ã€ŠAlong for the Rideã€‹


 I - Apples for Books

    There was no denying the awful truth: he had to turn back. He took a risk by trying to skimp on materials and if it worked, he¡¯d pocket some extra drinking money but the coin had to be spent on more supplies after all; One sack of mortar just wouldn¡¯t be enough. With the embezzlement scheme collapsed, Jaupis Landree, the fattest man in Windy Wood, faced a worst case scenario: not only did he have to mix a second bag of mortar but he would have to walk back home to fetch it.

    The bridge he was repairing was a thirty minute walk both ways and he had been working on the project all day; Well, almost all day. He woke up late but only because his lazy rooster didn¡¯t think to crow loudly enough to penetrate his hangover. He ate a lunch big enough to compensate for missing breakfast. He gathered his tools, stopped to hydrate, hiked in the blazing heat to the bridge and took another hydration break upon arrival with a snack of cheese and jerky. ¡®Those who adhered to a rigid schedule lacked confidence in their skills,¡¯ Jaupis often said. As far as he was concerned, he had put in more than an honest day¡¯s work. He belched and savored the ghosts of jerky and cheese while his tongue begged for a frothy beer.

    The sun raced towards the horizon and Jaupis inspected his work. He wiped his bald head with his soaking shirt. The bridge arched twenty feet above the dry creek bed Jaupis stood in. Windy Wood¡¯s mayor paid the mason out of the town¡¯s sparse coffers to patch an eroding section of the bridge¡¯s support. It was clear the job required more mortar but did it also require a thirsty man to slave away by lantern? The only use the old bridge saw anymore was the rare trip to the doctor¡¯s cabin since that hermit refused to come into town. Jaupis made up his mind: the incomplete patch job would hold as long as a parade or a heavily laden wagon didn¡¯t traverse it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get out here early tomorrow,¡± Jaupis compromised as he packed his tools. ¡°It ain''t like they¡¯re paying me enough to miss dinner.¡±

    *****

    ¡°No way Dad is going to make us work through the night again,¡± Addison Trueheart looked at the cloudy, moonless sky and would have prayed but his hands were filthy and hurt to move. ¡°We¡¯ve already missed dinner.¡±

    Addi¡¯s father rustled in the darkness, pushing through the low hanging branches of their apple trees. Frank Trueheart inherited the three acre grove from his dead wife¡¯s brother. Although Frank¡¯s experience with apples primarily included drinking cider, learning something new didn¡¯t scare him off an opportunity to work for an honest living. If his wife¡¯s family had given him a manure farm, Frank Trueheart would have packed up and moved just the same.

    Addison Trueheart was the spitting image of his father. Both men were large and thick-chested; Both had heads of flaming red hair, though Frank¡¯s hair had been retreating for years. Being larger than most other men might have had its advantages in the adventures written about in Addi¡¯s books but in Windy Wood, it just meant having a backlog of requests to help relocate heavy items for your neighbors. To make matters worse, his father owned a large, flat bed wagon so Addi was never safe from an invitation to ¡°help me with this for a second.¡± While he inherited his father¡¯s strength, Frank Trueheart¡¯s love of labor had skipped his son altogether. Whenever given a choice, Addi chose a book and shade over all else.

    ¡°Yep. I think that¡¯s as good as it¡¯s going to get. Should help with those deer anyway. Next year, we can tear this old fence down and start from scratch,¡± Frank said, wiping his hands on his overalls and already looking forward to the project.

    ¡°Great idea, Dad,¡± Addi groaned.

    ¡°Did you see that goblin again?¡±

    ¡°Yea, same as yesterday. Just sits out there and watches me. You didn¡¯t see him?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Too busy working,¡± Frank poked his son in the ribs. ¡°But I figured there was a tribe of pinkys in those hills. There always is. Just leave them alone and they¡¯ll do the same.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Come on. Get up. Let¡¯s go inside and get some late supper.¡±

    ¡°Go on without me. I¡¯m heading into town for a minute.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t stay out all night drinking with Nadler. I need you ready in the morning,¡± Frank said. He wished Windy Wood had more young men for Addi to pal around with but as far as best friends went, there were worse options than Nadler Kilson. The youth seemed honest and was respectful enough to his father to help at the family¡¯s tavern. Frank Trueheart just didn¡¯t like his son spending so much time in a bar. The atmosphere bred laziness.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I saw that trader¡¯s wagon this afternoon and he said he¡¯d bring me the new Landyn Broxton novel last time he was here.¡±

    ¡°Wow. Broxton? That¡¯s the famous one, right? No wonder you were distracted all day. Who wouldn¡¯t be excited?¡±

    ¡°Alright, Dad. Alright. Thanks for trying.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Go. See you soon. Good work today,¡± Frank said warmly and stepped through the back door of their cabin.

    The Truehearts¡¯ property was a pleasant distance from the collection of cottages and small farms that composed Windy Wood, a town too small to earn a cartographer¡¯s ink when the continent of West Cartia had been mapped. Nadler¡¯s father, Timos Kilson, owned the only bar in town and when Addi wasn¡¯t buried under apples or reading a Broxton novel, he was at the bar arguing with Nadler about a Broxton novel. Books were difficult to come by and fiction even rarer. Few were willing to spend hard earned coin on written fantasies that had to be hand copied and bound. As far as Addi and Nadler knew, they were the only two people apart from the town scribe who could even read well enough to consider it a hobby. Once they discovered their shared passion, the pair bonded like paper and glue.

    Addi entered the Kilson Tavern and marched to the bar. Nadler was behind the counter and eating roast beef with his back to the entrance. The tavern wasn¡¯t large and a dozen tables adequately hosted the regular tides of business. The ample fireplace kept the main room warm and smelling of sour beer soaked into the wooden floors.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°Well?¡± Addi said to Nadler¡¯s rear.

    ¡°No luck,¡± Nalder spun around. He was lean, handsome and his smile could be charismatic if it weren¡¯t so smug. His brown hair, undamaged from days spent indoors, was tied back.

    ¡°Did he forget it?¡± Addi asked.

    ¡°Nope. Says he sold it to someone else along the way.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Addi sucked his teeth. ¡°What an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Yep. Said he¡¯ll bring us another copy next time. Whenever that it is. How do you think I feel? You never even heard of Landyn Broxton until you moved here. I¡¯ve been waiting for this book my whole life!¡± Nadler griped.

    ¡°Yea, yea. You¡¯ve been telling me that my whole life,¡± Addi leaned against the bar and spotted the table where the trader sat. The foreigner was animated and laughing at the punchlines to his own stories. Jaupis Landree, the only man Addi had ever seen composed entirely of tallow, sat at the table and wheezed at the trader¡¯s jokes while sloshing his beer without concern. A young lady wearing an oiled travel cloak also shared the table and dodged the mess made by the obese mason. Her hood was down and she kept her hair in a thick, blond braid. The trader often boasted how he¡¯d pay for the most stunning women in West Cartia to ride with him, and on him, during his travels.

    Addi stewed like the iron pot hanging over the fire and pounded the bar top. To make matters worse, his stomach refused to be ignored any longer and wailed.

    ¡°Do you have anything to eat? My dad had me working all night.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is that why you smell like shit? Don¡¯t worry. You know I can¡¯t refuse royalty and you can¡¯t afford to pay so: what are you having, Prince of Apples?¡±

    ¡°Cut me some of that roast you were stuffing into your face when I walked in.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, your grace.¡±

    Nadler turned and worked on dividing his food while Addi waited and fed his foul mood by dwelling on his disappointment. He had thought about that book every day since Nadler got word of its release. Why in the world would that trader, or ¡®traitor¡¯, let them down? Addi pounded the bar top again.

    ¡°Hey! If my Dad comes back to a cracked bar, I¡¯m going to be out there chucking apples with you,¡± Nadler said over his shoulder. ¡°Which reminds me, he wanted me to ask you to help move that bed in the guest room out so we can scrape the floors again.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Why not? You know, maybe we should just go into the city and find a copy,¡± Addi suggested.

    ¡°Yea right. Like your dad would ever let you take a week off to buy a book. Besides, even I wouldn¡¯t know where to look. We don¡¯t even know the name of it,¡± Nadler perforated Addi¡¯s idea.

    ¡°The Chosen One!¡± someone shouted and the words echoed through the rafters.

    Addi spun and found the trader behind him and pointing. The Dealer was tanned with a close haircut and armed like someone more aptly named ¡®The Duelist¡¯. He carried a short sword on each hip, a knife strapped to his right calf and a deck of cards hidden in his boot. ¡°Hired security is unnecessary overhead¡± was his justification for the weaponry.

    Nobody in Windy Wood knew the man¡¯s real name but when the foreigner first parked his wagon of goods in their town, he announced himself as The Dealer. The moniker, he explained, fit better than his given name as his heart pumped for two purposes: making money and playing cards. His regular route ended in Windy Wood and he¡¯d often stay a night and gamble with the locals before setting off again. At Nadler and Addi¡¯s insistence and promise of coin, The Dealer had recently added ¡®Book Broker¡¯ to his resume.

    ¡°What?¡± Addi didn¡¯t hide his annoyance.

    ¡°¡¯The Chosen One¡¯. That¡¯s the name of the new Broxton novel. I¡¯m assuming your boyfriend gave you the bad news,¡± The Dealer grinned beneath a perfectly trimmed moustache. ¡°Do not worry. I shall find you lovebirds another poetry book as quickly as my beautiful horses can run. That I swear.¡±

    ¡°You better,¡± Addi armed his wits, ¡°or next time I¡¯ll take your beautiful horses for my lovebirds.¡±

    A near miss. Addi¡¯s best lines required preparation or arrived late; Most often while bathing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s leave the innocent out of it, shall we?¡± The Dealer reached high and patted Addi on the shoulder.

    ¡°Who¡¯d you sell our book to?¡± Nadler tagged himself in.

    ¡°I cannot tell. I respect my customers¡¯ privacy and besides, it was never your book to begin with. No money up front, no reserved stock. We¡¯ve been over this before. Hey! How¡¯s your pinky-speak coming along, friend? Did that goblin dictionary help?¡±

    ¡°Cheuuughiig wheeg,¡± Nadler squealed a response that sounded like a sneeze battling a hiccup.

    ¡°Not bad. Wait until you get to the fun stuff. Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc!¡± The Dealer struggled to swallow a horseshoe.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Nadler asked excitedly.

    ¡°I cannot say with such tender minds present,¡± The Dealer patted Addi a second time and touched the thin, gold chain the young man wore around his neck. ¡°One of these days, you¡¯ll let me have a look at that.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have places to go?¡± Addi knocked the hand aside.

    ¡°I do. Young barkeep, please send another round to my table and then I must be on my way. No room for me tonight, thank you. Oh!¡± The Dealer flipped a heavy coin onto the bar. ¡°Give your father my regards when he returns.¡±

    Nadler pocketed the coin and went to work on filling three mugs from a keg of his father¡¯s brew. ¡°Stick around. Dad won¡¯t be back until tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m going to go read and sleep.¡±

    ¡°Read what?¡±

    ¡°¡¯The Sword and the Road¡¯ probably. Better than nothing.¡± Addi had read the Broxton trilogy four times already. His stomach berated him on the walk home for forgetting to eat Nadler¡¯s food but another night of apples would shut it up until breakfast.

    Addi lay on his cot and read by candlelight while his dad snored and rattled the glass in the cabin¡¯s lone window. The Sword and the Road was Landyn Broxton¡¯s first heroic trilogy. Each book was bound and copied by hand from Broxton¡¯s original manuscript and The Dealer charged Addi an entire summer¡¯s allowance for the complete set but it was worth it. Addi would pause while reading to caress the book¡¯s covers and breathe in the smell of the pages.

    Broxton¡¯s early writing was unpolished and derivative of every story in the heroic genre that Addi and Nadler collected. The protagonist always started from humble roots and was met with a life altering tragedy in their quaint town with a quaint name. The new hero swears revenge just to discover he shares blood with an ancient line of kings or an extinct race infused with magic. Sure, it was all a bit silly but they were also fun and if Addi had his way, he¡¯d stay home and grow old reading fun books.

    ¡®Give someone else adventure and tragedy,¡¯ Addi thought as he blew out the stump of a candle. ¡®All I want is that damn book.¡¯

    *****

    While Addison Trueheart and his father snored in harmony, not too far behind their modest farm, in the dark hills flanking the outskirts of Windy Wood, another sound echoed through countryside; A sound of foreboding and doom; A violent boom-boom-boom of goblin war drums.

 II - Pinkys Attack!

    ¡°Ouug arwhee uck awooo,¡± a goblin holding a short sword with an intricate, but heavy, hilt said to his two companions; Translated into the common tongue: <u>¡°You boys know who we¡¯re looking for. You all know the prophecy.¡±</u>

    ¡°Uk. Ooowheekee uhuk huk arwoooo arweek ook,¡± said his companion armed with a brightly polished dagger; Translated roughly: <u>¡°Yea but I¡¯m not gonna just go in there and politely ask if anybody¡¯s seen him.¡±</u>

    ¡°Whoowhek! Hueeek huek arrdooweeee uk arwoo!¡± a third with a rock tied to the end of a stick added; Translated: <u>¡°He¡¯s right! I came for glory and to take many human ears!¡±</u>

    ¡°Kuhkuuck.¡±; <u>¡°Disgusting.¡±</u>

    <u>¡°I heard all warriors take the ears of their victims as trophies.¡±</u>

    <u>¡°So you¡¯re a warrior now? Have you named your stupid bashing stick?¡±</u> the goblin with the shiny knife teased.

    <u>¡°I have! It shall be ¡®Firestarter!¡¯¡±</u> the goblin held his weapon before him.

    <u>¡±Named for kindling?¡±</u>

    <u>¡°No!</u> <u>Named for the blaze of fear it shall spread in the hearts of men!¡±</u>

    The other goblins rolled their eyes and wished they could have left Gwerk home in the caves.

    <u>¡°Riiiight,¡±</u> the goblin with the sword took charge. <u>¡°Let¡¯s get moving. Gwerk, remember: wait until we have the town surrounded. We can¡¯t let him escape. The future of our people depends on us.¡±</u>

    Gwerk was preoccupied with his weapon and visions of himself standing atop a pile of ears and shaking Firestarter at a sky dark with smoke, ready to overthrow the heavens. He nodded along to the victory song being composed in his thoughts and his companions misinterpreted the gesture as compliance. They slinked back down the hill overlooking Windy Wood to rejoin the rest of their force.

    The tribe was gathered in a nearby valley and split into three squadrons. In silence, under a night sky smothered with heavy quilts of clouds, the hill goblins of Windy Wood marched for pride and the preservation of their people. Nearly all were armed with no more than sharpened sticks, throwing stones and unkempt fingernails. They walked hunched over and looked more akin to pigs sniffing for mushrooms than a party of fighters on a warpath.

    *****

    ¡°Wake up, son! Pinkys are attacking the town!¡± Frank Trueheart shook Addi in his cot.

    ¡°Huh? What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Get up and help! I¡¯ll be out there,¡± Frank stopped long enough to look back once more at his son and then flew out of the cabin in his undergarments.

    ¡°Pinkys are attacking? What does that even mean?¡± Addi wondered if sleep had twisted his father¡¯s words. In all his life, he had never heard of goblins doing such a thing. His father might as well have told him that the squirrels were joining in and manning the catapults. Addi pulled on his boots and pushed through the front door more annoyed at being robbed of sleep than worried about whatever his father had said but after a single step, he realized that his dad wasn¡¯t pulling his leg.

    Flames were dancing in Windy Wood against the screen of dawn. It was true! Pinkys were attacking the town! Addi didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or be frightened at the absurd reality. He armed himself with the first thing within reach, a shovel, and ran down the path after his father.

    When Addi entered town, Frank Trueheart was nowhere to be found in the chaos that had consumed Windy Wood. It was clear that the goblins, in preparation for the assault, had focused entirely on enthusiasm in lieu of martial training or tactics. The pinkys weren¡¯t just attacking the citizens; they were attacking everything in sight. Addi watched as one goblin scaled the livery and gnawed on the structure¡¯s support beams. A pair of pinkys cackled and took turns rolling a rock through a flower garden, flattening all of the innocent blossoms. Scattered throughout, smaller groups of goblins had already turned on each other and were wrestling in the dirt, biting their own kind.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Unfortunately, not all of the mayhem was so harmless. An early raider had rushed into town before all others with a visible lust for violence. When the bloodthirsty goblin raised his weapon, a club poorly made from a stone and stick, the knot holding the implement together failed and the rock zipped through an oil lamp stationed on a window ledge. The lantern exploded and engulfed the cottage and confused goblin alike. The blaze carried easily on a summer breeze and the back of the burning pinky, spreading among the dry buildings of Windy Wood.

    ¡°The beasts are enkindling themselves to vector their destruction! What madness!¡± the mayor clutched his head and bemoaned while standing atop his roof. Rellec Munchik, who proclaimed to be the most intelligent man in town, was largely useless and contributing by directing the damage control efforts of his constituents from a safe height.

    By the time Addi arrived, the mayor was shouting at half the town to chase off the pinkys and the other half to race to and from wells to fill buckets with water.

    ¡°Awruuuhigg!¡± a cry startled Addi when he stopped to gawk. He barely sidestepped a goblin¡¯s thrust and the pinky, carried by his momentum, stumbled past Addi. The runt struggled to lift his sword but readied for a second charge nonetheless.

    ¡°Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc!¡± the goblin squealed as he lowered his head and pointed his blade.

    The pinky stopped short and swung in a sweeping arc that missed Addi by several feet. The weight of the opulent sword was too much for the goblin¡¯s grip and the weapon sailed off into a patch of long grass. The pinky watched his expensive sword fly and was trying to memorize its approximate location when Addi brought his shovel into play. With one lazy swing, the pinky¡¯s skull cracked and he crumpled.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t much more than pink skin stretched over bones,¡± Addi sympathized over the lifeless body. ¡°What has gotten into these things? I better find Dad.¡±

    The defense of Windy Wood was successful once the last of the fire was extinguished. The worst injuries sustained were due to smoke inhalation and a few minor burns. Not a single ear was lost among the populace that hadn¡¯t already been missing. Nadler had defended his father¡¯s tavern alongside the woman with the braided blond hair whom had not departed with The Dealer after all. Nadler fought off a band of pinkys with a battered old sword that had been left behind by a guest years before he was born. The only other resident who even owned a proper sword was the elderly town marshal but he was too feeble to stand for any length of time and fought off the invasion sitting atop a stool outside his home. The stool didn¡¯t prove to be a hindrance. In the end, the senior warrior was encircled by a mess of pinkys inattentive enough to enter his range.

    After his own share of scuffles, Addi spent the conflict dashing through burning houses looking for his father. If he knew anything for a certainty it was that Frank Trueheart would be helping the town¡¯s families to safety and not looking to abuse the maddened goblins. Every time he kicked through the embers and ash of a collapsed home, his heart raced. What if his dad had been buried beneath in an act of bravery? Addi¡¯s fears stemmed from the first book in ¡¯The Sword and the Road¡¯ trilogy where the same misfortune befell the family of Broxton¡¯s protagonist. The idea of anything or anyone outworking his dad, even Death himself, seemed impossible but where was he?

    ¡°Addi! Addi!¡± a widow who bought apples from the Truehearts screamed when she spotted the youth. ¡°Addi! My boy, come quick!¡±

    ¡°What is it, Ms. Harring?¡± Addi asked but wasn¡¯t certain he wanted to know.

    ¡°Come with me! Thank the Goddess I found you!¡± the widow moved at a pace dangerous for a woman her age and Addi chased after.

    ¡°Ms. Harring!¡± Addi burst through the door of the cottage the widow led him to. ¡°Is he ok?¡±

    ¡°Is who ok? Not so loud, please. There¡¯s enough of that out there,¡± the widow stood beside a large, gold accented travel chest constructed of thick wood and patted it like a faithful pet. ¡°Could you be a dear and help me hide this for a second? It¡¯s so very heavy and I¡¯d hate for those nasty pinkys to damage it during all this riff raff.¡±

    Addi ground his teeth. Irritation mixed with the medley of anxiety and frustration already bubbling in his mind.

    ¡°Be careful with it. The front door will be a tight fit,¡± the old woman chided and Addi boiled over. He kicked Ms. Harring¡¯s door and broke it free from its hinges.

    ¡°That should do the trick!¡± he shouted at the terrified widow before stepping out and filling his lungs to capacity.

    ¡°DADDDDDD!¡± he roared.

    ¡°What?¡± the response came from the wreckage of Ms. Harring¡¯s neighbor¡¯s home, not ten feet away. The roof had fallen in and Frank Trueheart was unharmed and wrestling with the debris. ¡°Stop screaming like a fool. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Dad.¡± Addi felt like a barrel of apples had been lifted off his chest.

    ¡°Get over here and help me with this for a second. I think there¡¯s a cat trapped under here,¡± Frank Trueheart said to his son.

    In the aftermath of the assault, Frank and Addison Trueheart visited every home in Windy Wood and offered their assistance. By the time they had completed the circuit, the sun was fully awake and already warming the ground. The town was a mess. Pinky corpses dotted the street and many homes had lost roofs and walls. On top of all that, Ms. Harring was crying about a new door. Addi recognized the look on his father¡¯s face and knew he wouldn¡¯t see his bed for a long time. There was work to do. For the first time in his life, but not the last, Addison Trueheart hated goblins.

 III - A Girl and a Promise of Adventure

    Splash!

    Addi dumped the bucket over his head and the biting cold of the water was a much needed slap in the face.

    Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He pumped the handle and water flowed from the spigot.

    Splash! The sheet of water ran down his naked body, washing away the dirt, soot and pinky gore that painted his pale skin.

    Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Splash!

    After the third dose, Addi felt as if he could rejoin the realm of the living. His dad hadn¡¯t worked him this hard since Addi¡¯s mother had died. Five years ago, Frank Trueheart returned from their trip into the city, alone on his wagon and bearing bad news. For the following week, Frank lived in his apple grove and ate, drank and breathed hard labor. Addi hadn¡¯t known true exhaustion since then.

    The young man closed his eyes and abosrbed the combination of wind and sun and clean water through his pores.

    ¡°Oh Goddess, let this day end,¡± he prayed.

    But the day had many hours left and once Addi¡¯s dad returned, work would resume. Frank told his son to take a break and get a bite while he was gone and Addi practically sleepwalked back home. He longed for his bed but taking a nap was a silly idea. If he so much as touched his cot, Addi would sleep for a week. Instead, he fetched a clean set of clothes and stumbled to the water pump. If sleep deprivation were to be his cause of death, he wasn¡¯t going to go out caked in pinky blood and excrement.

    The morning after the goblins¡¯ comical raid, Addi took up the duties of many professions while his father dragged him around town to assist in the cleanup. He had been a janitor, a builder, a draught animal and, among others, a veterinarian. The cat that he and his dad excavated from the rubble was blind until Addi held the animal¡¯s head under a running spigot to flush its eyes. The cat, having avoided being crushed just to be drowned instead, was not a willing patient. Addi had never thought to ask before but between cats and goblins, it turns out cats made the more fearsome warriors.

    Addi pumped the handle one last time and let the cool water flow across the collection of burning scratches marking his forearms. He rose slowly, got dressed slowly and marched slowly back into town to drink a beer, eat some food and await his father¡¯s return.

    *****

    ¡°I say we burn out the whole cave! Cook every one of em,¡± Jaupis Landree gulped his beer. His throat was hoarse from repeating himself.

    ¡°I heard you, we all heard you but you cannot dismiss the possibility that last night¡¯s raid was simply an attempt to antagonize and bait us into retaliation,¡± Mayor Munchik countered and played to the small crowd by the fire at the Kilson tavern.

    ¡°With all due respect mayor, we ain¡¯t dealin¡¯ with geniuses. I saw one of em fighting with his own shadow last night!¡± Jaupis belched.

    ¡°You could not have seen such a thing because I know for a fact that you chose to bunker in this here tavern during the raid,¡± the mayor dealt a lethal blow to Jaupis¡¯ soapbox. He was, after all, the most intelligent man in Windy Wood.

    ¡°Well, I heard about it anyway,¡± Jaupis refocused on his drink while the mayor polished his spectacles.

    Jaupis had got the cart rolling though and while he was momentarily cowed, others had taken up his argument and scooted their chairs closer to the mayor¡¯s table. The crowd pressed upon him their fear of a second attack and the urgent need to form a militia to teach the beasts a lesson. He pushed back with a plea for caution but gave ground easily when his constituents assured him that he wasn¡¯t obligated to lead or even be included in the posse at all.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need fighting men,¡± the mayor declared with steel resolve. The crowd nodded and drank, finally on the same page. ¡°The bigger, the better!¡±

    Addi entered half-awake and let the door slam hard behind him; a felony in the Kilson Tavern. Timos, who had returned to town that morning, spun around with fire in his eyes but cooled when he saw the state of the Trueheart boy.

    ¡°I¡¯m not Ms. Harring, kiddo. You break my door, you pay on the spot,¡± Timos let him off easy. The man was a short, bald ball of muscle. His son, Nadler, towered over him and still only weighed half as much.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Addi muttered and crept towards an empty table in the darkest, quietest corner of the room. He already felt the stares radiating from the fireplace and had a response nocked and ready to fire when Mayor Munchik called out.

    ¡°Addison! Could you join us for a moment?¡±

    ¡°Leave me alone. On break,¡± Addi shot back and temporarily won his peace as the obnoxious crowd went back to bothering each other instead of him. He collapsed into a chair and folded his arms for a pillow on the tabletop. Timos handed a plate to Nadler, resting in a similar pose behind the bar, and the youth complained all the way to Addi¡¯s table to deliver the food to his friend.

    ¡°Compliments of the house,¡± Nadler said and dropped the plate and a beer in front of Addi.

    ¡°You told your Dad about the door?¡±

    ¡°He thought it was hilarious! He¡¯s always said not to mess with redheads as those with that particular affliction harbor the worst temper,¡± Nadler¡¯s joke was as stale as the bread on Addi¡¯s plate.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Happy to entertain,¡± Addi sighed and closed his eyes again, too tired to eat just yet. Nadler left his friend and resumed his efforts to avoid work. Addi¡¯s eyes throbbed and felt the size of melons. He was massaging the pressure away with the heels of his palms when he heard the chair across from him scoot out.

    ¡°I have a job for you,¡± an unfamiliar feminine voice spoke.

    Addi groaned like a wounded bull. His patience for others¡¯ suggestions on how he could spend his time was gone and if he couldn¡¯t find a second of solitude to eat, he¡¯d either cry or commit unspeakable violence. He hadn¡¯t decided yet.

    ¡°I have a job. I¡¯m an apple farmer,¡± Addi moaned. ¡°Now leave me alone, my food is getting cold.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a cold meat sandwich.¡±

    Addi opened his eyes and saw slices of chilled pork tucked between two thick cuts of bread awaiting him on his plate.

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°As I was saying, I have a job for you.¡±

    ¡°Please. Just let me sit here. Whatever you want can wait,¡± Addi looked across the table and was surprised to see The Dealer¡¯s blond companion. Her face was imploring and beautiful. She had soft lips and a spark in her dark eyes like she was hammering out the details of a splendid secret.

    ¡°But it can¡¯t.¡±

    The girl¡¯s voice was edged with despair and Addi thought he could see tears in the corner of her eyes. The spell weakened the young man¡¯s defenses and for a moment he considered abandoning all hope of sleep to take up whatever desperate task the girl was peddling; But only for a moment. Addi had burnt through his stores of charitable acts hours ago and had no sympathy for any cause other than his father¡¯s bidding and his own bedding.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I can pay.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Addi held firm. He couldn¡¯t help but notice that both the girl¡¯s voice and eyes had dried.

    ¡°I have a signed copy of the new Broxton novel,¡± she said flatly.

    ¡°Huh? How do you?¡± Addi stuttered the half question. In his fogged state, he worried the girl had somehow burglarized his mind.

    ¡°Magic. Telepathy more specifically. I studied at the academy in Pocklin,¡± the girl whispered.

    ¡°The First Academy of Mages? Nuh huh.¡±

    ¡°Yea huh. The name is Ember Faey. You can look me up in the registrar¡¯s office,¡± Ember boasted but saw Addi still had his doubts. ¡°Close your eyes.¡±

    Addison Trueheart was a skeptic that dabbled in cynicism as well but something about the girl made him curious. He felt like he had chugged two mugs of Timos¡¯ brew and could picture himself drinking more; or maybe it was the fact that he hadn¡¯t slept in two days. Either way, he closed his eyes and braced for whatever spell the girl would fling across the table.

    But nothing came. He waited longer, secretly eager to see real magic. Still nothing. Enough was enough and he opened his eyes.

    ¡°Wow. Great---Hey!¡± Addi shouted when he saw the results of the girl¡¯s ¡°magic.¡± His plate, where once sat the first non-apple based meal he¡¯d had since the previous morning, was empty. The girl¡¯s lips, once alluring, were covered in the crumby remains of his cold meat sandwich. Her cheeks bulged like a gluttonous chipmunk and she was struggling to disappear the evidence down her throat. Addi sipped his beer and enjoyed the panic that flitted across her features every time she choked on his food. When the sandwich was wholy inhaled, Ember gasped like a drowning woman.

    ¡°My Gods, that bread is like sand,¡± Ember coughed and beat at her chest. Her tears seemed more honest than last time. ¡°Ta da!¡±

    ¡°You owe me a meal.¡±

    ¡°I have something even better: a job. Look. I need a bodyguard for an adventure, an epic adventure, and you are just the type I¡¯m looking for. I have gold and your friend has already told me all about your love of Landyn Broxton. I was serious about that part. I do have his book and it does have his autograph. So say yes,¡± Ember gifted Addi a smile perfected through practice and reached for his hand but he pulled away.

    ¡°No,¡± Addi sat rigidly in his chair. His temper started to percolate and he couldn¡¯t afford to owe anybody any more doors. ¡°I said I have a job. I grow apples.¡±

    Addi folded his arms and closed the gates to further discussion. Ember probed his defenses and worried that the fussy apple farmer might be one of the few unassailable men in the world. But he also clearly possessed an anger that was intriguing and could be useful. Ember was ready for a second assault but was interrupted by Mayor Munchik yelling across the foul smelling tavern.

    ¡°Addison! Where is your father? I would very much like to speak with him!¡±

    Ember smirked when she saw Addi¡¯s jaw tighten as if he were chewing on leather and thought: ¡°There¡¯s a crack in his walls after all. He tries so hard but he really could go off any second.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s running a bunch of folks up to the doctor¡¯s,¡± Addi said monotonously.

    ¡°Excuse me? I did not quite catch all that,¡± the mayor stood and cupped at his ear.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t ask me stupid &*$%&$! questions from all the way over there!¡± Addi wanted to scream but instead raised his own voice to a sarcastic volume while maintaining his monotony.

    ¡°I said: he loaded up our wagon and is currently driving a group of townsfolk down the road, out of town, over the bridge, and into the woods to see the doctor. Do you require more details?¡± Addi clenched and relaxed his fists throughout the monologue, visible to Ember alone. Nadler snickered at his friend¡¯s remarks.

    To Addi¡¯s dismay, someone did require more details but it was not the mayor; it was Jaupis Landree, one of Addi¡¯s least favorite patrons of the bar. As Jaupis spoke, Addi wondered if punching the glob of a man would have any effect at all.

    ¡°Uhhhhhh, Addi? How many do ya reckon he took to the old doc¡¯s?¡± Jaupis squeaked.

    ¡°A dozen. Maybe more. I didn¡¯t know an exact count was required at the time, Jaupis.¡±

    ¡°On his wagon.¡±

    ¡°No. On his back,¡± Addi quipped and scored a full laugh from Nadler.

    Jaupis¡¯ interminably rosy cheeks drained and he popped up from his chair like the Goddess herself pulled his string. He muttered something incoherent, dropped some coins onto his table and did something Addi had never thought possible: he left the Kilson Tavern without finishing his beer.

    As Jaupis Landree, the fattest man in Windy Wood, sprinted across the loose boards of Timos¡¯ floors at speeds impossible for such mass, the crowd¡¯s confusion shifted to amusement. The patrons of the Kilson Tavern laughed and surmised that Jaupis had once again soiled his pants and was racing home before the mess running down his legs revealed the truth. However, for some ghostly reason, the bang-bang-bang of the obese mason stomping out the door unnerved Addison Trueheart. His chest tightened and felt for the second time that day like he was pinned under a familiar barrel of apples.

 IV - The Death of Frank Trueheart

    They said that when Frank Trueheart¡¯s wagon reached the apex of the bridge, there was no forewarning until the ground beneath the wheels buckled and the horse screamed in its harness. The sudden descent into the rocky, dried out creek far below was not kind to Frank. Every passenger able to stand set to work unburying Frank and others from the detritus of the crumbled bridge. They said even Jaupis Landree, who never lifted an unpaid finger to help in his life, was there and in the line chucking pieces of rock and mortar. By the time Addison was retrieved, they had already laid Frank Trueheart, unconscious and battered, onto a makeshift sled and were pulling him into town.

    They said to Addi that his horse was beyond help and had been treated with kindness. They said the accident was the work of goblins. Jaupis had inspected the point of failure on the ancient bridge and testified that the damage to the support structure was intentional and devious. The mayor reminded everyone of how he had suspected that the pinkys wished to lure victims away from town. Jaupis, who once had his doubts, concurred and nurtured the cries for violence. ¡°Surely Addi will demand vengeance!¡± the agitated group thought as the young man huddled with the mayor and Jaupis; but the redheaded youth was calm with shock as he took the handles of the sled and refused further help. He said he was taking his dad home. He said he wanted to be left alone.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Addi¡¯s knees pulsed waves of jagged glass throughout his back as he knelt over the beaten, swollen form of his father. Frank¡¯s eyelids were purple bags and stirred erratically. The Old Doc from the Woods had been coaxed out to visit the scene of the broken bridge to triage the wounded. He said Frank Trueheart¡¯s skull had suffered a series of blows and that his brain was inflamed and bleeding. He said that Addi¡¯s dad would not wake up. He said there was nothing to be done. He said more but Addi had heard him say enough.

    The evening sky had exhausted all colors in its palette and the weary sun lingered past its time behind the Trueheart farm. Frank¡¯s breath came and went in shallow pulls and though he had been silent since the crash, the fading man grunted out fragments of a thought.

    ¡°¡­with you. with you¡­maggy please. please.¡±

    Frank Trueheart passed as the night conquered day; the worst day in Addi¡¯s young life. Crickets and toads chirped in harmony and sang a summer dirge outside the cabin¡¯s lone window. As his dad spent his final moments sharing pieces of a dream and calling out to Addi¡¯s mother, the young man wanted to say many things. Too many things. ¡°Sorry for not coming along with you today. Thank you for taking care of me. I¡¯m sorry this happened.¡± But the words were locked away and so he held his father¡¯s hand and he said nothing.

 V - The Terrible Return of Gwerk!

    ¡°I¡¯m going to burn out the whole cave and cook every one of them.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Nadler didn¡¯t expect Addi¡¯s response to be so decisive. Or violent. But there was his red hair to consider.

    ¡°No. Not really,¡± Addi swallowed a mouthful from the growler of Timos Kilson¡¯s beer that Nadler brought along on his visit to the Trueheart cabin. The brew was warm but was still delicious medicine for Addi¡¯s parched throat. Digging a grave was not easy work.

    Addison Trueheart had buried his father in a patch of soft dirt behind their cabin. The location had rich soil and was drenched in sunlight on clear days but Frank had kept it unsown since Maggy passed. He swore that it was reserved for the flower garden she always asked for but the project was perpetually one spring away. Addi knew nothing about flowers but he had never seen his father more content than when the tireless man finished the day covered in good soil.

    Addi passed the jug back to his friend. Nadler came knocking after lunch and they spent a long, mutually understood stretch of silence sitting in the cabin. Drink. Pass. Drink. Pass. It didn¡¯t take words to follow along.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do,¡± Addi confessed. ¡°Part of me wants to do exactly what Jaupis suggested. Do they really deserve any better?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Did those pinkys seem all that dangerous to you?¡± Nadler said and plugged the growler with the cork when Addi waved off his turn.

    ¡°No. They seemed crazy. And maybe lost.¡±

    ¡°Yea. Same. I¡¯ve never heard of goblins doing anything other than mine for bat shit and hide from everything.¡±

    ¡°Yea. Same,¡± Addi picked at his befuddlement but his mind sputtered with fatigue and was marinating in Timos¡¯ brew.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Nadler said. ¡°But I do know that if you don¡¯t kill those goblins, someone in Windy Wood is going to. You should have heard them back at the bar when I left. I think they¡¯re actually expecting you to lead the whole thing after what happened with your dad.¡±

    ¡°Why would they expect that?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re twice their size and better you than them! Also it¡¯s just what young men are supposed to do in these situations I guess. You should probably show up at least. You don¡¯t want the whole town thinking you¡¯re a coward.¡±

    Nadler drank and passed.

    ¡°My Goddess, I don¡¯t want to deal with them or the pinkys. Let¡¯s say I kill them. Then what? Nothing changes. And how many can there be left anyway? You should have seen how many bodies Dad and I cleaned up yesterday. There can¡¯t be but a handful of them still alive in those hills,¡± Addi rationalized.

    ¡°You can¡¯t do nothing,¡± Nadler, like usual, cut to the root of his friend¡¯s rhetoric.

    ¡°I know,¡± Addi confessed.

    The two friends revisited the silence that started their conversation. Nadler sulked about how quickly and ruthlessly fate could rearrange her pattern when she wished. Just two days ago, he and Addi were commiserating over missing out on Landyn Broxton¡¯s latest heroic fiction novel; now they were weighing the merits of goblin genocide. Nadler eyed Addi¡¯s leather bound stack of ¡®The Sword and the Road¡¯ novels in the corner. Though he owned many more stacks of literature himself, he was always envious of the craftsmanship and quality of materials that went into Addi¡¯s edition of Broxton¡¯s trilogy.

    ¡°Maybe there is a way we can get rid of those pinkys with as little work as possible,¡± Nadler said.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°¡®The Sword and the Road.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Ok?¡±

    ¡°How did the hero prevent ¡°The Third War of Hearts¡± with the rival tribes in the climax of the second book? When everyone was calling for the Supreme Warrior¡¯s head, what did he do?¡±

    ¡°He negotiated,¡± Addi knew the story inside out.

    ¡°Exactly. He negotiated. We handpick the most intimidating folk from all those aspiring killers back at the bar and we march up to that cave. Then I put my fluency in goblin to a noble use by convincing those pinkys to move out and be spared or stay and be slain,¡± Nadler was sitting up straight by the end of the presentation.

    ¡°I really don¡¯t want to slay anybody.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t come to that,¡± Nadler promised.

    ¡°Are you telling people that you¡¯re fluent in goblin now?¡±

    ¡°Close enough.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s worth a try,¡± Addi admitted aloud. He didn¡¯t want to be responsible for leading a pack of exterminators on a revenge mission but he also didn¡¯t think the pinkys should get to keep living as neighbors to Windy Wood after the insanity of recent events. More than anything, he just wanted to be left alone by goblin and townsfolk alike so that he could grieve in solitude and sleep for a month.

    ¡°How do we start?¡± Addi asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about a thing. Just meet me outside your cabin when the sun goes down,¡± Nadler stood up with purpose.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°To gather the most terrifying collection of maniacs Windy Wood has to offer,¡± Nadler left the cabin with fire in his blood and beer on his breath; even Addi¡¯s heart was beating a little faster. He was familiar with Nadler¡¯s history of overestimating his own schemes, but at least they had the seed of a plan. That seed, when watered with a growler of Timos¡¯ brew, filled him with fresh confidence.

    ¡°Those pinkys are going to regret invading my life,¡± Addi vowed.

    *****

    True to his word, once night arrived, Nadler had mustered a crew of soldiers outside of the Trueheart cabin. When Addi walked out his front door, he was still vacillating between wanting to shoo the tribe of pinkys or settling their debt with steel. However, the army that Nadler managed to recruit took the decision out of Addi¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Three people?! You were acting like the whole town was ready for war!¡± Addi somehow managed to shout while whispering. Nadler and him, the de facto generals, were hiding on the side of the cabin and finalizing strategy. ¡°How can we possibly fight anybody with three people?¡±

    ¡°Not fight. Intimidate and negotiate. That¡¯s what I said,¡± Nadler held his palms towards Addi.

    ¡°Intimidate? You said you had a tavern full of bloodthirsty killers.¡±

    ¡°I did until you gave them all day to sit and drink. What is my dad supposed to do? Not sell them beer?¡±

    Addi squeezed his hands until his fingernails pressed like dulls knives in his palm. Arguing with Nadler was a fool¡¯s errand. Nothing was ever his fault. No point would be conceded. It was a staring contest and Nadler didn¡¯t know how to blink.

    ¡°Ok. Fine. What do we do?¡± Addi redirected.

    ¡°We stick to the plan. This can still work and nobody has to get hurt,¡± Nadler said with authority and took Addi¡¯s empty stare as agreement. ¡°Now go and meet your army while I take a leak. Then we¡¯re off!¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Marshal Rodger Bellick had been the sole security in Windy Wood for as long as Addi could remember. The elderly swordsman was gaunt and his body looked held together through sheer pride. He wore light fighting leathers and a sword sheathed at his hip. He had forgotten his age but the marshal claimed to have served in the royal guard for West Cartia¡¯s last king and the throne had been abandoned for nearly fifty years. Wrinkles aside, the soldier shook Addi¡¯s hand with fingers forged from iron.

    ¡°It is an honor to seek justice for your father, lad. I knew him¡ª¡° the old soldier winced and clutched at his midsection. ¡°Apologies. All this recent excitement has my bowels in a twist. Age vanquishes all, it seems.¡±

    Addi remembered how the marshal depleted his stamina early in the goblin raid and relied on a stool to stay in the fight. How would he possibly fare well hiking around in the hills at night? The last thing Addi needed was being responsible for a senior citizen but he appreciated the soldier¡¯s obvious affection for his father.

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Bellick.¡±

    ¡°Think nothing of it. I am duty bound and please, call me Sir Rodger Bellick.¡±

    ¡°Ok,¡± Addi said and moved down the line.

    Next in Nadler¡¯s army was a boy no more than ten summers old. The child smelled and his hair was a mix of mats and cowlicks. His name was Krewg Harring and Nadler had first met him behind the Kilson Tavern playing with party rockets he claimed The Dealer sold him. The boy had impressed a rat into service as a test pilot and tied the animal to a bundle of explosives in a quest to send life to the stars. By the time Nadler smelled out the launch, the boy had already written off the half cooked pilot as a miscalculation and was working on another rat. Krewg promised Nadler that he knew the precise location of the goblin¡¯s cave. He was unarmed and carried only a backpack.

    ¡°I won¡¯t let you down! I¡¯ll kill more goblins than that old guy for sure!¡± the child exclaimed. Addi wished Nadler would have left Krewg at home to torture vermin but he did appreciate the kid¡¯s enthusiasm.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to talk to the pinkys, Krewg,¡± Addi said.

    ¡°Right, talk. I should think of something cool to say. Good idea,¡± Krewg¡¯s brow scrunched.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Addi said and moved down the line.

    Ember Faey wore an outfit of soft cotton, dyed black and cinched tightly with leather ties at the seams. On her feet was a matching set of boots with soft soles. The attire looked quieter than a gnat¡¯s sneeze and her grin impelled Addi to watch his back.

    ¡°Happy to join your gang, apple farmer,¡± Ember said with a perfect curtsy.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Addi replied.

    ¡°Your friend said you needed help with an adventure and, if you recall, I am in need of adventure related help as well,¡± Ember spelled it out.

    ¡°Then he told you wrong. I don¡¯t need your help.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± Ember eyed the child and elderly man standing in rank.

    ¡°I¡¯m not but still, I don¡¯t need your adventure.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least let me tag along. I¡¯ve been cooped up for three days and I could use an excuse to get out of that stinking tavern. Besides everyone back in your town is as dull as the Gods can make them but not you. You¡¯re different. You¡¯re interesting,¡± Ember fingered at her braid.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going on your adventure,¡± Addi felt a sudden need to reaffirm his stance. He had no clue what manner of spellcraft was taught at the First Academy of Mages but he was beginning to suspect the curriculum included a course or two on hypnosis.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Ember said and Addi moved on.

    The war party set out under the matte white glow of a full moon. The air felt sticky and warm but Addi preferred a little sweat to working with a chill. Throughout the march, he reflected on how much his dad would have loved to pull an all-nighter on some project when the moon was naked in the sky and the temperature pleasant; but the thought only brought pain. It was just one more moment that would remain planted in the past, never to grow anew.

    Krewg led them winding up into the wooded hills where the group had to bushwhack their own path at times. Nadler hacked with his dull sword through deadfall and brush that clawed at everyone¡¯s clothes. Sir Rodger Bellick quickly surrendered to the terrain and offered to sit in the forest to protect their rear. Though all present had seen what a formidable foe the marshal could be while stationed on his backside, Addi couldn¡¯t abandon the old man and insisted that he be carried. In the end, duty defeated the marshal¡¯s vanity and Addi wore Sir Rodger Bellick like Krewg¡¯s backpack for the remainder of the hike.

    The marshal¡¯s sword hung from his hip and slapped Addi¡¯s flank when they walked like a jockey driving his horse. Word of their presence spread rapidly amongst bloodsuckers in the forest and before long, Addi was spitting out a buffet of bugs.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t resemble any fellowship of heroes I¡¯ve ever read about,¡± Addi griped silently.

    Krewg brought them to a worn path that snaked in a ridiculous manner and indicated the traffic of pinkys. The child declared that they were nearing the cave when Ember moved to walk shoulder to shoulder with Addi.

    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Ember opened.

    ¡°What do you mean? Someone has to do something,¡± Addi huffed and his pale cheeks were flush.

    ¡°Yes, but why you? You said it yourself: you don¡¯t need adventures and your father just died. Sorry about that, by the way, but you have every reason to be home nursing a bottle. As far as I know, nobody¡¯s asked you to do this.¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Addi stopped and adjusted the man clinging to his back like a sleepy toddler. ¡°You¡¯re right but someone has to do something and if I wait around for others to do the work for me, I can¡¯t be upset when nothing gets done. You know who said that?¡±

    ¡°Your dad,¡± Ember guessed.

    ¡°My dad,¡± Addi confirmed. He was in no hurry to move his feet again. His back was screaming and he was beyond annoyed with feeling Sir Rodger Bellick¡¯s hot breathe puffing on his skin. ¡°The truth is: I haven¡¯t really had any time to think about what¡¯s going on. Forget about why it¡¯s going on. Things just keep happening and I¡¯m just trying to keep up. Right now, I¡¯m taking care of this. After this, who knows?¡±

    Ember felt a stab of empathy in her chest. How could she not relate? The well muscled youth just laid out the plotline for her entire life.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Ember¡¯s hand moved on its own and rested on Addi¡¯s arm.

    The air was different. For a blink of a second, Addi thought Ember might have slipped up and let her defensive latticework of magic waver. Ember saw the look in his eyes and realized her folly.

    ¡°I must make waste,¡± Sir Rodger Bellick whispered discreetly into Addi¡¯s ear.

    ¡°What?¡± Addi flinched.

    ¡°I must make waste. Imminently,¡± the marshal repeated. Panic was already soiling his tone.

    A slew of disgusting possibilities spurred Addi¡¯s feet and he sprinted into the first set of bushes at hand. He nearly dropped Sir Rodger Bellick and turned around to preserve what dignity the marshal clung to. Sir Rodger Bellick was immediately engaged in a brutal battle with his digestive system. The old soldier¡¯s grunts and gasps rang out above his internal clash. Addi pretended as if some great wonder had his full attention in the opposite direction.

    ¡°Addi, lad,¡± Sir Rodger Bellick spoke when he could. ¡°I must confess: I heard some of your conversation just now with the lass.¡±

    ¡°You did?¡± Addi played along.

    ¡°I did and it is not my place to school you but I must say one thing. Look at me, lad,¡± the marshal implored.

    ¡°Oh, I can hear you just fine, sir.¡±

    ¡°Please, it is important. Look at me.¡±

    Addi met the grave stare of Sir Rodger Bellick. The marshal squatted atop a fallen tree with his trousers encircling his ankles and the loose skin of his buttocks flapping in the breeze.

    ¡°Addi, there is no shame in desiring revenge and you cannot afford to be burdened with doubt when we reach our foes. Remember your father, lad, and strike sure. Shame will only slow your sword arm,¡± Sir Rodger Bellick preached.

    ¡°Yes, sir. Are you finished? Do you require um, assistance?¡± Addi dreaded the answer.

    ¡°Nope! False alarm, lad. Relief, it seems, is an elusive quarry tonight,¡± the old man stood and buckled his pants. ¡°Let us proceed.¡±

    Krewg guided the group through the final leg of the trek. The path twisted up a small mountain to dead end at a flat patch of rock overlooking the whole of the land beneath. Addi spotted Windy Wood in the distance and thought the town looked so vulnerable from way up high. It was nothing more than a family of fireflies cornered by an encroaching sea of dark trees and hills.

    A cave, which bored deep into the side of the mountain, opened onto the rocky overlook where the party stretched and groaned. The goblins within the cave had spotted the invaders well in advance and what remained of the hill tribe crept into the moonlight to meet them on their porch. Addi placed Sir Rodger Bellick onto his feet and he stood beside Nadler in the front of their group.

    From within the shroud of the cave, where light was uninvited, a particularly gruesome pinky pushed through the collection of onlookers and posted directly across from the leaders of the humans. His back was raw and oozed pus and plasma. He snarled with a blend of excitement and drool. In his hand, he held a freshly snapped tree branch. One end of the stick had been chewed until it was a point sharp enough to concern mothers with young children.

    ¡°Huuuyuckhuk kuhweee, Gwerk uk uk. Uhwheee hooo wha,¡± the pinky squeaked.

    Nadler thumbed through his goblin dictionary and nodded several times before facing Addi.

    ¡°He says he is ¡®Gwerk the Burned¡¯ and his stick is called ¡®Belly Poker.¡¯ We are to deal with him,¡± Nadler translated.

 VI - Peace for All!

    Addison Trueheart¡¯s band of five stood atop the stone porch of the goblin cave, under the spotlight of a full moon. The sky was clear and pricked with stars bearing witness to the first unofficial peace talks between goblin and man. If given a choice, mankind might have elected someone other than Nadler Kilson to speak on its behalf but no such vote was proposed and besides, Nadler had already prepared a speech.

    As Addi had guessed, the failed raid on Windy Wood had taken a heavy toll on the hill pinkys. Gwerk the Burned stood before his diminished tribe and all were transfixed by the arrival of the red-haired intruder. A cluster of small moons wedged in little pink heads stared at the apple farmer. Addi counted twenty pinkys; some with a clutch of children stashed around their legs. Many of the goblins were wearing clothing and trinkets discarded by humans. One of the smaller pinkys sported pantaloons outgrown by a child and shaded spectacles that Mayor Munchik had misplaced ages ago. Seeing the creatures huddled together and absurdly decorated with the fragments of human comfort doused Addi¡¯s anger.

    ¡°These things don¡¯t stand a chance,¡± Addi thought.

    Nadler cleared his throat for effect and spoke. His appeal was composed during his break between the lunch and dinner rush at the tavern. He aimed to extol the virtues of living in harmony with all life while balancing compassion and force. He wrote the words to sing and flow like a sermon but after being stripped to the bones by the limitations of the pinky language and Nadler¡¯s loose grip on its grammar, his pitch for peace clunked along like a wagon with broken wheels.

    ¡°Uhhwhheee huk uh wokk,¡± Nadler screeched, unaware of how far off target his words landed when accurately translated: ¡°<u>Good morning goblins! My call be Nadler. My tribe mate¡¯s call be Addison. We here for want to leave goblins in pieces!</u>¡±

    Nadler expected the pinkys to be surprised at the depths of mankind¡¯s magnanimity but the intensity of their reaction swelled his chest. For the first time, the goblins had peeled their eyes from Addi and were now giving him their complete attention. Nadler Kilson, bartender turned ambassador, seized his moment and his voice cracked as he continued louder than before.

    ¡°<u>We want pieces! We want goblin pieces! We want all life pieces but not here. Goblins leave then we make pieces. Goblin pieces. Human pieces. All life pieces!¡±</u> Nadler reached high above his head as he finished.

    Pinky-speak always stung in Addi¡¯s ears like a screaming pig but the humans¡¯ message sounded even worse to the goblins. The loudmouthed intruder had just promised to march the survivors of their tribe away from home so they can be mutilated on the road. The Book had spoken of fire and death but what if The Prophecy had simply glossed over the grisly details? What if there were fates worse than death? What if Gwerk and his friends were right all along and the humans craved the suffering of their friends and children?

    Gwerk the Burned had heard enough and glared at Addi with a ferocity understood in any language. Belly Poker squirmed in his hand.

    ¡°Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc,¡± Gwerk snarled and soon two more pinkys took up his words until they were squawking in chorus.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Addi asked his friend.

    Nadler shrugged. Sir Rodger Bellick removed one hand from his cramping belly to rest on his sword.

    ¡°What are they saying?¡± Ember asked from behind.

    Nadler raced through his dictionary while Gwerk and Addi locked eyes. Pinky females and children shivered at the cave¡¯s threshold and the most tender amongst them buried their faces under their mother¡¯s arms. Krewg slipped off his backpack and watched the standoff with a grin stretching across his dirty face.

    ¡°I can¡¯t be certain but they are either saying ¡®chill the frozen one¡¯, which seems redundant, or ¡®kill the closest son.¡¯ I don¡¯t know, Addi,¡± Nadler rarely admitted such a thing.

    Addi¡¯s tolerance for the whole affair was drying out faster than soil in a drought. The pinky trying to scowl fiercely at him had given him more than enough trouble and now the runt wished to add threats of hypothermia or pedicide to the sum? Addi¡¯s kicking leg was primed to start punting goblins off the mountain, starting with Gwerk the Burned and his idiotic stick.

    ¡°Why?¡± Addi growled the question. The pinkys did not reply but did pause their chant.

    Nadler held his tongue as well. He heard the clouds thundering in Addi¡¯s voice and knew when to seek shelter in silence. In all their years as friends, Nadler had witnessed Addison Trueheart untethered only once and the drunken prankster that urinated on his friend¡¯s book never relieved himself without pain or in a straight line again. Nadler swallowed the knot in his throat and tucked his dictionary away.

    ¡°Why are you wasting our time?¡± Addi took a step towards Gwerk.

    Gwerk said nothing.

    ¡°Why did you attack our town?¡± Addi moved again.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Nothing.

    ¡°Why did you kill my dad?!¡± the words cracked like lightning and ripped through the hills.

    Addi did not see Ember digging her fingers in her hair or notice Krewg tugging an end of rope from his open pack. He did not hear Sir Rodger Bellick crying out to him either. The apple farmer¡¯s temper had reached a rolling boil and his eyes bore into Gwerk¡¯s. To his surprise, Addi found something within the pale globes that he finally understood: rage.

    ¡°Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc,¡± Gwerk said a final time. Spittle foamed in the corners of his mouth as he fixated on Addi¡¯s ears.

    On that fateful night, at the first unofficial failed peace talks between goblin and man, the honor of the opening blow belonged to neither of the two races. In the end, Sir Rodger Bellick¡¯s bowels struck first. As the tension between Addi and Gwerk reached explosive levels, Sir Rodger Bellick gasped and hugged his midsection as if gut shot by a hidden archer. By the time Addi saw the old marshal doubled over, the odor of Sir Rodger Bellick¡¯s incontinence had washed over the mountainside.

    A mix of shock and pity stunned Addi¡¯s army into inaction but Gwerk and the rest of the pinkys fumed. The bulk of a goblin¡¯s life was spent tucked away in darkness. In order to thrive as a species, the pinkys had evolved olfactory senses keener than a hungry bear and as a consequence, all tribes maintained strict laws when it came to waste management. Smelling an outsider befoul their property and his own pants in such an audible act of disrespect was too offensive for the pinky mind to handle.

    Before Addi could find the appropriate words, if such words existed, a pink blur holding a stick charged the old marshal. The seasoned veteran sensed the threat and reached for his sword but his hand stalled on the handle; Sir Rodger Bellick feared that any sudden movements might incur further damage to his undergarments and reputation. The stutter was all the time Gwerk the Burned needed to close the gap and deliver a glorious thrust with Belly Poker.

    The pinky¡¯s weapon met the marshal¡¯s tunic and snapped in twain but the resulting collision sent the pair of unlikely combatants toppling over the cliff edge and onto the unforgiving boulders below. Addison Trueheart, Nadler Kilson, Ember Faey and Krewg Harring whipped their heads around and looked at each other with the same dumbstruck mask of horror as if they were a practiced troupe of performers.

    When forced to recall the events of that evening, Addi would forever have difficulty keeping the details in line. Once Sir Rodger Bellick took flight, everything fell apart at the same time.

    ¡°Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc,¡± screeched the pair of Gwerk¡¯s chanting acolytes and they sprinted at Addi with their teeth bared. Glimmers of metal flashed by each of Addi¡¯s ears and before he could blink, the duo of attackers were writhing on the ground and Ember was pulling another throwing blade from the tail end of her braided hair. The remaining pinkys fled for their cave.

    While Nadler and Addi continued to gawk uselessly at one another, Krewg dropped to his knees and produced a pocketknife and a rock. In the midst of the chaos, none of the young adults paid any attention to the child behind them hacking away at a bit of flint and showering his pack with sparks.

    ¡°What should we do?¡± Nadler, the bartender always stocked with answers, asked his friend. Addi shook his head. Neither felt much like heroes anymore. They were boys lost in the woods without a light to guide them home. But just then, fire sailed through the air between the two friends and they turned to follow the smoking trail of Krewg¡¯s backpack as it flew after the retreating goblins.

    ¡°To the stars!¡± Krewg Harring yelled and pressed his palms against his ears. In an instant, the full spectrum of visible light erupted from the front door of the pinkys'' home with a boom that shook the stoutest trees in the forest.

    Krewg¡¯s exploding cache of party rockets was heard all the way back in Windy Wood and robbed Addi, Nadler and Ember of their hearing for a distressing length of time. The group alternated between shouting at one another to no effect and massaging their ears as goblins poured from the cave and fell lifelessly to the ground. Addi spotted the curled pink form of an undersized victim wearing shaded spectacles and wedged under the bodies of his tribe mates. When the ringing in his head dulled enough to walk, he stomped to the Harring boy with his fists clenched at his sides.

    ¡°I did it! Did you see that? You saw that, right?¡± Krewg was hopping and pointing at the smoking hole in the mountain.

    ¡°What in the name of the Goddess do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Addi screamed.

    ¡°What are you talking about? I saved the town!¡± the boy said defensively. Krewg had been in trouble every day of his life and could spy out the signs of a lecture from miles away. As far as he was concerned, he deserved a medal and his own holiday. While he¡¯d settle for slightly less, he was not going to be fussed at by some farmer who froze when the situation demanded action.

    ¡°You blew them all up!¡± Addi shouted the obvious.

    ¡°You can¡¯t yell at me, Addison Trueheart! I¡¯m a hero!¡± Krewg shouted back. ¡°Now you owe me an apology on top of the door you already owe my GamGam!¡±

    Addi¡¯s boot moved on its own accord and before anybody could advise otherwise, the Harring boy was soaring through the air like a mouse tied to a missile. Krewg landed and tumbled a respectable distance back down the trail before springing to his feet with the resilient frame of all children.

    Addi, Nadler and Ember listened as the budding pyromaniac wailed and ran through the wooded hillside back to Windy Wood where he would soon inform his grandmother of Addison¡¯s continuing crimes against their family. The remaining members of Addi¡¯s army stood in the wreckage of their failed peace mission. None of them had the words or experience to draw from to explain what had just occurred. For the second time that week, Addison Trueheart found himself flabbergasted and surrounded by the corpses of goblins despite his best intentions to live in privacy and boredom.

    *****

    Below the shell-shocked group of human invaders, concealed deep within the shadows at the base of the smoking mountain, Gwerk the Burned sniffed the night air and smelled his home smoldering. He had failed to protect his people from the slaughter foretold in The Prophecy but the goblin shed no tears as he stood atop the broken body of an elderly foe. Instead, his eyes burned with the fire that dwelled in the hearts of all fanatics who had found their path on the infinite byways of fate. Gwerk the Burned had died along with his tribe mates and his warrior spirit. From that night forward, he was reborn as Gwerk the Prophet and he swore on his reheated soul to spread word of The Book and tirelessly labor to spare other tribes from the fate that consumed his own.

 VII - Behind the Scenes of The Prophecy

    ¡°¡¯We can get rid of the pinkys with as little work as possible¡¯,¡± Addi recalled Nadler¡¯s words from the previous night as he dug into his lumbar region with his fingertips, searching for relief. His back felt brittle like driftwood and every time he bent to pick up another goblin cadaver, it popped and splintered.

    ¡°Hmmmm,¡± Nadler sat cross legged and studied his pinky dictionary.

    A splash of dawn spilled from the horizon as the sun stirred. The early morning glow gently lit the rocky porch where Addison Trueheart labored with the dead just outside a collapsed crater in the side of the mountain. After their deadly visit last night, Addi and Nadler argued like siblings amongst the carnage of their peace mission while Ember pried her throwing weapons from the necks of two pinkys. After wiping and stowing the blades in her braided hair, she turned her attention to the treasure trove of human trinkets adorning the pinky corpses. Watching Ember dressed in black and peck at the goblins spurred Addi to action. He couldn¡¯t bury nearly two dozen goblins and had no clue what pinky ritual demanded; but leaving the victims of Krewg¡¯s bomb to rot in the sun and be fed on by vultures was a step too far. In the end, he concluded that burning the bodies would be respectful and still allow them to make it home in time for lunch. Nadler agreed and found a suitable spot to watch his friend work.

    ¡°¡¯Don¡¯t worry, Addi! Stick to the plan and nobody will get hurt!¡¯¡± Addi laid the goblin wearing shaded spectacles in line with the rest of his tribe. The pinky¡¯s little body was still warm as Addi crossed its thin arms atop its chest.

    ¡°Did what they say sound more like ¡®Ahroohigg¡¯ or ¡®Awruhheeeg¡¯? Anyone know? One is formed more in the throat, if it helps,¡± Nadler asked Ember and Addi but the former ignored him and the latter answered with a look as if Nadler had asked to be teleported home.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be the linguist! This whole plan to talk to them was yours!¡± Addi struggled not to pull out his own hair. His hands were covered in the gore of goblins again and he had learned already how difficult that stuff was to wash out.

    ¡°Hmmmm,¡± Nadler returned to his book. As the apple farmer added another body to the pile, Ember plucked the shaded spectacles off the little one Addi just dropped off.

    ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Addi frowned.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need them anymore and even mages have to eat,¡± Ember explained callously. ¡°Tell your friend¡¯s dad to lower his rates and I¡¯ll give them back.¡±

    ¡°My dad¡¯s rates are fair and without compare,¡± Nadler recited his father¡¯s words without taking his nose from his dictionary.

    ¡°That¡¯s because there¡¯s only one room to rent in your entire town!¡± Ember replied.

    ¡°Not my dad¡¯s fault. I don¡¯t know how you pissed off The Dealer but you¡¯re the first of his whores we¡¯ve seen left behind so if you¡¯re not a fan of our town, figure out what you did to him and next time, don¡¯t do that,¡± Nadler was restocked with top shelf solutions and Ember forgot about her looting for the moment.

    ¡°His what?¡± she asked.

    ¡°His whore,¡± Nadler answered between a flip of pages.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a whore,¡± Ember stated.

    ¡°Ok, prostitute. Working woman. Professional pillow-mate. Whatever you prefer. I¡¯m the wrong guy to ask, though. I¡¯ve never needed to pay for attention,¡± Nadler grinned over the spine of his dictionary just in time to see death approaching. He wondered, as he watched Ember stomp his way and dig in her hair, if the pinkys felt a similar terror when Krewg¡¯s bomb was flying through their front door. Fortunately for Nadler, Addi played his part and rescued the bartender from his own mouth again.

    ¡°Hey, ok, ok,¡± Addi stepped between Nadler and Ember, keeping his eyes on the girl¡¯s hands. The second he saw sparks, Nadler was on his own.

    ¡°Say it again!¡± Ember dared Nadler. ¡°Say it again and I¡¯ll cast a spell that¡¯ll turn your parts inside out!¡±

    ¡°Why are you so mad? Calm down,¡± Nadler¡¯s suggested from the safety of Addi¡¯s back.

    ¡°Say it again! Come on! Do it!¡± Ember roared from the front.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be so sensitive about your work,¡± Nadler lobbed a final stone.

    ¡°Shut up, Nadler!¡± Addi wheeled on his friend. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be figuring out what went wrong here?¡±

    ¡°Looks pretty clear to me,¡± Nadler shrugged and surveyed a row of dead pinkys.

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know what they were screaming at us!¡± Ember added. ¡°¡¯Chill the frozen one¡¯? Give me a break!¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re an expert on goblin idioms now? Besides,¡± Nadler took a deep breath before proceeding. ¡°I¡¯m starting to consider that perhaps in the disorder of the moment, I might have misheard them,¡± Nadler conceded.

    ¡°You think?¡± Ember feigned surprise.

    ¡°I do. I¡¯ve done additional research and I now believe that the goblins were chanting: ¡®Grill their toes for fun,¡¯¡± Nadler presented his revised conclusion.

    ¡°What?¡± Ember and Addi chorused.

    ¡°Scary, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying these pinkys went crazy and attacked Windy Wood to burn our feet?¡± Addi asked.

    ¡°I think so,¡± Nadler said with the heavy tone of bad news.

    ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest thing I¡¯ve heard in my entire life,¡± Ember stated.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± Nadler smacked his forehead. ¡°You¡¯re an expert. I already forgot! Tell us, professor: what were they saying?¡±

    ¡°Kill the Chosen One!¡± a voice squeaked. The trio of bickering humans spun around to locate the falsetto and found a live goblin standing before Addi¡¯s pile of dead pinkys. He wore pants sewn for a toddler and extended his palm to Ember. ¡°Now give me back my sunglasses.¡±

    *****

    The pinky drained Nadler¡¯s waterskin with a burp and tossed the empty pouch at the bartender¡¯s feet. Addi, Nadler and Ember observed the resurrected oddity with wonder. The pinky had restored his sunglasses atop his stubby nose and kept a wary eye on the quickly shrinking shade of the mountain outcropping. Only Addi had spoken since the goblin rose from the dead and asked for something to drink and so far, the apple farmer could only repeat the same observation.

    ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± Addi said for a third time.

    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± the pinky finally replied, ¡°despite your best efforts. But if I had to play dead and listen to another second of your stupidity, I was going to throw myself off the cliff after Gwerk and make it official. Do you have anything to eat?¡±

    ¡°No, sorry,¡± Addi answered.

    ¡°Well, that narrows the dinner choices some,¡± the pinky stood and stomped his feet on the ground inches away from the bodies of his tribe mates as if performing the opening of a goblin funeral dance.

    ¡°How are you speaking?¡± Ember asked.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°With my mouth,¡± the pinky answered.

    ¡°She means, how did you learn our language?¡± Nadler elaborated.

    ¡°With my brain,¡± the goblin clarified. ¡°You should give it a try because your pinky-speak sucks.¡±

    ¡°Nuh huh,¡± Nadler retorted.

    The pinky halted his clomping and aimed his ire at Ember. ¡°And you should stick to grave robbery. ¡®Turn your parts inside out¡¯? Any mage that¡¯s stubbed her toe on a textbook knows that no spell can directly affect living flesh. It¡¯s one of the First Laws of Magic!¡±

    ¡°Nuh huh,¡± Ember deflected.

    The pinky scoffed and slapped his feet on the ground several times more before plopping back down and adjusting his shades.

    ¡°What did you say earlier? About what were your friends chanting,¡± Addi pressed.

    ¡°¡¯Awruuuhigg huc huuuuc.¡¯ ¡®Kill the Chosen One.¡¯ And they weren¡¯t my friends,¡± the pinky answered.

    ¡°Who is the ¡®chosen one¡¯?¡± Ember asked.

    ¡°Him, of course¡± the pinky pointed a scrawny finger at Addison Trueheart.

    ¡°Him?¡± Nadler and Ember chorused and eyed Addi with an insulting level of disbelief.

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Him. You,¡± the pinky confirmed.

    ¡°Why?¡± Addi randomly selected the word from a newborn litter of questions.

    ¡°¡¯The Chosen One, the hero who would righteously remove the goblin scourge from the world, was once a humble keeper of the land alongside his father. Both men were large and thick-chested and each had heads of fire though the elder¡¯s hair had been in slow retreat for years¡¯,¡± the pinky recited The Book from memory and left Addi feeling exposed.

    The goblin¡¯s soothsaying was a bucket of ice water poured directly into Addi¡¯s gut. Misfortune had already flipped his humble life upside down but now it wished to cast him in a role for which he never auditioned? Didn¡¯t he get a choice? How could he hope to return to his former life if doing so made him a fugitive from both fate and goblins?

    ¡°Wait a minute! I recognize that style. The run on sentences, the overuse of descriptors; that¡¯s a Broxton book!¡± Nadler posited.

    ¡°You guys read Landyn Broxton?¡± the pinky¡¯s eyes doubled in size and for the first time since his rebirth, he actually looked alive.

    ¡°We love Landyn Broxton,¡± Nadler answered and Addi nodded dumbly.

    ¡°Really?¡± the pinky asked.

    ¡°Really,¡± the pair of fans promised while Ember watched the bizarre interaction and felt the foundations of reality crumble.

    ¡°Wow. What a small world,¡± the pinky said in awe.

    ¡°But what book is that? I don¡¯t know that paragraph at all,¡± Nadler asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s from his new novel, ¡®The Chosen One,¡¯ ¡° the pinky revealed.

    ¡°You live in a cave and still got a copy before us? How is that possible?¡± Nadler censed.

    ¡°Firstly, I lived in a cave. Past tense. As of last night, I am in between homes due to your unorthodox negotiating methods. Secondly, I own, or I owned, a copy of ¡®The Chosen One¡¯ because I paid for it. Yes, even us cave dwellers conduct business with the outside world. It so happens, a salesman traded it to me last month for a fistful of quartz,¡± the pinky explained and pointed to Nadler. ¡°You should find him if you want to improve your pinky-speak. His goblin is better than my human-speak.¡±

    ¡°Did this salesman have a little moustache and like to laugh at his own jokes?¡± Addi asked.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve met him,¡± the pinky confirmed and clapped his feet on the ground.

    ¡°Addi, The Dealer sold our book to a goblin,¡± Nadler said the cruel joke aloud but it didn¡¯t burn any less.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any ¡®Dealer.¡¯ We call him ¡®Huhkweee ke¡¯ or ¡®Mr. Moustache.¡¯ And if you¡¯ve actually done business with this man, you¡¯d know he has a strict policy when it comes to reserving his stock without upfront payment,¡± the pinky lectured.

    The impact of the information knocked Addi and Nadler onto their rears. All this time, The Dealer had been giving first rights to his Broxton inventory to a tribe of pinkys. The friends had spent countless evenings in the Kilson Tavern, cursing the stranger who regularly beat them to The Dealer¡¯s bookshelf and guessing what city the super fan must reside in. The idea that their novels were forever entombed in a mountain behind their town confirmed to the pair of friends that the Goddess preferred dark comedy.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Ember needled her companions. ¡°So he got your book, who cares? What about the whole ¡®raiding your town¡¯ thing?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t raid your town,¡± the pinky stated.

    ¡°Well, your friends did!¡± Ember shouted.

    ¡°Once again, they weren¡¯t my friends. Why ask questions if you don¡¯t listen?¡± the pinky said and eyed the edge of sunlight creeping up the mountainside. He scooted further away and stamped his feet when he got to his new spot.

    ¡°Fine. Roommates? Roommates. Your roommates attacked their town. Why? Because they think Addi is a ¡®chosen one¡¯? What is a ¡®chosen one¡¯¡±? Ember grappled to maintain her sanity.

    ¡°Not ¡®a chosen one¡¯; ¡®THE Chosen One.¡¯ And it is nothing, of course! Just a character in the first book of Broxton¡¯s promising new trilogy,¡± the pinky explained as a trio of rainbow shelled cockroaches, each larger than Ember¡¯s thumb, scampered out from under the collection of goblin corpses behind him. As quick as a lizard¡¯s tongue, the pinky crunched a fleeing roach under each of his feet and scooped up the third between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed until his food quit kicking.

    Ember¡¯s stomach squirmed and the pinky smirked as he saw her nose curl. He took his time with the cockroach and turned it in his grip as if inspecting a rare cut of a gem.

    ¡°While I was mastering the path of a polyglot, Gwerk the Burned and his gang of bullies chose other pursuits. When they weren¡¯t farting in my bunk, they were busy cave diving with whichever females were in estrus, if you comprehend what I am describing,¡± the pinky winked at Ember and popped the roach into his mouth.

    ¡°Gross,¡± Ember scowled.

    ¡°Exactly. However, when everyone was in their bunks for the day, who do you think they begged to read them bedtime stories? You guessed it. Well, wouldn¡¯t you know? Those idiots loved Broxton. They were especially crazy for his new novel. So crazy, in fact, that after a single chapter, they spent the next week gossiping about The Chosen One and riling up the whole tribe until Gwerk had everyone terrified of the protagonist in Broxton¡¯s book. Unfortunately for your town, Gwerk and his buddies never asked me to explain the concept of fiction and I would have been wasting my time anyway. Once one of them spotted you working on your farm, The Prophecy was real and action was required to save the future of our children,¡± the pinky threw his arms wide for dramatic effect.

    ¡°I was wrong. That is the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard in my entire life,¡± Ember declared.

    The pinky tipped his shades and looked over the dark lenses at Ember. ¡°I didn¡¯t write the story. I¡¯m just telling it.¡±

    The pinky finished his performance by kicking each of his feet into the air. Twin cockroaches flew in arching paths that ended perfectly in the awaiting maw of the goblin. The pinky chewed and smiled at Ember with a collection of spiny legs wedged between his teeth. Ember retched and felt the sting of bile in the back of her throat.

    ¡°Ok, I¡¯m done,¡± she said and landed beside Addi and Nadler.

    Addi waited until the pinky had swallowed his dinner before asking: ¡°If you understood us all along, why didn¡¯t you say something at the meeting last night?¡±

    ¡°Were you at the same ¡®meeting¡¯ I was?¡± the pinky raised a naked eyebrow. ¡°Did Gwerk the Burned strike you as someone that values others¡¯ input? Try living in a cave with him your whole life and then get back to me. No. As a general rule, I avoid all interactions with Gwerk and his brainless pals. Now, if I had known you had brought a pyromancer who was set on obliterating my home, maybe I would have interrupted Gwerk. Maybe.¡±

    ¡°Why did you destroy Old Tanner¡¯s Bridge?¡± Addi arrived at the final question on his list. He asked calmly but Ember caught his tell once again. Where Addi¡¯s arm rested alongside his thigh, his hand tightened until his knuckles looked fit to rip.

    ¡°Tanner¡¯s Bridge? Doesn¡¯t ring a bell but again, I didn¡¯t destroy anything. As you can imagine, I was not invited on Gwerk¡¯s crusade. Now, I think I¡¯ve explained enough of your world for you. You shared your water, sure. But you also blew up my cave and killed everyone I¡¯ve ever known so who got the better end of this deal? Who can say? Not me. I¡¯m just a goblin after all,¡± the pinky stood and immediately walked several steps away from the encroaching sunlight.

    The trio of humans groaned all the way to their feet and shook their limbs until the tingling in their extremities ceased. None of them had provisions packed and if they did not hurry back down the trail, their lunchtime meal would become another casualty of their peace mission.

    ¡°Do you need help finishing this?¡± Addi asked the pinky and nodded to the tribe of cadavers.

    ¡°No, I think you¡¯ve finished enough,¡± the pinky answered.

    ¡°Yea, well, sorry for blowing up your home,¡± Addi said and turned with his friends to begin the hike to Windy Wood.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I hated it here anyway,¡± the pinky called after the humans and for the second time in their conversation, his voice was utterly free of sarcasm.

    When only Addi¡¯s oversized, flaming head was visible over the crest of the trailhead, the apple farmer turned, cupped his hands, and hollered a bonus question: ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Komit! And I hope we never meet again!¡± Komit, the bilingual pinky, squeaked back.