by Dave Skinner
“But... I... I have a problem with what you propose. I wanted them taught to protect themselves not taught to be killers of men. What the soldiers do is disdainful, but I cannot condone killing as the solution. It is against the Mother.”
Ran was rubbing his ear. The blow To-rick had delivered would have put him out if he had not started to turn away when his training warned him. Even then he had barely been able to maintain consciousness. “What if there is no killing? What if To-rick and his people simply disable the soldiers?”
“I can accept that,” Sinty said after due consideration.
Chapter 39
Captain Iserhan reached the top of the stairs and looked out over the fort’s wall. The goblin was standing at the edge of the woods and as reported, there was a man with him. When he had been told about this, his first thought was that the goblin had taken someone as a prisoner, but he could see that was not the case. The man, a Traveller by his look, stood slightly apart from the beast and appeared to be carrying on a conversation with it.
“My squad is ready to head out, Captain. If we’re lucky, we can capture the goblin and use him in the arena. The other two we got when we found the village have about had it. No sport left in them,” Sergeant Turin reported.
“Take your men out the side entrance and get into the woods behind them. I will keep them occupied. Could that be the Traveller that caused all the trouble in the towns to the south?”
“Impossible to tell, Captain, them Travellers are as common as mice although I have not seen any around here before.”
“Best get moving,” Iserhan said, as he stepped into an open space where a number of the logs of the fort’s wall had been cut lower. “I am the Captain of this fortification, what do you here?”
“We want you to return the two goblins you took from my friend’s village and inform you that further aggression against them will not be tolerated.”
“Your friend’s village? We are discussing goblins here, are we not? Are you someone who can speak with beasts?”
“Goblins are not beasts, they are Hobs, and it is best not to antagonize the Little People.”
“Hobs that have been cursed,” Captain Iserhan responded. “True Hobs shun them because they turn into beasts. All you have to do is look beside you. It looks like a cross between a boar and a giant sloth. I cannot leave something like that to wander around in the woods. We have families with small children under our protection. Why not bring your friend into the fort? I believe it has used magic to sway you to its cause.”
“Captain, all we want are the two goblins you captured. Hand them over and that will be the end of the matter.”
“I cannot comply with your demands.”
“Then you leave us no choice. You and your men are no longer welcome in these woods. Pack up and leave, or change your ways.” The Traveller said something to the goblin. They turned and disappeared into the trees.
The Captain smiled. They were in for a surprise. Sargent Turin’s squad would be arrayed in the woods by now. “Open the gates and send a squad after them,” he commanded. “Make it quick, and bring me that Traveller. I have some questions for him.”
The squad was out the gate by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked back to his office, but had barely settled when he was interrupted again. Back to the gate he went. From the top of the wall he again saw the Traveller and the goblin. This time they were occupied with dragging the bodies of his men out from the woods and dropping them. The Traveller noticed him watching.
“The only individuals allowed to leave your fort are the goblins. Set them free.” The Traveller and the goblin returned to the trees.
“Form up four squads,” The Captain bellowed. “Full armament and stretchers. Bring those bodies inside.”
The forty men of the assembled squads marched out shortly. The first two squads carried spears and shields at the ready. The rest carried stretchers. Iserhan watched as they set up a perimeter before attending to the bodies. He was at the gate to meet the first of the stretcher bearers. “They ain’t dead, Captain,” one of the bearers told him. “Just knocked out.”
Captain Iserhan recognized the body as it was carried by. Sargent Turin’s face was normal on one side, but the other side was completely smashed. Blood oozed from his nose, mouth, and one eye. The damaged area was starting to swell. The ear was oozing blood and so red he wondered if it would ever return to normal. The next man brought in looked about the same, but the third soldier had obviously been struck almost square in the face. Iserhan felt bile rising in his throat. He turned away and managed to make it back to his cabin before losing his breakfast.
It was two days before the men were coherent enough to tell him what had happened. By that time, it had been ascertained that three would never walk again due to broken necks. Each man told of sudden encounters with enormous fists that came out of nowhere. Captain Iserhan had a full company of men under his command, ten squads of veteran fighters. Volunteers for sorties into the woods to seek revenge were easy to come by in the first seven days following the incident. By the end of another seven-day, volunteers could no longer be found, and his compliment of able soldiers had been reduced by more than half. He was at his limit.
The next morning two stakes were erected within bow shot of the walls. The two goblin prisoners were marched out and tied to them.
***
“This is a bad idea,” Ran stated again as he and Sinty stood at the edge of the woods. They had been watching the fort and the two goblins tied to the stakes for some time. To-rick appeared beside them.
“Watchers say prisoners not receive food or drink for all time at stakes,” he reported.
“Two days without anything to drink,” Sinty said. “Is this a normal treatment of prisoners, Ran?”
“Not unless we were dealing with Bearclaws, but I have heard from other Travellers that the men of Bernadice, Arcadia, and Nadia have become much more savage in the last few years. Travellers were banned from Nadia altogether for some time. Incidents in the other two cities are causing Travellers to group together when they visit. When I was in Bernadice earlier this summer, I was accosted by soldiers a few times. I witnessed the fighting arenas you say they have here. The whole city left a sour taste on the tongue.”
“But they are still human. If I can get close enough, I can influence their thinking and get To-rick’s people released,” the little nymph stated.
“If you can get close enough. As soon as you reach those stakes, even a poor archer could put a crossbow bolt into you. I think you should let me accompany you.”
“No, Ran. Your presence will antagonize them. Of that I am sure. They associate you and To-rick with the injuries that have been inflicted on their soldiers. I must do this alone. May I have your water skin? I will give the prisoners water as well.” Ran handed his water skin to her.
“This is a bad idea,” he reiterated.
Sinty placed her hand on his arm. “I hope you are wrong.” She turned from him and walked into the open area around the fort—the killing ground.
Beside him, To-rick grunted. “Relax, if they shoot her, you must stay in the trees while I get her,” he told the goblin. “A good archer with a long bow like mine could skewer you as soon as you left the woods.” Ran strung his own bow and watched Sinty. That she was of the Faery race was obvious to him. He hoped the soldiers within the fort saw it also. No person he had ever spoken to would willingly harm one of the Little People. They were peaceful and slow to anger, but if they were abused, their retribution was legendary. They normally would not kill the offender, but the plague of misery they inflicted on the person made life almost unliveable. Suicides were common. But Ran’s experience was with the South Lake country. He was not as familiar with North Lake men. Sinty was almost at the captive goblins when a voice bellowed from the fort.
“Stop where you are. What do you here?”
“I have come to negotiate for the release of these two,” Sinty ca
lled back. “And I have water to relieve their thirst.” She held up the water skin.
From his place in the woods Ran saw another figure arrive behind the crenellations of the timber wall. The deference the others paid to him suggested it was the officer in charge. The man stepped into a cut down area on the top of the wall so that more than just his head was visible. “The goblins will not be released. Their death will be retribution for the injuries inflicted on my soldiers. Be gone from here.”
“I cannot abandon these goblins to death. They are guests on my land and therefore are my responsibility. I implore you to reconsider. I can guarantee the goblins will never bother any soldiers or villagers if this is done.”
The man said something to someone Ran could not see. A man holding a crossbow stepped into a opening further along the wall. “Be gone from here,” the officer bellowed. “I will not warn you again.”
“My heart will not allow me to abandon my charges without at least giving them water,” Sinty responded. She walked forward again.
“At least she is wise enough to keep the goblin bodies between herself and the archer,” Ran said to To-rick. The goblin grunted.
Sinty reached the stakes. She reached up and squirted water into the face of one goblin and then the other. It seemed to revive them enough for them to open their mouths. She squirted liquid into their mouths until the water skin was empty. She said something to the two goblins and turned away. Ran could see the reluctance in her movements. She stepped into sight of the fort wall.
“Thank you,” she called. “Please reconsider your—”
Ran heard the clack of the crossbow as the bolt was released. A heartbeat later Sinty’s body flew backwards to land on the ground. Ran’s bowstring twanged. He dropped it and started forward before the arrow landed in the archer’s chest. He ran crouched low, keeping the goblins bodies between him and the fort then skipped out and grabbed the fallen nymph. Her eyes were large with disbelief and pain as he zigzagged back towards the woods. He heard the sound of two more crossbows, but neither bolt came close. Within the tree line he laid her body down. Sinty still breathed, but the wound looked serious, deadly serious. She smiled weakly up at him. “It was a bad idea, Ran. I apologize for not listening.” She coughed and blood appeared on her lips. “I must speak to To-rick,” she gasped softly. The goblin fell to his knees beside her.
“You must not fight the soldiers, To-rick. Promise me you will let this go.”
“No,” the goblin wailed. “They kill you, I kill them.”
“No, your Queen commands you. There is nothing but destruction and misery if you follow that road. You must promise me. Please. I will not have my name washed in your people’s blood... promise.”
“I promise,” the goblin finally said.
“Good,” Sinty said with a weak smile. “The Mother awaits me. Do not break your promise.” Her eyes closed. Her body seemed to flatten before it disappeared into the earth.
Ran stood. To-rick remained on his knees, his body shook with sobs.
“She is gone, To-rick,” Ran told him. “She is a wood-nymph and has returned to her roots. Join your watchers and wait. Tonight I will free your men.”
“Sinty say no kill,” To-rick stated.
“Yes, you should not kill or interfere when the soldiers come out. Watch and wait.”
“What you do?”
“I kill.”
***
Ran walked through the trees keeping the fort’s walls in view. He found the small sally door without problem, but continued on to circle the complete fort. There were no other doors. By the time he returned to where Sinty had disappeared, he had decided on his course.
“To-rick,” he said to the greenery and the goblin appeared from the trees. “Can you make the sound of a bird?” Ran asked. To-rick considered for a moment and then produced a perfect imitation of a female hawk calling for food. Ran smiled, “I need you to come with me.” Returning to the sally door, he pointed it out to the goblin.
“Men are going to come through that door. When they do, I will follow them. Later there will be screams that other men will come to investigate. When those men come out, you must whistle like the hawk, and then you and another goblin must come to me quickly. I will be where we watched the fort from earlier—where we can see the prisoner’s from. Understand?”
“Yes,” the goblin answered.
“Good, now we wait.”
Before long, ten soldiers made their way out through the door and into the woods where they separated into two groups and moved off around the forts perimeter, in different directions. Ran followed the group that went towards the rear of the fort. It contained the sergeant he recognized from his first encounter with these men.
One man carried a crossbow, the others advanced with swords drawn. They were moving slowly, darting forward, and taking special care around large trees. The bowman held back, covering the others while they crept ahead on both sides of a tree. The goblin’s fists had taught them care if not respect. When they were well away from the second group, close to the back of the fort, Ran chose his moment and sent an arrow into the bowman’s back. The soldier must have twitched his finger because his crossbow fired, sending his bolt into a man ahead of him. Ran stepped out, pulled his sword, and waited.
“At him!” the sergeant commanded as he sprang forward, bringing his sword down in a two-handed overhead stroke. Ran’s blade pushed the sergeant’s sword to the side. His sword hand continued forward and smashed into the man’s face, followed immediately by his left fist. The sergeant dropped. Ran jumped back and pulled his dagger. These men he would kill. The sergeant he wanted alive. The two tried coming at him together, left and right, high and low. A dodge, a thrust, a parry, and a knife thrust saw both men dead. Ran wiped his blades on the dead men and sheathed them. Moving quickly he loaded the crossbow before securing the sergeant, using the man’s own belt to tie his arms together around a tree before he moved deeper into the woods. He carried the crossbow, with its strap around his shoulder, to keep his hands free.
Soon he was behind the second group as they advanced. They were moving in the same pattern as the previous soldiers, bowman covering as the others slipped forward. They were concentrating so hard on what was ahead that Ran was able to get unreasonably close to the bowman. As they came around a tree and saw the others sprawled on the ground before them, Ran’s left hand clamped onto the bowman’s throat from behind as his right directed the man’s bow and forced it to shoot into the back of another soldier. Holding his man as a shield, Ran swung his own crossbow up and shot another soldier before smashing his elbow onto the head of the man he held. Ran pulled the soldier’s belt knife and flicked it underhand into the chest of one of the soldiers charging towards him. The bowman was now a dead weight, so he dropped him and pulled his own dagger. One of the soldiers slowed his advance. The other continued to charge and died on Ran’s knife. The remaining soldier must have decided it was wiser to run than fight. Ran sprang forward as the man turned to run and killed him before he could take a second step.
Returning to the sergeant, Ran unbuckled his hands, turned him to face away from the tree, and buckled him up again with his hand pulled tight behind him. He stripped a second belt from one of the bodies and used it to secure the sergeant’s head to the tree. Two at a time he dragged the dead bodies over to the sergeant and propped them in seated positions before him, so that they would be the first thing he saw when he regained consciousness. Ran had fought the Bearclaws for two years on the Tawshe frontier. He had seen the effect on morale that mutilated bodies caused. He preferred a clean kill, but the fort contained too many soldiers to allow him to follow his own preferences. He found a sharp dagger on one of the soldiers and used it on the dead. He concentrated on faces, but removed a few scalps for effect and for use later. The sergeant was moaning when Ran slapped him awake.
Ran stood and evaluated the scene he had set while the sergeant regained awareness. He had taken two swords f
rom the dead and driven them into the ground by the sergeant’s ankles after laying a fair supply of firewood along the ground and under the man’s feet and legs. Belts tied to the swords held the man’s feet in position.
“You will die for this, Traveller,” the man growled. Ran said nothing. He placed a foot on the sergeant’s knees one at a time and pulled the man’s boots off. The sergeant struggled but was unable to move.
Ran looked to the sky. It would be dark soon, time to begin. He knelt by the kindling he had positioned and struck flint to steel. In little time he had a fire going. He watched until he was sure the larger branches had caught before gathering the two crossbows, their bolts, and his own bow. He was back within view of the staked goblins before the sergeant started to scream.
Normally a squad of men were sent out from the fort with touches to be placed around the captives as dusk fell. The sergeant’s screams were disrupting normal practice as Ran had hoped. It was fully dark and no torches had been brought out when Ran heard To-rick’s bird whistle. Ran could hear orders being barked from within the fort. He thought he heard the word torches, but could not be certain. Suddenly To-rick and the curved-tusked Ripper were beside him.
“Men out.”
Ran gathered all the bows. “Follow me,” he whispered. Together they crept into the killing ground towards the stakes. Ran dropped the bows and cut the bonds of the prisoners. He heard the main door to the fort squeal as it opened. Ripper supported the first goblin freed and To-rick the second. Both were too weak to stand on their own.
“Get them away,” Ran whispered as he picked up a crossbow. Using one of the spare crossbow bolts he pinned the scalps he had taken earlier to one of the stakes.
A stream of ten torches had exited the gate and moved towards the stakes. Ran shot the first crossbow, dropped it, grabbed up the other one and shot. Two torches dropped to the ground. The rest stopped. Ran notched an arrow to his longbow and shot again. Another torch fell while others started to move backwards. Ran shot three more times before someone screamed, “Drop the torches, you fools.” Ran retrieved the crossbows and remaining bolts and made his way back to the woods. He waited within the trees to make sure no one was following, and then moved off again to a location to the right side of the fort, away from the sally door. Ran found a place within crossbow distance of the stakes, settled below the drooping branches of a large spruce tree, and awaited daylight. There was one more person he felt obliged to deal with. The screams of the sergeant stopped shortly after. The other soldiers must have reached him.