by Kumo Kagyu
“Gods. You have everything but the kitchen washbasin in there, don’t you?” Dwarf Shaman said as he struggled to try to fit his beard into the cloth Priestess had given him.
“Only the minimum,” Goblin Slayer replied, grabbing two bags from the mess of items. “I wanted to bring masks such as doctors use when treating the Black Death, but they’re too bulky.”
“So, just what do you have in mind, Beard-cutter?” The dwarf seemed to be grinning gallantly under his mask.
Goblin Slayer tossed one of the bags to him. Dwarf Shaman scrambled to catch it, then gave a questioning look at its unexpected heaviness.
“What have we here?”
“Quicklime and volcanic soil.” Goblin Slayer was as dispassionate as ever. “Mix them together and plug the holes.”
Dwarf Shaman suddenly slapped his knees. Even with the mask, his grin was evident.
“Concrete!”
“It won’t dry very quickly,” Goblin Slayer said, but he nodded, and Dwarf Shaman thumped himself on the chest.
“What are you worried about, Beard-cutter? I’ve got the Weathering spell!”
At that, High Elf Archer swiped the bag from Dwarf Shaman’s hand.
“Hey, long-ears, what are you doing?”
Above her gas mask, her eyes narrowed, and her ears flicked.
“I’ll seal the holes, dwarf. You cast your spell!”
“Well said!” His quick response was like a mallet striking a nail.
He and High Elf Archer began zipping around the room. High Elf Archer would spread concrete wherever she found a hole, and Dwarf Shaman would reach out his hand.
“Ticktock says the clock, its hands never stop. Pendulum, swing—time’s the thing!”
He finished with a great shout and a gust of breath, and the muddy compound hardened in the blink of an eye.
Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head at the sight.
“Mm. Your wiles are many, master spell caster.”
He worked his jaw up and down. It was covered in a cloth, which was not quite long enough; it had been supplemented with a bandage. His voice was muffled but otherwise sounded normal; if anything, he seemed quite at ease. For a lizardman who had grown up in the jungles of the south, the battlefield was like a second home.
“Did you have a next step in mind, then, milord Goblin Slayer?”
“We move one of the coffins in front of the door as a barricade,” Goblin Slayer said evenly. He sounded no different than usual; he didn’t seem the least bit excited. “When the gas clears, they’ll come in.”
“Oh, I—I’ll help!”
Priestess hurried to clean up her items and stood.
Goblin Slayer nodded in reply, and Lizard Priest went up to a coffin at random.
Priestess came to his side. Could they really move it? They had no choice.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Goblin Slayer said.
“Together, then.” From behind them, Lizard Priest placed his massive arms against the stone.
“One… Two…”
“Hrr!”
“Hnnn!”
Along with the warrior and the priest, Priestess leaned in with all the strength in her willowy body. Her slim arms and supple flesh were almost nothing compared to her companions. Even so, she pushed against the coffin with all her might, sweat beading on her face.
“Hn! Hrrnnn!”
At some point, she stopped shaking.
Soon, she heard a sharp cracking sound, and the coffin slowly began to move.
It left white scratches on the floor as they pushed it along, finally shoving it up against the door with a crash.
Lizard Priest gave it two or three more pushes before he nodded in satisfaction.
“This will do nicely.”
“We’re finished, too!”
High Elf Archer came bounding back toward Lizard Priest.
Dwarf Shaman moved at a stagger, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“So are my spells, unfortunately.”
“Pick up a weapon, then.” Goblin Slayer pulled a dagger from its sheath.
He took the birdcage, where the canary had finally settled down, and set it in the middle of the room. He then checked the state of his shield and bag and readied himself to fight at any moment.
“Oh-ho. Shan’t want for ammunition around here,” Dwarf Shaman said, pulling out his sling. He collected a bunch of pebbles from the ground and slipped them into his pocket. High Elf Archer took her cue from them, checking her bow and making sure the string was tight.
“Shall I summon a Dragontooth Warrior?”
“How about Protection…?”
“Please.”
At Goblin Slayer’s response, the two clergy members began their prayers to their respective patrons.
“O horns and claws of our father, Iguanodon, thy four limbs, become two legs to walk upon the earth.”
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak.”
By the good grace of Lizard Priest’s forefather, the fearsome naga, the claw he had tossed on the ground became a soldier as they watched.
And the all-compassionate Earth Mother granted all of them, including this newly made warrior, the miracle of Protection. She had heard the cry of Priestess as she clung to her staff.
Now safe behind an invisible barrier, High Elf Archer nimbly set an arrow in her bow and took aim at the door. Her long ears fidgeted up and down, betraying her nervousness.
“It’s gone quiet outside.”
“They’ve noticed.” Goblin Slayer, sunk in a deep stance, crept toward the door. “With those holes blocked, the poison gas will have begun flooding back toward them. We may have killed several already…”
It was a good guess. The unsettling rumble of battle drums echoed up from deep within the earth. Then footsteps of a huge crowd of something coming toward them. A scraping of metal that must have meant armor.
The goblins were already close.
The door, barricaded by the coffin, began to shake; then there was a dull sound of something being slammed against it. The first thump produced no effect, but then there was a second, and a third. The door began to groan under the impacts.
At last, part of the door gave way with a great cracking noise, and a dirty yellow eye peered in.
“Look out!” Even as she shouted, High Elf Archer let her arrow fly.
“GRRB?!”
The bud-tipped arrow threaded through the rent in the door and pierced the goblin through the eye. The creature fell backward with an ear-rending screech, but his companions quickly filled the void.
“I can’t tell how many footsteps there are, but there’s something weird out there!” yelled High Elf Archer.
The goblins, of course, were not going to stand around to be shot.
As soon as they realized the adventurers in the room were fighting back, arrows began flying through the opening.
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak!”
The Earth Mother protected her humble disciple as fiercely as any mother would her child. Protection had saved them from a hail of arrows before; sporadic potshots weren’t going to get through.
As long as the girl clung to her staff and prayed, the arrows would never reach them.
“They’re coming… They’re coming… A swarm of ’em!” Dwarf Shaman muttered with a frown. His hands moved with blinding speed, supplying his sling with rocks as quickly as he could fling them.
Arrows and stones, wails and bellows, all mixed in the air. But the back and forth through the door didn’t last long. The ebony door may have been ancient beyond memory, but even it could not stand forever against crude weapons and brute strength. Despite the bracing of the stone coffin, it finally gave a great death rattle.
“GORORB!!”
“GROOROB!!”
Goblins flooded into the room amid a shower of wood splinters. Although the implements were ro
ugh-hewn, they carried swords, spears, and bows. They even wore leather armor and chain mail.
“They’re well equipped.”
Goblin Slayer noticed one exceptionally large creature who seemed to be leading them.
“A hob… No.”
With a soft grunt and a flash of his right arm, he flung his dagger at the creature.
It struck true, piercing the vital point of an exposed shoulder, but the wound was clearly not fatal.
Goblins are often referred to as “little devils,” but there was nothing little about this one. His dark green skin rippled with muscles, so many he seemed fit to burst with them. He held a club. The ugly smile on his face was certainly that of a goblin, but…
“GORAORARO!!”
“So. A goblin champion.”
The champion had stumbled slightly when the dagger struck him, but now he pulled the blade out and gave a gaping grin.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Goblin Slayer drew his unusual sword.
“I’m going in.”
“Indeed! Let me add a blade to your number!”
The howling Lizard Priest drew his fang-sword and, following his Dragontooth Warrior, leaped into the fray.
Swords rang out, and shouts, and screams. The small burial chamber was soon drenched in the stink of blood. Goblins pressed into the field of battle in swarms. Cut them down, and more would only come. They had to strike the head.
Sword and shield firmly in hand, Goblin Slayer prepared boldly to move forward.
“U-um!”
A voice came from behind him.
It was Priestess, still clutching her staff to her chest.
She looked up at him, shielded by the slings and arrows of Dwarf Shaman and High Elf Archer.
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
Goblin Slayer didn’t look back.
Instead, he waded directly into the fight, and soon she could no longer see him.
He moved constantly so that he could not be taken from behind, aiming his sword at the goblins’ throats. He thrust his sword backward and skewered another one. What he could not cut, he struck with his shield and sent tumbling.
He wasn’t alone. The Dragontooth Warrior fought beside him. One creature crawled up to it with a dagger, but it gave the monster a kick and sent it flying. Its claws crushed the goblin’s jaw.
Goblin Slayer spun and threw his sword at a creature armed with a spear. He picked up a club at his feet.
“ORARAGA?!”
“Five.”
If he was forced to cross swords with every monster in the room, he would probably wind up as mincemeat himself. There was no telling how many goblins there were in this horde and to deal with them all squarely would leave him exhausted.
Well, he wouldn’t deal squarely with them, then. Goblin Slayer was willing to use any and all tactics.
“Give them everything you’ve got!” he said.
“Gladly!” bellowed Lizard Priest. “Ahhh! See my deeds, my forebear!”
With his tail, he swept aside an enemy approaching from behind, then grabbed one in front and spun it around before flinging it into a wall.
“GORARA?!”
“GROOROBB?!”
Claws and fangs and tail. Lizard Priest’s whole body was a weapon, his fighting as brutal as a whirlwind.
Their foes were legion. All four of his limbs lashed out ceaselessly, seeking something to strike. The Dragontooth Warrior helped to open a gap in the enemy line, and Goblin Slayer leaped through it.
“Geez, there’s so many!”
“That’s why it’s called a horde! Keep shooting!”
High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman launched their projectiles at any opponents the three melee combatants had missed.
“How are you holding up, lass?”
“I’m…managing…”
The miracle Priestess had called down from the Earth Mother was still in effect, and the adventurers were doing rather well for themselves against the goblins who pressed in through the door.
But it couldn’t last forever. Goblin Slayer knew that better than anyone.
He moved across the battlefield, crushing a goblin skull with the club in his right hand. He used his shield to deliver a blow to a monster who came charging at him with a longsword, then broke the creature with his club.
Then he threw the club, finishing off a third monster, before picking up the longsword from the one he had just killed.
“Seventeen…”
Finally he stooped, covering himself with his shield, and dashed along the wall behind the protection of the stone coffin. He was heading straight for the goblin champion, who was protected by several of his underlings.
The champion was a minor colossus, wearing armor of a dull leaden color, swinging a club and howling. He had to be at least as strong as three goblins and might even have overpowered two people.
A goblin champion was in many ways similar to a hobgoblin. Hob was originally an old word meaning a wanderer, a giant, a chief, or a demon. This creature’s vast muscles fully justified all those names, an inheritance from his ancestors. He had trained that body by moving from nest to nest, meeting adventurer after adventurer in battle. It was like an adventurer with abundant natural talent who had gained a great deal of experience points—the goblin equivalent of a Platinum rank.
That, in a word, was a goblin champion.
One such creature had taken on the inexperienced Heavy Warrior and Female Knight together at the farm. Most likely, this creature was quite an experienced warrior.
“In the end, though, goblins are goblins…”
This was not to say Goblin Slayer was underestimating the creature. He never underestimated a goblin.
“……”
“ORGOORORB!!”
The champion shouted something intimidating to its trembling henchmen to encourage them to greater feats of valor.
Goblin Slayer, who had successfully slipped around behind the creature, lightly adjusted his grip on his sword.
An old story held that a certain rhea had once knocked off the head of the goblin king with a single stroke of his club. Goblin Slayer had no idea whether the legend was true, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying something similar.
Specifically, killing the creature in one blow.
He intended to stab it in the back, straight through its vulnerable brain.
He readied his blade to strike.
“OROAGA?!”
He felt the yielding answer of flesh, saw the geyser of blood…
“Hrm!”
But Goblin Slayer suddenly grunted.
He had pierced something certainly. But it was a different goblin, one that had been thrown toward him.
“GORAGAGA!!”
The champion had used one of his allies as a shield.
Not that this was surprising. Goblin Slayer found it perfectly normal. There is nothing in this world so selfish as a goblin.
All they wanted was to win. If that meant sacrificing their companions or their horde, even their entire race, so be it. This was one crucial point of difference between the thinking of goblins and of those who had words. This tendency, combined with the altogether unjustified anger they felt when their companions were killed, made them quite unpleasant.
“GOROROROB!”
He had pierced the goblin through the stomach, in between the pieces of the creature’s armor, and the beast yammered something as blood erupted from the wound.
“Feh…”
Goblin Slayer immediately pulled his sword out and prepared for the next attack. The champion’s dirty yellow eyes saw the adventurer who had meant to ambush him. Perhaps he recognized the man who had thrown the dagger at him earlier, for an ugly smile spread over his face.
“GROOOOORB!!”
His powerful arms brought his club up from below in a scooping motion.
“Hrggh?!”
Metal, flesh, and bone twisted; there was an awful rending sound.
In an instant, Goblin Slayer took in the situation. The shield he had instinctively thrown up to protect himself had been sent flying.
And he himself had slammed against one of the coffins that lined the room. The stone shattered with a great crack, dust flying everywhere. The lantern tumbled from his hip and broke, freeing its flames.
“Goblin Slayer! Sir!” Priestess called out to him from where she watched over the battle in the back row.
“Orcbolg! Are you all right?!”
High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman both looked toward him at Priestess’s shout.
But there was no response.
“No! Goblin Slayer…sir…?”
Her legs trembled under her, as if she were on a rocking ship.
He was all right. He had to be. He had even come back from the blow from that ogre. He would say, We won’t do anything foolish or silly. Just like he always did.
But he only lay there in the cloud of dust, like a discarded doll. With a hacking sound, thick blood came out of the visor of the metal helmet.
There was no mistaking it; it had been a critical hit.
“N…!!”
Her staff rattled weakly as it slipped out of her grasp and fell to the floor. She brought her shivering hands to her face. Her delicate features twisted.
“Arrrrgh! Goblin Slayer, sir! Goblin Slayer!”
“GORB! GRROB!”
“GROROB!”
The girl’s weeping echoed throughout the room. The goblins cackled horribly; that was one of their favorite sounds.
The vanguard was wounded. The magic user’s spirit was broken. The hated Protection would vanish as well. The party had lost its leader—that was what mattered. The goblins, of course, would not let this moment pass. This was how they had buried many adventurers before.
“What is this thing…?!” Lizard Priest cried, even as he battled with the sort of strength only a lizardman possessed.
Though it had killed quite a number of the goblin horde, the Dragontooth Warrior was suddenly struck down.
Lizard Priest would soon be cornered. The three defenders had become one. Even if he held his ground and used all his strength, he could not hold off an entire goblin army.
