Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Twenty-Six

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I walked as quickly as I could in the heat and loose sand. Wiped sweat from my brow as I skirted a twenty-foot-wide bramble of cactus.

“Sure you don’t prefer to ride?” Selene asked.

“How many times I tell ya how sore I am?” I wished the horse hadn’t even returned to Selene last night. Iza had put a serious scare into the poor girl. But if she hadn’t returned, that would have left us without Selene’s store of water, food, even a sleepin’ roll for the man.

“You’ve got such a dainty arse,” Selene said.

“That’s it. Next time ya’re asleep—”

“Don’t like Morgan going off alone.”

I grunted. “He’s traipsed all over the Range, alone. Figger he’ll be fine today. Iza and Lucas as much said they’d be nearby. Why do ya think Morgan couldn’t reach Iza?”

“You doubt what your mentor claimed?” Selene asked.

I grinned, sensin’ the man’s desire to provoke my irritation. He must be bored, tired of the sun, and the hot breeze that scraped at every inch of exposed flesh. Even his mare trudged as though she were irked.

“Seems like the foothills are movin’ away from us, not nearer.”

“Get there faster if you’d just get on behind me.”

I ignored him, strode along repeatin’ the names of the runes, my pride swellin’ in how many passages of each rune’s life blood I could recite. When I got stumped, I’d pull out the primer for help, but as the terrain rose and became rockier and more often studded with cactus, it made it hard to read while I walked.

“You see that?” Selene asked.

I looked up and was surprised how near the foothills had grown without me noticin’. “Yeah. Trees. That means shade.”

“Not what I meant—”

An invisible fist clubbed me in the chest. “There’s someone up there hidin’ in the trees.”

“More like several someones,” Selene said, but he didn’t rein the mare to a stop.

I ensured I had space to hike for a moment without trippin’ into somethin’ life threatenin’, before studyin’ Selene’s expression. His face didn’t show concern, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

My foot turned on an unexpected stone, so I faced forward, concentrated on takin’ in the man’s emotions through my private way. But Selene wasn’t sharin’ much mentally either.

“How many, you spose?” I asked.

“At least three.”

That explained his lack of concern. No war party or such.

“Maybe you should get behind me,” Selene mumbled.

Walk behind him? Or ride behind him? I decided he meant the latter, imagined tryin’ to hold on if the mare was startled, or Selene pressed her to race away from trouble. With my luck, my head would end up smashed across one of the hundred pound stones that lay strewn about like God’s leftovers when He built the Range.

“I don’t want to get in the way of yar sword arm,” I said.

Selene laughed, a humorless bark. Maybe he imagined me bein’ flung head over tail too. Prolly right into a huge patch of cactus. We reached the edge of the scraggly oak before either of us spoke again.

“No majic,” Selene whispered. “Do you sense them?”

“Aye.”

Selene jerked a look down at me, before returnin’ his glare into the embankment that rose before us.

“Is it a secret,” Selene hissed. “Or can you let me in on what you sense?”

I berated myself for the pride I recognized, for sensin’ emotion the well-trained wizard couldn’t. That moment I smelled doused embers.

“You smell that?” Selene asked.

“Aye.”

Selene reined his mare to a stop. I sidestepped to the right to keep from gettin’ in the way of the man’s sword, more likely the hooves of a startled horse.

To the right a bull stepped away from trees, which caused me to suck in a lungful of air. The skin on the back of my neck trilled with energy. My stomach threatened to empty. The bull wore his hair clipped shorter in the human fashion, but tied back. Wore boots, but he was no human. Not an ogre. Not a troll. A head taller than a troll, two heads taller than an ogre. Like the beast on the Inn’s veranda.

“What is that?” Selene hissed.

“Goblin,” I answered, though I figgered Selene knew what it must be. I sensed the man’s anxiety expand, which tightened the tinglin’ in my spine. Selene quietly drew from the ethereal.

“He doesn’t mean harm,” I whispered, though the bull held a nocked bow at his side.

A moment later another goblin stepped out of the shadows on the left. A third, a fourth. Blessed, for bein’ so tall and lanky, they blended into their surroundin’s well.

A fifth. A full score revealed themselves before the revealin’ was done. Three spoke among themselves. The words echoed in an accent that sounded like no Standish I had ever heard.

The anxiety level rose a tad within the goblins. Let them please be a huntin’, not a war party. Funny thought, to be honest. No war party had been seen on this continent in a dozen human generations.

After a snarl or two, an older goblin, one the others perhaps selected who spoke Standish, stepped forward. “What do you want?” he shouted.

The mare shied, and Selene took a moment to calm her, before answerin’. “Nothin’. We’re just headed for Black Lake. Crossin’ paths was simply a coincidence.”

“Then why didn’t ya—uh—make distance around us. Ya travel with the ogre, yes?”

“Aye,” Selene answered.

“He politely left us be,” the goblin growled.

“Ogres are, uh—”

“Ya blind?” the goblin challenged. “Ya can’t smell a campfire?”

I shuddered hard, and all of the goblins jerked as though to prepare for an attack. A loud groan of pain flowed through the trees behind the goblins. More emotion than sound reached me. Yep, it’s my thin’ now. A curse, or a blessin’, I’m not convinced which.

“Someone’s been hurt?” I blurted.

Several of the goblins exchanged nervous glances. Could they have truly been scared by my start? Or were they unwillin’ to admit there was one among them who would hamper their movement? I was puttin’ my money on the latter.

“What happened?” I pressed, stiffenin’ from a shot of anger from Selene.

The goblin selected to speak for them swiveled to study the bull standin’ at the center of the group. He held no bow, though a pair of goblins stood within reach of him, no doubt two friends prepared to protect their leader over all else. The bull nodded to the speaker.

“One of our young hunters foolishly—” He took a deep breath. “Snake.”

A collective wave of emotion from the twenty bulls struck me. It was all I could do not to lurch in agony.

“You okay?” Selene whispered.

I said, “Can I see—”

“Not a good thing to do,” Selene hissed.

“Nothin’ anyone can do,” the goblin said.

“Maybe,” I said.

The expressions of half the goblins changed. They no doubt understood enough Standish to recognize I offered some thread of hope.

“What are you doing, lad?”

Ignoring Selene’s concern, I asked, “May I see yar hunter?”

The twenty bulls didn’t twitch a muscle for a half-minute, stood as tall and still as trees. Finally the leader nodded, and the speaker waved me to follow him. I couldn’t believe I was voluntarily walkin’ into a goblin camp. Goblins. Goblins! The most feared, vicious race of the wars—if ya believe the stories, and of course I do. No reason not to.

Forty feet deeper into the shadows of the trees, another dozen goblins, hens, waited. Why would hens be with a huntin’ party? Heavy backpacks encircled them like battle fortifications, not the kind of packs a huntin’ party would carry. These were large enough to hold the contents of a home, without the furniture. Eyes twitched back and forth.

The leader shouted somethin’, but two hens shook their heads, eyes blazin’ defiantly. I neared the females, and a cackle of conversation erupted for a long minute. The bull leader turned to me and spoke with a heavy accent. “His mater cares not to give away her son to human.”

Give away? Allow a human to see. “What can I do to ease her concerns?”

The bull turned and shared another short conversation with the hen. He smiled, crookedly, as though tryin’ not to appear as though he ridiculed the hen. He pointed at Selene. “Ya stay, must stand back. Agreed?”

I nodded my head and glanced over my shoulder at Selene. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll never call you a little girl again.”

I maybe returned his grin though my stomach was wrestlin’ a snake or somethin’, and stepped forward. The gaggle of hens made way, and I strode to the bull they were hidin’ behind them. He lay unmovin’, eyes closed, under a sleepin’ fur. Kneelin’ next to him, my chest constricted from the fear and pain comin’ from the nearly-unconscious bull. He wasn’t a day older than me. Not a whiff of hair adorned his chin, as it did all the other goblin bulls.

The hens murmured as I pressed the back of my hand against their patient’s sweaty forehead. His mama pulled back the fur to show his arm. Hand was swollen double its normal size, and purple, the hue continuin’ up to his elbow. He wheezed with every breath.

“Collectin’ wood?”

The bull’s mama nodded.

“Last night?”

Another nod.

“Does he make sense when he talks?”

She looked at their interpreter, and they shared a quick exchange.

“For a time,” he said. “Then not so much. Then again.”

I had seen this reaction before, years before my family moved to the Range. The boy, a neighbor, had lingered for three agonizin’ days before passin’ after a ten-minute-long spasm of pain that nearly stole the mind of the boy’s mama.

A shame snakes like to rest among the dry limbs campers collect for a night’s fire.

I thought of my own score of wounds, my reward for seekin’ Papa. The wounds were mostly scarred over when I woke. Someone had said somethin’ about Morgan’s majic doin’ that. Must have been Louisa who told me. Could Morgan help this bull?

I looked up at the clan leader. Explained my experience with this kind of snake bite, which prolly wasn’t unexpected by the goblins. They all nodded. “I’m apprenticed to a healer who may be able to help. I can’t say for sure. But I think, at least he can make the bull more comfortable.”

The interpreter spoke. I waited until he finished.

“The ogre who avoided yar camp, is the warlock healer from Black Lake. Ya goblins are known for yar trackin’ skill. Are ya willin’ to send someone with my friend to bring him back?”

The interpreter opened his mouth, but the clan leader held up his hand. I worked to understand the leader’s taut anxiety. Why would he be reluctant to accept Morgan’s help? The bull turned and walked to Selene. They spoke quietly together before the clan leader returned with him a minute later.

“You sure Morgan will be—you know, willing?” Selene asked me.

“Just hurry,” I said. “We don’t have long before the poison has done too much damage.”

“That means some hard riding, lad.”

“Then you better get goin’.”

Selene looked at the clan leader, who gripped the shoulder of a youngish bull. He said to Selene, “Try to keep up, eh?” and patted the bull on the back.

The bull lurched away, sprintin’ into the deepenin’ woods with the speed of a deer. Selene leapt into his saddle and followed. Shouts rose, perhaps blessin’s of some sort. Only a guess. Prolly a good one.

I knelt back down and spoke to the bull’s mama. “I know he shakes with chills, but it would be best to remove these furs. The cooler we keep him the better chance the healer has of savin’ him.”

She nodded, tears streakin’ her cheeks.

She loved her son like any human would.

No beast. So sorry I ever used that term.

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