the volcano he spotted first.
“Why not head for the smoke?” said Blaggard looking in the other direction. “It could be a town. They’ll know if a giant fire elemental is hiding in a volcano nearby, at least you’d think so.”
“Because I’m in charge,” said Cleathelm and shoved the little goblin. “We go where I say we go.”
“What about Rogu?” said Blaggard as he staggered a few steps back from the dwarf but managed to retain his balance. Blaggard wore heavy leather boots with steel tipped toes and he thought about a swift kick to the dwarf’s knee but decided against it. There would be plenty of time to kill Cleathelm in his sleep and take his gold. Better to bide his time and take the dwarf down when the odds were more in his favor. He’d seen the coin purse that Cleathelm carelessly showed back in Das’von to the mage that sent them through the portal. Out here in the world that kind of gold could keep him in slaves and girls for many, many years. The stupid dwarf had no idea of the value of the gold in his pockets. “If I’m lucky,” thought Blaggard to himself, “someone will kill Cleathelm for his jewelry and I’ll take the rest.”
“What are you looking at?” said Cleathelm noting the intent gaze.
“Nothing, I was just wondering about Rogu. He might get better and catch up to us.”
“No, let’s go.”
“Maybe put down a sign in the grass or something,” suggested Blaggard digging into the turf with the toe of his boot. “If Rogu catches up to us he could be of some help.”
“No, he’s a deader for sure. You saw his face was all purple. He never should have eaten those mushrooms. You warned him. He was an idiot anyway, otherwise I would have waited longer.”
“A well-paid idiot,” murmured Blaggard to himself. He’d made a private arrangement with Rogu for a fair split of the money once they got rid of Cleathelm but that was no longer possible. To add to the misery he’d paid the burly dwarf and Cleathelm took all the gold and jewelry before they left him to die beside the road.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” said Blaggard. “I’m just thinking.”
“Goblins don’t think,” said the dwarf with a smirk. “They simply stab in the dark. That’s your job. Stab them when they ain’t looking.”
“Of course,” said the goblin with a smirk. “We little goblins must obey our dwarf masters.”
If Cleathelm heard the sarcasm he gave no indication as such and immediately marched off in the direction of the first volcano. His heavy wool jerkin and heavy chain armor immediately began to make their weight felt in the hot sun of the southern lands and it wasn’t long before he pulled a flask of water from his hip and guzzled nearly half of it in one massive swig.
Blaggard, wearing only a light leather jerkin, pulled out a similar flask, took an easy pull from it and stoppered it carefully back up.
Cleathelm wiped his brow with the container still open and water slopped out onto his hand and dripped to the ground, “Blazes hot out here. I don’t remember it being near this hot on caravan duty especially in the middle of winter.”
“I don’t think it is winter,” said Blaggard.
“Of course it’s winter, you dolt,” said Cleathelm with a snort. “Goblins, little heads, little brains. What else would it be?”
Blaggard shrugged.
Cleathelm got up right in the goblin’s face and smirked at him, “Was it winter when we left Das’von?”
“Yes,” said Blaggard impassively, he’d learned that arguing with someone certain of their position and also absolutely stupid was a losing proposition.
“And somehow you think it magically became summer?” said Cleathelm with a little shake of his head and a snort.
Blaggard shrugged.
“How did that happen?” asked Cleathelm.
“The evidence points to it being summer,” said Blaggard maintaining the quiet tone.
“The evidence points to it being summer,” mimicked Cleathelm in a nasally sort of voice. “That’s stupid. It was winter when we left, it’s winter now. How much of a genius does it take to figure that out?”
Blaggard shrugged again and said quietly, with little hope of penetrating the thought process of the dwarf, “The days are long, it’s hot.”
“What was that?” said Cleathelm.
“The days are long. The temperature is hot. That is evidence that it is summer.”
“I asked you before, dolt, was it winter when we left Das’von?”
“Yes,” repeated Blaggard.
“There you go,” said Cleathelm. “Once again the superior dwarf mind comes to the right answer. I don’t know how anyone could be as stupid as you.”
Blaggard shrugged again, he considered renewing his argument but decided against it, “I can’t argue with logic like that.”
“Exactly,” said Cleathelm with a smug smile. “I can’t believe how stupid you goblins are. It’s not winter, it’s summer,” he mimicked in a high pitched imitation of the goblin half-breed.
Blaggard rolled his eyes. “They might have supplies in the village. Beer.”
Cleathelm stopped and looked back at the little half-breed goblin and nodded his head, “You have a point there, my little friend. Just because I’m smarter than you doesn’t mean you can’t come up with a good idea now and again as long the concept is simple, like eating and drinking. Just to let you know there are no hard feelings we’ll head for the town. How does that sound?”
“Thank you for your generosity and I’m glad my feeble brain can contribute in some small way,” said Blaggard.
“Ha! You’re welcome,” said Cleathelm and slapped the little goblin hard on the back. “You’re quite welcome. You keep thinking about the little things while I focus on the big issues. Summer, ha!”
A few hours behind them Uldex and his companions continued to follow the trail of Cleathelm and his goblin companion. Uldex now wore a light-weight jerkin purchased from a small merchant caravan they encountered a day before and kept his heavy chain shirt well packed. His companions nodded their heads and the little one gave a grin, “I still think we should just kill them like we did Rogu and put an end to it. What are we going to learn by following them except that they’re idiots?”
Uldex shrugged, “We’ve been over this before. They are to stay alive unless they try to take the hammer.”
“Then why did we kill Rogu?” said the little dwarf as he licked his thick lips and ran his hand through his heavy blonde beard.
“He was dead already, poisoned. We were doing him a favor.”
The little dwarf smiled and closed his eyes in memory, “It was fun anyway. This old game trail isn’t going anywhere, Uldex. See the smoke trail from over there, that’s a village not a volcano. They have to go there. Let’s just head there and pick up supplies. They’ll catch up to us.”
Uldex stood for a long moment and watched the smoke wafting gently in the air as he glanced back to his left and the game trail that Cleathelm and his companion took a few hours before. “We do need supplies.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said the smaller dwarf with a grin. “Girls too.”
Uldex nodded his head but couldn’t keep his thoughts from turning to Milli and her golden hair. “Yes, girls too.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” said the bigger of Uldex’s two companions.
Uldex shrugged, “Yeah, so?”
“You can’t let that get in the way of our job. We’re Blackirons and that’s what matters. You’ll have to take the hammer from Dol eventually, one way or the other.”
“I know,” said Uldex.
“And that means taking it from the halfling girl as well; she’s with Dol, she hasn’t come all this way to fail.”
Uldex shrugged again, “You think I don’t know that?”
The big dwarf moved closer to Uldex and stared at him directly in the eyes, chin to chin, “You may say you know it but when push comes to shove you might not have it in you to do what’s needed. If you don’t, I’ll have to
