by Eric Ugland
Double-Axe tripped over Hammer, while Twin Swords put on a quick display of skill with his double blades, flashing, twirling, spinning, basically the whole nine yards of showmanship.
I swung overhead as hard as I could, and though Twin Swords crossed his blades to block the axe, I had a lot of speed, a lot of strength, and a lot of weight behind me. The blades snapped off at the hilt, and my axe went through about forty percent of the hobgobbo, leaving the poor fucker’s face in a perpetual state of surprise. But there was no way I was getting that axe out any time soon — it was firmly embedded in the creature’s spine. Which meant I had to grab a broken blade. It was dull, so there wasn’t really any danger to me. I scooped one up.
By the time I turned, Hammer and Double Axe had untangled themselves. Double Axe was making his attack, two chops coming in from the right. I threw the blade at him and leapt back at the same time.
His axes went wide, and my thrown blade did nothing.
Both hobgoblins grinned, obviously happy at me appearing as if I was completely defenseless.
I reached into my bag, and pulled out a spear. It must have looked very strange, this little bag hanging off the big dude, and here I go, reaching in and pulling out a seven-foot-long spear. Frankly, I’m pretty sure that bizarre image is all that kept them from attacking while I was defenseless and struggling to get a seven foot long spear out of a comparatively tiny bag on my belt.
As soon as I had it out though, Hammer charged and Double-Axe was a mere heartbeat behind.
Hammer swung overhead. I deflected it to the side, and slammed the butt of the spear up and into the side of Double-Axe’s head. He grunted in pain, and it threw his attack off, axes once again swinging wide through the air.
The two forced me back, keeping the pressure on and making it impossible for me to get my spear around to the front, where the pointy bit might do some actual damage. Instead, I had to block like mad, thumping with either the haft or the ends, and it was less like I fought with a spear and more like I fought with a staff.
My back hit the wall, which meant Hammer hit me. Straight in the shoulder with a solid, fleshy thunk. Pain blossomed out, and I couldn’t move my arm. I dropped the spear, and the axes slammed straight into my chest.
Then an arrow came out Double Axe’s eye, garnishing me in gore.
Hammer turned his head to look behind him, and got a face full of spear from Ragnar.
Again, splashing me with all sorts of gnarly carnage.
I dropped the spear, pulled the hand axes out of my chest, and leaned back against the wall that’d nearly killed me.
“You okay, boss?” Ragnar asked, pulling a piece of cloth out of a belt pouch and wrapping it around my chest.
“Perfect.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We were a pretty solid mess.
The thick leathery creature’s corpse took up most of the floorspace. Lots of gross stuff oozed out of it — the carpet was definitely ruined. Shame, too. It really tied the room together.
Turns out that the creature managed to magically stun everyone when it fell. It wasn’t particularly tough to kill from the outside — it was definitely an ambush predator — but had I been trapped underneath, it would have been game-over for the group. Once the creature was dead, the stun wore off, and they’d gotten out, only to see me about to have my ass handed to me by the two hobgoblins. Thankfully, Emeline had good aim. It was her arrow that popped the hobgoblin’s eye.
The dungeon gave us some more orbs, one large green and one smaller blue. The green dropped a bunch of coins and two vials full of thick red liquid. The blue orb, on the other hand, dropped a pair of gloves. No coins, nothing else, just a pair of gloves.
I shot my identifier spell over towards it.
Gloves of Grip
Item Type: Rare
Item Class: Gloves
Material: Spider Silk
Durability: 200/200
Weight: 3 lbs
Requirements: n/a
Description: A pair of gloves able to grip on most anything. Grab ahold, keep it.
I relayed the information to Nikolai.
He picked them up and looked them over.
“I worry they are cursed,” he said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“They make no mention of being able to let go of an item, do they?”
“So we leave them here?”
“No,” he said, and tossed them at me. “There are things to do with magic items, even those we have no desire for.”
I fumbled to catch them, then shoved them in the ol’ bag of holding.
Everyone looked a little worse for wear. Those who’d been under the creature were coated with a sort of mucus. Donner had a massive red mark on his back, I suppose where the creature had bitten him. Looking at the remains, it was remarkably squid-like, right down to having a beak of sorts under the fleshy head. Except for the hand thingy on the top of the thing — at least, it would have been on top had I not lopped it off.
Nikolai took a cursory look over the hobgoblins, then waved for Skeld and Ragnar to come over.
“You,” he said, pointing at Ragnar, “you’ve got higher skinning and butchery. You work on getting the skin off this creature. Skeld, assist.”
He walked over to me.
“You okay?”
I pulled my shirt away and looked at my chest. It was still bleeding a little, but it was definitely stitching itself back together. And, my other arm was working fine.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be 100.”
“Follow,” he said while looking over at Emeline. “You’re on guard. Donner, this way.”
Donner nodded.
Nikolai walked over to the open door that the Hobgoblins had come through. He paused before crossing the threshold, and ultimately remained on our side. The door revealed a large open space, almost like a football field, just, you know, minus the grass. The ground was stone, marched on enough that there were grooves ground down. Huge chests lined the whole left side, too far from us to get any idea of what might in them. A whole host of stone archways sat across from us, looking almost like a Roman aqueduct. But not a single other door in the whole space.
“Mustering grounds,” Nikolai muttered.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Heal Donner,” came the reply.
I gave Nikolai my best dirty look, but he didn’t see it, and I doubt he’d have cared in any case. I reached over and laid a hand on Donner.
Donner slapped my hand off him.
“No magic,” he snarled.
“But—” I said.
He pushed me up against the wall, and got right in my face. “No magic.”
I knew I could shove him back — despite his impressive bulk and surprising weight, I knew I was still stronger than him. I knew that I could also heal him, so maybe knocking him the fuck out would be for the best. He’d wake up feeling groovy, B.A. Baraka style. But if he didn’t want magic, I wouldn’t do it.
Hands up, I said, “You don’t want magic, you don’t get magic.”
His muscles clenched for a second. Then he relaxed and let me go.
“Okay?” I asked.
“Magic is evil,” Donner replied. “There can be no good from it. Just look at where we are. Had I known you were a magic wielder, I cannot say I would have come with you.”
“Noted,” I said. “And if you want to go your own way once we’re out of this, yeah.”
“That’s the area where the hobgoblins get their armies ready to battle,” Nikolai said. “Which means they live through the arches beyond. My guess, then, is that the goblins live behind us.” He looked over his shoulder at the closed door on the other side of the chamber. “And we should get moving before someone else gets curious about this noise.”
As soon as the hirð boys were done skinning the beast, we stripped the hobgoblins of their armor and weapons, then we headed up the stairs. I was hugely curious about the doors we’d left untouc
hed, but Nikolai seemed certain they were a bad idea.
The top of the stairs, there was a large arched tunnel, going on and on. Wide open space. Far to the end, there was what seemed like an identical room to the one we were in. About halfway to that room, a pillar stood in the archway.
We walked as a group, moving slowly, spread out in a line. There was plenty of space between us. I had no idea how this place had been built.
A bell rang out, almost like a church bell, echoing off the stone walls.
Drums boomed to life from behind us.
Then in front of us.
Different rhythms and tones, but sounding as if they came off the same types of drums.
“I think we should move faster,” I said.
Looking for traps was put aside for the moment, and we started walking with purpose.
The drums got louder.
We started jogging.
Now the drums were thundering, and we began to run.
As we got to the center where the pillar stood, I could see a large gleaming jewel on top of it. Something bigger than my head and sending bright red rays around the area, like a crimson disco ball. Slack-jawed, I stood transfixed for a second, until I got a hard smack on the back of my head from a grimacing Nikolai. The others in the party were similarly staring at me.
“We have company,” Nikolai said, pointing to one end of the hall, and then the other.
I followed his points. Where we’d come from were red shields. Behind the shields, armed with spears just tall enough to be at the ceiling, were hobgoblins. The other end, blue shields. But otherwise the same.
Both sides held.
Then they chanted. First one, then the other. Back and forth, they screamed at each other, slamming spears against shields, raising fists. It was all rather impressive; and I felt some genuine terror. Loud. Primal. Powerful. But as long as the groups stayed at either end of the halls, it was fine.
Naturally, that’s when they charged.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Despite the complete lack of chance we had of victory, I took a position against the red group while Donner went up against the blue. We each had one Lutra with us, and our two ranged members took up their positions behind us on either side of the pillar.
I’d like to say I felt no fear facing down the charge, but that’d be a lie. The only thing I managed to do was remain still and hold my axe.
The armies thundered down the hall, the noise overwhelming. The sight was overwhelming, too.
I took a deep breath and resigned myself to a glorious death fighting for my friends, hoping beyond hope I’d be able to stay upright long enough for a miracle to happen.
The charge halted on a dime. Out of nowhere the hobgoblins slammed their shields on the ground and held their spears straight up.
I snuck a glance behind me. Same thing with the blue guys.
Stillness for a moment.
The group in front of me began to part down the middle, and a grizzled hobgoblin in ornate armor started moving towards me. Hands behind him, he walked without a care, but with just a little curiosity. He made his way through his troops until he stopped in front of them. Looking at me.
“Hrm,” he said. Then he moved past me.
I followed him with my eyes, not daring to make any movements.
There was a mirroring action from the blue team. A similarly grizzled veteran hobgoblin came out and looked over us, taking the opposite direction around the pillar. Finally, both hobgoblin leaders came together, and stood, perhaps, three feet apart.
“Who is the leader here?” Red asked, his voice gruff, but a whole lot more civilized than I’d expected. Sure, it sounded a lot like he’d been gargling whiskey his whole life, but it would have been only the finest single malt. No blends for this classy gent about to kill me.
All the eyes went to me.
“What?” I asked.
“What are they saying?” Nikolai asked in reply.
“Do we need to switch to Imperial?” Red asked, his voice a little clearer as I realized he was speaking the common language I’d heard up in Osterstadt.
“I got you, bub,” I said. “I can speak goblin if you want to go that route. Either way, I’m the cat you want to talk to,” I said.
“Who will you fight for?” Red asked, continuing in Imperial.
“Fight for?”
“Yes,” Blue replied, also speaking Imperial. “Certainly you realize you cannot take both of the armies. You will perish.”
“Should you join one of us,” Red continued, picking up where Blue stopped, “and you survive the battle, we may look kindly enough upon you to keep you as a slave.”
“Slavery or death?”
“I suppose the options do come down to that,” Red said, bringing one hand out and inspecting his sharp black nails. They looked a bit more like claws on him.
“Have you considered option C?” I asked.
“No,” Red said. “There is no—”
“I am intrigued,” Blue interrupted to say, getting a withering look from Red. “What is your proposal?”
I looked from one army to the other. At their shields, their spears. Everything was extremely well used. Not busted in any way — it all looked top notch. It had been well-cared for, but this was not parade ground equipment. These cats threw down on the regular. And if they fought all the time, and they fought here, that meant they had to be fighting over something. The only thing I could guess worth fighting over would be the red gem up top.
“You two are here for the gem, right?” I asked.
Red sniffed, disdainfully, but Blue nodded.
“And I have a feeling that most days, your armies are evenly matched. Most often end in a draw, right?”
“Let us say that perhaps we do,” Blue said.
“What is the gem for?” I asked. “Why do you fight for it?”
“We are able to trade it for goods,” Blue said. “For food and materials.”
“And how often does it regrow?”
“The jewel will return on the morrow.”
“So you guys fight every day?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you just trade who gets the gem day by day?”
They looked at me like I’d just said something extremely offensive about their mothers. While letting a noxious fart rip.
“Never mind, I get it,” I said quickly. “The fight is important. But if you’re so evenly matched, it’s pretty much just a little bit of luck battle to battle determining the victor, yes?”
Neither said anything, but their silence was enough of an answer for me.
“Okay then, here we go. You,” I pointed to Blue, “pick your champion, and you,” Red, “pick yours. I fight them both. Whomever wins gets the jewel.”
“Why would we do that?” Red asked. “We could just kill you now.”
“Sure, you could,” I said, this time taking a moment to check my nails out. They were disgusting. “But you know I’d put up a fight. You know I can swing this axe here. You know I’ve got two people with bows, and some backup. The six of us might not win against you, but we will — and I can guarantee this — we will fuck you up mightily before we go down. And after we put a dent in your army, my boy in Blue here will have enough of an advantage to crush you today. And if he crushes you today and gets that gem, he’ll be stronger tomorrow. So how long are you going to be able to last getting the shit kicked out of you by Blue before your Red clan is no more?”
Silence. Thoughtful silence though.
“But, if you each throw out a champion,” I said, really hoping I was about to play a big enough trump card, “at worst you only lose a single fighter. At best, you win the gem without losing anything at all.”
Blue smiled. “I happen to like option, what did you call it, C?”
“Yeah, C.”
“Option C.”
“That’s two votes,” I said. “I mean, obviously I’m going to pick C.”
Blue looked t
o Red, almost daring Red to disagree.
I was definitely impressed with the discipline in either army. Not a single hobgoblin had moved this whole time. No coughing, no fidgeting, nothing. It also made the whole thing incredibly eerie.
“I agree to it,” Blue said.
Red snarled at Blue, probably because Blue forced Red’s hand, but still, the hand had been forced.
“I agree,” Red said, thoroughly less excited than Blue had been.
“We are agreed then,” Blue said. “A battle of champions.”
Red nodded. They both looked to me.
“I’m in,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
“PRAARK!” Blue yelled out.
Red sneered, “That is your choice? Praark is a weakling and a coward and I look forward to his death. DUSKALK.”
“Duskalk?” Blue said with clear derision. “So your plan is to lose? Daring.”
The Blue army parted, and a wiry-looking hobgoblin stepped up. He had a long thin sword out, and took a few measured swings through the air. His face was long, his beard was seemingly endless, and he had no mustache. Looking around, almost all the hobgoblins had facial hair of some variety, whether full beards or mustaches or some bizarre combination thereof. His black hair pulled back tight into something like a bun, Praark wore blue-tinged chainmail that move seamlessly with his sinuous lithe body.
Duskalk was basically the opposite of Praark, a hulking beast of a hobgoblin, with muscles appearing to be layered on top of muscles. Duskalk’s thick gauntlets were wrapped around the girthy hilt of something like a big two-handed sword, it was more a six-foot-long flat piece of metal with a super long hilt. Befitting the army Duskalk represented, they wore red armor — full plate. That meant Duskalk looked the image of a knight, minus a helm. Thick breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, all those other words Nikolai taught me on our first quest together that I’d seen forgotten. It presented an interesting contrast to Praark’s blue chain.
Duskalk roared, spittle flying everywhere.
The red army shouted back at him in approval.
