Tears of Liscor, page 20
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Ga-ren! Ga-ren! Ga-ren! Redfang! Ga-ren!”
The Redfang Warriors in Rags’ camp faltered. They stopped chanting. The ones in Tremborag’s camp kept shouting Garen’s name until a [Mage] from the Human camp threw a ball of air that exploded overhead. Then all the Goblins slept in silence.
Rags lay down and slept uneasily. She didn’t know what to make of Garen. Or Tremborag. She didn’t feel safe, but she didn’t want to be the first one to attack. And she could still sense it, practically on top of her now. A roaring flame. A burning sensation. Fire, bright and beautiful, close enough to touch. Alluring in the darkness. But—putrid? No, not entirely. But something foul mixed into the flames. A foul smell that was feeling rather than scent. Rags wrinkled her nose. But the fire was still glorious. She raised her head and looked across the camp. She could not see him, but she knew he was there. And he knew her.
The Goblin Lord.
——
Day 7
It was the same and not the same. This time, the horns blew and [Mages] blasted sound spells over the Goblin camp. It was definitely a rough start, but Rags’ tribe was used to the routine now. So were the other Goblins. They were up and moving, eating on the go before the sun had even risen.
Rags had a system now. She declined to lead her tribe seeing as the Humans now set the pace. Instead, she had the wagons all set up. Since they were actually moving slower now, given that the Goblin Lord and Tremborag both lacked movement Skills, she could burden the wagons a bit more and let the Hobs lend their strength to the job.
Now her [Cooks] were making food on the wagons’ backs. And Rags had set up a mobile restroom on the wagons so Goblins could do their business without having to catch up. It was a glorious invention hampered only by the smelly poo that other Goblins had to avoid. She even had a wagon for Goblins to sleep on, and she had to assign several Hobs to keep Goblins from other factions from climbing on.
Her tribe marched at the front of the sea of Goblins. Rags didn’t want to get near Tremborag or Garen, who were closer to the back. But that put her closer to the Goblin Lord’s army. And while the black-armored Goblins gave them space, it was only a matter of time before something happened.
As it turned out, it was Pyrite and Redscar who were at the front when it occurred. Both were on the right side of Rags’ tribe, talking. Redscar was disconsolate after his encounter with his former Chieftain, and Pyrite was lending him an ear. It was mainly Redscar talking and Pyrite offering a word or two now and then. Or a grunt.
The two were keeping an eye on the ranks of Goblins in black armor. They saw the shift in the movement of the Goblins and broke off speaking quickly. Then Pyrite saw the black Goblins start to advance and recognized the huge Hob that pushed his way forwards. Eater of Spears appeared at the front, and Redscar cursed.
“They’re coming.”
“Pikes!”
Pyrite roared. Goblins with pikes rushed forwards, setting themselves up. All around them, the other Goblins screamed and moved back. Pyrite kept the Goblins moving, but now there was a wall of pikes between them and the Goblin Lord’s army. He could see more Goblins moving forwards and heard Rags calling out orders as she repositioned her forces. And then—
It was like light in the darkness. Like the light of the sky after the time Pyrite had gotten lost in the caves for two days. The light of gemstones. A glorious light. A terrible light. A wondrous thing he couldn’t explain. Glorious—but dark. There was something tainted. But it was beautiful.
Pyrite saw the Goblins in front of him stir. He felt something seize hold of his heart. He saw the black bodies part. And a Hob rode forwards on the back of the undead Shield spider.
There he was. His black eyes shone as the Goblins fell back in front of them. They couldn’t help it. Pyrite and Redscar stared up at the Hob riding the undead Shield Spider. They felt it too. An urge to move aside.
It was different from Tremborag. He had commanded them to kneel. But that had been an order. This was different. As Reiss rode forwards, the Goblins stepped aside, staring at him, not even realizing what they were doing. They looked up not in fear, but with awe.
Here rode a Goblin Lord. His black gaze swept the Goblins. And not even Rags’ warriors could meet his eye. They parted for him automatically, the pikes lowering as the Goblin Lord rode slowly forwards. All but two. Redscar and Pyrite held their ground, but wavered as the Goblin Lord came closer.
Redscar’s legs began to move. He reached down and pulled out a dagger. He stabbed himself in the leg, grunting. Thunderfur whined, and Redscar clung to him. He glared up at the Goblin Lord.
And Pyrite? The Hob looked up and closed his eyes. He felt the Goblin approaching. That brilliant light grew brighter in his mind, and he felt the urge to obey. Here was something wondrous. Powerful. Greater than him.
But. It was not the first time he had seen that light. And as Pyrite opened his eyes, he met the Goblin Lord’s eyes. He looked up at the Hob riding the headless, undead spider and spoke a word.
“Small.”
The Goblin Lord blinked down at him. Behind him rode Snapjaw, and Eater of Spears trudged on his other side. He looked at Pyrite and then decided he’d heard the Hob wrong. He glanced past Pyrite and tried to ride forwards.
Pyrite casually lifted the battleaxe. The Goblin Lord stopped and stared down at him.
“This is an axe.”
Redscar grinned. The Goblin Lord didn’t get the joke. He looked at Pyrite and then glanced at Eater of Spears. The gigantic Hob stepped forwards. He and Pyrite appraised each other for a long second. Pyrite wondered if he could beat Eater of Spears. He did a few calculations that involved him getting thumped on the head repeatedly and then heard a voice.
“Pyrite.”
The Hob turned. Rags rode past him. Pyrite lowered his battleaxe. Rags’ Carn Wolf stepped past him, and Eater of Spears moved back. The Goblin Lord looked down. He and Rags stared at each other as Rags’ warriors and the Goblin Lord’s army faced each other in silence. Pyrite was ready for anything. But after a long minute, the Goblin Lord smiled.
“I am Reiss. Goblin Lord. I would know your name, brave Chieftain of the Flooded Waters tribe.”
Rags blinked. She stared at the Goblin Lord in surprise. Then she raised her voice.
“I am Rags! Chieftain of the Flooded Waters tribe! Why do you come, Goblin Lord?”
Her question seemed to surprise Reiss. He looked at her.
“Why? Because your tribe shines. Because it is good. Because you and I—”
He touched his chest.
“—are Goblins. We are kin. And I would help you and have you help me. The Humans pursue us both. But are we enemies?”
He looked at Rags. The smaller Goblin folded her arms.
“Maybe.”
Reiss tilted his head.
“Why do you believe that?”
Rags shrugged.
“You are slave. You hurt own Goblins. You are not real Goblin Lord. Is what other Goblins say.”
There was a cry of outrage from Snapjaw. The Goblin Lord’s warriors growled and shouted in protest. Pyrite blinked at the unexpected denial. And Reiss? He laughed.
It was such a peaceful, happy sound. Reiss laughed and leapt from the back of his Shield Spider. He landed lightly. Rags stared at him from the back of her Carn Wolf. Reiss walked forwards, and Pyrite tensed, but the Goblin Lord didn’t attack. He walked next to Rags.
“We must keep moving. The Humans will attack my people if we do not move.”
He pointed to the rear where the Goblins had halted due to the confrontation. Rags glanced in that direction and frowned.
“Those are Tremborag Goblins. Not yours.”
“They are Goblins. My people. They should not die.”
Reiss looked at Rags. She blinked and then slowly nodded. She pointed.
“Move out!”
Her tribe began moving. Reiss pointed, and his army did the same. Rags expected him to get back on his Shield Spider, but to her surprise, it began to shuffle back into the line of Goblins. Reiss started walking. He glanced up at Rags.
“Will you walk with me, Chieftain Rags? My warriors will pull back. Snapjaw, Eater, return and wait for me.”
“But Reiss—”
Snapjaw protested, but Reiss shook his head. Eater of Spears pulled her gently back, and they disappeared into the crowd. Rags hesitated.
Now would be the time to kill the Goblin Lord. If she were Garen. But she had real reason to doubt Garen’s words. Especially now. She looked at the Goblin Lord. Then she shrugged and leapt from the back of her Carn Wolf.
“No walk. Will jog.”
“True.”
Reiss began to jog. Rags ran with him. The two moved ahead as the other Goblins gave them a wide berth. It was strange. Reiss ran naturally, breathing steadily. Rags had to run harder to keep up. She didn’t know what to say to him. He wasn’t like what she expected. She had thought he would be a monster. But he wasn’t. He had black eyes, but everything else about him was normal. Friendly, even.
“I don’t hurt my tribe.”
Reiss spoke first. He looked at Rags seriously.
“They fight for me. Die for me. And I lead them. Sometimes poorly. But I don’t mistreat them.”
Rags shrugged noncommittally.
“You make them undead.”
She pointed to a group of zombies rapidly shuffling to keep up. They were given a wide berth by other Goblins. Reiss nodded.
“That is true. But I am a [Necromancer]. I raise the dead. The Goblins who died fight for me. So other, living Goblins won’t die. I would let them rest if I could, but I cannot. Is that wrong?”
“No.”
Rags conceded the point. This was strange! Reiss actually sounded sad. And his voice—Rags peered up at his eyes again.
“Are you slave, though?”
This time, Reiss hesitated. He looked at Rags and then glanced behind her. She knew Garen and Tremborag were behind them. She could vaguely sense them too. Although they were embers to the Goblin Lord’s fire.
“Who told you that? Garen Redfang? Tremborag?”
“Maybe. Is true?”
“True. And false. I have a master. But…”
“Reiss!”
Rags turned. She heard a shout and the sounds of fighting. She turned and saw Snapjaw and Eater of Spears crashing back towards them. Pyrite swung his battleaxe, but too slow. Garen parried the blow and charged towards Reiss.
His eyes blazed. He swung his blade up as he charged the Goblin Lord. Reiss had stopped. He watched Garen charge him. His hands turned black with magic, and he pointed.
A bolt of black energy shot from his hands. Garen dodged in his saddle. He roared, and his Carn Wolf leapt. Rags shouted as Garen swung his sword down, ready to cut. She raised her hand. Reiss and Garen were aiming at each other—
And Rags blew fire into the Carn Wolf’s snout. The wolf howled and leapt back. Garen sliced, but he was too far. Reiss shot another bolt of energy at Garen, and the other Hob blocked it.
There was a commotion. Pyrite charged forwards, covering Rags. Redscar and his Redfangs formed a circle around Rags and Reiss. But then Snapjaw and Eater of Spears were charging them with the Goblins in armor and Garen was getting up, murder in his eyes—
“Stop.”
It was Reiss’ voice who halted the violence before it could begin. All the Goblins paused, even Garen. The Hob looked around as the other Goblins aimed their weapons at him. Reiss’ voice was cold.
“Garen.”
He looked at Rags and shook his head.
“You knew Garen Redfang, didn’t you? He told you I was evil. Not a Goblin.”
“Yes.”
Rags looked between Garen and Reiss. Garen Redfang was staring at Reiss with hatred in his eyes. And when the Goblin Lord looked back, there was sorrow in his. He shook his head.
“True and not true. He called me a slave. I have a master. But I am no slave.”
“You are not Goblin!”
Garen shouted at Reiss. He brandished his weapon. Reiss turned, ignoring him. He looked at Rags, looked at the Goblins standing around. Watching. Staring.
“Garen hates me. He has a reason. We were once friends. He and I met ten years ago, when I was a small Goblin. When he first became a Hob. Garen and I were…the Humans would call us ‘brothers’. We had the same dream.”
Rags’ jaw dropped. The other Goblins stared, becoming waxworks. Garen froze. Reiss looked back at him.
“We met seven years later. Garen when he had become a Gold-rank adventurer. I, when I had found my master. You were furious. You told me I lost my way. You called me not-Goblin. But my dream was the same. Our dream was the same. I would become a Chieftain. No, a Lord. And you would be my finest warrior. And give me the greatest weapon to save our people with.”
Garen was silent. Reiss looked at him. He looked around at his audience, who were speechless. He looked back at Garen. And then his eyes narrowed.
“We never spoke after that. But I followed you, Garen. I listened to rumors of you. I knew you fled, became hunted, settled in the High Passes. That was why I came to find you. You have it, don’t you? You swore to me you would find it. And you did. You became a Gold-rank adventurer, searched the entire continent for years. And you found it. You betrayed the Halfseekers for it.”
Garen’s eyes burned. He still said nothing, but his grip tightened on his sword. His other hand was at his belt. Clutching something. Reiss’ voice was loud in the silence.
“My master searched, but he was not a Goblin, so he and his creations could never find it. And I never told him of the memory.”
“Memory? What memory?”
Rags spoke up. Reiss turned to her. His black eyes shone. It was a beautiful light. A terrible light. He was hope and dissonance and wonder and corruption all at once. He was not a Goblin. But he was a Lord. And he spoke and shook Rags’ entire world.
“The legacy of Velan the Kind. The thing he hid in the High Passes. The treasure of the Goblin King. And Garen has his key.”
He pointed at Garen. The Hobgoblin stood as all the Goblins stared at him. Garen looked around, clutching something in his belt. His eyes burned. He looked at Reiss, looked the Goblin Lord in the eye. For a second, he looked at Rags, and she saw a thousand unsaid things there. But then Garen turned away. He shook his head and said one word.
“No.”
All the Goblins stared at him. They looked at each other. In the end, all things considered, they could agree on one thing.
Garen Redfang was a terrible liar.
5.49
It had been a long time since Olesm had sat in his office without being afraid or stressed out. A long time, and yet a short one. In his head, Olesm knew that it hadn’t been that long. A bit over a week at most since the Raskghar had begun attacking in force. But oh, it had felt like months of his life.
And yet, today he was calm, if a bit nervous. It wasn’t anything too serious—although, then again, yes it was and Olesm dreaded it—but he’d put enough days between him and the nights of fear to feel better.
No, it was more than that. He’d faced the Raskghar in the darkness, seen them broken. He’d helped burn their camps and rescued the Gnolls and Ceria with his own claws. Olesm paused as he lifted a wet quill above his parchment.
He’d fought in the dungeon, with Wall Lord Ilvriss and the Watch. He’d slain a Raskghar—the beast had been wounded by a [Fireball], but Olesm had been the one to charge it and cut it down as it flayed open his other arm. He winced and rubbed at his left arm, remembering. They’d won that battle, though. And afterwards, he’d seen the sun.
The clear sky above his head, warm air in his face. Olesm jostled Drassi, trying to speak into the voice-amplifying gem as he watched the baseball players running after the ball. He was annoyed, excited—and happy.
It had been several days since that moment. But still, Olesm thought back to it. Especially whenever he glanced out the window. Liscor was wet and rainy, as usual. But that didn’t bother Olesm. As soon as he was off duty, he’d head to Erin’s inn.
Or…or he could stop by the barracks. Watch Captain—that was to say, Zevara—had asked if he’d like to have a drink together when they were off duty. They could surely do that, and he did owe her at least a few drinks for all the hard work they’d done. They could do that. At Erin’s inn.
“All right…nearly done…there! Signed, Olesm Swifttail. Date is…uh…well, I can always fill that in before filing it. Where’s my wax and seal?”
Olesm hunted around in his desk and then found the wax. He gloomily heated up some sealing wax while he got his stone stamp ready. He hated this part, mainly because he was no good at it. The wax always got everywhere on his desk.
But it was important. Sealing wax on a document prevented it from being tampered with magically. So Olesm tried to carefully dribble some wax on a corner of his report and stamp it without making too much of a mess.
He failed.
——
In the same building, a few rooms away, Wall Lord Ilvriss was hard at work as well. He was working in the room usually reserved for Liscor’s Council to meet in. However, it was now effectively his office and war room. As the largest room in the building that was Liscor’s city hall, it was spacious and could easily seat a dozen Drakes. However, this room was currently filled to overflowing.
With treasure. Magical artifacts lay on cushions or were piled neatly awaiting inspection. Some bore little scraps of parchment that were attached to them, while artifacts yet to be inspected were clearly marked with red discs warning against casually touching them.
Ilvriss sat at the meeting table, a large, single-bladed axe lying in front of him. On Ilvriss’ left was a pile of clean parchment and quill and inkpot. On his right sat several bulging hemp bags, some of which were open. Bright gold pieces could be seen inside them. Ilvriss paid the gold no mind. It was his, after all. He just had it next to him to set the mood. Being surrounded by priceless treasures made him feel like he was back in Salazsar, in his home.
