Goblin Diaries, Vol 8: I Hate Boats
(From the February 16th, 2024 newsletter ...)
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the foot of a goblin is a shining example of the gods’ design. Wide, flat, and thick-soled, it distributes weight perfectly throughout a stride. No matter the surface, nor the weather, we goblins have no need for cumbersome footwear. We can carry many times our weight over long distances. Give us a road, a path, rocky terrain, or shifting sand, we will walk upon it and revel in the sheer joy of movement.
Notice I said walk—the mode of travel the gods of Urgule intended.
There are no roads, no paths, nor even maps of the terrain between Azurith and the Forest of Baeth that I can find. There is only the River Wiste, winding its way south through the Enchanted Forest on its way to Ozua.
I hate boats.
Yet, if I wish to investigate the two faeries, Fauche and Floreze—to verify they are flooding the black market here in Azurith with neleh berry wine, and to see if they might be hiding Ka’il Idreth (The Sword That Sings)—it’s the way I must travel.
The quickest way into the Forest of Baeth is to take one of the famous Ozuan river canoes. They are long and sleek, carrying as many as twenty paddlers. Going downriver, we could reach Holly’s Landing (a trading post midway through the Enchanted Forest) in a day. But have you ever ridden in one? They are terribly unbalanced—I watched a human trying to climb into one at the docks, and he tipped it over while it was tied to its moorings! Imagine sitting in one of those, flying over the surface of a treacherous river at breakneck speed, for a whole day!
No, thank you.
So, I am writing this from the relative safety of the deck of one of the wide, flat, and slow-moving cargo barges that regularly ply the waters between Azurith and Zemburith, the city that guards the Falls of Ozua.
The deck of the barge is stacked so high with cargo to be traded along the route that I can sit here amidships and not ever see the water, which is fine with me. The vessel is powered by two crews of sturdy humans who plant long poles into the shallows along the left or right bank of the river, endlessly walking from bow to stern, where they withdraw their poles from the water to return to the bow and begin again.
It’s slow going, but I can sleep relatively well at night. The captain says we should reach Holly’s Landing sometime tomorrow afternoon. I’m already looking forward to having these perfect goblin feet back on the ground where they belong.
