by Pirateaba
A Goblin comes at me. I kick him, and look wildly around.
“Mrsha!”
She’s hiding in the snow again. She never made it within the protective line of adults, and Goblins and Gnolls are struggling around her, nearly trampling the small girl.
I push towards her. Goblins in my way, Gnolls too. Someone stabs me in the side and I feel the pain and punch. They move away, and I stumble towards Mrsha.
“Here.”
I grab her, and she clings to me. I turn to run, to find safety, but there’s none to be found. Everyone is fighting. And the Stone Spears are dying.
A Goblin [Shaman] blasts the Gnoll Shaman of the Stone Spears tribe apart with some magic. And then I see his body rise, and I realize what’s happening.
The dead. Not all the Goblins are dead, and some of the Gnolls are beginning to fight against their kind. This Goblin army is raising the dead. The Goblin Lord is another [Necromancer].
And now Zel’s army is being forced back. He is still fighting his way towards the Goblin Lord, but his charge is faltering, and fewer people are at his back. If he doesn’t retreat, he’ll be cut off. But if he kills the Goblin Lord—
Either way, we die. I look up again as Mrsha holds me and sobs into my clothes.
“Help us.”
The faeries stare down. One speaks, and it’s a whisper in my ears despite the screaming and clash of weapons around me.
“We have. Would ye ask us a second time? Do you know what the fates will ask?”
“Please!”
“There are rules.”
“We will die.”
I look at them, and see the faeries nod.
“Yes.”
“Help us. I beg you.”
“There are rules.”
Goblins around me. I spread my arms. One last try.
“Are the fey slaves, or are you free? Help me! I am Ryoka Dawning Griffen, and I offer everything! Change fate. Save us.”
Someone puts a hand on my shoulder. I look around, and see Urksh. He clutches his stomach, and Mrsha stares in horror as he holds his guts in place. The Gnoll looks up towards the faeries, hovering high overhead.
“We offer everything.”
The world goes silent. I see the faeries overhead. I see Urksh, feel his paw on my shoulder tighten once, and then fall as a Goblin stabs him from behind. I see Mrsha screaming, and a Hob raise his club. I move to block him, and the world freezes.
—-
Zel ran, cutting Goblins apart, trying to force his way through their ranks towards the Goblin Lord. There were only a few ranks left until he ran into the Goblin Lord’s personal guard. He saw the strange Goblin staring at him, eyes pale and unearthly. He was surrounded by Hobs, but Zel knew he could kill the Goblin if only—
He cut left with a claw, and a Goblin fell back, throat opened to the air. Zel threw another Goblin aside, and saw only one thing row of Goblins ahead of him. They were pale. And dead.
“Undead Goblins?”
They didn’t seem strong. Zel hesitated. His [Dangersense] was going off nonstop, but he could see the Goblin Lord waiting for him. He clenched his fist, and felt a presence at his side.
“Shivertail.”
Ilvriss was injured. Even his magical armor and the weapon Zel had restored to him hadn’t saved him. Zel was hurt too, cut in many places despite his defensive Skills and armor. The two Drakes stared at the Goblin Lord as the leader of the Goblins watched them silently.
“We have to end this now, Ilvriss.”
“Agreed. The world needs no more Goblin Kings”.
They prepared to charge, but then Zel heard a sound and felt the chill. He turned.
Part of the battlefield had turned to ice. No—not just the battlefield. Goblins stood frozen in place in a huge circle around a group of Gnolls. The tribe he’d seen fleeing. They were cut down, only a few adults standing. And while the Goblins around them had died, more were closing in.
And there were children among them. Zel saw another adult go down as she tried to shield two cubs. The Goblins were trying to hack them apart, and his army was too busy fighting the other Goblins to see.
“Shivertail!”
Ilvriss was gripping his sword, and Zel could see the Goblins around him forming up. He would only get this once chance. But the children—
“Ilvriss. That Gnoll tribe is defenseless. Retreat.”
The Lord of the Wall gaped at him.
“Are you mad? We’ll never get another chance!”
“Retreat! They’ll all be wiped out if we don’t push them back!”
Zel turned, and yanked Ilvriss back. The other Drake fought him, snarling, and destiny changed.
One of the undead Goblins had been advancing on the two Drakes. If they had been closer—
The dead Goblin exploded. Zel and Ilvriss were caught on the edge of the blast, and they were thrown backwards, through the air. Only his armor and skills kept Zel intact as he crashed into the ground. He heard ringing in his ears, and sat up.
A huge crater was all that remained of where the undead Goblin had been. But Zel saw another one walking slowly through the empty zone, towards his soldiers. Living Goblins scrambled out of its way, and Zel found the breath to bellow.
“Retreat!”
His soldiers heard his voice. Zel surged upwards and grabbed Ilvriss, who was crawling around, looking for his sword. He forced the Drake up, and they ran backwards.
Towards the Gnoll tribe. They were all dying. Children, adults—Zel howled as he saw a Gnoll cub being cut down, but he slew the Hob and covered the rest of the children as his army ran to guard them. But they were all retreating now, in face of the overwhelming Goblin numbers. The Hobs had formed up, and a hundred of them were leading a charge. Even experienced soldiers fell before their blades.
Zel seized a child, and saw his soldiers saving the rest. The adults were dead. They lay where they had fallen, teeth bared, bodies filled with arrows, hacked apart. A few stood, undead, now slaves in death to another master.
Something grabbed Zel’s foot as he turned to go. He looked down, ready to kill, and saw an old Gnoll, gripping his leg. The Gnoll mouthed something, and Zel bent to listen. But there was too much noise, and the Gnoll died, half-smiling.
Zel straightened, and looked around. His army and Ilvriss’s forces were running now, the rearguard putting up a defensive line. He would join them. His skills would allow his army to retreat, but the Goblin Lord’s army was unstoppable. He stared at the Goblin Lord and felt those terrible eyes on his.
And then Zel saw a blur of movement. Someone was running, running past the Goblins. A Human girl ran, surrounded by blue lights. She was holding something in her arms. A small, struggling shape. A Gnoll.
She ran and the few Goblins who tried to pursue her froze in place. Zel watched the Human go and saluted her once with one claw.
For luck. He looked back at the Goblin army closing on them and saw only death. Death, those who commanded death, and an army large enough to threaten the continent.
They had to be stopped. But Zel could not do it here. So he retreated, tasting defeat in his mouth as the Goblin Lord stared at the [General]’s retreating back.
And smiled.
—-
Ryoka ran. She ran through the ranks of Goblins, in a world of her own. Cold air blew around her, and the faeries flew in front of her, leading her to safety.
They had done something. Each step Ryoka took felt like ten. She flew across the battlefield, like wind, snow rushing past her face. She was filled with magic.
But her heart was empty and broken.
A Gnoll struggled in Ryoka’s arms. A small shape, a small child cried out as Ryoka left her tribe behind. Two innocent eyes watched as adults and children fell, dying. She cried out, but Ryoka didn’t listen. The Human ran on, until the last lights of the Goblin army were far behind them.
At last, the faeries stopped, and Ryoka slowed, coming to a stop in knee-deep snow. She wavered, her h
ead and body completely empty.
A faerie flew down in front of Ryoka, face expressionless. But there was sadness in her eyes, and Ryoka knew without asking what the cost had been.
“Can you…really see fate?”
Was it all pointless? Was it all preordained? The faerie just looked at Ryoka. Just looked.
“If there is destiny, I defy it. I will not bow to fate.”
They were meaningless words. If there was fate, there was no way she could fight against it. But she had to believe. Tears fell from Ryoka’s eyes. Tears that mixed with the blood on her body. Ryoka lifted her right hand and stared at the two stumps.
A small price to pay. Not enough, though.
Urksh. Ryoka bent down and put Mrsha in the snow. The Gnoll child looked up at Ryoka, and the Human blinked.
“Oh. Your fur.”
At some point in that endless run, something had happened. Mrsha’s brown fur had changed. From the colorful forest brown, it had become pure white, as white as snow. Blood and grime darkened the child’s face, but it was not hers.
“I’m so sorry.”
The Gnoll child said not a word. Her eyes were filled with tears. Ryoka stared at Mrsha’s fur, and then looked at the faeries. She gazed at the faerie in front of her, and saw immortal eyes. Tired eyes. A reflection.
“Next time I will save them all. Or die trying.”
Ryoka thought she said the words. She blinked, and then collapsed, falling face-first into the snow.
Mrsha looked at the fallen Human and slowly reached out to shake her. Ryoka didn’t move.
Overhead, the faeries exchanged a look. They nodded, and began to spin around in a wide circle overhead. Mrsha stared upwards as the snow falling from overhead stopped. And then the air began to warm.
All around Ryoka and the Gnoll, the snow began to melt. The child stared around, wild-eyed as grass and flowers began to grow upwards, creating a soft bed of new life around the two. The air was warm, and for a second, the frozen crystal of the Frost Faeries’ skin changed, and grew brighter. The colors of spring ran through their bodies, bright and green, the color of grass and sunlight and clear blue skies.
But then the moment was past, and the faeries were ice and winter again. They hovered in the sky, above the small sanctuary they had formed. Ryoka slept on, unheeding. A voice spoke in her mind, a toneless, emotionless announcement delivering a message into her mind.
[Barefoot Runner Class Obtained!]
[Barefoot Runner Level 8!]
[Skill – Flawless Stride obtained!]
[Skill – Enhanced Movement obtained!]
[Skill – Dangersense obtained!]
[Skill – Final Run Learne—
“Nae, she will not be learning anything. Not from you at least. Leave the fool alone, ye thing of dead gods. She is different.”
[Level Ups Cancelled]
Mrsha raised her head. She heard nothing of the faeries’ words, knew nothing of what had passed. She touched the motionless Human, and raised her head towards the moon. It shone down around the clear patch of grass and flowers blooming in the center of the snowy wasteland.
She howled up at it, her voice loud and wild, filled with grief.
But no one answered her call. And so Mrsha howled and howled into the night, alone. Knowing that she was alone.
A sudden noise split the silence of the night. Mrsha leapt back from Ryoka, hair standing on end, as something in the girl’s pack began to ring, emitting a strange sound she had never heard before.
The iPhone rang for five whole minutes as Mrsha looked around and the faeries watched silently from overhead. Then it too fell silent.
Far to the south, the Goblin Lord pursued Zel Shivertail’s army, forcing them to run until the Goblins finally gave up on the chase. They gathered once more, to grow and become even stronger, until the northern tribes could be subjugated. They would sweep north, soon.
Across the world, a group of mages stopped casting, and changed their target. Another phone began to ring, on another continent.
None of it mattered. Where Ryoka lay, dreaming of fire and darkness, sleeping next to a small Gnoll who curled up next to the Human, there were no sounds. The faeries hovered overhead, guarding the two into the night.
There was no noise here, no words that could be spoken.
Only the slow, heavy sound of silence.
And the memory.
Of death.
2.03 G
She was not prepared for this. For any of it.
That was the first thing Rags realized the day after she became leader of not only the Red Fang Tribe, but all of the allied and subservient tribes under Garen’s control. She was not ready to lead such a host. She knew it, and he said it to her.
Repeatedly.
It was the first thing Rags thought when she woke up in one of the cleared out Shield Spider nests and pushed aside her dirty blankets and realized what had happened. She climbed out of her pit and stared around.
The small valley where she had made her last stand was still filled with the dead, mostly of her tribe, but also of the Red Fang Tribe’s warriors and mounts. Rags looked around and saw her Goblins awkwardly binding wounds, or making food…of the dead, but most were still slumbering.
They had been pushed to the brink by the Red Fang’s harrying. And only now did Rags see the cost of it.
Death.
Garen Red Fang, leader of his tribe and several hundred miles of territory north of Liscor, had been sleeping. But he woke up quick when Rags jumped onto his stomach from the top of the pit. He roared in anger, reached for his sword, and stopped when he saw Rags.
“Chieftain.”
He spoke, with words not in the Goblin language. Rags was still struggling with that. But Garen nodded to her and stood upwards effortlessly, stretching as if he hadn’t been in a fight to the death yesterday and had part of his face melted off.
“Food?”
She scowled at him, but jerked her head towards the top of the pit. Garen’s war cry had woken her entire tribe; Goblins don’t ignore subtle clues like someone screaming and few of them were about to go to sleep after a scare like that.
The snowy world descended into organized chaos as the green-skinned Goblins began scurrying around. Rags watched as those Goblins with classes in [Cook]…or more accurately, its sub-classes, [Butcher], [Scavenger], [Stewer], and so on, began making food. Garen blinked around at his tribe and waved at them. Then he looked at Rags.
“Much to speak of, Chieftain.”
She stared at him, and then nodded. Yes, there was much to speak of. She and Garen wandered off as her tribe got to work, watching the Goblins mill about.
There was organization in it, despite how it might look to a non-Goblin. Each individual had their task and role in the tribe, but they would take over each other’s jobs in the blink of an eye, usually communicating with a grunt or a poke or punch. Sometimes they got into fights and screeched at each other, but that was quickly broken up by the sub-leaders of each tribe: the Hobs.
They were big, generally mean, and generally committed to the idea that if someone else was doing the job, they didn’t have to. They enforced Rags’ orders and helped make decisions. Such as: were the Carn Wolves edible or poisonous? Did the Goblins skin them and keep the pelts, or try to eat them fur and all?
Garen watched his wolves being cut apart with no real emotion, although his eyes did tighten for a few seconds before he looked away. He glanced over where his mount was lying by the fire. Rags looked too.
Of the fifty-odd Goblins Garen had taken with him to harass Rags’ tribe, a little over twenty were left, and all of them were injured. On the other hand, only a handful of wolves had survived; Rags had ordered her tribe to kill the mounts first.
The Red Fang warriors seemed to be getting along fine with her Goblins, Rags noted. In that way they were like any Goblins; they might not be slapping backs with the Goblins who’d been trying to cut them apart, but they understood the
changing nature of dominance within the tribes.
The wolves on the other hand were confused by this ceasefire, and still understandably upset, more so after they saw their pack being devoured by hungry Goblins. Several snapped at the Goblins walking around them, and only let their riders tend to them. They calmed down when they were fed dead Goblins, but they still stared hard at Rags’ tribe.
Garen noticed Rags’ stare.
“They will obey. They take time, see you are leader.”
Rags nodded absently. She stared at Garen, and then recalled a bit of what had been said the night before.
Why?
It was a question she hadn’t really gotten an answer to. Garen shrugged.
“Must be done.”
Rags didn’t understand that. Her brows furrowed, and she glared at Garen.
You kill many of tribe.
He shrugged and sniffed the air.
“A test.”
You are stronger. Why me?
He grinned.
“Stronger. Yes. But cannot lead. Not like you.”
She didn’t understand. But after they had eaten—roasted wolf that filled the stomach which even Garen devoured readily—she began to realize what he meant when they decided what to do next.
Normally, Rags would be in charge of everything. But Garen was no ordinary Chieftain, and neither was she, for that matter. He told her the rest of his tribe was on the way, with the allied tribes.
“My tribe is quickest. Others are slow.”
Garen flicked a bone into the spider pit as the Goblins dragged the remaining bodies into each one. They could be buried; perhaps the Spiders would eat them, or some other creature would, but Rags had decided it was better than leaving them out and making Liscor’s Watch suspicious.
How many in Tribe?
Garen shrugged. He looked at a warrior from his tribe, and the Goblin scratched his head with his one good arm. The other was bandaged. They argued, and Garen eventually came up with two hundred as a rough estimate.