Chapter 13. Arrogance and Defiance
The day after arriving, more clans arrived in the clearing. Sarah sat with Fiona working on the quilt that Lorna had never finished. Thom and Colyne took the boys to the river to fish. Fiona began to speak cryptically. "They are fine boy, Sarah… but they'll be needing a man about." She waited but there was little or no reaction. "A fine man," she hinted.
Sarah raised her eyes from the quilt. "Fi, don't start," she warned the older woman.
Fiona gave her an innocent and shocked gaze. "I was just making small talk, Sarah darlin'."
The girl rolled her eyes. "And I'm the tooth fairy." She muttered, her fingers keeping busy with the needles and thread.
The older woman looked at the girl and noticed the chain hanging from her neck, "You wear an amulet?"
Sarah looked down at her pendant, "Amulet? This, no, it's just something my Grandmother gave me in a box of junk jewelry."
Fiona moved closer and looked at the dangling pendant. "That's not junk, Sarah Darlin', that's an old protection amulet, Fae Silver by the looks of it."
Sarah looked down, "Fae Sliver?" The very word Fae brought a shiver to Sarah.
"Aye, some o the old Royal Fae worked magic in Silver. The workmanship is like none other. Where did ye get that?" Fiona could not take her eyes off the gleaming metal pendant.
Sarah thought back, "It appeared on the day we buried my father… my stepmother's sisters children ransacked my bedroom, broke into one of my drawers… In the drawer was a little coffer that my Granny had given me… she called Sarah's treasure chest… This was with the items that had spilled out of the chest. I just figured it was one of the many bits and pieces that Granny had collected over the years." Sarah fingered the pendant.
Fiona wanted a closer look, "Sarah, do I have your permission to look at it?"
"Sure." She raised it up for the other to see. She was too curious not to show it to the older woman and get her opinion on the piece.
"Aye, it's Fae Sliver alright, and a fine bit o work at that. The symbols are old Celtic protection Symbols. Who ever gave this to thee wanted thee safe." Fiona said at last.
Sarah pondered for a long moment. "You know, now that ye mention it…" Sarah spoke in a hushed timbre. "Ever since I've started to wear this, though bad things have happened around me…. I've always been safe…."
"Aye?" Fiona looked at both sided so the pendant. "Someone cares for thee, enough to wish thee safe."
Sarah shuddered; the word wish carried more weight than thought of Fae Silver and protection amulets. "Fi, please don't mention this to anyone…"
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Jareth paced the throne room, feeling like a caged animal. He was watched carefully by the horde of Goblins who spent their days with him. They too could feel the tensions rising in the very air that filled the circular room. For days he'd dressed all in dark colors, and it seemed to reflect his dark mood.
Gandar entered the room, instantly aware of his King's frame of mind. It was not hard to ascertain the disposition of the King. His body was tense and every muscle seemed to echo that tension. "How long has he been like this?" the Chancellor asked a tall Goblin with a twitching white mustache.
"Days now," the Goblin warned.
Gandar nodded, squared his shoulders and marched into the King's eye line. "Sire the plans for your festival." He held a parchment scroll out toward the pacing figure.
Jareth paused, his eyes turned upon the Chancellor, for a moment they didn't register him. The King focused, "What did you say, Gandar?"
"The plans for the festival," He kept the parchment extended toward the King. "They need your signature, Sire."
An exasperated gasp and a few steps brought the King to his throne. He held out his hand, unwound the scroll and began to read. "This all looks in order."
"Perhaps you should read to the end," the Chancellor suggested.
Jareth read on and on, one item caught his eye. "I didn't order this." He looked at Gandar with growing disdain for the irritations he felt were accumulating in his life. "Is she out of her mind? This is a Samhain festival! The most important of all the High Feast Days for my Goblins…" He was bellowing, harshly. "I will not tolerate this kind of …. Blatant disregard for their traditions and their society." He tossed the scroll, unwound back at Gandar muttering; "Pink unicorns indeed." There was a horrified gasp from some of the Goblins. "And they call me arrogant."
The Chancellor cleared his throat, "That's not the worst of it."He handed the scroll back to the king, pointing toward the bottom. "She also wants pink cotton candy."
"I'm drowning in a pink nightmare." Jareth muttered. "I'm going to explode."
"Perhaps there is a way to give the Princess what she wants, while we give the Goblins what they need;" Cautioned Gandar.
"Find it and I shall reward you." He read the scroll again.
"The things she asks for, while not traditional are not really in themselves offensive." Gandar pulled a page with markings on it. "Perhaps if we allowed the Queen's court to have a space where they could have their…diversions set up…"
Jareth looked at the drawing and nodded, "A Faire within the Faire?"
"For lack of a better label;" Nodded the Chancellor.
The king signed and used his seal to okay the plans as Gandar had revised then. "Don't let her majesty change anything or add anything," Warned the frustrated King. "All the arrangements are to be made by you and you alone, Gandar!"
"I hear there's to be a festival," A female voice was heard before the creature appeared. "Am I invited?"
Waving off the Chancellor, Jareth looked at Breanna with apprehension, "Hello Mother." His voice lacked any sign of warmth or caring.
Noting his lack of warmth the Fae woman moved closer; "Such a warm and loving greeting, my son."
"Sarcasm does not suit you well, Mother." Jareth warned without leveling his throne.
The Fae woman smiled the same quirky smile her son usually wore. "I've been told that before…by your grandsire."
Tightly closing his eyes, Jareth frowned. "Don't mention him." Of late the King had begun to blame his sad state on his Grandsire.
"OH, poor boy… Marriage not working out the way you thought it might?" His mother teased.
Jareth shot an angry look at her. "Mother, I'm on a very thin tether here. Don't push it."
She shrugged and took on a more compassionate mode. "I'm sorry… it's just that it's so hard not to say I told you so." She moved closer to the throne, placed a kind hand on her son's arm. "So tell me about the festival."
"We've not held a true Samhain festival in years, I thought it high time." He said looking at her with troubled eyes. He handed her the scroll he'd just signed. "My bride has added her input on the proceedings."
Breanna read down the list, nodding and approving until she reached the same item that had caught her son's attention. "Oh dear," She looked at him, "No." She shook her head and handed the scroll back. "No."
"Have you seen her court?" He moaned placing a hand over weary eyes.
"No, and after reading that, I'm sure I don't want to." Breanna conceded. "However, I've nothing planed for the next few months, what say I make an extended visit? Give you a bit of back up?"
"Would you?" He peered at her though the fingers of his gloved hand. "Could you really?"
Patting his arm she smiled. "Of course I can."
Jareth suddenly wondered if he were asking for something that would blow up in his face. "Mother…"
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By the second evening of the encampment all the Clans had arrived. There was a great deal of activity in the grove. Fiona told Sarah that there were several clans who had opted not to participate in the harvest once they'd learned that Lord Awd Goggie was the Orchard Keeper now. There were two others who'd taken their places, but Shaw and Brodie were clearly the men in charge.
Fiona and Sarah joined the other women in preparing a shared communal meal. There were tables with food, and drink, and tables where they would gather to eat. It reminded Sarah of potluck suppers at the church that Karen attended, only much friendlier. There were no snooty women dishing dirt over someone's lack of fashion sense. There was no man boasting of how much money he'd made. There was instead a great sense of kinship. Thom and Colyne stood along with Shaw and the other heads of family. They greeted each man, woman and child who entered the circle. Sarah felt a sense of pride in being a member of this wondrous band of vagabonds. Colyne was the highest ranking man in the encampment and it fell to him to bless the food and drink and the families.
Thom sat beside Sarah watching her coyly as she ate. He could see some of the other young men from other clan families eyeing the pretty young widow. Placing himself beside her was his way of placing a claim on her. Knowing of his interest others would keep a distance and allow the man to woo the maid. He looked over at the area where all the children had gathered, and watched how Georgie seemed to keep watch on Toby.
"They're very close, those two." He commented to Sarah.
Sarah looked toward her boys. "Yes, they are."
The younger Brodie leaned on his elbow. "Any man would be proud to lay claim to them, Sarah Darlin'." Sadness at the thought of her late father crossed her face. She didn't make answer to the comment and Thom thought it was her grief at the loss of a beloved husband that prevented her from speaking.
When the food was cleared and the tables broken down, some of the men brought out instruments and began to play lively tunes. Merrily Colyne led Fiona out to the center of the encampment to dance. Soon they were joined by others, including some of the children. Thom turned to Sarah. "Come dance with me, Sarah." He held out a hand to her.
Sarah hesitated in joining in; in the distance she could see the spherical shaped spire that was the King's tower. "I'm still in mourning." She said quietly backing away respectfully. Thom accepted the excuse and stood beside her clapping and enjoying the music.
After the men had been playing a while they took a break, some of the children rushed over to where Sarah stood and pulled her to the center of the encampment communal space, demanding she tell a tale. Sarah was given a seat, and when she was seated they started to call out the names of tales they wanted to hear. "I canna tell all the tales at once." She cautioned. "Ye must pick one!"
All eyes went to Colyne, "Do ye know the Cobbler's tale?" He asked thoughtfully.
"Aye, I do." Sarah motioned her audience to be silent. "Long ago and far away, there lived a wee cobbler and his wee wife. The cobbler was a good man, who had fallen on hard times. There had been a wicked war a waged, and the good cobbler's son, like so many a son in the village had gone to war, and not returned. The cobbler was broken hearted, and found he could not even work. Most of his stock had been bought up, and he and his wife lived frugally on the money he'd earned. But one day he found they had used all the money up and he had only enough leather to make but one pair of shoes. "
Thom and his father listened along with the other. So intent was the audience that not one of them had noticed the sounds approaching. Riders on great ugly steeds rode into the encampment, but kept at a distance. The leader too listened to the tale being told.
"Each night the cobbler would cut the fine leather into shapes and each morning he awoke to find beautiful shoes, finely finished on his work bench. Each day the shoes were sold and the cobbler would buy more leather, and always there was enough left over to put into the clay jar that kept his funds." Sarah was now standing and pacing. "This went on day after day, week after week and month after month, until the harvest was coming upon them. The cobber one night, along with his wife, cut the leather but hid to see who was making the fine and wonderful shoes." She placed a finger to her lips. "Quietly they watched and what did they see, but three little men, plain as can be, come creeping into the shop and merrily singing set to work sewing and hammering. And when they finished all the shoes that were made were placed on the table, and out of the shop they danced. The cobblers eyes were wide, his wife's eyes were wide too. 'Elves!' she cried excitedly. 'We've been blessed by the wee Elves.'."
There was laughter and clapping in the crowd.
Sarah took a seat again, pulling her shawl close. "The cobbler's wife knew what to do, she gathered clothe and made fine little suits for the three. The cobbler knew what to do; he gathered the finest of his leather and made fine little boots to shod the feet of the sainted Elves who had saved his shop. The next night instead of leather cut to be sewn, there were fine new clothes and shoes on the work bench. The elves came in just as they always had, saw the fine garments and dressed in them in a flash. They danced on the table and the danced on the floor and happily they dance right out the door." Leaning forward, in a hushed tone Sarah finished her tale. "Never again were the wee elves seen. But they had left their blessings and never again did the cobber want. He lived and worked and was a happy man…"
"Tales of Elves… how quaint." A rude rough voice said over the applause.
Sarah looked toward the sound of the voice coming from one of the dark cloaked riders sitting now on the edge of the communal circle. Mother's moved toward children, protecting them with the shielding of skirts and hands. Sarah knew this was Lord Awd Goggie and his closest attendants. In the darkness it was hard to make out his features, and the hood of his cloak covered most of his face as well.
"Lord Awd Goggie," Colyne addressed the man on his ugly steed. "I had not thought we'd see ye till the dawn. What brings ye to the encampment? Lord Grathon didn't usually come out to greet us personally."
The dark being on the steed turned toward the sound of the Laird's voice. "Lord Grathon is no longer in charge here," there was contempt in the tone used. "I will be doing things differently."
"So I'm informed." Colyne stood his ground. "However ye are most welcome to join us in our celebration of those who've gathered for the harvest."
Goggie laughed curly. "You dare to welcome me to my own lands?"
"The forest here is not part of your lands; they belong only to the King." Colyne hooked his thumbs into his vest. "We are the guests here of the King!"
Sarah gasped as an odor filled the air.
"Beware," Goggie snapped at the Laird. "The King is not whom ye will be dealing with here. I am in charge." He pulled his steed up and headed out of the encampment.
Thom moved quickly toward Sarah who was gagging on the odor that had emitted from the dark rider. "Sarah, are ye alright darlin'?"
"That was not in the tales…" She coughed. Seeing the concern on Thom's faces she finished. "No one ever said that he gave off an offensive odor when he gets angry."
Colyne clenched the clay pipe with his teeth, drew on it and sighed. "Be warned Sarah, he's not a friendly soul."
Sarah had taken the boys back to the wagon, there was still celebrating going on. Fiddles playing and drums were beating out a fine time as well as wind instruments being played. There was dancing and clapping and much merriment. Sarah, however, had enough after the departure of the Orchard Keeper. Even the pleas from her two boys went unheard, as she ushered them back to the relative safety of the wagon. Midnight hissed and arched her back, growling deep in her throat at something in the woods.
Sarah took the salt cellar into her hands, moved to the outside of the wagon and placed a thin circle of salt about the frame of the wagon. "I cast thee out, into the night, I cast thee be gone from my sight." She said repeatedly as she preformed the ritual. Toby and Georgie watched from the safe haven of the inner wagon as she moved.
Tucking the boys in she told them they were safe, but they were not to leave the wagon unless she was with them or Colyne was. She then moved to her own bed and undressed for the night. It was a restless sleep that welcomed her.
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Jareth could hear the sounds of the music from the grove in the distance. He smiled, the Travelers had come. Calling for Gandar, he was surprised when the dark cloaked Goggie entered his throne room unannounced. "Late for a visit, is it not, Lord Goggie?" He asked bitingly from the throne.
Goggie knelt and slid back his hood. "Your humble servant, Sire." The Goblin Lord hissed. "A word with thee, if thee pleases, Sire."
A request from Goggie usually meant some kind of problem, usually an imagined offense, however the King was duty bound to hear all grievances no matter how ridiculous they were. "What is it this time?" He asked impatiently.
"The vagabond filth that resides now in my grove…" Goggie began and was instantly halted by the King.
"My grove," Jareth corrected. "You have been given the management of our peach orchard only." Goggie glared at the King, he had never hidden the fact that he was not overly fond of the King. Jareth continued, "And they are called Travelers, Goggie, not filth."
"They have no respect for our kind, Sire!" protested the Hobgoblin. "They insult us even now."
"They have only just arrived, and already you are insulted?" Jareth sighed deeply. "What insult?"
Goggie's face sneered. "Their leader, the one who claims to be a Laird, had the nerve to welcome me to my own lands, as if he were my equal."
"I'm sure he meant you no offense…" Jareth pondered. "You say he welcomed you to your own lands?" Jareth didn't trust the words of this Goblin Lord; he was not known to be trust worthy. "How odd. Well I shall look into it for you."
The Hobgoblin was not content to leave it at that. "I tell you Sire it is time to banish the Travelers from the harvesting. We could employ Goblins to harvest, and I'm sure they would do a better job. I doubt we'll get any where near the amounts recorded in the past by the previous lord…I'm sure he trifled with the numbers."
Jareth felt his anger growing. "Goggie, I myself will speak to the Laird."
The Goblin Lord bowed, "AS you wish Sire."
Feeling as if he were dying for need of air, Jareth went up to his tower and gazed at the land below. He could see the distant shadows of the fires in the encampment. He could hear the music. There had always been Travelers at harvest, and Jareth meant to see to it that it remained that way.
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Morning had come; the men had gone to the river to fish. Sarah worked with Fiona on preparing the breakfast. She kept silent as she worked; the older woman had not tried to speak to her, observing the grim expression on the girl's face. Sarah's moods were far to easy to read, but that was what in Fi's opinion made her an excellent Bard.
Colyne and Thom and the boys returned from the river and the meal was soon on the table. During which Colyne again warned the boys to stay in the encampment. He looked at Sarah, "Would ye care to come along with Colyne and I? I have to examine the orchard and begin getting the men assigned to duties."
"I thought you said Robin Shaw inspected the orchard." Sarah sighed.
"Aye, he did," Colyne agreed. "I however am the ranking man… and I am accountable for the harvest, not good Robin."
After a moment of careful consideration Sarah nodded, "Yes, Laird, I'd like to come along."
Noting the formal address he sipped his tea. "Well then, Bard, I'd be pleased to have yer companionship."
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Breanna watched her daughter in law with hooded eyes, like a mother hawk or eagle would. While she was truly fond of the girl, she didn't entirely trust her. Something in the girl's manner stuck in the craw.
Jareth had made excuses not to join the women for breakfast, and Adrianna was alone with the daughter of the High King. "Are your rooms to your liking?" she asked politely.
"Yes, they always are." Breanna replied just as politely.
The girl in pink shifted in her seat. "Good." She smiled sweetly, but was clearly uncomfortable.
"You must be looking forward to the Festival," Graciously the older Fae suggested; "And of course your anniversary." She saw the girl blanch. "I was wondering what you planned on giving my son…I would not wish to duplicate the gifts."
Pushing aside her breakfast platter the girl sighed. "I haven't given it much thought…we don't usually exchange gifts."
Breanna was not shocked, nor even mildly surprised, but she pretended to be. "Oh really? I would have thought a couple so young and newly wed would be showering each other with gifts all the time."
Guiltily the girl looked away. "We are not much for such triviality." Rising she made to prevent any more conversation. "I really must see to some of the details for the festival. Have a good day, Princess Breanna."
"You too…Princess Adrianna." Breanna smiled coyly, waiting for the girl to flee, when she had the older Fae woman stayed at the table for a few moments longer. Something was in the air, something making the little pink princess very nervous, and agitating her son as well. She wondered if either was aware of the behavior changes they were displaying. Each was working so hard at keeping up the façade of the perfect couple. Most outsiders and court hangers on would simply accept that the young couple was still enjoying the newness of their marriage. Breanna on the other hand, knew her son better than most and could see he was not satisfied or fulfilled. Gazing about, making sure she was alone she drew a crystal from the air, and gazed into it. What she saw delighted her, and she let her tinkling laughter fill the room.
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Sarah walked between the men, sadly eyeing the decaying orchard. "What has happened here?" She asked looking at the sad trees.
Colyne touched one of the ailing peach trees, "Neglect." He moaned; "Criminal neglect."
Almost each and every tree in the orchard was showing signs of neglect. Sarah shook her head. The trees had not been pruned; some had broken branches from storms. There were signs of blight and insect infestations as well. "This is heartbreaking." She cried out. "How could that Hobgoblin allow this to happen… This orchard is not his, it's only in his keeping."
Thom tried to comfort Sarah, but she only pulled away and moved to place her head against one of the trees. "Oh I wish health could instantly be restored to this orchard." Her voice broke as the words escaped. She moved away from the tree, before she realized she'd spoken the words aloud.
The Laird was about to second her words when he noticed something changing, something phenomenal and marvelous. Life began surging though the orchard, leaves suddenly taking on vitality. The very fruit hanging off the branches seemed to glow with health and life. Colyne and his son turned around and what had been a dying orchard now appeared to be thriving and full of life once more. Colyne took hold of Sarah, whose face was buried in her hands weeping. "Sarah… look…" HE pried her fingers from her eyes. "Look!"
Through tears of bitter unhappiness she gazed, and gasped. "Oh no… did I say the words aloud?"
"Ye said something…but I didn't hear what ye said." Colyne confessed. "Ye spoke into the bark of the tree ye were leaning against." He could feel her losing her balance. "Sarah, are ye a Fae-kin are ye Kindred?"
"No…" She said swiftly. "At least I don't think so…" She held a hand to her mouth.
"Then how?" Colyne asked.
"A gift once given me…" She whispered.
Thom, astounded and in wonder of the transformed orchard breathed deeply. "That's some gift."
"A heavy responsibility," Laird Brodie pronounced leading Sarah out of the orchard and back toward the encampment. "Tell no one." He warned them both.
Sarah ran to the safety of her wagon as they entered the encampment, threw herself on her bed and closed her eyes tight. "My kingdom is great… my kingdom is great…my kingdom is great."
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The first day of harvesting brought surprised reviews from the men picking. Each one reported that the orchard seemed determined to shake off any ill effects that the Lord Goggie had tried to use on it. The first fruits were very nearly as perfect as the last year's crop. And what had seemed to be lesser numbers seemed wrong. Colyne kept the truth of the recovery to himself, and swore Thom to secrecy.
He sat in the early morning light with his pipe in his teeth, looking at the dark wagon of the Bard. "She's no ordinary girl." He said resolutely to his wife.
"Colyne… she bears a pendant o the Fae." Fi said carefully, when he looked at her in surprise she added. "She made me promise not to mention it…but… I think ye should know…its Fae silver…"
The Laird pondered what to do. "Our son is already falling in love with her, ye know."
"I know." Fi whispered sadly. "I would welcome her into our family in a heart beat."
Colyne shook his head. "Her fate lies elsewhere." He tapped out his pipe. "She will be leaving us soon… the winds of change are coming upon us…."
Pulling her shawl close she mourned. "Poor wee Sarah…."
"Poor wee us, if Lord Goggie takes a good sniff o her." Warned the Laird.
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Jareth walked with Gandar though the wood of the orchard. "I had worried that giving the orchard over to Goggie was a mistake." Jareth confessed. "He's never been one to nurture, but he was the first inline to succeed to the office of Orchard Keeper."
Gandar was troubled by something in the orchard. "Sire… do these trees seem normal to you?"
Jareth touched one tree. "Magic… there's magic afoot here, Gandar…" Closing his eyes, he bid the living entity in the tree to speak within him. He opened his eyes, "It says they were dying… that Goggie hates the orchard and meant to destroy it."
"Arrogant bastard," Spat out the Chancellor. "But how did they recover?"
Jareth removed his hand. "They had a savoir… a woman…. Who wept over them."
Gandar looked about the orchard. "A woman? A wandering Fae or Tree sprite perhaps?"
A faint scent in the air tingled in the nostrils of the blond with mismatched eyes, a scent that carried more power than any other. He blinked and smiled, "Perhaps." He said not wishing to alert the chancellor.
Laird Brodie had been told by underlings that the King was in the orchard. He came toward the royal Fae with outstretched hands. "Sire, it's good to see you again."
"Brodie," He accepted the hands and smiled warmly. "We've just been inspecting our orchard…how do you find it?" He was setting a trap.
Brodie seemed to know the King and read what he was doing even though the mask. "I find it miraculous."
Mismatched eyes flashed, "Yes…indeed." Jareth pressed on. "And the harvest, how goes it?"
"Well, Sire, and on schedule." Brodie felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
Warmth exuded from the Royal Fae. "I'm glad to hear it… I've come to ask your travelers to perform at the festival to be held in a fortnight, on Samhain."
Refusal would mean having to give explanations, Colyne felt trapped. "I'm sure we can be at your disposal, Sire."
"Good." Jareth breathed deeply, her scent was in the air like the perfume of peach blossoms. "I look forward to it."
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Sarah sat on her wagon ledge, sewing the last of the panels to the quilt. Something in the wood caught her ear, and she looked about for the boys. They were not in eyesight and she pulled her shawl tightly around herself as she ran into the wood that was between her and the river. She saw Toby and Georgie and some other boys sitting on the rocks with lines in the water. She also saw a creature, hideous in appearance and coming up on the boys.
Swiftly she picked up stones, hurling them at the dark shape that slithered in the air. "Get ye back ye fiend!" She cried as she placed herself between the boys and the creature. "Return to thy master and tell him he breaks the law!" The thing howled as rock after rock pelted it. It hissed hideously at Sarah, baring teeth that looked like they could easily rip skin and bone. Sarah pelted it again. The boys dropped their lines and formed a circle behind the girl. A ghastly sound filled the air and a dark beast appeared with a rider on its back.
"Woman, ye stand between me and my prey." Goggie snarled.
"Ye have no call or claim here!" Sarah stated in hot defiance.
"Have I not? My minion here is to gather strays." He stoked the repulsive creature that Sarah had struck with rocks. "Now out of our way, mortal bitch."
"No." She said sticking out her firm jaw.
"Do ye know who I am?" the Goblin Lord demanded.
"Lord Awd Goggie… a disgrace to the very race of Goblin," Sarah shouted. "I know ye, I know what ye do. Ye steal children and maidens in the wood and field and orchard. Ye make em prisoners to your lodge." She now was shielding the group of children, and praying her amulet would protect them all.
"I collect strays," He corrected her, not liking the description she had given, even if it was far more accurate. "Hardly any different from what our King does."
"A far cry from the duty carried out by the Goblin King." She snarled at him. "He has honor and ye have none." Somewhere with in her she found words, powerful words. "He has never had to resort to taking by force…He takes only what is freely given. And he always allows for a means to redeem …can ye make such a claim?"
Goggie raised his whip, ready to strike the woman. Her defiance was the highest form of disrespect he'd ever received. Something held in one of the hands of one of the children, whom he could not make out for the child was shielded by the woman, made him pause and rethink. The object was small but important; it was a glowing crystal orb. Goggie lowered his arm, and glared at the woman. "I suggest ye be on your guard woman, this day ye have made a powerful enemy."
Sarah roared back at the man. "I've taken on bigger and better than you." As the Hobgoblin departed, the woman took a deep breath. "Come children…. We need to be away from the foul stench that thing left behind." She gathered her charges, unaware of the orb pocketed by one small blond boy with beautiful eyes.