Nowhere to Run

by Elliott Kay

  “Their bows can clear this distance,” said Karana. “So can the bows you stole for us. We’ve more in the way of hunting bows, but not many, and they don’t shoot as far.”

  “The rest of their numbers are a bigger problem,” Scars thought out loud. “The trench and the berm prevent a cavalry charge, but they had to have known one way or another. They’ll have a plan. This ends in hand-to-hand.”

  “It seems likely,” Karana agreed. “Would’ve been nice to strike before they got assembled, but it’s too much for little gain. Too late now, anyway. I’m more worried about flaming arrows again.”

  “They won’t try that if they plan to push in,” said Teryn. “Barret’s riders might handle it but many of the footmen won’t manage as well. Same for the garrison horses. They won’t want to rush into all that fire and smoke. Barret will be here, but he’s surely outranked. I’m trying to make out the other standards...” She hesitated, then muttered under a sigh, “Oh gods, it’s cousin Chad.”

  “What’s that?” asked Karana.

  “Sorry. It’s that standard there. Fort Greyfalls is led by Earl Chadwalt,” she grumbled. “He’ll be the one in charge.”

  “What do you know about him?” asked Karana.

  “He holds rank by virtue of patronage, not ability. Chadwalt is a cousin of the royal family and a general ass. Not as dumb or incompetent as his personality makes one want to believe, though. Barret will keep all that in check, anyway. Scars is right. They’ve got a plan.”

  “Good to know,” Karana murmured.

  Across the meadow, a handful of riders emerged from the front of the others. They didn’t come out far—except one, calmly holding up a white banner.

  “They really want to talk before we fight?” wondered Shady Tooth. “I thought that was for old stories.”

  “It’s usually to avoid fighting at all,” said Teryn. “If one side can talk the other down before the fighting starts, everyone can go home alive.”

  “They came out all this way to murder everyone. I don’t see how they talk back from that,” Shady Tooth grumbled.

  “Yeah, and they’re probably still out of range for anything but a perfect bow shot,” Karana decided, squinting in the morning light. “Too bad.”

  “Talking might buy us some time,” Scars suggested. “We’d get a better look at their lines. It could tell us something we don’t already know.”

  “Or get all the negotiators killed,” said Shady Tooth.

  “I’ll go,” said Scars.

  Karana looked back at the camp, then scanned the assembling force again. “Sure, why not? Ruck!” she called. The bugbear stood out among the crowd of goblin folk waiting to fight. “I’m going out to talk. If they kill me, you’re in charge.”

  His already big eyes went wider with shock. “Really?”

  “Sure. Won’t be anything left to do but murder at that point. What’s it matter?”

  His posture straightened with pride. “I won’t let you down!”

  “That guy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Alright. Let’s go.”

  Scars handed his crossbow and quiver off to Shady Tooth. The range on his weapon would not hit the enemy, but he wasn’t sure about Teryn’s. “You can shoot that distance if they try anything, right?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She looked on with some doubt. “Might still want to run for your life, though.”

  He followed Karana down the berm with care for the sharpened stakes decorating the slope. Few were anything more than thick boughs and branches with a pointy end. Most had bends or knots to make them less suited as weapons, and coverage was hardly thick. Zition had already used up the easier pickings to be found in the forest.

  The thought brought his eyes to the treetops beyond the meadow as they reached the bottom of the climb. Birds flew over the forest canopy as if unbothered by all the activity below. Surely every other critter in the woods had fled or gone to ground. He could hardly blame them. A lone hawk glided in a long arc high above the field as if curious, but only at a safe distance. “Hope you can hear as well as you see,” muttered Scars.

  “What’s that?” asked Karana.

  “Nothing. Wishful thinking. Probably ought to grow out of it by now.”

  “Never anything wrong with wishes as long as you still face reality, kid. Sometimes it takes both to keep you going.”

  They crossed the trench over a single board kept in place by the goblins still hiding in silence below. If Karana acknowledged them in any way, Scars didn’t see it. Zana made eye contact and gave a sort of saluting gesture with the pale white dagger in her hand. It had to have been made of bone. He returned the gesture with a muted nod and followed the mayor’s lead. Nothing remained but distance and the enemy—and a warning. “Watch your step out here,” said Karana.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Told you. We had at least one night to work with.”

  Heeding her warnings, Scars walked a step behind and to the side of the mayor. Whatever lay in the field as a trap for their enemies, he didn’t want to draw attention to it. The pair crossed the meadow marked only by mounds of dirt from the initial explosion caused by DigDig’s shovel and the few remaining bits of trash and blood from the last fight. All of that thinned out amid lush green grass as they came to the small party now dismounting from their horses to speak.

  He saw Barret among them, as expected. He didn’t expect the others. The mustachioed man in heavy armor and the king’s colors was likely some noble or man-at-arms. The hooded man in old furs and rags was more familiar, but he kept back and lurked behind the horses. One other less expected man stepped forward with the rest.

  “Mayor Dunning,” said Karana. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I could say the same,” Dunning sniffed. He glanced awkwardly at Barret, but tried to hide it. “Circumstances have changed.”

  “That armor doesn’t fit you,” she said. “Might want to consider what that means.”

  “Mayor Dunning, who is this...individual?” asked the better-armored stranger at his side.

  “Captain Chadwalt, this is Karana. She once lived in Eastford. Something of a speaker for the goblin folk. Karana, the captain here is leader of the South Garrison you see before you.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “I think the rest of us have all met her companion,” said Barret. “Scars, was it? Scars of No-Clan?”

  “Yeah. And you’re Barret the Bandit,” said Scars.

  “Quite,” came his smug grunt. “A necessary subterfuge.”

  “I dunno, you ride around attacking defenseless villages. Sounds pretty bandit-like to me.”

  “Hardly defenseless with a wall like that,” said Chadwalt.

  “Wasn’t here before Barret arrived. He could tell you that. Wasn’t necessary,” said Scars. He kept a wary eye out for the fourth member of the negotiating party, but that one stayed obscured by the mounts.

  “Then let’s discuss that,” said Barret. “You have erected a settlement in Theralda without any charter or authority from the king or his vassals, and it is an armed and fortified camp at that. By order of the king, you are to disarm and disperse immediately or suffer the wrath of his forces.”

  “Where are we supposed to disperse to?” Karana asked as if she might yawn or roll her eyes. “We’re banished in the south. Dunning and the other towns in the north have run us out of every home we had this side of the mountains. The neighboring countries won’t take us. Where do we go?”

  “That is your problem, not ours,” Chadwalt sniffed.

  “What’s the point of making an impossible demand?” Karana asked. “Do you go home and say you tried to avoid the fight but we forced your hand? You know you want this fight, so your demands aren’t honest. What’s the point of making them? When you go home you’ll still be lying to your families about what you did to us one way or the other.”

  “So you refuse?” asked Chadwalt.

  “You already came at us with
flaming arrows and a cavalry charge when we’d done nothing at all except try to get by. Why would that change if we disperse?”

  “This camp houses thieves and fugitives,” said Chadwalt. “Mayor Dunning reports many crimes and disturbances from the past few months.”

  “You normally go looking for thieves by setting homes on fire?” asked Scars. “Or only when they’re goblin homes? Masquerading as bandits no less?”

  “We owe you no answers, half-breed,” Chadwalt replied.

  “Did you tell them that, Dunning?” Karana frowned. “Did you send letters south complaining about us out here after you’d already run us out of our homes and taken our belongings?”

  “I—w-well,” he began. “There have been thefts. Things have gone missing.”

  “Right. Sure, summon the army to burn the goblins out because someone lost a pitchfork.” She shook her head. “You know we have nowhere else to go. We can’t meet your demands, so I guess it’s a fight no matter what we say.”

  “Then let’s talk about how you can avoid this fight,” said Barret. “You have more to bargain with than you may realize.”

  Her brow rose skeptically. “Does this still end with us dispersing?”

  “Perhaps not. Give the king something in exchange for his leniency and he may tolerate your settlement here beyond the mountains. Within reason.”

  “What? No,” spoke up the last of the delegation. He stomped out from his shelter among the horses. “You told me—”

  “Enough,” Barret snapped at him.

  “We had a deal.”

  “A deal we will not discuss in front of the enemy. Enough.”

  “Is it creepy tentacle stuff?” asked Scars. The hooded face snapped around to glare at him. Scars saw little more than shadow despite the growing light. “Brok here was with some possessed freak playing with dark powers in the woods a couple nights ago. His friend died, but now you can barely see Brok’s face. You might want to reconsider whatever deal you’ve got. It won’t go well for anyone.”

  “As if anything you say can be trusted,” Brok seethed.

  “Perhaps if your associate hadn’t murdered my only source of arcane aid, I might take your warning under advisement,” said Barret. He threw a glance to Brok. “We will take up our deal in private when we are finished here.”

  “So let’s hear it,” said Karana. “What do you want and what do we get for it?”

  “Two things.” Barret gestured at Scars. “Your new friends bear a powerful tool of magic. That mound of dirt and the trench beneath it could only have been built so quickly by the same shovel used in battle the other night.”

  “Sounds like a good reason to hang onto it, not trade it away,” said Karana.

  “It’s one artifact against your whole camp. Hardly worth so many lives.”

  “Uh-huh. Except how you’ll bring all these soldiers to a fight for it.”

  “The soldiers would come anyway. Your camp is illegal, but you might earn pardon with this concession and one more.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The fugitive princess, of course,” said Barret. He watched Karana’s frown tighten. “Did she tell you who she was? What about you, Scars? Did you know?”

  Scars recognized the attempt at division for what it was. He saw nothing else to do about it now. “Sure.”

  “That’s Princess Teryn running around with his crew,” Barret told Karana. “She’s been in hiding for some time after committing high crimes.”

  “Huh. I heard something about that,” said Karana. “So we hand over her and the shovel and you take your little army and go?”

  “Little?” Chadwalt huffed.

  “Yes,” said Barret.

  “Well, we’re not in the business of harboring fugitives,” Karana sniffed. “What’d she do?”

  “She’s wanted for treason and attempted murder. She stabbed the king.”

  “No, I mean did she do something bad?” asked Karana.

  Scars managed to swallow a laugh. Chadwalt turned red with anger. “How dare you!” the captain snarled.

  “You bring an army here after all my people have been through and ask me that?” Karana replied. “I’ve worked my ass off to keep the hotheads and the zealots from retaliating and making our lot worse. Now here you are all lined up pretty with blood in your eyes. You even did us the favor of leaving behind your children and elderly so we don’t have any tragic victims caught in the middle for you to whine about later. After all we’ve suffered, after all our anger, you think we want to buy our way out of this fight?” She spat at their feet. “Let’s go. This will be downright healthy for us.”

  “A healthy death, perhaps,” Chadwalt growled. He stormed back to his horse.

  “Barret,” said Scars. He gestured to Brok. “This one is a danger to your people, too. It’s your funeral. I warned you.”

  “Our pact is made,” Brok hissed. He turned back along with Barret. Scars thought he saw a faint wisp of smoke or shadow trail from his hood as he turned, but it faded instantly.

  Eastford’s mayor was the slowest to turn back, as if searching for words but finding none. Scars had plenty. “Dunning, I see your townsfolk here. I know Barret conscripted you all into service. The goblin folk here never did anything to you. They aren’t your enemy.”

  “What?” Barret fumed, slowly turning around.

  “I...what?” Dunning blinked.

  “Your town is full of shitheels and cowards, but there’s no need to kill you and you don’t want to die. Stay out of this. We won’t give chase when you leave.”

  “Dunning, don’t listen to him,” said Barret. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Walk away. Now.”

  “You’re not soldiers, Dunning,” Scars carried on steadily. “Ask yourself who decided to put your people in danger.”

  “Mayor Dunning!” Barret snapped.

  Startled, Dunning stepped back. He looked from one face to the next, catching only a nod of agreement from Karana, but said nothing. He turned back to his horse and joined the others.

  “We should go,” Karana murmured. Instead, Scars moved aside to get clear of the small party of negotiators to look at the assembled troops.

  “Soldiers!” Scars shouted. “Many of you may want this fight. Some of you do not. We don’t want it, either. Whatever they tell you, whatever speeches and lies they give, we here fight only for our lives. If you turn and go, we will not follow. Leave the battle and we will not chase you down. We wish only to live.

  “These assholes will tell you some garbage about glory and honor,” he said, pointing to their leaders. “Maybe they tell you about the tales this day will bring. I am the son of a bard. I know the tales. I know the songs. All anyone will remember of this day is how badly we fuck you up. Fight and die for lies or go home alive. It’s up to you.”

  He turned to leave, but then stopped and pointed to Brok. “Oh, and this creepy fucker here is filthy with ancient evil. Don’t get too close if you value your soul.”

  Scars didn’t linger for long stares. He and Karana walked back across the meadow without a look over their shoulders. Scars spotted Teryn and Shady Tooth along the wall and kept his eyes on them for any necessary warning signs. Only a dozen or so orcs and goblin folk stood at the top of the berm. The much greater portion remained below.

  “Liked your speech, kid,” said Karana.

  “It should’ve been War Cloud,” Scars muttered. “He told me what to tell them, but not how to say it. I’m not a public speaker. It lacked eloquence.”

  “Heh. Yeah, you’re a bard’s son. Don’t worry about it. You got the point across. Better than a lot of rhetorical bullshit, anyway. At least you didn’t keep them waiting for the point like their bosses will.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about Teryn.”

  “I asked if there was anything I needed to know. This shit would’ve come down on all of us, anyway, so I guess it wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “The
y wouldn’t be here if they didn’t have some plan for getting over the wall,” he warned. “Cavalry can’t make it, but they’re all mounted up anyway. They have something ready.”

  “Sure. We’ve all been thinking that. Guess we’re about to find out how.”

  * * *

  “Warriors of the realm! You know me well. We marched and rode from the garrison over the pass to come here without rest for the fight ahead. I don’t need to tell you to ignore that wretch when he questions who your enemies are.” Chadwalt thought it a clever line before it came out of his mouth. Why say anything more on the subject?

  Then he noted the glances shared among his soldiers. He saw frowns. Snorts. Even laughter.

  “But you should ignore him! Don’t listen to anything he said!”

  “That goes double for you, Dunning,” Barret warned as the captain went on. “As mayor, you are responsible for the conduct of our auxiliaries. They’d better not go anywhere.”

  “He wasn’t wrong about my people,” Dunning hissed. “We aren’t soldiers.”

  “And thus you’re guarding the left flank and not joining in the charge. I don’t want you in the way, either. But if called forward, you will move or you will all suffer the consequences. Now get them ready.”

  Sullen but silent, Dunning withdrew. Barret looked to his other unsure ally. “That parlay was all to feel out our enemies and their plans, Brok. Our bargain still holds. Your magic had better deliver as you promised.”

  “Just get me in close,” came Brok’s raspy reply. More wisps of shadow escaped his hood to evaporate in the morning light. He joined his companion without a word, taking their place among the back lines of the cavalry.

  Horsemen to their sides gave them both a wide berth. Wider now, after hearing the half-orc.

  “And after this day, the tales...er...the tales of your courage will spread far and wide,” their captain carried on, despite the enemy’s preemptive rebuttal. “You will be remembered. You will be honored. Now onward, to glory! Which is real! No matter what that scum said!”

  “Chadwalt,” Barret called helpfully. “They are back to their lines.”