I rest my back against the outside rear wall of my cabin under Bekto’s awning listening to the chatter of my wives. Unintentional of course, I am where I am, trying to hide, to be alone and if being truly honest with myself, to recover. I thought my inner Hob would burn away the pathetic remorse consuming me and yet childbirth makes the otherwise belligerent presence within me timid.
All my wives express concern about my absence, Luda and Bekto describing the events in the kitchen cabin and after a lengthy period of silence, they decide upon sleep. I believe the reason for their silence simple, a sudden realisation. The consequences of mating with a Hob finally stark obvious before them and their fate all too real. I contemplate the loss of each of my wives, given Zana and Gato bore Hobgoblin babes, would that mean they all would? Both babes’ male, will a natural female hobgoblin be born?
Thoughts of Zana and Gato lead me to wonder about their sisters under the care and compassion of the Smith Hob … maybe his callousness will have success where I with my concern and kindness have failed. That would be this world kicking me in the teeth! I accept the harsh lesson and swear to learn from my folly. For now, I miss Milga, she would have something to say, not being afraid to say it … a small thing and yet for someone like me who everyone fears on some level, welcome.
As I drift off to sleep, I recall a loose end. Yes, I can’t let that go … the soreness in my shoulder a reminder.
---
“Lord?”
I open my eyes, the shade of my cabin prevents the morning sun from waking me at dawn, although another has decided to do the dawn’s work. I don’t recognise him though.
“Does anyone else know I am here?”
“Doubtful, although many ask your whereabouts …”
“There is no panic or alarm?”
He coughs. “I am sorry to say none are especially concerned, they explain away your absence due to your suffering …”
I cock an eyebrow. “Suffering?”
His eyes cast down to the ground. “You are male Lord … childbirth … I mean it is difficult and women erm, women know all about … such a thing.”
I spontaneously chuckle. Surprising myself with my reaction and startling my visitor who takes a step back. They all are allowing me time to recover, a male exposed to a female duty, the shock a given and therefore understandable. I wipe my hands over my face. Time to reset. Zana and Gato are lost, yet their deaths must serve to educate, and I have begun that …
“Be assured, I don’t punish the messenger who delivers bad news to me … if you’re concerned by that type of thing.”
He rocks back on his heels, wiping his forehead. “Good to know Lord. Erm, I must away Head Goblin Redagar needs my experienced eyes to mark suitable trees for him. Not hardwood but suitable for cabins. The recent arrivals have him jumping about Lord, I can tell you!” Hehe.
“You take delight in your master’s discomfort?”
His head snaps back. “No Lord! Certainly not. It is not often though a father can take joy in his son’s endeavours. He revels in the challenge’s you send his way Lord … plus I think he considers you a friend.”
“That is good to hear, as I have witnessed him in subtle ways assist me and you can tell him I appreciate his help … and consider him a friend.”
He scratches his head. “Friends are probably best to hear they are friends from their friend firsthand I would reckon Lord. My son was our third child, perhaps you will have the same luck.”
With that said he ambles off towards the West and the forest which awaits, one old wobbling goblin, all alone doing his son’s bidding. Did he father his son or did a Hob? Hearing the pride in his voice though I don’t think it mattered, then or now.
I pick myself up.
The old goblin is now a small spec in the distance, working around a great many tree stumps and the true forest still a distance away. Not dissuaded from his goal, the father of Redagar plods on, taking step after step. I need to take my next step. I set my face and march around the outside of my cabin and push my way inside. The cabin is empty except for my armour and spear. Given I could need to rescue Milga I add a bow and quiver of arrows and of course a decent length of woven leather rope to my preparation.
Stepping outside my cabin’s front door, Zeb is there to greet me.
“Please Lord Hob, at least tell me your whereabouts so we can avoid any undue … erm concern.”
“An oversight just this once,” I reply. “To make up for this, know that I am going to meet Milga or worse case storm the Flint Arrows tribe by myself and rescue her.”
“Argh Lord, restraint, no foolish …”
I wave him to silence. “A test Speaker of Law, I will return and carefully plan and plot the rescue of my partner, never fear.”
He sighs and, at that moment, I take off. I know he will never “hurry” to catch me, so my long strides soon leave him behind. I will follow the river, passing the kitchen cabin and then the ashes of the bonfire set by my mad wives. As I reach the bonfire site a voice calls out to me. A familiar voice.
“Lord I wish to thank you for your help in birthing my baby.” She flashes her head to one side, showing her babe swaddled and tied to her back. “I didn’t know your wives but considering the care you gave a stranger, Blood Suns at that, I am certain you did all you could for them and their Spirits. They will be well satisfied when they sit beside their ancestors.”
I am taken aback and stutter, my tongue thick for a moment. “They didn’t worship their ancestors, but I must believe wherever they went they know I tried my best.”
“Lord Hob you must make a place for those you love. They must go somewhere. It is a comfort to the living to know they will be with those they knew in life. Do you mind if I walk with you?”
Her question a surprise and she took my mumbled response as a ‘yes’ and now as I approach the stream island I am escorted by a newborn and his mother, a truly fierce and threatening force. There is already an assembly across the river, and I am early, which makes them well ahead of the appointed time. Milga is yet to be revealed to me, nevertheless, I must at least gain the island if I am to storm the shore and take my vengeance.
“Would you be helpful and hold tight to this rope?” I ask my new friend.
She nods and as she goes to tie it off on a tree, I call to her to stop. “I don’t know what length I will need and don’t know if they are going to throw a rope from their side. So, the end needs to stay lose until I know more.”
Smiling she returns to my side. I then begin wading across the river holding my quiver and bow out of the water. I climb up and onto the island the rope around my waist. While they point and chat none take any action, subversive or aggressive. I sit cross-legged upon the island and wait, the warmth of the morning sun upon me.
Middle of the day arrives and a party of ten, including Milga saunter out of the forest, much chat, smiling and friendly waving of arms exchanges between them. For a moment I curse the wasted worry I expended on my partner. I quickly take that back. I have suffered too much loss recently and perhaps my worry made the difference … have I gone superstitious like a native now? I shake my head to clear out my stupidity and then study the group as step by step they approach the riverbank …
On the shore, Milga waves at me … the cheeky so and so! Oh no, my mistake, she requires the rope. I wave to my new friend to release the rope and gather it, to me. Once upon the island, an end is shortly after flying to Milga tied to an arrow shaft.
The end is tied around another, not Milga. At Milga’s signal, I haul away as fast as possible.
Vuzsia’s face greets me and before she can speak, I jerk her up by the rope to land on her feet upon the island.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
She stands and waits. This is a game. I stare into her eyes and untie the rope.
Whispering into my ear, she says, “There is a rumour I refused the drowning ceremony and therefore the honour of being your wife. I don’t recall that at all … Lord Hob.”
Coiling the rope, I reply, “You should deny the rumour.”
The rope is once again shore-bound, this time Milga ropes herself and I repeat the process needing to restrain my welcome with so many eyes upon us, yet any who harm her would need to slay me to prevent me wreaking my vengeance upon them.
“You need to cast the rope once again, there is a third.”
“What have you committed me to?”
“After I explained the drowning ceremony, Zeb’s wife Suda was banished from the tribe along with Zeb, Koria and Luda. They threw in Duzsia as well given she hasn’t any noteworthy family to protest.”
We take in Blood Suns, have claimed Flint Arrows before, so what is one more … the arrow flies again. One steps forward while those around her step back. With slow deliberate actions, she ties the rope to her waist. Once she is in the water I haul on the rope, her eyes don’t leave mine. At halfway the shining light of life leaves her eyes and her body falls to one side. The rope goes slack. I throw my end to Milga and dive into the river, swimming for all I am worth. My swim strokes would be completely and utterly new to all who now watch me, possibly to everyone on the planet. I did hope to keep this skill a secret, but impulse and the threat of loss force my hand. I couldn’t put Zeb through the pain of loss, I know this cruel pain.
I reach her, there isn’t a struggle and I hold aloft a wet, possibly drowned goblin. I carry her to shore and start CPR. She comes back quickly and empties her lungs of water after a coughing fit. There is dread across her face and then she swings a hand at me, which I catch, using my grip to swing her into my arms, tucking her under one arm as I jog back to my new friend. I shout to Milga, and a rope end is soon at my feet. I use this to tie Zeb’s wife, arms and legs. I wade into the river.
Reaching the island, I look up at both of my potential passengers. “Carry my bow out of the water and sit your arses upon a shoulder each.”
“No!” says Vuzsia as Milga settles upon my right shoulder, my meaty hand upon her firm thigh.
“I am not coming back …”
“You can’t leave the emissary of the Flint Arrows on an island, there will be ramifications! I am important don’t you understand?”
I glance over my shoulder. “You are expendable Vuzsia. If, as an emissary, you learn something useful then good, if you don’t or you die then no great loss, as simple as that. In fact, if I could’ve listened in at the time your family was told of your new position, I am certain they would have protested enough to gain advantage and thought no more about you after that. After all, finally trading you for gain instead of wondering what to do with you and second guess the loyalty of a family member gone for two years. My offer solved a problem for them, and I mean to collect on that debt.”
All the way through my speech she puffs up, chest and cheeks until final release …
“Why you … you fiend! You know nothing of Flint Arrow Tribal politics, nothing!” she screeches.
“Coming or staying makes no difference to me.”
Her foot tests my shoulder and then a second joins while her hand rests upon my head for balance. She then bends at the knees and extends one leg, one bum cheek on my shoulder and soon after the second. I clamp my meaty hand upon her thigh, kneading it slightly, to ensure I have a secure hold of course.
“You like what you feel, fiend?”
I chuckle and then begin wading back across the river. Milga laughs swinging her arms about, dragging her fingers through the water and occasionally splashing up water towards Vuzsia.
“Milga! I am an Emissary now and am due some respect. And stop playing around, what if he stumbles due to your childish behaviour!” Milga blows the emissary a raspberry and then laughs. “Milga Stone Blood!” Luckily, her protesting is above my head and directed at my partner.
Once ashore I release Milga, and she slides/jumps off my shoulder. I restrain Vuzsia until she stops trying.
“You are mine now Vuzsia, you report to your tribe what I tell you to, no more and no less. You understand?”
She tries to wiggle her bum free. Giving up she replies, “I am an emissary of my tribe I will report what I chose to.”
“Why did you think we chose you?” I ask.
“You didn’t, my tribe did. Milga must have gone against your orders because she protested and then protested some more, and my tribe still chose me …” Her bum wiggled upon my shoulder as if she alone sat the best seat.
“Yes, exactly …” I let my response sink in. I realise now why her family was well rid of her, if she once had political sense, two years away didn’t help her retain any of it.
“They did choose me …” Tears. Many tears.
Zeb’s wife on the ground breaks out into a massive bout of laughter.
“Shut up banished one! What do you know?”
“I was their problem until Milga protested about you. You as emissary would be a thorn in the Hob’s side, and I banished as well as my family would mean our modest wealth could be redistributed to a more worthy tribal family. What about that doesn’t sound and reek of Council stench!”
“Put me down Lord Hob, I agree to be your loyal traitorous emissary. Tell me what to report and I will deliver.”
I raise her off my shoulder and swing her around for a moment, long enough to glimpse a wry smile lift the corners of her lips. She did have an inner child then.
“Can we speak freely in front of Zeb’s wife, or should you relate in private what you have discovered partner?”
“I have a name, Suda, you brute.”
Milga chuckles. “In private. Suda tried for death, she has no loyalty to give.”
Suda struggles in her bindings in protest. “Aren’t I now, well … his wife since he brought me back from drowning?”
I shake my head. “No Zeb’s wife, that isn’t surviving the ceremony, that is saving someone from their folly. Now, if I release you so you can walk to the Farm on your own two feet and perhaps run into the arms of your husband will you attempt to run away and force me to ask my emissary, as a test of loyalty, to put an arrow in your back?”
Vuzsia is about to protest from behind Suda when Milga shoves an elbow into her ribs.
“You would have me slain? How would you explain this to Zeb?
I bend over so my face is a finger width from hers. “I would tell him that his wife released the rope around her waist and chose to drown in the river!”
“You … you … you brute!”
Again, Milga laughs and Vuzsia chuckles once or twice as well. This seems to be the last straw for Suda.
“Release me, on my children’s lives I will not run or attempt to betray you in any way. I have been an outcast once. I don’t wish to be again. I will be a good little goblin for Lord Hob.” There is a snark to the tone of course but good enough.
“Good.” I reach down and untie her. I realise there is a witness to all this, and my gaze falls across my new friend.
“On … on my baby’s life I will remain silent, even the parts I didn’t understand, Lord,” confesses my friend.
She knows Vuzsia is false, Suda is a fake and Zeb’s wife. Milga is my right hand, and I am plotting something with or against the Flint Arrows. Can that harm me?
“On your baby’s life then it is! Enough of this delay we must stop providing the tribe of Flint Arrows with a show …”
---
As we approach the Farm, I ask my friend to make her own way by a different route, the less she is associated with me or us, the better. Milga, Vuzsia and I stand back as Suda runs to Zeb and we leave the happy couple be.
“Vuzsia, I need your assistance in the training of my archers.” I point to the riverside of the cold bonfire, where several participate in practice under Koria’s guidance.
She curtsies, “I hurry to obey Lord.” She doesn’t run and instead, sways her firm buttocks, putting on a show as she saunters towards the practice area.
Once I am certain she is out of earshot, I ask, “Report.”
“Your prediction about Vuzsia almost a given, her family loathe her, two years away is about two years too long for the tribe and her family. She knows the truth, just trying to deny it, your threats and her promises to you will allow her mind to come around. Throwing Suda away was a bonus for the Council.”
“Were any others suggested or looking to volunteer before Suda and Vuzsia as emissary?”
“Some young ones looking to earn their name, ambit claims really, but they see me fit and healthy, so how bad could reporting on a Hob be? No others. Leaving the tribe is political death and Vuzsia is too close a lesson. I couldn’t find the location of Warrior Hob’s armour. This isn’t Council business.”
“Never mind, I only suspect it exists, not certain.”
“Let me finish, the Warrior Hob’s armour is ancestor business, secret woman’s business and before you arrived Suda was held in high regard, something she lauded over others in minor, but annoying ways. She couldn’t do much more as their wealth as she explained was modest, not enough to buy their way out of real trouble. Anyway, the short version is she could confirm the existence at least, maybe the location, if the relic doesn’t move about.”
“What of our alliance?”
“They swore they weren’t interested in war and battles and declined any formal alliance. Yet when I left the meeting, no others waited to discuss business with the Council, I suppose to keep my coming and goings to the Council a secret, so I loitered about in the shadows until all left. They spoke a long time after dismissing me about nothing they were interested in.”
“You suspect then they will just happen to raid the Blood Bones when their warrior/hunters have left on other business?”
She nods smiling and I crush her in a long-overdue hug. I confess the hug more for my benefit than hers, yet her arms do creep around my waist. We part awkwardly though … can’t be helped, my need greater than hers.
“What news do you have? Koria or Duzsia returned yet?” she asks.
After our quick question and answer, I am less in a mood to do the same about the Farm and I lean on my spear trying to frame the words without too much emotion.
“Koria has returned, we have news of Duzsia but no sightings and … well, Zana and Gato died in childbirth as did the Hobgoblin children they carried.”
Her hand grips my forearm. I blink to contain my growing tears; how can this emotion bubble up … I draw on my inner Hob … ice water is thrown upon my suffering heart and my following words flow without feeling.
“We gained a great many Blood Suns, some of them potters so I didn’t need to visit the Head Hob. I appointed a Head Goblin of Potters and a Head Goblin of Childbirth. Karo didn’t want to return to her people choosing to be my wife instead, although she is a spy and along with Zoria as an escort, she is planning to spy upon Meb’s brothers for my glory.” I finish deadpan, without any need for embellishment.
“Come partner I smell boar over spit and am famished. We need to send your Ten Spears into the Flint Arrows forests, more boar than can be counted …” She spares me a look and a smile.
That reminds me. “I added a new rule, which you may not like. I eat and then the Mother of Children eat, we have three, as far as I know, then you can eat.”
“I am sure it served a purpose and fifth at the boar will allow me enough indulgence …”
“I also have a loose end I need you to find out about. I don’t care where this leads you, I must know the guilty party …”
The niggle of pain in my shoulder now long gone, yet I remember bashing down the Kitchen door due to betrayal and will not let this pass without retribution.