Chapter 5: Goblins

We wandered through the slave market.

It was a dizzying array of misery! Creatures of every size and shape were beaten and cowed in horrid cells like the one I just left.

Suddenly we were out into the city.

It looked like morning! I must have been awake for nearly the whole night inside that lightless dungeon!

People were just beginning their days.

The sun was low over the buildings and city walls. The whole place looked like a Renaissance fair! Dark gray stone buildings with hanging shingles out front proclaiming the trades housed within using simple pictures.

There were tankards on some hanging placards, proclaiming open ale houses. Others painted cloth or clothing, and still others showed meats or grains.

Men at arms casually rode armored horses up the street in double columns, drawing my gawking stare.

Other people were peasants, with rope-bound ‘L’ shaped platforms piled high with grains of some kind in bags, or stacks of leafy green plants. Still others hauled heavy loads of firewood on those miserable-looking packs.

The place was a wonder! It was like suddenly stepping a thousand years back in time!

And just as suddenly, we popped out through the city gates and out into the country.

We were definitely not in Texas anymore!

If the temperate green surrounding fields were not enough the missive, craggy mountains that surrounded on the three sides I could see away from the city gave it away!

And then there was the massive black spike that shot into the sky, back-dropped by high snow-capped mountains. If I was not completely delusional it looked like a single black tower, spearing the sky, incredibly high over the carpet of tiny trees below. The whole scene up a gently sloping rise all the way up from the city gates up to the mountains far beyond the tower.

I gawked and shook my head disbelieving that something so far away could exist so large and proud on its own. Nothing here showed any greater technological power than ox-driven wagons and muscle-driven tools!

This was all overwhelming!

The plethora of rich foods growing in the fields did not even require my first-semester cooking school’s product knowledge course. The beautifully cultivated lands at the base of the city’s walls screamed that this was a rich food-producing region.

The fields around the town were lush and heavy with crops ready to harvest. I noticed everything from wheat to corn, tomatoes to barley, and hops for beer. There were rows of climbing beans interlaced with the high corn stalks and broad-leafed squash plants.

Apple, peach, pear, cherry, and plum orchards split the fields occasionally, all surrounding plush little farmhouses with chickens and other animals roaming about in the open fields under the trees.

I stumbled to a halt, gaping open-mouthed, at the magnificent fields and farmsteads, as a far too cool and temperate breeze for this early in November in Texas.

Three shocks hit me in rapid succession, as I stopped too abruptly for my captors to realize, and I reached the end of my lead.

I danced at the electric shock, accidentally administered through my collar.

The three younger girls laughed, while the older smirked sourly.

I sighed and ran my fingers under the heavy collar, before quipping and thinking, “I’m glad I amuse you all!”

Red shook her electric shock lead, demanding, “Walk Hummie. We will never get there if we don’t move. You have work to help with this afternoon after we finish our walk home.”

I cringed, considering work after a half day’s walk!

I asked, still pretty awestruck, “Haven’t you ever seen these fields? This is beautiful farmland.”

Gray corrected derisively, “I thought Hummies were supposed to be smart? How do you think people eat? Food does not just fall out of the sky onto your plate!”

Purple teased, “Auntie, the Wizard can make good food fall out of the sky, and replace the brown.”

Gray snapped, “Quiet your mouth, Vespera! Or you won’t eat for a week!”

Blue guffawed, while Red smiled, at a joke I was not privy to.

The elder glared at the three, jaw tight and set hard.

Red took a step, slowly taking up slack on her lead, ordering calmly, “Come, stinky Hummie. You can look while we walk.”

I was feeling rancid as I walked. Like a horrific hangover was sweating out in the sun.

The thick oily sweat felt like it was oozing out into my armpits and clothing. It was that feeling you get when you eat healthy for months on end, and then suddenly through necessity or poor decisions, you are forced to eat some heavy, oily, greasy, manufactured fast-food products. That heavy, rolling feeling in the stomach passed, but now your body is frantically trying to expel the grease, and you get that thick sickly feeling of clumpy sweat.

That was what it felt like.

But this shit just kept oozing and sloshing out of every pore.

My clothes felt heavy, slick, and disgusting on the inside as they wiped away the sickly thick residue as I walked. I was definitely sweating out some horrid toxic waste from that overpowered knockout drink that damn succubus costumed girl at Liam’s party slipped me.

The longer we walked, the more each heartbeat throbbed in my head. Well, the little green imps pulling my electrocuting leads walked, and I trudged. I could feel every time my heart beat in my chest, as my head surged, while I was sweating much more than the tepid afternoon in the mountain air should normally have demanded of me.

Granted, I did not spend much time practicing my drinking anymore. But just like that diabolic drink warranted, sweating out this hangover was like excising a demon from my own blood.

After about thirty pace counts up to a hundred the throbbing headache faded. And while my body felt dirty, sticky, and slick inside my clothes, it felt like my headache sort of stabilized to a simple dehydrated dull ache in my skull.

I restarted my pace count, silently counting each step.

A few times I caught curious eyes watching my ritual out of the side-eye. My longer strides meant that as I forced myself into the hike, striding out each step in the direction we were going, shorter legs had to struggle to keep up.

That put us into that occasional annoying accordion where I was getting ahead and then being dragged back by the leads. Then at other times, when I worked to deliberately slow, I started falling behind, being dragged forward.

Keeping my hungover pace count worked better. I did not feel as fatigued because I could focus on the count. And since I was the prisoner, if the jailers could not keep up, that was their problem.

My eye caught a familiar plant, growing thick and lush, to my hip height by the side of the road. Looking over, I spotted basil!

I pointed it out, and named the plant drawing four sets of eyes as I slowed, “Hey! We call that one Basil! It’s a seasoning we use in a lot of cooking.”

Three looked between me and the plant as we ambled past.

The Gray one barked, “I hate it!” When I pointed it out she even went so far as to mutter at it under her breath as we passed.

I asked, “Why?”

Gray snapped, “That is a foul-tasting plant! A bitter and sour thing. I do not know why anyone would consider it useful.”

Blue pointed out helpfully, “Because flavor, Auntie.”

Gray went ballistic! “Elara! You are not too old for me to yank your britches down and turn your little green bottom red!”

As we passed farmstead after farmstead, and they began to thin remarkably giving way to the thick forest leading uphill to the ever-growing black spike, I was starting to pick up a theme regarding food, especially from old Gray.

Once we passed into the deeper forest, past some invisible boundary, or marker I had not seen the land became more wild. The trees were larger and older with brush and low plants crowding the edge of the road in a tall green wall going all the way up to the treetops. All the plants reaching for the sun shining through the gap the perfectly straight and somehow perfectly maintained dirt road cut into the larger trees.

Looking up the road, it still went straight to the unbelievably massive tower. Looking back, the road connected directly to the walled city’s massive gate. And we still had to be miles and miles away from the tower!

I noticed mint by the side of the road.

Seeing she was the least interested I gripped Auntie’s lead and gently held it up, adding slack, and slightly turning her, much to her frustration.

The others noticed and turned with me adding slack to their leads.

I scooped my hand under the lush green mint leaves examining the perfect back-and-forth stagger of the mint leaves.

The gray one, Auntie, ordered, “Stop playing with every weed along the side of the road.”

Red agreed, “Zephyra is correct, Hummie. Leave the weeds alone. There is plenty of that stuff to cut from the Master’s gardens.”

Blue offered, “Maybe that should be Stinky’s job. He likes weeds so much that maybe he should cut them all for us.”

I glared at her, the thin branch and leaves still gently cradled in my palm.

Purple just laughed at my look.

The two younger Goblin girls with the spears and armor both seemed to have a better sense of humor. Even if they were directed at me mostly. They seemed more spritely and young. They were the happy and playful side of life, that Red seemed to be taking more seriously and Auntie-Gray was actively shunning.

I looked back at the plant and noticed that my hands were the wrong color. My skin carried a molted stained brownish-tan-gray filth inconsistently splattered across my skin.

I cringed while keeping the mint on my left palm. I shoved my left sleeve up. Sure enough, the faded brown filth from slave pens was caught mostly by my shirt sleeve.

Blue made a ‘Blah!’ sound looking over my shoulder at my now exposed forearm, and mocked, “Hummie is even paler and more sickly looking than I thought!”

Purple piled on, sharing, “Why can’t he be a healthy green? Instead of that sickly pink and brown color?”

Ignoring them, I looked at the mint again.

I wondered if they truly considered mint an invasive weed that consumed their Master’s gardens. The stuff would expand into all the space you gave it in a garden, which was why my Dad always kept it potted, and never in the ground.

But still, mint was too useful not to have in quantity.

I circled the stem and pulled, stripping a dozen large leaves into my palm. Crushing the mint into my hands, I rolled the lush green leaves between my palms.

When the mint was a leafy paste I offered the mash in my hands to the Goblin-girls, “Smell.”

Blue and Purple just made disgusted, ‘Blah!’ sounds and leaned back.

I singled them out and offered my hands to the little purple girl.

Purple cringed and leaned away.

Offering my hands to Blue, I encouraged, “Here, just smell the mint on my hands. I won’t pull your ear or anything.’

Shaking her head, Blue refused, “No hummie! You stink like a dead and rotting raccoon!”

Insulted that dirty little green goblins would call me stinky, I recoiled, demanding “What?” I smelled myself and groaned, “Ahh! I do smell like I died!”

That made the younger goblin girls, Blue and Purple, laugh at least.

Red smiled, shaking her head.

I moved on.

White hair recoiled instantly, threatening to yank the electrocuting lead, but stayed her hand, when I offered her the green mash in my hands to smell. The older Gray stepped back, eyes wide with disgust and fear, actually taking up slack on my lead to shock me if I accosted her with the leaves.

Red cautiously leaned in and sniffed. She bolted back a hair and then back in for another quick but longer sniff. She stood and ignoring me, spoke to her fellow little green companions, “It smells different. Not bad, but different.” Then she added, “Hummie’s hands are now the only part of him that does not smell like rotting death, Orc piss, mixed shit, and slave pen filth!”

I groaned.

I should have seen that barb coming!

Red straightened and snapped her lead, ripping a shock of electricity down my spine, instantly straightening me, and spilling the leaves from my hands.

Traveling for most of the day, the morning sun turned into high noon, or whatever time it was here with the sun above our heads.

Arriving at the giant black tower and slipping into a hovel dug into the side of a hill, like a hobbit hole, with finished walls, but packed dirt floors. I was not allowed to sit down or touch anything.

I had to wait at the entrance.

Blue and Purple changed into work clothes like Gray wore. Utilitarian brown jumpsuits with pockets and little Human child-sized boots.

The girls disconnected the leads and Red warned me by shaking the control rod in my face from her completely unimposing four-and-a-half foot height. Her little black jumpsuit’s pockets now laid a little flatter when she returned, probably because she dumped articles and tools in preparation for work.

Control rod in her right hand and her left finger poised above the trigger, Red warned, “Misbehave and you will dance for us, Hummie!”

I grunted, and snapped back at her, “How can I misbehave?” Gesturing my arms out, too suddenly so her finger got closer to the trigger, I finished, “We are in the middle of nowhere? How can I get into trouble?”

Gray mumbled, “See. I told you he’d be trouble. Disobedient, willful Hummies, the lot of them!”

Blue hauled back and drove her pointy little boottoe into my calf muscle, sending a bolt of pain. She scowled up at me, and barked, “You made us late with your dawdling! It’s apple-picking time.”

Purple shoved her hands into my kidney, pushing me out the door, ordering, “Work time, Stinky!”

Apparently, I was being put to work harvesting the apple harvest.

Back out in the warm afternoon sunshine, Gray, Blue, and Purple disappeared around the side of the home.

I took the time to look around at the fields and fruit trees, noticing animals and other farm stuff.

The three little green critters returned a moment later with arms full of bushel baskets, stacked five or six deep under each arm.

That was not bad.

Six armloads of baskets, five to six baskets, so thirty to thirty-six bushels of apples. We could probably get that done before sundown.

We trundled out to the apple trees and started dropping apples into the split-wood baskets.

Gray snapped at me, ordering me to, “Stop dropping them into the basket from so high, Monster! You’ll bruise the good fruit before we can preserve them! If you bring the wrath of our Master Wizard because of your clumsiness, it’s the shock collar dance for you, Hummie!” Then added, “Stinky Hummie is also stupid, stinky Hummie!”

Blue repeated, chuckling next to me, “Stupid-Stinky!”

I shook my head and lifted the basket into my arms to go back to filling.

That went on for a while until we had most of the baskets filled. The grazing sheep and cattle occasionally wandered over to eat an offered apple from the hands of Blue and Purple. Before the animals turned and wandered away to munch on something else that caught their fancy.

Red jumped a few times swinging and missing an apple just out of reach.

I placed my full basket on the ground and stepped towards her.

Red hopped around and back suddenly facing me with the control rod.

I sighed and slowly stepped closer, but around.

She turned to keep me to her front.

I paused, eyeing her amethyst eyes. Then slowly stepped around her side again.

This time she stayed and just watched me.

I got behind her and gently placed my hands on her waist, and my hands sunk far into her garment before hitting firm flesh. My hands under her ribs, I lifted Red between my hands like I would a human child of ten or twelve.

She squealed a little as her feet left the ground. But quickly tucked away the control rod and snatched her desired apple off the branch.

Red tossed the apple to Gray who snatched it out of the air with ease and deposited it in her basket.

Blue and Purple went back to work, but Gray drifted over with her basket.

I held Red’s warm little body in my hands and moved her around in the direction she looked so she could pluck those higher apples that neither of us could reach on our own.

Inevitably, my arms got tired. So I lowered Red to the ground.

The little ingrate snapped, “Why are you putting me down? Stupid Hummie!” She pointed back up at the apples out of our reach now and pointing, she demanded, “The good ones are always up high! Get me back up there!”

I sighed and told the snarky little thing, “Sorry Beefcake, my arms got tired.”

Purple hair heard and demanded, “Hummie, what is ‘Beefcake’?”

I barked her way, “Beefcake is someone who is too big for their height.”

Purple and Blue looked at each other, then at Red, blinked at each other a few times, and then burst into pointing laughter.

Red swiftly hauled back and drove her pointy little boot into my shin.

Pain lanced through me.

Red demanded, “Hummie! Are you calling me fat?!”

Me and my big stupid mouth! I knelt and sighed, before I admitted my bullshit, “No, I’m calling you big-boned.”

That drew them all up short as they considered my next unfamiliar English colloquialism.

Before they could get it, I offered from my knee, “Come on, Red. Get on my shoulders.” I pointed up, and told her, “Sit on my shoulders and you can ride around longer.”

Stepping behind me, the feisty little thing put her first leg over my left shoulder. Then hauled her right hand back and slapped me hard across the top of my head, so it cracked hard just above my right ear. She corrected, “My name is Azura, Stupid-Stinky!”

Blue and Purple giggled at that, as Azura tossed her leg over my shoulder.

Gray scowled, shaking her head.

As weird as these little Goblins were, at least they had a sense of humor and were not vicious little shits like in the comic books.

Azura yanked my right ear in a pinch, and ordered, “Up, Stinky.”

Thinking back to all the crazy, obnoxious, unaccountable, Human women who ran all over me the last many years, I felt a flash of anger at the painful pinch. Standing I grumbled and slapped her thigh, without thinking.

Azura growled from my back and cuffed the top of my head.

I slapped her thigh in return, and snapped, “Don’t pinch!”

She poked the back of my head, and ordered, “Don’t hit! I own you, Slave!” She rattled the collar for emphasis.

I sighed, rolled my head back, looked up at her, and admitted, “You’re right. I should not have hit. Truce?”

She blinked down at me with those unnaturally large, shining amethyst eyes, and nodded in agreement. Azura looked away and began snatching apples and quickly dropping those good ones down to Gray.

Azura pressed her left palm to the side of my head, turning and pulling my head back in the direction of the next cluster of apples she wanted to pick.

I saw them and wandered the few steps over, careful not to skewer her on any branches on the way.

A few trees later, Gray called up, “Alright, Azura. The bushels are full.”

After a pause, Azura handed an apple down to me, and I heard her bite one herself.

I accepted and crunched into the first food I had since waking in that horrible shit-stinking cell this morning. The explosion of all-natural, homegrown flavor wreaked pleasant havoc on my body, sending magnificent shivers of delight coursing through my every nerve.

The Goblin rested one of her little hands on my head while she munched happily.

Gray reminded, almost shouting up at Azura on my shoulders, “We can carry these to the wizard’s larder. The kitchen needs wood chopped though.”

She tossed her apple core away into the grass.

I felt Azura shaking my neck with her little agreeing nod as I crunched the last full bite from my apple core, and I did the same tossing my core into the trees. The little green woman agreed, “Alright Zephyra.” Then she clucked her tongue at me like I was a horse and kicked my ribs with her boot heels too! She shoved my head in the direction of the collected bushel baskets expecting a ride!

The defiant shit in me thought, ‘Alright! That’s how you want to play!’

As I strolled over to the baskets and the three other Goblin girls, Azura tapped my head insistently and pointed to the side of the house. She told me, “See that woodpile and ax?” Without pausing, she ordered, “Make those tree branches and felled trunks into firewood. Stack it by size. Thin starter pieces in one neatly stacked pile. Then finger-width pieces into the next pile for building. And finally, thick split pieces piled neatly for fuel.” She tapped my head again, insistently, like knocking on a door, and demanded, “Do you understand all of that, Stupid-Hummie? Or do I need to get Zephyra to use smaller words for you?”

Purple and Blue smiled at the patronizing instructions. Gray rolled her eyes and huffed at the thought of needing to explain to a Hummie.

I sighed.

That was definitely how she wanted to play.

I gripped and pulled her right leg until Azura screamed and shrieked.

Her companions went wide-eyed and bolt upright, fear and panic clear.

I pulled until little Red slipped sideways, her fingers dragging desperately across my head, as she toppled forward with my insistent pull.

She fell from my shoulder, and with my right hand gripping her right leg, she tumbled across my chest, and I caught her. Not finished with my impatient response to her clicking at me like a beast, I tilted her head down further to the ground.

Azura cried out, her braid dangling across the grass as the others rushed about. Her hands were down to block her fall.

I gripped first the right and then left ankles in my hands, and held her suspended, her fingers flicking at the orchard grass trying to find purchase for a handstand to break her potential fall.

The little eighty to eighty-five-pound woman flailed desperately until I placed her hands in contact with the ground. I slowly and carefully lowered her until her upper back and shoulders rested on the grass and then dropped her feet.

The other three squabbled and squawked about me.

Azura stared up at me appraising for a few heartbeats, just blinking. With her on her back in the grass, her frumpy black potato sack overalls dropped far from where they normally hung, while her chest pushed the material out far and high.