Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 5
Estn
~

I spit out what I coughed up. Didn’t expect the crimson phlegm that splattered the railin’.

Didn’t look good. None at all. More than a bit frightenin’.

I tried to convince myself my throat was merely raw from the coughin’. Maybe my lungs hadn’t turned black. I stepped out onto the narrow ledge I whimsically call my veranda and took in the early blue sky, peered over the rough banister at the ground thirty feet below.

My elevated shelter woulda surely embarrassed my ancestors. They lived in complete cities hundreds of feet up in the giant conifers. Before the goblins torched them in the wars. Even by my own reckonin’, my home isn’t what I envisioned. But I got a view without havin’ to be near the lake, out of the wind that swept over it, which could freeze a daemon’s spine.

“Attemptin’ to live in the trees like yar ancestors was a mistake, ya fool, up here in the highlands. Fool indeed.” The wind’s sharper than a witch’s wit up here. What gave me the croup.

Be lucky to see another winter. Or even the end of the comin’ summer.

Suddenly I didn’t want to be alone. It was early in the day. Ogre Birs might not be into his main chores yet. I thought of how quiet the ogre’s young mate once acted around me. She warmed extraordinarily quickly, the sweet hen.

“A hot tea with at least one friendly face would be a blessin’ today.”

I covered the hearth with my big kettle to make sure no stray sparks encouraged me to build a more reasonable home on the ground sooner than I expected, and descended the ladder.

~

Long before I walked out of the trees, I heard our newest neighbor singin’. Assume that’s what the troll calls it, though sounds to an elf’s ears more like a patient rockslide meanderin’ its way down the side of a mountain.

I hadn’t shared much more than a hello with the troll or his cranky, nearly-grown offspring since they started showin’ up the previous fall. The elder troll didn’t seem that industrious, in no hurry to complete his homestead.

When I learned the troll wasn’t gonna come stalkin’ after me, I relaxed, mostly. But ogre Birs had nothin’ flatterin’ to say about our neighbor’s race. Funny that an ogre and troll, their kind once somewhat aligned, now warier of each other than of an elf, a past enemy.

I figger, an ogre should have a better grip with what the fellow giants are about, so I wasn’t motivated to spend much time tryin’ to get acquainted with the troll family.

As always, the troll was in his field with his goats. He held up a long arm that looked as though he held a club, but it was all arm. He waved the tree-ish thin’ in greetin’. I raised a timid hand to reply, but another coughin’ fit bent me near-double. I spit when the torture concluded.

I trudged on toward Birs’ place, through the dew-soaked stubble with its fine filaments of new spring growth. A welcomin’ spish of smoke escaped from the ogres’ chimney before the breeze dispersed it. I didn’t see Birs about. Odd, that.

The bull is always workin’, either on an extension to their modest cabin, the barn, fences, or pullin’ rock to extend the garden or pasture. A wonder he ever slowed down for a cup of tea. How did the ogre bull ever manage to get that mate of his a soon-to-be mama?

I raised a foot to plant it on the first step of the cabin’s landin’ and heard the sniff sniff through the door, which swung inward with a rush. The ogre bull held his axe at the ready. He lowered it and his face turned like a page, flippin’ from a drama to a comedy.

“It’s the elf,” he roared.

Why’d the giants have to talk so loudly? I’m not on the other side of the lake.

“How’s that cough doin’?” Birs shouted.

I didn’t need the remindin’, as it took me again.

“Not good, I see,” Birs said, wavin’ me to hurry. “Come in out of the wind.”

I struggled up the tall steps. “I’d accept a hot cup of tea,” I said, when I finished my coughin’.

The giant closed the door behind me with a rigorous thump.

“Sounds as though ya require more than tea,” Birs said. The ogre turned toward his mate, but I saw Tiff’s answerin’ expression, and nod. She grabbed a pot off the wall above the fire, poured in a tall amount of spirits, and scooped a glob of honey into it, before she hung it on a low hook in the hearth.

“In the meantime, tea will warm ya up.” Birs set a mug down before me, where I struggled to climb into a blasted troll-sized, rough-hewed chair. “From ten steps away I feel the cold comin’ off ya.”

“Spring comes late up here,” Tiff said. Her snout twitched as though she smelled the cold.

“She never misses a chance to remind me,” Birs bellowed. A big grin etched his face though.

“Why,” Tiff said, “should I be remindin’ ya there’s plenty of open land to claim in the lowlands?”

“I don’t know, why is that?” Birs asked.

“Because yar a dolt, that’s why, and a waste of my time,” Tiff barked in that loud, giant voice.

“Then why’d ya find yarself a matin’ me then?” Birs challenged.

“Been askin’ myself that every day this winter,” she said.

The ogre bull grabbed her roughly, pullin’ her to him. He wrapped her up with one arm, and rubbed her distended tummy with a rake of a hand.

“Stop it, ya nasty savage. If ya haven’t noticed, we’re havin’ proper company.” She slapped at his arm, but her eyes danced with a delight she couldn’t hide.

“Good to have a reserved mate,” Birs said, winkin’ at me. “And I indulge myself with the courtin’ yet.” He extended his knowin’ smile across those tusks.

I studied my unlikely friend over my mug for a moment before avertin’ my eyes as the two ogres wrestled, Tiff tryin’ to get out of her mate’s clutch. I took the moment to look out the plate glass that covered the cabin’s window. How many cords of wood did the ogre have to haul to the lowlands to pay for such an extravagance?

“Did ya hear a troupe of goblins was spotted south of the lake?”

I choked on my tea, which caused a long coughin’ fit. “T— Tis agin’ the Covenant.”

“Don’t seem to matter much,” Birs said, “if ya got no one patrollin’ the borders.”

“W— what’s yar ogre council gonna do?” I asked.

“Ogre council.” He snorted. “Them from the western plain don’t care what happens up here. Maybe flap their lips. Otherwise takin’ a wait and see attitude for the moment.” He studied the timbers in the floor. “More interestin’ to see what the humans will do.”

“Are the passes clear yet, ya suppose?”

“If not, they’ll be most any day,” Birs said. “Nothin’ to stop good horses, no how.”

“The humans have several villages reachin’ near these parts now,” I said. “Suspect there’ll be some anxiety simmerin’ in ’em.”

“As if they have any right to settle on the Plain, so near the Range.” Birs actually said that in a restrained voice. Eyes barin’ some discomfort.

“Memories die hard,” Tiff said.

I thought of the ancient conifers, the elven ancestral homes, long gone from goblin fires. No love lost among our two races. Those giants deserved their place in the dry, eastern mountains.

“Wouldn’t be surprised to see yar kind,” Birs said, “showin’ up with the humans.”

I looked over my mug at him, and coughed again. Was almost glad, for the pain pushed away the memories of the epic stories the elders told around the fires at night.

“Try this,” Tiff said, settin’ a new mug in front of me.

The hand of a female. A gift from the gods to the male, for those smart enough not to run ’em off.

I thanked her and slowly tipped back the mug to measure how hot the concoction was. A whiff of escapin’ alcohol tickled my nose and almost started a new fit, but I managed to swallow it away. The sweetness soothed and burned my throat at the same time. It felt as though a dollop of fire dropped into my empty stomach. Should have eaten somethin’ this mornin’.

As if Tiff read my mind, she delivered a plank of bread slices and chunks of goat cheese. “Ya’re lookin’ a little pale even for an elf, Master Estn. Eat somethin’.” The ogre hen growled at me, pointin’ a finger at the food as though I might not notice it settin’ there otherwise.

~

Later that mornin’, a far-off rumble roused me from my cot. I set down my favorite book of poetry and listened. A bit like far-off thunder, but I knew what it was. Hooves. A lot of them, echoin’ through the valley pass. I jerked on my boots and heavy overcoat.

By the time I reached the edge of the tree line, a small army congregated at the eastern shore of the lake, on hard-ridden horses. Barely midmornin’. They had to have left the most southern human village very early.

Elves among ’em, as Birs predicted.

More than a hundred riders. Birs and the troll walked toward the arrivin’ contingent. I made my way to join my neighbors, to greet the newcomers.

“Good day, elf,” the troll greeted me with a smile crammed between his tusks.

I nodded, and worked to conclude a cough, a convenient impediment to strikin’ up a conversation, though I fell alongside the giant as we strolled, waitin’ for Birs to catch up. When the ogre joined us with his own silent nod, we crossed the half-mile of meadow, and searched out the commander of the force.

An elf ran toward us. “Master Estn?” The near-younglin’ held out his hand. “There was much talk of where ya might have ended up,” he said, eyein’ the loomin’ troll and ogre closely. “Consortin’ with our cousins now, are ya?”

The ogre and troll shared glances before lookin’ back at the smilin’ elf wearin’ the heavily laden quiver.

“The name’s Yoso,” the troll said. He pushed out his long arm toward the young elf.

“Liad,” the elf said, allowin’ the giant’s paw to envelope his hand. “Pleased to make yar acquaintance.”

Birs introduced himself.

“Ya’re here to search for goblins, I ’spose?” I asked.

“It stirred a mob as soon as word reached North,” Liad said. “Will ya join us?”

I watched the expressions of the two giants takin’ in the horses that were led to the lake to drink. The two giant races held no love for the beasts, and vice versa I believe, not that they could ride them if they cared to. I almost smiled, imaginin’ Yoso’s long legs draggin’ the ground as he sat a saddle.

I snapped my attention back to Liad. “No horse,” I said.

“We have several backup mounts,” the lad offered.

“With yar cough, ya shouldn’t,” Birs mumbled. By his bearin’, I could have guessed he was less than thrilled about the bevy of humans gatherin’ near the water.

I’m not dead yet. Goblins are treadin’ west. If I’m gonna die, might as well be keepin’ them where they belong.

~

The ride was fast, but thankfully short, before the little army came upon a goblin huntin’ party. There were only five of them. The tall lanky giants, near as tall as any ogre, stood together in a tight circle as our force surrounded them. The sad-lookin’ creatures, slumped shoulders, skinny limbs, wore resigned expressions, as though recognizin’ they were likely to die any moment. There were dozens of notched arrows pointed at them.

But the human who led the force spoke to them calmly. “If you wish to live, turn for home and don’t look back, and tell your kind when you get there not to come near here again. This’ll be our only warnin’. We won’t hesitate to put down every goblin we find tomorrow. Do you understand?”

The five nodded, their expressions not changin’.

“Don’t return,” the man said. His voice boomed this time.

Slowly, a break formed in the mob of horses, and the five goblins made their way through it with jerky movements. Their obvious terror made me feel a tad of sympathy for them. Why would they dare come west to hunt? What kind of greetin’ did they expect? Surely no welcome.

All eyes studied the five lope away, carryin’ the venison they had already collected.

Rather anti-climactic.

I bent over in my saddle, wracked with another cough. The human leader reined his horse toward me. “Elf. Get yourself home. We have many valleys to search. I don’t choose to be diggin’ a grave for you on this march.” He waved Liad to come forward. “Escort him home, son.”

The man turned back to me. “We appreciate your will, but it’s clear you aren’t gonna be able to keep up, no matter how tough and stubborn you elves are.”

Without an apology, the man put his heel into his horse to get to the front of the army. Scouts fanned wide left and right. In minutes they all were through the trees and out of sight.

Liad peered over at me. The lad didn’t wear an expression of disappointment. Maybe he realized after several days of ridin’, and this first encounter, the endeavor wasn’t the excitin’ odyssey he expected.

~

Birs met us near the lake’s eastern cove. It was evident by his long expression the ogre wasn’t here to chat about the weather.

“Bad news,” Birs said as we reined up. His eyes glared at the two beasts we rode.

I looked west along the bank of the lake. Squinted into the last arc of the sun that hung above the far peaks, but couldn’t see anythin’ out of place. The troll’s dugout, as well as Birs and Tiff’s cabin seemed to be in order. Their critters grazed on the meager shoots the new spring offered.

“This mornin’ after ya left.” Birs pursed his face. “I should have paid attention to the smoke scent earlier, I might have saved some of yar thin’s. But when I got to yar, yar little home, it was fully ablaze.”

I closed my eyes and worked to swallow yet another cough.

Now what? Does it matter? How long do I have? No energy to rebuild.

“I’m sorry, Master Estn,” Birs said.

The two of them remained silent until I recovered from another cough. When I finally cleared my throat, Liad said, “Let me take ya home, back to our clan, where we can care for ya, and ya can get over this croup.”

We all fell quiet again for a long moment.

“It may be the best thin’, my friend,” Birs said. “I would put ya up—”

“No. Ya have a new mate ya need to be courtin’,” I said. “One younglin’ on the way, and a brood of a dozen to work on.”

The ogre grinned, before his expression turned serious again. “The two of ya sleep before our hearth tonight. Too late to be strikin’ north.”

“Most kind of ya, sir,” Liad said. He peered at me. “Will be no time before ya’re well again, back to rebuild yar homestead.”

I caught the ogre’s doubtful glance at the elflin’. The young are optimistic. Fools for their lack of life experiences. Live in a world of nothin’ but sunny futures.

If I survive the journey north, a big if, at least I have a bed there to die in. Kin to bury me in the elven fashion.

~