by Pirateaba
“No—at least, I didn’t try to intentionally. But I must have used some, I guess. My arm…I didn’t think the bones could still move.”
The yellow bones didn’t so much as twitch. Erin looked at Ceria’s hand uncertainly.
“Is is…because you know magic? Or maybe Pisces did something to it…?”
“Pisces can’t take control of a living body part. Or even one attached to a living one.”
Ceria shook her head.
“Then is it because you’re a mage?”
“No. It must be because I’m half-Elf.”
“Half-Elves are immortal?”
“Hardly.”
Erin felt Ceria chuckle.
“No, we’re just as mortal as any other species, although we live longer. But our bodies are closer to magic in nature. We can do…things that other species can’t. This must be one of them. It also explains why my hand is in one piece even though the flesh is gone.”
That was odd, now that Erin thought about it. She looked hesitantly at Ceria’s hand and chanced a question.
“How—did you lose it? Was it fighting Skinner?”
“Not quite.”
Ceira’s mouth twisted in self-derision.
“I was too frightened to fight him. I couldn’t even raise my wand. No, Yvlon and some adventurers were trying to get out and there were a bunch of undead in the way. I used a spell and the backlash froze my hand off.”
“A spell can do that?”
“Some can. It was bad magic, the spell I used.”
“But you saved them. That’s not bad magic. Or—was it like necromancy? Pisces does that, and he’s not bad. Just annoying.”
Ceria laughed again. Erin’s attempts to reassure her seemed to be cheering her ever so slightly.
“No—I mean, it was badly done. I was trying to cast [Glacial Spear]. It’s an advanced form of [Ice Spike], but I failed.”
“Oh?”
Erin didn’t get it.
“But you cast the spell.”
“Incorrectly. The way I did it, I just poured magic into an oversized [Ice Spike] spell. I used all my remaining mana up in one go, which was a stupid idea.”
“Why’s that? Isn’t it good to do that? I mean, if you could use a really big spell, why not do that all the time?”
Ceria chuckled now, and Erin was glad her stupid questions were making the half-Elf feel better. They sat together in the bed as Ceria’s breathing finally calmed down.
“If mages could use up all their magic in a single spell we’d be even more dangerous than we are. Imagine an army of mages that could devastate an army in a moment. No; spells are a lot more complex than that.”
“How so?”
Erin had resigned herself to never being a mage, but she was intensely curious about magic all the same. Ceria explained. It seemed to be easier for her to lecture than think about anything else.
“There’s a limit to how much mana we can infuse into a spell. Think of a spell as a…container. The good ones can hold a lot of magic and require a lot to activate. But a bad spell can’t handle that much magic. You can overcharge any spell in theory if you have enough magic, but too much and…”
She gestured to her hand.
“But that’s the odd thing. You said I moved it. And I cast magic with it. I shouldn’t be able to cast [Ice Spike] without injuring myself. Not without a wand. But this—”
She tried to flex her skeletal hand, Erin saw. But though Ceria’s face twisted with pain, the bony fingers didn’t so much as move.
“There’s something here. If I can still use magic with two hands and not just one, maybe…”
Erin didn’t like that train of thought. It sounded too active, and not nearly like the restful, peaceful thoughts she wanted Ceria to have. But then someone shouted outside and Erin felt Ceria tense up again.
“Erin! Ceria!”
It was a familiar voice, and it came from just outside. Erin heard furious pounding at the door, and then she heard someone throw it open. She’d forgotten to lock the door! Again!
Whoever was downstairs pounded into the kitchen first, and then came up the stairs two at a time. Erin heard someone running down the hallway, and then Olesm appeared in the doorway.
“Miss Erin! Ceria! You won’t believe what I—oh.”
Olesm paused awkwardly in the doorway. Erin was still in her pajama clothes and semi-decent, but Ceria preferred to sleep only in her underwear. She pulled the sheets up around her chest and Olesm turned away, blushing.
“Blight and rot Olesm, you’ve seen me naked before. And bleeding. Stop blushing and tell us what’s wrong? Is it more undead?”
Olesm turned and shook his head.
“No. Maybe? It’s something we found in the city! You see, after the Watch cleared out the ruins, Zevara was really worried more undead might appear, so she got the Council to find where we keep our histories. Well, we had to dig back to the oldest archives in some dusty house, but we found something about the ruins!”
“What?”
Olesm’s eyes were wide with excitement. He gestured, trying to make sense while words spilled over each other.
“They found a map. It shows the ruins, as well as the locations of other buildings underground. Apparently, the ruins we found was a tomb, and Skinner was assigned to guard it.”
Ceria’s fists—both of them—clenched in the sheets.
“So he wasn’t just a monster that found his way in there. What else?”
Olesm paused.
“It says he was one of the protectors of the tombs. But that was only a building for commoners—but it’s the rest that’s really serious. You—you might want to sit down.”
Ceria snapped at Olesm.
“We are sitting! Spit it out!”
Olesm took a deep breath, and when he spoke his voice only trembled slightly.
“The tombs are only a small part of the ruins. There are more. Underground. They’re all over the place, but that’s not the big thing. In the references, we found a passage we could read. It lists the titles of those placed in the ruins to guard them forever. And he’s there too. Skinner. Flesh Worm. Lesser Guardian of the Crypts.”
2.00 G
Rags wondered if today was the day she would die. It seemed like she asked herself that question every day. But never did she wonder if she was being paranoid. Because someday she would die. The only question was: was it now?
The young Goblin didn’t know. She only knew that if her death was today, was now, she’d go down fighting. That was how Goblins lived and died. Her blood sang in her veins, and she could hear nothing over the pounding of her heart.
She stood at the top of a snowy slope, staring down. Her quarry was below her. The Rock Crab slowly picked its way across the wintery landscape, testing the ground with a segmented leg before moving forwards.
It hadn’t noticed the sixty Goblins on the hill yet. That was the crab’s first and final mistake. Rags looked around. Her tribe of Goblins waited, crouched and holding their weapons in their small hands. She knew their hearts had to be pounding just as hard as hers was.
It was time. Rags unsheathed her sword. The bright bronze blade shone in the light from the grey skies overhead. Unlike the weapons of the Goblins around her, Rag’s weapon was new. It shone; she polished it every day. It was a symbol, but more importantly, it was sharp.
Rags raised the sword and the Goblins around her tensed. She screamed and her tribe surged down the snowy banks. The Rock Crab paused and began to slowly turn towards the horde of Goblins.
It was massive. For a Goblin, the Rock Crab was nothing less than a giant capable of crushing them with one of its claws. It did so now, seizing one of the Goblins running next to Rags and crunching the Goblin without any effort.
But for all a Rock Crab was terribly huge, and for all its armored shell repelled any attacks, it had one weakness. It was alone, and it couldn’t attack things inside of its own shell.
Rags slid as she dr
ew within five feet of the Rock Crab. A pincer as large as she was grazed the top of her head and then she was sliding underneath the Rock Crab’s shell. She scrambled to her feet, trying to avoid the countless pointed legs as they stabbed into the snowy ground around her.
Everything was confusion. Rags sensed her Goblins running towards the crab, screaming in terror and fury. Their high-pitched shouts distracted the Rock Crab even more as it twisted around, trying to keep the Goblins at bay.
But Rags and a group of Goblins were already inside the shell. Rags raised her sword and stabbed up. She didn’t have to aim; the crab filled the air around her.
Her sharp blade punctured and cracked the carapace above her. Rags felt some blue liquid splashing down on her face and sensed other Goblins bashing at the Rock Crab’s legs, crawling up his body to bash at him from all sides.
The Rock Crab clicked, a noise that was nearly deafening in the confines of his shell. Then, suddenly, the world went dark.
Rags had no idea what was happening, until she realized the Rock Crab had lowered itself to the ground to prevent other Goblins entering. She heard a Goblin outside screaming as the rocky shell caught him in the midriff and crushed him to death.
Something moved in the darkness. Goblins had good night vision, and even in the shell some light still got in from outside. Rags saw a pincer move. The Rock Crab was trying to kill all the Goblins who’d made it in his shell.
Rags raised her blade and stabbed up again. The Rock Crab clicked in distress and threw itself against its shell, trying to crush her. But the shortsword was buried in its body now, and Rags hung on for dear life. She twisted the blade, trying to make the crab bleed. Blood spattered her body and arms.
The Rock Crab had made its second mistake. It had trapped the Goblins inside with it, true. It had even kept the Goblins outside from hurting it. But it had put the Goblins trapped with it against a wall. Either they killed it, or it killed them.
The Goblins inside the shell raised their weapons. Their crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness. The Rock Crab couldn’t see much, but even its pathetic eyes could see the glowing eyes in the darkness. It clicked once and raised its claws.
—-
When the rest of Rags’ tribe finally managed to worm their way underneath the shell by digging through the snow and dirt, it was already over. Rags sat in a pool of shell, guts, and blood, chewing on a piece of crab meat.
Goblins lay around her, some in parts, others just lying down because they were tired. They were all eating—although some were drinking the Rock Crab’s blood too. The inside of the shell was a scene of carnage, but to the Goblins it just looked like a buffet.
The rest of Rags’ tribe wanted to start devouring the Rock Crab as well, but Rags barked an order and they stopped. Instead, she had them lift the shell off the crab’s corpse. It was a lot of work, but the forty-some Goblins remaining could do it if they worked together. The shell crashed to the ground, taking an unlucky Goblin’s toe with it as the Goblins shoved it off the former occupant.
Now it was time to feast. Rags let her tribe begin hacking apart the crab as she sat in the snow and munched. The meat was bitter and tough, but it was filling and it was all a starving Goblin could dream of.
As she ate, Rags thought. This was a unique hobby among Goblins, but she was not a normal Goblin. Besides, she was also chief of this tribe. To be more accurate Rags was Chieftain of the Flooded Waters Tribe of Goblins who lived and died in the area around Liscor. She had responsibilities.
Now, how many goblins had died this time? Rags didn’t have a complete count of the Goblins in her tribe because they came and died so quickly, but she had close to sixty this morning. Now, she had closer to forty. Possibly forty-five.
They’d lost fifteen Goblins killing the Rock Crab. That wasn’t bad. It might have been terrible for any group of soldiers, people, or any other species in general, but Goblins were used to slaughter, mainly on their side.
Normally it took around twenty lives to bring down one of the gigantic Rock Crabs. The exchange wasn’t good, but it meant life for at least another week for a Goblin tribe. That was considered acceptable.
But there was another aspect to the numbers. Rags eyed the dead mixed with the crab parts and wondered how many were young, or female. She had only a dozen experienced warriors, and she’d hate to lose any of them.
That was another thing about Goblins. They fought together. Women, children—there was no difference. Goblins fought or died as one. There was no place to put the young.
If they died, they all died together. It was better than dying alone and starving.
True, the pregnant females and children generally stayed at the back, but their tribe didn’t have the numbers to hold their home and hunt Rock Crabs at the same time. Rags shook her head as she stared at a small head lying in a pool of congealed blood.
It was another day in the Floodplains of Liscor. She hadn’t died yet, but there was time. There was always time to die.
The Rock Crab sated even the hungriest Goblins after a while. Rather than leave the precious meat behind, Rags ordered the bulk of her tribe to take everything they could and bring it back to their home. In this case, it was a small cave they’d taken from the bears hibernating there.
Now, that had been a fight. Rock Crabs were one thing. They were terrifying behemoths of the plains, but they were slow. Bears on the other hand could catch a running Goblin and tear them to shreds.
Rags had led that encounter as well. She’d had her Goblins loosing arrows and throwing rocks at the bears and keep them at bay while she burned them from afar. She knew only three spells, but one of them was [Firefly]. It was a spell designed to attack from afar, and ever since Rags had learned it, her Goblins had been able to take on far stronger enemies than before.
As the majority of her tribe left, Rags barked an order and eight of her best warriors formed up around her. None of them were badly injured from killing the Rock Crab, and they all had the best weapons in her tribe.
Rusty swords, a sharp dagger, a club, and a hatchet. That was the might of Goblins, and compared to them Rags was a knight in armor with her small buckler and short sword. None of the Goblins wore armor outside of some leather and cloth; it slowed them down too much in case they needed to run away.
Now, where to? Rags’ priority for the day had been killing the Rock Crab. Ever since Winter had arrived, her tribe had been starving to death. They’d waited until this Rock Crab was far away from its friends before attacking. Now that they were full, Rags could finally think about other things.
First things first. Rags set off across the snowy landscape, her warriors ranging out around her. They knew where she was going. It was the first place Rags ever went when she wasn’t busy keeping her tribe alive.
The inn.
To the Goblins, The Wandering Inn wasn’t just a place to eat. No, for them it was closer to heaven. It was a miraculous place where they were safe from all dangers, had food to eat, and best of all in Rags’ opinion, she could play chess.
Chess. Rags loved chess. It was something so completely unlike anything else she’d ever experienced in life that even now after hundreds of games it still fascinated her. Chess wasn’t something you did that was just physical, like eating or crapping or killing. It was a game you played on the board, and also in your head.
It was wonderful. And it had given Rags an even greater gift, which was the [Tactician] class. She was looking forwards to playing. Today would be the day she finally beat Erin Solstice at a game. She just knew it.
Rags crested a ridge and stopped still. The inn was gone. No—not completely gone, but—
Destroyed. Rags stared at the broken windows, the collapsed part of the roof and of course, the walls that no longer existed. She could stare straight into part of the kitchen from her spot on the hill. Something massive had taken a chunk out of the inn. It was gone.
For a full second Rags stared in shock at the inn. Then she began t
o think. Goblins moved past shock and confusion fast or they died. So Rags quickly noticed that the inn might be destroyed, but its owner was still alive.
Erin Solstice, human, proprietor of The Wandering Inn, and The Destroyer as she had been named by the Goblins, stood around talking with several large black insects and two tall lizards as more Antinium moved around her.
What were they doing? They were…dismantling the inn? Rags saw a Worker pry a broken piece of timber off the inn and walk down the hill. They were going somewhere else with it.
And not just pieces of the inn. Some of Rags’ warriors murmured as a group of eight Workers lifted a section of wall and trotted down the slope with it held between them. They were indeed taking apart the inn, and it seemed to Rags that they were intending to build it somewhere else.
Curious. Rags analyzed the situation as only she could do. She was smart. Every Goblin knew it. That was why they’d accepted her as Chief.
So let’s see. The inn had been in one place when Rags had seen it yesterday. But clearly something had happened. The inn was destroyed—possibly by a monster or something else, and Erin had gotten the Antinium to fix it. Only, they’d decided to build it somewhere else.
Even as Rags came to that logical conclusion, another of her warriors came up to her and reported that more Antinium were making their way across the plains.
It was clear that Rags wouldn’t get to play chess today, so, intrigued, she ordered the other Goblin to bring her to the site of the other Antinium.
Goblins could move fast when they wanted to. It was practically their only advantageous feature, if you didn’t count their size. So Rags and her small posse found the Drake, Klbkch, Ceria, and the twenty-odd Workers shortly after the group had reached the site of the Boom Tree forest.
Rags heard her Goblins murmur as they crept closer to the Working Antinium, supervised by the Drake, Ceria, and Klbkch.
The Antinium were moving like machines, systematically stripping each tree of bark before felling them with axes. They had everything Rags dreamed of in an army. They would never break or flee, and they moved together flawlessly.