Nowhere to Run

by Elliott Kay

  “One of the orc warriors, Kyerva, took a shine to our bard. Mitchell laid on the charm. He had a talent for that. We all thought he was looking for some advantage to get us out, but we made two mistakes: Kyerva was smarter than any of us realized, and Mitchell really did like her. When she cut us loose and helped us escape, she came with us. She joined our band.

  “We traveled and fought together for many years. They were heroes by any definition. Amid a career of risk and reward, Kyerva became pregnant. She and Mitchell married and pulled off one of the greatest accomplishments of any of our peers: they settled down and retired while still young and whole. They bought a tavern and raised a son.”

  Awestruck, Yargol and War Cloud turned back to their friend. “Your parents were Kyerva the Slayer and Mitchell Brightsong? The Heroes of Darkest Dawning?” asked Yargol.

  “Your dad was a bard?” asked War Cloud.

  “Yeah, and they’re both dead,” Scars growled. “You caught that part, right? Things were fine until Dostin took the throne. Maybe not warm and fuzzy but people were willing to live and let live. Then the rumors started. Shitty deals from merchants we relied on. People starting fights in the tavern. One night half the town got spun up and came at us as an angry mob. The assholes accused my parents of everything from treason and demon worship to cheating the town drunk on his bar tab. Mom and Dad didn’t want things to get ugly. They held back and tried to talk everyone down.

  “Someone in the crowd knew magic. Someone else used poison. And lots more carried torches. We could’ve taken the whole lot of them by ourselves if we’d faced them as a threat from the beginning. Instead my parents are gone, the tavern is gone, and all I could do was run off into the night on my own.”

  “I am sorry, Scars.” Glendale bowed his head. “I am so sorry. Where did you go?”

  “I wandered and I hid. I searched for anyone who’d help an orc kid out. Eventually I heard of a wizard hiring goblin folk as guards and I came north to work for Olen Zuck. Now he’s dead, too. That’s for the best, but we’re out of a job, and now we’re here.”

  When Glendale didn’t speak, Willowbark stepped forward. “You have our condolences for your loss, Scars. I can see this is a painful subject—and I suspect not the reason you came to us. Should we address that?”

  “We came to talk about Zition, the goblin folk camp a few leagues from here,” answered War Cloud. “They’ve got a few thousand people holed up in tents and under trees with almost nothing and nowhere else to go.”

  “They take every fish from the river and they hunt down every animal they can find in the forest,” said Windbreeze. “They cut down trees, burn the brush, and pluck every berry in sight. I hardly call that nothing.”

  The response stopped War Cloud short. He saw no contradiction or objection from the other druids. “We hoped you would help them.”

  “How?” asked Dewfrost.

  “Why?” Windbreeze frowned.

  “Because without more help, many will die,” said Yargol. “Many already have. Not all of the goblins in the camp survived the winter.”

  “They have also come under attack from humans out of Eastford,” noted Willowbark. “We are aware of this.”

  “Not out of Eastford,” corrected War Cloud. “That town threw out all their goblin folk and stole their belongings, but the attack was bandits who only went through the town—and we’re not even sure they’re really bandits. They may be Dostin’s forces in disguise.”

  “Be that as it may, we cannot get involved in such conflict,” said Willowbark.

  “Why not?” asked War Cloud.

  “We are guardians of the natural world and its cycles,” Glendale explained. “The conflicts of humans, elves, goblin folk, and the rest are apart from that. It is no business of the animals or the trees except for how such conflicts can bring harm. As Windbreeze points out, the movements of the goblin folk have already done harm.”

  “We cannot take sides in a war,” said Dewfrost.

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” muttered Scars.

  “Can you take sides against starvation?” asked Yargol. “You say yourselves the camp takes too much in their hunting and gathering. They would be happy to farm, but the land is long blighted. Druidic magic could cure that blight and accelerate first growth. With your help, their crops would greatly ease the burden on the rest of the land.”

  “And encourage them to stay where they are?” Windbreeze scoffed. “Eastford was one town, but it was not enough for everyone. How long before the camp becomes a town? How many will settle in and have children? How large does the new town grow?”

  “You could take that up with the people of Zition yourself,” said Yargol. “If you have issues and concerns, they will listen. Especially if you offer aid.”

  “Meaning their decisions will be tainted by concern for their bellies,” grumbled Dewfrost.

  “It’s a fair point,” said Willowbark. “Perhaps we should study the matter. It’s the fair and honest thing to do.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Glendale.

  “You’ll have to recuse yourself from the matter, however,” Willowbark told him. “You have a conflict of interests here, Glendale. I’m glad you held back from the discussion after disclosing your personal relationship, but I’m afraid you’ll have to maintain that dissociation.”

  “Wait, he has to what?” asked Scars.

  “To recuse means—”

  “I know what it means. My dad was a fucking bard. I understand words. We’re not talking about me here. I can take care of myself. We’re talking about Zition.”

  “Yes, but you bring us this request, and Glendale clearly feels some guilt for your losses and a sense of familial loyalty.”

  “It’s a camp full of refugees! They need food! Who gives a shit about my feelings? This is an easy matter of right and wrong.”

  “Hrm. A moral argument,” Dewfrost observed with a frown.

  “Oh no,” Glendale sighed.

  “Glendale, you’ve never done well with the morality issue,” said Willowbark.

  “What?” asked War Cloud. “What morality issue?”

  “We try to avoid questions of morality whenever possible,” said Windbreeze. “Morality is subjective. Squishy. And it compels one to take sides.”

  War Cloud’s bestial jaw dropped. “How...? If you ignore right and wrong, how do you decide what to do about anything?”

  “When faced with a complex decision such as this, we form a committee to study the matter and come up with recommendations for the entire circle,” Willowbark explained.

  “Committee? There are seven of you,” said Yargol.

  “Yes. Dividing the circle into a committee for study and a panel for hearing allows for proper peer review and oversight. Such practices prevent rash actions in violation of our neutrality.”

  “It prevents us from getting fuck-all done, is what,” grumbled Snowflake.

  “Then I suppose you won’t be on the committee, Snowflake. Once again.”

  “Willowbark. My friends. Scars isn’t wrong,” said Glendale. “We have people starving in the forest, and in trying to alleviate their hunger they drain the forest itself. We can help them.”

  “And helping them takes a side and violates our neutrality,” countered Windbreeze.

  “What good is neutrality if—”

  “Good? See, there you go again.”

  “We cannot re-litigate the goals of neutrality!” Willowbark snapped.

  “Why not?” asked Yargol.

  “Because we talked about goals for two years straight last time and we got fuck-all done,” said Snowflake. “Neutrality was the best we could agree on.”

  “And it has served us well ever since,” said Willowbark.

  “How?” asked War Cloud.

  “Because it allows us to focus on the protection and care of nature above all,” she answered.

  “And it guides us from entanglements and distractions,” said Brookwater.
/>   “And it prevents us from judging or pre-judging others,” said Dewfrost.

  “And it keeps us from falling into conflict amongst ourselves,” said Windbreeze.

  “And it excuses us from ever making a fucking decision,” grumbled Snowflake.

  * * *

  Teryn expected more noise once they made it to the edge of the camp. After watching the sentries for half an hour, the trio knew when to make their move, but there were still plenty of variables at risk. Chief among them had been the possibility of stumbling into someone right inside the edge of the camp. Instead, Teryn found herself closing in on still and silent tents with Shady Tooth and DigDig close behind. Conversation and the sounds of labor sounded far off. Only the breeze and her own footsteps made any noise here.

  A mild jab of irritation came with that thought. Before meeting the crew, Teryn thought herself skilled at stealth. Compared to the others, she now felt like an amateur. She wondered if the goblin folk simply had a better knack for sneaking than humans, or if that was merely a cheap excuse.

  Lessons from her great-grandfather had left her feeling much the same way. In fairness, he’d never said anything to encourage such feelings. Creeping up behind her, Shady Tooth and DigDig were likewise without complaints, though at the moment they had a dangerous task to focus on. Teryn told herself to suck it up and do better, and more importantly, to focus.

  She listened intently at the back of the tent and heard nothing. A glance back at Shady Tooth drew a nod of confirmation. Naturally stealthier than humans or not, the bugbear clearly had sharper senses. Teryn moved in between tents, looking for a path without witnesses before turning to the nearest loose tent flap. DigDig and Shady Tooth followed only a few steps behind her. None of them wanted to be out in the open any longer than absolutely necessary.

  The first tent they chose turned out to be unoccupied—and laid out exactly as Teryn expected. She didn’t waste her time or energy on the anger of seeing her suspicions confirmed. Shady Tooth pulled the flap down behind her. Concealed from any passersby, Teryn pointed from one neatly-arranged burlap bundle to the next. “Food, cooking tools, field tools, kit for the horses.” She plucked up the last pack and handed it to DigDig. “This is for maintaining weapons and armor. We’ll find fletching tools inside, too.”

  The goblin was already kneeling at the bows and full quivers of arrows collected in one corner with his backpack open. He stuffed the bundle inside his backpack, letting it fall through the hole inside before dropping a bow in after it. Both items disappeared as if a hole had been cut through the bottom of his pack.

  Shady Tooth grimaced. “Is it all supposed to be this tidy? Even the bedding is rolled back up and tied with twine.”

  “Theraldan cavalry scouts are expected to pack their gear up once they’re finished using it,” Teryn explained quietly. “Everything but the tents. It lets them pick up and move quickly. No one ever has to wonder where things are. It’s a way to maintain discipline, too.” She looked around again. “The pouches by the bedrolls will have personal belongings. It might include a little loot, but I wouldn’t bother.”

  “Bows and arrows are better loot right now,” muttered DigDig. He dropped the last quiver of arrows into his pack. Overcome with curiosity, he reached inside until he had his whole arm in the backpack all the way to his shoulder. “Got lots of room for more,” he reported.

  “Where is everyone?” asked Shady Tooth.

  A sharp, sustained whistle froze all three of them in place until they noticed its distance only a heartbeat later. The clang and rustle of metal against metal followed. “Drill,” said Teryn. “We’re here just in time for weapon practice. This is good. Most of the camp will be there and the noise will cover us.”

  “Doesn’t that also mean they’ll all be armed and in armor?” Shady Tooth pointed out. “We came to steal that stuff.”

  “Also means they’ll all be suited up if they find us,” said DigDig.

  “They won’t have everything. The other tents will have bows and arrows like this one. We’ll find at least one tent full of spare blades and other weapons they won’t carry around all the time. Whatever we take means less for them and more for Zition.”

  Shady Tooth nodded. She looked to DigDig as she unslung her backpack. “Take the bedding, too,” she told him. “They did us the favor of packing it all up. There aren’t enough blankets back at the camp. Teryn, how do you know all this? You didn’t say anything about being with the army.”

  “I snuck out of the castle a lot as I got older.” Teryn shrugged. “Hunting and tutoring only teaches you so much about how to fight.”

  As her companions stripped the tent of anything useful that would fit through the mouths of their packs, Teryn knelt at the flap to peer outside. For all the rigid discipline on display inside the tent, the campsite lacked the usual layout of Theraldan cavalry. The terrain didn’t dictate any particular deviation from the norm. The tents themselves were hardly uniform, either. She wondered if they were at least mindful enough not to look like Theraldan cavalry to outsiders. It fit with their guise as brigands, at least, though one might have expected at least a little trash or disarray.

  Between tents, cooking pots hung from their stands over fires extinguished long before morning. Enough firewood for at least another evening sat stacked near each. Through the gaps and uneven lanes between tents, Teryn saw no sign of traffic. The clang and clatter of drills continued across the camp. Aside from that, the area lay quiet.

  “Where are all the horses?” asked DigDig.

  “They’ll be kept close by,” said Teryn. “Most are likely grazing near one side of the camp or another. We’ll find a few near the center. I don’t recommend you get your hopes up about riding out of here. After a night like last, most of them will still be tired. We won’t know which ones are rested at a simple glance. It also takes time for a horse to get used to a rider. They can get rather loyal.”

  “We’ve got a forest to cover our escape. We’re better off with stealth, not speed,” said Shady Tooth. She glanced around to double-check the now virtually bare tent. Her mouth opened with a thought or a comment, only to snap shut again. She raised her hands in warning but said nothing. The footsteps and the other voices said more than enough.

  “Fifteen lashes is a little much, is all I’m saying,” grumbled a low, human voice. “We’re all supposed to look and talk like bandits, but never act like them?”

  “It was ten for the theft and five for talking back,” pointed out another voice, softer while equally quiet.

  “That’s also a bit much,” came the sour reply. “The guy just got ten lashes for stealing from a dead man. He doesn’t get to have any feelings about that?”

  The woman seemed unimpressed. “How long have you been with Barret’s riders?”

  “Long enough to know complaining is part of the life. It shouldn’t be a whipping offense.”

  “He has to keep the men under a tight leash. And he has to do that because of the bandit disguise,” she explained. Her footsteps carried her within arm’s reach of the back of the tent. The crew could see her shadow against the fabric, along with her partner’s. “He can’t have everyone playing bandit so hard they commit actual crimes. And looting from a fellow rider has always been a crime. You know that.”

  “The guy was grabbing a little gear, not coin or a wedding ring,” muttered the man. They continued on past the tent. “Bad enough the raid turned out like it did. This looks like the captain’s taking it out on us.”

  “It looks like respect for the dead,” she held firm, her voice falling farther away. “Plenty of loot to be had from the gobbos once we’re done.”

  The voices faded. The anger on two faces in the tent only grew. “Gobbos?” hissed DigDig.

  “Everyone in Zition was run out of their villages,” Shady Tooth fumed. “What loot do they think they’re going to find?”

  Teryn swallowed hard. She wanted to answer without sounding like she agreed or stick
ing her foot in her mouth. She also feared her friends would see only another human in front of them no matter what she said... and felt dumb for all those fears. She’d come this far with them already. She would go farther. It still left her feeling like dirt. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “They all that stupid?” asked DigDig.

  Biting her lip, Teryn nodded vigorously. “Yes. Lots of them. The ones pushing all this pain, anyway.”

  “This makes no sense,” said Shady Tooth.

  “I don’t think it has to make sense to them,” said Teryn. “They’re not looking for anything that makes sense. They’re looking for an excuse.” She held up her hands, wanting to apologize yet knowing how silly that would be. “Let’s rob ‘em blind?”

  They moved out carefully, watching and listening closely before crossing to the next tent. Its interior was nearly identical to the previous. As Teryn explained, the disciplined practices of the scouts made it easy to find everything. It also made looting that much faster. While Shady Tooth and DigDig shoved weapons and supplies into their magic bags, Teryn played lookout and chose their next target—and the next, and the next.

  Judging for direction as best they could by the noises of weapons drills, the trio stayed on the outer ring of tents. Sticking to the edge made for an easier escape if spotted. The loot was still good. Then they spotted a larger tent not far from the tree line and moved to investigate. Teryn’s memories proved true: behind the entrance flap, they found bundles of spears and other spare weapons neatly arranged for transport.

  “No guards for all this?” hissed Shady Tooth. DigDig wasted no words. He opened his pack and began dropping blades through its mouth.

  “They’re all on the same side. If a single blade goes missing, they’ll search their own for the theft,” said Teryn. “Thieves like us are supposed to be stopped by the perimeter patrols.”

  “And why carry all this?” Shady Tooth wondered. “How?”

  “They keep a couple of wagons trailing the main body when they move like this. It’s mostly food and other supplies, but spares help. On the borderlands, the scouts are meant to conscript locals if they find a large threat. The wagons won’t be far.” A loud whistle carried over the distant sounds of training exercises. “They’ll be finished soon. We have time for this tent but we should flee when we’re finished.”