The Goblin Wars Part One

by Stuart Thaman

  Vorst grabbed at the paladin’s arm. “Poison still in flesh. You end enchantment, Gideon dies, yes?” The look in the man’s eyes told her that such a fate would be welcomed.

  “If I cannot cure the demon’s poison, ending the enchantment will kill me. If the shaman dies, the poison will kill me. If the poison is cured before I can take a soul, the enchantment will kill me.” Gideon kicked his discarded armor and spat on the ground. “I am condemned. The shaman’s magic prevents the corruption from taking me now, but my sword’s magic will overcome my body eventually. I can last for a few more days, a week at the most, before I cannot control it any longer. You should leave me here to die…”

  Using the goblin language of finger taps, Vorst translated everything the human said for Gravlox. The shaman nodded his head solemnly.

  “He is right, Vorst. We should abandon him. There are always more humans to take his place. One human is no loss.” Gravlox picked up the armor sleeve and rolled it in his hands. It was far too large to fit his scrawny arms but he put it in his pack nonetheless.

  “This man can help us, Grav! Look at the undead in that tunnel.” She forcefully turned him back to the corridor. “With a powerful warrior like this one, we can do something about that. The army here marches for the human city. Look at how many there are! They will kill everyone in that city without mercy.”

  “Isn’t that exactly why we came here?” Gravlox was cynical. “Yael ordered us to go to the necromancer who did this and salvage the goblin alliance with these monsters! Have you forgotten that, Vorst?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “Gravlox…. Listen to yourself. You are an outcast, exiled from our mountain home. Have you forgotten that?” She shook Gravlox forcefully and took a step back in disgust. “If the human kingdom falls to Lady Scrapple, what do you think she will do? Will she let us go?”

  Gravlox digested the words as he looked at Gideon’s ashy shoulder. “She will hunt us relentlessly…” He knew it was true. “As long as Lady Scrapple is alive, we will never be safe.”

  Vorst nodded. “Exactly. We must help the humans now. If they can defeat the armies at their doorstep, maybe they will help us defeat Lady Scrapple. We have to try.”

  “Humans will never help us. Look at us, Vorst. We are goblins. They hate us. Even this one tried to kill you while I was saving it.” He had doubt stamped all over his pale face. “I don’t know… Even if we can turn back the army of our kin, what will happen to us? Do we live with the humans? Will they take us in behind their walls to walk among their children?” Downtrodden, he couldn’t meet Vorst’s intense gaze. His mind searched desperately for answers that he knew he didn’t have.

  “We can figure that out after we kill Lady Scrapple and free the rest of the goblins,” Vorst said with a renewed strength in her melodic voice. “If we save this human, he will help us after it’s done.” The two goblins hugged each other for what felt like an eternity to Gideon, who was still standing awkwardly in the cavern. Vorst explained to the man what their plan was and he smiled to show his support.

  Using the rope to guide Gideon through the lightless tunnels, Gravlox and Vorst ran past the zombie horde. They went against the flow of undead flesh, seeking the source of the rampant corruption. Reikall was only a day’s run from the cavern where Taurnil fell but Gideon could not match the fevered pace of the goblins. His towering form was not fit for the cramped tunnels and he repeatedly bashed his head against the low hanging stone.

  After an hour of running, the man was too tired to go on. The stink of the animated corpses was stifling. Being not far under the surface, it didn’t take long for Gravlox to find a side passage that led to the surface. Gideon had to crawl on his chest, a difficult task with only one arm and sword in his right hand, but he made it. The three rested on the surface and were glad to be out of the horrid smell.

  “I think I can track the passage from above, on the surface,” Gideon told Vorst after he caught his breath. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and called upon the divine powers bestowed upon him as a paladin. A tiny ethereal eagle materialized on the tip of his sword and took flight. The small ball of sculpted magic landed softly on the man’s shoulder and he whispered a gentle incantation to it. Without hesitation, the glowing eagle took wing and glided just inches above the ground.

  “It worked,” he said with a voice that indicated his surprise. “The bird will show us the way. It can sense the magic that animated the undead and can track them for us. We can stay on the surface for now.” Gideon’s powerful enchantment still coursed through his veins and enlarged his stature. He stood nearly ten feet tall and towered above the diminutive goblins like the walls of Talonrend hovering high over a beggar slumped against the base of the stone. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  THE NEWLY COMMISSIONED Templars of Peace were arrayed outside of Terror’s Lament. One thousand men, fully clad in steel plate, stood perfectly still in front of the massive eastern gate to the city. They had been organized into ten centuries and every single soldier was outfitted with masterwork equipment from Master Brenning’s armory. Even though the grizzled old smith was nowhere to be seen in the city, his smiths had worked tirelessly for the past few days to outfit the new military campaign.

  Supporting each century of soldiers was a unit of twenty-five mounted cavalry called an alaris. The cavalry were designed for maximum effectiveness on the open plains that surrounded the walls of Talonrend. Some of the mounted soldiers carried lances but most of the warriors in each alaris wielded a heavy two-headed flail and a kite shield emblazoned with the symbol of Vrysinoch.

  The Templars of Peace were supported by the common militia that was summoned from the outlying villages along the Clawflow and the city’s own residents. Some of the men and women in the militia were volunteers but the majority of the force was comprised of draftees. Lacking the training required for vigorous melee combat in the open fields, the soldiers of the militia were typically taught how to fire a bow or crossbow as part of a volley. Primarily, the militia was used to man Terror’s Lament, but pockets of draftees had been placed with crossbows all around the base of the wall. It was impossible to count every individual, but roughly three thousand villagers had answered the call to serve their prince. Most of the soldier’s families had come as well, fearing that an attack would come from east of the Clawflow and destroy their homes. The city was packed with civilians. Even the royal audience hall had been set up as a shelter for the refugees. Fortunately, most of the families had also brought large stores of food and other essential goods with them so a siege upon the city wouldn’t mean the death of the kingdom.

  By the time the Templars of Peace had been outfitted with their equipment, little had remained in the royal armories for the militia to use. Farmers and other tradesmen had brought their own makeshift weapons from the villages. Everything from pitchforks to crude swords and simple brass knuckles could be seen among the commoners. The people not fortunate enough to have received a bow or crossbow were exclusively stationed as reserves, lying in wait just inside the first wall of Terror’s Lament. If any section of the wall fell or if the gate itself was destroyed, the militia would be there to fill the hole and slow the encroaching army enough for an alaris or a century to be deployed to that area. Prince Herod understood that the militia behind the wall wouldn’t last long if they were engaged, but that’s exactly why they were stationed behind the wall.

  The regal prince sat atop a magnificent warhorse in front of the gate. He was clad in golden armor fit for a god. The sun reflected so brightly off of his shield that even the horses in the nearest alaris turned their heads. Maelstrom and Regret were strapped to his hips and a heavy lance was suspended in a horizontal sheath just below his right stirrup. The golden shield was one that few soldiers recognized; until that morning, it had hung above the bed of King Lucius. Herod had the holy seal of Vrysinoch stripped from the metal and the whole device had been coated in solid gold. It was highly impractical, Herod
knew, but he didn’t intend to use it.

  “Mighty soldiers of Talonrend! Defenders of civilization and peace!” Herod’s voice boomed out over the army, amplified by the wall at his back. “The songs of war have brought you all here, but it is not a war we have chosen.” The prince scanned the soldiers in front of him to gauge their reactions but none of them made a move. “We are engaged in a great defensive war, one that will be remembered for millennia! The high walls of Talonrend will be tested. The resolve of this army will be tested. The strength in our arms and the courage in our hearts will be tested. Talonrend will prevail!” A chorus of enthusiastic cheers rose up before him.

  “We did not choose this war and we are not obligated to fight it. But keep this in mind: If you cast aside your weapons today, your families will be slaughtered tomorrow. If you grow tired of fighting and turn back, the men around you will die. We do not fight for any new lands or wealth or resources, we fight to hold onto everything we already have. A great army has amassed against us and our very lives are at stake.” The soldiers pounded their weapons against the ground and sent a tremendous thunder into the air.

  “The great walls of this city have never been breached!” More cheers erupted all around the soldiers but most of them were from the militia. The veteran soldiers knew the truth of the matter; the walls had never been breached because they had never been attacked. “These walls will not be breached today! They will not be breached tomorrow! They will stand for a thousand years as a testament to your courage!” Again, it was the drafted soldiers who celebrated with the most fervor.

  “Some five hundred goblins have been seen in the north. A handful of goblins have been seen in the east, just past the Clawflow. They will need ten times that number if the filthy goblins expect to kill even a single citizen of Talonrend!” That was a claim the entire army could support. Vigorous cheers and salutations rang out through the city and sent adrenaline into the hearts of many.

  “We do not know what else hides in the darkness of the forest, waiting to attack alongside the goblins like cowards.” Images of fire breathing dragons soared through the prince’s mind. “Whatever foes might show themselves on the field of battle will die on the field of battle!” Herod’s warhorse reared up and kicked the air, bringing more shouts from the soldiers.Herod hefted the golden shield in both hands above his head and displayed it to the army. “As many of you know, my dear friend Master Brenning has gone missing. This shield used to belong to my brother.” The soldiers were captivated by the golden relic and rendered silent by its magnificence. “Whoever has the good fortune to find Master Brenning or to bring me the head of his killer will claim this shield as their prize!” Roars broke the silence and forced Herod to give the army a minute to calm down before continuing. “My brother is dead. I accept that. His shield represents the monarchy, a prize waiting to be claimed by a hero. I have no children and have decided against producing any. Whoever claims this shield will be my heir and the heir to Talonrend!” The cheers that followed that proclamation were deafening. The army was hungry for glory and honor, things they had never had the chance to earn.

  A FEW MILES to the north of the gathered army, Yael and Keegar strapped on their armor and prepared to move. The five hundred goblins formerly under Yael’s direction had been completely overcome by Lady Scrapple’s will. The goblin commander had proved, to himself at least, that the Mistress of the Mountain was not omnipotent. Her powers had a limit and with the distance at which the goblins had been deployed, her limits were being reached.

  Yael and Keegar watched helplessly as the five hundred goblins on the plain readied themselves for the incoming war. They were only lightly armed and armored. Most of the goblins wore crude leather shirts and a few of them had small wooden bucklers attached to their forearms. To make up for their short reach against the taller humans, almost all of the goblins wielded spears or javelins.

  The army began to march south in unison and used the tall grasses to hide their movements as best they could. The five blocks of drones waited at the edge of the plain with their weapons drawn. With such pale skin, the tall grasses north of Talonrend concealed the army quite well. The sun glinting off the human’s armor made Terror’s Lament appear on fire.

  THE CITY WAS calm and peaceful. Not a single person could be seen walking down the streets or standing among the smoldering ruins. A great fire had ravaged the once vibrant city and, judging by the heat still emanating from many of the collapsed buildings, Gideon could tell that the city had died recently. The three companions had made it to Reikall as the sun began to set a day after they left the caves. It was becoming painfully obvious that Nevidal’s enchantment was going to kill the powerful man. By the time he looked upon the savagery of the ruined city, he was a giant. At almost twelve feet tall, the paladin had to stoop just to get through the city’s front gate.

  Everywhere they went nothing but death and suffering greeted them. It was a place devoid of not only life, but lacking hope as well. Gideon’s astral bird still guided the group but it moved noticeably slower, as if Vrysinoch was saddened as well. Reikall was a city built from large squares of cut marble stacked on top of one another to form intimidating and beautiful structures. The sullen atmosphere didn’t fit the architecture.

  “This place is huge,” Gravlox remarked, looking up at a colossal building that sported four white pillars and held what was left of the roof. One of the pillars had tumbled to the ground and huge chunks of soot-stained marble blocked the road. The incorporeal eagle floated gently through the fallen pillar with ease but the goblins were not even half as tall as the debris. Without as much as a grunt, Gideon wrapped his bulging right arm around the corner of the stone and pushed with his monstrous legs. The chunk of marble pillar moved as easily as if it had been a feather.

  Vorst pointed to an area behind much smaller ruined building to the left of the road. “We could go around…” she said, but they were already following the bird unhindered once again. Gideon simply looked at her with sadness and shrugged.

  They continued on through the smoldering ashes of Reikall until the bird glided to a stop on the edge of a moss-covered well at the center of a market square. Merchant stalls lined the border of the clearing and the whole place stank of death. Down a wide boulevard flanked by dead trees to the east of the market, one structure dominated everything. Reikall’s royal castle was a larger building than anything the group had ever seen before. Turrets and spires wearing jewelry of stained glass clawed their way above the smoke and ashes to touch the sky. Only one small section of the keep had been destroyed. A square tower near the gatehouse and drawbridge had tumbled into the castle’s moat. Like Castle Talon, the land around the royal residence had been built up to give the castle an even better view. Where there had once been a gentle embankment of rolling green grass was nothing but black dirt. Not even weeds grew along the banks of the moats. Everything was dead.

  The eagle chirped once and dove down the well before Gideon could get to it. “What do we do?” Vorst asked. She tapped out the question in the goblin language on Gravlox’s hand so he could follow.

  “I guess we go down too,” Gideon said as he peered into the well.

  “Will he fit?” Gravlox asked skeptically. The huge man’s broad shoulders were at least six feet wide but he did only have a single arm to worry about. The paladin understood the concern before Vorst translated the question to him. He shook his head and walked to the other side of the market, toward the castle.

  The trees that had once beautified the approach to Reikall’s keep were tall and slender. Although their broad leaves had fallen to the ground and withered some time before Gideon ever laid eyes upon them, he still found the sight captivating. The paladin had lived his entire youth in a poor farming village where every structure and plant served a function. His adulthood was spent in the Talonrend arena and a smoky blacksmith’s shop. Even Castle Talon, for all of its impressive size, was not particularly beautiful to the eye. Standing be
fore the long boulevard and gazing up at the marble castle, Gideon wished he had been born in Reikall.

  The giant leaned against one of the dead trees and let out a long sigh. The tower where the priests of Vrysinoch lived in Talonrend was aesthetically pleasing beyond question, but to Gideon, it represented a place of oppression. He had trained there for a decade alongside the other paladins, but he was never allowed to be an individual. All aspects of a paladin’s life were meant to be for the good of the whole with no concern for the self. At first, it made sense to him. When fighting as a cohesive unit there was no room for personal issues or desires. That very oppression led Gideon to leave the tower at the end of his training. Somewhere deep inside his soul, the man wanted desperately to worry about just himself.

  The slender trees and the wide open road gave him that. The boulevard and the castle were works of art meant to be admired. The paladin felt that he would love to live in a place like Reikall. Gideon could hear the small goblins shuffling about nervously behind him. He sighed, turned, and left his longing behind.

  “What are we going to do?” Vorst asked. She had to strain her neck to look the giant in the eyes as she spoke. Gideon wrapped his arm, still tightly grasping Nevidal, around the tall tree he had been leaning against and ripped it from the earth. Sullenly, he marched to the well and bade the goblins grab the top of withered plant. With frightening ease, the paladin gently lowered Gravlox and Vorst to the bottom of the well where the glowing bird awaited them. The eagle was perched between two iron bars that were part of a larger grate set into the wall of the well. Without much effort, the skinny goblins slid through the bars into the passageway beyond.

  The sewer channel was large enough to allow them both to stand and walk side by side. Letting loose an occasional screech, the bird continued to flap its silent wings and guide the pair along the underbelly of the city.