by Ronald Long
Ealrin wished now for a bow, instead of simply waiting for the ships to form a circle around them and slowly ease towards them, ready to attack.
One goblin ship came close to the rear of the White Wind. Close enough to warrant a volley of arrows from the archers aboard the hunted vessel.
Several cries from the goblin ships let the crew know that they had scored at least a few hits. Ealrin could tell from the howls of rage that the red eyed goblins were not going to allow those arrows to go unanswered.
“Goblin arrows!” shouted Roland to the crew behind him and all of them took cover. Some had shields with which to protect them, while others dashed behind a mast or behind a door of the lower deck.
Ealrin and his two companions dropped below the railing of the upper deck. The cover it provided was sufficient enough to shield them from the arrows, but not from the sight of seeing hundreds of arrows scatter the ship around them. A scream from below let them know that one of their crew had been struck with a goblin missile.
“Careful not to touch the things!” Holve shouted over the thud of arrows. “Goblins will poison the tips!”
Getting shot would be bad enough. Being shot and then suffering from poison as well was a terrible thought.
Surely goblins are the worst type of vile creature, Ealrin thought.
The archers on the White Wind returned fire as they could. Every now and then another yell from a crew member let Ealrin know that they had lost another good fighter and that their chances of survival were grower even slimmer. Not that they were very likely to survive in the first place.
First light had broken just as the arrows had stopped raining down on the White Wind. It was a sign that the goblins were now close enough to ready their own weapons. Ealrin peered over the decking to see that four goblin ships had now come on either side of their own. Their foes were dressed in dark colors and wielded short, crude looking swords and shields that were also painted black to match the ships. Goblins were truly repulsive creatures and now Ealrin could see their every detail.
Most of them were black haired and grey skinned, though some were darker than others. All of them had glistening red eyes that flashed with hate. Their ears sat higher on their heads than a man’s did and were large and pointed. Unlike the elves, this did nothing to make them seem dignified or proud. It only added to their grotesque image. Their noses were little more than two holes opened above their mouth. Their mouths were also unnaturally large and filled with sharp, pointed teeth. Their howls were deep and long, like a dog who had been maimed and yet was fighting off a vile enemy.
Their voices joined together in a chorus hundreds strong that chilled Ealrin far more than the morning mist.
Perhaps he was indeed facing the last moments of his life. Would he face them like a coward, hunkered down behind the decking of a doomed ship, or upright and brave, facing adversity head on?
Ealrin rose, sword held high, and let out the fiercest battle cry he could muster.
He would not die a coward.
Chapter 14:
The Goblin Pusher
Stinkrunt was in a bad mood.
Not that he was ever in a particularly good mood, but this current state of affairs made his demeanor worse than it was typically.
The Fishbone rocked back and forth in the sea as scores of goblins sailed east toward human lands. Stinkrunt had never been one for sailing, and now he knew why.
It has been six weeks since they had set out from the beaches of sharp claw and his stomach had yet to adjust to the rolling motion of the sea. Other goblin vessels had been luckier and broken off towards two large islands Stinkrunt knew nothing about. Only that they were ground and this ship was not.
It didn't help that he had also discovered he had an astute allergy to seafood. Even consuming the smallest of fish would cause him to break out and the most horrible of boils. He scratched a place on his leg he was sure would never fully heal. And every time some salt water would spray up from the ocean onto the vessel it would sting him something awful.
Still, a goblin had to eat. Any bird or foul that came anywhere near him a chance of being devoured on sight. Not that he particularly cared for feathers and beaks, but he certainly would rather have indigestion than boils.
An always empty stomach could put anyone into a bad mood, especially a goblin. Plus there was the whole being in charge bit that annoyed Stinkrunt to no end.
There were always pesky questions like “When are we going to reach shore?” and “Why is there enough food for everybody?” and “Why can't I slit his throat, he stole my knife and cut up my best mate?”
Stinkrunt was more than content and pushing them around and answering their questions with different renditions of "Who cares? I'm in charge!" but that had only lasted for the first week or so of sailing. The crew members were getting restless and tired of their new captain.
Leadership, it seemed, did not fit Stinkrunt well.
And yet he didn't mind. For once there were goblins who took him seriously when he was looking. He didn't mind so much their shrugs and rolling eyes when they thought he wasn't paying attention. All he really cared about was getting his way when it mattered. Like when another goplin caught a bird and Stinkrunt was hungry.
"Captains rations!" He yelled at the little goblin who would manage to catch his first bird. A phrase he had often repeated whenever he saw food that didn’t swim.
Stinkrunt grabbed it away and had swallowed it whole before the goblin had much chance to argue his point.
And then he around pushed him overboard for added measure.
Afterall, he was “The Goblin Pusher.”
The fleet of goblin ships would soon approach the Southern Republic and instead of fighting each other aboard their boats crammed with goblins, which several of the vessels had turned into near gladiatorial cages, they would begin to take out their aggression on meatier targets.
Stinkrunt was very much looking forward to standing on dry ground again. Much more so than fighting a bunch of humans, elves and dwarves.
Sleep was something Stinkrunt had given up on also. In the lower part of the ship there were several hammocks strung up for sleeping. The added swaying made him sick when he tried to go to sleep, sicker still while he was sleeping, and downright miserable when he woke up.
So instead of a hammock Stinkrunt got away with napping on the deck during the night. But when he wasn't napping at night, like this particular one when the waves were awful and sleep evaded him, he dreamed with his eyes open.
He remembered standing on land in the Goblin Maw. The hard packed dirt had been so solid. He could walk around without tripping, unless of course a goblin had tripped him on purpose. Then Greyscar would bash that goblin for picking on one of his cronies. Stinkrunt had been practicing bashing a few goblins of his own and working out who would be his cronies. A few had impressed him, mostly because he had seen them fight each other. A good captain needed some cronies to do his heavy lifting.
Or any lifting at all.
Stinkrunt was enjoying thinking about bossing other people around and making them do whatever he wanted. He quite liked being in charge.
In fact, he was daydreaming so hard that he barely even noticed that gray scar had gone to the trouble of having other goblins row a small boat from his own large vessel to the fishbone.
A smack on the back of his head woke him out of his reverie.
"Hey. Stink runt."
Had any other goblin aboard the Fishbone hit him so he would have considered actually using the fancy knife he kept attached to his belt, if it hadn’t been stolen while he was daydreaming that is. But after being in the service of Grayscar for so many years, Stinkrunt was familiar with the back of his masters hand against his head.
"Got a special job for you. Take five boats and go north. There is a city up there. It's after a ton of mountains. Smash it. Keep all the loot. After the city is smashed, walk south. Meet up with the rest of the Sharp Claws. We’ll smash so
me other cities down south."
Grayscar looked Stinkrunt up-and-down once. Even though he was a poor leader, Stinkrunt was enjoying getting to boss other people around. So much so that he is forgotten what it was like to be bossed around himself.
He was sure something on his face communicated that to Grayscar.
He got hit on the head again.
"Got it?" the large and fierce looking goblin asked the smaller and way less intimidating one.
"Got it," stink rent said. "Sail north. Smash the city. Walk south."
Grayscar gave a grunt of approval.
"Make sharp claws look good," he said as he climbed an old rope ladder back down to his boat.
As Grayscar was rowing back, a commotion came up from the boats upfront. Stinkrunt looked to the horizon and saw one solitary ship sailing away from them.
And even though he really wanted to steer his boats in the direction of that ship and smash it, (after all, hundreds of ships versus one was really good out odds) he signaled his crew to sail north and to pass the message along to the other goblins going with him.
Maybe sailing that way and smashing one city wouldn’t be so bad. One city was fewer than a lot of cities. Maybe this was his chance to prove to Grayscar that he deserved to be in charge. Maybe this was his big break.
He signaled the goblin to point the ship north.
Of course, his signal was one of his personal favorites: bash the goblin holding the rudder with a stick until he got the direction right.
Chapter 15:
Roland’s Fight
The goblins were prepared to board the White Wind. They hung from ropes attached to their masks and were getting ready to swing from their ship to Ealrin's. Each and every goblin had a twisted smile on their face, as if they knew the terror they must be instilling into the ship they had successfully surrounded.
With howls of rage the goblins made their first boarding attempt. Several of them swung in the direction of Ealrin, Roland and Holve.
With a sling of his blade, Ealrin dispatched one of the goblins before he even touched the deck of the white wind. Holve speared another in his chest and sent him down snarling to the sea. Two more landed to the left of Roland but were dead before they could even raise their swords. They turned to face six more goblins who had successfully planted themselves onto the deck around them. With a quick stab from his spear Holve skewered two goblins on the spot. With a powerful kick, Ealrin put the goblin nearest him on his back and turned to engage another who was swinging his blade across his chest. He quickly made to block the goblin blade with his own. Ealrin pushed hard against the goblin to knock him off balance, swung his blade high, and dealt a fatal blow.
He then turned to see that Roland has taken care of another two goblins and was now facing back to the goblin ship to see if another wave was coming.
For the three on the upper deck the first wave of goblins had gone well. Ealrin could see that things are not going as well for those on the lower deck.
The second wave of goblins was now boarding the ship. Those on the lower deck had yet to completely deal with the first. Roland bounded down onto the lower deck into a pile of no less than seven of the beasts. With his sword flashing in the morning sun, he dispatched a goblin with every swing.
Ealrin felt the hairs on his very neck begin to stand up straight as the air around him seemed to charge with energy. He spun around and gazed at the goblin ship directly behind theirs. On its forward mast stood a menacing looking goblin holding high into the air Stafff with the red jewel affixed to its top. A goblin shaman's eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural fire as his mouth moves up and down in silent incantation.
In that moment, he knew he was going to die.
Appearing seemingly out of thin air Edgar threw both Holve and Ealrin to the ground on the lower deck and out of harm's way. After hitting the deck of the ship Ealrin looked up to see Edgar's metal suit of armor glowing green with an unnatural energy. And then with arms spread wide, he burst into thousand tiny smoking pieces.
Ealrin shielded his his eyes from the blast with his arm. The spot where Edgar had stood was now a giant hole in the upper deck of the ship. What would what is left was now charred and blackened from the blast. Ealrin heard the goblin shaman tackle with the light at the damage he had caused.
Ealrin stood to his feet surveying, what was around him. Bodies of both goblin and crew of the white wind were strewn about the lower deck. Still the fighting raged on and he saw a goblin charging him with his blade held high. Roland came from his left and intercepted the faux dispatching him with a blow.
"That makes 18 for me! Are you keeping up Holve?" Roland Shelton as the goblin fell dead at his feet. "You'll have to do better than that!" He shouted at the goblin ships around him.
And that was when an arrow pierced his heart.
***
Ealrin heard that the scream was loud and long. He could hear the hurt and the pain that was in it as well as the rage and anger. What took a moment to register, was that it escaped his own lips.
Roland fell to the deck onto his knees. With one hand he still clutched his sword, the other wrapped around the arrow that had embedded itself into his chest. Arrows now rained down onto the White Wind and all around them, both goblin and crew member fell. Though Ealrin protested with all his might, attempting to stay at Roland's side as he gasped for air, Holve pulled him away and under the eave of what was left of the upper deck. Then, with what had must to have been pure adrenaline, Roland rose to his feet, ran to the side of the ship and grabbed a rope. He let out a garbled cry of battle as he flung himself onto the enemy vessel but still in view of Ealrin and Holve from their shelter.
Roland was too much of a warrior to die by just one arrow. He continued to fight, though now two more arrows pierced him as he swung in the air. He landed on the goblin ship and was instantly surrounded and nearly covered by grey skinned warriors. Though every swing of his blade killed at least one goblin, it was too much for his poison wracked body. He finally disappeared underneath uncountable goblins.
Roland was defeated.
Ealrin was still trying to come to grips with the indisputable fact that Roland had been slain. He seemed the warrior who had no limits or weaknesses. Now he lay slain on the ship on his enemies, surrounded by the bodies of those he took with him.
At that moment the arrows stopped raining down onto the deck. Ealrin looked around and saw that he and Holve appeared to be the only surviving members of the crew. Then through every crack and crevice in the ship shone the same unnatural green light that had ended Edgar.
The boards of the White Wind creaked and moaned under the influence of the dark magic. The last thing Ealrin was aware before he hit the sea water was being cast into the air by the force of the explosion that split the vessel in two.
***
Ealrin struggled for not only his life, but for the life of Holve.
The goblins ships had sailed on, which was fortunate for the pair in one sense. Had they been spotted they no doubt would have become target practice for goblin archers. Whether it was fortune or fate, Ealrin was not sure, but as the ship broke to pieces, he was able to grab Holve and hoist him onto a piece of debris. Ealrin had hit the water but Holve had hit something hard, a piece of the formal ship. He was breathing, but unconscious. Then a sail that had broken free from its rigging had fallen over them, covering the two from view of red goblin eyes.
Ealrin hadn't dared to move the sail, though it made holding onto Holve difficult. He was also unable to see the sun and therefore know the direction they were floating. He only hoped the tide would bring them closer to land. Any land.
Before they were attacked it was still a good days worth of sailing to their intended port in Thoran. Now he wasn't sure what mass of land would be close enough for them to float to. From one of Holve's maps, now lost to the bottom of the sea, Ealrin though he remembered some cities on the shores of Ruyn.
He prayed they would make land nea
r to any of them.
Well, to any that were not being raided by Goblins.
The sun was well past setting when Ealrin thought he saw the stars disappearing higher over the horizon than they had been before. He hoped that meant land was close and starting kicking hard to help them float towards it. He had poked his head out of the sail after the sun began to set. The water was cold. Spring had come but the sea was still recovering from the long winter and had not yet been warmed long enough by the sunlight to make it improve from the winter cold.
Ealrin swam because he knew that meant survival. Holve had not yet woken from his injury. Though he shivered in the coldness of air, Ealrin had been able to keep him mostly out of the water. It was only the act of swimming that kept Ealrin warm enough to remain alert. His hands and arms ached, however, from holding onto the debris that kept them alive.
There was land ahead of them, Ealrin was sure of it now. He could hear the sound of waves crashing ahead of him, meaning that the shore was becoming more shallow and allowing the crest of the to break. Though every part of him ached with fatigue, he swam. There would be time for rest after they had made land. Now was the time for survival.
When his feet finally touched the sandy bottom of the shore, Ealrin let out a sigh of relief. The threat of death by drowning was over. He continued to push Holve on the floating debris until it began to drag along the bottom of the shore as well. He then picked up his friend as best he could and drug him to shore.
He ensured that Ealrin was still breathing and went back to where the piece of the White Wind was stuck in the sand. He retrieved the large sail and broke free what pieces of wood he could and brought them back to land.
Crude shelter was better than none.
Further up the shore were trees. They would do for adding shelter from the wind that now bit into Ealrin's flesh and give them protection from being seen from the sea, just in case the goblins made their way to this stretch of beach.
