Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 8
Bick

~

I trudged forward completin’ my fifth tinker visit in as many weeks over the ice laden trail and the hills to Black Lake. The wagon creaked as it twisted, its wheels jerkin’ in and out of the frozen ruts. I exhaled in my hands to warm them. My horses, Rueti and Tueti, snorted irritably. They too, tired of makin’ the same, onerous trip, so often. The sharp elevation called for so many pauses.

Winter is usually dead-time for the three of us. I read my books by the fire and the horses drowse in their warm barn. That was the deal. It isn’t fair to be out in the cold. But the income these trips to Black Lake promised meant I wouldn’t have to travel as far into the dangerous Wildes when the tradin’ season began, the coin pocketed for the future. So I braved the cold for the higher rate the elf offered for his haulin’.

Over my long career, I grew to assume all elves are self-reliant creatures who avoid human sellers and barterers, most all contact with humans, actually. There isn’t a lot of trust between our two races. The young spit of a lad at Black Lake is an impatient sort, willin’ to cavort with all means of two-legged critters.

I had been known to be searched out by an odd ogre or troll, for the luxuries humans more often prefer. But they typically keep to their own kind as well. The elf always hosted a few trolls, an ogre or two, always a dwarf. It’s unsettlin’—unnatural.

The elves are odd lookin’, with their sharp ears, pale complexion, spindly little arms and legs. The ogres— Well. I find myself watchin’ my back around them. The trolls—it’s a comfort to know they aren’t very industrious. They enjoy their holes in the ground and don’t care much for human trappin’s. Most despise daylight, except for the pair who hung around Braes so much, lived on the property borderin’ the inn.

The worst is perhaps the way the ogres and trolls peer at Rueti and Tueti. They aren’t the best of stock, sorry guys, but they’ve been with me a long time. We three have a bond. The two-legged creatures drooled too much over the two horses, as though imaginin’ them roastin’ over a fire. I don’t let them get too close to my dear friends.

We poured out of the trees and Rueti and Tueti picked up the pace, eager for the warmth of Braes’ newly-finished barn. They no longer hesitate to approach Black Lake. Their ears don’t even prick up when the smell of the water wafts through the trees. I applied the wagon’s brakes and gave the reins a tug to keep from pickin’ up too much speed on the steep slope into the valley.

Gnomes appeared from nowhere as I pulled into the semicircle of a lane formin’ in the brown grass between the inn and the enormous barn. Rueti and Tueti nickered, unhappy with the tiny beasts and their feverish scurryin’ and high-pitched voices. Unbidden, the gnomes pounced on the load. Half of it was carted into the inn before I turned around I think.

“Hold up!” I yelled. The stinkin’, nasty majies.

Of course they ignored me. Normally I’d be incensed. Am used to the client suspiciously reviewin’ every article as it comes off the wagon. But I know Braes will trust me, accept the bill for whatever I say I delivered. The fool trusts too much. I hope the elf never finds himself in business with someone with less integrity. He’d be stolen blind.

The skinny proprietor skipped down the grand steps of the inn. “Good day, Master Bick. How was yar journey?”

“Cold,” I answered, swingin’ down from my rock-hard seat, my jaw droppin’, findin’ the wagon completely bare.

Took me the better part of an hour to load. I scratched my head. “What are you payin’ that swarm of critters?”

“I’m not.”

I glared at him, not understandin’.

“Nothin’. They show up, or not. They chatter constantly, but in their own language. I have no idea when or why they’ll appear. I’ll walk into the kitchen one mornin’ and they’ll be loungin’ around the cook fire as though they own the place, and not see them again for a day or so. They do love their dwarf friends.” He giggled.

“Probably stealin’ you blind,” I said.

“I watch ’em closely, enough. If they’re pilferin’, I have no clue what. They’ve not asked for a thin’. I think it amuses ’em to be about.”

“They’re a queer folk,” I said. “Curious to a fault.” I exhaled loudly, maybe my exhaustion showin’. “That’s the last of the feather comforters and toiletry thin’s. I believe you can now officially say you have a hundred rooms ready for payin’ occupants.”

I finished foldin’ the tarp that had covered this load and lay it on the bed of the wagon, as a covey of gnomes began to lead my team away. Braes and I watched silently as the little thin’s unharnessed the horses and led them into the barn.

“It looks as though ya’re stayin’ for the evenin’,” Braes said.

“If that’s an invitation, I accept. Is the coffee hot?”

“Always. Come inside and warm up.” Braes waved me to follow.

I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at Black Lake. It no longer makes me shudder to look across its breadth. So many stories have been told about it. Not a one, good. Unless you fancy fishin’. I even appreciate the beauty of the view now, miles of shimmerin’ water, forests and mountains beyond. The legends and fables seem laughable now.

“Would you be offended, Master Braes, if I shared I never woulda imagined you, or any elf for that matter, openin’ such a beautiful inn?” I looked over my shoulder at the little half-man waitin’ for me at the inn’s entrance. The elf peered down at his bare toes, face turnin’ a shade of red that had nothin’ to do with the cold.

“It remains to be seen if anyone will actually face the long journey to visit, and let go of their gold and silver to pay my debts,” he said.

“I’ll share another thin’ with you, my elven friend. There’s a serious buzz in the human villages.”

“Buzz?” Braes still stared at his toes. “I’m told the likely chatter at the barbers and pubs, is that some fool is buildin’ a lodge where no man will go.”

The cawin’ of crows announced newcomers makin’ their way along the northern edge of Black Lake. Braes and I watched the trolls approach. Braes’ troll friend, Yoso, led a group of five others. They slunk through the tall, dry rye, elbows bent so their fists wouldn’t drag through the grass as they slowly swung their arms to the rhythm of their pace, their eyes pinched nearly closed against the glare of the late afternoon.

“By their grimaces, if they held clubs, I’d say they’re a warrin’ party,” I mumbled.

Still rip us apart with their bare hands if they wanted. I took a slow, deep breath.

Braes looked at me thoughtfully as he closed the door and walked back to the edge of the veranda where I stood. We waited together.

As the six trolls reached the stairs, I was stricken with awe over the size of the creatures. My nape bristled. A shiver crossin’ my shoulders. I looked down at the waist-tall Braes.

Must look as tall as trees to him.

“Welcome,” Braes called to them. “Come up and join us by the fire.”

Yoso looked up at his friend and smiled, but it faded quickly.

Not a good sign.

“Ya be the tinker who wants our gems?” one of the trolls challenged, pointin’ a long thumb at me.

“Be willin’ to barter,” I said. “There are those in the—”

“We’ve had quiet here in our forest for generations,” one troll said. “As soon as ya humans hear we have somethin’ valuable, ya’re traipsin’ all over our lands to take what we won’t barter.”

“Master Bick is hardly traipsin’ around yar land,” the elf snapped. “He’s my guest, helpin’ me outfit my inn.”

“And what gave ya the right to build an inn here in the first place?” demanded one of the other trolls. He was much older than the others, stood bent over, with the aid of a staff.

“Tis my property.”

“The council is none too happy about it.” The troll pointed the hilt of his staff ominously at Braes.

“Did ya ever ask permission to dig yar mines?” Braes asked.

I appraised my friend. Braes lifted up on his toes, and his hands fluttered in and away from his breeches nervously.

“Gentlemen,” I said. “Believe you’re gettin’ off on the wrong foot. Can I suggest we set with a coffee and start over?”

“We?” challenged the old troll. “Are ya a partner in this?”

“Only in that your good fortune leads to mine,” I answered.

The old troll snorted.

“Master Bick has a point. Come in and sit.” Braes turned and led us inside, across a broad lobby, into the dinin’ hall.

Gnomes appeared from nowhere. The trolls growled at them, obviously not overly fond of the odd majies. The little beasties seemed willin’ to serve, in order to hear the arguments first-hand. I had to smile at the way the tiny folk rushed about, like a flock of flushed birds. How they kept from runnin’ into each other was more than I could guess.

The trolls opted for tea—a woman’s drink, in my experience. We all held mugs of steamin’ brew in front of us before Yoso spoke.

“The best place to begin is to explain our council is havin’ second thoughts supportin’ the inn. They’re concerned about the humans it will lure to the valley.” Yoso looked at me and blinked hard.

I smiled, but the older troll jumped in.

“We’ll stand together, we will. Ya can be assured of that.”

“Stand together, how?” I asked.

“If it takes burnin’ this place down, so be it,” the troll challenged.

I feared for a moment Braes was gonna launch himself at the old troll’s throat. His hand gripped the hilt of his knife at his waist. The scene might have been worth watchin’, but I decided it wouldn’t be good for any of us. I reached out a hand to calm my friend. “Hold on a second, Master Braes.”

“There’s no need for that kind of talk,” Yoso growled at his elder companion. “I don’t remember the council arguin’ about the fineries the community gained by the quarryin’ we did for the foundation of the inn, nor the payment for our labor.”

“We had no idea we were buildin’ a magnet for bloodthirsty humans,” the old troll said, barin’ his teeth. As if those gnarly tusks weren’t intimidatin’ enough.

Not a good sign.

“How would you ever be aware of them?” I asked. “You live in mines farther up in the mountains, don’t you? Unless you choose to come to the inn to trade or work, you’ll not know they’re even here?”

“Yar kind,” the old troll blurted, jammin’ his staff into the planks of the floor, “are never satisfied with this.” He held a long thumb and forefinger apart. “Ya’ll be demandin’ this in no time.” He spread his arms out.

“You live in harmony with ogres here,” I said. “There was a time that was unthinkable. Dwarves and gnomes share the woods. But the villages of all the races are expandin’. It’s inevitable more folk will move to the lake’s shores.”

“We may need to pick up arms again,” the ancient troll roared.

“I won’t be part of any such talk,” Yoso snarled, standin’ up.

A din rose as chairs grated angrily from the table and the flutter of excited gnomes echoed across the broad dinin’ room. Two trolls edged behind Yoso in his support. Two others stood and helped the ancient-one stand. The two camps of trolls glared at each other, forgettin’ about me and the elf. For a moment I thought there was a good chance they would start swingin’ away at each other. But the old goat led his supporters away. The front door slammed shut.

Yoso’s friends took a nervous step toward the exit, as though they were suddenly uncomfortable bein’ too close to the inn owner and his human tinker-friend.

Yoso scowled, but his expression lightened when he faced Braes. “Ya’ll join Eina and me for dinner this evenin’?” He turned quickly to me. “Ya’d be welcome too, of course, but my hen is afraid of yar kind. She’s afraid of most anythin’ that moves. Please don’t be offended.”

“At least it isn’t the way I smell,” I said.

The troll’s grave expression was easy enough for me to read. I coughed to distract from my embarrassment. I’d never been described as well skilled with wit. It had been a long day. And we think of trolls as bein’ smelly creatures.

I studied the points of my boots, wishin’ I could disappear, realized there wasn’t a gnome in sight.

I guess the excitement is over.

Braes led the three out the grand door. “I’ll be there promptly at sunset,” he said. Allowed the troll’s hand to cover his in farewell, before the troll hurried after his companions.

“Though the words were spoken in anger, I have no fears about your future,” I said.

“Ya have more confidence than me,” the elf said. “Those growls may have sounded the failin’ cusp of peace the races have enjoyed for generations, all because I stumbled into this opportunity.”

Stumbled?

“Troll numbers,” I said, “never rebounded after the last wars, and they know it. They’ve seen the human villages expand and multiply. They may bare their teeth some, but they remember their history. It isn’t one they want to repeat, any more than the humans, ogres, or elves.”

I stood quietly next to Braes for a moment watchin’ the trolls lumberin’ away.

“All we have to do is convince them the goods that their labor, gold, and stones bring them, will only improve their lives,” I said.

The elf looked up at me. Creases formed across Braes’ forehead and at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t look convinced that would be an easy thin’ to do.

I worried he’s right.

~