Chapter Twenty-Seven
~
I figgered I glanced up for the twentieth time without the sun demonstratin’ the least interest in scootin’ across the tops of the trees. Where was Morgan?
I had moved to the other side of the patient and held his healthy hand, recitin’ the names of the runes, when I wasn’t cursin’ time.
With more ethereal power flowin’ from my recitation, the emotions and thoughts of the goblins around me flowed more easily into my mind. I found them all relaxin’, as though I filled them with an invisible, healin’ balm. The sweat no longer beaded on our patient’s brow, and he rested easier, though his breathin’ still came in rasps.
The clan’s interpreter sat near. I shared a nod, before the bull reached out and gave the mama’s hand a clench of support.
“My name is Kevick,” the goblin interpreter said. “Yar patient’s name is Avar. He’s the nephew of our clan leader. Both bulls are much loved by our clan.”
I introduced myself.
“The others are worried about the light.”
“Light?” The sun settin’?
Kevick’s forehead rose in that are-you-slow manner. He lifted his hand and drew it around me.
Light! There was a majic glow, an aura centered around me? Hadn’t noticed it. I closed my mouth when I realized it hung open. The light was the same, phosphorous glow that emanated from Bacchus’ ram head and Selene’s ring.
“Ya’re rich with the ethereal,” Kevick whispered.
I swallowed. Didn’t know what to say to the goblin.
“Ya’re the first humans we’ve ever seen,” Kevick continued after a long moment. “Ya don’t look like the bloodthirsty beasts of folklore.”
I almost laughed. A mixture of sadness and humor passed outward from my chest into my shoulders. I struggled to smile. “Ya’re a little scary lookin’, though.”
The goblin laughed, and reached out and slapped my shoulder. “Ya said ya’re on yar way to Black Lake.” He hesitated, face distortin’ over some uncomfortable thought.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Kevick peered hard into my eyes. “The leader of a southern clan claimed we—we would be welcome to trade there. We argued about—we are unsure if the bull spoke the truth. We considered sendin’ a—is delegation the right word?”
“It works,” I said.
“But the distance is far. Winter would descend before our scouts could return and we could make the journey.”
“Ya’ll be welcome,” I said. “The last time I was there, I watched a troll and goblin playin’ checkers on the Inn’s veranda.”
The goblin blinked hard, as though I’d poked him in the eye. Or maybe it was because it was difficult for Kevick to imagine the scene. But he jerked his head to the right, as a murmur rose from the clan. Bulls grabbed bows, stood and rushed to the left and right.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hopefully,” Kevick said, “yar healer.”
I tilted my head and listened, but heard nothin’ but the expected sounds of the woods. Five minutes later the distant tromp of hooves neared, but I didn’t exactly hear them. It was my other, newer sense that warned me Selene neared.
Goblins must have good hearin’. I’d heard elves do too.
Perhaps a minute later, the young hunter who left with Selene jogged into the camp. I stared into the trees searchin’ for Morgan. Hadn’t they found him?
Finally the sweat-soaked Morgan joined the goblin hunter.
“Apprentice,” he shouted. “Ya have a way of drawin’ trouble, don’t ya?”
I threw the ogre my best, dirty glare, but Morgan ignored it.
“I see ya got a good bit of ethereal ready for me to use.”
What did—the light Kevick and the others worried about. Evidently Morgan would be able to make use of my rune chantin’. Hadn’t expected that.
Morgan nodded to the hens and Kevick, who huddled around the patient. Morgan took several deep breaths, before sittin’ across from me. Morgan lay his hand on the young bull’s shoulder, and a vortex, like a majic tornado of blindin’ light swirled about me. The emotions of every livin’ thin’ within a mile seemed to swell inside my chest. I sensed Morgan’s pain as he drew poison from the stricken bull, the fear from the bull’s mama, the entire clan, Selene’s relief, and the stress of the mare from the hard ride.
I shook from the torrential swell, flowed up the leadin’ edge, down the trailin’ edge of tsunami-sized waves of emotion.
“Calm yarself,” Morgan’s voice meandered to me through the thunderous clap of collapsin’ sea of emotion. “Deep breaths. Concentrate on your rune champion.”
Giba, Giba, Giba.
The vortex eased.
Giba. Giba. Giba.
The swell of anxiety quieted more.
I relaxed, and managed to catch my high breath. Continued my chant. The torrent calmed completely, leavin’ me in a gentle wash of pure light.
“Use your majic to calm the others,” Morgan said.
Calm the others? How do I do that?
I reached out to the life blood of Giba for direction. Feel them. Draw them to ya. Share the health, the wellbein’ of yar soul. Did that come from Morgan, or Giba? Selene? Or did I imagine it?
I closed my eyes against the bright kaleidoscope of majic and struggled to separate the various souls that seemed to share my ethereal aura. One by one the forms manifested into unique—personalities.
Calm the others, I told himself. How in the bloody hell do I do that?
“Speak to ’em, tell ’em everythin’ will be all right,” Morgan said.
Even the ogre didn’t know how to do it, but that wasn’t his concern. I could sense Morgan concentratin’ on the young bull.
I reached out to the bull’s mama first, and repeated what Morgan had told me to say. Our souls overlapped in an embrace—at least that was the closest way I could describe the sensation. The hen’s anxiety eased, softened in my embrace.
I moved on, one by one, to the other goblins.
~
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