Tears of Liscor, page 30
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Your tribe rich. Fat Hobs, pretty stones. Must be good Chieftain. I was poor Chieftain. Only hit things.”
“Just need to look for good food. Can find lots of food in caves, underground. Trick is growing some food. Use stream. Make dripping along roof, plant mushrooms and lichen. Also attracts bugs and animals.”
“Mm. Very smart.”
Eater of Spears listened appreciatively as Pyrite spoke. The two Hobs ambled along as Snapjaw and Poisonbite laughed with each other. As for Rags, she held back until she saw Reiss appear on the back of his undead spider. Then she rode towards him.
The Goblins parted to let her pass. Rags stared at the Goblins in black armor until her Carn Wolf growled. She looked up and saw the headless undead Shield Spider crawling ahead of her. She waved.
“Chieftain Rags.”
Reiss bent down to smile at her. His eyes flicked towards the growling Carn Wolf and then to Rags herself. He nodded.
“Let me dismount. Animals hate undead.”
“Undead smelly.”
Rags commented neutrally. She leapt from her Carn Wolf and patted the animal, pointing back to her tribe. She and Reiss began to jog on foot as his warriors moved back to give them space. Reiss ran easily despite his robes, watching as Rags jogged to keep up. Her feet hit the ground at the same time his did, but she seemed to travel further with each step.
“You have a Skill?”
“[Fleet Foot].”
“Ah.”
The two ran for a little bit in silence. Rags kept glancing up at Reiss. She was wondering what she should say.
Her decision to move her tribe next to Reiss’ didn’t indicate her sudden trust in the Goblin Lord. She had found the revelation of who his master was to be more and more troubling the more she thought on it. But Rags had also observed Tremborag and Garen, and on the whole, Reiss was definitely the more cooperative and reasonable of the three. He hadn’t tried to kill Rags, and it seemed like one of the things Garen hated most about him was the undead.
So she was giving him a chance. And she thought that Reiss understood that, because the first thing he did when he began speaking was to bring up his master again.
“I can contact my master, Az’kerash, via spell. But it is possible for him to look through my eyes, even cast through me. I have been attempting to contact him for the last few days—ever since the Humans drove us from the mountain. But he has not responded.”
“He say nothing? Why?”
Rags was astonished. Reiss’ smile was grim.
“Ever since the death of Zel Shivertail, he has contacted me less and less. I believe he is attempting to create more servants, which is a time-consuming task. Even for him. He creates unique undead, beings that can think and act independently.”
Reiss expected Rags not to comprehend, but she nodded instantly.
“Oh. Like Toren.”
“…Who?”
“Talking, thinking skeleton. Works in inn. As [Barmaid].”
Rags saw Reiss stumble. He stared at Rags and poked one finger in his ear.
“What?”
“Tell you later. Your master. If he responds…you trust him to help?”
This time, Rags watched Reiss’ face closely, wishing she had a truth detection spell. However, he was a Goblin and so was she, so the odds of him being able to lie to her were remote. She noted his hesitation, and then Reiss shook his head.
“No. I expect him to use me for his own gain. But it is in his interests to keep me alive. As a…tool, I am valuable. And as his apprentice, I have worth. If there is anyone to guess at what the Human’s plan is, it will be him. He may be able to stall Tyrion Veltras somehow.”
“He figure out what plan is? How?”
Reiss shrugged.
“He has informants all over the continent. Across the world, I think. More than one Drake in a position of power is his ally and there are a number of Humans he works with too. There is a Human conspiracy that he gives aid to, though they don’t know it is him—his ability to disguise himself with magic is second to none. He can even fool Gold-rank adventurers and his servants can cheat [Detect Truth] spells.”
Rags whistled. She wondered if she could learn an illusion of that magnitude. If she could enter a city—no, forget that. If she could disguise her warriors that perfectly, why not turn them into rocks on the ground? Or make them invisible? Reiss seemed almost apprehensive about his master, though.
“How much he aids us will depend on his mood. I have no doubt he will have questions. When he contacts me—he may wish to speak with you or the other Chieftains. Garen and Tremborag I cannot control, but mention nothing about the key to him.”
That made complete sense. Rags nodded. Reiss frowned.
“I wonder, though. The Humans have a plan. They have not attacked my army, and they have the numbers to win. They are pushing us south quickly. I wonder what their goal is?”
Rags shrugged. She’d been brainstorming the same thing. She casually glanced ahead of them. She could see the mountains looming ever closer with each day.
“Going to High Passes. Maybe to Liscor?”
“Yes. That seems likely. I had wondered if this Tyrion Veltras wanted us to attack Invrisil, but we passed the city by without issue. If he intends to force us past Liscor—it’s raining, isn’t it?”
“Mhm. Wet. Lots of water.”
“That would stop his army. If he intends to take us into the High Passes, we will know. Otherwise…Liscor is as far as he will go.”
That was true. Rags scratched her head. She frowned.
“Maybe he wants us to attack Drakes. Go to their lands. Cause trouble.”
Reiss smiled.
“He may try. But we are not mindless. He cannot force us to attack anyone. And if we escape his army, I intend to vanish. My goal was to create an army capable of founding a nation. And if the threat of the Humans vanishes…”
He glanced back, his eyes seeking out Tremborag and Garen’s forces. Rags shivered. If the Humans left them alone, it would be a war among Goblins. And if that was the case, she didn’t know if she trusted Reiss. She pretended to be nodding when Reiss looked back ahead.
“Good plan. Don’t know, though. Humans strange. Do stupid things.”
“No. I suppose we don’t. But there is someone who might know. Come with me. I wish to introduce you to someone. As a sign of trust.”
Rags eyed Reiss warily. She didn’t think following him deep into the core of his army was a good idea. But he seemed to understand that and ordered the mysterious person brought to them. Rags saw a stir in the crowd of marching Goblins, and then some rather tall Hobs appeared. They were blocking someone from sight. They parted as they neared Rags and Reiss, forming a circle shielding them from view. And in the center of the cluster was—
The little Chieftain’s jaw dropped. A Drake was marching amid the Goblins. Her clothes were dirty, and she had shackles on the two wings sprouting from her back, but her arms and legs were free. She looked at Reiss and then at Rags with deep suspicion.
“Who’s this?”
Reiss motioned Rags to be silent. He nodded to Rags and pointed at the Drake. She had bright yellow scales, and the spines on the back of her head were clear blue.
“This is Osthia Blackwing. Osthia, this is the Chieftain of the Flooded Waters tribe. Rags.”
“That’s a Chieftain?”
The Drake peered incredulously at Rags. The little Goblin stared at Osthia. She looked at Reiss.
“Explain.”
“She was a captive from one of the Drake armies I faced. My master ordered her slain. I kept her alive for her knowledge of the Necromancer. Among other things.”
“You did it to defy him. I would have rather you killed me, but I have a duty to tell others about Az’kerash. Don’t think it means I won’t kill you if I thought I could get away safely.”
Osthia stared hard at Reiss. The Hobs around their Lord glared, but the Drake seemed used to it. Rags frowned at her.
“Why not chains? Could run away to Humans.”
Her words made Osthia snort. Reiss smiled.
“Apparently, she doesn’t trust the Humans. And it would be hard for her to run. She is always among Goblins.”
“I don’t intend to run to the Humans, least of all Tyrion Veltras. I’m a soldier. An officer! I’d be interrogated and then executed. I’d rather wait and take my chances. We’re heading south each day, after all.”
Osthia folded her arms. She didn’t look a tenth as bad as the prisoners under Tremborag’s captivity. Indeed, she was jogging along with the other Goblins without even a hint of fatigue. Still, Rags was uneasy about any prisoners. She narrowed her eyes at Reiss and watched his and Osthia’s reaction.
“She prisoner, though. You have sex with her?”
Reiss nearly tripped again. He began to laugh. Osthia turned and gave Rags an offended look.
“I would rather die. Any Goblin—no, any captor trying to assault a Drake prisoner had better be prepared to have whatever they cherish most torn off. Or bitten off.”
She bared her teeth, and all of the males around her edged back. Rags nodded.
“Just checking.”
She glanced at Reiss. The Goblin Lord stopped chuckling and nodded.
“You are a strange Chieftain. But I respect your beliefs, Chieftain Rags.”
Rags didn’t know what to say to that. It sounded like an empty statement, but Reiss looked anything but insincere when he said it. In the end, she just shrugged again.
“I am me.”
“So why am I here? To speculate on what Tyrion Veltras is trying to do?”
Osthia interrupted the two Goblins. Reiss nodded.
“Rags is an ally. I want to know what she thinks.”
“And can this…child talk about tactics?”
The Drake soldier eyed Rags. She received a similar look in reply. Rags jabbed a finger towards her chest.
“I am smart. Are you smart? Can you play chess?”
Osthia stared at Rags. She opened her mouth, and then frowned. Reiss was frowning too.
“You can play chess? Will you teach me? Osthia refuses to teach me.”
Rags hesitated. It had been a long time since she’d played the game. But why not? She shrugged and smiled.
“Sure. But first—tell me more about Az’kerash.”
She looked sharply at Reiss. The Goblin Lord hesitated. His gaze moved to Osthia, who was watching him with unconcealed interest. He nodded slowly.
“I will tell you all that I can.”
——
All day, Rags marched with Reiss and Osthia. Her tribe moved with the Goblin Lord’s forces, talking, exchanging ideas, stories—talking. It wasn’t anything of great consequence. Neither Rags nor Osthia nor Reiss could make any definitive statements about what the Humans had planned, and nothing monumental came of the other exchanges.
And yet, something did happen. Pyrite and Eater of Spears walked together in amiable silence for hours, chewing on whatever one or the other found. Poisonbite only left Snapjaw’s mount when the marching had stopped. And other Goblins like Noears had struck up conversations with [Mages] and [Shamans] in the Goblin Lord’s army. Even Quietstab had found a friend in another Goblin [Rogue].
Only Redscar hadn’t been socializing, and that was because he had been riding ahead. But the rest of Rags’ tribe had formed a tentative bond with Reiss’ forces. They pitched their camps a bit closer together that night.
The change was not lost on either Tremborag or Garen. In response, the two other Chieftains camped practically cheek-by-jowl. There was no thought of a sit-about tonight. And indeed, as the Goblins began preparing dinner, a familiar sound began echoing from Garen’s camp.
“Redfang!”
All of the Redfang Goblins in Rags’ camp looked up. The Goblin of Garen’s tribe were on their feet. They stomped and shouted.
“Redfang!”
It was the same as last time. Rags watched as Redscar and his Redfangs bristled. They formed up in a group of their own and shouted a reply back.
“Redfang! Redfang!”
A shout of outrage issued from Garen’s camp. They shouted back, but Redscar and his warriors kept defiantly shouting the same word. Rags saw the Goblins pause and then heard another shout.
“Garen!”
The Goblins in her camp went quiet. Instantly, the Goblins took up the shout.
“Ga-ren! Ga-ren! Ga-ren!”
It was exactly the same as last time. Rags saw Redscar glancing uncertainly at her and then at the lone figure that stood in front of his campfire. The Goblin with the crimson blade. Garen faced his former warriors as his tribe screamed his name.
“Chieftain—”
Quietstab looked uncertainly at Rags. She held up a hand.
“Wait. Humans throw spells. Shut up soon.”
Her eyes were on Redscar. Rags could intervene, but this was his former Chieftain. His decision to make. She saw Redscar turn away from Garen, clenching his fists. Then he turned. He looked around wildly, and his eyes found hers. Redscar locked gazes for Rags for a few seconds and then thrust his hand up in the air. He bellowed a word.
“Rags!”
The other Redfangs jerked in surprise. They stared at Redscar, but then they turned to each other. There were nods, and then as one, they shouted the same word.
“Rags!”
Rags felt her heart stop. She stared as all the Redfangs began shouting the word. And then some of the other Goblins took up the chant. Not Redfangs. Her tribe. They screamed the word, shocking Garen’s tribe into silence.
“Rags! Rags! Rags!”
It wasn’t just the Redfangs. It was all the Goblins. Rags saw Poisonbite look up, and Pyrite stopped digging in the ground. The Hob stood up and thrust his fist up. He roared.
“Rags!”
And then it was every voice. Hobs, small Goblins, children, Redfangs. Quietstab stood in front of Rags, shouting, his face alight with joy.
“Rags!”
The sound eclipsed the chanting from Garen’s camp. His tribe tried to shout Garen’s name, but they were outnumbered by the Goblins in Rags’ tribe. Both Tremborag and Reiss’ Goblins turned and watched as Rags’ tribe chanted her name. Rags stood in the center of her tribe, heart beating wildly, staring around.
Her. They were chanting her. Redscar looked at her as he raised his fist. And Garen—he stared at Rags. She couldn’t see his face, framed by the firelight as it was, but she could feel his shock.
The chanting went on for minutes until a fireball exploded overhead. Then the Goblins scattered and everything was silent. But the memory lingered. Rags stood in the camp as the Goblins looked at her.
Just looked. They didn’t slap her back or cheer her afterwards. They just nodded and got back to eating or sitting about. But she remembered. And she stood taller still as she went to sit next to Pyrite. Rags watched him digging about, hunting for a mole. He didn’t say much, and neither did she. But she felt like a giant. And she was smiling.
That night, the Flooded Waters tribe celebrated. Exactly what it was for wasn’t said. If they had to put it into words, they might have said it was the realization of Rags as their true Chieftain, the final acknowledgement of the Redfangs of who their leader was, or the bittersweet parting of ways with the past. If they had to put it into words. But some things were better left unsaid, and the Goblins were just happy.
They ate well and slept. Their camp hugged the Goblin Lord’s, and their guards were more relaxed. For the first time, it felt like they had an ally rather than an enemy on all sides. Even with the Humans, that was something.
Quietstab was particularly happy. He staggered past the sentries at the edge of Rags’ camp, towards the latrines they shared with Reiss’ forces. Rags had decided to put them outside of her camp after a few unpleasant incidents that involved sleepwalking Goblins last night. Quietstab navigated the short distance on unsteady legs. He was pleasantly sloshed.
Alcohol wasn’t an essential that Rags had kept on their frantic march, but Noears had the bag of holding, and unlike Rags, he had a fine appreciation for some of the luxuries that Humans enjoyed. So did Quietstab. He’d followed Rags, of course, but he still missed some of the things that Tremborag’s Mountain City tribe had enjoyed. Like alcohol.
The one downside of course was the need to pee. Quietstab nearly fell into the first latrines he came to. He wavered unsteadily at the edge, electing to pee standing up. The latrines were big, and he was only missing half the time. He was so preoccupied with his task that he was quite oblivious to everything around him. That was until he turned, fumbling with his loincloth, and saw the shape looming above him.
Tremborag stood over Quietstab, a mountain blocking out the night sky. He had appeared silently. Quietstab’s eyes went wide with terror. He backed up and nearly slipped into the latrine. He windmilled his arms unsteadily, and Tremborag caught his arm.
“Hello, traitor.”
The gigantic Great Chieftain lifted Quietstab up. The Hob opened his mouth to shout as he flailed with one arm at Tremborag. The Great Chieftain’s other hand shot out. He gripped Quietstab’s head and twisted.
Crack. Quietstab’s flailing arms went limp. Tremborag studied the Goblin for a second. Then he grinned and tossed Quietstab into the latrine. The Goblin fell into a heap. Tremborag turned. His crimson eyes glowed.
“Suffer, traitors. Suffer, child. I will make you weep before you die. You and the slave. I am Tremborag. See how I keep my promises.”
Tremborag laughed. He turned and walked back towards his tribe, smiling for the first time since he’d left his mountain.
And in her camp, sleeping amid the furs and blankets, Rags shot up with a cry of pain. She clutched her chest as she felt something snapping, the pain, and then the loss, the emptiness in her chest. She stared around blankly, not understanding what had happened as the Goblins around her roused, asking questions. She sat there, weeping, not knowing why.
Not until tomorrow.
——
And as Tremborag walked back towards his camp and Rags sat amid her tribe and looked for the source of pain in her heart, someone moved next to the latrine. A patch of air resolved itself into a shape. Reiss stood frozen, halfway through doing his own business. He stared into the pit, at the broken shape that had been a Hob. Slowly, he stared at Tremborag’s retreating form and looked around for other witnesses.
