Motley Owl cursed himself for losing his temper at the round ear Prince who lacked manners. He wanted to put his fist through the pampered and spoiled nose on the Prince’s face. He walked until he talked himself out of breaking the Prince’s nose. Then he turned around to return to camp.
Out of habit, he walked on the edge of the road next to farm fields, so his footfalls were silent. He avoided walking next to the trees at night because of predators like Fuzzy, who liked to drop out of trees onto their prey.
He didn’t know what the goblins did to make such excellent roads, but they were smooth and hard and great for wagons. He liked walking on them because they were so easy on his feet.
He noticed that the goblins used iron horseshoes on all their horses to protect their hooves from the hard pavement. He had seen so many wonderful things made by goblins that he wondered why they didn’t have the same reputation as artificers as the dwarves.
While pondering these mysteries, he heard a branch snap in the woods to his left. It wasn’t a higher-pitched crack like a deer stepping and breaking a small branch. It was a lower-pitched crack that could only be made by a bigger animal breaking a thicker branch, like a bear, a mountain cat, or a person.
He kept walking as if he hadn’t noticed but dropped a throwing spike out of its sheath and into his left hand. His right hand soundlessly pulled his heavy double-edged dagger out of its sheath. He turned around and walked backward to see where he had been. This was to protect from an ambush by a mountain cat. Mountain cats preferred to hunt by ambush. They would only attack head-on if cornered by some other predator.
He heard another crack and then several more from where he had heard the first. Then he heard no more. Whatever it was, it must have fallen or made a misstep. The silent woods meant it had frozen in position to assess its surroundings. Deer and elk did that but not much else. Most other animals would pick themselves up and run away. So he guessed it was a big elk or a two-footed predator like a human.
He walked backward for about 200 yards and then crossed to the side of the road next to the trees. He stopped walking, slipped the dagger back into the sheath, and put the throwing spike back into his wrist sheath. He inspected the trees at the side of the pavement, picked the one with branches that invited climbing, and went up about three yards. He could see across the road and fields from where he sat. He would also hear any animals walking through the underbrush, excluding careful stalkers like mountain cats.
He dropped into a light meditative trance, opening himself up to hearing every sound the night made: the leaves rustling in the breeze, the owl across the fields, crickets, the lowing of cattle, cowbells, the claws of a skunk on the hard pavement of the road, frogs somewhere past the fields, and soft footfalls on the pavement.
He stopped his breath and opened his eyes. Before he felt a need to breathe, a tall, hooded, and cloaked figure walked past with soft but audible footfalls. By choosing a path next to the trees, Owl assumed that the figure feared being seen more than being ambushed by wild animals. Since the traveler was not a goblin or dwarf, that left human or elf. He discounted the possibility that it was one of the beast peoples since their homeland was far to the east.
He doubted it was an elf. An elf would not be slinking through the night to avoid being seen. By process of elimination, it was probably a human. Since humans attempted to attack Wren, a stealthy human was a danger. He waited for 50 breaths and silently exited the tree. He stepped on the pavement, carefully avoiding pebbles, and looked up the road toward the camp. His eyes picked up the motion of the unknown walker. Owl followed next to the trees, lengthening his stride.
He closed the gap between him and the traveler. The man was only about 50 yards in front of Owl. Then the man froze, causing Owl to stop. The man turned to his left and disappeared into the trees. Owl heard the sound of feet tromping through the underbrush and breaking branches.
Cutting back a choice curse, Owl saw what caused the man to take to the woods. It was a mountain cat. He hoped it was Fuzzy because he wasn’t armed to fight a wild animal. The cat started to run toward him. He pulled out his long dagger and palmed a throwing spike. Neither was needed. The mountain cat stopped where the unknown man entered the woods and sniffed the ground. Owl could see the riding pad on Fuzzy’s back. He gave up all pretense of silence as he put away the spike and dagger. With a quick sprint, he caught up to Fuzzy.
“I went for a walk,” Owl said at his softest volume, “and heard that fellow break a branch in the woods. If not for the branch, I would not have noticed him. I walked past him and then climbed a tree to wait. Sure enough, he walked past me. He’s tall, so I guessed he was human since an elf would not need such concealment. I’m worried it might be one of the Bishop’s agents that the goblins didn’t catch.”
*I think he’s an elf fond of soap with laurel oil in it, like the kind Sleeping Willow makes. You did a great job of stalking, Owl. Even with my excellent night vision, I didn’t know you were near until you sprinted here. Maybe we should try stalking each other in the woods for some variation on the ambush game. But I’m getting off-topic. I suggest we head back to camp and report this.*
“I don’t understand. Why would an elf want to hide from other elves?”
*Think through the situation, Owl. I can think of at least three reasons why. If you give it a little thought, I believe you will come to the same or similar conclusions as to why an elf would not want to be seen right now.*
Owl was silent as he pondered the question. He knew he wasn’t stupid, but he also knew that he wasn’t a fast thinker like Wren or Cloud Eye. Given enough time, he could figure most things out. He knew Fuzzy was giving him that time.
“Now, if I were an elf,” Owl worked through the problem, “the first thing I would see coming down the road would be the hobgoblin camp. I would detour around the hobgoblin camp if I didn’t want to be bothered with producing my traveling papers. If I snuck into Gorgurak and didn’t have papers, I would definitely detour around the hobgoblin camp. Last, it’s night, so I might violate the goblin curfew.” Owl frowned, “Curfew was midnight in Kizdangengar, but I don’t know what it is in the countryside.”
*It’s an hour after the end of twilight. Your list of reasons is the same as mine, by the way. So, what would you do, Owl, if you were in charge of security for our expedition?*
“I’d put Wren in the coach for the evening with a guard on the inside and two outside. This scenario assumes we missed one of the Bishop’s men and that the traveler is in the Bishop’s employ.”
*Good answer and close to what I would have done. I can see camp from here. Let’s report this, move Wren into the carriage, and get some sleep.*
----------------------------------------
*Wake up, sleepyhead,* I applied my cold, wet nose to Motley Owl’s forehead, then quickly stepped out of the way. He came up, throwing a punch, but I was already out of reach. It was a most satisfying outcome.
“Dammit, Fuzzy! That was the best dream, and now I won’t know how it ended. Insufferable feline.”
*Are you packed?*
“I’m always packed and ready to move.”
*Put your pack on the coach. Bring your hand buckler, your bastard sword, and your hunting horn. Leave your cloak here. Cloud Eye has your portable breakfast.*
It only took Owl a moment to be ready, “Where are we going?”
*We will hunt the interesting two-footed prey you uncovered last evening. Eat your sandwich while I find the traveler’s trail.*
It didn’t take me long to find where the mystery stalker had left the road. The only things that will eliminate the smell of elvish soap are time and rain. It hadn’t rained overnight, and it was less than a half-day since we spotted our stalker. Whoever it was didn’t care about leaving a trail. Even a child could follow this track of bootprints, trampled underbrush, and broken branches. We followed the trail to the top of a small rise, where we found the remains of a recent camp. The ground was still warm from burying a small fire. When I dug into the ashes, I found used tea leaves.
*What do you think, Owl?*
“Whoever this is, he’s not concerned about leaving a trail. That suggests he wanted to wait until morning before he crossed paths with anyone.”
*You said he. Why?*
“Girls have different patterns of relieving themselves,” he pointed to a wet spot on a tree trunk about a yard up. Then Owl blushed. It was a good thing that cougars don’t laugh out loud.
*At least he left us an easy trail to follow. Shall we *
Our stalker was moving fast. We had gone about a league before we caught up to him. He had left the ridge crest and was down on the road chatting with a farmer in a wagon with early string beans headed toward the city. Owl and I were quiet enough that we startled the farmer and our stalker when we stepped out of the trees and onto the road.
Once our mystery stalker caught his breath, he dropped his hood and smiled. “Motley Owl, Lady Fuzzy, what a relief. I’ve been chasing your trail for over ten days.”
“Blue Fox?” Even with the black cat mask on, it was easy to see that Owl was astounded.
“Merciful Matadee, Motley Owl, how much taller will you get?” Blue Fox raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re an elf and not a giant’s kid?”
“My father was very tall,” Owl said neutrally. After all the grief that Blue Fox dished out when Owl was younger, he didn’t trust Blue Fox.
Blue Fox was thoughtful, “I remember your father. He had to duck his head going through a door, or he’d hit his forehead on the door jams.” He glanced down the road, “Look, Matlok,” he addressed the goblin farmer driving the wagon, “I can see the dust now from the front of the military column I was telling you about. There are three of us now, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to back your wagon into that field access behind us. We have one person on the reins, one person on the brake, and one person to do the hand signals to guide the wagon backward. Sorry, Lady Fuzzy, but I don’t think you can help with this.”
Owl and I looked at each other. This sure wasn’t the bombastic obnoxious Blue Fox I remember. His adventuring group was a year ahead of ours, and they were off escorting caravans. If he was here, maybe something had gone wrong with his adventuring group, and they had to come home.
“Motley Owl, could you lend a hand, please? The wagons with the ballistae are wider than goblin wagons, so they take the whole road. Moving Matlok’s beans so the military caravan can pull through makes more sense.”
Owl blinked, “Sure, I can do that. Where do you want me?”
“How about the hand brake? You have stronger arms than I do, and I have a lot of experience backing up wagons. That okay with you, Matlok?”
The little goblin nodded, looking grateful but a little overwhelmed.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I let the two-footeds do their wagon-moving thing. I had spotted butterflies. I don’t know what it is about butterflies, but I feel compelled to chase them —so I did. It was fun while it lasted. Then I had to get out of the way of the caravan. The hobgoblin vanguard came first, followed by the wagons belonging to the round ears. Then came our coach. The main hobgoblin troop and the supply wagons were last.
Wren was riding alongside the coach. When she spotted us, she cantered to join us. “Blue Fox? What are you doing here?”
“Father sent me,” Blue Fox’s expression verged on grim. “I have messages for both you and Cloud Eye.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“I left Elvenhome six days ago, met with the Goblin Queen yesterday, and now, here I am. I caught up last night but decided not to crash a military caravan in the dark.”
“Wait,” she frowned down at him from the saddle, “you traveled over 100 leagues in five days?”
“I ran,” he shrugged. “I’ve always been good at it.”
“Brother, have I ever told you you’re an idiot?”
“Come to think of it, Wren, yes, you have.”
“This isn’t good news, is it?”
“No, it’s bad news,” Blue Fox’s look was resigned to sorrow. It’s not the sort of expression one should ever see on someone just 18.
“Cloud Eye is driving the coach?” Blue Fox asked.
“Yes.”
“I can take over for him. He might not want to drive today.”
“Blue Fox, who is dead?” Wren was her usual blunt self.
“Every member of my adventuring group, including Cloud Eye’s sister, Red Wing.”
Blue Fox joined Cloud Eye in the driver’s box because Cloud Eye refused to switch while we were in a set order of wagons. He didn’t want to introduce any delays. If we changed drivers on the coach, we would hold up half of the wagon train.
I’m unsure who was more miserable: Cloud Eye or Blue Fox. The news of his sister’s death left its mark on Cloud Eye’s face. It was rivaled by Blue Fox’s state of advanced sorrow, well-cooked in the weeks since Red Wing’s death. By an unspoken consensus, Blue Fox would relate what we needed to know about Red Wing’s death after dinner. Wren took it upon herself to inform the round ears and the hobgoblins that we had gained an extra elf. She also invited the Duke, the Prince, and the Hobgoblin Captain to our campfire at the end of dinner.
If Wren knew that I stalked her on her way to speak with the Prince and Duke, she never gave me any indication of it. I just wanted to observe the Prince’s reaction to Wren being her blunt, no-nonsense, to see if he was still nursing a case of teenage lust. He managed to be all business to her face, but the sigh he heaved once she was out of earshot wasn’t encouraging. I made sure he saw me watching him at the end of that sigh.
Owl collected our sandwiches for lunch. Today was ham salad with lettuce leaves and thinly-sliced soft pears on a sweet roll. The sandwich dressing was white egg sauce flavored with pear juice. I stole one and ate it since the flavors were so unusual and yet enticing. Cat Rider laughed at me when I asked him to remove the lettuce from the sandwich. Then Cat asked me how I would hold the sandwich to eat it. So I opened my big mouth, enveloped the sandwich in one chomp, chewed twice to discipline the bread, and swallowed. The look on his face was amusing.
We set up camp for the night in a pasture on the edge of the town of Perkikish. Cloud Eye and Motley Owl did most of the setup while Wren explained our routine and the equipment we used to Fox.
I noticed that as soon as Cat was out of earshot, Blue Fox asked about what chores Cat did. If Wren could have decapitated him with a look, he would have been dead. Wren described Cat’s tasks when we didn’t have the services of a camp cook, like collecting edible vegetation and roots, bringing down grouse and quail with his sling or throwing knives, and preparing various ingredients for our meals.
When she was done, her hand shot out and snagged the neck of Blue Fox’s tunic: “Don’t ever think he can’t pull his own weight, Fox, and even if you do think it, never say anything out loud. Cloud, Owl, and I fought father for a year to bring him with us. When I found him in Nordvek in a cave, he was dressing out a rabbit and getting ready to tan a pile of skins. His woodcraft is solid, and he can hunt for himself. He is also our healer. And never forget that he’s the mage that took out a snow Wyvern with a spell he improvised on the spot.”
Blue Fox swallowed, a bit startled by Wren’s passion, and then he turned pale when he spotted the glares of Cloud and Owl, who had paused their work to listen. “I understand, Wren. I get it. I will do as you ask.”
Dinner for the two-footed ones was mutton stew again. Dinner for me was two fresh sheep haunches. Blue Fox brought a brick of tea and brewed up enough for all the elven two-footeds. The look on Wren’s face was bliss, and Cat was enjoying it too. We all sat in silence, waiting for the other three we invited to show up. We really didn’t want their company, but it was the correct and polite thing to do.
Captain Girgut of the hobgoblin company arrived first. He came in shining chain mail with a fresh linen arming coif on his head. His orderly set up his camp stool and then a small stand where he placed a firkin.
After Wren introduced everyone, the Captain bowed and gestured to the firkin, “I heard that there would be the airing of sad tiding, so I have brought the traditional firkin of smeet for those who may desire it.”
“Smeet?” Cloud sat up and looked interested, “The legendary goblin smeet from Smeerv?”
“The same,” the Captain nodded.
“Oh, my,” Duke Sven said from just outside the seats around the campfire. “I brought brandy, but it can’t hold a candle to real smeet.”
“I’m sure there will be more opportunities, Your Grace,” Captain Girgut nodded. After the requisite greetings, the Duke and the Prince sat down in the camp chairs a pair of Nordvek troopers set up for them.
Then Blue Fox began his story:
“There were six of us in our adventuring party: myself with spear and kite, Red Wing with longbow, Green Oak with kite shield and broadsword, Golden Trout with spear and kite, Singing Aspen with round shield and short sword, and Rock Hawk with the long axe and assorted projectiles. Those were just our main weapons. We all had backup weapons too.
“We were an all-fighter party. Most of us could do basic camp magic like lighting a fire or drying wet clothes, but none of us could do more than heal a simple wound. We set out with leather but upgraded after our first job to plate legs, brigantines, Beckal chain mail, and long-tailed sallets.
“We got our papers for the mercenary guild in Hempdal, the capital of Osterius. From there, we traveled to Irdukas and took on guard jobs for the southern caravan routes. Our first five jobs were between Irdukas and Adishlam. They were profitable too. We had spent the previous year collecting trumm mushrooms, which we dried and powdered. We each carried two gourds of dried trumm powder, which we used for trade in Adishlam. We sold our trumm powder and purchased saffron at the end of our first guard job. At the end of our second job, we took a break to go to Hempdal, where we sold the saffron for a markup and deposited our profits with the goldsmith’s guild in Hempdal.
“We returned to Irdukas and took on three more guard contracts for caravans on the Irdukas to Adishlam route. We did see some action on that route, but nothing that we and the other guards hired couldn’t handle.
“We had seen enough action that we received two promotions in guild ranks up to silver. We also could fight mounted, which landed us our last job. We were in Adishlam, looking to pick another caravan.
“We lucked into meeting up with another group of guards we had worked with. They told us about a job with the Sahkuhl of Zimlakuliku to guard a herd of 400 Armarian horses from the Oasis of Gir to Shupushum, the capital of Zimlakuliku. The qualifications were silver rank in the guild and the ability to ride and wrangle horses.
“We met with an agent of Zimlakuliku and were hired along with two hundred other guards. We were provided with stout desert ponies and traveled to the oasis where the herd was waiting. The person in charge of the operation was the Sahkeena of Zimlakuliku. She said she had met Sea Elves before, but we were the first Green Elves she had met. She had also heard of the elven adventuring tradition, but we were the first Elven adventurers she had run across.
We were the only non-human guards hired. Because of that, the Sahkeena was quite interested in us and the Green Elves in general. She invited us every evening to have dinner with her so she could ask us more questions. Zimlakuliku is a great merchant power. They are interested in everything that might be a commodity. She asked us not only about the Green Elves but also about all the human kingdoms nearby and the goblin kingdom too. The current guard job turned into an interesting trip for us because of the Sahkenna’s interest.
All that changed on the ninth evening when we were halfway to our destination. Desert nomad raiders from Lushur attacked us.
“Red Wing died protecting the Sahkeena,” Blue Fox stopped and hid his tearing eyes behind his arm, but he couldn’t hide the sob that erupted from his mouth. “Rock Hawk, Red Wing, and I saw the raiders about to overrun the Sahkeena’s tent. We took four horses, three for us and one for the Sahkeena. We got her out, and the four of us started a wild ride into the desert off the trade road.
“Rock Hawk was downed with an arrow. Red Wing intercepted a lance meant for the Sahkeena. The Sahkeena’s horse took an arrow. In the end, it was her and me on my horse. I was full of arrows. The Sahkeena was too. They were closing in on us when we entered a scabland. We never saw the gulch until we fell into it. She and I landed on a ledge. The horse landed on the bottom of the box canyon. The raiders saw the horse and assumed we shared the same fate. I don’t remember any of that because I hit my head and was out of it for many days.
“I do not know what happened to Golden Trout, Green Oak, or Singing Aspen. The Zimlakans retrieved all our guild badges, my team’s pouches, jewelry, and a lock of each elf’s hair. Because of their thoughtfulness,” Blue Fox sobbed out the last sentence, “I was able to deliver keepsakes to all five families.” At this point, the tears were running down Blue Fox’s face. Cloud Eye, Wren, and Owl had to remove their masks to dry their eyes. Cat had his face buried in his knees. If cougars could weep, I would have been weeping with them.
The Captain got up, took Blue Fox’s drinking horn, and filled it halfway with smeet, the traditional drink of goblin wakes. Then he did the same for Cloud Eye, Wren, Owl, and Cat. He took the mugs of the Prince and Duke and once again filled them halfway with smeet. Then he served himself.
Blue Fox downed the smeet in one go, which raised the eyebrows of the Captain. He wiped his eyes and finished his story: “I stayed at the palace of the Sahkuhl of Zimlakuliku until their healers pronounced I was well enough to travel. The Sahkuhl had one of his mages take me home on a rug enchanted to fly through the air. We left at dawn from Shupushum and landed just as the sun went down in Elvenhome.
“If going home had not been so sorrowful, it would have been a great tale of hilarity as this short little human with a great beak of a nose and a pointy little beard entered Storm Eagle’s chaotic common room. As an important person in Zimlakuliku, he was garbed in golden robes and wore this huge hat that looked like an onion. I don’t know what he expected when he walked down the passage into Storm Eagle’s home.
“I don’t know if you know this, Captain,” Blue Fox got up and refilled his drinking horn from the firkin, “but we have this large and lavish long hall, decorated with the best of everything elvish, with gold inlays and our best wood carving which no one in the world can be better. The upholstery on the chairs is sable fur, and every tablecloth is silk and cloth of gold. It’s where the King receives foreign dignitaries and hosts feasts and holds our yearly althing. But it’s not where he lives. He lives in a mostly-buried warren of interconnected rooms, stuffed full of family and retainers, full of noise and bustle. So this poor mage from Shupushum got his first look at the King as Storm Eagle was bouncing his first grandchild on his knee...”
“Blue Fox, Shy Finch delivered?” Wren grabbed his shoulder.
“Just a few days after you left,” he smiled at her, “and before you ask, it’s a girl.”
Blue Fox continued his tale, “Green Elves live in large communal households where the lowest spit boy eats at the same time and in the same room as the King or Chief. Instead of a grand reception, the mage saw typical elvish dinnertime mayhem, full of noise and children underfoot, and people sitting around singing. I’m sure he went home to report that the Green Elves were a riot of tribal savages.
“Father sent that mage home bearing a carved opal pitcher with matching goblets and two barrels of maple syrup for the Sahkuhl, plus a letter whose contents I was not privy to. He gave the mage a huge bag of dried trumm, golden chanterelles, and morels, so the man left with a smile on his face. The trumm alone would make him a very wealthy man in Zimlakuliku.
“As soon as father was sure I was well enough, he sent me to find your hunting party and join you if you will have me.”
“And if we send you away,” Cloud Eye asked, “what will you do?”
“Father said he would give me the same courier duties Wren did before she left to go adventuring. I was never good enough with book learning to do any of the things that Cloud and Cat can do to keep the records rolls and copy letters for the King’s business. I’m not good for much besides fighting, hunting, or farming.”
Willam was frowning, “but you’re the Elven King’s son. You’re a Prince. How can a Prince be a mere huntsman or farmer?” His voice slid around vowels when he spoke, hinting he was wobbly from drinking smeet.
“We are not like you,” Blue Fox added a friendly smile to add tact. “If I choose to farm because I am good at it and enjoy working with the soil, what does it matter if I am my father’s son? My father was a farmer before he was a King. Ability, not blood, is what makes a King or Queen. I’m not saying humans should be this way, too, because your history indicates you prefer hierarchical governments instead. I’m just saying that this is how we are. We live in large groups in extended families. We like to live in the ground because it is cool in the summer and warmer in the winter. We hold land in common and prefer not to gain wealth beyond what we need to live, and no one is forced to do work that does not suit them.”
Blue Fox looked at his emptied drinking horn and made a face, “I do believe I am quite drunk. Maybe we should change the subject to a safer topic, like politics?”