don’t tell anyone else.”
“Why would he want to keep this quiet?”
“General says his solders have lost enough already. He doesn’t want to build up their hope and then crush it again, if he fails.”
“If he feels that way, then why did he tell you?”
Swan looks as if I insulted his dead fathers. “I’m his best friend.”
“Of course.” I drink some tea, and I taste my bitterness. “Do you know what he’s planning?”
“Not exactly. But I have an inkling it has to do with Number Twelve. We found that Gob dead this morning, and I never saw the General so happy. Like a youngling seeing a Fairy for the first time.”
“I see.”
And I try to remember the first time I saw a Fairy, but that part of my life seems too far away.
I’m a soldier now. A conjurer-in-training.
A Gnome without a name.
*
Instead of visiting the nightworld, I follow myself west. Toward the Farm.
I try to silence my mind, quiet my demons, because they keep telling me to turn back. They’re not trying to protect me, of course. They just want the Goblins to suffer, for killing Feather Thundersoul.
For creating me.
More than once, I almost lose myself in the moonlit dark. But finally, I reach the Line, where the Forest ends, and the Farm begins.
My legs give way, as the looming fortress presses against my spirit.
I can’t move.
And the figure before me removes his hat, his Gnomehood.
He reaches deep in the cloth.
“Feather!” I say. “Stop!”
To my surprise, the Gnome who turns around isn’t me at all.
It’s General Torrent.
And suddenly, I remember why I’m here.
“Don’t do this, sir,” I say.
The General grins, and says, “Don’t save our kinfolk from mass murder?”
“Yeah.”
“And why not?”
“Because this isn’t right.”
“Right?” The General laughs. “War is never right, Escapist. You of all people should understand that.”
I stand on shaky legs. “Swan told me what the Goblins did to your Love, sir. I know you want revenge, but this is too much.”
“I appreciate your empathy. However, I am not the Gnome you think me to be. My actions are borne from compassion for our people.”
“Don’t give me that, General. I know how much you hate the enemy, because our hearts are the same. There’s a reason you kept Number Twelve in the same hut as your laboratory.”
“I was utilizing space.”
“You wanted him to watch as you created the disease that would annihilate his kind. You took pleasure in his torment.”
General Torrent sighs. “I only want to save our world, child. Surely you must see the good in that.”
“What if the disease spreads to other creatures?”
“That won’t happen. My greatest thinker developed the illness with me. The Flower Curse can be carried by any mammalian, but Drum assures me that only Goblins will be affected.”
“Drum is a Thundersoul, sir. She’s a creative woman, but the Gnomes of my clan have a difficult time foreseeing the full spectrum of consequences of our actions. I’m sure she doesn’t want to believe that the disease she created could kill all of Gnomekind, and so she won’t let herself believe.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you. I’ve thought this through. There is no other way.”
At this point, I realize the General’s had this entire conversation with himself already.
He hid his plan from the Army, because he knows there are soldiers who’d try to stop him.
He knows the disease could spread.
He knows all the Gnomes and beings of the Forest could die.
And maybe, deep down, he doesn’t care.
Before I can say another word, General Torrent pulls a mouse out of his hat, and tosses her on the ground.
I run.
I catch the mouse.
And the General says, “You know I won’t let you take her.”
“I know,” I say.
“If you really want to stand by your convictions, you’ll have to kill me. Otherwise, I stop at nothing to release the plague.”
My whole body trembles. “I don’t want to hurt
“Why would he want to keep this quiet?”
“General says his solders have lost enough already. He doesn’t want to build up their hope and then crush it again, if he fails.”
“If he feels that way, then why did he tell you?”
Swan looks as if I insulted his dead fathers. “I’m his best friend.”
“Of course.” I drink some tea, and I taste my bitterness. “Do you know what he’s planning?”
“Not exactly. But I have an inkling it has to do with Number Twelve. We found that Gob dead this morning, and I never saw the General so happy. Like a youngling seeing a Fairy for the first time.”
“I see.”
And I try to remember the first time I saw a Fairy, but that part of my life seems too far away.
I’m a soldier now. A conjurer-in-training.
A Gnome without a name.
*
Instead of visiting the nightworld, I follow myself west. Toward the Farm.
I try to silence my mind, quiet my demons, because they keep telling me to turn back. They’re not trying to protect me, of course. They just want the Goblins to suffer, for killing Feather Thundersoul.
For creating me.
More than once, I almost lose myself in the moonlit dark. But finally, I reach the Line, where the Forest ends, and the Farm begins.
My legs give way, as the looming fortress presses against my spirit.
I can’t move.
And the figure before me removes his hat, his Gnomehood.
He reaches deep in the cloth.
“Feather!” I say. “Stop!”
To my surprise, the Gnome who turns around isn’t me at all.
It’s General Torrent.
And suddenly, I remember why I’m here.
“Don’t do this, sir,” I say.
The General grins, and says, “Don’t save our kinfolk from mass murder?”
“Yeah.”
“And why not?”
“Because this isn’t right.”
“Right?” The General laughs. “War is never right, Escapist. You of all people should understand that.”
I stand on shaky legs. “Swan told me what the Goblins did to your Love, sir. I know you want revenge, but this is too much.”
“I appreciate your empathy. However, I am not the Gnome you think me to be. My actions are borne from compassion for our people.”
“Don’t give me that, General. I know how much you hate the enemy, because our hearts are the same. There’s a reason you kept Number Twelve in the same hut as your laboratory.”
“I was utilizing space.”
“You wanted him to watch as you created the disease that would annihilate his kind. You took pleasure in his torment.”
General Torrent sighs. “I only want to save our world, child. Surely you must see the good in that.”
“What if the disease spreads to other creatures?”
“That won’t happen. My greatest thinker developed the illness with me. The Flower Curse can be carried by any mammalian, but Drum assures me that only Goblins will be affected.”
“Drum is a Thundersoul, sir. She’s a creative woman, but the Gnomes of my clan have a difficult time foreseeing the full spectrum of consequences of our actions. I’m sure she doesn’t want to believe that the disease she created could kill all of Gnomekind, and so she won’t let herself believe.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you. I’ve thought this through. There is no other way.”
At this point, I realize the General’s had this entire conversation with himself already.
He hid his plan from the Army, because he knows there are soldiers who’d try to stop him.
He knows the disease could spread.
He knows all the Gnomes and beings of the Forest could die.
And maybe, deep down, he doesn’t care.
Before I can say another word, General Torrent pulls a mouse out of his hat, and tosses her on the ground.
I run.
I catch the mouse.
And the General says, “You know I won’t let you take her.”
“I know,” I say.
“If you really want to stand by your convictions, you’ll have to kill me. Otherwise, I stop at nothing to release the plague.”
My whole body trembles. “I don’t want to hurt
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