“So how does being a goblin work? Are you born? Do you have brothers and sisters? Parents? I read somewhere on the, um,” Kimmie made a vague hand motion, realizing right away how difficult this concept would be to explain, “internet, that um, goblins are made from rocks?”
Buka looked at her with a blank expression on his face.
“Is that not… true?”
Buka looked at the wall, thinking.
“We come from deep caves,” he said finally, his voice scratchy but not as high-pitched as it was last night. It made him seem less monstrous. “Lots of rocks down there. But, I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, it would be hard to remember that. I don’t remember being born.” She laughed uncomfortably. Buka continued to stare at her, so she reached into her backpack and pulled out the journal, along with a pencil. “I actually have a journal of stuff I’ve compiled about you guys. Notes and research, things like that. But I also have a bunch of questions that I’ve had a hard time finding the answers for.” She sat on the floor, flipped the journal open, and set it on her lap, pencil in hand. “Is it okay if I ask them?”
Buka looked at the journal curiously. When he realized she was waiting on him, he nodded quickly.
“Good. Awesome. This will be fun. First question, do you bleed?” She glanced at his leg and then scribbled something down. “I guess we already know the answer to that one. Follow-up question was, ‘What color is it?’ so I’ll just put down ‘red.’” She grinned sheepishly. “Two down already and you haven’t had to say a word!”
Buka’s lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile.
“Next. Do you… go to the bathroom?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Bath room?” he said, sounding out the word.
“Do you know what a bathroom is? Or why people use it?”
Buka stared at her, then he got up and looked at the objects in one of the alcoves, as if searching for something. “Is the bath room here?”
She waved her hand. “You know what? It’s okay. We’ll skip that one.”
Buka nodded and settled back onto the floor.
“Any family? Brothers? Sisters?”
Buka swallowed, then shook his head. “No brothers, not anymore.”
Kimmie sensed a story there, but she held off on following up. She was determined to get to other questions on her list, first. “How old are you?”
Buka stared off into space. “I don’t know.”
“Not even a guess?”
He shrugged.
“What’s the earliest thing you remember?”
Buka opened his mouth as if about to say something, only to think better of it. He looked away.
“What?” Kimmie asked. “What were you about to say?”
Buka shook his head. Kimmie sighed. Another question she’d revisit later.
“You got in a fight with your clan?” He nodded. “Does that happen a lot?”
A shrug. “Golak fight. A lot.”
“And your pack is, was, Golak?” Another nod. “Have you ever seen any other clans? Raveen, or Partha?”
Buka thought about the question for a moment, then nodded. “Long time ago. We see Partha, at a gobmoot.”
Kimmie cocked her head. “A gobmoot?”
He moved his arms as if hugging a group of people. “Lots of goblins. Together.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“A meeting?”
He nodded.
“Hunh. A gobmoot. Need to remember that one.” More scribbling in her journal. She took a drink of water, preparing herself for the next few questions. “So, you fight other goblins. Do you do worse things than fighting?” He looked at her, confused. “Do you hurt other goblins?”
Buka’s gaze fell to the floor. “Sometimes.”
“Do you kill other goblins?” Another nod. “Why?”
She saw the agitation in his movements, the way he cradled his arms, and tapped his foot. She wondered if she was making him sad. Or angry.
“We have to protect the clan. No other choice.”
Kimmie steeled herself for the next question, the one she’d been building up the courage to ask from the moment she walked into the cave.
“Is that why you killed them?” she asked, all humor gone. “To protect your clan?”
Buka blinked. “Other goblins?”
“No.” She felt a lump in her throat, but she fought through it. “The people who lived here.”
His eyes widened, and then he bowed his head like a scolded puppy. He turned away, and she swore he looked like he might start crying.
“Buka. I need to know why they died. Why did you kill them?”
“To protect the clan,” he whispered. The words carried softly through the cave.
“Protect them? From who?”
Buka’s breathing sped up and he visibly got himself under control. “That’s what he said. He told me I was betraying them all. But I don’t want to protect the clan anymore.”
Kimmie shook her head. “What does that mean? Who is ‘he’?”
“The woman,” he stared at the floor, lost in thought, “her name was Belle. She had,” he made a motion describing a necklace, “pretty chain around her neck. I always liked to look at it.”
Her stomach lurched. She remembered that necklace. A silver chain with an engraved heart. It flipped open to show a picture of Belle’s mother as a young girl, Kimmie’s grandmother. She loved that necklace.
“Belle was my aunt.” Her voice cracked. A tear fell down her cheek. “My mother’s sister.”
He stared at the floor for a long moment. “She was nice. She gave me food, like you. Both did. They were friends. My friends.” He tapped his chest. “Only friends…” his voice trailed off.
She shook her head. “Then why…?”
He reached down and played with the chain on his leg. “Kranka found out.”
Kimmie blinked away her tears. “Who’s Kranka?”
Buka smiled weakly. “The boss.”
“You told Ollie you didn’t have a boss. You said you were alone.”
Buka focused on the chain, avoiding looking directly at her. “Kranka not my boss anymore.”
Kimmie leaned in. “Did he make you do it?”
He nodded. “Kranka bad. Very bad.” He clenched his fists. “Very mean. He found out about Belle and Rob and he got angry. He tried to take them, but they fought him. He got more angry, so he,” Buka pounded his hand into his fist, “he hurt them. That made me mad, and I yelled at Kranka, so he hit me, then he hurt them more. He… killed them, because of me. All my fault.”
Kimmie’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“After, he hurt me.” Buka glanced down at his mangled leg, oblivious to Kimmie’s shock. “Then he sent me away. Said if I was good maybe I can come back.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to. I don’t like Kranka. I don’t like the pack. No more pack, no more clan, no more Kranka!” He said the name almost like a curse.
“So,” her voice cracked, “Kranka did it? Not you?”
He looked at her with sad, yellow eyes. “Was my fault.”
A huge weight lifted from Kimmie’s chest, and she fought the urge to hug the despondent goblin sitting across from her.
“I knew it!” Kimmie shouted and Buka recoiled from the sound. “You didn’t kill them! Oh my God, you didn’t do it.” She jumped to her feet and took a deep breath. Buka looked at her like she’d gone crazy. “Don’t you see? Kranka did it! He’s the bad guy. You don’t have to take the blame for what he did. I knew it.” She whispered that last part to herself.
“But… my fault.”
“No.” She wiped her cheek. “It’s Kranka’s fault. He did it. He made the choice to hurt them, like you made the choice to be their friend. You didn’t kill them. You tried to stop him, remember? You told me you got mad.” Buka nodded. “The only thing you should be sorry for is following that stupid Kranka in the first place.”
Buka looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled, briefly. “Stupid Kranka,” he repeated the words as if saying something naughty.
She leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “Buka, I forgive you.”
Buka stared at her, and at first Kimmie wondered if he understood the word. But then he scrunched his forehead. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I… I just do.”
He smiled faintly, then looked at the ground. They waited in silence for a while, Buka playing with the empty water bottle, glancing over every so often, while Kimmie processed what she’d learned. They’d reached a détente, an uneasy one. Kimmie decided to make it stronger.
“Here.” She slid one of her bracelets off her wrist. She stepped to the middle of the cave, holding it out. Buka’s eyes lit up, but he looked at her first, waiting for permission. She nodded and he slowly crept forward. The heavy chain dragged along the ground as he approached, and Kimmie held her breath. If Buka was lying, or if he wanted to hurt her, he could do it right now. She was close enough that he could reach her. Pummel her. Smash in her skull.
Instead, he gently took the bracelet from her hand and held it in his own, staring at it as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.
“You like it?”
Buka nodded.
“Here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small key. “Another present. It’s the key to those shackles. I stole it from Ollie last night. I can take them off if you want?”
Buka looked down at his foot, then nodded again. Kimmie leaned down and slipped the key into the lock. It clicked open, and the shackle fell from Buka’s ankle. Buka didn’t move. He briefly made eye contact, then looked away.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
He looked up again, and he tentatively held out his hand. “Friend?”
Kimmie beamed and shook his hand. “Friend.”