by Pirateaba
“I sensed it.”
“Ah. Interesting.”
I feel all the hairs on the back of my neck trying to dance. I wait. Odveig moves closer.
“I have so much I’d like to ask you, but your protector might wake up soon and my cover is gone. So I’ll just say this.”
I feel someone brushing hair around my ears, and then a higher-pitched voice, an elegant tone, so unlike Odveig’s accented words.
“Lady Magnolia sends her regards. She will be very interested to speak with you once I deliver my report. If you survive.”
I feel a chill as Odveig whispers into my ear. I’m afraid to make the wrong move, tense. I can sense her holding her mace at her side.
“Who are you really? Why did Magnolia send you? What does she want?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say much, Laken. But my real name is…Sacra. I regret that we couldn’t speak under more pleasant circumstances.”
She shifts. I wait for the end, or at least, unconsciousness. But Odveig doesn’t lift it and smash my brains out. She turns and strides out of the cottage. I sense her pick up speed as she leaves—she’s running down to the village incredibly quickly. Then she’s on a horse, trotting it out of the village until she’s out of sight, and then racing it—
She’s gone.
It takes five minutes before my body starts being able to move again. Wiskeria’s magic wears off slowly, and I feel like I’m moving through molasses. My arms and legs tingle like they’ve been asleep. At last, I stand up, around the same time Wiskeria and Durene wake up.
Both of them get up and immediately start a riot. Wiskeria runs out of the cottage and Durene chases her shouting for Odveig. That leaves me in the cottage, alone. I put my head in my hands.
“Damn. I feel like an idiot.”
—-
I’m an idiot. That’s my conclusion after the chaos, with Prost rousing the village and the Celestial Trackers demanding to know why Odveig’s run and Wiskeria trying to defend herself and avoid Durene hitting her. I sort it out by shouting at everyone and kick myself that night.
I’m an idiot. Have I said it enough times? No. To put it in a delightfully American way, I done goofed. That’s an appropriate way of thinking of how stupid I was.
What was my plan? Confront Wiskeria and hope she’d confess? And then what? Confine her as a prisoner or—kill her? Let her go? Aside from the fact that I was wrong, I didn’t give any thought to what I was going to do.
I panicked. And because of that, Odveig’s gone and I’m left with more questions and one less warrior to defend the village. If I had been smarter, I could have observed Odveig and let her help me—or see how far Magnolia was willing to go to attack me and my village.
Now I’m down another adventurer, and a good one if she can knock out Durene in a single hit. If only I’d…
Too late now. Too late. At least one of my worries has resolved itself. Only, now it’s a bigger worry and I still have to worry about them.
The Goblins.
4.23 E
“I can’t believe it. It was Odveig—I mean, Sacra, the entire time?”
“Yes, Durene. I didn’t realize it until it was too late. Damnit, I feel like an idiot—”
“But how? She didn’t act like—she was always so respectful and—and not like a spy at all! I thought Wiskeria was odd when you said she might be the one, but—Odveig?”
“The best spy’s one you don’t see coming, Durene.”
“And she works for Lady Magnolia? I mean…the Lady Magnolia?”
“You know her?”
“Everyone does. She’s Magnolia Reinhart. She’s…why’d she want you, Laken? Why’d she send Odveig?”
“I don’t know. Curiosity, maybe. Or—no, it’s no use questioning it. But now she’s gone and we could have really used her, Odveig’s abilities.”
“Yeah. You know, when she hit me, I didn’t feel a thing? She just tapped my head, like that, and it was…poof! What level do you think she was?”
“High. It was a mistake to confront her. Not that I knew it was her. Now Wiskeria’s afraid she’s trapped in some political game, and the adventurers are nervous. It was a mistake to do this now.”
“But you know who was causing trouble now, right? That’s a good thing.”
“Yes, but we don’t know why, Durene. We don’t know why and if she did anything else and what she’ll tell Lady Magnolia. We don’t know—and the Goblins are still out there.”
“Yeah. They shot arrows at Gamel when he was cutting wood. Everyone’s afraid.”
“I know.”
“Oh! But they know you’ll take care of it! You have a plan, right Laken? Right?”
“I—I have something, Durene.”
“What is it?”
“It’s—well, it’s just a guess. An idea, really. The Goblins are hiding, and I’ve been taking…steps…to deal with them.”
“Steps is good. But what…? Is it a secret?”
“No. Just stupid. I mean, it sounds stupid in my head. It’s got to do with Jelov. I’ll—you know what? It’s time. I have to try it. Otherwise we’re in trouble. We’ve lost Odveig, I mean, Sacra, Durene. Everyone’s afraid. It’s only a matter of time before someone tries to run or gets killed, or people try to replace me—either way, that’s when the Goblins attack and we all die.”
“I won’t let them do that. I’ll kill them. All of them. By myself, if I have to.”
“…”
“Laken?”
“I know you’d do that, Durene. But it’s my job to—to make things easier. I’ll do it tomorrow. And the situation with Wiskeria and the others—we’ll deal with it afterwards.”
“What if she’s, you know, angry I tried to hit her?”
“Then she can be angry. But she’ll obey. We’re only coming out of this one way, Durene, and that’s if we stick together. And I’ll do it. I’ll make us fight as one if I have to force everyone to do it myself.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“Really? That sounds terrible to me.”
“Well forcing people, yeah…but you’re you, Laken. I know you’ll help everyone, even if it means twisting their arms.”
“Hah. You always know what to say, Durene.”
“…”
“…”
“Laken? Are we going to die?”
“…No, Durene. I won’t let it happen.”
“Good. But if we do, I wanted to—”
“Shh. Go to sleep.”
“But I wanted to—”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you too.”
Day 69
Three attacks. Arrows flying out of the woods and Goblins charging a group of the villagers. Both times there were only wounded, not the dead—the Windfrozen Riders chased the Goblins away before they could do more than cut at the villagers.
And yet, the pain is still there. I can hear a man screaming and whimpering before the healing potion is applied sparingly to his leg. An oval of flesh had been carved off of his leg.
It’s too much. I can sense the villagers’ fear, sense the adventurers wavering. Odveig’s sudden departure and the suspicion Wiskeria was put under has rattled both groups. Wiskeria’s in charge now, but she’s jumpy too. Whatever relationship I had with her is strained…
But we’re all in the same boat. I don’t know if Odveig—I mean, Sacra, got away safely, or if she was killed by the Goblins. We’re cut off right now. Isolated.
But not hopeless. Not yet. Once I’m done talking to Prost, I stride over to my one hope, my secret weapon, my ace in the hole.
Jelov looks up at me as I find him eating in the barn.
“Your majesty, can I do something for you?”
I don’t waste time with pleasantries.
“The markers, Jelov. Are they done?”
He sounds startled.
“Yes, your worship. Not polished as good as could be, but—”
“
Good, have them brought out. I’ll be using them in a few moments.”
I leave him scrambling to get up and find Wiskeria. I think she’s trying to hide from me, but I know where she is. The [Witch] tenses.
“Your majesty, about Odveig. I—”
“Wiskeria, how dangerous would it be to go…let’s say four miles out of the village with a wagon and plant something in the ground?”
“Plant? What?”
She stares at me. I’m not making sense. I take a steadying breath. Calm down.
“I have six—no, seven wooden markers. Each one’s thick—and heavy. I’m sure you’ve seen Jelov carving them.”
“I—yes, sire?”
Still not making sense. I speak slower.
“I want to plant them in the ground. Each one needs to be hammered into the ground in a circle around Riverfarm. Deep. Somewhere where they won’t fall down, around four miles or so away from the village. Can it be done with a small group? Without danger?”
Wiskeria stares at me. She opens her mouth, hesitates, and then answers without asking the why of it.
“I suppose it’s possible, your majesty. It’d be a job for the Windfrozen Riders, and risky. If they’re attacked. Otherwise we could send out a huge band, but that would leave the village undefended and I guarantee the Goblins are waiting for that moment.”
I nod.
“Okay, a small group, then. What would that entail?”
“…Four riders, I suppose. Six, maybe, depending on how heavy the markers are. It would slow them down, and hammering it into the ground would take—”
“What if Durene carried the markers? She could probably drive them into the earth with her bare hands.”
Wiskeria gulps and I hear the noise.
“That could work. But it would be dangerous.”
“You’ve said that. How dangerous?”
“I wouldn’t risk it, your majesty. Why—”
“Give me odds, Wiskeria. Solid odds. Out of ten.”
She pauses.
“…Four in ten odds they’re attacked, sire. If they move fast enough, if they keep in the open.”
“Good. In that case—do it. Seven points around Riverfarm, evenly spaced as possible. A perimeter. Four miles away from the village, each one.”
“But—”
“I’m not discussing this, Wiskeria. Do it. Take Durene with you to make it quicker and however many people you need to feel safe, but get it done.”
I turn away from Wiskeria abruptly. My faith in her is…weakened. I thought I could trust her. She wasn’t the spy, but she did place us in danger with the Mossbear. That might have been her doing, not Sacra’s. That she didn’t come clean about it bothers me most.
And Sacra. It seems like she was one of Magnolia’s spies, someone who could pose as a Silver-rank team leader when needed. Was her hiring Wiskeria really due to them being old friends? Or was the entire team in on it?
I don’t know. I only know that she’s gone and the Goblins are my biggest threat. I stand in the village and hear the Windfrozen Riders—and Durene depart.
My heart is beating too quickly. I’m taking a huge risk. I’m gambling their lives—and Durene’s on this. I wouldn’t risk her for anything, but I have to do this. It has to work.
Prost hurries up to me, worried.
“Emperor Laken, I heard you’d ordered a group to take Jelov’s decorated poles out and place them in the dirt. It’s not my place to say, but—”
“Then don’t, Prost. I know what I’m doing.”
He falls silent. I wait, feeling seconds turn into hours, at least in my mind I feel a twinge of guilt, realizing Prost is standing with me. I’d like to explain. However, I might be wrong.
No, I can’t be wrong. But nothing else has been going my way of late. Goblins. Spies. It’s all out of control. I have only this idea—hell, it’s not even mine! I just want it to work. It has to work. Otherwise—
Thump.
There’s a feeling in my chest. I pause; put a hand to my chest. I can sense Prost looking at me worriedly in silence.
Thump. I feel it, and scraping dirt. It’s coming in the direction the riders and Durene left. A sensation, far away. Miles away, in fact. I’d bet anything it was exactly four miles.
“One.”
I can feel it being hammered into the ground in the distance. It’s like a beacon in my mind. Prost looks at me.
“What’s that sire?”
“One, Prost. Wait for it.”
It’s…twenty minutes or more before I feel the thump again. Can you travel four miles in twenty minutes? You can if you’re running with a horse. And Durene—I’ll bet she can run pretty damn fast too.
“Two.”
Prost looks at me, silent. But he’s catching on. It’s about the same time when I feel it again. Three points now, each one in the distance. One to my east, another southeast, another almost directly south…
“Three.”
Forming a circle. It goes on. Now one to my west. It takes a while. But then—
“Four.”
North, now. Prost is waiting and so am I. My heart is pounding. North—north west.
“Five.”
Two left to go. I wait. The next thump makes my body shake. I feel Prost steady me. The earth shifts. I feel it—
“Si—”
I stagger. I’m not aware of Prost catching me, shouting for Wiskeria. I only know it’s happened.
Six. That was the magic number. I feel it. A huge area of land, marked by six points, opens up in my head. Suddenly, I can see the entire world encompassed in that space.
That’s right. The markers. The pieces of wood Jelov worked so hard on. They’re in the ground now, and they demarcate a rough hexagon, slanted oddly near the north side, but circular, around my village.
Six points. Six markers made of wood, bearing my symbol, claiming this land as my own. Now the points are connected in my head, and the wide area they encompass is suddenly there. I can stretch my senses beyond the limits of the village.
I sense the forest, still covered with snow, the melting water as it drips off of a branch under the light from the sun, the Mossbear slumbering in its cave, a squirrel hibernating in a tree, worms wriggling under the mud near a rock—
And the Goblins. There they are. Hiding in the forest, a group of them armed with bows watching the adventurers and Durene racing across an open road to the last point. They’re hidden in the trees, waiting in ambush I see a Goblin raising a bow, aiming at Durene’s back, an arrow drawn.
No! I draw breath, sightless, seeing it in my mind as Wiskeria asks me what’s happening. But my soul, my very being is somewhere else. I’m with Durene, watching her pant and carry the last marker, exhausted from her rapid pace. My heart is with hers, and its life rests on the arrow the Goblin sights down. He’s aiming at her head. I shout.
“Stop!”
The word echoes. It freezes the people around me—and the Goblin. His arm freezes as he’s about to release. He halts—and then curses, looks around. The Goblin sees nothing and looks at Durene, suddenly concerned. His fellows stare at him impatiently. Durene is nearly away.
He hesitates, falters. I say the word again.
“Stop.”
This time the Goblin still moves. He jerks, snarls, draws the arrow to his cheek again. The word doesn’t work on him fully.
It’s a pushing, a mental shove. That’s what effect my [Emperor]’s command has. I can see the Goblin have to brace itself in some way as I demand he stops, but he can keep moving now he knows what’s coming. This time he aims at one of the adventurers.
“Stop!”
The hesitation is barely a flicker. The Goblin releases the arrow, howling with triumph and fury. The arrow streaks after the adventurers, strikes a horse’s side. The horse and rider go down and I see Durene dragging both away. The adventures are retreating. The Goblins get ready to swarm them.
There’s a huge Hobgoblin, all fat and muscle, holding a lon
gsword and signaling the Goblins to move in. One of two. The other Hobgoblin is closer, watching the village from afar with a group of Goblins patiently waiting in a forest clearing.
But this Hob. He’ll try to kill Durene. I see it in his eyes. So I whisper a command to him.
“Leave this place. Go far away and never come back.”
He starts as well. I sense his foot take a step away from Durene, and then he jerks it back. The command was almost completely ineffectual. But it gives Durene a chance to put more ground between her and the Goblins. And now he’s distracted.
The Hob casts around. He knows something is happening, but can’t see what. He’s wary, rightly so. He snarls something at the Goblin archer and I see the two conferring. The Hobgoblin turns his head, stares with narrowed eyes the way the riders and Durene have gone.
Towards the village. Towards me.
In my mind, I can see Durene and the riders running back towards the village. They abandon the last marker; they have to abandon the horse too. The [Rider] slits her horse’s throat, sobbing, rather than let it be taken alive by the Goblins. They come back.
And the Goblins do too. I see them streaming through the forest, some stopping to crap in the snow, others laughing, fingering weapons. The Hob snarls at them and they keep silent.
Now both Hobs are together. They gesture towards the village, the one with the sword arguing with the other. A decision is reached.
By the time Durene reaches the village, practically collapsing with exhaustion, I see it. The Goblins move out. A small group breaks away from the larger mass, circles around the village. The Goblins begin sharpening weapons, chattering excitedly. I sense their intent, see it in the way they move.
They have nets. Bundles of dry wood. They mean to capture some of the villagers and torch this place when they leave. The Hobgoblin is shouting at them, ordering them—
“—Laken? Laken! Please, get up!”
Someone’s shaking me. Someone’s holding me, pleading with me. I hear a voice I love, feel sweaty, callused palms, smell Durene—
I don’t open my eyes. There’s really no point. But suddenly, I’m back in my body, lying in Prost’s house, as Durene shakes me and Prost, Wiskeria, and all the villagers who can fit in the room over around me. I can sense them all, hear their distressed voices. Gamel is clutching the bedframe so hard I can sense the wood splintering a bit.