Bersmog came trotting up, his usual, leering grin absent. He handed Jelia’s mother two rabbits.
“Trouble,” he said. “Plenty much and coming plenty fast.”
“It’s Relcan,” Eyrmin said in the elven tongue after listening with his sensitive hearing. “Go and meet him. I wish to hear these humans speak when you are not here to listen.”
Cald rose and walked around the wagon toward the woods, watching the prince’s second-in-command as he trotted across the plain accompanied by half a dozen elven warriors. Relcan’s face was contorted by a combination of pleasure and contempt, neither emotion able to gain a victory.
“So, you have taken up with the humans,” he said, a fierce smile winning the battle of his expression. “You have left Sielwode, so go with them.”
Cald had always known Relcan distrusted him, but he had not expected the elf to attempt to banish him. Worse, Relcan’s dislike of the human could lead to a breach between the prince and one of the royal kindred. With the Gorgon’s armies attacking, it was unthinkable.
“Relcan, you don’t understand….” He took a step toward the elf, but seven arrow points suddenly turned his way.
“Take another step, and I’ll kill you,” Relcan threatened.
The whir of a flying arrow preceded a missile that passed between human and elf to bury itself in the ground. The fletching on the end of the arrow carried the markings of the prince.
“Am I also banished from Sielwode?” Eyrmin called as he stepped out from behind the wagon.
Relcan stood with his mouth gaping as the prince approached. The warriors who had followed Relcan were backing away, and Cald, seeing the set expression on Eyrmin’s face, hurried back toward the wagon. He decided it would be best to be out of hearing when the prince spoke to his second.
Back at the wagon, Jelia was busy braiding more grass into usable fuel, while Bersmog and Stognad skinned the rabbits.
Cald watched the small human family as they smiled in anticipation of a hot meal. He wondered what it would be like to live among humans, live with a female like Jelia. The dreams were pleasant, but a glance to the east reminded him of the forest, so dark and forbidding to the rest of the human race, but a place of constant delight and wonder to him.
When his keen hearing told him the conversation between Eyrmin and Relcan was over, he bade the little family farewell and turned back to Sielwode, firmly putting Jelia out of his mind.
Eyrmin stood in the sunlight, waiting. Beside him was Relcan, his face white with fury. Eyrmin dismissed him. Relcan’s short glance at the prince warned Cald that Eyrmin had turned the smaller elf’s animosity into hatred.
But Eyrmin had other things on his mind. He waited until they were again joined by the goblins and were back in the wood. A thin tendril of smoke rose over the camp by the wagon. The wind brought the aroma of cooking meat.
“Bersmog say shame to leave cooking meat when hungry,” Stognad groused. He had a habit of attributing his complaints to his friend.
“What did the women say after I left?” Cald asked the prince.
“The younger female was suspicious of me, but the woman told her I would do them no harm, since I was one of your people. She also expressed the hope that we would not suffer if the awnshegh’s forces came south. They seemed to think, if I was an average elf, we would not be physically strong enough to hold them off. I believe they told us the truth.”
“Already come south in plenty numbers,” Bersmog said as they started away. “Smell Gorgon stink.”
Cald threw the goblin a searching look. “You said something about awnshegh stink in the battle at the northern edge of the wood,” he said and flicked a glance at Eyrmin. “I didn’t pay any attention then.”
“Tell me about this smell,” Eyrmin said to the goblins. He paused in the deep shade of a huge, low-limbed tree.
Bersmog busied himself with scratching his body, his legs, belly, chest, and ears. Cald and Eyrmin waited, knowing it was the usual occupation of the goblins when they struggled to explain anything that was in any way out of the ordinary.
“Not a nose smell,” Bersmog struggled for words. “But is there.”
“Then how do you know it’s from an awnshegh?” Cald persisted. The goblins had not quite convinced him, but he remembered the remark from before, and the goblins had probably been correct.
“You know smell in forked fire from sky?” Stognad asked. “Not like made fire from camp.”
“I know it,” Eyrmin answered, staring at the goblins as if mesmerized. He gave up any pretense of traveling and sat on a small, broken limb, motioning the goblins to rest on the ground on a bed of ferns. His expression was intense, and Cald noted he placed his restless hands on his knees to keep them still.
“Gorgon, him have that smell,” Bersmog said.
“You’ve seen the Gorgon?” Eyrmin pressed, doubt narrowing his eyes.
“Me see him little bit.” Bersmog nodded. “Me plenty big warrior in clan. Go with Splitear when he see Gorgon, only have to call him Prince Raesene or him get plenty mad.”
“How did you look on him without becoming one of his minions?” Eyrmin demanded, his face suddenly hard with suspicion.
“Not able to look—just see in blinks,” Bersmog replied with a complacency that was close to triumphant. “Bad eye sickness, all stinging and burning. Happened on the way to the mountains. When reach Gorgon’s Crown, not able to look at anything but in a quick blink.”
“Bersmog have to be led most of way out of mountains,” Stognad said. “Him die if me not lead him back.”
“Did you see the Gorgon, too?” Eyrmin asked the second goblin.
“Him not great warrior, not important enough to see Gorgon,” Bersmog said.
“Save your life, you have plenty obligating to me,” Stognad retorted, bearing his fangs at his companion.
“Never mind,” Eyrmin said. “Describe the Gorgon for me,” he ordered Bersmog.
“Is big, plenty big, and like is made of stone, but moves like people,” Bersmog said. “Long horns on head of bull, and legs like goat. Funny little hard hooves that crack rock when he walk. Plenty hard, plenty mean, those hooves. Eyes all fire and smoke come from breathing like big blaze inside.”
Cald thought the goblin was making up a tale and had started to smile, but the intensity of Eyrmin’s expression changed his mind.
“Gorgon, him smell like forked sky fire,” Bersmog went on. “Once smell Gorgon, feel smell on people who been near him.” The goblin shifted restlessly. “Go hunt now? Eyes plenty good, all healed, but seeing is not filling belly.”
“Go and hunt,” Eyrmin said. While the goblins trotted away, he sat staring down at the crushed ferns.
“You believed him,” Cald said, still doubtful. His remark was almost an accusation of gullibility.
“He doesn’t smell anything,” Eyrmin said. “He felt the power and the evil of the Gorgon, and he senses a touch of it on the awnshegh’s minions. He associates his feelings with an odor.”
“You don’t think he’s boasting?” Cald asked, still not satisfied.
Eyrmin rose, slowly, as if he were very tired. He led the way back toward Reilmirid.
“Few have ever seen the Gorgon and returned alive and untainted, but I have heard that description before, and I’ve heard about the smell. No, Bersmog is not boasting; he recognizes the influence of the awnshegh. Let that be a lesson to us. We are an intelligent people, and because of our knowledge we often ignore the abilities of others. In that we depart from wisdom.”
Cald noted that the prince had included him with the elven race. Then he found a question on his tongue, one he hated to ask, but knew he must.
“Can we be sure Bersmog is untainted?”
“Yes. He’s been with us too long; we would have seen some sign of it by now. He has the callousness of his race, but there’s no true evil in him. I suspect the eye sickness he spoke of protected him. He was fortunate. He could not keep his eyes open long enough for the Gorgon to invade his mind.”