“Your charge is released and I hold you to none ever again, my dear knights. Through enough peril have such wonderful beings been put through. Paladins will you all forever remain and be welcome whenever you wish. But know, that deeds enough you have done,” stated Casena.
Tac’quin looked inquisitively at its loranic friend; Casena nodded once. “And you great dragon, for a home you have finally found – more I could not wish for you.” At the comment Amyia impishly rubbed Tac’quin’s brow; it frowned and lifted a single lip in return.
“It was our honour, Casena,” voiced Cezzum in utter sincerity.
“An honour?” exclaimed Palodar devilishly. “Swords chopping at our heads, daggers wishing to take out our eyes, an evil magician wanting to turn us into… frogs! Ah yes and being burnt alive, battered to death and impaled with great-big blades! An honour you say Cezzum?” – Palodar wryly looked at his companions and then let a pensive countenance adorn him; he continued – “A greater honour I couldn’t have dreamt of.”
Casena chuckled softly and replied, “A great dwarf you will become Palodar of Palu’don, of that I am certain.”
“My lady,” retorted Palodar in hurtful tones, “are you suggesting I am not a great dwarf now? I am cut through my beard!”
“Then we should remove it,” Casena bantered.
“Ahh, perhaps a greater dwarf in time then,” conceded Palodar putting his hands up in surrender. “Or a wealthier one; I shall accept whichever comes first.”
Casena again laughed at the dwarf. An arm appeared around Casena’s waist and the four companions’ faces grew in surprise. Lauret stood next to Casena. Most noticeable was the agape mouth of Palodar.
“What Palodar,” mocked Lauret, “you think I am chaste? A man of virtue so great as to slay desires? I think not; a greater lover I have never known.”
A shrewd grin tugged at Casena’s lips.
Cezzum could not help but cave into the cheer of the scene; Palodar rubbed his head in wonder.
“Cezzum,” said Lauret, “never did I envision that at the end of things we, after a plan bred in direst need, would one day again stand with each other and in great company. Amyia, I have only but met you, yet I know of the strength and courage and of the trials you faced – if I had but a quarter of your womanhood, I would be a far greater man. And Tac’quin, long have I known you, but peace I think you have found; it is a great boon. To you, to all of you my friends, my fraternal love I give.”
Casena echoed the sentiment with a single, calm and profound nod.
Amyia shone with elation, as did Tac’quin who tried its utmost to conceal such common things.
“A place we have for you here if you choose to take it my knights and friends,” offered Casena.
Cezzum regarded the prophetic loran and asked, “Do you not know already where we might go?”
Casena smiled knowingly at the goblin. “I do, Cezzum, but I would hear it anyways.”
“To where will you travel my friends?” questioned Lauret, with a voice that knew of the honey-filled sadness that departures brought.
Palodar smiled at Cezzum, put his arm around his brother’s shoulder, looked to Tac’quin and Amyia and then to Casena and Lauret; he merrily announced, “We are going home.”
Chapter XVI
…But a Good Goblin Lasts Forever
T he farewells had been short but memorable. Cezzum, Amyia and Palodar had awoken to a fresh pile of illustrious clothing: soft cotton undergarments; hardy, earthen-hued, leather leggings; long-sleeved shirts; comfortable leather jerkins; golden, long vests, fringed with embroidery; crimson velvet coats with the Paladin crest embossed with golden thread onto the cuffs; sturdy belts with a steadfast buckle that pushed the boundaries of dwarven engineering; and calf-high travel boots that somehow, perhaps magically, contorted to the contours of its wearers feet – well, apart, of course, from Cezzum’s feet, for barefoot did the goblin always prefer to roam. Never before had the bathed dragon, dwarf, woman and goblin appeared so resplendent.
Casena had stood behind the four companions as each embraced and bid farewell to the Paladins that had fought so heroically alongside. Laughs abounded as Palodar made lewd remarks as the various Paladins passed, much to the amused shaking of heads, until the final two lorans approached. Lúnàras and Verenáles had embraced each of them fervently and with regret at their departure; little was there to stem the tide of such sweet tears. Lauret too had lowered himself to a height below that of their stature, which was a struggle indeed, but he had honoured them all in the grandest of embraces and farewells.
Then Casena had given her hand to Cezzum who in turn gave it to Palodar followed by Amyia then finally to Tac’quin. And all five had then vanished from sight, leaving the Paladins to return to whatever it was that Paladins did; although, perhaps for but a one day or two, their actions were tinged with a modicum of sadness at the passing of their saviours and their unheralded deeds the world new naught of.
As soon as Cezzum’s feet touched the soft, felt earth of the forest, he knew he was in the woods somewhere surrounding the Wyvern Mountain. The sun was just rising in the east and cast long-morning shadows over the gently swaying trees. Twitters and chirrups of birds and squirrels and every other manner of woodland beast sprouted their fain tunes into the air. The air smelt wondrous, fresh and jittering with life. It was good to be home.
Amyia turned to regard the loranic Knight-Captain and saw within her a few features of her own mother: her strength, her resolve and a great compassion lying beneath an obscuring surface. Casena returned her gaze and smiled warmly, knowing the thoughts passing through the girl’s mind. She walked over to the budding young woman and lifted her from the ground, hugging Amyia ardently and kissing her deeply upon her forehead. Casena whispered something unfathomable into Amyia’s ear and placed her back upon the ground. Moisture made Amyia’s eyes sparkle with such brilliance that even the sun shied away for a minute. Amyia sniffed back her running nose and said, with great tumultuous motions of her heart: “Thank you.”
Casena smiled her pleasure and turned to Tac’quin. The dragon looked stolidly at her and then for the first time Cezzum had ever seen, a tear trickled from its serpentine eye and splashed, without words or noise, onto the forest floor. Tac’quin tried to utter a few words, but Casena placed her hand upon its snout. “A thousand thanks you have given me. No more Tac’quin, no more.” And so Tac’quin, the little dragon, did bid farewell to the person who had saved its life, who had saved the life of Lía.
Turning her regard to Cezzum, the goblin merely nodded in return, and as was Casena’s reticent inclination, she merely nodded back perceptively. She lowered herself onto her haunches and beheld Palodar keenly.
“Palodar, fix your gaze upon the Wyvern’s Ear,” instructed Casena.
“But why-,” began to argue the dwarf, but before he could finish his remonstrance the Knight-Captain brushed her hand over his brow and gave her farewell: “I wish you all long and happy lives.” And without further words Casena disappeared into the ether.
“By gods and lizards!” cried Palodar in excitement. His three friends turned to look at the suddenly ecstatic dwarf who bobbled up and down as if in a frenzy, his beard sweeping back and forth.
Amyia had a fey smirk of curiosity on her face as she asked, “What is it?”
“I remember where all my gold is! The money I made from my jeweller days. It is hidden in the Wyvern’s Ear, within those ancient dwarven passages. That was why I passed here so often. She did it! That little loranic bewitcher, she restored my memory!” Immediately Palodar looked at Tac’quin who appeared, to the dwarf, to be on the very cusp of launching into the air. “And do not you be getting any wild thoughts there Tac’quin.”
The dragon lowered its head in mock admonishment. Amyia and Cezzum laughed loudly. The companions moved westwards, towards the Wyvern’s Nape.
“Now you see,” continued Palodar elaborating on his protracted business postulation as the
y neared Cezzum’s home, “if we were to set up an inn to the north, or the east, or even both! And if we managed to use the little influence, and by little I mean life-owing, we have with the Paladins and their friendly farmers in the valley below and set up a steady trade network between the inns and Gryphon’s Rest for supply of the jasmine mead, well then I think we might just have the finest business in all the lands.” Palodar clapped his hands eagerly and looked to his friends. “And there are even jobs for all of you! Amyia what finer hostess and waitress could one ask for? So cute and splendid is your face that our patrons could not help but buy our wares by the barrel load,” – Amyia sent a scornful gaze at the dwarf for intimating that being a bar wench would be a suitable vocation for her talents; the dwarf pointedly ignored any impediment to his plan – “And you Tac’quin, why you could be our very own hearth and oven – no need for fuel or expensive chimneys, merely think upon the coin that is to be saved!”
Cezzum began to chortle at his ambitious dwarven brother. Then Palodar’s eyes turned to the goblin.
“Not of course forgetting you my green brother. Imagine what fear we would strike into the hearts of bandits with you as our inn-beater, standing staunchly at guard with Gnarlfang at your side. Why there would never be the need for guards or sentries with you around. Ah aye! I think this is a wonderful idea.”
“But why would we need to work?” asked Amyia, the question appearing quite rhetorical to the dwarf. “If you have all that gold we don’t need to work.”
“Why of course we do!” refuted Palodar, abashed to hear such a thing. “We cannot have all that coin and then be idol, no, no. To have work is to have purpose, money matters not. If we were to be indolent all day long, forefend how grumpy Tac’quin over there would get. No! Between the four of us, the grandest business adventure the land has ever and will ever know will begin! And many more wonders will be seen.”
Amyia fiddled with her hair in taunting imitation of her dwarven friend. “Fine Paly; only if I get to stand guard with Cezzum, I ain’t serving no drinks to people.”
Palodar pondered the proposition, but try as he might he could not resist the persuading use of his endearment. “Business is all about concessions! I accept and will think of a new position for you.”
“Good,” declared Amyia with victorious glee.
The forest rung with an orchestra of tiny winged-creatures. Birds fluttered between the trees, eager to harken the day but quite displeased by the fact that their habitual sumptuous feasts had not arrived for many a week! Trees became sparser and slowly gave way to a greater number of underbrush, before they too ceased entirely. Cezzum looked to the trees and cried out: “I am sorry my birdies! But I am back and will ensure that never again will you go without your repasts!”
The chorus picked up in its intensity and glad were all the birds.
“It appears goblin,” said Tac’quin marvelling at how the birds had actually understood him, “that your speech rivals dragon-tongue, for not even we can communicate with birds.”
All Cezzum said in reply was: “Many things here, Tac’quin, you will learn.” And the goblin gave a toothy, fang-filled grin. Two more steps were taken by the party and there it was, the Wyvern’s Nape.
The dell drifted into view, and so magical, so resplendent, so homely it appeared in all its remembered glory. Mountains towered over the small clearing of grass and water, as it had always done, enclosing it from the harsh eyes of the world. Cezzum’s garden was dotted with autumn flowers of auburn hues and his tiny vegetable patch, tucked into a tiny corner, was swarming with verdant growth as bees busily went about their business. The little mere enthusiastically shimmered with greetings when the party emerged from the forest; their arrival even heralded by a fish leaping from the water, waving its minute fin (or that was how Cezzum saw it at least) and then returned to its watery home. A croak crawled through the air... and there it was, Cezzum’s frog, sitting quite contently on a rock within the pond. Its sac bulged out, belching a grand resonant sound, welcoming back the creature which had chosen not to destroy it.
“That’s it?” cried Palodar in astonishment and pointing towards the goblin’s homestead. The ramshackle hut, slightly warped and leaning over to one side, stood as it had when Cezzum had last seen it; never had the goblin been gladder to see his little wooden construction before; even his oak-brown door seemed to welcome him home.
“Well I think it’s cute!” pronounced Amyia in defence of Cezzum’s home, and from one who had lived in a caravan all her life, the hut appeared quite firm.
But something was odd, something was ill at place. Smoke arose from Cezzum’s chimney! Someone was in his home!
The door to his hut opened; Cezzum’s hand darted for Gnarlfang, but it stopped. Cezzum was frozen, his eyes pulled taught; his mouth was agape; he struggled to perceive, to even comprehend what he saw; it was incredulous.
“Who is that?” queried Palodar observing Cezzum’s utter bewilderment at the figure.
Ponderously, unbelievingly, the goblin’s lips framed a single word: “Filburn.”
The wayworn and scruffy looking man merrily ambled over to the companions. He looked exactly how Cezzum had left him that day he had fled from his glade; even Filburn’s clothes had not changed in the slightest. The wound in his shoulder was no longer there, nay, even the hole in the man’s garb had disappeared. Filburn looked as fit and hale as if he were a youth untroubled by the rigours of life.
“Why so abashed good Cezzum?” asked Filburn sincerely.
“But…” stammered out Cezzum shakily, “…direly wounded you were an… and were slain when I left thee!”
“Slain?” said Filburn, patting down his body with his hands. “Nay, I seem quite alive. My thanks, my kin and my brother, for the concern however. Fain am I to see that Gnarlfang still resides with you,” added Filburn with a hint of pride in his voice. “Many days did it take to forge that blade for you. But I gather that because you stand here, with fine friends I might add, that my, that your, quest was successful?”
Cezzum nodded from within the confines of his stupor.
“Ah! Splendid! Then all has been accomplished beyond my highest expectations and the Osi has fallen.
“Aye, he has,” said Tac’quin reinforcing Filburn’s conclusion.
“Most wonderful!” cried Filburn in elation. “Then it is a grand indeed that I kept your home quite well for your arrival; ‘tis wonderfully pleasant in this dell, Cezzum, a lovely home you have here.”
“But the arrow!” bellowed Cezzum, unable to contain himself any longer. “The poison within you drove the life from thee; I did see it!”
“Only did you see, Cezzum, what you wished to see, or what was made there for you to see, it… oh, my, my, my, do I still look like a human? That will not do any longer; I had completely forgotten about that. When you are as old as I am, a little forgetful you will too become,” replied Filburn with a wry smirk.
Filburn’s travailed garb became replaced by an elegant, partitioned robe. He grew taller; armoured body markings painted themselves into his skin; his eyes inverted; the irises and the pupils switching places with one another; before them stood an aged loran. Senescent wrinkles and creases straddled his face, but far more unbelievable was the fact that Filburn had a hoary beard! Lorans, as a race, were unable to grow facial hair and the sight before them was astounding.
“You are a loran!” cried Cezzum. “I was deceived! Torn from peace by an illusion.”
“Illusion perhaps was the impetus, kind Cezzum, but dire did the lands unknowingly need your succour. All in this world would have failed where you alone would succeed.”
“But it was founded on a half-truth.”
“My dear Cezzum, truth is but conscience versus consequence. And in this case the consequences that your deeds would bring far outweighed any compunction that I might have felt to send you on this… errand. But please do not be hurt by such words and think not ill of my guise. Who better than to sa
ve the lands from dire evil than one bred in that crucible? Only a touch of trickery was needed to send you on your way, which without knowing it, you did indeed very well need.”
Palodar’s, Amyia’s and Tac’quin’s faces kept sweeping from the loran to the goblin, attempting to gauge the reactions of the two towards each other.
It was then that Cezzum noticed the ring on Filburn’s finger. Not only did the coat of arms contain the rampant gryphon of the Paladins, but the very image was animated. In front of the companions’ eyes they noticed that a single gryphon flew high above a flock of other gryphons; within all their talons were pieces of earth. Recognition dawned on Cezzum’s face. “You are the lord of the Paladins!” cried Cezzum in astonishment; Palodar’s face echoed the amazement.
“Lord is such an unwieldy word, Cezzum. Levity is required in all things or the world would become a far too serious a place. I am but a guide, a walking street post if you will; no more than that. Who every now and again will give unto someone a little nudge in a direction that might do some good.”
Cezzum grew thoughtful upon the words and then, quite unexpectedly smiled and burst into a being of pure mirth. His three friends moved towards him in an attempt to comfort the rather peculiar news he had been bequeathed with - unsure, however, if laughter needed soothing. But, on occasion, hurt as well as joy can be far better expressed in hilarity than in sadness.
Filburn regarded the scene of the three figures attending the goblin and donned the merriest smile that was ever to be seen. Cezzum looked up and gazed at Filburn through beclouded eyes.
“And that is why, Cezzum, lies may spawn truths that are never known,” advised Filburn with serenity and a voice that bolstered both passion and acceptance. “Little doubt do I have, my goblin kin, that again we will meet, but until then, may joy abound from your new life. Think fondly of them and they will of you.” A faint blue sheen surrounded Filburn and a moment later he was there no more.
The Good Goblin Page 37
