by Ben Walsh
Chapter Eight
When night fell in the forest, it fell fast, and the forest came to life. In every direction there was a skittering noise, a screeching as an owl swooped down to claim its prey, a snap of a twig as an animal prowled over it.
Marvin and Stan discovered this to their terror within an hour of leaving Oadford, as they entered the large, misty forest which made the woods they had stumbled through to reach Maximus’ hut look pathetic by comparison. Through the middle was a clear path, twisting and turning with tree roots sticking out of the ground at all angles, and fallen branches blocking parts of it entirely. The trees reached up to the sky, looming over anything else within site. They were warped and thick, blocking out almost any light which penetrated the thick layers of fog during daylight.
Marvin had been scared enough taking the path, but had nearly broken down when Stan told him of the warning his father had issued him, and forced them off of the main path and into the thick overgrowth, which was heavily populated with trees, bushes and nettles. Stan had required all of his persuasive power to keep Marvin moving in an attempt to cover as much ground as possible, ignoring scratches at his ankles and pulling his friend up when he tripped. Finally, after several hours of trekking, Stan conceded defeat and camped up, as even he was beginning to stumble on the treacherous ground.
They camped up by an eerie lake, and huddled together to conserve heat, as Stan would not permit the lighting of a fire, in case it attracted any unwanted attention. He pulled out a fish he had cooked a few days previously, the last meal he had shared with his brother, Stan reflected, and pulled off some of the flesh, which he shared with Marvin. It was the first time since the shocking revelations of the day that either of them had stopped and really took in what had occurred.
“Stan, we’re going to be alright aren’t we?” Marvin asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Marvin, now eat that fish, it’s awful I know but we need to keep our energy up, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” Stan replied, returning to his own fish, swiftly changing the topic of conversation to prevent his friend from dwelling on the subject, one he himself did not even dare consider.
“I wonder what Tristep will be like, my Mother always told me it was beautiful, particularly in the summer, apparently there’s a big natural spring which is just lovely to bathe in,” Marvin licked his fingers as he spoke, and Stan noticed that he had finished his fish, so offered him more of his.
“Yes, that sounds lovely, I’m sure we’ll be just fine there, my Uncle Eli is a good man, he will make sure we are taken care of.” Part of what Stan said was true, as he did indeed believe his Uncle to be caring and loving, although he hadn’t seen him since he was too little to remember. He too had heard of the natural spring and its past beauty, but knew now that it was polluted with infections and disease, after the dead had been dumped there after some battle or other.
After that there was silence for a while, and eventually the boys squeezed under their winter coats and tried to get some sleep, although on the hard, uncomfortable ground Stan knew that to be an impossible outcome. Marvin on the other hand had no such troubles, and as soon as he began to snore, Stan slipped out and unsheathed his sword, wandering into the forest to find a suitable tree to pose as an opponent.
He soon found one. It had a disfigured shape, with a large, twisted hollow which almost looked like a mouth, and long, protruding branches which could pass for arms.
‘Concentrate Stan, that’s it, sword hand forward, other arm out for support, yes this feels right. Here he comes, duck right, yes, jab left, got him, he’s coming on the left DUCK! Woahhhh that was close, step left, weave under the arm, jab in the back ,arghhh two at once, jump and swoop left into the neck, pivot, stab to the right, yes.’
Stan continued for what felt like hours, ducking and weaving and jabbing at the tree, until he collapsed to the floor, sweating and panting. At one point he had thought he’d heard something, almost a giggling sound, but he had investigated the entire area and found nothing. After that he was more careful, and placed a trip wire formed out of fallen branches, rope he had found in his bag and a bell he’d found deep inside a bush, buried within it somehow. He had cut up his entire hand trying to retrieve it, but it was worth it, as he felt much more secure afterwards.
He stumbled back to Marvin, crawled under the coat and closed his eyes. His friend barely moved a muscle as he got under the coat, and despite everything, Stan somehow found himself smiling. It was after all just hours before that the two of them had discussed wanting to run away. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Stan thought, as he drifted into sleep with the smile still etched upon his face.
Several hours later he awoke, and to his surprise the moon was still out, and something was prodding him in the back. He rolled over, to see Marvin shaking and trying to stutter words out. He was a wreck and the words that came out were nothing more than gibberish, and Stan had no idea what he was trying to say. Moments later though, all became clear, as voices became audible from across the lake. The tone was low and mumbled, so Stan couldn’t work out the words, but he knew that the voices were heading in their direction.
Stan grabbed Marvin by his collar, dragged him up and pulled him towards the forest as quickly as he could. The boys scrambled up a ridge and dove into a large hole which led underneath a particularly big tree. The hole smelt of excrement and was most likely made by a badger, and could still be harbouring one now, but Stan knew that he would much rather face that than whatever was moving around the lake towards them, and so beckoned Marvin further into the set.
“Stan, who are they?” Marvin asked, whimpering nervously.
“I’m not sure, I’m going to go and check, you wait here.” Stan replied, turning to leave before looking back and adding, “and don’t come out, for any reason whatsoever this time.” Stan scurried out of the hole and slipped around behind a bush which was blossoming with gooseberries, nestled within sharp branches, ready to slice open any unwitting traveller seeking a sugar fill. Stan was secretly relieved to be away from Marvin for the moment, as he would have been scared and hanging off of him like a lost puppy had he come back out. Stan quickly ascended a sturdy looking tree, searching for crooks and crannies as he climbed higher and higher until he had the perfect view of the moonlit lake.
He saw now that there was a group of four creatures curving around the lake. They were still muttering away to each other, and the sight of them gave Stan a nasty gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. The lake was vast, and he could not see the far bank, which the visitors had been forced to circle around. The group of four seemed to be small, simple beings, Stan reflected as they approached closer. The pack suddenly stopped, just metres away from Stan’s tree, and he realised they had come across the patch where he and Marvin had been sleeping just minutes before. Stan sent a silent prayer out to his friend, grateful for the warning that could have saved their lives. Stupidly, he hadn’t thought to get rid of their fish bones, something the creatures were quick to notice, with one squatting down to the ground to examine the scene. As he did so, a thick, curved blade became visible beneath the creature’s tunic. The individual who had bent to closely look at the bones stood back up, and relayed his findings to the group, hurriedly. When he had finished talking, one of listeners let out a long, loud crackle of laughter, which sent shivers through Stan’s body.
More terrifyingly, it confirmed what he had suspected. Stan had never seen a goblin, but Edgar had spoken of them, not that he had ever seen one either. He claimed that they ate their prey alive, ripping its limbs off and making the victim watch as they ate it. He had claimed that they drank their victim’s blood, and could behead a man with nothing other than a bite. Now there were four, just metres away from him. He thought of Marvin and hoped he hadn’t been stupid enough to follow him. He wanted to head back to reassure his friend, but there was nothing he could do without being seen.
As the goblins pieced together what had happened, they began
to become more excited, allowing Stan to hear their conversation.
“Oo juicy human, I love me a live one, oh yes!” One snarled, licking his lips.
“We need to go and seek them out, the bones aren’t even a little frosty, they can’t have been left here more than a few hours!” Another yelled, jumping up and down in excitement.
“A couple of hours? They could have gone several miles in any direction in that time, there are only 4 of us, we’ll never make it to the meet in time, we need to keep moving,” A third grunted, leading to shouting and hissing from the first two.
“Maybeeee we’ll carve you open instead then, you’re a scrawny little thing but you’d still be better than these darn nutssssssss!”
“If we want a proper meal we’ll skin your puss filled skin, eat your flesh and boil your bones into a lovely broth, that’s what I say we do if we need to eat!” The third goblin replied.
“Over my dead body,” the second interrupted, “You leave my brother alone. I’m gonna have you!” With this the three goblins started to scratch and claw at one another, cannoning into each other and wrestling to the ground.
“ENOUGH!” Bellowed the fourth goblin in a deeper voice, who until now had remained silent. “Gregor is right, we must keep moving. When we help win the war for Gustavo we will have all the human flesh we could ever dream of, all the humans will bow to us and we will do whatever we choose.”
The goblins stopped fighting and turned to look at their companion, who Stan could sense a clear sense of authority from.
“Well…” One began, hesitantly, “That’s all well and good. But how exactly are we going to win this war? Goblins don’t win anything, and even if we did there are nowhere near enough of us!” He strolled up to the leader, more confidently now. “I don’t really fancy trekking all the way to Gustavo, to go and fight in Gustavo’s war, so this wizard I don’t know can rule the world. What I fancy, pal, is to find these filthy humans and devour them!” By the end of his last sentence he was frothing with anticipation of his meal, and Stan could see the gleam in his eyes.
“Those who fail to answer the great wizard’s call will regret it,” the leader replied calmly, strolling towards the brave goblin who had dared to speak back, “right up until the moment when he burns down their entire village!” With this he flicked out a leg behind the goblin to trip him, and shoved him to the ground.
Breathing heavily, the leader prowled over, before placing his foot on the chest of the now terrified looking goblin, who tried frantically to squirm away, but to no avail.
“Gustavo has summoned us to help him collect the Emerald of Foundation, a mystical stone which gives the holder powers to create or build anything they desire. When we retrieve it for him, he will have the ability to build an enormous army, one capable of world domination,” the leader exclaimed, puffing out his chest in pride, “and we will be part of it. Now, the only question is, will there be four of us joining his party, or three?”
With this he gave the goblin a stern, cold look, and drew his knife from its sheath, pressing the cold blade against the neck of the worming creature beneath him.
In the treetops, Stan gasped, shocked at the violence unveiling beneath him. What happened next though sent a chill down his spine. As far beneath him and slightly to his left, he heard a quiet, yet clearly audible, scream.
Marvin! Stan thought, before rapidly turning back to see whether or not the goblins had heard. They too had all turned to look in that direction and Stan saw the grounded goblin shove his leader away and get to his feet, before scurrying towards the noise, closely followed by companions, including even the leader.
“We’re eating human tonight boys!” The leader bellowed, pounding his chest as he ran.
Stan quickly scuttled down the tree, knowing he had to get to his friend before the goblins did. He dropped from as high a distance as he dare and landed in a gathering of fallen leaves. This softened his fall, but even so he was winded and shaken up when he rose to his feet. He pushed these thoughts aside and sped towards where he had left Marvin, unsure as to where the goblins now were.
All Stan could hear was the pounding of his own heart, with even the howling of the goblins gone from his mind. He sped around trees and threw himself into the hole in which he had left Marvin, but to his horror his friend was nowhere to be seen. Stan crawled back out and looked all around, desperately searching for some sort of clue as to where his friend may have disappeared to. In the distance he heard a scream of anger and something about a fox but didn’t properly process it, turning instead towards the direction from which he had heard the original noise, withdrawing his sword and bracing himself for the worst.
More slowly now, Stan crept forwards, keeping the forest and where he knew the goblins to be on his left hand side at all times, while he headed back towards the lake. He ducked from tree to tree, hoping that Marvin had thought to return to their campsite. Whispers behind him told Stan that the goblins were heading in the same direction, so he hurried into a quick, crouched jog, all the while looking behind him to check for the goblins emerging from behind the tree.
Suddenly, Stan felt something beneath his feet, and he lurched forwards, flying headfirst onto the ground. Simultaneously he heard a high pitched ringing noise, almost like a small bell…
His heart sunk when he realised he had been tricked by the booby trap he himself had set up just hours earlier, tripping over the wire he had stretched around their camp. He heard excited screams and growls coming ever closer at a great speed, and had no time to return to his feet before the goblins too were in the clearing and spotted him.
Instantly the four fanned out in different directions, quickly surrounding Stan and closing in.
“Why hello there boy, what’s your name? Just drop your sword and come over to me, we’re not going to hurt you,” the goblin he had earlier identified as the leader said, stepping forwards.
“EY? Yeah we are, I’m gonna skin him myself, just you watch!” Growled the goblin who had been close to death just moments earlier, spitting at Stan and licking his lips as he did so.
The leader sighed, shaking his head to himself at the ineptitude of his companion, before unsheathing a dagger and pointing it towards Stan, and growling the words,
“Get him boys!”
The thickest goblin, who had foiled their plan into tricking Stan to trust them, was first to surge forwards, unsheathing a curved sword which was blunt but still perfectly capable of causing some major damage, Stan noted. His face was contorted in pleasure and anger, but suddenly turned into one of confusion, quickly followed by a collapse to the floor. Stan was as confused as the goblin, until he heard a whistling noise and saw an arrow thud into the skull of a second goblin.
The remaining two goblins started to panic, and looked around in desperation, trying to find the source of the attack.
Whoooooosh
Another arrow flew through the air, closely followed by another. Both were aimed at the third goblin, he who had been named Gregor, and both found their target, leaving him crumpled into a heap on the floor. One final arrow flew towards the now seriously depleted group, and it landed right between the eyes of the lead goblin. Fortuitously for him, he had the sense to wear a helmet, and the arrow had struck his nose guard at the point where it attached to his helmet. He bellowed a laugh into the air, yanking the arrow out and snapping it in half with shocking brutality. His laughter was cut short abruptly by a flurry of arrows, each landing on a different part of his body, and within seconds he too was slumped on the ground, along with his recently deceased companions. Stan scanned the treetops, relieved at the timing of the help, but also terrified, fearing that this new enemy may be even deadlier than those he had been previously facing.
The arrows had all come from the same area of the treeline, but Stan saw nothing. He pulled himself to his feet, and nervously backed away, towards the lake.
Whooooosh!
Another arrow came flying from the tre
es, this time heading straight for Stan, who stood rigid to the spot in fright. Mercifully, the arrow landed at his feet, but before he could turn and run, another came soaring towards him, this time landing just inches to his left. These two arrows were quickly followed by several more, until Stan was completely surrounded by fallen arrows, lodged in the ground, all at the exact same angle. Following this there was complete silence, which somehow scared Stan even more than the growling and howling of the goblins had done.
Suddenly he heard the ringing of a bell, and realised that his attacker come saviour had crossed the rope. Stan knew he should run, but he was also intrigued as to who had come to his rescue. Additionally, he knew that running was pointless, as he would be felled by an arrow before he made it half way to the treeline.
All at once, Stan noticed that he was soaking wet. At first he was confused, wondering what had happened. It was only when he noticed the ripples in the lake that he realised that it was raining, heavily. His fear and apprehension during and after the attack had clearly distracted him. Stan glanced back towards the trees, and collapsed to the floor in sheer terror, as he saw two figures emerging from the mist, heading directly towards him.