“How many more of you can we expect?” Captain August asked. “Surely you can summon more than twenty. You see what the situation is. Perhaps if you sent one of your runners…”
“Do not make me waste words. We have brought enough. If your gods willed our attack to happen, then it will happen. If your three have turned a deaf ear, then nothing we do will matter.”
“Stop touching that.”
Captain August moved to guide Jacob back to the map table. But the tribal leader refused to budge as he fiddled with the gold statue.
A guard pulled Thistle away from the tent and shoved her against a wagon loaded with hay. “You’re supposed to stay out of there.”
A second guard turned her and opened her pack. “Let’s see what you have on you.”
Thistle was twisted in the pack’s strap and couldn’t stop him. He examined the candle and then the book of sins. She tried to grab the book away, but he was stronger.
He held it and the candle up. “Where did you steal this from?”
She snatched the book away from him and twisted out of his grip.
“This is from one of our sanctuaries. You’re one of them, aren’t you? What game are you and the savages playing? You and your kind have been murdering innocent people, poisoning wells, and killing our livestock!”
“I found the book. Please!”
He tried to seize her but she ducked beneath the wagon.
Another guard crouched and thrust his spear towards her. She wriggled backward and out the opposite side, where the second guard was already coming around towards her, his weapon poised to strike.
“Come back here. Let’s show the captain what you’ve got tucked in your bundle bag.”
She ran, cutting around a camp worker leading a pair of horses. The animals began to nicker and turn. The guards chasing her shouted and cursed as they pursued her. Past another tent, she came to a steep dirt slope covered in dry shrub. Below was another section of camp as large as the first. A stream ran past several tents. A group of a dozen soldiers were crouched at its bank, washing. Sentries patrolled the opposite side of the stream by a meadow where horses grazed.
One of the guards was close to catching up to her.
“You stop or I spit you through!”
She vaulted down the slope, heedless of the sharp branches that slapped at her face and hands. As she made it to the bottom, the guard above shouted, “Stop that goblin!”
A dozen faces stared at her as she bolted towards the stream. It would only be seconds before someone with a bow shot her with an arrow or a soldier on horseback rode her down. She made it to the stream and charged across it. The men at their wash just stared. Then she noticed they weren’t bathing, but had a man’s body on the stony bank. He was laid out on top of a white cloth. None of the men carried weapons.
But she could waste no time deciphering their actions. Behind her came another shout.
The water was icy and her legs below her knees were numb by the time she waded to the other side. A bare patch of ground stretched before her. A wide, muddy trail ran towards the nearest trees, but a team of humans were working with axes and saws at a row of logs. She abandoned the trail, heading uphill roughly in the direction where her warband had been readying themselves.
Even as she knew she was leading any pursuing humans towards her fellow goblins, all her panicked mind could think of was how to survive.
She was panting. Her lungs burned. From the waist down, she was wet and numb. Her legs and feet felt like wood.
Using her hands, she tried to mimic a quail’s call. Her mouth didn’t have enough spit to whistle. She scanned the hillside. Where were they? Had the goblins retreated?
It would have been the smart thing to do.
As she scrambled up the slope, she fell face-first into a high nest of dry shrubs. None of the scrubby, thorny vines could hold her weight. They scratched her. She swatted madly at the branches and weeds before finally vaulting forward with a loud crunch. But she couldn’t continue forward. The soldiers on their horses surely would catch her. Like her neighbors and friends she had seen die in Boarhead, she would be struck down.
It would be a mercy if it was quick.
But as she untangled herself from the hellish cluster of dead plants, she realized she was alone.
Snap.
Not alone. She turned to see a lone figure picking his way through the nearest brambles while avoiding the worst path, the one she had chosen.
“Dust?” She sniffled and realized that tears were streaming down her face.
The odd tribesman came close before deliberately casting his gaze down and to one side. “You are under our protection. They will not hurt you.”
Behind him at the edge of camp, a small line of men was forming with spears and shields. Then from up the hill sounded the call of a killdeer.
The goblins were up there, concealed in the shadows. She turned to see a few shapes shifting within the foliage. The bird call didn’t repeat. But she imagined Noe had brought everyone. The warband was poised with weapons in hand and prepared to attack.
But at the camp, more humans kept joining the line.
Thistle guessed Noe didn’t know about the lower camp. Her scout hadn’t made a full reconnoiter. The zealots had twice the soldiers they expected to face.
This was not going to be a battle but a slaughter, and Thistle was caught in the middle.
Chapter Forty
“Stop!” Thistle shouted.
She raised both hands towards the hill, bodily shielding Dust from any potential arrows. Then she walked forward, trying to spot Noe.
Ramus stepped out from the center line and waved her towards them. “Thistle, run to me!”
“Hurry, you fool!” Noe hissed from somewhere next to him.
Dust appeared unconcerned at the new voices. He wasn’t going to retreat.
“Don’t shoot.” Thistle clambered up the slope. She didn’t remember it being so steep. “Hold your fire. You can’t attack.”
“This again?” Arens rose from the undergrowth next to Ramus.
Thistle searched for Noe. “The scout made a mistake. There’s twice the soldiers than what you counted, maybe more.”
Arens turned towards where Noe had called from. “She’s lying. The enemy is here. We’ve lost precious time waiting for her, but now we can attack! Before they’re ready and our surprise is ruined.”
Noe was so well camouflaged, Thistle didn’t see her until she moved. “Thistle, what do you mean, twice the men?”
“There’s a lower camp in the gully with even more soldiers.”
“Yumi, I sent you down there. Did you see a second camp?”
A goblin further down the row of hidden archers answered. “I didn’t see a second camp.”
“Down the embankment,” Thistle said. “By the stream.”
“I’m sorry, Noe. I didn’t go that far.”
The goblin warriors shifted and whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Arens said. “There’s only a dozen of them lined up. They’re not prepared. Let’s go at them.”
Noe raised a fist and stood erect. “Weapons down. The men are far enough away that they might only see a couple of us. Fall back, and we look for another opportunity.”
The murmur from the others got louder until Chief Gelid barked, “You heard her order. Move it.”
“Fool girl,” Arens said as Thistle made her way past. “Why are you here, anyway? You had your orders to stay back at the human lodge.”
Thistle ignored him. Ramus urged her to follow him into the trees. But she paused to take a final look down where Dust still stood. He stared up in their direction, his hand grasping one of his necklaces.
She offered a wave but it wasn’t returned. The tribesman finally turned and walked towards the camp. The waiting line of soldiers parted to let him pass.
Thistle then hurried to join the rest of the goblins as they faded back into the forest.
“We could
have gone at them. There were only a dozen men standing there. While others straggled in, we could have killed them all.”
It was one of Gelid’s men who spoke. Arens and a few others nodded and then waited for Noe’s reply.
“We need to get a better look at what we’re up against,” Noe said. “They’re not pursuing us. They haven’t even sent out scouts, so they may not know we’re here. First we get a better count and then we act.”
“‘And then we act,’” Arens said in a mocking tone. “Our opportunity was lost an hour ago. They were alerted to our presence. Thistle spoiled our surprise. And you’re a fool to listen to her.”
“You’ll mind your tone as we speak at council, or you’re dismissed.”
“You don’t seem to care that this fool girl continues to defy your orders.”
Everyone was looking at Thistle now. She had been hoping she could sit invisible and forgotten after their retreat.
“That matter will be settled between Thistle and myself in private,” Noe said.
“Her disobedience affects us all.”
“Keep your tongue civil,” Ramus said.
Arens gave him a dismissive wave. “It’s being civil that has gotten us here. While we lived quietly and peacefully, the humans have increased in number, built tools of war, and now are perfecting it on each other. What do you think will follow when they finish fighting among themselves?”
“I want to strike at them as badly as you.”
“Or maybe you’ve finished mourning for Zina and want to go home. You’ve lost your fire, Ramus. Remember the hunters who died around us. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Don’t think you can goad me by bringing up my wife.”
Thistle swallowed hard. Watching the two surviving hunters from her village argue hurt her heart. So many invisible wounds would never be healed. But her breath caught when Chief Gelid rose. He looked directly at Thistle the whole time he spoke, his hard face not hiding his contempt.
“We have two issues to discuss. The first is the obvious one. Our scout report was incomplete and that will be corrected. But the more immediate matter is how to handle a rebel in our ranks. Arens speaks truth. This one disobeyed an order. If this was one of my hunters, he would have been beaten on the first offense. On the second, he would have suffered a more permanent reminder of who his chief is.”
“No one is beating anyone,” Ramus said.
“No wonder your village was lost. All of you have gotten soft.”
Ramus was up in an instant and grabbing at Gelid, who only grinned as a pair of goblins held the Boarhead hunter back.
Thistle got up. “I’d like to speak. Chief Gelid is right. I disobeyed an order. If there’s to be punishment, I face it willingly. But none of you would hesitate to break an order of silence if a bear was seen approaching during a deer hunt.”
One Stone perked up. “What do you know about hunting?”
She ignored him. “North Fort. It’s why the zealots are camped here. The tribesmen are allied with them but have no desire to fight us. But what if we can make an ally of the ones who are standing against the zealots?”
Chief Gelid shook his head. “What are you rambling about?”
“We make contact with North Fort. We share an enemy. We help them, and they fight with us. In return they leave this land.”
The silence that followed only lasted a moment until Gelid burst out laughing. His men joined him, as did many of the others.
“I’m serious,” Thistle said as she felt her cheeks grow warm.
Noe’s voice cut above the buzz. “What makes you think the humans hiding in the fort would honor any kind of agreement?”
“Because they refused to join Lord when he abandoned them. The ones who remain follow a leader named Kel who is loyal to Pinnacle, even as his remaining here has possibly doomed him and all his men. I listened to Lord when I was his captive. I spoke with the captured soldier from the longhouse. There are humans who give their word and keep it.”
She decided not to share what had happened to their prisoner.
“We won’t make a deal with any human,” Gelid said.
Noe nodded. “We know nothing about this fort or what forces remain. If they were strong, they’d attack the zealots.”
“That’s what we have to find out.” Thistle regretted her words when she saw Noe raise an eyebrow.
She and Gelid consulted one another for several long minutes. Finally Noe faced Thistle and spoke loud enough for all to hear.
“We’ve made a decision. This will be the opportunity for you to redeem yourself. We’ll scout the zealots today and then the fort. And then you, dear Thistle, will go to the Pinnacle men. I hope for your sake they’re as honorable as you say. Because your life depends on it.”
Chapter Forty-One
Vocal complaints about Thistle continued, as did the accusing looks. She tried to ignore them as she found a place to rest while the officers met with Noe.
A party of scouts went out to survey the zealots. Among these were their best hunters who could be invisible and silent. By late morning they returned and confirmed the presence of the second half of the zealot camp. Noe and her officers digested the news. Thistle sensed she was still in hot water.
Would Noe follow through with sending her to the fort? Her anxiety grew as she realized what a mad plan it was.
A warning whistle pierced the air. The goblins hid and waited. Thistle was already hunkered down and could do little but listen. Some twenty minutes had gone by when a goblin passed along the message.
“Human scouts are gone—all clear. Human scouts are gone—all clear.”
So the zealots did patrol the area. Another hour passed with no one saying anything to her. But she didn’t dare move from her spot.
Ramus found Thistle and crouched beside her. “It’s not too late for you to go back. I found Preemie. Seems he found himself a bottle and could use a hand. This is your out. I can’t protect you if you go along with this. Noe won’t be able to save you if you enter that fort and there’s trouble.”
“I’m not asking to be saved. I want to have a part.”
“You already have a part. But you’re going beyond what we hope to do. We’re far enough from Athra that just being here and harassing the soldiers will send a message. We’ll kill some of them and we can return home.”
“I don’t believe that will do anything. Do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I was never a huntmaster. This is beyond anything any of us know.”
She held her tongue. Reminding Ramus about all their knowledge lost in the fire that consumed Somni’s library would accomplish nothing.
Noe had One Stone and a group of scouts assemble. “It’s time.”
“Reconsider, daughter,” Ramus said.
She gave him a hug before moving to join Noe.
Several scouts escorted Noe and Thistle. They moved quickly, and soon Thistle was cold and out of breath and struggling to keep up. They avoided using any but the faintest game trails, which meant passing through brush and young trees and along steep slopes where she almost twisted her ankle in a fall. The scent of burning campfires grew ever stronger. The wind was carrying the air from the zealot camp through the hills.
The goblins came to a road that appeared to come from the direction of the sea. Much of it was overgrown with weeds. The foul smell of sewage lingered in the air. It was far worse than the zealot camp and got even worse as they continued. They crept through the brush and approached a clearing free of trees. A makeshift timber bunker occupied the slope below them. Noe motioned for the goblins to hold their position. Thistle moved to join her.
Beyond the bunkhouse was a large log structure with a wall and four guard towers. Snow topped the roofs of the towers. A trickle of white smoke rose from the center of the open courtyard. Noe pointed off to the right. It took Thistle a moment before she spotted a second bunker similar to the one just beneath them.
They watched the
fort and the two bunkers. Some minutes later, a human emerged from the lowest bunker. He trotted out to a tree to relieve himself. He wore the white shirt of a zealot.
“Scouts says there’s a third bunker on the opposite side,” Noe whispered. “Less than ten men in each. That’s all we know so far. The men in the fort are being kept in place by a small force. Tell me what you’d advise.”
Thistle heard the acid in her question. “I’ll talk to the men in the fort. Is there a way inside?”
“The front gate or over the wall.”
She shouldered her pack and ignored the moths in her stomach. “The gate it is, then.”
Thistle paused for a moment. Part of her wished for some sort of reprieve, for Ramus to appear with a fresh appeal to go back. Right then, nothing sounded better. This was a matter for warriors, and she was out of her depth. What was she but a student and a survivor?
Noe’s face was a wooden mask. “That line of rocks will let you descend without being seen. Then you’ll have to make haste before the zealots know what to do about a lone goblin approaching the enemy gate.”
What was she supposed to say to the men of Pinnacle? Why wouldn’t either side just shoot her down? The fort’s safe assumption would be that she was a ruse. A dozen reasons not to go flooded her thoughts. This was how Noe would get rid of her, by allowing her to follow through with her fool plan.
But Thistle crawled forward.
A stony slope featured a depression that required a careful climb down. Thistle had to clutch at slick rocks and clumps of brush which threatened to pull up from the sodden ground. She made it to the flat earth below without falling and was now in plain sight of one of the fort’s towers. A figure moved within. The soldier up there whistled and the thumping of footsteps on wood followed.
The time for hiding was gone.
“Hello?” she cried as she ran towards the twin gates. Both doors were massive, built of thick planks that appeared to have suffered damage and burns from some earlier assault. “North Fort? I’m a messenger. Let me inside!”
Goblin War Chief Page 17