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The Goblin and the Mage

The Goblin and the Mage: Chapter One

Originally Posted To: https://www.booksie.com/posting/a.-l.-stolz/the-goblin-and-the-mage-361504

On Date: 07/03/2013

Author Notes: Someday I will finish this story! \o/

-Ashley Stolz -.^V

Reason for posting to Tumblr: Easier Reading.

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The mage awakened with the morning sun blaring into his face. Squinting his eyes, Sheridan raised an arm to shadow his face as he rolled onto the opposite side.

As he began to close his eyes again he saw the green creature sitting with her back to him. It looked like she was fiddling with something. Sheridan’s first thought pushed him rashly to his feet.

He stumbled to the goblin looking over her boney shoulders.

In one hand Mutap held his dagger. A black handled dirk with silver etchings upon the surface. In the goblins other lean hand she held a large stick.

She was carving away at it with his ritualistic blade.

Sheridan shook his head, kneeling on the ground beside her. “What are you doing?”

The female goblin peered up at the mage with big yellow eyes. “Bow.”

The mage nodded slightly. “I see.” He pulled his pack to him and rummaged through it. “I don’t mind you using my things, but I would appreciate it if you asked me first.”

The goblin nodded, obviously lost in her work. “You sleep. Mutap tried to wake mage, but mage no move.”

Sheridan grinned at Mutap’s reply as he withdrew a leather pouch.

Inside were various leather strings and other odds and ends he usually found useful while travelling. The mage laid out one leather string and put the rest away inside of the pack. With a swift wave of his right hand, the string changed into a material he thought the goblin would find more beneficial as a bow string. He handed it to her and sat to watch her carve away.

“Did Gregory teach you this, as well?” Sheridan inquired.

Mutap shook her red head. “No.”

Hmm, a trait naturally passed on by the goblins. Taught or not, I suppose natural instincts are deep in the blood line. Bred in to the little creatures. She feels she needs to protect herself, and this is what she comes up with. Survival. The mage thought to himself.

“Are you a good shot?”

Mutap merely nodded.

Taking that as his sign to leave his friend alone, Sheridan rose to his feet and began cleaning up the camp area. Sheridan turned to the fire to put it out, and saw on a make-shift spit that was overturned and, a half eaten deer. He furrowed a brow curiously at the charred critter and looked back to Mutap.

“Mu… did you-”

“Tastey. You eat.” She mumbled.

The deer hadn’t even been skinned.

It looked as if it had been impaled and tossed onto the fire. Poor thing… Portions of the deer had been cut away from the body. Upon closer examination, Sheridan saw teeth marks on the neck and legs.

Bless the gods… I will have to properly teach this creature how to hunt.

“Mu. How do you obtain food for consumption?” He asked as he proceeded to put out the campfire with a gentle gust of air.

“Sneaky.”

“And?” Sheridan cast an inquiring glance at the goblin as he fastened his pack and walked toward his horse which rested contently.

“Munch, munch!” Mutap snapped as if he were bothering her.

She was pulling the string he had given her over the edges and flicking it with her long fingers. Finally, The goblin grinned securing the bow over one shoulder. She handed the dirk to Sheridan and bowed to him.

“Well… at least you have some manners.” The mage smiled as he fought the urge to pat her on the head. “But when you thank me… please do not bow. It makes me feel… old. Just say, thank you.”

The goblin stared at the mage.

“Go on. Say it.” He placed a hand on his hip as he watched her.

“Th- thank… you.” Mutap mumbled.

The mage was so thrilled to hear the quiet words come so perfectly from her, that he outstretched his hand toward her and proceeded to gently pat the top of her red head.

The green creature grimaced slightly, baring dangerously jagged teeth at the mage.

“I… am not your pet.” Her little fingers tightened into fists and her large yellow eyes narrowed.

Immediately, the mage withdrew his hand. “So sorry! It is difficult to see you as a… friend.”

The goblin crossed her arms, staring indifferently at Sheridan.

The mage rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well, have you decided to travel with me?”

Mutap pointed accusingly at the mage, her brow lowered angrily. “You no tap gobby!”

Out of quick reflex Sheridan threw his hands in the air. “I promise! I won’t pat you ever again. I wish to keep my fingers attached in their appropriate locations.”

The goblin grunted. “Fine. I go.”

“Excellent.” Sheridan offered his hand to the little creature.

She grasped it firmly and the mage easily picked her up and set the little green creature on the horse.

After she was settled, Sheridan hopped in front of her. He led the horse to the road and once again continued his journey.

For the most part the little goblin cuddled to the mages back and slept. When Mutap was awake, Sheridan taught her to speak properly and not in the broken sentences that she did.

Mutap learned quickly, but still reverted to speaking incorrectly. As they approached a town Sheridan led his mount off the main path and into the woods.

“Mutap. I need you to stay here. Do not go anywhere for any reason. Avoid contact with humans. I will return shortly with supplies.” The mage told his green companion as he tied the horse to a tree.

“Get Mutap cloak?”

“Can I?” Continuing to secure the horse.

Mutap sighed and tilted her head backwards. ���Can Sheridan get Mutap a cloak?”

“What do you need a cloak for?”

“So Mutap can see town!” She snapped.

“Oh.” Sheridan thought for a moment. “Okay. Stay here and out of sight. If you’re good, I’ll give you a cloak and take you into town.”

That creepy, yet menacing, smile flooded over her face again.

“Why do I feel as though I am harboring a fugitive?” The mage eyed her suspiciously before turning away. “Stay!” Sheridan called behind him as he disappeared through the trees.

As the mage stepped into civilization, a sense of comfort fell over him. The town was bustling with people. The air was thick but smelled of freshly cooked meat, bread, and burning wood. There were stands set up along the street of crafts and wares. One was a wood worker; another a blacksmith; there was even a tailor.

Sheridan quickly found himself facing a large building with the name painted in red across the top of the wooden double doors; Redwind Tavern. As his gaze shifted to his left, Sheridan’s green eyes lingered on the clothes merchant stall.

Perfect.

He approached the woman standing in front of the stand. A young plain woman who smiled at him as he walked up. She examined his plain white shirt and tan pants.

“Would ye like some color, sir?”

“I’m sorry?” Sheridan asked, confused.

“Fer yer attire, sir. Would ye like a dyed shirt?” She pulled up a blue shirt. It was finely tailored with a pocket sewn on the front breast, short sleeves and beads for buttons.

“That is a top quality shirt. Very rich. I marvel at the work put into this piece. Did you make it yourself?”

“I did.” The woman smiled sweetly.

“I was actually looking for a child’s robe. With a hood.” He motioned with his hands. “Oh, and a new attire for her. The clothes she has are… dreadful. Riddled with holes.”

“That’s so sweet, sir. Taking care of a child off the streets like that. How tall is she?”

Sheridan smiled as he thought. “About three feet.”

“Size?”

“Very thin. Perhaps you have something that will hold up to… life in the alley’s?”

“Of course, sir!” The woman exclaimed excitedly.

“Oh, and something that will compliment the color green.”

Right away the woman pulled out a little blue dress. It was charming, but he couldn’t imagine a goblin in a dress. He shook his head and asked for a tunic and trousers instead.

“Thank you, my lady. I couldn’t thank you enough.” Sheridan bowed to the lady.

She grinned, “Oh, think nothin’ of it. A nice man like ye, helpin’ an alley brat. I’ll give ye a discount.”

Sheridan waved a hand in disapproval. “No, no. Please, just take my coin. I insist.” He set a small coin pouch on the counter in front of the lady and turned on his heel. “It was a pleasure, my lady.” He smiled as he disappeared into a crowd before the merchant could respond.

Sheridan returned to Mutap with a delectable blue tunic and black pants, with a black leather belt and a dark silken blue robe to hide beneath.

The mage had also bought her a bronze hair clip, along his way. As well as a new sleeping pack for the goblin and arrows for her newly crafted bow.

Wasting not a moment, she pulled the front portion of her hair back and clipped it back with the new accessory.

“Very nice. Now you look like a civilized goblin.” Sheridan praised his new companion.

Mutap pulled the hood over her face, hung her bow over one shoulder and followed the mage into town along with the horse.

Their first stop was the stables.

Sheridan paid a lad to feed and clean his horse while he was in town. As they were walking out of the stables, the mage looked to his right and saw a building with glittering objects inside.

Mutap was drooling and on her way before he even noticed.

Sheridan Tomire shook his head in disapproval and pointed at her.

The disguised goblin stopped dead in her tracks.

He walked to Mutap and kneeled in front of her. “We haven’t learned about shiny objects yet, have we, Mutap?”

She growled fiercely at him. “Evil mage! Undo magic trick. Let Mutap go!”

“I am afraid that you will have to come with me. I can’t have you roaming around town by yourself. I am responsible for your well being, now.”

Sheridan twirled his index finger in a circular motion and a barely visible string tied around her neck.

The mage flicked his index finger forward, and Mutap groaned as she was pulled behind him.

The disguised creature tugged at the magical string around her neck, trying to obtain freedom. A few of the people they passed cast odd looks at the cloaked goblin, as Mutap desperately tugged at the invisible string around her neck.

“Stop that!” Sheridan hissed.

Sheridan paused at another shop, peering in through the window.

He felt a hard tug on his end of the magical string and looked at Mutap. She had spotted something that had completely put her in a daze.

Sheridan’s green eyes followed those large yellow orbs to an accessory shop.

Hmm… I’ll have to come up with something to make reflective, glossy, or glittery things unappealing to her.

“What would you do with all of those anyway?” Sheridan inquired of the goblin.

“Munch, munch!” Long strings of saliva dripped from the corners of the goblins unnaturally wide mouth.

Sheridan gave his green friend a worried look. “No.” He told her firmly.

I am aiding a criminal… The mage rolled his eyes, wondering what he had gotten himself into. The gods only know how many objects she has ingested. Is that considered… thievery? Eating shiny objects?

Sheridan tugged on the magical string and… finally Mutap followed, weeping a little as she slouched forward in a dejected manner.

Again, Sheridan stood face to face with the Redwind Tavern. With a little self-convincing that he would only drink a little, the mage started forward and pulled the heavy door open.

Usually, drunken people bothered Sheridan. Not with their joshing or pointing, but with their sloppy manners and disgusting habits. Their slurping and banging.

Right away, Sheridan spotted a clean and empty corner to sit in. He tugged his companion along and settled himself at the round wooden table.

The tavern was quite busy and noisy, but no one looked in his direction.

Realizing that he was wearing commoners clothing, the mage suddenly felt somewhat comfortable. Sheridan allowed himself to relax, and he sank into the wooden chair beneath him.

The goblin sat beside the mage with quite the grumpy expression played across her features. It even seemed as though her long ears were drooping beneath that hood.

Sheridan grinned at her and dissipated the magical string around her neck.

But Mutap, instead of seeming glad, looked nervously around at all of the people. “I don’t like it here.”

“Why? You won’t start anything with these people, will you?” Sheridan asked.

Mutap shook her head. “They start with Mutap.”

“Well, if you’re stealing from them or eating their valuables then I can’t blame them.” The mage teased.

Mutap huddled near the table, leaning her chin on the surface. “Will you find mages that killed master?”

“Is that why you’ve decided to come with me?” Sheridan frowned.

Mutap looked sadly to the mage. “What order?”

Sheridan cocked a brow at the creature. “What?”

“What order is Sheridan from?”

“Oh…” Resting his elbows on the surface of the wooden table. “I can’t tell you.”

Mutap frowned further.

“How do you know about mage orders? Do you know something about the mages that killed Gregory?”

“Black hands.”

At first, Sheridan didn’t think he had heard Mutap correctly, but upon repeating the words in his mind, his eyes widened fearfully as he stared at the goblin.

The Black Grasp. A group known solely for its unearthly obsession with the dark magic’s. Related spells dealt heavily with necromancy.

The group wore black robes with purple sashes. Their palms were tattooed completely in black ink. They were usually ghastly pale.

Unfortunately, Sheridan Tomire had had more than a few encounters with the demented gang. They had already marked him.

“Sheridan.” Mutap said as she raised her head from the table and cast a worried look to the mage.

“Sshh!” Sheridan hissed angrily, holding his hand up for the goblin to be silent.

The mage leaned over the table massaging his temple with his fingers.

I just had to have a conscience when I found out this goblin could understand me, didn’t I? Damn my good will! He slammed a fist onto the table. Mutap jumped, staring timidly at Sheridan.

Abruptly, the mage stood pushing the chair out of his way. “Let’s get out of here.”

Sheridan shoved past a brawl as he headed for the door.

A man howled from behind.

Wheeling around on his heels to find the source, Sheridan saw Mutap sitting on the floor with her hood hanging loosely around her neck. Men were crowding around her, examining her with odd expressions.

“A goblin!” A man shouted, grabbing the attention of the others in the tavern.

Sheridan cursed at his luck.

Lowering his head as Mutap sought to crawl out of sight, the mage closed his eyes and outstretched his arms.

Under his breath Sheridan began to chant the words to his chosen spell. A spell he had not quite mastered yet… seeing as how he usually didn’t have a purpose for it.

Sheridan’s green eyes sprung open and he yelled out, unleashing the spell into the crowd.

Immediately, the ones who sought to harm the goblin were thrust back into the air falling hard where ever they were thrown. Into chairs, other people and on top of tables.

Sheridan sprinted to his companion and lifted her tiny form in his arms. The mage hoped that no one had noticed he was the one who had cast the spell.

Wasting no time, the mage bounded for the door as fast as he could, hurling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Sheridan swirled toward the double doors and flicked his wrist at them. Sheridan could hear the people shouting and beating against the doors in an attempt to get them open.

Quickly taking in his breath, Sheridan set the goblin on the ground and ran to the stables to retrieve his mount.

Before the men could get the door open, Sheridan and Mutap were already out of town, even if just barely.

The goblin was quiet as the mage drove the horse hard to leave the town behind. Mutap’s thin fingers clenched his white shirt tightly.

Finally, Sheridan felt they were at a safe distance and slowed the horse to a steady jog. Glancing back to his companion, Sheridan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Mutap.

Running fingers through his sweaty black hair Sheridan gave in to the moment.

“It is not your fault.” As soothingly as possible. “The Black Grasp. That doesn’t sit well with me, my friend. Not at all…”

He felt a tug on his shoulder and twisted slightly in the saddle to see Mutap.

Her big yellow eyes peered up at him. “Hungry.”

Damn. We weren’t at the tavern long enough to get food or ale.

Sheridan frowned. “Alright, it’s almost nightfall. We’ll camp for the night.”

`~,{@