A hobgoblin walked past them, toting skins filled with some sort of potent alcohol over his shoulder. He paused and stared at Mudwort, her fingers stuck in the dirt, made a snorting sound at them, then moved on.
“Yes, pain smells strong and bad, Mudwort.” Moon-eye sniffed the air again to be certain. “Smells worse than men.” He gestured with his head toward the slave pens and smiled at his own humor. “Smell the dead ogres, rotting ogres, tasty sheep and goats and chickens. Smell those things too.” He nodded his head toward the far side of the village where the livestock was being kept. “Smell Graytoes too. That is a very good smell. But the pain of the rocks, that smell …” He made a face and spat, as if spitting out something spoiled.
“Join in this,” Mudwort said.
At first Moon-eye didn’t know what she meant. Then he tentatively brought a hand forward, near hers, prodding the hard earth. He recoiled in surprise when his fingers sank in alongside hers. The ridges above his eyes rose in curiosity, then his expression turned instantly grim and serious, his lips thrust forward. A moment later, he leaned close and drove both hands into the yielding ground, just as she had.
“Feels like mud,” he said with a slight grin. He moved his fingers easily through the hard earth, reaching out with his right hand and stretching until his fingers touched Mudwort’s own buried left hand. “Feels odd … but good.”
“Smell the world now,” Mudwort encouraged Moon-eye. She thrust her right hand deep into the ground and edged forward until she touched his left hand, keeping her hand close to his. “Think strong, Moon-eye. Think and do nothing else except think. See the world now. See the world together.”
Moon-eye’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Don’t understand, Mudwort! What is this?”
“There is something special about Moon-eye,” Mudwort explained. “Felt it a while back, in the slave pens. Could do nothing about it then-slaves then. Do something now, together. Smell the world together, Moon-eye. What do you smell?”
He sucked in a deep breath then another, his good eye widening even more as he explored his power. “Smelling the stone,” Moon-eye repeated. “Seeing the stone on the sides of mountains, smooth and pretty, shiny black. More stones are not smooth, though. Look like bugs have bored inside. Holes all over, and those stones feel rough and have felt pain. Are dead now, those stones. Some dead, but felt pain once.”
“Feel their pain too,” Mudwort said. “It is those rocks that suffered the most, the ones with holes. Warm, those rocks are like the charred wood at the bottom of a fire. Where are these hole-filled rocks, Moon-eye?”
The one-eyed goblin furrowed his brow and sniffed again, putting his face down close to the dirt until his nose brushed it. “Far … but not far.” He pressed his nose all the way into the earth, then quickly withdrew it. “Too close, Mudwort. The suffering pain is too close, the pain will come here soon. Leave here. Direfang must know now, all goblins must leave!”
Beneath the surface, Mudwort grabbed Moon-eye’s fingers before he could pull them out and held them tightly. “Tell Direfang soon, Moon-eye. Together tell him. But there is more to see and smell first. Learn more first.”
Moon-eye tried to tug free, but Mudwort’s grip was strong. “Look to the south, Moon-eye, where Direfang wants to go.”
He fought against her a moment more then relented. “The mountains glow, Mudwort. To the south and west, some mountains glow.” There was awe in his voice, his good eye glimmering excitedly. “The one nearest this village, the one seen from the top of that crest. It glows so very, very bright. And others. The ones near Steel Town glow brightest. The not-hurting mountains are to the north of this place.”
Mudwort said, “What the quake started, disturbing the sleeping, angry earth-”
“The glowing mountains will finish.” Moon-eye completed for her, grinning. “Good, the mountains will bury Steel Town forever.”
“But not good that they could bury any more goblins. Here, there is danger too.” Mudwort still held his hands tight. “There is more, Moon-eye. See it? See this amazing thing?”
“Yes. But what is it? Beautiful. What is it? Frightening. What is it?”
Mudwort shrugged as Moon-eye stared at the ground, cracks radiating outward from his wrists.
“What is that thing, Mudwort?”
She shrugged again, releasing his hands. “Direfang wants to go south, and that is to the south,” she said. “The frightening thing could be there, on the way.”
“Could be dangerous,” Moon-eye said, though his eye was still glimmering with excitement.
“Direfang does not need to know that,” Mudwort said flatly, standing and brushing the dirt from her palms. “Moon-eye thirsty?”
He nodded. “Direfang and Moon-eye’s Heart are at the lake.”
“Good to be thirsty, then, eh?” Mudwort led the way down the road, fully aware as she had been all the time, that the wizard was watching her, still watching her.
When Direfang approached the slave pen, the hobgoblin guards were quick to wake up the knights. A dozen goblins had gathered behind Direfang, all of them wielding knives.
“It is Grunnt’s turn to sleep now,” Direfang told the hobgoblin guard in charge. “Sleep very quick. Soon we go.” He spoke in the Common tongue to the knights, who were still rubbing their eyes. “Time grows near to leave this place.”
Grallik jumped to his feet, obviously angry with himself for dropping off to sleep in this filthy place. “Where are we going?”
Direfang worked a kink out of his shoulder and dug the ball of his foot into the ground. “South is all you need to know.”
“Where south?”
“Just south.” Direfang growled and thrust his bottom jaw out. “It is not safe here, Mudwort says. Clearly, it does not look safe.” He pointed to the sky, which had lightened a little, though the dark gray clouds remained an ominous sight.
The sky was light enough that Grallik could see the goblins already getting ready to leave the village. They had packs and sacks filled to bulging-skins fat with water from the lake. Jugs were also filled with water, stoppered, and held in nets slung over the shoulders of the stronger hobgoblins. Goats, sheep, and cows were tethered at the base of the trail, and the cows had sacks and blankets draped across their backs. The army was taking everything of value that could be carried or dragged along with them. The livestock would last them a couple of days but little more than that because of the goblins’ sheer numbers and ravenous appetites.
The sight of the army ready to march clearly alarmed Grallik, as did the steam rising from cracks in the ground that had appeared during the darkness. All over the village the earth had swelled, as though things beneath the ground were trying to push their way upward, cracks appearing everywhere.
“Thought more giant bugs were coming,” Direfang said. “Like the one killed by the fire spell. Not bugs, though.”
“But there wasn’t any trace of steam when the centipedes attacked yesterday, was there?” Grallik asked. “This is something else.”
“Something else. Something bad,” Direfang said.
Grallik stepped to the rail and leaned against it.
“Slaves,” Direfang said, nodding at Grallik then indicating the priest and the other two knights too. “Slaves will come along.” The hobgoblin looked again at Horace, who was still lying on the ground, listening. “Skull man!”
“You want me to tend you now?” Horace brushed futilely at his chest and back, unable to get the dirt and waste off. The priest seemed oblivious to the activity in the village and the steam rising from the ground. He was ready to resume his healing duties. “Aye, Foreman Direfang. And in return I ask that you let me bathe in the lake and drink my fill.” Then he looked around, realized the army was preparing to leave, and added, “At least grant me a skin of water to take with me.”