Nowhere to Run

by Elliott Kay

  “That girl, though: the bandits knew her. The one who fell in front of us recognized her. He shouted out to the leader like he would know her, too, and she gutted him fast. I’ve got a camp to protect here. What should I know about her?”

  “She thinks what’s happening to us is bullshit, and she feels strongly enough about that to put her life on the line and shed blood over it.” Scars gave a shrug. “That’s put her in company with some sketchy sorts along the way. A rebel to one person is an ordinary criminal to another. She’s wanted for banditry. That’s how we found her in the first place.”

  “Her name is Teryn. Same as a certain missing princess,” Karana observed.

  “People name their kids after royalty all the time.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Have you seen the posters?”

  “I have. I also know any of them out here are probably several steps from the original.”

  “So? Let’s say it is her. If you turn her over to the king’s men, do you think he’ll go easy on this camp? Maybe rescind his whole ban?”

  Karana looked him up and down. “You don’t sound like the type to let that happen.”

  “I’m not. She’s in my crew. Anyone who wants her goes through me, and the rest of us. But I imagine most would take that for granted. If the threats are already implied, why not skip straight to the calmer answers?

  “She could’ve disappeared into the woods. Instead, she stepped up to help your people. I saw the same actions in Zuck’s dungeon. Teryn risked her life to help my crew again and again. What more is there to say?”

  “Plenty, and you know it,” Karana huffed. She shook her head. “You know, I don’t think most of the humans around here wanted us thrown out. It wasn’t even half of Eastford that turned to insults and threats and pushed for the ban. Same for some others. But not too many stood up for us, either. The people who hate us never would’ve gotten so far without all the people who didn’t want to get involved. Standing aside still hurt us. Guess I can cut a little slack for a human who’d pick up a bow or a blade to help,” she sighed. “But if she’s a complication or a danger all by herself, I want to know. Understand?”

  “I’ve got a gnoll paladin and a sorcerer stitched together from the parts of a dozen dead goblin folk. We’re all dangerous complications here.”

  Karana snorted. “Fair enough. I’ll talk to you later, then. Thanks for the help.”

  The crew stood waiting for Scars outside her hut. Other goblin folk milled about not far off, including more than a few bugbears with their ears perked up in his direction. He felt an urge to lead the crew away for someplace more discreet to talk, but couldn’t imagine finding one. Not when the flimsy boards of Karana’s hut were already the height of privacy around here.

  He noted Teryn’s downcast frown. Shady Tooth stood with her arms folded across her chest, ears up like the neighbors’. It only confirmed his thoughts about privacy. “Heard all that?” he asked.

  “Enough of it,” said Shady Tooth.

  “I’m sorry I’m a problem,” Teryn muttered.

  “No,” said DigDig.

  “You’re not,” said War Cloud.

  “Little bit,” Shady Tooth grunted. DigDig nudged her with his elbow.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Scars. “Nothing more to be done on that score, regardless.”

  “So what are your thoughts on the rest of this?” asked Yargol. “I note you didn’t suggest any particular plans.”

  “I wanted to talk with you before I committed us to anything specific.”

  “Other than working for free,” Shady Tooth grumbled, eyeing War Cloud.

  “I’m sure some form of reward will turn up,” War Cloud grinned. “Perhaps not in coin.”

  “That’s exactly what someone says before you get paid in unwanted hugs and shitty children’s crafts,” said Shady Tooth.

  “I was talking about looting the bodies of our enemies, but we might end up dealing with that stuff, too,” War Cloud conceded.

  “So. Plans?” Yargol interrupted.

  Scars grimaced. “My other thought was that we might get some rest before discussing plans. We’re all tired. A couple of you look like you’re about to fall over. Is there anything we need to take care of right away, or can we get settled?”

  “Yargol and I spoke to one of the shamans as we came out,” said War Cloud. “There are only a few folk with magical ability here, and none of them great. They give all they have every night just to keep the sick and injured alive. Even that is a losing game. What little we can manage will go a long way.”

  “Both of us have some strength left,” Yargol agreed. “Presumably we won’t have another battle before tomorrow. We would also like to look around a bit more before we rest. Matters in the forest still weigh upon War Cloud and I.”

  “Let me try to run down a map of the area and some way to copy it,” said Shady Tooth. “Karana might have one if Ruck doesn’t. We need to get oriented if we’re going to be here for a while.”

  “You all plan to work through the night?” Teryn asked. “What can I do?”

  “Rest. You said yourself you’re exhausted, and you look it, too,” said Scars.

  “I still need to pull my own weight.”

  “Nobody says you aren’t. You’ve kept up with us this far and you still aren’t used to being up all night. It’s not a problem.”

  “You’re no good to us if you pass out, either,” said Shady Tooth. “Everyone’s got limits. It’s not a princess treatment.”

  Scars winced. “Maybe not so much with the princess references here?”

  “Fine. At least give me your packs before you go,” she said to the others. “I can take care of that much for you.”

  “Us,” Scars corrected. “Give us your packs. I’m about ready to fall over, too. We’ll set up a spot for everyone.”

  “Gotta do one thing before I go anywhere,” said DigDig. “Go ahead. Catch up later.”

  “What is it?” Scars asked—and then followed his friend’s gaze. A pair of goblins stood not far away, watching the group. He didn’t recognize the man, but he remembered the woman beside him from the fight. She held the hand of the same whelp, though this time the little one hid behind her breeches. “Ah,” he grunted. “Right. Take your time.”

  “Not how it’s supposed to work. Not yet, anyway,” DigDig grumbled. He shuffled away from his crew to face his parents.

  The sight of them filled DigDig with a swirl of emotions. Libri wore only a ragged, tan tunic over her breeches, all of them marred with stains and crude stitches from repairs. She’d been in a printer’s apron when DigDig said goodbye years ago, with her grey face marked by flecks of fake gold leaf and genuine hope and pride. Now he saw only pensive dread. The girl holding her hand seemed to feel it, too, keeping her largely behind her mother’s legs.

  Beside her, Ebrim wore his classic black vest, but the ink pens and instruments were gone from his pockets. The smudges of ink that used to always mar his father’s trousers seemed replaced now by mud. Like Libri, Ebrim awaited DigDig with a frown.

  “Pop. Mama,” said their son. “Glad you’re okay.”

  “Same,” said Ebrim. “Libri told me about the fight. Was on the other end of camp at the time. They’re calling you DigDig now?”

  “Yeah. Kinda got a deed name working for the wizard,” DigDig explained.

  “Oh. That’s good.” His father nodded in approval.

  DigDig held his tongue. His parents didn’t need to know it wasn’t a name of praise.

  “You ran off to the fight without explanations,” said Libri. “Then you rushed here and there with your friends. What’s going on?”

  “Wizard’s job kinda fell apart a couple weeks ago,” DigDig began. He bit his lip. “You know about sis, right? And the cousins?” He noted the depression at the corner of his father’s mouth. Libri sighed, nodding. “Don’t think anyone else from Bak’Nor made it out of the dungeon. Pretty sure nobody did but us.” />
  “That’s too bad,” said Ebrim. Then he shrugged.

  “Yeah,” Libri agreed, nodding again.

  DigDig winced at their outpouring of grief. He knew his parents would be crushed.

  “What happened? You still haven’t told us,” Libri pressed.

  “Adventurers. Adventurers happened. Snuck into the dungeon, took everybody down. Had to guide my crew out through the bottom. Kinda crazy.”

  “You guided them?” asked Ebrim. His eyes strayed from DigDig, brows rising with interest. “Even the bugbear?”

  “Ugh,” Libri grumbled. “Typical.”

  “Oh, you’re one to talk,” Ebrim retorted.

  “Never mind that,” she pressed. “So you’re not fired? But you’re still out of a job?”

  “Got a crew now,” her son answered. “It’s like having a job.”

  “Jobs pay. Crews don’t.”

  “Oh, for—!” DigDig shoved a hand into his pouch and pulled out a fistful of gold and silver coins. “Here. Got paid. Been getting paid. We’re a crew, not bums. Wanted to share with you, anyway.”

  “We’re not asking for your money, Dag—er, DigDig,” said Ebrim. “It’s never about that.”

  “We love you. We want to know you’re alright on your own,” agreed Libri.

  “Oh,” DigDig blinked. He withdrew his hand.

  “Nonono, wait, we’ll take the money,” his father objected, simultaneously as his mother said, “What’re you, crazy? Obviously we’ll take it!”

  DigDig sighed, not with consternation but relief. He poured the coins from his hand into his father’s. “Crew’s gotta find a place to sleep here,” he said. “Maybe for a couple days, too. Can you point the way?”

  Libri’s eyes narrowed. “Only a couple days?”

  “Don’t know. Long enough to help. Haven’t made plans past that.” Reluctantly, he added, “Didn’t know you’d be here. Glad to find you, though. Glad to know you’re alive.”

  At that, Libri let go of the girl’s hand to throw her arms around him, holding him close. “We are, too…DigDig.” She sniffled once. Then she stepped back again, her hand finding the girl’s once more without the need to look. “Go to the southeast side of the camp. Look for the big pine with tent lines coming off it like the center of a spider web. Can’t miss it. That’s where we are. Neighbors are quiet enough.”

  Ebrim coughed. Libri stopped herself from throwing him a glare.

  Sensing more awkwardness, DigDig looked to change the subject. “Who’s this?” he asked, his eyes falling to the girl.

  “Oh! This is Cambri,” said Libri. “She’s your sister.”

  “Hi, Cambri,” DigDig said brightly.

  In a tiny, matter-of-fact voice, Cambri replied, “Technically I’m your half-sister.” She put her index finger in her mouth.

  “Um. Oh.”

  “At least we don’t have to dance around that,” grumbled Ebrim.

  “We never did,” Libri replied.

  “I suppose that’s true,” Ebrim conceded, though that sounded like another complaint.

  “Uh…” DigDig tried for words, but failed.

  “We’ve been north of the mountains a couple years now,” his mother explained. “And we’ve been in this camp since it started. Work to stay alive is one thing, but other than that, there isn’t much to do, so…we found a way to have some fun.”

  “We were all supposed to be careful,” Ebrim muttered.

  “And your father has been very understanding,” she asserted, “especially since he was all for it at the time. So. Cambri and I have some chores to do. We’ll see you at home soon, alright?” She looked her son up and down again. “Glad you’re well.” She paused. “Hopefully you can find work again soon.” With a gentle tug, she led Cambri away.

  Ebrim sighed. “Proud of you, son.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His brow knit with a thought. “You’re not going into document doctoring, are you?”

  “No! Pop, come on!”

  “Only asking, only asking. Yes. Proud of you.”

  “Hey. On that: Karana said Velic lets goblins buy citizenship. That true?”

  “Oh, it’s true, but it’s a life’s savings of gold for most people.”

  “So there’d be papers, right? A document? You can’t forge those for goblins who sneak over the border?”

  Ebrim’s pride in his son shined through more in his smile than his earlier words, but it was a sad smile. “Not without the tools and paper. We’ve lost almost everything. Only got what kit we could put into a couple small boxes. Maybe we could steal the rest if it came down to it. The real problem is, a trick like that works only so many times. For this many goblins?” Ebrim shook his head. “It would get too obvious. Someone would get caught, and then everyone would be in trouble. Besides, Velic smells like a scam to me.”

  “Huh. Heard that from my human friend, too.”

  “There you go,” said Ebrim. His eyes lifted to the empty spot where DigDig’s friends had been—and then to the receding forms of Libri and Cambri. Ebrim leaned in, his voice dropping: “Between you and me: did your friend really have to save Agnad? You don’t suppose he’d, you know, eat him, maybe?”

  DigDig looked back to his mother and new half-sister with a sigh. Older goblins had always told him going home again was just too weird. Now he understood.

  * * *

  “I can set you on the path to full recovery, but I cannot heal this entirely tonight,” War Cloud told the goblin on the pallet. Her ankle was braced with simple sticks and wrapped with tattered, mismatched cloth. Her foot was badly swollen, awkwardly bent, and discolored. “Most of my power has been spent already. I could make only one or two people whole, or I can be careful and at least save more lives in the long term.”

  “Whatever you can do, I’m glad,” said his patient. She seemed less nervous about his bestial figure looming so closely over her now. He had to crouch tightly to fit into her small tent. A tiny, tarnished brass bowl served as a brazier for dying coals to provide them with their only light. “Better than hurting and dragging on a crutch forever. Been months now. Can’t work, can’t fight. Can’t even run from a fight like you had tonight.”

  “Would’ve helped you,” said another goblin, huddled in the back corner so she could watch. “Not leaving my sister, limping or not. Even if it means going to get this guy.”

  War Cloud’s lip curled back along his snout in a grin. “I suppose talking to some strangers takes its own form of courage. You haven’t survived this long and come this far out of weakness. Dastia favors the strength of your family. I’m sure she will help you now.”

  “Isn’t she a human goddess?” his patient asked hesitantly.

  “She is goddess of the hearth and all who defend it. A goblin hearth is worth no less than one of any other race or breed. Hold to yours, and she will hold it with you.”

  War Cloud’s hands hovered over the injured ankle. A faint, golden glow arose between his fingers. His patient inhaled sharply as her foot straightened on its own. Her swelling receded, though it didn’t vanish.

  “Treat it as you have for a few days at least, but it will heal properly now,” he told them. “I can’t say how long. You should see a difference soon.”

  “Can see the difference now,” she said. “Thanks! You, uh, said we don’t have to pay?”

  “Not in coin or service. Only an answer, if you can: have you seen anything you thought was strange magic in the camp? Like a haunting presence, or a fear you can’t name?”

  “Been scared ever since we were run off from home,” said the patient’s sister. “Lots to be afraid of around here. Can’t say I couldn’t name it, though. No magic except from the shamans.”

  “Same,” said his patient.

  “Does any place in the camp make you feel uneasy? Is there anywhere you’re afraid to go?”

  “We steer clear of the orc areas, because orcs. Also the bugbears. Also the hobs.” The sister shrugged. “G
uess that might sound silly to you, huh?”

  “No. Thank you for your honesty. Remember Dastia watched over you. That’s all I ask.” He shifted carefully to crawl out of the tent, knowing he would collapse it if he stood to his full height. Then he stopped and reached into his pouch. More light appeared, this time brighter and centered on a rock among a few coins. “This is a glowstone. Keep it covered when you aren’t using it. The magic won’t fade in your lifetimes. At least you won’t have to scrounge for anything to burn for light.”

  “That helps us a lot,” said the other goblin. “Can’t do everything in the dark. Thank you!”

  Emerging from the tent, War Cloud found Yargol waiting outside at a table that no longer looked as makeshift as when they arrived. Though hardly a work of artistry, the wood seemed renewed and strong. The table’s goblin owners ran their hands over it in wonder. Yargol gave War Cloud a shrug, his face hidden under the hood of his robes. “I suppose I could do this sort of work all night.”

  “Would it help?” asked War Cloud.

  “Somewhat. Most everything around here is crude and flimsy. Crude and sturdy might make a difference. Such improvements will only go so far, though. I can’t create anything new or make adjustments.”

  “You doing all that for free, too?” asked a voice behind them. She stood no taller than Yargol except for the height of her inexplicably orange hair. Her eyes were oddly colored for a goblin, too, with one matching her hair and the other an emerald green. Her rugged leather tunic held more soot than natural color. She looked to the pair with a cranky frown and her hands on her hips. “Just running all over camp giving away everything that makes you special?”

  “We’re trying to help,” said War Cloud.

  “Helping one hand hurts the other,” she replied.

  War Cloud’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I know that saying?”

  She waved it off. “I’m Ikri the Firestarter. Heard who you are already. Wouldn’t come across camp to meet you except how you’re undercutting my business.”

  “A firestarter, you say?” asked Yargol. “I assume you have a unique talent for it?”