“I’m Captain Gato of the Rangers. We’ve decided to relieve you of your duties patrolling this fine road,” El Gato said.
“That’s very kind of you governor. Very kind indeed. About my soul...” the frightened chief answered.
“In view of your past services to the Queen, we are giving you three choices. Leave the country and don’t come back, stand trial for your crimes, or enlist in the Queen’s army. Any of your band who enlist will receive pardon. Any who choose to leave get twenty four hours head start,” El Gato explained.
“On a personal note, you flee and I’ll have ninety five shillings back. You can stand trial if you like. You take the Queen’s shilling and I’ll call it even,” Tiberius said.
“It’s a generous offer,” the chief said with false bravado. “Could I have the details on enlistment?”
Tiberius stepped back and let him breathe. El Gato could skewer him at any time.
“You call your men together,” El Gato said. “They all have the same chance. Bring five of your men in, I’ll make you a corporal. Bring more in, we’ll see. For now you’re in the church guards of Vonair. Train hard and prove yourself, and you might become a Ranger.”
“Guess I’ll join up,” he said rubbing his throat. “Been getting a little tired of this anyway. I want to talk to my men though,” he said, eyeing the Rangers who seemed to keep appearing out of the crowd. Some of his men were already in hand. “I want fair passage to Tuck’s Landing for them what don’t enlist. Might take them a bit more than a day.”
El Gato nodded. “Fair enough, you have my word. Call your men. What’s your name?”
“Welby, Jack Welby.”
“You call me sir, Welby,” El Gato said.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Call your men, Corporal.”
Corporal Welby walked over to Slim. “Get up, Slim, we’re enlisting.”
Slim blinked awake. “What? What are we doing that for?” he asked, trying to comprehend the sudden appearance of the Rangers.
“Welby’s first rule, Slim. Always be on the winning team.”
El Gato came over to Tiberius. “We’ll get the ones worth having. With them out of business this road should be open. Henry will be happy.”
“Yes. Not a bad start. Not the end of our labors, I’m afraid,” Tiberius said.
“This close to the deep forest, we will always have work, my friend. Rely upon that,” El Gato stated.
Tiberius gave a last look towards the Black Hills off in the distance. These woods could never be called safe till that was dealt with. Not this season, but someday soon. There was something there all right. Something powerful, dangerous and evil. He wondered. He’d never met a goblin queen, but maybe, just maybe, there was something more than that out there too.
Chapter IX
Patrols in the Forests
It was just about sundown when a sudden quick turn brought the Rangers around the corner of a hill, still in hot pursuit of the band of goblins. Tiberius rode with them, keeping careful watch for their tricks. It had been a long, busy summer for Tiberius. The first season, he and the Rangers had concentrated on clearing the roads, making them safe for honest travelers. The dark folk had responded by pulling back off the roads, figuring on getting back to raiding when the heat cooled down. But Tiberius and the Rangers hadn’t let up this year. Tales of success and Darras’ popularity in the capital had encouraged many of the best knights of the Stewardship to ask for positions with the Rangers. Buoyed by the reinforcements and successes, the Rangers had spent the summer securing the roads and going after the camps of the enemy. Tiberius and El Gato had led a raid against one of the last of the goblin camps in the north. Most of the goblins had run for it.
The goblins they were following now were a nasty lot, with a bit of skill in the dark arts. Twice already they’d tried to throw the Rangers off, using their skill with dark magic to lay false trails. Twice Tiberius had spotted it and kept the Rangers on track. Welby’s knowledge of the country was also invaluable, as he’d put them on the trail in the first place. The goblins tried another trick now, not with magic, but with blood and steel. Out of places to run, they turned at last to fight. They’d led the Rangers to the abode of a group of ogres. The Rangers rounded a corner and were met with an ambush of rocks and arrows from goblin bows. Tiberius was hit with three great stones as his horse rounded the corner.
El Gato saw him fall, but he was busy. He trampled a couple of goblins with his own horse, then stabbed another as he rode past. If the goblins wanted to fight it out, so be it. Ogres or no, the Rangers would win. He signaled to the riders behind him to concentrate to on the goblins to his right. They would eliminate them first, then swing round on the ogres. They could out range those boulders with their bows.
He almost fell off his horse in surprise when he saw the lightning flash and strike down one of the ogres. Tiberius was back up and fighting? Welby was with him and put an arrow into another ogre. Fire from the mage put the others off balance. Between the flames and the Rangers' arrows the ogres were dropping fast.
El Gato got close enough to hear Tiberius curse. A second later El Gato saw a goblin arrow suddenly turn in mid flight to fly back and strike the creature who’d fired the arrow. El Gato gave another order and Rangers' arrows joined the reversed goblin arrow in firing into the last group of goblins.
A few moments later, El Gato rode up next to Tiberius. He’d seen him looking much better. His tunic was badly torn, his face looked badly bruised, and he was walking a with a slight limp. He was examining an arrow that he’d apparently just given him a cut on the wrist where his gloves joined his armor. Gato shuddered just to look at the arrow. It was clearly the work of some dark goblin shaman. It was inscribed with dark writing and written in what looked like blood. Tiberius gave out an un-characteristically vehement oath as he threw down the arrow. The black metal of the tip smoldered slightly in the falling sunlight.
“I hate those things,” Tiberius exclaimed, as he examined the wound.
“You’ve seen them before?” Gato asked.
Tiberius nodded. “They are trying to kill me. What else is new?” he said sarcastically. “I’m gaining a reputation, it seems. That’s a little calling card from the local goblin witch queen. She’s doing a nice little trade in weapons cursed with dark magic intended to kill me. I look forward to the day when I am able to return her hospitality in kind.”
“Is it poisoned? That’s just a scratch,” El Gato said.
“It’s not supposed to get though my defenses at all,” Tiberius said irritably. “It’s poisoned, naturally, but I have an antidote.” Carefully he took off his armored shirt, so as to better examine his wrist. The arrow had slid up his armor and given him a small cut, and under his armor he was badly bruised. El Gato marveled, not so much at seeing the bruises, but at seeing only bruises. The boulders that hit him should have crushed his chest like an eggshell.
“You took enough damage to kill half a dozen men and you’re barely hurt,” El Gato said. “I’d say your defenses are working.”
“They’re good, but they aren’t good enough,” Tiberius said. “It will get worse, and I’m going to have to get better if I want to stay alive. Worst part was I twisted my ankle when I got knocked off my horse. I’ll be ok in the morning.”
Tiberius put some sort of poultice on the poisoned wound. He winced and the wound smoked as the medicines touched it. There was barely a line left when he removed the poultice. Throwing his armored shirt back on, he gripped his staff and looked around.
“That will keep. Who else is hurt?” he asked.
They brought the wounded over to Tiberius, who was able to treat their injuries. This had been a hard fight. They’d lost two men. El Gato was sure it was three, but Tiberius went over to one of the ‘dead’ and was able to resuscitate him somehow.
“Have a look at this, sir,” Welby said, coming up to El Gato. Welby put a handful of pearls into El Gato’s hands.
�
�Where did you get this?” El Gato asked.
“This is the ogres' lair. Looks like they’ve been in business for awhile. We might have a spot of prize money coming.”
“It was hard won, but yes, we’ll get our pay at least,” El Gato said.
“I’d have gone straight sooner if I’d known it was going to pay this well,” Sergeant Welby said, smiling.
“I saw you in the fight. You did well. I’ll see you get your promotion,” El Gato said.
“Thank you, sir.”
The Rangers set up camp upwind of the funeral pyre for the monsters. Someone managed to shoot a couple of the wild pigs that frequented the region. Dinner was spit roasted pork cooked over a hickory fire. It was served with baked beans, pan fried biscuits, and strong coffee, simple but tasty fare. The camp was in a good mood despite their losses. Everywhere goblins, bogies, and the rest of the raiders and dark folk were running for their lives before the Rangers these days. They had a real sense that they were accomplishing something. Farmers weren’t so fearful in the region now, and traders were more often seen on the roads.
Word was getting out. Other units of the Stewardship were taking an interest. Stephan, a young officer with the Third Calvary out of Walsingham had led a couple of raids, and the legion posted down by Sherwood City had made their own sorties. If this kept up, the goblin queen would be practically under siege next year.
Next morning, Tiberius looked much better. Remarkably so, El Gato thought. He was studying some scroll which he threw down in disgust as El Gato approached with a strong cup of tea.
El Gato glanced down at the scroll. “The mysteries not unfolding this morning?”
Tiberius took a sip of tea. “I need to figure out a way to improve my defenses. There just isn’t a lot of room for improvement in Dallen’s shield spell.”
El Gato shook his head, laughing. “My friend, any other man who’d taken the hits you took yesterday would have been dead three times over. You know I never met Dallen, but I've heard of him. I served under General Galloway before he retired. He told a lot of stories about Mr. Dallen. Whatever shield spell he was using kept him alive a long time.”
“It's a good spell; I grant you,” Tiberius said. “But you see how things are going. They’re making an effort to kill me and it’s going to get worse, not better, next season. Before that happens I want to take my own game up a notch. I’m not having trouble on offense, but I think my defenses could be improved. There are other defenses I can try. I’m just not sure what the best defense really is.”
“Can you only do one?” El Gato said, thoughtfully. A soldier brought them some oatcakes and bacon.
“No,” he answered, contemplating the idea. “Spells can interfere with each other, but not necessarily. Why?”
“I don’t know anything about magic, but I understand the art of defense. Take it from an old soldier. The best defense is not one defense, but layers of defense that work together. Here, grab your staff for a moment and give me a thrust.” They stood up and walked to a clearing. Tiberius gave a jab and El Gato parried it aside. “That’s a basic parry, but it is not the only defense I use. Try again.”
Tiberius did so. This time, El Gato backed away. “Foot work is also defensive. If those fail there is my armor. But even this is not one defense. See how I have chain mail over padding? Each does it’s job in turn. They work together to defend a man. Footwork, parries, chain mail, leather padding, distraction, even just being aware of where your enemy is and the composition of the battlefield, all these are defenses. If I were a wizard I would not rely upon one spell, but a weave of spells to defend me. If such a thing is possible.”
“It is,” Tiberius answered, looking thoughtful. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be trying to find one perfect defense. There is no such thing. I need to be working on ways to layer defensive spells together. It’s better to find ways to link imperfect defenses together. There is nothing wrong with Dallen’s shield. What I need to find are spells that complement each other. Just like you wear a surcoat to protect you from the heat of the day, over chain which can thwart a cut, over padding which protects against crushing blows. I wonder what would be best? I need to speak with Singh and Dallen.”
“I’m still not sure your defenses really need improvement my friend. You work too hard maybe?” El Gato said.
“There are worse things in the world than ogres,” Tiberius answered.
∴
The patrol turned back to Vonair. The winter was closing in and most of the dark folk would be seeking shelter for the winter. They met Lord Brandon at the entrance returning from his own patrol. Things were going well, overall. They’d lost some good men, but casualties were light, all things considered. The recent battle with ogres and goblins was viewed as a good sign. Ogres didn’t take orders from goblins. The fact that they were working together was a sign they were under pressure and losing control of the region.
Tiberius looked with satisfaction as Welby was given his Ranger’s garb. Victories like this were more valuable than any opponents he killed. He’d brought Welby back into civilization.
They had one final surprise that fall. One morning, Tiberius received an unexpected knock on his door. Tiberius put down his book and bade the man to enter. One of the soldiers came and saluted.
“Something odd across the river, sir. The Lord asks you to come to the tower to take a look.”
Moments later, Tiberius was climbing the steps to the top of the ancient elfin tower. Taking out a spyglass, he joined Lord Brandon, Darras, and El Gato staring out across the water.
“What do you make of that?” Lord Brandon asked, indicating a small group across the river.
Tiberius looked. He saw a small group of short men … no, that wasn’t right. Dwarves, certainly.
“Dwarves under a flag of truce. They want to talk,” Tiberius said.
“Do we want to talk to them, is the question,” Lord Brandon said.
“I don’t see why not,” Tiberius said.
“I thought there was tension between the dwarves and the elves,” Lord Brandon said. “Things have been quiet with the elves. I don’t want to cause any trouble.
“Tension yes, but not hostility.” Tiberius replied. “No reason we shouldn’t talk to the dwarves. It might even help things. We need stronger relations with good fairy folk if we are to prosper here.”
“Very well. We’ll roll out the red carpet for them. We’ll meet them in the hall,” Lord Brandon said at last. “Signal them to come across,” he said to the lookouts. “Dress uniforms, gentlemen.”
A few moments later a small group of dwarves was brought into the great hall. An honor guard of Rangers stood at attention, lining the entrance as they approached. Tiberius stood by Lord Brandon's throne as an adviser. The dwarves were courteous and well groomed. They smelled faintly of earth. Dwarves averaged about three and a half feet in height, but these were on the tall side for dwarves.
The all looked like soldiers. They were wearing coats of mail and metal helms, and the carried axes and hammers with them. They all admired the mail coats. The mail was fine but tightly woven. Most of the mail had been tinted different colors somehow, not just painted, but the metal itself had turned different colors. The leader's mail was different though. It was exceptionally fine mail colored silver, but some of the links were black and spelled out words in runes as part of the very fabric of the armor. It was impressive artwork, yet practical armor.
The only dwarf Tiberius had talked to at any length was a fellow that his dad had hired in Walsingham to help with the printing machines. The dwarf was one of the few people Ti had met who had never questioned his father's career choice. Most people, when they heard about his dad's career, were surprised that his father had not made a career for himself in politics or the army. The dwarf, when he heard, had just nodded and said “Ah, you're a runemaster, then,” as if becoming a printer was an obvious promotion.
“Gentlemen, welcome to Vonair,” said Lord Brandon
in greeting. “What brings you and your companions to my humble hall? It’s been too long since the Lords of the Mountain graced our presence.”
“We come as messengers from Prince Essenhart,” said their leader.
“Why did you signal from the river?” Lord Brandon asked.
“Truth to tell, Lord, we were a bit unsure of our welcome. We hear the Rangers have taken to war on the fairy folk here about,” the dwarf captain answered.
“That’s nonsense,” the Lord replied. “We’ve gone to war with goblins, thieves, and others who disturb the Queen’s peace, yes. But not with fairy folk. Any who come across the river in peace and friendship are welcome. The Stewardship protects not only the Sons of Adam, but all who wish to live here in peace and freedom. Dwarven merchants are welcome, either as guests or to apply as citizens.”
“Those are glad tidings indeed,” the dwarf emissary answered. “We heard rumors that the goblins were in terror. New captains had come to Vonair, and a dangerous wizard.”
“This are my captains: Darras Walker and El Gato. Mr. Tiberius here is one of the magi and lately come to Vonair as well. He serves as our adviser on matters of the occult. All of them are goblin slayers and the enemies of evil throughout the land.”
“Good tidings indeed, Lord. We dwarves have little love for goblins and their friends. As ones who share the dark corners of the earth with them, we have particular reason to hate them. Indeed, such is the second part of my errand.”
“Oh?” Lord Brandon asked. Now things were getting interesting.
“You’ve heard, perhaps, that our king is in ill health,” said the dwarf.
“No, this is news to us and unwelcome news. Can we grant him any assistance? The magi has some knowledge of healing arts,” Lord Brandon said.
“Thank you, Lord, but our king is well tended. He is of advanced age, even for our people, however, and the time of transition cannot be far off. No, our business concerns the goblins and driving them out of their holes. Prince Essenhart has observed the knights of the Stewardship and their use of the short sword. He thinks legions of our people equipped in the same manner could put rout to our enemies.”
Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) Page 26
