Chapter Eight
~
The text didn’t connect to a name in my contacts, but it couldn’t have been from anyone but Izig. Sorry. Didn’t mean it to go like that.
So they had tried to reach out. Not like I care. Was only because of pressure from their mama. I wouldn’t respond to somethin’ that wasn’t sincere. Or otherwise. Their character is defined. Were mean then. Would be mean today. To forgive them today, would mean gettin’ dumped on in the future. And I’m not goin’ to let them hurt Hale again. Or me, either.
He looked over, and I turned my phone so he couldn’t read it. But the flat look as he caught my eye, he knew what the text was about. I told him it was a friend from TIT. He nodded, but that expression showed he knew. My chest tightened a tad, more than a little, lyin’ to him. I exhaled hard.
“Yeah. It was from Izig.”
He nodded.
“Ya recovered?” I asked. Back years ago, he’d remain a shell of himself for days after an episode.
The sound of the road, the hint of Country comin’ over Papa’s ancient FM receiver, was the only input into my empty head for a five-count. Hale hunched a shoulder. I wish the bull could smile. But I sensed his absence of malaise, and my chest welled.
“Papa,” Hale said, surprisin’ the dragon pooh out of me, “how’d ya get yar arm around the stinkin’ troll’s throat?”
The two up front were completely quiet for a good three breaths, before Mama began cacklin’. Papa maybe darted an irritated eye her way, which got Mama’s cackle goin’ harder.
Yeah. How did my pint-sized papa wrangle a half-troll like that? Papa ain’t exactly a tall ogre. Mama’s laughter leveled off, and she twisted hard to check on Hale. Her eyes tinted a bit with tears. Hale gave her a nod, and her smile returned, and she settled back in her seat.
“My super hero,” she said softly.
That gave me a grin, which I shared with Hale, but he was busy lookin’ through the windshield as though we were in a part of the Range he’d never seen before. Not that there was interest on his face. The only time that happens is when he has a chisel and mallet in his hands.
“Jam asked me about ya two goin’ up North,” Papa said, out of the blue. Him talkin’ at all surprisin’ me as much as Jam bein’ aware of that lowdown snake’s proposition.
Mama wrenched him an enormous, what-the-hell face. Was this new to her, or had they agreed there would be no talk about such a ridiculous idea?
I waited. Figgered if Mama was an ogre hen, her maw would be workin’ good at this point—’cause, well, I’ve been around plenty of my ogre friends’ mamas. Troll hens are a bit more reserved, but I figger she’d morphed to fill in the need for a strong maternal presence, considerin’ Papa—
“And what’d ya tell him?” Hale asked.
I maybe choked a little, Hale conversin’ out loud.
Papa remained quiet a long length of moments, with Mama still glarin’ at him.
She finally asked, “Yeah, what’d ya tell him?”
So the two of them have had a conversation about it. In my mind, I was decidin’ the timin’ of this threat of a conversation was more what irritated Mama, only because she would have planned on havin’ a mama-youngling conversation with me this evenin’ before it went more public among us.
After all, Mama made the family decisions in our household, despite bein’ a troll hen.
Ha. Except about our home-home. Uncle Ike had told me years ago she hated the design of the place. Too ostentatious for her. Too uppity a neighborhood. Too exclusive. Way so. But Papa had wanted to set her up in a place fittin’ their position. Not that he cared for himself. He’d still be livin’ in his two-bedroom cabin overlookin’ the Lake if it weren’t for his beloved hen.
Funny my mind had wandered so, considerin’ the enormous element hangin’ in the air. But I was romanticizin’ about livin’ in the Hamlet, in that little cabin. Not humble anymore. I’ve traipsed through it a few times with Papa when he’d check to ensure it was still up to standard for the OW employees that got to vacation there. By lottery. The Lake is the getaway destination, right up there with the tropical islands off the East Coast.
Papa’s answer drew me back to the real world. “I gave him a shrug. Wasn’t the time, place for that kind of discussion.”
Mama ripped back with somethin’ in Trollish I couldn’t follow. Hale and I are fluent, but her accent of anger, and the speed she spoke it was like a brush with a tornado. Whoa.
But then it struck me. If not the time, why’d he bring it up now? Oh. Now is the time.
I needed to get the obvious off my chest. “I dislike the manipulative manner that lowdown ogre developed the stinkin’ scheme.” That, and the pompous bull thought it was a manner first discussed among the bulls. The stinkin’ ogre. Like we hens are a second thought. He should’ve face-planted in that game.
“He can send his own youngling North,” Mama hissed. “Oh, wait. He doesn’t have any younglings.”
Oh. That was pretty low for Mama.
Papa tilted his head forward a tad. Eyes were probably closed. Hope they didn’t stay closed long, ’cause the turn into our village approached.
Papa took in a hard intake of air. “Benefit to goin’. Benefit to not goin’.”
“And let’s not talk about,” Mama groused, “the danger of them humans pullin’ somethin’.”
Pullin’ somethin’?
“Like what?” Hale asked.
Ya go bull.
But the somethin’ wasn’t hard to imagine. Mama has teared up before talkin’ about Papa nearly dyin’ up North. He’d gone as an ambassador, and they’d stabbed us, the South, in the back. I’d studied about the Troubles—it’s part of Civics. But the history didn’t get too personal about who did what to whom, except for Uncle Ike bein’ head of the Southern Coalition.
“Give me one benefit,” Mama demanded.
Papa paused to allow traffic to pass, then slowly pulled into the village. Was he gonna ignore the question? The moments passed.
“Every bit of experience adds to the character of a soul,” Papa said slowly in Trollish. To be honest, it sounded kinda profound the way he said it, like a long-dead troll philosopher had memorialized it.
“Dyin’, bein’ incarcerated doesn’t add to no one’s soul,” Mama replied.
“Exposure to human style will build upon Hale’s art. And Bele will see how medicine is practiced outside of the Range.”
“I don’t trust them humans,” Mama half-shouted.
The cab of the truck had darkened as we entered the narrow corridor, ancient pine loomin’ overhead, maybe added to the dread of Mama’s tone.
Papa said next, somethin’ I never could have anticipated. “Ya want to go with them, if they choose to go?”
Nothin’ but the flicker of the midday sun sneakin’ through the canopy changed the sense inside the truck for long enough for me to realize I needed oxygen. I took a deep couple of breaths.
We’d moved into dorms many-hundreds of miles away when we were thirteen. Livin’ with Mama again—that would almost be worth goin’ North for the year. A tinglin’ sensation started low in my spine and radiated upward.
“Who’d make sure ya ate, fool?” Mama answered.
I laughed out loud. That was the truth. Papa’s bad about gettin’ involved in work and not eatin’.
~
Hale
~
I struggled with all the shoutin’. Involved a bit of physical pain. I don’t really deal with conflict well. Mama’s anger was dialed up enough for me to easily recognize it, but otherwise, what could have been goin’ through their hearts? Didn’t help I barely saw any of Mama’s face, from sittin’ directly behind her. And it isn’t as though Papa ever shows anythin’ on his face other than irritation. I think I could have described Bele’s emotions as—rapt.
She’d yak and yak about her thoughts with me tonight. Didn’t need to hear it now. Papa was the surprise. Made me smile a bit, thinkin’ about the anger Papa displayed the other mornin’ for Ike’s schemin’. Was not happy with the lowdown stinkin’ ogre.
Either way, I’ve never been really involved in the decisions impactin’ my life. Other than followin’ Bele to TIT, I’ve just gone along. Then again, TIT was just goin’ along. Couldn’t hardly think about not bein’ close to Hale. She’s like the majority of my heart. I keep only a sliver for my art. The rest she manages as she feels fit. And she’s always been a good manager of my heart.
As though I would know what to do with it.
When she finds some bull to love her, my world won’t collapse, but a big part of it will end. I’ve only got that sliver for my own use.
Despite that thought a smile tingled in my chest. Maybe she’ll meet a nice structural engineer, who’d be willin’ to help me figger if my ideas will work in granite. I’ve never been destroyed like the time that wing fell off that dragon I created two years ago. Still have nightmares about that. Months of work. At least it happened in the semi-rough shapin’.
So, TIT isn’t an enormous consideration for me. I don’t like bein’ ’round folk much, whether they’re human or whatever. So studyin’ at a human university for a couple semesters means nothin’ to me. I can ignore anyone. Giant or human. I kinda favor orcs though. Their souls are almost effervescent to me. So much spirit. I think Papa and I share that.
Maybe I’m not smart enough to figger the dangers of goin’ up North.
Not excited to be Uncle’s spy. If I thought much about that, it might not be good for that sliver I keep for my own sanity. Stress and I are not good friends.
If it would help my folk. The clan. I would be willin’. The Birs ogres have been good for all giantkind. My mind flitted to a favorite carvin’ my Great Granddad has of our original Ike. The one our Ike is named for. S’posed to be of Ike aback his slate-colored dragon, Taiz’lin.
Some folk today don’t believe in dragons. They should study that carvin’. They’d believe.
Mama’ and Papa at this point were sharin’ a lot more words than I’m used to, and nothin’ made an impression on me, so I continued lookin’ into the trees. I love trees. About as much as I love granite. I wanted to imagine Taiz’lin some more anyway. Imagine, soaring across the continent aback a dragon. Taiz’lin isn’t as famous, oddly, considering he was Ike’s bonded mate, as the preeminent golden dragon, Iza’loch.
Why did they all chose to return to their realm? It isn’t fair.
The world could be well-served by a thunder of dragons. Papa and I’ve managed the hike to the peak on the North Slope a couple times, where Taiz’lin and Ike lived. An amazin’ museum today. Too bad it’s only open days out of the year. But then, ya almost have to get there via dragon. Quite the precipice. View of the North Plain can’t be beat. Especially at twilight.
A soul can almost see all the way to the Plain Hamlet.
~
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