“Are we to travel around the world, then?” she asked sarcastically after they had eaten their dinner of vegetable stew. “Perhaps that way, we can sneak up on the Chezru from behind.”
“The straight line is always the shortest distance, ’tis true,” the elf replied. “But it is not always the swiftest.”
“What does that mean? What have you seen up ahead?” Brynn got up and looked to the south. “Monsters?”
“There is no barrier looming to the south, but this road is better, I believe.”
Brynn stared hard at the cryptic elf for some time, but Juraviel went back to his eating and didn’t return the look. He wanted to keep the mystery, wanted to have Brynn off-balance and wondering. He didn’t want her to know what was coming, and likely coming the very next day.
Later on, when Brynn was asleep, Juraviel hopped, flew, and climbed up the tallest tree he could find and peered through the dark night to the east.
There was the campfire, as he had expected. It was a long way off, to be sure.
But the goblins, he believed, weren’t in any hurry.
Brynn stared through the tangle of trees, sorting out the distinct and confusing lines until she was fully focused on the ugly little creatures beyond. They were diminutive—not as much so as the Touel’alfar, but smaller than Brynn. Their skin color ranged from gray to sickly yellow to putrid green, and hair grew in splotches about their heads, backs, and shoulders. Elongated teeth, misshapen noses, and sloping foreheads only added to the generally wretched mix. Brynn wasn’t close enough to smell the creatures, but she could well imagine that such an experience wouldn’t be pleasant.
She turned and looked up to Juraviel, who was sitting comfortably on a branch. “Goblins?” she asked, for though she had heard of the creatures during her stay with the elves, she had never actually seen one.
“The vermin are thick about these stretches,” Juraviel answered, “outside the borders of the human kingdoms.”
Brynn thought things over carefully, particularly their unexpected change in course of the previous day. “You knew they were here,” she reasoned. “You brought me here to see them. But why?”
Juraviel spent a long moment looking through the trees to the goblin group. Several of them were visible, and he suspected that more were about, probably out destroying something, a tree or an animal, just for the fun of it. “You do not know that I brought you here to see them,” he said.
Brynn chuckled at him. “But why?” she asked again.
Juraviel shrugged. “Perhaps it is merely a fortunate coincidence.”
“Fortunate?”
“It is good that you should view these creatures,” the elf explained. “A new experience to broaden your understanding of a world much larger than you can imagine.”
Brynn’s expression showed that she could accept that, but Juraviel added, “Or perhaps I feel it is my—our—duty to better the world wherever we may.”
Brynn looked at him curiously.
“They are goblins, after all.”
The woman’s expression didn’t change. “Goblins who seem not to be bothering anybody or anything.”
“Perhaps that is because there is no one or nothing about for them to bother at this moment,” Juraviel replied.
“Am I understanding your intent correctly?” the young ranger asked, turning back to survey the distant, undeniably peaceful scene of the small goblin camp. “Do you want us to attack this group?”
“Straight out? No,” Juraviel answered. “Of course not—there are too many goblins about for that to be wise. No, we must be more stealthy and cunning in our methods.”
When Brynn looked back to him, she wore an expression that combined curiosity, confusion, and outrage. “We could go around them and leave them in peace.”
“And fear forever after for the mischief they would cause.”
Brynn was shaking her head before Juraviel ever finished, but the elf pressed on dramatically. “For the families who would soon enough grieve for loved ones slain by the evil creatures. For the forests destroyed and desecrated, the animals senselessly slaughtered—not for food or clothing, but just for entertainment.”
“And if we murder this band, then we are no better than the goblins, by any measure,” Brynn declared, and she tilted her head back, her expression proud and idealistic. “Is it not our compassion that elevates us? Is it not our willingness to find peace and not battle, that makes us better than creatures such as this?”
“Would you be so generous if those were Yatol priests about that distant encampment?” the elf slyly asked.
“That is different.”
“Indeed,” came the obviously sarcastic reply.
“The Yatol priests chose their course—one that invites revenge from To-gai,” Brynn reasoned. “The goblins did not choose their heritage.”
“Thus you reason that every single Yatol priest took part in the atrocities perpetrated upon your people? Or are they all guilty for the sins of the few?”
“Every Yatol priest, every Chezru, follows a creed that leads to such conquest,” Brynn argued. “Thus every Yatol priest is an accomplice to the atrocities committed by those following their common creed!”
“The goblins have visited more grief upon the world than ever did the Yatol priests.”
“Being a part of that group, goblins, is not a conscious choice, but merely a consequence of parentage. Surely you of the Touel’alfar, who are so wise, can see the difference.”
Belli’mar Juraviel smiled widely at the compassionate young ranger’s reasoning, though he knew, from his perspective garnered through centuries of existence, that she was simply wrong. “Goblins are not akin to the other thinking and reasoning races,” he explained. “Perhaps their heritage is not their choice, but their actions are universally predictable and deplorable. Never have I seen, never have I heard of a single goblin who goes against the creed that is their culture and heritage. Not once in the annals of history has a goblin been known to step forward and deny the atrocities of its wretched kin. No, my innocent young charge, I’ll not suffer a goblin to live, and neither will you.”
Brynn winced at the direct edict, one that obviously did not sit well on her slender shoulders.
“I brought you here because there before us is a stain upon the land, a blight and a danger, and there before us is our duty, clear and obvious.”
Brynn glanced back as she heard the commanding, undebatable tone.
“We will search the forest about the encampment first,” Juraviel went on. “Thinning the herd as much as possible before going to an open battle.”
“Striking with stealth and from behind?” Brynn asked with clear sarcasm.
But her accusation, for that is what was obviously intended, was lost on Juraviel, who replied simply and with ultimate coldness, “Whatever works.”
Less than an hour later, Brynn found herself crawling through the brush south of the goblin camp, for she and Juraviel had worked themselves around the location. The ranger moved with all the stealth the Touel’alfar had taught her, easing each part of her—elbow, knee, foot, and hand—down slowly, gradually shifting her weight and feeling keenly the turf below, taking care to crunch no old leaves and snap no dried twigs.
A dozen feet before her, a pair of goblins labored noisily, one of them breaking little limbs from the trees and tossing them back to its ugly companion, who was hard at work with a small stick and bow, trying to start a fire. Brynn and Juraviel had overheard a pair of the creatures a short way back, and Juraviel understood enough of the guttural language to relay to Brynn that the goblins were planning to set great fires to flush out easy kills.
Brynn paused as she considered that conversation, for she had argued against Juraviel’s clear implication that the goblin plans proved his point about the creatures’ temperament. Humans hunted, after all—the To-gai were particularly adept at it. Perhaps this was only a difference in method. Lying there, Brynn understood how weak her argument
had been. The amount of kindling that was being piled and the sheer joy on the face of the goblin who intended to set the blaze told her that this was about much more than a simple hunt for food.
Still …
Juraviel had given Brynn his sword for this unpleasant business, though in her hands it was no more than a large and slender dagger. That would work better than her staff or bow for now, though, for this had to be done quickly and quietly. Especially quietly.
She continued forward another couple of feet, then a bit more. She could hear the creatures clearly, could smell them. With mud streaked about her face, and leaves and twigs strapped to her clothing, Brynn understood logically that she was somewhat camouflaged, but still she could hardly believe that the goblins hadn’t taken note of her yet!
The one bent over trying to start the fire yelped suddenly and started to stand. Its companion, closer to Brynn, looked to regard it, smiling stupidly, apparently thinking that the fire was starting to catch.
But there were only wisps of smoke, then the goblin, halfway upright, yelped again, and then again, and its companion’s expression shifted to curiosity.
And then Brynn was behind it, her hand coming around to clamp over its mouth, her dagger, Juraviel’s silverel sword, driving deep into the creature’s back, just to the side of the backbone, sinking deep to reach for the goblin’s heart. Brynn felt that keenly—so very keenly! She felt the flesh tearing, the varying pressures as the dagger slid through, and then felt an almost electrical shock, as if she had touched the very essence of the creature’s life force, the point of the weapon acting as a channel to let that life force flow freely from the goblin’s body.
The other goblin yelped again and fell over. Then it yelped—or tried to—yet again, and clutched at its throat.
The goblin in her arms went limp and she eased it to the ground, thinking that she should go and finish the other. It was a forced thought, though, for all that Brynn wanted to do at that horrible moment was fall to her knees and scream out in protest. She growled those feelings away and steadied herself for the necessary task at hand, pulling free the bloodied sword and considering her next kill. Belli’mar Juraviel was at the other goblin before her, though, standing over the creature, his small bow drawn back fully.
He put another arrow into the squirming goblin, then another. And then a third, and the creature seemed as if it would not die!
The next arrow drove through the side of its head. It gave a sudden, vicious spasm, and the light went out of the goblin’s eyes.
It was all Brynn could manage to keep tears flowing from her eyes, to keep from crying out in horror and revulsion, and pain.
So much pain.
Was this why she had trained as a ranger? Or was “ranger” even the proper word? Was it, perhaps, merely a cover for the true intention of her training, the true title she should drape across her shoulders: assassin?
“Come, and quickly,” Juraviel said to her, drawing her back from her inner conflict. Hardly thinking, she followed the elf along the circuitous route, until they happened upon another goblin, out collecting kindling.
It was dead before it even knew they were there.
The perimeter was secured then, and so the pair focused their attention on the encampment itself, where a band of more than a half dozen of the creatures milled about and sat around the smoldering embers of the previous night’s fire. They had a large, rusty pot sitting atop it, and every once in a while, one went over to it and ladled out some foul-looking stew.
“We could wait to see if others wander out alone,” Juraviel said to her. “Take them down one or two at a time.”
Brynn winced visibly at the thought, wanting all of this to be over as quickly as possible.
“The time for stealth is ended,” she said determinedly, and started to rise, intending to charge straight into the band.
Juraviel caught her by the arm and held her fast. “What is a To-gai-ru warrior’s greatest weapon?” he asked. “Even beyond courage and the bow?”
Brynn nodded and handed him his small sword, then turned about, understanding.
A few minutes later, the goblins in the encampment stood and looked curiously to the north, to the crashing and thumping echoing out of the forest.
Brynn Dharielle, astride Diredusk, came through the last line of brush with bow drawn. She took the goblin farthest to the right first, dropping it with hardly a squeak, then got her second arrow away, knocking a goblin away from the cooking pot, a bowlful of stew flying over it as it toppled backward.
A quick and fluid movement had the bow unstrung, and Brynn tucked it under her right arm like a lance as she guided Diredusk to a course right past a third, stunned creature. The goblin’s face exploded in a shower of blood, the sturdy darkfern bow smashing through. Brynn cut Diredusk hard to the left, the pony trampling the next goblin in line, then running down yet another as it tried to flee. Now Brynn swung the staff like a club, whistling it past another goblin’s face, a near miss that had the creature diving back to the ground.
By then, though, her momentum had played out. She reached the far end of the encampment, leaving three goblins standing, no longer surprised, and collecting their weapons. Where was Juraviel? Why hadn’t she heard the high-pitched twang of his small bow or the yelps of stuck goblins?
Brynn tugged hard on the reins, bringing her pony to a skidding stop and quick turn. She flanked around to the left, going to a half seat and bending low over Diredusk’s neck as the horse easily leaped a pair of logs set out as benches.
Brynn yanked him hard to the left as he landed, lining up a second run at the center of the camp. The three goblins, though, had wisely retreated to the fringes of the forest, using brush and trees for cover, and the only target she found was the goblin she had narrowly missed on her first pass, the creature stumbling as it tried to rise. Her aim was better this time, the swinging bow smacking it across the back of the head as she thundered past, launching the creature facefirst. It crashed against the cooking pot, knocking it over, then it tumbled down right onto the hot embers. How that goblin howled and thrashed! Its scraggly hair ignited, its skin burned and curled!
With movements so fast and so fluid that they defied the goblins’ comprehension, Brynn bent and strung her bow as she lifted her leg over the horse’s back, then set an arrow as she dropped from Diredusk into a charge.
She pegged the closest goblin right between the eyes, dropped into a roll to avoid a thrown spear from a second, set an arrow as she rolled, and came up firing.
Then there was one.
A flick of Brynn’s wrist had the bow unstrung as she charged.
The goblin, obviously unsure, obviously terrified, started to run. Then it changed its mind and turned, crude spear presented before it. It thrust out as Brynn came in, but the skilled ranger slapped the awkward attack aside and started forward for what looked like a quick victory.
Started forward, but stopped abruptly as the brush to the side parted and a second goblin burst through, charging at the ranger with a small and rusty dagger.
Brynn turned sidelong and started to bring her bow-staff to bear, but the first goblin came back in hard. The ranger adeptly changed the momentum of her weapon, grabbing it up high with her left hand, reversing the grip, then thrusting the staff right back to the side in an underhand movement, guiding it with her right hand, holding on with her left. The charging spear-wielder had its weapon back, trying to gain momentum for its thrust at that moment, and so there was nothing in place to block Brynn’s stab before the staff connected with the goblin’s face.
Brynn let her weapon drop then, confident that the goblin was out of the fight for a while at least. She wove her hands furiously before her to set a defense against the goblin with the knife. Her balanced and precise movements slowed the goblin just a bit, as it tried to find some hole in the sudden defense, and that was all Brynn needed. She sent her left hand out wide to the left and lifted her right hand up above her head, giving
an apparent opening.
And the goblin dove into that hole, thinking to sink its knife into her chest.
Up snapped Brynn’s right foot, smacking the goblin’s lead arm out wide. She caught the back of the goblin’s wrist in her left hand and yanked it down, twisting to lock the creature’s elbow, its palm and Brynn’s facing upward. The ranger turned right inside the hold, then bringing her left arm over and around, then down under the caught arm, turned her back right before the goblin’s torso as she went. Brynn ignored the expected punch from the goblin’s free hand, keeping her momentum, locking her forearm under that trapped elbow, and yanking up, while throwing her weight farther out over that trapped hand and tugging down hard.
The goblin yelped in pain, though it still managed to throw a second punch into Brynn’s back.
It couldn’t maintain its hold on the dagger, though, as Brynn’s fingers worked the hand of the pained arm to force it free. As it fell, Brynn pulled straight out with her left hand, keeping the goblin off-balance, and released the arm from her right arm’s hold, stepping forward and snapping out her right hand to catch the dagger before it ever hit the ground. She flipped it over in a sudden reversal and, even as the goblin slugged her again, thrust out straight and hard behind her, planting the dagger deep into the goblin’s chest.
The goblin punched her yet again, but there was no strength in the blow. Brynn pumped her arm once and again, tearing up the goblin’s chest and guts, then turned hard and shoved the dying creature to the ground.
The goblin she had smacked in the face was up by then, but not charging. The creature had seen enough of this fighter, apparently, and started to run off into the forest.
Hardly even thinking of the movement, Brynn launched the dagger, hitting it in the back of the leg. The goblin howled and went down hard, then kicked and thrashed, trying to tug the dagger out, but in too much pain even to grasp it.
DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) Page 118
