The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  She was getting tired after only ten minutes of flight. Very tired. Osthia saw the other soldiers with wings flagging, and turned her head to order them to head back. As she did, she felt something crawl down her spine. A feeling, as if someone was staring at her with an arrow trained on her back.

  Instantly, Osthia dove down. The other soldiers did likewise, moving instinctively to avoid an arrow or spell. Osthia turned and scanned the landscape. And saw nothing.

  Was it a false alarm? For a minute, and then two she scanned the white slopes of the mountain, the trees, the rocks. And saw nothing. She raised her hand and signaled the other wary Drakes that it was a false alarm. She had seen nothing.

  But the feeling remained. Something had been watching her, Osthia was sure of it. But whatever it was, it was already gone. Or hidden from her sight.

  Rattled, Osthia flew back with her escort, landing safely among the ranks of her fellow soldiers. She abandoned her thoughts of romance. There was something out there. It was waiting for them. And so she and the army would flush it out.

  And kill it.

  Day 60

  It was cold. Wet. Thrissiam kept the new joint army moving and scouting ahead. There were no signs of Goblins yet, although they’d covered a lot of ground, keeping their [Scouts] and groups of riders moving at all times.

  “This damn snow came at the worst time for a Goblin Lord. It falls too heavily each day. Any tracks are being erased. Damn those Winter Sprites!”

  He was grousing to Garusa, who he’d found was a worthy companion as they rode their army towards the next place they’d chosen to fortify and explore from. The Gnoll grinned.

  “Perhaps the Goblins are having a courtly dance as we wait, hm? What must this Goblin Lord be like? Surely a Lord is a [Lord], Goblin or not.”

  She had a weird sense of humor too. Thrissiam snorted despite himself. He knew a [Lord] could be specialized in combat or managing his lands depending on how their Skills were gained. Thus, some Human [Lords] could counter the greatest Drake [Generals], like the Human Lord Tyrion. But most were inferiors to a class dedicated towards battle like his.

  “I suppose you think all [Lords] dance? Take it from me, Weatherfur, some of the Lords—and Ladies—of the Wall are just as adept at sword dances as they are at ballroom dancing.”

  “Hrr. Then why are they not here? Was there not a Lord of the Wall that fought General Shivertail a month ago? He could be a match for this Goblin Lord.”

  “Catch a Lord of the Wall doing a mission like this? Not likely. They’re for quick glory and guts, not a slog or hunt.”

  Thrissiam lashed his tail, and Garusa smiled. Their army continued onwards, watchful, vigilant. The first of the [Scouts] began disappearing a few hours later.

  Day 61

  Osthia flew a patrol with the six Drakes in her command. She flew high as she could, drinking a mana potion to replenish her energy. It was a foul-tasting brew, despite the quality. Osthia hated using it, for all it let her fly longer. She could only do so four times before she’d start throwing up, a sure sign of overdosing on the stuff.

  Today she was escorting a group of [Scouts], overseeing three groups in fact, as they roamed the forest searching for signs of life. So far they’d found nothing. No monsters, and there had to have been some about in this wooded area.

  But they’d found nothing. And yesterday, twelve of the Gnolls and Drakes sent out had failed to come back over the course of the day. They’d vanished, each time alone, each time far from the main army.

  Thrissiam had suspected Goblins, but larger groups hadn’t found any traces of a struggle. So he’d sent Osthia to watch from above. So she did. She flew and watched. One scout group exited the forest and entered a clearing where they paused, investigating something on the ground. Another vanished below a dense canopy of leaves. The third scaled a cliff side.

  Watch. Osthia saw the group in the clearing turn away from what they’d been looking at. The group on the cliff headed higher. The group under the canopy…

  Didn’t emerge. Osthia waited a minute, and then two. Something was wrong. She immediately put a horn to her lips and blew a horn call. She blew five blasts, attracting both groups of [Scouts]. They signed towards her and she pointed in the direction of the missing group.

  Behind her, more horn calls sounded. Osthia listened and heard drumbeats as well, beating out a pattern. A group of riders was already headed for her spot, and the drums were telling her to hold position.

  Osthia ignored the order. She turned to the flying Drakes and pointed with her spear.

  “Down! Be ready for anything. Rass—stay back and watch! If we’re not out in a second—”

  She was already diving with the others. Osthia crashed through the branches, ready to use her breath weapon, spear ready. She was expecting anything—

  And found nothing. Nothing. Just a messed up section of snow. No [Scouts], no Goblins. Nothing.

  They’d been taken in the few minutes it had been take to sound the alarm. Warily, Osthia looked around. She felt something watching her. The Drakes in her command spread out around her. If the Goblins had taken the [Scouts]—

  “Up! Into the air!”

  She cried out and the Drakes leapt back up, swearing, crashing through branches. Now Osthia circled wide, searching for anything moving in the trees. But she found nothing. Neither did the riders, or the [Scouts]. They combed the landscape, but whatever had taken this group of [Scouts] had just vanished into the air.

  Day 62

  They knew there were Goblins about. For three days now, their patrols had been ambushed. Smaller ones, ones that strayed too far, simply vanished. The others found nothing. It set all of Thrissiam’s scales on edge, and so he’d refused to budge from the second hilltop. Instead, he was sending out larger scouting groups with [Mages] to look for traces of the Goblins.

  Now he stood in his command tent, staring at the map of the landscape, irritated, on edge. His army was camped on the top of the hill, giving them a view of the surroundings. A nearby mountain loomed over them, and a forest surrounded their position to the northwest. He looked up as someone opened the tent flap. Thrissiam was about to order whoever it was out, but he bit his tongue as Garusa entered.

  “Any word?”

  She shook her head.

  “Another patrol came back with no findings. None at all. It is odd, yes? They should have found some sign of what attacked the last, but none did. Not the [Mages] and experienced [Scouts].”

  “Magic. Or something else. Damnit!”

  Thrissiam pounded the table with his claws, taking care not to damage the map. He wasn’t used to this. Not from Goblins. He’d be wary if another force managed to elude him, but how were Goblins doing this? Was this really all due to a Goblin Lord? Garusa watched him for a moment before speaking.

  “I had a thought.”

  “Share it.”

  “When we met I wondered why the Goblin Lord would retreat here. There is no food for his army, and Goblins devour. It is a bad choice, for one that knows an attack is coming, no?”

  “That’s true.”

  Thrissiam nodded, still angry but thinking now. Garusa nodded as well.

  “Yes, a smarter decision would be to raid other cities, to keep moving, growing an army by collecting other Goblins nearby. So why hide?”

  “To buy time, or maybe traverse the mountains? What’s your point?”

  Garusa sniffed. She frowned, but kept speaking.

  “It makes no sense. Goblin Lords know they will be hunted. So perhaps…”

  “Perhaps what?”

  Thrissiam looked up at Garusa. Her face was shadowed, her voice low.

  “Perhaps the Goblin Lord only retreated to make sure it was we who could not run. I smell Goblins, Thrissiam. I smell them everywhere, but cannot find their scent. And the smell is everywhere.”

  He stared at her. Her eyes gleamed. Thrissiam opened his mouth, and then heard a horn call in the distance. It was blaring the
call to attack. He jerked upright, and then heard another from the west. And another.

  And another.

  The last one was blowing right outside. Thrissiam stormed out, Garusa following and heard the screams.

  “Sound the alarm! We’re under attack!”

  He looked out, and suddenly the barren landscape was filled with motion. Goblins boiled down the slopes from the mountains, charged out of the forest, shouting, screaming. Hundreds, thousands of them.

  “Recall all forces! Rally on me!”

  Thrissiam had his spear in his hands. He ran towards the front as Garusa called for her mount. The Goblins smashed into the fortifications his army had built, screaming. There were Hobs, Goblin [Mages]—the undead!

  So many of them. Too many. And where was the Goblin Lord? Thrissiam was too busy fighting to see.

  —-

  They came out of nowhere. One second Osthia had been resting her wings in camp, the next, the Goblins had poured out of the trees, down the mountain. Some burst out of the snow.

  Out of the snow?

  “To arms! Goblin attack!”

  The cry went up as Osthia ran towards the front. There was no time to find her company. She just fell into line with the [Soldiers] around her. Drakes had learned to adapt to any situation.

  But this was unnerving even so. The Goblins were everywhere. It wasn’t just that they’d snuck up on the army—they’d completely caught them off-guard! As Osthia watched, a completely flattened portion of ground suddenly exploded upwards, and Goblins clawed their way up.

  They’d been waiting underground? How? They couldn’t breathe down there! Unless—and then Osthia saw it. The gray skin, the rotten flesh. It wasn’t just Goblins emerging from under the snow, under the ground. It was Drakes too, and Gnolls. They were all pale, flesh gray and rotting, bloodless.

  Zombies.

  “Undead!”

  The cry went up as all the pieces fell into place for Osthia. That was why the [Scouts] had vanished so quickly! That was why the Goblins couldn’t be found! The main force was probably hiding, while the undead waited below, attacking and burying themselves without a trace. The Drake army had marched right into the middle of where they were hiding. And now—

  Now the trap was sprung, and they were under assault from all sides.

  The first group of living Goblins hit the camp from the west, charging down the mountain. Osthia heard the screams and sound of battle begin, but didn’t falter. A surprise attack it might be, but the Goblins were no match for a Drake [Soldier]. She kept believing that right until she saw a group of eight Hobgoblins charge into the side of the [Soldiers] and start hacking Drakes and Gnolls apart.

  Osthia’s eyes widened as the Hobs appeared. There shouldn’t be that many Hobs in a tribe! But there were so many in this army! They towered over the smaller Goblins, standing toe-to-toe with elite warriors.

  And then the fighting hit their side. Not living Goblins. Dead ones.

  A wave of zombies, several skeletons, and three Ghouls hit the Drakes that Osthia was positioned with. She caught one as it ran onto her spear, and the Drakes around her did the same. As they were fighting, Drakes with swords stepped forwards, cutting as the ones with pikes shoved their enemies back. [Archers] began raining arrows on the undead and a [Mage] unleashed a shower of lightning that made several undead jerkand fall down before getting up.

  Lightning magic was a bad idea on the undead. Osthia snarled as she jabbed her spear. There was a strange, grey Goblin walking towards her. Just walking. It looked…different from the rest. Osthia had a bad feeling about it, and stabbed it in the chest. The Goblin didn’t try to stop her, and her spear’s head went right through where its heart should be.

  The gray Goblin fell, gaping soundlessly. Then it exploded, sending shockwaves of force and black energy spiraling outwards. Osthia cried out and saw the undead nearest to the exploding Goblin simply vanish as the blast consumed them. The Drakes around her were thrown backwards, and the undead swarmed them. Osthia got up, saw a Ghoul running at her, and opened her mouth.

  She didn’t breathe fire. Instead, Osthia spat. That was how she thought of it. The glands in her mouth shot a greenish spray towards the Ghoul. It charged right into the mist, and then began to melt. It felt no pain, but suddenly the Ghoul’s eyes and part of its face were gone. It swung wildly, knocking a skeleton to the ground. Osthia ran the Ghoul through and then turned and spat again.

  The undead caught by her attack lurched onwards, melting down, blinded. The Drakes near Osthia seized the opportunity and shakily reformed the battle line. Osthia wiped at her mouth, relieved that her body was immune to her ability. She turned her head and shouted at the nearest Drake [Sergeant].

  “Take down the gray Goblins before they reach the camp! Spread the word! I’ll tell the [General]! Hurry!”

  She leapt into the air, flying back towards the center of camp. Now she could hear the thump as more of the trapped Goblins exploded, sowing chaos among the Drakes and Gnolls. Thrissiam heard her garbled report and immediately called for every [Archer] to prioritize the Goblins. The threat dealt with in part, Osthia found her company.

  She led the next charge into the ranks of the living Goblins, who screamed as they felt her acid burn and eat at them. The ones around her fled, but more kept coming. More, and more. They didn’t seem to fear death. They wore black armor and screamed in hatred as they kept coming.

  An hour later, Osthia was pulling back, exhausted, barely able to move, when she saw him. As her company retreated and a fresh group of soldiers was rotated in, she caught sight of an oddity in the seething mass of Goblins.

  At first, she thought it was just another Hob. But this one was different. He stood on a ledge hundreds of meters away from the fighting, on the mountainside. He was staring at the fighting armies, and as Osthia watched, his gaze passed over her.

  For a moment, their eyes met. Osthia got only a glimpse of a Goblin’s face. But something was wrong with his eyes. They weren’t red.

  Black eyes with white pupils. A piercing gaze. A hooded face. He stood among a group of Hobgoblins and Goblin [Mages] and [Shamans]. Just watching.

  The Goblin Lord. Osthia was transfixed. She knew it was him the instant she saw him. No other Goblin was like him. His presence seemed to make him bigger, although he was only the size of a Human, not a towering mass like some of the Hobgoblins. He was only watching, but his eyes—Osthia felt dread.

  Then he raised his arm and a black lance of light struck down one of the Drake [Mages] from behind. Osthia shouted, but the Goblin Lord was already turning away. He retreated out of danger as the Goblins roared and redoubled their efforts.

  The Drakes and Gnolls held the line. They bled and died, but they pushed the Goblins and undead back. By the end of the day, the dead had stained the ground red, and churned mud froze overnight. That was the first day.

  The second was just as bad.

  Day 64

  In the mountains, Drakes and Gnolls died. Goblins died. Everything died. Thrissiam led his army with Garusa against the Goblin Lord, cutting apart bodies, blasting enemy positions with magic, grappling with undead—

  This was war with a Goblin Lord. And it was far more terrible than Thrissiam could have ever imagined.

  The fighting wasn’t a single day’s affair. From morning until dusk, the Goblins assailed their position, fighting at dawn, at night, withdrawing, ambushing, trying to uproot the Drake army’s position.

  They hadn’t managed to so far. But neither had the Drake army managed to force them back or deplete their numbers greatly. It was a deadlock. The Goblin Lord’s full army outnumbered them greatly, but Thrissiam’s forces were better equipped, better trained, higher level. It was a battle they could win, in short.

  But some things made him uneasy. Garusa pointed it out the day after she’d carried Thrissiam into a bed. She had only shared it for an hour—the [Generals] were alternating shifts to keep up a steady defense. Now she and Thrissiam
spoke concisely as Drakes tended to their injured with potions and wrapped wounds too light to warrant proper healing in a lull between the fighting.

  “None of our [Mages] can cast the [Message] spell. They have tried each day, again and again, but the highest-level cannot.”

  “So? We don’t need reinforcements, and if we did, they’d be too late.”

  Garusa nodded.

  “Yes. That is true. But that is not what concerns me. To block the spell, so my [Mages] say, you would need a mage specialized in such magic…or a mage of far greater ability. Neither seems at home to a Goblin Lord’s forces, no?”

  That was true. Thrissiam frowned, suddenly worried.

  “It might be they have an artifact. Or one of their [Shamans]…? You’re right. It seems beyond them.”

  “In that case, what is the cause?”

  Thrissiam shook his head.

  “I don’t know. But we must get word back to the cities, no matter what happens. They have to know the Goblin Lord can use undead—and that he can block spells!”

  Garusa nodded. Thrissiam’s claws dug into the table.

  “You were right. General Shivertail was right. That Goblin Lord…isn’t ordinary. I see him out there, occasionally. In the trees, leading his forces. Never close enough that our [Marksmen] or [Snipers] could get a clear shot at him. And he blocked every spell my battle mages sent towards him.”

  “We must try to hunt him down.”

  “Yes. We’ll try for it now. If it means sacrificing a group to have his head—”

  “That is my job, no?”

  He looked at her. They’d barely said a word in between sleeping together and waking. This was war. But he and she—he shook his head.

  “Not yet. Not unless it comes to that. I won’t risk you.”

  She grinned at him, as if he’d made a joke.

  “You are thinking with your head, not with your second tail, yes? A [General] must be composed and think of victory, not affection.”

  Thrissiam went scarlet and looked around, but the tent was empty. He glared at Garusa.