Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 13
Jear
~

“How do ya suppose an elf would taste?” I asked my two idjit tagalongs. As much to judge their buyin as anythin’.

“Agin’ the Covenant,” Lrt mumbled.

Whrl remained silent, but I watched him look over at Lrt.

I need help with my plans, but these two cowards might not have the stomach for it.

“That’s a shame, isn’t it,” I said. “If the nasty little critter doesn’t happen into a disastrous accident soon, that cursed inn of his will have so many humans crawlin’ around the valley we’ll never be able to return to the way it should be.”

“We could break his legs and suggest he leave,” Lrt offered.

“His kind is stubborn,” I mumbled. “Besides, he’s made many friends. They’d likely keep up his place while he was on the mend. We’ll have to be more direct than that, my good friends.” Idjits.

I put my arm out to get help from Whrl, as I struggled to lift my foot over the root of a tree. I leaned heavily on my staff and struggled to catch my breath. It had been a long walk for my ancient troll bones, but my hatred for the elf drove me on. Shoulda stayed the night in the Range mines, instead of challengin’ the longer trek here from where I met the Eastern Council. Bigger idjits than my own clan.

“We scare his guests long enough, they’d stop comin’,” Lrt suggested.

“Ya’re such a dangerous criminal, Lrt. I suppose ya’re gonna stand in front of the inn and growl at ’em?”

Lrt thrust out his jaw, but didn’t say anythin’.

“Burn down his barn,” Whrl suggested.

“They’d only re-build it,” Lrt said.

“The council will learn if we linger, pesterin’ the humans,” I grumbled. “His kind can’t swim. We could take him for a stroll into the lake.”

My two coconspirators glared, their glowin’, brass-colored eyes narrowin’.

“Stake out the road enterin’ the Range, and keep the humans from even gettin’ here,” Whrl offered.

“Them human constables from the plain village would be on the road in a day. That would be worse.” I imagined the indignity of bein’ chased down by the horses the human’s invariably travel upon. I shuddered. Wouldn’t wish that on any troll.

I hate them horses. Grimy, opinionated beasts. They think they’re so superior. Smell, they do.

The three of us cleared the trees and trudged toward the inn, just visible in the distance, across who knows how many now-tilled fields. I struggled with the tall grass. We came to the new, barbed fence put up to keep Brae’s goats and sheep corralled, and I mumbled a pair of troll-oaths. “The land should be open and free.”

“Our clans stake claim to the earth below. Figger it’s fair the lesser races do the same above,” Lrt said.

“Ya’re an idjit,” I shouted at him. “They don’t have much more right to breathe the same air as we do. They certainly don’t have a right to partition the valley off for their private delight.”

“I’ve had enough of yar slights,” Lrt said. “I don’t even know why we’re out here.”

“Ya’d have to have half a brain in yar head for that,” I said.

“I’m done.” Lrt strode away. “He’s yar problem, Whrl.”

“Lrt. Don’t go,” Whrl called.

“Shut yar mouth,” I said. “We don’t need him.”

“That leaves me to do alone whatever it is we’re gonna do,” Whrl complained.

“That’s all we need, me to do the thinkin’, ya to do the deed.”

Whrl looked down at what I held out to him. “A knife? What deed?”

“Good thin’ I’m here to think for ya. His room is right behind the front desk, off the lobby. In a bit, if he isn’t already there, he’ll be abed and ya can go in nice and quiet and slit his throat.”

“Beside that bein’ agin’ the Covenant, it’d serve no point. He’d have kin come in no time to take over the inn, just as he did for that uncle of his,” Whrl said.

“Not if ya burn down the place when ya finish with Braes,” I said.

“And kill another thirty or more humans caught in the flames. I won’t do such a thin’.”

“When did ya learn to embrace them humans so?” I demanded.

“I care none for humans, necessarily, but I know right from wrong.”

“Then ya’re as big a fool as Lrt and the rest of the council,” I said.

“I won’t be goin’ along with this,” Whrl said. “Not what I was expectin’ from ya. Come. I’ll help ya home.”

“Be gone with ya,” I said, jerkin’ my arm away. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Now who’s bein’ the fool?” Whrl asked. “Ya can barely walk through this grass.”

I grabbed my staff with two hands and swung it at the younger troll. There was certainly no blisterin’ speed in the swing, and Whrl moved easily aside. But my effort pulled me off balance and I fell to the ground—elbow first, right knee, then my shoulder as I twisted. I grunted hard, but though I hit nothin’ but deep grass that cushioned my fall, it sent aches throughout my old body. Coulda fallen from a cliff and not hurt anymore.

Whrl rushed forward to help me up. “Are ya all right?”

“It’s none of yar business,” I snapped. “I’ll take help only from a friend.”

“Then ya won’t be gettin’ much help, ya angry old fool.”

I shouted a stream of obscenities—the old hen woulda clubbed me for speakin’—at Whrl’s back as the troll lumbered toward the forest.

I’m the only troll with any sense.

I struggled to find my staff in the tall grass, which then wrestled with me to keep me where I lay. I made it to my knees, and leaned against the staff to catch my breath. A big billy goat came up to the fence several feet away to investigate, and belched at me.

“What do ya want, ya stinkin’ beast?”

The animal stepped closer, sided the fence, and urinated, no doubt to show his displeasure with my tone. So the general attitude was unanimous. I hurried to stand to get away, to avoid the splatter.

“I’ll see ya rotatin’ on a spit,” I threatened.

The goat looked over its shoulder as it sauntered away.

“That’s how I feel about my so-called friends,” I said to the goat.

~

The goin’ was hard. Stinks bein’ old as dirt. How on Earth am I gonna surprise the elf? His kind are known for their supernatural hearin’.

“Ya’ve led a long life ya fool. Ya might as well die tryin’.”

The walk from the East alone exhausted me, with two troll bulls helpin’ me. The uneven ground and tall grass was nearly impenetrable. It took too much effort to lift the staff forward through the forage—one stiff leg, then the another. I concentrated, forcin’ myself toward the inn, until it loomed before me, blockin’ out the crescent of the moon. I studied the array of windows and exits. Failed to watch my step, and my staff hooked on somethin’, and I fell, again.

“Ahhhhhh.” I closed my eyes against the greedy pain that sucked away what little energy I had left.

I’d fallen over somethin’, which raked my shins meanly. I pulled up my baggy pants legs. Blood trickled from deep grooves on both shins. My right big toe throbbed, and oozed blood as well.

I pushed away the grass angrily and found a log hidden in it. The top of the log had been split to leave a flat surface.

“What the blazes?” I sniffed. There were good and bad, unexpected aromas comin’ from it. I reached out confused, curious what I’d fallen over. Picked up bits and pieces of somethin’ strewn over the log.

“Oh, my Lord!” The words broke the silence of the night.

I jerked and looked around in a panic. I hadn’t heard or seen anyone approachin’. I pushed away from the log and fell over, onto my backside, grunted at the impact against stinkin’ ancient-old bones. I held my fists in front of me to block the comin’ blows.

A human stood over me, a lantern swingin’ from one hand, a pail from the other.

Is yar hearin’ that bad, ya stupid old troll? Blind as a bat I am. Deserve to be bludgeoned to death.

“If you were hungry, you poor creature, all you had to do was come to the kitchen door. The Scriptures teach us to feed all thin’s in need. This isn’t for your kind.” The woman hefted the pail she held. “It’s to entice the critters away from Master Braes’ garden.”

I threw down the stuff clenched in my paws as I realized what it was.

I was pickin’ at old food left for vermin. I groaned. How much lower can ya sink, ya old troll. Now ya’re bein’ taken as a beggar. Better to be recognized as a noble murderer.

“Come with me to the inn. I’ll prepare you a proper meal,” the human said.

Kill her, ya fool.

“Just a moment,” she continued. “Let me pour this ole stuff out.”

I turned and watched her shake the contents of the pail out on the log. I reached at my waist for the knife I had offered Whrl. My hand clamped upon the hilt, but felt the ever-visitin’ tremble in my hand, and made a fist.

“Here’s your staff,” she said.

I’ll take pleasure at cuttin’ yar throat first.

For a tiny, worthless human, she was strong. She grunted and spread her feet apart, but got me to my feet. She took a firm grip of my arm, and pulled it over her shoulder.

Snap her skinny little neck. It’ll never be simpler to finish her off.

A new plan emerged, however. There could be no more convenient way to get inside the inn than as an invited guest. I leaned hard on the woman to make it through the grass, but she never complained, nor shut her mouth. She talked non-stop to the very side door of the evil inn.

I learned much too much about the human, not that it would make it any more difficult to kill her. She shouldn’t have been at Black Lake to begin with. It’d been her decision. Humans and trolls aren’t meant to live side-by-side.

~

I grimaced at the bright light inside what she called the kitchen. Musta been a dozen lanterns ablaze. What a waste. Humans are so worthless, not to be able to see in the dark.

The woman pulled up a chair next to a small table pressed near a black iron stove and helped me sit. I wasn’t eager to spend more time in the inn than necessary to complete my task. But sittin’, realized the absolute exhaustion that penetrated my bones. I slumped forward and struggled to pull in air, watchin’ the human’s every move. She disappeared for a moment through a door. I worried she’d return with someone to kill me, that her friendly way had been a ruse to get herself to safety.

But she returned with a broad board covered with the smoked carcass of a goat. She set it on the counter and grabbed an enormous cleaver. I jerked in fear, and the woman glanced my way.

“Oh, my. What did you do to yourself?”

I followed her line of sight—she studied the blood that soaked through my pant legs and covered my feet. She leaned in front of me and rolled up my pants and groaned sympathetically.

“First thin’s first,” she said.

She flitted again and returned with a pan filled with what, I could only guess.

“My name’s Gladys, by the way. Who might you be?” she asked, pourin’ water over my wounds.

Yow. The burnin’ knives penetratin’ my shins interrupted my thoughts, that perhaps I shouldn’t use my real name. No doubt I was well known as less than a friend of the humans. I blurted Jear anyway.

 She pressed bark shavin’s into my scrapes and I leaned over in agony, torturous pain. Kill her now. Kill her now. But only moments later, whatever was in the stuff she applied started relievin’ the sting. She talked on without a pause—children were Juliana and Timothy. Had a husband by the name of Wilbur. Her best friend is Eina. I tried to block out the information. Don’t care. Don’t care. Shut up, hen.

She poured more water over my wounds, dried them, and dabbed a salve over them. She finally rolled my pants down, lifted my feet over a pan, and cleaned the blood and mud off of them with a drippin’ cloth.

I held my breath, maybe in shock. Never would have let a troll hen get so intimate.

What are ya doin’, ya old goat? Kill the hen.

She talked on. I could do nothin’. Shoulda been rippin’ her head from her shoulders. But I had to admit the cleansin’ felt good. She softly massaged between my toes, and the bottom of my feet, before takin’ a dry towel to them. My disgust eased. No idea why.

It must be a human thin’. I hadn’t done nothin’ inappropriate. Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Then why did my face burn, so?

She stood and took a clean cloth to each of my hands, as though I’m an invalid, incapable of washin’ my own hands. She gave me another dry towel before disappearin’ through the near-door again. Moments later she returned with a mug. I peered into it. The liquid inside was white and opaque. Took a sip. It was incredibly sweet. How disgustin’.

How do humans drink this?

Another sip had me rethinkin’ my disgust, though. It was cool. Felt good goin’ down.

It isn’t that sweet.

She stood at the counter cuttin’ at the carcass, pilin’ meat upon a chunk of dark bread on a trencher. She ladled over it all somethin’ that simmered on a stovetop. She grabbed a fire iron and opened the side of the wood oven and jammed the trencher in it.

Still she chattered—had never stopped—with too much energy. A troll hen doesn’t use as many words in a season as she already had. I don’t want to hear any more. She spoke of her childhood now.

Oh, please.

“I’ve always lived in the mines at the south edge of the Range,” I heard myself answer her. “Before we returned to the Range-proper to reclaim our old mines. I’ve got four younglin’s, twelve grand offspring, four great grand offspring.” Have no idea how she conjured that out of me.

Didn’t know humans are majical.

“No, none of us have ever lived above ground. Yoso and Eina are indeed unique.” Why do I keep answerin’ her questions?

Stop. Fight the majic, ya old troll.

She walked to the oven and pulled out my trencher. To my horror, she tucked a towel into the top of my shirt, before handin’ me the food. But I no longer considered killin’ her. She doesn’t deserve that, even if she did act far too familiar. And is majical.

I used the fork she handed me to pull off a piece of the bread, skewer a slice of meat, and swirl the two into the thick stew that seeped through it. I heard myself groaning in delight. More conjurin’, it had to be, but I don’t care. The warmth of the food rejuvenated me—prolly more that stinkin’ majic of hers. Recognized some of the herbs that are popular with my own folk—no doubt an influence from that hen, Eina.

“This is wonderful.” I grimaced. No idea why I said that. “I can see why the humans are comin’ in droves to visit the inn.”

Blast! Why did I say that? She’s conjured me in some fashion. An evil witch, she’s gotta be.

“How are your legs feelin’?”

Before I could answer, she continued.

“Let me get you somethin’ for the discomfort. You’ll be bruisin’ somethin’ awful by the morn.”

She disappeared as I continued to work at the pile of food in front of me. I eagerly used bits of bread to sop at the juice before it dripped off the trencher. Not proper troll fare. But, I wouldn’t throw it in the trash. I hadn’t realized I was hungry. But the stew would have tasted wonderful even if I had just finished a normal troll meal. The human woman, Gladys, reemerged, talkin’ already. Oddly, she didn’t ring as irritatin’ as she had earlier.

“The menfolk are in a checkers playoff of sorts in the dinin’ hall. If you’re up to it, you oughta consider joinin’ ’em. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you jumpin’ in late. Yoso’s playin’, so I guess your kind play the game?”

“I’ve, been, exposed to checkers.” I grimaced at the floor. Conjured. By human majic.

She leaned over and started scrapin’ somethin’ against a flat stone over my drink. A grayish dust floated down and disappeared into the liquid. I wrinkled up my nose, but held my tongue. Gladys picked up the mug and swirled it around several times.

“Might be a little bitter, but it should ease you a tad.”

She held it in front of me. I looked down at her, not appreciatin’ her maternal forcefulness. A low troll-growl mumbled deep in my chest.

“None of that,” she snapped. “Down with it.”

I reached for it—arm actin’ on its own. Took a gulp. The powder cut the sweetness of the drink. Tasted more like a proper troll concoction. I found himself smilin’.

Smilin’! Ya’re here to kill someone ya oaf. Ya’re actin’ like a hen yarself.

“Thank, ya.” I closed his eyes. Did I really say that?

“You are most welcome, Master Jear.”

While I finished my meal she returned the carcass wherever she gathered it from, and fretted about. My eyes wandered, maybe followin’ her some. I didn’t know what any of the confounded thin’s were that lined the kitchen, she called it.

After my last slurp, she swept me up with no regard for my grumblin’, and had me standin’ in front of a dozen human men in the dinin’ room. I was surprised there were a handful of ogres. Besides Yoso, another troll, even a dwarf. Dwarfs are mean and cantankerous, as antisocial as any critter alive. Never dreamed to see one of them in front of a checker board.

Amazin’ to see a dwarf out after night, too. The faces turned to me, most with a smile. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Braes the elf walk forward holdin’ a checkerboard in his hands. The elf didn’t have a smile for his less-than-favorite troll, but I met him eye-to-eye. He’s all bull, even if he’s pint-sized. Gotta admit he showed his mettle before the council.

“I’m waitin’ to play the winner between Coedwig and Birs,” the stinkin’ elf said. “If ya can beat me, ya can take on whoever takes their game.”

The noise rose as everyone turned their attention back to their own boards. I looked around for Gladys, realizin’ I oddly yearned for her support. But she was gone.

Can’t hardly kill someone I’ve played checkers with. Wouldn’t be civil. Gladys had ruined everythin’ with her majical interference.

I followed the elf to a table where the runt stood on a human-sized chair to set up the board. I sat stiffly across from him. Braes put his hands behind his back a moment before liftin’ them out toward me. I pointed to the little fellow’s right hand. Braes opened it. It contained the black piece. He opened his left to show the red.

Nasty way to start. Already used majic to get the first move, stinkin’ elf.

~