The Bare Hunt: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Good Guys Book 7)

by Eric Ugland

  “Oh,” I said, realizing how big a boost that really was, especially if you managed to keep everything you’d earned so far. Maybe there was a whole lot more to kobolds. “I was kind of thinking of it from my perspective. Makes it rough for us non-kobolds.”

  “Pardon,” Baltu said, interrupting my reverie, “do you know how he did it? How he transformed?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Baltu shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  I shrugged. “A topic for a later date,” I said. “We’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

  “Of course,” Baltu said, and struggled to get up.

  I had to help him, and I pointed at the healing potion.

  “You probably want to drink the rest of that.”

  “I couldn’t, your grace. I haven’t—”

  “Let’s not get into this argument. I need you healthy. I can’t deal with all these kobolds, but you can. So, you know, bottoms up.”

  He gave me a weak smile, then drank the potion all the way down.

  “Raring to go,” he replied.

  “Are there more kobolds to speak to?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve asked all those interested in going to meet us in the tunnel chamber, but there are more, yet, to speak with.”

  I sighed, but gestured for him to lead, and we were off. We did a lot more of the same: Baltu knocking on doors, speaking with kobolds behind the closed doors, and then coming out. Over and over again, until I got lost within the boredom of the activity.

  Finally, however, I realized we were heading down the stairs into the room where the worm tunnel had originally emerged. Two armed kobolds stood at the entrance to the tunnel. They also had helmets, but the helmets didn’t fit. Their hands were so small, they couldn’t get their fingers all the way around their spears. Which, even though they were short spears, were so much taller that the poor little kobolds were having trouble keeping their spears upright and straight.

  “These your guards?” I asked.

  Baltu nodded. “They are young.”

  “I can tell.”

  Besides the two mini-kobold warriors standing guard, there were about twenty or so milling about. They were all a bit on the skinny and wee side, looking malnourished and a bit dopey, to be honest. No one talked — they all just sort of stood around, looking at each other. I noticed they all had heavy looking knapsacks on the front and backs of their torsos.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked.

  “Waiting,” Baltu replied.

  “Okay…”

  “I told those I thought might be willing to swear loyalty to you to come here to listen to you.”

  “And these guys—”

  “They aren’t quite, uh, they are not fully kobolds.”

  “They look like kobolds.”

  “They were at one point.”

  “And now?”

  “They are merely egg-guardians. They take care of the eggs.”

  “And those aren’t considered kobolds?”

  “They never put any of their points into intellectual attributes, so it is rare they have the intelligence to even know what is going on in the world around them, beyond the eggs.”

  “Ah, and you’d want these to come to Coggeshall?”

  “I want the eggs to come. I feel it is wrong to leave them here to become food for some scavenger.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “I counted them among the 2000, yet they could not say no, so they are here.”

  “These, uh, I don’t know how to say this without sounding, you know, stupid or inappropriate, but, how come you seem so much smarter and put together than any of the other kobolds?”

  He looked over at me, and he gave me a low smile.

  “I am Baltu the Traveler.”

  “Okay—”

  “I have been many places other kobolds have not. And I am a snowbold — I have not been part of the Old Ways. And while I was part of the tribe, before it was destroyed, my path was one of leadership. A shaman. And so I put the points I gained into intelligence and wisdom.”

  “Ah.”

  There was a moment while we stood in the room, just sort of being there.

  “Also I broke into a wizarding school and drank a potion of intellect,” he suddenly said. “So I might be the most intelligent kobold.”

  “Ever?”

  “Maybe? I have never taken the time to look into it.”

  “So the kobolds coming along are going to be—”

  “Looking for a place to survive.”

  “Are they going to be a problem?” As soon as I asked that, I realized how impossible a question that would be to answer.

  “Depends who comes.”

  “Can you control them?”

  “Am I in charge of them?”

  “I, uh, I’m not sure. I don’t know how population integration should work here. I’m kind of just, uh, trying to figure it out as I go along.”

  “You inspire me with great confidence, Duke Coggeshall.”

  “I didn’t realize kobolds were quite so sarcastic.”

  “It would appear I am unique.”

  The other kobolds began to appear, timidly looking through the door before coming into the room proper. They were smaller than the kobolds I’d interacted with in the past, and they seemed to come in a variety of colors. Mostly muted reds, like iron-bearing ore. They wore rags, rags that had been patched together with other rags. So it was pretty clear that they had a desire to wear clothes, but just didn’t have the means. They had no weapons among them, though I did see a broken spear being used as a pole to hold a bag. They continued to come into the room until it was packed, shoulder to shoulder, and I could make out a few still out in the hall.

  “Warren of the South Mountain,” Baltu shouted, “This is Duke Coggeshall. While he may be a human, he does not judge us harshly. He will allow us to join his warren if we but swear allegiance and fealty to him.”

  Silence as all the eyes shifted over to me, all at just about the same time. One second, every kobold was watching Baltu, the next, they were all looking at me. I gave a little wave.

  “I will swear,” one kobold said.

  A cacophony of sound erupted as each kobold shouted out that they, too, were willing to swear. But before we could fully settle the matter, a familiar little kobold pushed his way through the crowd, somewhat helped by two muscular lutra shoving the poor kobold forward. Behind them was the bushy tail, or tails, of Amber and the taciturn face of Tarryn. The tiny Meikeljan was riding on Tarryn’s shoulder. The whole crew had arrived right on time. They climbed up next to me.

  “Team huddle?” I asked, gesturing for them to gather round.

  Our backs to the kobolds, gave a teensy modicum of privacy. They all glared at me.

  “What’s going on?” Amber asked. “Why are we here?”

  “I’m glad you asked,’ I said. “These guys are going to join us.”

  ”On the hunt?” Ragnar asked.

  “Back home,” Skeld said. “Coggeshall.”

  ”That doesn’t seem like a great idea,” Ragnar said.

  “Because they’re kobolds?” I asked.

  “I mean, normally that’s reason enough,” Tarryn said. “They’re kobolds.”

  ”And you’re a warmancer,” I countered. “Most people would like to see you dead before you joined their village.”

  Tarryn raised an eyebrow at this, but then nodded a little.

  “Any other complaints?”

  Ragnar raised his hand, but Skeld elbowed him in the ribs.

  Amber screwed up her face, then looked over her shoulder at the kobolds who were most certainly staring at us with zero subtlety.

  “I’ve never really interacted with kobolds,” she said. “At least not in any meaningful way. That said, I’ve never heard of anyone who has. So I feel I can’t make any sort of judgement on them. But I’ve only heard bad things.”

  ”Outside of our communities,” Baltu said, butting into our huddle,
“there is little good said about us. But I believe we will be an asset to your community.”

  I nodded. “I’m bringing them,” I said.

  “Nikolai is going to shit an ogre,” Tarryn said with a smile. “That makes it worth it to me.”

  ”I like your approval. Now I want Amber and two of you, and Fritz if you can get him, to go out and find out where the fuck Wulf went off to. Meikeljan, you’re with me. I want you around in case one of the kobolds needs healing or helping.”

  “What if Wulf is injured?” Amber said.

  ”At this point, Wulf better be injured.” I passed a healing potion over to Amber, and she slipped it into a pouch at her belt.

  “I can go with you, Montana,” Ragnar said. “Escorting the kobolds down the tunnel?”

  “Probably more protecting His Grace from Nikolai’s fury at all these new mouths to feed,” Tarryn said.

  “Bit of both,” I said. “So Ragnar is with me. The rest of you, go find Wulf. Use that cave entrance as a base camp. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  There were nods, and I almost put my hand in the middle to get a go-team moment going. But that just seemed really hard to explain. And anyway I heard murmurs spreading through the crowd, and I didn’t want the event to turn ugly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I led the way through the worm tunnel, walking at the head of a really large group of kobolds. The tunnel was the result of a summoned giant freak of a worm that ate through stone and pooped out magic foam rock. While the goblins meant it to be an easy way for them to gather sacrifices, I’d taken it to become my own safe passage from Coggeshall to the South Mountain Warren. Yet somehow, I was the loudest of the bunch. They all moved with preternatural stealth, never tripping or kicking an errant stone. It was purely silent behind me, to the point that I’d get freaked out and need to check they were still there every once in a while.

  Baltu walked next to me, while Ragnar and Meikeljan were at the very back of the group, making sure stragglers were helped along.

  “I appreciate you doing this,” Baltu said.

  “It’s not total altruism,” I said. “I’m doing this partly to boost my population numbers. And you’ll all have to pull your own weight.”

  ”Kobolds have never had problems working,” Baltu said. “It is more often we have had issues being told what to do.”

  ”There are plenty of people desperate to tell others what to do in Coggeshall. No shortage of that there. But something I’ve been meaning to ask you, is there someone in your group that knows the mountains well?”

  ”What kind of well?”

  ”Like, can guide us through passes and the like. Knows where, I don’t know, dangerous creatures call home and can give us some tips on avoiding them. Or killing them. Whatever the case may be.”

  Baltu turned around, and, while walking backward, looked over the group following us. Then he seemed to find who he was looking for, and he disappeared into the horde of kobolds. It was quite a bit later when he came back with a very strange looking creature, someone I was a little surprised I hadn’t noticed before. The thing was shaped like a kobold, but had a familiar-seeming white fur all over it. He almost looked like he belonged on a particular children’s television series set around a street in New York City.

  “Vreggork has spent more time on the surface than most,” Baltu said. “He is a snowbold, like me.”

  ”Looks a little different,” I said.

  ”I keep fur,” Vreggork said, taking a hand and running it through his luxurious locks.

  ”He has yet to interact with humans,” Baltu said. “Then he’ll know why I have kept my own fur so short.”

  ”But you know the mountains around here?” I asked Vreggork.

  “I know some,” Vreggork said. “Some are, uh, surprise.”

  ”Some of the mountains are surprises?” I asked.

  “Yes. Is surprise to see what is there. Sometime is just snow. Sometime is,” he made a gesture with his hands, like teeth coming together. “Surprise.”

  ”Can you avoid those surprises?”

  ”Yes, if want. Vreggork enjoys surprise.”

  ”Okay, noted. I’m on a bit of a quest, through the mountains—”

  ”Through mountains or on top mountains?”

  “Uh, on top.”

  ”Okay. I not so versed in under mountains as on.”

  ”We’re going on them. I think. Not sure we can get where we are going if we’re going under.”

  ”Under not huge problem. Just, familiar less to Vreggork.”

  ”You’re willing to come?”

  ”Yes? Have nothing else to do.”

  ”Why didn’t you go east with the duchess?”

  ”She not my duchess. Duchess cruel. Stupid. Vreggork looking for new home, perhaps Vreggork like this Coggeshall.”

  “I like it,” I said.

  He just harrumphed in my general direction.

  And on we walked.

  Hours and hours later, a voice called out something that originally sounded like gibberish.

  Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Undermountain Common

  Then, very quickly, whoever had called it out, shouted a second bit in Imperial Common: “Holy shit, Lord Coggeshall? Is that you?”

  ”Of course it’s me,” I shouted back. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

  ”I, just,” the poor dwarf manning the door stuttered back, “I, just a minute. Opening the door.”

  Even knowing there was a door nearby, I couldn’t find it. Then a piece of the tunnel swept out, revealing a staircase and the friendly light of the mountain-home of Coggeshall.

  “Your grace,” a small dwarf with the slightest bit of a beard, “it appears you are being followed. By kobolds.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  As expected, Nikolai pitched a fit. Well, most everyone pitched a fit. Fits were being pitched in each and every direction I looked, by everyone except the kobolds. Who, for their part, were actually being quite calm and content, sitting in the grassy area outside. Some of the littlest ones were running after unseasonable butterflies, though given the very large smile on the Timurlan the mancer/farmer, I had a feeling he might have had something to do with it.

  “What in all the hells and the abysses are you thinking?” Nikolai shouted at me. Well, it was more of a hiss. He was trying, and failing to keep his calm.

  ”They asked me for help,” I said. “They were left to die in their warren.”

  ”Then you should have let them die.”

  ”That’s not who we are, Nikolai. It’s not what this place is supposed to be.”

  ”It’s supposed to be a refuge for the men and women who served with Benedict Coggeshall in the fucking Legion, Montana.”

  “And it is. That hasn’t changed.”

  ”Who’s going to want to come here when it’s full of kobolds?”

  ”Other kobolds?”

  ”Not a moment for humor, your grace.”

  The sneer he threw on ‘your grace’ was actually pretty impressive. It was also a clear sign he was seriously pissed.

  “One, there’s always a moment for humor. Two, I’ve been clear from the beginning: if anyone comes here and they ask for help, we’re going to give it to them. Especially if they’re little and oppressed, okay?”

  ”You don’t know kobolds.”

  ”Do you?”

  “I—”

  “You don’t,” I snapped. “You think you do, but you have no idea who they really are. What they really do. You’ve been told what they are, and maybe even had some moments or heard some stories that confirmed your own damn beliefs. But I bet you’ve never sat down and had a fucking conversation with a kobold, have you?”

  He glared at me, eyes almost quivering with anger.

  Then he seemed to soften up, ever so much.

  ”No.” he finally said, almost even keel, “I have not.”

  ”Then maybe you should. Because right now, you sound like one of tho
se assholes who talk shit about lutra and kitsune-girls. Kobolds just might be people.”

  ”They are kobolds,” Nikolai said.

  “And you’re a human, I’m a fallen, whatever. I don’t see what that means.”

  “It means I have doubts as to their ability to effectively be a part of our community.”

  “Maybe give them a fucking chance, asshat.”

  “I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter.”

  “You do have a choice to give them a chance. Right now, you aren’t. You could be open-fucking-minded, and then, wow, you’d be giving them a chance. Two, you don’t have a choice, because even if we weren’t doing the right thing by inviting them in, which we are, we would still need them for the numbers. Otherwise we don’t have a holding anymore.”

  He grimaced.

  “I don’t like it,” he said.

  “You don’t have to,” I snapped. “You just need to make it work.”

  “I understand how this all works, Montana. I just don’t know that I’m able to do so.”

  “Knock that shit off. Do you need another pep-talk?”

  “Oh, I think I’ve heard enough mildly inventive insults from you for the time-being.”

  “Okay, well, you let me know, because I clearly need to remind you of a rather important aspect of this whole holding nonsense, we need to get our population of followers up or we ain’t got no holding no more. Okay? So if some of them are kobolds so be it. Better is that they’re now followers when previously they were non followers counted in the population of the holding. We need them.”

  “Fine,” he said, putting his hands up. “You have made a valid point and I can respect, to an extent, where you are coming with this even if I do not like it. Might I ask where the rest of your group might be?”

  “Looking for our ursus guide. We got attacked by a monster-thing in a blizzard, and Wulf ran off. Left us to die.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Interesting? That’s—”

  “What do you want me to say? That he’s a coward? Fine, he’s a coward. Issues can arise when you invite anyone who knocks on your gate to be part of your home, so here’s another one. Some of the people you have are not going to be reliable.”