by Kumo Kagyu
“…What’s this? Heard some goblin footsteps?” Dwarf Shaman asked.
“Hrn, no… Ahh, arrgh…!” She didn’t even snap back at him, but kept flicking her ears in irritation.
“Swallow,” Goblin Slayer said, not looking up from his inspection of his item pouch in one corner of the elevator.
High Elf Archer gave him a puzzled look. “Say what?”
“It will relieve your ears.”
Could he be right? High Elf Archer was doubtful, but she nodded and tried it.
“…Huh, it’s true.” She smiled and flicked her ears, now pressure-free, up and down.
Priestess, watching, swallowed, too, then blinked in surprise. “Wow. That really helps.”
“This fortress did appear to be quite tall,” Lizard Priest said, placing a hand on the wall of the elevator as if checking its position. It was hardly enough to make their place in the building obvious, but if they were feeling discomfort in their ears, that told them something on its own.
“It is evidence that we are ascending safely,” he said, “and that is well and good.”
“But—” Priestess put one slim finger to her lips. “What if it just stops…?”
“Then we open the doors and climb to one of the cross passages,” Goblin Slayer said firmly. They were much higher than they had been before; it shouldn’t be so hard now.
Priestess and High Elf Archer exchanged a glance at this characteristically unhesitating answer and smiled.
“I need to borrow your rope.”
“Oh, here,” Priestess said, nodding and handing the rope to him. “I feel like the Adventurer’s Toolkit has been a star player for us this time around.”
“They aren’t kidding when they say to never leave home without it,” Dwarf Shaman chuckled; Priestess smiled and nodded. “Uh-huh!”
And with that, conversation ceased. The whir of the elevator echoed, mingling with the rush of water from far below their feet. For a long moment, nobody spoke, but each imagined what they would soon have to face.
“…I’m sorry.” The short, quiet words seemed to spill over from High Elf Archer. She shifted as she felt the party’s gaze light upon her. “And, thank you. I mean…all of you.”
She blushed slightly, smiled shyly. Perhaps she was embarrassed to thank them to their faces like this.
“I invited you here for my sister’s wedding, and… Well, now this.”
“Ahh, what of it?” Dwarf Shaman replied without a moment’s pause. He dug pointedly through his bag of catalysts, not looking at High Elf Archer as he spoke. “I think I like havin’ the elves in my debt. Besides, we’re… You know.” He gave a tug of his beard then finally managed to come up with the word. “Friends.”
“Oh…”
Lizard Priest chuckled quietly when he saw High Elf Archer’s eyes widen; he nodded somberly. “We always rely much on you, mistress ranger.” He rolled his eyes in a gesture dripping with humor. “Surely, this is the least we can do.”
“And, uh,” Priestess clapped her hands quietly, a soft smile coming over her face. “Goblin Slayer would have jumped at this quest anyway, from the moment he heard the word goblins.”
“Hrm?” the armored adventurer grunted, but Priestess turned a carefree smile on him and asked, “Am I wrong?”
“…No,” he said, slowly shaking his cheap-looking helmet. “We must kill all the goblins.”
“…Gods,” High Elf Archer said, her shoulders slumping as she let out a breath. A smile crept onto her face. “It’s just been a year or so. Who knew you could get so close so fast?”
“Well, see if you’re still thinkin’ about us in a hundred years.”
“Silly dwarf,” High Elf Archer giggled. She stuck out one long, slim finger, drawing a circle in the air. “Of course I won’t forget you.”
Right. She gave herself an invigorating smack on both cheeks. Then she took up her bow, checking the string; she pulled a bud-tipped arrow from her quiver and set it. She looked up at the ceiling, and with a flick of her ears, her face became serious. “I hear wind. Footsteps. Chattering. Probably either the roof or a passageway. There’s a lot of them.”
“I would like to simply cut them down.” Goblin Slayer drew his sword, rotating his wrist slowly before assuming a fighting posture. “What do you think?”
“I think it may be time for what you might call a classical maneuver,” Lizard Priest said with a wink. Then he nodded and offered a strategy. “I have a suggestion. Milord Goblin Slayer, you shall be at the front, with master spell caster and myself on the flanks. Our lady Priestess shall stand behind mistress ranger.”
“R-right!”
The tail of the formation.
Goblins from behind. Ripping and tearing. Gibbering, striking. A dagger buried in her gut.
“…!” Priestess shook her head vigorously to clear away the images that flashed through her mind.
“That position is the safest from enemy attack, so you’ve no need to worry.” Lizard Priest nodded at Priestess, who was biting her lip nervously.
“So all I have to do is keep an eye out and provide support, right?” High Elf Archer said.
“‘All’? It is most crucial.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she replied, puffing out her chest.
“Sheesh. You remember I’m a magic user, don’t you?” Dwarf Shaman grumbled as he shifted his bag of catalysts squarely onto his shoulders and drew out his hand ax. As a spell caster, he didn’t wear much in the way of armor, yet he still had a certain air of a warrior ready for battle.
Goblin Slayer’s helmet turned briefly in his direction, and he murmured, “But we are counting on you.”
“Y’damn well are. I’ll show you what dwarf men are made of.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! We of the lizard tribe are all warriors anyway.”
As the men bantered, the women shared a roll of their eyes.
Finally, the elevator came to a stop with a crash.
“Are you up to this?” From behind the metal visor, Priestess could feel a pair of eyes settle on her.
Being vigilant and being nervous were different things. Just like warming up and having blood rush to your head.
She took a long breath in then let it out slowly. She put a hand to her chest. Another deep breath.
“…I’m all right. I can do this.”
“When the doors open, we run. Get ready,” Goblin Slayer said brusquely. He faced forward. He didn’t have to see his companions to know they were all nodding.
“What about spell casters?” High Elf Archer whispered, checking the state of her bowstring. “They must have some.”
“If we spot any, we will prioritize them,” Goblin Slayer said. “That’s all we can do.”
“I hate fighting spell casters,” Dwarf Shaman added. “As ironic as that sounds.”
“They may use spells that inflict status ailments, but so long as even one of us is still safe, that person can bring the party back,” Goblin Slayer said calmly. “So long as we are not all destroyed, we have a wide range of options.”
“And if we are all destroyed…” Priestess’s voice shook, and the metal face turned toward her.
“Don’t.”
As a command, it was impossible, and Priestess looked at him in surprise. But then she gave a small smile, even laughed. Even if she had to force herself a little bit.
“…Well, if you say so. I’ll do my best not to let us all die.”
“Good.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “Don’t use spells. Miracles only.”
“Mm.”
“Yes, sir!”
The two clerics nodded their assent, then each prayed to their own gods in their own ways, asking for miracles.
“O sickle wings of Velociraptor, rip and tear, fly and hunt.”
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak.”
Finally, the doors opened…
“Go!”
They started running.
/> §
The goblin shaman looked out over his sleepy-eyed subordinates and nodded in satisfaction.
Each and every one of them wore glittering chest plates or held spears or swords.
This shaman was the recipient of tremendous good fortune. By sheer chance, he had been granted magic, then had risen to control a horde, and had even come into possession of a fortress. Through magic, he had befuddled the mind of the dragon (that it didn’t fall asleep was unexpected) and set it loose upon the elves.
He was perfectly confident that all this had been the result of his own blindingly brilliant abilities, but in reality it had been largely luck.
“GORBB! GOBROBBRBOGB!!”
How he loved to see his stupid, idiotic brethren bowing and scraping before him. His superiority was born of his constant sermons proclaiming that he would lead them all to a new heaven and a new earth. At that moment, it was as if he could feel even the river raging far below.
“GORROB! GOROOROOB!”
In the pale darkness before dawn, the far side of the horizon was turning a light purple. The damp, warm wind from the trees felt very good to the goblins.
“GBBORB!!”
All was in readiness, the goblin shaman howled. They would show those condescending, high-and-mighty bug-eaters, he proclaimed. He was oblivious to the rather bug-sized concerns of his own speech.
“GORB!”
“GBBRO!!”
Yes, yes! the ignorant masses shouted. The goblin shaman looked out over them and raised the staff he held. It was his favorite staff, topped with the skull of an adventurer he’d killed. That girl had possessed such a fine skull.
“GOOBRGGOG!”
The curse he had come up with (he was sure he had come up with it; he never questioned his inspiration) was complete. Let the elves, and the humans downstream, drink the blood and feces of their own companions. Let them eat the merchants and the hunters and the adventurers. That would show them.
The goblin shaman was perfectly confident his curse had worked. That was why he now exhorted his goblins to strike down the elves, to rape and kill and destroy.
If it didn’t work, it didn’t work—and it would be the fault of his idiotic followers, who were too stupid to carry out his plans. If he didn’t have to suffer under incompetent help, things would go very well indeed.
A goblin never forgets an injury done.
Certainly not by the elves, who for generations had mocked the goblins. Nor by Sword Maiden, who a decade before had ranged herself against the Dark Gods.
The goblins forgot everything they might themselves have done to earn resentment; they only hated.
Not just things that had been done to them, either, but even things they had only heard about.
That was why the shaman was resolved. He would trample the elves, torture them, get their beautiful princess with his child in front of the decapitated head of her husband.
Then they would pillage the water town, burn it to the ground, and he would slam himself into Sword Maiden until she couldn’t stand up again.
Such was his wish, his fantasy, yet it was nothing more than the effluent of his greed.
But what did goblins have except their avarice? Hatred, self-preservation, and what else?
A goblin shaman was still a goblin.
“GOROBOOGOBOR!!”
He raised his staff and bellowed. Now! Pour forth!
The blessing of his war cry was interrupted by a gentle bong that seemed out of place.
What was that?
A second later, the doors sunk in the walls, the ones that had never opened, slid apart…
“Start with…one!”
§
The first thing Goblin Slayer did as he came charging in was to strike a goblin with his shield.
It seemed like there were at least a hundred goblins on the circular roof. Maybe that was just an illusion. But several dozen, at least. And the adventurers flew like arrows into the middle of them.
“GOROB?!”
He struck one uncomprehending goblin as it stood gibbering, then he slid to the left, slamming his sword into the throat of an approaching monster.
“GOROBOOBGR?!” The creature thrashed and hacked before drowning in his own blood.
Goblin Slayer pulled his sword back and gave the fresh corpse a kick. Then he swung around and launched the sword at a goblin belatedly trying to ready a sling behind him.
“GROOB?!”
“Two.”
He didn’t spare another glance at the toppled goblin but reached out for the corpse he had kicked away. He picked up a hatchet, gave it a swing. Not bad.
“O great sheep who walked the Cretaceous, grant to us a modicum of your long-sung success in battle!”
To Goblin Slayer’s left, Lizard Priest howled like a bird of prey and swung the Swordclaw he held with both hands. Claw, claw, fang, tail. He grabbed the goblin that Goblin Slayer had slammed with his shield. With so many enemies, there was no time to think, and Lizard Priest trusted to his warrior’s instincts, crying out like an animal.
“Eeeeeeahhhhh!!”
“Here I am, thinking if I ever see another goblin it’ll be too soon,” Dwarf Shaman muttered from the right flank, “and Scaly sounds like he’s having the time of his life.” Even so, he was able to wield his ax with effective, well-judged strikes.
Although by his own admission he was not a soldier first, he had a little bit of breathing room. Goblin Slayer and his sword had already cleared away some of the opposing forces. What was more, the divine protection granted by Priestess’s prayer safeguarded them from the goblins’ attacks. Dwarf Shaman, not a front row specialist, was immensely grateful for that.
“Over there!” called High Elf Archer from beside the dwarf as he stood, feet firmly planted to swing his ax. She loosed three arrows, skewering three enemies, her ears moving all the while in search of more.
As for what she had just seen: one particular goblin huddling deep within the horde.
“He’s got a staff! And it doesn’t look good!”
“A shaman?” Goblin Slayer buried the hatchet in the brains of his sixth goblin. He let go of the weapon, which fell to the ground along with the corpse, and drew a sword from the slain enemy’s belt. He used the momentum to hack off the head of another nearby goblin.
“Seven. Can you hit him?”
“It won’t be easy!” High Elf Archer said, yet she was already putting an arrow to her bow. “But I’ll try!”
Priestess, running hard behind, watched the entire scene with a sense of unreality.
The enemy were so many, and they, the adventurers, were so few. The last time she had confronted such a vast horde was—
Never.
Priestess, standing behind the others and breathing as deeply as she could, was startled by the realization.
The goblins pressed in before her. Memory struck her like a bolt of lightning.
The fight with the goblin lord. That time, she had worked with Goblin Slayer to defeat the enemy leader.
During the harvest festival attack, the goblins had split up, so no one engagement had been very large.
The frozen fortress had been a fighting withdrawal. They hadn’t tried to cut their way through the mass.
Now they were flying into the heart of the horde. The sound of weapons rang around her. Screams. Death rattles. The stink of blood and guts.
We’re gonna get rid of some goblins!
Run! Hurry!
…ill…e…
The scream seemed to echo in her memory until it filled her mind completely. Priestess could hear her own teeth chattering. She had done this so many times already, so why did her feet stop now? Why did her breath catch?
“Ergh… Ah…!”
A pebble flew past, grazing her cheek. She felt heat and pain lance along the side of her face. There was a sticky feeling of blood welling up.
She stopped praying, and the effect of Protection began to fade.
“…!�
�
She suddenly noticed a warm, damp feeling between her legs, and she bit her lip.
Why did she have to be last in line?
What did they want from her?
She knew now; she was too experienced not to.
She clasped her sounding staff in desperate fingers, raised it up, and cried out her supplication to the gods in heaven.
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!!”
There was a veritable explosion of sunlight.
“GOBOGBO?!”
“GOOBR?! GOBOGR?!”
The goblins screamed and thrashed as the Earth Mother’s sacred light blazed upon their hideous faces. Some of them tumbled from the roof as they covered their faces and tried to run, while others expired, trampled under the feet of their comrades.
Priestess caught her breath at the piteous scene but continued to offer up Holy Light with all the strength she could muster. It illuminated the adventurers from behind so that they suffered no ill effects from it.
“Yes—you’re mine…!”
“GOBBRG?!”
An arrow flew, guided by High Elf Archer’s unsurpassed skill. It wove through the horde like a living thing, lodging itself in the goblin shaman’s shoulder.
“GORBBBR…!!”
At almost the same instant, a spell billowed from the staff the shaman had been hiding behind his soldiers.
“ODUUUAAARUKKKKUPIRUUUUS!!”
A cloud of sweet-smelling, light-purple smoke roiled up on the roof.
“Hrk… Crap…!” High Elf Archer stumbled and dropped to one knee, while the goblins caught up in the cloud similarly collapsed around her.
“This has to be Sleep Cloud…!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed, clapping a hand to his mouth.
“Grr… We must…focus!” Lizard Priest tried to rouse High Elf Archer, but his own movements were becoming visibly slower.
It’s like being underwater, Priestess thought dimly. Her eyelids were growing heavy, and her staff was the only thing keeping her upright.
It had been so much fun, all of them playing together in the water on their vacation.
The world swung back and forth, left, right; everything tilted as she found she could no longer stand up.