Forging the Half-Goblin Sorcerer

by J. Craig Argyle

  Meg enters Myrel’s hut and sits on the pallet beside her granddaughter. She holds her in an embrace for a long while before Myrel speaks, “What have I done?”

  Meg considers for a while before answering. “Ye met a boy and fell in love. Ye waited eight years until that love could be fulfilled and then ye bonded. That is all ye have done.”

  “But goblins don’t marry their brothers,” Myrel replies.

  “As far as ye could have known, Trak was not your brother. Ye were raised apart. Ye never shared family life together,” Meg explains.

  “Then why do I feel ashamed?” Myrel sobs. “Why do I feel like I have hurt Trak beyond repair?”

  “I have spoken to Trak. He feels no bitterness toward ye. Rather, he is in pain for what he thinks he has done to ye and the cruel way he caused ye to discover the truth.”

  “What must I do to fix this?” Myrel asks.

  “Why, nothing at all,” replies her grandmother. “When I took Baelock for a lover no one would have approved of what I did. Therefore, I didn’t tell anyone and things worked out. As ye can imagine, I have never paid a lot of heed to social customs. Your father broke the strictest of taboos when he eloped with a married human female, a queen, no less. He has suffered for his decision, but for his love for the queen, he has no regrets. In the south royal lines frequently intermarry in order to preserve their lineages.”

  In the morning, Myrel discovers Trak sitting in the stone circle at the edge of the cliff that faces the Western Sea. She is relieved he is safe; she imagined all manner of horrible things he might do to himself in his despair. He smiles weakly at Myrel as she approaches and sits beside him. After a few minutes he says, “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you and the predicament I have placed you in. I don’t know what you want me to do, but whatever it is, I will do it.”

  “Are you sorry you married me?” Myrel asks.

  “I have no regrets for myself. You have given me the happiest two weeks of my life,” he replies. “Had I known we had the same parents, I would have been glad to know you as my sister. I fear I have ruined that chance.”

  Myrel responds, “Our grandmother was wise to insist we not publicly reveal our marriage. Only Meg, Baelock and Ghad Samraet know we are bonded. Let the rest of the world think of us as brother and sister. We will keep our marriage a secret, but in my heart I am married to you and will be forever.” She lay back on the grass and pulled Trak on top of her. Their release from their heightened emotional state made their love making even more pleasurable.

  When they return to the forest, their grandmother glances up and says, “I see ye have made up. Would ye like some breakfast?”

  ***

  A month has passed since Trak arrived on the island. His marriage remains a secret to all but a few. But even in their isolated existence, the ruse is hard to maintain. They have to avoid any public manifestation of affection, although Trak sometimes steals a kiss when no one is looking. He apologizes to Farg for leaving the party early. He explains Myrel suddenly became ill and he had to escort her to her hut. Farg pesters Trak with endless questions about his eight years in Bretwalda. Once he asks Trak why he hasn’t married. Trak replies that if he ever met a cross-breed he likes, he would. He regrets not being able to be honest with his friend.

  Trak spends his time with Myrel, ignoring the problems of the subterranean goblins, until one day Baelock comes to him complaining, “We need your help. Our attempts to make iron are not going well. We can build a kiln easily enough, but we can’t get enough heat out of our coal-burning furnaces to reliably produce high quality metal.” Trak promises to visit Baelock’s operation and offer suggestions.

  Baelock’s kiln is carefully constructed. A rich supply of air is delivered to the furnace by three hand pumped bellows. The method is laborious, but Ghad has plenty of laborers to spare. The problem is the coal. The maximum temperature achievable with coal is too low to reliably produce quality iron. Trak doesn’t know how to overcome the problem. It is too arduous to transport charcoal into the cavern. Ghad says to Trak, “It is too bad we can’t use your furnaces at Dragonton. There, we could make all the iron we need.” Trak knew Ghad was right. But how could Baron Teiber be persuaded to supply weapons to a goblin army?

  “If we could pay Baron Teiber for the weapons, I believe he would sell us what we need,” Trak concludes.

  “What do we have that the baron could want?” asks Ghad.

  “Do you know where you can find gold?”

  “Yes, I know the soft metal. It is pretty but useful only for making adornments,” Ghad replies.

  Trak reaches into a pouch he carries and shows Ghad one of the gold coins he minted for King Red. “We can use gold to make coins. They are highly valued by men. You can trade two of these for a sword.”

  Ghad grows excited. He knows there is gold in the quartz-rich ores in the mountains east of Halban by the Sea. They all agreed to stop making iron and begin smelting gold. Using tools he borrowed from Wreen, Trak makes new dies to mint coins identical to those used in the Kingdom of Bretwalda. Trak places the king’s image on the front and his favorite motif of a dragon encircling a flaming sword on the reverse.

  Two months pass before Trak has minted sufficient coins to begin his journey to Dragonton. He and Myrel sail to Halban by the Sea and walk to Bretwalda rather than take the subterranean tunnels. The surface dwellers consider the overland route infinitely more scenic. The gold is too heavy to carry, so Ghad Samraet agrees to have his workers deliver it via the tunnels. Myrel and Trak make a leisurely journey despite the urgency of their mission. Trak takes time to refresh his knowledge of plant lore and asks Myrel to assist him in gathering medicinal species.

  As they approach the border, Myrel expresses a wish to see her mother. Trak thinks the two day detour is acceptable, so they deviate toward King Red’s citadel. He explains to Myrel that King Red has been told Trak’s mother was Queen Meriem’s lady in waiting who disappeared from the castle the same time as the queen.

  “You must mean Lady Bithel. She was my nanny when I was a child. I was sorry when she died. It will be easy for me to pretend she was my mother,” Myrel says. Trak thought it remarkable that there was more than a grain of truth in the story Lord Ran concocted eight years before. Trak is well known in King Red’s fortress, and he and Myrel are each given a room. By chance, Lord Ran is visiting the king on business. “It is good you are back,” says Ran. “I have a number of business concerns we need to discuss.” Trak introduces Myrel to Ran as his sister and another child of Lady Bithel. “My sister would like to pay her respects to the queen. Her mother once served Her Majesty,” Trak explains.

  Lord Ran knows too much and realizes the attractive cross-breed Trak is introducing is both Trak’s sister and Queen Meriem’s daughter. “While you are getting settled, I will arrange for an audience,” Ran offers.

  The queen gives instructions to have the daughter of her former lady in waiting shown to her immediately. Trak and Lord Ran stand to one side and let Myrel enjoy her reunion with her mother.

  “Myrel, it really is you,” says the queen. She takes her daughter in a familiar embrace that sends Myrel back to her childhood. They talk for two hours. Myrel tells Meriem everything about her life except for her marriage to Trak. The queen introduces her children to Myrel, but not as her step-siblings.

  Myrel wants to say “mother” so many times. It makes a tear come to eyes every time she is forced to refrain. When the audience is over, the queen turns to Trak and offers him a warm smile as she escorts her visitors to the door.

  The next day Myrel and Trak join Lord Ran for the trip to Dragonton. Trak has spoken of Lord Ran before, but Myrel is surprised to see what good friends they are. “The meeting with your mother went rather well. Didn’t it?” observes Ran.

  “Yes. It was the best meeting I have ever had with my mother, even though I just stood in the background and let Myrel talk.”

  “Why haven’t you told me you had a siste
r?” Ran asks.

  “I didn’t know myself until two months ago,” Trak replies. When Myrel was out of ear shot, Ran asks Trak, “Are Initiates allowed to marry?”

  “Most prefer to remain celibate,” Trak answers with a touch of annoyance in his voice that Ran finds perplexing.

  As they journeyed toward Dragonton, Ran turns the conversation toward business. “Trak, the iron works finds itself in some financial difficulties. The times have become too peaceful. We no longer have enough commissions to maintain our entire work force. We are going to have to scale back the size of our operation.”

  “Perhaps not just yet,” replies Trak. “I have a buyer who wants to purchase three thousand swords and helms and another three thousand plates for their shields.”

  “That is a colossal order. It will keep us busy for another six months. What is the catch? It seems too good to be true,” Ran is skeptical.

  “You are right, as always. The buyer is a goblin commander.”

  “Gobshite!” exclaims Ran. “My father and the king will never let us arm our old enemy.”

  “Oh, but they will. This goblin commander is a renegade who is raising an army to war on the goblin king and his allies.”

  “I see what you mean,” says Ran. “If we help the commander, we help ourselves. How can the commander pay for such a large order? We can’t extend credit to someone who might not survive his rebellion.”

  “He will pay in gold.” For the rest of the journey, Lord Ran seemed very content to ride alongside the wagon where Myrel sat and describe to her all the wonders of Dragonton. Trak rode upon a horse that Ran had loaned him, pondering how Ran’s interest in his sister could be diverted. He was sure Myrel was deliberately encouraging Ran. Where had she learned to be such a tease?

  Myrel is, indeed, impressed by the underground castle Ghad Samraet’s army built. It is truly elegant, even though she found the iron works and surrounding town to be crowded and dirty. Ran insists that Myrel stay in a castle suite rather than Trak’s broch. Trak fails to offer a plausible reason why this is a bad idea.

  When the three had finished eating a large dinner, they walk in the gardens atop the cliff and watch the setting sun. When it is fully dark, Ghad Samraet appears in the garden and approaches Trak. “Have arrangements been made?” he asks.

  “Yes, we are agreed in principle,” Trak replies, “but some details need to be worked out.”

  “In that case, I will leave this with you,” Ghad replies. Twenty white goblins appear carrying heavy sacks of gold and deposit them at Trak’s feet. “As our weapons are produced, please leave them in the tunnel where my warriors can find them. I hope to see you back at the hive shortly. We have much work to do.”

  “Your friend gets to the point rather quickly,” observes Ran.

  “Yes, but he is right. As soon as I have drawn the specifications for the weapons, I need to return to the north,” Trak announces.

  “Perhaps your sister would like to remain here in the castle where I can look after her?” Ran says playfully. He was no longer fooled by Myrel and Trak’s charade. Trak’s body language tells him Myrel is more than just a long lost sister.

  Trak is about to overreact to Ran’s unwanted invitation when Myrel speaks up. “Peace, my husband. Can’t you see that Lord Ran has penetrated our subterfuge and is merely goading you?” She and Ran laugh while Trak stews for a moment before saying, “Well, at least I shall not sleep alone in the broch tonight.”

  Ran is impressed by Ghad’s coins. “The goblin commander must be enormously wealthy to have so much gold,” he observes.

  Trak replies, “You will be surprised to learn that all the commander possesses in this world is his loin cloth and the ink in his tattoos. The only thing that matters to him is the fate of his goblin people.” Trak explains to Ran the political situation in the goblin kingdom.

  “Such devotion to a cause I have never before seen. Could the situation in the north be as desperate as you say?” Lord Ran asks.

  “It is desperate and not just in the north. Tironock will soon have the power to sweep aside the armies of men as easily as he can those of goblins.” Trak emphasizes, “On the day Tironock walks the surface, the world will change for all living creatures.”

  “You have been my friend for so long I forget you are also an accomplished sorcerer. I hope you have the strength to defeat the coming evil,” says Ran.

  “So do we all,” Myrel adds.

  Chapter 36

  Dragonton, Bretwalda: Cuckolded

  Trak and Myrel delay departing Dragonton until the first batch of swords and helms is ready for delivery. They join the carriers on their journey back to Ghad’s hive. They choose to travel underground to make up the time they frittered away in their leisurely sojourn south.

  As they are saying farewell, Lord Ran hands them fresh packs containing provisions for their journey. Trak’s feels heavy, and he asks him why he has packed so much. “Some of it is food for your dog,” Ran replies. Trak is about to ask “What dog?” when Ran hands Myrel a wedding gift. It is a small mongrel, not more than six months old.

  Ran says, “This puppy will be a loyal companion. She will protect you even when your vagabond husband is absent.” Myrel has never owned a pet before. The idea pleases her, and she thanks Ran by placing a kiss on his cheek. Trak isn’t sure he likes that. He is learning what he likes didn’t always count for much.

  The tunnel stretching along the mainland’s west coast is an engineering marvel. It stretches like a taut cord, its floor as smooth as the corridors of a palace. Trak notes a handcart could be pushed effortlessly along its entire length and the distance between points is noticeably shorter than following the convoluted coastal road. The porters move quickly north, despite their heavy load of weapons and helms. Every two or three leagues the tunnel widens into a small layby where stone benches provide a place to rest. Several laybys contain pools of fresh water seeping through the rocks overhead. The travelers waste no time looking at sites along the way because there is nothing to look at.

  When the party selects a layby for the night, Myrel and Trak move back down the tunnel so they will have privacy. Trak opens his pack to fetch food for the puppy that dutifully follows Myrel wherever she goes. He hands Myrel the dried meat and bowl that Ran has packed. He pulls out a second bag that contains a score of gold coins and a note which reads, “Here is your share of the profits.” Trak feels uneasy about earning profit for his efforts to help the white goblins, but he rationalizes the coins might be held in reserve for an unexpected expense.

  “Well this explains why my bag is so heavy,” Trak exclaims, as he shows Myrel the gold coins that he himself minted. “At the rate we are travelling, we will be back on the Isle of Uisgebeatha in three days.” By the time they eat their meat and bread, they are ready to sleep.

  For the next two nights Myrel and Trak follow the same pattern. They are asleep when Trak is awakened by the dog’s uncertain yelp. He doesn’t take time to light a lamp, but summons a blue glow that fills the tunnel. Trak can’t tell why the dog is barking until he catches a whiff of burning brimstone. Trak shakes Myrel. “Wake up! Something is happening.” Myrel immediately smells the brimstone. “It’s Tironock,” she declares. “Let’s get away from here!”

  As they gather their blankets, a wind swirls through the tunnel. “He is near,” shouts Myrel. She remembers how during the rescue of her father she hid from Tironock in a fissure in the city of Ardonbrae. “Tironock is taking solid form,” Myrel yells at Trak over the noise of the wind.

  The couple and their small dog run down the tunnel to the layby where the porters are sleeping. Trak shouts as they draw near, “Run, Tironock is here!” The porters don’t stop to gather their blankets or their cargo. They are already running north as Trak and Myrel enter the layby. The dog continues barking at the wind that whirls and lifts dust off the floor.

  “I don’t think we can outrun a wind,” shouts Trak. “Go, and I will try and delay it.”
He watches Myrel move down the tunnel and turns to face what is coming. The smell of burning brimstone is now intense and flames fly out of the small cyclone forming in the middle of the passage. Parts of Tironock begin to appear, first an arm which fades away and is replaced by a leg and part of a torso. It takes thirty heartbeats before Tironock’s naked, red body is more solid than not. He fills the chamber and is forced to stoop. His snake-like horns scrape the roof and knock rocks onto the floor.

  “What do you want?” Trak shouts. He reasons if he can get the demigod talking, it will give the others a chance to escape.

  Tironock eyes the stacks of weapons the porters have abandoned. “Tell me what game you play. Why is the son of a Thaumaturgist bringing iron weapons to arm my goblins?” Tironock speaks in a low, gravelly voice that reverberates through the chamber.

  Trak says the first thing that comes to his mind. “When the white goblins invade the surface, I want their help in destroying my father so I might replace him as Thaumaturgist.”

  Tironock ponders the response for a moment. He wonders, is there a way I can use the self-serving ambitions of the Thaumaturgist’s pup to serve my goals. No, he concludes. In the end, all members of the lineage must perish. Still, the swords he brings are useful. Tironock decides that for now he will spare the son. “My army needs more weapons. Provide them, and after I’ve conquered the surface, I will make you my Thaumaturgist,” Tironock roars. He is pleased the Thaumaturgist’s son has so readily joined his ranks. Trak watches as Tironock dissolves back into the dust cloud from which he emerged.

  Trak feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to see Myrel. “You were supposed to run.”

  “I started to and then decided my place is with you,” Myrel counters. “Tironock grows more powerful and more frightening.”

  Trak and Myrel follow the tunnel for four more hours until they come to an intersection. They take the branch to the left. Not far down the passage they meet the renegade commander and thirty of his soldiers coming toward them. “I am glad you are safe,” Ghad exclaims when he sees Trak and Myrel.