The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “High level, and commanding strong, experienced warriors. They worked together, old man. Both armies were ten thousand strong. Not a huge force, I will admit, but they went into the mountains hunting the Goblin Lord and were completely defeated. A single [Scout] made it out of the massacre and said they were wiped out to the last Drake.”

  Silence. Ressa saw Regis swallow a mouthful of his drink, no longer looking content.

  “That changes things. A Goblin Lord that just won a victory is dangerous. His army will grow stronger and replenish itself in days whatever the losses he took. And with that, he grows one step closer to becoming a Goblin King. You were right to come here.”

  He got up and studied the map of the continent. It was old, but most of the geographical locations were unchanged.

  “The Goblin Lord was south of Liscor the last I heard. I assume that’s where he fought? He’ll come north, I agree with that, but perhaps he’ll get bogged down around Liscor. It’s winter, isn’t it? If you wait, come spring the valley will be impassible—”

  “He’ll come north before that, I’m sure of it.”

  “How do you know?”

  Regis frowned at Magnolia as she stood up. She calmly traced a line past Liscor north. There were no cities listed on the map around there; when Regis had been young, the Gnolls had occupied the north as wandering tribes.

  “They won’t attack Liscor. Goblin Lords aren’t idiots. He’ll march right past and start sacking cities, and then spring will roll around and he’ll be trapped on the north side as our problem.”

  “An intriguing conclusion. May I ask—”

  Magnolia tapped the city of Liscor on the map, one of two gateways between north and south. In the days when Regis’ map had been made, a Dwarf city had stood in the High Passes. Now it was lost to time.

  “The Necromancer couldn’t bring down Liscor’s wall in a month. The Antinium couldn’t do it either, and every time we send our armies down to battle the Drakes in the blood fields in the time honored tradition of wasting lives for no gain, we ignore the city. Because it is too difficult to take without a truly powerful siege weapon, a massive army, a magical artifact, or a being of immense power.”

  “Like a Dragon.”

  Regis folded his arms, and suddenly, with the obsession of an old man who enjoyed harping on the complaints of the young, glared at Magnolia.

  “Why don’t you have that scaled disgrace of a lover you trysted with do your dirty work for you, girl? I’m sure he’d make quick work of a Goblin Lord—if he ever bestirred himself from his caverns, that is!”

  Magnolia turned and scowled at him. Regis retreated out of kicking range.

  “You know as well as I that if I asked Teriarch for help he’d refuse. And I don’t expect to be lectured on my private affairs from you. Insult me or Teriarch again and I’ll dispel your damn enchantments and break this armory open to rest your departed soul, dear Grandfather.”

  “Hah! You wouldn’t dare try, brat! Reinharts of the past have broken themselves against the enchantments that keep me here!”

  The old man smiled smugly and folded his arms, supremely confident. Magnolia, who breathed the stuff, smiled nastily.

  “My ‘scaled disgrace of a lover’ as you put it, has informed me that he would certainly be able to dispel or destroy the enchantments protecting you, oh loving grandfather of mine.”

  Regis Reinhart paled.

  “You wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t dare! The risk—”

  “Oh, he’d risk it. For half the treasury. I told him no, as I don’t plan on giving away half of the Reinhart legacy to sit in his caves for him to gloat over. But tempt me, and I’ll see how fast he can teleport over here.”

  The threat seemed to stun Regis for a moment. He made an inarticulate noise.

  “Enough of this. The Dragon may rest and sleep himself into oblivion. I’d rather he stayed there in case the Necromancer returns. You haven’t told me what you’re planning on doing with him. The rest of the continent may sleep at ease believing him gone, but you and I know he’s a threat.”

  “Why, I plan on dealing with him just as soon as I deal with the Antinium. Which, I may remind you, you failed to anticipate being a threat. ‘Leave them alone and the Drakes will handle it’, I believe you said.”

  “Don’t quote my errors, girl—”

  “And don’t lecture me on Az’kerash, you fool. I know he’s a danger, but I also know that a [Necromancer] may only raise a single army, however strong he is. He can split that army, but it’s hardly as dangerous as six Hives which can overrun countless cities.”

  Magnolia tapped the map where six points had been marked around the south eastern part of the continent.

  “Kill one Queen and the rest will lead her Hive. Kill the [Necromancer] and his undead lose their master. I’ll kill him when I’m ready or when he makes a mistake. I have more than enough to deal with now.”

  “True. So this Goblin Lord. I’m prepared to give you a good deal child. You have contributed to the Reinhart family, I will admit, so what you need is yours. Name it.”

  Regis waved a hand regally and his attendants stepped forwards with swords, rings, magic scrolls and other objects of power in their hands. Magnolia looked around dismissively and then pointed.

  “I’ll have that. The Crown of Flowers.”

  On a pedestal across from her sat a laurel wreath made of glowing flowers. When Magnolia spoke one of the attendants dropped the sword she was carrying. Regis nearly choked on his drink.

  “What? No! What would possess you to—out of the question!”

  “You said what I wanted.”

  “Within reason! That is one of the three great treasures of this armory! If I let you have it again—anyways, its power is weak in the winter.”

  “Its power is sufficient to end any Goblin threat old man, winter or not. Give it to me and I’ll not ask for anything more.”

  Regis scowled at Magnolia.

  “If you were going to conquer the continent, I’d let you have it. Or if there were a genuine Goblin King. A Lord doesn’t warrant that artifact, not by far.”

  “What about a Great Goblin Chieftain? Ever heard of one of those, Grandfather? One appeared in the Dwarfhalls Rest. Apparently it’s been living there since the last Goblin King fell and it fought for the Goblin King.”

  “A Great Chieftain? I’ve never heard…no, perhaps there were some…I do recall one or two over the years.”

  Regis floated away from Magnolia, forgetting to walk for a moment. His form grew misty and transparent as he thought.

  “I do recall such Goblins, though rarely. They are akin to Goblin Lords, but lack the drive to be Kings. Thus, they are dangerous. You say one has been here without your knowledge?”

  “And it seeks to join the Goblin Lord. The Goblin Lord, great uncle, who may well be a King if left unchecked.”

  “More and more reason why you should finish him quickly. But not with the Crown of Flowers.”

  Magnolia sighed, but Ressa knew that the Crown of Flowers had been a long shot anyways. Magnolia turned back to the map.

  “Very well. I’m currently levying soldiers from every city from here to Invrisil. I intend to form an army and attack this Great Chieftain first, and then the Goblin Lord.”

  “A sound plan. How many soldiers…?”

  “Forty thousand give or take. Hardly as large as the armies we send to fight with the Drakes each year, but enough for a Goblin Lord.”

  “Assuming he hasn’t grown too large. Have you a [General] for this army, or do you plan to lead it yourself like you did as a child?”

  Magnolia folded her arms and stared icily at Regis.

  “I have a [General] in mind that is more than competant. But I require arms for him, soldiers from my estate, and more artifacts besides. Give them to me.”

  Regis gritted his teeth, seeming to calculate unseen odds and numbers before nodding.

  “What do you want?”

  “I
will have forty thousand soldiers and a [General], grandfather. Give me two companies of our own warriors and some battle golems. Armor fit for a [General]—he won’t need a weapon. And a magical artifact to deal with this ‘Great Goblin Chieftain’. Oh, and give Ressa a dagger.”

  The guardian of the armory pursed his lips, looking put out by Magnolia’s demands. He glanced at Ressa, who stood straight and returned his gaze as it probed her. Finally, grudgingly, he nodded.

  “It will be done. I will give orders. You may take two companies of [Knights], armed with minor magical artifacts. I will give you the armor of your forebears for this [General], and three battle golems. Your maid—”

  “Gets a dagger. Or a shortsword. She can use both. But it has to be concealable.”

  “Assassins. Bah. Very well, I will grant her the Keing Dagger—”

  “That’s a poor artifact. Give her the Yawning Blade, you cheapskate.”

  “For her? No. She may have the Vision of Grasses and I will expect it returned when this business is done.”

  Regis pulled a dagger out of the air and handed it to Ressa. The blade was curved and tinted green, and tapered off into a cutting edge that eyes alone could not see. Ressa bowed as she accepted it and took exquisite care not to let the edges touch any part of her body.

  “There. As for this artifact you require—I will give you one that can dispose of the Great Chieftain personally. One moment.”

  Magnolia waited and found herself being handed a tube with countless symbols etched into it after a moment. It looked like a very cylindrical vase, or an over tall cup of some kind. She dubiously stared into it and the attendant who’d given it to her snatched it back.

  “Please treat it carefully, Lady Reinhart. This device will activate if you will it, and it is capable of felling a Giant.”

  “A shame that they were all wiped out, then.”

  Magnolia took the tube back and tossed it up in the air. Then she caught it and pointed it around, aiming casually.

  “How do I—? Oh, yes, I see. I just have to think and it’ll trigger, correct? How very handy. I can’t wait to see what it does.”

  She swung the tube carelessly, aiming it around the armory. Everyone ducked, including Regis. He roared at her as Ressa picked herself up from the floor.

  “Careful with that, brat! Do you know how many of your ancestors have died from magical artifacts they’ve used improperly?”

  “Not many if they had to get them from you, great uncle. Now, I’d love to be going soon, but I felt I should mention one last thing. While I was requesting soldiers, it came to my attention that Tyrion Veltras is doing the same. It seems he intends to raise an army to deal with the Goblin Lord, although he was quite content to leave them alone earlier.”

  Regis’ face purpled as he got to his feet. He roared, making his attendants clap their hands to their ears.

  “The Veltras? Those lowborn dogs want to steal glory and a march on our family? Why didn’t you tell me before? If you had, I’d have given you all that you asked without arguing!”

  Magnolia smiled sweetly.

  “Because now you’ll give me everything I asked for and more, grandfather. Or would you like Tyrion Veltras to be the one responsible for defeating both the Goblin Lord and this Great Chieftain?”

  Regis stared at Magnolia, eye twitching. Ressa saw one of the attendants—two of them, actually—giggling, and wondered if their long years of imprisonment here were bearable after all. She hoped so, for their sakes.

  As for her, Ressa looked at her mistress as she stared down her immortal ancestor. He glared at her, swore, cursed her mother and her mother’s mother, all of whom had dealt with him before, and then, surprisingly, smiled.

  “You’re an impertinent brat. You always were. I suppose this is why you make for such a good head of the family, though. It’s children like you who make me think we’ll take this continent yet.”

  He smiled fondly at Magnolia, who rolled her eyes. Ressa sighed too, as Regis began to speak about Magnolia’s great, great, great, great grandmother.

  Visiting the family was always a tiresome affair.

  —-

  They left the estate in good time after they parted with Regis. He had Magnolia’s soldiers and arms ready when they left. The family wasn’t trouble either. When they saw Magnolia coming out of the stairwell with the magical artifact of devastation pointed right at them, they fled.

  “Aunt Cecille? A word as we leave.”

  Magnolia called out to one of the women fleeing the range of the tube she was holding. She handed it to Ressa, who cradled the deadly artifact with a great deal more care than Magnolia. The two women strode on.

  “Before I deal with Cecille, have word sent to Lady Bethal, Ressa. I know her Knights of the Petal are quite good. I’d like them to hunt down that other Goblin Chieftain—you know, the one that’s been waylaying travelers on the road?”

  “By herself?”

  “She has Thomast. He could probably outduel any Chieftain living, and if worse comes to worst, Bethal’s intelligent enough to retreat. However, I think that her knights will make short work of the problem. She’s to join me at Dwarfhalls Rest later. We will bring down the Goblin Chieftain as soon as I can march the army all the way there. Argh, but it’ll take forever. A shame I couldn’t borrow the Banner of Terland but—he’d never let me have it.”

  “First the Goblin Chieftain and then the Goblin Lord. In quick succession. You aren’t waiting for them I see.”

  Magnolia smiled coldly. Regis had the eyes of a being who’d lived for thousands of years, but Magnolia’s eyes were more distant still.

  “I don’t play games, Ressa. I have assassins to deal with, the Antinium, Az’kerash—and now this issue of otherworlders that Regis doesn’t know about. I can’t waste time on a Goblin Lord.”

  She paused and then kicked at one of the walls, speaking loudly at the ceiling.

  “You hear that, old man? Time to broaden your scrying! There’s more at stake here than the continent and you had no idea until I told you about it! Guardian of the Reinhart legacy my foot!”

  A loud curse echoed through the mansion, making Lady Cecille cower as she scuttled up to Magnolia. The head of the Reinhart family sighed and walked on. Ressa followed, smiling slightly.

  —-

  The mighty planned and made preparations for war. That was how it was. That was how it always was in Izril. Unlike Baleros, where war was more like endless conflicts between mercenaries and seldom engulfed the entire continent, or Chandrar where it happened between kingdoms more rarely in the deserts, Izril had only one war. That of the Drakes and the Humans.

  Oh, and the Gnolls of course. The tribes were always an issue. And the Antinium, damn them! And if it came to that, the Goblins were a threat. But to Drakes, the threat had always been Humans. Always. They had landed on their shores millennia ago, and Drakes never forgave the land they had ceded to the Humans. Never.

  Terandria had politics. Rhir struggled for survival. But Drakes had a foe. Those damn Humans. It was more of a bad rivalry now, true, as neither side did more than send armies to the Blood Fields each year to kill each other. But give them half a chance and the Drakes would happily invade the north, while the Humans would do the same.

  That was why Drakes were ready for battle. And in Liscor, the council—a group of individuals who represented different facets of the city from the Captain of the Watch to the [Strategist] that was required by law to be present in case of emergencies—knew what to do. Or rather, they knew what they were supposed to do.

  Olesm Swifttail sat around the table, feeling very nervous and very, very unsure of himself. Drake law was clear and it outlined the steps a city should take in cases like now. But unlike a Human invasion which would mandate instant support from every Drake city on the continent, the situation with the Goblin Lord was different.

  He had crushed two armies sent against him. Two. Armies. Both had been led by famous generals. Thrissi
am Blackwing and Garusa Weatherfur were legends to Olesm. The thought that they’d both fallen in battle made him fear for his city.

  He was just a [Tactician]. Hardly qualified to make decisions about the city. And the Council—well, Olesm didn’t like to badmouth fellow Drakes, but they were only a nominal ruling body that took care of bureaucratic measures. They weren’t leaders.

  And they were all Drakes. Olesm would have loved to have Krshia in the Council rather than the appointed Head Merchant, a Drake with less experience than the Gnoll. But politics were politics. Of the group, the few people who seemed in control and knew what to do were Watch Captain Zevera, Wall Lord Ilvriss, General Zel Shivertail, and the Named Adventurer, Regrika Blackpaw.

  It was reassuring to have them all here. Very reassuring. Olesm thought the other Council members would have panicked if it weren’t for such legends being in the room, reassuring them. They might have panicked anyways, but there was another factor keeping the room somewhat calm.

  The Humans. The Human, in point of fact. Jelaqua Ivrith and Ulrien Sparson were both here, but Olesm knew for a fact that Jelaqua was a Selphid. But to the other Council members it probably didn’t matter. Jelaqua looked like a Human, so she counted.

  Thus, the prevailing mood was nervousness, but hidden by bravado. Yes, the situation was grim. However, you couldn’t let the Humans see that, could you? Had to put on a brave face. Yes, stiff upper tails and all that. It seemed the other Drakes were reminding each other they had to stay calm in front of the Humans.

  “I think we’re agreed, then.”

  Wall Lord Ilvriss spoke as he leaned over the table, and Olesm sat upright guiltily. He’d been dozing off—the meeting had gone on for hours. Ignoring the guilty starts of the others in the room, Lord Ilvriss summarized the main points they’d discussed.

  “Word has already been sent to the other cities. I expect my city will send another army—a larger one—to destroy this Goblin Lord in due time. No doubt it will be a confederation army after all. However, in the meantime Liscor must stand. To that end, a message spell has been sent to Liscor’s army.”