planned
to find the Limper.
Late that afternoon One-Eye broke into a marching song. Goblin
squawked in protest. One-Eye grinned and sang all the louder.
"He's changing the words!" Goblin squealed.
Men grinned, anticipating. One-Eye and Goblin have been feuding
for ages. One-Eye always starts the scraps. Goblin can be as touchy
as a fresh burn. Their spats are entertaining.
This time Goblin did not reciprocate. He ignored One-Eye. The
little black man got his feelings hurt. He got louder. We expected
fireworks. What we got is bored. One-Eye could not get a rise. He
started sulking.
A bit later, Goblin told me, "Keep your eyes peeled, Croaker.
We're in strange country. Anything could happen." He giggled.
A horsefly landed on the haunch of One-Eye's mount. The animal
screamed, reared. Sleepy One-Eye tumbled over its tail. Everybody
guffawed. The wizened little wizard came up out of the dust cursing
and swatting with his battered old hat. He punched his horse with
his free hand, connecting with the beast's forehead. Then he danced
around moaning and blowing on his knuckles.
His reward was a shower of catcalls. Goblin smirked.
Soon One-Eye was dozing again. It's a trick you learn after
enough weary miles on horseback. A bird settled on his shoulder. He
snorted, swatted . . . The bird left a huge,
fetid purple deposit. One-Eye howled. He threw things. He shredded
his jerkin getting it off.
Again we laughed. And Goblin looked as innocent as a virgin.
One-Eye scowled and growled but did not catch on.
He got a glimmer when we crested a hill and beheld a band of
monkey-sized pygmies busily kissing an idol reminiscent of a
horse's behind. Every pygmy was a miniature One-Eye.
The little wizard turned a hideous look on Goblin. Goblin
responded with an innocent, don't look at me shrug.
"Point to Goblin," I judged.
"Better watch yourself, Croaker," One-Eye growled. "Or you'll be
doing the kissing right here." He patted his fanny.
"When pigs fly." He is a more skilled wizard than Goblin or
Silent, but not half what he would have us believe. If he could
execute half his threats, he would be a peril to the Taken. Silent
is more consistent, Goblin more inventive.
One-Eye would lie awake nights thinking of ways to get even for
Goblin's having gotten even. A strange pair. I do not know why they
have not killed one another.
Finding the Limper was easier said than done. We trailed him
into a forest, where we found abandoned earthworks and a lot of
Rebel bodies. Our path tilted downward into a valley of broad
meadows parted by a sparkling stream.
"What the hell?" I asked Goblin. "That's strange." Wide, low,
black humps pimpled the meadows. There were bodies everywhere.
"That's one reason the Taken are feared. Killing spells. Their
heat sucked the ground up."
I stopped to study a hump.
The blackness could have been drawn with a compass. The boundary
was as sharp as a penstroke. Charred skeletons lay within the
black. Swordblades and spearheads looked like wax imitations left
too long in the sun. I caught One-Eye staring. "When you can do
this trick you'll scare me."
"If I could do that I'd scare myself."
I checked another circle. It was a twin of the first.
Raven reined in beside me. "The Limper's work. I've seen it
before."
I sniffed the wind. Maybe I had him in the right mood. "When was
that?"
He ignored me.
He would not come out of his shell. Would not say hello half the
time, let alone talk about who or what he was.
He is a cold one. The horrors of that valley did not touch
him.
"The Limper lost this one," the Captain decided. "He's on the
run."
"Do we keep after him?" the Lieutenant asked.
"This is strange country. We're in more danger operating
alone."
We followed a spoor of violence, a swath of destruction. Ruined
fields fell behind us. Burned villages. Slaughtered people and
butchered livestock. Poisoned wells. The Limper left nothing but
death and desolation.
Our brief was to help hold Forsberg. Joining
to find the Limper.
Late that afternoon One-Eye broke into a marching song. Goblin
squawked in protest. One-Eye grinned and sang all the louder.
"He's changing the words!" Goblin squealed.
Men grinned, anticipating. One-Eye and Goblin have been feuding
for ages. One-Eye always starts the scraps. Goblin can be as touchy
as a fresh burn. Their spats are entertaining.
This time Goblin did not reciprocate. He ignored One-Eye. The
little black man got his feelings hurt. He got louder. We expected
fireworks. What we got is bored. One-Eye could not get a rise. He
started sulking.
A bit later, Goblin told me, "Keep your eyes peeled, Croaker.
We're in strange country. Anything could happen." He giggled.
A horsefly landed on the haunch of One-Eye's mount. The animal
screamed, reared. Sleepy One-Eye tumbled over its tail. Everybody
guffawed. The wizened little wizard came up out of the dust cursing
and swatting with his battered old hat. He punched his horse with
his free hand, connecting with the beast's forehead. Then he danced
around moaning and blowing on his knuckles.
His reward was a shower of catcalls. Goblin smirked.
Soon One-Eye was dozing again. It's a trick you learn after
enough weary miles on horseback. A bird settled on his shoulder. He
snorted, swatted . . . The bird left a huge,
fetid purple deposit. One-Eye howled. He threw things. He shredded
his jerkin getting it off.
Again we laughed. And Goblin looked as innocent as a virgin.
One-Eye scowled and growled but did not catch on.
He got a glimmer when we crested a hill and beheld a band of
monkey-sized pygmies busily kissing an idol reminiscent of a
horse's behind. Every pygmy was a miniature One-Eye.
The little wizard turned a hideous look on Goblin. Goblin
responded with an innocent, don't look at me shrug.
"Point to Goblin," I judged.
"Better watch yourself, Croaker," One-Eye growled. "Or you'll be
doing the kissing right here." He patted his fanny.
"When pigs fly." He is a more skilled wizard than Goblin or
Silent, but not half what he would have us believe. If he could
execute half his threats, he would be a peril to the Taken. Silent
is more consistent, Goblin more inventive.
One-Eye would lie awake nights thinking of ways to get even for
Goblin's having gotten even. A strange pair. I do not know why they
have not killed one another.
Finding the Limper was easier said than done. We trailed him
into a forest, where we found abandoned earthworks and a lot of
Rebel bodies. Our path tilted downward into a valley of broad
meadows parted by a sparkling stream.
"What the hell?" I asked Goblin. "That's strange." Wide, low,
black humps pimpled the meadows. There were bodies everywhere.
"That's one reason the Taken are feared. Killing spells. Their
heat sucked the ground up."
I stopped to study a hump.
The blackness could have been drawn with a compass. The boundary
was as sharp as a penstroke. Charred skeletons lay within the
black. Swordblades and spearheads looked like wax imitations left
too long in the sun. I caught One-Eye staring. "When you can do
this trick you'll scare me."
"If I could do that I'd scare myself."
I checked another circle. It was a twin of the first.
Raven reined in beside me. "The Limper's work. I've seen it
before."
I sniffed the wind. Maybe I had him in the right mood. "When was
that?"
He ignored me.
He would not come out of his shell. Would not say hello half the
time, let alone talk about who or what he was.
He is a cold one. The horrors of that valley did not touch
him.
"The Limper lost this one," the Captain decided. "He's on the
run."
"Do we keep after him?" the Lieutenant asked.
"This is strange country. We're in more danger operating
alone."
We followed a spoor of violence, a swath of destruction. Ruined
fields fell behind us. Burned villages. Slaughtered people and
butchered livestock. Poisoned wells. The Limper left nothing but
death and desolation.
Our brief was to help hold Forsberg. Joining
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