The Adventure of Stan and the Emerald of Foundation

by Ben Walsh

  Chapter Twenty

  The tired, battered group tiptoed their way across the cave floor, gliding across it in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. Gordon might have been fed, but that wouldn’t stop him from finding room for a human dessert, Stan suspected. He was surprised by how difficult he found it to retrace his steps, and the first three times he ended up going wrong and having to backtrack, to the annoyance of the group and himself.

  “No pressure, Stan,” Roxie hissed, “there’s only a massive hoard of goblins within seconds of us, most likely in this cave right now looking for us.”

  Stan ignored her, but knew she was right. They needed a hiding place, and now. He looked over to Marvin, who had also been in the cave, but he shrugged and turned away.

  When they were back at the entrance, Stan paused to get his bearings. Whilst they waited, an enormous white light illuminated the sky, and with it came an enormous crackling sound, which made the group spin around as one. Moments later, a booming sound ignited the air, and a flashing green light penetrated the cave’s inners. Nobody said it, but everyone knew what it meant. Maximus and Gustavo were duelling.

  “Maximus is the best wizard there is, he’ll be alright, he’ll defeat him,” Loose mumbled unconvincingly, his voice dripping with doubt and anxiety.

  “Yes, he will,” Stan agreed, patting Loose on the back, a gesture he seemed to be grateful for. “Now, I think I’ve got it. Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”

  The progress was slow, as Stan meticulously ensured that he got every step exactly right. At one point, he heard a clanging of gold, far to his right, but pushed it from his mind. Worrying about it would have merely distracted him, as he questioned whether it was dragon or goblin that had come to enjoy their flesh and bone.

  Stan could sense their proximity to the steps which he, Marvin and Edgar had tumbled down what seemed like years ago. At last, he looked to his right, and saw them there, so well hidden that he had to stare hard before he was certain.

  He gestured over with a sigh of relief, and quickly and quietly, the group descended the stairs. They went down and down, far deeper than Stan had originally realised. Eventually, they reached the bottom, and to his shock Roxie threw her arms around him.

  “Well done Stan,” she whispered in his ear, before planting a soft, delicate kiss on his cheek.

  Stan felt his face begin to burn, and was thankful that no one else seemed to have noticed. He eased himself away, and turned to the group.

  “We’ll wait down here, until we hear the goblins, they won’t be subtle.”

  “Neither will Gordon be,” Ponch added, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. Stan got the impression that he enjoyed the thought of the goblins being flared alive, torn limb from limb.

  Several hours passed. Worgan and Loose sat back to back, arms across chest, trying to appear confident, but Stan saw straight through it – they were frightened. Marvin, Stan and Roxie sat in a small circle, and although they too tried to hide it, Stan knew that both of his friends were also petrified. The only one who seemed genuinely unfazed was Ponch, who sat on a rock, slowly sharpening his sword against it. Above them, all was unnervingly silent, bar the occasional tumbling of a pile of gold.

  After several hours had passed, Stan rambled over to Ponch, and scampered up onto the rock, sitting next to him. Ponch said nothing, and continued to sharpen his sword, but glanced over to Stan and offered an acknowledging nod.

  “Did you mean it,” Stan asked, cautiously, “What you said yesterday, about teaching me how to climb?”

  Ponch did not reply at first, instead continuing to run his blade along the rock.

  “Yes, boy,” he eventually replied, setting down his sword. “If you would like, I will teach you that and a great deal more.”

  “Like what?” Stan asked, curiously.

  “I originally come from a land far from here,” Ponch replied, lowering his voice so that only Stan could hear,” a land where there is only one purpose. It is not to farm, or to provide, but it is to train.”

  “To train,” Stan asked, confused. “Do you mean like some sort of school?”

  “Not quite,” Ponch laughed, stroking his chin as he considered his next words. “You have a gift Stan Pike, you could go on to become something truly special. “I cannot think of how to put this, boy, but essentially, the purpose of Valdridia is to train men and women to be assassins.”

  Stan recoiled in horror, and tried to subtly edge away from Ponch. His mind was whirring in shock at the revelation, and the realisation that Ponch was more than likely an assassin. Stan could tell from Ponch’s frown that he had given away his thoughts with his reaction, and he could feel himself blushing.

  “You think it is wrong, to be an assassin?” Ponch asked, before cutting Stan off as he started to answer. “I can see from your face, you think the term, the title, has a negative connotation. Yes, to be trained as a killer is an unusual thing, but consider this. Who do you think it was that truly won the Battle of Gildyhorn? The armies I presume? You may have heard, that the battle was won despite the rebels having thrice the number of fighters? This is true, but these men were usual, as the night before the battle, four assassins invaded the rebel camp and killed the most influential generals in their army, leaving their troops without leadership and order. They stood no chance against the trained army of the Kingdom.”

  As Stan took this in and considered the meaning, the thoughts were shaken from his head and replaced by others. One by one, their ears of the group pricked up, as above them they heard a thundering, so loud and strong that it sounded like a waterfall, crashing down into the base below. It was the sound of countless numbers of goblin feet pounding into the ground above them, as they charged through the cave, in search of the emerald and its possessors.

  Stan tapped his back pocket, to ensure it was still there. As the group had raced clear towards the Mountain, Maximus had pulled Stan’s arm back, and subtly handed him the Emerald. The warning he had given Stan came rushing back to him, and he pondered over the meaning.

  “Trust nobody Stan,” he had said, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing more than usual, “not even Marvin. Tell nobody that you have this, for there could yet be an intruder within the ranks.”

  The sound of footsteps nearby snapped Stan out of his reminiscence, and he froze, as he realised there were goblins directly above them.

  Seconds later, the same goblins screamed in terror, as a monstrous roar rang through the cave. The sound of gold crashing to the ground filled their small cavern, and Stan pictured Gordon’s thick tail swashing violently, bringing the stacks tumbling down. He pictured the countless goblins, scrambling desperately for safety, but being singed before they managed 10 steps.

  The group listened, and Stan wondered what their next move should be. Should they try to sneak out in the mayhem of everything? Should they wait for the lull and then dash out as quickly as they could?

  Before he could raise the issue, a more pressing issue came to light. There were footsteps, coming down the stairs, getting gradually closer towards them. Fear drove deep into the heart of Stan, but he pushed it aside, drawing his sword. Around him, everyone else did the same. Roxie moved to a position with the best angle for an early attack, locking an arrow into her bow. Even Marvin had a determined, cold look about him. They had come so far; to fall now would be cruel, a cruelty none of them were willing to accept.

  The sound of desperate footsteps drew closer, and as they did, other sounds became audible. The sound of panting, winces of pain. Then they came. A large number of goblins, some wounded, some not. The goblins seemed shocked to see them, and as the first fumbled for their weapons, Roxie offloaded arrows in quick succession, one after the other, and the first goblins slumped to the ground. The group charged forwards, and the sound of clanging steel echoed through the cavern. Stan met a burly looking goblin, and deflected two swings of his sword, before ducking beneath a third and swiping his sword upwa
rds, straight through the chest of the goblin, who fell to his knees with a whimper of surprise. Before Stan could react, another was upon him. This one was smaller, but faster, and was more of a challenge. Stan found himself deflecting blow after blow, scampering around a melee of fighters which involved Loose, trying to gain a second’s rest. He blocked a blow with his shield, before driving upwards and piercing the goblin’s skull. The blood curdling scream sent a shiver down Stan’s spine, and caused him to pause, kneeling to the floor to catch his breath. He looked around, and realised that the fight was nearly won. He saw Loose, wrestling with a goblin on the floor, while Ponch was engaged in a brawl with a huge goblin, who towered above all others. Stan recognised him, from the clearing the day before, as the goblin called Grimey who had decided they needed to fall back and report to Gustavo. Ponch was a skilled fighter, clearly trained, but this goblin was more than a match for him. He overpowered Ponch, and threw him to the ground metres away, his face breaking out into a grin. Blood flowed down his face, as if he had eaten somebody recently. Worgan went over to help Ponch, but as he arose he shoved him away.

  “This scumbag is mineeeeeeee!” He screamed, before lunging forwards once more. Whilst on the floor, he had picked up another sword, from a fallen goblin, and used the two with incredible speed and skill, using one to block whilst swinging with the other. He was going to win. Stan smiled, but his smile turned to a scream of agony as a sharp, piercing pain spread through his calf muscle. He turned back, and to his confusion saw an enormous bolt in it, with blood seeping out of his leg from around it. He turned to see the origin of it, and saw a goblin behind him on the steps, wielding an enormous crossbow. Roxie screamed out in terror for Stan as she saw him loading another bolt, and began to fire off arrow after arrow towards him. The arrows found their target, and the goblin was struck in the arm, thigh, chest and stomach, but he somehow managed to remain in standing, and brought up his crossbow. He aimed it at Stan’s head, with Stan in too much pain to even contemplate moving. The goblin looked him in the eye, and Stan looked back at him, trying to hide the fear he knew his eyes must have been showing.

  Suddenly, the goblin’s eyes looked away, matched with a scream of agony, as Marvin drove a spear through his back from behind. The goblin fell to the ground, collapsing into a heap, leaving Marvin standing triumphantly, spear in hand. His face dropped when he saw the pain in Stan’s face, but before he could make his way over to help, another six goblins had arrived. Roxie, Worgan and Loose ran to meet them alongside Marvin, while Stan glanced back over towards Ponch. To his horror, the goblin had somehow overcome Ponch, and was kneeled over him, with Ponch on his back, his nose bleeding heavily. Stan tried to cry out, but saw the others engaged in battle. He crawled over, slowly edging closer towards them. The goblin was taunting Ponch, teasing him before he took his life. Stan crawled closer and closer, but he seemed too far, he couldn’t make it….

  From nowhere, Stan managed to find the strength to drag himself to his feet, and he limped over to them, the four or five steps agonisingly painful. Grimey was beating Ponch, punch after punch thudding into face, which was a bloody disfiguration. As Stan reached the goblin, he raised his shield, and brought it crashing down on the goblin’s head. It immediately knocked him out, leaving Ponch free to roll out from underneath and pull himself to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Ponch said, grabbing his hand, “you have saved me.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Stan replied with a smile, looking down at his shield, “thank my Grandad!”

  Behind them, the fighting had stopped. They were all bruised and cut, but other than Stan’s leg, they were otherwise unhurt.

  “Our best chance is now,” Ponch stated, “we will not be able to sprint out when the goblins are all gone now, you cannot walk quick enough,” he continued, pointing towards Stan’s leg. “We must go now and hope that we can creep out.”

  The group nodded, in agreement, and Marvin and Roxie put one of Stan’s arms each around their shoulders, and helped him to begin to hobble up the steps.