by Kong, Aleron
Sion took the lead again, and they walked back into the forest. They kept the river in sight, but stayed to the deeper woods, reasoning that they could be running into more bands of goblins if they were moving in the right direction. While they had dealt with that band of scouts with little difficulty, Sion assured him that those would be the weakest of the opponents they would face.
As they walked, Richter continued focusing his aura around the arrow, but not trying to actually invest mana. He was extremely wary of Sion’s warning of exploding his own arrows. The act of extending his aura was easier than the day before, but it still remained to be seen if he could perform under pressure. He wished for a moment, that he had more of the blue forest berries to help his concentration. After a moment of introspection and pride however, he decided he did not want to rely on anything small and blue to help his performance, at least not yet.
Throughout the day, they encountered a few more wolves which they quickly dispatched. Sion also detected a band of six goblins, thankfully before the creatures saw them. They decided to bypass this group, and stayed concealed in the underbrush while they walked by. Four of the goblins looked like the typical scouts, but there were two slightly larger goblins in the group with rusty cutlasses and leather breast plates. Sion identified these as goblin warriors. Apparently they were stronger, meaner and slightly smarter. The two companions waited about ten minutes after the patrol passed before continuing on. Even though it was a small delay, they were both heartened by the proof that they were moving in the right direction. They made camp for the night at the base of a large tree, deciding to forgo a fire. The low lying shrubs combined with the natural concealment of their armor made detection extremely unlikely, and the night passed without incident.
Sion continued to lead the way for the next three days. Over that time, they noticed goblin patrols with increased regularity, always between four and seven strong. They stayed hidden in the trees each time until the goblins passed. It was slow work, but it did let him increase his stealth skill to level 3. It seemed strange to him that Sion did not have a stealth skill, but he assumed it must be because the sprite had a concealment Ability.
Early in the third day, Sion came back from ranging ahead and told Richter that he had found the main encampment. It was in a ruin about fifteen minutes ahead. Moving slowly now that they were so close, they creeped closer until activity could be clearly heard. Climbing into a tall tree to the south of the ruin, they were rewarded with a clear view. The remains of white stone walls could be seen ringing a compound the size of a large town. Dilapidated dwellings made of the same stone could be seen scattered about with grass growing up unchecked. It was clear that whomever had lived here had been gone for decades if not centuries.
The village sat on a small plateau halfway up a large hill. Mountains rose high above the village to the north. Before the mountains, a waterfall fell down a cliff face creating a lake in the hills beyond the village. That lake in turn spilled down along its southern edge, creating a second waterfall that formed a small river. A second tributary came from the base of the hill. This small waterway extended back into the cliff face through a large crack in the stone. The two ribbons of water joined, and then traced their way back into the forest. Presumably the small river rejoined the larger one they had been following for the past several days.
Near the back of the compound rose an isolated and large shelf of stone. A rise in the land created an easy slope up to the stone ending in large cave face. Arrayed at the bottom of this slope was where they found the goblin camp. Dozens of goblins huddled around campfires arguing, fighting, defecating and fornicating wherever they wish. Richter was no cryptozoologist, but it didn’t seem like there were any girl goblins down there. Well, he thought, as long as they were making love on each other, they weren’t making war on him so… play on playa! What was truly offensive was the smell. Even at a distance, the odor was staggering. It was like a pig farm and a frat bathroom had a baby, and then that baby ate expired Velveeta. Choking back nausea, he and Sion backed away into the forest again. They walked for several minutes, until finding a stand of close growing trees that easily hid them from view.
“How do we do this,” Richter asked once they were safely away.
“There is no way we can fight that many at once. We must slowly whittle them down.”
“How? Their patrols are already too strong. With the element of surprise, we can maybe destroy one or two patrols before they become wary, but that would still leave dozens of goblins.”
“Do you want to quit,” Sion asked.
“No! I have already told you I am committed to finishing this, but we need a good plan.”
Sion looked frustrated, but did not offer an argument. They sat there thinking as the sun passed over head. No solution presented itself for long hours. Evening was approaching and Richter was getting up to relieve himself when, looking around the trees which hid them, several plants caught his attention. It reminded him of the Dark Moss.
“How much poison can you make, and how potent is it,” Richter asked.
Sion thought for a moment, “All we have with us is the Dark Moss. It causes weakness and dazes creatures when struck with an arrow coated with its extract. Even if we could shoot every goblin though, the poison would only kill the weakest among them hours later, and by that time the rest would be hunting us.”
“What if we got them to eat it? They had that massive pot cooking in the middle of their camp. If we could poison their food, it might give us the edge we need.”
Sion scratched his face thoughtfully, “Perhaps. But to make a truly potent poison I would need a few other ingredients. Let me search the forest. Stay here.”
After the sprite had disappeared into the greenery, Richter looked around and spent some time picking the few plants that caught his attention. He was ultimately able to pick three Arrowroot Flowers and two Forest Sage, which gave him feeling of stamina and health respectively. Afterwards he sat and focused upon his aura manipulation, trusting in his camouflage to protect him. A few patrols came close enough for him the hear them, but no one came close to his hiding place. Several hours passed as he meditated, awaiting his companion’s return.
When Sion did come back to the copse of trees, night had fallen. The now familiar viscious grin was back on the sprite’s face.
“I assume you found what you were looking for?”
“And so much more. Nightshade, deathflower AND shadowbane. We will melt those foul smelling interlopers from the inside out.” With that pleasant image, Sion immediately took out his mortar and pestle to begin preparing the poison. Richter wasn’t sure at first, but the bloodthirsty Disneyland reject was actually humming!
CHAPTER 8
Sion worked through the night and into the next day, storing his poison in small clay jugs covered in animal hide that he took from his pack. Richter looked doubtfully at the small quantity of poison being produced, but Sion assured him it would be enough. Finishing in late afternoon, the sprite sat back massaging his tired arms. Richter decided it was time to share the last of his plan, “Killing these lesser goblins, is probably not going to change much. We need to kill the Chief, and it seems reasonable to assume his magician may be responsible for the rabid wolves, so he will have to die as well. Those two need to be our goal above anything else.”
“While I was collecting the herbs, I was able to observe their camp. I never saw a red goblin come out, but when they all began eating a few goblins went inside the cave with bowls of food. All the other goblins ate after that. They were probably bringing food to their chief and his pet magician. We need to get the poison in their retched stew just before they prepare to eat their evening meal to catch as many of them as possible. There will still be the patrols that are out of camp. They won’t be sickened, but we will have a window to act. Now, it is time for you to tell me the last part of your plan. How do we get the poison into the pot?”
“Well,” Richter replied. “D
epending on your perspective, this is actually the easiest part. The pot is right below a large tree. That tree grows out of the shelf of stone that cave is set in. The shelf is well covered with foliage and small shrubbery that leads all the way to edge of the encampment and into the forest.”
Sion nodded, being well familiar with the lay out of the camp.
“Now,” Richter said with a barely concealed smile. “When you climb out onto the tree branch…”
An hour later, Sion was still cursing the stupid human, and his own greater stupidity for agreeing to this horrible plan. As much as he wanted to plant an arrow in Richter though, he had not come up with a better plan of how the two of them could kill more than fifty goblins. He moved along the escarpment not ten feet above the grunting goblins, hearing a mixture of common speak and their own guttural tongue. He moved slowly. Despite his justified faith in his concealment skills, one stumble or one loose rock would mean if his death. If they were able to subdue him rather than kill him outright… well it did not bear thinking about. Goblins were the racial enemies of the Wood Sprites, and tales of their savagery kept many a sprite child up late into the night.
Keeping one eye on the goblins, and the other on where to find his next hand or foothold, he moved along the rocky shelf until reaching the tree. He climbed up the trunk and then out onto its limbs, grateful for the added cover of the large leaves. He slowly crawled out onto the branch above the stew pot. Looking down, he saw too many eyes looking at the pot in anticipation, and dared not drop the jar of poison at this point. He and Richter had agreed that the return of a patrol would provide best distraction. Waiting on the tree limb, he attempted to ignore the burn from the fire 20 feet below, and removed the stoppers from both clay pots. As he slowly warmed, he vowed to repay the retched human for this. He had seen that poorly concealed smile on his stupid, large face!
Luckily, Sion did not need to wait too much longer. There was a clamor to the south of the camp as a group of seven goblins returned blathering loudly about whatever stupid thing they had found on their patrol. Sion had never before been happy about the inane babbling of goblins, but it worked to distract the rest of the camp for a few seconds! In those moments of misdirection, he dropped the two jars of poison he had prepared. He held his breath during the short fall, praying his aim was true. Success! Both jars dropped into the pot, and quickly sank thanks to the stones he had placed in each jar to increase their weight. Some poison had fallen out upon striking the surface of the soup, but luckily whatever vile ingredients the goblins had found to make their stew left an oily surface. The dark color of the poison he had prepared could not be distinguished in the firelight. He started the slow climb back to the safety of the forest, and began to curse that damn human again!
Sion made his way back to the stand of trees that had been hiding them for the last day with no problems. They waited for another hour, and then cautiously made their way back to the encampment. When they got there, they realized they could have broken every branch they found along the way, and they would not have been detected. The stench of the camp had been increased five-fold. The bowels of every goblin there had been released from both ends, and almost all were on the ground groaning. Richter looked at Sion expecting to see another blood thirsty grin, but all he saw on the Sprite’s face was grim resolve. “I take no joy in slaughter,” Sion said arching his back and rolling his shoulders, “but I will not shy from it either.”
They knocked arrows to their bows and began. It took very little skill to strike the goblins since they were barely moving targets. They had decided not to Imbue their first shots for several reasons. One, to keep the encampment from knowing their position as long as possible. Two, neither had enough mana to imbue the amount of arrows that were required. Three, Sion had coated all of their arrows with poison. Neither were sure they even had enough arrows, but thankfully Hisako had given then several dozen each prior to leaving the Hearth Tree. In the night, the arrows were nearly invisible. The whsst sound they made as they cut through the air could was not loud enough to attract the attention of the goblins. Not when each of the green creatures were mired in their own personal hell. At near point blank range, their shots struck necks and chests center mass. Apparently the goblins’ sickness and position qualified some as helpless, because it seemed to Richter there were an inordinate amount of critical hits. That coupled with the damage the poison had already done meant one arrow was usually enough to finish each goblin.
They killed ten, then fifteen more before the camp at large became aware of them. Even then the cries of alarm were ignored for a few critical moments, being mistaken for the already existing moans of pain. By the time there was a coordinated counter attack, they had killed more than half of the goblins, leaving between fifteen and twenty scouts and warriors. As the goblins began to move towards the two archers, Richter’s shots grew more erratic, some missing, others hitting limbs but few striking critical points. Sion though, was able strike three more, this time infusing the strikes with mana. The scouts smoking chests made clear that they would not rise again.
The first scout reached Richter, and he smashed it in the face with the end of his bow. Stepping forward to give Sion the time to make a few more precious shots, he raised his knife and slashed at the next goblin. It ducked, sending a viscous swipe of its own knife back at him. His longer reach kept the scout from reaching him with its blade, but several more were right behind it. A second scout moved in to his right and grabbed at his leg, holding tightly. With the decreased mobility, Richter was not able to move out of range of the first and it dove towards him, the blade in its hand outstretched. It managed a shallow cut on his left leg. Hunching over slightly, he drove the pommel of his knife into the head of the goblin holding his right leg causing it to loosen its grip. At the same time he grabbed the other by the shirt and pulling it forward, easily off balance after its lunge. He quickly stabbed down into its neck causing a spurt of blackish blood, then whipped his blade at the goblin holding him. It went down wailing and holding its face. Seeing three more almost upon him he fell back. Scooping up his bow he turned to run, shouting in the Sprite’s language, “Fade back to the trees, we will thin them there!”
A final blue streak shot right above his head, and elicited a squeal of pain behind him. Sion had been able to kill two others during Richter’s brief knife fight. That left about ten on their feet. Furious expressions were on the goblins’ faces. Running as fast as he could, he saw Sion join him on the right, the Sprite’s legs pumping as quickly as possible. The run was dangerous and the slice of moon above only gave partial definition to obstacles they ran past. They continued on for a couple minutes easily increasing their lead on the sick goblins. Sion had found a clearing, and they had marked it as a retreat point before they began their attack. Once it was in sight, Richter turned his head and shouted, “Go up in the trees. I’ll make a stand on the other side. When they run past you, start firing.”
Nodding Sion ran for another half minute and then jumped to a low lying branch, scurrying up into the tree with his uncanny swiftness. Turning back, Richter checked his quiver finding only two arrows left. This might be bad, he thought. Taking a deep breath he centered himself looking back in the direction of their pursuit, only a few moments passing before the first of the goblins became visible through the trees. Seeing their quarry again, they screamed in rage, their bloodlust giving them the strength to ignore the sickness from the poison, if only momentarily. Two scouts ran ahead of the others blind in their bloodlust.
Richter watched them approach, waiting for a clear shot, not releasing his first shot until the scout was only twenty yards away. Not wasting time aiming for a critical shot to the head, he targeted its chest. The arrow punched all the way through its chest, knocking it back several feet and it crumpled to the ground. The thing squealed out its last breaths, reminding Richter of the noise his uncle’s horse had made when it broke its leg in a rabbit hole. Pushing aside the horrible sound, he dre
w and knocked his last arrow. The shot fired at a second scout at point blank range. It caught the arrow in its left chest, and its next breath turned into a bloody cough. Its momentum carried it forward though, the body crashing into him as it shook in its death throes. He shoved the small body to the side and stomped on its neck once. A sharp crack preceded the end of its pitiful cries.
Looking up he saw the remaining five, no six goblins coming within sight range in the waning light. Unfortunately there appeared to be three goblin warriors in the group. Unstringing his bow, he held the curved four and half feet of wood in one hand with his dagger in the other. Looking at the green skinned devils, black blood dripping down his face, the putrid taste of it having worked its way into his mouth at some point, his nostrils flared as he screamed, “Come on then!”
Screaming back with equal rage they move forward en-masse. As soon as they passed the tree that hid Sion, a blue streak shot down and pierced one warrior through the shoulder, the force of the blow tearing the goblin’s arm completely off. It fell to the ground screaming. Spurts of arterial blood escaped into the air as it felt in vain for its missing limb, its grim reality not yet setting in. In as many moments, a second and third arrow struck another soldier in the back and a scout in the head. It did not escape Richter’s notice that the second arrow had barely any concussive force, though it did knock the warrior onto its face. The third arrow, while deadly, had no blue tinge at all. The sprite had finally run out of mana.
Having revealed himself, it was easy for the last warrior to target Sion. It threw its heavy dagger into the tree, and though Richter couldn’t see the impact he heard a cry of pain. The sprite’s body hit the ground with a thud, apparently stunned for a moment as he did not immediately get up. The dagger was sticking out of his shoulder. The warrior pulled an iron headed cudgel from its belt, and moved toward where Sion’s body had fallen. Not willing to let his comrade be executed, Richter started forward swinging his bow in a large arc at the three scouts that were converging on him. The first two ducked of the way, but he clipped the last, sending it spinning to the side.
