We return to the edges of Tullikins farmville by a slightly different path and, as dumb fucking luck would have it, stumble upon another patrol being attacked by a small band of goblin archers.
The patrol is at a disadvantage in a small gully lined with trees where the goblins have both cover and the high ground. The goblins outnumber them neatly three to one and the patrol is just four strong. They are hunkered down behind some large river rocks that provide just enough cover if laying totally prone. The men do have ranged weapons but no opportunities to fire them.
The goblins see us on the opposite side of the gully before the humans do and a couple break off to fire at us. At roughly twenty meters away, their arrows slice the air beside us and thunk into trees.
“Hail! Can we help?” Vong calls.
A couple of the patrolmen raise their heads to spy us and are greeted with a volley of arrows tapping along the surface of the rocks.
The goblin archers are decent but not great. Their gear appears scavenged and worn. It’s no surprise. Orcs would not invest their quality equipment on what most consider fodder. I, on the other hand, can appreciate that this ragtag unit of goblins is rather successfully pinning down a better-equipped group. It is foolish to discount the power of numbers, and goblins are prolific breeders. Born a litter at a time and full-grown in about five years, goblins can be a lot like a swarm of locusts when it comes to fighting…or feeding…or fucking.
What appears to be the unit leader turns his head and shouts to us, “Aye, can you draw their fire for a minute so we can cull their numbers and move in?”
This sounds like a dumb maneuver. So naturally Vong agrees.
We drop our excess gear and outline a quick plan of attack that has us crossing the river a little way up. Voella’Tien gives us a quick protection and I cast an additional shielding on myself. Unlike the other three in the party—Voella’Tien is in armor like most clerics—I do not wear armor and do not look forward to close quarters combat. It may not come to that but I want to be ready.
I consider casting the dense fog to hide our movements but it would likely cause the goblins to scatter and I would like to not come off as completely incompetent in the report to Level. Instead I decide between casting the arrow-shielding dome on the patrol or on the area we are aiming to move to in order to draw their fire. Tactically, the patrol makes sense because it would allow them to provide cover fire immediately. However, neither Vong or Rakatha thought to pick up a ranged weapon when we stopped in town so we will have no counterattack to mitigate their volleys…and crossing the river will prove challenging with slippery, grey river rock lining the fast-moving brook.
I choose a spot a little ways down and just at the edge of the other side of the shore to cast the arrow shield. It won’t last all that long so I will wait to cast it until we will actually benefit from its protection.
Weapons drawn, even Voella’Tien’s ceremonial scepter, Vong and Rakatha charge off north, up the brook, with Voella’Tien and I trailing after in a decidedly more reserved fashion. As anticipated, the maneuver interests the goblins who focus most of their fire toward our group. There are some close calls but we are moving laterally and, therefore, are more challenging to hit.
I catch one of the goblins say in Goblin, “Trick us think they. Wait us in way Bearbreath say. Then go to killing spot.”
A killing spot. That doesn’t sound very pleasant. I change my mind about the arrow shield and stop to cast it over the patrol, shouting, “Fire while the shield holds. About a minute.”
It takes a moment for them to react and Rakatha deflects some arrows and takes some arrows in the span in between. Vong manages to dodge all but one and Voella’Tien’s breastplate deflects one with a resounding chime. I have carefully positioned myself behind Voella’Tien—an easy thing to do with a stride like mine—so I catch none of them.
The patrol sends a volley into the distracted goblins, striking true and reducing their numbers by four. We are evenly matched now but the goblins don’t seem to be worried. It could be due to whatever clever tactic they got from this Bearbreath person or just simple idiocy.
The goblins split their fire between the groups and then rush the patrol. So much for the killing spot plan, I am guessing. The patrol is protected but Rakatha takes an arrow through his hip as he is splashing through the brook and stumbles, howling in pain. Voella’Tien rushes to aid him, so now only Vong and I are still rounding to engage the goblins.
I consider my crossbow for a split second, in order to catch any goblins who try to run. Though it is now eight to six, we are better trained and better equipped—even with all the shortcomings in my group—so our victory is only a matter of attrition. I decide against the crossbow and use one of my favorite spells instead.
I haven’t had the opportunity to use it as much as I like, living in a civil and orderly town like Nodkis, so it didn’t immediately occur to me. This is really the ideal situation for it though.
Stopping short of the melee that has broken out between the two sides, I delve into my mind and draw out the words. Manipulating the space around me, I draw on earth, water, and darkness—body, spirit, and entropy—and shape it to my will. I snake the arcanum through the goblin ranks and say the final binding.
This spell attacks the spirit and the body, drawing away the fighting spirit and stilling the limbs that would run. It dulls the fight or flight response to one of ennui and fatigue instead.
Or at least it does on three of the goblins. Somehow the other five—no, make that four now—resist the effects of the spell. I did not expect that.
Well, magic isn’t perfect. And one who cannot survive in the absence of magic, who grows feeble, suffers the consequences.
But that is not me. So I heft my staff and strike at the nearest goblin with my exceptional reach. A bump on the noggin and a thrust from a patrolman send it to the ground. I only get one more swing in before it’s all over. None of the goblins run so I feel that I did more than my fair share in the battle.
“Can’t thank you enough,” the haggard patrol sergeant breathes when the fight is over. “We spotted them on the north road and were in pursuit for about an hour and a half when we realized we’d been lured into a trap by bloody goblins!” He makes a noise of embarrassed frustration which elicits resounding groans and nods from the other three patrolmen.
Vong smiles from ear to ear at both the praise and the action, I imagine. “Happy to help out fellow patrols. Are you with the Adventurer’s Corps like us?”
“No, Buknar Vull. Military.”
Their insignia is plainly visible across their uniforms. And they have uniforms. They are quite obviously military.
“All right!” Vong seems unperturbed. “So what now?”
A good jaw rubbing from the sergeant later, he shrugs and says, “Strip ‘em and bury ‘em, I suppose.”
Vong nods along, “Great, and afterward I’ll cook lunch!”
It’s almost like an obsession, this cooking.
After quite a lot of digging, the task is done and lunch is served. Vong has stretched his ingredients to include Sergeant Filent and his men and we eat a nice, hearty chili—although again a little bland. For just a moment I am amazed by both Vong’s ability to pack and ration ingredients and his ability to carry them all around. His pack must be full of pantry staples like onions, rice, and dried mushrooms. Then I remember that we stocked up at the farmville on the third day and struck out again on the fifth day, allowing him to restock twice in this week. So, less impressive.
We part ways with the patrol, who we learned have prescribed routes that keep mainly to the roads unlike Corps patrols, and begin the trek back to Nodkis late on the sixth day. The goblins we fought may have been some of the ones from before—though we didn’t track them back to confirm it—so we won’t return totally meritless. Yet we barely stepped into our sector, let alone performed a sweep of it with any degree of thoroughness as we’d been tasked. I imagine confirmed kills will be appreciated though, possibly even rewarded.
Well, no matter. There is still plenty to discredit Vong as the leader so I’m not worried.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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