27

  The map was spread out before us on a long table in the Fleet Fox. The hearth crackled on the far wall, and smoke from Gerard’s cigarette roiled and twisted above us. The necromancer was chain smoking. We counted over 150 goblins. Lily, Gerard, Mayor Tansel and I were just staring down at the automap in silence. The moment was stark and sober, all of us struck with the realisation that there would be a great cost to Spade’s Rest tonight. If the town survived at all.

  “Shit,” said Gerard. Lily grunted.

  “This is going to get ugly. Really, really ugly,” I said grimly. I’d told them about the scouts and the commando I’d met not far from the town, as well as the hobgoblins I’d seen in the camps in the forest valley. They were factors that were difficult to account for, but it meant that the goblins had some kind of hierarchical leadership, and perhaps that was something we could exploit. That would be my job.

  “You sure about this, godling?” asked Lily. “You’ve no idea what you’re up against with those shamans, let alone the hobgoblins.”

  “I’ve never really considered myself an opportunist, but I’ll make an exception this time. I’ll hit them when they aren’t ready for it. Surprise is a force multiplier,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as anyone else. If I was being honest, I was an armchair strategist at best. I’d always been fascinated by strategy and the concept of power, and I’d read a ton on the subject. I loved strategy games as much as RPG’s. I was pretty damned good at Civilisation. I wasn’t deluded enough to think any of this made me qualified.

  My eyes wandered over the map as I drew in a breath, staring down at the red dots that represented our enemies. I was scared. Scared for myself, but more so for the townsfolk. I would be alone for much of this fight. I was getting pretty god-damned sick of dancing on a razor’s edge every single day. As my heart quickened, I set my jaw and tried to pull together my determination. Fear is a prerequisite of courage. This is what I do now, I thought grimly. Tonight, you’re a lion.

  I looked at the others.”You’ll be ready at the south gate, Gerard?”

  “Ready and waiting. The crew will be spread out among the other gates,” he replied, looking down at the map.

  “Lily?” I asked, looking at her across the table.

  “Aye, I’ll be in the centre square. I can move to any of the gates and give the fighters back-up or healing.”

  I nodded. “Okay, we use the group chat to keep each other informed. I won’t be far from the walls. If you need something killed, just say the word.”

  I cleared the automap of the data I’d picked up near the goblin camps, and instead let it populate with the features of the town. Groups of white and purple dots moved like bees around the gates and the fallback positions. It didn’t give us a view of the entire town, but it was enough that we could use it to monitor two gates at once, and the other two if the user adjusted their position. I rolled up the map and gave it to Lily. I met her eyes, then looked over to Gerard. I gave them a tight smile. I let my voice soften.

  “If anything happens, I want to thank you two. You welcomed me, took me in, gave me direction, and I want you to know that means everything. I might get to see my little girl again thanks to you two. I’m forever grate-”

  My last word was interrupted by the loud, low sounding of a horn. Then, a second blast pierced the night.

  They were here.

  Notification: The quest timer has run down. Quest - “The Battle of Spade’s Rest” has begun. Neutralise the goblin threat.

  ***

  I could see fear in the eyes of the townsfolk as I rushed by, dashing for the north gate. I let the mask form and shift to the dancer pattern as I neared the wall. I leapt, double-jumped and landed smoothly atop the roof of the house nearest the gate. I crouched there silently, doing my best Spiderman impression, looking out over the walls and to the edge of the forest where the trees loomed large against a backdrop of shadow. Wind danced across the tops of the trees and sent my cloak fluttering out behind me.

  Torchlight flickered in the street below, casting wavering shadows over the anxious defenders. Above us, the moon hung bright and round, and the night was cool and carried the subtle scent of a summer night mingled with the smoke from the torches. The smell reminded me of a hundred campfires I’d sat around with family and friends camping back home. I thought about my beat-up acoustic guitar and the calluses on my fingertips. Just now, it was a bittersweet memory, and it carried with it the longing for something far out of reach. I looked up at the stars, clear and total and innumerable. The night would have been beautiful, but the beauty was made into a haunting thing, pregnant with the violence to come.

  The hurried, tense talking of the townsfolk below me was suddenly cut off by the booming of a drum in the distance. A cry of harsh voices called out amidst the pounding beat. I heard someone scream below me, then the rushed words of fellow defenders as they tried to reassure them. As they tried to reassure themselves. How much of this town would be left when this ended? I tried to bury my trepidation as I stared intently at the treeline.There was work to do.

  A few tense moments passed, the booming of the drum and the scattered cries of the goblins growing nearer. From my perch atop the rooftop, I saw the torches emerging from the trees before the townsfolk below me.

  “They’re coming!” I yelled over the pounding of the drum, then I was soaring out over the wall, landing deftly and dashing toward the treeline to the north-west, intending to get myself into a position where I could flank the incoming goblins. I slipped into the darkness between the looming trees like a ghost, the mask’s pattern bleeding away and reforming into the war variant as I bounded over thick roots and detritus.

  Luck: They’re here. They’ll be at the walls any minute.

  Quicklily: We’re as ready as we can be. Everyone’s in position.

  Gerard Val Torn: Where are you, Luck?

  Luck: Just inside the forest to the north-west. I’ll be very busy soon.

  Gerard Val Torn: Be careful.

  Luck: You too, both of you. If you see a hobgoblin or a shaman, shout it out right away. I promised them a warm welcome.

  I moved deeper into the forest, turning north and slowing to creep beneath the dark canopy towards the faint flickering of torches ahead. I could hear a cacophony of goblin voices echoing out through the forest, and I moved slowly towards them. Two goblins, one with a torch, followed by an archer, were moving steadily towards the forest’s edge, talking to each other excitedly. The clipped rasp of their tongue lashed out against the backdrop of the war drum as I fell in behind them, a few steps behind the archer. The combination of the goblins’ cries and the pounding beat made for good cover as I followed silently, edging ever closer to the goblin before me.

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  I took a breath, centered myself, then darted forward to snake my arm around the archer’s neck and pull him back as my free hand came around and punched my baselard into his chest once, twice. He loosed a panicked shriek as the blade sank into his chest, and as his companion turned around, wide eyed, I let the archer drop, pulled my blade free and spun into a reverse-grip stab with my squire’s dagger.

  His eyes grew even wider as my dagger drove straight into the side of his little goblin skull. I felt the steel punch through bone, and I ripped it free and let him fall, immediately moving to stamp out the torch he’d dropped. Smoke curled up to greet me as the embers faded, and I reactivated stealth as the darkness encompassed me again. I moved towards the growing number of torches to the north.

  Quickly: They’re at the north wall!

  Luck: Remember, the worst ones have crossbows. I’ll kill as many as I can. Gerard?

  Gerard Val Torn: All clear.

  Luck: Okay, I’m going hunting.

  I skirted the edges of the goblin lines, moving quick and quiet across the forest floor. I could see a mass of activity gathering at the north gate, and I could hear the clamour of goblin cries and the near-panicked shouts of the town’s defenders. Amidst the chaos I saw a group of goblins break away from the gathering crowd at the north gate and head north-east. I could see the crossbows and twin shortswords of the goblin commandos among them.

  Luck: Lily! A group is coming to the east gate. Commandos. I’m going to circle around and hit them from behind. Hold steady.

  Quicklily: Alright, lad. I’m sending some of our reinforcements to the east gate. Good luck.

  Luck: I don’t know about ‘good,’ but I am getting better.

  Quicklily: What? Oh. Gods, Luck, it’s not always about you.

  Luck: I mean…that’s fair.

  Quicklily: Don’t die, godling.

  Luck: You either, tree witch.

  I killed three more stragglers as I moved out and around the goblins gathered at the north gate. They were currently in a tangled line about ten metres away from the mass of thorny brambles that sprawled across the gate and the walls. Lily’s wall accomplished its goal of focusing the goblins towards the gates. Goblin archers were trading shots with townsfolk atop the walls. I saw flaming arrows arching out from the mass of attackers, and I winced.

  We had prepared for this, tasking a few of the townsfolk with putting out the flames as quickly as possible. The town had a large well, so water wasn’t a problem, but manpower was. There was every chance that one of the fires could get away from us. What had the goddess of fortune’s name been? Sage had told me once. Belodath. That was it.

  “Well, Belodath,” I said quietly to the night. “I figure the goddess of luck is probably as batshit crazy as any other god, but on the off chance you’re somehow reasonable, we could use your help tonight. You wouldn’t want your mortal namesake wiped off the board so soon, right?” I said wryly.

  I was moving towards the edge of the forest that bordered the northern road, and I shivered as a sudden chill swept down my back. I caught a vague sense of something, wavering in my mind. Amusement. It was like the ghost of a feeling, there for a moment, then fading quickly away. Shit, I thought instantly, That was probably dumb as fuck.

  I really hoped I was imagining that feeling, because I didn’t actually want the attention of any fucking gods. I had just been screwing around, cloaking my anxiety in irony. This would not be the first time my mouth had gotten me into various levels of trouble. Divinity-level trouble, however, was a relatively new addition to my repertoire.

  I was near the edge of the forest that bordered the northern road peering out of the trees when Lily’s voice bloomed in my head.

  Quicklily: Luck! There’s a hobgoblin here! We’re holding it off, but I think the bloody thing can climb the brambles.

  Luck: God-damnit. I’m coming.

  Cursing again under my breath, I burst from the trees out onto the road, the mass of goblin attackers in a chaotic frenzy just south of me. I flickered a glance their way, and I could see a mass of goblins with scimitars hack and slashing at the brambles that covered the gate. It looked like a few were trying to burn them away. They were making progress. There were too many for me to fight myself, and Lily needed me at the east wall. I gritted my teeth and urged myself to move faster. Sage’s voice burst into my head.

  Luck! There are three shamans to the north-east. They’re gathered in a clearing. Forty metres.

  “Shit!” I said aloud, just as I was diving into the trees on the far side of the road. Shamans. My brows furrowed as I crouched, dragging in breaths through my nose as my mind raced. Shamans meant hobgoblins. They were setting up a god-damned hobgoblin farm on the outside of the town.

  Luck: Fuck. Lily, I need you to hold the east gate. There’s something I have to do right now, or we’ll be in a shitload of more trouble.

  Quicklily: Gods-damnit. They’re trying to drag folk right off the wall! We’re losing people. I think they want them alive.

  Luck: They do. I found the shamans. That’s what I’m going to take care of. Hold out.

  Quicklily: Hurry, the folk here are losing heart fighting these creatures. The crossbows are nasty as fuck, and the hobgoblin is terrifying for these people. I’ve got their backs, but I don’t know how long we can keep it up. The north gate is still holding.

  Luck: I’ll be there as soon as I can. Gerard?

  Gerard Val Torn: Only a few scattered scouts so far. The crew is picking them off. The west wall is quiet.

  Luck: They don’t have enough fighters to completely surround the town, just like we thought. It looks like the focus is the north and east walls.

  Quickly: I’m moving a few of our people to those gates now.

  ***

  I saw the three red dots gathered at the centre of the clearing on my minimap. Stealthed, I approached quickly but warily. There didn’t seem to be any other goblins in the immediate area. That was good. I would have my hands full, and I hadn’t yet fought shamans. I didn’t know what to expect. I activated stealth and moved steadily towards the clearing ahead. As the trees opened up, I hovered at the edge of the clearing, hidden. I flickered a glance at my detection meter, and saw it wavering about a third of the way, green edging into yellow.

  The three diminutive goblin shamans came into view. Their indicators sprung to life.

  Sachek, Level 6 Goblin, Class: Shaman

  Varg, Level 6 Goblin, Class: Shaman

  Steve Parker, Level 7 Goblin, Class: High Shaman

  Steve Parker? What the actual fuck. High Shaman Steve Parker. The leader of the goblin shamans was named fucking Steve? I sighed and shook my head. Fucking writers.

  Steve looked older than the other two, and his shamanic garb was more elaborate, the twisting red strips of fabric dangled from his arms and wrapped his chest like some scarlet mummy. Hanging from a few of the strips of cloth were patches of bone and feather bound together with pitch. He wore a mantle of red cloth covered in large, dull golden coins, pierced and corded together with sinew. Atop his head was what appeared to be a headdress, or a patchwork crown made of fingerbones, curling upward with tufts of what might have been matted hair tied to the tip of each bone. The little fucker looked like he was cosplaying a cannibal wizard from Indiana Jones crossed with an Aztec sacrificial priest. I was having trouble deciding if it was a racist trope or not. I decided it didn’t matter much, since I’d be killing him anyway.

  He held a polished human skull that dangled from a knotted cord wrapped around his left hand, swinging gently and glinting in the scattered torchlight that ringed the clearing. The coins on his mantle clinked and jangled as he walked slowly around the other two, his measured steps belying his age. He seemed to be overseeing Sachek and Varg as they bent over something constructed of long, thick logs bound together.

  It was x-shaped. As I watched, they hefted it up and braced it with two more logs. It was a crucifix. The way it was braced, on a downward angle, suggested that the victims would be laid on their backs and bound to the cross. This was where they’d harvest the hearts. I gritted my teeth as I remembered the luminous eyes of the hobgoblin as they’d stared at me, enraged, though the shamanic scrying glass. Three of those fuckers was enough.

  These shamans would be the first spellcasters I’d faced, and I had no idea what they were capable of. Three at once was a dicey prospect at best, but I didn’t see what choice I had. There were no reinforcements for the task I’d chosen. Everyone else had their jobs, and I had mine.

  I took a slow breath and let myself sink into the silence before the storm.”Ready, Sage?”

  Ready, came her reply, steady as ever.

  “Alright,” I intoned grimly. “Knives out.”