Hamlet Thriving, Black Lake Book 2

Chapter 1
Sylvia
~

The door to the dining room swung into the kitchen and slammed against the wall with a bang which made me jerk like a fool. Looking up I found the snouted face of Torc, who leaned in.

“Ren,” he called to his sister. “Ike’s disappeared again.” The young ogre sighed, hung his head, eyes closed.

I only arrived at the Inn this spring and the runt, Ike, had run off three times since then. The last time the search parties didn’t find him until the next day, frightening his mother half to death. There were plenty of critters out there to worry about, cliffs, old troll mine shafts, and other potential catastrophes that eluded the worries of a four-year-old.

“Oh, that booger.” Ren growled and set the bowl she held on the counter with a clang. “Are any of the dragons about?” The ogre hen puckered up her mouth. Her tusks dug into her upper lip giving her a mean-looking scowl.

“No. Asr says they’ve all gone south together to hunt.”

“We’ll close the kitchen and help ya look for him,” the gangly, gray-haired troll Eina suggested.

“That may not be necessary,” Torc said. “Half the guests are gathering to help. Besides, not right to starve our remainin’ guests because the booger’s hidin' in the woods, frightenin’ every wild creature out there.”

“Oh, Torc, don’t be so—” I clipped off my complaint. The young ogre clearly appeared worried for his littlest brother—still can’t get used to the missing words, brother and sister, in the ogre and troll lexicon.

“Gladys and I can handle the rest here on our own,” Eina told Ren. “Why don’t ya take Sylvia along with ya. She has a knack at findin' the tyke.”

“If ya wouldn’t mind.” Ren’s brows knitted together as she looked at me.

I smiled at Ren and nodded. “I don’t know about a knack. Happened to select the right canyon a couple of times is all.”

The ogre hen dotes on her youngest brother as a grandmother might. The concern was easy to see in her eyes, even if her mouth balled up in anger. Looking at her, a twinge of anxiety crept across my shoulders. Dread that never visited any of the times he’d gone missing before. He keeps managing to get farther into the woods with every escape. I couldn’t imagine what the baby’s mother is feeling.

I took one more swath at the counter I was wiping and dried my hands. “Let me run over to the dormitory and change into warmer clothes.”

“Meet ya out front,” Ren and Torc shouted together.

~

I hurried to pull a second sweater on. Dropped my skirt and shift and pulled on a pair of long underwear and lined, woolen pants. If Ike wasn’t found before the sun set it was good to prepare for the worse. Summer nights in the highlands are as cold as any winter day in the lowlands. I sat and laced up my boots, grabbed my coat and walking stick and headed for the door.

~

Bick, the kind gent who corralled me to move my silly self to the Range, stood at the top of the veranda taking charge. “Pair up,” he shouted. “Anyone new to our little searches?”

Several guests held up their hands and Bick continued to give them advice and direction. “We don’t want anyone else getting lost. Turn around frequently and look where you’ve come. It’s easy for one glen to look like another when you get a few miles away. If you get lost, find the Lake.” He pointed at the looming, snow-covered peak north of the Hamlet. “Use her to keep your bearings.”

I watched the faces of Ike’s parents, Birs and Tiff. They studied the gathered folk, mostly humans, unselfishly ready to help them find their babe. The two ogres’ eyes shouted their thanks, though their long tusks dug into their lips. The ogre hen reached out from time to time and stroked the neck of the middle son, as though to assure him it wasn’t his fault Ike got away from him. From the pier, I’ve watched Ike’s antics before. Knew Asr’s task of keeping up with his younger brother is a tough one, even if he wasn’t in the middle of his own chores—though otherwide keeping his nose in one book or another didn’t help.

“Stay in pairs,” Bick repeated. He slashed his arm through the air to indicate half the crowd. “Yall spread out and go west and north. All yall others, east and south.” He held up a conch. “When he’s found we’ll be blowing this, but likely you won’t hear it up in them gullies, so I can only offer you the best of luck—and the Hamlet’s thanks. Any questions?”

Heads shook and pairs of hikers moved away in all directions. I stood back counting. There was an odd number of searchers, which worked fine with me. I looked forward to a bit of peace and quiet. I’d grown to like Ren, Gladys, and Eina a lot, like sisters, but their constant chatter in the kitchen drove me a little batty at times—oh, the gossiping. By the time I adjusted to the troll and ogre’s accents, I almost wished I hadn’t. The serenity of the forest would be nice. The woods back home had always been a sanctuary. Imagine that maybe I’m not that different from the young ogre I’m off to find, share a bit of his wanderlust. Why else would I find myself in the Range, a single woman, making a strange home among those who started out as outrageous strangers?

I took one of the canteens and hefty snack bags Bick handed out, and headed due east along the waterfront. Don’t know why I selected that path. Ike took an ugly spill in the Lake earlier in the summer, and afterward showed a distinct dislike for what was originally an intense draw. Though he had no reason to stay close to the Lake, I’d watched him staring off toward the southern mountains more than once. He would have to skirt the Lake to head that way.

I reached the far eastern point of the Lake and headed due south. Didn’t bother calling Ike’s name. I chuckled, thinking about the others wasting their breath. Ike would more likely run from anyone calling his name, the stinker. Until he got good and hungry, that is. He had a thick hide for a wee youngling. Them ogres are a tough bunch. Ike seemed indifferent to the cold at night, even with his bare feet.

Little brat.

I smiled. A cute brat—ten times the personality anyone is due, certainly skilled at breaking up the routine of the little Hamlet. More wanderlust swirled inside his heart than I’d ever seen taunt anyone else. Doubt he’ll remain in the valley until he reaches his majority.

Instead of following a single gully, I diagonally traversed the steep rolling hills that made up the watershed of the valley, watching for new footprints as I hiked. I couldn’t count how many trickling creeks I passed. Because of the thick forest, I saw the sun only when I crested the peaks. Making my way across instead of directly into the foothills, the hiking was more demanding, but I believed it gave me a better chance of crossing the path of the ogre booger—as Ike’s sister constantly called him.

I halted at the top of a high rise to catch my breath and watch the sun ooze through the far trees. “Gonna get chilly now.” Should I go back? “What if it was my son out here?” I asked the growing dusk. “You’ll be fine, Sylvia, if you stay out of the breeze and build yourself a decent fire tonight.”

I hurried on for another hour, halting only to leave myself enough light to collect firewood. With the onset of full dark, the forest sounds changed from finches and jays, to hoots and howls of coyotes and wolves. I settled down in the pine needles and tried to concentrate on the snapping sap of the wood in my fire. Pulled up my collar to cover as much of my ears as I could and hunched up my shoulders.

Gonna be colder than I expected.

~

The sky barely hinted of the new day when I used my walking stick to spread out my fire and kicked dirt over the last of the embers, stomping them good with my boots. At least the movement got my blood flowing and made the morning feel less cold, though my breath billowed in the chill. So much for summer. The tips of my ears hurt. Had earaches and a headache, hips hurt from the hard earth, stomach grumbled. I ate the last of my granola and dried meat as I slowly made my way through the dark shadows.

The quiet of the early morning rang odd after the constant chatter in the kitchen the last two months. After only fifteen, sixteen hours, I was already missing the gossiping and storytelling. I hummed to pass the time, keeping my eyes moving constantly for any sign that a two-legged creature recently passed by.

The rolling hills turned into fair mountain ridges by mid-day and I had to settle on sticking to the gully I found myself in. Had already considered turning for home when a patch of disturbed pine needles caught my eye. Scanning about, found more of the same following the ancient elk path I followed.

“Too much for one ogreling.” What have I come across?

I stopped and looked up through the shadows, and held my breath a moment to listen. Nothing but the wind whispering through the pines far overhead. I turned and looked down the way I came.

“I don’t wanna come ’cross no—”

I stood considering for a long moment, shivered against the cool air. I longed for a meal, even a nap. My feet hurt. I ached all over. “Maybe they already found that little pain in the arse.”

Finally shook my head. “Another twenty minutes won’t hurt you, to see if these tracks turn into something interesting.”

I strode on.

The gully came to a fork. A creek running with frothing water heading toward Black Lake ran to my left. Boulders blocked my way, so I climbed the incline. The effort aided in my decision that I’d gone far enough. Already fifty yards up the embankment, I continued to the near ridge, figuring hiking the saddle of the skyline would be easier going than the gully had been.

I almost didn’t stop, thinking the noise was a phantom in my ears, making something of nothing from my hard-breathing and the tumble of kicked up stones. I paused to rest, and listened. It was indeed voices. They were a bit away, but the tone made them seem as though the words were spoken in anger. I closed my eyes and concentrated, turning my head to get a direction.

Forward and to my right, probably in the gorge with the stream. “But do I really want to find out who it is?” Ike wouldn’t be arguing with himself. Well—he is quite the character.

I didn’t have to consider that long. I’ve seen the tyke battling imaginary foe.

And, why else did I come this far? I could have turned back first light.

I pushed my pace along the mountain incline, breathing hard against the thin air, sweat trickling down my face. I unlooped the rest of my jacket as I crossed the ridge and sped up, allowing gravity to rush me down the far side. My loose footing made it hard to slow down, and I finally used an ancient pine to come to a stop.

Resting, a shout echoed through the trees. I squinted through the gloom of the forest’s shadows. Was there movement? Were my eyes giving me something to answer my hopes? More phantoms? I climbed around the tree and pushed my heels into the silty soil to keep from falling into a run again.

Another shout startled me as I made my way around a boulder the size of a modest cabin. I faced five tall, wiry figures. One of the things was bent double, his hand held out, palm on the head of the missing ogreling, holding him away. Ike struggled against the creature’s grasp, kicking at the air, shouting, “Chicken!”

“Oh, God,” I said out loud. What are these things?

I’d never seen anything like them. Looked like much larger versions of the orc, Janding, three times as tall and nearly as scrawny, almost as tall as an adult ogre. They all held bows and quivers and enormous packs, which looked heavily burdened, over their shoulders. One of the creatures swung around to face me, and the other four followed his glare a moment later. The one holding Ike away stood and let go of him, grabbing for his bow. All five creatures scanned the trees around and behind me.

Ike kicked the creature close to him in the shins, hard. The thing grunted in pain but its eyes remained focused on the forest. The four-year-old ogre turned to see what the giants looked at.

“Ha,” Ike shouted. “Ya help me. Run dem off. Don’t belong here!”

The creature Ike kicked reached out and pulled Ike into his arms, covering his mouth. A fraction of a second later he ripped his hand away. Even from where I stood a dozen yards away, I could see blood gushing from a bite wound.

“Ya evil little brat,” the creature hissed, shaking his hand.

Ike gifted his nemesis with a volley of kicks and fists.

“Stop it, or I’ll cleave yar little head off yar shoulders,” the thing hissed at him.

“Ya go!” the ogreling shouted.

Two of the creature’s companions rushed to their friend’s aid, grasped at the four-year-old menace. The tormented one managed to grab one of Ike’s arms, but the ogreling kept pummeling it with his free fist.

“Can ya stop him?” the thing pleaded.

“Ha!” Ike yelled. “Ya’re ’fraid!” He managed to strike the bent-over thing hard in the side of the head.

“Oh,” the creature groaned, doing his best to lean out of Ike’s reach.

One of them managed to grab Ike’s free arm. The tormented creature released Ike as two of the companions held the little ogre between them by the wrists. Ike continued kicking. They pulled at him like a chicken breastbone ready to be wished upon.

“Quiet, or I’ll cleave ya like I promised,” one shouted.

“I’m not ’fraid of ya. Torc and me and Asr could take all five of ya. We could. Have ya all cryin’ like babies.”

“Ike, hush a moment,” I shouted.

The five creatures turned their attention back to me, as though they’d forgotten about me. The expression of the tormented one looked grateful. His eyes closed for a moment and his lips parted as though he was taking a deep breath, or offering a silent prayer.

Ike puckered his lips together, scowling back at me, but he held still.

“Ya alone, human?” one of the creatures asked.

My mind spun. “Of course not. Why would I be out here alone? My hunting party is camped over the ridge.”

Heads jerking left and right, the five of them searched about again. Their eyes were huge, mouths parted showing needle-sharp teeth. Odd, that creatures like these would show such terror. With so many races living in the valley, why would anyone be afraid, here?

The answer struck me as quickly as the question formed. Goblins. They’re goblins, which are outlawed in the Range. Here poaching. Each of their heavy packs prolly held a cleaned elk.

I sucked in my breath. It occurred to me that I needed to appear fearless. I’d claimed I was with others—there was no reason to be afraid. “Leave the ogreling be, and go,” I told them. “No harm will come to you.”

“There be armed troops about huntin’ our kind. We know that,” one hissed.

“As soon as these two are safe,” one of them told his companions, “they’ll send hunters out for us.”

Ike lunged out of one’s grip and swung toward the other, slamming his fist up into the goblin’s groin. The creature doubled over and hissed, letting his own grip loose. Ike pitched toward the next, kicking and clubbing him. “Bam!” the ogreling shouted over and over.

I stood frozen a moment, not knowing what to do as the five goblins swarmed around the near-toddler. “Bam!” echoed from within the fray. All I could imagine was they would kill the lad—ogreling. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t leave Ike. I took a step toward them, and one of the goblins separated from the tussle and ran at me, grabbing me by my shoulder, twisting me around. His strong fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me down the incline.

Ike, restrained, was now held under the arm of one of the goblins, but the ogreling continued to kick and shout insults a four-year-old shouldn’t know. The four goblins turned and ran up the gully, heading deeper into the southern mountains. The fifth propelled me to follow.

“My friends won’t take it kindly, you stealing us away like this,” I told the goblin that held me.

“Shut yar mouth, or I’ll leave yar lifeless body for them to find instead.”

“I can see you mean no harm, no matter your threats. I promise we’ll leave you be. Let us go.”

He didn’t answer for several moments. Perhaps he considered it, but his continued silence wore ominous.

“The farther you take us, the harder my people will be on you,” I pressed.

“Yar kind kill us on sight no matter,” he said. “We have little choice.”

“The people of the valley have no ill feelings toward your kind. I’ve never heard of any of the goblins that have been found here being killed.”

The creature made a deep gurgling sound in his chest. Was it a goblin laugh, or threat? I struggled to swallow as I imagined what they would do with me and Ike when they no longer needed us as hostages. Stories of goblin atrocities during the wars came to mind. I tried to thrust the thoughts away.

“I give you my oath, we’ll let you be.”

“Doubt it will be yar decision, little one.”

“I’m a leader among my people,” I lied. “They’ll listen to me.”

He withdrew a knife that hung from his waist and shook it at my face. “Quiet.”

Despite the sweat streaming down my face, I shivered.

~

I’d been stumbling for an hour when the goblins finally allowed me to rest. I had no clue how I managed the pace. Every muscle cramped, my throat and chest burned. Breath came in raspy squawks. I fell to the pine needles and didn’t budge except to turn on my side to make it easier to breathe.

Ike had never let up with the insults. Four of the goblins fell on him and held him still, pushing him meanly into the ground, while the other retrieved a strap to bind up his legs. Still the little ogre called them names. Dung was his favorite expression, compounded with every creature the tyke could probably think of. I almost smiled at the ogreling’s resolve. A tough little piece of work.

“Shut up will ya, for one minute,” one of the goblins pleaded as he dropped down hard on the ground.

Ike laughed, a squeal of a thing that hurt the ears.

“I’ll close that fat mouth,” another goblin said.

I lifted up, terrified what that might mean, but the goblin pulled off his pack and pulled a shirt out of it. He used his knife and cut a strip off the hem, tore another big chunk off. He walked to Ike and tried to push the balled up material into his mouth, only to pull back bloody fingers. The goblin stamped a booted foot and shook his hand, cursing under his breath. He grabbed again for the knife he had put back into its sheath.

I sucked in my breath, but almost had to laugh when the four-year old somehow managed a lunge with his bound legs, catching the spindly goblin in the shin. There was a cracking noise. The goblin careened to the ground with a shriek of pain. His companions chuckled, until the thing pulled up his pants leg. The distorted limb proved the ogreling managed to break the goblin’s leg.

I sucked in my breath. All of the goblins cursed, and Ike laughed harshly.

“I warned ya, I did. I told ya I’d get ya.”

“Shut up!” one shouted.

“Stick it in yar ear hole,” Ike shouted back.

A goblin walked up to the lad—ogerling—and slapped him.

Ike’s expression turned for only a moment. His sneer returned. No wonder ogres were feared so, during the wars.

Hate to see an angry, adult ogre.

“Ya’re so tough, with one tied up,” Ike shouted. “Ya’re a coward!”

The goblin pulled his knife.

“You harm him and there will be no place safe on this world,” I hissed.

“We got us enough problems, Gaerdon,” one of the others mumbled. “We got six, eight hundred pounds of elk to carry home, and who knows what searchin’ for those two.”

Ike continued his goading.

“Shush! Now!” I shouted at him.

The tyke turned angrily toward me, his lips pursed, his brow knitted. But he remained quiet—the first quiet for hours. He turned his attention back to the five goblins. His eyes reminded me of a cat watching prey slowly making its way nearer.

~

The goblin’s leg splinted, his arms draped over the shoulders of two of his companions, the seven of us were off again within the hour. Ike got a bite out of a goblin’s leg as he picked the ogreling up. The tyke was rewarded with a clump in the head for his effort.

I felt sick from lack of food—how much farther could I go, even with the pace slowed considerably to accommodate Broke-leg.

The sun set before the goblins stopped again. I wanted nothing more but to fall to the ground, but I went to Ike to check on him. His face was ashen but he glared at the goblins with as much anger as ever. The color of his bound hands didn’t look good.

“You have to loosen these,” I shouted at our captors.

They ignored me. I repeated my demand. Still they ignored me. I walked up to the one who seemed to be the leader and gave him a shove. He turned and glared at me.

“I’m going to untie him,” I said. “But swear an oath for his good behavior. I’ll watch over him, and keep him in line.”

Another goblin croaked, “I’m tired of watchin’ over him anyway.”

“Let them collect the wood for the fire,” another said.

I glared back at the goblin until he gave me a slight nod and turned away. I walked to Ike and used my most threatening tone to admonish him to stay quiet and behave. Never having much opportunity to practice an angry-mother voice, being the spinster I am, hoped my scowl made an impression. He nodded to me and winked.

He winked! Scallywag.

~

We hiked until mid-morning the next day without as much as a word being spoken. Maybe Ike had listened to the conversation of the goblins the night before, as they debated what to do with their hostages. The ogreling remained well behaved, actually leading the pack. Little more than a baby, I remained in awe of his stamina, even though his face was drawn and blanched, and he had started to stumble. I felt encouraged by him. Indeed a stubborn one.

The five goblins conferred quietly several yards away while Ike and I rested, sipping at the last water in my canteen. When the leader turned and walked toward us, my mind spun and tears edged my eyes. I blinked them away quickly. Couldn’t read the creature’s expression, but at this point I imagined the worse. Ike and I were no longer useful to them. The goblin pulled his knife, but walked to his pack and pulled out a strip of dried meat, and sawed a huge chunk off.

“We’re done with ya,” he said, holding out the meat to me. “We meant ya no harm. But we couldn’t risk bein’ caught in yar hills by yar huntin’ party. I offer ya my sincere apology.”

Apology. Had I erred? If I told the truth originally, could I have avoided the past two days?

“Over the next rise are the foothills that lead into our territory,” the goblin continued. “It be best yar people not follow us. It wouldn’t be good for either of our kinds.”

“It won’t be—”

I reached out quickly and placed my hand roughly over Ike’s mouth. “Hush!” I hissed.

“Ya should be able to follow yar tracks back. Ya humans walk with a heavy foot.” The goblin strung his arms through the straps of his huge pack and strode away. The other four followed him. Between his helpers, Broke-leg gave Ike one last glare.

I sat still. Tears flooded my eyes and I slumped forward. Exhaustion poured through me and I heaved with sobs.

“It’s over,” Ike mumbled. “Why ya cryin’?” He placed a pudgy hand, the size of an adult human’s, on my arm.

Despite my emotions, I studied the ogreling’s gnawed fingernails, edged black with grime. It took me several minutes to pull myself together. Ike sat quietly next to me and put his arm around me.

“I protect ya,” he said, as a last sob snuck out of my chest.

“You’ve been very brave.” I smiled through my tears.

“They didn’t scare me.”

We sat quietly for several minutes.

“Have you ever noticed how teases between your brothers get meaner, one after the other?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he answered after a short pause, his brows knitted together. “Gotta show ya’re tough.”

“With adults, the result of pride can be a lot more harmful. Do you understand?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, but nodded. “Ya mean the army that comes from the north ever now and then hunting for da goblins?” he asked.

How did this little one jump so effectively to the bigger picture? “We must not tell anyone that we were held by goblins, do you understand? It must be our little secret.”

“I never had a secret before. Can I tell Asr?”

Did the tyke understand, that this could blow up into a war? “No, not even Ren. It has to stay between you and me.”

He grimaced. It turned into a grin. “It be fun to have a secret with ya, Miss Sylvia.”

I pulled him to me and gave him a big hug. He giggled, more like the four-year-old I expected. He sounded as though he had forgotten the rough treatment he endured from the goblins. But then, he had been harder on them than they had been on him.

He pulled away and his dark, green eyes gleamed. “Can we hike into the plains before we head back?” he asked. “When I get home, I’ll be lucky to see the sun again before winter comes.”

~

Chapter 2
Iza
~

Ash’et trumpeted her disdain, unhappy with her dragonets’ involvement with the two-legged creatures from the Hamlet. It’s bad enough two of my siblings and I have bonded with three of the creatures, but Ash’et holds out hope that two of the bulls from her last clutch will stay away from the two-legged—stay clean. That Tae had flown the lost woman and ogreling home was nearly more than Ash’et could bear. At least she put on a wonderful act. No. It was no act. She was sincere. She lives in the past. Should give the lesser races a chance.

Silly. She needs to get over her hatred of the two-legged ones.

I wobbled to the entrance of the lair, where I spend as little time anymore than I have to, to keep the peace. Don’t know why I came back here first after our long hunt. Can’t put the lair totally behind me. I haven’t completed my education yet, so return most afternoons for my tutorin’. I was eager to get back to my Lucas. Grown used to the sweet smell of the hay in my barn, the muskiness in the lair now disconcerts.

I dropped off the ledge with Ash’et’s last angry admonishment. I can’t feel guilty for the relationship between me and Lucas, no matter how much my dam derides me. I adore Lucas, will live with him for the rest of my life—or at least his life. The momentary reminder I will long outlive him stung. Like a dwarfen axe to my chest. I forced myself to turn my mind back to my queen.

Ash’et is a contrary creature by nature, and would have found somethin’ else to sour her temper if it weren’t the current situation. Most any irritant will do. Only her mate made her mood half-palatable. How my sire, Mo’sale, puts up with Ash’et, I haven’t a clue. He’s always willin’ to ignore her mean words. When he wraps his neck around his mate, she calms. Too bad it doesn’t last days, instead of minutes. How can Tae and Kyn put up with Ash’et’s attitude all day, every day? I’m happy for my other two siblings, Tir and Syl. They spend most of their days, all their nights, in the Hamlet now, in their barns with their bonded mates, the orc Janding and Asr the ogre.

I unfurled my wings and floated toward the Lake far below, enjoyin’ the sun, the warmin’ air as I escaped the heights. Would I ever convince my queen it’s safe to live below? Where the temperature edges above freezin’ in the summers?

I soared over fishermen in a boat. They waved enthusiastically. I let go a particularly deep, rumblin’ trumpet in reply as I finally thrust my wings to regain altitude. It only took a few dozen strokes to get me to the far, southeastern shore where I live with my Lucas, his sibling and sister in-law—a strange title. Humans have odd names for their relations.

The livestock announced my arrival and my towheaded young man ran from the cabin to meet me. Lucas wore a big grin. It immediately erased all of my earlier, gloomy thoughts. I felt my head sway, eyes whirl in the way that enchants my bonded mate. When I landed, the young man grabbed my neck in a tight embrace.

“Lydia has—the baby’s near,” he gasped. “She wants us to fetch Miss Gladys.” My arrival was timely. Indeed.

I extended my leg and leaned forward, and he climbed onto my back. When I felt his double grip on my neck ridge, I launched.

“This is excitin’,” I told him.

“It is,” he shouted over the noise of the wind.

~

Gladys glared at Lucas. I’m gettin’ better at readin’ human expressions. Don’t think the apparent irritation was sincere. “Ya expect me to climb upon yar sweet dragon, do ya?” She chuckled. “I’ll leave that kind of nonsense for Sylvia and the younglings of the Hamlet. I’ll come along d’rectly by foot. This is Lydia’s first. We have plenty of time.”

I couldn’t help myself. I extended my neck out far to get close to the human woman, studied her face, and sniffed, as though a human’s smell changes with their mood. That it doesn’t, make them so much harder to understand. Humans rely on the intricacies of the face, movements a dragon can’t manage. I find that very frustratin’.

“I’ve seen sheep and goats go from grazin’ to birth in moments,” I said to the woman. “How can we have so much time?”

“Trust me, Iza. It’s much more time consumin’ for us lowly humans.”

“Everythin’ is more complicated with ya humans,” I said. “So much drama.”

Gladys grinned and waved her hand in the air as she walked for her cabin. I turned and looked at the humans linin’ the Inn’s veranda. I tried my best human-like smile at them. They shrank away.

“Remember,” Lucas said softly to me, “yar teeth come across a little threatenin’.”

“I still like to try,” I said.

“I know, sweets.”

~

The bleats from the loose stock woke me when Gladys approached. I lay enjoyin’ the late afternoon sun. Still felt stuffed from the family’s hunt south, and settlin’ into the warm stones of the beach turned me lethargic. I struggled to open my eyes to greet the Hamlet’s herbalist who would be Lydia’s midwife—humans require so much careful handlin’.

Gladys stopped before me and gave me a scratch under the chin. “We’ll keep good care of Lydia and the baby,” Gladys told me.

“I know ya will,” I answered sleepily, rewardin’ the woman with a gravelly hum of contentment.

Several minutes later my Lucas came out of the cabin and plopped upon the stairs leadin' from the porch. “She kicked me out. Imagine that,” he complained.

“I think the best thin’ to do,” I said with a pause, “is give me a good back scratch. It’ll make ya feel a lot better.”

He chuckled. “Make me feel better? Or ya?”

“Are ya sayin’ ya don’t enjoy makin’ me feel good?”

He walked down the steep incline and climbed up on my back, reached down to scratch the inside of my shoulders.

“Mmmmmmmmm.”

~

The sun had fallen. Angry goats and sheep surrounded me. Were clearly ready for their grain treat, and to be penned in the barn where it’s warm and safe. My movement woke Lucas, and he rolled off of my back, grumblin’. It hadn’t taken long for my full gullet and contented self to wear off on him. He stumbled toward the barn shakin’ his head, tryin’ to wake up. The stock followed closely behind, bleatin’ their admonishment for bein’ late in carin’ for them. Almost as pushy as a typical human.

I rose and walked around to the edge of the porch and peered in the second story window where Lydia and Roger sleep. Gladys came to the window and swung it open.

“You can tell Lucas there’s no word. Nature is slowly takin’ its course. I told ya we had plenty of time.”

I practiced my human nod, turned and wobbled toward the barn. I was ready for a good night’s sleep. One little nap hadn’t accommodated my four-day feedin' binge.

~

“Wake up, Lucas, wake up. Come on, sleepy head.”

I slowly raised one eyelid halfway and watched Roger shakin’ his sibling. Lucas grumbled and pulled his sleepin’ fur away from his face.

“What?” Lucas slurred.

“Lydia needs help. Gladys says the baby is turned, and she can’t straighten it out. You have to go north and bring back a doctor. Gladys tried not to scare me, but I know it’s desperate. I’ve pulled a turned calf before, and I know they’ll both die soon if that baby doesn’t come out.”

“Where, who?” Lucas asked, rubbin’ his eyes.

“There’s a hospital in Caern, but stop and see if old Doc Jackson is in Dinas first.”

“I’ve never been to Caern,” Lucas mumbled.

“Ya can’t miss it. Follow the northern road. Caern is ten times bigger than home.”

The man thrust his sibling’s heavy coat and gloves into his chest, and half lifted him from his deep hay bed. “Ya awake, Iza?”

I rose slowly and extended my wings to stretch—which is a bit hard to do inside the barn. My body punished me for wakin’ too early. I wanted to lie back down and sleep. Notin’ Roger’s lantern, I managed to say, “I can’t fly at night.”

“It’ll be light in a bit,” Roger said. “This is important, Iza. I need yar help. Please?”

I leaned down to nuzzle the man. Misjudged my movement in my drowsy state and pushed Roger stumblin’ for the door. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. I wasn’t, really. Sleep is very important to a dragon.

“Bring me back a doctor, please?”

I waddled for the wide door as Roger rolled it open. The cooler air that wafted in helped me waken—a little. I looked into the sky. The eastern horizon didn’t have any kind of purple tinge in it. Roger exaggerated. A wave of anxiety slithered across my hide, what my Lucas calls a shiver.

“It’s impossible to feel if I’m risin’ or fallin’ when I can’t see the horizon,” I said softly to Lucas.

He reached out and stroked my wing, before hookin’ up the front of his jacket and pullin’ on his gloves.

“Over the lowlands I wouldn’t worry as much,” I said. “But these mountains—”

“I know, Iza. But we have to do this.”

I felt my head wobblin’, but it wasn’t from joy, like when I reunite with Lucas. I couldn’t remember ever feelin’ my current emotion before. It was much more than the intimidation that washes over me when the queen rants. This was much worse. Lucas would be feelin’ my emotions, so I struggled to calm down.

He pushed his face against my breast and spread his arms across me.

“Good luck,” Roger said. “God speed.”

Lucas turned and shook his sibling’s hand.

“I came here to help ya,” Roger said. “But it seems like ya two are always here for me. Ya know I’ll never forget this.”

“It’s what family does,” Lucas said softly. He clubbed Roger in the arm and turned back to me.

I extended my knee, and he climbed up.

“Ya always talk about the constant wind up high. Get up there and stay there,” Lucas said.

“But it’s very cold.”

“I have my gloves and my hat,” Lucas said. “I’d rather be cold than mushed into the side of a cliff.”

I couldn’t help myself. I trumpeted at his odd humor. I felt his grip and launched into the air. Stiff shoulders argued back with sharp pangs. I flew hard to rise quickly, intimidated by the peaks that surround the valley. Lucas stroked my neck with one gloved hand.

~

The risin’ sun allowed me to glide and rest a long bit as I reduced my altitude. “Right balmy down here,” Lucas shouted, as I felt another shiver through his knees. My human mate would take a long time to warm up.

The sun had been up less than an hour when we passed over Lucas’ home village. At even intervals we passed over three more like-sized towns. A half-hour later we approached a metropolis in comparison. It wasn’t until then that we both mentally shared that we forgot to stop in Dinas first for the retired doctor Roger spoke of.

I spiraled down toward what looked like the central plaza of Caern. There was little open space, and I had to thrust hard to come down more directly than I preferred, but landed softly enough. I’m not the dragonet that crashed into the Hamlet’s pier years ago. Lucas’ mirth mingled with my thoughts. I twisted around to look at him. He wore a big grin. But he didn’t move at first. He slowly sat up, flexin’ his hands.

“Ya were very cold for a very long time,” I said.

He didn’t answer. Dozens of people rushed toward us from every direction, hurlin’ excited questions at us. Faces gawked. Guess dragons don’t frequently come a visitin’ here. Snort—

“I need a doctor. Have an emergency,” Lucas called.

The crowd quieted, but no one answered him.

“Where can I find a doctor?” he shouted. “My sister. She’s—I need a doctor.”

A little human girl the size of a good pinecone walked near me, her mouth open, eyes wide. She finally turned away from me and spoke to Lucas. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

~

I wasn’t sure if I was glad to see my Lucas makin’ his way through the crowd or not. The hot sun felt absolutely wonderful and children had gotten the nerve—that is, their parents overcame their fear and allowed the children to approach me. They rubbed my hide everywhere they could reach. Their squeals of excitement were a little irritatin’, but the attention, delectable.

The man followin’ Lucas, carryin’ a big, leather satchel, came to an abrupt halt thirty feet away. He stared, and clutched his bag to his chest. His mouth dropped open and he pointed at me. “Ride that?” he asked.

“Her name’s Iza,” Lucas said. “You’ll be perfectly safe, I promise.”

It took Lucas several more moments to coerce the doctor to climb up behind him. But when I felt two pairs of hands grip my dorsal ridges, I launched. The man screamed, not unlike the way Lucas had, the first time he rode atop me, for real, not in one of our shared dreams. The man continued to scream for a good ten minutes, at least. His grip was a little uncomfortable.

Poor little human. Must have trust issues.

~

Midday neared when we landed at home. The doctor struggled to slide down my shoulder. His knees buckled when he hit the ground. He stumbled backward. Might have gone down if Lucas didn’t make it to his side. When the man caught his balance he stood starin’ at me for a moment, then turned and gave Lucas a glare.

Those human facial expressions. They mean so much to each other. Lucas once joked, if I could flip a coin with my talons, I could use that as a good way to figger humans out. Claimed most expressions meant no more than three thin’s. I think he guessed low.

Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “I told ya it’s nothin’ like ya could imagine.”

The doctor squinted, but Roger ran down the slope to us and rushed the man away. Lucas looked over at me sadly. His sense of embarrassment, palpable.

“Roger was excited to see the doctor,” I said.

He answered me with only a wisp of a smile.

“That’s good news, is it not?” I asked.

Lucas nodded and stripped off his gloves, coat, and knit hat. I nudged him roughly, and he smiled. I gave him a snort, turned, and waddled into the grass to lie out in the afternoon sun. I spread my wings out flat, and Lucas lay against my shoulder—to wait.

~

I woke as the sun set, surprised Lucas wasn’t by my side. Odd, that he woke and moved away without disturbin’ my sleep. The two siblings stood at the foot of the porch holdin' each other in a tight embrace. Lucas’ emotions flooded me, intense, painful ones that felt like a great force squeezin’ my chest. I keened in grief. My head flowed back and forth. I couldn’t stop, as a shrill trumpet escaped from my chest, louder and louder.

Lucas pulled away from his sibling and ran to me. Flung himself against my chest and wrapped my neck in his arms. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” he said. “For now they’re both well. A little girl. She’s so tiny, Roger says, but the doctor doesn’t want anyone comin’ near her, so I can’t go see her. Lydia is well, but it was very hard on her.”

“Then why were ya two cryin’?” I asked.

An odd snort, I think a half-laugh, half-sob, erupted from my Lucas. He quickly wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Men don’t cry,” he said.

“That’s the first time ya’ve ever lied to me,” I said.

He laughed and peered over his shoulder at his sibling, who gave us a little wave and turned to go back inside. Lucas pressed against me again. His face felt cool against my breast.

“It’s not so much a lie as a conviction,” he said.

“Ya humans are odd creatures,” I said, and stepped forward pushin’ him along with me.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Just ’cause ya’re not allowed in, doesn’t mean I can’t see the baby.”

I waddled to the edge of the buildin' and looked in the second story window. A laugh echoed inside and the window opened a few moments later. Gladys stood inside with a tiny bundle in her arms. She pulled back the edge of the blanket. I leaned in close.

“Oh. Tiny thin’,” I said softly. It didn’t smell very nice. But my Lucas has a lot of different smells too. Often smells very musky—especially when he’s workin’. Smells best after his Saturday bath. Maybe the baby needs a bath.

“Human babies aren’t very pretty, are they?” I said.

Gladys didn’t look up, though her smile didn’t change. Her eyes remained on the bundle. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

~

Chapter 3
Eina
~

Braes fidgeted over the plates lined up on the counter. He paused suddenly and tilted his head in concentration, eyes half closed. I have no idea how he could hear anythin’ over the clatter and chatter in the kitchen. A lot of hen mouths workin’ at once. Elven majic, no doubt. Stinkin’ elf.

“What’s wrong, Master Braes?” I asked.

“Sounds like a number of wagons, and a troop of horses.”

“Hm. Visitors and one of the patrols, here to search out goblins, ya think?”

He snapped an angry look up at me. I knew his anger wasn’t for me—my elf friend remains ornery on good days, almost as bad as a garden-variety dwarf. The elf holds mixed emotions over the northern humans’ effort to ensure no goblins intruded into the Range.

Goblins are no friends to elves, but Braes spoke many times durin’ our long winter off-seasons about the strength of our little Hamlet bein’ from the mix of races that populate it. He’s particularly fond of Kelhin and Kincere’s babies. Imagine. An elf godfather to orclings.

“Snow already gettin’ deep in the higher elevations,” I said. “A couple more weeks, the pass will be iced over.”

“Never stopped Bick,” Braes mumbled. “Those short-sighted humans are gonna start another war and we’ll be the first victims.”

His first exaggeration aside, his words were short and clipped, louder than his usual, subdued voice. I studied the elf. He’d never shared that opinion before. But the short little runt does keep his thoughts to himself, a lot like the average stone.

I dried my hands on my apron, untied it and pulled it off. “I’ll be back,” I said.

I strode through the dinin’ room and lobby a little in a daze, some of the elf’s anger thrustin’ down on me, maybe. Outside, the air nipped refreshin’. The breeze comin’ off the Lake kept the humans inside, near the hearth, but there were a couple old, wrinkled trolls sittin’ on the veranda playing checkers. They glanced up, their eyes hidden in the shadows of their floppy hats they use to cut the glare, and gave me a nod.

I walked over to the far side of the veranda and looked east, where visitors would ride out of the forest. Listened, but heard nothin’. Them elves and their ears. I sniffed at the breeze. Don’t know why. It isn’t like I owned an ogre’s sense of smell any more than an elf’s sense of hearin’. We trolls are best suited to handlin’ three-hundred-pound chunks of granite one-handed.

 I turned and strode down the steps and lumbered toward the eastern point of the Lake. My mate stood in our pasture talkin’ with his goats. He joined me. “What ya up to, ya old hen?”

“Braes is worried about folk nearin’ the valley,” I answered.

“Worried? How do ya mean, worried?”

“Ya coot. What part of worried confuses ya?”

“His majic givin’ him a presight or such?”

“Might,” I said. “Or his understandin' of things that fly over our head.”

“He does have a way,” Yoso admitted with a nod, “of figgerin’ thin’s before others do.”

Together we walked in silence for a few moments. A troop of perhaps thirty human riders flowed out of the forest followed by half a dozen wagons. Didn’t look good.

“Doesn’t look good,” Yoso said.

Yoso and I strode toward them. The wagons circled up below the bluff where the Hamlet’s little cemetery plot lies. I recognized the young man who led the contingent. He had been about often the last month or so. A likable sort. Educated. Well spoken. He usually stayed in the Inn, instead of billetin’ with whatever soldiers or deputies he rode with. He didn’t wear either uniform, but always seemed particularly attended to.

The man broke away from the contingent and rode toward us. My nape tingled. Stared at the expression of the man’s horse. The beasts don’t like trolls any more than our kind like horses. The human pulled his mount up as I searched my memory for the lad’s name. Know Braes addressed him in the past. The elf never forgets a name. Stinkin’ elf.

“Good day,” he greeted us. “Getting right chilly up here in the highlands these days. Leaves aren’t even turning yellow back home yet.”

“Won’t, I s’pose, for another month,” Yoso answered him.

The rider smiled. “True. You’re Master Yoso, and Eina, if my memory serves me right.”

Young fellows and their memories. Like to show off.

“That we are,” Yoso said.

“What’s the meanin’ of this?” I demanded, angrier than I intended.

“To the point,” he said. “I like that.”

I figgered he would have introduced himself if I’d given him the opportunity. He was a polite sort, but the interruption, I could see, set him off his stride.

“We’ve decided to build a stockade here, so we can keep a post through the win—”

I interrupted him, the volume of my voice goin’ up inexplicitly. “The Covenant set this region out as a place of peace. You can’t build an edifice of war here!”

Yoso reached out and placed his hand on my arm. I shrugged it off with maybe a tad of troll irritation, and took a step closer to the smilin’ lad and his stinkin’ horse.

“The Covenant also states goblins have no place here,” the man said.

My gut tightened. “Nothin’ but an occasional huntin’ party, south of here. They aren’t botherin’ anyone.”

“Right now it’s hunting parties. Next year they may come in force and try to take the whole Range.”

“If they’re allowed to live freely among us, there will be no hostilities,” I snapped.

“Says you. The human villages to the north are frightened about goblins coming a foot nearer. It isn’t up to you.”

“Yar stockade will only threaten them further, challenge them. If the goblins come, yar lookouts will scurry away for support and leave us to meet angry goblin warriors.” My anger surprised me. Couldn’t even understand where it came from.

“If they come, you’ll be the first in their path,” the man said. “You should appreciate that—”

“Ya fell a single tree and I’ll have three hundred angry trolls here within the hour,” I yelled.

“Hold on, hold on, both of ya,” Yoso said, holdin’ out his hands, as though he was keepin’ the two of us physically apart. “Before we go to war among ourselves—” He turned back to the man. “Meet with representatives of the Hamlet, the dwarf, troll, and ogre councils. We all have a say in this matter.”

“Those who sent me here don’t feel the same way.”

I walked toward the man with my fists raised at my hips and the man’s stallion rose and challenged me. Yoso grabbed me and pulled me back as hooves stamped near-frozen sod.

“If ya don’t want bloodshed today,” I yelled, “Ya better meet us at the Inn in two hours.”

“So be it,” the man said, still tryin’ to calm his mount. If he wasn’t preoccupied, my guess woulda been he woulda declined my invitation—demand.

I swiveled and strode away. Yoso caught up with me a moment later. “What’s gotten into ya, ya old hen? Ya tryin’ to start a war with the humans?”

“I think ya have it backward. It’s the humans who are traipsin’ into our quiet little valley causin’ the ruckus.”

Yoso looked over at me. “That Gladys certainly lit a fire under ya,” he murmured, shakin’ his head. “Big mistake getting’ ya involved with her.”

“Callin’ my best friend in the world a trouble maker?” I asked.

He snorted. Foolish bull.

~

In the past it would have taken days, even weeks, to set up a combined meetin’ between the councils. But with the help of Lucas, Asr, and Torc’s dragons and their siblings, they had all the local representatives sittin’ in the dinin’ hall of the Inn long before the two hours passed.

Everyone sat patiently, mostly starin’ at each other in silence. The human tapped the table from time-to-time with a nervous finger, or jiggled a boot. He looked back and forth at the glum-lookin’ ogres and trolls who sat across from him, and the three white-haired dwarves who sat next to him. He no doubt never imagined he would ever find himself in such a conference.

“What are we waiting for?” the man asked.

“Who,” Braes answered with elven brevity.

“Okay, who are we waiting for?”

The elf glared at the young human. “Another interested party.”

I looked across at Braes, and suddenly misgivin’s accosted me. Was what they planned wise? It wasn’t gonna be well accepted by the dwarves or trolls any more than it would be the humans. They might as well have invited the nasty, ancient dragon queen to nestle into the dinin’ room with us. Like to see her try to fit through the lobby door.

Braes nodded his head, as though he read my mind and replied, “All is well.” I hoped so. To think how peacefully the day started, like any other. Now every bedroom of the Inn was empty, with the guests sittin’ and standin’ about the lobby, watchin’ and waitin’ to see history bein’ made. And I was in the middle of it. Pretty much—initiated it.

My Yoso had disappeared. Coward. Perhaps he went home, since his favorite checker opponent sat two seats away from me. Yoso appeared very agitated to see his one-time mousey-mate drivin’ such a meetin’. Old coot.

The human cleared his throat and pushed his chair back, and crossed his left, booted ankle over his right knee. “So, I understand the Lake will be freezing soon.”

No one chose to join him in conversation. He cleared his throat for the tenth time and studied his hands, which he held in his lap.

A din rose as what seemed like an army of dragons landed in the front lawn. Those sittin’ at the tables stared out the broad windows. But I figgered they all wanted to rush to the windows and stare at the sight as much as I did. It isn’t every day the whole Lake clutch visits the Hamlet together. Everyone not involved with the meetin’ seemed to be talkin’ at once. Who knew how many centuries, even millennia it had been, since dragons participated in talks with the two-legged races. Not that Iza or one of her siblings would actually join us.

The broad front door of the Inn opened and Lucas entered. He waved as though to hurry someone who followed too slowly. It took a moment, and finally a gangly figure stepped through the entrance, bowin’ to get under the tall door built to accommodate trolls. The lobby and dinin’ hall fell silent except for boot heels on the polished hardwood floor. The goblin slowly made his way through the crowd.

Behind me, someone sucked in their breath. I looked over my shoulder at Sylvia. I stole a quick peek at our visitor and back at Sylvia. She and the goblin were clearly smilin’ at each other. The goblin gave the baker a bow, and Sylvia returned it with a nod. That was certainly an interestin’ twist. Where had Sylvia met the goblin? Any goblin? Would be worth many hours of gossipin’ in the kitchen, for sure.

The human from the north stood, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The dwarf standin' next to him placed his hand subtly on the man’s. “None of that,” he whispered.

Glances turned my way, and my face burned. Were they expectin’ me to lead the delegation? My stomach did a pancake-ish flop. Thankfully, Bick stepped up from behind me, extended his hand to the goblin, and introduced himself. The goblin did the same.

“Maertin,” he said.

Bick introduced each of the others at the table. Steely glares were exchanged all around.

“Eina, ya’re quite the surprise,” the dwarf elder said when the introductions completed. “Never thought I’d face a goblin without wieldin' my axe. Yar surprise dragon rider this mornin’ was a little cryptic as to why I was supposed to trust flyin’ through the sky. Can ya tell me why I’m here, now?”

Interestin’ posturin’. The dwarf is no fool. By now had figgered out every nuance of the current situation.

“We want to keep the peace of the past two centuries,” Braes answered for me.

“Ya elves penned the covenant,” Maertin said, “which exiled us to the eastern desert. Surprised to see ya sittin’ here, expectin’ anythin’ less than status quo.”

“What implies I want anythin’ other than to see ya far away?” Braes answered. Maybe a bit tiffed.

“Why else have ya brought me here? I saw two orcs standin' on the walkway outside. Looks like leeway has already been given to the Covenant.”

The ancient troll leader said, “Enough with the banter.” His deep bellow sounded like the staccato blast of a blacksmith’s hammer. “The humans intend to build a station, stockade, for soldiers here. Do they need to? What is yar intent?”

Nope. We trolls aren’t much for beatin’ around the bush.

The glares around the table turned ice-pick sharp.

“Everyone sit down,” I growled. Maybe knives wouldn’t fly if everyone was sittin’.

The gathered representatives shot glances my way. Surprised smiles crossed a few faces. Those who stood when the goblin entered, sat. Maertin took a chair at the end of the table.

“I’m not a spokesman for all of my people,” Maertin said after several static-filled moments. “Can only speak my own opinions, for my own, small clan.”

“Then do so,” the dwarf leader said.

The goblin gave the dwarf a nod. “At the end of the wars, there were no more than a dozen survivin’ clans. Now there are half that. We were no threat then, at the end of the wars, as everyone is aware, less of one now. If we’d had any leverage, we never would have agreed to the Covenant. But the shrinkin’ resources, plains turnin’ to dunes in the east, strangle us. There are those who would rather raid and die quickly, than die a slow death.”

“Then you believe war is inevitable?” the human challenged him.

“I didn’t say war. But yar marauders have made it plain ya have no intent in allowin’ us to survive.”

“Marauders? They’re patriots protecting their families!”

“Calm yarself,” the dwarf elder growled. He faced Maertin. “I suggest ya both try to be less confrontational. It would do us all good.”

The goblin laughed. It was a higher pitch than I expected, considerin’. Maertin spread his lips displaying his needle-sharp teeth like Pazeta the orc does when she’s comfortable with whomever she’s around. The human squirmed in his chair. Exactly what Pazeta’s smiles cause among human strangers not accustomed to her.

“Master Braes,” the troll elder said softly, “perhaps a glass of that ogre wine ya’re known to serve could take the edge off the tension.”

Braes didn’t have to budge. A dozen of the Inn workers standin’ near the kitchen door and front counter flew to accommodate the troll’s recommendation without waitin’ for Braes’ nod.

“Ya have an efficient staff,” the troll said.

“They’ve made this a home, and make the Hamlet a better place every day,” the elf answered.

Interestin’ thin’ to say. Considerin’.

~

The troll knew more about the ways of all creatures than I expected. The wine enabled casual conversation, the banter the bull called it, which ironically eased the participants at the table into productive words—about four hours of it. Though, I had to glare at the human a dozen times to keep him in line throughout the evenin’, as lanterns were lit to allow the talks to continue.

Braes, in the tradition of the elves who scribed the original Covenant, penned the concessions made. The decisions were nothin’ as monumental as the original, but the new pact sufficed for those at the table, though perhaps the human remained as skeptical as he started. In simple summary, the accord promised to maintain the current peace, while allowin’ all races access to the Range. The human may have seethed on the inside. But he didn’t have much choice, considerin’ he didn’t have a soul on his side.

“All of ya enjoy a warm bed in the Inn tonight, while I draft copies of the agreement for ya to take back to yar councils,” Braes said.

“I cannot guarantee I can sell this to my leaders,” the human said.

“Ya’ve said as much many times,” I snapped. “As a participant, it’s yar job to make it happen. The people most affected by the new Covenant are in agreement.” I pointed a long, bony thumb at the man. Hoped my expression showed I was done with his wishy-washy complaints.

The troll elder grumbled, “If the original writers of the Covenant had ya at their side, Eina, the peace wouldn’t have taken years to agree to.”

“Perhaps it’s as much because the discussion was done in public, as anything else,” one of the Inn’s guests, a human, said behind us.

Nods flowed through the hall. The man who spoke up moved near the table. “I live fifty miles north of here. I’ve heard every word spoken, every word the elf has scribed, and I’m convinced this is good for us all.”

A din erupted with here-heres and other forms of agreement. The human sittin’ at the table, head tilted forward, looked at me. I couldn’t help myself. Finally smiled, perhaps the first time today. Maybe it was the wine. I don’t normally imbibe. And I’d taken more than a few sips to keep from threatenin’ to rip the human’s head from his shoulders.

~

Chapter 4
Drazy
~

My mouth watered as I watched the enormous, huge herd of elk grazin’ the hill across from where we stood. Never saw anythin’ like that before. Without trees or significant bush, there was little chance of creepin’ up on them, but the sight alone was splendid. I smiled as my mate slowly set down our youngest she’d been carryin’. Removed her pack, and picked up her bow and quiver.

The rest of the family, our new, small clan, froze. They didn’t need Kelza to tell them. On the move, it was a little silly to go after an elk. How much of it could we eat here? It was too early in the day to stop. We were weighted down already with everything we owned. Didn’t need to be carryin’ a carcass, even if we divided it between the six adults. We had eaten well the past week, with more than enough game about as we approached the darker, grander mountains we hiked toward. Kelza was bein’ down right greedy.

A mind set to too many years of meager huntin’.

Shadows in the sky caught my daemon eyes. I counted, two, four, six, seven. At first I thought they were vultures, but realized the vee-shaped form meant they dived, not somethin’ buzzards practice as a habit. As the silhouettes approached, they got larger. And larger. Not vultures, nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Never seen such a gatherin’.

I said, “Hold up, Kelza.”

She shot me an angry expression. I shrugged. Most everythin’ makes her mad anyway. I pointed up. Her shoulders sagged. A soft oath escaped her lips, and she took a step back, slowly. She’s no dolt. If she scared off the herd, she would have seven, very irritated dragons to answer to.

“Didn’t we come north to get away from them?” she whispered.

“No, it was the fish.”

“To get away from fish?” she hissed.

“Not to get away— Do we have to go through that again?”

“Through what again?” She looked at me with an odd expression, head tilted, one eye closed. She shook her head and her fairy friend, Keen, flew out of her dreadlocks.

“Ya never listen to me,” I complained.

“Would,” Kelza whispered, “if ya ever said anythin’ intelligent, fool.”

“If ya listened, ya’d find I say plenty of smart thin’s.”

“Name one,” Kelza said, turnin’ back to watch the dragons near. “Ah geez, two queens.”

I looked over, across the gully. The dragons were already hittin’ the herd. The hill across from us exploded with motion, wings everywhere, elk scatterin’, bein’s flung into the air, shriekin’ bellows of panic. Our littlest one let out a squeak of alarm. I picked her up, whispered consolin’ words in her ear.

Kelza waved the clan to continue on, and pressed a finger to her lips. I handed our daughter to her.

“I’ll catch up. See if they leave anythin’ worthwhile,” I told her.

“We don’t need their leftovers,” Kelza hissed. “Besides, ya can bet those gluttons won’t leave a sliver of marrow to show they were here.”

I smiled. She shrugged and moved on to lead the clan. I stood watchin’ them make their way up the steep incline, leadin’ into the tree-covered mountains now just miles away. As beautiful as the vista was before us, my heart tightened for what it meant. The risks are high.

Will the current residents accept daemons in the Range? Will there be as much food as the rumors suggest? So far, that part at least bode true. While the clan we left behind would live easier off the limited game, I’m takin’ away their most efficient hunter. Good for our own, new clan, but not good for those we left behind. A pang of persistent guilt tightened my chest. What did I do? What was I thinkin’? Hope I didn’t bring my family, and others, into harm’s way, on a fool’s quest.

I enjoyed the sight of my tall, athletic mate at the front of the clan. She’s so beautiful.

Don’t deserve her. Oh, how I adore that hen. Could she know how I feel about her? I should tell her.

But she isn’t the sentimental type. Finds it uncomfortable to display affection.

Though, she enjoys teasin’ me, and callin’ me the insultin’ pet names she saves for me. Doesn’t hurt to be called an idjit now and then. Or fool.

My fairy, Verner, buzzed in front of my face. I sighed, and turned toward the other hill, and the feedin’. I idly swatted Verner away from my face.

I caught my breath.

The golden queen stared directly at me, half of an elk hangin’ from her jaws. Jaws with teeth longer than any dagger I’d ever seen in my life. The facets of her eyes seemed to rotate under the sun’s glare.

“This may not be good.”

I needed air, and sucked in a deep breath. Thought of that dragon bull that allowed us to keep that kill, perhaps four years ago. No. Longer than that. Would these be as sociable? Fairy Verner keened, flew about in circles, only to settle again on my shoulder. For once the tiny majie didn’t seem to be such a pest. It was sincerely concerned for me.

“Don’t worry, Verner. We’re no threat to them. They have no reason to harm us.” I said it, but wasn’t truly convinced of my own words. “She may have simply never seen such a handsome creature as me.”

The fairy’s high-pitched whine made me close my eyes for a moment.

“Don’t buy it, eh? Well, keep it to yarself.”

The majie continued to fret, but I concentrated on the sedge of dragons. One by one the other dragons looked up and faced me.

“Oh, ignore me,” I mumbled. “Pretend I’m not here. Go back to yar eatin’. Good fresh elk it is. Much better meat than what clings to my bones. Just ask my mate. No. Don’t ask my mate. I have no mate. I’m here all alone. I swear.”

The darker, almost-purple queen dropped the remains of a cow and trumpeted. It was a harsh, gratin’ sound.

“Don’t have to be a dragon to figure out that wasn’t a happy sound,” I said. Verner’s high-pitched keen returned. “Hush little one. That ain’t helpin’ anythin’.”

The golden queen tilted back her head, crushed the remains of the elk in her jaws with a couple chomps, and swallowed it down with a few violent thrusts. I could see the bulges of huge chunks flowin’ down her throat. It gave me a shiver—of world-renown shivers.

“Ick. That’s ugly.”

The creature launched, maybe threatenin’ my bladder a bit. With a single thrust of her enormous wings she was fifty feet in the air, glided toward me.

“Oh, I wish I’d told Kelza I loved her before she left.”

Verner disappeared into the ethereal, only to reappear with thirty friends. They flew above my head in a mad spiral, each screechin’ what I assume was a threat to the approachin’ dragon.

“Don’t think ya boys will scare her off,” I mumbled, tryin’ to emotionally prepare for the worst. I gripped my staff, a tool I had never used in anger.

The dragon twisted her wings to settle to a gentle stop, snout a few yards above my head. She arched her neck, and her face lowered, feet from my own. She was the most enormous thin’ I’d ever seen in my life. She folded her wings in and back with a snappin’ sound. Her neck alone had to be twenty feet long. She was magnificent—unless she decided to make me a second course. I would consider another description for her in that case.

The swarm of fairies suddenly calmed. The irritatin’ scream moderated to the gentle buzz of their wings. They began to land on the dragon’s shoulders. Verner returned and settled on my shoulder, queerly serene.

“The majies respect you,” the dragon said softly in Standish. Her voice mewed melodious, gentle. “They’re usually good judges of character.”

“Ya don’t say.” Oh why did I say that? Maybe, I should have agreed strongly with her.

“We have a dwarf neighbor who is adored by gnomes. They flit around him constantly. Can’t take a breath without one in his face, take a step without trippin’ over one. Bein’ liked can have its negatives.”

“Dwarves, gnomes and dragons. I didn’t think yall got along very well,” I said.

The dragon looked over her shoulder for a moment. “Don’t mention dwarves to my queen. She gets rather irritated merely thinkin’ about them.” She paused and continued under her breath. “Not that it takes much to irritate her.”

Must be a universal, female thin’. I said, “I promise I won’t say a word.”

“Ya’re taller than a goblin, but ya don’t look like any goblin I’ve ever seen. Ya have meat on yar bones.”

She doesn’t know of us? She’s not spent any time in the south, that’s for sure. Uh. She sure is studyin’ me serious-like.

“Because I’m not a goblin,” I admitted.

The dragon stared back at me. She blinked two layers of eyelids. That caused me to shudder. It was a bizarre thin’ to see.

“Oh,” I said. “I s’pose ya’re waitin’ for me to tell ya what I am.”

“Ya embrace the conspicuous well,” the dragon drawled.

I smiled. This queen reminded me of my Kelza. My smile deepened as I thought it looked likely I might live to be teased by her again.

“Well?”

“Sorry. I was imaginin’ ya didn’t come over here to eat me,” I said.

“We’ve sworn an oath to let the lesser races, two-legged creatures, be,” she answered.

“That’s a good thin’ to hear.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rip ya in two if ya threatened my people,” she amended.

“I’ve never imagined hurtin’ a fleck on a dragon’s hide.”

“No dragon has anythin’ to fear from the likes of ya.” She made some kind of gurglin’ noise deep in her chest and her head swayed for a moment.

I smiled when I realized the dragon’s noise was the equivalent to a laugh, maybe. Never been so politely insulted.

“I’m referrin’ to my people,” the dragon said. “The folk of the Hamlet of Black Lake Valley.”

“Black Lake. I’ve heard it’s a majical place, beautiful, and bountiful. Never heard it had dragon guardians.”

“Good folk live there. If ya have less than generous intentions, I warn ya to turn back.”

“I have the noblest intentions, dragon. I wish to find a place to settle down in peace, where I can raise my family, not worry they may not have a proper meal for weeks.”

“My name is Iza. Ya have a family?”

I struggled not to look to my right, into the shadows of the near trees. The question came as an eerie threat. “I might.”

“I can tell ya families come as a priority in the Valley.”

I let out a breath. “Will ya speak for me, for us?”

“I won’t have to,” she said. “All are welcome who come in peace.”

The dragon pulled back her neck and launched into the air, makin’ me flinch, more lurch, in panic. She wasn’t much for givin’ a fellow a warnin’. She rejoined her sedge. I watched them for another minute and decided Kelza was right. They didn’t eat like other bein’s. There would be nothin’ left but bloodied soil.

I turned to join my clan at a jog, Verner leadin’ the way in his zigzag manner. I neared the tree line when a whisperin’ sound I first thought came from the breeze through the staggered pines, reached me. It turned into a loud flutter. I looked up to see the golden dragon strokin’ to land near me. But somethin’ came lungin’ toward me.

“What the—?” I leapt to the side as a mass thudded to the ground feet away.

The young queen veered away. My eyes clung to the sight of her, the majesty of her beauty and power. In moments she remained a tiny spish in the sky as she flew to rejoin her sedge again. The seven creatures flew west. Lookin’ for another kill, maybe.

I finally looked down at the object she dropped. The young elk calf was in excellent shape. Perhaps it even breathed still.

~

Chapter 5
Tiff
~

“I’m goin’, too,” Ike said confidently.

“Ha. Not for another four years ya won’t,” Asr teased. My three little bulls can be so mean to each other.

“Will too. I’m goin’.”

My third-born wagged a finger in front of my youngest’s face, wrinkled up his snout, and shook his head. “I had to wait two more winters after Torc first went. Ya’re four years younger than me. That means ya have four more years of waitin’.”

My littlest stinker may only be four years old, but with all his runnin’ off, he’s spent more time alone in the woods than either Torc or Asr—the two combined, for that matter. Ike raised his fists in the air like he was ready to tussle, even though Asr sat across the table from him.

“Ya don’t have to rub it in, Asr.” I normally strive to avoid bein’ drawn into the unendin’ battles between my three bulls, but I didn’t want my silence to imply the youngest had any chance of goin’ on the winter hunt.

Ike turned on me, his face wrenched into an angry scowl that comes pretty natural to him. “I’ve spent nights out alone. Never scared a minute. I’m strong. I’m goin’.”

I looked across at my mate to speak up, but he found somethin’ very interestin’ to study in his stew. Coward. Not one for conflict—especially when it comes to Ike. The stinkin’ little bull is nothin’ like Torc or Asr. Not from the first day he filled his first diaper. A personality as intimidatin’ at four years old as the great peak north of the Hamlet.

“See.” Ike thrust his jaw out to make the nub of his tusks look as prominent as he could. “I’ve even battled goblins. Ya’ve never done that,” he shouted at Asr.

“Ha. When have ya ever even seen a goblin?” Asr challenged.

Gotta say I was surprised at the emotion that washed over the strong-minded tyke. Nothin’ his siblings ever said seemed to hurt his feelin’s before, but he looked stricken now. He isn’t one to lie. Exaggerate, like any respectable ogre bull, but not lie. I figgered he resented bein’ caught in a doozy of an exaggeration.

“Is secret,” he said softly. “But I’ll go. Ya see.”

“No runnin’ off,” Ren, the oldest, snapped. “I’ll fan yar butt with a stiff switch myself.”

I felt a tug at my heart for my littlest bull. Ren always treats her youngest sibling like royalty. For her to jump on him at that moment rubbed a little cruel.

I spoil my mob. But it’s my job. And I’m particularly good at it.

Asr thankfully stopped teasin’ Ike as his attention was piqued by Torc and their papa’s conversation about the last chores they had to complete before they made their annual trek. My mind wandered as I looked out the frosted glass of the front window, at the frozen surface of the Lake. I selfishly wished Ike was old enough to go. The youngest matched the middle bull’s bulk, maybe even stood a tad taller, despite the four years that separate them.

This most likely would be my last season with Ren and I wouldn’t hate havin’ some special time alone with her. At the clan gatherin’ the first week of spring, she’d no doubt be makin’ her pick between the dozen young bulls who had been wooin’ her the past year. All of the candidates staked out property in the lowlands. The cold highlands of the Range isn’t in their blood. It meant I would rarely see Ren, ever again. She’d be startin’ a family and spendin' every hour buildin' a home with her mate. There would be no time.

“Is Tir goin’ with ya?” Torc asked about his sibling’s dragon mate.

I groaned. Had hoped the rest of the day the conversation about who was goin’ on the hunt was done. Ike glared at Asr.

“Funny story,” Asr said. “Tir told his brothers about our bull outin’. I guess it interested them. All of them are plannin’ a long flight to the western ocean. Turns out Mo’sale has always dreamed of seein’ it. So they’ll be off on their own trek.”

“Iza will be left with her queen, alone?” Ren asked.

Asr grinned.

“Oh, the poor dear.”

“Imagine she’ll stay locked in her barn and hide.” Asr laughed.

“I’m as old as those dragons,” Ike growled. “If they can go, I can go.”

I looked at Ike with the gentlest expression I could manage. Imagine everyone else at the table rolled their eyes. Ike had indeed experienced the wild alone. Maybe Birs should consider takin’ him. He’s a tough little stinkin’ ogreling.

“Mama, we have a rare, blue sky this mornin’. Can I spend some time on the rocks sunnin’ with Tir, and finish my chores this afternoon?” Asr asked.

“Ya did all yar mornin’ chores?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take Ike with ya,” I said.

He didn’t argue, but puckered up his mouth and snout—out of habit I figgered. The two bull siblings are very close, even though Ike can be as troublesome as a boil on a sunburned buttocks, and the two snarl at each other like two badgers fightin’ for territory.

“I’ll go ask Tir if he wants to go,” Ike offered, slurpin’ down the last of his stew. I didn’t bother mentionin’ the entire outin’ was designed for the dragon. There’s nothin’ happier than a dragon sleepin’ in the sun.

But Asr sat frozen, the way he does when he talks to his dragon knot-head to knot-head. “He’s already stretchin’ out his wings,” he said after a moment.

Ike was already runnin’ for the front door.

“Put on yar hat and coat,” I bellowed.

The habitual, “Ah, Mama,” followed, but he swerved within stride to retrieve them.

~

The cabin was too quiet, with Birs and Torc out workin’ on the fences, Ike and Asr off with Tir’loch. Ren and I finished the mornin’ chores and hurried over to the Inn. Even if the brood of females weren’t in the mood for quiltin’, the gossipin’ and lyin’ would have already started.

All the male-folk of the Hamlet joined us in the dinin’ hall for lunch. I wasn’t surprised Asr and Ike didn’t show up. The two bulls are as obsessive as any I’ve ever met. Asr would read until he lost sun. Ike could entertain himself with about anythin’, and everythin’. Striations of a rock. Line of ants.

It was late afternoon when Ren and I made it back to the cabin. Birs and Torc sat on the hearth warmin’ their backsides, drinkin’ hot tea and talkin’ softly about what they wanted to do on the property next. I looked out the window a while later and saw Asr and Ike leadin’ the animals toward the barn. Twenty minutes later when they walked into the cabin, I noticed immediately Asr wasn’t himself. He remained strangely quiet and moved with methodical motions, not the usual rambunctious young bull, who shouted when a quiet voice sufficed, threw his body forward instead of walkin’.

Ike went about his business, hands reachin’ out to touch everythin’ nearby, eyes never finished with their studyin’. He was in his father’s lap one moment, pesterin’ Torc the next, puttin’ his snout in Ren’s business a moment later. My youngest is a hoot—a frustratin’ hoot. And often a pain in the tush. It’s a good thin’ he owns a heart overly filled with love.

We all sat down to eat dinner. Asr still hadn’t said a word. I tore at a loaf of bread and handed the chunks to each of them when the middle bull finally spoke.

“Papa?” He paused, lookin’ into his plate.

I thought for a moment that his eyes glassed over, but decided it was my imagination. Not talkin’ with his dragon mate.

Asr continued slowly. “I think Ike should come with us on the hunt.”

All of us fell deathly still. Every eye studied Asr, before turnin’ on Birs. My mate’s brow arched, but he didn’t say anythin’.

“I’ll go, I will,” Ike said softly, past a chubby cheek filled with mutton.

I waited for argument. Birs didn’t open his mouth other than to snatch up a new bite of dinner.

All four bulls out of the way for the better part of a week—my mind tittered.

I was surprised I didn’t hold a flinch of a worry for my youngest. But my curiosity flamed over my third child’s magnanimous gesture. He’d resented he had to wait two extra years after Torc first traipsed off with his papa. Now suggestin’ his littlest sibling tag along on Asr’s very first year, much earlier than the other ogrelings, more than bizarre. There was enormous competitiveness between the three.

Hm.

Before Asr left to bed down with his dragon, Tir’loch, in the barn, I found an excuse to make my way out there. Tir already slept of course, and I had to push him hard to wake him. The dragon unwound his long neck. I had to step away to look into his face. He raised a single lid over a droopy golden eye.

“I wondered when ya would be out to interrogate me,” he said in a drowsy voice.

“Interrogate?” I smiled. “Ya did, did ya?”

Tir growled, a dragon’s version of a chuckle.

“What happened out there today?”

“Asr won’t like me tellin’ ya,” Tir complained.

“I can keep a secret as well as anyone,” I said, feelin’ a twinge of guilt. Hadn’t ever actually been very good with that singular skill in the past.

The dragon remained quiet, though he fully opened both eyes. They appeared to have their own luminescence in the dim glow of my lantern. I nudged him in the chin to encourage him to speak up.

“A crazed wolf,” he said.

A wolf. Wolf?

“A rabid wolf?” I prompted when he didn’t continue. “Did one of them get bitten?” I heard my voice go up in scale and volume.

“Probably rabid,” Tir agreed. “It wasn’t actin’ right. Not right for it to come out of the woods like it did, after healthy prey, alone. It had Asr backed against a boulder. I was way up the bluff sunnin’. No one was bitten.”

“And?” I pressed irritably when he didn’t continue.

“Ike was on the animal before I could hardly blink. I didn’t know ya ogres could move that fast.”

“Oh, my gods!”

“Calm yarself, ogre hen. The tyke grabbed the beast by the haunches and flung it side to side against the rocks, like a bird might still a lizard, as though he’d done that a hundred times. He never batted an eye.”

I stared at the dragon, holdin' a hand over my mouth. Maybe I forgot how to breathe for a bit.

“Yar littlest ogreling is a tough little booger,” Tir said, before closin’ his eyes. “I would trust my Asr in his company any day.”

I realized my knees shook and tears trailed down my cheek. Needed to breathe. The barn felt much warmer than it should.

How in the world do I keep that to myself durin’ the next quiltin’ bee?

“I knew ya couldn’t keep it secret,” the dragon mumbled sleepily as he wound his long neck around his body again. A moment later a lazy snore flowed from the dragon’s toothy snout.

~

Chapter 6
Lucas
~

A hail echoed and I dusted the hay off my shoulders and sleeves as I walked for the barn door. Surprised Iza didn’t warn me someone neared. When I saw her sleepin’ in the bright, spring sun, I smiled. It’s a good thin’ dragons kept to the heights before they made peace with the two-legged races. They wouldn’t have survived on the ground otherwise. They sleep too soundly.

“Ya’ll need one of those noisy creatures that neighbor has, Bick I think his name is, if ya want to be forewarned of visitors.”

The voice made me jerk. I was so wrapped up thinkin’ about the beautiful dragon I almost forgot why I came outside.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya, farmer. Ya have a nice stand of vegetables started there. I’m surprised the nights are warm enough up here to see sprouts already.”

Lydia came out on the porch with little Gladys on her hip. Her scowl over the herd of goblins litterin’ the front lawn was unmistakable. She turned and went back into the cabin, lettin’ the door slam.

“Welcome, Maertin.”

“Ya sure I am?” he asked.

“Yar bow isn’t strung. You aren’t carryin’ a spiked club. Ya’re welcome here.”

The goblin motioned toward the cabin.

“Ah.” I flicked some stragglin’ hay off my chest. “It may take a while for everyone to come to trust yar kind. Ya expect otherwise?”

Iza woke and raised her head. Half-closed eyes took in the visitors.

“Greetings, queen,” the goblin called to her.

“Ya’ve returned.”

“Ya’re lookin’ magnificent today,” Maertin said.

“Goblins like to flatter, do they?” Iza asked. Her chest rumbled in a dragon chuckle.

“Only when it’s true.”

The dragon fluttered the tips of her enormous wings, I thought a little flirty-like. Not that I lean toward jealousy. But, maybe I should flatter her from time to time.

“What brings ya to the Valley?” I asked.

“The new Covenant says we can come and trade. So we’ve come to exercise our right.”

“Ya don’t have to speak so formally to me, Maertin. I’m on yar side.”

“So you admit there are sides?”

I puckered up my lips. “There will be if ya stride into the Hamlet with a chip on yar shoulder.”

The goblin smiled, showin’ his needle-sharp teeth. “Point taken.”

“S’pose ya’d like me to escort ya to the other side of the Lake? Ya know, to ease the goin’?”

“Ya read my mind. If ya aren’t otherwise disposed,” Maertin said.

“Give me a moment to slake my thirst and change my shirt. May I offer ya anythin’?”

“Thank ya, but we just visited a crystal stream over the way.”

~

When I stepped out of the cabin, Roger strode from the woods with our mule, draggin’ a felled and trimmed tree for firewood. My brother nodded at the goblins. His expression was more worried than I would have liked.

I helped Roger unharness Mabel. “I’ll ride her over to the Hamlet, put her up when I get back,” I said, takin’ the mule’s reins. “Their legs,” I shrugged toward Maertin and his folk, “are a little long to try to keep up with ’em.”

Roger only grunted, before walkin’ away.

I jumped on the mule and struggled to get her to walk near the goblins. They liked her as much as she liked them.

“I’ll be back in a bit”, I told Iza.

“I’ll go visit with Tir,” she said. “This should be interestin’.”

~

The few humans bravin’ the chill on the veranda disappeared quickly when I approached the Inn with our eastern visitors, but Braes, Bick, and Eina came out to greet the newcomers a moment later. Orc Janding and the other year-round residents joined us soon afterward, as the goblins lay out the goods they brought to trade.

Janding eagerly grabbed up all of their crafts for the gallery. They had leather and silver works that Braes and Bick split up among them. The goblins grinned with their unexpected success, but the barterin’ was interrupted as several guests streamed out of the Inn carryin’ their bags, noses in the air.

“Won’t be returning as long as you have goblins about, Master Braes,” one man said.

The elf followed them down the stairs, but turned back, holdin’ his head up high. “Don’t need to go apologizin’ for good will,” he said under his breath to me.

Within hours, all of the human guests of the Inn had checked out. There weren’t many this early in the season, but Sylvia told me days later that Braes was takin’ the exodus very hard. The next day the rumor was fire hot that the guests that arrived the afternoon of the goblins’ visit, left the next mornin’.

The following weeks passed without a new guest arrivin’.

~

I was chattin’ with Roger about Braes’ poor fortune as we worked on the fence that kept the deer and rabbits out of our garden. Iza had gotten a bit lackadaisical about the deer—durn her. Just too many elk a few wing flaps away, I guess.

“What’d ya expect?” Roger asked. “We’re talkin’ about goblins.”

“But guests accepted the clan of orcs without blinkin’,” I argued. “They were as much to blame for the atrocities as the goblins durin’ the wars. Say the stories.”

“Look at the difference between the two races. Who do ya really think did the killin’? The runty orcs, or the giants?”

“There’s somethin’ more goin’ on here than we’re aware,” I muttered.

“Yeah, like humans hate goblins.”

“No. There’s been some kind of conspiracy hatched,” I said.

“Conspiracy?”

“That human from Caern.” Anger streamed out with my words. “The one who came here last fall to build the stockade, the one who participated on the council. I don’t trust him. I’ll bet ya he has somethin’ to do with this, or knows why Master Braes has been boycotted.”

“Most thin’s are as simple as they appear,” Roger said.

“And sometimes a checker move isn’t just a mindless move.”

“If ya’re that serious about it—” Roger paused. “I think papa would advise ya to follow through with yar thoughts. I, on the other hand, hope ya shut up and keep to yar chores.”

I eased a smile Roger’s way. Cogitated as I piled rocks along the bottom of the fence’s wire we’d toiled on. “Dang rabbits,” I muttered. Left to their own, they’d nibble along, night after night, until there wasn’t a thin’ left worthwhile. That seemed a little relevant to our conversation. All it took was one little mind vomitin’ ill will, and time.

“I’ll be leavin’ for Caern first thin’ in the mornin’,” I said after a bit.

Roger said, “I was afraid of that.”

~

I stopped to visit my parents on the way. It had only been a few weeks since I’d dropped by, but Iza fillin’ the whole tiny plaza down the street always draws a crowd. It gave me an opportunity to speak to a number of the elders of the village who know a little of the goin’s on. All agreed about the man I needed to speak with. The son of a prominent estate owner outside Caern. Johanson is their family name.

My mama and papa gave me a big hug as I pulled the bag over my shoulder carryin’ the preserves Mama gave me. Iza trumpeted her goodbyes to all who welcomed her in the plaza.

~

The enormous estate flowed from one gently rollin’ hill after another. Groves of citrus, pecan, and walnut, split up massive fields. One contained cattle, another sheep, another stately-lookin’ horses.

“Oh, those look like they would taste wonderful,” Iza said, as soon as we landed.

I looked over at the adjacent field, where expensive stallions lined the fence studyin’ us, snortin’ challenges at the dragon. More attitude than brains.

“Ya can go huntin’ south when we get home,” I suggested. “Those beauties are off limits.” One of ’em were worth more than Roger and I could ever pull together in a lifetime.

A deep growl came from her chest, which wasn’t a laugh. The horses reared and ran. Perhaps, was her intention.

“I certainly recognize you.”

I turned to face the man I’d come to speak to. “Is it the freckles?” I asked dryly.

“I think the golden dragon tipped me off.”

“Had to be one or the other.” I pulled off my cold-weather gear.

The man’s eyes remained glued on Iza, who ignored him. That meant somethin’ to me. Dragons, I’ve learned, have a natural and surreal knack for sensin’ the integrity of those around them. She turned and waddled out to the broad, immaculately mowed lawn, and lay down to sun.

“Her wings cover an acre of grass,” the man said in awe.

His covetous gaze sent a shaft of ire across my chest. I had no interest in sharin’ pleasantries with the man. “Ya know why I’m here.”

Johanson slowly pulled his eyes away from Iza.

“Right to it, huh? You people got what you wanted. You have your goblin friends.”

I considered allowin’ Iza to go destroy all of Johanson’s beautiful stallions. Not that I’d ever do such a thin’.

“So yar bigotry has no bounds, does it?” I asked.

“Come now.” His smile only faltered a midge. “We’re making a decision, like you all did.”

“Our decision was for peace, to welcome those who had nothin’ to do with acts committed two centuries ago.”

The Johanson heir laughed. “You put your faith in whomever you trust. We choose not to deal with them.”

“Bigotry has a way of expandin'. Ya seem intelligent—should realize that. It’s like a sickness. It will take in all of ya, and we’ll all pay. What do ya think led to the wars to begin with?”

“I wasn’t there, and neither were you,” Johanson said. “And since the goblins burned down every structure across the land, there aren’t too many records of the period.”

“Humans have been tradin’ with the ogres in the west for decades. Did ya know they’re willin’ to ban humans from their territory?” I lied. But with the thought, an idea sprung.

Johanson’s smile faded a little.

“The land worth farmin’ north of the Range is staked now,” I continued. “Imagine all those folks who’d have liked to settle in the South, bein’ stopped at the plains.”

The man chuckled, but his expression was noticeably uncomfortable. “You need us more than we need you.”

“I don’t know. I’ve flown over these parts. There’s hardly a stand of woods left in the North. Ya get what ya need now from our forests.”

“We have plenty of forests.”

“Lumber grade?”

The man didn’t say anythin’.

“When all of the orcs and goblins stream in from the eastern deserts,” I continued, “trolls and ogres from the West Plains, and the daemons from the South, because they know they won’t have to worry with humans, ya’ll find a wall separatin’ ya from the greater part of the world. That would be a shame.”

“You’re talking nonsense, all those races coming together against humans.”

I laughed. Sincerely. Hadn’t they before? “Do ya have a clue who fought in the wars against humans?”

The man’s expression sobered.

“I’m travelin’ far north next,” I told him. “It’ll be interestin’ to see what the elves think about yar dangerous posturin’. Wouldn’t surprise me if they stop tradin’ with ya too.”

I didn’t wait to see if the man had anythin’ more to say. It was dawnin’ on me how much power the folk of the Valley have at our fingertips. None of the races I mentioned had any love for humans. They wouldn’t have the slightest compunction, I believe, to follow the scenario that popped into my head as I spoke to the arrogant Northerner.

I put on my cold gear as I walked to Iza. She grumbled mentally in my mind, enjoyin’ the sun. She wasn’t ready to leave. “Lazy dragon,” I teased.

~

Roger sprinted from the porch. “My—Lord!” he shouted. “I didn’t expect ya to be gone over a week. Are ya well? What happened?”

“Perfectly well.”

Roger physically pulled me off Iza, raisin’ a bit of irritation in her, and clutched me in a bear hug. “Ya had me worried ya—ya—ball of rabbit dung. Ya could have stopped by here for a moment when ya visited the local dwarves.”

“Ah. Ya heard about that?” I asked.

“Well, yeah. A strip of wood hasn’t left the Valley since. It’s been awful peaceful. If it wasn’t for the baby, we would have overslept a time or two. Those silly dwarves like to go to work too early. I haven’t heard a single axe.”

I grinned. Roger patted Iza on the shoulder, before turnin’ and draggin’ me toward the cabin, askin’ a dozen questions without slowin’ down. He only interrupted himself to talk about the number of ogres and trolls strollin’ into the Hamlet to trade.

“Seems like there’s a high demand for goblin craftsmanship these days,” Roger said.

Lydia served me a bowl of stew, and I told them about all the clan councils I’d spoken to in the last ten days. “To a one,” I said, “they agreed to stop tradin’ with the Northerners until the situation changes.”

“Ya pissant,” Roger mumbled. “Who gave ya the right to go fiddlin’ with world commerce?”

“If ya’d been with me when I spoke to that self-righteous, pompous arse Johanson, ya’d been leadin’ the way.”

Lydia poured her husband a fresh cup of coffee and leaned next to him and whispered, “Are ya sure yar parents wanted ya to take care of him, give him manly direction, or was it the other way around?”

~

Three weeks later, near dusk, orc Janding arrived on his dragon, Syl’loch. I strolled from the barn to greet them. My friend didn’t dismount.

“Eina sent me to fetch ya,” he said. “A herd, I mean, delegation of humans have arrived and want to negotiate.”

“Who else are ya goin’ for,” I asked, wipin’ the soap off my face that didn’t come off with my razor.

Janding looked at me blankly. “Just ya.”

“We need to collect representatives of all the races and local clans. Can ya fetch the Western ogre leader in the mornin’, and get Asr and Tir’loch to collect the other local elders?”

Hm. Should I take the time to fly north to bring back an elven leader?

Janding nodded. “Where’re ya goin’?

“Iza and I have a little bit farther to fly.”

Janding grinned. “By the way. How long have ya been shavin’?”

“Oh, a long time.” I smiled back at my friend. “Once a season whether I need to or not.”

~

As Iza landed on the narrow, green plateau, the crags above erupted with goblins no more happy than the first time we arrived. Iza rumbled her discomfort as hundreds of the giants streamed down the rocks, bows at the ready.

I stayed on Iza’s back and removed my hat and gloves, unlooped the front of my coat. “Is Maertin here?” I asked the first who met us.

As I asked it, I saw the bull makin’ his way down from the heights. I slid down Iza’s shoulder and walked into the throng of goblins, who must have finally decided I was no threat and lowered their weapons.

“Didn’t expect to see ya again so soon,” Maertin said as he neared.

I didn’t answer until the two of us stood on equal ground. It was bad enough lookin’ up at the creature when we stood side by side on flat ground. We shook hands. The bull’s long fingers wrapped around my hand oddly. In that, they have somethin’ in common with the long-limbed trolls. Beside their height.

“Hope ya’re well, my young friend,” Maertin said.

“Are ya up to wagin’ peace?” I asked.

The goblin shook his head. “Wagin’? Peace? Ya humans are too abrupt.” He squinched up one side of his long face. “Ya need to watch and listen to yar friends the elves more. Learn somethin’ about proper social interaction.”

“Ya’re probably right,” I muttered. “I’m fine. Ya’re fine. Will ya come with me?”

The bull threw back his head and laughed. “Can ya wait long enough for me to grab a coat?”

~

The Hamlet’s other two dragons and their riders met us over the western foothills and escorted us back. Iza’s two middle brothers, and another unexpected visitor, Iza’s sire, sunned along the southern bank of the Lake. The welcomin’ trumpets filled the sky with panicked birds.

Landin’, I slid down Iza’s shoulder and watched with humor as the goblin tentatively climbed down. Maertin turned abruptly when he caught the form of the daemon walkin’ toward us from our barn. The two stood facin’ each other like two bull-elks ready to fight for a harem.

“Maertin. Drazy,” I said, makin’ their introductions.

Both of the giants narrowed their eyes.

“I thought yar kind were nothin’ more than a plot in a child’s story,” the goblin finally said. “Been a lot of years since one of yar kind made it this far north.” He turned to me with a quizzical expression, but I remained silent.

“We’ve done well to stay out of the other race’s troubles,” the daemon, Drazy, answered.

“And yet here ya are,” Maertin said.

“My hands, like yars, hold no weapon.”

“Are ya through with the chit chat?” I interrupted. “I have a lot to tell ya before we go across the Lake.”

Maertin smiled, and nodded to the daemon. “Yar young, human friend is very impatient.”

“If it wasn’t for his dragon,” Drazy said, “I wouldn’t trust him a lick, would ya?”

The two giants laughed, one high pitched, the other deep. Goblin and daemon seemed interested to stand about and get better acquainted, which didn’t help my sense of urgency.

~

I held no interest, truly, in sittin’ at the table. With the adults. But knowin’ I made the meetin’ possible in the first place, it irritated me that neither Eina nor Bick, or Braes, insisted I join them. Six sunnin’ dragons covered the waterfront before the Inn. If Iza wasn’t so comfortable and contented lazin’ with her sedge, I would have asked her to take me away, anywhere.

It was very special to her that her brothers and sire joined her to show strength and solidarity for the Hamlet. I thought back to how meanly Iza spoke of her brothers when I first met her. I looked down from the veranda, notin’ the wings of each dragon slightly overlay each other in a gentle touch. In greetin’, the six had nuzzled in a manner I’d never observed before.

My thoughts were interrupted with a new sense of agitation from my dragon-mate. She rose and her head swayed. The other five bulls joined her. They all rumbled deep in their chests, anxiety I had only heard in Iza but once.

I looked into the sky and saw what I expected. Their queen soared over the Lake toward us. This could be very bad.

Gnomes popped out of the ethereal in droves, all around the dragons. They sang, reachin’ out to calm the six dragons. I found myself standin’ at the banister without rememberin’ how I got there. The queen’s far-off trumpet flushed birds into the air for miles around. I felt reassurin’ hands on my shoulders, and looked down at Sylvia and Gladys standin’ to my left and right.

Iza and the five bulls continued to keen loudly. The door of the Inn opened and the delegates streamed out.

Ash’et neared. I sucked in my breath. The queen hadn’t been to the Hamlet in at least four years, or was it five? Couldn’t remember. The last time she was here, she nearly killed several of the locals, launchin’ in anger. She descended fast. Her clutch and mate quieted, lay submissively prone on the grass.

She glided right at the Inn. For a moment I worried she might crash into the veranda.

Everyone on the broad porch lurched back, some scatterin’ for the boardwalk. At the last moment, Ash’et thrust down hard and came to a stop in midair, literally hoverin’, until she slowly lowered to the ground, wings seemin’ only to twist.

Didn’t know they could do that.

She left her wings partly outstretched, castin’ an ominous shadow across the veranda, before dramatically foldin’ them together.

“Who here—speaks—for the human delegation?” she asked, in her unpracticed Standish.

The silver-maned gentleman I only knew as the senior Johanson, stepped forward. “I do.”

Ash’et extended her neck, lowerin’ her head to the man’s level. Her nostrils flared smellin’ the scent of the man on the air. I didn’t know a dragon could glare. I sensed the—call it unease—rollin’ off the queen.

“Were ya alive durin’ the wars?” she asked. It was more a challenge, certainly no true question. She exhaled in a rush as she said the last word. The heavy odor of her musk washed over the veranda.

“Of course not,” the elder Johanson said.

“I was!” Ash’et hissed. An overt growl rose from her chest.

Johanson said, “There was nervous peace for many decades before the Covenant was finally signed, and that was well over two centuries ago.”

“Yar point?” Her head slid forward and her muzzle pulled back exposin’ her twelve-inch-long, bronze-tinged teeth.

I know it was no attempt to smile. Not somethin’ Ash’et would be inclined to do, ever. Especially not to a human she clearly despised.

“Ya ridiculous lesser creatures,” the dragon continued, “have no clue ya’re followin’ the same path of yar forefathers. Put yar differences behind ya today and avoid repeatin’ history. Several fold more died durin’ the wars than have been born and died since.

“Re-open the borders. Trade among all. Come together. Accept the goblins and the few orcs who have survived. They’re starvin’ in the deserts. Allow the trolls to reclaim their property north, or the resentment will fester, mark my words.”

The silence vibrated across the veranda. The queen turned slowly, no doubt tryin’ to avoid lookin’ clumsy, which the race can’t really escape on the ground. She launched and the other six dragons followed her one at a time, each first with a dramatic look over their shoulder at the folk linin’ the terrace.

My chest tightened in a knot as Iza soared away. She didn’t say a word to me before leavin’. She had never done that before.

A lot of firsts, for one day.

~