Tears of Liscor, page 115
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
He rode with the last of the Redfangs. The Humans surrounded him. Redscar turned, his blades flashing. Thunderfur biting. Goblins died around him. They joined the dead. Countless thousands.
He fought in a slowly-tightening circle of space. Redfangs fought with him, many on the ground. Carn Wolves howled as they leapt at screaming horses. But with each second Goblins fell. Still, Redscar fought.
He was covered in wounds. His war paint was covered by blood. His healing potions had been expended long ago. And his friends, his family, were dying. They covered the ground, overwhelmed by numbers. The Humans were circling, riders charging, infantry hacking at the riders. But they could not bring Redscar down.
Thunderfur leapt forwards, howling, Redscar struck to the left and right, forcing the Humans back. He cut spears meant for him or Thunderfur, parried blades, his arms a blur. The [Archers] and [Mages] dared not target him as he locked blades with the warriors around him.
They fell. Redscar killed them like flies. His blades cut through their armor. He brought [Knights] down. He killed [Mages]. They could not kill him. He turned, two swords in his claws.
In one claw he held the sword enchanted with frost, blood mixing with ice. In the other he held a crimson blade, as red as rust.
Redfang. The rust-red blade bit again and again. And each time, Redscar howled a name. A name few of the Humans recognized. But they feared it.
The onslaught slowed, from awe as much as anything else. The Humans held back, staring. Redscar turned, screaming. They held back, too afraid to approach.
He was one Goblin. One Goblin, not even a Hob. But they could not bring him down.
“Pull back.”
A man rode towards the circle of warriors. They moved backwards, and Redscar paused. The warrior on horseback stared at the Goblin. Those who knew him waited. Another man raised his voice.
“Sir Vumat. Allow us to—”
“No.”
“Then let us finish him off at range! If we—”
“No.”
The [Knight] turned his head. He looked back at Redscar. The Goblin leaned over his Carn Wolf. Sir Vumat stared at Redscar and slowly lowered the visor on his helmet.
“If that Goblin lives, he will one day be a threat as great as Garen Redfang.”
Slowly, he rode forwards. Redscar bared his teeth. The [Knight] saluted him.
“I am Sir Vumat. I have come for your head Goblin, dishonorable as it may be to face you wounded. I will slay you here.”
Redscar locked eyes with the [Knight].
“Try.”
They rode at each other. Sir Vumat’s sword flashed. His armor shone. Redscar and Thunderfur howled. Their audience watched.
Four times, the two warriors closed. Four times, they struck at each other. Then Sir Vumat’s stallion reared, screaming, as Thunderfur’s jaws closed around its unguarded throat. The [Knight] fell from his saddle, his armor torn by Redscar’s blades. He lay still on the ground. Already dead.
Redscar turned. He raised his swords, challenging another to come forwards.
No one dared. But then arrows began flying. A [Mage] targeted Redscar, and he felt a sharp pain tear at his right ear as he dodged. He pointed, and Thunderfur leapt.
All he wanted was death. But Redscar felt her running. He looked back and saw the distant shapes fleeing towards the mountain. He stared and whispered.
“Chieftain.”
He turned and rode. The last of the Redfangs followed him. Redscar found a Goblin fighting with a dagger, his bow broken. He bent and grabbed Badarrow. The Hob fought him. He had been standing over a body. Redscar dragged him away. He left the young woman behind. She was still there, covering the Hob as Redscar fled the field, tears falling like rain.
——
“Lord Veltras, the Goblins have fled or perished.”
Jericha stated the obvious. Tyrion could see nothing living on the Floodplains. Nothing but humanity. He passed by the Goblin corpses. He stared towards the hill where the Goblin Lord had perished. He frowned.
“The Goblin Lord’s body. I don’t see it. Ensure he is dead. As well as the other one.”
“I will locate their corpses.”
“Good.”
Tyrion Veltras kept staring at the hill. He saw a kneeling figure. A young woman shielded a Hobgoblin’s body. His army had avoided her, as had Tyrion himself. She was, after all, Human.
“My lord?”
“It’s nothing. Aim towards Liscor.”
The words shocked those around Tyrion.
“But the Goblins are dead!”
“So? This changes nothing. Prepare to charge the gates. Tell the trebuchets to launch a single volley. Jericha, a [Siege Fireball]. Destroy those barricades. On my signal.”
Tyrion took a fresh lance. He studied the gates.
“Ready the charge.”
“My lord.”
“What is it?”
Tyrion glanced to one side. Jericha’s voice quavered.
“I—I’ve just received something. A [Message]. From—”
“There is nothing she can say to stop me.”
“Nothing?”
Tyrion whirled. The air opened up in front of him. A smiling face filled the open space. Magnolia Reinhart stared past Tyrion for a second, and then her eyes fixed on him.
“Oh, good. The projection spell worked. Ressa, hold the artifact steady. Hello, Tyrion.”
“Begone, Reinhart!”
Tyrion slashed his lance through the air. The magical spell wavered but didn’t vanish. Magnolia smiled deeper. Her eyes looked past Tyrion at the battlefield. The look in her eyes deepened.
“I see I was too late. Well, I have enough time for this.”
“Whatever you have to say—”
“Be silent, Tyrion. And listen to me. I warned you. I gave you every chance. So this is my ultimatum. Turn back. Leave with the Goblin Lord’s head.”
“And if not? You cannot stop me.”
Magnolia paused. She was filling the image in the screen. But quite deliberately. Jericha trembled as she stared at something past Magnolia. Tyrion stared, but he couldn’t make it out. What was she hiding? The [Lady] sighed.
“No. I suppose I can’t. But I can ensure one thing. If you go through with this, you may take Liscor. And if you do, I will promise you one thing: you will have nothing to come back to.”
“What does that—”
Tyrion’s breath caught as Magnolia moved out of the way. He saw a keep behind her. An old, rather austere structure. Nothing like her estates. But large enough to be called a palace by some. A fortress, moreover. Defensive. A home he knew well.
The Veltras estates. His family home. And Magnolia stood not a hundred feet in front of it. It wouldn’t have mattered if she were anyone else. The keep was a citadel. But she was there.
And she was not alone. The projection jostled as Ressa placed whatever was keeping the recording still on something and stepped forwards. She stood behind her mistress as Magnolia smiled. They stood together. Just the two of them.
“A lovely home.”
That was all Magnolia said. Tyrion’s grip turned white on his lance.
“You dare. If you dare—I will personally ride on you and—”
“Do what? Cross a thousand miles in a moment? No, Tyrion. Be silent.”
And he was. Magnolia looked at him.
“You could never imagine I’d do this. That is why you are a fool. A damned fool, Tyrion.”
“You have no honor. Not a shred of morality. I warn you—”
The [Lord]’s voice shook. Magnolia gazed at him.
“Well?”
“I will not be blackmailed. Not by you or anyone.”
Tyrion heard Jericha gasp. Magnolia’s right eye twitched. She stared hard at Tyrion.
“Really.”
“Touch them and—”
“It is your choice.”
“I will not be stopped.”
Something cold had replaced the Lord of the Veltras family. He spoke with icy calm. And he leveled his lance at Magnolia.
“Know that you will die. I swear it on my family name.”
“And I swear by my family that I will do what I promise.”
Magnolia stared at Tyrion. He hesitated. Fear crept into his heart, for all he tried to tell himself she was lying. But she wouldn’t. Not her.
“Lady Reinhart. You cannot—”
“Be silent, Jericha.”
The woman fell still. Magnolia regarded Tyrion. And then she slowly shook her head.
“Tyrion Veltras. You will turn around. Or everything you fear most will come to pass. But should that not sway you, if that is not enough—”
“What else could you do?”
Magnolia looked at Tyrion. As if she couldn’t believe he’d ask. She smiled, and it was a colder smile than Tyrion had ever seen before.
“To you? Nothing. However, I thought I’d remind our peers what they’re fighting for.”
Slowly, Tyrion looked around. And he realized that there were more projections hanging in the air. Images. Of [Ladies]. Lady Bethal, smiling, surrounded by her [Chevalier] and husband, Thomast. Her Rose Knights. Chattering to a pale Lady Ieka.
Lady Wuvren. Sipping tea and talking to an older woman in front of Lord Erill. The [Merchant Lord]’s lips were tight. His eyes were locked on his mother. She was looking from him to Wuvren, uncomprehending.
Lady Zanthia. Her house’s retainers stood at her back as she spoke to Lord Pellmia. The [Lord] was white. He stared past her at his city.
Tyrion looked around the battlefield. Not all the [Lords] and [Ladies] had the floating images projected to them. In fact, no more than a dozen had received the message. But it was enough. They looked to Tyrion, faces pale. Desperate. Unbelieving.
“Well?”
Magnolia waited. Tyrion looked back at her.
“This is war.”
“I thought it was already war with the Drakes. Or will you fight on two fronts at once?”
The mocking smile. Tyrion turned from her.
“Jericha. Cut the connection.”
“Lord Veltras?”
“Wait for my order.”
“Tyrion—”
Magnolia’s voice cut off abruptly. Lord Tyrion took a few deep breaths. He tried to calm himself. And then he slowly turned in his saddle.
The others looked at him. Lord Erill, Ieka, his aide, Jericha. An army, waiting, soaked in the blood of Goblins.
Tyrion’s head turned past the image of Magnolia. He looked to Liscor, walls cracked, gates partially blocked. In that moment, Tyrion Veltras’ eyes were cold. He glanced at his allies, soldiers, at Liscor, and at Magnolia. Weighing. Calculating.
The city of Liscor watched, not understanding what was happening. But word was already spreading. The world held its breath as, but for Tyrion Veltras, history would change. The [Lord] looked at Liscor and closed his eyes. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned.
“Forwards.”
The world froze. Jericha opened her mouth. Tyrion looked at her.
“We march past Liscor. To the Blood Fields.”
The nobility stared at Tyrion in shock. He turned.
“Send a [Message] to the Drakes. The Goblin Lord is dead. However, I, Tyrion Veltras, challenge the Drakes. Meet me at the Blood Fields in six days. Let their armies face ours or forfeit.”
Jericha raised a shaking hand to her head. Erill exhaled, his hands shaking. Ieka stared at Tyrion.
“All of us?”
“No. The nobility will leave. Those who do not wish to do battle. We leave the trebuchets. Half the foot. We ride. Move.”
Tyrion snapped. He rode forwards. Shocked, uncomprehending, the army hesitated. But then the first rank of riders rode after Tyrion.
Liscor watched. The Drakes and Gnolls stood on the walls, weapons ready. But the army of Humans passed by them. They marched away from the city, across the muddy Floodplains. South. To battle in the most traditional of ways. Spellbound, the Drakes stared as Tyrion Veltras’ army broke up, some groups milling about, heading north. They watched as the Humans collected what few dead they had as they quit the field.
And then wild cheers burst from Liscor’s walls. They shouted for joy as the Walled Cities scrambled, redirecting their armies. But the Drakes and Gnolls and Liscor celebrated. Somehow, they were saved. They laughed and cried and hugged each other.
And the Goblins lay outside the walls.
——
He was dead. Reiss pulled himself up. The left side of his body was missing. His heart was gone. But he still stood. He heard a voice. There was always a voice. But at least now he recognized it.
Reiss.
It called his name. Somehow, it knew his name. But it didn’t matter. The voice urged Reiss up, filled him with life.
My apprentice. Kill Tyrion Veltras. End his life. I will give you strength. Go to him, and I will ensure his death. Go and—
“No.”
Reiss shook his head. He stood amid the dead. Forgotten. The voice raged at him. But Reiss ignored it.
“No, master. No more.”
There was nothing left. She was gone. He could feel her going higher, ever distant. Her and so few of them. Reiss wept, but no tears flowed from his cheeks. He staggered forwards as the voice cursed him. His master abandoned Reiss at last, and the Goblin Lord laughed.
A hollow sound. He walked forwards, looking at the dead. He fell to his knees and waited to join them. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
He was so tired. It would be over soon. But he was tired. Reiss looked around. And he saw it. Sitting on a hill. The Goblin Lord turned and began walking towards it. A good place to wait to die.
——
Erin Solstice knelt over Headscratcher and saw the army of Humans leaving. She saw them pass by Liscor. She didn’t know why. She held a limp body in her arms. She wanted it to move. More than anything. She wanted them to get up. She wanted time to stop. She wanted it to be undone.
They were gone. All of them. Some were alive. More were dead. She had seen them die. And she couldn’t stop it. They had run right past her. Ignored her. She’d been helpless, but they’d spared her.
She couldn’t even save one of them. Not one. She had led them to this. All to this. Erin cradled Headscratcher in her arms. And then she stood up. She couldn’t help it. She had to—had to—
It wasn’t real. Erin walked away in a daze. All of this wasn’t real. She was going to wake up and find out this was all a dream. The Goblin Lord hadn’t come yet. This was all a dream.
She was dead. She would wake up. Let this be a dream. Please. Oh, please.
But it wasn’t. And more tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t know where she was going. Mechanically, she walked back, tripping, falling, sobbing. She walked towards her inn. The third floor was destroyed, but the rest was intact. The door was ajar. Erin walked inside and stopped.
A Goblin met a young woman in the inn. She was weeping. Her clothes were bloody.
He was dying. He was already dead. But some part of him held death back. He sat at a table, slumped over. He turned his head as Erin stopped. She stared at him. A—face stared back.
Perhaps he had been handsome once. Perhaps his smile had once been reassuring. His eyes might have terrified. He might have inspired hope or confidence or hatred. But now, he was just dead. She stared at the Goblin.
“You’re him.”
He took a breath.
“Yes.”
They stared at each other. Erin looked around.
“You’re dead.”
“Almost.”
It was a dream. In a trance, Erin walked forwards. She poked at his side. The Goblin didn’t wince.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to sit here. Until it ends.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Erin took a seat across from him. The Goblin stared at her. He was taller than her, but not as tall as he’d seemed. He looked tired.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. You…speak well.”
“Yes. I learned to long ago.”
The two stared at each other. Erin trembled.
“Tell me this is a dream.”
“I wish it were.”
The Goblin Lord looked at her. Erin shook.
“Why did you do it?”
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t an answer. Erin punched at him. Something broke. The Goblin Lord’s head lolled back. And then forwards. His voice was quiet when he spoke. Sad.
“I never wanted this. I only wanted my people to be safe. For there to be a place—one place in this world—where Goblins could live. One place.”
Erin didn’t respond. She buried her head in her hands. Reiss looked around. His eyes reflected nothing but death. He whispered.
“I never wanted this. But I wanted this. I wanted to take something from them. Everyone who had taken from me. I wanted—to hurt them.”
“It’s not right. They did nothing wrong.”
“Didn’t they? They lived while my people died. That’s enough.”
“It’s not the same. They didn’t know.”
“They kill Goblins for sport. For money. Like rats. Monsters.”
“I know. I know. And I hate them for it.”
Erin whispered. The Goblin Lord nodded.
“You hate them as I do.”
“I do. But I’m one of them.”
“So. What do you do? Do you kill them? Or are you on their side?”
The Goblin Lord looked at her. Erin shook her head.
“I—I don’t. How could I? But I don’t kill Goblins either. I—there’s a sign.”
“A sign?”
She got up to show him. The Goblin Lord read it. And he laughed. He laughed and laughed, wheezing until there was no air in his lungs.
“And this works?”
“No. I don’t think it ever works. But I keep it up. And I give Goblins food. I—I tried to keep them safe. And they died for me.”
“That is what we do. It was not your fault. It was their choice. And his fault. And mine.”
The Goblin Lord nodded jerkily. He looked at Erin. She was curled up in her chair.
