If any creature epitomised the struggle of the dual natures of the monsterfolk, it was the Minotaur. A species so noble in thought yet so base in behaviour, forever oscillating between greatness and depravity. Everywhere they went they were driven to build their mighty strongholds, lay down righteous laws and write uplifting poetry, until the season changed and they abandoned it all to migrate to greener pastures. The shells of their half-built empires littered the world, filled with avenues of unfinished statues and libraries of incomplete tomes. In the wake of the roving herds lay ruin, death and disease as they looted everything in their path to fund their next short-lived empire.

It wasn’t hard to find a Minotaur if you had reason to. Whether it was the fires of industry or the ravages of war, all you had to do was follow the plumes of smoke. Agrathea, or Aggie as she had bid him call her, had loaned Mycal a huge lily pad that had enough room for him and Monkey to sit comfortably across from each other, and up the river they had sailed, some strange magic allowing them to move swiftly against the current.

He'd tried to strike up a conversation with Monkey to pass the time, but the sullen creature had just shaken its head and opened its mouth wide, showing Mycal the stump of its non-existent tongue.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It must be hard not having a tongue.” Monkey shrugged. “Well at least you can understand me. You know, you probably saved my life pulling me out of the river.” The goblin shrugged again. “It’s really nice that she…ahh…let you come with me. Very kind. I’m not sure why she was so insistent though. I suppose Aggie’s just really thoughtful. Right?” There was no shrug or nod this time, just a flat stare.

They continued upstream in what Mycal hoped was companionable silence. Occasionally Monkey would prod some of the nodules around the edge of the lily which seemed to adjust their heading and speed. Each time the goblin made sure Mycal was watching, using hand signs as best he could to explain the workings of the boat.

It was late afternoon when they rounded a bend in the river and saw the smouldering pyre in midst of the shattered village. As Mycal would come to learn, there were distinctive patterns in the way a village burnt that gave clues as to who was responsible. Orcs always started with the outskirts, leaving the taverns and inns intact so they that they could enjoy a drink or ten as they looted the town centre. The locust-like Buggers would torch the village proper first, then took their time munching through the fields without resistance. Migrating Minotaurs were more considerate, simply taking what they wanted and only lighting a single controlled fire to burn the bodies of everyone they’d killed, which was usually everyone.

Monkey secured the lily to an abandoned pier and they disembarked. There didn’t seem to be anyone about so Mycal started picking his way through the scattered belongings that littered the streets, looking too and fro for a sizable slab of Minotaur shit.

After a while he looked back at Monkey and asked, “Are you sure this is the right place? I don’t see anything.” The goblin rolled its eyes and pointed to one of the only buildings left standing, a huge stable that must have been able to house score of horses. When they were within a dozen yards the smell hit him, hot and pungent. Hundreds of hoofprints led in and out, many of them bigger than any horse hoof he’d ever seen. As for the horses themselves, there were scraps of skin and bone littering the ground, and several large, dark patches that were close in size to Mycal’s estimate of how much blood a horse might contain.

Within the barn he found what he needed, and it was easier than he’d thought to separate the Minotaur dung from the horse droppings. He just picked from the piles that contained human bone fragments. When he had a full load he left the barn and found Monkey outside, picking at the blackened bodies at the edge of the smouldering pyre. He held up the bucket. “I’m ready to go, Mr Monkey.”

They returned to the lily boat and shoved off, being quickly swept up in the current. This time the goblin waved at the control nodes until Mycal caught his meaning. “You want me to steer?” Monkey nodded.

He fiddled with the bumps until he had the pad centred and moving at a steady pace, faster than the current. It wasn’t as hard as it looked. Sitting across from Monkey, he thought now seemed like a good time to ask the question he’d been pondering. “Sooo…it must be nice living with Aggie?”

Monkey made the first noise Mycal had yet heard, a retching, gulping sound that was either choking or laughter. The goblin was smiling at him. It wasn’t a nice smile. His rotten, pointy teeth flashed menacingly and his beady eyes gleamed red in the evening light. Mycal didn’t ask again.

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* * *

The sun had set when they arrived back at Aggie’s cottage. She was inside, lounging in an armchair with Goblin on her lap as she peered into a floating crystal orb. Occasionally she would swipe her claw on it and the image in the orb would change, although Mycal couldn’t see exactly what it was she was looking at.

“I…we…got your dung. I left it near the garden.”

She looked up from the orb. “Good job. How was the village?”

“Everyone was dead.”

“Oh. Well, there goes some of my best customers. It took me years to convince them not to burn me.” She tapped the orb twice and it went dark, floating away to a shelf where it docked itself on a cushion. “Humans are so fragile. It’s a wonder there are any left.”

Monkey entered the cottage and Aggie looked at him, raising her eyebrows but saying nothing. Mycal noticed the goblin give her a nod, and he sensed something silent passing between them before the little creature went to the kitchen to collect some dirty dishes.

“You can root yourself in the garden overnight if you want. Soil’s good. If the Twiglings bother you just tear off a leaf or two and they’ll leave you alone.”

“Twiglings?”

“You’ll see.”

“Ahh…sure.” He stood there trying to think of something interesting to say. “So…I…ahh…I never actually told you why I came looking for you.”

Aggie yawned and sat up straight, stretching her arms and back. “Didn’t you? I thought you wanted me to remove the curse. I can if you really want, but like I said, it’s not really a curse.” She stood up and raised a hand.

He panicked. “No! No, wait, I…”

“Ugh! Oh my gourd man, make up your mind!”

“Sorry! Just listen for a moment, please…there’s another reason I came looking for you.” He turned around slowly, suddenly very shy. He pointed to a ridge of tiny bulbs that were just starting to sprout. “I was growing more mushrooms, see? Well, you can’t really see because of the fish, but by tomorrow there will be a whole cluster. Lots of blue ones! I know you like the blue ones…”

He stood there for some time with his back to her, waiting for her to say something. Eventually he felt a claw touch a his shoulder. “You did this for me?”

The gills around his head-cap fluttered involuntarily, as if stirred by a vigorous wind. Despite his best efforts to stay calm Mycal could feel a few spores leaking out. “I did. I thought you might like it, thought it might make you happy.”

“You want to make me happy?” She shook her head, put a palm on her forehead and sighed heavily. “Mycal, isn’t it? You know what I am, don’t you, Mycal? A witch? I’m the terror of the woods. The horror in the dark. A messenger of death and maiden of misery. Honestly, you were lucky I didn’t just slice you open when we met.”

He turned back around to face her. “Well then why didn’t you? If you’re so bad, why did you talk to me? You could have killed me and taken everything I have, but you didn’t.”

“You really want to know?” She took a step closer to him and it seemed as if something dark had entered the room, swallowing the candlelight and plunging everything into shadow. He was suddenly very aware of how tall she was, almost a full head taller than him. It was intimidating. And exciting.

She leant down so that they were nose-to-nose-slit. “You looked pathetic sitting on that log. We witches are good at reading people, it’s how we tell fortunes. We can’t really see the future, you know? But we can see what’s in your heart, what’s in your head, and that’s all we need to know to see where you’re headed. And you…the insecurity, the self-loathing, the desperation...you were heading nowhere. You were probably one bad day away from just ending it all. I wouldn’t kill someone in a state like that, it would have been like…I don’t know…killing a homeless puppy? We’re evil, yes, but we’re not heartless! And you’re not special, Mycal, you’re just lucky.”

Mycal retreated from her withering glare and took several steps back, but not out of fear. Indignation swelled in his chest. “You think I’m pathetic? You don’t even know me! You don’t know what I went through before we met! You don’t know what life is like in the colony. I didn’t have to leave! I could have stayed there, and I would have been mostly happy! But that’s why no one ever leaves! Because it’s perfect! And it’s horrible!”

He must have been insane, he thought, speaking to a witch like this, in her own cottage. He braced himself, ready to face her wrath. Maybe a fireball or a lightning bolt, or worst of all she might insult him again. But none of those things happened. Instead she just cocked her head and nodded. “Yes. Perfectly horrible. Horribly perfect. That’s actually something I can relate to.” Her stance and attitude seemed to soften, and the strange shadows in the room diminished. The candlelight returned, though Mycal was not sure it had ever really left. “So, those mushrooms? They’ll be ready in the morning, huh?”

The abrupt change of mood caught Mycal off-guard. He was still fired up, ready to defend himself from her unflattering characterisations. Standing as tall as he could manage, he smoothed his ruffled gills, trying to salvage some small measure of dignity and said, “I grew them for you, yes. Maybe I shouldn’t have?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question. It was supposed to be a bold statement about how he wouldn’t be a doormat, but to his own ears at least it sounded very meek.

“Well you did come a long way, I’m honestly surprised you made it this far. We witches don’t travel like you do. Why don’t you stay the night and we’ll talk more tomorrow?"