Chapter 16: No Muscle to Wish

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The other two men left the sheriff’s house when the new light settled in, but the sheriff bids me to stay, offering me a warm gruel and more bread.

“You’ve got a bump on your head,” he says. “Does it hurt?”

I touch the spot on my forehead and feel the swelling. I shake my head. “I’m alright.”

After a spell, the sheriff walks with me back into town. People looked at us and looked away as we passed.

When we approach The Three Goats, the sheriff says, “Hey,” and calls the innkeeper by her name. “This boy was nearly taken by goblins. He’s your guest.”

She looks from one side to the other. “I didn’t drive him off,” she says, finally. She doesn’t catch my eye. “Didn’t see anybody hit him, either.”

“Who sent him away?” he asks. “Tell me-”

“Barker and the scarred man,” she says. “It’s still light when they sent him off.”

“How much longer does the boy stay?” he asks.

“Until the next chimes,” she says.

Sheriff shakes his head.

“Stays another chime,” he says. “You should have spoken up for him. Take some more rest, boy.”

“What are you going to do, sir?” I ask.

“There’s law or there isn’t.”

I don’t know what the sheriff does, but sheriffs can punish only with fines.

After the next chimes, I remember curling up in my nook in the shark of The Three Goats and wishing, wishing hard, that the dark wouldn't come again before I leave. There's no muscle to wish. It isn't standing or lifting or carrying. Still, I wish as hard as I can.

And my sleep is fitful. I'm under the sheriff's protection, but every time I close my eyes, I remember what the man said by the wall.

That he would throw me off the World and I would fall to the bottom.

Twice, as I try to sleep, when my head nods forward, I wake in fear that I am falling.

I don't dream of Gerda. I dream of a dragon.

It hovers, before the Leviathan, not as a skerry hovers. Dragons are creatures of action and movement. It hovers there, for a moment of forever.

It's golden, the edges of its scales sparkle with light and its head scans the deck of our leviathan, catching me for a flash in that frozen time.

Its eyes are a dull metal color and in them I can see that the dragon can look on the sprites without fear.

"Bessil, are you there?" Sabra calls with the dragon's mouth. "Bessil," she insists, shaking my arm.

I start awake. Sabra stands over me, putting her hand on my shoulder as I recoil from her. I look around and see the innkeeper behind, disapproving of this whole affair.

"Get away from me," I say, even as the rich, flowery scent of her excites my senses.

"Please," she says. "Hear me out."

"Your friend was going to kill me," I say. "Throw-"

I lose my voice before I can finish the thought.

The thought of falling, down, to the bottom.

"That doesn't make what you did right," she says.

"Get away from me. Help me." This last is to the woman who keeps the inn.

"Step back, Sabra." The sheriff - the innkeeper uses his name, but I don't recall it - "Won't tolerate him being harassed. His eyes could have been goblin food."

Sabra steps back. "Come talk to me, Bessil. It isn't fair what you did to Gerda. I'll wait outside."

I sit in my niche and try to make sense of what she says. The man threatened me for speaking loudly to Sabra, although I did no such thing. What is this about Gerda?

After Sabra leaves, the innkeeper comes back in. She has to step out of the boat to let Sabra pass.

"You don't have to talk to her, boy," she says with her funny face. Now that she speaks kindly to me, the face doesn’t seem so harsh. "If you want to, it's safe. No one will bother you, like before."

I want to hurl angry words at her, echo the sheriff saying that she should have spoken up for me, but I stay silent as she recedes. She and the sheriff are my only protectors, here, in this hostile place.

After a moment, I get up and go outside to where Sabra sits on a low step.

Submitted: May 28, 2023

Fantasy sprite goblins bones