Goblin Slayer, Vol. 7

by Kumo Kagyu

  The only sound among them was the barest whisper of a prayer from Priestess: “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant us peace to accept all things…”

  She ran through the absolute silence as fast as she could, sweat pouring down her brow, her hands gripping her sounding staff.

  As they got closer, the goblins’ levee and fortification loomed up strangely ahead of them.

  The way the rocks had been piled and carved was the work of dwarves.

  The way the structures had been built without disturbing the trees around them was the doing of the elves.

  The preparations against attack must have come from the knowledge of the lizardmen or the humans.

  Here and there, a stone had been dislodged by the goblins, besmirching this place.

  What could this place have been built for? Priestess wondered suddenly.

  A shrine, a temple, a tower, a castle, a levee, a bridge… It seemed to be all these, and yet none of them.

  Whatever it was, it was a goblin nest now, and to challenge it would take more than a miracle of the Earth Mother, no matter how merciful she might be.

  That was why the adventurers had something else to defend them.

  A white mist that seemed to rise up of its own accord, fssh, fssh.

  It was also intensely hot.

  To an extent, that was to be expected—they were in a rain forest, after all—but it was punishingly humid as well. Priestess’s vestments had absorbed enough water to grow heavy, and her sweat made her clothes cling to her most unpleasantly. She’d rolled up her sleeves out of necessity but never stopped praying.

  There was someone else who hadn’t stopped at his work—Dwarf Shaman.

  He held a stone, glowing red, in his roughhewn hands. The source of the heat, of the mist, was in that stone—in the salamander who lived within.

  Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.

  The fire spirit invoked by the Kindle spell evaporated the water with which the spirits of air were so pregnant. The result was just like being cloaked in mist.

  Dwarf Shaman looked suspiciously at High Elf Archer as she gave a triumphant little snort.

  She’s getting to be as bad as Beard-cutter.

  Nonetheless, Lizard Priest came from the South, High Elf Archer was from this very forest, and Dwarf Shaman was quite intimate with fire. The thick heat made their movements quicker, if anything.

  Priestess huffed and puffed along, and Goblin Slayer’s expression couldn’t be seen.

  Lizard Priest looked up at an observation tower high above the goblins’ fortress. With his heat-detecting eyes, he spotted a goblin with a spear happily taking a nap.

  No problems. He nodded at Goblin Slayer, who then led the party forward again.

  The gates of the fortress were practically in front of their noses now.

  The huge, thick door was characteristically elven, made of ancient, sturdy wood. There was no sign of metal anywhere on it, but its durability was beyond question.

  At first, it appeared to be all of a piece, but in the right corner of the massive gate a square outline could be seen. A smaller door within the door, perhaps a sally port.

  Goblin Slayer gestured to his companions to wait in the bushes then pulled his club from his belt. High Elf Archer clambered into a tree, her long ears twitching; she reached a branch and sat down without so much as dislodging a single leaf. She put an arrow into her bow and drew it with a hush, while down below, Lizard Priest adjusted his grip on his fang-sword.

  As for Priestess and Dwarf Shaman, they continued to intone their miracles and magic respectively. The silence went on, and the fog kept rising.

  Priestess’s lips briefly formed the words Be careful. Goblin Slayer nodded.

  When he left the bubble of silence, the hue and cry of life suddenly returned to the forest. Leaves rustled as the wind blew through them. The river gurgled. He could hear his own breath inside his helmet.

  “Hmm.” He stood for a moment in front of the gate before pounding noisily on it. Then, with an agility that belied the weight of his full body armor, he dug his fingers into the grain of the wood and pulled himself bodily up.

  The reaction came just a moment later.

  “GROB?”

  The sally port opened, and a goblin, most likely a sentry, stuck his face out.

  High Elf Archer was prepared to loose her arrow that very instant, but Goblin Slayer didn’t move. A second, then a third goblin crowded out of the little door.

  The click of High Elf Archer’s tongue was muted by Priestess’s prayer, so no one heard it.

  A fourth monster emerged, and then after waiting exactly five seconds, Goblin Slayer moved.

  “GORAB?!”

  He jumped down from above, landing squarely on the back of the last goblin to come out. The impact stole the air from the creature’s lungs, and he didn’t make any more noise.

  Goblin Slayer brought his club down.

  There was a dry sound of something breaking, and the goblin’s skull turned an impossible direction at an equally impossible angle.

  Goblin Slayer drew the sword from the twitching corpse’s belt. “One.”

  “GBBR?”

  The first goblin, surprised by the sudden shout, started to turn around—

  “GORB?!”

  A bud-tipped arrow whistled through the night, spearing the creature straight in his right ear and out his left. He collapsed to his knees like a marionette with its strings cut, and an instant later, the second goblin was dead.

  Despite their shock at the ambush, the remaining two monsters had begun to act.

  But the adventurers were too quick for them.

  One goblin turned toward the enemy behind and found his face smashed in with the club.

  “Two, and…”

  “GRRB…?!” The creature fell backward, clutching his crushed nose; Goblin Slayer immediately jumped on top of him. He had already dropped the club, drawing the stolen blade from his scabbard. He clapped his left hand over the goblin’s mouth, and with his right, he mercilessly stabbed into the creature’s windpipe then slashed.

  “That makes three…”

  And that meant one left.

  This last goblin was slightly smarter than the others; he at least grasped that two of his companions had been killed. He was taking a deep breath, opening his mouth wide to yell for reinforcements, but before he had time to raise his voice, he found an arrow lodged in his throat.

  He toppled forward with the force of the shot.

  “…Four.”

  Goblin Slayer confirmed with his own eyes that all four of the creatures had stopped breathing then quickly glanced inside the sally port. It was dark, but there were still two moons in the sky to provide illumination.

  Inside the gate was an open square. There was no sign of goblins nearby.

  However indolent goblins might be, though, the absence of the guards would not go unnoticed for long.

  Goblin Slayer propped the small door open with a peg then motioned to the bushes.

  Priestess let out a long breath and rushed over to him.

  “…Are you okay? Are you hurt, or—?”

  “No, I am not.”

  At that, her little chest relaxed, relieved.

  Lizard Priest emerged just as quickly, almost crawling along the ground, and Dwarf Shaman trundled after him. Last of all came High Elf Archer, jumping down from the tree and heading for the door so quickly she hardly even left a shadow. It would not be amusing if the one who was supposed to make sure everyone got to their destination safely was herself discovered.

  “I’m supposed to be a scout, but I felt like an assassin just now,” she said. “So what’s next?”

  “I don’t like it, but we will have to mount a frontal assault.” Goblin Slayer wiped his blade on a goblin’s rags and returned it to his scabbard. Then he took a hatchet from one of the monsters and thrust it unceremoniously into his belt. “I’m sorry,” he said, “b
ut it looks like there will be no time for rest. I need you on the front row.”

  “Just so, just so,” Lizard Priest hissed. “I have never been one to do less than stand out front in battle.”

  He had one single miracle left. The Dragontooth Warrior had been left to guard the boat, so his Swordclaw and his strength were all they could count on.

  But for Lizard Priest, that was enough.

  “Got three left, m’self,” Dwarf Shaman said, stroking his beard.

  “And as for me, uh—” Priestess counted on her fingers. “Two more.”

  “All right.”

  That meant six altogether.

  That would be a veritable bounty for the average adventuring party. But would it be enough for assaulting this fortress?

  They had started with eleven, so they had used up roughly half their supply so far.

  “…” Priestess shook her head, trying to clear away a sudden rush of bad thoughts. What had happened on her first adventure didn’t have anything to do with this. Not even the dead she had seen on their way here mattered now.

  “Um, what should we do about light…?”

  “No lights until we’re inside.”

  Goblins could see well in the dark. They needed no fires to get around at night. To enter the courtyard with torches burning would be as good as begging the goblins to come find them.

  “Once we get in, we treat it like any other cave,” Goblin Slayer said.

  “Okay. I’ll get some torches ready, then,” Priestess replied.

  “Please do.”

  As he spoke, Goblin Slayer drew his dagger.

  “Er,” Priestess sighed. She pulled a face then let out a resigned breath. “Do we have to…?”

  “Yes.” Goblin Slayer flipped his knife around in his hand then walked over to the goblin with the smashed face.

  High Elf Archer, catching on, quickly patted down her clothing, making sure everything was ready. The blood drained from her face, and her ears drooped pitifully. “…Aw, are you serious?”

  “Unless you have a packet of perfume.”

  “H-hey, I never imagined a trip home would mean g-going goblin hunting…”

  “It’s part of the job.”

  Goblin Slayer paid no mind to her excuse as he cut the goblin’s belly open. He pulled out the steaming entrails, and Priestess wrapped them in a handkerchief she had produced, her face expressionless.

  High Elf Archer backed away with a sort of choking sound; Dwarf Shaman quickly caught her by the hand.

  “You’ve gotta know when to fold ’em.”

  “It just takes guts,” Lizard Priest offered from where he had moved to prevent her escape, his eyes rolling in his head.

  “Huh—? No, no way, there’s gotta be something else we can—!”

  “Pipe down.”

  It was, perhaps, only High Elf Archer’s level of experience that saved her from screaming.

  §

  The adventurers slid along the wall, High Elf Archer at their head as scout.

  The tower was in ruins, the gate devastated, nature reclaiming the structure for itself, and there was no shortage of shadows in which to hide.

  And by the same token, many shadows in which things might be hidden.

  High Elf Archer licked her lips, trying to decide where she could put her feet without disturbing the underbrush. If any goblin sentinels found them, that would mean an alarm, and that would be no fun at all.

  “Thanks.”

  Goodness gracious. High Elf Archer blinked. Orcbolg, thanking her?

  Humans were not best equipped to creep through the night with only starlight and misty moons to guide them.

  “Humans have it rough pulling something like this, huh?” she said.

  “I-I’m sorry…,” Priestess replied.

  “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.” High Elf Archer waved a dismissive hand without turning around. “…Ooh.” At that moment, her pointy ears twitched, as if blown by the breeze.

  She narrowed her eyes: she was looking at a goblin who lolled around, a spear resting on his shoulder.

  There was some distance between them. The adventurers hadn’t been noticed yet. But he was coming this way. A sentry.

  High Elf Archer drew an arrow from her quiver and put it into her bow.

  “What should I do?”

  “Shoot.”

  Her bow twanged almost before he finished speaking. The goblin, pierced through the throat, waved his arms uncomprehendingly as he toppled to the ground. There was a muffled whisper of grass, but that was all. No other guard seemed to have noticed what happened.

  High Elf Archer let out the breath she’d been holding and started moving again, Goblin Slayer and the others following behind. She grabbed her arrow out of the goblin corpse as they passed by.

  “Ugh…” She scrunched up her face at the black goblin blood, giving the arrow a thorough shake. “I don’t want to get any dirtier than I already am…”

  “No kidding,” Priestess agreed in a truly pitiful voice. High Elf Archer nodded sympathetically.

  These two sweet young women were covered from head to toe in unspeakable pollution. It was smelly and sticky, and as much as they were used to it, it still made them a little sick. It was necessary, but never fun.

  “Argh, the tip broke off… This is the worst.”

  “Well now, if this is the worst, then perhaps we will never be discovered.” Lizard Priest, crawling forward, raised his head like a snake. “I should think things will be a mite more troublesome when we enter the tower.”

  His eyes were focused ahead, on the huge wooden gate that barred entry into the tower. It was obviously immensely thick, and it was not the only such door. A whole series of them stood surrounding the structure’s outer wall.

  “I have heard that royal tombs are sometimes supplied with false entrances,” Lizard Priest added. “Perhaps it is of that nature.”

  “You mean those are all…fake?” Priestess poked her head out to look, taking care not to be noticed by the goblins. The massive, heavy door, standing imposingly in the pale moonlight, hardly appeared anything less than real. “It certainly doesn’t look like it…”

  “We should be so fortunate that it were mere sculpture,” Lizard Priest replied. “If it should be a trap, I hesitate to think what would become of us.”

  “……”

  For a few seconds, Priestess stared silently at the doors among the ruins. Something felt wrong about them, something she couldn’t explain. She tried to put her finger on it…

  “…Well, I don’t think we need to worry so much,” she said with a giggle after a moment and pointed a pale, slim finger at the door. “Look how the undergrowth has been trod down there.”

  “Goodness, indeed…!”

  The false door, the brainchild of some ancient elf or the like, had now been rendered pointless by the passing of time and the goblins’ stupidity. The goblins unthinkingly used the door in and out, so the bushes by it were indeed trampled flat.

  “I guess this leaves us with the same problem we started with,” High Elf Archer said irritably. “Goblins.”

  One or two guards were lolling about, looking bored.

  “The quickest way would be to off the guards and steal the key.”

  “That’s if goblins knew how to lock doors,” Dwarf Shaman said, brushing an errant leaf out of his beard and letting out a thoughtful breath. “At the very least, we have to take the ones on the right and the left simultaneously if we aren’t to be discovered.”

  “Not a problem,” Goblin Slayer said. “I know eight different ways to kill goblins silently.”

  “Really?” Priestess asked, blinking.

  “That was a joke,” Goblin Slayer continued, slowly shaking his helmeted head from side to side. “It is many more.”

  In light of High Elf Archer’s assessment that arrows were at a premium, it was decided that Goblin Slayer and Dwarf Shaman would take the offensive. Each of them readied a slin
g, moved to close distance, and loosed their stones at almost the same time.

  The rocks flew through the air, unerringly finding the throat of one goblin and the head of another.

  “GRORB?!”

  “GBBO?!”

  The first collapsed with his windpipe cruelly crushed; the other got unsteadily to his feet, clutching his forehead. Before the creature could cry out, however, Lizard Priest sprang up to him, as if in a dance. His Swordclaw slit the monster’s throat before he could make a sound.

  Thus, the guards were dispatched without a noise, the silence of the courtyard in front of the gate continuing undisturbed.

  “…I learned to use a sling, too, but it doesn’t seem to have helped much,” Priestess said despondently.

  “Don’t worry, there’s a time and a place for every talent,” High Elf Archer said, patting her on the back.

  Lizard Priest gave his Swordclaw a great shake to get the blood off then began dragging away the corpses of the goblins. “You must do what you can,” he agreed as he stuffed them into some bushes. While High Elf Archer made sure they were covered up, Dwarf Shaman rifled through the goblins’ weapons, selecting a hand spear.

  He held it up to the moonlight: the iron tip gleamed, plenty sharp. No rust, either.

  “You know, for a bunch of goblins in a rotting fortress, they’ve got pretty fine weapons. Wonder if they nicked this off an adventurer.”

  “Perhaps there was an arms merchant among those they killed,” Goblin Slayer said. “Or perhaps it was already here…”

  “Hrm,” Dwarf Shaman murmured, shaking his head at Goblin Slayer’s musings. “Who can say? It seems antique at a glance, but sometimes products are made to look weathered.”

  “What are the chances it was forged here?”

  “That I can rule out,” Dwarf Shaman said confidently. “Fire can’t be used here. Can’t do any smithing at all without a special spell from the elves.”

  “…Hrm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. “Whatever the case, the one thing we know for certain is that a goblin was carrying it. Did you find a key?”

  “Yeah, here,” High Elf Archer said, handing it over to him. It was an old key that had been hanging from a goblin’s neck a few minutes before. It took the form of a tag with numbers carved in it, strung on a rough, frayed rope.