“Qul!” one of them called once he was in earshot. The voice was distinctly minotaur in origin, but the king knew beyond a doubt that something more was happening. Without hesitation, he drew one of the giant metal poles from his back and his general armed himself with a double-bladed axe.
“Stop!” Qul commanded with an outstretched hand. “State your business.” He noticed one of the winged demons that normally followed behind his soldiers was circling overhead and wore a menacing expression.
Keturah and Jan stopped several paces in front of the king and his generals. “We’re from Talonrend,” Keturah explained. “The half-orc must have told you we were coming.”
Qul let some of the tension in his muscles dissipate but didn’t drop his weapon. “He calls himself Undrakk. He said you would be human.” One of the generals stepped in front of Qul and flipped his axe over in his hands.
“Yes, well…” Keturah said through her stolen voice in the gruff minotaur language. “There were... complications. We had to borrow these bodies from you, gracious king.”
“You killed my soldiers?” Qul asked. His voice wasn’t full of rage like Keturah imagined it would have been. The king showed restraint. The shorter minotaur in front of Qul foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog, but even he did not strike. Keturah noted the unquestioned obedience with a smile. It was the mark of a great king that he did not resort to violence hastily.
“The soldiers were already dead, my liege,” she responded. “We are giving new purpose to their glorious bodies in death.”
Qul waited a long moment before sheathing his weapon. When he did, the general in front of him followed suit immediately. “Will your demons be ready to fly us over the walls?” he asked as though they were old friends.
Keturah reflexively brought a hand to her head to tousle her long red hair, but her body’s thick fingers got tangled in her mane. “The demons will be more than ready. They are strong and eager to serve.”
Qul glanced up at the creature flying not far from his reach. “What of that one?” he asked. “It is different.”
The once-human sorceress untangled her fingers from her mane and motioned for Taurnil to join her. “He is my guardian,” she said. Keturah attempted to caress her unholy slave as she had done hundreds of times before, but Taurnil jerked away from the abrasive skin of her massive fingers. In an instant, her expression hardened from one of playful seductress to heartless master. “I have a special task for him once the battle begins,” she stated flatly.
With a nod of authority, Qul turned from the possessed corpses and took his place at the front of the marching column. His battle plans were coming together as well as he could have hoped. In a few days, he would drag his throne into Castle Talon and proclaim himself king of the known world.
THE TRAIL TO Kanebullar Mountain was easy to follow. The goblin army had razed almost everything in their way. A swath of destruction wide enough to be used for horse races curled through the once-vibrant forest to the base of the mountain. After their second day of travelling, Gideon and Melkora were lighting a fire behind a fallen tree to the side of the path when a large group of goblins approached.
Without hesitation, Melkora drew her dagger and made ready to lunge. Gideon clamped a hand down on her shoulder and held her still. “What are you doing?” he whispered angrily. The goblins, six of them in total, were quite a ways up the path and distracted by the many things they carried.
“They don’t know we’re here,” Melkora responded. “We should attack before they see us!” Gravlox and Vorst had left to hunt whatever small game remained in the area and wouldn’t be back until long after nightfall.
“There are six of them,” Gideon said. He was beginning to worry the woman’s courage might get them killed. “There will be hundreds more once we are inside.”
“I need to fight,” Melkora urged. There was no denying the bloodlust in her eyes. She had trained with Roisin for years and was eager to test her skills against living opponents.
When the goblins neared, Gideon noticed how remarkably unusual they appeared. “Those are not normal goblins,” he said. They were larger than Gravlox and Vorst and their skin looked tough like old leather, not the pale shade of grey he was used to seeing.
“How many goblins have you seen?” Melkora snidely replied. “Maybe these are from a different group. Either way, we must kill them.”
Gideon nearly hit the woman to calm her down. “I killed hundreds of them outside Terror’s Lament. Something isn’t right. I’ve never seen goblins so large.”
“Hundreds?” Melkora gaped. Gideon pulled her roughly to the ground as the goblins marched past their position without incident.
“They’re carrying equipment,” Gideon said. He remembered the goblin balloons that had assaulted Talonrend before and knew there weren’t enough men to shoot them all down. It was only one group of six large goblins, but Gideon knew there would be more. Goblins were expendable. If one small group was headed toward the city, there would be hundreds more not far behind.
“You need to teach me how to fight,” Melkora said. The eagerness in her voice had been replaced with overt awe. “I’ve never had formal training.”
“Tonight,” he said. “We can spar tonight.”
Still crouching out of sight of the path, Gideon kicked the beginnings of his fire and scattered the sticks across the hillside. His stomach was in knots and a thousand questions plagued his mind.
Gravlox and Vorst walked back into the makeshift campsite several hours after dark with a pair of slain rabbits. Gideon pulled the crossbow bolts from the critters and set to skinning them with a small knife.
“No fire?” Gravlox asked with a heavy accent. He still hadn’t learned much of the human language, but had been making a concerted effort.
“We saw a goblin patrol today,” Gideon explained. He told Gravlox and Vorst of the small force that had marched toward Cobblestreet.
“You’re sure they were larger than us?” Vorst questioned. She was small by goblin standards, but she had never seen or heard of any goblin that stood over four feet.
“Considerably,” Gideon affirmed. He held his hand out to Melkora’s chest and indicated the approximate height of the goblins. Vorst shook her head in disbelief.
“I do not know what it means,” she said after a long moment of contemplation. “But it cannot be good. If Lady Scrapple has found a way to make stronger goblins, she may have found a better way over the city walls.”
After Gideon had finished cleaning the rabbits, he tossed one to the goblins and stowed the other in his pack. They still had some food left from Cobblestreet, and Gideon had no intentions of alerting the goblin hive mind to their presence by lighting a fire.
“Are you ready to practice?” Gideon asked when he had finished his meager portion.
Melkora got to her feet and hastily tore Roisin from its sheath. Gideon laughed at her eagerness and tossed her a stick that had been intended for the fire.
“I have no intention of letting you poison me with that pretty dagger. Come, we need to move far from here if we want to properly spar.” Gideon led the woman away from the trampled path and deep into the forest at the base of the mountain. When they were far enough from the path as to not be heard by travelling bands of goblins, Gideon ripped a branch from a nearby tree that was in the rough shape of Nevidal. He longed for the familiar weight of his blade on his back and a set of throwing axes dangling at his side.
Without warning, Melkora lunged at Gideon with her stick held directly in front of her. The forest was dark and light of the moon barely made it through the dense trees. Melkora hadn’t taken the time to properly assess her surroundings. Half way through her lunge, her foot caught on a protruding tree root and sent her sprawling to the ground. Melkora landed with a thud at Gideon’s feet and her stick snapped under her weight.
Gideon helped her regain her feet with an outstretched hand. “You need to be more careful,” he chided. “Always look at
everything around you. The battlefield is as much an opponent as the one you are trying to kill. Through careful inspection, you can turn the area to your favor.”
Melkora readied herself in a low crouch. At Gideon’s nod, she leapt over the root and stabbed wildly in front of her. He stepped backward with one foot and brought his mailed arm down in front of him as a shield easily knocking the stick from the woman’s hand.
“Use the battlefield,” Gideon continued to explain. “Look for every advantage you can take. Use the root to spring yourself higher into the air. Come at me from an angle that puts my back to a tree.” He pointed out the seemingly obvious features of the dark terrain and Melkora nodded. Gideon felt bad for agreeing to take her along, but he knew there had been no use arguing. Had he turned her offer down, she would have simply followed them from a distance.
“Again,” Gideon commanded. Melkora hastily obeyed. With one foot positioned on the tree root, she launched herself from the ground. Faster than Gideon had thought her capable, she kicked out with her other foot and bounced off a nearby tree trunk with her stick leading the way. Gideon’s original orientation was useless to deflect the incoming strike so he turned and ducked, raising a fist above his head to deflect the stab. Again, the stick went flying form Melkora’s hand.
“Where did you learn all this?” Melkora asked as she retrieved her practice weapon.
Hesitantly, Gideon responded, “I trained at the Tower of Wings to be a paladin, but most of what I know came from the fighting pits.”
Melkora’s face tightened at the mention of the Tower. “Do you believe that Vrysinoch will protect you?” she asked him forcefully. Twirling and spinning with more grace than she had previously demonstrated, Melkora leapt horizontally from a tree trunk and grabbed onto a low hanging branch. Using her forward momentum, she managed to land a kick against Gideon’s arms that sent him staggering back and tripping on a bit of forest debris.
In a flash, Melkora was on top of Gideon with her stick at his throat and a wild grin on her face.
“You’re fast,” Gideon said. He accepted her hand as she helped him from the ground. “More important than your speed, you’re a good learner. Growing from your mistakes is often a matter of life and death.”
Before he had finished his words, Gideon pivoted on his heel and reached out with his hand. Melkora tried to dodge but was too late. His fist connected with Melkora’s side but instead of knocking her down, Gideon slid his arm past her and wrapped her waist in his powerful grip. With a single motion, he hefted her above his head and tossed her across the small clearing like a farmer handling a dead calf.
“Speed will only get you so far, Melkora,” he said. “You need strength as well.”
The woman smiled and grabbed at her side. It was obvious that she was in pain, but got to her feet nonetheless. “That’s why I have this,” she replied. She drew Roisin from its sheath and slashed at the nearest tree branch. The intricate blade sheared the branch cleanly without slowing.
“Impressive,” Gideon said with genuine admiration. Melkora stabbed the blade deep into the trunk of the tree with very little effort. Again, exhibiting minimal force, she pulled the dagger from the wood. Gideon couldn’t begin to imagine how sharp the blade must be.
“It is curious,” he said, “how a shop owner in Cobblestreet came to own such a marvelous weapon.” Melkora smiled knowingly and sheathed Roisin.
“As curious as a pit fighter who carries the prince’s own swords?” she questioned playfully.
Gideon looked down at the hilts of the swords and remembered watching Prince Herod challenge Jan amidst the chaos of the siege. He was eager to try the weapons against goblin hive mind.
“I’ve never used them,” Gideon said, suddenly feeling ashamed for having stolen them.
“Why not now?” Melkora asked. She was just as eager to see the blades in action as Gideon was to try them. She didn’t need to ask a second time.
With a slight flourish, Gideon drew Maelstrom from his belt and swung the blood-red sword through the air. It felt heavy in his grip, but perfectly balanced. It was only half the length of Nevidal and Gideon found that he wasn’t quite sure how to position his feet to wield it. Not expecting much, Gideon swung Maelstrom down hard in front of him and a tendril of inky darkness shot forth from the blade. As if alive on its own, the tendril wrapped itself around a tree trunk and tightened. When Gideon jerked the blade backward, the tree shuddered and was cut.
It would take him several attempts, but Gideon knew he could fell the entire tree with the black tendrils if he wanted to.
Melkora marveled at the sight and pointed at Gideon’s other sword. The blue crystal of Regret’s blade and hilt shimmered in the dull moonlight as if luminescent from within. Regret was weightless in his hand. The sword was smaller and thicker than Maelstrom, but far more deadly.
Gideon moved the weapon slowly through the air and watched as it vanished. Whenever the blade was moving, it could not be seen. Gideon didn’t know if Regret’s vanishing was due to a property of the crystal from which it was forged, or if Master Brenning had somehow created the enchantment on his own. Gideon attacked the nearest tree, a large birch with few low hanging boughs, and he felt Regret’s magic flow through his veins.
The blade urged him to move with magical speed. When Gideon thought of moving behind the tree, the weapon responded and teleported him to that exact location. When he imagined himself standing behind another tree farther away, he felt Regret strain and refuse to move him. The effective range was short, but in close combat, Gideon was a blur of unbelievable speed.
A rustle in the nearby woods caught his attention. Melkora froze and gripped her dagger so tightly that the carved hilt cut into her palm. Gideon held up a hand to keep her calm.
The rustling grew louder and he strained to see through the darkness. It was no use. Beyond the small clearing where he stood, everything was pitch black.
Melkora let out a steadying breath and inched forward. Small twigs broke under her step making Gideon flinch. With an explosion of high-pitched screams, three large goblins crashed into the clearing with their weapons drawn.
Gideon felt the thoughts of Regret emanating from the crystal itself. It told him where to go and where to strike. Without hesitation, Gideon allowed the blade to control his movements. He suddenly appeared directly behind the first goblin in the group and swung the vanishing blade down hard at its back. The creature screamed and fell to the forest floor as a bloody corpse.
A second goblin swung a crude mace down at Gideon’s back. Without looking, he could feel the attack coming and knew exactly where to move to dodge. The blade magically jumped Gideon several feet forward and turned him around to face the two attackers.
The third goblin, nearly human height and the tallest of the three, wielded a long wooden spear with a barbed point. He jabbed at Melkora’s gut but was far too slow to strike the lithe woman. She leapt up and spun her body sideways, rolled down the length of the spear, and sank her blade up to the hilt through the goblin’s skull.
The last remaining goblin, a young looking creature holding a crude hand axe, came at Gideon without a hint of fear. The clumsy beast never stood a chance. In the blink of an eye, Gideon appeared behind the brute and deftly eviscerated the goblin with a single swing. The bloody creature fell limply to the ground with a weak groan.
“They know we’re here,” Gideon seethed with frustration. “They know we’ll be coming.” He grabbed Melkora by the wrist and started running back to their camp.
“How do you know?” Melkora asked. “It was just a wandering patrol.”
Gideon tore through the branches that scratched at him and pulled Melkora along viciously. “What one sees, they all see,” he told her.
The two humans crashed into the small campsite completely out of breath. “They found us,” Gideon said between heaving breaths. “We have to run.”
Gravlox and Vorst burst into action and grabbed their gear. The four
companions sprinted from their campsite and started heading east away from the mountain.
“Wait,” Vorst called from several paces behind Gideon. The group stopped and turned. “They will expect us to run from them. There are likely hundreds of goblins in this forest that expect us to flee the mountain.”
“Fight our way to the top?” Melkora suggested. She was eager for another chance to kill, but perhaps not quite as eager as she had been the previous day.
“That would be suicide,” Gideon said. “If we are spotted by another group, they will all know exactly where we are. We can’t fight the entire mountain. Vorst, is there a way inside on the north slope?”
Vorst thought for a moment before answering. “There is,” she said, “but it would take at least three days to get there.
At once, Gravlox, Gideon, and Vorst felt an intense blast of mental energy that knocked them to the ground. Vorst clutched at her head and tried to force the mental intrusion back from whence it came. The energy was so similar to the presence of Lady Scrapple that Vorst thought she had been completely returned to the hive mind.
“What is it?” Gideon asked, struggling to think clearly through the pain. Melkora stood next to the three in a panic.
“Something is here,” Vorst spat through gritted teeth.
Far overhead, the unmistakable sound of heavy wings beating the air thundered from the mountaintop. The skeletal dragon took flight.
“Lady Scrapple’s mind…” Vorst panted. “It is too powerful.”
Gravlox was determined not to be taken over. He felt the mental intrusion weighing down his consciousness like a heavy iron weight chained to his skull. His thoughts were still his own, but they were sluggish and incoherent. He reached down to his side and felt the weapon dangling against his hip.
The Goblin Wars Part Two: Death of a King Page 20
