by Ian Rodgers
The remains of the child-sized creatures were carted off to a depression behind a hill about a mile from Trask. Nobody wanted to deal with pestilence or the stench being so close to town.
“So, Gaelin, did the wolves give you any trouble?” Lily asked as she yanked one of her arrows out of the chest of a goblin. She examined it and grunted in annoyance at the chipped head. She, along with the other adventurers, were helping a few of the guards move the bodies for processing and disposal.
“Hardly. They ran after half of them were dead. We didn’t give chase though since we heard the goblins had started their attack on Trask.”
Off to the side, Gaelin was stripping the leather and cloth rags the goblins were wearing and stacking them in a pile. Nearby their weapons and several trinkets were piled as well.
It was morbid, looting the dead, but had to be done. Some of it could be reused or remade with a bit of effort, and the refugees who had been driven from their homes by the raid would need supplies to resettle and rebuild. Waste not, want not!
“Speaking of the attack, why did they do it? Surely they couldn’t have believed a mere fifty goblins could have taken a town of nearly a thousand inhabitants?” Lily asked, confused.
“Besides, if they wanted supplies of their own, couldn’t they just have snuck in at night and stolen some, then left without anyone the wiser?”
“The answer to your question is ‘goblin culture,’” the mage from earlier spoke up. He was setting the bodies aflame with spells as the guards couldn’t waste good firewood or oil on these corpses. Spring might be coming but Trask now had extra people to take care of, and the snow would linger for a while before completely melting.
“You see, goblins are hunter-gatherers and nomads who follow the migration patterns of the wildlife in the Novern Marches. They have very limited agricultural capabilities in the tundra, so this is the only way most can survive up there. Which means in the winter many settlements in the north will receive raids from the goblins. They want and need food. And us humans tend to have plenty stockpiled.”
The mage paused in his explanation as more bodies were added to the pile. Once they were stacked his palms let out a gush of sparks and flames.
“For the most part, they don’t want to harm too many humans. They drive them from their homes instead of killing them. Many goblin tribes know that if they kill too many, then the humans will crack down on their raids like a hammer, killing all they can find in retaliation. It’s why we’ve had no less than three Goblin Wars. Some tribe got too greedy and bloodthirsty and provoked a kingdom.”
“Alright, that makes sense. I did find out that there were many survivors from the raided village who made it to Trask. And why the wolves seemed to be more for chasing than anything else. But why then attack the town like they did?” Gaelin asked. He examined a string of copper coins being worn as a necklace and added it to the loot pile.
“Simple. These goblins were either too old or too weak to survive another winter.” This time the explanation came from the guard captain who had wandered over. He nudged one of the soon-to-be-burnt bodies with his boot.
“See this one? Scrawny arms and far too thin. Likely a runt of the litter. Goblins move around a lot, only camping in one place for a month or so before moving on. Anyone who could not keep up with the tribe would be seen as a liability.” The captain then pointed to another body, this one with streaks of grey in its hair.
“Same for that one. Grey hairs. Goblin men see dying of old age as an insult. They have to die in battle or be shamed by their ancestors and gods. Which is why they attacked Trask. Every so often these dregs will gather during the winter from several nearby tribes and attack a heavily fortified settlement. They wanted to die in glorious battle. Too weak and old to serve the tribe in any other way, these ‘Ghuk Urz,’ or ‘Walking Dead,’ throw themselves at foes to try and earn honor and perhaps, if lucky, a few extra scraps of resources.”
“What a strange belief,” Lily said with a shake of her head. Gaelin nodded in agreement. Why would anyone perpetuate such an odd lifestyle?
“I can see you don’t approve. Understandable, not many people really comprehend why they do such things. Tradition, I suppose,” the mage said. The last of the goblin’s bodies were added to the bonfire and he sent another jet of flames into it to hasten the cremation.
The mage turned back to the young pair. “Humans are humans, and goblins are goblins. Their ways are their own. Who are we to judge?”
The guard captain snorted but said nothing. Instead he turned to address the adventurers.
“On behalf of the people of Trask, I thank you deeply! Your payment for contributing to the safety and survival of the town will be prepared by the end of the week! We look forward to your continued cooperation!”
Cheers went up, and thus began the trudge back to Trask. At least the wagon-sleds were empty now.
Gaelin and Lily were content to be spend the walk back in silence. The older of the pair was thinking over his performance in the battle. He was not entirely satisfied with how he had fought. Certainly, he had managed to kill two wolves and three goblins, but his speed worried him. He had not been fast enough to return to Lily before she was forced to fight herself. He trusted her skills, of course, but she was still green, and still getting used to the sensation of the scar on her hip. He’d risked a lot for her, and didn’t want to lose her to something pathetic like a random goblin!
As for the princess, her mind was filled with ideas and plans. Where to go next? When travel became possible did she want to go north again, or south? Back to the Starblind Mountains, or keeping moving through the hills and plains of north-west Orria? Oh, or maybe the Bluestar Ocean! She’d never seen a beach before, due to Tashel being a landlocked nation. That seemed like fun!
“Gaelin, we’re going to the beach!” she declared out of the blue.
“Pardon?”
“When it’s time to leave Trask, I want to head towards the Bluestar Ocean! I’ve never seen it, and there must be all kinds of neat things to find and do! Ports also have all kinds of interesting goods for sale, that means we might find something for…”
She trailed off, and her hands drifted down to her side. Gaelin’s expression softened and he smiled kindly.
“Sure, why not? I’ve been to a beach before, but never one this far north. Could be fun,”
“Gah! Stop it! Stop creating such a sparkly and pink aura everywhere! It’s way too sweet!” one of the nearby adventurers cried out as they threw their hands into the air in exasperation towards the young duo.
Blushes decorated their faces until they returned to Trask. And even then, they couldn’t escape the teasing looks everyone shot them.
Chapter 3: On the long road again
“Come on, Lily!”
“Give me a minute!’
“I’ve already given you ten, how much more do you need?!”
“You cannot rush a woman!”
“I told you to pack up everything last night! Why didn’t you take my advice?”
Muffled grunts and a wordless shout were thrown back at the young man as he stood outside of a door.
Gaelin sighed in disappointment and walked off to wait in the dining area of the White Boar inn.
“Women,” he said with a roll of his eyes as everyone looked over at him. Hearty cries of “here, here!” were spoken in agreement and the halberdier sunk into one of the chairs to wait for his partner.
As he sat, Gaelin glanced out a window and smiled at the warm sight beyond. The snow had finally melted enough a few days ago that travel was now possible. They had decided to accompany a merchant caravan as guards instead of going off on their own. Lily wanted to earn a little extra money on the way, and acting as a hired hand for a wagon train was as good a way as any.
Plus, this particular group was heading to the port city of Jetty, the northernmost settlement of the Crawling Coast and major trading stop for any sea-faring vessel traversing the Narro
w Ice Strait between the continent of Nora and Orria.
There, Lily hoped to find some kind of information about a way to cure her wound. Even if they found nothing substantial, even rumors would be enough. And if Jetty had nothing for them, then they could board a ship and sail south towards Riggs, the capital of the Crawling Coast and the city where anything could be obtained, no matter how rare or impossible.
‘If it exists, it can be bought.’ That was the motto of the Merchant Kingdom of the Crawling Coast.
At length, Gaelin’s ruminations were interrupted by the sounds of Lily descending from the stairs in a rush. She was eager to leave yet still somehow took fifteen minutes to get ready for the day. So incomprehensible!
“Come on, we don’t want to be late!” Lily said eagerly, and she grabbed the older adventurer’s arm and pulled. The dark-haired youth allowed himself to be yanked up by his companion.
“We wouldn’t be rushing if someone knew how to manage their time,” Gaelin muttered under his breath. If the hidden princess had heard him she deigned not to acknowledge his grumbles and instead led him towards the exit.
“Goodbye, Uncle Bob! Thank you so much for all you’ve done for us!” Lily said with a cheerful wave goodbye.
The elderly owner nodded his head politely in reply. Gaelin gave his own farewell and together the two made their way to Trask’s gates. There, a few feet from the entrance, was the collection of wagons heading towards Jetty.
“Are you Gaelin and Lily, the D-rankers?”
“Yes, we are,” Gaelin confirmed with a nod of his head.
“Good. We’ll leave when the rest are here and the last of the merchandise is stored.” The merchant wandered off, leaving the pair to their own devices.
“What do you think the conditions of the roads will be like?” Lily mused. She surreptitiously looked down at her thick, sturdy boots. Even after almost a year on the road she was still squeamish about getting dirty. The ingrained training and lifestyle of royalty were not so easy to escape from.
“Muddy in most places. Might even be some snow here and there the further north we go. Jetty is located at the tip of the Crawling Coast,” Gaelin surmised.
The red-head sighed but resigned herself to it. “How long will it take?”
Gaelin shrugged and posed the question to one of the caravan’s crew nearby.
“Only a week, depending on road conditions. Being such a major trading spot, Jetty does its best to keep the roads clear and safe,” the wagon driver stated. Gaelin made a ‘there you go!’ gesture at Lily who nodded in thanks.
Another twenty minutes passed before the last of the hired hands arrived, and they were finally off!
“What are the odds goblins or something else annoying will attack the convoy?” Lily asked Gaelin in a hushed whisper.
“Probably fairly high, at least for the topic of beasts. Some creatures will be returning from the south to their old haunts, others will be waking from hibernation. We could see some Dire Breeds, but for this area I doubt we’ll have to contend with goblins. They’ll be returning to their own nomadic paths if what the guard captain said about their habits is true,” the halberdier mentioned to Lily in his own quiet voice.
“Plus, we’re heading further west, and the Novern Marches are to the east, straddling between Orria and Par-Orria.”
“Interesting. And nicely reasoned. What kind of monsters live out here, anyway?”
Gaelin tapped his chin as he thought over her question.
“Sorry, I don’t know. This is my first time being so far north. I have no idea about what kinds of creatures live up here. Why not ask someone who’s from the local area?”
Lily agreed, and asked one of the wagoneers nearby.
“Hmm? You want to know what kinds of creatures we have up here? Well, we have lots of Ice Wolves, and Stone Bears, though the real danger in the area near Jetty tends to be the giant insects.”
“Giant insects?” Lily gulped, her face going pale. The man nodded, blithely unaware of how fast the archer’s face drained of blood.
“Oh yeah, lots of them. The Isle of Worms is just a few days’ boat ride from Jetty, after all. Sometimes they sneak out onto the ships and get carried back to the mainland.”
Lily stumbled back to her place next to Gaelin. He patted her back comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Lily. I’m sure we won’t run into anything like that while we’re out.”
She looked up at the confident halberdier with relief.
.
“Razorpede!!!” This fearful shout was echoed up and down the caravan, and people began to rush to and fro to prepare for combat. Lily tensed up as she clambered atop a wagon to get a better view and a better angle for her bow. She did make sure to throw a harsh glare towards Gaelin who had the decency to look apologetic towards his blatant tempting of fate a day earlier.
On the horizon a massive scuttling beast covered in bluish grey chiton plates could be seen, growing closer with every second. It trampled the earth beneath it, its dozens of long legs more like swords than actual feet, and it left a trail of torn sod in its wake. Four slavering pincers clacked menacingly at the cluster of humans and horses. It was over a dozen feet long and possessed four large blue compound eyes that stared at everything with eager hunger.
“Are there any mages here?!” the head merchant of the convoy demanded frantically. When no one said anything he went pale.
“Damn it! Then, does anyone here know Earth or Fire magic?!” Again, no response, save for a few shaking heads.
“Argh!” the merchant clutched his head and gnashed his teeth in frustration. By this point the so-called Razorpede was much closer, and Gaelin felt his own pulse race at the horrific sight of the abnormally large insect.
There was something visceral about bugs and vermin, and to see one grown to outrageous proportions and given extra bits to make them even more dangerous only added to the unsettling terror that assailed anyone unfortunately enough to confront one.
Gaelin looked around the wagons, trying to see if he could spot anything useful, but Lily beat him to the punch.
“What’s in that cask?!” the archer demanded as she pointed at a large wooden container. It was one of many in the wagon train.
“Liquor, miss. Varian Brandy, to be precise,” the merchant said. Lily nodded, her suspicions confirmed and her own idea taking shape. A ripple of fear was passing through the people, adventurer and merchant alike. She was aglow with charisma, and Gaelin could easily see her putting her training as a future queen to good use.
“I have a plan! But it hinges on us using it as fuel! Can you accept that you may lose it?”
“If it saves lives and the rest of the cargo use it! Use all the liquor if you need!” the merchant assented. Lily nodded. She then turned to Gaelin who had to look up to her now that she was standing above him.
For some reason she felt inordinately proud of the fact Gaelin had to tilt his head upwards to look her in the eye.
“Take that cask and throw it at the Razorpede!” she ordered. Gaelin nodded and took a moment to flood his body with his Reinforcement spell.
To an outsider, the only way a person could tell that internal magic was active was the sudden appearance of glowing veins just barely noticeable below the skin of the caster.
For Gaelin, his magic was silver in color, so thin, intricate lines not unlike tattoos sprung all along his arms and legs as he hefted the large, heavy container.
Thanks to his magic he was able to hurl the cask at the Razorpede, and he smirked as it smashed open all over the creature’s body. The fine liquor drenched the head and upper half of the rampaging beast.
As Gaelin had been doing this Lily had wrapped a strip of cloth around the tip of her arrow and taken aim at the charging Razorpede. Once the Varian Brandy had splashed over the massive insect, she muttered out a simple Cantrip.
“Burn and Ignite! Sparks!” Lily chanted, the simple Firestarter spell igniting the tied cloth on the end of her arrow
. She let it fly, and the burning projectile struck the monster.
The arrow was not strong enough to pierce the hardened carapace, but that was not its purpose. As soon as the flaming cloth touched the alcohol soaked shell, it ignited in a loud and bright ‘Whoosh!’ of flames.
The Razorpede gave a keening wail and changed directions, no longer headed towards the caravan but instead away from the creatures who had harmed it.
Only once its smoking, sizzling body was unable to be seen did the convoy let out loud cheers and praise towards the little lady savior.
“Thank you, you’re too kind,” she said modestly, accepting their praise as if it was natural. Then again, it was well deserved. She had taken the initiative while almost everyone else panicked and saved them all without a single casualty.
“Good thinking! And you said Fire magic wouldn’t be useful,” Gaelin teased and he patted her on the back.
“Don’t go twisting my words! I never said that, I just said I don’t think that that particular Element is part of my Affinity!” Lily stated hotly. She then turned to the merchant from earlier.
“Apologies for using up some of the cargo.”
“No worries! You managed to drive it off without any casualties! I think that’s worth a small cask,” the head of the caravan said with a dismissive wave of his hands. Lily nodded in thanks before her expression turned grim.
“I’m glad to hear that. But what in the Six Hells was that thing?! I’ve never heard of a ‘Razorpede’ before!”
“Oh, that? They’re a C-ranked beast that commonly resides on the Isle of Worms, but sometimes they hitch a ride over when they’re small, or still an egg.”
“That was a C-rank?” Gaelin asked, surprised.
“Yup. A high C-rank. Their chiton is almost as hard as iron, and makes decent armor. They can bite through bone and wood with ease, so puny leather armor is no good. It’s only on the top, though; a Razorpede’s underbelly is soft and vulnerable. And they are susceptible to fire, and can be diverted if you make deep enough holes in the ground to force them to go around lest they trip over their many limbs,” the man explained.
