She shook her head. She realized he was crowding her and blocking her way out.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “So what was decided for Noe’s warband? I take it from the cheers that it was approved. How many warriors do we have who will be participating? A hundred and fifty? Two hundred?”
“There’s been no tally.”
“And I doubt there was much said about any objective besides lashing out at the humans. Those who venture forth will be lost. If anyone decides to write it down, then all the fallen will be immortalized for hundreds of years, resurrected for every future grievance against the humans and waved about like a celebration flag. Assuming anyone bothers to record the names.”
She pushed the hand aside but there was no way around the obese goblin. He looked her over. She could smell the sour reek of his breath.
He rubbed the ribbon that dangled from her hair. “You could have a place here.”
“I need to leave.”
“You’re a bit ripe and could use a bath, but I’ve always favored a bit of rind on a girl.”
She tried to step around him but he remained set in place. He leaned in to kiss her. She flinched as he pressed in but then bit down on his lower lip. The goblin yowled and stumbled back, pushing her away as his hands went to his face. She squeezed past him and rushed out of the library.
Someone blocked her path to the front door.
Thistle’s heart hammered as she heard the big goblin coming after her. Then the shadow before her spoke.
“What are you doing inside my house?” Noe asked.
Chapter Twelve
“I asked, what are you doing here?” Noe grabbed Thistle by the wrist. “Valens, why is she in our house?”
The large goblin had paused at the end of the hall. “Why, hello, Noe, dear. Did Mire Linda throw you a nice party?”
“Answer me.”
Thistle broke free of Noe’s grip but saw no way past.
“You didn’t send her as a gift?” Valens asked. “Relax, Noe. I was only showing our visitor our collection of books. She’s on her way to being a full-blooded sage, isn’t she? So why not here? Mire Linda could use some culture.”
“Why weren’t you out there? You could have spoken on my behalf, even if all you want to do is hide here and drink yourself to death.”
“Not dead yet. And the most interesting guests find their way to me.”
Thistle gaped at the big goblin. “You’re the chief here?”
Valens offered a mock bow.
“He’s no longer our leader but in name,” Noe said. “Why were you running?”
Thistle suddenly had a hard time making words. “He tried to kiss me.”
“He’s filth. But you shouldn’t be in here. Tomorrow morning, Huntmaster Eleck will take you back to Boarhead to collect the other survivors. Then he’ll escort you to Firebloom. There you’ll be safe.”
“Wait, no! I spoke for you in front of the council. I’m coming with you.”
“You most certainly aren’t.”
“You have to take me. Without me, you’d have no raid. These events have to be recorded.”
“Your notebook and all the rest of the books should be burned.”
Valens let out a laugh. “Now that’s the Noe I know.” He squeezed past them and planted himself down on the chair. From a compartment within a bench set against a wall, he produced a bottle.
“Put that away,” Noe said. “I’m sleeping under this roof tonight in my bed. Which means you’re not.”
Valens struggled with the cork, finally managing to work it from the bottle. He sniffed the contents before taking a sip. Made a face. Then he took a long swig.
“Seems to me you’re forgetting who’s chief. You’ve received your accolades. You’ve returned with tales of a dragon and woe for the men you find when you go to play war. You also bring us someone who might fill the shoes of what Mire Linda so dearly needs.”
“Don’t even suggest it.”
“It would be good to have a set of practiced hands at work in our humble library. I’ll help teach her what Somni wouldn’t, and now can’t. With so many of them no longer with us, Athra will look to us as a font of knowledge. It would be good for trade and good for the wretches to get some education, don’t you think?”
“You’re a disgrace to your office, an embarrassment to this village, and an offense to me. She’s going to her new home tomorrow and you’re not going to lay a finger on her.”
“Wait, I get a say in this,” Thistle said. “I’m not here to be Mire Linda’s sage, but I also won’t be shunted aside. I’m the sage of Boarhead now. One Stone is my chief. And if he and any other of our warriors are coming with you, then he can decide if I come or not.”
“Your warriors? I counted two of them, both younger than you.”
“Plus Ramus and Arens. That makes four.”
“The girl can count,” Valens said with a grin.
Noe let out an exasperated breath. “Then the five of you can return to Boarhead as your chief desires. Or I talk to One Stone right now and have him order you to go with Huntmaster Eleck.”
“Why are you so resistant to me coming?” Thistle asked. “I held my own after you found me. I kept up and didn’t slow you down. I never complained. I’m part of this. I have to be. It’s my responsibility to all of our kind that what we do is remembered.”
“And I forbid it. It’s that simple. Is there anything else? I’m exhausted and want to sleep.”
Valens was watching the exchange with obvious amusement.
Noe turned to face him. “And you’re going to leave this house even if I have to make you bleed.”
He raised a hand as if to placate her. “Won’t be my first night under the stars. But before I go to make my bed in the garden, I’m giving you an order. You’ll take Thistle with you on your raid. Every tragedy needs its teller. That way, we’ll know what to sing in midwinter when we remember this night. Oh, what songs we will sing.”
“You don’t get to interfere—”
He cut her off. “I’m not interfering, my sweet love. I’m giving an order. And I’ll remind your hunters of it before I bed down. Your chief has spoken.”
Noe ushered her out the door. As Thistle retreated from the house, she heard shouting. She could still hear their voices even when she again found her patch of ground by Wren and Papa near the village center. She pulled her blanket around her, trying to be as quiet as possible. The firepit’s last embers continued to smolder.
“Did I hear shouting and things breaking?” Wren asked. “What’s going on out there?”
“I found the chief. He and Noe are married and they’re going at it, all about whether or not she’ll take me tomorrow.”
“Why? I thought you wanted nothing more than to get away from all the violence.”
Someone nearby growled, “Keep it down.”
“I want justice, just like you do,” Thistle whispered. “And I have a responsibility, just like you.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m glad you’re coming, even though it might mean we might, you know…”
“Die. We might die out there. It’s okay to say it. I’m at peace with that if it happens.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m scared. But we can’t let the humans win ever again.”
“It’s more than that. We also can’t forget that they’ve attacked us before, and will keep hurting us, whether it’s one goblin like Papa or entire villages like yours and mine.”
Wren let out a laugh. “So rises the era of the warrior sage.”
“Some of us are trying to sleep,” the voice from the darkness said.
Thistle curled within her blanket. She wished she could turn off her thoughts. Wren settled in and was soon breathing steadily. Papa was snoring. Soon she managed to drift off, with unsettled thoughts of men, goblins, and books stirring in her mind.
Chapter Thirteen
Noe was up at dawn, going from group to group and speaking with each leader. Thistl
e watched her as she sat up, her body protesting her early rise. It was as if all the aches and pains from her ordeal had finally decided it was time to assert themselves. She rubbed her eyes and got up. She wanted to wash but saw that Noe was wasting no time in assembling those who would join her on the raid.
She hurried to catch up to Noe.
“Anyone who wishes no part of this madness is welcome to join us,” Eleck said. “We’ll see you get home or you’ll find welcome in Firebloom.”
Noe stood to face the elder goblin. Thistle expected harsh words, judging by the woman’s demeanor.
But Noe just gave a curt bow. “Go in peace, Huntmaster. May winter be kind to you.”
Several from other groups were joining him. So many parties had fractured. Thistle counted thirty goblins who moved to stand with Eleck. Had there been that many the night before? She realized she had missed some of the deliberations.
Noe surveyed the group before turning and almost running into Thistle.
“Get out of the way.”
Thistle found herself tripping over her words. “What happened last night—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble in your home.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not trouble. You’re not anything. Valens has ordered me to take you, so you’re free to come. But this isn’t a rescue operation. We’ll be running and moving quick. I’ll show you no special consideration.”
“I’m not asking for any. I just want a chance—hey!”
Noe brushed past her and marched towards the largest group of goblins. Chief Gelid’s warriors were serving themselves from a simmering pot of boiled beans, each taking a spoonful and heaping it onto a plate.
Gelid paused chewing and offered her a nod.
“Form up your warriors,” Noe said. “We leave in an hour.”
Thistle crouched next to One Stone as he pulled on his moccasins. Preemie was already dressed and fussing with his equipment.
“Bow strung or unstrung?” Preemie asked.
One Stone retied one of his laces. “String it.”
“Are you bringing a hatchet? We should have a hatchet for firewood. Maybe one of the Mire Linda goblins will lend us one.”
“We don’t need a hatchet.”
Preemie looked disappointed. “I only have the one waterskin. It’ll be cold. I wish we had extra cloaks and blankets. And maybe a pot. If we had a hatchet, we’d be able to make a bigger fire and have soup.”
One Stone turned to look at the smaller goblin. “Take what you have. We forage for what we need.”
Thistle cleared her throat. “Eleck will be leaving for Firebloom at noon. If you go with him, he’ll take care of you.”
Preemie paused to listen.
One Stone rose and slung a quiver over his shoulder. “We’re with Noe.”
Thistle took his hand. “But as chief, you have responsibilities now. If Jinty and the others in Boarhead elected you as chief, you have to go back. Take them to Firebloom for the winter. In spring, we return home. Rebuild.”
“We didn’t come here just to run away.”
“It’s not running away, One Stone. This is us surviving. Some of us—a few of us, at least.”
“We’ll go back home when this is finished.”
“There might not be a finish, don’t you see? Noe’s plan is better than doing nothing. But you know what’s beyond the humans at the shore of the sea? More humans. Towns. Cities. This isn’t just kicking a wasp nest, it’s drawing it to our breast and thinking we don’t get stung. This is no deer hunt.”
One Stone met her gaze. “You’re going?”
“I have to,” Thistle said.
“So do I. I want to show every human we’re not scared.”
“This won’t bring your parents back, or mine.”
He clenched his jaw as he picked up his bow. Then he moved down towards the gathering place with Preemie following on his heels.
“Nice pep talk,” Wren said.
She hadn’t noticed him standing at the side of the closest house. He had his own pack, larger than most she had seen carried by any of the goblin hunters, and he was struggling to get it closed. He tied off a cord and then tried to shoulder it. He almost fell but she caught him.
She smirked as she set him straight. “That’s quite the load. What have you got in there? Rocks?”
“I’d rather not be eating snails and bugs, if I can help it. If you’re nice to me, I might be persuaded to share of my bounty.”
“There’s no way you’ll keep up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I’ll manage. It’s you who’ll have to be careful. If looks could kill, Noe would have you dead seven times over. What happened?”
Thistle moved to gather her own meager blanket and pack. She realized she had prepared nothing.
“I found the chief last night. It’s Noe’s husband. He’s a creep and he hit on me. Then Noe came home and saw me in her house.”
“Does she know what he did?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She confirmed her notebook was there and found her empty waterskin. “I better get my gear together.”
As she refilled her waterskin, she saw Mire Linda’s blacksmith and a pair of women leading Papa away. He appeared happy even as they headed towards the belching smoke of the village forge.
Papa would be cared for, she realized. That was what people in a village did for one another. She would have to trust that he would find happiness and a home in Mire Linda.
Thistle counted two hundred goblins gathered and ready to leave. The rest of the council stood and watched. Valens had appeared at the edge of the group, but few acknowledged his presence, including Noe. Noe stood before all of them.
Thistle prepared to take note of any speech she might give.
Noe glanced around at the assembled war party and waved them to follow as she turned and walked down the trail that would lead in the direction of the sea.
When Thistle glanced at Valens, he was smirking. He then blew her a kiss.
It took several minutes for the rest to fall in. One Stone and Preemie, along with Ramus and Arens, kept together. Thistle put her notebook away and walked alongside Wren.
His eyes appeared glazed.
“Did you…” she whispered.
“Something for the pain. Ankle was acting up. Now keep quiet and keep up. We’re to war now, and we mustn’t let the enemy know we’re coming.”
Chapter Fourteen
A sage is to be an impartial observer. I will try in these pages to tell the truth, without emotion or bias, to let you, dear reader, understand what is taking place so you can reach your own conclusions. But the telling will prove to be a challenge.
Chief Valens has ordered his wife Noe, the raid leader, to bring me along even though she explicitly declared she didn’t want me.
The scope of the raid is unknown.
The goal? Revenge, as if any act of retribution will balance the scales.
The perpetrators of the crimes against Athra are dead. While it remains a mystery if there were others involved in planning Lord’s expedition against our people, it can be safely assumed it wasn’t any of the humans who live nearest us along the shores of the Inland Sea.
As our force of two hundred descends from Mire Linda, I can only hope for clarity in our cause.
Thistle and Wren were among the last of the raid to arrive at the human campsite. Thistle paused to crouch over the extinguished fire. Heat radiated from the ash. A few of the warriors were surveying the ground. Even Thistle could see the hoofmarks of horses along with their droppings among the grass. The animals had been grazing near where the humans had bedded down.
“How many?” she asked.
The nearest goblin considered the scene for a moment before answering. “More than ten. They set out this morning, heading southeast. Are you going to write that down?”
She couldn’t tell if his question was serious so she ignored it.
Noe and the main body of the ra
id had already moved on. There was nothing else of interest. A group of warriors waited for Wren and Thistle to depart before falling in behind them to act as rear guard.
“I think these were the same ones who were chasing us,” Thistle said. “Men of the Inland Sea.”
Wren smirked. “Are their horses so much different than any other men’s?”
“They have stricter beliefs than the men from Pinnacle. There were no runes set by the fire. Lord’s soldiers would place them everywhere.”
“Look at you, being so clever. Let me call for Noe to tell her your discovery. I’m sure she’ll place you at her right hand so she can enjoy more of your keen observations.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I’m sure she’s made a safe assumption on who these men were. But it won’t hurt to learn more about them.”
Thistle left Wren behind to catch up with the lead goblins. Most appeared content to file along the trail they were on and gave her a curious look as she passed them by. The four hunters from Boarhead remained together. Ramus was speaking with One Stone, but he clammed up as Thistle began to march along next to them.
“You’re walking too loud,” Preemie said.
“I’m walking as quietly as you are.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to give us away. They’ll hear us.”
“There’s no humans around.”
“But if there were, you’d be heard.”
She rolled her eyes.
Ramus paused to let Preemie pass. “Thistle, it’s not too late for you to go back. Even if you were to wait for us in Mire Linda, it would be better. This is no place for you.”
“I’m older than One Stone or Preemie. And someone has to document our fight.”
“You and your big words. Somni never came with us on a hunt. He would wait for our return before hearing our report. If you want to call yourself a sage, so be it. I’ll see you get your share of meat and that all the children come to weekend reading class once we return home. But this raid is no classroom. Just because we’re ready to do battle doesn’t mean we’ll fare any better than our hunting party did.”
Goblin War Chief Page 6