Through orc lands

Part 2 of Doy of the Marshes

Doy took a boat and rowed it to the other side of the lake. He tied it to the jetty and donned the sandals he'd been given. Being twelve and a hwblin, that's half-human, he wasn't accustomed to footwear. However, it was to be a long journey, the longest and most dangerous in his life, and the tough soles would be needed in the rocky human lands. Good thing the overseer had also let him wear the cape. Goblins love their capes, you can hide in them; they keep you from cold and rain, their hoods disguise your appearance; kneeling behind a bush you'll be almost invisible. At night their wool is invaluable for they are warm even if thoroughly wet, and precious too, for humans have taken most of the sheep country, and they had to rely on raiding to get their share of fabric. For a humble hwblin, like Doy was, donning a cape was a great luxury. Besides that, his earthly possessions amounted to a tunic that covered from shoulders to knees, a belt, and, attached to it, a dagger and a breadbag. That had, besides his dry rations, the few bits and bots necessary for life and a letter, his mission.

It was raining indeed, a soft constant rain was common on the western marshes and a ceiling of boiling clouds only announced it could turn to worse, much worse. A week, at least, of constant walking through perilous lands was before the boy, but being born a slave he could conceive having a choice in the matter. He had to serve the Tribe, and that's what he'll do, or die trying.

So, muttering a human song to himself, he set foot on the trail, or rather, aside it. You see in these parts trails are covered in thick grit. Doy much preferred to step on grass, even wet and cold, for it was much softer on his feet, and made no exception this time. Besides, these were dangerous times, and walking by the sides allowed him to much more easily hide behind the vegetation.

The first day was easy, though he knew not the land. Rekkeknak, an old witch granny, offered him soup and berries, and he shared his bread and salt and sang for her the new songs. He spent the night at the witches' together with Ulfym, a pale human boy, his apprentice. But that bohboh human, a recent captive, still thought he'd end up in the pot. The witch, who was a bit of a trickster, had the poor kid salted and sprinkled with fresh herbs. In fact, she had seen Ulfym's potential as a witch, yea, a witch, despite being a boy, human and all. She just knew it, and you just would better not to challenge her on that, poor beetle to be. In time, she was to introduce the scare kid in the House of the Misty Spirits and, if he survived, he'd become a witch too.

Doy was nice with the bohboh. He even assured him that the witch wouldn't eat him. Goblin witches don't do that, only human witches did, and only if you were a real pest. But he shared none of the witches' plans. Instead, he showed him some goblin games and tips to make Rekkenak's happy.

“Never talk back, but play jokes on her, goblins like that...”

“You ain't a goblin?” Ulfym asked.

“My father was a human.”

“Oh… but you look goblin.”

“Thank you.” Doy jumped at the compliment. “Do you want to play outside?”

“Yes.” The human looked down right where the chain met his feet.

“Oh, I'll talk to her, she'll let you.”

And, two minutes later, to Ulfym's amazement, Doy came back with a key.

“What did you tell her?”

“That you wanted to find mushrooms for your boy's stew.”

“My boy's stew… oh, it's a joke, isn't it?”

“It's not a joke if you spoil it. Bah, you'll learn it, come outside, I'm almost too old to play hide and seek, this could be my last time ever!”

The second day was harder. The rain was harder too, but that was good news. Bugs don't bite in a downpour, and orcs cannot easily spot you. What made it all the harder was that the trail ended right before a swamp that marked the border of orc lands. Then, his letter had been thoroughly waxed, but everything else quickly went soaked. Still that wasn't a problem for a goblin of the marshes, even a hwblin and Doy went on, having great care in making no noise and reaching not any of the orc settlements, and so it happened that he thought he'd have no encounters with them. In that he was, so gravely, wrong.

It happened at midday. Doy, as a good lazy slave, was caught napping. It had been just, like what?, twenty miles? He had wrapped himself in his cape, like a little boy roll (these, by the way, are baked with newt's meat, not boy) and passed to beautiful dreams. But then these four orcs appeared in a long canoe slowly paddling by one of those nameless streams that crisscrossed the marshes.

Luckily, Doy woke up in the best of times. Still, very still, Doy spotted one of the orcs pointing in his direction. He froze, perhaps they weren't pointing at him, but then what? Slowly he turned his head and there it was! A marsh dragon, a young one, just twelve feet long, all bristling with teeth. They must be here for it!, Doy thought. But then, what to do? He opted to stay put but ran at the first chance.

That came fast enough. The orcs got their bows at the terrible monster, three arrows found their mark, two bounced off the dragon's thick skin. But still another one stuck on the serpentine dragon's face, who, terrified due to its young age, went back in the thicket, his murky green scales shining. The orcs went right after the monster, brandishing spears and falchions. One of the brute's feet almost stomped Doy's face, but none saw him, running after their game.

And there it was, his chance! The canoe had been left alone, by the time they'd be back he'd be quite far away. Nobody can outrun a canoe in the marshes!