by Jeff Inlo
Chapter 11
Sazar strolled the hilltops. His goblin minions had informed him of the return of the delver, as well as the arrival of the two elves shortly thereafter. He looked to the sun, estimated the time to its departure from the sky. He watched the passing of only a few clouds. A dry wind blew from the west. This would be a good night to attack.
He considered his advantages. The humans had indeed relaxed their watch upon the clearing. In fact, it appeared as if they now all but ignored the threat of a goblin raid. The scouts by guards on horseback through the tall grass had ceased. The number of armed humans at the gates dwindled. The town as a whole appeared more concerned with a greater problem. They might be more anxious over another dwarf attack, but it was not a wise idea for them to turn their backs on him.
There was also the consideration of diversion. The delver had returned, along with the elves. What news did they bring with them? Something important enough to cause great commotion? Probably. The humans would be even more absorbed in other matters. Their attention was divided.
The shag had been successful in saving the tunnel for him. A goblin raiding party would not even have to pass the clearing. They could get behind the wall with ease, maybe even reach the stores of weapons and food without being spotted. Supplies could be transferred through the tunnel. Even the danger of a costly retreat vanished.
If ever there was a time for a successful goblin raid, this was the night. Sazar had the means and the opportunity. It was almost as if Burbon was welcoming him. This was no trap, no false illusion. Food and supplies waited for his taking. With a little luck, he and his goblins would be set for the entire dormant season.
Now is the time, now we should raid.
The order was on his lips. All logic pointed to this one course of action. All that was necessary was for him to speak the command, but Sazar remained silent.
He paced the hilltop, always looking to the shadow of Burbon in the distance. Just as his snake-like tail slithered through the grass behind him, images of greater glory wavered through his thoughts. A more enticing opportunity was at hand, he could taste it. A war. There was nothing firm, no strong evidence, but he could not shake the belief that it was imminent.
The participants were certainly in place. The elves, the dwarves, the algors; all signs pointed to escalating tensions. The invasion by the dwarves on Burbon certainly indicated hostility, but Sazar was quick to remind himself that small skirmishes did not always lead to all out war. Nothing fit perfectly, but nothing contradicted his theory, either. Coincidence would only go so far to explain what he already knew. Then, there were the rumors. They were strong, too strong to ignore. Rebellion in Dunop and strained relations between elves and dwarves.
The rumors were supported by fact. The dwarves had attacked the humans. This was not a sign of healthy relations. Elves from Dark Spruce were now speaking with the humans, not something they did in the past. Yes, there was tension.
A few questions bothered him. Where did the algors fit in all of this? Why did the delver and the elves head off into the Lacobian desert in the first place? And why did no algors come back? How far would the hostilities go? Which races would be allies, which would be enemies, and which would try to remain neutral?
The serp stalked the tall grass as if he was hunting rodents. His mind, however, was firmly set upon the puzzle. He wanted a war, but should he count on it? He had before him a known opportunity, a chance to obtain much needed supplies. He did not wish to let the chance of a successful raid slip through his reptilian fingers, but how much greater were the rewards in the event of a larger conflict?
He considered his quandary. Perhaps, he should call for the raid anyway. He was not really worried about any goblin casualties. He could always find replacements. Goblins were as plentiful as weeds. He might be able to raid Burbon and still enjoy the later opportunities of war.
Still, he did not want to be a factor in the culmination of the coming conflict. He did not want his decisions to change the course of events. In all honesty, he wanted the war more than he wanted this single raid. He would have both if he could, but he would not risk the one for the other. That is where he needed to remain careful.
If only he knew for sure, if only he had more information. He would bless the goblin that could bring him such intelligence.
As if in answer to his own twisted prayers, the goblin he promoted and sent to Dark Spruce came into his view. The goblin labored through the tall grass and up the hill. It was out of breath, but eager to speak.
"Sazar, sir. My party has returned. We have found what you wished to know. The elves were indeed attacked by the dwarves."
The serp's eyes gleamed. He appeared like a cobra ready to strike. "You are sure?"
"We are sure," the goblin exhaled heavily, still trying to catch its breath. "We did not see the battle, but we overheard elf guards. There was an attack, but they do not know where the dwarves came from. A few argued that they had to come from Dunop."
"Of course they came from Dunop," Sazar said with near glee. "They attacked the humans, and now, also the elves. This is too good to be true. Do you understand what this means? Don't answer. Of course you don't. Fortunately for you, I do. A skirmish between the humans and the dwarves may not lead to anything more than confusion. The humans would not know how to respond. They worry more about protecting their town. They would not seek a counter offensive. But the elves, they are a different story. They will not simply forget this. They will want to respond. There has always been tension between the elves and the dwarves. This will be the spark to a greater fire. There will be more attacks, greater tension, escalating hostilities."
Sazar began to pace the hilltop again. This time, however, he appeared like a child at a birthday party; excited, gleeful, impatient, wondering what present to open first.
"The two elves came back with the humans. That means that all three races will be involved. The algors did not show. That may mean they wish to remain neutral. Still, conflict between the others affords us so many opportunities." He turned back to the goblin. "Truly, this is a time for us all to rejoice. We have just what we want. War."
A full-fledged war. Music to his ears. The potentials of such a proposition opened before him. His goblins would be like vultures waiting near the edges of every battle, ready to steal weapons from the dead and defeated, ready to hunt the wounded for food and gems or gold. There would be a need for spies. The humans would pay for information. There would be a need for assassins. How much would the dwarves pay for the services of his shag?
This news also brought an end to his languishing over the raid. His decision was made. There really was no choice. If war was possible, he should hold off his goblins.
War was a tricky thing. It started and stopped over the smallest incidents. There would also be another time, another night for a raid. Perhaps not as perfect as this one, but he would find another moment. After all, the tunnel would still be there and Burbon wasn't going anywhere. The raid simply had to wait for another time. Too bad.