Chapter 20
Adam
~
Been months. Since last autumn I last enjoyed that sight. Seemed ages ago. Everyone must stop here on the trail to take in this single view. I sat in my saddle, in awe of the sparkling Lake far below. I looked over at my fiancé sitting in the wagon next to me. With her heavy scarf wrapped around her head against the cold, hidden inside her bulky coat, lap covered in a quilt—hard to believe she’s the same debutante I met ten months ago on the dance floor. She gripped the team’s reins like a professional hauler, but her wide eyes remained locked on the view miles away.
“What did I tell you?” I said.
“You said it was beautiful,” Matilda said. “Why didn’t you tell the truth?”
“Huh?”
“If you’d explained there were no words to describe it, you would have been more accurate. You’re such a lightweight when it comes to your vocabulary. If I could have imagined this—” She pointed through the trees, toward the Valley below. “You’d not have had such a time convincing me to visit before the wedding.”
I fell in love with her all over again.
“Tilda, you’re the only beauty in my eye.”
“Don’t try it. You’re no sweet talker.”
I grinned and dismounted from my horse. Loosened Torie’s cinch and tied her reins to the back of the wagon, crawled up next to Matilda, taking the team’s reins.
“Rest yourself for a few moments and enjoy the show,” I said. “Get on, girls.”
I flipped the reins. The wagon creaked forward.
“So I meet my first troll today, eh?” Her words weren’t really a question.
“An elf, ogre, probably an orc or three or four, too.”
“It’s exciting. Suspect that beautiful golden dragon will come greet us?” she asked.
“I think my friendship with Iza and her rider is the only thing that ever attracted you to me in the first place. Lucky me, for knowing them.”
“Not so. But seeing you land in the quadrangle that day on the back of that beautiful b—creature, may have put you in the front of the line.”
I choked from the humor that surged up too suddenly. As I choked, was also glad she remembered my warning that the folk of the Range hate, hate, the word beast. Brings back thoughts of the dark past.
“Don’t die on me yet.” Matilda pulled her hand out from under the quilt and slapped my back. “You must finagle an excuse for Iza to give me a ride, first.”
That didn’t help the cough that remained from my choking. “You’re terrible,” I finally managed.
“I told you that first time you asked me to join you at the café for a coffee and cookies, I was all about myself. Being around a saint who cares more about his patients than anything else won’t ever change me.”
“I’m no saint. And you’re only half as evil as you claim.”
“Coming here to bring care to those who will never make you a hospital’s chief surgeon is saintly enough for me. Remember, I will always hold you responsible for the fact that my life won’t be daily teas and poetry readings—once you get me here for good.”
“Freezing your tail off instead.”
A dramatic shiver enveloped Matilda, and I wrapped my arm around her. She leaned against me. It stopped feeling so cold. Heat rose in my face.
She’s more woman than I’ll ever deserve.
~
Matilda chatted excitedly the two hours it took to descend to the Valley floor, the screech of the wagon’s brakes the only thing interrupting her. I pulled up outside the humble dugout of Eina and Yoso before a thought of settling in crossed my mind. I was eager to see how my first Valley patient is doing.
The giant creature that’s her mate strolled out toward us, his ever-present book dangled from one hand. The long dreadlocks that reached his waist are mostly white now. The little human-styled spectacles I sent him perched on the end of his nose, hanging on by magic it seemed.
“Doc! We weren’t expecting ya for another week.” He reached out his tree-limb of an arm, his mitt overwhelming my hand.
“We heard the weather was warm enough to safely make it through the pass. Were too excited to keep away any longer.” Besides, the troll had sent me a few dire needs his folk in the mines had. I quickly introduced Matilda.
“Pleased to finally meet the future mate—missus,” Yoso said. “Welcome to the Hamlet, ma’am.”
He reached out and took Matilda’s hand in his own before she had recovered from seeing her first giant. Her eyes were bigger than when she first spotted the Lake.
“Y—Y—Yoso,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Glad to meet you. I’ve heard much about you and your w—m—mate.”
“How’s she feeling these days?” I asked.
“If ya can track her down, ya’ll have to ask her yarself.” His broad face bloomed into an enormous smile.
“My threats haven’t slowed her down, eh? How’s her appetite?” I asked.
The smile faded. “Ah doc, I’ve failed her there too.”
I wasn’t truly worried Eina had withered away to nothing. Troll bulls like their females on the beefy side, I think. A “big strong hen” is the way trolls describe a beautiful female of their kind, that entertained their eye.
We chatted several more minutes, but Matilda squirmed. She’d been sitting on the hard bench seat all day. But it was tough winding up any conversation with the long-winded Yoso. He lives to talk. I managed to tie up our greeting with the old troll and pushed on to the Inn, sure to find Eina where she loves to be, in the Inn’s kitchen.
Matilda jerked when the horde of majies appeared around the wagon. “What in the world—”
“Sorry. I forgot to warn you about the gnomes.”
The horses shifted restlessly as the tiny things swarmed all around us, climbing over the goods piled high in the back. Their squeaky little voices filled the air.
“Stop it. Stop it,” I shouted. “Only the four bags. The rest stays on the wagon for now.”
In a rush, the bags were snatched up by the winners, hoisting up their prizes with shouts of conquest, dragging the cases roughly over the side rails, letting them fall unceremoniously to the ground.
“Careful you—you—” Matilda turned to me.
“Gnomes,” I reminded her. “They love to unload a wagon.”
By the time I finished my explanation it was all over. The majies disappeared, along with the four bags. Their exit is almost as explosive as their arrival.
“They can be a pain, but then I’ve never had to heft a suitcase.”
The man who spoke held a hand out to Matilda to help her out of the wagon. “Welcome back, Doc.”
I introduced Bick, as the man swung her down from the wagon. I stormed him with questions, which the man answered in the fewest syllables necessary. Quite the opposite from the talkative troll. The three of us strode up on the veranda. The two of us waited for Matilda to get her eyeful of the Lake. I might have been enjoying the view too.
“Everyone pauses here,” Bick told her quietly, as though he had said the same words a thousand times and was tired of it, but felt required to repeat.
“It is so beautiful here,” she said.
“Exactly what all the newcomers say after their pause,” Bick said with a new smile.
I swooped Matilda in an arm to hustle her in for a long line of introductions to come. I was glad Eina didn’t appear the frail thing her mate suggested. Her huge hips had indeed slimmed, but she looked as healthy as an ox, and about as strong, even if she owned a few new wrinkles in her face, more white in her dreadlocks.
After thirty minutes of spirited hugs, Bick escorted us toward the back of the Inn to our respective rooms. I asked about Braes.
Bick looked down at the polished floorboards. A stitch caught me in the chest. By the man’s response, I was certain the elf had befallen some horrible accident or illness over the hard winter.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “How did he die?”
The man jerked to look back at us. “Didn’t mean to imply he passed, the little fart. I guess I just miss the cantankerous toot. He’s up North a visitin’.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “He’ll be back soon then, no doubt. He loves this place more than anyone.”
“Hm.” The man walked away. Just a tad abruptly. Had to harbor a resentment or three.
Despite the oddness of Bick’s answer, I’d have to let the subject drop, for now.
~
On our way to meet my favorite patient the next morning, I felt as tall as a troll bull, riding next to Matilda. I couldn’t believe I’d be the husband of the beautiful wisp by mid-summer. She had left her long auburn hair to tumble across her back today, instead of tied up like society, or more correctly, her mother, dictated back in the city. In her heavy, woven slacks and bulky coat, she looked even more beautiful than she had in the gown she wore when I met her.
Matilda’s eyes flitted. She sat in her saddle silently, soaking in the beauty of the Valley. How could this fancy girl embrace the outdoors like she did? Sometimes I feared she was more enamored with the idea of the move South, than living her life with me. She’s from a dandy family and live in what I consider a mansion, far exceeding my roots. She deserves better than me. Being the wife of a country practitioner will be hard on her. I’m ecstatic I didn’t have to give her up, or my dreams.
She’s a boundless beauty. Hard to contemplate her a tomboy, invigorated by the idea of living in the highlands of the Range, far from the haughty-taudy she’s accustomed. If she didn’t have ten older siblings, she never would have managed the coup—getting her parents to agree to her whimsy to try out the wilderness. “You’ll be back,” they said. I prepare myself for that, or try to, in case it does happen. But watching her eyes that moment, I don’t believe it will.
~
The golden dragon queen lie across the shiny gravel before the Lake, wings spread wide capturing the sun. I smiled. Matilda couldn’t take her eyes off the creature. Even when the two men walking down from the enormous barn called out a welcome, she continued to study the dragon.
Matilda was a bit thoughtless if not outright rude as I introduced her to Roger and Lucas. Her eyes twinkled, but didn’t face the two men.
“May I say hello to your dragon,” she gushed at Lucas.
The two highlanders grinned. I felt—I wasn’t sure what—not embarrassed. Slighted wasn’t it either. Jealous. Maybe that was it.
She actually ducked under Torie’s reins and ran toward Iza. I opened my mouth to shout at her to wait. You don’t run up to any creature unbidden, be it a dog, bear cub, or especially a dragon, for goodness sake.
But the two men looked at me with big grins on their faces, so I held my tongue. If they weren’t concerned— Yes, it was jealousy. I had never seen Matilda act like this. Gone was any sense of reservation, of the prim and proper way I had always seen her behave. She giggled and pranced from foot to foot.
I held back with Roger. Iza sinuously folded up to receive her new apostle. She leaned forward and smelled my fiancé. Must be a dragon’s way. It looked a little—rude.
Roger asked me about our trip over the pass, but I struggled to concentrate on my words. My eyes were on Lucas, showing Matilda where the dragon liked to be scratched. Matilda held on to Lucas’ leather vest as though to stay connected to reality. The physical connection with the young man—irritated me. She didn’t need to touch him.
Roger said something.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Why don’t we let her visit with Iza and we can go up and see little Gladys. I imagine you didn’t come here to see me.” He smiled—his free and open smile.
“Sure,” I said.
~
I stood looking out the broad windows facing the Lake. Matilda was on the dragon’s shoulders now, reaching down and rubbing the creature along her neck. Matilda acted as though she played on a park’s climbing toy for children. It wasn’t appropriate.
Lydia, little Gladys’ mother, asked something.
I pulled my attention back, and watched how the girl used the polished stick to practice her coordination. “Yes. She is improving,” I said. It was hard not to jerk my head to look back out the window. I bent down to challenge the little girl in her exercise.
When I rose later, the three outside were nowhere to be seen.
~
I remained quiet on the ride back to the North Shore. Matilda still seemed to vibrate with excitement, her face locked in the same, silly smile. I had ridden behind Lucas on the dragon a couple times over the last two years. Hadn’t acted the fool about it. I revisited in my mind how Matilda fawned all over Lucas, jumping up and down when they returned from the flight around the Valley. Jumped up and down! It was embarrassing.
~
At dinner, the dragon was all Matilda could talk about, especially with anyone who dropped by our table. Annoyed me that she didn’t even observe my annoyance. Before, she followed every nuance of my conversation. It’s the first real competition I’ve ever experienced. With a dragon. I admit Iza’s rider is a rugged sort, attractive in his way. Blond hair cascadin’ over his broad shoulders. Blue eyes. The dragon alone would have been enough to be jealous of.
It was like a stick snapping in two, realizing I was indeed jealous of Lucas. Matilda had hung on the highlander, long after she slid down the dragon’s shoulder. Had she lost her balance for a full ten minutes? She’s an engaged woman, after all. What kind of behavior was that?
When the couple Matilda talked to left, I tried to work my own concerns into her continued chatter about her flight on a dragon’s back. Oh, there were thousands of beautiful sites we could build on, she said. That was interrupted with, “Did I tell you? The dragons are going south to hunt tomorrow morning. Lucas invited me to join him.”
My air caught in my throat. “Are the other riders going?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Lucas thought it would be a great excuse to get me in the air again. Isn’t he the most thoughtful person?”
Thoughtful. Not my word for it.
~
It grew dark by the time I returned from the mines, seeing what trolls were willing to visit a human doctor. I was beat. Trolls aren’t the easiest patients. Each felt it necessary to threaten my life. Yoso told me not to worry. “It’s my kinds’ way.” Still disconcerting.
Manipulating an old troll’s arm to check what could be causing the shoulder discomfort put calisthenics into my new line of work. And every one of the trolls had some kind of damage in their arm or shoulder, from a life slinging a pick or sledgehammer in the mines.
Bick met me at the Inn’s entry.
“I suppose I missed dinner?” I asked him.
“We eat pretty early around here,” he said. “Most look forward to going to bed shortly after last light so they can rise early. Don’t know why fishermen think their prey only bite at that horrendous hour. Makes no sense to me.
“But,” he continued, “I’ll rustle you up some stew and biscuits to tide you over to breakfast.”
“Kind of you,” I said. “I’ll go say hello to Tilda first, and meet you in the kitchen?”
“No need. The dragons haven’t returned. I suppose since they had tagalongs and wouldn’t be able to stay over, they probably hunted until they lost the last of the sun.”
A prick of panic thrust into his chest. “I thought they couldn’t fly at night.”
“They do handily with a good moon, in known terrain, and it’s mostly full tonight,” Bick said, walking toward the kitchen.
I felt a curse surging into my mind. I worked hard to suppress it.
~
Later that night when a gentle knock sounded at my door, I ignored it. Didn’t want to speak to Matilda. Waited until her steps receded down the hall before setting aside my book, turning down the lantern, and pulling the bed covers up to my chin. I lie there, what had to be hours, unable to sleep.
~
I left to return to the mines before Matilda rose. I was on my sixth or seventh patient, wasn’t sure which, when Ike and Taiz’lin delivered Yoso to help interpret. I was terribly happy for their timing, because I was working with an ancient troll hen with the hygiene of a wild beast that lived on carrion. It was awful to stand too close. Not like a doctor can be standoffish.
As Taiz’lin launched into the air with Ike, Yoso told me about the hen that sat on the made-do examining table, a rough hewn log propped atop two slabs of granite. Her age had nothing to do with her condition, I explained.
“She was never much for staining her flesh with water,” Yoso said.
A shiver worked its way through my body.
“Ya left early this morning,” Yoso said. “Matilda was searching for ya.”
“Imagine she’ll be entertained well enough by Lucas and his dragon.”
Yoso eyed me stoically for a triply-long moment, before slapping the troll hen’s forearm hard for growling at me. Yoso blurted something loudly in Trollish, and the hen grunted with an unsatisfied shake of her head.
I smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“We all are glad ya’re here,” Yoso said. “But the kitchen is already in a buzz, I have to warn ya.”
“What do you mean?” I pulled back the raggedy dreadlocks from behind the hen’s ear, searching for whatever vermin I saw scuttle across her shoulder.
Yoso remained silent a moment. “Those old hens can be merciless in the kitchen,” he said. “Put the energy they squander on their gossipin’ toward a meanin’ful pursuit, and we could cure most of the world’s ills. But we wouldn’t eat nearly as well.”
I turned a smile at my friend, before I sobered. “I’m not used to you being cryptic, so spit it out.” I dug deeper into the dreadlocks and pulled out a few creepy crawlers of some sort. They squealed as I squished them against the log.
“That couldn’t have been comfortable,” Yoso muttered.
“Tell her I’m going to cleave her hair if she doesn’t start keeping herself a little cleaner.”
“Uh. Don’t think that would be wise. She’d probably snap ya in half, just for threatenin’ it, much less tryin’ it.”
I glared back and forth from Yoso and the hen, before returning to my task. “So I’m involved in their gossiping, am I?”
“Ya want me to tell ya the truth?” Yoso asked.
“No. I want you to lie to me. What do you think?”
Yoso remained quiet for a longer time than is common for him. “They seem convinced yar sweet Matilda is more in love with the idea of settlin’ in the wilderness with you, than actually being yar mate—wife.”
I stepped back from my patient and glared at Yoso. Why are trolls so provoked to say what’s on their minds? My face grew hot. Why is the troll even motivated to share such a thing? Did he imagine I’d hear the rumor eventually anyway, and wanted the pain out of the way? The troll’s thoughts aren’t alien to me. I’ve considered the very thing myself many times. Never understood what someone so special could see in me in the first place.
The troll hen growled, maybe for being forgotten. I slapped her forearm as Yoso did earlier. The hen dipped her head in unexpected submission. I might be losing my fiancé, but I’m learning troll bedside manner.
I picked out my largest scissors from my case.
“Oh, Doc. Don’t do it,” Yoso pleaded.
I reached out and cleaved through a disgusting mass of five-foot long tresses and threw it to the ground where the hen could see it. Her eyes broadened. She leaned her head back and keened. It was a sound that struck my chest with a physical force. I had worked on a lad’s leg once mangled between two loaded wagons. If I could live through that lad’s screams, I could take the troll’s lament.
“Well, she hasn’t killed me yet,” I said, slicing through another mat.
~
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