Nowhere to Run

by Elliott Kay

  “This isn’t a challenge? A demonstration of strength or something?”

  “No! I mean, maybe, but you don’t have to take it like that.”

  “You all went on about goblin folk being a warrior race!”

  “Damn right, we are,” grunted the goblin cook in front of her.

  The approaching hobgoblin growled, “I been kicked out of too many places by too many fuckin’ humans in the last year to put up with a human here.”

  “See, that sounds like a threat,” Teryn hissed without turning around. “Don’t I have to put him down to win respect from the others?”

  “No!” War Cloud hissed back, also facing forward with his shoulder beside hers. “This is a camp full of poor exiles, not a prison! You could always just acknowledge his plight!”

  “Oh, thank the gods,” she exhaled.

  “Hey! I’m talkin’ about you! The watchdog doesn’t scare me, neither!”

  Teryn spun on her heels, sharply enough to stop the hobgoblins short of her. She never put a hand to her blade. Her mouth spread in a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Teryn, and I’m so sorry if I’ve been rude here in any way. It wasn’t my intent, but I know I have much to learn. Would you let me pay for your meals by way of apology?” She looked from one blinking face to the next, feeling oddly sympathetic to their awkward hesitation. “And perhaps the next?” she added.

  The apparent leader glanced to the others, feeling them out either for agreement or to ensure he would lose no respect if he accepted. “How long do you lot plan to stay?”

  “Long enough to help the camp. Or do you mean right here? Only long enough to eat.”

  “Huh. Fair enough. Not like it’s crowded today, anyway.”

  “So I noticed.” Teryn kept smiling as warmly as she could. Raised as royalty or not, this sort of poise came only with effort. “I expected it would be busier. Say, did you see our friends? We thought they’d be here.”

  “What, the stitched-up freak and the half-orc?” asked one hobgoblin.

  “Which half?” muttered the other.

  “I will tear off your feet and decorate my boots with your bones,” War Cloud snarled.

  Teryn’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t the only one.

  “Uh. Yeah,” stammered the leader. “That joke’s older than the hills, Rog.”

  “Yeah, Rog,” mumbled another.

  “However this does confirm we’re speaking of the same people, yes,” Teryn ventured. “Have you seen them?”

  “Sure. Edge of camp, along with half—” the leader winced at War Cloud “—er, half of everyone else in Zition. We’re only takin’ a break from the works to get a bite to eat.”

  Sharing a curious frown with War Cloud, Teryn dropped some coins on the cooks’ table and left to investigate. Away from the encounter, Teryn asked, “Are you not one to follow your own advice?”

  “What?”

  “Tearing off someone’s feet for an insult?”

  “Oh. Scars and Yargol weren’t there to defend themselves.”

  “But I was? You told me to be nice to them.”

  “Yeah, and I was there for you in case it went wrong. The others weren’t there. Those guys wanted to see if there are divisions between us. You can’t let that kind of shit slide.”

  “…huh.”

  Walking for only a minute, the pair had little trouble finding their friends—and, as warned, apparently half of Zition’s populace, all outside the edge of the camp. The sudden appearance of a long earthen berm explained it all, running a somewhat unsteady curve around Zition at a good twenty or thirty yards from the nearest tents. It stood twice the height of a bugbear, and indeed many bugbears and others worked with anything from shovels and buckets to simple flat boards in a concerted effort to pack the berm into a solid shape. To Teryn and War Cloud’s left, the berm disappeared into the woods. To their right, it ran only a short distance, where its origins were plain to see.

  DigDig emerged at the freestanding edge of the berm as if he’d climbed out of a hole on the other side. “We ready?” he called to someone on the other side and out of sight. Calls of assent muffled by the berm drifted through the air.

  The little goblin turned to put the berm and the hole behind him and sank his shovel into the ground. Pausing for a couple of light tugs to test the tension, DigDig pulled back hard on the handle. Grass and earth rippled up out of the ground before him in a slight curve, virtually rolling up and over in line with the great berm for yard after yard. In the blink of an eye, DigDig could no longer be seen, hidden now behind the rough wall of rocks and soil.

  “Fucking hell,” War Cloud breathed in awe.

  Teryn looked to the other end of the berm and back again. “I can’t believe…there,” she said, nudging War Cloud’s arm. She pointed to a pair of figures at the edge of the work crew. Scars and Yargol stood out of the way, watching with similar surprise. “Hey,” she called, jogging over with War Cloud to join them. “When did this start?”

  “Last night,” said Scars. “I don’t think he ever went to sleep. After talking to his parents, he came out here and started all this.”

  “The trench on the other side of the berm is deep enough to swallow a man on a horse,” said Yargol. “Wide enough for one to lay down, too. It reaches all the way around the camp to the edge of the river. Altogether, I’d say it’s enough to stop any charge of riders, wouldn’t you?”

  Teryn put her hand over her mouth. “He started this all himself while we all slept?”

  “Yes. We just talked to him. He thought about the horses and saw something he could do about it.” Yargol shrugged. “He has family here.”

  “Soon as the locals saw what he was doing, they pitched in,” said Scars. “His shovel clears and moves a dozen yards at a time. The rest is all packing and stabilizing. He makes that happen faster, too. They’ll have the whole arc from one end of camp to the other done by noon, with the river bordering the other side.” He shook his head. “Never seen anything like it.”

  “That shovel is no mere enchanted tool,” said Yargol. “Surely there is some lore to it.”

  “Does Karana know about this?” asked War Cloud.

  “She’s out there directing workers. She saw how fast he was going and figured, why not?”

  “So overnight we go from an open camp to defensive earthworks.” War Cloud folded his arms across his chest. “Can’t complain there.”

  “They’d thought about it before, but they didn’t know whether it was worth the effort given how they’ve been pushed so many times already,” said Yargol.

  Scars nodded. “This may settle it. The people here have to decide, but they’ve nowhere else to go. The borders are closed to them. They’re cornered up here.”

  “I think that was deliberate, Scars,” Teryn spoke up. “Barret’s men, his horses—I don’t think any of them are what they seem. The notion that Barret had run afoul of the king and been exiled was believable, but with all those men? Riding at night, using military horn calls? They’re all too well-trained and too organized. This wasn’t common raiding. I think Barret is still working for the king and banditry is a ruse.

  “Diplomacy with Nivoen keeps the regular army south of the mountains, but the crown can disavow bandits. There’s just enough sympathy for goblin folk in the south to stop the king from going on a rampage, but if it looks like it wasn’t anyone acting on his orders? He may get away with that. I think all the banditry in Eastford may have been for show.”

  “It did seem a bit too easy to run them out of town,” War Cloud sighed.

  “Shit. That does make sense,” Scars agreed. He took in the scene of hard-working goblin folk and their new defenses, his mouth turning to a frown. “This is only one fix. One defense. It’s not their worst problem, either. The real danger is the lack of food sources. They barely made it through the winter. Even with the spring, hunting and picking nuts in the woods isn’t enough. They don’t know what will grow safely here and can’t raise crops fast enoug
h to feed everyone even if they figure that out. Not even with the camp’s magicians and priests to help.”

  “Half of them are charlatans,” said Yargol. “The legitimate ones haven’t the sort of abilities necessary.” He looked up to Scars, his mismatched eyes squinting in the daylight. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but Zuck knew of a circle not far from here.”

  “A circle?” Teryn asked, noting as Scars winced. “A circle of what? Sorcerers?”

  “No. Druids,” said Scars.

  “I’ve never met a druid,” said War Cloud.

  “Neither have I,” said Teryn. “My tutors said they’re reclusive.”

  “They’re eccentric,” said Yargol.

  “They’re obnoxious,” Scars grumbled.

  “In truth, I’ve only met one in passing. Most of my knowledge is from Zuck’s comments and from books,” Yargol elaborated. “But they could help us, if they can be persuaded.”

  “Gods, let’s just fight the king’s armies today and get it over with,” sighed Scars. “It’ll be easier than getting a druid to do anything. Safer for your sanity, too.”

  “You continue to surprise me with the breadth of your knowledge and experience,” Yargol said with a smirk.

  “Like I said in the dungeon, I know adventurers. Some of them are druids. And they make the least sense of all of them.”

  “They could also decide the survival of this entire camp,” Yargol replied.

  Scars sighed. “Yeah, they could.”

  “You think we can find them?” asked Teryn.

  “I have some of Zuck’s maps and notes among our haul from the dungeon,” said Yargol. “Between the six of us, it shouldn’t be too hard. They aren’t known to be hostile as long as one approaches without hostile intent.”

  “Hey!” called a familiar voice. Shady Tooth approached from the camp, her arms out wide. “What the fuck is all this shit?”

  “Oh yeah,” Scars grunted. “This crew specializes in diplomacy.”

  Chapter Five

  “This will be annoying,” Scars warned. His eyes never stopped searching the woods, even with the bright sun shining through the leaves. A second night and morning to rest and recover gave him the energy for vigilance, but his stride didn’t suggest any particular wariness. His blade remained sheathed, his crossbow and shield both slung over his back. “You may end up wanting to hit someone, but it’s counterproductive. You might wind up questioning your sanity, too. I promise, the problem isn’t you, it’s them.”

  “I’ll try to keep an open mind,” said War Cloud, walking to his right.

  “Don’t try too hard. That’s how you wind up feeling like you’ll go mad. They’ll use it against you.”

  “And here I’ve always valued your open mind,” War Cloud teased.

  “An open mind is only an advantage until you find yourself open to jumping off a cliff.”

  “How much experience have you had with druids?” asked Yargol, walking to the left.

  “Only one at length, but through him I met others,” Scars grumbled. “It was enough to learn what to expect, not that they’d admit it. They’re proud of their ways, even if it drives others to rage or drink. Or both.”

  “I hadn’t realized my suggestion would cause you such discomfort,” said Yargol. “Or that this would be so daunting. My apologies, Scars. If this is a waste of time, should we turn back?”

  “What? No.” Scars turned to his smaller companion, his grumpy demeanor fading in a rare reminder of his youth. “If I sound angry, I’m the one who owes an apology. I don’t like this, but it isn’t about you. This problem is bigger than us. You came up with the best solution. I’m not angry at you for being right.”

  They walked. Yargol tilted his head. “That means more to me than I can say.”

  “What, hearing an apology?” asked Scars.

  “Yes. And appreciation.”

  “You’re the smartest of us and you’re as brave as anyone I’ve ever met. Maybe your magic conveniences don’t take much energy, but you’re always looking for ways to help all of us. And we owe you our lives from the moment you decided to protect War Cloud and I in the library. Hell, you’re the one who tapped us to work in there with you in the first place. If feeling appreciated is unusual, that’s something else the rest of us need to work on.”

  “I meant no complaint,” said Yargol. “My life is immeasurably better with this crew than it was before.”

  “Good. But if there’s something still wrong, say so. We’ve all got a lot to unlearn. Best to face it head-on. Dragging it out and hiding doesn’t help anyone.” Turning forward again, Scars caught a glimpse of War Cloud’s teeth out of the corner of his eye. The gnoll’s lips were curled back from his snout in a grin. “What?”

  “You’re good at confronting these things,” said War Cloud. “Honesty with one’s feelings and a willingness to express them are rare talents.”

  “Less of a talent and more of a skill. It only came with a lot of work.” His words still came out as a grumble. He still frowned. “And you’re one to talk.”

  “I was born among cannibal demon-spawn and raised by the priest of a hearth goddess. Either I learned to use words or I could eat the only person to ever show me mercy and warmth. Only one choice offered any real future.”

  “Suppose that’s why we can relate,” muttered Scars. “Maybe things weren’t so extreme for me, though.” Yargol’s laughter drew his attention once more. “What’s funny?”

  “I suppose it’s best we split from the others,” said Yargol. “Teryn will be sorry she missed this conversation, but Shady Tooth would’ve slit our throats to shut us up.”

  “It isn’t our throats I was worried about, though you’re probably right,” said Scars.

  “Splitting up made sense,” said War Cloud. “The enemy came away the other night with a bloody nose and nothing to show for it. The camp has defenders and now it has earthworks, too. We’d be fools not to use the time to our advantage.”

  “Sure. But I have to wonder if we won’t wish Teryn were here to do the talking.”

  “You’re doing fine with talking so far,” War Cloud chuckled.

  “Being honest about my feelings isn’t going to help with druids. Probably the opposite.”

  “Are we sure they’re still out here?” War Cloud wondered, looking to Yargol. “We’re all but wandering now. If they’re masters of their environment like you say, they know about Zition. Goblins have ranged out this way in search of food for months, but nobody from the camp has seen these druids. If they were inclined to speak to the likes of us, why wouldn’t they have made contact with Zition already?”

  “Precisely because no one came out looking for them,” Yargol replied. “Druids generally try to go unnoticed. They would rather not disturb others or get involved in their affairs. I’ve only met a druid once, and only as Zuck spoke with her. She knew full well who he was, yet she did not let that get in the way of their business.”

  “What business was that?” asked War Cloud.

  “Oh, contamination of the waters coming off the mountain. Early on when he moved into the stronghold, Zuck had his minions throw the slain undead into the river in case any rose again. The druids objected.”

  “He threw them into the river?” Scars blinked. “Why the hell didn’t he have them burned?”

  “Zuck hated the scent of burning flesh. He claimed it lingered for weeks. As it happened, he had to learn to live with it. The druids threatened to run him out if he didn’t stop. They were an enemy he didn’t need, so he learned to adjust.”

  War Cloud scowled. “They knew an evil wizard was setting up in the mountain and they had enough strength to threaten him, but they didn’t do anything about him?”

  “She said they respect all life, even life such as his,” said Yargol. “The undead were another matter, I suppose. Apparently they felt Zuck’s presence in the mountain would lead to fewer undead, which they considered a net benefit. They had other issues, too, and w
anted to pursue further discussion on it all. He brushed it off and they never pressed the point.

  “Zuck was not entirely diplomatic about it, but the druid was unfailingly polite and endlessly patient.”

  “That endless patience is the problem with druids,” grumbled Scars.

  “How’s that a problem?” asked War Cloud.

  Scars answered only with a grimace before looking back to Yargol. “We have no other landmarks to go on?”

  “She said to look northwest of the mountains, where the pines are joined by elm trees.” He shrugged. “I heard nothing else. Presumably they’ll find us. It’s their territory.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Scars took a deep breath, tilted his head up, and bellowed, “Druids! We’ve come to talk. Peacefully.”

  Yargol stepped back in surprise. War Cloud’s shoulders tensed, his hand clenching as if wanting a weapon. Yet it was with the final word the first reactions came: birds rustled through the trees all around to take to the sky.

  “That will carry for miles,” said War Cloud.

  “That’s the idea,” Scars said with a shrug. “Relax. It’s druid territory. By now they know we’re here. At this point they’re probably only wondering about our business and trying to decide if they should make contact or leave us to wander.”

  “A decision you have now settled,” said a voice from the trees above.

  War Cloud spun, pulling his sword halfway from his shoulder. The moment caught up with him before he had it fully extended. He stopped, head tilting with uncertainty, then doubt, as his eyes sought out the speaker.

  “Yes. You’ve spotted me,” said the porcupine in the branches. “I hope your friend was serious about this being peaceful.”

  * * *

  She hoped the mission would bring more time to talk with her companions. With half as many voices, she reasoned, they might have more to say. They drew the job by virtue of being the quiet half of the crew, but stealth wouldn’t be necessary for miles. Surely she might draw something out of them before they had to go silent.

  Yet as soon as they hit the tree line outside Zition’s new wall and trench, Shady Tooth looked back to DigDig and Teryn with only a wordless grunt before she broke into a jog. DigDig let out a sigh before taking off after her. Teryn bit back her disappointment and followed.