Forging the Half-Goblin Sorcerer

by J. Craig Argyle



  FORGING

  THE HALF-GOBLIN SORCERER

  BOOK ONE OF

  THE THAUMATURGISTS

  By J. CRAIG ARGYLE

  Copyright 2014 J. Craig Argyle

  Acknowledgments

  This book represents something of a family project. My children, Ian and Ali, and my son-in-law, Jack, took seriously my plea for input. Even my in-laws, Dan and Malcolm contributed. Similarities between the characters in this story and my relatives, living or dead, are entirely intended. My lovely wife Debra had the unpleasant task of correcting the many errors in the manuscript. I thank her for her patience. I don’t always take criticism gracefully. I appreciate the thoughtful comments of readers. Please, go to https://www.halfgoblin.com to contribute yours.

  Map of the Northern Kingdoms of Goblins and Men.

  Map of the Northern Realms

  Prologue: Grenab Recounts the Battle at Dragon’s Belly

  The veteran of Dragon’s Belly sat against the cold stone wall of the city prison. He spoke loudly enough for the other prisoners to hear.

  “Aye, our soldiers held the high ground, for what good it did ‘em. Me and Hogarth and the other palace guards, a hundred strong, stood at hill’s peak with the Ard Ri, King Giforing. From vantage, we watched down at our vanguard.”

  “Our front rank was raw, as green of ear to the trade of killin’ as a Spore could be. When the men charged, I counted my skin lucky to nay be a party to those poor souls as they crouched behind their puny shields.”

  “The humans’ war cries struck me true. I surely felt the chill. The voice in my head, which I hold in some regard, shouted, ‘Run,’ but my captain’s hardened voice shouted louder, ‘Stand!’”

  “When the two lines ‘came one, the men smashed through with their heavy shields, swarming toward the hill’s peak. Their iron struck our wooden shields and kindling showered about. Our shields were not all that failed that day. Time to times again, I saw our bronze weapons break against the brutish weapons of man, forcin’ my brothers to fall back, if they were lucky, or be hacked down if they were not. No need to tell you, it was not the proudiest of days for the Spore. For every parry or block thrown against their iron weapons, a shield, a sword, or a brother lay broken in the dirt.”

  “Nay three strides before me a massive, blood-soaked arm clutchin’ an iron sword rose in the air. By the Stones, with a single stroke, it cleaved Spore and shield in twain.” The old veteran waived his fleshless arm in the air to dramatize the deadly blow. “The man’s helm hid ‘is pig face. It was just as well. Nothing is more terrifin’ than a man’s grisly maw, screamin’ for murder.”

  “Our vanguard quickly grew weary from the onslaught. Truth’s way, we had no decent path to strike back. The relentless assault squeezed our lines. Our nimble fighters had little room. When the Ard Ri ordered halberds forward to bolster the ragged line, we held our ground, but only for a spell. After nay a hundred breaths, the will of the Spore began to fold. The sun hadn’t broke over the hills ‘fore the north-way lay ringed and rattled with the bodies of the dead and injured, mostly Spore-kin.”

  “Then Red, King of the Pig Faces, entered the fray. He and fifty strong attacked from the trees. There was little defense left on our west flank, and King Red made short work of it. Our west-way broken, the pig face king came lumberin’ straight for the Ard Ri. I heard Red shout, ‘Mince the squids into chowder!’”

  “It took all my strength to counter the blows of my colossal opponent. My arm and shoulder ached from the poundin’. Suddenly, my shield snapped in twain. My arm left numb and useless at my side. I backed quickly and blocked with my sword. The sword flew apart. I fell to the ground holding nothing but the hilt. The monster lifted ‘is sword over ‘is head. I heard ‘is labored breathin’ and saw ‘is wicked blue eyes glarin’ through ‘is visor slits. I had to move, but I was frozen by pain and fear.”

  “By the Stones, with ‘is next blow, I was crow bait. ‘Fore ‘e struck, a spear caught the pig in ‘is side. He tumbled backwards. Hogarth helped me stand. ‘Follow the Ard Ri,’ he shouted. I turned and saw King Giforing stumblin’ down the backside of the hill and enterin’ the lava field.”

  Grenab paused, remembering. “I staggered to catch up with what was left of the royal guard. The king and the Thaumaturgist disappeared in a lava tube beneath the field. Cracks in the tube lit the way. We scrambled through until we met a steep ledge. Hogarth scampered to the top and began haulin’ us up. Only about thirty of the king’s guard made it that far.”

  “The Ard Ri ordered us to defend. We stacked rocks along the top of the ledge to raise a wall we could hide behind. A dozen pig faces gained the tube and fired arrows that bounced off our make-do wall or clattered against the back of the lava tube. We had no bows to answer their salvos. When the pig faces saw there was no easy way to reach us, they hurled curses at us and waited for reinforcements.”

  “We hunkered all day, expectin’ their attack. In the afternoon, ten score entered the tube. Their bowmen kept us pinned, while others hauled in wood and lit a fire. Acrid smoke filled the tube. It bothered the pig faces more than us. They brought in ladders, but we didn’t wait for ‘em to scale the ledge. We escaped through a crack the Thaumaturgist found in the back of the tube. In the lava field we scattered into the deep fissures and hid until night.”

  “At one point, me and Hogarth heard footsteps on the basalt near our hidin’ place. A voice said, ‘There’re a thousand fissures, and they could be hidin’ in all of ‘em. I don’t fancy goin’ in after ‘em.’”

  “His mate responded, ‘I for one don’t want to stick my nose into any of ‘em stinkin’ holes. Those filthy squids see too good in the dark. They want us to go after ‘em. I bet there are ten thousand stinkin’ squids ready in ambush. Let’s report pursuit is hopeless.’ I figured their blood had cooled. They had seen enough butcherin’ for one day.”

  “At night King Giforing sent out scouts. They reported Red had gathered his dead and left. By late morning, some five hundred Spore had returned to the battlefield. I figured the rest of King Giforing’s army ran off and were headed back to the capitol. The Thaumaturgist asked Hogarth to gather any iron weapons the pig faces dropped. He found one iron sword, a rusty piece of ragged metal, and handed it to the high priest. The enemy had collected all the weapons from our dead, heaped ‘em into a bonfire, and turned them into a jagged lump of bronze. Together, we buried over a thousand ‘acked corpses.”

  ***

  The story teller caught his breath. A prisoner asked, “Why had the Ard Ri miscalculated so badly?”

  “That’s just it. The king had done good, but still we were badly bloodied by the pigs and their iron swords. Remember, there’d been no serious fightin’ between Spore and men for half a lifetime. We were thinkin’ that the wars were finally over. King Giforing had sent the Thaumaturgist to Bretwalda to seal a treaty with King Red.”

  “Somethin’ went terribly sour. The negotiations collapsed, and the Thaumaturgist fled north. Eventually, we learned the truth. The Thaumaturgist, blast ‘im, had run off with King Red’s pregnant queen. A few months later, King Red took ‘is revenge. It was a nasty piece of work. Red’s army was rage fed. The pigs showed no reason or mercy. They ‘acked their way into the Spore kingdom.”

  “The duke on the Isle of Uisgebeatha tried to stop King Red. His army fell upon the pigs as they slept. The goblins’ better night vision gave the Spore an early advantage, but when dawn came the pigs mounted their ‘orses and began grinding the Spore into sausage. That is when we discovered men possessed weapons made of a new metal, iron. It was King Red, himself, who ‘acked down the duke’s brother. The duke retreated. He had to settle fo
r harassin’ the enemy.”

  “When word of the invasion swept the goblin capital, the upstandin’ citizens of Neu Ardonbrae panicked. The Ard Ri hastily assembled his army and issued what supplies he could. There weren’t enough rations. I had food for hardly two days. As a part of the royal guard, I expected better. My friend Hogarth jested, ‘Two days ain’t more than enough to get us to the battle. What are we suppose to eat on our way home—pig flesh?’”

  “We call men pig faces ‘cause of their hairy snouts and curly tails, but I remember wonderin’ if someone actually ate a man to discover how one tasted. I joked, ‘The quartermaster knows what ‘e is doing; ‘e gave us two days rations because ‘e don’t expect us to survive the battle.” The old veteran laughed at his own jest.

  “Three thousand of us raced south. We had to reach the lava fields ‘fore King Red’s butchers. Once Red crossed the lava fields, there was nothing to slow ‘is advance on the capital. I jogged beside Hogarth. We were fresh out of trainin’. It was me and Hogarth’s first campaign. ‘Cause we were the good fighters, we were assigned to the royal guard. We conjured ourselves standin’ smartly beside the king far from the fightin’. We complained the entire way how our swords were not goin’ to taste pig blood and how hungry we would be in two days.”

  “We marched for twenty-four hours without more than a few breaks. When Dragon’s Belly was in sight, I collapsed to catch my breath. The Dragon’s Belly is rightly named. Lava, flowin’ out of a volcano to the east, covered the land with hummocks of smooth, black, ripplin’ glass. Time splintered the sheets into tilted plates, separated by deep fissures. The field is like scales on a giant dragon’s underbelly, stretchin’ all the way from the mountains to the coast where it tumbles over the cliffs into the sea. The belly is almost uncrossable except by a narrow, dirt path near the coast. Aye, it was smart the king hit on this spot for the battle. The razor sharp rocks knocked the pig faces’ ‘orses out of the fight.”

  “Before I could do more than quench my thirst, the Ard Ri ordered a barricade built. With our swords we ‘acked down trees and fashioned a crude barrier across the road. Others used their helms to dig up the road in front of the barricade. The only way to attack was through a murderous gauntlet of sharp rock. The Ard Ri positioned bolters behind the barricade and in fissures. Most he hid in the trees north-ways of the lava field.”

  “The trap was perfect. I remember thinkin’ how pitiful the barricade would look to approachin’ pig faces. Truth-way is a thousand bolters hid in the trees to the north-way and two thousand infantry were behind a hill in attack formations. As a member of his guard, I followed the Ard Ri and ‘is counselors to the hill’s peak from where they could direct the battle from hiding. The king understood the enemy. He knew men react to what they see and give little thought to what is out of sight.”

  ***

  Grenab became more agitated remembering how the battle unfolded. “Aye, my rage festered when the first hairy pig faces arrived at the Belly’s far side. Without waiting for his full strength to gather, King Red smerked at our puny barricade and ordered a cavalry charge. A ‘undred horsemen came thunderin’ down the narrow road to attack our piss-poor barrier. The poundin’ hoofs of the war’orses and the screams of the ‘orsemen made my blood boil. I wanted to throw myself at ‘em.”

  “A ‘undred strides before the barrier the chargin’ cavalry crested a hummock and entered the dip where we had dug up the road. It was too late for the lead ‘orses to stop. When the road quit beneath their feet, they were at full gallop. Instead of smashin’ into the barricade, the ‘orses fell twistin’ and screamin’ on the lava. The fallin’ pigs bathed the rocks in their blood and curses.”

  “King Red led the charge. I watched ‘im fall when his ‘orse stumbled. The riders following the king tried to stop, but they were pushed onto the lava by the ‘orses charging from behind. Many ‘orses broke their legs or fell in their efforts to avoid the glassy shards. The ‘orsemen in the rear didn’t realize what was happenin’. They kept collidin’ into the ‘orses that were stumblin’ and fallin’ in front of them. The goblin bolters mannin’ the barricade let loose several volleys and those ‘idden in the fissures rushed out of their ‘oles and began thrustin’ at the fallen men and ‘orses. The lava crippled the attackers, and the Spore finished ‘em off.

  Then we were startled to see King Red stand and stumble under the cover of shields provided by ‘is men. Blood soaked ‘is right side. I heard ‘im cursin’ ‘is captains. They cowered ‘fore ‘im. Half of ‘is cavalry had been slaughtered by a handful of Spore. The barrier stood. In fact, no pigs had come within twenty strides.

  We wanted to cheer ‘cause everything was going our way. Half King Red’s cavalry were butchered. The slaughter was most satisfyin’ to behold. Hogarth and me thought the men would run all the way back to Bretwalda.”

  Grenab paused for a moment and surveyed the faces of the prisoners. Satisfied he had their attention, he lowered his voice. “Me and Hogarth were thinkin’ the Ard Ri was some kind of military genius. ‘cause he sent the pigs runnin’. As night approached, we were all in a good mood. In the night a scout reported seein’ movement in King Red’s camp. Me and Hogarth figured the men were retreatin’. We was wrong, dead wrong. In the darkness, King Red’s army sneaked through the lava, and at dawn Red was on our side of the field headed for us.

  King Giforing and his counselors argued what to do next. The Thaumaturgist reasoned we should retreat into the lava field. ‘e guessed the rocks would hinder us less than the men, but King Giforing desired the high ground. In the end the king positioned his force on a hill with the lava field at our back.”

  “The men advanced towards us before we had time to build proper barricades. We outnumbered the pigs two to one, but it didn’t seem to matter. They came at us expectin’ to cut us to pieces. If we hadn’t been able to scatter in the lava field, it is likely none of us would’ve survived.”

  “The three-day walk ‘ome was miserable, we had to carry our wounded, but we weren’t ‘ungry. We gorged ourselves on ‘orsemeat. I guess the quartermaster knew what ‘e was doin’ after all.”

  Grenab paused before concluding his tale. “The king marched beside us and tried to cheer us, but we looked trodden all the same. When we neared the capital, we marched in formation as best able, so that we didn’t look like a beaten army. The Ard Ri told everyone back home how we bravely forced King Red to retreat. He never mentioned the end of the battle when the men’s iron weapons shattered our army and everybody scattered. To this day, me and Hogarth taste bitter bile remembering how easily our army broke. At Dragon’s Belly, we learned if you fight pig faces ‘ead on, expect to get your arse kicked. I ‘ope are ancestors are listenin’. We need a new way to fight, or by the Stones, Spore-kin are finished.”

  Chapter 1

  Isle of Uisgebeatha: Rite of Passage

  In our age most people have never seen a goblin or as they call themselves, a Spore. There are those who don’t believe they ever existed. Still, if a goblin walked into your house, you would probably recognize it by its short bandy legs and particularly long arms. Indeed, most do have yellow skin or, more precisely, various shades of green and ochre. Yes, their noses are prominent and their ears pointed; their black eyes have an eerie, penetrating quality which is a bit unnerving, but otherwise they are much like men in their needs and their aptitudes to learn, love, and scheme.

  Goblins have wide grinning mouths through which they can hiss, squeal and screech, but as you know, goblins can’t whistle. They lack the muscles needed to pucker their lips. Their speech is lispy, like someone with a cleft lip.

  If you think goblins relish the taste of human flesh, you would be mistaken. Their traditional foods are crickets which taste like greasy chicken and wichetty grubs that taste like nut-flavored scrambled eggs wrapped in a crispy pastry. They devour worms they raise in giant compost heaps—not the shriveled up worms you find on the road after a heavy rain, but a thick, pink, jui
cy kind, with a rich hint of iron, sort of like a shrimpy, blood pudding. If you find this disgusting, reflect on your attitudes. Do you know of any reason why a wiggly worm shouldn’t be the most yummy and nutritious treat imaginable? You can’t say you don’t like the taste because the truth is you haven’t eaten one. Perhaps, you are not as openminded as you think. If you hope to understand goblins, set aside your preconceptions. Goblins have habits that will bother and upset people who believe they know how things should be.

  Goblins prefer the dark and take a fancy to deep caverns. Their world is riddled with tunnels and is more three dimensional than the world of men. Humans live on the earth’s flat surface while goblins inhabit many levels within the passages and hives they excavate in the earth. Some Spore once resided in farms and in villages much as we do. These surface goblins dwelt on the edge of our world at the far periphery of our kingdoms. They cultivated Bere, or as you know it, as their staple grain. From bere, goblins brewed ale they consumed in large quantities and distilled a malt used for social recreation and as a key ingredient in medicines for treating all manner of illness.

  For millennia, surface goblins fought against men for their survival. With each generation, goblin fortunes ebbed and flowed, and most believed the struggle would continue for millennia.

  ***

  This tale is about an age when men, goblins and cross-breeds shared a corner of the world. Cross-breeds, outcasts who are half-goblin and half-man, were rare even then. Both goblins and humans frowned upon miscegenation, a prejudice that persists until our time. Humans thought of goblins as animals, or worse, as monsters. Their theologians debated whether cross-breeds had a soul. Goblins were equally xenophobic. Spore elders taught that humans were kin to feral swine—only less intelligent.