The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 659
Around the tent, Osthia could hear Goblins shouting at each other and the sounds of activity. They were striking the camp. And today the Goblin Lord wanted Osthia following him around? As a trophy? Or unwilling advisor?
“What if I don’t want to go with you? Will you drag me around?”
The Goblin Lord was busy folding up the map, taking great care not to damage it. He looked up at Osthia, amused. He shook his head slowly, mocking her.
“You will come. To see. You watch me. You want to know what I do. You would not turn down this chance. You watch and I watch.”
He tapped one eye, grinning at Osthia with his white pupils. She shivered and opened her mouth to deny it. But she couldn’t. Instead she walked out of the tent. But not far. He was the enemy and Drakes did not run from the enemy. She would watch.
That was all she could do.
—-
Within the hour, the Goblins had struck their camp. A huge, winding mass of Goblins marched north, flooding across forests, around lakes, over hills and grasslands, the youngest Goblins and those not suited to combat flanked by the Goblin Lord’s main army. Other raiding groups of thousands of Goblins were already further afield, scouting or pillaging and sending riders back to the main host.
Goblins rarely rode, and apparently only a few tribes had learned to ride, much less domesticate animals. And when they did…Osthia saw the Goblin Lord riding on top of a massive Shield Spider, larger than a warhorse, slowly crawling at the head of the army. They were a peculiarity of his tribe, and many normal Goblins rode large Shield Spiders of their own.
They couldn’t be used to pull wagons though, so the Goblin Lord’s army had taken every horse, pony, mule, and donkey they could grab. The excess wagons and carts were pulled by groups of Hobs who churned across the ground with little effort in teams of six.
It wasn’t a quiet march of course. Armies marching never were. Even the most disciplined of Drake armies seldom marched in silence; Osthia was used to hearing Drake war song and loud jokes. Instead, she heard the Goblin equivalent. They chattered loudly at each other, screaming insults, laughing—sounds that were so normal, so Drakeish that they disturbed her.
In the background, she could hear war drums booming, sounding the Goblin Lord’s advance across the landscape. They were meant to frighten and terrify, but the Goblins who heard the sounds appeared reassured. This was their army, an army of their people, and it had brought them out of hiding. Where the Goblin Lord’s drums sounded, there was safety.
And apparently, word of the Goblin Lord or his ‘presence’ was enough to attract more Goblins. As Osthia marched behind the Goblin Lord she saw small groups of Goblins appearing in the distance, streaming towards the army. Individual roamers, small gangs, and tribes would appear as the Goblin Lord marched, swelling his numbers. The Goblins were quickly assimilated into his army and usually without a hitch.
The one irregularity in the day’s march came around midday as the Goblin Lord’s army had paused for a meal. Osthia bit into some beans and porridge, watching the Goblin Lord feeding his Shield Spider parts of a horse that had died on the march. The huge spider snapped greedily at the meat and Osthia shuddered to see the Goblin Lord patting it on the head. Then she turned as she heard a commotion.
A Goblin had wandered up to the Goblin Lord’s personal fire and was being roughly turned away by the Hobs who guarded him at all times. The Goblin Lord looked up and raised a hand and Osthia saw the intruder stumble forwards.
It was a Hob, but—one with a beard? Osthia stared as a Hob with a long and ragged grey beard stumbled forwards. She had never seen, never heard of a Goblin with facial hair. And this Hobgoblin looked old, for all he was still physically in shape. The Goblin Lord seemed equally surprised.
“Old.”
He walked towards the grey-beard Goblin and the old Hob fell to his knees, gabbling in the Goblin tongue. The Goblin Lord answered him, gesturing around the camp, and then tilted his head and asked a question. The Hob, looking relieved, replied, and then the two spoke in common to Osthia’s surprise.
“How did you come here, old one? And how are you so old? How old? I have never seen Goblin with…”
Goblin Lord stroked at his chin and turned to Osthia. He pointed.
“What is the word?”
“Beard.”
Osthia replied after a moment’s hesitation. The Goblin Lord looked bemused. He repeated the word, tasting it.
“Beard. Beard. You are…Greybeard?”
“Yes, Goblin Lord! I am humble traveler. Once had tribe, but lost it! Too old, but too tough to die! Heard Goblin Lord’s call and came. Old Greybeard is so tired. Didn’t mean to intrude! Will go if unwanted. But asks Goblin Lord’s mercy!”
Greybeard practically flung himself at the Goblin Lord’s feet. The Goblin Lord looked amused as Osthia stared at the old pathetic Goblin in disgust. To her surprise, the Goblin Lord helped Greybeard up and invited him to sit and eat with him.
“Old one. You are welcome to my tribe. If you can fight, I will make you a soldier in my army. Otherwise, you will stay and help others. In camps, cooking, making arrows. You will have food and a place to sleep regardless.”
“Too kind! So kind! Is true, Goblin Lord protects. He calls and protects! With army! With swords and black armor! And undead!”
The Hob known as Greybeard eagerly grabbed the bowl of beans and began shoving them into his beard and mouth as if he were starved. Osthia edged back from him. The Goblin Lord had gone silent meanwhile. He stared over to the army of undead that had marched silently alongside his own. Greybeard didn’t appear to notice.
“So mighty! Crusher of Drakes! Has one prisoner! Mighty lord of undead! And slayer of Drakes! Take this one for torture? Ransom? Pleasure?”
He grinned lewdly at Osthia and she debated kicking him. The Goblin Lord frowned at Greybeard and shook his head.
“No, old one. That is not permitted. This one is for information. And undead are to protect. Will turn Humans, Drakes into undead.”
“And other Goblins?”
Greybeard looked up, a glint in his eyes as he stared at the Goblin Lord. Around him Osthia saw the eating Hobs look up and shift. The Goblin Lord glanced around and then looked at Greybeard and nodded.
“Yes. If must. Other Goblins. But only warriors. Only those who give permission.”
“Permission! To be undead after dead? Good joke!”
The old Goblin crackled with laughter, spraying bits of beans. The Goblin Lord frowned, looking vexed.
“Not joke. Undead are…tool. Sword. If they die instead of Goblins, good.”
“Hmm. Yes. Maybe. Goblins not like undead. But if make for Goblins to live, good? Better? Good question! Since Goblin Lords says, is right!”
It felt like Greybeard’s obsequiousness wasn’t earning him points among the other Goblins. Osthia looked around at scowling Hobs, but the Goblin Lord was patient.
“Old one. Anything is good to survive.”
“True. True! But how much? Bad question. Goblin Lord is Goblin Lord and that is good! But I hear things. As I come. Relieved that Goblin Lord protects!”
“Oh? What things?”
Osthia saw the Goblin Lord straighten. Greybeard glanced at him and again, she saw a glint in his eyes that belied his senility.
“Many things. Goblin Lord uses undead. Goblin Lord is not-Goblin. Foolish things by angry Goblins I think. But then I hear something else. I hear you are a slave.”
He grinned, crunching down on an uncooked bean. And then there was silence. Every Hob warrior sitting around the Goblin Lord looked up. The Goblin Lord froze, and Greybeard looked around, as if belatedly realizing he had said something wrong.
“Not slave? Goblins lie?”
Osthia held her breath as the old Goblin cocked his head, seemingly ignorant of the effect his words were having. The Goblin Lord stared at Greybeard. When he spoke, it was without a smile.
“Who said that?”
“Goblin only say—”
“Who said that?”
Greybeard flinched and dropped his bowl. He cowered as the Goblin Lord appeared bigger for a second and raised two hands protectively.
“Just hear! Just hear! Goblins say. Bad Goblins! Rumors of Necromancer, that all!”
Osthia stared at Greybeard as he hunched over. That was a good question. How had Greybeard heard that the Goblin Lord had a master, the Necromancer? Did other Goblins know? She would have pressed him further, but the old Goblin was close to—no, he was wetting himself with terror. The Goblin Lord relented as he edged backwards.
“Old one, calm. Not angry. If Goblins said slave, well—it is true. I have a master. One who teaches me magic.”
“Teaches? Teach Goblin? A master?”
Greybeard was open-mouthed. He suddenly brightened.
“Good, then! Master protects Goblins! Goblins are twice as safe with powerful master!”
The Goblin Lord laughed hollowly.
“Not, old Goblin. Master is death. Master of death. Casual death. Death of giants. You understand? He uses undead as tool, as sword. He uses me and Goblins as another sword.”
He pointed around the camp and Osthia saw the other Goblins looking down. Greybeard stared at the Goblin Lord.
“Not good master then. Slaves. If Goblin Lord is slave, are we all slaves? Are we all dying casual death, death of meaninglessness?”
“No.”
The Goblin Lord’s voice brought up the heads of the Goblins around him. He looked around and stood. The Goblins, Osthia, and Greybeard looked at him. The Goblin Lord nodded and tapped one of his eyes, so unlike the crimson eyes of regular Goblins.
“Am slave, old one. Am pupil with master. Am tool and sword. But not to die. A slave learns. A slave grows and lives. Necromancer gave me strength. I created army.”
“But army is just tool. You said. Is being slave and sword good?”
Greybeard looked up slyly, and the Goblin Lord laughed. His laughter startled Greybeard and Osthia. He reached down and grinned at Greybeard.
“Better than being dead, old one. Slave will live. Slave may be sword, but sword will not break. And one day, Goblin Lord will not be slave. And until then, Goblin will do everything to survive. That is Goblin. Understand? Tell other Goblins that.”
He reached down and picked up the bowl of beans that had been overturned. The Goblin Lord offered it to the old Goblin. Greybeard picked at the beans, popping some into his mouth and ignoring the dirt. He smiled.
“Not tell other Goblins. They bad Goblins. Not like Goblin Lord. Slave is good, yes! Goblin Lord is wise.”
The Goblin Lord turned his head and glanced at Osthia. He smiled and she shivered.
“Not wise, old one. Learning. Learning is better than wise. Now come. Old one is wise and old. Will march with us and eat and sleep. Safety I promise.”
And that was that. To Osthia’s discontent she found herself marching alongside Greybeard. He smelled like fresh urine and dirt and he chattered constantly at her. She ignored him and marched after the Goblin Lord. She disliked to admit it, but the Goblins set a hard pace that a Drake army would have been impressed by. Even the children could keep up, though; it was actually the beasts of burden that tired before the Goblins.
They were passing along a large plains when a group of Goblins came riding hard towards the Goblin Lord’s army. They blew horns and waved their arms, and the Goblin Lord rode out to meet them. Osthia couldn’t understand what they said until she caught up, but she recognized a patrol when she saw it.
“Army! Army!”
The patrol was ponies, a mule, and one horse ridden by regular Goblins. Only their leader was different. The Hobgoblin patrol leader was mounted on a horse, and his command of language was limited to say the least. The Goblin Lord nodded.
“Where?”
The patrol leader pointed over his shoulder and gabbled in Goblin. Then, apparently remembering, he switched back to the common language.
“Human city. Got army.”
“How many?”
The Goblins in the patrol conferred and the leader came back.
“Five thousand. Some horses. Many Humans on…feet.”
“Foot. Infantry.”
The Goblin Lord corrected his subordinates and grinned. He turned to the Goblins who’d all stopped to watch them and raised one hand. He pointed in the direction of the Human city, waved a hand, and raised two fingers, pointing at his lieutenants of Snapjaw and Eater of Spears.
It was incomprehensible to Osthia, but somehow the Goblins understood at once. The main army began marching again, but a group of eight thousand Goblins broke off smoothly from the main mass. Osthia eyed the Goblins as the Goblin Lord himself rode forth.
“You don’t think you can take a Human army with similar numbers, do you?”
“Can. Must.”
He grinned at her as he pointed and the Goblins in his army roared and cheered. Osthia saw Snapjaw and Eater of Spears marching their units towards the Goblin Lord. She stared in disbelief.
Eight thousand Goblins versus five thousand Humans? It sounded like one of those trick questions back at the military academy. Unless all five thousand Goblins were Hobs, she would expect eight thousand Goblins to be routed by any professional army. Even a Human one.
But the Goblin Lord thought he could win, and so his small detachment broke away from the main army. Osthia expected to be left behind, but to her surprise, she was marched in the Goblin Lord’s own private escort towards the Human city. More surprising was that Greybeard came with them.
“Can fight Goblin Lord! Have sword.”
He did indeed have a greatsword strapped to his back, rusted and battered though it was. Osthia personally doubted he could lift it, but the Goblin Lord seemed to have taken a liking to the old Goblin so they both marched in between a double wall of armored Hobs.
They were the Goblin Lord’s elite. He had thousands of Hobs, all of whom wore the best armor looted from other soldiers. They were strong, disciplined, and formed the core of his army. Added to his regular Goblins in their black armor and the Goblin Lord has a decent army. But Osthia would have still given the battle to any regular Drake army with a competent [General] if it wasn’t for the factor of undead.
They doubled the Goblin Lord’s army and could pull off maneuvers like digging themselves into the ground and ambushing the enemy, or sending out special exploding Goblin corpses to tear holes in an enemy’s line. With them, the Goblin Lord could overwhelm many armies with sheer bodies.
And yet, not one of the undead came with the Goblin Lord! It was a battle of eight thousand versus five thousand after all! Osthia didn’t understand it. But the Goblin Lord was clearly bent on winning this battle without an advantage.
She hoped the Humans speared him through his arrogant face.
—-
The Human army and their city came into view within twenty minutes. It was a rather large city that had grown up around a river. Their walls were short though, and the city had grown around the original keep. It was clear that the Humans wouldn’t be able to withdraw behind the walls, so the army had come out to buy time for the people to evacuate.
They hadn’t expected such a small force to attack them, though. Osthia’s keen eyes spotted a sizeable section of horsemen, but there were mainly infantry in the army. They didn’t look like veterans, but to her surprise she saw a [Commander] leading the army. A Human on horseback wearing plate armor. He was rallying the army, marching them towards the Goblin Lord’s forces.
“Commander. Lots of [Riders].”
Snapjaw commented to the Goblin Lord, licking her lips as she eyed the horses. The Goblin Lord nodded. He seemed eager for battle; he’d spread his Goblins out and was marching them in a large box-formation that Osthia was laughing at inside. It was a valid tactic, but it clearly showed the Goblin Lord’s lack of experience. If Thrissiam or Garusa had been in command, they would be employing a far more dynamic formation designed to draw the Human cavalry in and annihilate them.
All the better, then. Osthia was on the Human’s side here. She hoped the Human [Commander] was high-level. The Goblin Lord might not be experienced, but his Skills could turn the tide if the Human was only Level 15 or something.
She got her answer as both armies closed with each other. The Goblins were cheering, ready for battle and clearly confident. Whereas the Humans had to know there was a massive force at least ten times their size marching past them. The Human [Commander] had halted them across the plains from the Goblins and was shouting at his men. Osthia could barely hear his voice, and then she heard him shout.
The Humans cheered, waving their weapons overhead, their voices reaching the Goblins as a faint roar. Osthia heard chuckles from the Hobs around the Goblin Lord. And then the Human [Commander] raised his voice and shouted.
“[Battle Roar]!”
There was sound, and then, as if someone had turned the volume up suddenly, the distant shouting became a roar that blasted over the Goblin Lord’s army. Goblins cried out in surprise and alarm as the voices of the Humans became a crescendo of sound.
The howling that came from the Human army was far louder than it should have been. It was bestial, as if it came from a group ten times as large. It made the Goblins around Osthia hesitate and she found her heart beating rapidly as her mouth dried.
Fear swept through the Goblin ranks, making them hesitate. Osthia saw several Goblins and a few Hobs looking over their shoulders as if suddenly wishing they’d brought more of their friends. Strangely, Greybeard wasn’t one of their number. He just poked a finger into his ear and scraped out some earwax.
The Human cheering was demoralizing the Goblins, sapping their energy to fight. But the Goblin Lord didn’t waver. He stared at the other army as they screamed at his and then raised his arm. The Goblins around him looked up, and the Goblin Lord thrust his arm up and roared a word.
“Goblin!”
