Goblin Apprentice

by Gerhard Gehrke

  One of the sailors, a man with tattoos along his arms, asked, “What will stop that thing from killing us?”

  “Me,” Alma said. As if to make her point, she positioned herself next to Harold at the front of the boat, her bow in hand. She wore two quivers full of arrows around her shoulders.

  Something at the back of the boat made a rumbling cough. The dry hack evolved into a laugh. The waiting men broke and ran, one man sprinting down to the dock’s end while two escaped past Spicy and up towards the street.

  Alma readied an arrow, aiming at the stern hold. Harold was perched on the prow and was prepared to jump. Blades let go of the goblin chain and began backing away, his hands raised as if to show he was harmless.

  Spicy watched as the dragon’s head emerged from the hold. Fath smacked his mouth and looked around before settling on Alma. He weaved about as if using the mast for cover. Or he was just toying with her—Spicy couldn’t decide which.

  “We’re here,” she said to the dragon. “The boat is prepared. We need to leave, but you just frightened our crew.”

  “Where is my apprentice?” Fath asked.

  “The goblin?” Alma looked at Blades.

  Blades fumbled for his words. “He ran off! The little bugger headbutted me and got away. I looked for him, I promise, but he’s gone.”

  The dragon grumbled. “Find him. I need what he was sent to get me.”

  “Wait, a book, right? He had a book he found in the library. Is that what you wanted? I have it here. I can’t make heads or tails out of it, but I have it.” Blades produced the book he had taken from Spicy and held it out.

  Fath nodded. “Set it on the bench.”

  The goblin children were mewling as the dragon hovered above them. Flora and Eve were crying uncontrollably. Blades came forward and set the book inside the boat before backing away again. Fath put a claw down and examined the volume.

  “What is this?” Fath asked.

  “It’s the book you asked for. It’s what that little gob had on him.”

  “What is this?” the dragon asked again, his voice rising. “Humans aren’t meant to have this. This is my language, not men’s. Why do you have this?”

  “I thought it’s what you wanted! It’s what the goblin had on him, I swear!”

  “Forget the book,” Alma said. “We don’t care about it or anything that’s in it. We don’t have time to waste. You see what’s happening in town. What is it you need us to do? Because I can sail this boat. But if you don’t calm down, you’re going to be floating here while the town burns, and then you’re going to have an army of zealots swarming the place.”

  Fath glared at her for a moment before appearing to restrain himself. “A map,” he said with a sigh. “My apprentice was to bring me a map.”

  “Why, that little…” Blades swore. “There were dozens of maps at the library. I’ll go get them. I’ll bring all of them.”

  Alma raised a hand. “Listen.”

  Spicy turned to look at the wall of flame that engulfed over half of the waterfront. Beyond the fire, the shouting and screaming had only gotten louder.

  “The zealots have broken through,” Alma said. “Tell me what you want to do, dragon. I’ve worked a boat on the waterways to the south. I can navigate well enough. Our arrangement can still stand.”

  Fath sniffed the air. “I hate the smell of you,” he muttered. Then his head cocked and he looked in Spicy’s direction. His nostrils flared. “Apprentice, you’ve returned. Won’t you join us so we can depart?”

  He could flee. Just under the dock was a cluster of suspended netting, and he might make it to whatever sewage pipe the dragon had crawled through. But Spicy rose from behind the crate.

  The time for hiding was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Spicy stood straight, but his legs felt like they would give out from under him.

  Blades had murder in his eyes. Alma’s attention was divided between Fath and the chaos unfolding in Eel Port. When she finally turned it to Spicy, he saw something in her face, a look the crueler children in his village would get just before ripping the legs off a bug. Meanwhile, Fath was impossible to read.

  “I have your map,” Spicy said. He produced the folded sheet of paper and opened it.

  Blades marched towards him, hand out. “Give it here.”

  Spicy tore the map in two. Blades froze midstride, looking confused.

  Fath let out a snarl. “What are you doing?”

  With both sections of the map in hand, Spicy ripped them into four pieces.

  “Stop!”

  “Get him away from me,” Spicy said.

  “Blades, back off,” ordered Alma.

  The mercenary did as he was told and stepped aside as Spicy approached the boat, hands poised to shred the map further.

  “Unchain my friends,” Spicy said. “Wherever we’re going, they’re coming too, but not as his property or anyone else’s.”

  “What?” Blades asked incredulously. “You don’t get to give orders, gob.”

  “Do it,” Alma said. “Set them free.”

  Blades muttered a string of curses. Fath backed away slightly as he climbed on board and began removing the pins from the goblins’ collars. Soon Rime and the children were free.

  The dragon rumbled. “Any other demands, apprentice?”

  “No demands. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. I’m going to make sure you make it to your destination. I found it on the map, and I have it all up here.” Spicy tapped his head. Then he tore the map into many smaller pieces and scattered them on the breeze.

  The humans could only stare. The dragon looked like it was about to bite his face off.

  Spicy forced himself to meet Fath’s gaze. “You need me. I know where you want to go. She doesn’t. I know my sage’s master map, and now the human map, as well as the glyphs which led us to your mountain. I will continue to learn from you as long as you’re willing to teach me. But I’m not your slave or theirs. And my friends remain safe and free.”

  The dragon’s face remained inscrutable.

  “Promise me,” Spicy said. “Give me your word. On your name.”

  Fath sighed. “You are tiresome. You have it, as you say. My word. Now get this vessel underway, humans. The air here reeks and the alarm bells grate my nerves.”

  With that, the dragon receded into the hold, barely visible beneath the aft deck.

  Alma barked orders and Blades and Harold were quick to obey. She wasted no time getting their help in preparing and tying off the large sail. Soon they were untying the boat from the dock. Using oars, they shoved off and pointed the boat towards the harbor exit. Wind filled the sail. Alma motioned for the goblins to move out of the way as she pushed the boom overhead.

  Spicy collected the children and had them retreat to the top of the aft hold. Then he and Rime were set to work.

  Their vessel quickly cruised passed the boats overloaded with evacuees. The men and women on those boats could only stare with envy as their own crafts puttered along.

  Once past the chain, Alma tacked and swung the boom from one side of the boat to the other. The wind began to push the vessel in earnest. They were sailing faster and passing the last of the boats leaving the harbor.

  Behind them, Eel Port glowed orange. A fog bank mixed with the smoke and soon obscured the waterfront, turning the town into nothing but a fiery outline. The sound of alarm bells and battle carried out onto the cold sea even after the town had completely faded behind the veil of mist.

  Then above it all came a doleful howl. It repeated several times. Spicy studied the water behind them. The goblins and humans heard it as well.

  “What is that?” Rime asked.

  “It’s Hog,” Spicy said. “She’s saying good-bye.”

  “You mean the troll?”

  Spicy didn’t answer. He listened to the sound and couldn’t help but grin. She lived. If the moon and the tides and whatever troll gods stayed with her, she’d make it home.
Because the world of men, and even the world of goblins, didn’t deserve her.

  He didn’t dare relax as Alma continued to direct the boat over the water. The other two humans retreated to the front of the boat. There was no land in sight. Judging by the faint glow of the sun above the clouds, it was late afternoon.

  He held the young boy Pix under one arm. Pix wheezed as he breathed.

  “How long has he been like this?” Spicy asked.

  “Since our first crossing of the sea,” Rime said. “I don’t know if it’s the food or the water or just sorrow.”

  “Get us something to eat.”

  Rime got open a small barrel of pickled potatoes. They were disgusting. But Spicy encouraged Pix to eat. The others each took a potato and chewed with little joy. Spicy never thought he’d miss something as simple as a bowl of rice. In the tiny hold, they could hear the dragon snoring.

  “I need to speak with you,” Alma said. She kept her hand on the boom even though she had tied it off.

  Spicy didn’t want to move. The boy in his arms was beginning to doze. “What do you want?”

  “Directions. If the dragon isn’t telling us where to go, then that means you’ll have to give me a heading.”

  “South. Continue south. Past Orchard City to where the sea ends.”

  “It doesn’t exactly end. It turns into a big swamp down that way. Tricky to navigate.”

  He didn’t remember a swamp marked on any of the maps. “That’s where we’re going.”

  Blades tied them off to a leafless husk of a tree that stood up out of the water. Low, bare sandbars were visible closer to the shore. Alma had Spicy and Rime assist with rolling up the sails. She secured a few lines of rope, which would allow the sails to unfurl by untying a single knot.

  Spicy realized they had crossed the breadth of the Inland Sea in a matter of hours. On all the maps he had examined, the scale was too vague to know how far they had gone. But the eastern shore had no towns and only scattered villages, so that had been the route he had directed Alma to sail.

  “Why are we stopping here?” Blades asked as Alma retied the boat to the tree, apparently unhappy with how Blades had done it.

  “Because we don’t sail at night and we have no anchor. So it’s either put ashore and risk being grounded with the tide or find a makeshift anchorage like this. We’re lucky to have it.”

  “This sucks.”

  Spicy felt a strange delight hearing Blades grumble.

  Harold picked through the supplies that weren’t too close to the hold where Fath slept. He opened a bundle of salted fish and offered it around, starting with Alma and continuing on to each goblin.

  “You know everything on board belongs to me,” Alma said as she speared a fish with her knife.

  “You charging extra for our sumptuous feast?” Harold asked.

  She didn’t reply.

  Spicy took a fish. Compared to the brined potato, it was delicious.

  “Uh, and the dragon?” Harold asked.

  “I’m sure he’ll come out when he’s hungry,” Spicy said.

  “That’s what I’m worried about. I guess making a fire and a pot of tea is out of the question.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Alma said.

  Harold put the bundle away and nibbled at his own fish. Then he pointed down to the book Blades had taken from Spicy. It now lay on a bundle of folded nets.

  “May I?”

  When Spicy shrugged, he cleaned his fingers on his coat and picked the book up. As he leafed through the pages, he squinted. Then he flipped back to the front and studied the opening page carefully before setting the book back down.

  Spicy kept a wary eye on all of them until Blades, Alma, and Harold retired to the bow and settled in among the cargo to sleep. Rime unfolded a few tarps and got the children bedded down. The gentle roll of the tide under the boat and the young goblins’ exhaustion made sleep come quickly.

  Spicy found his own spot next to the kids, feeling ready to fall into slumber himself.

  “Tell me we’re safe,” Rime whispered. Even in the bad light, the bruises of his face were visible.

  “I can’t do that, Rime. We made it this far, though. We’re alive. It’s the best I could do.”

  Rime actually smiled as he pulled a makeshift blanket over the legs of the children. “You’ve earned your stud for this, I guess.”

  “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t.”

  “You think any of us would have made friends with a troll or a dragon to come find you?”

  “I’m hoping you would,” Spicy said.

  “For you? Nah. For your sister on the other hand…”

  “Shut up and sleep.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Spicy’s eyes popped opened once he heard the dragon stir.

  Fath crawled up out of the hold and to the top of the aft deck. He occupied most of it as he reared up and sniffed the air.

  “Blech.”

  The dragon began coughing. The harsh sound woke everyone. The sun wasn’t up but the sky was brightening, and a light frost clung to the mast and edges of the boat. Dill began to sniffle but Rime helped her with her nose. Spicy reluctantly climbed out of the warmth of the blankets.

  “Time for your lesson,” Fath said.

  Spicy rubbed his hands and placed them under his arms. “There’s no paper or writing tools.”

  “There’s a clipboard with papers on a peg inside the hold. Fetch it.”

  Spicy did as he was instructed and found several scraps of rough paper fastened to a small board with a clothespin. Half of a charcoal stick was attached with a string. Everyone watched as Spicy found a place on the rear deck next to the dragon. Alma appeared immune to the cold, as she was again perched on the bow. As Fath began to scratch into the deck with his claw, Harold came closer.

  Fath paid him no mind and nudged Spicy when he hesitated. Spicy re-created the character using the charcoal. Even before he finished, Fath drew a second word, and then a third.

  Spicy drew the final mark on the first character. “Wait. Slow down. You’re going too fast.”

  “You need to learn this.”

  “I am learning this. But you have to show me each stroke on how to construct the words, or I’ll get it wrong.”

  Fath coughed. Something inside him sounded like it was rattling.

  “Are you okay?” Spicy asked.

  “Write.”

  Spicy hurried to keep up, but he noticed he was making mistakes. The charcoal only streaked when he rubbed it to correct a mismarked character.

  Meanwhile, Harold was digging through the supplies. “Aha!” he said, and soon he was handing out raisins and walnuts. The children grabbed at the fruit and nuts.

  “Not too many or you’ll be sick,” Rime said. “And I don’t want to have to clean your drawers.”

  Harold came around to Spicy with the breakfast and scanned the work he was doing. His woolly brow scrunched as he took it in. Fath growled. Stumbling back, Harold retreated towards the bow.

  Spicy put his charcoal down. “Why are they still alive?” Spicy said softly.

  “The humans?” Fath asked, his voice anything but a whisper. “You mean why don’t I kill them?”

  This got everyone’s attention.

  Spicy licked his lips. “Yes.”

  “Because I haven’t decided which of you I will need.”

  “One of them took your eye.”

  A rumble began deep in Fath’s throat. “You think I’ve forgotten? But I also remember that we wouldn’t have crossed the sea the first time but for your deception. Now write.”

  Spicy’s hands were trembling. The list of nonsensical characters almost filled the first piece of paper on the clipboard. He looked at the newest mark Fath had made on the deck and drew something completely different.

  “Wrong,” Fath said. “Do it again.”

  “Explain to me what it means first.”

  “Draw it. Memorize it. That’s all you need
to do.”

  Spicy pulled off the top page from the clipboard and started on a fresh sheet. He drew a round squiggle.

  “Wrong again,” Fath said.

  “This makes as much sense as what you’re writing. If you don’t at least give me some hint of what it stands for, I might as well make things up.”

  “That isn’t our arrangement. We’ve discussed this.”

  “What’s the point, if it doesn’t communicate anything to anyone but you?” Spicy asked. He hopped down from the deck and grabbed the book from the lawyer’s library. “At least tell me what this means. It’s obviously not a secret. The humans have it, so they know. What’s the title say?”

  “It’s not for you to know.”

  “And why not? This book was in the human library. It’s just writing. What’s the big deal in telling me what it’s about?”

  Rime hissed at Spicy to stop.

  The dragon leaned down over Spicy and snorted. “Because the secrets belong to me. Your sages knew their place. If you can’t, you’re worthless to me.”

  Spicy had understood Sage Somni as a guardian of knowledge, and the other sages in the local villages were the same. But except for the glyphs and Somni’s annual excursions, none of it was secret. The books in Somni’s library were open to all who could read them.

  “These secrets belong to us too,” Spicy said with a tremor in his voice. “We’ve died for them. My sage died. And how many of my village? My own mom? I have a right to this.”

  “You have a right to nothing. This lesson is over.”

  “The Diary of a Pickpocket,” Harold read aloud. He had come up behind Spicy and now he took the book from him. Before Spicy could do anything, the man kept reading. “Translation by Su Nan-Cheng. A work of fiction.”

  “You can read it?” Spicy asked.

  Harold flipped through the book. “Just the front matter. The copy page is in Northspeak, where it says what the title is. But the rest of it? No. But there’s plenty who can. Down in Pinnacle, lots of people read and write Cityspeak. All the noodle words make no sense to me, but if you’re looking for a translation, go there.”