Grump snorted and shook his head. "It's more than you'll get, you silly troll." He smacked his lips and nodded at the burial place. "Well, Holger, I didn't know you. I didn't want to know you. You've brought these blackthorns to my woods and who knows what trouble they'll bring me? But, I guess you weren't so bad as far as the fair folk go. You were, uh, the best human I ever knew. Let your soul do whatever it is human souls do once their bodies fail. With any luck you won't find yourself with my ancestors. They weren't too keen on your kind, what with driving us to the edge of the world so we could live in swamps forever and all that."
He looked from the grave toward the sky. Stars had started fading against the coming of the sun. Grump bit his lip. He gripped the solid, unflinching trunk of a redwood and squeezed. He could climb that trunk, leap into the canopy and perch on the topmost branch and witness the sun as it lit Oya's vast and varied lands.
Grump closed his eyes. He could do it. He could scale the height and stare east across the plains. The sun would rise soon enough. It would lighten the sky from a deep, twinkling blue to pale pastels. The rising orb would warm his cheeks. It would burn as a shimmering band across the horizon.
He would smile. Then, he would die. Death sounded so inviting, so completely peaceful.
His body would crash from the canopy and smash against the earth. It would shatter into chunks over Holger's grave, and the Russet Woods would slowly creep over what remained of both of them.
The forest's sounds tickled Grump's ears and washed away his idle thoughts. He heard the waking birds. The rustle of a squirrel and hare as they slipped through the foliage. The gentle thrum of insect wings bobbing toward flowers.
Grump opened his eyes and patted the trunk. He yanked his shovel from the soil and strolled from the grave, thumbing the key in his chest pocket. Maybe tomorrow he would return to the wagon and search for the hidden chest. Human gold sparkled. Their polished gems twinkled like stars plucked from the night. It was a tempting treasure to take for himself.
"And what would you do with fair folk gold and pretty stones? You're no Thorn," he murmured with a chuckle.
Buried memories sprouted in his thoughts. Grump tightened his jaw and uprooted them, turning his attention back to the key. He plucked it from his pocket as he strolled home. It was fashioned for human hands and looked ridiculously small in a dark, trollish palm.
"He gave you a gift," Grump murmured. "It's yours now. I'll put it in the back of the cave. Bury it. And if I ever want another gift, I can find the box it opens. I really deserve this key, don't I? I eased his pain. I buried him. This is the least I can have for my troubles."
Familiar scents of wild onions and fresh coriander tickled his nose. A bird sang its morning song as the last stars blinked out. His goats bleated excitedly for him as he rounded a redwood and spotted the little herd.
A figure hunched over the pen, merely a silhouette in the low light and oddly small. It reached toward Patches with clawed fingers.
Hunger ripped through Grump's body. The blackthorns had come. He tensed, readying the shovel.
The form straightened. It was short for a human, more like a child than a full-grown man ... but those claws. No human had claws.
"Ah, there you are," the stranger squeaked, flipping from the pen and traipsing through the garden.
Moonlight finally revealed Grump's intruder as it neared. Grump's nose wrinkled in a snarl. "What in Oya are you?"
The stranger wore ridiculously oversized gold bangles on his wrists and sported a leather coat and breeches dyed black but worn so well they flirted with grey. Sheathed blades protruded from his belt—decent weapons for one his size but hardly worth buttering Grump's bread. The creature's skin was a deep green—deeper even than Grump's—and the wide orbs of his eyes red as ripe tomatoes. He stepped light, swung his shoulders like a prince fresh from a victorious battle, and flashed his pointed teeth in a wide smile that was one part friendly and another part hungry.
"Don't grin at me, you little thief. I'm not your friend," Grump growled. "Did you eat from my garden? My garden?"
That wiped the smile off the creature's face. He paused, well out of Grump's reach, and bounced on his heels. "I don't mean you any harm, friend!"
"What are you and why are you here? I'm in no mood to entertain guests. I've had more than my fill of them for a few winters. Go away."
The odd little thing scratched its bald head. "I'm a goblin. A greenskin, kinda like trolls, but not as big I guess. Name's Boil. Don't have a last name. Just Boil. You?"
"Get out of my garden before I do something trollish to you. Sun's about to come up and I'm tired, greenskin."
"So you're a troll that gardens? I've never even heard of something so crazy. And I thought trolls ate goats. They certainly don't herd them. What part of Oya you hail from? There're a few trolls in the West where my horde makes its home, but one crossing the Ridge is crazy all alone. I can't believe you'd be one of the trolls east of here from the swamps past Farlain, right? I mean, to think a troll could cross the Grey Plains and survive? Hah!"
"I've never been in the Ridge. Even I know nobody goes to those peaks unless it's on a safe road, and there are no safe roads for our kind."
Boil's eyes got so wide Grump thought they might fall straight out of his skull. "So you are from Blackwood Swamp? You've got to tell me how you crossed the plains! How'd you get past the human lands and all that ... all that sunlight!"
"How do you know so much about the blackwoods?" Grump licked a tusk and swatted the air. "You know what? I don't care. Just get out of here."
"But I don't even know your name."
"Is there something you don't understand? I told you to leave. Now go."
Grump lunged, swiping at the goblin, but Boil slipped beneath his hand. The little greenskin darted toward the goats, Grump pounding at his heels. Grump swiped again and missed. "How're you so fast? Get back here!"
Boil hopped onto the fencing and danced from one post to another. "I'm surprised the blackthorns haven't found you. They'd kill you, you know, and not just because you're a troll. They're assassins-for-hire of the worst kind. Their clients pay to make sure there're no witnesses. None. But here you are, practically spitting on their precious contract after messing with their mark."
Grump snarled and straightened. "How'd you know I spoke with the human?"
"Ah, I didn't. Now I do!"
"You annoying little...!" Grump lashed at the goblin, but once again he danced away, hopping to yet another fencepost. Patches got on his hind legs and danced around, bleating loudly.
"Listen," Boil said, "I'm not trying to cause trouble. I'm not with the blackthorns anyway. I'm on a special quest. Very special! Unfortunately, I'm a little stuck. This man named Holger had this key, you see, and I need it to open up this silly, forgettable, absolutely worthless box."
Grump crossed his arms and glanced nervously at the sky. Already his muscles ached and tingled with the chilling burn of sunlight. "Well then, it sounds like you should just be on your way and forget about unlocking a forgettable little box that doesn't even belong to you."
"Belongs to nobody right now, considering the people toting it around the Russet Woods are all dead. I noticed the human blood in your pretty garden. Did you kill him? I know enough about trolls to know they don't like anybody trespassing on what's theirs."
"I didn't kill him! I do not kill!"
Boil shrugged. "Well, you are a troll. It's not like it was a wild guess." He tapped his chin and stared into the forest. "Must've been the blackthorns. Poisoned blades. Real nasty stuff. Mind pointing me in the direction of the body? I'll go get the key myself and leave you to your gardening, Mr. Troll."
Grump sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's Grump. And digging him up is useless. He doesn't have the key."
"Dig him up? You even buried him? Wow, you're a regular elf. So you've got the key? Can I see? Can I have? I'll borrow it and bring it back once I've got the box open. You can keep it then!"
"Don't call me an elf, you annoying little twerp." Grump considered breaking his nonviolence rule just this once. If he swung hard enough, he could probably use the shovel to launch the goblin into the canopy. Does killing a goblin even count as violence? From what he knew, nobody liked the smelly little troublemakers. Just a little swat with the shovel, and away Boil would go....
"Why're you grinning?" Boil asked.
"What? Nothing. And no, I don't have the key. He said ... He said someone took it. Didn't offer a name. Good luck to you on your search."
Boil folded his arms over his chest. "Did he now?"
"Yup. Said some rogue lifted it and ran off. Headed south, I think. Probably already in the Grey Plains. If you hurry, you might be able to catch the thief in Glenloch."
Boil's lips flattened, and he tapped a foot on the fencepost. "And what did this rogue look like? Tall?"
"Short."
"Fat?"
"Very skinny, actually, even for a human."
"Scars?"
"Face fresh and clean as a newborn. Smooth as an elf, practically."
"Uh-huh. Thanks for the information, Grump."
"You're very welcome. Have a great day." Grump yawned and patted his mouth. "Well, I'm off to bed. Don't want to turn to stone. Goodbye forever, Boil."
Grump strolled into his cave, propped his shovel on the wall, and slid the boulder over the opening. He chuckled to himself and patted the sealed entrance. That ridiculous goblin would never find his way inside now. Good riddance.
"Now for dinner," he said, pivoting from the boulder. Carrot and tomato stew would hit the spot. He had some salted hare he could chew on, too.
"What're you making?" Boil asked. The goblin reclined against Grump's vegetable shelf, cleaning dirt from beneath his nails.
"What? How?" Grump spun back to the door before whipping around to the intruder. "You were just—"
"I'm a rogue, Grump. It's my job to get around without you noticing. Trolls aren't too keen with their eyesight either, at least compared to greenskins like yours truly. Everybody knows that."
"I'll have you know I've got great eyes. And anyway, if we're talking facts, everyone knows goblins are incredibly annoying."
"Well, I don't think you even knew what a goblin was before you met me."
"I'm serious now, little greenskin. I'm going to move the boulder. You're going to leave, and we're never going to speak to one another again. I want no part in whatever this is that's going on. Are we clear on this?"
Boil wagged a finger at Grump and shook his head. "Now, I don't think we are actually very clear on this. You see, you keep telling me you want nothing to do with my little box, but I keep wondering to myself why you'd go through all the trouble to bury a human you hardly knew and keep his key tucked nice and safe in that pocket on your chest."
Grump's hand shot to the pocket. He realized too late he'd fallen for the goblin's slick words once again. A frown weighed Grump's lips as his eyes narrowed. "You're too clever by half, you know that?"
Some of Boil's playful demeanor faded, the glimmer in his eyes dulling as his smile flattened. "There's no escape from what's coming, Grump. The fair folk on both sides of the Ridge are warring. There was a sign in the sky. They even say the Torn Ocean's changing. Something's coming. Not even a troll tucked away in the woods can hide from it."
"I'll find a place where I can go. I always do."
"Where? The peaks of the Ridge? Not a very friendly place, those summits, even for a troll."
A knot formed in Grump's throat as his blood pressure rose. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "I will survive. I always have."
"Hey, we all gotta make our own choices. Now, about that key...." Boil extended a hand and wriggled his fingers. "Can I have it please? I'd really prefer not to have to steal it from you."
"Brave words, little greenskin. Nobody takes what's mine. It was a gift, and I don't part with my gifts. Not now, not ever."
Boil pursed his lips into a point. "That's such a troll thing to say."
"Well, the key is mine, and I don't give my gifts away to strangers who intrude on my garden and sneak into my home making demands and threatening some spooky calamity. You don't even know where the chest is anyway. Doubt you'd find it before the blackthorns find you."
"And you do?" Boil's seriousness exploded into wide-eyed hope. "Lead me to it, please! You don't understand how bad I need this."
"Is that so?" Grump asked.
The goblin huffed and marched forward, casting about the small cave like he worried someone might overhear him. "I'm on a very special quest. A wizard gave it to me. If I finish it ... I ... I get a wish granted!"
Grump considered Boil with a frown that threatened to become a scowl. "You think I'm stupid? There're no wizards on Oya. The war drove the bad ones out and the good ones died. Even if one did give you this quest, why would any fool get within ten leagues of a wizard? They'll sing like elves in the morning and turn the sky to flames by supper time. And the thought of a wizard needing your help is frankly ridiculous. Why would a wizard need you?"
"Because I'm special, that's why. If I bring this treasure to the Grand Mountain, I get my wish granted. I'd do anything to get that wish." The goblin considered Grump for a long moment as a smile slowly inched up his cheeks. "Maybe … maybe you could do it with me? The Grand Mountain's a long way away in the horde lands west of the Ridge, and what with crossing those mountains and the fair folk warring, I could use a strong-arm to see me through it."
"I told you I want no part in this."
"Goblin Emperor bury me in coal, because you're so damned insufferable! There's got to be something you want." He tapped his chin and eyed Grump. Those eyes quickly shot wide, and he danced forward. "If you help me, you could get a wish granted, too. There's got to be something a weird hermit troll desires."
"Nope. I'm quite content, thank you very much."
"Nobody is totally happy. You want gold?"
"Nah."
"Fame?"
Grump bellowed a laugh. "Absolutely not."
"Hmm...." Boil's eyes flashed and sparkled. "A loved one lost? Maybe taken before their time? Wizards can bring the dead back to life, you know. They have very powerful mojo. They did build the Ridge and tear the ocean."
Grump's heart twisted, and he stepped back. Somehow, Boil's eyes widened even more. "So there is something a wizard can do for you!"
"I didn't know wizards could raise the dead...."
Boil nodded so enthusiastically Grump thought … partly hoped … his little head might bounce right off his shoulders. Instead, the goblin straightened, hooking his thumbs on his dusty tunic. "Anyone from anywhere from any when. We've all got a past, Grump. You've got scars I can see and I bet they're not near as bad as the ones I can't. Keep your key. That's fine. But come with me." He stalked forward, grinning. "Be my partner! Together, no one can stop us from getting to the wizard. I'll be your eyes during the day, you be my muscle and make sure we reach the Grand Mountain before the humans catch us."
Grump rubbed the wicked scar slashed across his chest. The wizard could bring anyone back. Truly, anyone?
His teeth clenched into a wall. The Grand Mountain. He'd heard of it before, that place where the peak rose so high it could only be seen on the clearest days and other mountains bent their peaks from its dark slopes in awe of its might.
"If I do this with you, you must swear to me that the wizard will grant my wish," Grump said.
"Oh, I swear it, Grump. I swear it ten thousand times over."
"If you betray me, I'll smash you until there's nothing left."
Boil cleared his throat and rocked on his heels. "Well, I certainly believe that much is true. Don't worry, Grump, you won't regret this. Welcome to my clan! It was originally only meant for goblins but I think—"
"I'm not in your clan. I find you grating and hardly worth what trouble's coming my way with you in tow. I am not accompanying you to be your friend. I am comi
ng with you to keep you alive so you can lead me to this wizard. Once I get what I want, you and I will part, and that will be that."
Boil blinked. "Sheesh, you're such a—"
"Troll?" Grump growled.
"What? No. I was going to say storm cloud, although in the mines we'd call you a wet torch. Anyway, we should probably head to the forest and get the treasure."
"Tomorrow. Sun's up now and I can't. And I'm still not sure I'll come with you. It depends on what's in this box."
"But you could just—"
"Tomorrow!" Grump snarled, and that ended that. He spent the rest of his night smoking a good bowl of thimbleweed and enjoying his stew while the goblin prattled on about how much fun they were going to have together. Grump ignored the chattering filling his cave. His thoughts dwelled on other things, on the mountain to the west and the wizard who could grant wishes.
The goblin probably just fed him a convenient lie … the fellow even looked like a collection of fibs and ribs and pointy teeth. What was he thinking, considering leaving his home and his goats to follow a goblin across Oya? Leaving his garden was foolhardy, after all that he had done … all he lost … to get where he was today.
He could never leave this place, no matter how sweet a wish sounded to his heart. No, he would stay right where he belonged and get rid of this greenskin one way or another, and if those blackthorns were fools enough to show their faces again, he'd get rid of them, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rose
Night fell over Grump's garden like a fresh linen woven of deep shadows. He uncurled from his pad of straw and frowned at the little goblin swinging his knobby knees from his table.
"You're still here," Grump said, rolling over.
"A good goblin never goes against his word," Boil chirped.
Grump did little to hide his snort. "For some reason, I get the impression good goblins are about as common as troll gardeners."
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