The Count of Castle Rock

Chapter LX- Goblin Politics

Lucky Blades dismounts as his scrawny stallion gallops into the clearing. It nips at his hat before trotting off to join the other horses. Four horses. Three shadows in the brush and one in the trees. He whistles like the silver-beaked ravens of his home. They whistle back. Content that everything is as it should be, Lucky hurries towards the circle of tents and low campfire. A hulking hairy form stands in the shadows behind the largest tent, gnawing on a piece of bloody meat. He looks up as Lucky approaches and grins. Even in the gloom, his savage visage is sobering.

"Enjoy it, Crush."

The brute vigorously bobs his head, sending his shaggy hair flopping about.

Lucky moves past him and into the light. A feliruu alchemist named Jahk and an ex-physicker named Cutty huddle over a form no larger than a child. Powder sits beside the campfire, slowly feeding a tree branch into the flames. She looks up and shakes her head. Lucky clicks his tongue, the look on her face isn't promising.

"How bad is he, Doc?" Lucky asks, sitting across from his blind right hand.

"Not good, boss," Cutty says. He rises to his feet wiping his hands on an already bloodstained rag. "I've stitched him up as best I can."

"He's fucking dead, Shadow Lady, why waste the thread," Powder says mimicking Cutty's voice.

His eyes widen and he winces. "As I said, I did my best," he grumbles, scratching his scalp.

Lucky removes his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. The hint of a lovely scent hangs in the air and he sniffs his fingers. His mind goes back to a comely country girl with soft thighs and an attractive moan. A gust of wind blows hot air into his face, bringing him back to the present and the little body on the ground.

"Smells like you've made a new friend," Powder purrs, leaning closer to catch the scent.

"Don't be so vulgar," he chuckles. "Jahk, what's your verdict?"

"I gave him a drought that will help his skull reknit. The damage was extensive, but he's tough and most of the fragments are large." The catkin apothecary rises and dusts off his hands. "If he makes it through the next two nights he'll survive."

"It's a big if," Cutty says, sitting beside Powder.

"He's little, but he's tough." Lucky grabs a wineskin from beside the log, sniffs its contents, and takes a long swig.

"I've heard of this one," Jahk reflects, accepting the wineskin as he joins Lucky. "He's supposed to be a skilled knife fighter, almost as good as a free dancer. What happened to him?"

Cutty laughs. "You think the only fighters as good as the free dancers are other free dancers."

"This is true."

The four share a laugh.

"Seriously, boss," Powder begins, "what happened to him?"

"I'm not sure," Lucky admits. "I was supposed to meet a team of scouts in the woods at the base of Castle Rock. I found dead goblins and Rancid with his skull bashed in."

"Those woods are haunted." Cutty makes a warding gesture.

"The north is one big tribal burial ground," Jahk says in a somber tone. "First the feliruu then the Lia'chem. We tread on the bones of the dead."

"Maybe," Lucky concedes. "Though two of the locals reported them to the soldiers camped near Grazing."

"That where you're hiding your new friend?" Powder makes an obscene hand motion that makes Cutty sputter.

"No. One was actually the old man's niece."

This sobers the group.

"W... was he angry?" Cutty puts his hand out for the wineskin.