent as Cogswhallop. Erebus, on the other hand, made enough noise for both of them.

  “There’s another thing you should know, mistress,” he said as they crawled into a small gully where they could walk upright without being seen. “There’s a man, all alone like a bounty hunter, asking questions about you and the wood. They say he’s got armor, as well as a sword.”

  Makenna frowned. Most bounty hunters were no problem—but a man covered with steel armor would be harder for the goblins to deal with. “I’ll look him over when he passes the wall,” she decided. “When’s he coming? Do you know?”

  “Set out from Brackenlee this morning, should reach the wall tomorrow midday. He’ll probably meet those two on the road, now that I think about it.”

  Makenna shrugged. “Might as well learn what he’s in for. In fact—” A sparkle of mischief danced through her. “I’m tired of these foolish, greedy hunters. Let’s give him a taste of what’s to come, along with his warning, shall we?”

  Makenna sat on the goblin side of the wall and waited. A cool spring breeze rushed past the gap where the road ran through, and clouds were building for the afternoon showers. But on the wall’s lee side she was out of the wind, and the heat of its magic warmed her back. It took some searching to find it, the magic that all those priests had poured into the wall three hundred years ago, when it was newly built—but the magic was there, still flowing into the long iron plates that rimmed its top and kept goblins from crossing anyplace where the line was intact.

  Makenna had wondered what had turned that long-ago Hierarch and his council against the goblins, but even Erebus didn’t know for certain—only that their attempt to drive the goblins into the north and imprison them there had failed. You’d think they’d have learned better, in three hundred years. But of course they hadn’t.

  In her first few years in the wood, Makenna had spent a lot of time with a stolen crowbar, prying out the charmed iron at strategic intervals, so her troops could never be trapped against it.

  Now she set her palms against the cool stone and the slow pulse of the old magic warmed them. Amazing. Over the past five years she’d all but memorized her mother’s spell books, but she couldn’t set a spell on an inanimate object that would last more than a few weeks without renewal. Her mother had been able to make them last for months, and priests could set a spell that would last beyond their own lifetime, but three hundred years? Erebus said that his great-great-grandfather’s aunt had counted two hundred and seventeen priests involved in the casting, but even so—

  “Mistress,” Miggy hissed from the top of the wall. “I see him.”

  Makenna knew she had several minutes before he reached the gap, so she took the time to stretch and loosen her muscles. Several painful sprains had taught her not to climb while she was stiff.

  Here, close to the breach people had made for the road, there were hundreds of cracks and crevices in the stone. Makenna climbed the wall easily and rolled onto its broad top, keeping her head low, where she knew even a man on horseback couldn’t see it. She crawled over to Miggy, who pointed.

  A lone man on a horse, with
a packhorse behind him. Only bounty hunters approached the Goblin Wood alone. After they’d run the first one off, even those tiresome explorers came in packs.

  But bounty hunters seldom wore armor, and this man had steel plates on his arms. Was that a helm tied to his saddle? Well, she’d see him up close soon enough. Even from this distance she could tell that he was riding sloppy, all relaxed and careless. She wriggled back and pulled out the small bag of fine dust she always carried. She dumped it on the edge of the wall and blew to make an even layer. “Miggy, let me know when he’s in the right place.”

  “Aye, mistress.” The young goblin’s face twitched nervously as he turned away. They both knew Miggy was far less likely to be spotted, but he hated making decisions, even something as simple as deciding when the stranger was in position. Still Makenna trusted him, even if he didn’t trust himself. Besides, she needed to pay attention to her spell casting.

  She drew the rune of the eye and the circle, carefully leaving a gap in the circle just in front of where her foot would be. Then she called up the power that resided in the wall, and it rose sluggishly to invest the rune. More power than she could dream of bringing to the spell by herself. Her magical ability had grown further than she’d ever believed it could, though she knew she would never be her mother’s equal. But with the power of the wall to draw on, she could do things even her mother could never have dreamed of. Of course her spell had to be in physical contact with the wall to use its power, which limited its practical uses sharply, but still….

  “Almost,” Miggy whispered. Sweat stood out on his forehead, despite the chill breeze. “Closer…closer…now!”