The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set 2

by Eric Ugland

  “Your grace,” the young man said with a smile. “Are you here to join us?”

  Now I’m certain I could have said no, and nothing would have come from it. But in that moment, I was feeling overly paranoid, so I did what came naturally. I said yes.

  “Of course,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  There was some laughter amongst the crew as they resumed their march.

  “How would you like to work into the squad?” The leader asked me.

  “Do you have a name, soldier?” I replied.

  “Sergeant Hennessy, my lord.”

  “Hennessy, put me where you think I’ll be of most use keeping your men as uninjured as possible.”

  “You do know what we are doing, my lord, right?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “I thought that was jest.”

  “You just caught me wandering around.”

  “I had heard you do not keep the same schedule as most of us. But—”

  “No reason to worry about it. I’m here now — where are we going?”

  As I asked that question, I recognized exactly where we marched: down to the worm tunnel, the one connecting the night goblins to the kobolds.

  “Crap,” I said before Hennessy could answer. “Goblins.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, then quickly corrected: “I mean, my lord. Uh, your grace.”

  “Don’t worry about that title shit for now. Let’s focus on what we’re doing.”

  “Right. We received word from scouts up-tunnel that a mobilization of goblins is coming toward us.”

  “Up-tunnel is the goblin side?”

  “Correct, your grace. General Stokes denoted—”

  “Is that Wian?”

  “Yes, your grace, General Wian Stokes, he decided, for ease of communication, the goblins were up and the kobolds down. We are on the down side of the middle of the tunnel.”

  “How many goblins?”

  “Unclear. But they will have a numerically superior force.”

  “But they’re goblins, right?”

  He smiled at me. “Yes, your grace. Even if we were to be outnumbered fifty to one, I would feel we outmatch our opponents. And in the tight quarters, we will have the advantage — we can hold the tunnel with a shield wall.”

  “I probably shouldn’t be part of that, I haven’t trained in shield wall tactics. Maybe I’ll be there to hold the line or—”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  We made it to the tunnel entrance, and came to a stop. Various door guards, almost all dwarves, stood at murder holes or tiny windows, looking out into the tunnel. A few rested, playing a game that looked remarkably similar to dominos. Sergeant Hennessy got his squad arranged how he wanted and walked over to talk to one of the domino dwarves. There was some whispered talking, as well as a few pointed looks at me. Then Hennessy came back over to me.

  “The goblins are not far off. But should we wait for them to pass and attack from the rear, or should we set up to assault them here?”

  “Well shit,” I said, “I’m not exactly a tactics man. But I’ve seen goblins run, and they’re fast. If we attack from the front, they could easily just run back to their base. And then we might have to face the whole goblin horde. And they’ll know we’re down here. But if we attack from behind, we’re stuck having to quick march after them, and we lose whatever advantage we have with a shield wall.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Hennessy said. “It is a quandary.”

  Hence why he’d come to me, I mused. I watched a dwarf lay his tile down. I couldn’t figure out how the game worked, but the shape he made with the tiles flicked something on in my mind. It was a pincer.

  “We need to do both,” I said suddenly. “We need to have a stationary group that will force the goblins back into the shield wall, and keep any goblins from fleeing.”

  “Should we get another squad?” Hennessy asked.

  “No time for that,” the head dwarf guard piped up. “Figure you got about two minutes to get someone out there and ahead. Any longer, and them goblins’ll be on you afore you are ready.”

  “Guess I’m up,” I said, pulling a shield out of my bag. I regretted not being fully armored now — it wasn’t so much sneaky-sneaky time as it was stabby-stabby time.

  “Your grace,” Hennessy said, “I must object.”

  “Objection noted and overruled,” I replied, stepping past his men and to the door. “Just make sure you’re in place to be the anvil to my hammer.”

  “Yes your grace, but—”

  “No buts,” I interrupted, “I will be fine. I will hold the line long enough for you to smash them. Don’t be late, got it?”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  “Just goblins, right?”

  I nodded at the men, smiled, and I walked through the door and down into the tunnel.

  Chapter 155

  The worm’s poop-muck had all been gathered, making it much easier to move around. Being that the tunnel was spherical, the floor was very round without the muck about, so it was still a bit problematic. At least in theory. I’d noticed that I’d had an easier time walking when Ragnar and Skeld were tripping constantly. Another one of my abilities, Art of Movement, coming about to bring me good fortune.

  I moved quickly along the tunnel, trying to count my footsteps until I got to a point I judged to be about three hundred yards from the Coggeshall entrance to the Worm Tunnel.

  Then I set down my shield, pulled out a sword, and limbered up. I wanted to make a good impression on the Night Goblins when they arrived. And by good impression, I mean I wanted them to be scared out of their tiny fucking minds. But if I was just standing there, would they even approach me? Would they just turn around? Did I need to hide, and then jump out at the last minute? That would be pretty funny. Surprise, motherfuckers!

  I had no real idea what I should be doing, so I stood there with a shield on my arm, sword planted into the stone, looking like I was the cover model for some ridiculous fantasy novel.

  There was no light in the tunnel, so I was forced to use my darkvision. It robbed the world of color, bumped everything up into high contrast black and white. I heard a soft sound, some metal on metal, and footsteps. They were on their way. Slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, they came into view. Short creatures, most below three feet tall, marched in a haphazard formation. They had armor on, but nothing uniform amongst the group. It had the look of stuff that had been custom made, though without much refinement. They certainly looked better than the original goblins I encountered, but not quite as well put together as the first group of night goblins I fought when I saved the little girl in Osterstadt. Maybe they sent the elite above ground. These guys did not have the look of anyone elite. They looked, well, ragtag.

  About thirty yards from me, one of them must have finally noticed me, because they came to a sudden stop. I made a quick count of the wee fuckers, and I stopped at thirty five. There were more, but it was show time.

  “Evening, you tiny bastards,” I said, letting my voice go as loud as possible.

  There was a mild echo through the tunnel. I shook my head, realizing that there was a definite chance they’d never bothered to learn Imperial Common. Good thing I spoke plenty of other languages.

  “Sorry,” I said in Goblin, “I was speaking the wrong language.”

  There were definitely a few looks at that. Not a one of them thought I’d bust out in their own language. They stared at me for a second, then looked amongst themselves before one of them piped up.

  “You speak the tongue?” The tallest goblin asked.

  “The tongue?” I asked. Why did the creatures of this world always assume their language was THE one? Especially when confronted directly by the fact that there were so many other creatures who had their own civilizations and languages.

  “You are with us?” The creatures asked.

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “I think you are all a bit scummy.”

  Now, I can tell what some of you ar
e probably thinking — how did I use all this slang? How’d I know how to talk in such a casual way? It was just part and parcel of the magic.

  “I’m not a big fan of your dark god. Or of your sacrifices to him. So, you know, I’m more like the anti-you.”

  The goblins seemed a little taken aback. They began to chatter amongst themselves. I hoped I was giving the Thingmen enough time to assemble and catch up to us.

  “If you do not follow the god, you are doomed to feed him,” the tall goblin guy said, sneering at me. “You will enjoy the feeling when you slide down his throat and into his holy bowels.”

  “That’s extremely graphic, and specific,” I replied. “So, uh, ew.”

  “Kill him.”

  There was a momentary hesitation. Then, they attacked.

  I had my shield up immediately, my sword held back, waiting.

  They yelled, their battle-cries echoing through the tunnel, coming closer and closer to me. I could see how they’d be scary. In a group it was hard to keep track of who was whom, there were teeth everywhere, big eyes, big ears, and lots of small hands holding a ridiculous variety of bladed weapons. I’m sure if there was light, their weapons would be glinting. All of it presented a fantastic chaos that I’ll admit pushed my blood pressure way above normal.

  I took the charge on my shield, lunging forward to slam into the group. I put enough strength behind it to cream the whole first row of goblins. Hell, the first one I hit was almost liquified. I had the distinct impression he had no whole bones remaining. The rest weren’t much better.

  Before they had the chance to regroup, when the second and third lines were running into the first, I swung for the fences with my sword. It felt a bit odd, since I had to aim lower, dropping my arm way down. But that seemed to help me get some more oomph behind the blade as it cut deep into the goblins. There was a fantastic spread of blood and quite a few real cries.

  I took a few big steps back, then reset. The goblins came on again, but there wasn’t as much passion behind this charge. Plus, they were having trouble moving across the terrain. As soon as I got my feet set again, I did another shield bash, clearing out more space in front of me.

  The goblins hesitated, and I took advantage with a quick series of stabs, one after another. The blade slid in deep, and the goblins dropped quickly. The goblins did not seem like they were actually there to fight.

  A good swing, and a goblin head came off, tumbling through the air. The geyser of goblin blood came shooting out next.

  That seemed to give them pause.

  Which was the perfect moment for the Thingmen to smash into the back of the remaining goblins.

  Sometimes plans worked. Sometimes things actually come together in the right way, and all those stupid little moments that often go wrong, go wrong for the other side. In this instance, it all came together smashingly. Much like the Thingmen and I. They pushed the goblins from one side, skewering them with spears and crushing them with shields, and then there was me on the other side, cutting them down like I was mowing the lawn. It would have been a more apt metaphor if these were the green kind of goblins, but the night goblins had their own unique coloring. They still bled and died like goblins, though. After an intense few minutes, we were finished with their slaughter.

  Hennessy, came over to me, quite covered in gore, laughing.

  “Your grace,” he said between guffaws, “that was an excellent plan. But I believe you have some goblin in your beard.”

  Chapter 156

  I left the Thingmen there to clean up, dropping a few prinkies to handle the dirty work of transporting the goblin carcasses to the foundry for burning. I only paused for a moment to grab a bit of water and rinse the goblin gore out of my hair, then I headed straight for the escape tunnel.

  It was a claustrophobic walk down a long ramp, as the hallway seemed to take dwarf proportions into mind more so than super-sized variations like myself. I made a mental note to speak to Harmut about expanding the tunnel in case Darius the minotaur ever needed to escape. He’d get jammed — his huge damn horns probably wouldn’t even make it in.

  After a solid ten-minute walk downhill, I paused at the bottom. Was this really something I should go through with? What would happen if someone saw me go through the emergency door? Our secret would be out, and then anyone could come through. We’d have another entrance we’d have to guard at all times, and that could be problematic.

  I had another thought — what was Nikolai going to say when I brought back Northwoods? He’d know. No way I could hide Lord Northwoods from him, so Nikolai’d find out I’d gone through the tunnel. I briefly considered going down the river, but then, how would I get Northwoods back? Carry him on my back? I had no idea where the door let out and I had no way to find out. Unless, you know, I just opened the dang thing and went out.

  I pulled a ring from my pocket, The Ring of MonaHan, that allows you to see what’s on the side of any solid object, and I held it against the door.

  It was dark out, but clear. No one and nothing was there.

  Slowly, as slowly as I possibly could, I pushed the door open, until I could look out with my own eyes.

  Left. Right. Up. Down.

  Clear.

  I was looking down on forest. Heavy forest.

  Finally I pushed the door open enough that I could step outside. Looking back, the door was almost perfectly concealed against the rock wall of the mountain. And that’s with the door open. It was really fucking impressive. I broke a branch off a tree, and used that to slide into the door — partially to keep it open, partially to make sure I knew where it was. Then, I wrote a note to Nikolai and summoned a prinky to deliver it. And also maybe deliver a small shiny pebble.

  I slipped through the forest as quietly as I could, angling away from the mountain wall until I got far enough into the woods that I felt comfortable I’d be hidden if anyone happened to come my way. Then I stopped and listened. I heard the river, and that clued me in on the direction I needed to go. At least in a vague sense.

  Snow started to fall in thick, fluffy flakes. I started moving a little quicker, thinking the snow might make it harder to hear me. It wouldn’t be a long walk to the road that cut though my lands from the Royal Road. Half an hour, I guessed. When I arrived, I stopped right next to the road, and knelt in some bushes just as I heard the unmistakable sound of horse hooves crashing against the ground.

  Sure enough, a moment later, a horse thundered by. The rider had on livery I didn’t recognize, and his cloak streamed out behind him. The horse was really hoofing it, and the guy was so far gone I couldn’t hear him.

  Something had to be happening. A messenger? What kind of message would need to be delivered in person in this world?

  At the moment, it wasn’t important. I checked once more, then darted across the road, sliding to a stop in the dark underbrush.

  I waited, paranoid most likely, worried someone might have seen me. Or that someone might be coming.

  But nothing and no one was there.

  Walking through the trees, I kept lower than I probably needed, but I wanted to stay out of sight. Just in case. Another twenty minutes, and I came to a large cleared area. Not just a large area, multiple large areas on either side of the road going all the way up to the tunnel we’d cut through the mountains to Coggeshall. At the tunnel, there were some spiky walls built up, about four or so feet high and manned by several soldiers. There were braziers lit quite a ways into the tunnel, and plenty of fires along the spikes to keep the soldiers warm. One side of the road held long square tents that looked somewhat disheveled. There were rows of the things, going a remarkable distance. Plenty of space for an army. Two huge square tents, each one several hundred feet long, were closest to the road.

  On the other side, sandwiched between the road and the river, were the nice tents. Very clearly where the nobles were. These were mostly smaller, but it looked like they were significantly cleaner. And individual. Or, I guessed, these were the tents
for each knight and his coterie of helpers. There were small pennants flapping in the cold wind, each one denoting the man or woman who was in the tent. Plenty of lions and bears, a few dragons, and as always in Vuldranni, a cohort of animals I couldn’t identify.

  Down close to where I was, a large open field had been cleared, where hundreds of horses wearing thick blankets lazed about. There was a split log fence around the whole pasture, as well as two tents I figured had to contain the grooms. It made me wish I had the means to contact Fritz. A land shark in with the horses? That’d be a beautiful sight to see. Magical. And by magical, I also mean horrific. It’d be a slaughter. That made me wonder where the fuck Fritz had fucked off to. I hadn’t seen him in a hot minute.

  On the edge of the horse pasture, near the river, were various camp workshops. A trio of blacksmiths were easy to identify, what with the fires burning and the anvils out front. It looked like they were getting started early, stoking their forges. Some younger folk did grunt work around the place.

  It was also pretty easy to identify Caticorix’s tent, given the pennants waving atop the massive tent in the center of all the pretty ones. There was no obvious signs pointing to a prison, though. But given that Northwoods was a lord, I had the feeling he’d be amongst the knights and nobles.

  There were only guards around two tents. One was Caticorix’s, and the other was a smaller tent with no fire inside, no smoke coming out the top. Either it was an empty tent guarded for some particular reason, or it was where our prisoner was being held.

  There were other guards around, sentries and whatnot. They moved mostly in twos, patrolling the open spaces between tents. But there wasn’t any regularity to it, not in a pattern I could recognize at least. It looked like I had to wing it.

  I moved a little quicker around the fence line of the horse paddock, realizing that, one, dawn had to be coming up if the blacksmiths were about to start working, and two, if the blacksmiths were about to start working, I’d have plenty of noise to cover my movement.