The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “To arms! The Goblins are coming!”

  The dark mass at the edge of the city limits was moving. On the walls, the Humans saw a dark tide of bodies surging into the city, and then heard rhythmic impacts.

  Drumbeats. Not just one or two, but countless numbers of them, thudding impacts that made the defenders shake in fear.

  The drumbeats were like thunder. And as Ylawes watched, the first wave of the Goblin army began pouring into the city. Some rode Shield Spiders—others horses. And at the head of the army—

  “Undead. The [Shamans] are controlling them.”

  He gritted his teeth. Was this the end? But it was only a few undead—barely a hundred. If that was all they could control, then—

  There was a chance. Ylawes shouted as he ran down the barricade, to the one opening in their defenses. He would cut them down again and again. Create a point for them to throw all their fury into until there was nothing left.

  “Man the barricades. We hold them at the choke points—force them back!”

  The people of Esthelm shouted, and the Goblin drums pounded. Now the Goblins screamed, and their voices ran throughout the city. They met the adventurer wearing silver and the clash was like thunder. Goblins poured up the barricades, fighting the people on the walls. Archers from both sides filled the skies—

  And the undead moved. They focused on the conflict like lightning. Zombies, ghouls, advancing like the tide. Goblins turned and fought the dead—[Shamans] struggled to control them, trying, failing in the face of so many. And the man in silver fought on, sword and shield flashing in the light.

  The last battle for Esthelm had begun.

  —-

  He saw the man wearing silver armor. He saw the Goblins, seemingly numberless as they poured towards the wooden barricades, screaming warcries. And Toren felt happy.

  War. Death. The Humans met the Goblins with a roar, clashing swords. In moments the first bodies began to fall.

  And oh, how Toren longed to be among the fighting, sword in hand! But he had to be patient. He looked around, at the dead who surrounded him.

  They were his kind. Thoughtless, yes, but Toren felt a connection to them he hadn’t a few days ago. He and they weren’t so different after all. They lived to fight and kill—

  And so did he. This was his purpose. Toren knew it. He could lead the dead. Why else would he have this Skill, this class, if not because he was meant to do it? There was a special joy to ordering the zombies about, to leading them to victory through superior tactics and planning.

  It was addictive, giddying, intoxicating. Toren looked at the battlefield and saw how he could shape it. He called out to the zombies under his control, readying them to move into the fray.

  This was what he was meant to do. At last, he’d found it. It was so wonderful to command. Had Erin felt like this when she ordered him? Had she—

  Toren paused. The burning lights in his eyes dimmed for a second. No. Not her. He was separate now. She was…not his owner any longer. He was free. Would be free.

  And he would level up. Toren looked back at the battlefield. The Goblins were trying to swarm up the barricades blocking the streets off as Humans threw them off the barricades and shot arrows and threw stones down at them. Now was the time.

  The first group of zombies lurched towards the Goblins. They moved slowly—just another random assortment of the undead drawn to the conflict. The Goblins barely paid any attention to them. So long as they had a few warriors guard their flanks, there was no danger.

  Toren grinned. At his silent command, the zombies began to run.

  This is the story of a skeleton. He only knew how to kill, so he did just that. In a city filled with death, the skeleton killed with his hands at first, and then used others to kill more and more. He would kill everything if he could.

  Because it was all he knew.

  —-

  “Hold the lines! Hold, damn you!”

  Ylawes screamed at the people struggling around him as he cut with his sword, bringing down Goblins as they came at him. How long had he been fighting? A few seconds? An hour? He couldn’t tell.

  Goblins poured towards him, around the palisades, into the center of a whirlwind of steel he created. Parry, strike, block, strike—his shield was a weapon just as much as his sword. Normal Goblins couldn’t even get close as he cut through their weapons, but there were more who attacked even as their companions fell. And when a Hob came—

  Ylawes stumbled back as a javelin crashed into his chest, breaking on his armor but denting it. His plate mail was not enchanted like his arms, and he coughed. A Goblin screamed as it swung a shortsword—

  He beheaded it. Keep fighting. Don’t stop! The Goblins seemed endless, but the barricades were all still holding. Even as people fell and died, more rushed to take their place. They had the high ground. So long as they had that, even a child could knock a Goblin down with a well-placed blow—

  “Zombies!”

  Someone screamed the word. Ylawes turned, and saw fourteen zombies, sprinting at him. He reacted instantly.

  “[Shield of Valor]!”

  The zombie crashed into a wall of air as Ylawes brought his shield up and pushed. The zombies and every Goblin in a cone in front of him were sent flying backwards by his Skill. Panting, Ylawes lowered his shield and turned.

  “Report!”

  An [Archer], one of the few warriors among the citizens—called out to him as she snatched at more arrows. The Goblins were pulling back, but her hands never stopped working, firing into their shielded ranks.

  “Zombies are coming from every direction! They’re attacking the barricades, but some are attacking the Goblins!”

  “Show me!”

  Ylawes leapt up onto a platform. The woman pointed and he saw she was right. Zombies were approaching from all sides, drawn by so many living bodies. And they were attacking Goblins! Some of the undead were even fighting those controlled by the [Shamans]. But something was very, very wrong.

  “What’s happening?”

  The [Archer] pointed as a group of zombies began running, just as the ones earlier had. They charged into a group of Goblins from behind, biting and tearing.

  “Zombies can’t run!”

  “Some can.”

  Ylawes was grim as he surveyed the zombies. They’d caught an entire group of archers by surprise—was it chance or had something known that there was an opportunity to strike.

  “They can?”

  The woman stared at Ylawes in horror. He nodded.

  “Some can. But not like this. Only a few out of a hundred should and they don’t—group like that. This isn’t right.”

  “Look! Another group!”

  This time, Ylawes clearly saw what was happening. A group of zombies moving slowly towards the Goblins suddenly stiffened. In an instant, they’d changed from their slow pace into a sprint, and they changed course. Instead of hitting the group of Goblin warriors they’d been aiming towards, they ran towards a barricade and began pounding at a gap that had been exposed in the wooden structure.

  “Why are they acting like that?”

  “There.”

  Ylawes pointed. At the center of a huge mass of zombies, a skeleton was standing, pointing and waving a sword about. The woman standing next to him paled.

  “Dead gods. Is it leading them?”

  “Yes.”

  Ylawes saw it clearly. Wherever the skeleton pointed, a group of zombies would begin to run. They attacked vulnerable spots, hitting both Humans and Goblins alike. Always fourteen zombies. Each time the group of fourteen zombies had crashed into the Goblin flanks, another group would begin to move with that same focused intelligence.

  “It’s coordinating the undead. It’s trying to overwhelm us! Watch the sides!”

  Ylawes called out. He wanted to run up to see how the entire battlefield was going, but the brief window he’d created with his Skill was already up. He saw people struggling against the Goblin warriors again, and
leapt back into the fray.

  “Don’t falter!”

  A Goblin riding a massive Shield Spider was coming straight at Ylawes, laughing as he hacked apart Humans with a halberd that cut through armor like it wasn’t there. The [Knight] roared a challenge, and the two met in a clash at the center of the battlefield. But the undead kept coming, and the barricades began to splinter under the ceaseless attacks…

  —-

  They sat on the rooftop of their hideout, watching the battle. Goblins. But not those Goblins. The Redfang warriors felt no attachment to the warriors of the Goblin Lord. In fact, they sneered at the other side’s tactics.

  Sieging an entrenched group of Humans? What were they, idiots? They’d clearly counted on overwhelming the Humans in one push, but they’d underestimated the Gold-rank adventurer and the difficulty of overcoming the barricades. By himself, the warrior in silver armor had slain countless Goblins already and so long as he stood, the Goblins couldn’t advance past his position.

  Too, the undead were complicating matters. Badarrow pointed and the Goblins saw the undead were attacking Goblins from behind, forcing them to split their forces. Something was moving the undead like a [Tactician], and it was making the attacking force’s job that much harder.

  Still, all the Redfang Goblins could tell the battle was going one way. The zombies were getting diced by the Goblins for all the damage they inflicted. The same could not be said of the inexperienced Human defenders. Worn down by both sides, the barricades were failing. Once one collapsed—

  All the Humans would die. The Redfang warriors weren’t sure how they felt about this. On one hand, Humans were usually their enemies. On the other hand, the Goblin Lords’ forces were definitely their enemy. And besides—

  They glanced left, at the young woman sitting next to them. She crouched on the roof, staring down at the battle.

  She was Human, wasn’t she? More and more Human, or so they felt. Headscratcher was sitting next to the Human and none of the Goblin warriors knew what to say. All they knew was they loved her. A tiny bit. For saving Grunter. For daring to hug a Goblin. For being like them.

  A lot, actually. They loved her a lot, in the simple way they could. Because she didn’t look at them like monsters. They’d never known they wanted that until this moment.

  And she was staring at the battlefield. Grunter nudged her and grunted. He pointed towards the gates, undefended. She could run. The Redfang warriors should have left long ago. But the Human girl just stared at the battlements.

  The Goblins were pressing in. Too deep to be pushed back and there weren’t enough Humans on the side furthest from the adventurer. And there were too many undead. The Redfang warriors could see a familiar skeleton among the zombies and they wondered—

  “Go.”

  The word came from Headscratcher. It made the other Redfang warriors stiffen in shock, but he was pointing at the gates. He was urging the Human to go. To leave.

  With them?

  It was just a thought, a passing moment. The Human—the girl who was part monster—looked at Headscratcher, and hesitated. Then she shook her head slowly.

  She pointed at the battlefield, at the Humans on the walls they had built. Faltering. Falling back. The monster pointed at them and touched her heart.

  Some things didn’t need words. The Goblins understood. But then she pointed at them, and at the Goblins and undead. She touched Headscratcher’s sword, sheathed at his waist.

  They stared at her. What did she mean? Grunter lowered his head as he understood, but the others didn’t get it. The young woman wearing a monster’s skin pointed again, at the backs of the undead, at the Goblins. She touched the sword and then her heart.

  And they understood. She wanted them to help. To save…

  Badarrow was the first to move. He shook his head and made a displeased noise. He stared at the battlefield as the other Goblins shuffled and looked down. The Redfang warriors looked at their feet, at the sky, at the battlefield, but none dared look at the monster who pleaded with them with her eyes.

  Headscratcher looked away. He couldn’t meet the young woman’s eyes. He looked down.

  How could they tell her? The Redfang warriors had no words to explain this. But it was easy enough that even the untrained monster girl could understand.

  They were thirteen. Brave warriors, and good fighters, yes, but only thirteen. The army of the Goblin Lord was just that. An army. And the undead alone seemed limitless.

  They were no heroes. And they weren’t willing to die. In the end, they were still Goblins. And only a fool would go down there.

  But they couldn’t say it. Not to the girl who looked at them as if they were heroes. They couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

  None of them dared look up. Grunter touched his broken arm and stared at the man in silver armor. He fought on, a lone patch of flashing light amidst the dark armor and shambling bodies.

  They weren’t the same, in the end. A Goblin was still a Goblin. Not an adventurer.

  The monster stared at the Goblins silently. They didn’t see what was in her eyes, but they all saw her turn to look at the barricades. The Humans were being pressed back. The zombies were climbing as well, commanded by the skeleton no doubt. And with the Goblins attacking as well—

  It would be over soon. Then they would have to leave. But what would the girl do? Could she survive like them? Could she come with them?

  It was just a thought. But they saw it in Headscratcher’s eyes. He wanted that. But the girl was different. She looked back at her people, dying, fighting, and touched her heart. They could not know it, but the young woman could hear it beating, so loudly she thought it might burst. That was all. She just heard her heart beating in her chest. But she had nearly forgotten the sound. It reminded her of who she was.

  It reminded her that she was Human.

  The monster stood up. The Redfang warriors watched her silently. Slowly, she pointed towards the Humans and drew one line down her cheek. And touched her heart.

  That was all. She bent, and Headscratcher looked up at her, full of—

  She kissed him. Not on the lips, but gently on the cheek. He went still in shock and she smiled at him.

  “Not a monster.”

  Did she really whisper those words? Or was it only their imagination? Thirteen Goblins stared at her in silence. Then the monster—the young woman who wore a monster’s form—leapt. She flew through the air and landed on the ground, not even noticing the impact. She ran on all fours towards the battlefield, and it was a monster that crashed into the Goblins, tearing at them, biting, slashing as they cried out in horror and shock.

  Headscratcher stood poleaxed in place, staring at her. But then he leapt from the rooftop, ignoring Grunter’s shout. He ran after her, chasing the young woman into the heart of the battlefield. And all twelve of the Redfang warriors were hot on his heels.

  —-

  This is the story of a war. It was hot and brutal and oh so quick, and the living seemed to become the dead in the blink of an eye. But it was fought in a desolate city in the heart of winter.

  Cold skies, snow on the ground. But hot bodies.

  And blood. Tearing flesh. The monster swept through the ranks of Goblins besieging a barricade that had been partially knocked down. They saw her and cried out. Monsters, fearing a monster.

  Her claws with razors that cut steel. Her teeth ripped away flesh and bone. The Goblins wearing black armor tried to cut at her, but she was a blur, and their weapons barely cut her thick skin.

  This is the story of a young woman who let the monster in her out. She tore and bit and forgot fear and killed. She walked deeper down the path to hell, but she had a lifeline, a fragile thread that she held onto. A memory of a Goblin that hugged her, and a group of monsters with the hearts of heroes.

  This is the story of a band of Goblins. They stood at the edge of death’s gate, staring at the young woman who danced with the reaper, fearless, fighti
ng for her people. Fighting to live. Fighting to be Human.

  They hesitated. Their weapons were drawn, but they dared not plunge into the conflict. Because they were afraid. Because they wanted to live. They saw the other Goblins fall back in disarray and the Human rally as the monster attacked them. But it was not enough. There were many Goblins, and this was only a corner of the battle.

  And the undead were everywhere. They kept coming, and they kept attacking, slowly encircling both Humans and Goblins alike. They were commanded by that awful intelligence, the gleeful, mocking skeleton dancing in their midst.

  The Goblins stared at the skeleton, not a hundred paces away but surrounded by his minions. And they knew that if he was not stopped the Humans would die.

  On the skeleton all things turned. And then Grunter pointed.

  There. The Goblin commander, silver halberd on hand, pointing as he rode his Shield Spider. He’d clashed with the Gold-rank adventurer, broken the lines of Humans again and again. Without him, the Goblins would be leaderless.

  Two leaders. Headscratcher saw both as he held his sword in one sweaty claw. If one or both fell, the Humans would be saved. She might be saved. If they fought—

  But his feet didn’t move. Headscratcher stood where he was, ashamed. He shook. He was afraid to die. Because it would be certain death. And he was just a Goblin.

  But the girl—she was a monster. She was a Human. She was something else. And she had seen the same thing the Goblins had. So she just ran. She leapt, and bore a Ghoul to the ground. Teeth gleamed and bit and the two creatures tore at each other.

  Headscratcher shouted and ran forwards, sword raised as Badarrow tried to find a target among the blurring shapes. But then the Ghoul was down, a gaping hole in his throat and neck. The monster-girl ran on, at the mass of zombies shielding the skeleton.

  And stumbled.

  And fell.

  Because of the arrow in her back.

  Headscratcher screamed. He saw the shaft strike the young woman—not from the sides, but from above. A shot from high up on the barricades.