by Pirateaba
There was still a large part of Rags that didn’t care if every Human died. But the rest of her, the part of her that had learned, knew that this would only make living here more difficult for her tribes. Moreover, it might mean the Humans would send armies against her tribe rather than the real enemy.
Rags’ eyes narrowed as she saw a cluster of her Goblins break off from the main stream and crash into what looked like a blacksmith’s shop. Good. She hoped they wouldn’t try to grab the anvil though; they already had one.
Her Goblins weren’t just looting randomly; they were trying to gather what she wanted, racing the flames. A few of her more daring Hobs even went into burning buildings, emerging burnt but with valuable goods in their hands.
More screaming. Rags could even hear words from her distant position. She saw a man cursing at a Hobgoblin before he lost a hand. Then he just screamed.
The family he was trying to protect ran as the Hobgoblin finished off the wounded Human. She saw one of the children lagging behind. So slow. Goblin children ran fast because if they were left behind they were trampled or dead. But this child fell.
The Hobgoblin ignored the child as the mother seized her and ran. They were not a threat; they were simply part of the frightened herd trying to flee the Goblins.
Thousands of Humans were fleeing, but countless more were dead. The city was gone for all intents and purposes. Soon other armies might come to reclaim it, and if what Garen had said was true, so would Gold-rank adventurer teams. But Rags and her Goblins would not be there.
Garen shifted besides Rags. He’d taken several deep cuts during the battle, but even the sharpest blades hadn’t managed to fully penetrate his thick skin. He truly was a Gold-rank adventurer in terms of strength. Rags envied him, even as she realized she would never be Garen. Her strength lay elsewhere.
And now the fire was engulfing the rest of the city. The Goblins kept away from the worst of the inferno as they completed their looting. Rags watched the fire begin to rage out of control. It wouldn’t devour all of the stone, but any Human in the city that was still in hiding would be dead.
Perhaps, if she had been at Erin’s inn, it would never have come to this. But Rags had been barred from entering. Kicked out.
The reasons made sense, but they still stung. She had seen the small Gnoll and the angry Human that Erin had pointed to and seen a reflection. She’d looked at the child Erin had called Mrsha and seen something familiar in her eyes. She had seen herself. It had thrown her into confusion. Rags wished she had had one more chance to sit there and be—
But it was too late. Too late, now. And it had taught Rags an important lesson. Goblins stood alone. In the end, there was no one who would stand by them but themselves.
Someone moved over to Rags’ left. She shifted, the black crossbow in her hands, but there was no reason to worry. Her Hob escort and Garen moved slightly to let one of the smaller Goblins approach. Rags watched as he talked to Garen and gave the Hobgoblin something.
Garen came back to Rags and offered her a rough piece of metal and wood. Rags stared at it. That was quick. But they had the wood and metal and with the Human equipment, their [Tinkerers] could do good work.
“They say they have found many parts in the city. Enough for hundreds such.”
The first finished crossbow shone in the light of the flames as Rags lifted it and stared down at the deadly weapon. Garen looked disapproving, but he liked to fight up close and personal. He saw a cheap tool, but Rags saw something else in the crude crossbow.
Goblins were weak. Everyone knew that. Goblins knew that. To survive, they had to overwhelm, attack with trickery, cheat. If they could not be strong, they would build themselves strength.
“Where to next? To battle in Liscor?”
Garen grinned, showing bloody teeth. He was ready for a fight, and so were his warriors. But Rags surprised him and the other Goblins as she shook her head.
“No. North.”
The two words were rough and awkward on her tongue. But she’d said them right. Garen’s eyes narrowed and he tried to argue, but Rags glared.
War was coming. And Rags’ Goblins were not ready. Not yet. She looked north. Larger tribes ruled there, and more cities of Humans, and lands filled with more sights than she had ever seen before.
This Goblin Lord had an army of horrible things. An army that could crush her weaker tribes in a second. They couldn’t challenge them.
Not yet.
Within the hour, the Goblins in Rags’ tribe had formed up and the entire group was heading north at speed to rejoin the rest of the assembled tribes. Rags rode at the head of the army, riding slower so the Hobs could keep up.
As Rags bounced along on the wolf, she remembered a small Goblin sitting in an inn, playing chess. She wished, in her heart with words she would never dare to say, that she was back there.
But she was older now. She couldn’t go back to who she’d been. Her goals were what they had always been.
To be stronger. To learn the truth. To survive.
Behind her, Esthelm burned.
—-
“I should arrest you for this. Both of you.”
Ryoka stared at the [Guardsman] with the fuzzy lip who was speaking to her and Erin and wondered what he would do if she punched him in the face. Probably stab her.
It was a bad idea. She was still hyped up after the bar fight. Ryoka knew that. So she folded her hands behind her back, punched no one, and let Erin talk.
“But it wasn’t our fault, Fuzzy—Wesle.”
Erin pointed to the groaning adventurers, only half of whom were conscious, and waved her arms as the guardsman rubbed at his eyes and sighed.
It was late. The sun had already set, but the streets were full of fire, mainly from the torches the local City Watch was carrying. They were out in surprising force for a small bar fight; over ten [Guardsmen] and [Guardswomen] were on the streets, mainly clustered around the four Bronze-rank adventurers and one Silver-rank adventurer.
It was probably because they were nervous of the lone Silver-rank. But if that was their worry, they would have done better to be standing around Erin. Ryoka had seen her take down both the Silver-rank and give all the others several good punches and she barely had a scratch on her.
Not that it had been an exactly fair barfight. After Ryoka and Garia had joined in, the entire inn had entered the fray on the side of the girls. As a result, the adventurers looked like someone had rolled a few beer barrels over them.
Most of the inn’s patrons were back inside, drinking and celebrating their victory. Only Agnes stood outside with Erin and Ryoka, looking understandably worried. What Ryoka couldn’t figure out though was what was going to happen next.
Celum’s City Watch was far different from Liscor’s. For one thing, their response time was a lot slower. They’d only shown up after the adventurers were being tossed outside in a heap, and they’d come all at once. Erin had described the Senior Guardsmen Klbkch and Relc to Ryoka, and by the sounds of it they could arrive in less than five minutes and break up fights single-handedly.
Not so here. And it was also apparently rare for the City Watch to be called in for matters where civilians fought adventurers. Erin had had to convince Wesle that they had been the ones to beat the adventurers into a pulp, which had now led to this interesting situation.
“Miss Erin, Miss Griffin. You can’t just start fights in this city. ”
“But they were being jerks. One of them slapped my butt!”
Erin glared at Wesle. He looked like he wanted to tear out his peach fuzz.
“I understand. But that’s not a reason to start a brawl, surely.”
Ryoka’s eyes narrowed, but Erin just stared hard at the guardsman.
“So does that mean you’re okay if I grab your butt? What if a guy did that do you?”
He paused.
“That’s not—I’m not saying you were wrong, but—”
“I said not to. And he did it an
yways. So what should I have done?”
“It’s not that bad, surely?”
The flat look Wesle got from both Erin and Ryoka was echoed by several of the female members of the Watch. To Wesle’s credit, he realized when continuing would be a bad idea and raised his hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine. I understand you had a good reason. But was there really a need to damage them this badly?”
Behind him, one of the [Guardsmen] was trying to wake up one of the adventurers. But the man didn’t want to wake up, wisely perhaps, because his face was closer to the color of a plum than actual flesh.
“I dunno. They tried to hit me. I just hit them back better. It was a fight. Would you say the same thing if they hit me that much? What’s the problem?”
“I—never mind.”
Behind him, one of the guardswomen gave Erin a thumbs up. She smiled and waved back. Wesle looked resigned.
“So, are you gonna arrest us?”
Wesle hesitated, and then shook his head.
“It was a brawl, but Miss Agnes only leveled a complaint against the adventurers, not you. Moreover, there are laws against adventurers fighting civilians. They’d get in a lot of trouble if they threw the first punch, but you say you started it?”
Erin nodded.
“But one of them did draw his sword, correct?”
“For about two seconds. Then Ryoka kicked him and he dropped it.”
Wesle shifted his attention to Ryoka and eyed her dubiously. She eyed him back.
“You’re a City Runner, aren’t you? I’ve seen you entering the city quite often. You know your Guild prohibits fighting with adventurers, don’t you?”
Ryoka shrugged, unconcerned.
“I’ve heard of that. I was defending a friend.”
There probably was a rule against picking fights with adventurers, but Ryoka doubted anyone in the Runner’s Guild would enforce it. They’d probably celebrate any news of adventurers getting beaten up. And both she and Wesle knew it.
He threw up his hands.
“Fine. But I’m warning both of you: don’t do it again.”
“I won’t if people stop slapping my butt.”
“After today, I doubt anyone will try to do that.”
Ryoka shifted idly from one foot to the other. Her feet were getting slightly cold on the frozen cobblestones. Wesle looked back at her again.
“Do you need shoes, uh, Miss Ryoka? We have several good [Shoemakers] that I’m sure are open even at this time of night.”
“What? I’m fine.”
She’d almost forgotten that she was outside in a t-shirt and shorts and without shoes. Ryoka grinned at Wesle’s reaction.
“She drank this magical soup that I made. That’s why she’s outside in the cold.”
The [Guardsman] eyed Erin, but she looked so honest he just nodded as if he understood.
“Well, uh, I guess that concludes our business here. We’ll lock up those adventurers for the night and file a complaint with their guild about the incident.”
“Aw. Are you sure you have to go? Why not have a drink in the inn first? And food. I’ve been making food and everyone loves it! Have you ever heard of a hamburger?”
Ryoka glared as Wesle hesitated, clearly torn by the idea of a quick bite to eat and something to drink. Whether or not he would have abandoned his post for a few minutes was never resolved though, as a Street Runner suddenly skidded around the corner, nearly running over one of the adventurers being dragged by two of the [Guardsmen].
“Urgent message for all [Guardsmen] in the city!”
Wesle frowned and he and two other members of the Watch went to listen to the young man. He was barely more than a teenager in actual fact; Ryoka vaguely recognized him as one of the faces at the Runner’s Guild here. She watched Wesle’s expression change, and then the man raised his voice and shouted at the other members of the Watch.
“Take them to the jail! Everyone else, get to the walls now!”
The two other [Guardsmen] ran off, and suddenly the Watch was buzzing with movement. The Street Runner dashed down another street as Wesle began to march off with the rest of the Watch.
“Wait! What’s happening?”
Erin caught at the man’s shoulder as he began to leave. He hesitated, torn, but then stopped while the others moved at a fast jog through the streets, armor jingling.
“We just got a mage [Message]. A Goblin army just attacked Esthelm and burned it to the ground! Every member of the Watch is going to the walls and we’re rousing the militia just in case. I’d advise you to stay indoors until we’re sure where the Goblin army’s gone.”
“What? Goblins? What happened?”
Ryoka grabbed Wesle. He blinked as she dragged him forwards, suddenly intent on his every word.
“What did the message say?”
He blinked at her, but her glare made him talk.
“The report’s confused. Apparently a Goblin army attacked Esthelm sometime in the evening. They overran the gates and started slaughtering everyone in the city. Then another Goblin army appeared and the two fought. In the confusion a lot of citizens got away, but the city is lost.”
A sharp dagger of fear and panic shot through Ryoka’s stomach. She let go of Wesle.
Goblins. The image of the Goblin Lord, of the army that had destroyed the Stone Spears camp flashed through her mind. Why were the Goblins so far north? Was it even the same army? And then, hot on the heels of that thought was another worry. What about Mrsha? How had they gone past Liscor? Over the mountains? Through the high passes? Or had they just gone around the city?
“All of the nearby cities are putting together a force to fight off the Goblins and retake the city, but it might be weeks before we root them out. And if this is a raiding force from that Goblin Lord we’ve heard about, then he’s got a bigger army than we thought.”
Wesle was talking anxiously with Erin. She looked worried, but she was probably only worrying about her Goblin friend, Rags. Ryoka wasn’t worried about a Goblin right now. She was imagining what would happen if that Goblin army came north.
They had hundreds of Hobgoblins. And dead Goblins that were living bombs. And their leader, the Goblin Lord, the one with the empty pupils—
His eyes. Ryoka shuddered and thought of the Necromancer. Not Pisces; the true lord of death. Az’kerash. He had the same kind of eyes.
She wondered what it meant. Behind her, Ryoka heard Erin sneeze as Wesle ran off. The night air was cold, and the clouded skies were so dark. With the absence of the guardspeople and their torches, the street was full of shadows, the only light coming from shuttered windows. Ryoka shivered, feeling the effects of the magical soup she’d had beginning to fade.
It was a cold, dark winter night. And it felt like the night was only going to get darker still.
Darker, and more dangerous.
—-
Venitra was at home with the darkness. She had been born of it, and in the castle of Az’kerash, the famous Necromancer of Izril, bright light was a forgotten memory.
The undead woman made of bone had not left the castle since the unforgivable incident that had occurred over a week ago. The strange Human girl had vanished from the castle so quickly that even she, Kerash, and Bea couldn’t catch her. And because they had orders not to leave the castle or its premises, they had merely collected the dead Drakes and Gnolls for their master to review later.
Now Venitra waited for her glorious creator to finish her work, half dreading what he would say when he learned of her failure, half exultant at the thought of hearing his voice and knowing his will again after so long.
It was Venitra’s worst nightmare to be found wanting in the eyes of her master. To disappoint him in any way was unthinkable; she would be betraying not only him, but the grand design he had made in her being.
Venitra was unlike Kerash or Bea. She had been designed by Az’kerash personally; she had been created from nothing by his perfect mind, not reanimated fr
om the dead or self-forming like the other two. Even among the rest of Az’kerash’s servants she was unique, for she served their master and received his commands in person.
And now she would bear witness to one of his greatest creations yet. Venitra stared up as the massive creature of flesh and bone finished forming overhead. It was nothing like the horrible blend of parts that Ryoka had glimpsed; now that it had attained its true configuration, it was a creature of nightmarish grace and terror.
It hovered overhead, tens of thousands of pounds of obscene white flesh. Two gaping holes served as sockets for green flames which burned in them as the undead creation came to life. Massive…limbs struggled in the air, fleshy appendages that would propel the huge bulk of the creature around.
And at its head, a sunken spear of bone jutted outwards, half sunk into the undead monsters’ skull, surrounded by sinew. Venitra knew bone and muscle and so she could guess at part of what this behemoth had been designed for, but even still, the idea took her breath away, if she had any she could have given in the first place.
In front of her, the ancient man who she loved lowered his hand. The undead thing floated downwards, still and waiting for his command. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then nodded and turned to Venitra.
He was smiling. The wrinkles and silvery hair on his head took nothing away from the awe Venitra felt every time she beheld him. His black eyes and white pupils made her shudder as they fixed on her. But it was his smile she basked in.
“Is it not wonderful, Venitra? With this, my army nears completion. Even the Walled Cities will tremble to see this creature upon the battlefield.”
“It is magnificent, my master.”
Venitra said the words truthfully. Az’kerash nodded. He gazed at his creation with pride, and then looked back at Venitra.
“I will need more corpses, of course. I used all of our limited supply to create this one. We will need as many corpses as we can retrieve, but sending a group to the ocean without being detected will be difficult.”
“My lord, if you need more bodies. I volunteer to—”
The man known to very few as Perril Chandler waved a hand at Venitra as she placed her hand on her breast.