by RG Long
Holve looked at Tory, then to Lote.
"All will be explained in time," he said cryptically.
Why can't he just come out and say it? Tory wondered.
"For now I have another question for you that is the utmost importance," Holve said with a gruff. Several elves in black came into the chamber and summoned Pella away. She went with a backwards glance at Lote. Hate was still in her eyes. The three watched them leave the chamber. Holve turned back to Lote and sighed.
"Where's Blume?" he asked.
39: Outside Grandun-Krator
Gorplin should have been glad to see the mountains rising up before him. It had been many months since he last walked in the halls of dwarfs. Though he knew his homeland was a proud one, the tales of these dwarven holds were the things of legend.
But he could find no excitement inside of him.
He mourned for the loss of Gaflion, as did the halflings.
They trotted along rockier paths than before. The stones beneath their feet would cause them to stumble every so often. It could only be a matter of time before they began to walk the more civilized roads of the dwarves.
He sighed.
Gorplin didn't know he had respected the old silent warrior as much as he did. He was always charging in while Gaflion was being strategic. Gaflion listened to the other side of an argument while Gorplin shouted until his opponent backed down.
The dwarf knew he had much to learn from the old man.
If he were still alive.
What struck Gorplin more than anything, though, was how much the halflings mourned Gaflion's death.
They had only known him a few short weeks, yet they kept bringing up things he had done for them or said to them. More than little things, though, they were torn up most about how he had saved their lives.
"Threw us right out of danger, he did, sir," Jurrin said, after he blew his nose for the third time since bringing it up. "A good man, sir. He was a good man."
"Yup," Jurgon said through his own snivels.
It made losing him worse, knowing how he had impacted such little people in so little a time.
Gorplin tried to tell a story or two in order to lift all of their spirits, but he found that he had lost the spark of excitement he had before. In its place was a longing to just be in the company of those famed dwarves from Grandun-Krator.
On the third day after losing Gaflion to the demon hound, the stones beneath their feet finally began to smooth out. Paving stones, marked with the intricate patterns of dwarven runes, began to show them the roads leading to the dwarven mountains.
By midday, they arrived at a crossroads. Gorplin studied the stones for a moment, and then pointed west with his weapon.
"We'll need to take this road if we're to see the dwarven king," he said. The runes indicated that the capital lay in the direction of his axe.
Since they had been attacked, Gorplin had not let his axe rest in its holder. Instead, he had carried it at every opportunity. If it were to be his sole responsibility to protect Jurrin and Jurgon, he would do it well.
The trio walked down the path.
Gorplin sniffed the air and a familiar scent filled his nose.
"Forge fires!" he said out loud, letting a smile cross his face for the first time in days. "Ah! The smell of dwarves hard at work!"
The smell invigorated Gorplin. It reminded him why they had come. His own mountain had been put to the torch. It was time to go and seek revenge for what had been done. To make right the wrongs committed against them.
Surely his fellow dwarves would be able to understand that?
"But where are they?" he said out loud as they continued along the path.
"What, sir?" Jurrin asked him.
Gorplin looked around him, up and down the road they had walked all morning.
"The dwarves," he said. "I haven't seen a single soul since we found the road. There are several dwarven settlements here. Large ones. There should be some dwarves going from one to the other, don't you think? Have you seen anyone?"
"Nope," Jurgon answered, looking around.
He continued to scan the landscape. It was bare and desolate. Red rock and stone and road were all he could see. Save for the smell of fire, there was nothing else on the wind.
Except.
"Something smells funny now, sir" Jurrin said, turning up his nose. "Don't you think?"
"Yup," Jurgon replied.
Gorplin could smell it, too. Something not like the metal and sulfur he could smell on the wind that told him of fires and smelting and metal work.
Something foul was mixed with it.
As the mountain drew nearer, the bad smell grew stronger. They covered their noses and tried to breath through their mouths, but the scent persisted.
Then he saw it.
On the road before them, as they made a turn, the large entrance to the dwarven settlement rose. Statues of previous great kings of the mountains stood as sentinels, guarding the path to the mountain hold.
And littering the road after the bend, were broken helmets, shields, and weapons of various kinds. Some had been moved into piles, while others were still littering the road and surrounded country.
Gorplin stooped and picked up the first he saw.
"Not good," he breathed. He threw the thing into a nearby pile.
"Bah, come on you two. Keep up!" he said as he ran down the road, careful not to trip over the piles of broken armor and blades.
"And careful of the arrow heads," he said as he huffed along. "Goblins poison the tips."
40: The Defense of Castle Thoran
Teresa spurred her horse faster as the black smoke on the horizon grew closer.
Her companions did their best to keep up with her. Surprisingly, two of them were new to her company.
Urt and Felicia both had agreed to return with her to the castle and offer to help. Though Felicia had to be coerced more than Teresa had the patience for.
"I'd rather get back onto the ship and sail south," she had argued when Teresa had asked for them to come with her. "I just don't feel right when I'm not on the boat."
"It's no small miracle you made it to River Head without running into any Southern Republic boats, goblins, or pirates," Teresa replied. "At least for now, come with me to Thoran and we'll make preparations for whatever is heading this way. It's safer than River Head at any rate."
And that was true.
The city was surrounded by a wall and could withstand attack for a time. But Teresa didn't have in mind the type of attack that would be played out in a week. She was thinking of the type of siege that would see the defenders holed up for a month or more.
Castle Thoran could withstand that type of attack, and had supplies to face it.
As many people who could were following them to Thoran. The entire population of the city was emptying out and coming to the castle stronghold in hopes of surviving the coming army.
Teresa prayed those hopes weren't unfounded.
She and her company arrived first, with the refugees from River Head not far behind.
The castle gates opened. Standing just inside the gates to greet them, were a sergeant and a woman who looked windswept and weary.
Teresa dismounted her horse and faced the pair.
"Milady," the female soldier said as she bowed down to her. "I have urgent news."
The sergeant next to her also bowed and spoke quickly. "We were about to send a small contingent of troops to River Head to retrieve you."
"If it has to do with the black smoke in the south, I'm aware. Have you already scouted out what it is?"
"That's what Rachel was reporting to me," the sergeant said motioning to the woman standing next to him.
She didn't look much older than seventeen.
"It's a goblin army, Lady Teresa. They've set the forest ablaze and are marching this way."
"Any sign of an army from the south coming to join them?" Teresa asked, knowing how they had been defeated last time by
the efforts of two different armies.
The two soldiers shared a glance and both looked as if fear would soon overtake them.
"According to Rachel," the sergeant said. "They won't need a second army."
That did not bode well.
"How many goblins are there?" Teresa asked.
"Thousands, Lady Teresa," Rachel said with her eyes to the ground. "Perhaps, tens of thousands."
Refugees from River Head began shuffling past her and into the protective walls of the castle.
Just how long those walls could hold against such a force, Teresa didn't know.
***
ALL ABLE-BODIED MEN and women were armed with whatever could be found in the storage rooms and armories of the castle.
Those who were trained in combat were put in charge of groups of tens and twenties. Each group was assigned to a sergeant who oversaw them.
The inhabitants of the castle had pushed back the assault of the previous goblins, but their numbers had been far fewer. Teresa wondered if, even with the addition of more soldiers, they could repeat their previous success.
Large catapults were being wheeled into place. Their ammunition, barrels, rocks, and pieces of the wall that had broken off in the last conflict, were set beside them in piles. Carts of food were being taken further up towards the castle structure, to keep them safe from fire and destruction.
Teresa was doing her best to direct the efforts.
And she found an unusual supporter in Felicia. It seemed to be in her nature to be able to direct people to do what she wanted them to.
"You there!" she called to a man who had just leaned against a wall. "What do you think you're doing!? An army is at your doorstep! This is no time to rest! Get your tail to work!"
The man hurried off to help a group pushing a cart up to the castle.
She was quite effective.
Teresa walked the outer walls of Thoran with Felicia at her side. Urt was overseeing the armory, as he was a skilled smith and could sharpen any sword given to him. Mara was ensuring the women and children who would not be helping defend the castle were tucked safely into it and out of possible harm's way.
Her sergeants were busy carrying out her final preparation orders.
All the while the fire and smoke grew closer.
She rested against the wall and looked south.
Who knew what was coming to face her?
"The castle is ready," Felicia said with an air of accomplishment. "Though I'd rather fight from a ship than a stone wall."
Teresa sighed.
"I'd rather be commanded than lead this defense," she confessed. The words came from her mouth before she had time to think on them. But now they were said.
Felicia looked at her.
"You're the princess, right?" she asked her with an eyebrow raised.
"By birth," Teresa replied, shrugging her shoulders.
"Then be a damned good one," Felicia replied, as she rounded on her.
Teresa startled.
Very few spoke to her like this.
Felicia pointed a finger at her and gave her a stern look.
"You've got a city full of people who may live or die based on your command, your highness," she said scornfully. "Whether or not you believe you're the best leader these people have, you're all they got. Fate don't care what you think. It just deals you the cards. Now, what will you do with them?"
Below them, men, dwarves and elves rushed about to finalize the defenses of Thoran. Scurrying from one spot to another, they made the best attempt they could to secure the castle from whatever assault was coming their way.
And Teresa was their princess.
Their leader.
"Fine," she said resolutely. "You're right."
She looked at Felicia with a solid determination.
Though Teresa may never be the type of ruler her father was, that didn't matter. She was the one fate had placed here at this moment. It was up to her to protect her people.
And she would do it well.
"Get the soldiers to their stations," she ordered those below in a shout. Several saluted her and ran about getting the warriors to their positions.
She looked out over the forest below and the coming clouds.
"This is the hour fate has come to Thoran."
41: A Goblin's Reward
Blast those stupid goblins and their fire, Stinkrunt thought as he and his army ran north.
Once he had given the orders that they were to begin marching to war, all of the clans began to burn and hack away at anything they could.
The resulting forest fire was not a part of the master plan.
Not that there was much of a plan other than storm the castle and kill the people inside it.
Then again, the fire was making them arrive much sooner than Stinkrunt had thought possible.
I didn't want to be up at the front, he thought as he pushed aside a particularly slow goblin to get ahead.
Leading from the head wasn't a very goblin general thing to do.
But surviving, on the other hand, was one of Stinkrunt's specialties.
Up ahead, he began to make out the castle they planned to burn to the ground. It was an impressive sight, the biggest city Stinkrunt had ever laid eyes on.
And the tallest walls, too.
He stopped before he ran out into the open area before the castle walls. The trees still shielded him from view. A few foolish goblins ran ahead of him.
They were shot as soon as they were visible.
“HALT!” Stinkrunt called out as loud as he could.
Ten or so goblins heard him and stopped.
The rest stopped because the goblins in front of them kept dying.
Either way, the army came to a stop inside the forest.
“You! Arrahead! Figure out some way to get near the walls without dying! You! Greeneye! Get some goblins back behind us to stop that fire! I don't want to roast before we can even get inside the castle! Somebody else, you there!”
He pointed at a large looking goblin who was busy picking his nose.
“What's your name?” he asked. The goblin looked at Stinkrunt, but kept his finger where it was. He rethought his need to know the beast's name.
“It doesn't matter. Go see if any of our catapults survived the fire! And if they did, get them firing onto that castle!”
Stinkrunt had certainly come a long way from the sniveling doyen who wanted to impress his boss. He was in charge now.
At least he was in control of the goblins who cared to listen to him.
Arrahead came back to Stinkrunt with a group of goblins carrying large pieces of fallen trees.
"Get a couple of these things lashed together and they'll make a decent shield," Arrahead said.
Not bad, Stinkrunt thought.
"What are you waiting for? Get going!" He ordered the goblins around him.
Though at times they could be cowardly and brainless, the willingness of a goblin to cause bodily harm to their enemies was great. As such, they had a few moments of surprising ingenuity.
Arrahead had organized hundreds of goblins to begin crafting makeshift shields out of fallen and freshly cut trees. Some clever goblin even suggested using them as ladders once they got close enough. Stinkrunt watched Arrahead take the credit for the idea and smack around the one who suggested it until he forgot he had come up with it in the first place.
Reports were coming from the back of the line that the fire had been stopped. A large trench was dug and as many trees that could be were chopped down and sent forward, away from the flames.
So far, this was the best siege Stinkrunt ever organized.
He decided the first one didn't really count. That was more like practice.
This time he would have much more success than the first go-round.
There was no doubt in his mind about it.
***
AFTER A FEW HOURS OF preparation, Stinkrunt was getting bored.
"Can't we get this sta
rted?" He shouted as several goblins all around him either wielded their blades viciously or fought over who was going to carry the large wooden shields.
Arrahead looked up at him questioningly.
"You're the boss," he said as he pulled back an arrow onto his bow. "Don't you say when it's time to charge?"
Stinkrunt pondered the logic for a moment.
It made sense.
"The first goblin to bring me back the head of an elf, human, and a dwarf gets the castle named after him!" He shouted as menacingly as he could.
"Attack!"
With the roar, thousands of goblins began to charge towards the castle through the trees. It looked like the tree shields were working as long as the lazy goblins could carry the things, at least. Arrows rained down on them as these advanced. Some stupid goblins fell dead. The smart ones stayed under their soon to be ladders.
Stinkrunt stayed where he was. He sat on a stump that had been recently made into a throne for the leader of the goblin army: him.
Now was the time to act like a real goblin general and enjoy all of his hard work.
"Hey, you!" he shouted out at a little goblin who was just about to join the ranks of fighters. It looked up at Stinkrunt.
"Get me something to eat," he said as he watched the first wave hit the castle walls.
42: Into the Fire
The ship rocked and swayed along with the sea as it continued on its voyage north.
Blume sat with Jeremy, Abigail, and Rose as she attempted to retell them everything she had heard from Cory.
"So he's not a traitor? But he killed his friends and he's working with Androlion. I mean, he's a general. For the bad guy's army. That's a little hard to believe," Abigail said.
She nodded, partly because Blume agreed with Abigail. It was hard to believe that Cory was trying to subvert the entire Southern Republic and help Thoran. He was, after all, sailing a warship that Blume could already envision crashing into River Head and sending its soldiers running towards Castle Thoran.