The Berserker and the Pedant (9 page)

Gurken stood up and picked up his axe. There seemed to be only one way out of the room. He brushed many ropes aside as he walked towards the doorway. Through the doorway, he saw another room, with someone in a wooden rocking chair facing away from him and towards a fire pit. There was a goblin on each side of the doorway, guarding it.

Gurken took his axe and made short work of the two goblins, cleaving their heads from their bodies almost before they could react. The chair in front of the fire pit started rocking, and the person in it hummed an unfamiliar tune. Unfamiliar, but unmistakably a gentle bedtime melody. Gurken crept around the side of the room to get a better look at whoever was sitting in the chair.

It was an older female goblin, gray scraggly hair combed neatly on her head. She wore a shawl and a dress with a print of flowers. In her hand was a length of cord. She hummed a tune as she spun it together by hand. Gurken watched her, waiting.

"Well. Hello there," she said. Her voice had the familiar cadence of a grandmother greeting her grandchildren. "Aren't you just the fiercest dwarven warrior?" The chair creaked as she gently rocked in it. "Finally woken up from your slumber, I see. Fine way to greet Gr-ma, killing her nurses. Where are your manners? Oh, but where are mine? Would you like some tea?"

Gurken lowered his axe, unsure of what to do.

The kindly old goblin took a kettle off the fire and poured tea into two small cups. "It's herbal, I'm afraid. Not much real tea around these parts." She handed Gurken a cup, and smelled her own and took a sip. She sighed contentedly. 

"That's a good cup of tea, nonetheless. Do you know the secret to a good cup of tea? Let it sit for six minutes. Take the tea too soon, and it's weak. Not enough oomph to it. Not enough kick! Take the tea too late, and it's too bitter. It's overwhelming. Let it sit just right, and there is nothing more pleasing."

She hummed the gentle melody and sipped her tea for a time. Gurken stood there, holding the mug in one hand and axe in the other. Finally, she set the tea down. "Come over here so I can see you better. These old eyes aren't as good as they used to be."

Gurken walked in front of the goblin and let her have a look at him.

"Well, now, you look sharp young fellow." She gave the cord intertwined with his beard a short, sharp tug. It stung. "Stop complaining, that didn't hurt much. Nice and tight. Good, maybe you'll remember next time you start killing things." Gurken was confused.

She took the cord that she had been working on and started tying it into Gurken's beard. As she tied the first knot, she said, "This is Na. He was two years old. He has thirteen children. Na is lying over there by the room you came from, the tombs. He's dead. Who will teach his children how to act now? Who will teach them to behave? No one, that's who. If they survive the trolls, they'll be young hoodlums for sure."

Gurken felt a stab of pain as his beard interweaved with the knot. "There," she said and began a second knot. "This is Gra," she said as she tied the knot. "He was three years old. He has twenty-three children. Most of his are old enough now to be on their own and grew up with a father, a rarity among goblins. Sadly, they were all killed yesterday." She stared at Gurken and tugged the other knot in his beard, sending a fresh stab of pain through his face.

Finished with the knot, she stood up. "Come here now, help an old lady out." Gurken came over to the old goblin and set down his axe. She grabbed his arm and held onto it for support as she walked towards the tombs. She was arthritic, and pain clearly stabbed at her with every step, so progress was slow, giving Gurken time to consider.

He thought about Na and Gra, and about their many children. "They attacked us," Gurken said, unsure about why he should feel the need to justify his actions to her.

"Hush, child. I don't show you this to chastise you. I want you to understand the results of your actions. Everything you do has consequences. For Na and Gra, their actions have resulted in two knots. You did help out a bit with that, but it doesn't mean it's entirely your fault."

She continued to shuffle over to the tombs. Gurken looked again at the room. The ropes swayed from the ceiling. Hundreds upon hundreds of them, with thousands upon thousands of knots. "Why do some of the ropes have a knot at the end?" he asked.

"Each rope represents a family line. Each knot a death. The knot at the end of the rope represents the death of the last member of a family. No need to add more rope, so I tie it off with the last knot. Don't worry, young one, your assault upon our home represents only the smallest of contribution to the knots."

"How long have you been keeping track?" Gurken asked.

"How long? Let's see now. About nine years. Three generations. We split off from another family then. Our family had grown quite large. Those were good times. In the last few years, we've been plagued by Maro, Blod, and Boan, three great trolls."

"I've seen them. They look quite formidable."

"Aye, they are. They healed from any injury we could cause them. They wade into the goblin horde, swinging their claws and biting off our heads. We're no match for them. They don't just hunt us for food, or for sport. They have some other plan in mind for us. After killing their fill of us, they scoop up as many goblins as they can fit in enormous bags and wander off. We never tied knots for them, hoping they would return. We haven't been able to discover why the trolls took them, and I'm afraid that we never will."

"Why is that?" Gurken asked.

"They came last night after you killed so many of our remaining warriors and made quick work of the rest of us. We're no more. I'm the last goblin of this family now. When I die, we die. The tombs will be all that remain of us, swinging knots in a cave."

She fell silent. There was no sound save for the creaking of ropes.

Gurken said, "For my part, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Those that kill rarely give much time to consider consequences," she said. "Help me back to my chair, I am seven years old, and I have little time left. I would die next to my fire in my home, singing the songs of my family. Songs that will never be sung again. Come, sit with me."

Gurken helped the kindly old goblin back to the fire, and poured her some more tea. He sat with her while she sang the songs of her people. She sang through the day, stopping at sundown. She lay in the chair, breathing shallow breaths as the last of her strength ebbed away. Finally, she stopped. Gurken tied a knot at the end of the cord in his beard and wept.

Episode Ten

The Berserker and the Pedants

"Nooooooooooooooooooo," Arthur said, pausing to take a breath, "oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

Arthur waved his hands towards his posterior. "Why, pray tell, if I'm resurrected, do I still have the lower half of a horse? The priests promised I would be human when I next came back from the dead!"

"Oh," said Moog. "Not 'resurrect,' you want 'reincarnate.' That easy!"

Arthur slapped his forehead with his palm and sighed. "I don't suppose you know how to mend me back into a human?"

Moog scratched the top of his head and stuck out his upper lip. He closed his eyes in concentration. His eyes flew back open, and he pointed a finger in the air. "Ah! Moog know!"

"And you didn't mention this before now?" Arthur asked.

"You not ask. I do now. Arthur feel nothing," Moog assured him.

Arthur grimaced at the linguistic butchery. "'You won't feel a thing,' Moog."

Moog looked confused. "No, Moog won't feel a thing. Arthur feel nothing, too."

Arthur sighed. "Well, let's get on with it."

Moog picked up a goblin spear from the ground and walked towards Arthur. Arthur scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at Moog.

"Whatever are you doing with that spear?" Arthur asked.

"Hold still, I kill you again. Reincarnate easy!"

Arthur's eyes grew wide, and he backed away, holding out his hands. "Moog, that's not what I thought you meant! I thought you sai-" and his rear hooves came down on open air. His eyes grew even wider as he slipped off the cliff, falling.

Moog and Antic looked over the edge of the cliff, straining their necks out, looking down. Then they looked at each other. While it was not easy to see the ant's mood from an expression on its chitinous face, its pincers quivered, which Moog took as a sign of growing irritation. Moog smiled and held up a finger, in order to ask the ant to bide some time. Moog walked back to Arthur's first corpse, slid a few sections of the orb around and said "Herelvern!"

A pillar of light descended from the heavens, striking the ground next to Moog and Arthur's corpse. At first, nothing happened, then a speck in the center of the light appeared and grew. It grew to the size of a pea, then a pebble, then a small ball. It looked like a tiny fetus. It quickly grew and aged through foal, weanling, yearling, and colt and finally, stopped at adulthood. It was a unicorn.

The unicorn's eyes grew wide, and it shook its head from side to side. It sat down on its haunches and raised its two front hooves, staring at them. The unicorn's eyes grew wide, and it whinnied in shock. Moog's eyes grew wide, and Antic cocked its head to one side.

"Oops," Moog said.

The unicorn whinnied, and its tail swished from side to side. Those well trained in the equine arts would have seen a depth of agitation and annoyance in its face.

Moog pushed at the orb a bit and said, "Herleven."

Another pillar of light formed over the seated unicorn and raised it off the ground. It tried tried to run, hooves flailing about, unable to find purchase. It continued to lift in the air, hooves swimming. The unicorn picked up velocity as it rose into the heavens. Another fetus appeared in the middle of the light and quickly grew from infancy to adulthood. Arthur sat there, naked as Moog but fully human.

"Moog, dear lad," Arthur said, his voice soft and weak. "You saved me. You have my gratitude." Arthur stood up and looked down, observing that he lacked the number of legs to which he'd become acquainted. He smiled an enormous smile, then covered himself with his hands, acutely aware of his lack of clothing. He stood up and walked over to his corpse, rifling through his pack. "I've kept a spare set of clothing with me, anticipating this very occasion!" He took out a set of wizarding robes and put them on.

"Did it hurt?" Moog asked.

Arthur considered. "If you mean did the goblins stabbing me with their spears hurt, then yes. If you mean did the resurrection hurt, then no. I remember the goblins stabbing me, dying, and the next thing I remember is waking up here."

"See," Moog said smugly, "Arthur feel nothing."

Arthur sighed. "It's 'You felt nothing,' Moog," Arthur corrected. "You shouldn't speak to someone in the third person, it's awkward. We'll make a grammarian out of you yet." Moog looked confused. 

"In any event, thank you, Moog. You're an excellent mender. You even remembered to turn me back into a human." Moog smiled.

"Let's go see about our good friend Gurken, and then having found him, we shall come up with a plan to find our dear Pellonia. She can't have been taken far."

It was night when Pellonia awoke. She was lying next to the fire, extracted from the confines of the net. She heard voices, so she lay still, pretending to be unconscious.

"These 'goblins' make for exceedingly poor fighters. We need hardier stock," said a male voice.

"It seems cruel," Melody said.

"There are too few of us; we'd die off rather quickly if we fought ourselves."

"But sending others to do ou-"

"That's why we made them, Melody."

"That's not relevant, Leon. They're alive; what right do we have to conscript them?"

"Perhaps none. Perhaps this is immoral, but I won't have us die off. Neither would the All-Mother. You'll feel the same after the third Awakening."

Melody sighed.

Pellonia heard a sound of something hard cracking, followed by a tearing sound. It couldn't have come from more than twenty feet away. She risked peeking open one eye and saw Melody sitting on a log on the other side of the fire talking to a man. He was tall and lanky, and had pointed ears. Another elf. He was tinted orange, and dark shadows danced around him from the flickering firelight. If they took any notice of the sounds, they didn't react.