The Hob's Bargain

felt giving him all the guilt and fear that were mine, it was easier to understand the villagers who hated me.
    Rage or not, the bloodmage had to be stopped. Though it would have been nice to have more time to prepare, it really didn’t matter. I knew what Kith would do—nothing. He’d believed all along that he was living on borrowed time, and he didn’t seem very willing to fight for more. Albrin would fight—but he was not yet in shape to be any help. Koret was a trained fighter, but he knew nothing of magic. In any case, the village needed Koret in order to survive; I couldn’t risk getting him killed. No more than I would risk Caefawn in a battle that was not his.
    There was no one to fight the mage except me.
    â€œSo how do I fight a bloodmage?” I asked him.
    I noticed for the first time that the hob’s ears were pinned back against his skull, though his smile was easy enough. “That’s a very good question, but you’re asking the wrong person. You forget what the bloodmages did to my people. I was there—and didn’t fight very well.” His hand flexed on his staff. He continued softly, “I don’t remember it, but I dream of it every night.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have done anything,” I said, his pain drawing me out of my preoccupation with the bloodmage. “You were wounded so badly your people gave you to the mountain because they could not help you. What could you have done that your people did not? From the stories I’ve heard about the binding, the magic was worked far from here, far from the Hob. There were no battles to be fought. It’s said they sacrificed a dragon to power the spell. If the mountain couldn’t fight it, there was nothing you could do.”
    â€œWhatever happened, it is long since over,” he agreed bitterly. Bitterness was not something I would have credited the hob with, though he had cause for it.
    I didn’t want to hurt him further and risk bringing back memories that the mountain had seen fit to take. However, still less did I want to face the bloodmage without any idea of how to oppose him. So I rephrased my question.
    â€œHave you battled anything with magic?”
    â€œYes,” he said curtly. “Though when it was and what it was I don’t know. Detailed advice wouldn’t help you anyway. Your powers are not my own, but they are not the bloodmage’s either. Use that against him.”
    â€œUse what?” I asked, losing my own battle with bitterness. “Visions? Shall I ask him to meet me in the night so I can call up ghosts? Ghosts he can doubtless use better than I can—death dealer that he is.”
    He spread his hands apart in a gesture of surrender. “I have nothing more to offer you. I’m not certain there is a way to vanquish such a one, but I’ll help as I can.”
    â€œNo,” I said. I didn’t want to risk the hob, not just because he was the key to the village’s survival, but because I didn’t want to risk losing him as I’d lost so many people I loved. I stared at him, and admitted to myself that I loved him.
    Caefawn rose to his feet, shaking out his cloak. He said mildly, “I swore to help the village survive. If I think that its chances are better with Kith alive and willing to fight, it’s no one’s business but my own. Come, I’ll escort you far enough so that you can find your own way back. Then I need to look into a few things.”

    I WASN’T SLEEPY AT ALL ON THE RIDE BACK . I F THE mage wasn’t enough, there were the berserkers who followed him. One-armed, Kith’d been able to stand off the raiders for the better part of a day. What could he have done had he been whole?
    To fight the berserkers, the village only had two well-trained fighters. Two. And one of them wouldn’t fight. I knew Kith—better now than before he’d left for war. He’d already accepted his death, distancing himself from people whenever possible. Not only because he’d been altered by magic into some kind of superior soldier, as I’d thought when he’d first returned, but because he knew he had only a short time to live. He wouldn’t fight it, because deep inside he felt that he deserved nothing better. He’d been tainted with death magic, and the One God taught that such men were already dead.
    Koret was good, but he had nowhere near Kith’s