Cat moved the pan aside from the fire and was talking over breakfast with Mel when they heard the first scream. Looking about, they couldn’t immediately identify the direction from which it originated. Cat sprang to where her crossbow rested and starting to load it. Mel stood there dumbfounded, momentarily torn between trying to save the dropped pan or reacting to the unknown danger. Trestan sat up from his blanket, looking about with half open eyes.
Petrow stumbled out of the trees, still screaming at the top of his lungs. His leggings tangled his knees as he ran, for in his frightened haste he hadn’t stopped to refasten them. Everyone in the camp got a good look at his manhood as he ran for his axe. “Goblins! Goblins! A whole bunch of them…”
Off to one side a goblin ran out of the woods, moving away from Petrow. This was the one the young man had stepped on and frightened. It unintentionally came rather close to Trestan. Trestan’s eyes opened in alarm at the sudden threat. The young smith grabbed his quarterstaff, ignoring the elvish sword lying right next to it. He got to his feet and actually charged the goblin barefoot, “Abriana! Guide my weapon!”
Mel Bellringer ignored the pan of food at the sight of the goblin running through the edge of the camp. Daerkfyre the Valorous would want him to smite evil goblins without mercy. The gnome started to go for its crossbow. Halfway to having it out and loaded he stopped, changing his mind and reaching into one of his many pouches for spell items. Deciding he had something better to use against a “bunch” of goblins, he pulled out an item and looked for an opportunity to use it.
Cat loaded her crossbow fast, ignoring Petrow hopping around trying to pull his leggings up. She aimed at the one running by Trestan, though he nearly blocked her line of sight. Cat fired a shot that passed within two feet of Trestan’s arm. The bolt hit the goblin and sent it tumbling. A moment later, it scrambled along the ground, still very much alive. The bolt stuck out from a pack the goblin carried, not even touching flesh. The scrambling creature was yelling and screaming frantically, yellow eyes wide with fright. The companions feared he was calling out for reinforcements.
Petrow held axe in hand. He looked about the edge of the clearing for more enemies. Visions passed in his head; he tried recalling if it had been three more goblins in the bushes, or a full grown troll. Although he couldn’t see any opponents, he could hear more movement in the bushes. He kept his axe cocked back for a swing as he looked for an attacker.
The smith came within range of attacking the first goblin. Trestan gave a yell and swung his quarterstaff at the dark creature. A low-hanging branch blocked the blow. The goblin scrambled underneath the lowest boughs of a tree as it searched for cover. Behind Trestan, Cat was reloading her crossbow. He swung his staff back and forth, thrashing the low branches of the tree as he attempted to hit the goblin or at least flush it out. The smaller creature looked quite scared. Leaves and broken twigs rained on it as Trestan continued to pummel the tree. Suddenly, the goblin pulled out a long dagger and tried a few strikes of its own. The young smith used the advantage that his longer weapon gave him. The goblin stabbed with the dagger, but was mostly trying to keep cover between itself and the larger attacker. It continued to yell for help. Just as loudly, Trestan continued to yell war cries, “For Abriana! For Jareth! I defend my friends!”
While Petrow was scanning the woods, he heard a foreign voice bark in an unknown language. He saw where this newest opponent squatted, half concealed by bushes. It was another goblin at the edge of the foliage. It was spending its attention on the plight of its companion, not watching Petrow. Petrow had no way of knowing whether it was talking to more goblins in the woods, or answering the calls of the first goblin. The handyman reacted in what he thought was a heroic way. He had won some axe-throwing competitions for copper wagers behind the inn at Troutbrook. Judging the distance, and the goblin’s unawareness of the danger, he hefted the simple axe with both hands and prepared to throw it. With a mighty heave, the axe launched towards its target. It sailed blade over handle towards the surprised goblin.
The axe flew four feet over the goblin’s head to crash harmlessly into the trees beyond.
With a gaping mouth and awed look the young human realized how stupid that action had been. Petrow drew his knife from its sheath. Keeping his eyes on the scared goblin he pointed it out to the others. “Help! I got a goblin right here!”
The goblin was spooked by the presence of the human, but it looked with fear at something behind Petrow. The creature turned and ran into the woods. Another of Cat’s bolts zipped past the would-be-axe-throwing-champion towards the fleeing creature. Everyone in the clearing heard a yelp from within the trees as Cat’s bolt found its mark. The original yelp was followed by other unknown words and curses spouted from a hidden source beyond the leaves. More movement and branch rustling could be heard, but the source remained hidden.
Mel watched Trestan’s fight. He saw the young man drop to the ground with a pained scream. The goblin, wielding its dagger, ran out from the tree to make a break for the relative safety of the woods. The creature’s pack jostled along, the large crossbow bolt still stuck in it. Cat and Petrow turned to watch but could do nothing quickly enough to prevent its escape. Mel Bellringer cast his spell, filling the item in his hand with the power of destructive magic. As the others watched, he threw a ball of clay at the goblin. The clay ball landed in front of the fleeing creature but the monster ran past while the ensorcelled item rolled to a stop. Trestan staggered to his feet and started after the goblin, when Mel yelled a warning, “Don’t chase! Get down NOW!”
Trestan, Cat and Petrow hit the ground without much time to spare. The clay ball exploded into a mass of smoke and heat. The other noises of battle were nothing compared to the audible wave that hammered their ears and left them stunned. Leaves, sticks and debris flung out from the expanding cloud. Mel had a brief glimpse of the goblin flying through the air before he was knocked on his own butt by the force of the blast. The others clapped their hands to their ears, but the worst of the noise had already passed by. The explosion echoed for some time alongside the sounds of raining debris. Everyone cowered until the noises had finally settled. The companions from Troutbrook slowly lifted their heads and looked around to see the results. Charred leaves floated back to the ground in a dusty mist. Although the goblin couldn’t be seen, there were sounds in the woods of more than one goblin fleeing in fear.
At that point, the most animated form in the clearing was that of their small sorcerer. The gnome cheered out loud in delight at the destructiveness of his spell. “Timed Boomy!”
Mel Bellringer strode forward, confident that however many goblins remained alive were probably running until they dropped from exhaustion. He carried the wand in hand in case he needed to use it. The three companions could only guess at what damage the wand might unleash if it had been needed. As the gnome congratulated himself and excitedly moved about, the rest shifted position every time the wand swung their direction.
“That had an official name penned by some important mage, but I messed up the recipe and ended up with something better.” Mel did a dance and struck a pose, “Timed Boomy! I set the time when I throw it with a word, and I’m usually quite accurate, and it ticks away the time a bit so I can throw it and run or I just leave it somewhere, and it has come in quite handy, and it really surprises some opponents like this one time…”
As Mel rambled on about his spell, Cat and Petrow slowly got to their feet. They looked about to make sure no other goblins offered a threat, but no enemies were visible. Mel’s magical blast had scared off whatever was still out there. Amidst the falling leaves and the haziness of dust settling, they realized Trestan was sitting up but cradling one leg in pain. It dawned on them the goblin might have done a nasty thing with its dagger before it ran off. Cat and Petrow both ran to Trestan, with Mel not far behind. The young smith waved them off as they bombarded him with questions and looked for the injury. They were concerned until he finally explained why he was
holding his bare foot.
“Nay, he didn’t stab me…he didn’t even get close. I was fighting barefoot and stepped on a sharp rock or stick or something. Its quite painful but I think I’ll live if you all can just give me room to breathe.”
At this statement Mel, Petrow and Cat started to share a laugh. Before long, Trestan had difficulty stifling a laugh as well. Petrow felt exhilarated at surviving his ‘brush with death’.
Petrow started to explain, “I was so scared. But we won! Here I was in the woods, alone, surrounded by seven goblins…”
Trestan opened his eyes wide, “Seven?”
“Well, give or take some, I didn’t stop to count…”
Cat added, “Nor did you stop to pull your pants up.”
Petrow looked at the half-elf slyly, “I’m sure you weren’t complaining. Anyway, I wasn’t about to give them that as a target anyway. But look what we did! We got attacked by surprise and we killed over half of them! That’s a point of pride…”
“Ok, wait…wait a second,” Cat interrupted, “I only saw two goblins. There might have been more, but I only saw two.”
Petrow was adamant, “We killed four!”
“Four? How did you count four?”
Petrow tried to count them off on his fingers, “Well, you shot two with your crossbow, and I think Mel got two with his spell.”
Katressa “Cat” Bilil let out a hearty laugh, “In the name of the gods, Petrow! The first one I shot didn’t die. His pack stopped the bolt, and he was the one that was hit by Mel’s explosion. I didn’t see any other goblins get hit by that burst, though granted one might have. The second one I shot gave out a yelp, but that doesn’t mean I struck him a fatal blow.”
Trestan limped over to his blanket to grab his shoes. The young smith stared at the elvish sword briefly, wondering why he had chosen to use the quarterstaff when the fighting began. Petrow called out to him, “Tres, help me out here. She is taking away from our moment of glory!”
Trestan sat down on his blanket with an astonished look towards Petrow, “Moment of glory? I fought off a goblin that looked as scared as I was, but then I stepped on something sharp and went down! He could have just stabbed me then and there! I’m glad we’re alive, that’s enough for me. Cat is right about what she said yesterday: if we had to fight the likes of those other adventurers, we would lose.”
Petrow said, “None of you is going to even try a body count before we continue? They might have had money on them. Let’s at least check before we go on.”
Cat stated, “Fine, you can start checking when you go back into the woods.”
Petrow cast a nervous glance at the trees, “What do you mean? Why just me?”
Cat replied sarcastically, “What? Oh master axe wielder, do you want to leave your weapon all by itself in the woods, or do you think you might need a throwing weapon again later on?”
* * * * *
The only two goblins that had even been in the valley that morning staggered towards their distant village. They had seen the scariest thing ever in their young lives, and were glad to simply be alive. They leaned on each other for support, step by painful step.
The first one walked stiffly. Its back was scorched a deeper shade of black. Small abrasions marked his skin in spots where flying dirt and rocks scoured small portions of his flesh. His pack had a human-sized crossbow bolt embedded in it.
The other walked with a pained limp. It fared slightly better, though another one of those large crossbow bolts had pierced the muscles of his skinny posterior. He walked with a pained limp, but at least the wound was not very life threatening. He almost fainted whenever he looked around to see the sharp weapon protruding from the rear of his loincloth.
One young goblin looked at the other. He then spoke in his native language. Though the goblin tongue was not as well-developed as the human tongue, the message translated to something similar to this: “That’s the last time I run away to avoid chores. When pa sees what a mess we got into, we’ll be in deep trouble for sure!”
* * * * *
Before the companions left camp that morning, Mel reapplied the salve to the feet of both men. They agreed it was working wonders for easing their tired feet, and even Cat took off her boots to get some relief from the gnome’s concoction. They didn’t stay at the camp for long, believing more goblins might be nearby. When the three from Troutbrook continued their journey south, Mel Bellringer of the Bellringer family shouldered his packs and scroll tubes and joined them.
“I want to come along and help any way I can! I can finish my research later. The thought of participating in a rescue excites me!” Apparently, Cat had told the gnome a little more of their story during the preparation of breakfast. Thus, Mel was more informed about what they faced and the nature of their quest. “I have all sorts of nasty surprises for any elf wizard that crosses my path.”
With the morning sun shining down, they continued southward into the higher country. At times the sea could be seen off to the east, down steep hills and cliffs. They walked over the foothills of the southern region of Kashmer’s Protectorate. The views of the land were breathtaking in the Florum month. Flowers blossomed on the ground and in the trees; occasionally, baby animals could be seen following their parents. Trestan and Petrow walked easily. They felt as if they had passed their first real test of the adventure, though only Trestan appreciated how close they had come to injury. They hiked over more hills than they could count.
The gnome talked and had a story to share about everything. He discussed customs of far off Tariyka, though all his knowledge came from books and hearsay. Mel promoted the arts and songs from far off Orlaun. He talked about delicacies in foreign lands. As the stomachs of the two young humans made known the displeasure of the journey’s diet, Mel tempted them with recipes from interesting places. While the two young men recoiled at the stories of how centaurs could turn a wyvern’s bladder into a delicacy, they were just as tortured when he told them of tasty foreign dishes that made their mouths water.
It was around this time that Cat once again brought her rapier out to play and the men once again practiced as they walked. They welcomed the distraction. Trestan and Petrow took turns trying to get past Cat’s impressive swordplay. Mel watched and commented on the fighting, even using the subject to talk about coliseum fights and famous battles in history…many of which he had only heard stories but never witnessed himself. After a long period of time, the group sat down for another rest. Trestan and Petrow had gotten in their share of swordplay, and at least for a moment had to rest in the trees by the roadside. Water was passed around as the four sat under the shade of a large tree.
Mel was still talking, “…and after this incident Baron Lichter changed his standard to a nice blue color, stating he would sooner give up his lands rather than display any colors similar to his rival. It was a blue similar to those armsmen from Troutbrook I believe…”
Cat finally interrupted, “Of which we have seen nay sign. I’d thought we might have seen a battle by now, or maybe even seen the guards riding back towards their hometown with Lady Shauntay in tow.”
“Indeed,” Mel continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “And a similar blue emblem was worn by the merchant guards of…”
“Mel,” Cat paused as the gnome turned his attention to her. She very much liked the gnome but knew how members of his race could talk for hours without a break. She tried a polite way to get the gnome to quiet down. “Better to get some water in you while we are resting.”
Mel reached for his waterskin, “You are so right. My mouth is uncommonly dry. I can’t help it. You three have been contributing to one of the nicest conversations I have had in a long time.”
As the gnome drank, the other three looked at him incredulously, each one wondering what they had contributed to the one-sided conversation. Cat was finally glad to get a quiet moment. The half-elf continued to comment on the task before them, “Anyway, we aren’t very far from Barkan’s Cr
ossing right now. I’ve seen more buildings along the hills, though most seem abandoned. In the next hour or two we should be entering the farms on the outskirts of the town.”
Cat sat with her knees against her chest, arms folded around her legs. “The question is what next? If we get to town with nay sign of them, we’ll just have to start asking around. I doubt that group would want to go through town openly again, but if they left the road I may have missed it.”
Mel finished his drink, “Well, one thing is for sure. You will need help in dealing with them. I don’t know how you planned on just the three of you taking on all eight of them to rescue the woman. Count me in to help with whatever you need!”
Trestan, Petrow and Cat turned their heads towards the gnome so fast it left the small man wondering what he said wrong. Trestan asked, “We asked if you had seen a party go by, a minotaur, and elf wizard…”
“Aye, I did,” interrupted Mel, “You described a few of them. That was the group that went past me on the road.”
Trestan counted the numbers on his fingers to reassure himself that his count was not wrong, “We were following a party of five, including the captured lady. They had only two horses. You are saying they were with others?”
Mel nodded his head, “Well, aye! You described some of them, but there were nine in all if you include that noble lady. They did have only two horses. The ones you didn’t describe to were human and had the look of thugs or hired sellswords. I think a couple of them looked kind of like sailors, judging by their jewelry, tattoos and their gait.”
Trestan sat back against a tree, absorbing the ill news. Petrow also looked stunned. Cat frowned and paced around the tree. For a minute or two, not even any sounds from the gnome disturbed the quietness lingering around the companions. Private thoughts preoccupied all of them. Mel realized the group hadn’t been prepared to deal with the extra enemies he saw. Petrow threw a few glances down the trail leading back home. Trestan pulled the elvish sword from its scabbard, and looked for an answer in the runes carved into the blade.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 13
