We circle back around to the far end of the northern field just in time to see an ashy-green head bob through a thicket. I am not the only one who saw it, it seems, as Rakatha and Vong draw their swords quietly. Twitch goes low and rushes to the far side of the brush to flank. Just as she signals that she is ready, an impish face appears among the brambles and looks at the group.
I can see the thoughts running through its simple brain as clear as reading a book. It knew we were coming and is excited to fight. Its eyes dart beyond Vong and I realize we’re the ones who have been flanked.
A fight is inevitable. Goblins are vicious, little creatures without the capacity for complex thought. Ambush predators are typically more egalitarian, yet their strict social order puts the dominant chieftain in unquestioning control of the rest of the tribe. So much so that, when chieftains fight for dominance, the rest of the tribe will immediately kowtow to the victor. It is this single point of failure that gives me an idea.
In the scant moment before the goblin unit springs their trap, I say to the grinning bait before us, “What tribe yours that come here mine?” It comes across much more eloquently in the goblin tongue, somehow, and I use the same voice and posturing that my own, wayward goblin tribe had respected.
As expected, this gets its notice. It did not expect to be addressed in its own tongue by a human, nor did it expect to be challenged for territory. The goblin is stunned by uncertainty, and my party will now have a few moments to get the drop on the goblins.
Unexpectedly, it stuns my party as well. I did not anticipate them to speak goblin—which they clearly don’t—but their heads swivel to me with the same dumbfounded look as the bait goblin.
Vong can’t even help himself and asks the obvious, “Whoa, do you speak goblin?”
The moment of surprise lost, I cast a shielding spell on myself and prepare for the ambush.
Nine goblins rush at us from bushes and tree limbs, bearing a hodgepodge of rusted and dented equipment. Though worn, their swords and daggers have been rasped to a jagged edge—typical for goblins. I can say, from experience, that a gash from a goblin sword heals slowly and painfully, and with many metal splinters.
The close quarters of the fight leaves me at a disadvantage. Unable to cast many spells without inviting attacks, I take to using my staff. When that fails to keep them at bay, I draw my dagger instead.
The fight is short but brutal. Rakatha’s blade dancing cuts down two goblins in short order, while Apul fearfully swings his sword in wide arcs next to me.
Vong calls to Ralith to take a defensive position in the center of the circle we are being backed into, which he promptly fails at. Instead, Ralith is pushed to the far edge of the melee where, since he refuses to fight, provides no value to the rest of the group. Too far to lay healing or protection on his allies, he stands and fidgets impotently. Even the goblins ignore him. They prefer to kill women and children last.
Though daft, they make good use of their diminutive size against my great height, and I take several cuts to my legs. Twitch is eventually able to get into flanking position and dispatch the pair I am whittling down, but not before Apul is slashed across his forearms and drops his weapon. With a spare moment, I glance over my shoulder at Vong and Rakatha to see how they are faring.
The five remaining goblins have maneuvered Vong and Rakatha apart, so that each are fielding two to three at any moment. I have to give the goblins the credit they deserve; they do work well as a unit. It’s about the only reason their species hasn’t been completely wiped out—that, and the prolific reproduction rate behind the saying “to breed like goblins”.
Vong is raked across his left hamstring while trying to simultaneously evade and parry the two in front of him. It almost works, but the scamp behind him was at leisure to strike, and did.
The goblins cheer in their crude language as Vong staggers and nearly falls, “Win us! Win us!”
As much as I am prepared for the party to die like the fools they are, I won’t be able to take on the remaining goblins in my state.
Sighing internally, I dive into my psyche and utter a prepared incantation, binding it to the dark soil for earth and forest shadows for darkness. The area around me goes suddenly cold and dim. Unseen icy fingers reach from the arcanum, coiling around the goblins—and, unfortunately, the rest of the party— sapping their strength. It is one of my most powerful spells and only Ralith resists its effect; no doubt because of his holy status.
Our attackers cower and hesitate. Goblins are not brave creatures and are not attuned to magic. While they have some natural resistances to some spell effects, they largely fear it. Though this spell does not directly affect their spirit, on goblins it often works similarly as ones that do, like on the patrol at the creek.
Rakatha takes advantage of the moment of fear and, despite being affected himself, angles his oversized sword down on a goblin’s shoulder, carving a neat wedge—two hands long—into its chest. He kicks the creature from his blade and spins, easily parrying the knife of the one behind him.
Encouraged, Vong rolls away from the three focused on him and is joined by Pil. Having received a healing touch from Ralith, the lad used the opportunity my spell created to pick his sword back up and is now stabbing at the goblins with a two-handed grip and unexpected fervor.
Seeing the shape of the skirmish, the remaining goblins cut and run. We are unable to pursue, so I set to work binding my wounds. I’m still able to walk, but tenuously, and I detect a hint of poison—or maybe just the filth of their blades—in my wounds.
Ralith expends all of his holy energy tending to the party, but we are still in a sorry state. Without decisive leadership and the resolve to follow our quarry, I am not surprised when the group ends up back at the charred farm yard to prepare a camp for the approaching night.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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