Tears of Liscor, page 76
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Could you take the Hob out with a spell? Would that disperse them, do you think?”
Olesm looked up. Embria was eying the set of key-scrolls that triggered the enchantments on Liscor’s walls. He covered them with one claw.
“I don’t have perfect accuracy, Wing Commander. And I don’t think that would be wise. The Goblins might disperse if Numbtongue dies. Or they might rush the city all at once.”
“Hrmph. I see.”
Embria looked disgruntled, but she dropped it. Privately, Olesm doubted the Cave Goblins would do something as stupid as attack the walls, but he was sure, absolutely sure that blasting Numbtongue was not in Liscor’s interests. He drummed his claws on the stone battlements and then heard a voice.
“Watch Commander on the walls! Wall Lord on the walls!”
He turned. Zevara and Ilvriss were striding up the battlements. The Gnoll who’d called them out, as per military rules, stepped aside. The two made a beeline for Olesm and Embria.
“Wing Commander. Olesm. What’s the situation?”
“Unchanged, Watch Captain.”
Olesm eyed Zevara. She looked tired, grumpy, and sleep-deprived. Not much different than usual, really, but she looked even more stressed than normal. Ilvriss looked better—but even he seemed at a loss as he stared down at the Cave Goblins.
“The citizenry have calmed down. We’re not in danger of a panic any longer. I have also reassured the Walled Cities that were alerted by those scatterbrained idiots in the Mage’s Guild that we were under siege.”
Ilvriss grumbled as he adjusted his armor. He was wearing a blood red cloak made of what appeared to be liquid. Olesm eyed it, but forbore comment. Ilvriss turned to him.
“So. The Cave Goblins have left the dungeon. And there are quite a bit more of them than any of us expected. I take it this is related to the four Hobgoblins in Liscor’s dungeon? And Miss Solstice, no doubt?”
Olesm winced.
“Yes, sir. I, uh, think they’re angry. I didn’t know it would lead to this, I truly didn’t. If I had known—”
Ilvriss shook his head.
“The fact that one of them got away is distressing, but it was the right move to make. We could hardly have Hobgoblins running about, especially in light of the Antinium Queen’s wrath. Not to mention this mysterious bearded one in your report. My only concern now is this situation. How do we resolve it? Thoughts?”
He looked at Zevara and Embria. The two female Drakes were silent. Zevara was thinking. Embria looked at her and then stood straighter.
“Give me command of the Pallassian forces and a thousand of the Watch and I can rout the Goblins, Wall Lord. With fire from the walls and spell artillery, we can easily defeat the Goblins.”
“What? No!”
Olesm’s jaw fell in horror. His tail curled up as Embria glanced sideways at him. If Embria slaughtered the Goblins, Erin would never talk to him again. Ilvriss also looked concerned, but for different reasons.
“You think you could achieve a victory with just two thousand soldiers and your 4th Company, Wing Commander Embria?”
The fiery Drake nodded. She folded her claws behind her back.
“I told you we could take on a regular army twice our size, Wall Lord Ilvriss. These Goblins lack Hobs—fully grown ones at any rate. With archery support and at least two of Liscor’s wall spells, it would be easy to take them down in droves.”
“But that’s not a good idea. Respectfully, Wing Commander, Wall Lord.”
Olesm hopped from one foot to another in his urgency. Ilvriss looked at him.
“How so, Swifttail.”
Embria looked annoyed as well. Perhaps she thought he was disputing her abilities. Olesm tried to explain as fast as he could.
“I have no doubt that Wing Commander Embria could achieve a victory. But it would cost hundreds of casualties, at least. Casualties Liscor cannot afford. Moreover, Wing Commander Embria would rout the enemy. That doesn’t mean the same thing as obliterating the Cave Goblins.”
“True. It would be impossible to slaughter them all.”
Ilvriss stroked his chin with a claw. Olesm nodded frantically.
“—and while that works with regular armies, it just means the Goblins would go to ground and hide. And if they do, then they’ll heal up and pop out when the Goblin Lord’s army gets here. So then we’ll have a bunch of angry Cave Goblins—”
“—as well as the Goblin Lord and the Humans to deal with. Indeed. I don’t suppose you could encircle and obliterate the entire tribe, Wing Commander?”
Ilvriss sighed. Embria looked unhappy.
“No, Wall Lord. That would be impossible, I’m afraid. Or, as Strategist Olesm said, not without excessive casualties. I could take down that Hob in a lightning strike though…”
“Indeed. But that’s not the issue, is it? I doubt the Cave Goblins will disperse from the loss of one Chieftain—if that Goblin even is the Chieftain. There are five of them. We need to drive them off somehow without incurring losses to the city. Perhaps it would be possible to—”
Embria and Ilvriss began to debate. Olesm watched them anxiously. He saw Zevara look up from her study of the Cave Goblins. She glanced at him and lowered her voice.
“That’s the Hob at Erin’s inn, right, Olesm?”
“Yes.”
“The one with the guitar?”
“Numbtongue.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“At a guess? His friends back.”
Zevara grunted. Olesm’s tail twitched nervously. This was all his fault.
“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have arrested them.”
“I would have. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“But maybe if—”
Olesm’s next words were cut off. He saw Numbtongue raise his guitar out of the corner of his eye, and his body was already wincing before the roar of noise came up from the Cave Goblins.
“Redfang!”
It was one word, a roar of sound. Zevara recoiled, and both Ilvriss and Embria reached instinctively for their weapons. The City Watch half-raised their bows, then forced themselves to hold. Numbtongue raised his arms, and the word rolled across the Floodplains again.
“Redfang.”
This time, the cadence was different. Zevara frowned and turned towards the others.
“They’ve been shouting that all this time?”
“Yes, Watch Captain.”
Olesm watched Numbtongue lower his guitar, his stomach churning. Zevara frowned. Her own tail was very still, but Olesm could see it slightly squirming. She had to be holding it still so she wouldn’t alarm anyone else.
“I see. Then it seems to me, Wall Lord, Wing Commander, that the Cave Goblins want a parley.”
“Parley?”
The other Drakes looked astonished. And affronted. Zevara nodded.
“They haven’t assaulted the city, and that isn’t an aggressive formation. They’re out of bow range, and all they’ve been doing is chanting a name. The name of the Redfang Goblins, in fact. We have four Hobs in lockup. They’re the leaders of this tribe. Or allies. Or something.”
“So, what? We should release them under duress? Unacceptable.”
Ilvriss snapped. Olesm hesitated.
“Well…I did arrest them on a technicality. They were Goblins in the city, which is illegal, but they were helping Erin—”
“And they’re Goblins. You’re not suggesting we accede to their demands, surely, Watch Captain?”
Embria stared at Zevara. The older Drake glared at her.
“And what would you propose? An assault? This is an army we do not need right now. The Hobs staying at Erin’s inn are reasonable—for Goblins, or so I’ve been given to understand.”
She shot a quick glance at Olesm, who nodded slowly. Zevara shrugged.
“In that case, what do we have to lose by giving them what they want?”
“But if we return their leaders—”
Zevara brusquely interrupted Embria. She addressed Ilvriss, who was staring down at the Goblins with narrowed eyes.
“Four Hobs won’t make a difference in the battle for Liscor. Twenty thousand Goblins might. I propose we make a deal with them. If we can force them to retreat south, towards the Blood Fields, in exchange for letting the other Hobs go—”
“We’d keep them from reinforcing the Goblin Lord. A sound idea, Watch Captain.”
Ilvriss spoke slowly. He looked up at Olesm, Zevara, and Embria.
“As options go, I think that is the best one in front of us. Unless you have any better suggestions, Wing Commander? Strategist Olesm?”
Neither one did, although Embria looked upset. Ilvriss nodded.
“In that case, I would agree to Watch Captain Zevara’s proposal. It is unprecedented—but it seems precedent is damned around Liscor in any case. I have only one objection, though.”
“Which is?”
Zevara looked sharply at Ilvriss. The Wall Lord frowned.
“We do not negotiate with monsters. It is beneath us as a species.”
Olesm groaned internally. Zevara opened her mouth, but Ilvriss forestalled her. He raised a claw and then looked around.
“Someone get the Human.”
——
After a few more minutes of rest, Garen ordered his tribe to keep moving. They had to cover ground fast—not because they were afraid of the Goblin Lord or the Humans catching up, but because Garen wanted to outrun his nagging thoughts. So the Redfangs took a different strategy. Rather than gallop on wolf or horseback the entire way, they jumped off their mounts and began running alongside them.
It was a trick mounted units had used throughout the ages. The Redfangs kept up a quick pace, letting the wolves and horses take up a slow gait, for them. And when the Goblins tired, they leapt on the backs of their wolves, resting until they were able to run again. It paced both rider and mount. The only thing faster would be if Garen had multiple Skills that could enhance his tribe’s speed all the time, like Rags. Or if they had enough stamina and healing potions to run at full-sprint all day and night.
They did not. And it didn’t matter anyways, because their progress was lightning-fast compared to the slow pace they’d taken while on the march with the armies on foot. In no time, they were running down the wide pass. Sparse trees and grass mixed with the rugged terrain. There was little of worth here, although there were a few mining spots in the area and space enough for grazing or limited agriculture. Some people had thought it was worth settling, because quick enough, Spiderslicer called out to Garen.
“City approaching!”
The scouts had spotted the sole city in the pass before it opened into the Floodplains and Liscor. Garen saw the distant city as he passed by a bend in the mountainous pass. He spoke a word.
“Esthelm.”
“Thought it got smashed.”
One of the Hobs commented. Garen shrugged. He’d heard the same. But the city was standing and populated. There was damage along its walls, but it looked repaired, and the walls were sturdy. And now that he looked twice, there were a lot of Humans on the walls.
“[Archers]!”
A Redfang shouted a warning. The Humans had spotted their tribe, and a few were loosing arrows even now. They fell far short of the approaching Redfang tribe, but it was enough to make Garen eye Esthelm twice. The city was small, but its defenders looked ready for a fight. They must have retaken the city. By the laws of leveling and classes, that meant they would be tougher than before. Not a city he would assault if he had a choice. And he didn’t need to anyways.
“Go around city. Ignore it.”
“Watch out for arrows.”
One of the older Hobs instructed the others. He looked to Garen, his one good eye flashing at his Chieftain out of a scarred face.
“Chieftain, what to do if Humans shoot arrows?”
“Hmm?”
Garen turned his head. He looked for the grizzled Hobgoblin’s face and saw a Drake grinning at him instead.
Her scales were blackened, as if by soot. Many were missing, so her burnt flesh stood out instead. On a Drake, it was a disturbing sight, but her entire body was like that. Burned, ashy. Scarred by her nature. She was of the Oldblood, but cursed by it. Fire burned within her, and unlike the Drakes who could breathe flame, it had ravaged her. She was an outcast among Drakes, a Scorchling, rumored to be cursed or tainted. But those were only rumors. To Garen, she was his friend.
Halassia Evergleam smiled as she thought about his question. She shrugged lightly and tapped the wand at her side.
“Shoot arrows at you? Don’t worry about it. If they try, I’ll block the arrows with a spell.”
“And I’ll swat them down, don’t worry about it!”
Another Drake, also female but broad-shouldered, laughed and slapped her chest. She was a full Drake, but she was an outcast in a different way. For different reasons. Ukrina had been exiled from Drake society for what she was known for, rather than her looks. She was a Turnscale, a word Garen didn’t quite understand. But it qualified her for the Halfseekers, who accepted anyone who was outcast from society.
The two Drakes nodded. Garen turned and saw Jelaqua, riding ahead of them and wearing a Gnoll’s body, turn.
“You still worried, Garen? Relax! You say this every time we visit a new city.”
The others laughed. Garen hunched his shoulders.
“Went to this one before. Got caught.”
“Well, you didn’t kill anyone, did you? No? Then relax. It’s best to relax on trips, yes? Relax, take a nap…do we have to work today?”
A purring voice from Garen’s left made him look. Keilam, the group’s third [Mage] if you counted Moore—who doubled as a front-line fighter—draped himself over his disgruntled mare. He was half-Gnoll, half Cat-tribe Beastkin. He had inherited his feline ancestry, but there was enough Gnoll to make him both sinuous and strong. Too barbarian for the Cat-tribe, and too strange for Gnoll tribes. Wit and laziness came to him in equal measures.
“Could still shoot arrows.”
Garen wasn’t convinced. Seborn shrugged. Moore stroked his chin, looking worried. He had to walk; there wasn’t a horse large enough for him. Garen was walking too, in solidarity. He hated riding horses anyways. They bit.
“I know the feeling. Some villages would shoot arrows at me. They thought I was an Ogre or a Troll. Can you believe it? Me, a Troll?”
“I can believe it.”
An amused voice from Moore’s right made the half-Giant look down, crestfallen. The half-Elf walking with him laughed up at him. Thornst, a half-Elf from Terandria and the newest Halfseeker, grinned up at Moore.
“It’s not an insult, friend Moore. But you must admit, you’re a startling sight to anyone who’s not seen a half-Giant before. They’ll panic, and when they panic, the first monster that fits comes to mind.”
“I suppose so. It’s hurtful, though. But at least they hesitate. I can’t imagine what it would be like to—”
Moore broke off and eyed Garen. The Hobgoblin pretended not to notice. Halassia cleared her throat, shedding an ashy scale.
“Just stay behind us, Garen. Let me do the talking. We’re a Gold-rank team. If they want to start a fight with the Adventurer’s Guilds, let them.”
“That’s right! Here’s to Gold-rank! I knew we’d make it! Let’s have another party!”
Keilam waved a paw. The other Halfseekers grinned. Seborn just sighed.
“Some of us were Gold-ranks before we joined the team. It’s just that we’re a certified team, now. It was going to happen.”
“Yeah, but there’s always time for another drink.”
Jelaqua grinned and slapped Seborn on the back. The Drowned Man glared, but Jelaqua just laughed.
“Come on, everyone! To the city! And if Garen gets shot, we’ll buy him a round. Watch for arrows, now!”
Garen grumbled as the others laughed. But he followed them, not as worried as he normally was. After all, for his team, he’d gladly take an arrow or a dozen—
Reality came back in a moment. Garen stared at the Hobgoblin with the missing eye for a moment and then came to his senses. It was like the Chieftain’s memories, but stronger! He realized he’d been staring too long. The others were looking at him. Garen raised his voice.
“Ignore arrows. Don’t shoot. Keep out of range. Get moving.”
He turned back and kept riding. Why was this happening? It didn’t happen often in the High Passes. But these flashes of memory had been growing stronger day after day. At first, it had just been moments or replayed conversations. But now—
He’d never heard of another Chieftain remembering their own life like this. But he knew some of them, like Rags, had dreams or visions of past Goblins, uncontrollable ones. Sometimes it was need or seeing a familiar scene that brought it on. In Garen’s case…it was nostalgia. Unresolved business.
Some days, he wanted to ask them why. Why it had gone down like it had. But the dead were dead and the living—impossible. Garen had been a Halfseeker once. No more.
Reiss had called him a traitor. So had Greydath. But that was all wrong. What had happened was—Garen closed his eyes.
No. It didn’t matter. It was in the past. He’d left it behind. He’d become a Chieftain, gone back to his kind. He’d leave it behind him. Rags too. And Reiss. Go back to the mountains. Forget. Garen urged his Carn Wolf to go faster. But the memories kept coming back and back. Growing stronger. He didn’t know why.
——
In the end, three of them went to get Erin. Embria stayed on the walls just in case. Olesm, Zevara, and Ilvriss walked together.
“Getting her to deal with the Goblins will be a hassle. But then again, I’d expect nothing less.”
“Will she be willing to help is my question.”
Zevara muttered. She glanced at Olesm. The [Strategist] shrugged.
