by Kyle Vauss
“What do you mean ‘was’?” I asked.
He held a hand up. “I’m getting to that. The thing is, as well as being born the son of a chieftain, I was born with something else. An affliction, most of the clan called it. And I thought that way for a long time, too. But then I began to realize it was a gift.”
“What affliction?” I said.
“Come on, dummy. Can’t you guess?”
“That you’re a cheeky little jerk?”
He shook his head. “No. that I can speak human. Or Eeenglish, as you call it.”
“English,” I corrected.
“Most of the clan hate humans. With a passion. I mean, think of the thing you hate most in the world.”
I quickly cycled through the things that inspired hate in me. Crawford was the first to spring to mind. Then Sarah. But no. That was a lie. If I hated her, that would have been easy. Deep down, even after she’d left me and stolen my dog, a small, stupid part of me still missed her. But most of all, I missed Baxter.
“Woah,” said Gabber. “You’ve gone a little morose there.”
“Carry on with the story,” I said.
“Growing up as the only person in my clan who could speak human – English – alienated me a little. I could tell the rest of the clan hated me. But Father’s position protected me, because they knew he’d be angry if they mistreated me. They also knew that I’d be next in line to rule them. So, they held their tongues.”
“And I’m guessing something changed that?”
Gabber looked at the ground. For the first time since I’d met him, he lost his grin, and instead looked sad.
“Father died. He was hunting boars, when one of them charged him. The horn went into his stomach and he bled out. With Father gone, it meant that I was to become chief. But then something happened.”
“What?” I asked.
“My brother. My younger brother, by three years. He was born normal. People liked him. He was less like me and more like father; he hated books, loved hunting. And worst of all, he despised me.
“So, days before I was set to be crowned, Fengr, my darling brother, amassed support. He got all the clan warriors and elders behind him, and they ousted me. He took my throne. He didn’t stop there though. He ordered that I had to leave the clan and never come back.”
I crossed my arms. I didn’t know what to say.
“What an ass,” was my reply.
Gabber nodded. “Nothing like brotherly love, eh?” His grin was back, but this time it seemed forced.
He took a step toward me. “So now I want revenge. I need to take back what’s mine. Father would hate what Fengr has become, and he’d be ashamed of our clan. I need to go there, win back my place, and restore our honor.”
It was a worthy quest, and something about his story got to my gut. I ignored the feeling. “How are you going to do it?”
Gabber folded his arms. “That’s just it. I’ve got ideas. I just…don’t think I’m strong enough to take it back.”
The truth was that when I looked at Gabber, I didn’t see an all-conquering hero. He was no warlord. And if his brother Fengr was more like a traditional goblin, and if he had the support of the clansman, it would be difficult to oust him. I wasn’t going to tell Gabber that, though. He’d already had his birthright taken away from him. I wouldn’t steal his hope.
“You can do it,” I said. “Maybe. Possibly. You just have to find a way to make your strengths matter more than his.”
“I guess. It’ll come to me. I hope it will, anyway. Otherwise he’ll swat me like I’m a dune buzzer. Whatever happens, I won’t stop.”
With Gabber’s tale complete, neither of us said anything for a while. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I could understand how, for a goblin, being born with the ability to speak English would be a curse. There was no excuse for the way his clan had treated him. And it was his own brother, of all people.
I stood up. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. As I struggled to think of something, Gabber spoke.
“Is that who I think it is?” he said, and pointed behind me.
I turned and looked. Not too far away and getting closer by the second, was Crawford.
Chapter Fifteen
In the distance, the terrain rose into a hill. The grass was patchy, and boulders were spaced out across it. On the west side of it there was an oval-shaped area that, at first sight, looked normal. Concentrating, I realized that there was a hole in the grass that had been covered up. It was probably the lair of a wolf spindle, a species of arachnid that was the product of a particularly cruel dev. I’d avoid that part of the hill at all costs.
The spindle wasn’t the thing that worried me, though. At the top of the hill, with his grey hair flapping in the wind, was Crawford.
Worryingly, he wasn’t alone this time. He had 4 hunting neeves with him, two on each side. This turned his presence from a mere irritation to a danger.
“What the hell are those things? They look like a swamp frog married a kangeron,” said Gabber.
“Hunting neeves,” I said. “Hunters get their first one at level 5, then another every 5 levels after that. They can only stay until the hunter’s mana drains, though. If we can avoid Crawford long enough, we could be okay.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to play hide and seek.”
He was right. I could put the bravest spin on it I wanted, but hunting neeves were no joke. They walked upright with their backs bent. Their thigh muscles were more ripped than the most dedicated weightlifter. They had scaled skin which made them look like lizards, but the way they stood reminded me of a kangaroo. Their heads were dome-shaped and smooth. Their jaws stretched along their foot-long head, hiding teeth that could lock in place on unsuspecting prey. It was said that if you found yourself in a race with a neeve, even the best speed boots would fail.
Crawford’s neeves didn’t have any armor like some hunters liked to equip them with. Instead, two of them held inventory bags, which Crawford could use to carry more things. Two were naked. Each of them had a ‘C’ imprint on their shoulder, a mark showing who they belonged to.
“I wonder how he’s bred them,” I said.
Gabber couldn’t take his eyes off the neeves. He looked worried. “I don’t know if I need to explain a few facts of life to you, Tamos, but the way things usually breed is…”
I shook my head. “When you select a neeve, you choose its stats. They call it breeding, but it’s really stat-juggling. So, do you go for brute strength? Speed? You can even give them a magic ability. I wonder what Crawford did. It’d be good to know, if he’s going to be chasing us with them.”
“They look like kangaroos that grew up near a mana dumping ground. Hideous,” said Gabber.
“A lot of people would say the same about you, you know. There’s a reason we don’t hold many goblin beauty pageants. Anyway, he doesn’t seem to have seen us.”
I crouched down low so that the grass offered me some cover. At the top of the hill, Crawford was looking around. It was no coincidence that he was here. There were a few quests somewhere out west, toward the Yaten Port, but they were low level. Crawford was here for us.
Crawford kneeled next to one of his neeves. I watched in shock as he leaned in close and gave it a little kiss on the forehead. Then he straightened up and stroked his other neeves.
I turned to Gabber. “Where did you need to go?”
“North,” he answered. “Over the mountain.”
“Are you serious? Mountains are the worst places. You never know what crazy beast is roaming around. On top of that, climbing makes you wheezy. The last thing you need in a fight is a stamina drain. And then, if it already wasn’t the worst idea ever, we could have Crawford after us. No, Gabber. The mountain’s out.”
Gabber’s eyes widened. “We better make a decision. He’s seen us.”
At the top of the hill, Crawford was looking in our direction. He rested his right hand on a neeve a
nd stroked it. He shouted something, then slapped his neeve on the back. Three of the animals stretched up as tall as they could, before leaping away and bounding down the hill.
There was no mistaking the direction they were heading. When the neeves went into hunting mode they dropped down to all fours. It gave them a speed advantage that made fleeing impossible.
The only thing we had in our favor now was the distance between us. We had a head start on Crawford. If we were careful, we could get away from him.
“Maybe he’s just taking them out for a walk,” said Gabber.
“There’s no point trying to outrun them,” I said, ignoring him. “We need to be clever about it. I take it you can sneak?”
The goblin nodded. “It’s one of our clan’s core skills.”
“We’ll go toward the mountain,” I said. “Then try and take a route around it. But we need to be careful. Set off north and keep to the trees over there. It’ll give you some cover. And carry your bag in your hand rather than on your back. It’s sticking out.”
“What are you going to do?” said Gabber.
“I’ll join you in a second.”
Gabber went off toward the mountain a mile away. He crouched so low that his nose almost touched the ground. I went in the opposite direction. I ran 500 meters before stopping. The neeves were at the middle of the hill now, but Crawford hadn’t followed them yet.
When I’d gotten far enough away from where we’d previously stood, I took an empty jar from my inventory. It had once held a healing potion, and since I was a penny-pincher, I was planning to refill it rather than buy a new one.
Instead, I rubbed the bottle across my chest so that it would smell of me, and then I dropped it on the floor. The plan was that the bottle would draw the neeves and make them think we’d gone in a different direction.
I cut a wide arc on my left, before joining up with Gabber, who had stopped moving.
“We don’t have long,” I said.
Gabber put his hand on my shoulder to still me. “He’s up to something,” he said.
Sure enough, Crawford stood with his hand on his forehead, as if to block the sun from his eyes. He seemed to be looking at the area around us intently, turning his head from left to right. Finally, he locked in on our position, and from then on, his gaze didn’t waver.
“Must be some sort of hunting skill,” I said. “He might have a sense we’re here, but he won’t be able to see us. My sneak hasn’t broken yet. How’s yours?”
“If yours isn’t broken, you lanky human, mine sure isn’t going to be.” He picked up his inventory bag. “Let’s go.”
We both crept forward. My back started to hurt from being in the sneak position, and our going was slow. At this rate, it would take us hours to reach the mountain. That was preferable to being caught by the hunter, but I doubted time was our ally.
Still, I’d take slow and undetected over a fight with his neeves any day. We were good, for now. If we carried on sneaking, we could reach the mountain without alerting the hunter or his pets.
I glanced to my right to see what Crawford was doing. He’d walked halfway down the hill now, losing some of his height advantage. His neeves had roamed over to where I’d dropped the empty jar.
Crawford stopped. He reached behind him and grabbed his crossbow from a holder on his back. Then he took an arrow from his quiver, slotted it against the crossbow, and pulled it back. Holding it tense, he pivoted so that he stared in our direction.
I didn’t know what was happening. If my sneak had been broken, I’d have gotten a message about it. There was no way Crawford had seen me, but he seemed to be looking at us.
“Is your sneak still working?” I said.
Gabber nodded.
Crawford pulled the string back even tighter and then let loose. I saw the arrow zip toward me. The noise of it ripping through the air followed, the sound travelling slower than the sight of the arrow. Rather than hit me, though, the arrow landed five feet away.
“That was a waste,” said Gabber. He started to creep forward. “I’m taking his arrow.”
“Why? It’s worthless.”
“To annoy him.”
As Gabber moved, the arrow made a vibrating sound. Light pulsed from it. It became stronger and stronger with each beat until finally, a white glow spread in the area around us.
[Sneak failed!]
“He wasn’t trying to hit us at all,” I said. “He’s got arrows that can prevent anything sneaking. I’m guessing it covers a certain area.”
“Pretty useful for a hunter,” said Gabber.
It must have been a skill you chose post-level 10. When I’d levelled hunters, I’d always sold them on when I reached double figures. When you got to that level you could select a new skill, cantrip or spell, depending on your class. It made my characters more valuable if I gave their owners the choice.
The neeves left the empty jar and turned their heads in our direction. One of them gave a throaty cry and then sprinted forward, and the other two followed. Crawford walked down the hill now, bow raised, another neeve at his side.
“The neeves are onto us,” said Gabber. “That’s your fault. They picked up your stink.”
We needed to run, but I wouldn’t do it blindly. When faced with a creature above their level, a lot of players would panic. They’d run away without thinking things through, and they’d end up backing themselves into a corner.
Gabber went to move, but I grabbed his arm and made him wait. I reached into my inventory, pulled out my map and spread it in front of us. Our location was marked by a green triangle. I traced my finger along the map, seeing what was nearby.
Behind us, a neeve shrieked. I couldn’t see Crawford now. That meant he’d reached the bottom of the hill and was somewhere amongst the trees to our right. We had to be careful. His arrows wouldn’t hurt me, but I couldn’t afford to let Gabber get hit.
“We need to get you some better armor the first chance we get,” I said.
“Duh. It’s not easy to get amour to fit a goblin. Usually, it’s just the standard greaves we all get issued when we turn one year old. Where are we going?”
I looked at the map. There was a lake five miles east. Getting on the water would keep us safe from the neeves, but I doubted we could outrun them for five miles. There was no certainty that there would even be a boat near the lake.
Then I saw it. North of us, level with the mountains, was a marker. Loria had placed it there when I’d let her look at my map. It was a custom marker she’d laid to show me where Ulrip Cavern was.
There was something about being chased that set me on edge. I didn’t like being the prey. The rabbit pursued by the foxes. It stirred some instinctual response in me, and adrenaline flooded my veins. I wondered if the reactions carried over to my body in real-life, or if it was just an in-game sensation.
More shrieks. One neeve stood up tall and looked around, while the others hunched over. The taller neeve seemed to be shouting instructions to the others in its animal grunts. Yet another display of NPC intelligence.
Arrows zipped over my head, clearly meant to miss me. They landed with a thwack around Gabber, who deftly jumped to avoid them.
“How far?” shouted Gabber, leaping out of the path of an arrow.
“Less than a quarter of a mile.”
“Easy,” said Gabber.
If only it were. The shrieks of the neeves were closer now. The flight of Crawford’s arrows was getting more accurate by the second.
“What on earth are you doing?” the hunter shouted. He must have been getting closer. “You know it’s an NPC, right? Lines of code? Ones and zeroes? Grab it and let me put an arrow through its neck.”
Ignoring him, we sprinted across the field as the mountain grew ever closer. I had my map on my screen. I minimized it to the bottom left corner and glanced from time to time, seeing Loria’s custom marker grow. Every so often we’d see trees in front of us. We made sure to aim for these to provide Gabber wit
h some cover against Crawford’s arrows.
“Almost there,” I shouted, more to reassure myself than the goblin. My stamina bar had dropped to below a quarter. Soon, my movements would slow from a run to a jog. After that, I’d reach a state where I was both over-encumbered and unable to run.
As Gabber turned, something jumped up from his side. It was a neeve, mid-leap, arms outstretched, long jaw opening and ready to latch onto the goblin’s skin. Gabber saw it and tried to duck, but he was too late. Two rows of spit-covered teeth closed around his leg.
