The goblins milled about the orc, jostling each other. They leered and peered at me, faces curious, wary, or triumphant. They resembled children in more ways than one. Small, excited, full of energy. Goblins aren’t evil by nature, nothing is. But they are dim and prone to following unscrupulous characters to mischief and worse, so the difference is rather academic.

  The orc considered before answering me, rubbing her coarse hands together. “You see that we can’t survive by staying here. There’s no food, nothing to forage or grow or hunt. The locals won’t allow a goblin settlement anywhere near them above the ground.”

  I could have asked her questions, but even if I was young, I knew how to let people tell their own stories. So I waited and listened.

  “What we got from the last raid got us enough to last for a while, but once they start starving, it won’t be just some pigs and sacks of grain that will be taken. And the villagers will be ready by then.”

  “There will be casualties on both sides,” I said. I wasn’t sure if the orc cared for the goblins or only wanted to protect her fiefdom, but either would explain her reluctance to let things progress that far. “What is your solution? I fear you are correct in saying that the locals won’t tolerate goblins near them, and even passing through their lands would attract opposition.”

  The orc patted one of the goblins on the head, its large ears flopping up and down in rhythm with the patting. The goblin looked up, like a dog at its master. “We go down to where we lived before. We were driven out by something too dangerous for them or me to face alone.”

  “I understand what you are asking. You’ll need to let me out of this cell first.”

  “Naturally.”

  The orc lifted two crates from before the plank wall in one go. It didn’t even look to be difficult for her. It was a message. She was showing she was strong enough to rip me in half if I tried anything.

  ”Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” Finna says.

  ”Let him talk,” Rworg hisses. He’s sitting at the edge of a rock, leaning toward Mandollel.

  Ahem, her message had two parts. She was also showing me she was going to trust me. The orc proceeded to clear the obstruction from before the plank wall. The goblins milled around her legs, carrying smaller things and balancing the wall so it wouldn’t topple over before it was supposed. I stayed to the back of the alcove to show that I, for my part, was not going to try anything sudden.

  At last, the orc moved the wall aside. That was more impressive than anything she had done that far. The wall must have weighed more than you with your sword. The planks were thick, but she wrapped her fingers around them and lifted. The wall groaned but held together. Even the orc didn’t move it far, only enough for me to come out.

  The goblins hid behind the orc’s legs and hissed at me. She offered her hand to me as I squeezed out of the cell. “Grym, the Lost.”

  I clasped it. “Mandollel, adventurer. Do you mind me asking what the Lost means?” She had flinched enough when I called her an orc that I was curious about the title. It might turn out to be important to know.

  She waved a hand toward the middle of the camp, signaling me to follow. “I have broken my yoke. I’m lost to the orcs. That’s what we are called. As an insult by others and term of pride for ourselves.”

  I followed her to a fire pit. It sat in the very middle of the camp, an area for the goblins to gather. Now that I knew their story, the buildings surrounding us looked different. On the other hand it made sense how ramshackle everything was, hastily constructed as a temporary dwelling, yet surprisingly sophisticated, made even more impressive knowing the general lack of enthusiasm the goblins had for architecture that they had invested this much effort into their transitory abodes.

  Finna looks at Rworg, who looks at me. I look at Finna. She shrugs. Mandollel sighs and lifts a finger into the air, the universal signal of being about to explain something.

  “Don’t,” Finna says.

  What I mean is that the camp was surprisingly well made. The orc was not a simple thug. Her influence was clearly what set these goblins apart from their savage kin. At least somewhat apart, I corrected myself, as I saw the heap of bones collected near one of the shacks. They had been gnawed and licked clean, broken and marrow sucked out, so the smell was surprisingly mild, but I could not be sure what kind of bones the pile held. Mercifully, there were no humanoid skulls visible.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I sat opposite to her, on one of the rocks rolled to surround the fire pit. “So, what drove you away? How can I help?”

  ”You show very little hesitation.”

  ”We have both avoided asking the obvious question: why would either of us trust or help each other? I don’t wish harm on you or your friends. They have raided the village and preferably there should be reparations, but I also understand and sympathize with your plight. You didn’t injure anyone in your attack and the villagers won’t know if you’ve been killed, driven away or relocated. As long as you stay gone.”

  “If you help us, we will. You have my word, but more importantly, you can see for yourself. It will be clear there is no reason to come back.”

  I touched my bruised temple gingerly. If I was sensible, I would need to spend at least a day resting to make sure I was fine.

  The orc followed my gesture with her eyes. “We did ambush you. I threw the rock. I’m happy I didn’t throw harder.”

  “As am I. You did what you felt was necessary.”

  ”I would already have stabbed them all twice,” Finna says.

  I was young, but still nearly a hundred years old. It gives perspective. Most slights or insults were easy to ignore already back then.

  The look on his face when he realized I was on a Ride flashes through my mind. Mandollel has no idea what happened, or that it happened at all. Maybe he’s right and he can ignore most insults. Just not that particular one. He was shattered, his face twisted, everything about him broken by that single realization. I’m so happy I don’t have to worry about any of that anymore. No more Rides.

  Folke, I thought you were the one who wanted to hear this story? You looked like you were somewhere far away. Anyway, as I was saying, the orc described their earlier dwelling. They had been able to grow food there, even keep some livestock. Some kind of moles and blind cave fish or such. What had driven them out was a monster, taller than the largest man, wider than a bull, covered in sticky slime.

  Yes, I think it might have been a teratome. I didn’t know the word then, and I have met so few that I didn’t make the connection, but now in hindsight, it seems probable. It had features of a bug, even if it was nothing like the one we just faced.

  No, you wouldn’t have wanted to fight it!

  Everyone stop interrupting me every two sentences and let me finish the story.

  “We will give you your sword back,” Grym said. “So far, everything has been just words.”

  “I understand. I reiterate that I have no quarrel with you. Attacking you would be as risky as helping you fight, and I’m not in the business of mass murder.”

  She stood. Even standing on the opposite of the fire pit, she towered over me. At least two heads taller, wide as a barn. Muscles that brought to mind a bull. I was confident, but I still wondered what kind of monster we were about to face, if she hadn’t wanted to face it. “Let’s go,” she growled, waving a hand for the goblins to bring me my sword.

  It took a whole day to reach their old camp. Approximately. Hard to tell the time when underground, but we stopped to sleep along the way. Grym told me of their life and how she had originally ended up living with the goblins. It was interesting enough, but not the focus of this story. I was supposed to tell you about magic, wasn’t I?

  The cave was huge. So large that its other side was covered by fog. I could see dwellings, much more permanent looking than the ones in the camp we had left. There was room for a whole city in the cave. I could see areas that looked like fields of mushrooms. The sound of dribbling water told me there was a spring or subterranean lake somewhere.

  “The beast is strong, but that’s not what is dangerous about it,” Grym said.

  She had claimed I would understand when I saw it, and I did.

  The monster was even larger than her. It walked upright, like a horse lifted up on its hind legs, wrapped in an insect carapace. Completely black, dark chitin and pelt of thick hair reflecting the blue light. The armor plates on its upper body were criss-crossed with symbols, growing out of a shining spot in the middle of its chest. Like cracks spreading on ice after being struck by something, they formed a web of runes, each glowing blue and sparking electricity around it.

  Sparks shot up with each step of its hoofed feet. It looked like it had four arms, one pair ending with hooves, the other with hands. Arcs of blue and white rippled from each of its fingers to touch the ground and lick its skin, charring fur. Even watching from afar, my hair felt like it tried to float off my scalp.

  “It’s too large to take down quickly from afar and I don’t want to get close.”

  “I can see why. Your hesitation was warranted. A rune beast. I have heard stories, but thought they were just legends.” I rubbed my chin, intrigued despite the unsettling crackling and flickering of light that followed the beast as it lumbered around the cave.

  Its head was also of a horse’s. It lolled to the side, tongue hanging out. Yet its eyes still blinked and a constant chittering noise sounded from its open mouth. When it reached the field of mushrooms, it fell on all fours and the horse’s head started to smash itself into the ground, showering pieces of mushroom into the air. The extra arms flailed around, blindly grabbing at mushrooms and rocks.

  Growl rose from Grym’s throat. “It keeps destroying everything we have built. We need to kill it while there’s still something left to save.”

  Getting close and using metal weapons would be foolish. I had first hand experience that Grym could throw hard, but I agreed that it wouldn’t be enough to take down such a monster. My rapier was a fine weapon, but not suited to something like this.

  ”Did you say you heard water earlier?” I ask.

  …I did. Thank you, Folke. I was building up to it.