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She shoved bangs from her eyes with a weary smile. “Indubitably.”
He blinked. While he understood what she meant, that wasn’t a word he had heard used often. “It isn’t far now.” He furrowed his brow and considered his next words. “Are you well enough to continue?”
Her hesitance in responding suggested she wasn’t doing well. But she studied the young ones in a pensive manner before squaring her shoulders and lifting her head. “Perhaps if I might borrow your arm, we can continue?”
He nodded and jutted an elbow at her. She linked her arm with his, a strange expression on her face. Still, her fingers gripped his arm, and she drew a stabilizing breath. “Do you have food where we are going?” she whispered.
“Um...yes?”
“Good. I’m about to give it away,” she muttered before calling over her shoulder, “All right, children, stay in your lines and no falling behind. If you’re very good, I will ask our nice friend to give you a treat when we arrive.”
Cheers reverberated down the tunnel, heralding their approach to Imenborg.
Chapter 9
The tunnel opened before them into a massive cavern. Still holding tight to the goblin’s arm, Anrid caught her breath and took stock of her new surroundings.
She gasped aloud.
The cavern itself resembled a normal cave, with stalagmites growing up from the floor and more limestone and mineral columns growing down from the ceiling. Glowing runestones dotted the ceiling and flooded the chamber with pale light. And at the far side of the cavern, built into the wall itself, sat what must be Imenborg. Five or six stories tall, with balconies and towers and parapets, and more blue and amethyst light spilling from wide-open windows, Imenborg could have popped right out of a story book.
“Oh my.”
Behind her, the children crowded to see around them. “Is this it?” one boy asked. “Rig! Is this home?”
“Yeth!” Medda crowed as she climbed onto the Jael’s leg again. “Ma and Da have brought us home!”
Cheers erupted once again.
Anrid and Jael exchanged horrified looks. Ma and Da? Shades, did these children think they had been adopted? Clearly, Jael had no intention of adopting three dozen little charges, although Imenborg looked like it might have the room to house them, at least from here.
“I believe things have gotten rather out of hand,” she managed at last, knuckles white as she gripped his arm.
His mouth snapped shut, all expression vanishing. “You don’t say,” he growled. “This is a pickle. There’s nothing for it, for now: rally your troops, girl. And get this one off me.” He shook his leg, the one Medda clung to. The movement only made the little one melt into roars of laughter. For one so small, she had powerful lung capacity.
Anrid stooped to peel the goblin girl free, but Medda merely transferred her affections and wrapped two bony arms around Anrid’s neck. She sighed in contentment and buried her face into Anrid’s shoulder. Anrid held onto the girl with one arm and tried to rise to her feet, but her weary, aching body failed her. She crumpled into an undignified heap on the floor. Oof, her shoulder hurt.
Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could go another step on her own, let alone carry Medda. But then Jael leaned down and scooped her up. She squeaked and wrapped one arm around his neck while clinging to Medda, but the sound was lost in the goblin girl’s giggles as she too was swept up into strong arms. The rest of the children burst into excited laughter.
“I want a ride too!” the one called Crag shouted. He shoved little ones out of his way, an imposing little figure with his broad shoulders and baggy trousers with bulging pockets.
“Stay in your lines,” Jael barked to the giggling children behind them. They snapped to attention and jostled themselves around into rows even less organized than before. Crag had to be redirected to the back of the line again. Peeking over Jael’s shoulder, Anrid was pretty sure there were three lines now. As long as they followed and didn’t get lost, she didn’t have the energy to reorganize them.
Her eyelids closed against her will. Why was she so tired? The heat of Medda’s tiny body pressed against her mingled with the warmth of Jael’s arms. Solidness and softness.
She exhaled and stopped fighting the battle with her exhaustion. As long as he insisted on carrying her, she might as well catch her breath for a moment. Medda laid her head against Anrid’s chest and also breathed a contented sigh.
The poor thing must be starved for attention, she thought, moments before she blacked out.
When she woke, Imenborg loomed above them. She groaned. Medda lay still on top of her, her breathing deep and even. Apparently, the poor wee lamb had fallen asleep too. She suppressed a yawn.
“Have we lost anyone?” she whispered.
He snorted. “I haven’t counted them, so I wouldn’t know. Although, judging by the state of them, the promise of food has kept anyone from wandering off.”
So he had noticed their ill state: the jutting bones, hungry eyes, and rumbling bellies. That made her like him; perhaps she could forgive him for shaking Rig.
“Food is a powerful motivator,” she agreed. A yawn cut off anything else she might have said. She let her head lean into his shoulder once again. “I’m really sorry...”
