Goblin Slayer, Vol. 8

by Kumo Kagyu

  Now the goblins on foot were advancing along with the riders. Ten of them, or maybe twenty.

  I see—enough to overwhelm any carriage, Dwarf Shaman thought.

  The cackling goblins had already pushed into the campsite. He didn’t have time to focus long enough to prepare a spell.

  Dwarf Shaman frowned and shook the blood from his ax then raised a ragged shout. “No choice… C’mon, girl, get over here, over here! I’m in trouble!”

  “Oh right, sorry…!” Priestess answered. She was having trouble finding a good spot, constantly watching her back as she waved her sounding staff. Come to think of it, there weren’t many occasions where she’d had to fight while having to defend a target.

  Priestess moved at a mincing run as the goblins pushed closer, leering at her.

  “Eeep?!”

  Well, now—was it fate or chance that caused her to crouch at the moment she did?

  A wolf, snapping for her soft flesh, went flying over her head and was met by Dwarf Shaman’s ax.

  “GYAN?!”

  “Got ’im. You okay?!”

  “Y-yes! I’m… I’m fine! Sorry about that.”

  “Ah, let the wolf apologize!”

  The rider had a fumble—when he was thrown from his mount, he broke his neck in the fall—and Dwarf Shaman kicked the corpse aside then steadied his breathing.

  Priestess came up, sticking close to Dwarf Shaman. Her eyes wandered the night for a moment, seeking for him.

  It’s okay, he’s over there.

  A figure in pitiful-looking armor, brandishing his weapon in the firelight. Priestess took a breath in and let it out.

  “…It looks like a sling would be more useful than a miracle right now,” she said.

  “My thoughts exactly. Holy Light would probably just make the buggers run away…”

  Priestess nodded at Dwarf Shaman then leaned her staff against the carriage and took out the sling she kept at her hip. She grabbed a stone from the ground and started spinning it, and then with an adorable “Yah!” she sent it flying.

  The night didn’t help her aim, and she only struck a goblin in the foot, but—

  “GROB?!”

  “That’s an assist!” High Elf Archer sent an arrow into the creature the moment he paused. The goblin gurgled something then fell over backward, the arrow in his chest.

  Lizard Priest, needless to say, was in fine form.

  “Ha-ha-ha, a little supporting fire makes everything easier. Still—”

  He worked his claws, his claws, his fangs, and his tail to keep himself warm in the chill night. Two goblins he tore apart, another he grasped in his great jaws and flung into the sky. By the time the corpse landed on the ground, his trunk-like tail was already sweeping the monster behind him.

  That was four goblins dead, and he wasn’t even breathing hard. Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head. “I’m afraid simple defense is not in my character.”

  “Eleven… And I agree.”

  It looked like the adventurers had already buried at least half the goblin number, but they couldn’t let down their guard. Goblin Slayer drew his spear from a goblin’s windpipe and threw it at a rider attempting to jump the campfire.

  “GBORRO?!”

  “Meaning…?”

  The goblin, knocked sidelong from his mount, fell squarely into the fire. There was a puff of smoke and ash, and the creature could be heard screaming as he roasted alive. He rolled on the ground, trying desperately to beat out the flames, but the goblins around him merely chuckled to themselves.

  Goblin Slayer kicked aside the corpse of the monster he had slain with his spear, taking the creature’s dagger for his own.

  “That makes twelve,” he continued. “Can you get around to the outside?”

  “The vocabulary of my people does not contain the words I can’t.” Lizard Priest chuckled jovially, touching the tip of his nose with his tongue. His mouth twisted fearsomely, and he rubbed his hands together. “Kindly give me just a moment.”

  Then he went sprinting off through the smoke without a sound.

  Once he had seen the scaled giant safely away, Goblin Slayer took an unlit torch from his item pouch. He touched it to one of the weaker-looking embers nearby. The fire could not be allowed to go out.

  “GRRO?!”

  Next, he dealt the closest goblin a blow with his shield then buried his dagger in the monster’s neck. He started running, straight over the fresh corpse. His objective? His friends (still a strange thought to him) and the carriage they protected.

  “Thirteen… Fourteen!”

  He sent a rising kick into the face of a goblin trying to block his way, smashing the creature’s mouth in. One more step.

  He glanced at the others quickly; no one appeared hurt. He let out a breath.

  “Goblin Slayer, sir!”

  He nodded at Priestess, who greeted him with shining face and said brusquely, “We’re making an anvil.”

  “What?” Priestess asked, her face taut and red.

  High Elf Archer exclaimed “What?!” from atop the carriage. “Now, you listen to me, Orcbolg—!”

  “We have to redouble our defense,” he said, summarily ignoring her. “Invoke Protection. Hurry.”

  “Oh, r-right!” Priestess nearly clung to her sounding staff; Goblin Slayer kept her behind him, to cover her. He caught a blow from an encroaching goblin on his shield then struck back with his dagger, aiming for the solar plexus.

  “GOROB?!”

  “That makes fifteen. Eight left, three of them riders.” He pulled out his dagger as he kicked away the goblin, who was wheezing his last breaths from lungs that could no longer keep air inside.

  Goblin Slayer shook the dark blood from his knife and resumed a fighting posture as he said, “Hold the far side. I’ll take this one.”

  “You got it! Though I’m not much of a vanguard fighter m’self…” Dwarf Shaman’s immediate response was somewhat undercut by his chagrined addendum, but then he went tromping off.

  He was lightly armored, but he was still a dwarf. A full-strength blow from his ax would be more than any goblin could handle.

  “…Grr. Okay, but I don’t have to like it!” High Elf Archer lamented, her bow still singing even as her ears laid back in annoyance. “You’d better apologize later!”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” Goblin Slayer said flatly. It wasn’t clear if he understood how brusque he sounded.

  Though I doubt it, Priestess thought, smiling a little. She slid her hands along her sounding staff, raising it high. The fact that she was being protected by someone—no, by him—helped tremendously to set her mind at ease.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak!”

  As a result, her prayer reached the heavens, and a holy protection manifested itself as an invisible barrier around the carriage and the party.

  “GOROROB!”

  “GROBG! GROORBBGRB!!”

  What, then, did these adventurers look like to the goblins?

  They looked very vulnerable, was the answer.

  The goblins cackled to themselves that there was one less adventurer on the field, but they didn’t notice anything else. The enemy was weakened; that was what mattered to them. It just looked to the goblins like these stupid idiots were doing something foolish. Now they were focused on only one question: what would they do to these adventurers?

  How should they kill the men? In front of the women, perhaps? There was a woman inside the carriage, as well! In other words, they could have their fun, and if some of the women died in the process, well, there would be others. Wonderful.

  One of the grinning goblins licked his lips, provoking a look of disgust from the little girl with the staff.

  Then there was that prideful elf up on top of the carriage—how she would scream when they dragged her down from there.

  The goblins were swollen with anticipation and lust. That’s what goblins are, af
ter all.

  And so they didn’t realize what had happened, even after it was too late.

  “GOBRRRR…?”

  The first to notice was a goblin rider near the rear who was looking for his chance to jump into the fray. He heard rustling footsteps coming through the underbrush. Some of his comrades, late to the fun, he suspected.

  The rider pulled on the crude leather straps that served as reins, wheeling around to give them a piece of his mind.

  “GOROBBGB?!”

  He never got a word out; he died spurting blood on the back of his wolf.

  “GYAN?!”

  “GOOR! GOBG!”

  The wolf’s yelp was the goblins’ first indication that something was wrong.

  One, two, three white shadows came at them through the night—wait, were those bones?!

  “O horns and claws of our father, iguanodon, thy four limbs, become two legs to walk upon the earth!”

  The Dragontooth Warriors under Lizard Priest’s command howled and rattled as they attacked the goblins.

  The monsters would never have imagined that one of the adventurers might have escaped the melee using the smoke screen from the campfire for cover, let alone that the adventurer might then pray to his forefathers to raise up soldiers for himself…!

  “Ahh—I do believe this should settle matters until we reach the capital, milord Goblin Slayer.”

  Pressed by the Dragontooth Warriors, the goblins had no choice but to move forward. There, however, they found the sacred barrier of Protection waiting for them. Not to mention a quartet of armed adventurers…

  “Are you…just going to let them crush themselves?” Priestess said, clinging to her staff and focusing to maintain her miracle.

  “Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with complete composure, as he rotated the dagger with a motion of his wrist. “We are going to kill all the goblins.”

  Before dawn broke, his words had come true.

  §

  It was a scene of annihilation.

  The morning light broke rich and red over a field scattered with the bones and flesh and cruor of goblins and wolves alike.

  Priestess knelt, making a holy sign, gripping her staff tightly as she communed with the Earth Mother. It was not a matter of pardoning the goblins: she prayed equally for the peace of all dead.

  “Are you done?”

  “Oh yes…!” Priestess, caught off guard by the voice, nodded quickly and got to her feet. She looked around and realized Goblin Slayer had already piled up the corpses.

  A sour stench prickled her nose. It was an odor she recognized from her very first adventure, and which she still hadn’t gotten used to: the filth and sweat of goblins.

  “What…are you planning to do?”

  “How many?” Goblin Slayer asked, ignoring her question, instead kneeling beside the collection of corpses. “How many did they kill?”

  “Umm…” Priestess couldn’t quite figure out where to put her eyes.

  Watching from the other side of the window, inside the carriage, Sword Maiden supplied the answer in a tight voice. “…A party of five or six, as I recall…”

  “I see.” Goblin Slayer drew his dagger in a reverse grip. “…”

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Priestess asked.

  “Close the carriage window.” The instruction was so short yet brooked no refusal.

  “Pardon me,” Priestess said as she shuttered the carriage window. As she did so, she saw how pale and sorrowful Sword Maiden’s expression was.

  Ah…

  She understood why then. But it didn’t mean she could stop him.

  Goblin Slayer raised his dagger then brought it down without hesitation into the belly of one of the goblins.

  “Ugh…” Blood came out with a splurting noise, and High Elf Archer, still standing guard atop the carriage, made an involuntary sound of disgust.

  Even for a ranger or an experienced hunter, the scene would be disquieting. This wasn’t like cleaning and skinning an animal, draining its blood.

  “…Hold on, Orcbolg, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making sure.”

  His answer, given as he continued to dig through the slop of the goblin’s body, was no clearer than any of his others.

  High Elf Archer waved her hand in exasperation and looked away. Her ears drooped. “Ergh, just…do whatever you want…”

  “How can I have meat tomorrow if you keep that up?” Dwarf Shaman joked, rubbing his stomach, but he continued to scan the area vigilantly all the while. With their frontline fighter at work, it was more important than ever to be alert.

  However…

  “…” Priestess alone bit her lip and stared directly at the goblin corpse.

  “Allow me to assist you, milord Goblin Slayer.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lizard Priest walked up smoothly, drawing his short fang-sword and setting to work. His cuts were rough but experienced and helped the job tremendously.

  “Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted, pulling out the goblin’s stomach as he completed his dissection.

  He then proceeded to chop open the wolves as well, emptying the half-digested contents of their gizzards onto the plain.

  “Oh… Ergh…” Finally Priestess could take no more; she crouched down, her face pale.

  Bits and pieces of hands and feet, a chest, strands of hair, all half-dissolved, now littered the field.

  “It doesn’t add up.”

  He told Priestess to rinse the canteen as he held the canteen out to her, and she took it with both hands. She drank noisily, water running from her lips, draining the contents for all she was worth.

  Goblin Slayer watched her out of the corner of his eye as he considered the number of limbs. There wasn’t quite a full set of pairs.

  “…What do you make of it?”

  “Well, now…” Lizard Priest joined him crouching by the hunks of meat, all drenched in stomach juices, spearing one with the tip of his sword. “Perhaps some of them went to feed the wolves, and others were kept separately… Or more likely, not.”

  “I agree. This is a wandering tribe. They should have been traveling with their provisions.”

  “…They didn’t have any cargo with them at all.”

  “Good grief. I mean really.”

  This perspective came from High Elf Archer, who was careful not to look down from her perch on the carriage.

  The whole disemboweling thing had been a big sticking point for her when they’d all first met, but… The elf sighed and flicked her ears then waved her hand. “I don’t see any sign of baggage in the distance, either.”

  “Which means just one thing,” Dwarf Shaman said, looking disturbed himself as he observed the carved bodies.

  A six-person party. Plenty of goblins and wolves to eat them all.

  “…Does it mean…there’s still someone out there?” Priestess asked in a small voice, but nobody answered.

  §

  “Oh wow…” Priestess let her reaction slip out as she exhaled, her eyes shining.

  It had been several days of walking along the highway from the frontier town, but finally, they had arrived.

  As they approached the capital, fields began to pepper the roadside, and the wind came gusting off the river. In the distance, they could spot the muddy red roof of someone’s house that overlooked the scene.

  The castle walls, which were visible in the far distance, seemed even now to tower before her very eyes. Made of massive marble blocks piled one on top of the other, they formed a monumental gate. Peering up at them hurt her neck. Did the shadow they cast cover the entire roadway at sundown?

  As the thought occurred to Priestess, she found the walls made a much greater impression on her than simply for their size. The beautiful carven stones had not been made with magic. Human skill, human ingenuity, and human strength had made this possible, and that was astounding.

  That architecture had stood for thousands of years, resisting the elements, weathering batt
le, and overseeing many generations of rulers.

  She had heard of the place before, but she had never seen it. Her entire world had consisted of the Temple, the frontier town, the field, and then, very recently, the water town. No more than that.

  This, though, was vastly larger, and vastly older, than the gate of either the frontier town or the water town. The great gate of the capital had stood for many ages; it was itself the history of those who had words.

  “It’s incredible…!” Priestess said, smiling, shaking off the gloom of the previous night.

  “That thing’s probably older than me,” High Elf Archer said from her position atop the carriage, twitching her ears as they came under the shadow of the gate. The sparkle in her grass-green eyes must have been one of curiosity. Why was it so thrilling to see something one had never seen before?

  “Hey,” she chirped, “what’re all those people doing milling around the wall?”

  “Let me tell you about walls,” Dwarf Shaman answered quietly. “They’re the linchpin of a town’s defense; places take pride in them.” Thus, tasking people with keeping them neat and clean was essential. The dwarf looked up at the carriage with an expression of exasperation. “Long-Ears. You’ve really gotten attached to your spot up there, haven’t you?”

  “Well, it pays to have someone keep an eye out in every direction. Doesn’t it, Orcbolg?” She looked down from the carriage, pleased to be up above the crowd.

  “Yes,” said the man in the grimy helmet.

  Goblin Slayer was looking this way and that, holding a piece of skin. He had cut it off one of the goblins from the previous night—much to High Elf Archer’s and Priestess’s disgust, of course.

  “…Bleh. Tell me again why you felt compelled to take that?”

  “There may be surviving members of the tribe, or they may have a leader.”

  “You could have just copied the symbol onto something.”

  “I wanted to ensure accuracy.” With one gloved finger, he casually traced the geometric pattern of the tattoo on the skin. At length, he gave a small nod then rolled the skin up and stuffed it back in his item pouch. “It looks almost like a hand, but I can’t be sure,” he said, and then the helmet shook. “Do you find this place unusual?”

  “Yes, I do,” Priestess said with an earnest nod. “There are so many people…!” She was looking this way and that, virtually bouncing on her feet.