Chapter 126 - Damnable Midnighters

  With glass came grinding and lens-making. As our bi-glider flew over Canaveral, I peered down the length of what the System had called a ‘brass scope ‘em out’. The simple telescope made from a series of lenses and leftover brass tubing from the Ifrit was a simple spyglass with a fixed magnification and a focusing ring, mishandled to the point it had a visible elbow in the metal sleeve. Yet, unsurprisingly given the Goblin Tech Tree, it still functioned.

  I pulled my eyes back from the telescope, blinked, and looked again. Then, I turned to the pilot. “Get Sourtooth on the radio,” I said.

  The goblin pilot chittered and grabbed his plane’s radio handset, chittering into the device as he angled us toward the bluff, and Promo held his hand out for the tube. He looked himself as I sat back, considering.

  “Are those…?”

  “Humans,” I said. I ran a hand through the fur on the top of my head. “Looks like.”

  “What’re they doing here?”

  Nothing good, that was for sure. They weren’t paladins from the City of Brass, but I still saw the flash of steel weaponry among strange cavalry. A lot of weaponry. And strange horses, beside. Must have been Habberport troops—except they’d come from the east—which meant they must have either crossed the badlands or skirted the edge, and I couldn’t imagine the orcs would let such a band pass uncontested through their hunting grounds. All around me, goblins lined the edge of the bluff and looked down at the procession. While they were too far to make out individual levels, I had no doubt each one was more than any goblin could handle. I’d ordered the lifts frozen, and sent radio to outstations to be on guard as well.

  The sparker behind me stiffened and opened his mouth.

  “Hail? Blast this contraption! Hands to thyself, keep you, I know how it works! Is this artifice powered?”

  I took the handset from the front of the aircraft. “Sourtooth. I thought you said the humans wouldn’t send an envoy to treat with goblins.”

  “I know the button I must press, little brother! Cease twisting yon dial, whiskered menace, you. I’ll show you tuned when stretched are your guts across the bowl of a lyre.”

  I groaned and pressed the heel of my hand into my temple. It was like trying to teach Grandpa to use a smart phone. “Sourtooth!” I shouted.

  The squabble on the radio ceased, and the old orc came on. “Apollo! What found, you?”

  “Habberport sent an envoy to Canaveral,” I said. “You told me they wouldn’t treat with goblins.”

  “They wouldn’t, little brother. Are you sure that it’s humans your eyes glean?”

  I looked down at the conical helmets and palanquin hefted by four kneeling men in some sort of dark blue hooded supplicant robe that left their carrying shoulders bare, and their skin was so dark it glistened in the sun almost as brightly as their weapons. “Pretty sure.”

  “Have they a standard?”

  “Hold on,” I took the brass spyglass back from Promo and angled it down again. At the head of the procession, I could indeed see a pair of dark banners. “Yeah, they’ve got some.”

  “Describe to me what heraldry marks them,”

  “Hard to tell,” I said. “Black field, white dots, and a football-looking… eye! It’s an eye!”

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  The radio was silent for several seconds.

  “Sourtooth?” I looked at the pilot. “Did we loose line of sight?” I pointed to the sky. “Climb back up so we can get him back”

  The pilot squawked angrily at his controls, clearly unhappy about being told to descend, only to be told to climb back up, and then inevitably descend again.

  “I am here, little brother mine.” Sourtooth’s voice was hesitant. “Tis the standard of the Midnight Queen.”

  I cocked my head. “The astrologer people? That makes no sense. They have no reason to be at our doorstep.”

  “Yet it is so. Wary be you, little brother. I am on my way if I can convince one of these blasted aviators to cart me.”

  Promo and I looked at each other. While motorcycles and buggies were all well and good, they were grounded, and the sour old orc had made it clear in no uncertain terms that we were likely to see him fly only after all the lands and seas froze over. But humans had also come knocking at our doors, which he also said would never happen.

  I signaled the pilot to land us, which made him sigh and grumble. But he brought us around and got us lined up with Canaveral’s main airstrip. This bluff had certainly undergone changes, as well. It was the most defensible of all the villages on account of the daily lizard fight. The buildings were mostly reinforced, and the perimeter wall had a lot of down-angled spikes and spears to deter climbers. The recoilless rifle positions were a new addition, and right now they were all pointed down at the procession.

  Once we landed, I swung out of the cockpit in time to see John jogging up to me with a pair of canoneers huffing and puffing beside him.

  “King Apollo!” he said. “Radios are going mad! Blokes down below, they’re not the only ones.”

  “There are more of them?” I asked.

  “At least 3 other groups we spotted—one heading into the deep desert went by the depot, one passing the north bluff got seen by a balloon, and another was moving up the rivers by boat, headed toward the coast.”

  One of the canoneers spoke up. “What should we do, o’ king? Shall I speak to them?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. I scratched at the ground with the tip of my prosthetic while I considered. I wished Rufus was here. I just didn’t know enough about the people of Rava outside Lanclova. But I did know Sourtooth said the Midnight Queen didn’t maintain a presence on Lanclova because the moon blocked their ability to read signs and portents in the stars—and they were rich enough to not care about its bounties. “Do nothing yet. Wait for Sourtooth.”

  It didn’t take long for the plane carrying the leader of the Flock to appear in the sky to the west. The aircraft landed and the old orc stumbled out of the cabin and onto the ground with shaky legs, leaning against the fuselage for support. Apparently, he liked flying about as much as Rufus did.

  “Damned machine!” he cried. He spotted me and straightened. “Let me look upon this envoy for myself, little brother.”

  He grumbled and mumbled the whole way up to the rampart where John handed him a spyglass. The old orc scratched his stubble as he squinted down the length of it. He handed it back to the lookout. “It is they. Damnable midnighters. What seek they here? Raphina blinds them upon the land of shaded skies. Hmm.”

  “Are they dangerous?” I asked.

  The old orc looked down at me. “As a viper. Yet, no invading army, this. You could capture them, should you wish it—though, not without cost.” he pointed down at the cavalry. “Templar guard, they. Deadly as a paladin of the Ifrit. Even seasoned orc hunters would give pause. That cradle of fancy? A priestess—sorcesses, they. Devious creatures who read the stars.”

  John leaned forward. “Give the order, King Apollo. I’ll have ‘em trussed for you.”

  “Hold on that,” I said. “They haven’t attacked us yet. They’re waiting—in plain sight.”

  “And in light of day, at their weakest,” said Sourtooth.

  “Armed,” John reminded me.

  “Only does a fool walk absent arms in Lanclova,” said Sourtooth. He spat on the ground. “Tis your call, o brother king.”

  It’s not always easy, being the one expected to make all the decisions. Rava was getting bigger for me. When I first arrived here, it was me, a dozen other goblins, and a half-badger. Our biggest worry was making fire and dealing with forest beasts. Now, things were starting to get complicated. I ran a hand through my fur and looked down at the convoy. They had maybe 50 or so members—and only half of that was fighters. Plus whatever magics the sorceress could wield in addition to her star-reading. Ultimately, though, they’d shown no sign of hostility and had left out badlands depot unmolested—despite having the forces to overrun it easily. And they were approaching other factions on Lanclova, as well. Maybe that meant they saw us on equal terms as the orcs, the Ifrit, or Habberport?

  There was really only one way to learn more. Going down was out of the question. Even if Armstrong would have allowed such a thing, there was no way I could put myself in the position to be taken and spirited away on the backs of one of those strange horses. But it was time to see just how far out on a limb these visitors were willing to go. “The eclipse will be here soon. Let’s at least let them up before the lizards make a meal of them. Then we can decide what to do with them.” I raised my voice. “Lower the lift!”