The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Goblin archers shot at the solders. So did Rags. She still had her black crossbow, and it killed one Human, sending him flying backwards and making the others raise their shields in alarm. But she didn’t have time to reload it so Rags drew her sword and shield instead.

  Before the diminished Human force could clash with the Goblins, the dimwitted Goblin was thrust forwards by the others. They shouted at him and he smiled and pointed towards the Human advance. Rags saw his hands light up—

  And then bolts of electricity shot across the street, striking the Humans, making them cry out in agony. Rags was surprised, but the other Goblins had waited for this moment. After the stupid Goblin lowered his hands they rushed forwards, shouting.

  Sparks of electricity crawled over the Humans in armor, making their arms weak as their muscles spasmed from the shocks. Rags shouted as she ran, and threw a [Firefly] spell at the Human in front of her. He screamed as the flying fire burned him, and then Rags cut his leg and slashed his chest.

  It wasn’t a clean kill. She cut him eight times, dodging backwards as he struck at her, screaming. But like the other Humans he was soon dead, overwhelmed by the Goblin’s knowledge and superior tactics.

  Satisfied, Rags and the other Goblins stepped back, some of them retrieving better quality weapons from the dead. She looked around. Two Goblins had taken injuries, one fairly bad, but none of them had died despite fighting so many Humans. True, they were strong warriors for Goblins, but this was easy.

  Then Rags heard the shouts and felt the earth shaking. She turned and saw the adventurers.

  There were only a handful of them, Tremborag had said. Only a handful. But when Rags saw the Goblins who went flying like leaves her heart caught in her chest. Somehow, in some way, the Goblins who had scouted this city had failed to mention one crucial fact, or perhaps Tremborag had failed to mention it to Rags.

  These were Gold-rank adventurers, not Silver.

  As Rags watched, a roaring man with a battleaxe swung, and the ranks of Goblins sent to hold him back went flying. They were like children before his strength, even the Hobs. At his side, a huge woman with a hammer crushed a Hob’s head, smashing right through the shield he’d held up to guard himself.

  They were going to tear right through the Goblin forces in the city! Rags was paralyzed by indecision. They had to be slowed. But the Goblins with her couldn’t manage it! They had to get to Garen, get him into the city with as many Hobs as possible—

  Then she heard a roar which made the two Gold-rank adventurers freeze in fear. Rags turned.

  And saw Tremborag.

  At first, Rags didn’t recognize the Goblin. That was because the Hob had changed entirely. A gargantuan creature, made of muscle and rage charged down the street. Eight feet tall, huge legs cracking the cobblestones as he ran at the adventurers—

  It was the Great Chieftain of the Mountain. Yes, it was. Some of his features were the same. But all the fat had been changed to muscle, and he had become powerful, quick—

  The warrior with the hammer raised it with a shout, but she was too slow. Tremborag caught her as he charged and smashed into a house. Rags flinched as wood and stone exploded like hail, and the warrior rushed in after his friend. She and the other Goblins heard shouting, then a scream. A female one. Then a man’s choking voice—

  In the localized sphere of silence, Tremborag walked out of the destroyed house. There was blood on his hands and around his mouth. The Goblins around Rags backed away as he walked towards her.

  “How?”

  That was all she said to the Goblin who stared down at her. Not a Hobgoblin, not a normal Goblin—something else. Some aspect of Goblin she had never heard of before. Tremborag smiled at Rags, and she saw the flesh caught in his teeth. His voice hadn’t changed much, but it was rougher, harsher, as if speaking came harder to him in this form.

  “There are more things in this world that you do not know than know, little Goblin. I am one of them.”

  Then he turned and ran towards where the sound of battle was thickest. Rags stared at his back. She said not a word as the slow Goblin laughed and pointed at something.

  Her knees were shaking.

  —-

  When she saw Tremborag again, he was fat and normal, as if what she’d seen was an illusion. He stood, laughing and eating something amid his cheering warriors. They’d killed the last of the Humans and the rest had either fled or—

  Rags still heard screaming, from female voices. She knew what was happening and it bothered her although she felt it shouldn’t. But she was more concerned with Tremborag right now. She approached hesitantly.

  “Ah! There you are.”

  He turned to her almost jovially as Garen Redfang joined them, covered in blood and lightly wounded, but steaming in the cold air with battle lust. Tremborag greeted Garen and then turned to Rags, smiling condescendingly down at her.

  “Not bad, little Goblin. Not good either, though; you underestimated the adventurers. They are stronger than the ones you know.”

  She hadn’t been told about them being Gold-rank! She should have assumed, but this had been a setup. Rags bit her tongue; she didn’t feel able to talk back to Tremborag after what she’d witnessed.

  The Great Goblin Chieftain stared down at her, musingly. He was in a good mood from the easy victory, and so he was magnanimous towards her.

  “You are useful, as Garen said. You have my respect. Pick first and claim whatever you want before the others.”

  He waved his hand to indicate the city. Rags just nodded and turned away. She avoided the places where she heard Humans screaming and Goblins shouting in delight and searched among the dead, feeling wrong on different levels.

  To her annoyance, anything remotely magical had already been claimed by Tremborag or one of his Hobs. Rags hunted about and found a wicked axe made of steel, a valuable weapon. But she didn’t keep it for herself.

  Instead, upon returning to the mountain with all their spoils, Rags searched for the Gold Stone Chieftain. He hadn’t been included on the raid. But she gave the steel axe to the Gold Stone Chieftain, who immediately discarded the somewhat blunted iron axe he’d been using in favor of this one.

  It was a good move, Rags knew. It showed the other Goblins she rewarded her followers, and that she wasn’t greedy like others. She felt proud of her decision—and immediately angry that she had to make it to fight for influence here. And she still felt a bit wrong.

  Because of the Human women.

  They’d been captured, over a hundred of them. Many civilians had fled or been killed, but some had been captured. The men had been killed, or so Rags believed. But the women—

  They were somewhere in the mountain. Somewhere, being raped. That was what Rags knew, and she tried to not think about it too hard.

  It wasn’t her business. Some goblins did that. Garen’s tribe didn’t and she hadn’t had to face the issue with her tribes yet, but—

  She was too busy fighting for influence here to worry about Humans! Rags considered her new state of affairs as she grumpily ate food by herself. She had declined to go to the throne hall to feast; she was instead eating in a smaller room where Goblins could choose to take their meals.

  The battle had been a victory, a huge success, it was true. But somehow, it wasn’t her victory. Rags had planned the battle and it had gone well, and for that she sensed her value as a strategist had been established.

  But Tremborag had altered perceptions by tricking her! Instead of a flawless battle, she’d been portrayed as stupid to forget the Gold-rank adventurers, lessening her worth. She had still gained from this, but—

  Rags looked up as a Goblin stumbled into the room she was sitting in. No Goblin had chosen to eat here but her; they were all gorging themselves in the throne room with Tremborag. But someone had decided to eat here.

  The dimwitted Goblin. He looked around vacantly, holding a bowl of soup in his hands. He spotted Rags and lurched towards her, smiling stupidly. Rag
s gritted her teeth, but she didn’t kick him away as he sat near to her. He gulped his soup greedily, his eyes unfocused.

  She tried to ignore him. Rags was still thinking about the Human women. She’d seen them, although she hadn’t intended to, forced along at sword-point, some naked. A few had tried to kill themselves fighting rather than be taken, but they’d been overwhelmed and—

  Not her business. Rags gritted her teeth. She stabbed angrily at the bloody meat on her plate. It was from a sheep and it was hot. She should eat it and find Ulvama. Maybe she could beat the stupid Shaman into—

  “Flowing Water Chieftain. Will you speak with me?”

  Rags jerked in surprise. She twisted, and saw the dimwitted Goblin without ears looking at her. Straight at her. And his eyes were no longer unfocused. Her hand went to her sword, but the other Goblin hadn’t moved to hurt her. She stared as the mindless, gibbering wreck suddenly sat up and stared at her with keen, piercing intelligence.

  “You.”

  “I.”

  He agreed, smiling at her. Rags stared at him warily and slowly let go of her sword.

  “Act.”

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other. Rags’ mind worked at the speed of light.

  “Why pretend?”

  “Hiding. I am [Spellcaster] to them. Weak. Stupid. But I am [Mage] to you. Stronger than I seem.”

  “Why speak to me?”

  “Because you are different. I am taking risk. Would like to give you advice.”

  Rags paused. She stared at him and thought of the difference between his approach and Ulvama’s. She nodded slowly.

  “Tell.”

  “Do not sit with Tremborag tonight. Do not be proud. Be humble. Small.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Why?”

  He smiled at her, exposing missing teeth.

  “Is better that way. You are too smart, too quick. You may be threat, you foreign Chieftain. And if you are…Tremborag will crush his enemies with more than fists.”

  Rags considered this. It made sense. Tremborag was deliberately testing her, diminishing her worth. It might be a better move to pretend to be cowed by his displays of strength, although she hadn’t considered it before. She narrowed her eyes at the other Goblin. And yet…

  He was strong. If he was a better spellcaster than he pretended to be, he was on the level of any Hob in terms of value, perhaps more. He could be powerful. She pointed at him accusingly.

  “Why you not fight? Why not stand proud? Why…coward?”

  “I tried.”

  He tapped his ragged earholes and grinned at her. Rags paused. She stared at his ears.

  Adventurers cut off Goblin ears. For that, they were monsters. But she had never heard of Goblins doing it to each other. Goblins killed one another as necessary. They did not mutilate. They did not torture.

  But they did rape Humans.

  She banished the thought. Rags stared at the Goblin [Mage] and nodded slowly.

  “I will think. And not tell.”

  “Good. Think hard, strange Chieftain.”

  That was all he said. She and he went back to their meals. When they were done, Rags stood up.

  The Goblin stared at her. His eyes were unfocused again and he grunted seemingly in surprise when she moved past him.

  “Ugn.”

  He stared at her vacantly. This time Rags was not fooled. She nodded to him and strode off, thinking hard.

  That night, Rags didn’t go to the high table. She instead ate with the Gold Stone Chieftain in a far more crowded part of the hall, as if she was cowed and humbled by her mistakes. She sensed countless eyes on her, but did and said little. She was thinking and watching instead.

  Next to her, the Gold Stone Chieftain ate his food as stolidly as ever. He didn’t react to Rags’ presence; he’d just scooted over when she’d walked over without a word. Only one thing he’d done had surprised her that night.

  When they’d been eating the Gold Stone Chieftain had stopped a passing Goblin. The old one. He was…or had been…a Hob, but he looked pathetic compared to all the others. But the Gold Stone Chieftain had called out to him nevertheless.

  Old one. Sit.

  And so Rags found herself sitting across from the old Goblin. He ate messily, burped loudly, and said little; he annoyed Rags more than anything else because he kept staring at her. So did all the other Goblins, to be fair.

  She could tell that her absence from the high table had been noted. By everyone. Rags hoped the other Goblins just interpreted it as her being ashamed and going to her actual position in the hierarchy.

  Meanwhile, the ranks of the Goblins were stabilizing as the new additions to Tremborag’s tribe were assimilated. And it was his tribe, Rags realized. They were becoming his.

  Already the Redfang warriors sat at the high table. A good number of them sat high up, bearing new scars from quick duels to assert their superiority. But as always Garen sat right next to Tremborag, clearly displaying his dominance.

  She’d heard what had happened. Garen had killed another Hob, one of Tremborag’s stronger followers in a quick fight. He already had his own band of followers, and Rags wondered if he’d picked a fight with the unfortunate Hob on purpose.

  But that wasn’t the only big news of the day. As Rags slept and woke, she heard the second big impact of yesterday’s battle circulating through the mountain. Namely, the Human women who’d been captured.

  They had been taken to a part of the mountain Rags had never visited. A dungeon-like place, where Goblins could come and go. Here too, access was restricted to those with favor. Normal Goblins couldn’t enter, but more influential Goblins could access the women.

  It bothered Rags more than she could say. But to her delight, it didn’t bother just her.

  While her tribe was somewhat ambivalent if not confused about taking Human women to have sex with, the reaction of Garen’s tribe had been far stronger. They were upset about it, and Rags heard through the grapevine of Goblin rumors that a group of Hobs and warriors had gone to Garen to complain. Apparently, their tribe took pride in not ‘sinking to that level’, and they wanted Garen to stop it.

  Perhaps he could have, but Garen was disinclined to go against Tremborag on this, especially because Rags knew some of the Human women had gone to the Great Goblin. So the message had come back to his tribe from Garen:

  Deal with it.

  The next night Rags didn’t eat with the main host of Goblins. Instead, she waited until later. The Redfang Goblins had been given the important duty of guarding the mountain due to their combat prowess, but that meant they ate and slept at different times.

  They were not happy that night and ate in sullen silence, or started fights among each other. Rags didn’t say much—she just ate with some Hobs and elite warriors who stared at her silently. She knew they were wondering why she was here, but she didn’t do anything else. She just ate until one of them poked her softly in the side.

  Redfang would not listen.

  She looked at the one who’d spoken, a Goblin with a scar across his face.

  “No.”

  He bared his teeth angrily and struck the table. The Hob sitting next to the warrior stared at Rags. He was a powerful warrior; they all were. Garen’s tribe might not have been individually as mighty as he was, not close, but they were elites among Goblins.

  Is not right.

  Another Goblin said that. Rags nodded her head fractionally, and knew they were looking at her, gauging her reaction. But then the Hob who stared at Rags spoke.

  “Gold Stone Chieftain. He goes to visit Humans often.”

  She paused. Rags’ mind went blank. Often? Did that mean—had the Gold Stone Chieftain known about the Human women before now? They hadn’t all been captured in the town. More were there from other villages, caravans raided, travelers abducted.

  Often?

  She stared at the Redfang warrior, and didn’t know what to say in reply.

  —
-

  On the fourth day, Rags decided to join one of the raiding parties. Like the Goblin Lord—like any large tribe, really, Tremborag’s tribe had to constantly scavenge and hunt for new food or risk starvation, especially with so many mouths to feed. Rags knew the Goblins grew mushrooms and harvested the native rat, bat, and bug populations, but that was hardly enough.

  These raiding groups had the hardest jobs of any of the Goblins in Tremborag’s tribe. They had to abandon the safety of the mountain to go out and hunt monsters, animals, or raid Human settlements. It was…well, frankly, it was being a Goblin and Rags relished it.

  She fell in with one of the lesser factions in the mountain. Curiously, it was a group of mostly female Goblins. They resented being seen as mates by every male Goblin who came along, and they were of the opinion they fought just as well as male warriors.

  They did. If not with as much strength, then with a good deal of savage cunning. Rags participated in an attack on a Human village—no capturing women, just taking animals and food while the Goblins scared away the Humans. She had a chance to talk with one of their leaders, a Goblin who used two daggers dipped in a concoction made from poisonous plants.

  “Faction is weak.”

  The other Goblin looked at Rags angrily, but relented when she saw Rags was just stating the truth.

  “Weak, but we are united.”

  “Other Goblins do not treat females well?”

  “Not as warriors.”

  The female Goblin bared her teeth.

  “We are strong as males. When we fight, we prove we are equal.”

  Rags frowned. She didn’t think that was true. It seemed like this band of female warriors was being exploited by Tremborag and the other goblins to do dirty work with no real reward.

  She said so. The female Goblin nearly drew a blade on Rags, but Rags had demonstrated that she knew how to fight, and so it didn’t come to that. The female Goblin wiped her daggers clean as she spoke harshly.