She frowned first, then suddenly beamed. “Freed slaves? Good. All of the gods’ creatures should be free.” She helped Direfang stand. The hobgoblin found her surprisingly strong for her size. “The citadel was founded long years ago as a place to develop mystic talents. Now it is a place of learning and healing. But more than priests and druids and scholars call this home. Heartspring is near here, and Captain Gerrold has sent some of his sailors there to take on grain and vegetables. Heartspring is a farming village. Some of your kind are scattered on this island too, and-”
“Goblins? Or hobgoblins?” Direfang found that his full voice was returning. The cool water had soothed his throat and restored his energy. He wondered if there was something enchanted about the water.
“In the wilds are many races, Direfang. A forest surrounds much of the island. Some goblins live here. Captain R’chet has offered to take more goblins on his ship, provided that they can be gathered and that they will not fear the presence of his minotaur crew. The captains tell me they are taking all of you to the Qualinesti Forest, where you will build a nation for your kind.”
“Captain Gerrold and the minotaur R’chet speak too much,” Direfang growled.
“There must be a hundred or more goblins on this island. To be truthful, they vex the farmers, raiding the fields and taking sheep. No one knows how they got here, but Captain R’chet wonders if a slave ship wrecked on the coast and these goblins are the survivors.”
As they walked toward the host of sick goblins, Qel related some of the long history of the citadel to Direfang. “Goldmoon-”
“A Hero of the Lance,” Direfang supplied.
“Yes. Goldmoon was looking for a home for her mystics and settled on this island after climbing the Silver Stair. I will tell you about all that later. The dwarves of Hillhome built the initial citadel with its crystal domes. Knights of the Sword helped.” She paused. “Very many people helped. But a huge green dragon attacked the citadel during the War of Souls. It was looking for a great magical treasure. Some of the domes collapsed, and others were heavily damaged. But the mystics’ spirits were not harmed, and reconstruction is well under way. Some say the citadel will be more beautiful than ever when it is again finished.”
The hobgoblin let the rest of her words fade, instead concentrating on the chatter of his kinsmen. He’d found her story interesting but unimportant, and he doubted he would remember it long after that day. He looked around for familiar faces and realized that many of the goblins were pleased and excited to see him.
Two-chins rushed to him first, grabbing at his leg. “Clothes. Direfang needs clothes. Burned the old clothes, the people did.”
“Clothes later,” Direfang returned. “Back on the ship.” He remembered he had that new package of clothes waiting for him in the captain’s cabin.
“Could make a goblin home here,” Two-chins suggested. “Lots of trees, farms to raid, sheep and goats to-”
“Goats!” That was blurted by Truak. The big hobgoblin stood and smacked his lips. “Like goats a lot, me do.”
“Back on the ship,” Direfang said. “That is our home for now.”
He spoke loudly, making it a command for the others to hear. “The forest that once belonged to the elves is not far now.” At least he hoped it wasn’t. He tried to picture the map Gerrold had showed him days past. He recalled seeing the island, but he couldn’t remember how much sea stretched between the island and the Qualinesti Forest. “Be fast,” he added. “Get back on the ship.” A part of him worried that Captain Gerrold might sail on without the goblins. He vividly recalled the anger in the man’s voice and the fire in his eyes when he accused Direfang of bringing the plague on board his ship.
Looking around, he finally caught sight of Mudwort, who was well east of the assembly. She sat with the wizard; Grallik was hunched over so far that his forehead appeared to be touching hers. A snarl caught in Direfang’s throat; he disapproved of Mudwort aligning her magic with that man’s.
“Back to the ship, now. Now!” The goblins around Direfang grumbled only a little, they were so pleased to be healed and happy to have the hobgoblin leader back among them. Two-chins picked a handful of the yellow flowers as he turned to head toward the sea. For his mate, he told Direfang, and he hurried to be one of the first back. The robed men and women slowly followed the goblins down a winding dirt path that stretched toward the sea. The guardians remained, eyes on Direfang and hands clenched tightly on the spears.
Direfang approached Mudwort and sat near her and the wizard. His fingers were twined in the grass, like hers, and after a few minutes, he pulled up a long blade and slid it between two teeth.
“Do what?” Direfang finally asked.
“Looking for goblins.” Mudwort answered him in goblinspeak, which kept their words private from the wizard. “Calling the ones hidden on this island. The old, skinny woman asked for this. Wants the goblins away. Says it will be better for the goblins. Says there is no prejudice here. But those last words sound hollow.”
Direfang nodded.
“Still,” Mudwort continued, “calling the goblins on this island is good. Calling goblins from other places is good too.”
Direfang frowned.
“Still summoning them, Mudwort? We don’t have enough already?”
She smiled. “Talking through the stone, Direfang. Calling goblins and hobgoblins through the earth. Many more goblins everywhere. Many listening too, and some talk back.”
He noticed that her and Grallik’s hands were buried in the ground and that the grass had twisted around their wrists. He watched them for quite some time, aware of the guardians still standing rigidly but more aware of the meadow. He’d never felt so at peace before, and he allowed himself time to savor the moment.
Twilight had claimed the sky by the time Direfang heard Grallik and Mudwort stir away from their magic. He’d sat there for hours! His legs were a little stiff, but he shook off the feeling as he stood.
“Past time to return to the ship,” he declared brusquely in Common so the wizard would understand. Direfang suddenly wanted to don his new clothes. He felt fully healed, alive again. “Be fast.”
Grallik likewise was stiff, picking up first one leg then the other and rubbing them to get the feeling back. “Aye, Foreman.” The wizard’s eyes glistened like polished black buttons. “Past time it is. And soon enough we’ll be in the Qualinesti Forest.”
“The Goblin Forest,” Mudwort corrected him. She hadn’t stood, and her hands remained in the earth. “Go,” she told them. “Won’t be long now. Just a little bit more.”
Direfang started to argue, but the wizard brushed past him, taking the same dirt path. The hobgoblin decided to follow as Mudwort wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Stubborn goblin, she was.
“Just a little longer,” Mudwort said.
The guardians remained, watching her.
The forest she envisioned had more trees, though they were still all relatively young-hundreds and hundreds of saplings. Mudwort knew Saarh had done something to increase the number of the trees. Everything was more lush and greener, and there were more goblins too, plenty of younglings hanging on their mothers.
They’d built a village, which consisted of dozens of rock and wood-domed homes atop hollowed-out earthen nests.
“How long ago was this?” Mudwort mused, concentrating. “Long time ago to be certain. A long, long time.” When her mind had touched the forest as it existed in her time, during the seeing spell she’d just conjured with Grallik, there’d been no trace of the village. So Saarh and her followers had had enough time to build homes.
She’d been careful not to search for the spear, buried somewhere in the ancient woods, wrapped in the once-beautiful piece of cloth. She didn’t want Grallik to know about the unusual spear, once wielded by Saarh. She could search for the spear because she was alone, but it was getting late, and she’d better be careful; she might miss the ship. She would find an opportunity to look later.