Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 19
Tordelshy

~

The leviathan came near for a second, curious pass, closer this time. It bumped the bottom of the small row boat, and the human, sittin’ on the vee of the bow, tumbled backward into the black water. He pushed up once and screamed in agony at the majical cold.

Silly man. He shouldn’t have been sittin’ there.

It was odd that I found himself spyin’ on the human and troll. They were doin’ nothin’ more engrossin’ than fishin’, as excitin’ as watchin’ hair grow. I don’t find their kind particularly interestin’ no matter what they toil at. Their minds are closed to gnome empathy. Dwarves are much more fun, and their always-grumpy irritation with our teasin’ all the more rewardin’.

I watched the human struggle for several moments. He wrenched about fightin’ with the water as though it was the tight grip of a beast, squeezin’ his life away.

Surely anyone who sat so recklessly should be able to swim, to cope with the cold.

The human gasped, eyes wide-open in shock, kickin’ stiffly to keep his head above water.

It wasn’t the first time I witnessed the cold incapacitate someone who had fallen into the water. It did somethin’ to their muscles—I don’t know how I knew—but I remember watchin’ an ogre wade too deeply into the water once to retrieve a snagged fishin’ line. He tarried too long, fell to his knees in agony. Black Lake seized him as quickly as fish attack a hook. I watched the thin’ twist in pain.

The hapless ogre managed to eventually crawl out of the water. He sat in the mud a long time, his arms wrapped around himself. He looked out at the water and shook his head. No doubt learned a new respect for the majical waters.

Ogres are tough. This weak human didn’t have a chance. The troll who fished with him struggled to the other side of the boat, threatenin’ to capsize the tiny craft.

“Hold on, Wilbur!” the troll shouted.

The rim of the boat dipped dangerously low. The troll would soon be in the water, too. He managed to lie across the benches of the boat to distribute his massive weight, and reached over the side for his friend, but there was nothin’ he could do after grabbin’ the man’s hand. The lightest tug tilted the boat and brought water floodin’ into it.

“Haaaaallllppppp,” the troll bellowed in its gravelly bass, over and over.

The vibration of the troll’s call set ripples floatin’ across the tops of the swells the two caused. It must have been heard for many miles over the water. Nearby fishermen would be scannin’ the horizon, but the two in Death’s embrace were too far away in a cove, alone, unseen.

Eventually men would scramble in boats from the elf’s pier to come help. They’d row toward the terror-edged sound of the troll’s call, but they would be too late.

Half the fun of blinkin’ into the lesser races’ world is the risk of drawin’ the ire of the council—as though they might care to find out. It’s a flagrant transgression to interfere in the goin’s-on of their domain, though many did durin’ the wars. They feared their favorites, the dwarves, whose minds are open to gnomekind, would cease to exist. They probably would have, if gnomekind hadn’t meddled. Those on the council argued among themselves for decades, as the carnage raged.

Through the wars, gnome presence in the lesser-domain became so common it was hard later for the council to rein in the petty games, spyin’, and teasin’ that goes on. Would actin’ to bring aid to the two lessers draw the council’s wrath? I didn’t have long to decide whether to meddle, or not.

The water poured into the boat, over the troll’s shoulders. It would soon slide into the black depths takin’ the troll with it.

Should I help?

The human’s eyes rolled back. He was no longer conscious.

Humans certainly don’t take the cold well. At least the leviathan wasn’t interested in him. Even though he should have been a tasty snack. So why didn’t he?

I dashed home, called out to my friends for help, blinked back to the lesser realm, into the back of the boat, and splashed overboard what water I could with my tiny cupped hands. Three, four, five, six more gnomes joined me, but our efforts were too little. The boat tipped, floundered, and slipped under the water. The troll found himself workin’ to keep himself afloat.

We flicked back to the ethereal.

I returned quickly, my chest burstin’ with the desire to help. There had to be somethin’ I could do. I considered the possibilities as I watched the human’s face dip below the surface of the water, perhaps for the last time. The troll wasted his air in a last, loud, mournful scream that ripped at my chest.

“Haaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeellllp!”

The troll went under, but managed to come back up. He choked with the water he inhaled. He pulled at the arm of the human, but his face didn’t break the surface. The effort took the troll down for another dousin’.

I remember listenin’ to the disgustin’ dragon tellin’ the ogre hen one day to send the gnomes if she ever needed help. I shivered at the thought of dealin’ with the once-majical beasts. Their powers had been stripped, and left in the lesser realm forever because of their inappropriate affairs. They have much cause to resent gnomekind.

But there was no other option.

I blinked into their realm, upon the ledge in front of the cavern the dragons had built their lair. The male’s eyes whirled, and he bugled an alarm. The female bounded in an awkward lunge from within to join her mate. She lurched at me, her needle sharp teeth barely missin’ my shoulder. It snagged my coat, pulled me into the air. I could have blinked back to safety, but I remained, reachin’ out to their minds.

“Wait!” shouted the bull-dragon to his mate.

She trumpeted angrily, despite keepin’ me ensnared in her maw.

“He’s come to us for help,” the bull shouted.

“I wouldn’t help a wretched gnome to save my soul,” she screeched. She leaned down to snap me in half.

The bull pushed between us. He looked at her, his eyes whirlin’. Pleadin’.

“He says it’s a human and troll that need our help,” Mo’sale bellowed.

“I don’t care!” she said, buglin’ her ire for a gnome visitin’ her lair, where her new eggs lay, her last clutch.

“If ya wish peace for yar brood, ya should care,” Mo’sale said.

Her eyes whirled too, in that dragon way. “Ya go and do their biddin’, then.”

Mo’sale launched off the precipice and I blinked into the ethereal to follow.

There was nothin’ but the ripple of the water as the dragon dipped his talons at the shadows under the surface. He found the arm of the troll and pushed hard to pull him from the water. The troll still grasped the human. The troll emerged, chokin’ for breath.

“Let go of him! I may be able to save ya,” Mo’sale shouted as he beat at the air with his wings. “But not the two of ya.”

The weight of the troll alone, without the space to thrust his wings fully downward, was too much for the smaller, bull dragon. He’d have to give up soon. His struggle would exhaust him—pull him into the black as well. The dragon trumpeted again and again for his mate’s assistance.

She would not leave her eggs, I knew.

I blinked back to the dragons’ ledge. The female bared her teeth at me, as dozens more gnomes appeared along the shelf of the outcroppin’. I pled for the dragon to help. She snarled. I slipped into what little Standish I know, and tried again, as I also tried to reach into her mind. But she blocked me.

“I swear—no harm—to yar clutch!”

The queen dragon threw her head back and trumpeted. The noise pitched across the peaks and echoed through the gorges. She arched her long neck and glared at me.

“Please. Hurry! Ya must!”

Her eyes whirled with anger, but she finally clambered for the cavern entry, extended her wings and leapt into the air.

By the time she swooped down to help her mate, Mo’sale was nearly done. He’d managed only to keep them from slippin’ deeper. He was soaked, and the cold of the lake pulled at him, too. Ash’et’s giant wingspan required him to move away to allow her to reach the two he struggled to save. Mo’sale dug deep within and pushed with all his might to rise above the surface of the water. Behind him, Ash’et stabbed into the black and withdrew the human, and flew away with him.

To the elf’s pier—not her lair for a snack, I hoped.

The troll managed to keep his head above the water long enough until Mo’sale returned. Though the bull-dragon couldn’t lift the troll, even without the anchor-like weight of the human, he managed to drag the troll across the surface of the water the remainin’ fifty feet, to the near, rocky bank.

The dragon let go of the troll to allow him to make his own way out of the shallows. He did, slowly, and lay atop the crags next to the pantin’ Mo’sale, who shook from exhaustion and cold. He unfurled his wings to get what warmth there was from the late-season sun, and lay across the rock, to soak up the rays.

Gnomes by the score blinked in and caressed the dragon and nuzzled the troll to warm them. Both dragon and troll growled at first, but didn’t refuse the attention. The troll rolled into a ball, racked with cold shakes. The gnomes covered him, sharin’ their body heat. When the queen, Ash’et, showed up far overhead, soarin’ in a broad circle, Mo’sale rose, and finally spoke.

“No need to thank us, troll. Just bein’ good neighbors.”

The troll growled, but it shuddered in its version of a laugh.

The dragon launched, to rejoin his mate. Though the other gnomes returned to the ethereal, I sat with the troll a while, until I knew the dragons had returned to their lair. I joined Mo’sale as the dragon landed on their ledge. Ash’et bugled in fury as gnomes evaporated from inside the cavern. She snapped madly at my friends.

“They were keepin’ the eggs warm,” I placed into the bull-dragon’s consciousness.

Mo’sale tried to calm her, but the idea of gnomes anywhere near her future brood incensed her. She continued her angry trumpetin’, the blare, overwhelmin’. Already in the edge of my realm, I still heard the dragon.

~

I found a perch on the edge of the elf’s pier. A hundred other gnomes must have been poppin’ in and out, watchin’ the excitement. The council was no doubt goin’ to be hearin’ many different versions of the event today. It didn’t bear good tidin’s. I’d have to do some eloquent speakin’.

I searched out my favorite dwarf. Master Coedwig scowled, listenin’ to the others babblin’ about the giant queen showin’ up with a human danglin’ from her talons. Coedwig leaned against the head of his axe, chewin’ on his lower lip. Humans, trolls, and ogres peered out onto the lake, searchin’ for what may have happened to the missin’ troll.

The elf’s cook leaned over the human lyin’ on the pier. She cried, then laughed, only to cry again. The near-frozen man’s arms wrapped around her, tryin’ to calm her.

“The troll is well,” I placed into Coedwig’s mind.

The dwarf looked about, brow creased. I yanked on Coedwig’s pants leg.

“Not now, gnome.”

I pointed to one of the boats tied to the pier. “I’ll take ya to him,” I struggled in Standish.

The dwarf squished his face together as though he’d eaten somethin’ rancid. “Six decades ya’ve chosen not to answer my questions,” he mumbled, shakin’ his head. But he turned and waved a human to join him, as he clambered into a boat.

All was worth that sight, of a dwarf on water. They care little more for the water than elves do—both lessers sink like stones. His distasteful expression was a reward I could savor, considerin’ the punishment I might face on return to my realm. I made my way to the head of the boat, to lead the two to where they could find the shiverin’ troll.

~