Tears of Liscor, page 37
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“By doing nothing.”
Tremborag hissed. His chest was fire. He clutched it, trying to breathe more steadily.
“Do you think—he was just sitting in my mountain, pretending to be Greybeard—for nothing? No. The world is vast. You think this army is frightening? I have known greater. Far greater. And our King—even he was not enough to face it all. See the truth, child. The Goblin Kings are pawns. Not of Humans or Drakes—but of the Goblin Lords.”
Rags had settled on Tremborag’s nose. Her finger hesitated on the trigger.
“Goblin Lords?”
Tremborag heaved one pain-filled breath and then another. He sat forwards as Rags uncertainly moved her Carn Wolf a step forwards and then back.
“Yes. But not like the slave. Reiss is a lord, but the true ones…why do you think Greydath sat in my mountain for so long after his King’s death? When the others died? No—the true Lords—don’t trust them. They are not Goblin.”
He breathed hard as Rags hesitated. Was Tremborag insane? But he was speaking urgently now, leaning forwards, and despite herself, Rags listened.
“What do you mean?”
Tremborag’s breathing was weaker. He gestured Rags closer, gasping for air.
“Greydath. The true Lords search for a King. Not because we need one, but because they can use them. You do not remember. You—Curulac listened, and they used him. Velan did not, and he died less than a year after becoming a King.”
Rags shook her head.
“Curulac? But he lived only hundred days. Curulac of Hundred Days.”
“Hah!”
Tremborag sat back and laughed once hoarsely.
“You think that was all he lived? You have not seen his past. He lived longer than Velan. For years! But when they were done with him, the Lords—they betrayed him. They turned him against the Humans for a hundred days of war! That is the fate of kings. But Velan didn’t listen. So they sent only one of their number with Velan. Greydath of Blades. The other lords were lesser. Not like Greydath.”
“What?”
None of that made sense. Rags knew of the Second Antinium War, at least, parts of it. She remembered.
“Other Lords were strong. There was—Tallis. Stormbreaker.”
He had been powerful. But again, Tremborag laughed. He scooted forwards, coughing, looking at Rags. The Humans were drawing closer now. Rags could see them watching her and him. Her attention wavered between the riders and Tremborag.
“Tallis? Tallis wasn’t one of them. He could have been. But he rose at the same time as Velan. He was Velan’s friend. He told me the truth. And I begged Velan to reconsider. But he didn’t. And the Lords conspired. They let him die.”
Tremborag’s voice was softer. Rags drew closer, ignoring the warnings ringing in her mind that she should run before the Humans reached her. She stared at Tremborag. He had known this? Why didn’t he tell the others? Or was that why Greydath had been in his mountain for so long? He had begged—
Tremborag? Beg? Rags wavered. She opened her mouth and realized Tremborag was right in front of her. Then she saw the Great Chieftain look up and his eyes flare blood-red.
He lunged. Rags yelped, and her Carn Wolf leapt back, barking in surprise. Tremborag swiped at her, and the tips of his claws nearly caught Rags. Nearly. She felt the wind as they missed her and turned her Carn Wolf. It leapt back as Tremborag cursed and swiped at her again. But the wolf bounded back, and Rags paused, panting, twenty feet away.
“Damn you!”
Tremborag coughed and roared at her. Rags raised her crossbow in one trembling claw. Nearly. He’d nearly got her. She stared at Tremborag with pure hatred.
“You are a stinky wolf poo! Was it a lie? All?”
She waved her free hand angrily. Tremborag was lying on his back, covered in sweat and dirt. He stared up at the sky. When he spoke, it was angrily.
“A lie? What does it matter?”
He heaved himself up, panting with effort. Tremborag glared at Rags, ignoring the crossbow aimed at his eye.
“Why do I need to tell you anything? Truth? Lies? I owe you nothing, child! Why do you need to know my past? I am Tremborag! And you are worthless. Just like that traitor. Quietstab.”
Rags felt the word strike her like a blow to the chest. She reeled, and her eyes narrowed.
“You are not-Goblin.”
“Am I? Then kill me, nameless child! Shoot me! Or are you afraid?”
Tremborag grinned at Rags. He lowered his voice. The Humans were so close now. Rags could see their faces, looking at her like Tremborag. Like monsters. And Tremborag was whispering to her.
“You think Quietstab was loyal? He told me everything about your tribe before the end. Everything, every scrap he could before he perished to save his miserable neck. Should I tell you about how he begged me when he died? How I made him suffer at the last?”
Rags saw flashes of red. Her finger trembled on the crossbow’s trigger. Tremborag spread his arms, daring her. He was right there. She could kill him. It didn’t matter if she died. She just wanted to hurt him for hurting her. Hurt him and hurt his tribe. And then they would attack her, and she would kill them, and—
She barely saw Tremborag’s claw sliding into the ground in time. Rags shouted and pulled the crossbow’s trigger. Her bolt went wide, but Tremborag jerked, and the handful of soil he was about to hurl at her and Carn Wolf missed. He lunged again, but Rags danced back.
“You—you—”
She shouted at Tremborag, trembling. He just laughed.
“Come on! Strike me! You coward! You traitor with no name!”
He wanted her to kill him. He wanted her to attack. Because if she did, he could kill her. And Rags would gladly do it. But she could see the future, not because of a Skill or magic, but just because she knew what would happen. She would kill Tremborag. Or he would kill her. And then his tribe would try and kill her or the Humans would kill him. It didn’t matter who killed who. Someone else would do more killing.
Just like Riverfarm. Just like the burning. Like the [Emperor]. He killed her Goblins. So she burned the Humans. And so he sent his army to kill her. It was the fate of Goblins. Kill and be killed and kill again.
As Goblins do. As Goblins have always done. Rags’ eyes opened wide. She looked at Tremborag, who was watching her, teeth bared. Then she looked around. At the Humans, at the watching Goblins. And slapped her forehead.
“Oh. A circle.”
“A what?”
Tremborag blinked at her. Rags stared at him blankly, then looked down at her crossbow. It wasn’t even reloaded. She absently patted her growling Carn Wolf on the head and looked around.
“Okay. Going now. Bye.”
“What? No! Come back and finish this!”
Tremborag looked incredulous as Rags turned her mount. He rose up, managed to get to his feet. He stood straighter, and Rags realized he’d been pretending to be more tired than he was as well! Tremborag’s voice grew deeper, and he shouted at her.
“You coward! Don’t you want to see me dead?”
Rags shrugged. She stowed the crossbow on the holster on her back.
“Humans will do that. I don’t need to.”
“You—is that how you fight? Hiding behind Humans? Running? I challenge you, Chieftain to Chieftain!”
The huge Hob pounded his chest. But now, Rags looked at him and didn’t feel angry. She shook her head as Tremborag lumbered a few steps towards her and kicked her Carn Wolf, keeping a distance between him and her. She spoke slowly and deliberately to Tremborag’s snarling, desperate face.
“Tremborag. You are big. And fat. And stupid. And ugly. And smelly. And have bad breath.”
He looked at her. Rags met his eyes, and for a moment, the two Chieftains just glared at each other. A child riding a wolf and the exhausted Goblin of the Mountain. For a moment, Rags thought she knew Tremborag. Because she recognized the terrible fear and desperation in his eyes. She looked away.
“Sorry. Goodbye.”
Rags kicked her Carn Wolf in the side, and it bounded away towards the Goblins in the distance. Tremborag watched her go. He stared at the distant shape, a bounding red wolf and green rider. Then he turned.
The Humans had stopped to let him finish his conversation with Rags. Perhaps they’d been hoping she’d kill him. Humans loved stories like that. Now they rode forwards. Tremborag saw a group of Humans dismount from their horses and spread out. He saw glowing armor, grim faces. Tremborag glanced over his shoulder at Rags.
He wished he could have killed her. The Great Chieftain’s claws clenched as the Humans spread out. More were dismounting, regular [Soldiers]. And he could see a winding column behind them, moving fast. The Humans’ infantry, armed with spears, swords. So many of them. An army far too large for even a Goblin Lord. Or at least, one of Reiss’ caliber.
That struck Tremborag as funny. He laughed and then wheezed as the blood in his lungs made him cough. He wiped at his mouth and glanced around. There were two dozen men and women, all armed with magical artifacts encircling him.
Gold-rank adventurers. Tremborag saw the first, a man with a bow, step forwards. He looked like any other Human, really. Save for the enchanted gear, Tremborag wouldn’t have recognized him as different from the others he’d killed over the years. Even his voice was the same.
“We remember you, Goblin. We owe you death a hundred times over for our friends. So this will be slow.”
Tremborag sighed. He turned and looked back at Rags. She was still riding towards his tribe, towards her tribe and the Goblin Lord’s army and Garen Redfang’s warriors. But he thought she was looking at him. The Great Chieftain of the Mountain stared at Rags and imagined crushing her head between his claws for a second. Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm.
He looked back. The Human had shot him! Tremborag glanced down at the arrow. It wasn’t enchanted. Stupid Humans. He plucked the arrow from his arm.
“Goblin—”
So this was how it ended. Tremborag looked back at the distant Rags, tuning out the Humans again. He looked at his kind, watching him, and felt the Goblin Lord sitting there like a mountain in his mind. But the true mountain was ahead of Tremborag. He looked over the angry Gold-rank adventurer’s head at the mountain far off in the distance, so far away.
His home. How far he’d come. Tremborag glanced back at Rags again and growled. So the child fled. Fine. But let her see one thing at least. Let her look. He turned as the Gold-rank adventurer, indignant at being ignored, raised his bow.
He was ten paces away from Tremborag. Ten Human paces. Or a single bound for the Hob. Tremborag leapt. The sweaty fat on his body rippled. Muscles grew, and his face contorted. A claw reached out and seized the Human before he could leap back. Tremborag bent and pulled. The Human’s head screamed and screamed before it was crushed between his fingers. Tremborag dropped the body and looked around.
Gone was the fat Hob that had stood there moments before. A monster rose, teeth shining, muscle and flesh rippling. Tremborag’s voice was booming as he turned to the shocked Humans.
“Slow enough for you, Humans?”
They backed up away from him and then remembered they were here to kill him. The Gold-rank adventurers raised their weapons, and the [Soldiers] aimed bows and trained spears on Tremborag. The Great Chieftain of the Mountains laughed. He spread his arms.
“Let me show you fear.”
Then he leapt. The tip of a spear pierced his stomach. The adventurer hacked at his arm. Fire raced down his body, and light exploded in his eyes. Tremborag roared and bit the Human in two. He swung his arm and sent soldiers flying. He pounded a Human with a shield to paste and flung another screaming into the air. The Gold-rank adventurers swarmed around him, but they were slow. Their magic was weak. He grabbed them, tore their arms off. Then they fled. The soldiers attacked Tremborag from all sides, but their arrows were weak. Their steel bent.
The [Mages] burned him. They struck him with missiles made of light. Tremborag charged one and felt his body shiver as it struck a barrier. He broke it and bore the mage to the ground, biting him, tearing him apart. The soldiers drew back. Tremborag flung the guts at them, roared—
And then saw them pull back. The flames burning him went out. Tremborag turned, his blood boiling, and saw him.
Tyrion Veltras. The [Lord] sat on top of his mount, lance in hand. For a moment, the Great Chieftain hesitated, then he grinned savagely. Better than the child. He made a mocking bow.
“Greetings, Lord Veltras.”
The move surprised Tyrion. The Human stared at Tremborag as his soldiers pulled back, forming a ring around Tremborag.
“You know of me, Goblin?”
Tremborag grinned. He was bleeding. But he made his voice mocking.
“Even we wretched Goblins heard of the mighty Tyrion Veltras. And his fallen wife. Did she trip off the balcony, boy? Or did one of your enemies push her? And do you fill your bed with another woman or do you sleep alone?”
His insults struck home. Tyrion’s cold face twisted into fury, and the Humans behind him shuddered. The [Lord] slowly reached up and lowered his visor. His voice, when he spoke, was barely controlled with fury.
“There is nothing you know of me.”
Tremborag grinned.
“I know how you bleed. Come, boy. Show me how strong Humans are with your enchanted weapons and magic.”
He spread his arms. Tyrion didn’t wait. He kicked his mount forwards and sped at Tremborag, lance aimed for his heart. But the Goblin was ready. He turned and struck like lightning, trying to punch Tyrion off his mount. The [Lord] raised his shield, and the fist met the enchanted metal.
A thunderous impact made the watchers wince. The horse reared, and Tyrion reeled back in his saddle. Tremborag roared and swiped again, but Tyrion lashed out with his lance.
“[Repel Point]!”
The lance tip struck Tremborag’s raised arm. But instead of sending the Great Chieftain flying backwards, it was Tyrion’s mount that was thrust back. The horse reared and danced, but the [Lord] fought it down. He circled Tremborag, checking himself as the Great Chieftain growled.
“Was that it? Come on, boy. Save your life with another Skill. Did you fail to save your wife? Or was she a nuisance?”
He expected Tyrion to charge again, but the [Lord] didn’t. Instead, he rode his mount back towards the edge of the circle. There, he turned and set himself. He was going to charge. Tremborag grinned. He made a fist.
One Skill. One Skill would do it. He waited as Tyrion lowered his lance. Then the [Lord] charged. He came at Tremborag from the left, his lance aimed at Tremborag’s shoulder. Before he was in range, Tremborag roared.
“[Great Slash]!”
He cut at Tyrion and his horse with a blow that severed the air. The ground tore. Tremborag saw Tyrion raise his lance, and he heard a calm voice. As calm as ice.
“[Lightning Hooves].”
And his horse blurred. Tremborag saw it blur around his claw. Tyrion appeared on his left, circled, charged again.
So quick. Tremborag lashed out once more, but his claws were so slow. And Tyrion’s lance flickered in his hands. He changed directions as he switched his grip. Suddenly, his horse was galloping right and his lance was aimed—
A cold tip pierced Tremborag’s chest, just above his heart. For a second, Tremborag blinked at it, watching the lance move slowly. So slowly. He looked up and saw two blazing eyes staring at him through the visor. Then time returned.
The lance went through his chest, shattering bone and piercing flesh. Tremborag stumbled. He raised a claw, gasped. The pain was—he tried to grab Tyrion, but the [Lord] had one hand on the lance. He twisted it and pulled it from Tremborag’s chest. And the Great Chieftain fell. His knees struck the ground, and he lay on his back.
So quick. It had been just like—just like—like—
——
“Tremborag. Join me.”
Velan the Kind stood in Tremborag’s throne room. Alone. His Goblin Lords had left him. His legions of warriors were camped outside Tremborag’s mountain. That left only Tremborag with Velan, and the Goblin King was small, barely taller than any other Hob, really.
But it didn’t make Tremborag feel any less small. The Chieftain of the Mountain City tribe hesitated. He was huge, a giant among Hobs. Or perhaps something else. Velan had brought other Goblins like him, Goblins who were more than just Hobgoblins. Hulking creatures of muscle and teeth, as close to half-Giants as anything else. Like him.
But for all his strength and height, Tremborag felt crushed by the Goblin King. Velan stood in front of him, looking up and looking down on Tremborag all at once. He repeated himself.
“Join me, Tremborag.”
“No.”
Tremborag’s voice trembled with the effort of saying it. He had nearly quailed in the face of the Goblin Lord. To say it to the Goblin King was a thousand times harder. But he had his reason.
He did not want to die. And he was prepared to grovel or argue, to beg or bribe. But Velan just nodded.
“Very well.”
He turned away. Tremborag gaped at him. Velan looked around the grand throne room, centuries of neglect and filth turning rich Dwarven work into a Goblin’s home.
“Will you stay here?”
“Yes. I will not march. I will hide from the Humans. This mountain will be my home. Forever.”
Again, Tremborag expected Velan to argue, to call him a coward. To say anything. But all the Goblin King did was smile as if he was pleased.
“Good. Hide here. It will not be many months before it ends, I think.”
He looked around the throne room again. Tremborag gaped at him. The question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.
“Why are you doing this? What is the reason for this war? What is our purpose?”
“Purpose?”
Velan turned back to Tremborag. His gaze flickered, and Tremborag quailed. A memory of Velan’s rage made him look to his doors. If he were to be engulfed in his fury, only the Goblin Lords would be able to calm him. But Velan did not rage. Instead, he looked up at Tremborag and shrugged. It was a very Goblin thing to do.
