by Pirateaba
“Laken! Close the door!”
“Oh shit.”
I realize Durene’s in a considerable state of undress as it were. I leap through the doorway as Gamel ducks back, flushing and apologizing. Standing half-naked in the cold, I hear Durene banging around the inside as Gamel shuts the door.
“I’m sorry sire—”
“What’s this about Beniar?”
“He rode back to the village half-dead, sire! His own group found him as the first patrol never came back—we’ve got healing potions on him, but they’re not working fully! Wiskeria says to come quick because she’s got to mix up a brew!”
I leave the cottage at a run, stopping only to grab a coat. When Durene, Gamel and I get to the barn, there’s a crowd of villagers around Beniar, staring and talking anxiously.
“Everyone move back! Give him space!”
Being an [Emperor] has its advantages. The way clears and I can see Wiskeria bending over Beniar, mixing together something in a bowl.
There’s an arrow in his stomach, and a half-empty healing potion on the ground beside him. Despite that, Beniar looks closer to death than life. His face is greenish and Wiskeria’s telling his party not to give him any more of the healing potion.
“The poison’s preventing it from working. The wound won’t heal and you’re wasting potion! Let me finish this.”
“Your majesty.”
Beniar croaks as I kneel by him. He’s still conscious. Apparently he was on his horse and riding this way when his team found him. As for what happened, he insists on telling me himself. He can’t sit up and has to whisper to me as I bend my head down.
“Arrow. Got me and Fabiel while we were riding. Didn’t even see—Fabiel died in a second. I think—I think it’s poisoned.”
“Who shot the arrow?”
“Goblins.”
It’s a whisper that silences everyone around him. I feel something begin churning in my gut. Of course.
“Five of them. They were waiting in ambush. Never seen—heard they did it sometimes. But didn’t expect—they rushed the horses. Fabiel’s is gone—I got away. They didn’t want to pursue. Just kill and loot.”
Beniar choked as someone tried to give him water. He coughed it out and continued as Wiskeria grabbed at her pouch, searching for something to add to the paste she was making.
“They’re not just coming, sire. They’re already here. Hiding.”
I stared at him. Beniar down. One of my adventures dead. All while I’d slept. All without me knowing. The Goblins weren’t anywhere in the village, that I could vouch for. But beyond it? Suddenly, the limits of my senses made me feel as if I was blind all over again.
“I have to apply this. Beniar, we need to take the arrow out, understand?”
Wiskeria brushes past me, not bothering with formalities. I step back and watch as Durene bends down to hold his legs. Someone else gets Beniar’s arms—he screams as Wiskeria pulls the arrow out and then applies the mash.
The people around me are worried. Children are crying, families are hugging each other. And all eyes are on me. Only this time, I don’t know what I should be doing. I search for words to reassure, and then hear something.
A horn call in the distance. It wails—a high, piercing sound that cuts through the night and makes the people of Riverfarm sit up and wake from their comforting dreams. It goes on for ten seconds, and then stops. Then it blows again.
Mocking. Taunting us. Telling us that we are not alone. I can see Beniar’s pale face in the moonlight, Prost’s worried expression, Odveig’s intent eyes on his wound and Wiskeria’s gaze. Hers traverses the room to find mine, cold, expectant. Waiting.
They are here. They are coming. It turns out there’s evil, real evil in this world, and it’s not just us. It has a name. It hungers. It enjoys our suffering.
It is my enemy. And I will hunt it down. I hear the horn call a third time before it fades. It’s a prelude, an ending of the few moments of peace we have. They are coming.
Goblins.
4.22 E
Day 66
So here it is. My first test as an [Emperor]. I, Laken Godart, am facing my first true crisis since I claimed Riverfarm. The avalanche was one thing, but I had the means to save the village at my fingertips. This time, I have no such ability.
The Goblins are here. Monsters with the cunning of people who want to destroy my village, slaughter my people, take all we’ve made. I don’t know who they are or what to do.
I have protection—two Silver-rank adventuring groups. I thought it was enough, but in their first attack they killed one of my adventurers and nearly got Beniar. Now they’re out there, probably planning to strike again and I have no idea what to do.
I’m no military buff. I don’t know how to deal with an enemy that fights like this. And yet, ironically, I can put myself in the Goblin’s minds. I know what I would do if I came to a village like this. Pick off my enemy one by one. Hide, ambush them, whittle them down and starve them if possible and then go for the kill.
So I suppose I do know what I have to do. I need to find the Goblins and kill them before they kill me. Simple to say, hard to do. I have to rely on others for this. I cannot fight. I cannot see past the boundaries of my village.
“Odveig, take your Trackers and find the Goblins. Don’t attack if you think it’s dangerous, but I want to know where they are and how many there are.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Prost, I want those palisades built now. Forget about the houses—go around the village and find out how many entrances there are. Don’t go alone though—from now on, no one strays beyond the boundaries of the village unless they’re with an escort. And within it…we need sentries, weapons in case there’s an attack, a place for children and the elderly to hide—”
People around me burst into action as I snap, breaking the silence Beniar’s words have caused. I’m scrambling, searching for the right orders. Are they the right ones? I don’t know, but I am obeyed. And no one else will take charge; that’s my job.
The minutes after Beniar tells me about the ambush are watchful, tense. The rest of the Windfrozen Riders and the Celestial Trackers led by Odveig head out while Wiskeria mixes more of the poultice to neutralize the poisoned arrow.
Beniar has fainted. He screamed as we pulled the arrow out. Now he’s pale, but the poison in him seems to be neutralized by whatever Wiskeria’s made. I saw her pulling roots, dried bugs, and even an egg out of a pouch and pounding it all into the paste she made.
I’m glad she’s here. I pace around the barn until I realize everyone’s staring at me. Then I force myself to wait for an age before Odveig gets back.
“We found the place where Beniar was attacked. There’s no sign of Fabiel or his horse. We followed the tracks for a bit, but we pulled back.”
“Why?”
Odveig hesitates. She draws me aside and I realize I shouldn’t be discussing this where all of the frightened villagers can hear. She whispers to me.
“I felt we were being watched from afar. I couldn’t tell where the Goblins were and if we were ambushed—”
“I understand. I trust your decision. However, we have a problem Odveig. What should we do now, according to your expertise?”
She looks at me. I can sense her head turning, hear the hesitation and fear in her reply.
“I—your majesty, I’ve hunted Goblins before. But I’ve never been hunted by them. Were I alone, I’d track them and risk a battle on their terms or retreat until I could set my own traps. But defending a village means I can’t do either. I could send half of my group out and keep the other half here to defend, but that would create two weak points for them to exploit.”
She’s explaining. That means she doesn’t know. I nod.
“In that case we’ll wait. Pull your team back around the village. I’ll—decide whether to send out scouts later.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
—-
So there it
stands. As Wiskeria finishes tending to Beniar, she estimates that he’ll be able to take a healing potion the next day. Prost is mustering the villagers, and they’ve begun working. The Celestial Trackers and Windfrozen Riders are keeping a tight perimeter around the nearby forest and village.
And I’m sitting by myself, trying to figure out what to do.
The enemy is out there but invisible. Their numbers are unknown. Their levels unknown. They could be just a stone’s throw outside the village’s limits and I wouldn’t know. There’s a way to deal with that, actually. I’ve been working on it for a while, but I’ve been told that it will take a few more days. I want to insist, but it’s only a chance. Not worth counting on.
What are my assets? What are my weak spots? My assets are two Silver-rank teams. My weakness is a need to defend my village. The Windfrozen Riders are a group of ten—were a group of ten suited to rapid attacks and retreats. Perfect for scouting—not for taking out armored enemies or hunting hidden foes. If they know where the enemy is I can send them at the Goblins. Assuming they’re not hopelessly outnumbered.
The Celestial Trackers are the opposites of the Windfrozen Riders in many ways. They’re experienced at ambushes, tracking their prey—finding hidden monsters, in short.
I’ve a [Mage] in the Windfrozen Riders who can cut his opponents with air spells. Nothing powerful; it’ll take an eye out and he can cast while riding, but Wiskeria’s the only truly specialized spellcaster in either group. And she can’t throw fireballs. I asked.
“Your majesty? Prost is asking permission to fell a few trees further into the forest. Miss Odveig thinks it’s safe, but he wanted to ask you.”
I look up and sense Gamel hovering about me. I nod.
“That’s fine. Ah, what else is going on? Have you, Durene and the others begun training? Without Beniar, you’ll need to get another adventurer to teach you—and what about the markers Jelov was working on? How many has he finished?”
“Three, sire, with one for varnishing. But he says he’ll have another one tonight…”
And just like that, the day continues. Villagers get to work, taking care not to stray far but doing everything they were doing yesterday. Cutting wood, building—only there’s an undercurrent of fear to everything, now.
Odd, it feels as though everyone should be hiding or getting ready. But you can’t tell when the enemy will come. So the day passes, filled with anxiety and watchfulness, but nothing else. That’s life now. The threat of death is in the air, but we have to continue living.
Damn the Goblins.
Day 67
I think everyone in the village was awake late at night. Certainly the villagers were a lot quieter the next day. I felt awful and Durene wasn’t her spirited self; but we got through the morning and midway through the day without incident.
Beniar was up and about by that time. The poison had been flushed out of his system and a healing potion had him on his feet in minutes.
“Your majesty, I’m as fit as can be. I’d ride out to hit those Goblins in a flash if we knew where they were! Just give the order and I’ll scout with my group—far faster than the Trackers!”
He’s also itching to find the Goblins and exact payback for Fabiel, his teammate. I have to overrule Beniar, though.
“I can’t let you leave the village unprotected, Beniar. I’m sorry for your friend’s loss, but it’s too risky. If you’re shot at again—”
“I’ll know it’s coming this time, sire. Last time was an ambush. This time I’ll dodge.”
“I have no doubt you would. But my villagers can’t dodge arrows like you.”
Instead of Beniar riding forth, I let him teach the villagers and Durene. There’s definitely a renewed interest in learning to fight now, and thanks to my Skill, the villagers are fighting well. But we don’t have enough swords to go around; Helm is working on forging some, but he lacks enough iron, let alone steel to make many. Without that, people are training with pitchforks, shovels—Gamel has a club he’s hammered nails into. He keeps asking to trade it for a sword with someone.
“A ragtag army, sire. But it’ll do for a small group of Goblins.”
Beniar’s professional opinion is that the villagers are ready for a fight if the adventurers support them. I wonder if they’ll break and run if it comes to that. The villagers might have the ability to fight thanks to my Skill, but the temperament? No.
As the sun is halfway down in the sky, I hear a horn call and leap to my feet, abandoning a lunch with Durene. It’s not a Goblin horn—this one’s from the Celestial Trackers and urgent. I rush outside with the others and see a woman wearing a dark brown cloak sprinting into the village, shouting.
I think we were all waiting for it. The villagers freeze and I turn my head.
“Odveig?”
She’s already running to the adventurer.
“Report!”
There’s no hesitation in her voice now, as there always is around me. The woman gasps for air—she must have been on the perimeter, scouting the forest.
“Goblin group. Five hundred meters to the southeast—I saw two Hobs and at least thirty smaller Goblins!”
“That’s our cue! Let’s ride!”
Beniar’s already mounted. Odveig turns to me as Wiskeria runs up, clutching her magical wand.
“Your majesty?”
I hesitate only for a moment.
“Do it. If you hear a horn call from here, double back at once.”
The adventurers nod and race out of the village, Beniar leading and shouting, sword already drawn. They’re gone for five agonizing minutes and I hear nothing. Then, to my surprise, they all return at once.
Odveig and Wiskeria are on foot, and practically dragging an incensed Beniar back. He dismounts, shaking with anger.
“Nothing. They’ve covered their tracks. We could follow them, but Wiskeria and Odveig both agreed we’d be walking into an ambush. We let them get away!”
“It was the only smart choice, Beniar.”
Wiskeria defends herself as she argues with the leader of the Windfrozen Riders. Beniar’s voice is hot.
“I’d ride them down if I knew where they were, ambush or not! We could have attacked—”
“And done what? Two Hobgoblins were in that group. If they got the drop on your riders—”
“Better than letting them attack again! I’m telling you, we had the advantage!”
“Against thirty? You idiot, together we’re only twenty in number, and with two Hobs—”
“Enough!”
I raise my voice to stop the argument. Everyone looks at me. I’m aware of the villagers listening to the adventurers shouting. This can’t be good for morale.
“You three, come with me. Prost? We’re going to make a plan.”
And so we do. It’s not easy, and no one’s happy by the end of it. All three adventurers reluctantly agree that pursuing the Goblins is a bad idea without making absolutely sure there’s not a trap waiting. If there are only thirty, it’s a close match thanks to the two Hobgoblins. If there’s more we haven’t seen…
Guard duty. The Windfrozen Riders are now to stay in the village while the Trackers keep watch. At the nearest sign of trouble, the Riders will attack any Goblins that are spotted. That’s all we can do. Meanwhile, Prost is working double-time on the palisades. We’ve got the portion of the village around the barn walled off; hopefully that will help if we’re attacked.
If we’re attacked.
What a thought. That night, I stay up while Durene sleeps beside me. I can’t say she’s not as worried as I am, but she’s been hammering sharpened logs of wood into the ground and lifting felled trees all day. She sleeps like a rock, snoring gently beside me.
Frostwing is agitated. I think she can smell the Goblins, or sense the tension in the air. She flaps her wings at night, forgetting she’s supposed to be asleep. I have to get up and soothe her.
“Shh, Frostwing. There’s a good bird. Eat some meat—damn, no
t my finger! I know. I know. There are monsters out there. But you have to wait, understand? We don’t know where they are.”
She cocks her head at me in the darkness. I think she’s beginning to understand more of what I say. I smile as I stroke her head.
“A shame you can’t find them for me. I did ask, you know—I’m not an idiot. But Odveig says Goblins eat anything they can kill, and I won’t risk one putting an arrow into you.”
Frostwing nips at my fingers as if to agree. I’m laughing when my heart stops. It does stop, I’m sure. For a moment the steady beat in my chest falters. The next, I’m shouting.
“There’s a Goblin in the village!”
“Wha?”
Durene wakes up as I shout. She struggles in her bed, flailing around for me.
“Laken? What’s happening? Is something wrong?”
“Durene, get up! There’s a Goblin in the village! It’s gotten past the adventurers!”
“Oh no! Dead gods—where?”
She springs to her feet. Durene sleeps practically naked. I grab her bare arm.
“It’s got a bow and a knife. I think they’re poisoned.”
I can sense the Goblin all the way in the village. It’s moving slowly, very carefully avoiding the attention of anyone awake. And it’s making for—
“Where, Laken? I’ll raise the alarm!”
Durene’s voice is tense. I can sense her fists clenched. I hesitate for a moment out of fear. What if she’s hurt? But she’s Durene. I make up my mind.
“Go! It’s behind Prost’s house!”
She doesn’t wait for another word. I hear thundering footsteps, and then the door to Durene’s cottage is thrown open. The half-Troll girl races down the road, running faster than I’ve ever seen her go. I pause at the doorway, about to run out myself and realize I’ll never catch her.
So I close the door as the icy wind pours into the cottage and Frostwing screams. I find one of Durene’s knives and dress myself as I mentally follow her progress down into the village.
She’s running. The Goblin is doing something behind Prost’s house, checking a window, seeing if it’s unlatched. It freezes as Durene comes running into the village and squeezes down, hiding. Durene races around Prost’s house and it freezes.
