by W.O. Cassity
***
After following the river north, in case she came across any of the villagers who had managed to get away, Talia finally arrived at the edge of the Berring Forest. From here, she could travel east along the forest’s edge until she arrived at the fort.
It wasn’t long before she came across a scene where a fight had recently occurred. There were two goblin corpses lying in a wide clearing with blood covering the ground. Goblins must have attacked one of the fleeing villagers, and either they had gotten away or were overpowered. If there were goblins in the area, then it was possible other Goblinkin races were nearby. Talia realized if the goblins were drawn out of the forest by the fires, the fort Donadeir and she had been using would be in grave danger of being discovered. She picked up her pace to get to Donadeir so they could find a safer place to camp before nightfall when the goblins would be most active.
The sun had just begun to descend from its apex when Talia finally made it within sight of their camp. Cautiously, she stopped to survey the area to the north and east in case something was amiss. She didn’t see Donadeir anywhere. Since she couldn’t see the broken logs of the fort from her vantage point, she prayed the oaf had fallen asleep again. As she passed up and over the earthen ridge outlining the camp, her heart froze in fear. All of the ground within their camp area had been trampled, and the spear she had made for Donadeir leaned against the log she had hoped he was sleeping beside.
She found a scattered pile of berries, nuts, and potatoes. There was also a large swathe of grass and shrubs leading north where it was evident something large had been drug along. Many elongated footprints, diminutive like children, were all around the area. Donadeir had been taken by the goblins. She surveyed the area, looking for any sign of blood, but there wasn’t any. Goblins have been known to save their prey for dinnertime, and Donadeir would make a fine feast for them indeed.
Stopping briefly, she removed her makeshift headscarf and unrolled it to collect as much of the food Donadeir gathered as she could manage. She then rolled it away into the scarf and placed it into her leather sack. Talia grabbed both of the spears she made and tucked their blunt ends into the small leather bag. Once she cinched it tight against their shafts, she used the protruding spears like a handle to toss the sack over her shoulder. As she looked at her staff and the sword she had recovered, she realized she would need to make a choice. The sword would prove more resourceful, so she grabbed it in hand and left her staff behind.
Talia made her way north, following alongside the trail left behind by her companion. She occasionally found herself having to weave left or right to find the trail again when it would become faint crossing rockier ground. The deeper she moved into the forest, the easier it was to distinguish the trail as it finally made its way onto a small animal path. The disturbed leaves along with what appeared to be drag marks made by the heel of a boot made it clear to her she was heading in the right direction. For goblins to drag a boy of Donadeir’s size and cover so much distance so quickly, there had to be ten or more enemies. Considering all of the tracks she saw, that was the most likely explanation.
Her heart stopped when she heard a loud scream in the distance ahead of her. Talia tried to convince herself it must be some kind of animal or bird. If it were Donadeir’s scream, so far away, she should be relieved he might still be alive. The goblins must be saving him to make a fresh dinner. It was clear to her there was no plan here. How could she even dare to hope to manage fighting the goblins off when the odds were ten to one or greater? She felt comfortable with her skill in single combat, but the odds were clearly not in her favor. What remained true to her was Fate’s resolve was unknown at this time, so she must try to save her friend regardless of how futile it may seem.
Talia continued travelling deeper and deeper into the Berring Forest. Feeling exposed, she veered off the path, but kept the trail within eyesight. She ducked low when she noticed three goblins, wandering southward down the path. Soon after, she began to hear chattering voices. She couldn’t make out their numbers as the forest floor gave way to a deepening valley. She considered the terrain leading north from here would lead to the mountains above, leaving her current surroundings uncertain and much less hospitable.
Even though danger lurked everywhere, it was more likely the goblin camp was nearby on the valley floor than on the exposed rock face of the mountains. Beyond what she could see, her knowledge of the terrain and her enemy was limited. She recalled the whispering memory of her father’s wisdom, reminding her to observe the battlefield. Crouching low, she moved quietly to scout the area, heading west along the valley ridge where she thought the goblin camp was stationed.