by Elliott Kay
Their sudden pace and Shady Tooth’s lead brought up a second disappointment, too: Teryn hadn’t yet shown her companions her skill in tracking. Though she didn’t doubt her inclusion in the crew, she still felt the need to show her worth. As it happened, a small child could follow the path blazed by Barret’s raiders and their horses.
Shady Tooth ran along their trail only until the crest of the first rise before breaking off onto a close parallel course. Teryn saw the wisdom of it—if Barret had anyone watching the trail, the woods would provide cover—but it also dashed any remaining hope of conversation. A little after the first mile, Shady Tooth held up long enough to signal a slower pace. Then she disappeared into the woods again.
As it turned out, Teryn got to do a little tracking after all. She had to track her friend. At least DigDig got to see her skill.
They covered a second hill, and then a third. Occasionally they bent back to the bandits’ trail to check and correct their course. Teryn kept track of her surroundings and landmarks as any good ranger would. They hiked in silence for several more miles. Following Shady Tooth’s trail on another turn back toward the horses’ tracks, Teryn grew annoyed wondering how far the bandits had gone before making camp.
That was when she and DigDig came across the first body. They hadn’t yet made it back to the bandits’ trail. The man’s leather and chain had done him no good, nor had his bow, and his blade remained in its scabbard on his hip. He’d died without a drop of blood shed, either. The bandit laid sprawled across the roots of a thick oak tree, face-down and belly-up at the same time.
Though she’d seen death many times and even dealt it herself, alarm seized up Teryn’s throat at the unnatural sight. Her hand came to her mouth. She tore her eyes away to reassert her self-control.
“Hey, loot.” DigDig moved over to the body with hardly a care in the world.
Forcing down the bile in her throat, Teryn looked left and right to ensure the scene was clear. Obviously DigDig felt safe enough. He knelt over the corpse, patting the man down before poking into his pouches and pockets. Wary enough to look for trouble above as well as at eye-level, Teryn found the killer up in the branches of the very same tree. Without looking back, the killer gestured for Teryn to join her.
The value of Shady Tooth’s vantage point was clear before Teryn found a perch beside her. The land rose up ahead, providing a natural position for the camp occupying its ridgeline. No one in the surrounding area would see it through the forest without climbing this high. Teryn saw a small spread of tents, with only a couple of men casually patrolling the perimeter.
“Other sentries?” Teryn whispered, looking closer to their position.
“None that I’ve found,” replied Shady Tooth. “No sounds, no signs. They’re probably spread farther out than they realize.” She indicated the base of their tree with a tilt of her head. “The scent of this one carried on the breeze. He was sitting up here when I found him.”
“Ah. Something more to add to my nightmares,” Teryn muttered.
“What? Him?”
“Yes. This tree is an easy climb except for how I’m still cringing.”
The bugbear frowned. “You’re my friend. I would never do that to you. Quit being weird.” She turned her attention back to the camp with no acknowledgment of Teryn’s stunned expression. “Two pairs walk the edge of the camp on patrol, but I haven’t seen any other sentries. They have enough discipline to put their fires out before sunrise. I can smell the barest trace of smoke.”
“We’re really friends?” Teryn asked.
Shady Tooth made a face. “I also said quit being weird.”
“I’ve been afraid to bring it up because I worried you would think it weird.”
“Uh-huh. That was a good instinct, but here we are anyway,” Shady Tooth grumbled.
“No, I don’t—I won’t belabor the point, but it means something to hear that. I left behind a lot of friends when I left home. Many who were probably never truly my friends at all,” Teryn added with a frown. “Or friends I wouldn’t have made if I’d known how they really thought of others.”
“That’s the problem with friendship, isn’t it? People don’t always show who they are when you first meet. They wait until it screws you.”
“True,” said Teryn. “It means a lot to me. I wanted you to know.”
“You dove off a bridge to save a goblin you’d only just met,” said Shady Tooth. “And you stabbed your way out of life in a palace. I know who you are. You want to be a good friend to me for life?”
“Yes,” said Teryn, her eyes brightening.
“Then don’t start any long talks with me about friendship and feelings.”
“Oh.” Her glow diminished, but a resilient smile still played at her lips. “So. Two patrols?"
“From the look of it, yes.” Shady Tooth nodded in satisfaction, or perhaps appreciation. Teryn told herself not to analyze. “They feel safe out here. I can’t say I blame them. Zition isn’t strong enough to hit back. Obviously they know it. I can hear and smell horses and there’s enough chatter to make me think the camp is full, but I can’t see through the tents any better than you can. They must be keeping the horses inside the ring of tents.”
“Eastford is only a couple miles that way,” Teryn noted. “They had to have set up this camp before Barret rolled into town. Maybe they were still setting up. It’s not like he brought the main body into Eastford with him. They must have planned to lean on Eastford for supplies while moving against Zition.”
Shady Tooth agreed with a grunt. “I didn’t think they could believe they’d take the whole camp with the force they had the other night. Not once every goblin turned to fighting for their lives. I thought maybe they expected we’d run. Hearing you talk, I wonder if they planned to bleed the camp to death with raids instead.”
“They’re cavalry, and light cavalry in particular. Mobility is their strength. They can’t afford to get stuck in a camp without anyone to back them up and hold the ground behind them, but they can make life hell at the edges. Or they could until DigDig’s wall, anyway. I don’t know how they’ll react when they find that. They likely don’t have the tools or supplies for any kind of siege.”
“You seem to know a lot about soldiers and armies,” said Shady Tooth. “Is this what you learn as a princess?”
“Sometimes. I was interested. It made up a big portion of the adult conversation around me. The older I got, the less my father humored my interest. He planned on marrying me off to a foreign prince, so he didn’t want my head full of military secrets. I went behind his back on that little issue, too.” She frowned. “And on a lot of things.”
Shady Tooth raised an eyebrow. “Like I said, friends don’t always show who they are before it’s too late. Family, too. Don’t hold it against yourself.”
“Thank you. Though to be honest, I’m thinking more of politics right now. I know that better than cavalry tactics. If this is a secret mission for the crown, the real goal of the raids is probably to stir up a retaliation. That would give the king a pretext for sending the army north of the Stonebeards. He can’t do it on a whim. But if the goblin folk hit back at Eastford, no one would question it.”
“What choice do we have? They’re raiding us. Goblin folk are dying.”
“Agreed. It’s not about falling into a trap. Nobody’s being fooled here except the human populace. No one will tell the truth about who started it. They’ll think it is the first strike. And feelings will harden with bloodshed regardless.”
Shady Tooth looked off into the distance to the right of the camp. “He really needs to go to all this trouble to justify marching his army north? In his own realm? Nobody stopped him in the southlands.”
“That didn’t happen overnight, either. He spent time spreading lies and hardening hearts. Some people will go against those they hate for any reason at all, but many others want to believe they’re in the right. That kind of support takes time to build. But relations with Niv
oen are a bigger complication. Neither land wants to fortify their borders. It’s expensive and it has led to tension in the past. That’s why Barret is running his bandit charade.
“All this is speculation, though,” Teryn added. “We can’t see what’s going on and we can’t hear them talking.”
“Not from here, no. But unless something changes, a quiet runner could make it through the gap between their sentry patrols easily enough,” said Shady Tooth. “Or a couple quiet runners.”
“I thought about that, but I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy.”
Shady Tooth cracked a grin. “What did I say about people showing you who they are?”
A soft thunk from below drew their eyes downward. DigDig stood just beyond the roots of their tree with his shovel plunged into the ground. With a subtle shift of his shoulders to the left and then right, he pulled back on the handle to wrench a large mound of dirt up and over the surface, creating a pile on one side and a hole several feet deep on the other.
“Hsst! What are you doing?” Shady Tooth whispered.
“Taking care of the body,” DigDig answered, mindfully keeping his voice down to match hers. “Done looting him.”
“That won’t hide him. You can’t put the grass back the way it was. Don’t you think the bare dirt will be a clue for his friends?”
“You plan on hiding him in some bushes? Still gonna stink soon. Bushes don’t cover that. Dirt does. Besides, they’ll see the dirt, but they gotta dig him up to find him.”
“Gods,” Shady Tooth grumbled, looking away again. With no further objection, DigDig took up the bandit’s legs and dragged him to the hole.
“He’s got a point,” said Teryn.
“He’s got a magic shovel and he’s looking for every excuse to use it.”
Teryn shrugged. “I suppose if I suddenly had a magic…” She stared at her friend. “Shady Tooth. You have one of the magic packs we took from the adventurers.”
“Yeah? So?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s too late now. DigDig already made a mess. And putting a body in there is gross even for me.”
“No. Not the body. You have the pack from the dwarf, and I have the cleric’s, right?”
“And DigDig has the cleric’s belt pouch,” Shady Tooth confirmed. “Why?”
“We sold some of the loot in Eastford and ditched the junk, but we still don’t know how full those bags are.” Teryn tilted her head toward the camp. “Zition needs weapons and supplies. Want to see how much those bags can carry?”
* * *
“If anyone is not yet here, I am sure they will arrive soon,” said Willowbark. She led the way at a casual pace. Having returned to her natural elven form, she stood almost as tall as Scars in breeches and a vest made of buckskin. Brambles and tangled branches pulled out of her path all on their own. Even thinner tree trunks bent to the side. It all slowly returned to a natural state once the druid and her company passed. Not a trace of their trail remained.
War Cloud didn’t seem sure if he appreciated that point. If it bothered Yargol, he held to his silence. Scars expected it.
“Hiking into the forest and shouting, ‘Hey, Druids,’ works that easily?” asked War Cloud.
“Presumably not if the forest lacks druids, but we are not exclusive to woodlands,” said their guide. “The birds did not fly out in fear of your friend’s voice. They flew to convey my interest.”
“If you hadn’t been there watching us, what then? Would we have gone ignored?” wondered Yargol.
“They’ve ignored the others so far,” said Scars.
Willowbark looked back over her shoulder at him, holding a pleasant tone. “We have hardly ignored. We know what goes on in these lands. To be more accurate, we have not interfered.”
“Not interfered, or not helped?”
“Couldn’t one easily be the other?”
“Yeah, I figured,” he muttered.
The thickness of the forest diminished sharply as they came upon the sounds of trickling water. Willowbark brought her visitors into a clearing along the banks of a stream thin enough to jump. Large rocks along the banks served as seats for a handful of humans and elves.
“Ah. Good. We’re nearly assembled already,” said Willowbark. “Scars, War Cloud, Yargol, please allow me to introduce my friends.” She slowly swept her hand from right to left. The first were a human man and woman, the next an elven man, another human woman, and finally a man seated against a rock who looked like perhaps a dwarf, but rather tall for it. “This is Brookwater, Treeleaf, Windbreeze, Dewfrost, and Snowflake.”
“Greetings,” and, “Hello,” said most, except the last. “Huh,” he grunted.
Scars nodded. “Thanks for meeting us.”
“Wait,” War Cloud thought out loud.
“Don’t,” Scars warned, but it was too late.
“Are these chosen names? You don’t look like you’re from the same places,” he asked.
“Correct on both counts,” said Brookwater. “We dedicate ourselves to the natural world, and so we take on new names in honor of that commitment.”
“Deed names?”
“Sometimes,” said Dewfrost. “Others are a reflection of character.”
War Cloud looked to the bearded druid against the rock. “Fuck off,” grumbled Snowflake.
“Is your name not similar, War Cloud?” asked Willowbark.
“It is, but it was given. It’s a mix of ideas. A memory of an event.”
“You sound dubious about ours,” Brookwater noted with obvious curiosity.
“They’re kind of redundant,” said War Cloud.
“Tactful,” Yargol sighed.
“What? They’re all two related nature words smashed together.”
“No offense is taken. I asked, and you are correct,” Brookwater conceded. He looked to the others.
“It’s fine,” said Windbreeze.
“He’s right, though,” said Brookwater.
“Brookwater is a lovely name,” countered Treeleaf.
“I fear you both may be biased.” Brookwater folded his arms across his chest.
“Like they said, they name themselves after nature,” Scars explained. “They all want unique names, but sooner or later they ran out of words. Nobody wants to be Yelm the Second.”
“I would think you of all people would have some sympathy,” said a new voice. A man approached from downstream, walking with a quarterstaff he didn’t seem to need for balance. The contrast of his youthful, sandy face and his mature voice spoke of a mixed heritage. Pointed ears were visible under his long brown hair, though not quite as sharply shaped in comparison to the elves. Like Willowbark, he wore mostly leather clothes under a green cloak, but his were thick enough to serve as armor.
“Glendale,” said Scars.
The half-elven man flashed a kind smile. “It’s good to see you, Scars. Or can I still call you Scott?”
“No.”
“Your name is Scott?” asked War Cloud and Yargol.
“I will literally drown you both.”
“Right. Scars,” said War Cloud.
“Correction noted,” said Yargol.
“It’s been too long. I’m so glad to see you’re alright,” said Glendale.
Yargol’s hooded head tilted curiously. “I’ve heard of you. They say you ended the Ice Blight in the southlands twenty years ago. You fought against the Horde of Gaznik and sealed the gate from the demon lands. How do you know Scars?”
“Oh gods,” Scars grumbled.
Glendale never lost his kind smile, or the patience in his eyes. Somehow that annoyed Scars even more. “His parents were dear friends. I’m deeply sorry for their loss.”
“Really? You weren’t sorry enough to show up when it happened. None of you were.”
“Scott, I—”
“The name is Scars,” he snapped. “It’s been Scars for three years now. Not that anyone who’d care is still around.”
“That’s not fair. We all went our separate way
s on good terms. It was time. We were all too far away. Do you think we wouldn’t have come to your aid if we had known?”
“Far as I can tell, nobody ever went looking for Scott,” said Scars. “Nobody ever came to avenge their dear friends, either. It was just me running from a burning home and a mob out into the night.”
“Oh, Scott.” Glendale winced. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, great. Me, too. Now we’ve both had a chance to say it. Whatever.” He turned around to leave, but the path behind him had returned to thick brush. Stomping directly away from the druid led Scars a few steps up along the stream. He wasn’t sure where else to go.
The bearded druid bumped his fist against the stone serving as his backrest. Scars took the offer without a word, sinking down against it to mirror the man’s folded arms and skyward gaze. “Fucking hell,” muttered both Scars and Snowflake.
“You’re still so young,” said Glendale.
Everyone else looked on.
“Uh,” War Cloud began eloquently.
“Yeah,” Brookwater agreed.
“Did I misinterpret your intentions?” asked Willowbark. “Is this all a personal matter?”
“We didn’t know Glendale would be here, nor did War Cloud or I know of him before now,” Yargol explained. “Our concern is Zition, the goblin camp, but...” He looked back to Scars with a wordless question. The warrior only gave a fuming wave of his hand. Yargol turned back to the half-elven druid. “How did you know Scars and his family?”
Glendale looked to Scars as if for permission. Scars rolled his eyes again and looked away. “You’re gonna tell them anyway.”
The druid turned back to Yargol and War Cloud. “Years ago—decades now—at the beginning of my life as a druid, I fell in with a young band of adventurers. We were idealistic and witty and brave, so naturally one of our very first quests left us captured by a renegade orc band. Traditionalists, they called themselves. They were bandits. Crude, simple bandits, and yet they had us tied to posts in a cave, so that should say something about our own magnificence.