Tears of Liscor, page 49
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Everything about you is awkward. You still move uncomfortably in your new bodies. And you—you can’t even control your class.”
He pointed at Headscratcher. The Hob jerked. He looked uneasily at Greybeard.
“Old one. What are…? You are different, Greybeard. How?”
“Not Greybeard. Greydath of Blades.”
The old Goblin shook his head. The name meant nothing to the five Redfang Warriors. But they shivered when they heard it, as if something in them did know. Greydath studied the five, staring from face to face.
“Not children. Not slaves. Not traitors. And not cowards either. Fragments? No. There is a better word for you. I do not know it yet. But you are too weak. And too content.”
He shook his head, looking annoyed. Numbtongue found his voice at last. He scowled at Greydath, though every instinct was telling him to back up, despite the Goblin being out of reach.
“Old one, what are you talking about? Why did you lie to us? We offered you food. Put down your sword.”
Greydath ignored him. He leaned on the tip of his greatsword and spoke, almost conversationally.
“I watched you five for a day. Train. Eat. Sleep. Good enough for other species, but not for Goblins. You are complacent. Lazy. And it is her fault.”
He nodded back towards the cave.
“Who is that Human you speak to? The one who visits your cave? The one in the inn with the magic door. She is not your master. Is she your friend? A friend to Goblins? It is because of her you are holding back. You are relying on her too much.”
He knew about Erin. He had been watching them. Numbtongue felt a thrill of unease run through him. He looked over and saw Badarrow staring at Greydath. The Hob slowly backed up, and Numbtongue saw he was going for his quiver of real arrows. Greydath glanced at Badarrow, and the Hob froze. But Greydath just grinned.
“Grab your arrows, archer. But tell me. That Human you love so much—if I tried to kill her, would you stop me? Would you fight your own kind for her? Is she your Chieftain? Or is she just convenient? Do you want to bed her? Or do you want her to turn you into Humans?”
Badarrow froze. His face twisted into a snarl, and he lifted the quiver. Quick as a flash, he drew an arrow tipped with steel and aimed it at Greydath.
“Stay away from her.”
Greydath turned his back on Badarrow as if the drawn arrow were nothing but an empty threat. He looked at the others. Headscratcher and Shorthilt slowly stepped back. And they too were reaching for their weapons.
“Erin is…good. She is a friend. A friend to Goblins. No one hurts her.”
Shorthilt spoke slowly. He drew his steel sword. Headscratcher nodded. He had his enchanted axe.
“Put down sword, old one. Go…go away.”
“Or what?”
Greydath’s words were a challenge. And then a sigh. He looked at Numbtongue as the Hob lifted the guitar. Greydath swung his greatsword around effortlessly with one hand, scattering the Cave Goblins around him.
“Could you stop me, children? Show me what you five can do.”
“We don’t want to fight.”
Numbtongue wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or if he was lying. Greydath had tricked them. He’d eaten their food, pretended to be someone he was not. Was that Goblin? Surely not! And he had threatened to hurt Erin. That was unforgivable. But something in Numbtongue told him fighting was a bad idea. Greydath grinned at him.
“You don’t? But I do.”
He spun and raised his sword. Badarrow’s arrow glanced off his sword, and Shorthilt leapt forwards at the same time as Headscratcher. Greydath whirled his greatsword as Rabbiteater came from the other side. Numbtongue was slowest as he charged the Hob with nothing but his guitar for a club. He saw Greydath blur, and then Headscratcher was lying on the ground, Shorthilt was stumbling back, and Rabbiteater whuffed as the flat of the greatsword swung into his ribs, knocking him sideways.
Numbtongue gaped and then swung as hard as he could. He saw Greydath’s head blur around the base of his guitar, and then the Hob was gripping him with a hand like an iron vice.
“A [Bard] does not fight like that, child.”
Then Numbtongue was flying again. He landed and rolled, feeling his back sting with the impact. When he got up, Greydath was dueling Shorthilt and Rabbiteater, laughing as they tried to stab him from both sides. He deflected both blades, dodged an arrow, and then blocked Headscratcher’s slash. His old greatsword deflected the enchanted axe head with ease.
“Slow, too slow! You think you’re strong because you defeated monsters? You are weak. Any Gold-rank adventurer would eat you. Show me more, lost Hobs! Show me strength!”
He brought his sword down, and Shorthilt tried to parry. Instead, the greatsword flattened him. Shorthilt stared up at the sky, dazed, as Numbtongue ran forwards again. This time, Greydath just sent the guitar spinning from Numbtongue’s grip with a flick of his sword. Headscratcher bellowed as he swung his axe horizontally at waist-height.
“Duck!”
Numbtongue threw himself flat at the same time as Rabbiteater. The magical axe cut through the air as Headscratcher roared. Numbtongue felt the tip pass over his head. He looked up and saw Greydath’s eyes narrow. The Hob leaned back until his entire body practically touched the ground. The axe passed straight above his chest. Then Greydath pulled himself upright. Headscratcher stumbled as the force of the blow carried him off-balance. He brought the axe back up, and Greydath kicked him.
Headscratcher flew. Numbtongue saw the Hob launch off the ground and into the air, as if he were a bird. He crashed into a group of Goblins heavily. And Greydath laughed. He turned as another arrow shot at his back and caught the shaft. Badarrow lowered his bow in disbelief. With one hand, Greydath cracked the arrow in two.
“You are weak, archer. Weak. Your arrows can kill only by surprise, only by numbers. All of you are weak. [Champion]? I have seen Goblin [Champions], and they were legends.”
He spat at Rabbiteater’s feet. Slowly, the Redfang Warriors got up. They looked at each other, and the same knowledge filled all of their eyes. Whomever this Greydath was, he was far beyond their level. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all.
The sinking feeling in Numbtongue’s chest was familiar. It was his instincts pointing out everything he knew. It told him that they were outmatched. It felt like Garen Redfang was standing in front of Numbtongue and they were small Goblins again. But what could they do?
“Stop—”
Numbtongue croaked. Greydath looked at him. Numbtongue raised his voice.
“Stop. We do not want to fight. There is no reason. No point.”
Greydath’s eyes flashed.
“There is all the reason. You think you are safe, Numbtongue of the Redfang tribe. But you are not. And until you believe, my work is not done. You must become more. You and all the Goblins. Even your glorious Chieftain.”
“Garen?”
Numbtongue’s chest felt tight. Greydath nodded. He smiled wide, showing his pointed teeth.
“I met your Chieftain. You still think you are from his tribe, don’t you? Garen Redfang. I met him and challenged him. We fought.”
“And?”
The five Redfangs stared at Greydath. The Cave Goblins were just confused. Greydath shrugged casually. Arrogantly.
“He could not best me. I humbled him.”
They wanted not to believe. They wanted to say Greydath was lying. But the Redfang Warriors couldn’t. For all of Greydath’s earlier deceit, everything about his body language now told them he was telling the truth. And the way he’d moved—even Garen couldn’t move like that.
Had he really beaten Garen? Numbtongue felt a fire burning inside him. His hand tightened on his sword’s hilt this time. Greydath grinned at him.
“Not enough? Fine then. The Human girl.”
“Don’t—”
Headscratcher made a strangled noise. Greydath turned. He stared out across the basin filled with water at the distant shape of Liscor. And then at the tiny inn on the hill. The rain had stopped. The Goblins could see the inn clearly from here. So could Greydath. He looked back at them.
“If I kill her, you would not change. But if I hurt her, would you grow stronger?”
Numbtongue didn’t realize he’d run forwards. He didn’t hear the scream until it left his mouth. He swung his sword at Greydath’s head, and the Goblin blocked. He grinned as Numbtongue’s hand quivered, straining, and the sword rang from the impact.
“Better. But not enough. Shall we make a game of it? Chase me, you five. And you five alone. Scratch me and I won’t hurt her. Fail and I’ll cut her once.”
He leapt away as Headscratcher jumped at him with a roar. Greydath ran, laughing as all five Hobs ran after him. There was no time to plan, no strategy. Badarrow loosed arrows at the running Hob as the other four ran after him. Greydath charged to the water’s edge, running twice as fast as his pursuers. He leapt into the water and began swimming. The Hobs followed.
The water was cold, and things darted away as Numbtongue dove in. He swam hard, not caring if he attracted attention. All of his focus, all of his being was on catching up to Greydath. But the Hob was fast. He swam through the water like a fish himself, until suddenly he vanished upwards. Numbtongue’s head broke the water, and he saw Greydath standing on one of the hills above the water line. The Hob had drawn his greatsword.
“Come! Stop me!”
He was laughing as the five Hobs emerged from the water onto the hill. They didn’t wait for Greydath to say anything more. They charged with a roar. This time, they went for the kill. They surrounded Greydath, striking together, aiming for his head, his arms, his legs—desperately trying to cut him. Just once.
They failed. Greydath was a whirlwind of steel, too quick to catch. He knocked them back into the water and leapt into the air. Before they could stop him, he was swimming to the next island. The Hobs looked at each other and then dove in after him. Greydath was waiting by the time they reached the next hill that stood above the water. Again they fought. And again he defeated them, untouched by their desperate blades. Again he fled, and again the Hobs pursued. But each time they caught up to him, they were more tired, and each time they drew closer and closer to the inn.
It was a game to him. Numbtongue could hear Greydath laughing. The weary Hobs swam desperately after him, staggered onto the hill, fought—and failed. Greydath kicked Numbtongue back into the waters as the Hob tried to tackle him. He struck Shorthilt with the pommel of his greatsword, mocked Badarrow by snatching his arrows out of the air. And he laughed as if this was all some game.
But he was going to hurt her. Hurt Erin. So the Hobs chased him. But now, they knew they couldn’t scratch Greydath. They were growing tired, and he—he looked as fresh as he had when they had first locked blades. He was closing in on the hill where The Wandering Inn lay now. They were seven hills away. Six. Five.
Four.
“Stop. We will change. Don’t hurt her.”
Numbtongue gasped as he tried to cut at Greydath’s legs. The old Goblin grinned and shifted, letting the sword Shorthilt had tossed out of desperation miss him by inches.
“You say that. But you will not. Not unless you have no choice. You are too soft otherwise. And she is too bright. You think I do not know what you feel? You think other Goblins have not met ones like her? But she is not forever, Numbtongue. She cannot protect you. And worse, you cannot protect her.”
Greydath’s mocking smile vanished for a second. He looked down at Numbtongue as the Hob panted, straining to push Greydath’s blade back.
“If you could, I would think twice. But happiness for one Goblin is despair for all. You must change, boy. And if it means pain, then it must be. That is why I came here. Hate me. But—”
The old Hobgoblin looked up sharply. He spun and twisted as an arrow flashed past him. For a second, Numbtongue thought that Badarrow had somehow gotten the drop on Greydath, but the angle was all wrong! It had come from above and from the direction of—
The inn? Numbtongue whirled and saw another arrow curve around him. Greydath frowned and deflected the arrow. He stared towards the inn. Towards the top of the inn and the lone figure standing there with bow in hand.
Bird. The Antinium [Archer] was a faint silhouette at this distance. But as Numbtongue watched, he saw a flicker in the air. A third arrow shot towards Greydath. The Goblin dodged left, and the arrow curved to catch him.
“Antinium.”
Greydath sliced the arrow in half. He looked around and twisted. Badarrow cursed as his arrow went wide. Numbtongue stood straighter. He charged Greydath, and Headscratcher lunged up from his hiding place on the far side of the hill. Greydath knocked them into the water. He grinned.
“Who is she? She has Antinium defending her inn. She’s tamed that one and you. What is she? Where does she come from?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Shorthilt rose, water dripping from his blade. Another arrow sped from the inn’s tower. This time, Greydath had to dodge Shorthilt’s blade as he cut Bird’s arrow; he couldn’t dodge them. But still, the old Goblin didn’t seem concerned. If anything, he seemed to relish the challenge.
“Better and better! You five plus the Antinium! Come!”
He dove into the water again. Bird fired an arrow, but somehow, Greydath dodged underwater. Numbtongue stared at the tower. He waved his arms desperately. Somehow, Bird could tell they were fighting Greydath. But he had to warn Erin!
Unfortunately, his signal didn’t seem to register with Bird. The Antinium kept loosing arrows at Greydath as the Goblin appeared on another hill. The Redfang Warriors pursued him, hope desperately rising in their chests. Maybe if they had Bird’s help, maybe then—
No. It was impossible. On the third hilltop, Greydath stood over the panting Hobs. He shook his head. They were too exhausted, too beaten to raise themselves. He blocked the arrow Bird shot at the back of his head dismissively.
“Look at you. The same as that hollow black thing sitting in the tower. Are you Goblins? Or just that Human’s…pets?”
“No. We are her…friends.”
Headscratcher levered himself up with one arm. His body was covered in water, and not just from the lake. He panted hoarsely. He’d swum and fought non-stop for nearly an hour. So had Numbtongue and the others. They were at the limits of their endurance. But somehow, they found the strength to rise. Greydath couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t—
“Friends? Humans don’t make friends with Goblins. Do you think you’re the same as the others? Even Antinium have a place. But we don’t. You don’t. If it came to you or her other friends, would she choose you?”
Greydath mocked Headscratcher as he parried the other Hob’s slow strike. Numbtongue rose, his legs shaking with exhaustion and pain.
“She would never hurt us!”
“Then show me you won’t hurt her. Show me you can protect her!”
The old Goblin roared. He swung his sword, and Numbtongue tried to block it. He gritted his teeth as he went tumbling. Again, he rose. And Greydath laughed. Badarrow lifted the last of his arrows and aimed at Greydath’s side. Shorthilt and Rabbiteater advanced slowly as one.
“Come! Show me you can change! Grow stronger! Reach! Or she suffers!”
They had to fight. The Hobs forgot the pain in their bodies. They charged, slashing, clawing, desperate, unwilling to give up. Greydath knocked them down. He mocked them. He was laughing as he dodged arrows from two directions at once and fought the other four Hobs.
And then the arrow flew from the tower unlike all the rest. Perhaps Bird had recognized that his arrows weren’t working at last. Maybe he had simply forgotten he had this particular Skill to begin with. Numbtongue looked up as he saw the rotating arrowhead speeding at Greydath from behind. The Goblin Lord was still laughing as he turned. His eyes widened as he recognized the signature spiral the arrow traced through the air.
[Piercing Shot]. It was a single arrow, loosed at Greydath’s head. He’d been so busy fighting that he’d given himself virtually no time to dodge. And by coincidence or design, Bird had aimed it at a single spot.
At Greydath’s left eye. Numbtongue saw the old Goblin freeze. And in that moment, something struck Numbtongue.
A memory.
Velan charged through the smoke of magical fire. His lungs burned. His body was blackened, torn by a thousand spells. But still he charged. The Archmages of Wistram lay before him. The archers from five continents and mages called from every part of the earth were in his reach. He raised the sword with a howl as the first rank of archers came into view.
And then he saw her. Golden hair blowing in the wind, face pale with fear. Her pointed ears and terrified eyes met his as her arrow left its bowstring. One arrow among thousands. But this one sped true.
[Piercing Shot]. Velan locked eyes with Elia Arcsinger in the moment of his death. For a second, he looked at her and wavered. And the arrow pierced his left eye and sank into his brain. The Goblin King fell as the fleeing archers and mages turned and looked back in disbelief. The Goblin King died, and his death spread across the battlefield in an instant. Dead, dead, DEAD!
The Goblin King was d—
Numbtongue jerked. The scream of agony left him, a raw, terrible sound that tore his throat. The memory of the Goblin King’s death tore open a wound in his heart he didn’t know was there. He saw Greydath jerk as the arrow shot towards his left eye. So close. The arrow’s tip made contact with Greydath’s eye—
And he turned his head. The arrow slid past his face and slipped into the water. Greydath held still. His eyes had gone wide, wide with shock. And then they burned with rage. He opened his mouth and howled. The rage and grief beat down on Numbtongue, so loud it seemed no other sound could exist in the world. Greydath screamed at the sky with such fury that even the distant Antinium was frozen by the raw emotion. And then he turned and hurled his greatsword towards Bird.
The sword flashed through the sky like a javelin, an arrow made of steel. Bird was hundreds of feet away. The greatsword covered the distance in less than a second. Numbtongue saw the sword flash towards the tower, heard a crash, and then saw the tower collapse. He did not see Bird. His heart stopped dead in his chest.
