by Robert Evert
“Enough for a big battle,” Hendrick added, “but not a slaughter.”
“Right.”
“So what do we do?” Abby asked.
Edmund slumped back, searching to see all possibilities.
He rubbed his tense neck muscles.
“Okay, this is what we’ll need—”
“So we’re going to rescue the pit dwellers?” Pond asked.
“We’ll get Lionel his big battle, kill some goblins, rescue some slaves … and free the Highlands all in one last throw of the dice.”
“I’m going with you,” Abby said.
Edmund turned toward her, about to argue, but those narrowed brown eyes weakened his remaining strength; they were stern and defiant and beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen.
“We need somebody here—” he began.
“Good.” She crossed her arms. “’Cause Toby and Gabe and Hendrick—”
“Not me,” Hendrick interrupted. “If they have my partner, like Ed says, I’m going. He may or may not be dead, but I’m going to avenge Bain one way or another.”
Everybody started talking at once.
Edmund rubbed his eye and called for quiet. The turmoil died down. “Look, I need all of you. If this is going to work, you’ll all need to do what I say, all right?”
“But I’m going,” Abby said.
Edmund sighed.
If she’s going to go, you might as well keep her as safe as you can.
“Will you do exactly as I tell you to?” he asked.
She appeared on the verge of debate but in the end said, “Yes.”
“What do you need us to do?” Toby asked.
“The first problem will be food and warmth,” Edmund said. “It’ll be a long hike to the mountains, and the snow will soon be too deep to get horses all the way there.”
“We could ride part of the way,” Hendrick suggested.
“If we do, we’ll have to leave very soon,” Edmund told them. “The worst of the winter is still ahead of us.”
Many of them rocked back in their chairs, shock on their faces.
“It’ll get worse?”
“You don’t need to worry about food,” Gabe said, “or warmth, if I’m any judge.”
“How so?”
“Well, I can handle the food, produce stuff that’ll be light to carry and will keep a good long time, especially in this cold.” Something in how Gabe said ‘produce’ caught Edmund’s attention. “And although my path in life didn’t involve brewing …”
He’s a magic user!
Gabe appeared to have inclined his head ever so slightly, as if bowing.
“… we still have old Vin’s barrels.”
At the brewer’s name, many in the group glanced at the floor.
“What’s in them?” Edmund asked, puzzling out what Gabe might have been implying.
“Apple cider. And if I’m any judge …” Again Gabe peered pointedly at Edmund. “It isn’t just the taste that makes it special. He brewed it right after one of the first heavy snowfalls.”
“A couple swallows of that”—Hendrick stared sadly into his cup of now-cold coffee—“and I felt warm enough to tolerate this weather, even enjoy it.”
Somebody mumbled Vin’s name.
“I’m sorry,” Pond whispered.
Edmund patted him on the shoulder. “What’s done is done, but I stand by what I said earlier. Everybody is welcome in Rood, if they’re willing to help their neighbors.” He looked over at Gabe. “Even magic users.”
Gabe winked.
“Absolutely,” Hendrick said.
Everybody agreed, yet some still appeared uncertain.
“Cavin,” Edmund said, “how many pairs of snowshoes did you make?”
The question seemed to startle Cavin a bit. “I, I made maybe forty or so. But then you left, and I haven’t—”
“Could you make eighty more within the next few days? We’ll also need poles like walking sticks, two per person.”
Cavin shrugged. “I suppose. We have the wood, but I’ll need help.”
Toby raised his hand. “I can help.”
“No, Toby,” Edmund said, “I’m going to need you to help me. Which reminds me, we’ll need extra weapons. And do we have any armor?”
“We have some chainmail shirts we took from the King’s supplies,” Hendrick said. “But I gave them all to my men. We don’t have any extra, though they’ll certainly give them up if needed. Swords, knives, and other weapons we have in the plenty.”
“Give Toby a dozen chainmail shirts, twenty swords and knives, and as many metal-tipped arrows as we have. How are we on longbows?”
“Woefully short.”
“Do we have any hunting bows? Anything small enough to be used in the mines’ close quarters?”
“Yes,” Hendrick said. “We have several of those.”
“Good. Give everything to Toby. Toby, you and I will make sure the people who accompany the King will be well-armed and armored.”
“Who’s going?” Abby asked. “Besides me?”
“We’ll t-talk about that later,” said Edmund, “but no more than a handful of us needs to go. I don’t want this to be our fight. I just want to get Lionel to where he needs to be so he can kill as many goblins as possible.”
“So what else do you need?” Pond asked.
Edmund thought for a moment.
“Pulk,” he said, then noted their confusion. “Toboggans.” Still they didn’t understand. “Long sleds big enough for three or four people to sit on.”
“We’re going to sled all the way there?” Pond said doubtfully.
“No. We’ll use them for our supplies; we’ll tie them to our waists and pull them along after us. Which reminds me …” He turned to Abby. “Are the supplies we took from the King still hidden in the caves?”
“They should be. Should I get them? I don’t know how we’ll pull the wagon back to Rood with the snow and all.”
“No, leave them,” Edmund said. “The last thing we need is for the King to realize we stole his supplies. Gather as much as you can from around town—warm clothes, boots, and so forth. I want to give what we have to the King’s men-at-arms.”
Everybody started to protest, but Edmund raised his voice.
“Look, we’re not just trying to persuade the King to give us the Highlands. We’re trying to undermine his authority with his own men as well.”
“Giving them food and warm clothes will certainly help,” Hendrick said. “Half of them already want to desert.”
“Exactly,” Edmund said. “And if the King and his lords and knights believe we’d give up our own possessions to help them—”
“They’re more likely to leave us be,” Abby said begrudgingly. “I can understand that.”
“Good. Plus, if we’re going to rescue Bain and the goblins’ other captives, we’ll need extra clothes and boots. They can’t escape without clothes; they’d freeze as soon as they stepped outside, so we’ll need it for maybe two score. Heavy stuff. We’ll be out in the wilds for a while, and the weather may turn worse.”
“I can put Vin’s cider in separate wineskins,” Gabe said. “And I can make food that’ll keep you on your feet for a long while.”
“Good,” Edmund said. “I’d appreciate that.”
He looked at each of them in turn. They were all exhausted and on their last nerve. The King and his men had to leave Rood before something bad happened. But the question was: Would Lionel leave, now that he was finally warm and well-fed?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As Edmund approached The Buxom Barmaid, bundled against the bitter wind, he heard a great shout. Then Becky came barreling along one of the snow-shoveled paths with a golden crown in her mouth. She dropped the crown at Edmund’s feet and squatted over it as if about to pee.
“Don’t … you … dare!” King Lionel bellowed from the entrance of The Buxom Barmaid.
“Becky!” Edmund stifled his laugh. “Give him back his crown
.”
Becky’s grey eyes appeared to wink at him.
“Go on! Give it back.”
Becky picked up the crown, brought it to King Lionel, and dropped it at his feet.
“Dratted animal!”
As the King leaned over to retrieve it, Becky snatched it from his grasp and tore around the inn, kicking up snow behind her as she ran.
“Blasted beast!” the King shouted after her.
“Becky!” Edmund called.
Becky reappeared from around the other side of the tavern and raced in circles in front of the screaming king. His men, all wrapped in warm, fur-lined cloaks, stood around him. More than a few were smirking, but one was nocking an arrow.
Again Becky dropped the crown, and again, just as the King reached for it, she snatched it up, growling.
“Edwin!” the King called to Edmund.
“Becky … now!”
Becky dropped the crown, nudged it closer to the King with her nose, and for a moment, crouched there as though ready grab it again.
“Becky! Here … now!”
Becky pranced over to Edmund, evidently delighted with herself.
Edmund fought back his grin as King Lionel lifted the crown, pinched between two fingers.
“It has dog drool on it!” he said, aghast. He wiped it off on one knight’s cloak. “Honestly! If that animal was a human, I’d have its head! I’d cut it off and, and … I’d kick it!”
“I think we should begin your assault on the goblins,” Edmund said.
At this, the King brightened considerably.
“Assault? Splendid! Come in, come in! Let us make plans. There’s nothing like planning to kill a bunch of people to warm one’s heart!”
Several lords standing nearby exchanged meaningful glances and shifted uncomfortably.
“Your Highness,” one lord in a dark blue mantle said calmly. “We’ve talked about this before. There are no goblins this far north. They were eradicated years—”
“I’ll stake my life on it,” Edmund said.
“Hear that?” the King said enthusiastically. “He stakes his life on it! That means we can kill him if he’s wrong! Now stop being such a wretched killjoy.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The lord bowed and slid Edmund a nasty look.
“All right then!” The King waved for Edmund to step inside. “Come! Come! Let us get out of this miserable cold and make some plans!”
Edmund strode into the common room, now filled with the large bodies of the King’s knights. He spread some papers out on a table.
“Ah! Maps!” The King hunched over them, clicking his tongue. “I love maps! Love them! Now, what are we looking at?”
“This is the Highlands.” Edmund gestured to the lower left-hand corner. “We are—”
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” said the lord in the dark blue mantle. “Before we begin, may I ask this, this … commoner a few questions?”
“If you must, Lord Arbert.”
Lord Arbert scowled at Edmund. “I should like to know what makes this rebel believe there are goblins in these mountains when all right-thinking men of knowledge say otherwise.”
Edmund lifted his patch and pointed to the deep indentation where his left eye used to be.
The men around the table blanched.
“Yes, well,” Lord Arbert said, not to be dissuaded. “Are you implying that goblins in these …” He flung his arms toward the eastern windows fogged over and edged with ice. “… these mountains did that to you?”
“Oh, Arbert.” The King sighed, still studying the map. “Let him be. He knows I’ll kill him if he’s lying.”
“Yes, sire. It’s just that—”
King Lionel looked up. “Do you really want to get me angry?”
Lord Arbert closed his mouth and shook his head.
“Splendid!” The King rubbed his hands together. “Now let the little fellow closer to the table, and let us make some plans!”
“First, sire,” said Edmund, “I want to make sure we’re all clear on the deal we’ve agreed to.”
“Yes, yes! Give me good sport killing hundreds of goblins, and you can have your godforsaken lands. Now let us make some plans! Good God, I haven’t killed anything in ages!”
“There’s one more thing I’d like to request, Your Highness.”
The King exhaled and rolled his eyes heavenward. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
“I want you to teach me how to fight with a blade.”
“Me? Teach you how to fight? Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re the best swordsman to ever buckle on a weapon belt.” At this, the King smiled and puffed out his chest. “And if I’m g-g-going with you, I want to make sure I can fight worthy of somebody in your company.”
The surrounding lords and knights grumbled as if they knew perfectly well Edmund was attempting to butter up their King.
But the King laughed and thumped Edmund on the back. “You are a bright one, aren’t you?” He thumped Edmund again, almost driving him to his knees. “Ugly as hell, but bright! I’ll give you a few lessons if we have time! But come, tell me what all these lines and squiggles mean!”
“This”—Edmund pointed to a dot on the lower left-hand corner—“is Rood.”
“Stupid name for a town,” the King said. “But go on.”
“Up here …” Edmund pointed to the upper right-hand corner, where mountains had been drawn. “Are the mountains. And here”—he pointed to an ‘x’—“is a black iron door.”
“A black iron door?” the King said, delighted. “Splendid! Those are always fun. Tell me more. Where does it go to?”
“The goblins’ mines.”
The men exhaled and shook their heads.
“Really?” the King replied. “You do know I’ll kill you slowly if you try to make me a fool.”
“Nobody could do that, sire.” Edmund bowed. “But yes, I understand completely. I promise you, you’ll have a grand battle.”
“Wonderful!” The King clapped his hands. “Carry on!”
“The door opens into a guard’s chamber—”
“How do you know all of this?” demanded a lord wearing a dark green mantle and enough perfume to make Edmund want to gag.
“I killed several goblins there,” he answered.
“You?”
The lords and knights snorted.
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table. “If this short, ugly, one-eyed fellow says there are goblins in these mountains, then there are blasted goblins in these blasted mountains!” He sat down and peered at the map. “Or we will kill him and his friends. Either way, we’ll have fun. Go on, Edwin.”
“Very good, sire.” Edmund pulled out another drawing. “From the guard chamber is a tunnel that leads to where captives are held.”
“Captives?”
“Yes, sire. Some of your men were captured.”
“Some of my men were captured?” the King roared.
The lords tried to interject, but Edmund cut them off.
“Yes, sire. Do you still want to rescue them?”
“Do I!” The King slammed his fist on the table again. “We’ll make those vermin pay! Go on, Lord Edwin. Tell me more. What is this symbol right here?”
Angry glances passed among the real lords.
“Ah!” said Edmund. “That’s the place you commanded I find for the base camp.”
“Base camp …” The King nodded some more. “Yes. Very good. On a hill, I see. Defensible?”
“Yes, sire. A steep hill with a narrow road leading up to an old tower called Tol Helen.”
“Ah! Good. We’ll ride out from there.”
“Well, sire …” Edmund grimaced, as if coming to a sticking point. “You’ll need to overcome two problems, and I’m not sure if we should stay with your initial plan.”
“What problems?” the King said.
“First, the snow may get too deep for the horses. I can have my men make snowsho
es; you know, those shoes you saw me wearing.”
“Those flat thingies that let you walk on top of the snow?”
“Yes. Well, they prevent you from sinking deep into the snow, but yes.”
“And?”
Subtle. Be subtle.
Edmund slipped his gaze to the lords and knights around him. Their lips were pressed shut in barely concealed exasperation. “Well, sire, it, it’s just—”
“Spit it out!”
“It’s hard work, sire. If you want to attack during winter, we’ll need to hike in snowshoes and pull our supplies on sleds. Honestly, I don’t think any of my men could handle it.”
“So what you are saying,” said a lord in a red mantle and cloak, “is that we will have to march through this horrendous weather before fighting these mythical goblins of yours.”
“You don’t have to fight at all if you don’t want to,” Edmund said. “I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing. Needlepoint, perhaps.”
The red-mantled lord huffed, but the King laughed.
“Ah, nicely said! And all too true. You see, Lord Kettering here isn’t much of a fighter.”
“Sire!”
“He has been complaining endlessly about the miserable cold up here, like a little baby.” The King gestured for Edmund to continue. “What is this second so-called ‘problem’?”
“Well, as you’d pointed out before, the mines are very narrow.”
“I’d pointed out? Yes, yes. I suppose. And?”
“And we’d have a hard time getting so many of your knights inside. So do you still want to go with your initial plan?” Edmund asked.
“Which brilliant plan was that?”
“That you and a group of your best knights go into the mines, rescue the captives, and lure the goblins to a battlefield that better suits you.”
At this, the lords and knights erupted in protest.
“Sire! He’s manipulating you! You never said—”
King Lionel raised his hand. The men around him fell silent with much biting of tongues and clenched jaws.
“It’s sneaky and underhanded,” the King said. “I’m brilliant!”
Several lords threw their arms up and walked away.
“Honestly, somebody should be taking notes; there needs to be a book written about my military exploits. Sir Eden!” The King snapped his fingers at a young lord standing at the edge of the crowd. “Start taking notes! I want a book written about this expedition! I want everybody to know how I led a small band of knights into the very heart of the goblins’ den!”
