The Goblin Wars Part One

by Stuart Thaman

  ***

  “I HATE WALL patrol,” Stratos grumbled. The soldier was a tall man, remarkably lanky and thin for his height, and he sported a thick, curly beard of brown hair. He pulled a strip of white cloth from under his tunic and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His heavy metal boots clinked loudly against the polished stone of Terror’s Lament as the newly recruited soldier walked.

  Next to Stratos, Teysa tugged at the shining steel breastplate she wore and used a hand to keep the sun out of her eyes. She was Stratos’ younger sister and bore a stark resemblance to her sibling’s thin frame. The two had been inseparable from a very young age and had even joined the city guard together. After being commissioned by Herod as Templars of Peace, Stratos and Teysa tried to take an extra measure of pride in their patrolling despite the punishing heat.

  The deep green talon embossed on the templar’s armor burned under the hot afternoon sun. Stratos pulled the chainmail coif back from his head. Sweat poured from his sunburned skin and sizzled on the stone walkway. The two soldiers stopped their patrol and sat down with their backs to the wall.

  “Why do we have to walk in so much armor?” Teysa groaned. Their canteen had been empty for the past two hours but their patrol lasted another three.

  “I know what you mean.” Stratos’ rag was soaked beyond use so he tossed it over the wall. All of the templars atop the high walls of Talonrend had recently been ordered to make their patrols with a full armament. Teysa slipped one of her scalloped steel gauntlets off and let it clang to the walkway.

  “I’m not used to all this heavy armor. My hands are starting to blister. My feet feel like they are on fire.” She began to unlace the straps on the back of her steel greaves. “I don’t understand why we have to walk so many patrols.”

  Three other pairs of templars were slowly making their own rounds on different sections of the walls. They looked like shining stars, reflecting brilliantly against the pale landscape of the Talonrend countryside.

  Teysa removed her heavy breastplate and set her greaves and gauntlets inside her chest piece’s hollow shell. “Come on, let’s keep moving. I’m going to stash my armor for the rest of the patrol.” She stretched a hand down to lift Stratos off the stone. The supple leather and mail the guard wore under her steel breathed the gentle wind and cooled her body. The woman had only been patrolling the wall for a few weeks and hated every minute of it.

  Stratos breathed heavily under the oppressive weight of his armor. The skinny man shrugged his shoulders and tried to adjust the fit as he walked. Nothing helped keep the heat at bay. “I don’t understand why we need to have swords with us too.” He thumbed the pommel of the blade on his hip and wondered if he would ever need to draw it. “What do we need swords for? Nothing can get up here and we certainly can’t throw them with any effect.”

  Teysa hefted her crossbow up on her shoulder and looked over the edge of the wall. The two templars were on the northern face of Terror’s Lament. “There isn’t even anything out there…” The vast openness of the grassy plain was daunting, like an endless ocean filled with the unknown.

  Stratos carried a similar crossbow across his shoulders. He set the large weapon down against the stone parapet and peered out into the vastness. “What is everyone afraid of out there? What are we protecting the kingdom against?” Stratos put a hand on Teysa’s shoulder and pulled her back.

  “No sane person living behind these high walls should be afraid of anything. Talonrend is impenetrable. No army has ever broken through Terror’s Lament and no army ever will.” Teysa shook her head against the heat of the day and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. She could see the redness under Stratos’ curly beard and knew he must be burning.

  “It isn’t the people who are afraid,” she continued. Teysa drew her sword and held it to the back of her head. With one tug of the blade, she cut the majority of her hair off and tossed it to the ground outside the city. “The bloody prince is the problem. Herod is afraid of his own shadow without his brother here to protect him.”

  Teysa offered the sword to Stratos, indicating that he should cut his thick beard from his chin to ease the heat. With a look of terror on his face, Stratos refused the sword and backed away. “Oh no, not my beard.” He held his hands in a defensive posture in front of him. “Do you know how long it took me to grow this? I’m not crazy enough to cut it off just because of a little heat!”

  Teysa shrugged and sheathed the sword. She walked past Stratos, continuing her patrol with her armor in hand.

  The templar hesitated a moment before catching up to Teysa. Something caught his eye, something lurking just on the fringes of his peripheral vision. “Teysa! Did you see that?” He grabbed the crossbow and leveled it on the parapet, trying to discern what he had seen.

  “Oh, settle down, Stratos. Nothing is out there.” The confident woman kept walking and tugging at the leather jerkin for relief.

  Stratos leaned over the edge with his crossbow and looked directly down the glistening wall. “Teysa, something moved down at the base of the wall. Look at it, I can’t tell.” The panic in his voice brought Teysa back. She knew he wasn’t kidding.

  Her leather and mail armor was much more flexible than Stratos’ heavy plate and allowed her the necessary movement to more clearly see the base of the wall. “I don’t see anything, Stratos. You have heat stroke. Let’s find some water.”

  Teysa’s soft armor certainly afforded her mobility but it did nothing to stop the flying goblin arrow that ripped through her chest.

  “Teysa, no!” Stratos screamed, pulling her to the ground. He could see the blood-soaked feathers protruding less than an inch out of the woman’s body. With his other hand around her back, Stratos felt the tip of the arrow scrape against his gauntlet.

  Stratos slammed the visor of his helmet down over his eyes and breathed in heavily to calm his nerves. Offering a meager prayer to Vrysinoch, Stratos stole a glance over the parapet. Two goblins crouched at the foot of the wall, hidden in the tall grasses. One of them was holding a small wooden bow and grinning from ear to ear.

  Stratos dropped back to the stone and drew his sword. The other guards on the wall were too far away to hear his call. He gripped his sword tightly and stood up. Teysa was lying motionless. There wasn’t much blood, but he knew she was dead.

  With a grunt of rage, Stratos gripped the parapet and launched himself over the wall. The terrified goblins below shrieked in fear and one of them managed to scramble out of the way before the flailing ball of living steel landed. The unfortunate goblin holding the bow was crushed in an instant.

  YAEL PACED THE grounds in front of his soldiers. He had been waiting for the two scouts to return from the walls for hours. When Keegar, the surviving goblin from the scouting expedition, finally ran back into the camp, he was greeted with a harsh glare.

  “Where is the other scout?” Yael yelled. He knew before Keegar spoke what had happened. The only reason for one goblin to return alone was the death of the second goblin. Keegar cowered before Yael. He fell to his knees before the commander and recounted the story of his scouting mission.

  “The humans know that we are here. If any of the humans died, then we are no longer safe here. They will send their armies out against us. Thousands of humans will march into our camps! They will kill all of us!” Yael struck the scout and knocked him to the ground in his anger. Keegar’s nose broke under the weight of the blow.

  “She knew this would happen… She caused this to happen!” Yael wasn’t a stupid goblin. His fears were confirmed. Lady Scrapple had full control of the scouting goblins. She wanted the human army to come out from behind their high walls. The hundreds of goblins arrayed in the field before their commander were going to be used as fodder. For his minor rebellion against the hive mind, Yael’s forces had been condemned.

  “Keegar!” the commander called to the bloodied goblin. “Come with me. We need to make plans.” The scout fell into line behind Yael and followed him
back to his tent.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Yael explained when the two were alone. “Our entire block of soldiers is going to be used as fodder.”

  Keegar nodded but did not quite understand. “The Lady does what is best for the mountain. We serve her.”

  “Of course…” Yael said. “Keegar,” the commander shook his head, not knowing how to explain it all to the scout. “When you were at the wall… How did you get out of the way of the falling soldier?”

  “I jumped. I saw him coming and I jumped…” Keegar spoke slowly. It was obvious that he was trying to piece things together.

  “But your companion on the scouting mission, he did not have the same reaction?” Yael could feel the presence of Lady Scrapple invading his mind. She was like a slow poison tearing at his consciousness, taking more and more with every passing second.

  “We are far from the mountain, Keegar, farther than any of us have gone before. And we are numerous. More goblins are outside of the mountain than Lady Scrapple can control.” Yael gasped from the effort. Veins on his pale skull throbbed and pounded.

  Clutching the center tent pole for support, Yael managed to speak once more before he collapsed: “Don’t you see, Keegar? Our distance and numbers strain her abilities! We can be free! She can only control… us if we let her.”

  Keegar stood in front of the exhausted commander and was completely lost. A line of drool escaped his mouth and landed on Yael’s face. The goblin scout ducked his head and exited the tent, unsure of where he should go.

  ***

  FOUR GOBLIN EYES stared into the darkness of the cave. Nothing inside the cave moved. The soft trickle of water accompanied the endless scuffling of undead in the underground corridor.

  “What happened?” Vorst whispered. “Is he dead?” The small goblin held a sword in her hand.

  “I can’t tell. I think he is.” Gravlox was positioned just behind Vorst, using the smaller goblin as a shield against his mounting fears.

  “He just collapsed though. I didn’t see the winged one strike him. Maybe he’s alive.” Vorst’s voice seemed far away in the damp cavern. The music that so often wove itself into her high-pitched timbre was gone. That comforting quality was replaced by fear, something Gravlox wasn’t accustomed to hearing.

  “I’ve seen it happen in the mines. When one of my miners has worked for a long time, sometimes they will just fall down and die. It only happens in the ones that have been in the mine for many, many years though. I don’t know how to tell how old a human is.” Somehow, Gravlox found the courage to take a step towards the slumped figure.

  “I’m not positive, but this one doesn’t look old enough to die like that. Maybe he decided to sleep.” Vorst remained with her feet planted firmly on the ground as Gravlox continued his approach.

  “I still don’t understand why they do that,” he muttered, never taking his eyes from Gideon’s back.

  “We should kill him, just to make sure he is dead,” Vorst whispered. The man groaned then, but didn’t move.

  “He killed that winged thing we fought in the forest,” Gravlox said. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and gave Vorst a smile. “Maybe this one is our friend.”

  Vorst shook her head but she knew that Gravlox couldn’t see. The man let out another groan. It was weaker than the first, more of a whimper than anything.

  The goblin foreman reached a hand out toward the fallen warrior and gently touched his shoulder. Gideon attempted to roll but only managed to cough and half turn his head. A thin line of blood made its way down Gideon’s face and dripped onto the cavern floor.

  Immediately, Gravlox could sense the immense energy radiating from the paladin. “He is powerful,” the goblin said with astonishment, “but he is nearly dead.”

  Vorst was kneeling beside the paladin and inspecting his wounds. Her eyes darted all around the cavern. “Where is his left arm? Humans have two arms, just like us.”

  The foreman hadn’t even noticed the brutal wound. Gideon’s left arm ended in a short stump just inches from his shoulder. The skin was black like burnt ashes. Vorst picked up the sleeve of armor and set it down next to the paladin. The man attempted another groan but wasn’t successful.

  “Can you heal him, Grav?” Vorst was holding his hand and looking down at the battered man with sorrow in her eyes.

  “I’m not sure how I even did that…” Gravlox gripped the man’s ashen shoulder and closed his eyes. Not having any clue how to connect to the well of magic within himself, Gravlox concentrated on the feeling he got from accessing magic. Before he could enter into the clairvoyant state of spellcasting, Vorst kissed him and took him there herself.

  Consumed by the whirling riptides of magic within his body, Gravlox could feel the malevolent poison in the man’s body. The acid was eating through blood and flesh at an alarming rate. The foreman’s primal magic wove itself into the regenerative force of Gideon’s enchanted sword. Vrysinoch’s soft voice whispered through the cavern and echoed off the walls.

  The devilish poison fought back with wicked resolve. Gideon began to cough and wheeze, hacking up a stream of thick, black, congealed blood. The concerted efforts of Gravlox and Vrysinoch began to halt the progress of the poison and knit some of the broken tissue back together.

  Coughing, the paladin crawled to his knees. Nevidal was still magically bound to his hand, making it awkward for the man to position himself. The paladin couldn’t see in the dark like the two goblins but their eyes betrayed their presence. With all the strength he could muster, Gideon knocked the goblins aside and turned to face them.

  “My god,” the paladin stammered when he realized what had been touching him. With his back against the wall of the cave, Gideon swung Nevidal out in front of him. It was a feeble attack, one easily defeated by nothing more than Vorst’s outstretched hand. She grabbed the blade and meant to disarm the man but despite his weakness, the paladin did not let the weapon go. She could see the man’s fingers barely wrapped about the hilt of the hand-and-a-half sword. The sheer weight of the weapon alone should have dropped it to the stone but the stubborn blade didn’t even waver.

  With a high-pitched accent that grated against human ears and a halting knowledge of the human language, Vorst attempted to reason with the man. “Friend. We both friend.” Vorst pointed to herself and then to Gravlox and said both of their names. “Both friend.”

  The paladin backed as far as he could against the wall. He could barely make out the images of the two ‘friends’ in the darkness. “Goblins…” The paladin’s voice came out raspy and strained.

  Vorst nodded her head vigorously, mistaking the anger in Gideon’s voice for plain recognition. “Goblins!” she confirmed, pointing to her chest. “Gravlox,” she patted the foreman on the back. “Gravlox is shaman. He heals you. Stay still. You hurt. Gravlox is shaman, heals you.”

  Gideon nodded slowly. Still clutching the sword he could not drop, he awkwardly pointed to himself and said his name. To the goblins, his voice was deep and mysterious, full of darkness and potential evil.

  “My sword,” Gideon said, growing stronger. The holy magic was still coursing into him and regenerating his body. The only way to halt the enchantment would be to feed a soul to Nevidal. The clever paladin realized at once that the shaman’s magic had at least halted the devastating tide of poison within his blood. “I have to kill someone, to end the enchantment that makes me stronger.”

  Vorst understood the man’s words but not the concepts he espoused. Defensively, the female goblin backed away and placed a hand over Gravlox’s chest.

  Gideon waved his hand in front of him as best he could to calm the goblins. He had no intentions of killing either of them. “His magic, I feel it,” he said. He placed his hand over his heart and glanced down at the blackened stump where his left arm used to hang. “Thank you.”

  A long moment passed in the darkness between the trio. “You must kill…” Vorst responded. “Who must you kill?” She positioned herself
in front of her goblin lover, not knowing what would happen.

  “I didn’t mean you,” Gideon managed a smile. He could feel his body growing steadily stronger but he knew that he was a very long way from being whole again. “If I kill your shaman, his magic will leave me and I will die. I won’t risk that.” He winced as he spoke but didn’t hold back. “Friends,” he said, holding his sword over his chest and indicated with his chin toward Gravlox.

  “Find someone for to kill,” Vorst chuckled. She stood and pointed toward the corridor where endless ranks of the dead were marching toward Talonrend.

  “I almost forgot…” Gideon used the length of his mighty sword to lift himself off the ground. Gravlox tentatively moved toward the massive warrior who stood closer to eight feet tall than seven due to the marvelous enchantment.

  The three unlikely friends stood in the corridor and watched as entire families shambled down the tunnel. Some women even held little undead babies to their bosoms as they trudged onward. Gideon waited until an older man walked past and used his long sword to herd him into the larger cavern.

  The zombie appeared to be about forty. He had a ragged, half-torn beard hanging from his chin and wore a thick leather apron over a white shirt and matching pants. He was covered in dirt and grime and his feet had worn through his boots to reveal bloody toes and blisters. The man had been walking for quite some time in the damp tunnels beneath the surface.

  Completely mindless, the zombie flailed about in a meager attempt to scratch and bite the tall paladin. Gideon’s heavy boot crashed into the man’s maggot-ridden chest and caved it in. The zombie stumbled backward and landed on his back. With one quick swipe, the zombie’s head rolled away from its shoulders. The mighty paladin’s remaining shoulder bulged as layer upon layer of corded muscle reconstituted itself.

  Frustration overcame the man and he loosed a roar that shook the earth. A dozen more brutal cuts had the decomposing corpse scattered into piles of fetid flesh all about the cavern. “His soul was not with his body.” Gideon hung his head in defeat.