Tears of Liscor, page 29
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
Reiss looked at Rags. Instantly, Tremborag spoke up.
“Don’t tell her. This is a secret for true Chieftains, not mewling pretenders.”
Reiss ignored Tremborag. He glanced at Garen, who was giving him an unspoken look. Rags thought it was that which made Reiss decide to tell her.
“It is a memory, Chieftain Rags. A memory I saw. And Garen. When we were young, we were part of the Ghostly Hand tribe. We could not remember, but our Chieftain did. And our tribe was large, so she looked back and saw the memories of Velan the Kind. Or rather, the months before he died.”
The other Goblins stared at Reiss. Rags did too. She had experienced Velan’s memories, but only in fragments, when he was younger. She had no idea what had made him go to war. He was so different from the Goblin that had set fire to Baleros and Izril. Reiss nodded.
“She was curious. So she looked. And she saw a strange thing. The histories of other species do not record this except in passing. In a book I read—it was written something like this.”
Reiss closed his eyes and recited from memory.
“‘The Goblin King had rapidly moved south with a small force, entering the High Passes. There, he vanished for eight days.’ That is all that was written in any account. For eight days, the Goblin King vanished, and the Humans believe it was to clear the High Passes. But Velan did not clear the passes. Instead, he hid something there. His treasure. And he locked it away with a key. Not just one key, in fact. Two. He gave one to Tallis and kept the other for himself.”
Keys? Treasure? When had this turned into a fairy tale? Rags wanted to laugh. But then she remembered the key Garen had been so attached to. And he’d been certain that Tremborag would accept his and Rags’ tribe. Because of the Goblin Lord? Or because—
Rags glanced quickly at Tremborag. The Great Chieftain did not look happy. Reiss looked at him and Garen. He pointed at the hand Garen had clamped over his side.
“There are two. My Chieftain puzzled long over that mystery until she realized that. That is the second part of the secret. There are two keys that Velan hid, and his treasure cannot be found without both. Garen found one. But I wonder, do you know where the other lies?”
He looked at Garen directly, then shifted his glance to Tremborag. The Great Chieftain tensed up. At last, he spoke one grudging word.
“No. And if we did know, we would never tell you, brat.”
Rags studied Tremborag. But his face was unreadable. So instead she looked at Garen. So did all the other Goblins. The Hob looked past Reiss’ head into the sky, scowling. His face was one solid grimace, but—his ears were twitching violently.
“Have no idea.”
Reiss stared at Garen’s ears. Rags stared at Garen’s ears. All the Goblins present, including Garen’s own warriors, stared at the Hob’s trembling ears. Tremborag uttered an oath.
“I’m going to kill you, Redfang.”
Garen looked confused. He didn’t seem to realize his massive tell. But it was Reiss who shook his head.
“One key is worthless. As for the other—if it were easy to obtain, you two would have taken it. But I believe that even with both keys, Velan’s treasure lies well hidden. Or else Garen would have found it after years of his tribe living in the High Passes.”
So that was why he settled there. Rags’ eyes widened. She glanced at Redscar and saw the Goblin’s mouth was agape along with the other Redfangs. Garen had been searching for the treasure all this time. The Hob looked extremely upset, but he wisely didn’t say anything else.
For a few minutes, all the Goblins were thinking, trying to process all they’d heard. Then Tremborag spat and sat up.
“So. Keys. Promises between children. Betrayal. None of it changes the truth. You came to take our tribes. And you brought the Humans! To serve you is to serve the Necromancer. And why should we do that? Even the nameless Goblin can see what folly it is.”
His huge finger pointed at Rags and then Reiss. The ‘nameless Goblin’ glared at Tremborag. He wasn’t helping his argument by insulting her. But Reiss looked calmly at Tremborag.
“I told you, my master cares little for Goblins. But he knows the value of a Goblin Lord. And I am his apprentice. He would aid me, if only to hinder the Humans and Drakes.”
“And he will throw you away when you are done. Don’t fool yourself, brat!”
Tremborag laughed at Reiss. Garen nodded.
“You are a tool. Slave!”
The word seemed to nettle Reiss. He avoided looking at Garen as he stared at the dying fire.
“A tool. Perhaps. But this tool is not mindless. I choose which orders to obey. I have disobeyed my master once, and I will do it again. He controls my actions, but he does not control me.”
“A slave’s words.”
“Perhaps.”
Reiss’ voice was a hiss. He stared at Tremborag, his eyes burning. Snapjaw and Eater of Spears sat up behind him. Reiss calmed.
“But I will be a slave if I must. Because I dream. I dream of a city. You sit and hide, Tremborag, but I dream of a place where Goblins will be free. I dream of streets where Goblins walk about without fear. I dream of homes made by Goblins for Goblins. I dream of a nation. A kingdom of Goblins.”
“A what?”
Tremborag laughed. He upended his wine skin.
“You’re mad.”
“Am I? I did not become a Goblin Lord or sacrifice so much just for my master. I did not give—”
Reiss passed his hands in front of his black eyes.
“I did not give away what I did for power alone. I gave it for a dream. And now I am close. Look around you! There are hundreds of thousands of Goblins here! Enough to conquer all but the largest of cities! If the Humans were to falter, if you would follow me—”
“You would what, take a city? How long would that last? A week? Until the adventurers came for you.”
Reiss shook his head.
“I would take it and hold it. Let the people inside go in peace. Negotiate with the Humans or Drakes—”
“Hah!”
“Quiet!”
Snapjaw leapt to her feet. She glared at Tremborag, hands clenched. She was quivering with emotion. She spoke for the first time that night.
“Reiss can do it! Make nation! Make us safe!”
“It will never happen. The Humans would turn their own cities to ash rather than let Goblins hold it.”
Tremborag sneered at Snapjaw. She took a step forwards, but Reiss held up a hand. He stared at Tremborag.
“It can. If enough Goblins are there. If they are strong enough to make attacking them impossible. If they make a deal. And if they have an ally.”
The Necromancer. Rags stared at Reiss, her jaw open. That was his plan. Reiss turned around to the staring Goblins, ignoring Tremborag’s derision.
“It can happen. My master is strong. If I take a place that can be held, he will support me. And with magic and fortifications, even the greatest of Human armies would not be able to break into my home. I came north for the army to make that dream a reality. If the Humans had not attacked the mountain, I might have taken that.”
“Really?”
Tremborag paused and looked up, eyes glowing. Reiss nodded, meeting Tremborag’s eyes.
“I would not copy you, Tremborag. I would not hide. I would make peace with the Humans, give them what they needed for peace—”
“Your head! And all the heads of the Goblins in the mountain! Don’t fool yourself! Your dream will never come true!”
Tremborag roared in frustration. Reiss was unmoved.
“It can. And it will. Any Goblin who dreams of peace, of a place where a Human will not burn them out of their caves or kill them for their ears—that is my dream too. And I will make it. What will you offer them, Tremborag? The safety of your mountain until it disappears? I have a dream. You have nothing.”
He looked at Tremborag and then at Garen. Then Reiss turned.
“Dream, my people. Dream. That is why I fight. For a dream. A home.”
The fire was dying behind Reiss. But at his words, the embers glowed one last time. A plume of smoke shot into the air. And a city formed there. A city as real as mist, as far from reach as the stars. But a city nonetheless. It hung in the air, tall houses hidden behind walls. And little Goblins stood in the streets, walked along the walls. The assembled Goblins looked up and saw Reiss’ dream for one glorious second, written in the sky in smoke and dying sparks.
For a second, it took Rags’ breath away. A Goblin nation? A place where they could be safe? For one moment, she tried to imagine it. Walls of stone? Houses, like the ones Humans and Drakes built? Roads? Goblin…adventurers?
For one second, it was there, a glorious city shining in Rags’ mind. And then the dream fell apart. Rags began wondering how any nation of Goblins would survive. Surely the Humans or Drakes or even Gnolls would declare war. How could they protect themselves? Would they trade? Where would they make this nation? She shook herself and stared around.
Her tribe was staring upwards. Almost all of them. A few, like Noears, were frowning. Some like Redscar were measuring the cost in blood. But many, even Quietstab and Poisonbite, were caught up in the vision. Rags understood that.
A place to be free. A place to be safe. Forever. It was such a tantalizing idea that it hurt. But only a child would dream of something like that. Every Goblin who’d lived for even a year knew it was an impossibility. But Reiss stood in front of that dream and shouted it would be true. And you almost believed—
Almost. Rags looked to her left and saw a pair of crimson eyes staring at her. Pyrite too had wrenched his gaze away from the city. He looked at her and flicked his eyes to the city. There was longing in his gaze. But like her, he saw the cracks.
And yet, the city of smoke hung in the sky, tantalizing, held there by magic and the wishes of a hundred thousand Goblins. Until a shape rose. A huge hand pushed through the city, and it vanished. Rags started as Tremborag waved the smoke away. Every Goblin stared at him, hurt, furious, but the Great Chieftain paid no heed. He sneered down at Reiss.
“This farce is over. Your dream is just that, Goblin Lord. A dream. It will never come true. The Humans chase your great army. And your master has abandoned you. You may fool the child, and you may have a history with Redfang. But I will never make peace. We run in the same direction because of the Humans. Because of the Kingslayer. But when there is a chance, however small—”
He leaned forwards. Rags saw Reiss tense and his warriors grip their weapons. Tremborag breathed a foul mix of wine and meat fumes into Reiss’ face.
“—I will kill you, slave. And you, thief, nameless Goblin. You and all the traitors.”
He looked at Rags. Then he straightened and turned. He lumbered away, out of the Goblin sit-about. And like that, it was over. Tremborag’s Goblins hesitated. Some cast last, longing looks towards the fire or towards Reiss. But they followed their Chieftain. Reiss stood, watching the Goblins go. He glanced to his right. At the Hob standing there. The Hob with the sword. Garen stared at the spot the city had been. Then he looked at Reiss. The Goblin Lord smiled wearily at him.
“I have not changed, Garen. Have you?”
For a second, Rags saw Garen hesitate. For one second, the two Hobs stared at each other and the past swirled around them like smoke. But then Garen shook his head. He drew his sword and pointed it at Reiss’ chest.
“I am Garen Redfang. And you are my enemy.”
He turned away. Reiss nodded. He closed his eyes as Garen turned and whistled. His tribe followed him away. Reiss watched them go and then turned to Rags. He said nothing. Just waited.
Rags stared at the fire. It was just dying embers now. Just ash. She looked around and thought of all she’d seen and heard.
So many stories. None of them were hers. Reiss and Garen had played their story out, been brothers and then enemies before she’d been born. And Tremborag—she felt like a stranger. But she was here too. And her tribe stood behind her, waiting to see what she would say. Rags looked at Reiss. At last, she shook her head.
“I am not yours. I am not Necromancer’s tool.”
He sighed. The army of black-clad warriors sighed behind him. Snapjaw gritted her teeth, and Eater of Spears shook his head. Rags held up a hand. She pointed at Garen and Tremborag’s backs.
“I am not yours. But I think they’re stupid. We talk again. Goblins are not the danger here. Humans are.”
Reiss’ eyes widened. He looked at Rags, then smiled and nodded. She nodded back carefully. Then she turned. Her lieutenants looked at her. Rags shrugged.
“We talk.”
Pyrite crooked a smile.
“Talk is good.”
Rags nodded. She smiled and walked back. Her tribe walked with her as she moved back to her camp. She saw Reiss’ army doing the same. Rags lay down, her Goblins chattering. She stared up at the stars.
It was strange. For a while, she’d forgotten that they were being chased by the Humans. For a while, she’d felt like this was a story about Reiss and Garen, of Goblins and their dreams. But then she sat up. She stared at the Humans’ camp to the north.
Perhaps there was a story about Goblins here. But the Humans had their own goals. And Rags wondered if it involved any Goblins surviving. She looked to Garen and Tremborag’s camps. They were determined to fight Reiss to the end. But was he the enemy?
Rags wasn’t so sure anymore. So she rolled over and went to sleep. And in her dreams, she saw a city made of smoke and chased after it. But the fire always went out no matter how many times she tried to catch it. And yet the city was still there in her mind. Always, always out of reach.
——
Day 8
The next day, the Humans roused the Goblins by blasting sound spells overhead. The Goblins shot out of their beds and were marching within minutes. The peace and talk of last night felt like a dream, especially once the Goblins looked back and saw the wave of Humans following them, promising them death.
But it hadn’t been a dream. And the first effects of the Goblin sit-about were seen almost immediately. Tremborag and Garen’s forces marched together, both near the rear of the Goblin procession. Not by choice; it was just that Rags’ tribe was faster and Reiss’ army was too large to push past. Normally, Rags would have kept her people moving faster to stay ahead of Reiss by a comfortable margin.
Not today. Today, Rags raised a hand as her tribe moved ahead of the rest. Her warriors slowed. Rags hesitated, then pointed.
“Closer.”
She indicated the first rank of Goblins in black armor. Her tribe hesitated, but then it began to move towards Reiss’ army.
The reaction from the Goblins in black armor was immediate. A ripple went through the Goblin Lord’s tribe, and Rags half-expected the warriors to warn her tribe away with weapons or draw back. But then she saw Reiss himself appear in the sea of Goblins. He pointed, and his tribe began to move towards Rags’.
Both sides halted before they crossed paths. A line of Rags’ warriors marched side-by-side with Reiss’ armored Goblins. They looked at each other warily, sizing each other up. Then Rags saw a huge Hob push his way through the Goblin Lord’s army.
Eater of Spears walked at the head of his warriors, head-and-shoulders above even the next tallest Hob. His muscular body strode forwards as he glanced at Rags’ Goblins, who edged away from him. But then a Hob from Rags’ side strolled forwards, battleaxe propped on one shoulder.
Pyrite took a spot on Eater of Spear’s right. The Hob moved into place as if he was just looking for a spot in the shade, which the huge Hob conveniently provided. Pyrite was chewing something. He glanced up at Eater of Spears, and the Hob looked down at Pyrite. The two Hobs nodded at each other. After a second, Pyrite offered what he was eating to the bigger Hob.
It was a cluster of roots. Somehow, Pyrite had found some edible roots—or roots he deemed edible at any rate—and dug them up. He’d washed them, but hadn’t bothered to do anything else with them. Even the other Goblins looked askance at the hard roots, but Eater of Spears reached down and delicately took a few. He popped them into his mouth and began to chew. He nodded at Pyrite, and the fat Hob nodded back.
And like that, the ice broke. Both sides were still wary, but the bolder Goblins pushed forwards. Poisonbite led her all-female squad into place behind Pyrite, clearly trying to intimidate the male Goblins. Her unit hooted and made rude gestures at the Goblins in black armor—until a group of Goblins riding horses replaced them.
Snapjaw grinned down at Poisonbite, who blinked up at her. The Goblin’s metal teeth shone in the light as she offered Poisonbite a hand. The smaller Goblin was deeply distrustful, but then she looked and saw that Snapjaw’s riders were mostly female. She took the Hob’s hand and was swung up into the saddle. The two females began chattering, and soon, they were quickly laughing.
Rags watched her tribe begin to mingle with Reiss’. She kept her eyes on Pyrite and Eater of Spears, but to her surprise, they actually seemed to like each other.
It made sense. Both were naturally stoic, silent Hobs. And despite Pyrite being fat and Eater of Spears muscular, they shared a number of interests. Pyrite was particularly pleased to find a fellow connoisseur of all things edible in Eater of Spears.
Again, he needn’t have been. Like Pyrite, Eater of Spears understood the great importance of eating at all times to keep up a proper weight. Especially if you were a Hob and food was scarce. Surprisingly, he found that Eater of Spears actually admired Pyrite’s bulk more than his muscles.
“My tribe was not fortunate. We had to fight monsters often. Very tough. Very little food sometimes. Can’t build fat. All of it turns to this.”
Eater of Spears rumbled as he tapped one straining bicep. Rather than guttural speech, every word of his was perfectly enunciated and chosen. Pyrite grunted as he scratched at his belly.
“Can’t eat monsters?”
“They were Stone Starers. Big eyes. Stone skin. Strong arms, but little meat. Eyes tasted horrible. Partially acidic.”
Pyrite tsked sympathetically.
“Not good for eating. My tribe live in mountains too. Not see Stone Starers.”
“Don’t tell her. This is a secret for true Chieftains, not mewling pretenders.”
Reiss ignored Tremborag. He glanced at Garen, who was giving him an unspoken look. Rags thought it was that which made Reiss decide to tell her.
“It is a memory, Chieftain Rags. A memory I saw. And Garen. When we were young, we were part of the Ghostly Hand tribe. We could not remember, but our Chieftain did. And our tribe was large, so she looked back and saw the memories of Velan the Kind. Or rather, the months before he died.”
The other Goblins stared at Reiss. Rags did too. She had experienced Velan’s memories, but only in fragments, when he was younger. She had no idea what had made him go to war. He was so different from the Goblin that had set fire to Baleros and Izril. Reiss nodded.
“She was curious. So she looked. And she saw a strange thing. The histories of other species do not record this except in passing. In a book I read—it was written something like this.”
Reiss closed his eyes and recited from memory.
“‘The Goblin King had rapidly moved south with a small force, entering the High Passes. There, he vanished for eight days.’ That is all that was written in any account. For eight days, the Goblin King vanished, and the Humans believe it was to clear the High Passes. But Velan did not clear the passes. Instead, he hid something there. His treasure. And he locked it away with a key. Not just one key, in fact. Two. He gave one to Tallis and kept the other for himself.”
Keys? Treasure? When had this turned into a fairy tale? Rags wanted to laugh. But then she remembered the key Garen had been so attached to. And he’d been certain that Tremborag would accept his and Rags’ tribe. Because of the Goblin Lord? Or because—
Rags glanced quickly at Tremborag. The Great Chieftain did not look happy. Reiss looked at him and Garen. He pointed at the hand Garen had clamped over his side.
“There are two. My Chieftain puzzled long over that mystery until she realized that. That is the second part of the secret. There are two keys that Velan hid, and his treasure cannot be found without both. Garen found one. But I wonder, do you know where the other lies?”
He looked at Garen directly, then shifted his glance to Tremborag. The Great Chieftain tensed up. At last, he spoke one grudging word.
“No. And if we did know, we would never tell you, brat.”
Rags studied Tremborag. But his face was unreadable. So instead she looked at Garen. So did all the other Goblins. The Hob looked past Reiss’ head into the sky, scowling. His face was one solid grimace, but—his ears were twitching violently.
“Have no idea.”
Reiss stared at Garen’s ears. Rags stared at Garen’s ears. All the Goblins present, including Garen’s own warriors, stared at the Hob’s trembling ears. Tremborag uttered an oath.
“I’m going to kill you, Redfang.”
Garen looked confused. He didn’t seem to realize his massive tell. But it was Reiss who shook his head.
“One key is worthless. As for the other—if it were easy to obtain, you two would have taken it. But I believe that even with both keys, Velan’s treasure lies well hidden. Or else Garen would have found it after years of his tribe living in the High Passes.”
So that was why he settled there. Rags’ eyes widened. She glanced at Redscar and saw the Goblin’s mouth was agape along with the other Redfangs. Garen had been searching for the treasure all this time. The Hob looked extremely upset, but he wisely didn’t say anything else.
For a few minutes, all the Goblins were thinking, trying to process all they’d heard. Then Tremborag spat and sat up.
“So. Keys. Promises between children. Betrayal. None of it changes the truth. You came to take our tribes. And you brought the Humans! To serve you is to serve the Necromancer. And why should we do that? Even the nameless Goblin can see what folly it is.”
His huge finger pointed at Rags and then Reiss. The ‘nameless Goblin’ glared at Tremborag. He wasn’t helping his argument by insulting her. But Reiss looked calmly at Tremborag.
“I told you, my master cares little for Goblins. But he knows the value of a Goblin Lord. And I am his apprentice. He would aid me, if only to hinder the Humans and Drakes.”
“And he will throw you away when you are done. Don’t fool yourself, brat!”
Tremborag laughed at Reiss. Garen nodded.
“You are a tool. Slave!”
The word seemed to nettle Reiss. He avoided looking at Garen as he stared at the dying fire.
“A tool. Perhaps. But this tool is not mindless. I choose which orders to obey. I have disobeyed my master once, and I will do it again. He controls my actions, but he does not control me.”
“A slave’s words.”
“Perhaps.”
Reiss’ voice was a hiss. He stared at Tremborag, his eyes burning. Snapjaw and Eater of Spears sat up behind him. Reiss calmed.
“But I will be a slave if I must. Because I dream. I dream of a city. You sit and hide, Tremborag, but I dream of a place where Goblins will be free. I dream of streets where Goblins walk about without fear. I dream of homes made by Goblins for Goblins. I dream of a nation. A kingdom of Goblins.”
“A what?”
Tremborag laughed. He upended his wine skin.
“You’re mad.”
“Am I? I did not become a Goblin Lord or sacrifice so much just for my master. I did not give—”
Reiss passed his hands in front of his black eyes.
“I did not give away what I did for power alone. I gave it for a dream. And now I am close. Look around you! There are hundreds of thousands of Goblins here! Enough to conquer all but the largest of cities! If the Humans were to falter, if you would follow me—”
“You would what, take a city? How long would that last? A week? Until the adventurers came for you.”
Reiss shook his head.
“I would take it and hold it. Let the people inside go in peace. Negotiate with the Humans or Drakes—”
“Hah!”
“Quiet!”
Snapjaw leapt to her feet. She glared at Tremborag, hands clenched. She was quivering with emotion. She spoke for the first time that night.
“Reiss can do it! Make nation! Make us safe!”
“It will never happen. The Humans would turn their own cities to ash rather than let Goblins hold it.”
Tremborag sneered at Snapjaw. She took a step forwards, but Reiss held up a hand. He stared at Tremborag.
“It can. If enough Goblins are there. If they are strong enough to make attacking them impossible. If they make a deal. And if they have an ally.”
The Necromancer. Rags stared at Reiss, her jaw open. That was his plan. Reiss turned around to the staring Goblins, ignoring Tremborag’s derision.
“It can happen. My master is strong. If I take a place that can be held, he will support me. And with magic and fortifications, even the greatest of Human armies would not be able to break into my home. I came north for the army to make that dream a reality. If the Humans had not attacked the mountain, I might have taken that.”
“Really?”
Tremborag paused and looked up, eyes glowing. Reiss nodded, meeting Tremborag’s eyes.
“I would not copy you, Tremborag. I would not hide. I would make peace with the Humans, give them what they needed for peace—”
“Your head! And all the heads of the Goblins in the mountain! Don’t fool yourself! Your dream will never come true!”
Tremborag roared in frustration. Reiss was unmoved.
“It can. And it will. Any Goblin who dreams of peace, of a place where a Human will not burn them out of their caves or kill them for their ears—that is my dream too. And I will make it. What will you offer them, Tremborag? The safety of your mountain until it disappears? I have a dream. You have nothing.”
He looked at Tremborag and then at Garen. Then Reiss turned.
“Dream, my people. Dream. That is why I fight. For a dream. A home.”
The fire was dying behind Reiss. But at his words, the embers glowed one last time. A plume of smoke shot into the air. And a city formed there. A city as real as mist, as far from reach as the stars. But a city nonetheless. It hung in the air, tall houses hidden behind walls. And little Goblins stood in the streets, walked along the walls. The assembled Goblins looked up and saw Reiss’ dream for one glorious second, written in the sky in smoke and dying sparks.
For a second, it took Rags’ breath away. A Goblin nation? A place where they could be safe? For one moment, she tried to imagine it. Walls of stone? Houses, like the ones Humans and Drakes built? Roads? Goblin…adventurers?
For one second, it was there, a glorious city shining in Rags’ mind. And then the dream fell apart. Rags began wondering how any nation of Goblins would survive. Surely the Humans or Drakes or even Gnolls would declare war. How could they protect themselves? Would they trade? Where would they make this nation? She shook herself and stared around.
Her tribe was staring upwards. Almost all of them. A few, like Noears, were frowning. Some like Redscar were measuring the cost in blood. But many, even Quietstab and Poisonbite, were caught up in the vision. Rags understood that.
A place to be free. A place to be safe. Forever. It was such a tantalizing idea that it hurt. But only a child would dream of something like that. Every Goblin who’d lived for even a year knew it was an impossibility. But Reiss stood in front of that dream and shouted it would be true. And you almost believed—
Almost. Rags looked to her left and saw a pair of crimson eyes staring at her. Pyrite too had wrenched his gaze away from the city. He looked at her and flicked his eyes to the city. There was longing in his gaze. But like her, he saw the cracks.
And yet, the city of smoke hung in the sky, tantalizing, held there by magic and the wishes of a hundred thousand Goblins. Until a shape rose. A huge hand pushed through the city, and it vanished. Rags started as Tremborag waved the smoke away. Every Goblin stared at him, hurt, furious, but the Great Chieftain paid no heed. He sneered down at Reiss.
“This farce is over. Your dream is just that, Goblin Lord. A dream. It will never come true. The Humans chase your great army. And your master has abandoned you. You may fool the child, and you may have a history with Redfang. But I will never make peace. We run in the same direction because of the Humans. Because of the Kingslayer. But when there is a chance, however small—”
He leaned forwards. Rags saw Reiss tense and his warriors grip their weapons. Tremborag breathed a foul mix of wine and meat fumes into Reiss’ face.
“—I will kill you, slave. And you, thief, nameless Goblin. You and all the traitors.”
He looked at Rags. Then he straightened and turned. He lumbered away, out of the Goblin sit-about. And like that, it was over. Tremborag’s Goblins hesitated. Some cast last, longing looks towards the fire or towards Reiss. But they followed their Chieftain. Reiss stood, watching the Goblins go. He glanced to his right. At the Hob standing there. The Hob with the sword. Garen stared at the spot the city had been. Then he looked at Reiss. The Goblin Lord smiled wearily at him.
“I have not changed, Garen. Have you?”
For a second, Rags saw Garen hesitate. For one second, the two Hobs stared at each other and the past swirled around them like smoke. But then Garen shook his head. He drew his sword and pointed it at Reiss’ chest.
“I am Garen Redfang. And you are my enemy.”
He turned away. Reiss nodded. He closed his eyes as Garen turned and whistled. His tribe followed him away. Reiss watched them go and then turned to Rags. He said nothing. Just waited.
Rags stared at the fire. It was just dying embers now. Just ash. She looked around and thought of all she’d seen and heard.
So many stories. None of them were hers. Reiss and Garen had played their story out, been brothers and then enemies before she’d been born. And Tremborag—she felt like a stranger. But she was here too. And her tribe stood behind her, waiting to see what she would say. Rags looked at Reiss. At last, she shook her head.
“I am not yours. I am not Necromancer’s tool.”
He sighed. The army of black-clad warriors sighed behind him. Snapjaw gritted her teeth, and Eater of Spears shook his head. Rags held up a hand. She pointed at Garen and Tremborag’s backs.
“I am not yours. But I think they’re stupid. We talk again. Goblins are not the danger here. Humans are.”
Reiss’ eyes widened. He looked at Rags, then smiled and nodded. She nodded back carefully. Then she turned. Her lieutenants looked at her. Rags shrugged.
“We talk.”
Pyrite crooked a smile.
“Talk is good.”
Rags nodded. She smiled and walked back. Her tribe walked with her as she moved back to her camp. She saw Reiss’ army doing the same. Rags lay down, her Goblins chattering. She stared up at the stars.
It was strange. For a while, she’d forgotten that they were being chased by the Humans. For a while, she’d felt like this was a story about Reiss and Garen, of Goblins and their dreams. But then she sat up. She stared at the Humans’ camp to the north.
Perhaps there was a story about Goblins here. But the Humans had their own goals. And Rags wondered if it involved any Goblins surviving. She looked to Garen and Tremborag’s camps. They were determined to fight Reiss to the end. But was he the enemy?
Rags wasn’t so sure anymore. So she rolled over and went to sleep. And in her dreams, she saw a city made of smoke and chased after it. But the fire always went out no matter how many times she tried to catch it. And yet the city was still there in her mind. Always, always out of reach.
——
Day 8
The next day, the Humans roused the Goblins by blasting sound spells overhead. The Goblins shot out of their beds and were marching within minutes. The peace and talk of last night felt like a dream, especially once the Goblins looked back and saw the wave of Humans following them, promising them death.
But it hadn’t been a dream. And the first effects of the Goblin sit-about were seen almost immediately. Tremborag and Garen’s forces marched together, both near the rear of the Goblin procession. Not by choice; it was just that Rags’ tribe was faster and Reiss’ army was too large to push past. Normally, Rags would have kept her people moving faster to stay ahead of Reiss by a comfortable margin.
Not today. Today, Rags raised a hand as her tribe moved ahead of the rest. Her warriors slowed. Rags hesitated, then pointed.
“Closer.”
She indicated the first rank of Goblins in black armor. Her tribe hesitated, but then it began to move towards Reiss’ army.
The reaction from the Goblins in black armor was immediate. A ripple went through the Goblin Lord’s tribe, and Rags half-expected the warriors to warn her tribe away with weapons or draw back. But then she saw Reiss himself appear in the sea of Goblins. He pointed, and his tribe began to move towards Rags’.
Both sides halted before they crossed paths. A line of Rags’ warriors marched side-by-side with Reiss’ armored Goblins. They looked at each other warily, sizing each other up. Then Rags saw a huge Hob push his way through the Goblin Lord’s army.
Eater of Spears walked at the head of his warriors, head-and-shoulders above even the next tallest Hob. His muscular body strode forwards as he glanced at Rags’ Goblins, who edged away from him. But then a Hob from Rags’ side strolled forwards, battleaxe propped on one shoulder.
Pyrite took a spot on Eater of Spear’s right. The Hob moved into place as if he was just looking for a spot in the shade, which the huge Hob conveniently provided. Pyrite was chewing something. He glanced up at Eater of Spears, and the Hob looked down at Pyrite. The two Hobs nodded at each other. After a second, Pyrite offered what he was eating to the bigger Hob.
It was a cluster of roots. Somehow, Pyrite had found some edible roots—or roots he deemed edible at any rate—and dug them up. He’d washed them, but hadn’t bothered to do anything else with them. Even the other Goblins looked askance at the hard roots, but Eater of Spears reached down and delicately took a few. He popped them into his mouth and began to chew. He nodded at Pyrite, and the fat Hob nodded back.
And like that, the ice broke. Both sides were still wary, but the bolder Goblins pushed forwards. Poisonbite led her all-female squad into place behind Pyrite, clearly trying to intimidate the male Goblins. Her unit hooted and made rude gestures at the Goblins in black armor—until a group of Goblins riding horses replaced them.
Snapjaw grinned down at Poisonbite, who blinked up at her. The Goblin’s metal teeth shone in the light as she offered Poisonbite a hand. The smaller Goblin was deeply distrustful, but then she looked and saw that Snapjaw’s riders were mostly female. She took the Hob’s hand and was swung up into the saddle. The two females began chattering, and soon, they were quickly laughing.
Rags watched her tribe begin to mingle with Reiss’. She kept her eyes on Pyrite and Eater of Spears, but to her surprise, they actually seemed to like each other.
It made sense. Both were naturally stoic, silent Hobs. And despite Pyrite being fat and Eater of Spears muscular, they shared a number of interests. Pyrite was particularly pleased to find a fellow connoisseur of all things edible in Eater of Spears.
Again, he needn’t have been. Like Pyrite, Eater of Spears understood the great importance of eating at all times to keep up a proper weight. Especially if you were a Hob and food was scarce. Surprisingly, he found that Eater of Spears actually admired Pyrite’s bulk more than his muscles.
“My tribe was not fortunate. We had to fight monsters often. Very tough. Very little food sometimes. Can’t build fat. All of it turns to this.”
Eater of Spears rumbled as he tapped one straining bicep. Rather than guttural speech, every word of his was perfectly enunciated and chosen. Pyrite grunted as he scratched at his belly.
“Can’t eat monsters?”
“They were Stone Starers. Big eyes. Stone skin. Strong arms, but little meat. Eyes tasted horrible. Partially acidic.”
Pyrite tsked sympathetically.
“Not good for eating. My tribe live in mountains too. Not see Stone Starers.”
