Fool's Errand

by David G. Johnson

  As they rounded the corner, they saw ahead of them the retreating Hobgoblins had dragged the cots out of the guardroom and erected a makeshift barricade in the hallway. Hastily-aimed arrows whizzed down the corridor with one glancing off Gideon’s helmet and another bouncing off the shield hanging on Duncan’s left arm. Others passed harmlessly, but one flew close enough to Goldain ear that he must have heard it hum.

  Thatcher hit the ground, aiming his crossbow toward the barricade. The Hobgoblins’ own torches illuminated their position. Their eyes, while better than human eyes underground, were nowhere near as keen as Durgak eyes.

  Thatcher’s repeating crossbow was his own invention. It utilized a lever action, allowing it to be cocked and fired quicker than the slow and laborious cranks of most crossbows. He was a clever lad, possessing a mind for gadgets and a heart for magical items. Magical items were rare, but his invented gadgetry substitutes were in no short supply.

  The chance came for the first kill when one Hobgoblin peeked a little too high over the barricade. Thatcher was a crack shot and put a quarrel straight into the right eye of the over-curious gobbler. Goldain and Gideon had pulled back after the first volley of arrows. There was a lot of distance between them and the gobblers, and running headlong into archers was a great way to get oneself killed.

  “We can’t wait here all day,” said Goldain. “These six could have any number of reinforcements still behind them.”

  “Five,” corrected Thatcher. “One has taken his last look at us. We can’t even be sure Girblaz was the only one behind us either.”

  “Yes we can,” Melizar’s voice again sounded out of the darkness. “The room Girblaz occupied was very large room, but there were no other Hobgoblins or apparent exits.”

  Once again, the group exchanged puzzled glances at the speed and surety with which Melizar had examined the room beyond the metal door. So sure was his tone that none doubted this was exactly the situation.

  “But Goldain is right,” said Gideon. “Those ahead of us still might have sent some to find other raiding parties, and we have no idea what was down the right-hand corridor we didn’t explore. With no exit behind and no idea how much opposition may be ahead, waiting here is waiting for death. We have to move.”

  Gideon now sounded like the commander he was.

  “Well, your shield might well cover you from a rain of arrows,” said Duncan, “but all I have is a small buckler, and the rest don’t even have that.”

  “Fear not,” said Melizar. “If it is a frontal assault you envision, I will lead the way and no arrows will touch you. When I advance, stay in a line behind me, moving swiftly. Once we reach the barricade, the rest is up to you.”

  With that, Melizar mumbled some words in a tongue unknown to Thatcher. Reaching into his belt pouch, he extracted some glimmering thread and a small ball of something gooey. He mashed the two together and wrapped the thread around the ball, all the while continuing his kashaph incantation.

  They saw a small, faintly shimmering disc appear in midair in front of Melizar. As he continued wrapping and mumbling, the disk grew until it was nearly six feet across, more than completely covering Melizar from head to toe. Only Goldain would have to duck slightly to be concealed by the shimmering disc of force.

  “Let us advance,” was all the warning Melizar gave before he began a sprint down the hallway.

  Goldain and Gideon paced right behind the wizard, with Duncan’s shorter legs straining to keep up. Thatcher felt it best to remain where he was and look for any opportunities to pick off another gobbler or two before the rest reached the barricade. He slipped to the bottom left corner of the hallway to gain the best angle to shoot around Melizar’s protective disc and waited for his shot. It came as five gobblers raised above the barricade with short bows drawn to fire into the charging adventurers. Only four arrows flew true as the fifth Hobgoblin fell backward, his arrow sailing wildly into the roof of the hallway as he fell with one of Thatcher’s quarrels in his throat.

  The other four arrows shattered as they smashed into Melizar’s glowing disc. The expressions on the faces of the remaining Hobgoblins changed from anger to horror. They saw their second companion die at their side and their arrows fly uselessly into whatever magic was protecting the charging intruders. After staring almost paralyzed, they freed themselves from their stupor a few moments too late.

  By the time they dropped their bows to run, Melizar was crouching before their makeshift barricade, angling the glowing disc toward the ground. Goldian and Gideon leapt over the upturned cots blocking the passage, swords slashing as they cleared the barrier. Each of the warriors cut down two of the remaining Hobgoblins with their swords before their feet hit the ground. Just that quickly, the battle for the hallway was over. Duncan came panting up behind, complaining.

  “You long-legged louts! How is a Durgak to gain any deeds worthy of recounting on a valor quest if you keep killing everything before I arrive?”

  The warriors afforded the comment a brief chuckle before turning their attention back to the situation at hand.

  “If Melizar saw all the Hobgoblins that came down the hallway, then they either didn’t think to send for reinforcements, or these six are the only ones in the area. Maybe the two we followed and dispatched on the way in were back early or expected to be in with Girblaz.”

  “Likely, if there were only two,” Thatcher added, “they might have met some trouble, and these were the only ones who got away. I’ve never heard of a gobbler raiding party with only two gobblers. These nine are a more believable band.”

  “Either way,” Melizar said, “and regardless of what lies down the tunnel we have not yet explored, what they most wanted to protect is back behind that metal door. I would advise we complete our exploration of that room before we return to the unexplored corridor.

  Disturbing Mysteries

  They dragged the remains of the three dismembered Hobgoblins around the far corner of the trapped hallway. Thatcher reactivated the blade trap to deter any unexpected surprises from behind while they explored the room beyond the metal door.

  It appeared to be a treasury. Ancient paintings and artifacts lay molding and rotting about the room. The only items in the room not covered in dust and cobwebs were a store of weapons, armor, and half a dozen shields arranged neatly in the northwest corner.

  “These are crests of Parynland!” Gideon exclaimed with surprise at seeing the heraldry on the shields. “Four of these are the official heraldry of King Paryn, used by the army and official forces, parted per bend sinister gules and azure, horse argent courant to sinister.”

  The others had no idea what that entire last bit meant, but it appeared to be Gideon speaking in some code describing the shield of Parynland.

  “But the other two are powerful and wealthy nobles of my country. This blazoning is used when fighting for hire or not on official king’s business. I don’t understand what they are doing here.”

  The question was puzzling. Could Parynland holy warriors of the One Lord be working with servants of the Ayabim? It seemed impossible, yet here were shields from Parynland in the hold of Hobgoblin raiders. These bandits were border raiders, increasingly plaguing Darkmoor, Aton-Ri, and southern Rajik since before the troubles began with the caravans. Was it possible that rogue paladins were assisting the goblinoids? If so, for what purpose? Or were unscrupulous merchants from Parynland profiting from supplying the brigands? The possibilities were many, but all were disturbing.

  “We will not leave these noble symbols to rot here amongst the filth.” Gideon slung his own shield upon his back and picked up a shield bearing the king’s crest, a white horse galloping toward the right on a diagonally divided field with red above and blue below the partition. “I would ask each of you to take at least one shield with you, and, brother Goldain, if you could sling one upon your back and another on your arm, we can rescue all six from this fate.”

  “I won’t carry a shield, it interferes with my abil
ities,” said Melizar. “But I have another way without encumbering the party to rescue your precious heraldry.”

  Melizar reached into his belt pouch and took out what appeared to be a small folded piece of black cloth. He set it gingerly down upon the ground and carefully unfolded it. Fully opened, it formed a circle of black cloth upon the ground. Melizar spoke a single word in a language the others did not recognize.

  “Now, drop the shields in here,” he said.

  “In where?” asked Goldain.

  “In the dimensional pocket I have just opened.”

  The others peered in to see various and sundry items now appearing to be stored inside the felt cloth. It was almost as though they were standing around a shallow pit dug into the floor of the room. Gideon began placing the shields in the space. Goldain grabbed one of the noble shields bearing a white wolf running across the green background of the shield.

  “I’ll hold onto this one for a bit, if you don’t mind, just in case we run into more archers.”

  Gideon nodded and placed the other five shields in the dimensional pocket. He returned his own shield, bearing a white unicorn rampant upon a diagonal field of blue above and green below, to his left arm.

  Melizar spoke again a single word, and began folding the black cloth again into a tiny bundle. Most of the group looked disturbed at the strange magical item, especially Goldain. The Qarahni were very suspicious of magic, and only one tribe was known to use magic at all. Thatcher, however, was absolutely awestruck and fascinated. He quipped to Melizar as they prepared to move out.

  “You have the most wonderful toys. You will have to show me where I can get one of those.”

  The mage simply fell silently into formation as they prepared to explore the rest of the complex.

  The remaining exploration was uneventful. They found a number of empty barracks, some guest rooms, as well as what appeared to be prison cells and a large throne room in deep disrepair. The further they got from the treasury, the less gobbler filth they encountered. The throne room, in fact, seemed almost unspoiled by the Hobgoblins.

  Whether some warding magic or just the fear of the former owners kept them away, the goblinoids had avoided this area. A beautiful but long unused private chambers and bathing room lay off the northeast corner of the throne room, probably a private retreat of the former owner. In the chambers, Thatcher’s keen eye spotted subtle scratches on the floor in one corner. After a brief search, he discovered the Hobgoblins had overlooked a secret room. This had been the personal stash of the former owner. Inside, they found a small chest filled with silver and gold coins. The Durgak’s eyes sparkled.

  “Well, this little party has not been all for naught anyways,” said Duncan. “At least the trip is well paid for. From the looks of the place, the former owners are long gone and not coming back for it, so by rights of salvage, it is ours to split.”

  Gideon disagreed. “We will return with the chest to Aton-Ri. These raiders have robbed, looted, and killed many innocents. This money should be used to relieve the suffering of the victims. You have all been paid your agreed upon wages for this adventure. Be content with that.”

  The Durgak priest looked downtrodden but quickly came to terms with the rightness of Gideon’s sentiment. Durgak were ultimately servants of the One Lord, watched over by Hadaram, their patron Malakim. Though they dearly loved treasures, they also knew what was right. Goldain seemed indifferent to the decision, and other than a grumbling mutter from Melizar, neither the prince nor the mage voiced any objections. Thatcher however was not done with this discussion.

  “The mayor sent a rogue on this mission because a rogue’s skills were needed,” the young thief argued. “That has been demonstrated at least thrice in this little foray, not to mention assisting with the scouting and tracking through the wilderness on the way here. You want a rogue’s skills, you live with a rogue’s rules. By rights recognized by every civilized nation in all of northern Ya-Erets, unclaimed and unreturnable treasure salvaged is by rights the property of the salvagers, save by prior agreement with the hiring patron. One fifth of those coins belong to me, and I choose not to give them to a bunch of people I have never met when I have ample use for them myself!”

  Thatcher’s words resonated with the fairly well-to-do members of the group. Gideon was Parynland nobility and doubtless paid far above the standard fee for this adventure. This was expected for the loyalty of his sword in joining Aton-Ri’s auxiliary defense forces.

  Goldain was some sort of northern barbarian prince, low enough in rank to be out of danger of ruling his people. His father dispatched him to Aton-Ri as a liaison from the Wolf Clan Qarahni. He brought more than enough wealth with him to live comfortably, while Duncan was from a wealthy family of miners in Stonehold and therefore in no want of finances.

  Melizar was a mystery, but the robes he wore and the spell components he carried, both rare and expensive, showed he too was not in want. The saying in Ya-Erets is, “There are no comfortable wizards. They are all either wealthy enough not to notice the cost of the practice of their craft or destitute from it.” Melizar was clearly part of the former.

  Thatcher, by contrast, was a street-rat from Aton-Ri, scrambling and scraping for every meal. Joining a party of real adventurers with the chance at real treasure was enough to lure this teenage thief from his familiar streets and out into the unknown wilds. The thought of letting his first-found fortune slip away without even voicing an opposition was beyond what he could bear.

  He fully expected violent opposition by his fanatical One Lord following captain. His experience with the religious had been watching most rise to their high positions and piety by standing on the heads of those who did not believe. Well, if these churchers, as his normal running buddies called those who frequented the city temples, thought they were taking or taxing his gold without a fight, they had another think coming. He moved his finger to the trigger of his crossbow and cautiously considered which of the two warriors to shoot first, should it become necessary. The reaction he got was radically unexpected.

  “My goodness,” said Gideon. “My brothers, we have thought of the want in the world without first considering the want in our own company. May the One Lord forgive the oversight. Thatcher has spoken true. None of us would miss these coins save our youngest member. He has not yet made his way in the world and certainly has a need as well as a right to his portion. Thatcher, you shall claim one fifth of the coins we found as your own. I would ask you to remember, however, the genuine need of those from whom these bandits have stolen and to consider giving one tenth of your share at least to relieve the sufferings of the victims of the raids. You can thereby take your rightful part in the blessing which comes from blessing others. This of course is not to be done under compulsion or duress, but only if the One Lord brings a peace to your spirit about it.”

  A dopey smile on the face of the northerner, Goldain, said he would be equally content if they took all the gold and dumped it into the marshes of Darkmoor. Qarahni were not a materialistic people and had little interest in gold beyond the weapons or goods it could purchase. They would just as soon vanquish a foe for a piece of moldy bread as for a pile of gold coins.

  Duncan nodded approvingly at Gideon’s words, which meant these two were quite unlike any other religious types Thatcher had encountered before. There was not even a hint of anger in Gideon’s eyes at being opposed. He truly seemed filled with joy and peace at acquiescing to Thatcher’s rather rudely stated demands.

  As for Melizar, Thatcher thought he heard a condescending “harrumph” escape from beneath his darkened hood but otherwise he remained generally indifferent to the end decision. If he opposed, he chose not to voice it.

  Thatcher’s head swam. The group leader had decided on one course of action, and he, the youngest member, had blatantly defied Gideon’s direction. In the street gangs or Rogues Guild of Aton-Ri, that would have landed Thatcher in a fight for his life at the very least. Even winning that,
he would have to be careful about finding loose knives in his back or poison in his meals for the foreseeable future. Yet these strange companions met his rebellion not with hatred or oppression but with kindness. Thatcher found his mouth opening and speaking while his brain was still engaged in processing the unfathomable reaction of his companions.

  “Uh...yes.” he said. “I think I should like to do that. There is more than enough for my first fortune even minus a tenth.”

  What? Had he just said that? It sounded like his voice, but words like that had never before escaped his lips. In Aton-Ri, you grabbed all you could and gave nothing back. It was the law of the streets. Somehow, here and now, with these companions, he felt no danger or fear of being taken advantage of. He always had a soft spot caring for others, but the mean streets of Aton-Ri had choked that instinct almost to death in him. Now for the first time in his memory, he felt that spark of compassion in him flare dramatically to life, and was shocked to discover that the words that had flowed prematurely from his mouth truly reflected the desire of his heart.

  Gideon’s smile and a clap on the shoulder by Duncan’s rough hand relayed respect from his companions.

  “Bully for you, kid,” Goldain leaned close and whispered. “Those shinys are not worth the trouble they carry with them. Stick close to me, and I’ll see to it you never have to tighten your belt regardless of the coin in your purse. Being a real hero has its rewards, kid, and you will be one once we return with news of this raid. One of those rewards is never going thirsty, hungry, or waking up alone in a cold bed.”

  Given this last statement, Thatcher understood Goldain’s discretion in sharing this particular advice. Doubtless, the churchers would not approve.

  As they assembled to check the hallway beyond the throne room, Melizar could not hold back a patronizing sigh. He had his own secrets, and was not nearly as well to do as the others thought. Study of kashaph was costly, and the mage could have used his portion of the found treasure. His need for secrecy, however, demanded he not start any contention that might cause the group to question further who he was or what his motives were for partaking in this little foray. He still did not fully trust any of the humans and especially did not like or trust the Durgak. Melizar was a chats-enash, or half human, but his father was a D’zarik, the dark elves, and thus were opposed to the surface races.