Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "hero"
New GoblinStories 15
Ballup’s Hole was a terrible name for a community for any number of reasons. It was, sadly, an accurate description. The seaside town was built along a river that flooded often and had recently begun to silt up. Homeowners were busy shoveling mud out of their homes and dumping it on the streets. Humidity was so high that moisture dripped off every structure and tree. A dense fog was rolling in and blotted out what little daylight remained. And the town smelled like manure, salt water and rotting fish.
Brody the goblin stared at the revolting town. “This looks shockingly like a goblin settlement.”
“It has seen better days,” Julius Craton admitted. Julius was the most famous member of the Guild of Heroes, and also their longest serving. Word was that gamblers were taking bets on how much longer the poor man would last. Tall, handsome, well armed with a magic short sword called Sworn Doom, and wearing chain armor and a steel breastplate, he was a sight to intimidate or inspire. “There’s too much moisture. Wood structures decay, are rebuilt, and decay again.”
“How long ago were these better days?” Brody asked. The short goblin had blue skin and darker blue hair. His features were boyish, so much so that some people refused to believe he was a goblin. He had two blue antenna-like growths growing from his forehead and four longer ones sprouting from his back. They served no purpose he’d been able to figure out. Brody wore blue swimming shorts and carried paddles to strap to his feet and hands when swimming, but nothing else. He’d learned the hard way that an armed goblin was a threat to too many people.
“Fifteen years ago.” Julius walked down a rotting wood staircase set into the hillside as he descended to the town. “My first assignment with the guild was in this kingdom. Brigands were raiding settlements in the middle of winter to steal their food, and Ballup’s Hole was the next target. The town was physically better then, but I wouldn’t call those good times.”
“You think we can hire a ship here?”
“It’s the closest town with a harbor. Whether or not the fishermen are willing to take paying passengers is questionable. I’m hoping my history with these people might open doors for us.”
They met a man going up the stairs, and Julius stepped aside to let him pass. This meant stepping in sodding mud with weedy grasses growing out of it. The man tipped his cap, but instead of moving on he stopped and stared. “My word. It’s Julius Craton! Saints and angels, I thought I’d never see you again!”
Julius smiled. “My friend and I are passing through, and—”
“Hey!” The man waved his arms and shouted to men and women in the streets below. “Hey! Julius Craton is back!”
A cheer went up among the citizens of the slovenly town. Humans ran up to greet him and thankfully overlooked Brody. They laughed and smiled, shook his hand, patted him on the back and offered him food and drink. It took the fast growing crowd ten minutes to calm down enough for him to speak.
“It’s a pleasure to have such a warm welcome. I’m glad to see your town is prosperous,” he said without apparent irony. Julius put a hand on Brody’s shoulder and said, “My friend and I are on our way to Oceanview Kingdom. I was hoping that one of your fishermen would be willing to provide us transportation there in return for fair pay.”
“Surely you can stay a few days,” a man asked.
A woman glared balefully at Brody. “Why is he with a goblin?”
“I’m afraid the people of Oceanview need my help as you once did,” he told the crowd. “As much as I would like to spend time with you, I can’t without leaving others in dangers. I hope you’ll forgive my poor manners in refusing your generous offer.”
A man in muddy leather clothes pointed at the approaching fog. “Much as we’d love to help, no boats are leaving harbor until the fog clears. Sir, our town still exists because of you and your brother warriors in the guild. Allow us to open our doors to you at least until the weather improves.”
Julius frowned at being delayed. “I suppose a day lost won’t affect my mission. Is the Wind’s Whim Inn still in business?”
A portly man in the crowd laughed and waved for him to come further. “We’re open and happy to have you!”
Brody and Julius were escorted through the sloppy settlement. Up close it was even more depressing, with garbage thrown out windows onto the street, rats scampering in the alleys and loose dogs yapping at children. Brody saw signs of goblins, including graffiti like ‘Goblin Builders! Watch it rot while we build it!’ He also spotted a few goblins slinking through the shadows.
They were brought to a two story tall building with mushrooms sprouting out of the walls. The portly man opened the doors to show the interior a bit better off, with dry floors, sturdy tables and chairs, and a staircase leading to a second floor. That floor was more like a large balcony overlooking the first floor, and had a bar and five tables with plenty of stools. Some enterprising goblin had scratched, ‘An apple a day only keeps the doctor away if your aim is good.’ on a wall. There were large windows facing the ocean that showed the approaching fog. Brody saw three patrons, but fifteen men and women from the crowd joined them inside. To their credit, only five of them looked like they would like to kill the goblin.
“Please, take a seat at the bar and I’ll get you a drink,” the portly man said. He climbed the stairs ahead of Julius and said, “You probably don’t remember me after so many years. I’m Iggy Wilvet. Back when the brigands attacked, you handed me a spear and we held the main barricade with the menfolk. Someone go fetch the sheriff. He’ll want to meet you, what with you saving his father’s life back then.”
Most of the crowd peeled off. Some begged forgiveness for doing so and swore they had work they couldn’t avoid. Others promised to return and bring friends with them. A middle-aged woman vowed to bring her son, who she’d named after Julius. This left them with a smaller crowd of admirers determined to stay.
“I’m glad to see you well,” Julius told him. “Has it been peaceful?”
“No real trouble,” Iggy told him. He got behind the bar and poured Julius a drink. “There’s the occasional thief, and we had a strange beast come up from the sea and attack the fish market. Lost a lot of the catch before we drove it off. Goblins cause trouble now and again. Your, ah goblin, he’s tame?”
Julius respected Brody for reasons the goblin never understood, and as always came to his defense. “I know Brody and saw him risk his life for the good of others. He has my respect and he deserves yours.”
“A tame goblin, that’s a first,” a boorish woman said. Julius frowned at her, and the woman had the decency to look ashamed.
Brody was used to that kind of talk. Goblins were the lowest of the low, and it was partially earned given their reputation for setting traps and causing chaos. Everyone he met (except Julius) assumed Brody was seconds away from doing something stupid. From time to time he was tempted to live up to their expectations, but there was something about Julius that changed you. The more time a person spent around him, the more you wanted to be like him, to make him like you. Brody had never acted much like a goblin, and after months with Julius he was considered civilized by those who met him.
A younger woman smiled and ran her fingers through Brody’s hair. “I think he’s cute. If all goblins were this nice they’d be welcome more places.”
“If we were welcome more places we’d be nicer,” Brody replied. He walked up to the bar and climbed onto a stool. “Aren’t most bars on the ground floor?”
“Most bars don’t have to worry about flooding,” Iggy countered. “I keep the casks up here or they’d mold. Tarnation, the town wasn’t this wet in my daddy’s day.”
Iggy handed Julius a leather cup of ale. “If you vouch for the goblin then he’s welcome. Say, I’d heard you haven’t married yet.”
The drink stopped before it reached Julius’ lips. “No, I haven’t. My job leaves no time for family.”
Iggy waved for a serving boy. “Don’t just stand there, get him a plate. It’s a pity, sir, truly a pity. A man shouldn’t be alone. My oldest, Helga, she’s marrying age, you know.” Julius nearly choked on his drink, which Iggy didn’t notice. Instead he continued his sales pitch, saying, “She’s learned good manners and is handy with a needle and thread, and you couldn’t ask for a better cook.”
One of the men punched Iggy in the arm. “Can you stop trying to palm off your daughter to every passerby?”
“What? She’d be a good match for him.”
Julius regained his breath and set down the cup. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me that you’d have me as a son-in-law. I’m sorry to say that wouldn’t be a good move. Life in the guild is dangerous and I’d hate to leave her a widow. You should know that some of my enemies have threated to kill the people I love. Your daughter would be in danger as my wife.”
Brody stifled a laugh and asked Julius, “Is that the fourth or fifth proposal this year?”
“Eighth,” Julius said under his breath. “You weren’t around for the more private ones.”
It was a certainty that Julius received offers of marriage, some of them rather indecent, at every town or city he visited. His reputation for valor, honesty and success in battle drew a steady stream of admirers. Many left when they learned he was nearly broke (saving kingdoms not being a well paying job when those kingdoms were broke), but some women weren’t deterred by his relative poverty.
Julius honestly didn’t know how to react to such offers. Brody had seen time and again that Julius was calm and decisive on the battlefield, almost supernaturally so. Put him in a social situation, however, and he floundered. He couldn’t relate to people outside of a conflict, and at parties would inevitably retreat to a quiet corner until the confusion was over.
“What sort of problems is Oceanview having that they’d need you?” a young man asked. “I’d heard they were happy as could be over there.”
“Their king is organizing a raid against pirates,” Julius lied. “He believes they’re survivors of the old Pirate Lords trying to make a comeback after their masters were defeated.”
The townspeople flinched at the news. One managed to say, “Mercy, I thought that scourge was long gone.”
Hunting pirates was the cover story for Julius’ trip to Oceanview. Their king was really interested in wiping out a criminal gang hundreds strong that had taken root in his capital, Sunset City, and he hoped to make the attack a surprise. Heroes like Julius Craton, Hammerhand Loudlungs the ogre and the nameless elf were heading for Oceanview from different locations, and together with the king’s men would rout the gang. It promised to be difficult, bloody and not that profitable given Oceanview was deep in debt. Nonetheless, the Guild of Heroes had promised help because they knew such problems grew if left unchecked.
Iggy slapped Julius on the back. “Ah, what’s a man like you got to worry about some pirates, eh? I heard how you showed that loser the Fallen King what for, and after that a snake cult.”
“It was a secret society, not a cult,” Julius corrected him. A serving boy brought Julius a plate of broiled fish and toasted bread. “Thank you. You can’t underestimate your enemies. I’ve seen too many surprises to take a foe for granted.”
“I’m glad you’re here if there’s pirates about,” Iggy told him. “Mercy, it seems every time you turn your back there’s another problem. Monsters, bandits, wars, pirates, lawyer infestations, it never ends. You ever hear of the philosopher Loopy Joe?”
Julius dug into his meal and passed the fish bones to Brody, who gobbled them up. “I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“He doesn’t live far from here.” Iggy whistled. “Poor man used to be a university professor with all kinds of awards. His king had Joe fired for criticizing him and then confiscated his house. Joe went to live in the wilderness outside Kenton, and ended up smack dab in the path of the Eternal Army. He lost another house to those immortal loonies. Now he’s holed up in a cave by the seaside. We offered to let him live with us, but Joe said he’s safer where he’s at.”
The younger woman next to Brody looked sad. “The poor man did everything right and lost it all again and again. It makes you wonder how safe any of us really are.”
A man to Julius’ right tugged on his arm. “Hey, there’s this elf who comes by all the time trying to get us to buy tree seeds. He calls them living houses, and says they’ll grow fast and have hollowed out rooms we could live in. It sounded like bull plop to us, but after replacing my roof three times in ten years, I’m wondering if there’s something to it. Have you heard about these trees?”
Julius looked up from his meal. “It’s funny you should mention that. I’ve heard the same story in four other towns, but never seen these house trees. I assume it’s some sort of magic…”
Bop! Brody got hit in the head with an acorn. He looked around and saw a goblin climbing into the inn from a window. The other goblin had long black hair, green skin, a short tail and wore rags. No one else had seen him, and the new goblin waved for Brody to join him. Brody slipped away while Julius was talking to the humans and went to see the newcomer.
“Hi there.” Brody tossed him the acorn. Hitting someone in the head to get their attention was considered acceptable among goblins, provided you threw light objects.
“You have to go. There are crazy men about.”
Brody pointed at Julius. “He’s a bit off in the head, but he’s okay once you get to know him.”
“Not him. Crazy men are coming in with the fog. They’ve got weapons and are heading for the inn. Follow me and I’ll get you to safety.”
The other goblin tried to take Brody by the arm, but he took off like a shot and ran over to Julius. He tugged on the hero’s leg and said, “We’ve got armed men coming this way.”
“Fool goblin, you heard me call for the sheriff,” Iggy scoffed.
Julius stood up and pushed his plate away. “Why would he come armed to meet me, and with backup?”
The crowd’s jubilant mood died, and they turned toward the inn’s entrance. Men wearing dark cloaks and black clothes knocked the door open and poured into the first floor. They were armed, some with swords and the rest with a mix of axes, spears, and one man had a bow. They spread out and one of them pointed a sword at Julius.
“It’s Julius Craton all right,” the stranger snarled. “Kill him.”
Black clad men charged up the stairs with two spearmen in front. Townspeople screamed and tried to flee. Their panic doubled once they realized the only exit was blocked. The goblin with the tail climbed out a window and shouted, “Come on, let’s go!”
“I’m very sorry about the mess I’m going to make,” Julius told Iggy. He ran to the staircase, and on the way he grabbed a table by the leg. He was still running when he threw it at the spearmen. The table hit a man in the chest and bowled him over, then knocked over two more men behind him.
The enemy archer notched an arrow and fired. Julius lifted another table and the arrow struck it. The enemies on the stairs recovered and pushed on while Julius blocked a second arrow. He lifted the table over his head and hurled it onto the men below, striking the archer and knocking him to the floor.
Two spearmen reached the second floor and went after Julius. Brody grabbed a bar stool and went after the one on the right. He slid the stool on its side and placed it in front of the man. The spearman was so focused on Julius that he didn’t notice the obstacle until his foot came down between the seat and crossbars. Brody then shoved the stool as hard as he could, toppling the spearman.
The second spearman lunged at Julius. Julius stepped aside and grabbed the spear with his right hand and the spearman’s arm with his left. Instead of pushing him back, Julius pulled the man forward, sending him into and then through a window. The spearman screamed as he fell to the muddy ground below.
Brody saw the spearman he’d trip scowl and climb to his hands and knees. He got no farther as Julius ran over and kicked him with enough force to lift the man in the air and spin him onto his back. The man was already howling in pain when Julius swung his fists like hammers and struck at the base of the man’s ribs, driving the air from his lungs. Wounded and gasping for breath, he was a threat to no one.
Three more men reached the second floor while Julius and Brody dealt with the first two. Two men attacked Julius from the front while the third tried to get behind him. Like the spearmen, they ignored Brody, and they paid for it. The little goblin grabbed a tankard of ale off a still standing table and threw it in the face of a swordsman. Julius grabbed the temporarily blinded man and shoved him into a second one, toppling both.
Brody saw the third man veer off to attack him, and the little goblin scooted under a table. Thunk! The man’s sword lopped off a table leg and the table tipped over. He raised his sword for another swing when Julius grabbed him from behind, spun him around and shoved him off the second floor.
Below them, the archer looked up in time to see the swordsman falling onto him, and had just enough time to scream, “Not again!”
The rest of the gang was trying to get up the stairs to join the fight when Brody saw Iggy roll a twenty-gallon barrel across the floor. The barrel sloshed as he pushed it to the stairs, and rolled down them with a series of bangs as it hit each step. The foes on the stairs ran back down or dove off to avoid the awkward weapon. The barrel went on rolling and actually went out he front door. Bizarre as the scene was, it bought Julius and Brody precious seconds.
The remaining swordsmen facing Julius scrambled to their feet and found the hero charging them. He was on top of them before they could attack, so close they couldn’t use their swords effectively. He drove his fist into one man’s gut and doubled him over, leaving Brody to clobber the man over the head with a stool. The second man backed up, careful to stay away from the stairs and edge of the second floor. His caution spared him only for a moment.
Julius pulled the sword off his belt, taking it scabbard and all. The last of the three swordsmen tried an overhead swing, which Julius blocked. This left him open as the swordsman drew a dagger from his belt and tried to stab Julius in the gut. The blade hit his chest plate and skidded off it. Julius stepped forward and jammed the butt of his sword into the man’s gut. The swordsman gasped and was pushed back, where Brody waited with the stool he’d grabbed. He struck the man in the back of the knees, knocking him over backwards. Julius kicked him off the second floor to the growing pile of men below.
“They really need railings in this place,” Brody said.
Iggy ran up to them with a pitcher full of ale. “We used to have them. Termites, they’re devils on six legs.”
The rest of the gang forced their way up the stairs. Brody couldn’t figure out why they were so determined. So far they’d lost six men with nothing to show for it. It should have been enough to make them flee. Regardless of their losses, four axmen joined the battle, followed by their leader with a sword.
“The town sheriff is on his way,” Julius said as they advanced. “Townspeople will rally to him and overwhelm you. You can only find death here. I give my word that if you surrender you’ll face justice but not execution.”
“Your word means nothing!” the enemy leader yelled. “Your ways are slavery, your honor a lie and your name is poison! Your death is freedom to the people! Kill him!”
The axmen formed a line and charged. Iggy splashed ale in their faces, but they’d expected this and all but one turned away in time. The enemies chopped apart or knocked over furniture in their way. Julius kept his sword sheathed but held it tight. He gripped the handle hard and prepared to draw his blade.
That was when the inn’s patrons ran screaming into the enemy’s rear, armed with bottles, stools, kitchen knives and their fists. Seeing Julius face these foes and win had replaced their fear with courage and then rage. The axmen cried out in shock as eighteen men and women swarmed over them, grappling them, striking them, even biting them. Numbers and surprise was enough to bring the four men to their knees and then the floor.
An older man put an axman in a headlock and punched him in the face. “We stood strong once, and we’ll do it a thousand times more!”
“You fools, we’re doing this for you!” the axman screamed. That earned him another punch to the face.
Alone and facing a man better armed, better armored and battle hardened, the enemy leader should have run for his life. Instead he ran screaming into the fight and went straight for Julius. He slashed at Julius’ exposed face, and Julius barely raised his sword in time to block the swings. The man kept screaming, droplets of spit spraying from his mouth, sweat pouring off him as he attacked.
Brody jumped onto the pile of outraged citizens and defeated axmen. He ran across the struggling men and women before jumping onto the enemy leader’s back and wrapped both arms around his face. The man swung wildly with his sword while he grabbed Brody with his free hand and pulled. Brody grunted under the strain but held on. Julius batted aside the enemy leader’s sword and punched him hard. The blow staggered the leader and was followed by four more punches. The leader screamed in outrage and pain before two more hits brought him to his knees. One last punch to the gut dropped him alongside his men.
The fight was over less than five minutes after it started. There was no cheering the victory or toasting, just exhausted men and women glad to be alive. Their enemies were so battered that few could stand and none could offer battle.
Julius helped Brody up. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll heal.” Brody pointed at the man at Julius’ feet. “This seemed personal. Do you know him?”
Julius took the man by the shoulders and set him against a wall. He took off his hood to reveal a young man barely old enough to shave. “No. He hasn’t got scars or tattoos. Iggy, have you seen him before?”
Iggy left his patrons holding the last four men prisoners and headed over. He stopped in front of the leader and frowned. “Not in my whole life.”
Battered and broken, the youth spat at Julius. “You killed my father!”
Julius stared at the youth. “I’ve fought for fifteen years. I imaging that I’ve killed quite a few men’s fathers.”
“You don’t even remember him!” the youth screamed. “I was a child when my father joined the rebellion against the king. I was four when I heard you’d killed him and all the others. Our movement died, our hope died, our chance for a future died at your hands! You called us brigands when we were trying to save these people!”
“Save us?” Iggy spat. “You robbed others and would have done the same to us, leaving whole families to starve. Help like that we don’t need!”
“We needed food for the revolution! We could have overthrown the king and recast the kingdom. Taxes would be lower, punishments lighter.”
Brody picked through the belongings of the defeated men. There was some nifty loot here. “And the few who survived would have appreciated it.”
One of the axmen stared in horror at Julius. “We trained for month. You, you beat us and didn’t even draw your sword.”
Julius unsheathed his short sword and held it up. The magic blade glowed like a lantern, lighting up the entire inn. He swung it at an enemy’s sword on the floor and hacked through it as if it were made of balsa wood. “I wanted to question you after the fight. Sworn Doom tends to leave enemies in pieces.”
“It’s one of my strong points,” the sword said. People gasped and Julius sheathed his blade.
Armed men raced into the inn, led by a black and gold clad man with a shield and saber. Iggy pointed to the man in black and gold and said, “Sheriff, the inn was attacked. These vermin were after Mr. Craton.”
The sheriff nodded to Julius. “You’re a blessing wherever you go, sir. We’ll put these dogs in chains and turn them over to the king’s men the first chance we get.”
Men with the sheriff took change of the defeated revolutionaries and dragged them away. Their leader had to be carried out after the injuries he’d taken. He stared balefully at Julius, screaming, “My men and I are lost, but hundreds more stand ready to strike. You can’t resist the future!”
Brody watched the men until they were gone and then glanced at Julius. “You think he’s bluffing?”
“No. Those men were determined and already inside the town. Their weapons were in good condition and worth over a hundred guilders. This has the hallmarks of an organized and well-financed movement. We’re going to have to deal with this before we move onto Oceanview.”
Iggy neared Julius. “Sir, ah, what you said to the fool boy about his father…”
Julius looked down. “Villains have family the same as the good. I’ve tried to fight for honorable causes, but there’s no denying that I’ve left wives widowed and children orphaned. Iggy, I appreciated your help and that of the others here, but you should have left me to handle this. I’m the only one here with armor! You could have been killed.”
The older man in the crowd spat. “I fought beside you once, and I’ll be a goblin’s uncle before I let you stand alone. No offense.”
“No offense taken,” Brody told him.
Iggy pointed his empty pitcher at Brody. “If he can help then so should we, and it looks like you’re going to need us again sooner rather than later.”
Sore and tired, Brody sat down in a corner. Hundreds of armed men? Mercy! Things were about to get crazy in Ballop’s Hollow. He saw the green goblin climbed back into the inn and give him a pitying look.
“I tried to get you out in time,” the other goblin said. “Why wouldn’t you come?”
It was a good question, one which Brody had trouble answering. In the end he pointed at Julius, who was already speaking with the townspeople about how many weapons they had and which towns were close enough to turn to for help. Julius had been in fights as bad or worse than this since he was fifteen. Chances were good he’d die in battle long before he got white hair.
“Julius saves people,” Brody finally said, and went to help his friend. “Someone’s got to save him.”
Brody the goblin stared at the revolting town. “This looks shockingly like a goblin settlement.”
“It has seen better days,” Julius Craton admitted. Julius was the most famous member of the Guild of Heroes, and also their longest serving. Word was that gamblers were taking bets on how much longer the poor man would last. Tall, handsome, well armed with a magic short sword called Sworn Doom, and wearing chain armor and a steel breastplate, he was a sight to intimidate or inspire. “There’s too much moisture. Wood structures decay, are rebuilt, and decay again.”
“How long ago were these better days?” Brody asked. The short goblin had blue skin and darker blue hair. His features were boyish, so much so that some people refused to believe he was a goblin. He had two blue antenna-like growths growing from his forehead and four longer ones sprouting from his back. They served no purpose he’d been able to figure out. Brody wore blue swimming shorts and carried paddles to strap to his feet and hands when swimming, but nothing else. He’d learned the hard way that an armed goblin was a threat to too many people.
“Fifteen years ago.” Julius walked down a rotting wood staircase set into the hillside as he descended to the town. “My first assignment with the guild was in this kingdom. Brigands were raiding settlements in the middle of winter to steal their food, and Ballup’s Hole was the next target. The town was physically better then, but I wouldn’t call those good times.”
“You think we can hire a ship here?”
“It’s the closest town with a harbor. Whether or not the fishermen are willing to take paying passengers is questionable. I’m hoping my history with these people might open doors for us.”
They met a man going up the stairs, and Julius stepped aside to let him pass. This meant stepping in sodding mud with weedy grasses growing out of it. The man tipped his cap, but instead of moving on he stopped and stared. “My word. It’s Julius Craton! Saints and angels, I thought I’d never see you again!”
Julius smiled. “My friend and I are passing through, and—”
“Hey!” The man waved his arms and shouted to men and women in the streets below. “Hey! Julius Craton is back!”
A cheer went up among the citizens of the slovenly town. Humans ran up to greet him and thankfully overlooked Brody. They laughed and smiled, shook his hand, patted him on the back and offered him food and drink. It took the fast growing crowd ten minutes to calm down enough for him to speak.
“It’s a pleasure to have such a warm welcome. I’m glad to see your town is prosperous,” he said without apparent irony. Julius put a hand on Brody’s shoulder and said, “My friend and I are on our way to Oceanview Kingdom. I was hoping that one of your fishermen would be willing to provide us transportation there in return for fair pay.”
“Surely you can stay a few days,” a man asked.
A woman glared balefully at Brody. “Why is he with a goblin?”
“I’m afraid the people of Oceanview need my help as you once did,” he told the crowd. “As much as I would like to spend time with you, I can’t without leaving others in dangers. I hope you’ll forgive my poor manners in refusing your generous offer.”
A man in muddy leather clothes pointed at the approaching fog. “Much as we’d love to help, no boats are leaving harbor until the fog clears. Sir, our town still exists because of you and your brother warriors in the guild. Allow us to open our doors to you at least until the weather improves.”
Julius frowned at being delayed. “I suppose a day lost won’t affect my mission. Is the Wind’s Whim Inn still in business?”
A portly man in the crowd laughed and waved for him to come further. “We’re open and happy to have you!”
Brody and Julius were escorted through the sloppy settlement. Up close it was even more depressing, with garbage thrown out windows onto the street, rats scampering in the alleys and loose dogs yapping at children. Brody saw signs of goblins, including graffiti like ‘Goblin Builders! Watch it rot while we build it!’ He also spotted a few goblins slinking through the shadows.
They were brought to a two story tall building with mushrooms sprouting out of the walls. The portly man opened the doors to show the interior a bit better off, with dry floors, sturdy tables and chairs, and a staircase leading to a second floor. That floor was more like a large balcony overlooking the first floor, and had a bar and five tables with plenty of stools. Some enterprising goblin had scratched, ‘An apple a day only keeps the doctor away if your aim is good.’ on a wall. There were large windows facing the ocean that showed the approaching fog. Brody saw three patrons, but fifteen men and women from the crowd joined them inside. To their credit, only five of them looked like they would like to kill the goblin.
“Please, take a seat at the bar and I’ll get you a drink,” the portly man said. He climbed the stairs ahead of Julius and said, “You probably don’t remember me after so many years. I’m Iggy Wilvet. Back when the brigands attacked, you handed me a spear and we held the main barricade with the menfolk. Someone go fetch the sheriff. He’ll want to meet you, what with you saving his father’s life back then.”
Most of the crowd peeled off. Some begged forgiveness for doing so and swore they had work they couldn’t avoid. Others promised to return and bring friends with them. A middle-aged woman vowed to bring her son, who she’d named after Julius. This left them with a smaller crowd of admirers determined to stay.
“I’m glad to see you well,” Julius told him. “Has it been peaceful?”
“No real trouble,” Iggy told him. He got behind the bar and poured Julius a drink. “There’s the occasional thief, and we had a strange beast come up from the sea and attack the fish market. Lost a lot of the catch before we drove it off. Goblins cause trouble now and again. Your, ah goblin, he’s tame?”
Julius respected Brody for reasons the goblin never understood, and as always came to his defense. “I know Brody and saw him risk his life for the good of others. He has my respect and he deserves yours.”
“A tame goblin, that’s a first,” a boorish woman said. Julius frowned at her, and the woman had the decency to look ashamed.
Brody was used to that kind of talk. Goblins were the lowest of the low, and it was partially earned given their reputation for setting traps and causing chaos. Everyone he met (except Julius) assumed Brody was seconds away from doing something stupid. From time to time he was tempted to live up to their expectations, but there was something about Julius that changed you. The more time a person spent around him, the more you wanted to be like him, to make him like you. Brody had never acted much like a goblin, and after months with Julius he was considered civilized by those who met him.
A younger woman smiled and ran her fingers through Brody’s hair. “I think he’s cute. If all goblins were this nice they’d be welcome more places.”
“If we were welcome more places we’d be nicer,” Brody replied. He walked up to the bar and climbed onto a stool. “Aren’t most bars on the ground floor?”
“Most bars don’t have to worry about flooding,” Iggy countered. “I keep the casks up here or they’d mold. Tarnation, the town wasn’t this wet in my daddy’s day.”
Iggy handed Julius a leather cup of ale. “If you vouch for the goblin then he’s welcome. Say, I’d heard you haven’t married yet.”
The drink stopped before it reached Julius’ lips. “No, I haven’t. My job leaves no time for family.”
Iggy waved for a serving boy. “Don’t just stand there, get him a plate. It’s a pity, sir, truly a pity. A man shouldn’t be alone. My oldest, Helga, she’s marrying age, you know.” Julius nearly choked on his drink, which Iggy didn’t notice. Instead he continued his sales pitch, saying, “She’s learned good manners and is handy with a needle and thread, and you couldn’t ask for a better cook.”
One of the men punched Iggy in the arm. “Can you stop trying to palm off your daughter to every passerby?”
“What? She’d be a good match for him.”
Julius regained his breath and set down the cup. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me that you’d have me as a son-in-law. I’m sorry to say that wouldn’t be a good move. Life in the guild is dangerous and I’d hate to leave her a widow. You should know that some of my enemies have threated to kill the people I love. Your daughter would be in danger as my wife.”
Brody stifled a laugh and asked Julius, “Is that the fourth or fifth proposal this year?”
“Eighth,” Julius said under his breath. “You weren’t around for the more private ones.”
It was a certainty that Julius received offers of marriage, some of them rather indecent, at every town or city he visited. His reputation for valor, honesty and success in battle drew a steady stream of admirers. Many left when they learned he was nearly broke (saving kingdoms not being a well paying job when those kingdoms were broke), but some women weren’t deterred by his relative poverty.
Julius honestly didn’t know how to react to such offers. Brody had seen time and again that Julius was calm and decisive on the battlefield, almost supernaturally so. Put him in a social situation, however, and he floundered. He couldn’t relate to people outside of a conflict, and at parties would inevitably retreat to a quiet corner until the confusion was over.
“What sort of problems is Oceanview having that they’d need you?” a young man asked. “I’d heard they were happy as could be over there.”
“Their king is organizing a raid against pirates,” Julius lied. “He believes they’re survivors of the old Pirate Lords trying to make a comeback after their masters were defeated.”
The townspeople flinched at the news. One managed to say, “Mercy, I thought that scourge was long gone.”
Hunting pirates was the cover story for Julius’ trip to Oceanview. Their king was really interested in wiping out a criminal gang hundreds strong that had taken root in his capital, Sunset City, and he hoped to make the attack a surprise. Heroes like Julius Craton, Hammerhand Loudlungs the ogre and the nameless elf were heading for Oceanview from different locations, and together with the king’s men would rout the gang. It promised to be difficult, bloody and not that profitable given Oceanview was deep in debt. Nonetheless, the Guild of Heroes had promised help because they knew such problems grew if left unchecked.
Iggy slapped Julius on the back. “Ah, what’s a man like you got to worry about some pirates, eh? I heard how you showed that loser the Fallen King what for, and after that a snake cult.”
“It was a secret society, not a cult,” Julius corrected him. A serving boy brought Julius a plate of broiled fish and toasted bread. “Thank you. You can’t underestimate your enemies. I’ve seen too many surprises to take a foe for granted.”
“I’m glad you’re here if there’s pirates about,” Iggy told him. “Mercy, it seems every time you turn your back there’s another problem. Monsters, bandits, wars, pirates, lawyer infestations, it never ends. You ever hear of the philosopher Loopy Joe?”
Julius dug into his meal and passed the fish bones to Brody, who gobbled them up. “I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“He doesn’t live far from here.” Iggy whistled. “Poor man used to be a university professor with all kinds of awards. His king had Joe fired for criticizing him and then confiscated his house. Joe went to live in the wilderness outside Kenton, and ended up smack dab in the path of the Eternal Army. He lost another house to those immortal loonies. Now he’s holed up in a cave by the seaside. We offered to let him live with us, but Joe said he’s safer where he’s at.”
The younger woman next to Brody looked sad. “The poor man did everything right and lost it all again and again. It makes you wonder how safe any of us really are.”
A man to Julius’ right tugged on his arm. “Hey, there’s this elf who comes by all the time trying to get us to buy tree seeds. He calls them living houses, and says they’ll grow fast and have hollowed out rooms we could live in. It sounded like bull plop to us, but after replacing my roof three times in ten years, I’m wondering if there’s something to it. Have you heard about these trees?”
Julius looked up from his meal. “It’s funny you should mention that. I’ve heard the same story in four other towns, but never seen these house trees. I assume it’s some sort of magic…”
Bop! Brody got hit in the head with an acorn. He looked around and saw a goblin climbing into the inn from a window. The other goblin had long black hair, green skin, a short tail and wore rags. No one else had seen him, and the new goblin waved for Brody to join him. Brody slipped away while Julius was talking to the humans and went to see the newcomer.
“Hi there.” Brody tossed him the acorn. Hitting someone in the head to get their attention was considered acceptable among goblins, provided you threw light objects.
“You have to go. There are crazy men about.”
Brody pointed at Julius. “He’s a bit off in the head, but he’s okay once you get to know him.”
“Not him. Crazy men are coming in with the fog. They’ve got weapons and are heading for the inn. Follow me and I’ll get you to safety.”
The other goblin tried to take Brody by the arm, but he took off like a shot and ran over to Julius. He tugged on the hero’s leg and said, “We’ve got armed men coming this way.”
“Fool goblin, you heard me call for the sheriff,” Iggy scoffed.
Julius stood up and pushed his plate away. “Why would he come armed to meet me, and with backup?”
The crowd’s jubilant mood died, and they turned toward the inn’s entrance. Men wearing dark cloaks and black clothes knocked the door open and poured into the first floor. They were armed, some with swords and the rest with a mix of axes, spears, and one man had a bow. They spread out and one of them pointed a sword at Julius.
“It’s Julius Craton all right,” the stranger snarled. “Kill him.”
Black clad men charged up the stairs with two spearmen in front. Townspeople screamed and tried to flee. Their panic doubled once they realized the only exit was blocked. The goblin with the tail climbed out a window and shouted, “Come on, let’s go!”
“I’m very sorry about the mess I’m going to make,” Julius told Iggy. He ran to the staircase, and on the way he grabbed a table by the leg. He was still running when he threw it at the spearmen. The table hit a man in the chest and bowled him over, then knocked over two more men behind him.
The enemy archer notched an arrow and fired. Julius lifted another table and the arrow struck it. The enemies on the stairs recovered and pushed on while Julius blocked a second arrow. He lifted the table over his head and hurled it onto the men below, striking the archer and knocking him to the floor.
Two spearmen reached the second floor and went after Julius. Brody grabbed a bar stool and went after the one on the right. He slid the stool on its side and placed it in front of the man. The spearman was so focused on Julius that he didn’t notice the obstacle until his foot came down between the seat and crossbars. Brody then shoved the stool as hard as he could, toppling the spearman.
The second spearman lunged at Julius. Julius stepped aside and grabbed the spear with his right hand and the spearman’s arm with his left. Instead of pushing him back, Julius pulled the man forward, sending him into and then through a window. The spearman screamed as he fell to the muddy ground below.
Brody saw the spearman he’d trip scowl and climb to his hands and knees. He got no farther as Julius ran over and kicked him with enough force to lift the man in the air and spin him onto his back. The man was already howling in pain when Julius swung his fists like hammers and struck at the base of the man’s ribs, driving the air from his lungs. Wounded and gasping for breath, he was a threat to no one.
Three more men reached the second floor while Julius and Brody dealt with the first two. Two men attacked Julius from the front while the third tried to get behind him. Like the spearmen, they ignored Brody, and they paid for it. The little goblin grabbed a tankard of ale off a still standing table and threw it in the face of a swordsman. Julius grabbed the temporarily blinded man and shoved him into a second one, toppling both.
Brody saw the third man veer off to attack him, and the little goblin scooted under a table. Thunk! The man’s sword lopped off a table leg and the table tipped over. He raised his sword for another swing when Julius grabbed him from behind, spun him around and shoved him off the second floor.
Below them, the archer looked up in time to see the swordsman falling onto him, and had just enough time to scream, “Not again!”
The rest of the gang was trying to get up the stairs to join the fight when Brody saw Iggy roll a twenty-gallon barrel across the floor. The barrel sloshed as he pushed it to the stairs, and rolled down them with a series of bangs as it hit each step. The foes on the stairs ran back down or dove off to avoid the awkward weapon. The barrel went on rolling and actually went out he front door. Bizarre as the scene was, it bought Julius and Brody precious seconds.
The remaining swordsmen facing Julius scrambled to their feet and found the hero charging them. He was on top of them before they could attack, so close they couldn’t use their swords effectively. He drove his fist into one man’s gut and doubled him over, leaving Brody to clobber the man over the head with a stool. The second man backed up, careful to stay away from the stairs and edge of the second floor. His caution spared him only for a moment.
Julius pulled the sword off his belt, taking it scabbard and all. The last of the three swordsmen tried an overhead swing, which Julius blocked. This left him open as the swordsman drew a dagger from his belt and tried to stab Julius in the gut. The blade hit his chest plate and skidded off it. Julius stepped forward and jammed the butt of his sword into the man’s gut. The swordsman gasped and was pushed back, where Brody waited with the stool he’d grabbed. He struck the man in the back of the knees, knocking him over backwards. Julius kicked him off the second floor to the growing pile of men below.
“They really need railings in this place,” Brody said.
Iggy ran up to them with a pitcher full of ale. “We used to have them. Termites, they’re devils on six legs.”
The rest of the gang forced their way up the stairs. Brody couldn’t figure out why they were so determined. So far they’d lost six men with nothing to show for it. It should have been enough to make them flee. Regardless of their losses, four axmen joined the battle, followed by their leader with a sword.
“The town sheriff is on his way,” Julius said as they advanced. “Townspeople will rally to him and overwhelm you. You can only find death here. I give my word that if you surrender you’ll face justice but not execution.”
“Your word means nothing!” the enemy leader yelled. “Your ways are slavery, your honor a lie and your name is poison! Your death is freedom to the people! Kill him!”
The axmen formed a line and charged. Iggy splashed ale in their faces, but they’d expected this and all but one turned away in time. The enemies chopped apart or knocked over furniture in their way. Julius kept his sword sheathed but held it tight. He gripped the handle hard and prepared to draw his blade.
That was when the inn’s patrons ran screaming into the enemy’s rear, armed with bottles, stools, kitchen knives and their fists. Seeing Julius face these foes and win had replaced their fear with courage and then rage. The axmen cried out in shock as eighteen men and women swarmed over them, grappling them, striking them, even biting them. Numbers and surprise was enough to bring the four men to their knees and then the floor.
An older man put an axman in a headlock and punched him in the face. “We stood strong once, and we’ll do it a thousand times more!”
“You fools, we’re doing this for you!” the axman screamed. That earned him another punch to the face.
Alone and facing a man better armed, better armored and battle hardened, the enemy leader should have run for his life. Instead he ran screaming into the fight and went straight for Julius. He slashed at Julius’ exposed face, and Julius barely raised his sword in time to block the swings. The man kept screaming, droplets of spit spraying from his mouth, sweat pouring off him as he attacked.
Brody jumped onto the pile of outraged citizens and defeated axmen. He ran across the struggling men and women before jumping onto the enemy leader’s back and wrapped both arms around his face. The man swung wildly with his sword while he grabbed Brody with his free hand and pulled. Brody grunted under the strain but held on. Julius batted aside the enemy leader’s sword and punched him hard. The blow staggered the leader and was followed by four more punches. The leader screamed in outrage and pain before two more hits brought him to his knees. One last punch to the gut dropped him alongside his men.
The fight was over less than five minutes after it started. There was no cheering the victory or toasting, just exhausted men and women glad to be alive. Their enemies were so battered that few could stand and none could offer battle.
Julius helped Brody up. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll heal.” Brody pointed at the man at Julius’ feet. “This seemed personal. Do you know him?”
Julius took the man by the shoulders and set him against a wall. He took off his hood to reveal a young man barely old enough to shave. “No. He hasn’t got scars or tattoos. Iggy, have you seen him before?”
Iggy left his patrons holding the last four men prisoners and headed over. He stopped in front of the leader and frowned. “Not in my whole life.”
Battered and broken, the youth spat at Julius. “You killed my father!”
Julius stared at the youth. “I’ve fought for fifteen years. I imaging that I’ve killed quite a few men’s fathers.”
“You don’t even remember him!” the youth screamed. “I was a child when my father joined the rebellion against the king. I was four when I heard you’d killed him and all the others. Our movement died, our hope died, our chance for a future died at your hands! You called us brigands when we were trying to save these people!”
“Save us?” Iggy spat. “You robbed others and would have done the same to us, leaving whole families to starve. Help like that we don’t need!”
“We needed food for the revolution! We could have overthrown the king and recast the kingdom. Taxes would be lower, punishments lighter.”
Brody picked through the belongings of the defeated men. There was some nifty loot here. “And the few who survived would have appreciated it.”
One of the axmen stared in horror at Julius. “We trained for month. You, you beat us and didn’t even draw your sword.”
Julius unsheathed his short sword and held it up. The magic blade glowed like a lantern, lighting up the entire inn. He swung it at an enemy’s sword on the floor and hacked through it as if it were made of balsa wood. “I wanted to question you after the fight. Sworn Doom tends to leave enemies in pieces.”
“It’s one of my strong points,” the sword said. People gasped and Julius sheathed his blade.
Armed men raced into the inn, led by a black and gold clad man with a shield and saber. Iggy pointed to the man in black and gold and said, “Sheriff, the inn was attacked. These vermin were after Mr. Craton.”
The sheriff nodded to Julius. “You’re a blessing wherever you go, sir. We’ll put these dogs in chains and turn them over to the king’s men the first chance we get.”
Men with the sheriff took change of the defeated revolutionaries and dragged them away. Their leader had to be carried out after the injuries he’d taken. He stared balefully at Julius, screaming, “My men and I are lost, but hundreds more stand ready to strike. You can’t resist the future!”
Brody watched the men until they were gone and then glanced at Julius. “You think he’s bluffing?”
“No. Those men were determined and already inside the town. Their weapons were in good condition and worth over a hundred guilders. This has the hallmarks of an organized and well-financed movement. We’re going to have to deal with this before we move onto Oceanview.”
Iggy neared Julius. “Sir, ah, what you said to the fool boy about his father…”
Julius looked down. “Villains have family the same as the good. I’ve tried to fight for honorable causes, but there’s no denying that I’ve left wives widowed and children orphaned. Iggy, I appreciated your help and that of the others here, but you should have left me to handle this. I’m the only one here with armor! You could have been killed.”
The older man in the crowd spat. “I fought beside you once, and I’ll be a goblin’s uncle before I let you stand alone. No offense.”
“No offense taken,” Brody told him.
Iggy pointed his empty pitcher at Brody. “If he can help then so should we, and it looks like you’re going to need us again sooner rather than later.”
Sore and tired, Brody sat down in a corner. Hundreds of armed men? Mercy! Things were about to get crazy in Ballop’s Hollow. He saw the green goblin climbed back into the inn and give him a pitying look.
“I tried to get you out in time,” the other goblin said. “Why wouldn’t you come?”
It was a good question, one which Brody had trouble answering. In the end he pointed at Julius, who was already speaking with the townspeople about how many weapons they had and which towns were close enough to turn to for help. Julius had been in fights as bad or worse than this since he was fifteen. Chances were good he’d die in battle long before he got white hair.
“Julius saves people,” Brody finally said, and went to help his friend. “Someone’s got to save him.”
Once Upon a Time in Monster Woods
“Once upon a time—”, Bargle began.
“You muttonhead!” Yot yelled at him. “That’s not the way you start a story!”
“It is so!” Bargle yelled back. The blue, grubby goblin got up off the forest floor and grabbed a stick of firewood. He shook the stick at his fellow goblin and said, “There is a long tradition of pointlessly brutal fairytales starting with those words.”
Yot rolled his lavender eyes. The wrinkly goblin wore an oversized shirt and carried a walking stick, which he pointed at Bargle. “Which is why you don’t use it. Once upon a time was copyrighted years ago. Do you want to get sued?”
Bargle tossed the stick onto the fire and put both hands into his pockets. He pulled them out to reveal their contents, absolutely nothing. “What are they going to take? I haven’t even got good intentions.”
Pith the nearly clean goblin scowled at them. Pith was the closest this band of goblins had ever come to having a leader. Leading goblins starts at impossible and gets worse from there, making Pith’s life a near constant nightmare. He’d tried to run off many times, but the other goblins always chased him down and carried him back.
Pith pointed at a small boy with the goblins, a boy who looked to be on the verge of tears. “I distinctly recall asking for a way to cheer up Ted. Howling like harpies was not part of that request. So kindly take this argument and shove it up your, you know, place no one is ever going to ask to see, and get on with it.”
Bargle grumbled under his breath. He didn’t like story time one bit. It was long and boring, and you had to come up with a new story every time. But Ted needed stories as much as food and water, and it was Bargle’s turn to come up with the story.
The other 120 goblins in their crude gathering waited none too patiently for him to continue. They were camped deep in Monster Woods, a dense forest far safer than its name would imply, and were sitting down to dinner. Goblin cooks prepared the night’s slop while Pith cooked a more nourishing meal for Ted. Fires were lit, food was cooking, and a story was expected.
“Fine, but no more interruptions,” Bargle said. He settled down next to the fire and turned his attention to Ted. “This is the story of how Monster Woods got its name, and it’s a true story. Long, long ago, this used to be farmland. There were fields and orchards and moo cows. Humans raised animals and plants to eat. It was a hard life, but they managed, until one day a terrible monster showed up.”
“Where did it come from?” Yot asked.
Bargle shrugged. “It didn’t say. Monsters usually don’t.”
“What did it look like?” Yot pressed.
Struggling to maintain what little composure he had, Bargel said, “It was mostly mouth with legs stuck on as an afterthought. It had oodles of eyes and tough skin, and it ate a lot. I mean big, heaping piles of meat. The day it showed up it ate two cows, three sheep, ten chickens and a donkey named Merv.”
Pith finished cooking Ted’s supper and spoon fed the child. “There we go, eat it all up, just like the monster in the story.”
“You’re sure he’s paying attention?” Bargle asked. “I’m doing this for him, and there’s no sense in going on if he’s not listening.”
Another goblin poked Bargle with a stick. “Keep going.”
Bargle swatted the stick away. “Fine. The humans were ruled by a baron, a greedy sort who thought every inch of ground was his, and he made farmers and ranchers pay him taxes ever year, the jerk. But his people couldn’t pay taxes when the monster was eating everything that could be taxes, like cows and sheep and chickens and a donkey named Merv. So the baron said he’d pay a thousand gold coins to whoever killed the monster.”
“What, he wanted farmers to kill a monster?” Yot asked.
“No, he wanted bounty hunters and mercenaries and wizards and heroes to kill the monster. He didn’t want farmers to do it because he couldn’t tax them if they got killed.”
Ted pointed at the pot Pith was feeding him from. “More.”
“What is he eating?” Bargle asked.
“The last of the baked beans,” Pith replied. “We’ll need to scrounge up more food for him tomorrow.”
Yet another goblin poked Bargle with a stick. “Don’t stop the story.”
“The next guy who pokes me gets a black eye,” Bargle growled. “The baron got a surprise, because nobody came to kill the monster. Bounty hunters said the monster was too dangerous. Mercenaries said the pay was too low. Wizards ignored the offer because they’re jerks. And the monster ate four more cows, twenty sheep, a hundred chickens and a second donkey, whose name was also Merv. That was a popular name for donkeys back then.”
Bargle took a stick and lit one end in the fire. He held it up like a sword and announced, “But heroes aren’t scared or greedy or jerks, and one day a hero named Biff arrived.”
“What kind of a name for a hero is Biff?” Yot demanded.
“His mother named him that,” Bargle said. “Biff did the best he could with the name he had. Anyway, Biff told the baron he would kill the monster and save the people who were losing animals. He tracked the monster down and found it asleep after eating another donkey named Merv.”
A goblin in the audience raised a hand. “Merv might have been a family name. Were the donkey’s related?”
“I don’t care.” Bargle swung the burning stick left and right, up and down. “Biff fought the monster for hours, hacking and slashing and stabbing and jabbing. When he was done there were gooey bits everywhere, and the monster was dead. So Biff goes back to the baron for his money.”
Bargle tossed the stick into the fire. “The second he showed up, the baron tells him there’s a sword tax, which Biff hadn’t paid. And if Biff is claiming a bounty on the monster then he’s a bounty hunter, and there was a stiff fee for not having a bounty hunter license. And there was a tax for visiting the baron’s territory, charged by the day. After that was another tax and another one. By the time the baron was done, not only was Biff not getting paid but the poor slob was fifty gold coins in the red. The baron threw him in jail until his friends came up with the money. Poor Biff walked away, never to be seen in these parts again.”
“That’s a lousy story,” Yot told him.
“And not a good example for young children,” Pith added. Ted didn’t seem upset, just sleepy.
“I’m not done,” Bargle said. “The baron thought he was clever for getting rid of the monster without paying for it, but the monster had laid eggs before Biff killed it. One sunny day a whole gaggle of little monsters showed up and ate the last cow the farmers had. The baron put out a call for someone to kill the monsters, but no one came. Bounty hunters said if Biff was cheated out of his reward then they might be, too. Mercenaries said the pay was still too low. Wizards didn’t say anything because they were still jerks. That left the heroes, and they weren’t going to lift a finger after what happened to Biff.
“The little monsters ate and ate until they grew up to be big monsters. They chased off the baron and the farmers, and the forest spread out into the fields until it got to be as big as it is today. The monsters wandered off when there was nothing left to eat, but humans thought they’re still here, so that’s why they call it Monster Woods. The end.”
Pith frowned. “So the moral is to keep your word or it will come back to bite you.”
Bargle shrugged. “I was never good with morals. I guess the moral should be keep talking until Ted falls asleep, because the kid is out cold.”
Warm, fed and tired, Ted was indeed fast asleep. Pith placed a blanket over the small boy and gestured for the goblins to sleep. Goblins generally ignored his instructions, but it was late and they were tired, so they reluctantly went to sleep under the dense canopy of Monster Woods.
Only Bargle and Pith remained awake. The two stoked the fire and fed it when it threatened to burn out. Pith waved his hands at the woods and said, “No monsters here anymore, thank God.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky that way. It’s only us and the tentacled horror. How’s it going, big guy?”
A long, segmented red and black tentacle raised lazily up from the ground and waved at them before sinking back beneath the soil. Men or elves would find that frightening, but the goblins knew their neighbor well. Tentacled horrors were vegetarians, and at four tons this one was still a youngster.
Pith nodded at the tentacled horror. “He’s a good sort, and he owes me a small green frog when we were gambling. Tentacled horrors pay their debts. It’s what’s outside the woods that worries me.”
Goblins had always lived in Monster Woods, protected by the wood’s fierce reputation and the generally poor soil, and some of the goblins in this band had spent their whole lives here. Woodcutters dared not enter, and farmers didn’t bother clearing land that was both unfit for farming and ‘dangerous’. This protected them from men who might hunt goblins. Monster Woods was also far enough south and close enough to the coastline that summers were cool and winters seldom had snow. It was a goblin paradise, and lately one they had to stay in.
Bargle stirred the fire with a long stick before throwing it in. “The Crimson Hood bandits haven’t come into Monster Woods in two years. They won’t start now. After all, what have we got worth taking?”
“Ted.”
Both goblins glanced at the sleeping human boy. Goblins as a rule were as dumb as a stump. When Ted wandered into the woods a month ago and stumbled into the goblins, most of the band thought he was another goblin. It was an understandable mistake when the boy was small, dirty and only now learning to talk. Goblins long ago realized they were small and weak compared to most foes, so they banded together for self-preservation. When they’d found Ted, instincts took over and they’d added him to the band. Only smart goblins like Bargle, Yot and Pith understood he was human.
“Men love their children,” Pith continued. “If they see Ted, they won’t ask how he came to join us. They’ll attack to get him back.”
Bargle frowned. “Are bandits really men anymore? Men don’t kill other men most of the time, and almost never hurt women and kiddies. Crimson Hood bandits do it all the time. I’ve seen eight farmhouses attacked this year and four more the year before that. I think that’s what happened to Ted’s family or we wouldn’t have found him in the woods.”
“There’s an irony for you,” Pith said. “All the monsters live outside Monster Woods.”
“I’d heard the hero Julius Craton was coming to get rid of the Crimson Hood bandits,” Bargle said. “The tentacled horror said so, and he’s reliable.”
“One man against a whole pack of bandits?” Pith scoffed.
“He is a hero. You can’t put limits on those guys.”
* * * * *
The goblins woke late the following morning and moved on to the first order of business. In most goblin bands that meant setting traps to plaster unsuspecting people with mud, cow dung, spoiled cream cheese or other offensive substances. But Monster Woods’ reputation meant there was a shortage of victims for their traps. With no one to humiliate and nothing else to do, the goblins were forced to (gasp!) work. That meant find food for Ted.
One goblin offered up a rotten log. “Here you go.”
Yot knocked the log away. “We’ve been over this. You can eat that, he can't.”
“He never tried,” the goblin persisted. “Give the little guy a chance and he’ll surprise you.”
Pith led Ted as the goblins searched the woods. “You know the drill. Bird eggs, fresh fruit, stolen pies and meat are good. He won’t need much, but he needs it soon.”
The goblins hurried across the woods in search of food were a weird bunch, no two alike. Their skin tones ran the gambit and included pink, red, blue, tan, lavender, gray, and two goblins had stripes. Their clothes were rags and cast off human clothing they’d scavenged, plus a generous helping of animal skins, rope and bits of tent canvas. Their only defining features were how short they were, how smelly and how dumb. So mind blowing was their stupidity that it actually warped space and caused sawdust to rain down on their heads. Other races would find such warps raining down junk on their heads upsetting or worrisome, but to goblins it was just another day.
Goblins were rarely well armed, and these ones were worse off than most. They had little need for spears or daggers when no man entered their forest home, eliminating the main reason to have weapons. Goblins were also notoriously poor craftsmen and preferred to steal weapons from enemies. The lack of enemies or even passing travelers meant there was no one they could rob of their sword or axes. Lastly, the woods themselves offered little in the way of resources besides wood, stone and bone, all poor building materials for weapons. Bargle and his fellow goblins got by with crude clubs and rocks to throw, a fact they were perfectly happy with.
Trees were tall and dense in Monster Woods, leaving little space for food that small boys could eat. The goblins eventually went to the edge of the woods, where they found berry bushes and a rabbit. Cooking it took time and generated a lot of smoke. Goblins kept watch in case the Crimson Hood bandits saw the smoke and came to investigate. Thankfully the smoke went unnoticed. Ted was soon fed and as happy as he could be.
With that done, the goblins looked for victims for their pranks. No men, elves or dwarfs lived in the woods, and settlements were few and far between. The soil was poor except for a few spots claimed by farmers long ago. Even those were hard to come by since the Crimson Hood bandits began their depredations.
“We might have to go as far as Honeywild to pester someone,” Yot said as the goblins marched through the woods.
“That’s a lot of walking for some fun,” Bargle said. He’d visited the town of Honeywild years ago and left disappointed. It had too many walls, fences and dogs for his liking.
“Yeah, but there are oodles of men packed in there,” Yot told him. “We’re talking prime victim territory.”
Pith picked up Ted and carried him. “Men in Honeywild carry spears since the Crimson Hood bandits showed up. It’s dangerous to get close to them.”
“Why do they have weapons when they haven’t been attacked yet?” Bargle asked.
“Because they could be,” Pith replied.
“Ooh, look over there,” Yot said eagerly. There was a farmhouse near the edge of Monster Woods. This was one of the few places with good enough soil to grow crops, and the nearby field was thick with wheat. “A farm this prosperous has to have people to annoy.”
Goblins were loud and obnoxious, but they could be quiet when they had to. The band fell silent and edged closer to the farm, creeping between the trees on their bellies. There just had to be an outhouse to trap or livestock to put on the house’s roof. Goblins grinned as they came nearer. They looked for signs of the owners or sounds to suggest they’d been spotted. They’d almost reached the house when Yot stopped and raised a hand.
“What is it?” Bargle whispered.
“No one’s here.” Yot got up and walked over to the house. He went inside and came out a few seconds later. His lip trembled, and he rested a hand on the doorframe.
“If no one is here then we can look for goodies,” Bargle said. He got up and headed for the house. Yot stopped him before he went inside.
“I was wrong. The farmer is still here.”
“Then why hasn’t he…oh.” Bargle’s face turned a shade paler. He put on the smile he used when he lied to strangers before turning to Ted. “Hey there, little fella. Do you want to play? Let’s go over in the field and play. You like playing, right?”
Ted smiled. “Play!”
Bargle took Ted far from the farm and kept the boy laughing and smiling while the other goblins went to work. They needed an hour to bury the farmer and recover what little was left in the house. When they were done, the goblins moved back into the protection of Monster Woods.
Bargle felt better once he was in Monster Woods again. The dark, foreboding woods had plenty of hiding places, and its thick canopy kept out flying monsters like wyverns, chimera and manticores. There were even good campsites scattered throughout the woods where foundations and stone chimneys from old farmhouses remained. The goblins found one of these welcome refuges and stopped to rest.
Noon came and Pith cooked another meal for Ted. More goblins gathered around to watch the boy and play with him. Bargle and Yot walked a short distance away and spoke in hushed tones.
“How bad was it?” Bargle asked.
Yot shuddered. “It was the Crimson Hood, no question. They left their mark on the guy’s door. They’d looted the place pretty good. We found some food they’d missed, so Ted has hot meals for the week.”
“There aren’t many farms left for them to hit. What happens when they run out of easy targets?”
“I guess they’ll go after Honeywild,” Yot said. “Honeywild has good protection with a wall around the town and they’ve got enough men that they might be able to fight off the bandits. The Crimson Hood has eighty or so men, so they might loot a part of the town and come back later for the rest. There ought to be knights or soldiers to deal with this.”
Bargle spat on the ground. “They all went off to war. Hey, if this Julius Craton guy isn’t handy, maybe we can get someone else to help. I heard good things about Sorcerer Lord Jayden.”
Yot stared at him. “The guy who wants to overthrow the king and queen?”
“It’s a popular hobby. The rest of the time he helps out peasants and itty bitty towns like Honeywild. I bet you a small green frog that we can talk him into hunting bandits.”
“It might work. Let’s go deeper into the woods. It’s safer far from the edge.”
The goblin band was morose as they headed for the center of Monster Woods. Goblins were mischievous, but they weren’t used to the violence that had spread to their corner of the world. A few even suggested leaving Monster Woods until the Crimson Hood bandits left or were defeated. The idea wasn’t outrageous. Large groups of goblins like this often relocated when times were hard. They also relocated to find new people to annoy, and sometimes moved for no reason at all.
They came across other denizens of the woods after one hour’s march. Giant mushrooms covered in blinking eyes shuffled across the forest floor in a slow, stately procession. The lead mushroom was ten feet tall and pale white, while smaller mushrooms followed it. A smaller mushroom stopped to study the approaching goblins until the largest mushroom made a rumbling sound that brought it back in line.
“Hi, Sven,” Barge said to the leading mushroom. “You’re starting the migration kind of late this year.”
The giant mushroom rolled its many eyes, as if to say, ‘Don’t get me started.’
Ted stared at the mushrooms as they shambled away. He pointed at a small one in the back and asked, “Monster?”
“No,” Pith assured the boy. “Monsters do bad things. Sven and his family don’t bother anyone.”
Night approached and the goblins made camp. They settled down for the night and drew lots for who had to tell Ted a story.
Bargle started a fire and walked away from the others. “I did last night’s story, so somebody else does it tonight. Pith and me will keep watch.”
“Hey, he draws lots the same as the rest of us,” a feathered goblin demanded.
“Not this time,” Bargle said. He took Pith outside of the goblins’ crude camp, far from Ted’s ears. “I’ve been thinking it over, and I’m going for help. Word is this Jayden guy is nearby. I’ll bring him back.”
“He’ll want money. Humans always do.”
Bargle nodded. “Yeah. The bandits must have some gold after robbing those farms. If he wants more, I’ll say the local baron has gold he can steal. Jayden likes picking fights with royalty.”
“Are you sure we want a guy like that around?” Pith asked. “We might get rid of the bandits and replace them with someone worse.”
“If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it, because I’m all out.”
Pith’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve got nothing. Yot and me will keep the other goblins moving so we can’t be found easy. You just be careful. It’s dangerous out there.”
Snap.
The sound was faint and far away, but both goblins heard it. There was another snap, and a bump of someone hitting a tree. Bargle and Pith ran back to the camp as fast as they could.
“Douse the fires,” Bargle ordered. Most of the goblins stared at him, but a few smothered their fires by kicking dirt on them. Goblins grabbed clubs and slings before hiding behind trees.
Bargle heard more snaps and thuds as someone stumbled through the woods, and it was getting closer. There was a jingling noise, like tiny bits of metal shaking back and forth. Bargle had heard that sound once before when he’d escaped a squad of swordsmen.
“Chainmail,” Bargel whispered. “The guy is wearing armor, and I bet he’s armed.”
More jingling followed. Yot tightly gripped his club. “I only hear one guy. Maybe he’s a scout.”
The goblins raised their makeshift weapons, ready to fight if they had to, when a lone man staggered into their midst. Bargle opened his mouth to howl a battle cry when the man collapsed at his feet.
Bargle stared at the fallen man. “That was different.”
Yot frowned. “We usually have to do more to stop a big fellow like him.”
Goblins relit their fires and took a closer look at the man. He wore a steel breastplate, chain armor over his arms and legs, leather boots and a helmet that covered the sides of his face but left the front open. The man had a short sword and dagger sheathed on his belt, a backpack and nothing more. For some reason his armor looked wet under the poor light, but there were no streams or ponds nearby.
A goblin brought over a lit branch to the man, and the band gasped in horror. Their unconscious intruder was wet, all right, but not with water. His armor was stained red, and his leather boots were more crimson than brown.
Bargle tossed his club aside. “He’s hurt bad! Quick, get his armor off and bind his wounds!”
Goblins were tricksters at heart and had no desire to see someone die. They struggled to remove the man’s armor and offer what little help they could. Piece by piece the armor came off, the goblins working slowly to prevent making the man’s injuries worse. Ted came over, but Pith quickly escorted the boy away from the gristly sight.
Trying to fight back a sense of panic, Bargle said, “I don’t know what he was doing out so late, or why he came into Monster Woods. He must have been desperate. Maybe the Crimson Hood bandits attacked him.”
“Then they’re dumber than they look,” Yot said. “This is Julius Craton.”
Bargle’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re sure?”
“I saw him two years ago in Kaleoth.” Yot studied the man, now missing his breastplate and the chainmail on his arms. “He was being chased out of the kingdom after foiling a plot against the king.”
Pith frowned. “They chased him out for that?”
“Members of the royal family were in on the plot.” Yot shook his head. “Poor guy just can’t catch a break.”
Bargle waved his hands at Julius and shouted, “Save him! We can’t have a famous person die on us. We’ll get blamed! Bandage his wounds, stitch him up, anything!”
“He hasn’t got a scratch on him,” Yot told him.
Goblins scooted in closer to study Julius. The hero had bruises aplenty, but no cuts. Puzzled, Bargle pointed to the man’s stained armor and asked, “Then what’s wrong with him, and where did the red stuff come from?”
Pith came over and pressed an ear to Julius’ chest. “He’s breathing. I think he’s just so exhausted that he fell over. As for his armor, if it’s not his blood then he got into a fight and won.”
Yot scratched his head. “What idiot is stupid enough to pick a fight with the biggest hero around? I mean, I’ve barely got two spoonfuls of brains, and even I’m not that dumb.”
“It does take a special kind of stupid to do that,” Pith agreed.
“Freaky,” Bargle said. He helped the goblins scrub off Julius’ armor so the smell wouldn’t attract predators. “I guess we should make a litter and carry him to a safe place until he gets better. Hey, guys, we’re saving a hero. That’s got to be a first for goblins.”
Snap. Snap, snap, thud.
Bargle turned around when he heard the noises. It was coming from the same direction Julius had, but there were several sources. Bargle waved for two goblins to come with him before he went to investigate.
Bargle and the two goblins snuck up behind a tree and spotted the new intruders. There were a bunch of them, maybe twenty. These intruders had spears and shields, and two carried lanterns. They were too far away to see clearly, especially in the dense woods, but Bargle could make out the red hoods the men wore.
“Oh no,” one of the goblins said.
“Back to the others,” Bargle said. He led them back to the group to find Yot standing over their unconscious guest. “It’s the Crimson Hood bandits.”
“They’ve never come into Monster Woods before!” a goblin cried out.
“They’re here now, and I figure this fella is the reason why.” Bargle pointed his club at Julius and said, “There’s no loot here, no farms, but Julius has armor and weapons worth good money. Crimson Hood bandits must have found him and tried to take him down.”
Goblins found two long, narrow branches and lashed them together with strips of leather to make a litter. They lifted Julius and set him on the litter, ten goblins pulling it along at the front while the back end slid on the ground, then dragged him deeper into the woods. One hundred twenty goblins followed, keeping wary eyes on the distant bandits.
Normally this would be enough for them to get away from an enemy. Men so feared Monster Woods that they wouldn’t go more than a stone’s throw within its borders no matter the reason. Even criminals wouldn’t take the risk. But tonight the woods’ fearsome and largely undeserved reputation offered no protection, and the bandits followed them ever deeper into the woods. Their pursuers moved slowly but never stopped.
“This can’t be happening,” a hyperventilating goblin said.
“It is, so keep moving,” Yot told him. “And keep quiet or they’ll hear us. They don’t know we’re here, and we want to keep it that way.”
Bargle looked around until he spotted Ted. The boy was fast asleep in Pith’s arms, a blessing indeed when they needed to be quiet.
The goblins hurried along as quickly and as quietly as they could, but the light and sound of their pursuers stumbling through the woods never left them. Bargle couldn’t figure out for the life of him how these men were following them. The goblins traveled without light and were as quiet as they could be. Why hadn’t they lost the bandits yet?
Then he looked down. “The litter. It’s digging a rut in the dirt when we pull it. The bandits aren’t going to lose us when there’s a line in the ground showing them where to go.”
“We can’t leave him,” Yot protested. “Julius has done good, and he’s not stuck up like most important people.”
Pith pointed at the men still following them. “If we leave Julius then those men get him, and we know how that ends. Get more guys on the back and lift it up, and rotate goblins so nobody doing it gets too tired. We’ll take him to rocky ground where the litter won’t leave a mark and neither will out feet.”
The goblins changed direction and left as silently as they could. Their pursuers weren’t so quiet, tripping and banging into things. There was some shouting as well. Bargle heard what might be an argument, and became so curious that he stayed back as the goblins continued their escape.
“You promised us land!” a bandit screamed. “You said we’d have our own farms! It was supposed to end months ago!”
Another bandit grabbed the first one by the shoulders and shook him. “Hold it together! We’re so close! We can still have everything I promised!”
The first bandit shook himself free. “Everything you promised? My brothers, my cousins, they’re gone! You can’t fix that! We trusted you!”
That was a step too far, and the second bandit slapped him. “Julius Craton took your family members from you, not me. He came after us, and we’re doomed if he gets word to the authorities. We finish this tonight. Now get moving.”
“No! I’m through with you, all of you!” The bandit tried to march off, a mistake he didn’t have time to regret as the other bandits turned on him. Bargle staggered back and tried to look away, but was glad he didn’t when the hoods slipped off two of the bandits. It had been a long time since he’d visited Honeywild, but he had no trouble recognizing the town’s mayor and his younger brother.
Bargle ran to catch up with the other goblins. He stopped Yot in the darkness and grabbed him by the arm. “The bandits are men from Honeywild! I saw them. They talked about getting land and farms.”
Pith hurried over and handed Ted to another goblin. “Then these attacks aren’t just robbery. Honeywild has lots of people and no good land to move into. With those farmers dead then someone gets to take their land. Men in Honeywild must have done those horrible crimes so they could claim the land.”
“But how could they?” Yot asked.
Pith frowned. “If no one knows they’re the bandits, then no one could object to them resettling farms left fallow by bandit attacks.”
Yot waved his hands. “No, I mean how could they attack their own neighbors?”
Bargle looked back at the lights and shouting in the distance. “I don’t know. I think these are all of the bandits left. They said Julius Craton came after them. I guess that’s where the red on his armor came from.”
“But they had eighty bandits,” Yot said.
“And they ran into a hero who’s been fighting impossible odds for years,” Pith said. He glanced at Julius, still unconscious.
That was when Ted woke up. The poor boy looked back at the lights behind them, and he saw men in red hoods. Pith saw what was happening and tried to shield the boy, but it was too late. Ted screamed.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Pith promised, but Ted kept screaming. The poor boy had seen these men before, and he knew terrors the goblins could only imagine.
Goblins broke into a run with the bandits staggering after them. The bandits were nearly as exhausted as Julius and soon lost ground. But even when the goblins reached stony ground they couldn’t escape when Ted’s crying gave away their position.
“I’m rethinking having Ted as a member,” Yot gasped.
Bargle huffed and puffed at the exertion of running so far. “Not now!”
It took far too long, but the goblins got far enough away from that they could stop for a breather. Bargle looked back at the lights from the Crimson Hood bandits, still following them in the darkness. Pith managed to calm down Ted, no easy feat, and a goblin with buckteeth said, “I think we lost them.”
“For how long?” Bargle asked. “They’re after Julius and won’t stop until they get him. Can we outrun them all night? All day tomorrow? Julius is going to need days to get his strength back.”
“What do we do?” asked Yot. He pointed at the following lights and said, “Those men are armed and out for blood. It takes ten goblins to face one human! We can’t fight so many of them. Can we get help from the tentacled horror? I’m not sure we can reach him in time.”
Bargle looked at Julius Craton. The man was a hero, and even he was down and defeated. What hope did goblins have? They were tricksters, annoyances, and the men after them were killers. Terror gripped Bargle, and then he saw Julius’ short sword sheathed on his belt. It belonged to a hero who no doubt needed and demanded the best weapons. It might be the edge the goblins needed. He went over and grabbed the sword.
“We fight.” Other goblins cried out in dismay, certain they’d be killed, but Bargle pressed on. “Those men are tired, scared, lost. They’ve lost three quarters their manpower. If we hit them from surprise and pile on, we can win. We can beat them. We have to. We fight or they’ll keep coming after us and the men living near Monster Woods.”
That’s when Bargle drew Julius’ sword. The short blade was the right size for a goblin, well balanced and in perfect condition. But as he drew it, the sword began to glow. Goblins backed away as the sword rumbled to life.
“Who are you?” it demanded. “Wait, goblins? Julius was fighting bandits when he sheathed me.”
Bargle pointed at the bandits with his left hand. “That’s them over there. Your boss fell down at our knees, and the bad guys are after us. Can help us?”
The sword glimmered before it answered. “Julius Craton is my partner and friend. I’ll let you use me to my fullest extent to save him, but I go back to him once the fight is over. Goblin, I am Sworn Doom, relic of the ancient Elf Empire, and those who face me in battle die. They also have closed casket funerals. Are you prepared for the battle to come?”
Bargle looked at the sword, not scared of it, but sad at what was had to happen next. “Those men have done terrible things for two years. We tried to stay away from them, but they’ve come into Monster Woods, our home. I don’t want to fight them, but I don’t think there’s a choice anymore. They have to be stopped while there are still good people left.”
“Well said. Sheath me until battle is joined.”
Bargle put his borrowed sword back in its sheath, and the glow died away. Goblins were small and weak, but if they struck from surprise, and one of them had a magic weapon, they stood a chance. The other goblins were terrified. He needed them to be strong just for a little while. Bargle gripped the sword tightly before he addressed his fellow goblins.
“Once upon a time there were monsters here that ate up every animal and destroyed all that they touched.” Bargle pointed the still sheathed sword at the bandits drawing closer. “Tonight monsters are here again. They take and take until there’s nothing left, just like before. The monsters in the old days won because nobody stood up to them. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, wizards, they sat back and watched it happen without lifting a finger.”
Bargle pointed at Julius. “One hero stood up to the monsters long ago, and another one is trying to stop the monsters today, but there’s a difference. Biff was alone, but Julius has us. One hundred twenty goblins against tired, scared men lost in Monster Woods. These woods are ours, and those, those things don’t belong here after what they’ve done.”
He turned to face bandits close enough that the goblins could hear the men cough. “The monsters are here, boys. We stop them or Monster Woods grows just like it did in the old days. Yot, take half the guys and go to the left. Pith, take the rest and go to the right. I’ll stay with Julius. Wait until I draw his sword and it gets all glowie, then fight for your lives.”
As inspirational speeches went it wasn’t that good, and Bargle’s plan was questionable at best, but scared goblins followed orders and retreated into the darkness. Bargle stood in front of Julius as the bandits edged closer. The men coughed and staggered came nearer. One of the bandits spotted Bargle standing over Julius. The man squinted and pointed his spear at the goblin.
“Now!” Bargle screamed. He drew Sworn Doom, and the blade glowed as bright as a lantern. Goblins swarmed over the bandits from all sides, swinging clubs, throwing rocks, punching, kicking, biting. They grabbed the bandits’ spears and piled onto the wicked men. Bandits knocked goblins aside, only to have more goblins jump them.
Bargle charged the nearest bandit and swung his borrowed sword. The bandit saw the glowing magic sword and panicked. He recognized it, and with a look of utter desperation he backed up against a tree and raised a shield.
“Doom!” the sword yelled. It went through the bandit’s shield, cutting through it as if it was made of warm butter, and then it went through the bandit.
Bargle gasped in horror at what he’d done. He looked away from the sight to find the fight seesawing between the men and goblins, with each side gaining ground and then losing it. One goblin armed with a magic sword would tip the battle in the goblins’ favor, and its absence would ruin them. He hoped there could be some forgiveness for his actions as he charged the next bandit.
“Doom!”
* * * * *
Julius Craton woke the following morning in a patch of tall grass alongside a road. This surprised him. After last night he’d been sure he wouldn’t wake up at all. He was sore, tired, his mouth was dry and his eyes hurt, but he was alive. His armor and weapon were set beside him, and both had been cleaned. This was odd. Stranger still, he wasn’t alone. A small boy sat on his chest.
“Hi.” The boy was dirty and wore rags, but he seemed to be in good health. He also had a large wood spoon and a tin pot filled with what looked like cold split pea soup. Smiling, the boy scooped up a spoonful of food and tried to stick it in Julius’ mouth.
“Hello,” Julius said. He sat up and put an arm around the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Hi.”
“I guess you’re a little young to talk to.” Julius rubbed his sore arms and looked around. He vaguely recalled fleeing from Honeywild after he’d learned the town’s terrible secret. The night had been a string of brutal battles as he tried to escape. After that things became blurry.
Julius drew his sword and held it up. “I’m not complaining that I’m still breathing, but what happened last night?”
Sworn Doom glowed now that it was out of its sheath, and the sword said, “You received considerable help after collapsing. Your benefactors would like to remain anonymous, and I intend to respect their wishes on the matter.”
“Hello!” Julius hastily sheathed his blade and turned to look at the speaker, and found an old couple hurrying over to his side. “Stars above, you’re Julius Craton! Sir, it’s good to see you well! My grandson saw you fighting the Crimson Hood bandits yesterday. We feared the worst, but here you are alive and well, and with young Ted Valush. We’d thought him lost months ago.”
Julius tried to get up and winced in pain. The couple helped him to his feet, and the woman took the boy from his arms. “I fought the bandits, but I lost sight of them after they chased me into these woods.”
The elderly couple gasped at the news. The woman asked, “You went into Monster Woods? Sir, you must be the greatest warrior ever born to come out alive! And the bandits? Sir, if they entered Monster Woods then they’ll not be seen again.”
Julius studied the woods and thought he saw movement deep within it. Whoever or whatever was there kept its distance. If the person or beast had intended to kill Julius, it had ample opportunities before he woke up, so it was safe to assume the unseen watcher meant no harm. “I’ve never heard of these woods. What danger is in them?”
The old man picked up Julius’ armor and sword before leading him down the road. “You never heard the tale? Well, once upon a time…”
“You muttonhead!” Yot yelled at him. “That’s not the way you start a story!”
“It is so!” Bargle yelled back. The blue, grubby goblin got up off the forest floor and grabbed a stick of firewood. He shook the stick at his fellow goblin and said, “There is a long tradition of pointlessly brutal fairytales starting with those words.”
Yot rolled his lavender eyes. The wrinkly goblin wore an oversized shirt and carried a walking stick, which he pointed at Bargle. “Which is why you don’t use it. Once upon a time was copyrighted years ago. Do you want to get sued?”
Bargle tossed the stick onto the fire and put both hands into his pockets. He pulled them out to reveal their contents, absolutely nothing. “What are they going to take? I haven’t even got good intentions.”
Pith the nearly clean goblin scowled at them. Pith was the closest this band of goblins had ever come to having a leader. Leading goblins starts at impossible and gets worse from there, making Pith’s life a near constant nightmare. He’d tried to run off many times, but the other goblins always chased him down and carried him back.
Pith pointed at a small boy with the goblins, a boy who looked to be on the verge of tears. “I distinctly recall asking for a way to cheer up Ted. Howling like harpies was not part of that request. So kindly take this argument and shove it up your, you know, place no one is ever going to ask to see, and get on with it.”
Bargle grumbled under his breath. He didn’t like story time one bit. It was long and boring, and you had to come up with a new story every time. But Ted needed stories as much as food and water, and it was Bargle’s turn to come up with the story.
The other 120 goblins in their crude gathering waited none too patiently for him to continue. They were camped deep in Monster Woods, a dense forest far safer than its name would imply, and were sitting down to dinner. Goblin cooks prepared the night’s slop while Pith cooked a more nourishing meal for Ted. Fires were lit, food was cooking, and a story was expected.
“Fine, but no more interruptions,” Bargle said. He settled down next to the fire and turned his attention to Ted. “This is the story of how Monster Woods got its name, and it’s a true story. Long, long ago, this used to be farmland. There were fields and orchards and moo cows. Humans raised animals and plants to eat. It was a hard life, but they managed, until one day a terrible monster showed up.”
“Where did it come from?” Yot asked.
Bargle shrugged. “It didn’t say. Monsters usually don’t.”
“What did it look like?” Yot pressed.
Struggling to maintain what little composure he had, Bargel said, “It was mostly mouth with legs stuck on as an afterthought. It had oodles of eyes and tough skin, and it ate a lot. I mean big, heaping piles of meat. The day it showed up it ate two cows, three sheep, ten chickens and a donkey named Merv.”
Pith finished cooking Ted’s supper and spoon fed the child. “There we go, eat it all up, just like the monster in the story.”
“You’re sure he’s paying attention?” Bargle asked. “I’m doing this for him, and there’s no sense in going on if he’s not listening.”
Another goblin poked Bargle with a stick. “Keep going.”
Bargle swatted the stick away. “Fine. The humans were ruled by a baron, a greedy sort who thought every inch of ground was his, and he made farmers and ranchers pay him taxes ever year, the jerk. But his people couldn’t pay taxes when the monster was eating everything that could be taxes, like cows and sheep and chickens and a donkey named Merv. So the baron said he’d pay a thousand gold coins to whoever killed the monster.”
“What, he wanted farmers to kill a monster?” Yot asked.
“No, he wanted bounty hunters and mercenaries and wizards and heroes to kill the monster. He didn’t want farmers to do it because he couldn’t tax them if they got killed.”
Ted pointed at the pot Pith was feeding him from. “More.”
“What is he eating?” Bargle asked.
“The last of the baked beans,” Pith replied. “We’ll need to scrounge up more food for him tomorrow.”
Yet another goblin poked Bargle with a stick. “Don’t stop the story.”
“The next guy who pokes me gets a black eye,” Bargle growled. “The baron got a surprise, because nobody came to kill the monster. Bounty hunters said the monster was too dangerous. Mercenaries said the pay was too low. Wizards ignored the offer because they’re jerks. And the monster ate four more cows, twenty sheep, a hundred chickens and a second donkey, whose name was also Merv. That was a popular name for donkeys back then.”
Bargle took a stick and lit one end in the fire. He held it up like a sword and announced, “But heroes aren’t scared or greedy or jerks, and one day a hero named Biff arrived.”
“What kind of a name for a hero is Biff?” Yot demanded.
“His mother named him that,” Bargle said. “Biff did the best he could with the name he had. Anyway, Biff told the baron he would kill the monster and save the people who were losing animals. He tracked the monster down and found it asleep after eating another donkey named Merv.”
A goblin in the audience raised a hand. “Merv might have been a family name. Were the donkey’s related?”
“I don’t care.” Bargle swung the burning stick left and right, up and down. “Biff fought the monster for hours, hacking and slashing and stabbing and jabbing. When he was done there were gooey bits everywhere, and the monster was dead. So Biff goes back to the baron for his money.”
Bargle tossed the stick into the fire. “The second he showed up, the baron tells him there’s a sword tax, which Biff hadn’t paid. And if Biff is claiming a bounty on the monster then he’s a bounty hunter, and there was a stiff fee for not having a bounty hunter license. And there was a tax for visiting the baron’s territory, charged by the day. After that was another tax and another one. By the time the baron was done, not only was Biff not getting paid but the poor slob was fifty gold coins in the red. The baron threw him in jail until his friends came up with the money. Poor Biff walked away, never to be seen in these parts again.”
“That’s a lousy story,” Yot told him.
“And not a good example for young children,” Pith added. Ted didn’t seem upset, just sleepy.
“I’m not done,” Bargle said. “The baron thought he was clever for getting rid of the monster without paying for it, but the monster had laid eggs before Biff killed it. One sunny day a whole gaggle of little monsters showed up and ate the last cow the farmers had. The baron put out a call for someone to kill the monsters, but no one came. Bounty hunters said if Biff was cheated out of his reward then they might be, too. Mercenaries said the pay was still too low. Wizards didn’t say anything because they were still jerks. That left the heroes, and they weren’t going to lift a finger after what happened to Biff.
“The little monsters ate and ate until they grew up to be big monsters. They chased off the baron and the farmers, and the forest spread out into the fields until it got to be as big as it is today. The monsters wandered off when there was nothing left to eat, but humans thought they’re still here, so that’s why they call it Monster Woods. The end.”
Pith frowned. “So the moral is to keep your word or it will come back to bite you.”
Bargle shrugged. “I was never good with morals. I guess the moral should be keep talking until Ted falls asleep, because the kid is out cold.”
Warm, fed and tired, Ted was indeed fast asleep. Pith placed a blanket over the small boy and gestured for the goblins to sleep. Goblins generally ignored his instructions, but it was late and they were tired, so they reluctantly went to sleep under the dense canopy of Monster Woods.
Only Bargle and Pith remained awake. The two stoked the fire and fed it when it threatened to burn out. Pith waved his hands at the woods and said, “No monsters here anymore, thank God.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky that way. It’s only us and the tentacled horror. How’s it going, big guy?”
A long, segmented red and black tentacle raised lazily up from the ground and waved at them before sinking back beneath the soil. Men or elves would find that frightening, but the goblins knew their neighbor well. Tentacled horrors were vegetarians, and at four tons this one was still a youngster.
Pith nodded at the tentacled horror. “He’s a good sort, and he owes me a small green frog when we were gambling. Tentacled horrors pay their debts. It’s what’s outside the woods that worries me.”
Goblins had always lived in Monster Woods, protected by the wood’s fierce reputation and the generally poor soil, and some of the goblins in this band had spent their whole lives here. Woodcutters dared not enter, and farmers didn’t bother clearing land that was both unfit for farming and ‘dangerous’. This protected them from men who might hunt goblins. Monster Woods was also far enough south and close enough to the coastline that summers were cool and winters seldom had snow. It was a goblin paradise, and lately one they had to stay in.
Bargle stirred the fire with a long stick before throwing it in. “The Crimson Hood bandits haven’t come into Monster Woods in two years. They won’t start now. After all, what have we got worth taking?”
“Ted.”
Both goblins glanced at the sleeping human boy. Goblins as a rule were as dumb as a stump. When Ted wandered into the woods a month ago and stumbled into the goblins, most of the band thought he was another goblin. It was an understandable mistake when the boy was small, dirty and only now learning to talk. Goblins long ago realized they were small and weak compared to most foes, so they banded together for self-preservation. When they’d found Ted, instincts took over and they’d added him to the band. Only smart goblins like Bargle, Yot and Pith understood he was human.
“Men love their children,” Pith continued. “If they see Ted, they won’t ask how he came to join us. They’ll attack to get him back.”
Bargle frowned. “Are bandits really men anymore? Men don’t kill other men most of the time, and almost never hurt women and kiddies. Crimson Hood bandits do it all the time. I’ve seen eight farmhouses attacked this year and four more the year before that. I think that’s what happened to Ted’s family or we wouldn’t have found him in the woods.”
“There’s an irony for you,” Pith said. “All the monsters live outside Monster Woods.”
“I’d heard the hero Julius Craton was coming to get rid of the Crimson Hood bandits,” Bargle said. “The tentacled horror said so, and he’s reliable.”
“One man against a whole pack of bandits?” Pith scoffed.
“He is a hero. You can’t put limits on those guys.”
* * * * *
The goblins woke late the following morning and moved on to the first order of business. In most goblin bands that meant setting traps to plaster unsuspecting people with mud, cow dung, spoiled cream cheese or other offensive substances. But Monster Woods’ reputation meant there was a shortage of victims for their traps. With no one to humiliate and nothing else to do, the goblins were forced to (gasp!) work. That meant find food for Ted.
One goblin offered up a rotten log. “Here you go.”
Yot knocked the log away. “We’ve been over this. You can eat that, he can't.”
“He never tried,” the goblin persisted. “Give the little guy a chance and he’ll surprise you.”
Pith led Ted as the goblins searched the woods. “You know the drill. Bird eggs, fresh fruit, stolen pies and meat are good. He won’t need much, but he needs it soon.”
The goblins hurried across the woods in search of food were a weird bunch, no two alike. Their skin tones ran the gambit and included pink, red, blue, tan, lavender, gray, and two goblins had stripes. Their clothes were rags and cast off human clothing they’d scavenged, plus a generous helping of animal skins, rope and bits of tent canvas. Their only defining features were how short they were, how smelly and how dumb. So mind blowing was their stupidity that it actually warped space and caused sawdust to rain down on their heads. Other races would find such warps raining down junk on their heads upsetting or worrisome, but to goblins it was just another day.
Goblins were rarely well armed, and these ones were worse off than most. They had little need for spears or daggers when no man entered their forest home, eliminating the main reason to have weapons. Goblins were also notoriously poor craftsmen and preferred to steal weapons from enemies. The lack of enemies or even passing travelers meant there was no one they could rob of their sword or axes. Lastly, the woods themselves offered little in the way of resources besides wood, stone and bone, all poor building materials for weapons. Bargle and his fellow goblins got by with crude clubs and rocks to throw, a fact they were perfectly happy with.
Trees were tall and dense in Monster Woods, leaving little space for food that small boys could eat. The goblins eventually went to the edge of the woods, where they found berry bushes and a rabbit. Cooking it took time and generated a lot of smoke. Goblins kept watch in case the Crimson Hood bandits saw the smoke and came to investigate. Thankfully the smoke went unnoticed. Ted was soon fed and as happy as he could be.
With that done, the goblins looked for victims for their pranks. No men, elves or dwarfs lived in the woods, and settlements were few and far between. The soil was poor except for a few spots claimed by farmers long ago. Even those were hard to come by since the Crimson Hood bandits began their depredations.
“We might have to go as far as Honeywild to pester someone,” Yot said as the goblins marched through the woods.
“That’s a lot of walking for some fun,” Bargle said. He’d visited the town of Honeywild years ago and left disappointed. It had too many walls, fences and dogs for his liking.
“Yeah, but there are oodles of men packed in there,” Yot told him. “We’re talking prime victim territory.”
Pith picked up Ted and carried him. “Men in Honeywild carry spears since the Crimson Hood bandits showed up. It’s dangerous to get close to them.”
“Why do they have weapons when they haven’t been attacked yet?” Bargle asked.
“Because they could be,” Pith replied.
“Ooh, look over there,” Yot said eagerly. There was a farmhouse near the edge of Monster Woods. This was one of the few places with good enough soil to grow crops, and the nearby field was thick with wheat. “A farm this prosperous has to have people to annoy.”
Goblins were loud and obnoxious, but they could be quiet when they had to. The band fell silent and edged closer to the farm, creeping between the trees on their bellies. There just had to be an outhouse to trap or livestock to put on the house’s roof. Goblins grinned as they came nearer. They looked for signs of the owners or sounds to suggest they’d been spotted. They’d almost reached the house when Yot stopped and raised a hand.
“What is it?” Bargle whispered.
“No one’s here.” Yot got up and walked over to the house. He went inside and came out a few seconds later. His lip trembled, and he rested a hand on the doorframe.
“If no one is here then we can look for goodies,” Bargle said. He got up and headed for the house. Yot stopped him before he went inside.
“I was wrong. The farmer is still here.”
“Then why hasn’t he…oh.” Bargle’s face turned a shade paler. He put on the smile he used when he lied to strangers before turning to Ted. “Hey there, little fella. Do you want to play? Let’s go over in the field and play. You like playing, right?”
Ted smiled. “Play!”
Bargle took Ted far from the farm and kept the boy laughing and smiling while the other goblins went to work. They needed an hour to bury the farmer and recover what little was left in the house. When they were done, the goblins moved back into the protection of Monster Woods.
Bargle felt better once he was in Monster Woods again. The dark, foreboding woods had plenty of hiding places, and its thick canopy kept out flying monsters like wyverns, chimera and manticores. There were even good campsites scattered throughout the woods where foundations and stone chimneys from old farmhouses remained. The goblins found one of these welcome refuges and stopped to rest.
Noon came and Pith cooked another meal for Ted. More goblins gathered around to watch the boy and play with him. Bargle and Yot walked a short distance away and spoke in hushed tones.
“How bad was it?” Bargle asked.
Yot shuddered. “It was the Crimson Hood, no question. They left their mark on the guy’s door. They’d looted the place pretty good. We found some food they’d missed, so Ted has hot meals for the week.”
“There aren’t many farms left for them to hit. What happens when they run out of easy targets?”
“I guess they’ll go after Honeywild,” Yot said. “Honeywild has good protection with a wall around the town and they’ve got enough men that they might be able to fight off the bandits. The Crimson Hood has eighty or so men, so they might loot a part of the town and come back later for the rest. There ought to be knights or soldiers to deal with this.”
Bargle spat on the ground. “They all went off to war. Hey, if this Julius Craton guy isn’t handy, maybe we can get someone else to help. I heard good things about Sorcerer Lord Jayden.”
Yot stared at him. “The guy who wants to overthrow the king and queen?”
“It’s a popular hobby. The rest of the time he helps out peasants and itty bitty towns like Honeywild. I bet you a small green frog that we can talk him into hunting bandits.”
“It might work. Let’s go deeper into the woods. It’s safer far from the edge.”
The goblin band was morose as they headed for the center of Monster Woods. Goblins were mischievous, but they weren’t used to the violence that had spread to their corner of the world. A few even suggested leaving Monster Woods until the Crimson Hood bandits left or were defeated. The idea wasn’t outrageous. Large groups of goblins like this often relocated when times were hard. They also relocated to find new people to annoy, and sometimes moved for no reason at all.
They came across other denizens of the woods after one hour’s march. Giant mushrooms covered in blinking eyes shuffled across the forest floor in a slow, stately procession. The lead mushroom was ten feet tall and pale white, while smaller mushrooms followed it. A smaller mushroom stopped to study the approaching goblins until the largest mushroom made a rumbling sound that brought it back in line.
“Hi, Sven,” Barge said to the leading mushroom. “You’re starting the migration kind of late this year.”
The giant mushroom rolled its many eyes, as if to say, ‘Don’t get me started.’
Ted stared at the mushrooms as they shambled away. He pointed at a small one in the back and asked, “Monster?”
“No,” Pith assured the boy. “Monsters do bad things. Sven and his family don’t bother anyone.”
Night approached and the goblins made camp. They settled down for the night and drew lots for who had to tell Ted a story.
Bargle started a fire and walked away from the others. “I did last night’s story, so somebody else does it tonight. Pith and me will keep watch.”
“Hey, he draws lots the same as the rest of us,” a feathered goblin demanded.
“Not this time,” Bargle said. He took Pith outside of the goblins’ crude camp, far from Ted’s ears. “I’ve been thinking it over, and I’m going for help. Word is this Jayden guy is nearby. I’ll bring him back.”
“He’ll want money. Humans always do.”
Bargle nodded. “Yeah. The bandits must have some gold after robbing those farms. If he wants more, I’ll say the local baron has gold he can steal. Jayden likes picking fights with royalty.”
“Are you sure we want a guy like that around?” Pith asked. “We might get rid of the bandits and replace them with someone worse.”
“If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it, because I’m all out.”
Pith’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve got nothing. Yot and me will keep the other goblins moving so we can’t be found easy. You just be careful. It’s dangerous out there.”
Snap.
The sound was faint and far away, but both goblins heard it. There was another snap, and a bump of someone hitting a tree. Bargle and Pith ran back to the camp as fast as they could.
“Douse the fires,” Bargle ordered. Most of the goblins stared at him, but a few smothered their fires by kicking dirt on them. Goblins grabbed clubs and slings before hiding behind trees.
Bargle heard more snaps and thuds as someone stumbled through the woods, and it was getting closer. There was a jingling noise, like tiny bits of metal shaking back and forth. Bargle had heard that sound once before when he’d escaped a squad of swordsmen.
“Chainmail,” Bargel whispered. “The guy is wearing armor, and I bet he’s armed.”
More jingling followed. Yot tightly gripped his club. “I only hear one guy. Maybe he’s a scout.”
The goblins raised their makeshift weapons, ready to fight if they had to, when a lone man staggered into their midst. Bargle opened his mouth to howl a battle cry when the man collapsed at his feet.
Bargle stared at the fallen man. “That was different.”
Yot frowned. “We usually have to do more to stop a big fellow like him.”
Goblins relit their fires and took a closer look at the man. He wore a steel breastplate, chain armor over his arms and legs, leather boots and a helmet that covered the sides of his face but left the front open. The man had a short sword and dagger sheathed on his belt, a backpack and nothing more. For some reason his armor looked wet under the poor light, but there were no streams or ponds nearby.
A goblin brought over a lit branch to the man, and the band gasped in horror. Their unconscious intruder was wet, all right, but not with water. His armor was stained red, and his leather boots were more crimson than brown.
Bargle tossed his club aside. “He’s hurt bad! Quick, get his armor off and bind his wounds!”
Goblins were tricksters at heart and had no desire to see someone die. They struggled to remove the man’s armor and offer what little help they could. Piece by piece the armor came off, the goblins working slowly to prevent making the man’s injuries worse. Ted came over, but Pith quickly escorted the boy away from the gristly sight.
Trying to fight back a sense of panic, Bargle said, “I don’t know what he was doing out so late, or why he came into Monster Woods. He must have been desperate. Maybe the Crimson Hood bandits attacked him.”
“Then they’re dumber than they look,” Yot said. “This is Julius Craton.”
Bargle’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re sure?”
“I saw him two years ago in Kaleoth.” Yot studied the man, now missing his breastplate and the chainmail on his arms. “He was being chased out of the kingdom after foiling a plot against the king.”
Pith frowned. “They chased him out for that?”
“Members of the royal family were in on the plot.” Yot shook his head. “Poor guy just can’t catch a break.”
Bargle waved his hands at Julius and shouted, “Save him! We can’t have a famous person die on us. We’ll get blamed! Bandage his wounds, stitch him up, anything!”
“He hasn’t got a scratch on him,” Yot told him.
Goblins scooted in closer to study Julius. The hero had bruises aplenty, but no cuts. Puzzled, Bargle pointed to the man’s stained armor and asked, “Then what’s wrong with him, and where did the red stuff come from?”
Pith came over and pressed an ear to Julius’ chest. “He’s breathing. I think he’s just so exhausted that he fell over. As for his armor, if it’s not his blood then he got into a fight and won.”
Yot scratched his head. “What idiot is stupid enough to pick a fight with the biggest hero around? I mean, I’ve barely got two spoonfuls of brains, and even I’m not that dumb.”
“It does take a special kind of stupid to do that,” Pith agreed.
“Freaky,” Bargle said. He helped the goblins scrub off Julius’ armor so the smell wouldn’t attract predators. “I guess we should make a litter and carry him to a safe place until he gets better. Hey, guys, we’re saving a hero. That’s got to be a first for goblins.”
Snap. Snap, snap, thud.
Bargle turned around when he heard the noises. It was coming from the same direction Julius had, but there were several sources. Bargle waved for two goblins to come with him before he went to investigate.
Bargle and the two goblins snuck up behind a tree and spotted the new intruders. There were a bunch of them, maybe twenty. These intruders had spears and shields, and two carried lanterns. They were too far away to see clearly, especially in the dense woods, but Bargle could make out the red hoods the men wore.
“Oh no,” one of the goblins said.
“Back to the others,” Bargle said. He led them back to the group to find Yot standing over their unconscious guest. “It’s the Crimson Hood bandits.”
“They’ve never come into Monster Woods before!” a goblin cried out.
“They’re here now, and I figure this fella is the reason why.” Bargle pointed his club at Julius and said, “There’s no loot here, no farms, but Julius has armor and weapons worth good money. Crimson Hood bandits must have found him and tried to take him down.”
Goblins found two long, narrow branches and lashed them together with strips of leather to make a litter. They lifted Julius and set him on the litter, ten goblins pulling it along at the front while the back end slid on the ground, then dragged him deeper into the woods. One hundred twenty goblins followed, keeping wary eyes on the distant bandits.
Normally this would be enough for them to get away from an enemy. Men so feared Monster Woods that they wouldn’t go more than a stone’s throw within its borders no matter the reason. Even criminals wouldn’t take the risk. But tonight the woods’ fearsome and largely undeserved reputation offered no protection, and the bandits followed them ever deeper into the woods. Their pursuers moved slowly but never stopped.
“This can’t be happening,” a hyperventilating goblin said.
“It is, so keep moving,” Yot told him. “And keep quiet or they’ll hear us. They don’t know we’re here, and we want to keep it that way.”
Bargle looked around until he spotted Ted. The boy was fast asleep in Pith’s arms, a blessing indeed when they needed to be quiet.
The goblins hurried along as quickly and as quietly as they could, but the light and sound of their pursuers stumbling through the woods never left them. Bargle couldn’t figure out for the life of him how these men were following them. The goblins traveled without light and were as quiet as they could be. Why hadn’t they lost the bandits yet?
Then he looked down. “The litter. It’s digging a rut in the dirt when we pull it. The bandits aren’t going to lose us when there’s a line in the ground showing them where to go.”
“We can’t leave him,” Yot protested. “Julius has done good, and he’s not stuck up like most important people.”
Pith pointed at the men still following them. “If we leave Julius then those men get him, and we know how that ends. Get more guys on the back and lift it up, and rotate goblins so nobody doing it gets too tired. We’ll take him to rocky ground where the litter won’t leave a mark and neither will out feet.”
The goblins changed direction and left as silently as they could. Their pursuers weren’t so quiet, tripping and banging into things. There was some shouting as well. Bargle heard what might be an argument, and became so curious that he stayed back as the goblins continued their escape.
“You promised us land!” a bandit screamed. “You said we’d have our own farms! It was supposed to end months ago!”
Another bandit grabbed the first one by the shoulders and shook him. “Hold it together! We’re so close! We can still have everything I promised!”
The first bandit shook himself free. “Everything you promised? My brothers, my cousins, they’re gone! You can’t fix that! We trusted you!”
That was a step too far, and the second bandit slapped him. “Julius Craton took your family members from you, not me. He came after us, and we’re doomed if he gets word to the authorities. We finish this tonight. Now get moving.”
“No! I’m through with you, all of you!” The bandit tried to march off, a mistake he didn’t have time to regret as the other bandits turned on him. Bargle staggered back and tried to look away, but was glad he didn’t when the hoods slipped off two of the bandits. It had been a long time since he’d visited Honeywild, but he had no trouble recognizing the town’s mayor and his younger brother.
Bargle ran to catch up with the other goblins. He stopped Yot in the darkness and grabbed him by the arm. “The bandits are men from Honeywild! I saw them. They talked about getting land and farms.”
Pith hurried over and handed Ted to another goblin. “Then these attacks aren’t just robbery. Honeywild has lots of people and no good land to move into. With those farmers dead then someone gets to take their land. Men in Honeywild must have done those horrible crimes so they could claim the land.”
“But how could they?” Yot asked.
Pith frowned. “If no one knows they’re the bandits, then no one could object to them resettling farms left fallow by bandit attacks.”
Yot waved his hands. “No, I mean how could they attack their own neighbors?”
Bargle looked back at the lights and shouting in the distance. “I don’t know. I think these are all of the bandits left. They said Julius Craton came after them. I guess that’s where the red on his armor came from.”
“But they had eighty bandits,” Yot said.
“And they ran into a hero who’s been fighting impossible odds for years,” Pith said. He glanced at Julius, still unconscious.
That was when Ted woke up. The poor boy looked back at the lights behind them, and he saw men in red hoods. Pith saw what was happening and tried to shield the boy, but it was too late. Ted screamed.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Pith promised, but Ted kept screaming. The poor boy had seen these men before, and he knew terrors the goblins could only imagine.
Goblins broke into a run with the bandits staggering after them. The bandits were nearly as exhausted as Julius and soon lost ground. But even when the goblins reached stony ground they couldn’t escape when Ted’s crying gave away their position.
“I’m rethinking having Ted as a member,” Yot gasped.
Bargle huffed and puffed at the exertion of running so far. “Not now!”
It took far too long, but the goblins got far enough away from that they could stop for a breather. Bargle looked back at the lights from the Crimson Hood bandits, still following them in the darkness. Pith managed to calm down Ted, no easy feat, and a goblin with buckteeth said, “I think we lost them.”
“For how long?” Bargle asked. “They’re after Julius and won’t stop until they get him. Can we outrun them all night? All day tomorrow? Julius is going to need days to get his strength back.”
“What do we do?” asked Yot. He pointed at the following lights and said, “Those men are armed and out for blood. It takes ten goblins to face one human! We can’t fight so many of them. Can we get help from the tentacled horror? I’m not sure we can reach him in time.”
Bargle looked at Julius Craton. The man was a hero, and even he was down and defeated. What hope did goblins have? They were tricksters, annoyances, and the men after them were killers. Terror gripped Bargle, and then he saw Julius’ short sword sheathed on his belt. It belonged to a hero who no doubt needed and demanded the best weapons. It might be the edge the goblins needed. He went over and grabbed the sword.
“We fight.” Other goblins cried out in dismay, certain they’d be killed, but Bargle pressed on. “Those men are tired, scared, lost. They’ve lost three quarters their manpower. If we hit them from surprise and pile on, we can win. We can beat them. We have to. We fight or they’ll keep coming after us and the men living near Monster Woods.”
That’s when Bargle drew Julius’ sword. The short blade was the right size for a goblin, well balanced and in perfect condition. But as he drew it, the sword began to glow. Goblins backed away as the sword rumbled to life.
“Who are you?” it demanded. “Wait, goblins? Julius was fighting bandits when he sheathed me.”
Bargle pointed at the bandits with his left hand. “That’s them over there. Your boss fell down at our knees, and the bad guys are after us. Can help us?”
The sword glimmered before it answered. “Julius Craton is my partner and friend. I’ll let you use me to my fullest extent to save him, but I go back to him once the fight is over. Goblin, I am Sworn Doom, relic of the ancient Elf Empire, and those who face me in battle die. They also have closed casket funerals. Are you prepared for the battle to come?”
Bargle looked at the sword, not scared of it, but sad at what was had to happen next. “Those men have done terrible things for two years. We tried to stay away from them, but they’ve come into Monster Woods, our home. I don’t want to fight them, but I don’t think there’s a choice anymore. They have to be stopped while there are still good people left.”
“Well said. Sheath me until battle is joined.”
Bargle put his borrowed sword back in its sheath, and the glow died away. Goblins were small and weak, but if they struck from surprise, and one of them had a magic weapon, they stood a chance. The other goblins were terrified. He needed them to be strong just for a little while. Bargle gripped the sword tightly before he addressed his fellow goblins.
“Once upon a time there were monsters here that ate up every animal and destroyed all that they touched.” Bargle pointed the still sheathed sword at the bandits drawing closer. “Tonight monsters are here again. They take and take until there’s nothing left, just like before. The monsters in the old days won because nobody stood up to them. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, wizards, they sat back and watched it happen without lifting a finger.”
Bargle pointed at Julius. “One hero stood up to the monsters long ago, and another one is trying to stop the monsters today, but there’s a difference. Biff was alone, but Julius has us. One hundred twenty goblins against tired, scared men lost in Monster Woods. These woods are ours, and those, those things don’t belong here after what they’ve done.”
He turned to face bandits close enough that the goblins could hear the men cough. “The monsters are here, boys. We stop them or Monster Woods grows just like it did in the old days. Yot, take half the guys and go to the left. Pith, take the rest and go to the right. I’ll stay with Julius. Wait until I draw his sword and it gets all glowie, then fight for your lives.”
As inspirational speeches went it wasn’t that good, and Bargle’s plan was questionable at best, but scared goblins followed orders and retreated into the darkness. Bargle stood in front of Julius as the bandits edged closer. The men coughed and staggered came nearer. One of the bandits spotted Bargle standing over Julius. The man squinted and pointed his spear at the goblin.
“Now!” Bargle screamed. He drew Sworn Doom, and the blade glowed as bright as a lantern. Goblins swarmed over the bandits from all sides, swinging clubs, throwing rocks, punching, kicking, biting. They grabbed the bandits’ spears and piled onto the wicked men. Bandits knocked goblins aside, only to have more goblins jump them.
Bargle charged the nearest bandit and swung his borrowed sword. The bandit saw the glowing magic sword and panicked. He recognized it, and with a look of utter desperation he backed up against a tree and raised a shield.
“Doom!” the sword yelled. It went through the bandit’s shield, cutting through it as if it was made of warm butter, and then it went through the bandit.
Bargle gasped in horror at what he’d done. He looked away from the sight to find the fight seesawing between the men and goblins, with each side gaining ground and then losing it. One goblin armed with a magic sword would tip the battle in the goblins’ favor, and its absence would ruin them. He hoped there could be some forgiveness for his actions as he charged the next bandit.
“Doom!”
* * * * *
Julius Craton woke the following morning in a patch of tall grass alongside a road. This surprised him. After last night he’d been sure he wouldn’t wake up at all. He was sore, tired, his mouth was dry and his eyes hurt, but he was alive. His armor and weapon were set beside him, and both had been cleaned. This was odd. Stranger still, he wasn’t alone. A small boy sat on his chest.
“Hi.” The boy was dirty and wore rags, but he seemed to be in good health. He also had a large wood spoon and a tin pot filled with what looked like cold split pea soup. Smiling, the boy scooped up a spoonful of food and tried to stick it in Julius’ mouth.
“Hello,” Julius said. He sat up and put an arm around the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Hi.”
“I guess you’re a little young to talk to.” Julius rubbed his sore arms and looked around. He vaguely recalled fleeing from Honeywild after he’d learned the town’s terrible secret. The night had been a string of brutal battles as he tried to escape. After that things became blurry.
Julius drew his sword and held it up. “I’m not complaining that I’m still breathing, but what happened last night?”
Sworn Doom glowed now that it was out of its sheath, and the sword said, “You received considerable help after collapsing. Your benefactors would like to remain anonymous, and I intend to respect their wishes on the matter.”
“Hello!” Julius hastily sheathed his blade and turned to look at the speaker, and found an old couple hurrying over to his side. “Stars above, you’re Julius Craton! Sir, it’s good to see you well! My grandson saw you fighting the Crimson Hood bandits yesterday. We feared the worst, but here you are alive and well, and with young Ted Valush. We’d thought him lost months ago.”
Julius tried to get up and winced in pain. The couple helped him to his feet, and the woman took the boy from his arms. “I fought the bandits, but I lost sight of them after they chased me into these woods.”
The elderly couple gasped at the news. The woman asked, “You went into Monster Woods? Sir, you must be the greatest warrior ever born to come out alive! And the bandits? Sir, if they entered Monster Woods then they’ll not be seen again.”
Julius studied the woods and thought he saw movement deep within it. Whoever or whatever was there kept its distance. If the person or beast had intended to kill Julius, it had ample opportunities before he woke up, so it was safe to assume the unseen watcher meant no harm. “I’ve never heard of these woods. What danger is in them?”
The old man picked up Julius’ armor and sword before leading him down the road. “You never heard the tale? Well, once upon a time…”
New goblin Stories 19
Ocean waves tossed the merchant ship Dawn’s Hope back and forth so much that most of the human passengers were violently ill, which normally would have cheered up Brody immensely. Not that he was a cruel goblin, but the men and women onboard had been constantly insulting him during the voyage. This came close to evening the scales. But seeing men who’d mocked him fighting to get to the railings before their lunches made a return appearance offered Brody no mirth after what he’d seen outside Ballop’s Hole.
Julius Craton walked up alongside Brody by the ship’s mast. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll manage.” The blue skinned goblin shivered, not from the cold but from the events he’d seen.
“I understand why you’re upset,” Julius said. “The fight was harder and more brutal than I’ve experienced in a while.”
“You had those revolutionaries on the ropes from the beginning. Why didn’t they surrender?”
Julius gazed out over the rough sea. Tall, strong, handsome, the hero was a sight to behold, but he looked troubled. “Desperate men make poor decisions. They sacrificed so much, even their lives, because they saw no hope for themselves. I’m surprised we took as many prisoners as we did.”
The battle that troubled both man and goblin had occurred outside the town of Ballop’s Hole, a small fishing community known for flooding. Fifteen years earlier, Julius and other members of the Guild of Heroes had helped save the town and surrounding settlements from a small army of bandits that were looting the countryside.
Except those men had been revolutionaries, not bandits, drawn from the poor and desperate of their kingdom. They’d envisioned a better future for themselves, which sadly revolved around leaving others with no future at all. Another generation of the disaffected and dissatisfied had risen up to take their place, and it had fallen on Julius to help the authorities put it down before it destroyed communities like Ballop’s Hole. The second generation of revolutionaries had been fewer, less organized and worse trained than their predecessors, but the fight had still lasted twenty days and been messy.
And after all that, Julius and Brody were on their way to another fight.
“I’m rethinking your line of work,” Brody told his friend.
The ship hit a large wave, rising and falling hard. Julius put a hand on the mast to steady himself before answering. “It would have been worse without us.”
“But you saved the same town twice.”
Julius frowned. “Some days you have to settle for partial victories. There’s a town in the Raushtad Mountains that specializes in slave trading, black marketeering, brewing poison and selling dangerous magic. It’s a nightmare. The town has been destroyed four times that I know of, once by me, but evil men keep rebuilding it because there’s money to be made.”
“And we’re heading after some gang called the Red Hand,” Brody said. “Do we have friends to turn to for this one, or is this one of those situations where the locals don’t like you?”
“I’m not sure,” Julius admitted. “The king’s knights had a feud with me, for reasons I never understood. I’m told their king put an end to that. There was another group there I wasn’t on good terms with, The Ladies Gardening Guild, but the assassination threat is over.”
Goblins were used to confusion and nonsense, and were the leading source of both on Other Place, but that statement was so odd it gave Brody pause. “The Ladies Gardening Guild hired assassins to kill you?”
“They’re more dangerous and deranged than they sound. The Ladies Gardening Guild is the only all woman group in existence where every man gets a vote. I insulted their leader when I turned down a marriage proposal by her eldest daughter, who had an unhealthy interest in taxidermy squirrels. And they didn’t so much hire assassins as send angry guild members after me. Thankfully their leader was deposed in a violent coup.”
Brody put a hand over his face. “Leave jokes to the professionals.”
“Jokes?”
Their conversation was interrupted when a well-dressed merchant staggered over and pointed a finger at Brody. “You, you swine, I know you’re behind this plague.”
“Sir, you’re seasick, nothing more,” Julius said. “It will pass once you’re on land.”
“Don’t you tell me what my problem is!” the merchant shouted. Equally sick passengers looked up from the railing at the commotion. “I’ve traveled by sea for years and never been ill. Your goblin poisoned the food!”
Julius stepped in front of the merchant. “He was never near the kitchen or store room, and he had no access to your meals. Brody only brought his swimming paddles and the clothes he’s wearing, and has no place he could hide poison.”
The merchant went around Julius to point at Brody again. “You did this, you!”
Brody tended to avoid confrontations, a healthy choice for a goblin three feet tall and not too strong, but he had limits. He stared back at the merchant and began to sway opposite to the rocking ship. The effect was that he seemed to stand still while everything around him moved.
“You’re not feeling well because of the ship,” Brody said as he swayed. “I don’t blame you, the way it’s going back and forth, up and down, churning and churning and churning.”
“I,” the man began, but he stopped as his face turned pale and he ran for the railing.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Julius said.
“I’m in a bad mood.”
Captain Yeaver, the brightly dressed owner of Dawn’s Hope, walked up to Julius and nodded. “We’ll reach Oceanview Kingdom’s capital Sunset City by nightfall. Sir, it’s been a pleasure having you aboard. Our journey has been peaceful, aside from complaining passengers, but I’m always happy to have a man good with a sword when these seas have known bad times.”
“I’m grateful you got us here as quickly as you did,” Julius replied.
“We’d be there sooner except the winds are dying down.” Captain Yeaver looked to the northwest, where lights were visible in the growing night. “You, ah, were very eager to get here fast, sir. Pardon my saying so, you tend to go places others would avoid, but I’ve heard of no trouble in Sunset City. Should I be worried about entering the port?”
“There’s a gang called the Red Hand in Sunset City. They settled here after other gangs drove them from Nolod. The king wants help dealing with them. I don’t expect too much trouble since they’ve already been beaten once and don’t know I’m coming, but you may want to keep your men alert and armed.”
“I appreciate the warning,” Captain Yeaver said, and tipped his hat to Julius. “I’ve heard of the Red Hand. They’re a nasty lot. Hopefully they’ll give up or move on rather than fight. If fortune favors us, you’ll be bored and I’ll have cargo to transport instead of men.”
Sea travel was still picking up long after the threat of the Pirate Lords was over. Dawn’s Hope was a medium sized ship capable of carrying tons of goods, but the ship’s hold was only half filled with bales of cotton. Captain Yeaver made up the difference on this trip by carrying paying passengers like Julius and Brody. It kept his books in the black, if only just, and passengers created their own problems.
“Seaman, wash those planks,” Captain Yeaver ordered.
“I did it ten minutes ago,” one of his crew protested. Then he looked down and saw that the merchant who’d accused Brody of poisoning the food hadn’t reached the railing in time. “Curse our luck. I’ll get the mop.”
Night was falling as Dawn’s Hope reached the port of Sunset City. It was a large city, prosperous and built to survive the worst the sea could throw at it. Buildings were made of brick and in good condition, with a high sea wall to take the brunt of the ocean’s fury. The city was lit with oil lanterns mounted on stone pedestals scattered across the streets. Captain Yeaver eased his ship into an open berth on a short dock before lowering a gangplank. His passengers wasted no time in departing, while Julius and Brody went ashore with the captain.
“The harbormaster is going to want a share of those men’s passage fee,” Captain Yeaver said. He sounded resigned to losing what little money he had. “Still, I hear merchants here need help moving goods to the nearest market. With luck I’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”
Brody studied the dock and frowned. It was nearly night, when men usually went to sleep, but he’d expected someone on the docks to demand taxes and tolls. “Where is the guy?”
Captain Yeaver looked across the dock. “I don’t know. A harbormaster always meets my ship the moment we dock.”
Julius put a hand on his sword, Sworn Doom. “I was supposed to be met by the king’s representative when I arrived, night or day. I don’t see inspectors to check incoming ships for contraband, either.”
“We are running late because of those revolutionaries,” Brody reminded him.
“I wrote ahead to the king to explain why we were delayed and when to expect us,” Julius replied.
Brody listened intently for snaps, breathes, jingles or any other out of place sound that might suggest trouble. The problem was there were too many noises with the waves crashing and an indistinct rumbling from Sunset City.
A crewman from Dawn’s Hope called out, “Captain, should we unload our cargo?”
Captain Yeaver took a step back toward his ship. “Not yet. I don’t like the smell of this. Sir Craton, perhaps we should hold tight here until—”
Screams tore through the night air as the passengers ran back to Dawn’s Hope and raced back up the gangplank. The crowd nearly trampled Julius, Brody and Captain Yeaver. Seconds later they saw the reason for the panicked flight, as dozens of armed men ran for the ship.
A spearman with a red hand painted on his wood shield pointed at Julius and shouted, “There he is! Kill him!”
“I can’t take you anywhere,” Brody told Julius.
“Get back on the ship and raise the gangplank,” Julius ordered, his voice calm and collected. He drew his sword, and Sworn Doom glowed like a lantern. Captain Yeaver ran for his ship, but more armed men burst from concealment and blocked his way.
Brody had too much experience dealing with armed men, and as their attackers charged he had a moment to study them. Surprisingly, he wasn’t impressed. Most of them had no armor except for a few with leather breastplates and helmets. Their weapons were daggers, lassos, hatchets and staffs that had legitimate purposes and could be explained away to nosy authorities. Only a few had proper weapons like spears, and even those looked handmade. The men came in a disorganized rush rather than a formation.
Spearmen in front of the mob tried to impale Julius. He swung Sworn Doom and hacked off the spear points. A few men tried to tackle Julius, but he grabbed one with his free hand and shoved him into the bay. Brody tripped another, and he and Captain Yeaver rolled the man into the water. Ten men tried to overwhelm Julius and might have done so, except crewmen aboard Dawn’s Hope threw bales of cotton overboard onto them. Their attackers cried out in surprise as many of them were knocked down. The few still standing had to go around fallen comrades or jump over them.
“Take him down!” the now disarmed spearman shouted while staying back. “Hurry!”
Armed crewmen from Dawn’s Hope ran down the gangplank to support their captain. One man tossed Captain Yeaver a sword, which he snatched out of the air. “Well done, boys, and not a single bale went into the drink.”
“You sound surprised, captain,” one of his men said in a pained tone. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this.”
The ragged attackers pulled back, dragging their wounded away. They retreated only as far as the nearest street corner before stopping to dress their wounds. They still outnumbered Julius and the crew of Dawn’s Hope, but made no move to attack.
“Get your cargo back onboard and prepare to leave,” Julius said. He watched the Red Hand and pointed at one of them. “That one looks like the leader. He’s got them holding their ground, not fighting or running. What are they waiting for?”
Just then a second group as large as the first ran onto the streets near the port. The two groups merged together and pushed forward with spearmen leading the charge and archers behind them.
“Ah, reinforcements,” Julius said. “Everyone board the ship.”
Captain Yeaver rolled a cotton bale up the gangplank. “Faster, men!”
Dozens of Red Hand killers ran screaming down the dock. Julius stood guard at the gangplank as the last man of Dawn’s Hope boarded the ship. Terrified passengers begged them to leave as the howling mob neared. Julius looked up and saw the ship’s sails were slack with no wind left to fill them. The ship was going nowhere. His face was expressionless as he swung Sworn Doom at the gangplank and sliced it in two. Both halves fell into the water as Julius sheathed his sword and turned to leave. He was surprised to see Brody alongside him.
Julius ran as fast as he could in his armor and shouted, “Why aren’t you on the ship?”
“If I was going to bail out on you, I’d have done it months ago.”
Julius and Brody fled for their lives with the Red Hand steps behind them. The pair went down an alley and found it nearly blocked by junk. Brody went first and Julius followed, pulled down stacks of driftwood, scrap lumber and other garbage to slow their pursuers. They escaped to the sound of men cursing as they tried to force their way through the junk.
Julius led them through the port until they stopped at a crossroads. He turned to Brody and said, “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I really did want you on that ship.”
Brody gasped for breath. “The ship you chose not to board?”
“The spearman leading the first group said, ‘kill him’, not kill them. They want me, not the ship or anyone else on Dawn’s Hope. I destroyed the gangplank so the Red Hand couldn’t board it. I didn’t go on myself because the ship can barely move until the winds pick up. The Red Hand could throw lit torches on it and burn it to the waterline, and there would be nothing I could do to stop them. They’re safer without me.”
Pointing back at the harbor, Brody said, “So you save them and pretty much doom yourself! Julius, you keep risking your life like this and sooner or later you’re going to lose it. I don’t want that to happen. Lots of people don’t want that to happen, including a shocking number of men with marriageable daughters. Can we please find a way out of this that doesn’t involve you dying?”
Julius just looked at Brody for a moment without speaking. He finally looked around and said, “That would be nice. For now we’re on hostile ground. We can find help at the city’s garrison or nearest watch house, but that’s risky. I’ve been here before so I know the city’s layout, but we have to assume the Red Hand does, too.”
“So they’ll have ambushes ready if we go for help,” Brody said. “Since we’re on the topic, where are Sunset City’s soldiers and watchmen?”
“That’s a good question.”
They used their brief respite to study their surroundings. There were plenty of houses and shops on the street, their doors locked and the windows barred and shuttered. No one was on the roads so late at night, which was normal, but they still heard noises. Brody strained to figure out what they were, and frowned when he did.
“There’s fighting north of here,” he said.
“That’s where the city garrison is located. It looks like the Red Hand is mounting multiple attacks across Sunset City, at the docks to intercept me and at the garrison. I’m surprised they’d attack soldiers. Most gangs aren’t that aggressive.”
Brody sniffed the air and frowned. “I smell smoke, too much to be kitchen fires. I think they’re burning down buildings the way you thought they might burn the ship. This is bad. Where do we go?”
“If we go to neighboring watch houses we can gather watchmen and head for the garrison. We’ll attack the Red Hand from two sides and destroy them, then deal with the group at the bay…which just caught up with us.”
Red Hand killers ran out onto the street a block away. They struggled to see under the dim light of lanterns posted on the street, but still spotted Julius. The spearman from before (now armed with a club), pointed his weapon at Julius as yelled, “After him! A hundred rils for the man who takes his head!”
Julius grabbed Brody’s hand and ran. “Come on, the nearest watch house is this way.”
“What’s a ril?” Brody asked as an arrow arced high over them and broke against a brick wall.
“Local currency,” Julius explained as they turned a corner. “It’s worth about a third of a guilder.”
A hatchet flew past Brody and clattered across the cobblestone road. “The last guys who wanted you dead were paying ten times that.”
A Red Hand killer armed with a club lunged out of an alley and swung at Julius’ head. Julius grabbed the man by the wrist and spun him around, sending him face first into the nearest brick wall. “Prices on my head went down. I blame the weak economy.”
Julius and Brody kept running with the baying mob of killers in hot pursuit. They lost them briefly when they went into the alleys again, but the Red Hand was expecting the move and sent scouts after them. The few minutes the move bought them was enough to reach a burned out stone building still smoking. The furniture and wood support beams were nothing more than hot cinders.
“Let me guess, watch house,” Brody said.
“One of many.” Julius peered into the smoldering interior and said, “I don’t see bodies. Looks like the watchmen escaped before it was burned. Brody, this is a takeover attempt. The Red Hand is attacking anyone who could oppose them, but from what the king told me the Red Hand numbers only five hundred men. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a move this bold.”
“Or stupid.”
A Red Hand killer with a hatchet ran out onto the street. He charged Julius and screamed, “He’s here!”
Brody was used to being ignored and happily took advantage of the killer’s mistake. He tripped the man and sent him flat on his belly. Julius stomped on the man’s hand, forcing him to let go of the hatch, which Brody grabbed before the man could recover. Unarmed, the man snarled as he scrambled to his feet and fell back. “I found him!”
“There’s another watch house a few blocks away,” Julius said as he and Brody fled. “It might be burned down as well, but I don’t see a better choice.”
A door opened as Julius and Brody came near, and a frightened looking man peered out. Julius shouted, “Stay inside!”, and the man slammed the door shut.
Two men wearing red helmets came out of an alley ahead of Julius and Brody. The first man drew a sword while the second raised a horn to his lips. Julius rammed the first man and knocked him over while Brody threw his stolen hatchet at the second man, shattering the horn before he could blow it. The second man pulled a knife from a belt sheath, but Brody grabbed the man’s belt and yanked down hard, pulling his pants around his ankles and showing the man’s red and white poke-a-dot underwear. Julius pushed the man over and led Brody away.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that,” Julius said.
“The one I got will need more time to get up.”
“I know, but—”
“It’s him!” The Red Hand finally caught up to them in numbers large enough to fill the streets. They formed crude ranks around Julius and Brody, blocking all exits as still more men joined them. Julius drew his sword and backed up against a wall. The odds were badly against him, but Julius had defeated so many threats that the Red Hand wasn’t guaranteed victory.
“If you do this, not many of you will see the morning,” Julius warned.
A man with a bandaged face stepped into the front of the Red Hand. “We’re doing this, and we’ll toast our victory over your dead body.”
Sworn Doom snicker at them. “Better men than you have tried. We’ll accept surrender from however many of you survives the first two minutes.”
The crowd around Julius and Brody raised their weapons and howled like demons as they charged. They’d gone only three steps before a carriage pulled by four horses raced down the street, and their howls turned into screams of terror. Men scattered, many dropping their weapons as they scrambled out of the way. The carriage went right in front of Julius, slowing down just long enough for a young man dressed in gray to reach out his hand. Julius sheathed his sword, grabbed the offered hand with his right hand and taking Brody’s hand with the other. He vaulted into the carriage and pulled Brody along. The carriage rocketed down the road, nearly running over a handful of men as it escaped.
“Sir, it’s such an honor!” the gray clad youth shouted over the sound of the carriage clattering over the cobblestone road. He was one of many passengers already in the carriage. “Kadid Lan, sir, wizard of earth magic, and a big fan! Officer Dalton is driving the carriage.”
“A pleasure, sir!” the watchman called back. Julius collapsed into a seat, only to have a large dog sit on his lap. “Shep, no!”
Kadid tried to pull the dog off and failed. “And, uh, the goblin is—”
“Habbly, yes, we’ve met,” Julius replied. He shook the goblin’s hand and waved to Brody. “It’s a bit of a reunion. What brings you here?”
“Kadid and I came to save you,” Habbly said. The carriage moved so fast that the goblin’s long braid whipped behind him. He held up two handfuls of papers, offering one to Julius and another to Brody. “Someone’s been plastering posters across entire kingdoms. They tell secrets, like that you were on your way here to fight the Red Hand. We saw them and came to warn you, but the Red Hand saw them, too.”
Julius studied one of the paper and scowled. “Who wrote this?”
“We don’t know, sir,” Kadid said. He picked up an elaborate staff off a seat and waved it at the papers. “It’s been happening for months with stories about Ocean Kingdom, Kaleoth, Ket and independent cities like Nolod. So far no mention of the Land of the Nine Dukes, but give it time.”
Brody looked at his copies and frowned. It was hard to see the flowery blue writing under such poor light, but there was another reason for his trouble. The strange markings made no sense to him because he couldn’t read a word. He’d lived most of his life alone and never learned the skill. Whatever terrible secrets were contained on these pages were lost on him.
“The Red Hand got this information before we did!” Officer Dalton shouted over his shoulder. He slowed the carriage as it took a wide turn at a corner. “They’ve mounted surprise attacks on watch houses across the city, hitting us before we could hit them. We’ve fallen back to the city’s garrison and are organizing a counterattack. Kadid and Habbly found me fighting my way to the garrison and told me you were coming. The papers say you were going to help us beat the Red Hand, so thought you could save the city. Shep, no, stop licking the man’s face!”
“How far have they spread across the city?” Julius asked as he wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck and pulled it into his lap.
Kadid replied, “We’ve run into groups of them every few blocks. Watch houses across the city have been destroyed, but a few are holding out with help from citizens.”
Brody pointed up and shouted, “More are coming!”
The others looked up and saw Red Hand men running across the roofs of houses on the streets. Two of them threw spears and missed. Another drew a dagger and jumped screaming from rooftops for the carriage. His monstrous howl became a terrified cry of panic as he fell eight feet short of his target and hit the road with a thud.
“He didn’t time that well,” Habby said.
“No, he really didn’t,” Julius agreed. “Officer Dalton, how fast can you get us to the garrison?”
“We’re two blocks away,” Dalton called back.
Officer Dalton drove the carriage around another corner onto a large, open courtyard. Ahead of them was a large two story building manned by watchmen and average citizens. These men held the windows and doors against dozens of Red Hand killers. The unruly mob rushed the building and was pushed back by an equally determined resistance. Dalton slowed the carriage, but it still moved fast enough that the Red Hand barely had enough time to avoid being run over. A wooden double door twenty feet across opened just long enough for the carriage to enter before slamming closed.
Julius jumped off the carriage and helped the others down. “Who’s in charge of this garrison?”
A watchman with gold medals on his chest ran over and saluted. “Sir Craton, I’m the ranking officer. We’ve been hit hard, but the city watch still stands. Enemy attacks have been going on for hours, and their strength is flagging. We’ll be able to take the offensive soon and rout them.”
“They’ll fall back the moment they realize they’re lost the advantage, scattering across the city or fleeing it entirely,” Julius responded. “We have to strike before they run or we’ll need weeks to track them all down.”
“The men are tired, sir,” the officer replied. “They can’t take a prolonged fight without rest and reinforcements.”
Julius looked at the nearest window, where frightened men armed with spears prepared for another enemy attack. “They need a quick victory that won’t cost them. Buildings in Sunset City are all made of brick, little risk of a fire spreading. Officer, I saw lanterns across the city. Do you have lamp oil on hand?”
“Well, uh, yes sir, plenty of it,” the officer stammered.
Brody had spent enough time with Julius to know how his mind worked. Panicked, he pushed his way past the others and pleaded, “Julius, no, you can’t.”
For a moment Julius’ face looked pained. “Many will suffer far worse if I don’t.”
Puzzled, Kadid asked Officer Dalton, “What are they talking about?”
Dalton struggled to keep his dog under control. “Sorry, no idea.”
“At least give them a chance,” Brody begged.
* * * * *
More members of the Red Hand poured into the courtyard around the city garrison, including a man swathed in bandages. Others saluted when he neared.
“Staback,” one of them said. “We’ve got a battering ram ready to take down the door. Say the word and we do it.”
Staback was still hurting from when a swarm of bees had stung him weeks earlier. The pain would make most men timid, but instead it drove him to a hatefulness rarely seen. He pointed a hatchet at the assembled men and said, “We’ve enough men to do the job. Bring those doors down. Leave no one alive.”
With the order given, twenty men picked up a mast they’d stolen from the docks and charged the doors. Dozens more men followed them, screaming and waving their weapons. The battering ram struck the door with a boom that echoed throughout the city. Red Hand killers roared in approval as they struck at men guarding the windows. They pulled the battering ram back for another blow when civilians poured lamp oil out of the garrison second story windows.
Men fell cursing as the oil splattered over them. The ones holding the battering ram couldn’t keep their footing and fell. They were still yelling and cursing when the double doors opened and Julius stepped out with a lit torch. The men frozen in terror.
“Hello. I’m Julius Craton, and before you ask, yes, I will do it.
“I’ve fought men like you for more than half my life. It’s kind of sad how many people would kill their fellow man as if they were less than animals. I’ve always found it troubling that of all the ways I have to deal with threats like you, violence seems to be the only way that works. I have to be like you to stop you. That bothers me. It bothers people I care about. I’m tired of it.
“So, this is how we’re doing this. A person better than any of you asked me to offer mercy, so I’m giving you a chance. Surrender and accept full punishment under the law for your crimes. I have received the garrison commander’s word of honor that none of you will face torture or the death penalty. You’ll live and make restitution for your actions.”
Julius held his torch high above his head. Light from the torch made the oil on the men glisten. “Throw down your weapons or I throw down mine. I’d rather not do it, but like I said, I will do it.”
Staback made a guttural, growling noise as he tried to rise to his feet. “I won’t—”
His own men tackled Staback and gagged him. A lone man dropped his spear at Julius’ feet, then another and a third. Bit by bit the Red Hands disarmed, and watchmen took them prisoner. One by one they were led away to the garrison’s cells.
“Sir, that was amazing,” Officer Dalton said. “I’d have never thought of using our oil supply as a weapon.”
“Then you’re a better man than I am,” Julius said. “Some of the Red Hand who attacked us at the bay aren’t here. We didn’t get them all and have to comb the city for the rest before they regroup or flee to cause trouble elsewhere.”
Kadid Lan walked up with a stack of posters written with blue ink. “What do we do about these? Whoever is writing them nearly got you killed, and they’re still writing more.”
Brody took a poster from Kadid and studied it. He couldn’t read the words, but the paper felt silky in his fingers, not rough like cheap paper. The writing was smooth and flowery, and he’d never seen anyone write with blue ink. So few clues wasn’t much to work with, but it was a start. Brody’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the puzzle. It was a tall task for a small goblin who couldn’t read, but one thing he’d learned by traveling with Julius was that no problem was impossible if you had help, and he’d met people who could help.
“I know guys who can find the authors,” Brody told the others. It was an inspirational promise of hope totally ruined when Officer Dalton’s dog Shep tackled the little goblin and licked his face.
Julius Craton walked up alongside Brody by the ship’s mast. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll manage.” The blue skinned goblin shivered, not from the cold but from the events he’d seen.
“I understand why you’re upset,” Julius said. “The fight was harder and more brutal than I’ve experienced in a while.”
“You had those revolutionaries on the ropes from the beginning. Why didn’t they surrender?”
Julius gazed out over the rough sea. Tall, strong, handsome, the hero was a sight to behold, but he looked troubled. “Desperate men make poor decisions. They sacrificed so much, even their lives, because they saw no hope for themselves. I’m surprised we took as many prisoners as we did.”
The battle that troubled both man and goblin had occurred outside the town of Ballop’s Hole, a small fishing community known for flooding. Fifteen years earlier, Julius and other members of the Guild of Heroes had helped save the town and surrounding settlements from a small army of bandits that were looting the countryside.
Except those men had been revolutionaries, not bandits, drawn from the poor and desperate of their kingdom. They’d envisioned a better future for themselves, which sadly revolved around leaving others with no future at all. Another generation of the disaffected and dissatisfied had risen up to take their place, and it had fallen on Julius to help the authorities put it down before it destroyed communities like Ballop’s Hole. The second generation of revolutionaries had been fewer, less organized and worse trained than their predecessors, but the fight had still lasted twenty days and been messy.
And after all that, Julius and Brody were on their way to another fight.
“I’m rethinking your line of work,” Brody told his friend.
The ship hit a large wave, rising and falling hard. Julius put a hand on the mast to steady himself before answering. “It would have been worse without us.”
“But you saved the same town twice.”
Julius frowned. “Some days you have to settle for partial victories. There’s a town in the Raushtad Mountains that specializes in slave trading, black marketeering, brewing poison and selling dangerous magic. It’s a nightmare. The town has been destroyed four times that I know of, once by me, but evil men keep rebuilding it because there’s money to be made.”
“And we’re heading after some gang called the Red Hand,” Brody said. “Do we have friends to turn to for this one, or is this one of those situations where the locals don’t like you?”
“I’m not sure,” Julius admitted. “The king’s knights had a feud with me, for reasons I never understood. I’m told their king put an end to that. There was another group there I wasn’t on good terms with, The Ladies Gardening Guild, but the assassination threat is over.”
Goblins were used to confusion and nonsense, and were the leading source of both on Other Place, but that statement was so odd it gave Brody pause. “The Ladies Gardening Guild hired assassins to kill you?”
“They’re more dangerous and deranged than they sound. The Ladies Gardening Guild is the only all woman group in existence where every man gets a vote. I insulted their leader when I turned down a marriage proposal by her eldest daughter, who had an unhealthy interest in taxidermy squirrels. And they didn’t so much hire assassins as send angry guild members after me. Thankfully their leader was deposed in a violent coup.”
Brody put a hand over his face. “Leave jokes to the professionals.”
“Jokes?”
Their conversation was interrupted when a well-dressed merchant staggered over and pointed a finger at Brody. “You, you swine, I know you’re behind this plague.”
“Sir, you’re seasick, nothing more,” Julius said. “It will pass once you’re on land.”
“Don’t you tell me what my problem is!” the merchant shouted. Equally sick passengers looked up from the railing at the commotion. “I’ve traveled by sea for years and never been ill. Your goblin poisoned the food!”
Julius stepped in front of the merchant. “He was never near the kitchen or store room, and he had no access to your meals. Brody only brought his swimming paddles and the clothes he’s wearing, and has no place he could hide poison.”
The merchant went around Julius to point at Brody again. “You did this, you!”
Brody tended to avoid confrontations, a healthy choice for a goblin three feet tall and not too strong, but he had limits. He stared back at the merchant and began to sway opposite to the rocking ship. The effect was that he seemed to stand still while everything around him moved.
“You’re not feeling well because of the ship,” Brody said as he swayed. “I don’t blame you, the way it’s going back and forth, up and down, churning and churning and churning.”
“I,” the man began, but he stopped as his face turned pale and he ran for the railing.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Julius said.
“I’m in a bad mood.”
Captain Yeaver, the brightly dressed owner of Dawn’s Hope, walked up to Julius and nodded. “We’ll reach Oceanview Kingdom’s capital Sunset City by nightfall. Sir, it’s been a pleasure having you aboard. Our journey has been peaceful, aside from complaining passengers, but I’m always happy to have a man good with a sword when these seas have known bad times.”
“I’m grateful you got us here as quickly as you did,” Julius replied.
“We’d be there sooner except the winds are dying down.” Captain Yeaver looked to the northwest, where lights were visible in the growing night. “You, ah, were very eager to get here fast, sir. Pardon my saying so, you tend to go places others would avoid, but I’ve heard of no trouble in Sunset City. Should I be worried about entering the port?”
“There’s a gang called the Red Hand in Sunset City. They settled here after other gangs drove them from Nolod. The king wants help dealing with them. I don’t expect too much trouble since they’ve already been beaten once and don’t know I’m coming, but you may want to keep your men alert and armed.”
“I appreciate the warning,” Captain Yeaver said, and tipped his hat to Julius. “I’ve heard of the Red Hand. They’re a nasty lot. Hopefully they’ll give up or move on rather than fight. If fortune favors us, you’ll be bored and I’ll have cargo to transport instead of men.”
Sea travel was still picking up long after the threat of the Pirate Lords was over. Dawn’s Hope was a medium sized ship capable of carrying tons of goods, but the ship’s hold was only half filled with bales of cotton. Captain Yeaver made up the difference on this trip by carrying paying passengers like Julius and Brody. It kept his books in the black, if only just, and passengers created their own problems.
“Seaman, wash those planks,” Captain Yeaver ordered.
“I did it ten minutes ago,” one of his crew protested. Then he looked down and saw that the merchant who’d accused Brody of poisoning the food hadn’t reached the railing in time. “Curse our luck. I’ll get the mop.”
Night was falling as Dawn’s Hope reached the port of Sunset City. It was a large city, prosperous and built to survive the worst the sea could throw at it. Buildings were made of brick and in good condition, with a high sea wall to take the brunt of the ocean’s fury. The city was lit with oil lanterns mounted on stone pedestals scattered across the streets. Captain Yeaver eased his ship into an open berth on a short dock before lowering a gangplank. His passengers wasted no time in departing, while Julius and Brody went ashore with the captain.
“The harbormaster is going to want a share of those men’s passage fee,” Captain Yeaver said. He sounded resigned to losing what little money he had. “Still, I hear merchants here need help moving goods to the nearest market. With luck I’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”
Brody studied the dock and frowned. It was nearly night, when men usually went to sleep, but he’d expected someone on the docks to demand taxes and tolls. “Where is the guy?”
Captain Yeaver looked across the dock. “I don’t know. A harbormaster always meets my ship the moment we dock.”
Julius put a hand on his sword, Sworn Doom. “I was supposed to be met by the king’s representative when I arrived, night or day. I don’t see inspectors to check incoming ships for contraband, either.”
“We are running late because of those revolutionaries,” Brody reminded him.
“I wrote ahead to the king to explain why we were delayed and when to expect us,” Julius replied.
Brody listened intently for snaps, breathes, jingles or any other out of place sound that might suggest trouble. The problem was there were too many noises with the waves crashing and an indistinct rumbling from Sunset City.
A crewman from Dawn’s Hope called out, “Captain, should we unload our cargo?”
Captain Yeaver took a step back toward his ship. “Not yet. I don’t like the smell of this. Sir Craton, perhaps we should hold tight here until—”
Screams tore through the night air as the passengers ran back to Dawn’s Hope and raced back up the gangplank. The crowd nearly trampled Julius, Brody and Captain Yeaver. Seconds later they saw the reason for the panicked flight, as dozens of armed men ran for the ship.
A spearman with a red hand painted on his wood shield pointed at Julius and shouted, “There he is! Kill him!”
“I can’t take you anywhere,” Brody told Julius.
“Get back on the ship and raise the gangplank,” Julius ordered, his voice calm and collected. He drew his sword, and Sworn Doom glowed like a lantern. Captain Yeaver ran for his ship, but more armed men burst from concealment and blocked his way.
Brody had too much experience dealing with armed men, and as their attackers charged he had a moment to study them. Surprisingly, he wasn’t impressed. Most of them had no armor except for a few with leather breastplates and helmets. Their weapons were daggers, lassos, hatchets and staffs that had legitimate purposes and could be explained away to nosy authorities. Only a few had proper weapons like spears, and even those looked handmade. The men came in a disorganized rush rather than a formation.
Spearmen in front of the mob tried to impale Julius. He swung Sworn Doom and hacked off the spear points. A few men tried to tackle Julius, but he grabbed one with his free hand and shoved him into the bay. Brody tripped another, and he and Captain Yeaver rolled the man into the water. Ten men tried to overwhelm Julius and might have done so, except crewmen aboard Dawn’s Hope threw bales of cotton overboard onto them. Their attackers cried out in surprise as many of them were knocked down. The few still standing had to go around fallen comrades or jump over them.
“Take him down!” the now disarmed spearman shouted while staying back. “Hurry!”
Armed crewmen from Dawn’s Hope ran down the gangplank to support their captain. One man tossed Captain Yeaver a sword, which he snatched out of the air. “Well done, boys, and not a single bale went into the drink.”
“You sound surprised, captain,” one of his men said in a pained tone. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this.”
The ragged attackers pulled back, dragging their wounded away. They retreated only as far as the nearest street corner before stopping to dress their wounds. They still outnumbered Julius and the crew of Dawn’s Hope, but made no move to attack.
“Get your cargo back onboard and prepare to leave,” Julius said. He watched the Red Hand and pointed at one of them. “That one looks like the leader. He’s got them holding their ground, not fighting or running. What are they waiting for?”
Just then a second group as large as the first ran onto the streets near the port. The two groups merged together and pushed forward with spearmen leading the charge and archers behind them.
“Ah, reinforcements,” Julius said. “Everyone board the ship.”
Captain Yeaver rolled a cotton bale up the gangplank. “Faster, men!”
Dozens of Red Hand killers ran screaming down the dock. Julius stood guard at the gangplank as the last man of Dawn’s Hope boarded the ship. Terrified passengers begged them to leave as the howling mob neared. Julius looked up and saw the ship’s sails were slack with no wind left to fill them. The ship was going nowhere. His face was expressionless as he swung Sworn Doom at the gangplank and sliced it in two. Both halves fell into the water as Julius sheathed his sword and turned to leave. He was surprised to see Brody alongside him.
Julius ran as fast as he could in his armor and shouted, “Why aren’t you on the ship?”
“If I was going to bail out on you, I’d have done it months ago.”
Julius and Brody fled for their lives with the Red Hand steps behind them. The pair went down an alley and found it nearly blocked by junk. Brody went first and Julius followed, pulled down stacks of driftwood, scrap lumber and other garbage to slow their pursuers. They escaped to the sound of men cursing as they tried to force their way through the junk.
Julius led them through the port until they stopped at a crossroads. He turned to Brody and said, “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I really did want you on that ship.”
Brody gasped for breath. “The ship you chose not to board?”
“The spearman leading the first group said, ‘kill him’, not kill them. They want me, not the ship or anyone else on Dawn’s Hope. I destroyed the gangplank so the Red Hand couldn’t board it. I didn’t go on myself because the ship can barely move until the winds pick up. The Red Hand could throw lit torches on it and burn it to the waterline, and there would be nothing I could do to stop them. They’re safer without me.”
Pointing back at the harbor, Brody said, “So you save them and pretty much doom yourself! Julius, you keep risking your life like this and sooner or later you’re going to lose it. I don’t want that to happen. Lots of people don’t want that to happen, including a shocking number of men with marriageable daughters. Can we please find a way out of this that doesn’t involve you dying?”
Julius just looked at Brody for a moment without speaking. He finally looked around and said, “That would be nice. For now we’re on hostile ground. We can find help at the city’s garrison or nearest watch house, but that’s risky. I’ve been here before so I know the city’s layout, but we have to assume the Red Hand does, too.”
“So they’ll have ambushes ready if we go for help,” Brody said. “Since we’re on the topic, where are Sunset City’s soldiers and watchmen?”
“That’s a good question.”
They used their brief respite to study their surroundings. There were plenty of houses and shops on the street, their doors locked and the windows barred and shuttered. No one was on the roads so late at night, which was normal, but they still heard noises. Brody strained to figure out what they were, and frowned when he did.
“There’s fighting north of here,” he said.
“That’s where the city garrison is located. It looks like the Red Hand is mounting multiple attacks across Sunset City, at the docks to intercept me and at the garrison. I’m surprised they’d attack soldiers. Most gangs aren’t that aggressive.”
Brody sniffed the air and frowned. “I smell smoke, too much to be kitchen fires. I think they’re burning down buildings the way you thought they might burn the ship. This is bad. Where do we go?”
“If we go to neighboring watch houses we can gather watchmen and head for the garrison. We’ll attack the Red Hand from two sides and destroy them, then deal with the group at the bay…which just caught up with us.”
Red Hand killers ran out onto the street a block away. They struggled to see under the dim light of lanterns posted on the street, but still spotted Julius. The spearman from before (now armed with a club), pointed his weapon at Julius as yelled, “After him! A hundred rils for the man who takes his head!”
Julius grabbed Brody’s hand and ran. “Come on, the nearest watch house is this way.”
“What’s a ril?” Brody asked as an arrow arced high over them and broke against a brick wall.
“Local currency,” Julius explained as they turned a corner. “It’s worth about a third of a guilder.”
A hatchet flew past Brody and clattered across the cobblestone road. “The last guys who wanted you dead were paying ten times that.”
A Red Hand killer armed with a club lunged out of an alley and swung at Julius’ head. Julius grabbed the man by the wrist and spun him around, sending him face first into the nearest brick wall. “Prices on my head went down. I blame the weak economy.”
Julius and Brody kept running with the baying mob of killers in hot pursuit. They lost them briefly when they went into the alleys again, but the Red Hand was expecting the move and sent scouts after them. The few minutes the move bought them was enough to reach a burned out stone building still smoking. The furniture and wood support beams were nothing more than hot cinders.
“Let me guess, watch house,” Brody said.
“One of many.” Julius peered into the smoldering interior and said, “I don’t see bodies. Looks like the watchmen escaped before it was burned. Brody, this is a takeover attempt. The Red Hand is attacking anyone who could oppose them, but from what the king told me the Red Hand numbers only five hundred men. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a move this bold.”
“Or stupid.”
A Red Hand killer with a hatchet ran out onto the street. He charged Julius and screamed, “He’s here!”
Brody was used to being ignored and happily took advantage of the killer’s mistake. He tripped the man and sent him flat on his belly. Julius stomped on the man’s hand, forcing him to let go of the hatch, which Brody grabbed before the man could recover. Unarmed, the man snarled as he scrambled to his feet and fell back. “I found him!”
“There’s another watch house a few blocks away,” Julius said as he and Brody fled. “It might be burned down as well, but I don’t see a better choice.”
A door opened as Julius and Brody came near, and a frightened looking man peered out. Julius shouted, “Stay inside!”, and the man slammed the door shut.
Two men wearing red helmets came out of an alley ahead of Julius and Brody. The first man drew a sword while the second raised a horn to his lips. Julius rammed the first man and knocked him over while Brody threw his stolen hatchet at the second man, shattering the horn before he could blow it. The second man pulled a knife from a belt sheath, but Brody grabbed the man’s belt and yanked down hard, pulling his pants around his ankles and showing the man’s red and white poke-a-dot underwear. Julius pushed the man over and led Brody away.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that,” Julius said.
“The one I got will need more time to get up.”
“I know, but—”
“It’s him!” The Red Hand finally caught up to them in numbers large enough to fill the streets. They formed crude ranks around Julius and Brody, blocking all exits as still more men joined them. Julius drew his sword and backed up against a wall. The odds were badly against him, but Julius had defeated so many threats that the Red Hand wasn’t guaranteed victory.
“If you do this, not many of you will see the morning,” Julius warned.
A man with a bandaged face stepped into the front of the Red Hand. “We’re doing this, and we’ll toast our victory over your dead body.”
Sworn Doom snicker at them. “Better men than you have tried. We’ll accept surrender from however many of you survives the first two minutes.”
The crowd around Julius and Brody raised their weapons and howled like demons as they charged. They’d gone only three steps before a carriage pulled by four horses raced down the street, and their howls turned into screams of terror. Men scattered, many dropping their weapons as they scrambled out of the way. The carriage went right in front of Julius, slowing down just long enough for a young man dressed in gray to reach out his hand. Julius sheathed his sword, grabbed the offered hand with his right hand and taking Brody’s hand with the other. He vaulted into the carriage and pulled Brody along. The carriage rocketed down the road, nearly running over a handful of men as it escaped.
“Sir, it’s such an honor!” the gray clad youth shouted over the sound of the carriage clattering over the cobblestone road. He was one of many passengers already in the carriage. “Kadid Lan, sir, wizard of earth magic, and a big fan! Officer Dalton is driving the carriage.”
“A pleasure, sir!” the watchman called back. Julius collapsed into a seat, only to have a large dog sit on his lap. “Shep, no!”
Kadid tried to pull the dog off and failed. “And, uh, the goblin is—”
“Habbly, yes, we’ve met,” Julius replied. He shook the goblin’s hand and waved to Brody. “It’s a bit of a reunion. What brings you here?”
“Kadid and I came to save you,” Habbly said. The carriage moved so fast that the goblin’s long braid whipped behind him. He held up two handfuls of papers, offering one to Julius and another to Brody. “Someone’s been plastering posters across entire kingdoms. They tell secrets, like that you were on your way here to fight the Red Hand. We saw them and came to warn you, but the Red Hand saw them, too.”
Julius studied one of the paper and scowled. “Who wrote this?”
“We don’t know, sir,” Kadid said. He picked up an elaborate staff off a seat and waved it at the papers. “It’s been happening for months with stories about Ocean Kingdom, Kaleoth, Ket and independent cities like Nolod. So far no mention of the Land of the Nine Dukes, but give it time.”
Brody looked at his copies and frowned. It was hard to see the flowery blue writing under such poor light, but there was another reason for his trouble. The strange markings made no sense to him because he couldn’t read a word. He’d lived most of his life alone and never learned the skill. Whatever terrible secrets were contained on these pages were lost on him.
“The Red Hand got this information before we did!” Officer Dalton shouted over his shoulder. He slowed the carriage as it took a wide turn at a corner. “They’ve mounted surprise attacks on watch houses across the city, hitting us before we could hit them. We’ve fallen back to the city’s garrison and are organizing a counterattack. Kadid and Habbly found me fighting my way to the garrison and told me you were coming. The papers say you were going to help us beat the Red Hand, so thought you could save the city. Shep, no, stop licking the man’s face!”
“How far have they spread across the city?” Julius asked as he wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck and pulled it into his lap.
Kadid replied, “We’ve run into groups of them every few blocks. Watch houses across the city have been destroyed, but a few are holding out with help from citizens.”
Brody pointed up and shouted, “More are coming!”
The others looked up and saw Red Hand men running across the roofs of houses on the streets. Two of them threw spears and missed. Another drew a dagger and jumped screaming from rooftops for the carriage. His monstrous howl became a terrified cry of panic as he fell eight feet short of his target and hit the road with a thud.
“He didn’t time that well,” Habby said.
“No, he really didn’t,” Julius agreed. “Officer Dalton, how fast can you get us to the garrison?”
“We’re two blocks away,” Dalton called back.
Officer Dalton drove the carriage around another corner onto a large, open courtyard. Ahead of them was a large two story building manned by watchmen and average citizens. These men held the windows and doors against dozens of Red Hand killers. The unruly mob rushed the building and was pushed back by an equally determined resistance. Dalton slowed the carriage, but it still moved fast enough that the Red Hand barely had enough time to avoid being run over. A wooden double door twenty feet across opened just long enough for the carriage to enter before slamming closed.
Julius jumped off the carriage and helped the others down. “Who’s in charge of this garrison?”
A watchman with gold medals on his chest ran over and saluted. “Sir Craton, I’m the ranking officer. We’ve been hit hard, but the city watch still stands. Enemy attacks have been going on for hours, and their strength is flagging. We’ll be able to take the offensive soon and rout them.”
“They’ll fall back the moment they realize they’re lost the advantage, scattering across the city or fleeing it entirely,” Julius responded. “We have to strike before they run or we’ll need weeks to track them all down.”
“The men are tired, sir,” the officer replied. “They can’t take a prolonged fight without rest and reinforcements.”
Julius looked at the nearest window, where frightened men armed with spears prepared for another enemy attack. “They need a quick victory that won’t cost them. Buildings in Sunset City are all made of brick, little risk of a fire spreading. Officer, I saw lanterns across the city. Do you have lamp oil on hand?”
“Well, uh, yes sir, plenty of it,” the officer stammered.
Brody had spent enough time with Julius to know how his mind worked. Panicked, he pushed his way past the others and pleaded, “Julius, no, you can’t.”
For a moment Julius’ face looked pained. “Many will suffer far worse if I don’t.”
Puzzled, Kadid asked Officer Dalton, “What are they talking about?”
Dalton struggled to keep his dog under control. “Sorry, no idea.”
“At least give them a chance,” Brody begged.
* * * * *
More members of the Red Hand poured into the courtyard around the city garrison, including a man swathed in bandages. Others saluted when he neared.
“Staback,” one of them said. “We’ve got a battering ram ready to take down the door. Say the word and we do it.”
Staback was still hurting from when a swarm of bees had stung him weeks earlier. The pain would make most men timid, but instead it drove him to a hatefulness rarely seen. He pointed a hatchet at the assembled men and said, “We’ve enough men to do the job. Bring those doors down. Leave no one alive.”
With the order given, twenty men picked up a mast they’d stolen from the docks and charged the doors. Dozens more men followed them, screaming and waving their weapons. The battering ram struck the door with a boom that echoed throughout the city. Red Hand killers roared in approval as they struck at men guarding the windows. They pulled the battering ram back for another blow when civilians poured lamp oil out of the garrison second story windows.
Men fell cursing as the oil splattered over them. The ones holding the battering ram couldn’t keep their footing and fell. They were still yelling and cursing when the double doors opened and Julius stepped out with a lit torch. The men frozen in terror.
“Hello. I’m Julius Craton, and before you ask, yes, I will do it.
“I’ve fought men like you for more than half my life. It’s kind of sad how many people would kill their fellow man as if they were less than animals. I’ve always found it troubling that of all the ways I have to deal with threats like you, violence seems to be the only way that works. I have to be like you to stop you. That bothers me. It bothers people I care about. I’m tired of it.
“So, this is how we’re doing this. A person better than any of you asked me to offer mercy, so I’m giving you a chance. Surrender and accept full punishment under the law for your crimes. I have received the garrison commander’s word of honor that none of you will face torture or the death penalty. You’ll live and make restitution for your actions.”
Julius held his torch high above his head. Light from the torch made the oil on the men glisten. “Throw down your weapons or I throw down mine. I’d rather not do it, but like I said, I will do it.”
Staback made a guttural, growling noise as he tried to rise to his feet. “I won’t—”
His own men tackled Staback and gagged him. A lone man dropped his spear at Julius’ feet, then another and a third. Bit by bit the Red Hands disarmed, and watchmen took them prisoner. One by one they were led away to the garrison’s cells.
“Sir, that was amazing,” Officer Dalton said. “I’d have never thought of using our oil supply as a weapon.”
“Then you’re a better man than I am,” Julius said. “Some of the Red Hand who attacked us at the bay aren’t here. We didn’t get them all and have to comb the city for the rest before they regroup or flee to cause trouble elsewhere.”
Kadid Lan walked up with a stack of posters written with blue ink. “What do we do about these? Whoever is writing them nearly got you killed, and they’re still writing more.”
Brody took a poster from Kadid and studied it. He couldn’t read the words, but the paper felt silky in his fingers, not rough like cheap paper. The writing was smooth and flowery, and he’d never seen anyone write with blue ink. So few clues wasn’t much to work with, but it was a start. Brody’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the puzzle. It was a tall task for a small goblin who couldn’t read, but one thing he’d learned by traveling with Julius was that no problem was impossible if you had help, and he’d met people who could help.
“I know guys who can find the authors,” Brody told the others. It was an inspirational promise of hope totally ruined when Officer Dalton’s dog Shep tackled the little goblin and licked his face.
500 Words
“Verge, this is amazing!” Madam Ulest held up the necklace for the other guests to see. Braided gold chain wrapped around bloodstones, it was the most exquisite piece of jewelry she’d seen, even more beautiful that the many statues and paintings in Baron Verge’s grand ballroom. “How much did this cost you?”
Verge tipped his top hat to her. “Dear cousin, a gentleman never discusses price. Seeing you happy makes any cost pale in comparison.”
“I expected something when you promised a surprise for my birthday, but this is incredible.” Ulest put the necklace on and spun around.
“That’s your birthday present. The surprise is coming.” Verge clapped his hands, and servants brought in a magic mirror. He saw her joy diminish at the sight of the mirror, and he quickly went to her side. “I know you don’t care for Standish, but his assistance is essential. Please, gather around.”
Relatives, friends and neighbors pulled up their chairs around the mirror while Verge brought Ulest a seat. He tapped the mirror and smiled. “When I offered to host this celebration, I knew it had to be special. Now I’m sure you’re all familiar with Chast Firefeather.”
Ulest put a hand to her mouth. “That darling man! Handsome, strong, brave, clever, why, God was generous with him.”
A guest said, “A world class hunter of dark and fetid creatures. There’s someone you can count on to clean up the neighborhood.”
“You couldn’t say a word against him,” added another.
“Do you remember that ghoul outbreak four years ago?” Ulest asked in a hushed tone. “Firefeather dealt with them in two days.”
“He is exceptional at eliminating riffraff,” Verge said. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he continued. “What you may not know is that I hired him.”
“How did you manage that?” Ulest asked.
“I use trusted intermediaries.” Verge tapped the mirror again. “Firefeather excels at removing zombies, ghouls, walking skeletons, unintelligent pests that risk drawing attention our way. The truth is he’s been working for me, unofficially, for years.”
A guest shook Verge’s hand. “He’s on your payroll? Well done, old boy!”
“Well played!” said another guest.
Verge bent down next to Ulest. “And tonight he’s doing a special job for the lady of honor.”
Ulest gasped. “Wait, you mean…”
Verge caressed her face. “I hired a man who hired Firefeather to kill the barrow wights near your estate. He’s on the job as we speak, and Standish is going to show the hunt start to finish.”
“It will be a pleasure, sir,” the magic mirror said.
Ulest took Verge’s hand in hers. “Firefeather doesn’t work cheap.”
“Nothing is too good for your three hundredth birthday.”
The mirror was blank for a moment, its reflection showing the gorgeously decorated room. It didn’t show the guests with their pale skin and sharp teeth.
“Mirrors are cruel things,” Ulest said sadly.
Verge sat next to her as the mirror showed a man marching through an ancient graveyard. “Shh, it’s starting.
Verge tipped his top hat to her. “Dear cousin, a gentleman never discusses price. Seeing you happy makes any cost pale in comparison.”
“I expected something when you promised a surprise for my birthday, but this is incredible.” Ulest put the necklace on and spun around.
“That’s your birthday present. The surprise is coming.” Verge clapped his hands, and servants brought in a magic mirror. He saw her joy diminish at the sight of the mirror, and he quickly went to her side. “I know you don’t care for Standish, but his assistance is essential. Please, gather around.”
Relatives, friends and neighbors pulled up their chairs around the mirror while Verge brought Ulest a seat. He tapped the mirror and smiled. “When I offered to host this celebration, I knew it had to be special. Now I’m sure you’re all familiar with Chast Firefeather.”
Ulest put a hand to her mouth. “That darling man! Handsome, strong, brave, clever, why, God was generous with him.”
A guest said, “A world class hunter of dark and fetid creatures. There’s someone you can count on to clean up the neighborhood.”
“You couldn’t say a word against him,” added another.
“Do you remember that ghoul outbreak four years ago?” Ulest asked in a hushed tone. “Firefeather dealt with them in two days.”
“He is exceptional at eliminating riffraff,” Verge said. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he continued. “What you may not know is that I hired him.”
“How did you manage that?” Ulest asked.
“I use trusted intermediaries.” Verge tapped the mirror again. “Firefeather excels at removing zombies, ghouls, walking skeletons, unintelligent pests that risk drawing attention our way. The truth is he’s been working for me, unofficially, for years.”
A guest shook Verge’s hand. “He’s on your payroll? Well done, old boy!”
“Well played!” said another guest.
Verge bent down next to Ulest. “And tonight he’s doing a special job for the lady of honor.”
Ulest gasped. “Wait, you mean…”
Verge caressed her face. “I hired a man who hired Firefeather to kill the barrow wights near your estate. He’s on the job as we speak, and Standish is going to show the hunt start to finish.”
“It will be a pleasure, sir,” the magic mirror said.
Ulest took Verge’s hand in hers. “Firefeather doesn’t work cheap.”
“Nothing is too good for your three hundredth birthday.”
The mirror was blank for a moment, its reflection showing the gorgeously decorated room. It didn’t show the guests with their pale skin and sharp teeth.
“Mirrors are cruel things,” Ulest said sadly.
Verge sat next to her as the mirror showed a man marching through an ancient graveyard. “Shh, it’s starting.
New Goblin Stories 24
It was early morning as Brody, Habbly and Ibwibble stood outside a small farm shed near Nolod, waiting patiently for things to get started. Waiting wasn’t a goblin strong point, as they were apt to wander off after anything that caught their attention, but these three were abnormally focused for their kind. Still there was only so much you could expect from goblins, and their conversation had drifted into total insanity.
“I’m glad we’re out of those black outfits,” Brody said.
“Yeah, they’re fashion nightmares,” Ibwibble agreed. “We’re lucky nobody mistook us for ninjas and tried to shoot us.”
Brody frowned. “That’s a normal reaction to seeing a ninja?”
“It’s unfair,” Ibwibble admitted, “but it only takes one ninja to mess things up for everybody. A merchant ship shows up with a ninja hiding in the cargo hold, he gets out and then it’s nonstop ninja magic and throwing stars. If you don’t roust them out the second they set foot in your city soon they’re everywhere, building dojos, having late night gravity defying martial arts battles with other ninja clans, and leaving piles of droppings everywhere.”
“You’re making this up.”
Ibwibble crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been in eight cities that have laws saying shoot all ninjas. Nolod is one of them, but it’s too late. The first ninja showed up eight months ago and now they’ve got five ninja clans.”
“That’s a massive overpopulation,” Habbly said.
“They’ll fight it out until there’s only one clan, which will have a schism and break into two,” Ibwibble said. He paused and looked more closely at Habbly. “Why are you carrying a mop?”
“The way things are going I figured I needed a weapon, and I’ve had good luck with mops.”
“You didn’t have one during our stakeout,” Brody pointed out.
“You don’t bring a mop on a stakeout,” Habbly said. “It’s common knowledge.”
“That explains why I never heard it,” Brody replied. “Somehow I only learn uncommon knowledge. Where is the secret entrance to a pocket dimension, who leads the Night Knights, what the Hokey Pokey is really all about. It never helped me.”
Habbly glanced at the shed. “Mighty quiet in there. I was expecting yelling, or at least quality groveling from our prisoner.”
“Julius isn’t talking to the guy,” Brody explained. “He’s just standing there, staring at him. Not sure if he’s waiting to see if we get more prisoners before interrogating them or if this is part of the interrogation.”
“Is this normal for him?” Habbly asked.
“Don’t know,” Brody replied. “Usually he hands guys like this over to the authorities and lets them deal with it, but that’s when he doesn’t need them to answer questions. Kinda worried this could get ugly.”
“You don’t think he’d…you know.” Habbly asked hesitantly.
“Julius isn’t like that. I’m worried the prisoners are some kind of revolutionaries. He and I ran into guys like that not long ago. You know, die rather than think things through.”
“I’ve never understood that about humans,” Ibwibble said. “Honestly, some days they don’t have the brains God gave to soap bubbles.”
All three tensed when they heard rustling in the woods near the shed, but it was only the farm owner, an older man named Richard. “How are things going?”
“Still waiting,” Brody told him.
“Is this going to take much longer? I mean, I don’t mind Julius using my shed, what with him being a hero and all, but I need a shovel from in there.”
“I’ll get it.” Brody opened the shed’s door and grabbed the farmer’s shovel.
“Send help!” the prisoner yelled.
“Not happening.” Brody shut the door and handed the shovel over. Richard nodded and left, bumping into Bub and his tactical assault squad arriving with three more prisoners.
“Shimmering Swords of Solace?” one of Bub’s goblins asked.
“No.” Bub left the bound and gagged men at Ibwibble’s feet. “There was an older guy with these losers but he got away. I think he was a co-leader or second in command. The young one is called Anton and he’s a wizard. More of a threat to himself than anyone else.”
“Hmph!” the gagged young man said.
“Zip it, Merlin,” Bub told the wizard. “The next one likes alchemic weapons including firebombs. We disarmed him. The last one is totally useless. We think he’s freeloading off the ones who actually do something.”
“Mmm,” their last prisoner whimpered.
“The truth hurts,” Bub told him. “That’s our end of the deal completed. We’ll be in Nolod for a while longer if you have another job, but I am not working with that idiot Splat ever again.”
“You did good,” Ibwibble told Bub. “Are any of them tax collectors?”
“I doubt it,” Bub said as he led his goblins away. “They’re too useless for that.”
“Right, let’s get them inside,” Ibwibble said. He, Habbly and Brody dragged their prisoners into the shed, where they found the man they’d already captured last night and Julius Craton.
“Take off the wizard’s gag,” Julius ordered. Brody pulled the gag off, and the wizard glared at the goblin. Julius tapped the wizard with his foot to get his attention. “My name is Julius Craton of the Guild of Heroes. Hundreds of innocent people were almost killed because of you. Thousands of guilders worth of property was destroyed. Bad as it was, it was nearly much, much worse.
“I need you to understand the harm you’ve done, not just in that incident but across multiple kingdoms. The information you’ve spread has ruined people’s reputations, closed businesses and resulted in serious injuries. Your victims number in the thousands. Tonight proved you got that information by stealing it. You’re thieves.”
“We’re freeing the people from secrets and lies!’ Anton yelled. “You and the other so-called leaders have blinded us for generations, holding back the truth while you profit and live better than the common man. That’s over. We’re opening the eyes of the oppressed, showing them how corrupt their leaders are. Your days are numbered, oppressor. Your kind will be cast down by the masses!”
“Excuse me, I need a rake,” Richard asked from outside the shed.
Ibwibble grabbed a rake and handed it to the farmer.
“The irony of a secret society being against secrets isn’t lost on me,” Julius countered. “You live in the shadows, nameless and faceless up until today while criticizing others for holding back private information.”
“No, this is the leaf rake,” Richard said. “I need the bow rake.”
“How many rakes does this guy have?” Brody asked.
“I count five,” Habbly replied.
Julius held up a handful of leaflets covered in writing. “I’ve seen the secrets you exposed. Most of this is harmless or personal matters. It’s gossip mongering.”
“The people deserve to know!” Anton yelled.
“The private business dealings of a vineyard?” Brody asked. “That some mayor has gambling debts? This isn’t exposing injustices, it’s junk.”
Anton’s defiance melted. “We’re working on it.”
“Yes, by stealing mail from an astronomer,” Julius replied.
Red faced, Anton replied, “We thought she was…you know.”
“In a relationship with a man?” Julius asked.
“She’s allowed to be in love! There’s no reason she should be ashamed of that.”
Brody tugged on Julius’ leg. “I think he meant in a relationship with a married man.”
Julius glared at Anton, who said, “She’s a nymph. Everyone knows what they’re like.”
Julius stared at Anton for a second before grabbing him by the collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the nearest wall. “No, I don’t know what they’re all like! I don’t judge an entire race by what some of their members do! And for someone claiming to represent the truth, you’re awfully confident making prejudice statements with no evidence to back them up!”
“Negative evidence,” Brody said. Everyone looked at him, and he explained, “Her letters are as boring as dry toast.”
“We, ah, just found that out,” Anton said nervously. “We weren’t going to print any of that.”
Julius let Anton slid back to the floor. “Four kingdoms have posted bounties on the people posting your scandal rags. I’m going to turn you over to one of them and you’ll face justice for your crimes. None of these kingdoms have the death penalty, but you spend years doing socially useful labor. Nothing you can do or say will change that fact.
“What you can do is determine whether I testify that you’re repentant and helped clean up the mess you made. That goes a long way to decide how long you’re imprisoned and what the conditions will be like. Not everyone is going to make this offer, and it’s only good for today. The choice is yours.”
Anton looked down at the floor, and when he stared into Julius’ eyes the defiance was back in full force. “There is no choice. I won’t help you undo the good we’ve done. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The Truth Seekers are divided into independent cells. The second other cell leaders learn we were captured, they’ll change all their plans, abandon their safe houses and continue their jobs. What little we knew about them will be useless. You stopped us, but the movement will go on.”
“Chuckles here can’t have too many people on board with his brand of stupid,” Ibwibble said. “I figure we’ve got at most thirty more idiots to round up.”
“It wasn’t easy finding this bunch,” Brody said. “We’ll need all year to get them.”
“My schedule is wide open,” Julius replied, “and if that time and effort means one more city doesn’t face destruction then it’s worth the time.”
“What are you talking about, face destruction?” Anton asked.
Julius was about to answer him when there was a knock on the door. Richard said, “Don’t mean to intrude, but I think we may have a problem.”
Julius and the goblins headed outside, where Richard pointed at the sky. A large white cloud was moving against the wind, pushing aside other clouds in its way and heading straight for them.
“Incoming wizard, and I don’t think he’s with Anton and his circus of idiots,” Ibwibble said.
“Why not?” Habbly asked.
“You need gobs of power to make a magic cloud that big,” Ibwibble replied. “If they had anyone that strong, why didn’t they use him a long time ago? Nah, that’s somebody else who wants Anton’s hide.”
“Run,” Julius told Richard. The farmer ran for his life as Julius and his friends spread out. “I’ve no idea who this is. Diplomacy might work, so watch your words.”
The cloud descended and began to spiral, forming a whirlwind twenty feet across. An old man wearing blue and white robes and carrying a wood staff stepped out of the cloud, as did a goblin with orange hair and red skin. The whirlwind lifted into the sky but didn’t weaken as the man marched to the farm shed.
“Pardon our interruption,” the old man began. “I am Archibald Scrace, member of the Archivists. This is Yips, who I have been unable to dissuade from following me.”
“Got any aardvarks?” Yips asked.
“Sorry, fresh out,” Ibwibble told him.
“You have in your custody four young men who were once members of my order,” Archibald continued. “They have broken their sacred vows and done considerable damage. I have come to collect them and ensure they do no further harm.”
They heard Anton call out from inside the shed, “How did you find me, old man?”
“Your defensive spells against scrying must be renewed frequently, an impossible task when you are tied up. Those spells failed early this morning, and I was able to find you.” Archibald looked like a peaceful and contemplative man under most circumstances, but there was a hardness to his voice when he added, “There is a high price to pay for the oaths you broke. I mean to see you pay in full.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t hand them over,” Julius said. “These men call themselves Truth Seekers, and there are more of them. I need answers from them to stop their damage from spreading further, and local authorities have an equal right to see them face justice.”
“Can we agree to share them?” Brody asked. “You take two, we take two and everyone walks away happy.”
“The information they know about the Archivists is dangerous,” Archibald replied. “I cannot risk them revealing those secrets to secure their freedom. Countless lives and treasured knowledge are at risk.”
“Secrets?” Anton yelled. “You mean like—”
Anton’s words turned into a stream of gibberish meaningless in every language. The young wizard laughed and said, “Oh, your precious secrets are safe, you fraud. The spells keeping us from ever telling another soul what you’ve learned are too strong for us to break.”
“But not too strong for others to break,” Archibald replied. “The danger remains. Forgive me, sir, but I must insist on reclaiming these traitors to our order. I’m aware of your name and reputation, Julius Craton, and that of your goblin associates. I wish you no harm, especially after the good you’ve done, but I am leaving with Anton and his fellow turncoats.”
Yips gazed into the sky and said, “That’s no aardvark.”
“Eh?” Archibald asked. Yips pointed at a granite pillar of rock fifty feet tall flying through the sky toward them. Archibald cast a spell and glowing words appeared in front of them. He scowled and said, “That’s Dominus Quake of the Inspired, a wizard of the foulest kind. He must not take Anton. Everyone, prepare yourself.”
The pillar picked up speed and rammed point first into the soft ground. It shattered and fragments of granite flew across the landscape, but they suddenly stopped and rotated around the man who’d hidden inside the pillar. He wore a mix of white and black clothes, with a wood staff in his right hand and glowing pebbles rotating around his left hand. The left side of his face was covered in an expensive silver mask molded to look like a twin to the handsome right side of his face.
“I do hope you won’t mind me being fashionably late, but I only sensed the stripling wizard this morning,” Dominus said casually. “I’ve been looking for him and his fellows for weeks. Dreadfully annoying. Give him to me or I’ll grind your bones into powder.”
“Never,” Archibald said.
Julius drew his sword Sworn Doom. “Brody, untie the prisoners and get them out of here.”
“But we just caught them!”
“I can’t defend them and fight this wizard at the same time. We let them go, we watch them die or we let that monster take them.”
“Too much talking,” Dominus said. “You die now.”
Dominus uttered arcane words and made strange gestures, casting a spell that made the shattered rocks rotating around him shoot forward, their razor sharp edges slicing through tall grass and small trees. The stony cloud of death had nearly reached them when Archibald ordered the whirlwind he’d created to drop from the sky. It sucked up the rocks and spat them back at Dominus, but the whirlwind broke apart under the effort
“Clever boy,” Dominus said. A wave of his hand scattered the rocks before they hit him. “I didn’t think you a threat, bookworm.”
Julius charged Dominus, covering the distance between them in seconds. Dominus caused the ground under Julius’ feet to rise ten feet. Julius kept his balance and jumped down at Dominus. Sworn Doom glowed and yelled, “Doom!”
Another pillar of rock and earth rose up in front of Dominus to shield him from the blade. Dominus’ snide smirk disappeared when Sworn Doom hacked through the pillar. Dominus raised his staff, and it glowed nearly as bright as Sworn Doom before the ground erupted around him like an explosion. The blast threw Julius back but didn’t do enough damage to stop him, and he rose to his feet.
Brody ran to the shed to save their prisoners. Anton and the other three men screamed in abject terror as they struggled against their bonds. Brody had nearly reached them when Dominus cast another spell. A wall of dirt rose up around the shed and encased it.
“No one’s leaving,” Dominus taunted. “No one’s surviving. You all just die.”
Archibald began chanting to cast his own spell. There was no immediate effect, and Dominus laughed. “Running out of power so soon, fool? I was almost convinced you-Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in order, everything’s all right. Betty stitched a-curse you, you-border, yellow, red then white.”
“What’s happening?” Brody asked.
“He’s messing with his head,” Habbly told him. “Dominus can’t cast a spell when the Archivist is forcing him to say gibberish.”
Julius recovered quickly and charged Dominus. The evil wizard dodged Julius’ sword swing, but the hero still managed to ram his right shoulder into Dominus’ stomachs and knock him over. Julius raised his sword for a swing that would kill the evil wizard, but Dominus pointed his left hand and the tiny glowing pebbles shot out and hit Julius in the chest. Two of the tiny rocks hit and exploded, throwing Julius back and cutting deep grooves in his chest plate.
“Betty stitched a border,” Dominus said as he stood up and aimed his left hand at Archibald. Pebbles around his hand flew as fast as arrows, too fast for the old man to avoid. Yips grabbed Archibald and pulled him away, saving his life but breaking his concentration. Dominus scowled and yelled, “Those tremor stones cost me a hundred gold coins, and I wasted them on an idiot like you! You’ll die for that, paper pusher.”
Dominus cast another spell and rocks flew together to form a crude stone man twenty feet tall. The stone man marched toward Julius while the evil wizard turned his attention toward Archibald. “You’re so pathetic you needed a goblin to save you. At least two of those wretched creatures were smart enough to run, unlike you. I’ll—”
Habbly and Ibwibble had run, but only into dense brush that covered their approach to Dominus. The pair leapt from the grass and ran the last few feet to the evil wizard. Dominus looked shocked, and then screamed in pain when Habbly struck him in the shins with his mop handle. Ibwibble grabbed onto Dominus’ staff and chewed on it, gnawing out a chunk of wood and spitting it out. Dominus shoved Ibwibble off and screamed a spell.
The ground shook and Dominus rose into the sky on a thirty foot tall pillar of dirt and rocks. He had a perfect view of the battlefield, where Julius hacked a leg off the stone man attacking him. Archibald had recovered and began chanting again. Then Dominus saw Brody dig through the dirt that entombed the farm shed and open the door.
“No one claims my prize!” Dominus howled. The pillar of rocks and dirt bet over to form an arch and set him next to the shed. A wave of his hand made the dirt around the shed convulse and rip the small building open to reveal the screaming prisoners. He shoved Brody aside and grabbed Anton by the throat with his right hand. “You know where the Dawn Lanter is! Tell me or I’ll bury you fifty feet underground!”
Anton’s expression changed from terror to confusion. “I, I have no idea.”
“Liar!” Dominus pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket with his left hand and shoved it into Anton’s face. “You tempt me with hints! Where it was weeks ago! Places it might have gone and people who might have seen it! No more of these infuriating clues! Where is it right now? Tell me before I—Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in—not this again!”
Dominus dropped Anton and spun around. He saw Archibald chanting again and Julius hacking an arm off the stone man. The stone man struggled to fight with two limbs missing, and a savage blow to its head ended the battle. With it dead, if it had ever truly been alive, Julius ran at Dominus with Habbly, Ibwibble and Yips following him. Dominus struggled to cast a spell and gave up in frustration when his arcane words of power were replaced with nonsensical gibberish. Instead the evil wizard pulled a glittering wand from a pocket.
“No!” Dominus spun around at the sharp cry as Brody grabbed the wand with both hands. Neither the goblin or the wizard were strong enough to win this struggle, but Brody didn’t have to win. Every second brought Julius closer, and if Dominus couldn’t cast spells or use his wand there was nothing the evil wizard could do to fight back. Snarling, Dominus let go of the wand and ran off.
“Betty stitched a border!” Dominus yelled as he fled. He went another ten feet before shouting, “Yellow, red then—curse you, you ignorant fool! You delay the inevitable, nothing more!”
Julius had nearly caught up with Dominus when the evil wizard cast a spell and caused rocks to form a stone pillar around him. The pillar shot into the sky and flew off, leaving Julius, Archibald and the goblins victorious.
“His brain got better fast,” Habby said.
Archibald walked up alongside the goblin and said, “My confusion spell has a short range. Once he was far enough away, he was free of it. We should count ourselves lucky he didn’t bring allies, or we would surely have died.”
“Cheerful, aren’t you?” Ibwibble said. He coughed up a piece of Dominus’ staff and added, “What’s he want the lantern for? And what made him think whatshisface had it? That twerp is lucky he has socks.”
Brody picked up a sheet of paper off the ground and held it up for the others to see. “He dropped this when he ran off. ‘It says no secrets! Your leaders are keeping the truth from you!”
“That’s a lot of exclamation points,” Yips said as he rejoined Archibald. “Can I have one?”
Brody kept reading aloud, saying, “The Archivists are seeking the Dawn Lantern, one of the fifty most powerful magic items on Other Place. They believe it to be in Ocean View Kingdom, Forthosia or in the city states of Nolod or Cronsword.”
“I didn’t write that,” Anton said. He sounded stunned. “There were rumors, but we couldn’t confirm anything. It was hearsay. I never wrote that! It’s a lie!”
“I’m glad we’re out of those black outfits,” Brody said.
“Yeah, they’re fashion nightmares,” Ibwibble agreed. “We’re lucky nobody mistook us for ninjas and tried to shoot us.”
Brody frowned. “That’s a normal reaction to seeing a ninja?”
“It’s unfair,” Ibwibble admitted, “but it only takes one ninja to mess things up for everybody. A merchant ship shows up with a ninja hiding in the cargo hold, he gets out and then it’s nonstop ninja magic and throwing stars. If you don’t roust them out the second they set foot in your city soon they’re everywhere, building dojos, having late night gravity defying martial arts battles with other ninja clans, and leaving piles of droppings everywhere.”
“You’re making this up.”
Ibwibble crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been in eight cities that have laws saying shoot all ninjas. Nolod is one of them, but it’s too late. The first ninja showed up eight months ago and now they’ve got five ninja clans.”
“That’s a massive overpopulation,” Habbly said.
“They’ll fight it out until there’s only one clan, which will have a schism and break into two,” Ibwibble said. He paused and looked more closely at Habbly. “Why are you carrying a mop?”
“The way things are going I figured I needed a weapon, and I’ve had good luck with mops.”
“You didn’t have one during our stakeout,” Brody pointed out.
“You don’t bring a mop on a stakeout,” Habbly said. “It’s common knowledge.”
“That explains why I never heard it,” Brody replied. “Somehow I only learn uncommon knowledge. Where is the secret entrance to a pocket dimension, who leads the Night Knights, what the Hokey Pokey is really all about. It never helped me.”
Habbly glanced at the shed. “Mighty quiet in there. I was expecting yelling, or at least quality groveling from our prisoner.”
“Julius isn’t talking to the guy,” Brody explained. “He’s just standing there, staring at him. Not sure if he’s waiting to see if we get more prisoners before interrogating them or if this is part of the interrogation.”
“Is this normal for him?” Habbly asked.
“Don’t know,” Brody replied. “Usually he hands guys like this over to the authorities and lets them deal with it, but that’s when he doesn’t need them to answer questions. Kinda worried this could get ugly.”
“You don’t think he’d…you know.” Habbly asked hesitantly.
“Julius isn’t like that. I’m worried the prisoners are some kind of revolutionaries. He and I ran into guys like that not long ago. You know, die rather than think things through.”
“I’ve never understood that about humans,” Ibwibble said. “Honestly, some days they don’t have the brains God gave to soap bubbles.”
All three tensed when they heard rustling in the woods near the shed, but it was only the farm owner, an older man named Richard. “How are things going?”
“Still waiting,” Brody told him.
“Is this going to take much longer? I mean, I don’t mind Julius using my shed, what with him being a hero and all, but I need a shovel from in there.”
“I’ll get it.” Brody opened the shed’s door and grabbed the farmer’s shovel.
“Send help!” the prisoner yelled.
“Not happening.” Brody shut the door and handed the shovel over. Richard nodded and left, bumping into Bub and his tactical assault squad arriving with three more prisoners.
“Shimmering Swords of Solace?” one of Bub’s goblins asked.
“No.” Bub left the bound and gagged men at Ibwibble’s feet. “There was an older guy with these losers but he got away. I think he was a co-leader or second in command. The young one is called Anton and he’s a wizard. More of a threat to himself than anyone else.”
“Hmph!” the gagged young man said.
“Zip it, Merlin,” Bub told the wizard. “The next one likes alchemic weapons including firebombs. We disarmed him. The last one is totally useless. We think he’s freeloading off the ones who actually do something.”
“Mmm,” their last prisoner whimpered.
“The truth hurts,” Bub told him. “That’s our end of the deal completed. We’ll be in Nolod for a while longer if you have another job, but I am not working with that idiot Splat ever again.”
“You did good,” Ibwibble told Bub. “Are any of them tax collectors?”
“I doubt it,” Bub said as he led his goblins away. “They’re too useless for that.”
“Right, let’s get them inside,” Ibwibble said. He, Habbly and Brody dragged their prisoners into the shed, where they found the man they’d already captured last night and Julius Craton.
“Take off the wizard’s gag,” Julius ordered. Brody pulled the gag off, and the wizard glared at the goblin. Julius tapped the wizard with his foot to get his attention. “My name is Julius Craton of the Guild of Heroes. Hundreds of innocent people were almost killed because of you. Thousands of guilders worth of property was destroyed. Bad as it was, it was nearly much, much worse.
“I need you to understand the harm you’ve done, not just in that incident but across multiple kingdoms. The information you’ve spread has ruined people’s reputations, closed businesses and resulted in serious injuries. Your victims number in the thousands. Tonight proved you got that information by stealing it. You’re thieves.”
“We’re freeing the people from secrets and lies!’ Anton yelled. “You and the other so-called leaders have blinded us for generations, holding back the truth while you profit and live better than the common man. That’s over. We’re opening the eyes of the oppressed, showing them how corrupt their leaders are. Your days are numbered, oppressor. Your kind will be cast down by the masses!”
“Excuse me, I need a rake,” Richard asked from outside the shed.
Ibwibble grabbed a rake and handed it to the farmer.
“The irony of a secret society being against secrets isn’t lost on me,” Julius countered. “You live in the shadows, nameless and faceless up until today while criticizing others for holding back private information.”
“No, this is the leaf rake,” Richard said. “I need the bow rake.”
“How many rakes does this guy have?” Brody asked.
“I count five,” Habbly replied.
Julius held up a handful of leaflets covered in writing. “I’ve seen the secrets you exposed. Most of this is harmless or personal matters. It’s gossip mongering.”
“The people deserve to know!” Anton yelled.
“The private business dealings of a vineyard?” Brody asked. “That some mayor has gambling debts? This isn’t exposing injustices, it’s junk.”
Anton’s defiance melted. “We’re working on it.”
“Yes, by stealing mail from an astronomer,” Julius replied.
Red faced, Anton replied, “We thought she was…you know.”
“In a relationship with a man?” Julius asked.
“She’s allowed to be in love! There’s no reason she should be ashamed of that.”
Brody tugged on Julius’ leg. “I think he meant in a relationship with a married man.”
Julius glared at Anton, who said, “She’s a nymph. Everyone knows what they’re like.”
Julius stared at Anton for a second before grabbing him by the collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the nearest wall. “No, I don’t know what they’re all like! I don’t judge an entire race by what some of their members do! And for someone claiming to represent the truth, you’re awfully confident making prejudice statements with no evidence to back them up!”
“Negative evidence,” Brody said. Everyone looked at him, and he explained, “Her letters are as boring as dry toast.”
“We, ah, just found that out,” Anton said nervously. “We weren’t going to print any of that.”
Julius let Anton slid back to the floor. “Four kingdoms have posted bounties on the people posting your scandal rags. I’m going to turn you over to one of them and you’ll face justice for your crimes. None of these kingdoms have the death penalty, but you spend years doing socially useful labor. Nothing you can do or say will change that fact.
“What you can do is determine whether I testify that you’re repentant and helped clean up the mess you made. That goes a long way to decide how long you’re imprisoned and what the conditions will be like. Not everyone is going to make this offer, and it’s only good for today. The choice is yours.”
Anton looked down at the floor, and when he stared into Julius’ eyes the defiance was back in full force. “There is no choice. I won’t help you undo the good we’ve done. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The Truth Seekers are divided into independent cells. The second other cell leaders learn we were captured, they’ll change all their plans, abandon their safe houses and continue their jobs. What little we knew about them will be useless. You stopped us, but the movement will go on.”
“Chuckles here can’t have too many people on board with his brand of stupid,” Ibwibble said. “I figure we’ve got at most thirty more idiots to round up.”
“It wasn’t easy finding this bunch,” Brody said. “We’ll need all year to get them.”
“My schedule is wide open,” Julius replied, “and if that time and effort means one more city doesn’t face destruction then it’s worth the time.”
“What are you talking about, face destruction?” Anton asked.
Julius was about to answer him when there was a knock on the door. Richard said, “Don’t mean to intrude, but I think we may have a problem.”
Julius and the goblins headed outside, where Richard pointed at the sky. A large white cloud was moving against the wind, pushing aside other clouds in its way and heading straight for them.
“Incoming wizard, and I don’t think he’s with Anton and his circus of idiots,” Ibwibble said.
“Why not?” Habbly asked.
“You need gobs of power to make a magic cloud that big,” Ibwibble replied. “If they had anyone that strong, why didn’t they use him a long time ago? Nah, that’s somebody else who wants Anton’s hide.”
“Run,” Julius told Richard. The farmer ran for his life as Julius and his friends spread out. “I’ve no idea who this is. Diplomacy might work, so watch your words.”
The cloud descended and began to spiral, forming a whirlwind twenty feet across. An old man wearing blue and white robes and carrying a wood staff stepped out of the cloud, as did a goblin with orange hair and red skin. The whirlwind lifted into the sky but didn’t weaken as the man marched to the farm shed.
“Pardon our interruption,” the old man began. “I am Archibald Scrace, member of the Archivists. This is Yips, who I have been unable to dissuade from following me.”
“Got any aardvarks?” Yips asked.
“Sorry, fresh out,” Ibwibble told him.
“You have in your custody four young men who were once members of my order,” Archibald continued. “They have broken their sacred vows and done considerable damage. I have come to collect them and ensure they do no further harm.”
They heard Anton call out from inside the shed, “How did you find me, old man?”
“Your defensive spells against scrying must be renewed frequently, an impossible task when you are tied up. Those spells failed early this morning, and I was able to find you.” Archibald looked like a peaceful and contemplative man under most circumstances, but there was a hardness to his voice when he added, “There is a high price to pay for the oaths you broke. I mean to see you pay in full.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t hand them over,” Julius said. “These men call themselves Truth Seekers, and there are more of them. I need answers from them to stop their damage from spreading further, and local authorities have an equal right to see them face justice.”
“Can we agree to share them?” Brody asked. “You take two, we take two and everyone walks away happy.”
“The information they know about the Archivists is dangerous,” Archibald replied. “I cannot risk them revealing those secrets to secure their freedom. Countless lives and treasured knowledge are at risk.”
“Secrets?” Anton yelled. “You mean like—”
Anton’s words turned into a stream of gibberish meaningless in every language. The young wizard laughed and said, “Oh, your precious secrets are safe, you fraud. The spells keeping us from ever telling another soul what you’ve learned are too strong for us to break.”
“But not too strong for others to break,” Archibald replied. “The danger remains. Forgive me, sir, but I must insist on reclaiming these traitors to our order. I’m aware of your name and reputation, Julius Craton, and that of your goblin associates. I wish you no harm, especially after the good you’ve done, but I am leaving with Anton and his fellow turncoats.”
Yips gazed into the sky and said, “That’s no aardvark.”
“Eh?” Archibald asked. Yips pointed at a granite pillar of rock fifty feet tall flying through the sky toward them. Archibald cast a spell and glowing words appeared in front of them. He scowled and said, “That’s Dominus Quake of the Inspired, a wizard of the foulest kind. He must not take Anton. Everyone, prepare yourself.”
The pillar picked up speed and rammed point first into the soft ground. It shattered and fragments of granite flew across the landscape, but they suddenly stopped and rotated around the man who’d hidden inside the pillar. He wore a mix of white and black clothes, with a wood staff in his right hand and glowing pebbles rotating around his left hand. The left side of his face was covered in an expensive silver mask molded to look like a twin to the handsome right side of his face.
“I do hope you won’t mind me being fashionably late, but I only sensed the stripling wizard this morning,” Dominus said casually. “I’ve been looking for him and his fellows for weeks. Dreadfully annoying. Give him to me or I’ll grind your bones into powder.”
“Never,” Archibald said.
Julius drew his sword Sworn Doom. “Brody, untie the prisoners and get them out of here.”
“But we just caught them!”
“I can’t defend them and fight this wizard at the same time. We let them go, we watch them die or we let that monster take them.”
“Too much talking,” Dominus said. “You die now.”
Dominus uttered arcane words and made strange gestures, casting a spell that made the shattered rocks rotating around him shoot forward, their razor sharp edges slicing through tall grass and small trees. The stony cloud of death had nearly reached them when Archibald ordered the whirlwind he’d created to drop from the sky. It sucked up the rocks and spat them back at Dominus, but the whirlwind broke apart under the effort
“Clever boy,” Dominus said. A wave of his hand scattered the rocks before they hit him. “I didn’t think you a threat, bookworm.”
Julius charged Dominus, covering the distance between them in seconds. Dominus caused the ground under Julius’ feet to rise ten feet. Julius kept his balance and jumped down at Dominus. Sworn Doom glowed and yelled, “Doom!”
Another pillar of rock and earth rose up in front of Dominus to shield him from the blade. Dominus’ snide smirk disappeared when Sworn Doom hacked through the pillar. Dominus raised his staff, and it glowed nearly as bright as Sworn Doom before the ground erupted around him like an explosion. The blast threw Julius back but didn’t do enough damage to stop him, and he rose to his feet.
Brody ran to the shed to save their prisoners. Anton and the other three men screamed in abject terror as they struggled against their bonds. Brody had nearly reached them when Dominus cast another spell. A wall of dirt rose up around the shed and encased it.
“No one’s leaving,” Dominus taunted. “No one’s surviving. You all just die.”
Archibald began chanting to cast his own spell. There was no immediate effect, and Dominus laughed. “Running out of power so soon, fool? I was almost convinced you-Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in order, everything’s all right. Betty stitched a-curse you, you-border, yellow, red then white.”
“What’s happening?” Brody asked.
“He’s messing with his head,” Habbly told him. “Dominus can’t cast a spell when the Archivist is forcing him to say gibberish.”
Julius recovered quickly and charged Dominus. The evil wizard dodged Julius’ sword swing, but the hero still managed to ram his right shoulder into Dominus’ stomachs and knock him over. Julius raised his sword for a swing that would kill the evil wizard, but Dominus pointed his left hand and the tiny glowing pebbles shot out and hit Julius in the chest. Two of the tiny rocks hit and exploded, throwing Julius back and cutting deep grooves in his chest plate.
“Betty stitched a border,” Dominus said as he stood up and aimed his left hand at Archibald. Pebbles around his hand flew as fast as arrows, too fast for the old man to avoid. Yips grabbed Archibald and pulled him away, saving his life but breaking his concentration. Dominus scowled and yelled, “Those tremor stones cost me a hundred gold coins, and I wasted them on an idiot like you! You’ll die for that, paper pusher.”
Dominus cast another spell and rocks flew together to form a crude stone man twenty feet tall. The stone man marched toward Julius while the evil wizard turned his attention toward Archibald. “You’re so pathetic you needed a goblin to save you. At least two of those wretched creatures were smart enough to run, unlike you. I’ll—”
Habbly and Ibwibble had run, but only into dense brush that covered their approach to Dominus. The pair leapt from the grass and ran the last few feet to the evil wizard. Dominus looked shocked, and then screamed in pain when Habbly struck him in the shins with his mop handle. Ibwibble grabbed onto Dominus’ staff and chewed on it, gnawing out a chunk of wood and spitting it out. Dominus shoved Ibwibble off and screamed a spell.
The ground shook and Dominus rose into the sky on a thirty foot tall pillar of dirt and rocks. He had a perfect view of the battlefield, where Julius hacked a leg off the stone man attacking him. Archibald had recovered and began chanting again. Then Dominus saw Brody dig through the dirt that entombed the farm shed and open the door.
“No one claims my prize!” Dominus howled. The pillar of rocks and dirt bet over to form an arch and set him next to the shed. A wave of his hand made the dirt around the shed convulse and rip the small building open to reveal the screaming prisoners. He shoved Brody aside and grabbed Anton by the throat with his right hand. “You know where the Dawn Lanter is! Tell me or I’ll bury you fifty feet underground!”
Anton’s expression changed from terror to confusion. “I, I have no idea.”
“Liar!” Dominus pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket with his left hand and shoved it into Anton’s face. “You tempt me with hints! Where it was weeks ago! Places it might have gone and people who might have seen it! No more of these infuriating clues! Where is it right now? Tell me before I—Betty stitched a border, yellow, red then white. If everything’s in—not this again!”
Dominus dropped Anton and spun around. He saw Archibald chanting again and Julius hacking an arm off the stone man. The stone man struggled to fight with two limbs missing, and a savage blow to its head ended the battle. With it dead, if it had ever truly been alive, Julius ran at Dominus with Habbly, Ibwibble and Yips following him. Dominus struggled to cast a spell and gave up in frustration when his arcane words of power were replaced with nonsensical gibberish. Instead the evil wizard pulled a glittering wand from a pocket.
“No!” Dominus spun around at the sharp cry as Brody grabbed the wand with both hands. Neither the goblin or the wizard were strong enough to win this struggle, but Brody didn’t have to win. Every second brought Julius closer, and if Dominus couldn’t cast spells or use his wand there was nothing the evil wizard could do to fight back. Snarling, Dominus let go of the wand and ran off.
“Betty stitched a border!” Dominus yelled as he fled. He went another ten feet before shouting, “Yellow, red then—curse you, you ignorant fool! You delay the inevitable, nothing more!”
Julius had nearly caught up with Dominus when the evil wizard cast a spell and caused rocks to form a stone pillar around him. The pillar shot into the sky and flew off, leaving Julius, Archibald and the goblins victorious.
“His brain got better fast,” Habby said.
Archibald walked up alongside the goblin and said, “My confusion spell has a short range. Once he was far enough away, he was free of it. We should count ourselves lucky he didn’t bring allies, or we would surely have died.”
“Cheerful, aren’t you?” Ibwibble said. He coughed up a piece of Dominus’ staff and added, “What’s he want the lantern for? And what made him think whatshisface had it? That twerp is lucky he has socks.”
Brody picked up a sheet of paper off the ground and held it up for the others to see. “He dropped this when he ran off. ‘It says no secrets! Your leaders are keeping the truth from you!”
“That’s a lot of exclamation points,” Yips said as he rejoined Archibald. “Can I have one?”
Brody kept reading aloud, saying, “The Archivists are seeking the Dawn Lantern, one of the fifty most powerful magic items on Other Place. They believe it to be in Ocean View Kingdom, Forthosia or in the city states of Nolod or Cronsword.”
“I didn’t write that,” Anton said. He sounded stunned. “There were rumors, but we couldn’t confirm anything. It was hearsay. I never wrote that! It’s a lie!”
