“You do indeed hail from a long—and deep—ways off,” the dwarf said.
None of them knew what that meant, and Chap was a bit disturbed that Hammer-Stag recognized either the weapons or something about them. As if avoiding this, Magiere turned the talk in another direction.
“We were about to make camp, as soon as we retrieve our horses. We don’t have much food, but you’re welcome to—”
“Horses?” Hammer-Stag uttered warily. “Where?”
Chap realized the concern, but it was not the horses or the mule that he feared for most. He glanced at all of the scavenged weapons and attire of these goblins and thought of how they had to have come by those. Everything that he, Magiere, and Leesil had brought with them—especially the orb—had been left with ...
“Valhachkasej’â!” Leesil spit out, and he took off running.
Chap bolted as well, easily racing ahead. When he reached the trees, he found the horses untouched, but his sudden appearance spooked the mule. It took off into the brush.
Leesil ran after it, cursing as he vanished among the trees. “Stupid, obstinate, flea-bitten bag of bones!”
Chap began to follow, but when Magiere caught up, along with Hammer-Stag, he decided not to leave either of his charges alone with this stranger. With all the noise that Leesil and the mule made, it would be easy enough to know if they ran into trouble.
As Magiere took hold of both horses’ reins, the dwarf tsked again.
“I cannot leave all of you out here,” he said, “to become a meal yourselves. I will stand you a modest feast at what passes for a greeting house in Shentángize. There we will find you all a dry place for the night. The settlers cannot cook like my people, but anything will do.” He then sighed, deeply and forlorn. “Even though human ale is a rather poor draft.”
Again Magiere stared at Hammer-Stag as if dumbfounded. Hammer-Stag’s loud and confident manner was a bit overwhelming and off-putting.
Chap preferred sleeping outdoors unless they could find a large settlement with lodging on its outskirts. It had been more than a moon since they’d slept inside. The tiny village mentioned would not do at all, with too many eyes easily taking notice of outsiders. He was trying to find a way to warn off Magiere, when ...
“How many ... live in this village?” she asked.
Hammer-Stag shrugged, his eyes rolling upward as if he was counting. “A hundred, perhaps more.”
Magiere looked down at Chap and whispered. “I think it’ll be all right.”
At that, it was Hammer-Stag who eyed Chap with puzzlement.
Leesil came cussing and fuming into sight, with the mule resisting him at every step.
Chap lost any chance to warn Magiere off without attracting more attention. Sooner or later they would board a ship with the orb hidden away in a large chest that might have to be placed in cargo rather than in their cabin. In a village, at least, he could keep it in sight, and Magiere was still waiting.
Chap huffed once in agreement.
“What now?” Leesil grouched, looking between Chap and Magiere.
As Hammer-Stag shrugged and strode off, Magiere just cocked her head after the dwarf, and Leesil followed. Chap stepped in behind them.
As much as Hammer-Stag claimed to be hunting these goblins, he was soon making enough noise with his incomprehensible singing to attract stragglers back upon them. There was little chatter between any of them, and at any question about Shentángize, Hammer-Stag most often shrugged off the inquiry with, “You’ll see it soon enough,” and went back to his bellowing.
Chap had about enough when they finally broke through the trees into a clear area, and they spotted a stockade beyond the fallow fields. It was little more than a long, rounded wall of sharpened poles made from tree trunks driven into the earth and lashed together. A single broad gate framed by two crude watch platforms showed on the stockade’s near side.
“Did they build this to keep out those ... goblins?” Magiere asked as they stepped onward.
That seemed unlikely to Chap, as the dwarf had been fighting perhaps a dozen.
“The number of sighted packs seems to be increasing,” Hammer-Stag answered, “though they have rarely been seen this far west in many years. I tracked one pack tonight, but I will go out again ... and again until certain I have cut down the last of them.”
Chap wondered why the dwarf took this duty upon himself, but then they stood before the gate.
“It is me, Fiáh’our!” he shouted. “Open the gate!”
Low voices rose beyond the stockade wall, and the gate swung outward just a little. A few dirty faces peered out by the light of a raised tin lantern. Without waiting, Hammer-Stag pulled the timber gate wide as if it were made of twigs.
“I have guests,” he declared, “battle mates to be made welcome! Someone see to their horses.”
As two boys scurried out, Magiere held up a hand before Chap could step in the way.
“Let us get our belongings first,” she said quickly.
Hammer-Stag raised a bushy eyebrow with a shrug, as if this was not really worth concern. After grabbing their packs, Magiere and Leesil jointly hefted the chest hiding the orb. They carried it between them as Chap stepped ahead to clear the way.
They followed the dwarf over dried, cracked mud into a shabby village of randomly placed dwellings. They had little time to look around, as Hammer-Stag never slowed. He strode straight to the largest building at the center; its smokestack was billowing and light was seeping from its few plank-shuttered windows. He jerked its door open.
“I have returned victorious!” Hammer-Stag called out as he entered.
A few of the occupants left the collection of rough tables and chairs nearest the burning hearth. Villagers crowded in to greet the hulking dwarf with pats and nods.
“How many?” one asked. “How many did you kill?”
“Two dozen over the last few days,” he proclaimed. “They were on me like a horde wherever they heard me coming.” He then turned and gestured to his three new companions. “But at the last of it, these came to fight at my side. For my sake, give them food and drink and all else that they want.”
Chap noticed Magiere’s eyes shifting about as her pale face began to show panic.
She hated being the center of attention even when it was not a risk. Leesil, on the other hand, smiled for the first time all day. He kept a tight grip on his end of the chest as he pushed in around Hammer-Stag.
Several villagers had to duck and dodge the bulky chest and packs. Magiere’s expression turned stunned and then livid as Leesil dragged her past tables filled with villagers now all abuzz.
“... Timons, get the stew.”
“... Marta, fetch the ale.... Not that, the other stuff!”
“Tea,” Leesil put in quickly. “Bring ... tea?”
He had once spent years drinking himself to sleep and now would not touch ale or wine. He and Magiere rested the chest on the floor near a quickly vacated table as Hammer-Stag joined them. Chap paced in agitation once around the table and chairs before finally sitting close to Leesil ... with a good view of the whole place.
Hammer-Stag already had a fired clay mug of ale in his hand. He slammed it down on the table as he dropped into his chair, and foam sloshed everywhere.
“A good night indeed,” he proclaimed.
Magiere was looking closely at his thôrhk. She had hidden away her own, made of Chein’âs metal like Leesil’s blades, in the pack at her feet. Instead of mentioning Hammer-Stag’s thôrhk, she settled her elbows on the table and leaned in.