Most people, sitting back on their couches and watching this play out on television, might have wondered why I believed all this from the start.\u00a0 It was a good question; if I\u2019d wrtten it out as a story, my main character would have yelled bullshit<\/em> as soon as Brock and Bhuto showed up and then spent most of the rest of the story being convinced it wasn\u2019t all some kind of dream.<\/p>\n I saw a goblin shambling along the bottom of a ravine with an old, rusted sword balanced across his shoulders like the yoke of a wagon. Even at that age, I assumed I\u2019d imagined it.<\/em><\/em><\/p>\n Except I hadn\u2019t; not really. My life had gone on — I wrote little stories that I pretended were just stories until even I gave them — but there was always a shadow in the back of my mind that watched the ravines and kept an eye on the alleys that led around to the back of old houses — a part of me that never really believed I\u2019d made it up.<\/p>\n When the goblins boiled out of the thickets around us, waving swords and screaming for blood, that small dark shadow stood up and shouted \u2018I <\/em>fucking KNEW it!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n And it turned out Brock was wrong.<\/p>\n The gun worked just fine.<\/p>\n On the other hand, I<\/em> didn\u2019t work all that well a first.\u00a0 There\u2019s a hell of a long distance between target practice, hunting for food, hunting for sport, and finally shooting at something that could talk back to you, even if it was running straight at you and swinging hunk of metal at your head.<\/p>\n The first one would have killed me, I think, except that Brock was there. He had his axe out (\u2018of course he has an axe; every dwarf would have an axe if they could, I guess\u2019<\/em> came the errant thought) — a great, beautiful thing of which I\u2019d only previously seen the polished grip — there was a crescent flash, and the goblin-thing was dead on the ground.\u00a0 Brock clapped me on the shoulder and grinned.<\/p>\n \u201dDirt-eaters,\u201d he drawled, and I noticed for the first time that his eyes were a bright, clear blue.<\/p>\n I shot the next one before I had a chance to answer him, and after that there wasn\u2019t much time to think.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n They\u2019d had to tie him to the Turning Tree for the whole ritual.\u00a0 The bristlerope had rubbed him to the meat everywhere it had touched him, from the struggle.\u00a0 He\u2019d done it to himself, fighting them throughout the Anointing, and he was proud of himself for that.<\/p>\n How do I know the names of those things?<\/em><\/p>\n He was back in<\/p>\n not mine. NOT mine.<\/em><\/p>\n the cage now, and he knew it was the last time he\u2019d get out until they put him in a sack or he walked<\/p>\n shuffled<\/em><\/p>\n out on his own.<\/p>\n Or he could escape.\u00a0 He\u2019d done it once, and the burning on his skin wasn\u2019t even as bad as before.<\/p>\n Or you\u2019re getting used to it.<\/em><\/p>\n Or he was — no. It was time to go.<\/p>\n But where will you go?\u00a0 What if \u2013<\/em><\/p>\n \u201dNO!\u201d<\/p>\n No one in the camp looked at him.\u00a0 He wasn\u2019t even sure if he\u2019d really shouted. He<\/p>\n Steven.\u00a0 Not <\/em>\u2018he\u2019. Steve. Steven.\u00a0 My name is Steven.<\/em><\/p>\n Right.\u00a0 Steven.<\/p>\n Steven sat in the cage that wasn\u2019t his and watched the stars, which he still recognized, and repeated his name.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n I was sitting on a rock in Faerie. Faery. Fae. Fae\u2019ree. Wa\u2019ri<\/em>. Whatever. Dirt, or spattered blood, or sweat, burned my eyes. A half-moon hung overhead, leeching the color from the scene of battle. Our battle.<\/p>\n I think I was smiling.\u00a0 Bhuto and Brock were not.<\/p>\n \u201dThe hell\u2019s the matter with you two? We won.\u201d\u00a0 I scrubbed an itch on the side of my face.<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s the pain?\u201d Brock asked.<\/p>\n I frowned and looked down at my shirt. \u201cWhat pain? I didn\u2019t get hit. None of us got hit. They all got hit,\u201d I pointed at the sprawled bodies around us, \u201cbut not us. We won<\/em>. That\u2019s what that means, right?\u201d<\/p>\n Bhuto\u2019s face didn\u2019t change.\u00a0 \u201cHe means the needle, Sean.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him blankly for a few moments before I understood his meaning. \u201cOh. Ah. Fine. No pain at all.\u201d I patted my collarbone lightly to prove my point, and it wasn\u2019t a bluff — I didn\u2019t feel a thing there except the direction we needed to go.<\/p>\n Bhuto frowned and looked at the dwarf, then back to me.\u00a0 \u201cHow close are you and your father?\u201d<\/p>\n My turn to frown. \u201cI don\u2019t know. He\u2019s my dad. Close enough.\u201d<\/p>\n He\u2019d understood me; that much was clear.<\/em><\/p>\n I watched the two of them exchange looks. \u201cWhat\u2019s the problem? You two look like your dog died and I finally feel like I know what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n Bhuto nodded. \u201cYou certainly seem comfortable here.\u201d His lips worked, as though he were selecting his next words by taste. \u201cUsually there is more… discomfort.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cI think there\u2019s been a mistake made, Sean.\u201d<\/p>\n I waited.<\/p>\n \u201dYou are very comfortable here; you are compatible. You are also strong.\u201d He indicated the corpses. \u201cYou remember what we told you of what the… goblins?\u201d He looked at me for confirmation of the word.<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201dWhat the goblins planned for your father?\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded again, not liking the turn in conversation. Nothing they\u2019d told me about that had been good.<\/p>\n “You\u2019re a good match to your father; a strong match. It\u2019s possible that what happens to him will carry over to you through the link we created, which is so strong it does not even pain you.\u201d He gestured at my chest. \u201cIt even more possible that by bringing you here, we\u2019ll bring you to the attention of those you\u2019d do best to avoid.\u201d He looked at Brock, then back at me. \u201cYou might recover your father and find yourself in the same danger, or worse.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n Then I chuckled. I couldn\u2019t help it. By the look on his face he thought I\u2019d cracked.<\/p>\n \u201dThis,\u201d I said, waving my arms all around me, \u201cis about my dad. Not me. Him. His fight. I\u2019m just here to help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201dBut–\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShut up.\u201d I said, and glared. \u201cThank you for the warning, you are a good friend.\u201d I looked at both of them. \u201cNow,\u201d I pointed. \u201cHe\u2019s that way.\u201d<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n Finding the camp didn\u2019t turn out to be that difficult. We watched the place through the tail end of the night, waiting for the thing that passed for dawn. Waiting to see my dad.<\/p>\n Light came back slowly; we made plans and talked of small things.<\/p>\n Just before we moved, I said, \u201chow many have you gotten home?\u201d<\/p>\n They looked at each other. \u201cMany.\u201d Bhuto said.<\/p>\n \u201dNot all?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201dNot all.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n The morning didn\u2019t come the way Steven thought it would. It was much noisier. There were screams and people hollering<\/p>\n dirt-eaterrrrrs!<\/em><\/p>\n and an echoing crack.<\/p>\n I know that sound.<\/em><\/p>\n Then his cage shook and one of the members of the camp was leaning against his cage. Its beady eyes looked straight in at him, but they were cloudy. Blank.<\/p>\n Dead.<\/p>\n Its knife had fallen just outside the<\/p>\n not my<\/em><\/p>\n cage. Much easier than working the ties with his fingers.<\/p>\n Moving very slowly, so that he wouldn\u2019t have to argue with the other voice, he reached out for the tool and started to cut. The camp got quieter around him. The little explosions stopped<\/p>\n ran out of shells<\/em><\/p>\n somewhere in the middle. He got the gate open and pushed. Easy. He dropped the knife on the floor of the cage and crawled out.<\/p>\n A few feet away, three real people stood.<\/p>\n And Churkk was right behind him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" ~ The Fight ~ Most people, sitting back on their couches and watching this play out on television, might have wondered why I believed all this from the start.\u00a0 It was a good question; if I\u2019d wrtten it out as a story, my main character would have yelled bullshit as soon as Brock and Bhuto … <\/p>\n