by Sam Ferguson
“Aikur!” Wallace shouted.
Aikur was beyond hearing. His anger was focused on Grais. He bent down and grabbed the man by the left ankle and with one quick twist he yanked Grais up from the ground and swung him off into the bushes to the side of the road.
Grais tumbled through the underbrush, grunting and crying out as he thunked against the ground and then bounced to strike the side of a tree trunk.
Paavo was in front of Aikur before the large warrior could follow his prey.
“Not like this!” Paavo said. “Save your anger for those who deserve it!”
Aikur stopped and stared at Paavo’s purple nose and black eyes. In that moment he remembered striking Paavo as well. The Konnon nodded and turned to pick up his things. “I don’t want to wait for Captain Marsten,” he said. “I want to go ahead now.”
Paavo nodded. “I have sent word to Captain Marsten,” he said. “I thought you might want to do something like that. I’ll go with you.”
“I would be better alone,” Aikur replied.
“Krip is going too,” Wallace said.
“Krip needs to lead the town guard,” Aikur said.
Paavo shook his head. “Wallace will keep the town guard in a defensive pattern around the town. All the outlying farms have been ordered to come into town.” Paavo turned to Aikur and sighed. “You should know, Nolan’s farm was destroyed as well.”
“But others were spared,” Wallace put in quickly.
“Keep him away from me,” Aikur said with a nod to Grais, who was just pulling himself to his feet and brushing his clothes off.
“Aikur, I am truly sorry,” Wallace said.
“They will be sorry too,” Aikur promised. “Every last goblin I find is going to wish their maker had never given them life.”
Aikur shouldered his bedroll and equipment and then moved past Wallace and Paavo.
“You can have my horse,” Wallace said.
Aikur shook his head as he kept walking. “I don’t know how to ride one, and I will be a better fighter on my own feet.”
There was a rustling sound from behind him as Paavo removed what he needed from his saddle bags. The scout then ran to catch up with Aikur.
“What about Krip?” Paavo asked.
“If he isn’t here, then he should stay with the town guard.”
“He’s a good soldier,” Paavo said. “He can help.”
Aikur ignored Paavo and quickened his pace. The two were nearly running by the time they reached the main road. Krip was waiting there, standing in his tight-fitting uniform from the days when he was a much younger man. Unlike Wallace and Paavo, Krip didn’t say anything. He exchanged a somber nod with Aikur, and then fell in with the large Konnon as they turned northward.
They traveled for two miles before the road stopped, ending at a large wooden blockade with an old sign hanging on the front.
Aikur moved to the sign and read the words. “Danger, beyond this point are goblins, ogres, orcs, and other dangers.” He gripped his axe, raised it high over his head, and then destroyed the barricade with one savage chop, splintering the wood to the side. “Someone should make a warning about me,” he snarled.
The trio then moved through the trees, but unlike other days, Aikur did not notice the clean scent of pine, nor the happy birds chirping in the branches above. He could only hear the screams of his dying wife, and in his mind he alternated between imagining their pain and seeing his father’s spirit turn his back on him. Everything was gone.
He had known many Konnons who had lost their families, but never before had he known of any whose deceased relatives had been denied final rights. Death was a harsh reality for a Konnon, but an eternity without one’s family was the worst kind of hell. No threat of injury or death could be worse than the fate handed to Aikur. As he continued through the forest, his rage built up inside of him, threatening to burst from him like a volcano pushed to its utmost limits before the pressure explodes. His anger gave him strength, and quickened his feet so that he crossed many miles into the mountains over the next two hours without stopping for rest, putting him easily farther than a mile ahead of either Paavo or Krip, who were having significant trouble matching his pace.
Then, as he came over the crest of a small hillock attached to the tall mountain he was climbing, he found a group of seven goblins. They sat around a fire, eating and talking in their obscene, guttural language that Aikur couldn’t understand. His legs propelled him down toward their camp site with incredible speed. As the goblins all had their backs to him, none of them saw his approach until it was too late.
Aikur brought his axe down on the goblin in the middle right as two of the creatures noticed him for the first time, jumping up from their seats and squawking loudly as they reached for swords and bows. The goblin in the middle barely had time to look up from his meal of roasted venison leg before Aikur’s blade cut him from the top of the skull down through his spine and into the log he rested upon, effectively severing the goblin in two.
The few goblins nearest Aikur’s first victim cried out in horror and tried to scatter away, but Aikur’s rage quickened his muscles. He lashed out with a kick to his right that caught a second goblin in the middle of the back and launched it forward, stumbling toward the dying fire and skewering itself on the spit they had used for the deer.
Aikur leapt over the log and brought the shaft of his mighty battle axe up, slamming the pommel into another goblin’s forehead and caving the bone in with a sick, wet ker-klick! Aikur then wheeled around, holding his axe parallel to the ground as he spun until he caught the fourth goblin in the chest, burying his blade so deep into the creature that it nearly broke through the spine and out the other side. As that goblin fell lifelessly to the ground. To save time, Aikur let go of his axe and rushed the next nearest goblin, who was in the process of putting an arrow to his bowstring. Aikur snatched the bow with his left hand and raised it up just as the goblin fired. The bowstring stung Aikur’s knuckles, but the arrow flew up and away. The large Konnon came in with a hard right punch to the goblin’s gut that doubled the creature over. He then wrenched the bow free and moved to stand behind the goblin. Aikur hooked the bowstring around the front of the creature’s neck and then pulled back on the bow while kicking forward with his left leg, drawing the bow back to its full extension as the goblin shrieked and tried to pull the string away from its neck. Aikur released the bow, sending the wooden part slamming into the back of the goblin’s head with a resounding –CRRRACK!
Aikur spun around just as another goblin rushed from behind with a curved sword. Aikur sidestepped a forward thrust, then snaked his right hand up and around the attacker’s wrist. As he pulled up with his right hand he shot his left hand through the goblin’s forearm with a front palm strike that shattered the bones. He then easily took the curved sword and slashed the goblin’s neck before turning on the seventh and final foe.
The last remaining goblin stared wide-eyed at the others and then threw its weapon down and turned to run.
“No mercy,” Aikur said. He tested the sword’s balance and then once he had a good feel for it he launched it through the air, whirling end over end until the point drove through the goblin’s spine, right between the shoulder blades.
“Grbach!” the goblin squealed as it fell forward, writhing in pain for a few seconds until the last bits of its energy ebbed away.
Aikur turned back and pulled his axe free from the goblin corpse he had left it in. He wiped the blade and then looked to the north once more. His heart wasn’t beating as quickly as it had been when he had spotted these seven, but the rage in his heart was only marginally cooled.
“Icadion’s beard man, can’t you leave any for the rest of us?” a voice called out.
Aikur turned to look up at the top of the hill where he had just come from and saw Paavo standing and staring at the ruined camp site. The scout bent over, his chest heaving for breath. Krip appeared a few seconds later, his face flushed red and dripp
ing with sweat.
“Good heavens,” Krip shouted. “Hold up Aikur, you don’t need to win the fight in one night.”
Aikur snarled and turned to sit on the log.
The others trudged down the hill toward him and plopped down on the log on either side of the large warrior.
“I suppose you weren’t boasting when you told those recruits you could have taken the lot of them,” Krip commented coolly. The man pulled out a flask of water and drained a good amount before wiping the sweat from his brow, incidentally combing his matted hair off to one side. “I’m sorry it had to come to this,” Krip said, holding the flask out for Aikur.
Aikur shook his head. He didn’t want a drink, he wanted all of the goblins dead. Nothing else would sate him now.
“There is another camp about ten miles farther into the mountains,” Paavo said. “Or at least there used to be. It’s the only real settlement I know of that the goblins keep semi-permanently. Every other clan in these mountains moves around continuously. One of my comrades spoke of an ogre out this way somewhere, but I haven’t seen any sign of such a beast.”
Aikur nodded. “Ten miles… we can make that by nightfall. When they sleep, we strike.”
“Tonight?” Krip asked. “Some of us aren’t as young as we used to be.”
“Then stay here and wait for Captain Marsten,” Aikur said flatly.
Krip arched a brow. “No, I think I would rather go with you, my friend.”
Aikur didn’t respond. He sat for a few moments longer, calculating his timing for the next ten miles. If everything went well, they would only have to wait long enough to survey the next site before attacking. Encouraged by the prospect of clearing an entire clan, Aikur rose from the log and began walking.
“Wait for me,” Paavo said. “I’ll have to find the trail and lead you there.”
Krip grunted while standing, but otherwise voiced no complaints as he put away his water flask and hurried to catch up with the others.
They walked through the forest for several hours, carefully picking their way through trees and then following alongside a cool, clear mountain brook before veering off slightly to the east along a mountain ridge. Aikur spotted numerous mountain goats and a herd of elk as they crossed several game trails through large clearings and dense patches of raspberry bushes that had obviously been eaten into, with bare, gnarled stubs poking out of the dirt in a much wider circle than what now stood.
As the sun dropped down, the ridge wound around the middle of a tall mountain, leading them into a nook between two peaks that was heavily wooded with pines and aspens. Twilight’s shadow fell quickly over the area, cooling the air and signaling to Aikur that they were close to their target. As they made their way deeper into the forest Aikur spied cliffs leading up to a bluff overlooking the forest valley. Soon they found a pair of large caves, Paavo stopped and turned to the caverns, pointing and giving hand signals.
“In there?” Krip asked.
Paavo frowned, obviously perturbed that Krip was speaking instead of using signals. The scout put a finger over his lips and then gestured back to the cave on the right.
Aikur pulled his axe. Had there been a camp in the forest, he would have surveyed the area and strategized the best approach. If these goblins were all holed up in a cave, then there was little he could do but go in after them through the front door. The large Konnon started toward the cave, but Paavo stuck out an arm and held up two fingers.
The scout then pulled his bow and aimed toward the cave.
Aikur looked back to the cave, but he couldn’t see any goblins, so either Paavo had better vision than him, or he knew something Aikur didn’t.
Paavo let the arrow fly and quickly reloaded. The arrow struck against the side of the cliff and bounced off with a faintly audible klink!
A large goblin carrying a crude, spiked club emerged from the cave and looked around.
Paavo sent his second arrow, striking the goblin sentry in the head and killing him. “Now we can move,” Paavo whispered. “Keep your wits about you, it’s going to be darker in there than we are used to out here.”
Aikur led the way, surveying the area around and half-expecting more goblins to emerge from the tunnels, but none did. Aikur and the others moved into the cave slowly, trying to allow their eyes to adjust before delving in too quickly.
Inside there was a small table with a clay plate on top that was filled with what looked like bird bones, though it was difficult for Aikur to be certain since many of the bones had been broken and chewed through. The stool next to the table was of rudimentary design, but was fashioned out of bone instead of wood. The seat itself was fashioned out of an elk’s pelvic bone. Beyond the furniture, a single torch hung from the wall just before the tunnel curved down and to the right.
Paavo kept his bow at the ready, walking just a step behind and to Aikur’s right. Aikur led the way, his axe anxiously waiting to bite into any foe they might encounter. Around the corner, Aikur was pleased to see a line of torches that gave off just enough light he could be comfortable. It had been a long time since he had been in the volcanic forges of his home town, but he still felt comfortable enough in the darkness. The only real difference was instead of smelling the heat, metal, and ash, these tunnels reeked of musk and damp.
The tunnel descended deeper than Aikur would have guessed from the outside, sprawling out another two miles before they came to a side chamber connected to the main tunnel by a short, twenty-yard cave. Aikur crept to the corner and looked around, spying two goblins sitting at a table and squabbling over what appeared to be a hunk of venison. After a moment, the far goblin punched the other right in the nose, knocking the wretched creature onto the ground. The victorious goblin then jumped up and shouted something in his unintelligible language before taking a grand bite of the raw flesh.
“Two goblins, one standing, one lying down,” Aikur told Paavo.
Paavo nodded and put one arrow between his teeth while he set another. He stepped out around the corner and fired the first. A split-second later he fired the second arrow. Aikur smiled as the first arrow caught the standing goblin in the throat and the second zipped downward to take down the other goblin before it had even registered what had happened.
“Onward?” Paavo asked.
Aikur nodded. They walked down another fifty yards before the tunnel veered off sharply to the right and opened up into an impossibly large chamber.
“By the gods,” Krip murmured as they stepped out onto a precipice overlooking a thousand foot drop into nothingness.
Before them a bridge of bone, wood, and rope stretched out to a large stalactite hanging from the ceiling. Walkways had been constructed into the stalactite, with several cave-like openings carved into it as well. From there, another bridge spanned the remaining gap to reach a kind of plateau that rose from the chasm below like a great table-top mountain. The edge was fenced in with wood and bone pikes, and inside the fence was a city of huts made from what appeared to be leather and other bits of cloth. Aikur could see numerous goblins walking around on the island of stone, going about their business as usual, entirely oblivious to the intruders.
“We could cut the rope bridge and strand them,” Krip suggested.
“No,” Aikur said quickly. “They built the bridge once, they can do it again. We have to get to them and destroy them.”
“They might see us crossing the bridge,” Krip said.
Aikur nodded. “It’s about a hundred yards to the stalactite, and another hundred from there to the settlement.”
“Nightfall won’t help us,” Paavo said. “They probably burn their torches and fires all the time.”
“Well, you two can stay if you like,” Aikur said. “I’m going to go knock on the door.”
“What door?” Krip asked.
Aikur stepped out onto the bridge, axe in hand and ready for action. The planks held strong, but the bridge swayed under his shifting weight, swinging gently from side to side as he cro
ssed. Paavo had of course followed him immediately, but Krip had hesitated a few seconds. Not that it bothered Aikur; he hadn’t asked them to come along in the first place. This was his war. Lord Consuert and everyone else would have to wait their turn.
The large Konnon made it across the bridge without raising any alarms. He ascended the wood and bone planks around the stalactite and peered into the various dens he had seen from afar to find they were nothing more than storage rooms. Barrels, chests, and boxes of all shapes and sizes filled each den. He could only guess what was inside, but he was certain the goblins hadn’t made the containers themselves. It looked more like stolen loot accumulated over decades of marauding and thieving in the mountains. When he made it to the second bridge, he noticed that there were two goblins talking on the opposite side. They were facing each other, with their sides to Aikur, but they were obviously guards of some sort as they both held spears and wore leather chest pads and helmets.
“Can you take those two?” Aikur asked.
“It’s an easy enough shot since there is no wind to account for,” Paavo said. “You want me to do it now, or wait until we are closer? Someone might see their bodies before we reach the other side.”
Aikur nodded. “I’m counting on it.”
“You’re mad,” Krip said. “They’ll cut the bridge out from under you.”
“Perhaps,” Aikur said. “You two should stay here. Cover me with your arrows for as long as you can, and Krip, make sure no one comes in behind us.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Krip said.
“Good hunting,” Paavo put in.
Aikur nodded and moved out onto the bridge. He had only taken a few steps when he heard one, then two faint whistling sounds overhead. Two seconds later the missiles fell on their targets. One of the goblin guards collapsed where he stood, but the other managed to stumble out through the narrow gap between the fence and the bridge. He toppled over and fell downward, still as a statue, disappearing into the darkness below.
