by RG Long
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arrahead point his bow and arrow in their general direction. He wasn't sure which he feared more: being pinned to the throne forever with a knife shaped earpiece or the possibility of being shot by his own lackey.
“Know this, filth,” the man said. His voice had changed from business like to death threat very quickly. “If you and your tribes even consider stepping foot past the river that separates us, you'll regret the miserable day you sailed here and made a bargain with the devil.”
He released his hold on Stinkrunt, drew out his knife from the chair and then shoved the goblin back against the throne.
“I hope I've not been misunderstood,” he said as he mounted his horse and called his men to follow him out of the camp.
Stinkrunt was holding his ear and whining. A line of blood was running down his face. And he felt another sneeze coming on.
Arrahead growled as he watched them walk away.
“I could still put an arrow in one of them,” he said as he drew back his bowstring.
Stinkrunt kicked the top of the bow, making him shoot his arrow high into the sky. He looked up until he lost it in the clouds. Then he turned on the goblin below him.
“Dumb goblin,” he said. “Do that now and we'll all be dead.”
He sat back on his throne and sulked, still holding his injured ear. But then, as he considered, a smile crossed his face again.
“Don't worry, Arrahead,” he said quietly. “You'll get your chance to put an arrow in something soon enough. Up north first. Then we'll see about the south.”
He sneezed multiple times, causing him great pain in his ear and sending the sticky muck from his nose all over the bag of gold down at his feet. Oh well. It could always be cleaned in a pond somewhere. He sent one of the goblins below him to grab it and clean them off. This particular one was called Blacktooth. It wasn't because he had black teeth literally. It was more because his mouth was so full of holes from missing teeth it looked black whenever he opened his mouth.
The good thing was it meant he kept his mouth shut most of the time.
Only after he saw him scamper off with the bag did Stinkrunt kick himself for not counting how many were in it.
He'd just assume the greedy thing had stolen some and whip him good when he came back with whatever he thought Stinkrunt might miss.
Goblins couldn't really stay in any one place too long. The Maw had been their home for generations. It was time to find new places to burn and decimate. The north would do for the time being. But before long, the goblins would grow too numerous even for the expanse of woods that lay before them. And Stinkrunt knew a little about the plan of the men who came to him. So many different ones had come to talk to them that, bit by bit and always with threats to his life, they had revealed parts of their plan to him.
The man in black though, he was going to be hard to kill. He was a skilled soldier. Stinkrunt had seen that through how he had always taken down multiple goblins without even breaking a sweat. There would have to be some other plan for that one. Maybe Stinkrunt would carve up his ear one day.
That thought consoled him for the time being.
Humans. So greedy and so dumb, Stinkrunt thought. He'd show them. Especially that one. He'd show them all that goblins were the ones who were going to rule this land. He'd show them that Stinkrunt was the best, most fearsome goblin around.
After he got a bandage for his ear.
A howl of pain from an unlucky goblin rang out from the camp.
Apparently, Arrahead's aim wasn't too bad after all.
24: Rulers Then and Now
The two-day ride to River Head was nothing compared to Teresa's excitement. She was finally doing her kingdom some good.
Perhaps, in talking with this representative of the former Southern Republic, she could gain aid as well as offer council. What if she, while her trusted Swords were off convincing the north to bring aid south, could bring aid from the south to the north!
Teresa was elated to think that she could help her country and actually do some good as its leader for a change. When the small city of River Head came into view over the grasses, she prodded her horse so much that the delegation behind her was struggling to keep up.
A few of her sergeants had agreed to come with her. The King’s Swords were the nation's acting generals. In their absence, common soldiers who had demonstrated astute battlefield wisdom were promoted to sergeants. These were put to good use by the generals of Thoran and, in their absence, would also act as the leader of their command of troops.
Three rode with her: Vera, a fiery, black haired woman from Loran who had just recently been promoted to sergeant during the last goblin raid. She had kept an entire portion of the wall clear herself by cutting down ladder after ladder with her impressive axe wielding. Even after the ladders were cut, she led men back into battle and saw to the destruction of a goblin catapult.
Teresa was quite impressed.
“Just putting what I know to good use, Princess,” she had replied at the news of her promotion. What she knew was working in a forge for her father for ten years as a youth. Now, as an adult, she was indeed using those skills well.
The other two sergeants were named Benton and Crawford. Crawford was an older man, about forty, who was a veteran of the army and well respected among his peers and those with less tenure than he.
Plus, he could drink anyone stupid enough to challenge him under the table twice over without even seeing double.
“My father was a drunk and my mum was an alcoholic,” he would proudly declare. “That's why I never touch the stuff unless coins are at stake.”
It was true. He was no social drinker. Whenever a bet was made, however, he drank the kegs dry and saw the pockets of his competition emptied.
Benton was a dwarf and used his hammer to rid Thoran of no less than twenty goblins single-handedly during the fight down south before the king was lost. Teresa had actually trained with the red haired dwarf on multiple occasions. He never had accepted the king's request for him to join the Swords.
“Bah. I only use hammers and that won't be changing anytime soon, your majesty!” he had said on that day.
Several dwarves and others had tried to explain that the title didn't mean he'd be giving up his hammer, but Benton wasn't going to change his mind. It seemed to be some philosophical battle he was fighting.
Teresa was glad for the company.
Alec, the messenger from the south, was not really revealing much else about his mission, other than to hurry them to meet Mara.
They needed no extra prodding today.
All of their horses ran at full speed in order to reach the gates of River Head. At the banner of the ruler of Thoran, which Crawford carried proudly, the gates opened without command or incident and the party of four rode into the city.
Just before passing under the wall, Teresa slowed her horse down to a gallop.
“I was wondering if you were going to keep that pace right up to Mara's room!” Alec said, breathless, as he caught up to Teresa and her steed.
The animal was a beautiful one, though Teresa still felt odd riding it. Horses weren't her specialty.
Give me my own to boots any day, she thought as she adjusted herself in the saddle.
“This way,” Alec told them, and led the way on his horse through the streets.
Alec rode out first, followed by Crawford with Teresa's banner. Teresa followed him and Benton and Vera brought up the rear.
People began to shout as they rode through the streets.
“The princess!”
“It's Teresa!”
A small crowd was lining the streets to see the sight of the Princess of Thoran riding through their city.
“Make way!” Alec shouted above the noise of the gathering crowd.
Some of the residents of River Head bowed deeply. Others just stood watching from the sides of the road. Still more knew enough to back out of the way off the road, but ma
naged to go about their daily tasks.
Teresa felt awkward as she looked at the people from her horse. She had never been good at being put on display and led places. Her mother had tried especially hard to teach her how to act in a crowd.
“Never look too happy, but don't be too sad either. Wave politely, not too energetically, though. Remain proper at all times. Never run off from the procession.”
Her head spun just trying to remember all the bits of information she had been given about the simple task of going somewhere. Maybe that's why she never really desired to be a ruler of her country.
Well, she thought. I suppose there are many other reasons.
The streets of River Head all lead to its harbor. From the main entrance, five large roads sprang out, like a hand. They rode straight up the middle. Alec stopped them at a building with a large wall around it. The gate was a large red double door wide enough for a horse and rider to pass through.
Alec knocked at it three times.
A small hole popped open in the left door with the sound of a squeaky hinge. It then closed again just as quickly and the two doors opened at once.
“Master Alec! We've been expecting you!” said a large man in green. The emblem of the Southern Republic was proudly adorned on his robe. Yet the robe was a bit tattered and dirty. The man made a low bow in Crawford's direction.
“Welcome! Prince of Thoran!” he said in a loud voice.
Alec cleared his throat.
“Your aim is a bit off, Devon,” he said, gesturing to Teresa with his hand. “This is the Princess of Thoran here before us.”
Devon nearly fell over and turned crimson.
“A thousand apologies, Milady!” he said, bowing to her instead.
“Don't worry,” Teresa replied, trying not to be offended by the situation. Even others didn't see her as a princess.
“Didn't think princes were supposed to be so old,” Benton muttered under his breath.
Crawford's face, which up to that moment had been beaming with a smile, turned into a glare at the dwarf. He tried to kick at him, but his foot was still stuck in his stirrup.
Vera let out a hearty laugh, diffusing the situation entirely.
Even Teresa gave a small smile.
“Show us the way to Mara,” she said to Alec.
***
THEY CLIMBED THE STAIRS that lined the wall of the courtyard. A quiet balcony overlooked the open courtyard below. A porch area with several chairs was protected from the suns by a tiled roof. Through a door was a sitting room.
Teresa entered the room to find it nearly vacant, save for one woman who sat reading in a comfortable looking chair.
She was immediately reminded of her mother.
This woman sat the same way she had. Even when relaxing, it didn't appear like she was actually enjoying herself. She sat upright with very good posture. One foot was crossed behind the other and her hands delicately held the tome in front of her.
Had it been Teresa, she would have crashed onto the chair and lounged in it after having traveled all day.
The only purpose this chair served for the woman in it was to keep her balance.
She looked up and acknowledged them. Setting the book down on a small table that also held a sole cup of tea, she stood and bowed low.
“Teresa Thoran,” she said in a maternal voice. “My, my, what a woman you have become! You don't remember it, but we met many years ago. You must have only been seven at the time.”
Teresa bowed in return.
“Elder Mara. It's a pleasure to meet again,” she replied, without correcting her. She was wrong. Teresa did remember this woman.
It had been at the celebration of her younger brother's fifth birthday. All of the important people from the south had been invited to attend, as a gesture of friendship. Many elves, dwarves, and others had come to celebrate the birthday and strengthen the alliance they shared.
Teresa was running all over the castle courtyard, chasing friends both new and old and muddying up her royal garments. Her mother was scolding her every chance she got for getting her dress dirty and not acting like a 'true princess.'
Mara had come through the line just as Teresa had been convinced to stand properly, at least for a moment. At that time, she was just an aid to an elder. The elderly woman who she came with bowed low to the little princess.
Teresa bowed slightly, to the horror of her mother. When she had seen the look her mother gave her, Teresa attempted even harder to bow to the elders of the Southern Republic.
It had hurt her back and her heels. She could still feel it.
“My, my,” Mara had said as she also bowed down to her. “It's nice to see you acting like a future queen, Teresa.”
She had looked up at Mara with her seven-year-old eyes and resented her. Just like she resented her mother.
The phrase had stuck with Teresa all these years.
And she had sought ever since to prove to her mother, as well as the woman from the south whose name she had not known until she walked into this room, that a true princess need not act a certain way.
Her mother had died questioning whether or not she raised Teresa right. Her father had always been proud of her. Not her mother. She despised having Teresa fight in the army, but could do nothing to avoid it.
Now, here standing before her, was a woman who had been at the back of her mind for some time.
And she still resented her.
“You requested council from Thoran?” Teresa asked, trying to push her past far behind her and stay in the present.
Mara pursed her lips.
“Yes. I had hoped to speak with one of the princes of Thoran. I heard about your father's death and I offer my deepest condolences.”
She bowed her head.
“But I see that the princes are not here,” she continued, even looking out of the door over Teresa's shoulder.
It was all Teresa could do not to punch her in the nose.
“No ma'am,” she said bitterly, knowing she ought to do more to hide the tone of resentment.
“They have traveled north to Beaton. I've sent a delegation to bring them back. Hopefully, with them will come aid for Thoran from the northern elves, the dwarves of the west, and Beaton's own army.”
Mara raised both her eyebrows.
“My, my,” she said again. “You certainly have taken the role of princess seriously.”
Teresa wasn't sure if she meant it as a compliment or a critique. She tried not to let it bother her.
“Come, please sit down,” Mara said as she motioned to a larger table than the one she had been at. Around this wooden table sat five chairs. Alec offered to stand, pulling out Mara's chair for her and taking his place by her side.
Crawford moved to pull a chair out for Teresa, but she grabbed hold of it for herself and gave him a look.
Just to make sure he got the message, she also stood on his toe.
His eyes grew wide in pain, but he held his tongue.
Teresa sat, and her three sergeants took their places around her in chairs as well.
“These are some of the leaders of my army,” Teresa said, motioning to each one.
“Vera, Crawford, and Benton. They have served Thoran well, both over many years and just recently. We were attacked by goblins not two weeks prior,” she continued.
"I'm sorry for your recent struggles," Mara said.
Teresa knew she had to stop thinking ill of this woman if she wanted her help. Every time Mara spoke, however, she couldn't help but feel like she was being belittled or chided.
"We have also had struggles in the south," Mara continued. "Though the new regime will not acknowledge it, I know that our former head elder was not assassinated by elves seeking his power. Rather, I believe it was the work of Androlion and his mercenaries."
"Now we are ruled," she added extra emphasis to the word, "by an elder no one voted for but that was appointed by Androlion himself."
She sighed deeply.
Mara actually shed a very real tear before she could continue.
"Some of my dearest friends met their end underneath the capital tower. The building that was once used to keep peace is now being used to house and murder anyone who is not considered pure or clean. It’s sickening.”
Benton hit the table hard.
"The fools will see the entire continent brought to flames if they have their way!" he shouted.
"I agree," Mara said. "That's why I intend to do something about it."
She motioned for Alec to come closer and she whispered something into his year. He nodded and exited the room through a door next to the bookcase.
"As you can guess, not everyone has bought into this madness. Most of the general population who disagree simply keep quiet. They fear that if they openly object that there will be retribution against them. They may be right. "
"Those who are brave, however, are beginning to rally together and form a resistance. Mostly this group consists of elves and dwarfs wishing to fight back against this evil and avenge friends and family. The men and women who have joined us are now acting as spies within the Mercenaries’ ranks."
Alec returned with a piece of parchment in his hand. He presented it to Mara.
"Towards the beginning of our efforts I received this note from one who claims to be in a position of power within Androlion's ranks. This person has admitted to a desire to see this senseless bloodshed end. He or she is waiting to reveal themselves at the proper time so as to bring as many people over to our side as possible."
Teresa had many emotions running through her all at once. She was excited to hear that someone was resisting against the injustices being committed. She was already thinking of how her country could aid and support those in the south who needed it.
But this last bit of information was troubling.
"What if this person has heard of your resistance and is trying to figure out who you are so that you will be wiped out as well?"