Wildling

by Curtis, Greg

  Of course they couldn't just stand there forever. So it came as a relief when the goblin turned on his heels and waddled back into his den to join the rest of his horde. It let them breathe again. Sara most of all. She was the one who had come prepared to face the goblins.

  No sooner had the goblin wandered back into his den then she shifted back into her human form and drew her crossbow. She amazed him as she did it, as she had every other time he had seen her walking on two legs. As a woman she was a giantess, standing easily a head taller than him and with huge muscles bulging in every part of her body. She was the only shifter he knew that actually looked more impressive in her human shape than she did as her creature. She was also the only human he'd ever seen, man or woman, who could wield such a massive crossbow. Just the strength needed to draw the string back would have been beyond most. He was sure it was beyond him. But the only thing that mattered was that she did it.

  Then she took aim and let the massive bolt loose.

  It streaked through the air like a lightning bolt, moving so fast that his eyes couldn't keep up. It crossed the hundred paces or so from her to the den before he could blink. A heartbeat later he heard it smash into a stone wall somewhere inside the den, the sound of steel on stone, and of glass shattering followed immediately by the raucous noise of perhaps hundreds of other goblins reacting to the sudden noise.

  They shrieked and grunted, swiftly working themselves up into a frenzy as they tried to work out what had happened. But none of them appeared on the ledge outside, and Dorn was grateful for that. His fear had always been that the sound of the bolt smashing into something solid would lead to a mass exodus from the den, and that then they'd have to run or fight. And fighting hundreds of goblins at once was a dangerous task even with so many of them.

  In time the goblins settled down again. The noise of their howling died away and with it the beating of his heart slowed as well. Sara smiled, satisfied with her work, slung her huge crossbow on to her back and shifted once more into her beast shape. All around Dorn could see the others relaxing as well. There were more of them than there had been when he'd joined the others. The band of five had become eighteen over the previous day as they'd started picking their way through the mountain pass. Others would join them in time, running down from Balen Rale or Terris Lee after they'd finished preparing. And each new shifter that joined them was another ally in the struggle ahead. A struggle that might well kill them all.

  But so far things were going according to plan. And there was a plan for each and every danger they might have to face. They hoped. Sara had come prepared for the goblins. He could deal with the trolls, and their flyers could handle the rocs. And at the end, together with the others he would deal the Dicans some heavy damage. Enough he hoped to stop them. Or at least to hold them back until the real army arrived. He hoped. For the moment though they just had to wait.

  But waiting was never easy. Not for any of them. Maybe impatience was part of a shifter’s essence.

  In time though they saw the first signs of the plan working. They saw smoke. Garren pointed with a paw and the others saw it too. There were smiles all around. Even on faces that weren't human. But all of them knew better than to make a sound. Not now. The time for making a little noise would come soon though.

  The smoke started thickening as they watched and the noise from inside the den suddenly started up again as the goblins realised that something was wrong. They didn't know what but they knew they couldn't breathe. And soon he knew some of them would make a dash for the entrance and the fresh air outside. Or the brightest and strongest of them would. But they wouldn't make it. Hopefully. Not when the passage leading to front entrance was on fire. The stone itself burning.

  It had been a cunning plan; the priests from Balen Rale had obviously learned something of strategy as well as divinity during their studies. And with so many enchanters there, many of them both old and powerful, the little vials of spelled water that Sara was carrying had been quickly crafted.

  It seemed they had been crafted well. The binding of rock burn was powerful. He knew that when the smoke became black and he could suddenly see flames bursting from den's entrance. Big flames leaping ten and twenty feet into the air. Soon he became aware that there were more entrances and exits to the den than just the one in front of them. More places where black smoke was pouring out of the mountain. Obviously the mountain was riddled with the goblins' caves.

  Then the goblins surprised him. Three of them screeching frantically came rushing out of the den, having run through the flames. They were desperate to survive. But unfortunately for them it wasn't to be. They were on fire. Even without fur they'd somehow caught fire as they ran through the flames, and the pain and flame had robbed them of their minds. They escaped the den but then in their hysteria ran straight off the end of the ledge and began their long plummet to the rocks far below – screaming all the way.

  Inside things were probably worse for the rest of the horde. The screeching had reached a desperate crescendo as they panicked, and he could imagine from some of the noises they heard that they were fighting one another as well. Blinded by the thick smoke, choking to death and possibly on fire, they were losing control and lashing out at anything nearby. Even now he guessed the goblins were tearing into each other's flesh. Goblins were savage creatures.

  In time things calmed down a little inside the mountain as the goblins died, something for which Dorn was grateful. But of course there was no such thing as an easy victory in this land. Barely two days into the mountains and they were already learning that lesson.

  The first sign of trouble was the blood curdling cry that split the air above them. Dorn looked up. They all did and immediately they spotted their new enemy; a roc circling in the skies above. The noise and the smoke had obviously alerted it that something was happening, and as always it thought that something might be food. To a roc everything was food.

  They were the monsters of the sky, the largest creatures that could surely ever take to the air. But fortunately they were also slow. They soared and glided rather than flapping their wings and darting through the skies like sparrows. Which worked out rather well for Nelalas and Brin – the golden tailed eagle and the banded falcon. Even as he studied the roc, as always amazed that anything so large could take to the skies, he watched the two shapes dive. They were tiny in comparison to the roc, but they were fast and nimble, and most important of all they had the height.

  They struck from above, diving, levelling out at the last second, and letting their steel talons reach out and tear huge gashes in the roc's wings, before they shot past it like arrows. The priests had fashioned them each a pair of impossibly sharp talons just for this very purpose. To cut through the tendons and bones of the rocs.

  The roc gave out another blood curdling cry as it realised it had been attacked, but it was far too late. The shifters had done exactly what they needed to do, and the roc's wings were damaged. Even as they banked and started climbing for the heavens, it lost the battle and started spinning out of control. The damage had been bad enough that its wings could no longer support it in the air. Not as they should.

  As Dorn watched it started spiralling downward, trying to use its wings to straighten its path but failing. And then it smashed into the side of the mountain barely a few hundred paces from them with a thump that could be felt through the rock itself. Injured and still letting out its ear piercing cry it bounced off and then started a long, slow and confused tumble down the side of the mountain, chasing the burning goblins to the bottom. Once it got there Dorn knew it would not come after them. It might not die, even with all the injuries it surely sustained as it smashed again and again into the side of the mountain but it wouldn't be able to fly. They were massive impacts and even a roc had to feel them. But as long as it stayed down that was all that mattered.

  He let his attention return to the goblin den and the smoke still pouring out of it. It seemed thinner than before, not as dark, bu
t the sounds coming out of it were also less. He guessed that meant that most of the goblins were dead, or at least too badly injured to cry out.

  Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour later it was over. The smoke had stopped billowing forth and only a few wisps still crept from the various gaps and holes in the mountain. There was no noise coming from within either. Not even when Garren let out a huge howl that should have had them pouring forth in numbers.

  It was time to move on. To make their way further along the trail to where it bent backwards and then came back straight past the goblin den. That was a good thing, and Dorn knew he should be smiling. They could pass by safely. And the army when it followed them through here in a week or two could do the same. And while they did that the stonewrights they would surely have with them to even up and widen the trail for their wagons to travel it, could seal the cave up so that no more goblins could ever call it home again.

  But as they set off Dorn wondered if this was all too soon. They were barely two days into the mountains and in that time had faced down rocs, trolls and now a goblin den. And while they had defeated them all and their numbers were growing as more shifters joined them, they still had four more days of travelling through the mountains before they even reached the central plateau. And once there they had no idea at all how dangerous things would become.

  The only good thing was that if this was what they were facing as they came down from the north and headed for the lake then it was also surely what the Dicans were facing as they came up from the south. Hopefully the Dicans wouldn't be as well prepared. Hopefully.

  Chapter Forty Two.

  Trolls were ugly creatures. In their own way they were perhaps even uglier than goblins. And with hides of dark grey leather, standing as tall as two men, and huge mouths filled with yellow daggers pointing in all directions, they were deadly too. But luckily they were slow. Like manticores they were ambush hunters. They didn't swarm like goblins or hunt like cats. They simply stood very still, their thick leather hides concealing them quite well against rocks, and waited for their prey to come to them. Then they jumped out on them. It was a good system, unless the prey could spot them, and the shifters had good eyesight. Certainly Dorn could see the creature quite easily.

  Dorn sighted the troll carefully, took a calming breath and then released the arrow. It flew straight, landing in the creature's chest and the rock glass tip pierced the troll's thick hide and punctured its heart.

  The troll gave a strangled half cry and stared at him, its wrinkled, vicious face a study in confusion. Then it fell down dead, probably still not understanding what had happened. That brought a relieved smile to Dorn's face. He was getting good at killing the beasts. A full score of them had fallen to his bow at least. But he was also tired. They all were.

  They were two days into the wastes and they were already running out of strength. The six days climbing up and up through the Eteris Ranges had exhausted them. Though their numbers had increased until there were now seventy shifters in the party, they had paid a price for their advance. Three were dead and a dozen had been seriously injured when one goblin den had not been as completely dead as they'd thought. Though their gift allowed them to heal the injuries quickly, the cost was exhaustion and none of those dozen were up to much yet. They walked, they ate and they slept. But it would be a while before they could fight.

  Meanwhile they were making slow progress across the central plateau. After six long days they had made it through the mountains. A score of goblin dens had been destroyed, and he had no idea at all how many trolls and rocs had been killed. But they had made it through. It also seemed from the moment they'd hit the plateau that things had settled a bit. Or maybe they'd just hoped they had. At least there were no goblins there. There were no caves for them to live in.

  But there was no winning either. Not for them. The goblins had gone but their place had been taken by blood flies. Swarms of little biting insects that arrived out of nowhere to suck their blood and bring them sickness. They could deal with the illness by shifting forms regularly. It fixed sickness as well as poison and injury, but it was taking a toll on them.

  And then the land itself had started conspiring against them. They were high up in the plateau, and the land was cold. Even in summer it felt like winter and here and there they could still see patches of ice and snow. They were spending most of their time in their beast shapes, fur and feathers keeping them warmer than clothes.

  To make matters worse the air itself seemed to be lacking in something. They were all finding it hard to breathe and were lacking in strength. They couldn't run and fight as they once had. To add to their troubles the ground was soft under foot and the tough alpine grass was full of barbs and tended to tangle around their feet, holding them back. Nor had they found anything that looked like it was edible. They would have to rely on what they were carrying with them.

  In Dorn's case that wasn't much. He had a good fifty pounds of white wrath in his pack and another fifty pounds of rock glass and steel tipped arrows. With his clothes and his longbow added to that there hadn't been a lot of additional weight he could carry. He suspected the others were in the same situation. Their packs were loaded with what they would need to fight with. Not food.

  Progress was understandably slow. In two days he estimated that they'd covered a dozen leagues at best, and they still had the best part of a hundred to go. But maybe that would give them a chance to adjust to the thin air.

  “Good shot.”

  Garren praised his archery even as he gave the others the word that they could continue. Maybe it was his age – Garren was a man of middling years and greying hair – or maybe it was his knowledge, or perhaps his natural easy manner as he told people what to do, but the wolf had assumed the unofficial role of leader of their group.

  He was a good choice for the position as far as Dorn was concerned. He always seemed to know what to do, and they needed someone who did. Every army needed a general, and though they hadn't started out as an army – just a collection of wildlings who knew what needed to be done and had joined up – they had become one.

  “We should probably make camp on that rise.”

  It was a good idea Dorn thought. The evening was upon them and they were all tired. But why that particular patch of ground and not another, he didn't know. They were all the same. In fact even calling it a rise was a stretch. It was at best a few feet higher than the land they were on. But maybe those few feet would give those keeping watch a little bit more distance to look out over. Before night fell. At least it had a few trees to give them shelter from the wind if it picked up.

  No one objected and they all slowly started making their way to the camp site.

  That slowness was probably the thing that worried him most. Dorn had not expected the trip to be so slow. He had thought to cross the hundred leagues in a week at most. Even loaded down. But now he knew that wasn't possible. This land was simply too harsh for that. His only hope was that the Dicans would be even slower. After all, they couldn't shift and in so doing rid themselves of the blood fly illness. The air had to be just as hard on them. And they had only two legs to walk on, and war machines to bring with them. They had to be almost crawling.

  Movement caught Dorn's eye, something to his right and instinctively he turned to see it, his doubts forgotten. But when he did there was nothing there. No creature coming toward them, nothing even blowing in the wind. Just the trees. Thin, sickly looking things. They were what passed for trees in this place. Maybe with better soil and more sunshine they would have been willows. Here they were their half dead cousins struggling to survive. This was not a pretty place.

  So he turned back and continued following the others to the camp, hoping that a little rest would help to restore his strength for the morning.

  It moved again.

  This time he stopped dead, and turned to face the bush, determined to see what kept moving. There was something. He knew it. Something in the bush. But nothing mo
ved when he stared. Whatever it was it was hiding. A goblin maybe?

  “What is it?” One of the others had noticed that he wasn't moving.

  “Don't know. But something keeps moving when we walk and stopping when I turn to look.” He wished he could tell the man more, but that was as much as he knew. But as he kept staring he knew he was right. There was something out there.

  The long seconds and then the minutes kept dragging by as he stared, and others joined him in searching the distant bush. And some of them he knew had sharper eyes than him. But nothing moved. Which could only mean that it was very determined not to be seen. And from that there was only one question that mattered. Was it predator or prey? Was it stalking them or hoping they weren't stalking it? That was the reality of life in this bleak place. Everything was always hunting everything else.

  “Did you see that?”

  A woman asked the question, not of him he hoped since he hadn't seen anything at all. But the fact that she had seen something surely meant he wasn't alone in seeing things.

  “What?”

  “The branches in that tree. They moved. Shivered.”

  “It's the wind.” But even as the man answered her Dorn was thinking that that couldn't be right. There was no wind. Others were surely thinking the same thing. But at least as they stared they suddenly had something to look for.