The Goblin Wars Part Two: Death of a King

by Stuart Thaman

  With his mind, Gideon extinguished the cantrip and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the near pitch black conditions. A lone torch burned on a distant wall but it was in desperate need of more fuel. The low flickering light threatened to go out at any moment. Several goblins moved about the chamber tending to their herd with water and food.

  Gideon held up a hand to tell the group to stay silent. Any goblin that discovered them would instantly alert all of the others. As far as the hive knew, they had last been seen outside the mountain. Gideon intended to keep it that way. Vorst pointed to a large opening a hundred or more feet from where they crouched. Between them and next tunnel, a handful of goblins were going about their business.

  Directly in front of the group was a wooden pen holding a dozen or so mammals that appeared to be a subterranean species of hornless goat. The creatures, covered in thick white hair and much shorter than their surface dwelling counterparts, bleated and paced back and forth. Vorst scooted along the ground until she had her back against one of the pen’s support poles. Carefully mimicking the animal’s movements, Vorst used the creature as a shield. When it moved closer to the next tunnel, she followed it until she could dive quickly behind a closer animal.

  Gideon and Melkora were hesitant about fitting behind the short goats, but they got down on their bellies and shimmied along the pen as best they could. When all four of them had reached the end of the wooden enclosure, they had twenty feet left to go that was completely exposed. Less than ten feet from their position, a goblin wearing a leather vest walked from animal to animal with a bucket of grain he used to feed them. There was no way to make it to the tunnel without alerting him.

  Slowly, Vorst cranked the string of her crossbow into place. With every pass of the gear, her heart stopped in her chest and she was sure one of the workers would hear her. When the string reached the latch at the back of the weapon, Vorst used her finger to slow the automatic movement of a bolt into the track from the cartridge below.

  Gideon couldn’t tell what her plan was, but he begged her silently not to shoot one of the goblins. They would have to kill all six goblins in the room at near instantaneous speed to ensure they would remain unseen.

  Vorst flattened herself underneath one of the horizontal planks of the pen and stuck her arms and crossbow through to the other side. After several long minutes of careful aim, she pulled the trigger and launched a bolt to the other side of the chamber where it slammed into an unfortunate goat and brought the creature down.

  The goblin workers scrambled into action to investigate the suddenly dead goat and the four intruders made a mad dash for the next tunnel. When they entered the pitch black tunnel, Gideon signaled for them stop and slow their breathing. They could hear the sounds of goblins working all around them. Above it all, the heavy droning of hammers striking iron added a kind of heartbeat to the dark mountain. Gideon hadn’t noticed until he paused for a moment to take in his surroundings, but the air of the tunnels was unusually hot. Sweat was starting to bead up under his cloak and armor.

  When they were positive the goblin workers hadn’t figured out their ruse, Vorst dashed silently down the tunnel and led them through another seemingly endless maze. Halfway through the tunnel, Gideon realized if Vorst died, he would never find his way out alive. After several minutes of walking, they came to an underground stream that trickled noisily past.

  Vorst stepped into the stream and waited for a moment, listening for any nearby movements. “This leads to the forges,” she said, “we’re close.”

  Gideon dipped his foot into the water and felt that it was surprisingly warm. At the wall where the stream entered the small chamber, he could see faint wisps of steam rising up and soaking the stone.

  “How do we get through?” Melkora asked. Her eyes had not adjusted as well as Gideon’s and she had to keep one hand against the wall to maintain her balance.

  In response, Vorst mimed holding her breath and jumping into the stream. It didn’t look deep enough for a human to swim through, but the water was murky and bottom was obscure.

  “Where will the goblins be?” Gideon asked. He wasn’t keen on swimming through an underground stream just to come out in a room full of goblins wielding hammers.

  Gravlox spoke a few lines of the goblin language to Vorst. He had lived his entire life inside the mountain working in the mines that connected to the forges. His underlings were responsible for delivering regular shipments of raw materials to the smiths and he knew the layout of the area well.

  “There will be many goblins,” Vorst responded after listening to Gravlox. “There is a storeroom not far from the stream that connects to Lady Scrapple’s chamber. There are tracks on the floor and carts. If we are careful, we might be able to hide inside a cart and wheel down the track.”

  Vorst’s plan sounded entirely insane. Gideon and Melkora both considered turning back and searching for another route. The echoing sounds of footsteps made up their minds before they had a chance to debate.

  Vorst and Gravlox dove head first into the small stream and pulled themselves under a rock ledge and out of sight. Gideon gave Melkora a shrug and slid into the warm water behind them. His sleeve of mail weighed him down, but Gideon smirked at the thought of a paladin in full plate trying to swim.

  The two goblins reached the other side of the stream and emerged without drawing too much attention. Gideon swam up next to them and peeked his head out of the water just enough to get a new breath and evaluate his new surroundings. The forge room was massive. Eight blazing fires bathed the cavern in bright orange light and the smells reminded Gideon of his days spent working for Master Brenning.

  When he saw Melkora’s head emerging from the passage, Gideon used his hand to guide her up slowly as he had done. The large water reservoir they were in was used as a holding tank for cooling basins around the room. Small carved channels ran out in a spindle pattern away from the reservoir and carried fresh water to each of the forges where the goblin smiths could cool their metals. It had a high enough ledge around it for Gideon and Melkora raise their heads above the water without being seen.

  “Where are the carts?” Melkora whispered. Under the hammering cacophony of the forges, her words were barely audible.

  Vorst pointed to a section of the reservoir ledge to indicate the corresponding area of the room. “I saw two empty carts,” she said quickly.

  “When should we go?” Gideon questioned. He glanced over the edge of the reservoir and saw a dozen or more goblins going about their work. It would be impossible to climb out of the water without being seen by at least one of them.

  Gravlox wasted no time. Pulling himself over the edge of the reservoir, he sprang from the water and ran for one of the carts. After only a split second of recognition, the goblins throughout the forge took up their hammers and charged. Throughout all of Kanebullar Mountain’s vast system of tunnels and chambers, Lady Scrapple stretched her consciousness thin and ordered them all to attack the intruders.

  Vorst leapt from the water on Gravlox heels and screamed for them to hurry. Gideon and Melkora weren’t far behind. They had twenty or more paces to cover before reaching one of the mine carts, but a handful of goblins already blocked their path.

  Gideon drew Maelstrom from its sheath, the blood-red blade glowing in the fires of the forges. With a snap of his wrist, Gideon sent thick black tendrils spiraling toward the goblin closest to him. The magical tendrils wrapped themselves around the goblin’s thin waist and Gideon drew Regret before yanking the goblin in close. The beast yelped and dropped its smith’s hammer to the ground as it was pulled across the forge.

  Regret vanished in Gideon’s hand as he brought it up to meet the goblin’s wrinkled chin with an explosion of blood and gore. The blade materialized once more as it came out the back of the goblin’s skull and stopped. Gideon roared and turned on the next goblin, eager to kill again. He felt Vrysinoch’s power surging through his veins. It wasn’t the same energy he felt when em
powered by Nevidal’s enchantment, but Gideon felt that his god was in the humid cavern with him.

  Two goblins charged at Vorst and Gravlox with their hammers held high. Gravlox drew his heavy sword and crouched into a defense stance. Vorst jumped behind her and began cranking her hand crossbow. When the first goblin arrived, Gravlox easily parried his hammer far to the left and angled his sword downward for a quick kill. The second smith was only slightly better in combat than the first, but by the time Gravlox and parried the third hammer swing, Vorst fired her hand crossbow. The steel-tipped bolt caught the goblin just above his right eye.

  There was no time for Vorst to crank another bolt into her crossbow before more goblins were upon them. In a blaze of speed, Melkora leapt into the fray with Roisin cutting a vicious arc in front of her. She felled one of the smiths in a single blow that destroyed its collar bone.

  Three goblins closed in on Vorst and she was forced to pull the daggers from her belt. A hammer came in at her head from a taller goblin and Vorst struggled to get her dagger up in time. The weapons clanged off each other and then suddenly, the attacker was pulled into a dozen or more pieces by dripping black tendrils.

  Vorst seized the opportunity and ran for the mining cart. With a flying leap, she bounded into the cart and yelled for the others to join her. Gravlox swung his sword up and knocked the hammer from an approaching smith. He dashed forward, shouldered the attacker down, and made a mad rush for the mining cart.

  Melkora slashed the wrist from a goblin attacker and sent another hammer clattering to the floor. Despite her two quick kills, she was hard pressed. More goblins had entered the forge room and she was surrounded. Fighting desperately to keep their weapons at bay, she whipped Roisin in large circles in front of her as quickly as she could.

  With a bellowing roar, Gideon jumped from a nearby anvil and landed in front of Melkora. In one motion, Maelstrom shredded four goblins and sent them to the ground. “Go!” he yelled, shoving Melkora in the direction of the cart.

  Gideon stabbed with Regret and one of the goblins attempted to parry the strike with an unfinished piece of iron. The blade never slowed as it sliced the iron and bit deeply into the goblin’s neck. As the last attacker fell, Gideon looked to the door at the other end of the chamber. For a moment, he thought they might be safe. No sooner did he catch his breath than another horde of goblins entered the room with weapons drawn.

  “Start moving!” Gideon called to the three in the cart. Melkora flipped a switch on the side of the cart that released the brake and it started to slowly move down two narrow tracks.

  Gideon watched the approaching enemies with a scrutinizing gaze. They were much larger than the smiths and resembled the goblins he had fought outside the mountain. They were nearly as tall as a human and bred for nothing but war. The four intruders had gotten lucky with the untrained smiths. Their small hammers were designed for creating, not destroying. The denizens that flooded into the forge were much different. They moved with measured footsteps and fanned out in a practiced manner. Their weapons were well-made swords and spears, and Gideon knew his armored sleeve wouldn’t block everything.

  No matter how much he wanted to hold his ground and put his stolen swords to the ultimate test against a hundred or more trained goblins, Gideon knew he had to run. The tattoo on his back burned and urged him forward, but he turned and leapt into the mining cart.

  “We will pass through the storeroom,” Vorst said as she translated for Gravlox. “There is a switch at the back of the storeroom. Left will take the cart to Lady Scrapple. Right leads toward the furnace where waste is sent for incineration.”

  Gideon flexed and felt his body begging for combat. His mind was sharp and his weapons were sharper. “I am ready to face her.”

  ASTERION’S ROBE CAUGHT fire within the emerald. His corpse crumpled next to that of Corvus, serving as the conduit for Vrysinoch’s power. A violent storm raged around the Tower of Wings and consumed Talonrend in its fury. Lightning blasted through rooftops and blew chunks of Terror’s Lament high into the air. Hailstones the size of wagon wheels plummeted from the sky and turned the streets to rubble. Still, through the unimaginable strength of the holy storm, Lady Scrapple’s undead dragon continued to spew wave upon wave of liquid death from its boney maw.

  A bolt of brilliant lightning struck the emerald and was absorbed by the magic of the Tower of Wings. Then, in rapid succession, hundreds of other lightning strikes found their way into the magical emerald until the entire stone glowed with waiting energy. The dragon swooped low past the Tower and turned over to spray a devastating gout of black flames at the base of the glass structure. When its mouth opened, the Tower unleashed a beam of condensed electricity at the beast that knocked it to the ground. The dragon’s mouth smoldered and some of the smaller bones had been destroyed, but it was not defeated.

  The creature clawed at the ground, tearing up huge chunks of the street, and took to the air once more. A soldier that had been hiding in an alleyway near where the dragon had landed rushed out and tried slice at the monster with a sword, but a swoop of the dragon’s long tail sent the man flying into a building.

  The storm continued to empower the Tower of Wings and send out ear-splitting blasts of electricity at the dragon. No matter how many times the beast’s body was rocked by lightning, it showed no signs of dying. Apollonius watched in horror as the beast circled high above his head and crashed into the Tower of Wings. It dug its claws into the delicate glass and before long, the structure started to crack. The bone dragon opened wide its boney mouth and bit down through one of the upper floors of the Tower with a sickening crunch.

  In the brutal winds of the magical storm, the Tower of Wings could not withstand the structural damage the dragon was inflicting upon it. Slowly, as if struggling to stand and shaking legs, the great glass tower tumbled to the ground and shattered.

  As the emerald crashed into a large apothecary on the corner of a marketplace, it split into thousands of dazzling shards that rained down on the street. A thunderous cry from heaven came down through the clouds and washed over the ruins of the city. Vrysinoch had seen his precious temple fall.

  In mocking victory, the bone dragon landed amidst the rubble of the tower and bathed the remains in black fire. The beast turned its head toward the sky and roared. It was an open challenge to Vrysinoch to descend from heaven and defend the people of Talonrend.

  Apollonius felt wet tears stream down his face. In a single afternoon, his world had been destroyed. The barracks where he lived was consumed by fire. The men he had led into battle were dead or scattered throughout the rubble like beaten dogs. He was powerless to defend the city he loved, and the one thing that had given him hope was dead on the ground underneath giant bony feet.

  With a mixture of hopeless desperation and unbridled rage, Apollonius drew his sword and began to run. He was several streets away from the skeletal monstrosity, but his legs pumped furiously. He screamed as he turned a corner and came face to face with the dragon. Apollonius held his blade aloft and ran up the side of a broken building. He leapt from the rubble and brought his sword down with his eyes closed, praying that Vrysinoch would guide his strike.

  Apollonius’ sword, marked with a talon and emerald to designate his station, bit into the dragon’s skull and sank to the hilt. The man held on for his life as the beast launched from the ground and tried to shake the weapon from its head.

  The dragon twisted and turned, crying out all the while, and Apollonius tightened his grip. For a moment, the young officer thought he had destroyed the monster and saved his city. The dragon rolled in the air and sharply lost altitude. Before Apollonius could register what was happening, the beast dove head first into the top of Master Brenning’s forge and Apollonius was crushed to death in an instant.

  The Dragon’s Breath Armory was reduced to ruins as the beast thrashed around in the rubble to right itself and take off. Although Apollonius’ short sword was still lodged firmly in the top of
its skull, the dragon didn’t possess any vital organs capable of being injured. With a great flap of its bone wings, the beast took to the sky once more.

  From the bottom of heaven, rain began to fall. It wasn’t a driving rain that would have been natural to such a violent thunderstorm, but it was a gentle patter of cold, half-frozen droplets that drifted slowly down to Talonrend. Behind the icy drizzle, a shadow appeared on the floor of the sky that blocked out what little light was left in the world.

  A sound much louder than the beating of the dragon’s bone wings emanated from the fractured clouds and slowly, a pointed talon the size of a farmhouse broke through. Behind that yellow talon came a second foot and a tuft of brown feathers large enough to cover entire streets.

  FROM A WINDOW cut into the side of the throne room of Castle Talon, Herod watched in awe as his city was torn apart. Great sections of Terror’s Lament had crumbled and were lost to fire. The houses and buildings that lined the once-vibrant city streets were reduced to smoldering rubble. Anything the black fire touched turned to ash.

  Herod had managed to stay positive and cling to the hope that the priests of the Tower of Wings would be able to save them. That hope had come crashing down when the iconic glass tower fell. The castle, a squat two story structure of stone and iron, rumbled with the sounds of war. Minotaurs had taken the western wall and several of the massive creatures had found their way down to the roof of Castle Talon.

  The dying prince braced himself against the window and listened as thundering hooves threatened to break through the roof. It would be only a matter of time until they destroyed the drawbridge and began pounding on the castle doors. Luckily, the stained glass windows were too narrow for the bovine monsters to slip through.

  As Herod watched his city burn, a castle guard on the parapet above came face to face with Qul, the minotaur king. Qul’s long metal poles beat a furious rhythm against the man’s body that quickly reduced him to an unrecognizable pulp. The king bellowed a blood curdling war cry and Herod heard him jump from the roof to the stone in front of the raised drawbridge. Only two guards remained inside the castle with Herod.