Harper watched in horror as Finn’s horse bucked and threw him in front of the hastily formed spear wall of the goblins. Before she could do anything, the goblins had whisked him away. She looked at her former mentor and his calm demeanor surprised and steadied her. He looked like this was completely normal, like the situation wasn’t very dangerous.

  “Juan. What are they doing with Finn?” she asked. Harper really hoped he didn’t think she was getting soft on him, not that he would tell Finn. Despite her experience, she hoped Finn didn’t turn out like the last crop of new arrivals. The crop that all died, except for her. She was a Nineties girl, raised on rom-coms and goth. Her exposure to things that would help her was less than Finn’s. Yet she had survived. Hell, she’d thrived here. Her old life back on earth was shit.

  Juan glanced at her and back at the goblins. “Finn’s in excellent hands. They are taking him to their healer and he’ll be fine.” Behind them, the walls shook with the attacks of the brask. “We have to deal with the brask. The goblins, despite their martial reaction to our entering their stockade, are not prepared to deal with them.”

  Harper snorted. “How the hell are we supposed to deal with three brask? One, maybe. I’d even be willing to try two.”

  Juan smiled. “Harper. We have the advantage. They aren’t charging as much as bashing themselves against this delightfully strong wooden palisade. And you know what that means, right?”

  Harper hung her head. “Yes. I have to sneak up on them.” She hated doing that. Yes, she had specialized her class from Rogue to Rogue Infiltrator. Yes, it was effective. She could sneak up on most enemies and do a massive amount of damage. And, depending on how sturdy they were, I could do all kinds of mischief. Adding debuffs was very satisfying. But then I had to get away. The hitting was easy, the running was stressful.

  Juan chuckled at her reticence. When she had chosen the rogue class, she had been in love with the mystique of being so wicked. It had fit with the view of herself at the time. And what teenager really knows who she is? Harper was still glad that many of the more “dark” or “bad” classes hadn’t been available. It would have been hella cringe if she’d been able to choose a warlock or dark cleric class, at least in her eyes. Even most of the language she’d used at the time… it made her shudder just thinking about it. The whole valley girl thing. And being forced to try and fit into the white, rich, and pretty mold.

  Juan had put up with most of it, letting her get it out of her system. In that, and many other things, he was a better father figure than Harper’s asshole of a father ever was. Like after her first year here, after her 17th birthday, he let Harper rage at him for everything she had gone through. Not everything she had gone through since getting here, but everything before that. About being torn away from the world she knew. From friends, her shitty high school. From her mom.

  How could she not still be angry?

  “And you’ll distract them so I can get to safety, old man? Shoot them and not me?”

  “Of course. You go figure out your route and how long you’ll need, and I’ll go chat with our hosts about our plan and Finn’s care.” And off he went.

  The inside of the stockade walls had scaffolding for the goblin guards to look over the wall. With the brask attacking the wall, it looked rather wobbly. It didn’t really matter much. She doubted it would cause her to fall. Harper went up the nearest ladder, not having to adjust to the rung height. Not being tall had some advantages!

  At the top, she looked down at the brask attacking the wall. One brask. “And where are your friends?” She muttered. What, can’t a girl talk to herself? I glanced around, not seeing the other two brask. It looked like they had got lucky. Dealing with only one brask was a much simpler prospect. Not only that, but there were a few rock formations that could be used to get out of the brask’s reach.

  Harper could see where a sneaky gal could easily move through the tall grass, almost up to the brask, which she decided to refer to as Snort. Snort was not happy with the wall preventing her from getting to her prey. But Snort was not yet making a dent in the wall. And Snort had not looked up at all. Harper almost wondered if she could just drop onto the pissed off Snort and ride her like a bull. Juan would be horrified. That, in itself, would have made it worth it.

  She sighed. It had been a long time since she had done things like that. Besides, even if she could ride the thing, how would she get off without being ripped to shreds? Snort’s claws looked very sharp. Harper decided she would go over the wall, crawl through the tall grass about fifty feet out, and then swing around to be farther behind Snort. Then, she would sneak up, slice and dice, debuff, and run like hell to the nearest rock. If she was quick enough, and she thought she was, the whole attack and retreat would take her less than a minute.

  Harper almost felt sorry for Snort.

  According to Juan, the goblin council was more than happy to just let them deal with Snort. Further, the council would let them stay as long as needed, provided Juan and Harper didn’t mind helping around the small settlement. She was inclined to move on as quickly as possible, but the healer Marta reported Finn would need to rest for several days, even after he had woken up.

  “Have you figured out your route to the brask?” Juan asked.

  “Yes. And Snort won’t see me coming.”

  “Snort? You don’t need to name everything, Harper.” He gave her a pointed look.

  The Cambion woman smiled as prettily as she could, just to irritate him. “Of course I do. Nothing should die without a name.” She looked over the wall at the irritated brask. “Isn’t that right, Snort? You like having a name, don’t you?” It finally looked up at her, making a loud, angry noise. “Such a good Snort!”

  “It doesn’t help to mock,” Juan admonished his former pupil. She knew he was right, but just couldn’t help it. He rolled his eyes as she just grinned at him. “Brat. You just do this to irritate me.”

  Harper widened her eyes, and she frowned. “Juan! I would never do that. You know how I love and respect you.” He turned away. Muttering to himself. “Besides, I couldn’t imagine irritating the person who would be shooting arrows in my general direction.”

  Juan looked out at the ground from the gate and the palisade out to the hill. “So which way are you going to break after attacking the brask…. Er, Snort?”

  She pointed at the rock outcropping 30 feet out. “Those rocks off to the right. I think I can get on top of them before Snort can turn and run me down.”

  “Good. That should work. Where’s the other two?” he asked.

  Harper shrugged. “I haven’t seen them anywhere. There are few places for one of them to hide.”

  “Harper, we know little about the brask, let alone all they do. So please, be careful.”

  “Come on, Juan. You know me. And I’m an Infiltrator. I’m always careful.”

  Juan grunts, getting his bow ready. “That’s what worries me. I’ll be ready.”

  She walked away from him, stepping around the guards until she got to the corner of the stockade. The wall was easy to vault, and she easily dropped the thirty feet to the ground. As always, the rogue land quietly on her feet, legs easily absorbing the force of the drop. She heard one goblin say something about the rocks, but wasn’t sure what. It really didn’t matter to her, as she was confident in her plan. Like a shadow, she disappeared into the tall grass.

  For the next twenty minutes, the purple skinned Cambion moved slowly and quietly to her planned point, far enough from Snort that the brask shouldn’t know she was there. Harper stalked the massive beast through the grass. As she got within five feet of the brask dubbed Snort, the rogue called two lovely long knives into her hands. This was it. She mentally activated her sneak attack, Demoralize. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. She was speed. She was death. Harper slammed into the back of Snort and stabbed her three times. The rogue’s back arched, and she twisted in her backwards leap. A picture of grace while she flew away from the howling Snort. Harper landed fifteen feet away, facing the rocks, and ran for their safety. She leaped confidently to the top of the pile. Then realized what the goblin had said so off-hand; he hadn’t seen the rock piles before.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The second brask surged to its feet below me as Harper stumbled on its back. “Fuck!” she cried as she flopped down hard on her butt, stabbing long knives deep into the brask’s hardened skin. The brask cried out in pain and stumbled sideways, almost throwing her off. It was Snort! The brask had turned faster than expected and charged after the fleeing Cambion, an arrow sprouting from her right eye. Which was likely why she had run right into the brask Harper clung to without trying to stop.

  More arrows hit Snort’s back and shanks as the brask Harper was on, which she decided to call Rodeo, turned and attacked Snort! “What’s up, Snort? You gonna let Rodeo attack you like that?” She didn’t care whether they could understand. Damn! Snort’s my girl! She thought as she stabbed one of her cheap knives into Rodeo’s back near her own right foot and another by the left to brace against. Her feet braced, unable to get off, she couldn’t allow herself to be thrown.

  Snort may not have understood, but she was in a pain-filled rage, biting and clawing at Rodeo. Rodeo reared up and came down hard on Snort’s shoulder, knocking her off balance. Harper got a brief look at the stockade wall, and the area above the top was filled with green faces watching and cheering. The sight inspired her to pull back up into a sitting position, where she grinned like an idiot and waved with one hand. She was alive and had an audience! As the brask fought, she had to stop and grab the hilt of her long knife. Snort was getting back to her feet. She was NOT looking good. She was unsteady, and an arrow flew past her to hit Rodeo.

  “Watch it, old man!” Harper yelled at him. She needed to figure out what to do about her situation. But before she could puzzle out how to get her purple self to safety, Snort lunged forward. Snort’s jaws closed on Rodeo’s neck, ripping it out. Again, the rogue flew, this time propelled by Rodeo’s thrashing and dying. Harper was not a cat. And though it was doubtful whether any cat had her level of dexterity, it didn’t change the fact her body wasn’t built like a cat. Instead of landing on her feet, which would have looked really cool, she landed hard on her back. She cried out in pain as she slid ten feet, the dirt and stones grinding into her back.

  Harper rolled over and pushed to her feet, her back on fire. Snort was not coming to make her a snack. Instead, the brask swayed on her feet before bellowing out in pain and fear, falling on her side. The other pile of rocks was not visible to Harper, so she ran towards the dying Snort and the corpse of Rodeo, the pounding of her heart making it hard to hear. An arrow hit the ground ahead and to the left of her, so she changed directions to the right. She ran that direction until an arrow plonked into the ground to her right, forcing her left. But then an arrow hit the ground right in front of the rogue and she threw herself backwards with as much force as she could. The third brask landed right where she would have been without the directions from Juan saving her.

  Harper’s situational awareness was a little scrambled. She hadn’t heard this one, let alone sensed it in any other fashion. The massive predator put its head low and slowly stalked toward her like a tiger she had seen in the zoo as a little girl. It was so beautiful. So frightening. She would have loved to have that tiger there at that moment. She could have fought the tiger, could have beaten it to death with her bare hands.

  But this was not a tiger. Throwing knives popped into Harper’s hands as she scrambled to her feet. She threw the two daggers in quick succession. It grabbed the first knife in its teeth, snapping the blade while the second bounced off its shoulder.

  “No, no, no!” she yelled, and pulled two more, throwing them while quickly backing up. They both went wide, one of them skipping off a rock. Harper freaked out. She hadn’t missed like this for years! Her next two knives hit exactly where she had aimed. The two throwing knives embedded themselves deep in the left eye of the brask. “How do like that… uh… Dickface! Yeah! Cyclops motherfucker!”

  She was trouble, but would not give up just yet. Juan had her back, even if he didn’t have a clear shot. Dickface the brask snarled, glaring with his one good eye. His depth perception was off, so he was not putting his feet down quite right. Harper expected him to adjust quick, so she needed to take out his other eye. She needed another good throw. Or two. The Cambion didn’t get them. Two more knives lost. The next two knives struck his face next to the good eye, stuck in bone.

  Harper swore. Only two more throwing knives left for her to use. Her back flared with pain as she threw her last two decent throwing knives. They flew off into the grass, turning end over end in their perfectly balanced way. She groaned. She had paid a lot for those knives.

  Though she still had several random knives picked up here and there. The next ones pulled were a hunting knife and a dinner knife. The rogue threw them, praying for the best. But they landed in the dirt at Dickface’s feet. The massive beast snorted and began towards her, and she knew there would be no more throwing. She drew her rapier and dropped into a low stance.

  An arrow hit him in the side with the force of a gale and knocked the massive predator onto its side. Juan had pulled out the big guns. Dickface got up, only to get hit in the head by another arrow, catching it on fire. The brask screamed as its head burned. Harper straightened up as much as her back would allow, grinning as the eye she just couldn’t hit popped, boiling from the heat. Her confidence restored, she sauntered up to it as another arrow hit it in the flank and frost spread out from the impact. Juan was using up his elemental roulette bow too fast. She stabbed it in the left eye socket, piercing its brain. “Goodnight, sweet Dickface.”

  Harper walked over to where Snort was wheezing on her side, next to the dead Rodeo. “Sorry, Snort. Thanks for the help.” With a quick thrust, the brask was put out of her misery. The injured and exhausted rogue pulled a rag from her backpack and began cleaning her sword.

  Juan and several goblins approached warily as Harper sat against Snort’s back. “Thank you for saving me back there, old man. I know how expensive that was.”

  Juan smiled. “Of course. I wasn’t going to lose you just because the bow has limited uses between repairs, Harper. Did they have anything good?”

  She pointed to the pile of random junk. “Odds and ends, a freakin wagon wheel of all things. And that ship’s anchor. Plus some jewels and a small chest of gold. A fez.”

  Juan regarded it. “None of that makes much sense for loot.”

  “Not really. I’m keeping the fez.” She replied.

  “Is it enchanted?” he asked.

  Harper pulled the red hat out of her inventory, turning in her hands. “Nah, it’s just a cool hat. First one I’ve seen here. I can add it to my collection of weird things. My uncle had one.”

  “So, how do you want to split the valuable stuff? Fifty-fifty?”

  She thought for a moment, considering his offer. “How about 25-25 and we give the rest to our hosts as a gift?”

  Juan nodded. “Yes! that is a wonderful idea! Councilman Brent, would that be an acceptable gift?”

  The older goblin Juan addressed smiled and bowed. “I accept this generous gift with thanks. It will be very useful in the coming days.” Juan pulled his share from the chest. I did too, closing it. Councilman Brent touched a couple of stronger looking goblins. “Please take this back to the stockade, and to the council room. You and you and you. Grab anything useful that our friends here don’t want.” A team led by a goblin that looked like a butcher began cutting up the brask and loading a wagon with the meat they pulled out.

  Juan held out a hand to his exhausted friend, and she grabbed it, letting him pull her to her feet. “You alright, brat?”

  “Yeah, just a little worn. Already used a health potion. I could use a drink and a decent chair to sit in. With a thick, soft cushion.” She rubbed her behind and despite the health potion, it was still sore from landing on Rodeo and landing on the ground after being thrown from rodeo. It hadn’t taken too much time to gather up the thrown knives. “I lost three excellent throwing knives on top of one that broke. Three!”

  The goblins shuffled people around so that we would have places to sleep. It was a kind gesture that the council did not request. So many of the ideas from home on fantasy monsters were wrong. Many of the differences were small. Like unicorns being unwilling to be touched by non-virgins. Not true. In fact, the gentle herbivores went mad over the smell of virgin blood and became carnivorous until satiated.

  The goblin differences were big ones. They were a kind people, though somewhat easily startled, believed in helping others. They had a rich culture, were known as honest traders, and accomplished negotiators. Though not very warlike, they were surprisingly fierce fighters.

  And they made decent beer and wine. Which they shared generously along with cooked brask that night. Fire roasted, fried, baked, they did it all. The festivities went late into the night, and Harper drank a little too much. After drinking her hangover tea the next morning, and checked in on Finn. With no changes, Harper decided to see what she could do around the community and worked most of the day.

  She found Juan looking over the wall. He spoke without turning around. “Things are much worse than I knew.”

  The young woman stepped up to the wall next to him and leaned on it. “Yes. We’ve been pushed back. Refugees are becoming the norm as we retreat, mile after mile. Did I tell you about Asanog’s priests?”

  “No, you didn’t. Tell me.”

  “They are getting around our lines. And they preach that we, all of us, are the invaders that need to be defeated. Good or bad, we are the enemy. More and more people are believing them. They are already telling the old stories again. The ones about the monsters that came before you? The ones that make the Lich look like a saint.”

  Juan shook with anger. “We. Are. Not. Them.”

  “I know. But not all of us are like you. And then it was years before anyone new came through… I heard stories about mages. Old stories. None of them were good.”

  Juan looked at his former pupil, a strange look in his eyes. Like pity, but not for her. “Please don’t tell Finn. I think it will worry him and weigh heavily on his shoulders. He’s not like the men and women in those stories. He doesn’t want power. I don’t think anything motivates him other than getting home.”

  “You might be right. But… I don’t know how to say this.” She looked out at the torn up sea of grass, denoting the fight the day before. “Finn is very willing to use the power he has. When I found him pissing in a bush, he noticed me, but did nothing until he finished. Which isn’t strange in itself, but his reaction to a potential threat… if I wasn’t quick enough, he would have blasted me where I stood. I think he would have been devastated, but he wouldn’t have hesitated.”

  “I saw and was ready to kill him if he tried. I am always ready to kill him if he shows any sign of going down the same path as every other mage.”

  The look in his eyes scared Harper. He would do it, even though he was already attached to Finn. She liked the kid, too. But those stories scared her. Generations of oppression, fear, and death. “I hope he doesn’t. For everyone’s sake.” And for the old man’s sake.