Goblin Diaries, Vol 10: The Village of Milabua
(From the 05/16/24 newsletter ...)
4th
Day of Winter Moon, 1218th year, Human Age of Magic …
After my unfruitful confrontation with the
faerie Floreze in the Forest of Baeth, I’ve been consumed with mounting
concerns for the prospects of completing my mission and, indeed, for my own
personal safety. However, I think I’ve found a good place to lie low while I
contemplate my next move.
A day’s journey by cargo barge south of
Holly’s Landing, I parted ways with the friendly and well-meaning barge
captain. We were nearing the great swamp into which the River Wiste disappears
before emptying into Lake Ozua. Once the barge entered the swamp, there would
be no turning back from continuing on to the city of Zemburith, where the
warlock Mazuom holds sway. So I had the captain drop me off on the west bank of
the river, and I began to make my way south through the jungle on foot,
avoiding both the swamp and the warlock, in hope of finding a likely spot for a
semi-permanent camp on the southern shores of the lake.
I started hiking at dawn, and by noon I
had reached the lake and the first of five tributaries that flow south from it
into the vast southern jungle. Rather than try to cross the river, I headed
south along its western bank and a well-worn trail that implied local commerce.
Sure enough, by late afternoon I reached the small fishing village of Milabua,
a name that translates to “village” in the local dialect.
I approached its residents with caution.
Most humans have never encountered a goblin—even in some of the larger cities
where we’re most likely to have a conclave—and I can never be certain how one
might be received. But, I was lucky. One of the elders, a silver haired man
named Bokdu, had heard of our kind. I was welcomed with open arms and, in fact,
asked to stay.
By my estimate, the village population
comprises roughly five hundred dark-skinned humans who subsist mostly by
hunting and fishing, although there is a large garden in the center of the
village where some plant that is not yet ready to harvest grows in neat,
well-tended rows.
Bokdu has become my mentor while I make my
best attempt to adapt to their culture. He’s the village shaman and, as it
turns out, a dream walker, one of the telepathic subspecies of humans with whom
the dragon Pieter has become so enamored. If the others are anything like him,
I can see why Pieter holds them in such high regard. Bokdu is affable and
open-minded, with an innate wisdom that’s impressive in a creature with such a
short lifespan.
For the first time since leaving Azurith,
I feel relatively safe and, somewhat, at home.
