Chapter 3: Goblins, Hills, and Elder Lands
After a quick yet delicious breakfast, they set out from the Dead Goblin. The rain had slacked off, but the mist remained heavy. The Iracus Trees thickened, and the Mothers appeared again, their arching roots crisscrossing the road. The Knights drove the Greywinds as fast as they dared.
At one point Furlus' horse stumbled and went down, dumping him headfirst into the mud. Lannon started to laugh, but when he saw the look on Furlus' face, he strangled it. Bellowing curses, Furlus lunged up, his beard dripping filth and his dark eyes blazing with fury. He wiped his beard with his sleeve, grabbed the root that had felled his horse, and tore it two. Dark blood poured out from the severed ends. The angry Tower Master cast the ends aside.
"I've had enough of this, Cordus!" Furlus' brow was knotted with rage. "We leave a comfortable inn and ride like Tharnin through this slop--for no good reason! We could have stayed another night and waited for better weather."
Cordus sighed. "Do you want to go back? You saw the way the Rangers regarded us. I don't know about you, but I have no wish to spend another night at that inn. And, considering what we're facing, we dare not waste even a single day. Now get on your horse and ride with us, or go stay with the Rangers. But I'll move on and tonight sleep amongst the Northern Hills where I won't have a bunch of contemptuous people breathing down my neck."
Furlus nodded, his face red with embarrassment. "Since you put it that way, I'll keep quiet." He patted his horse and then swung up into the saddle.
"Where's the Scribe," Taris said, smiling. "We need to record this wondrous moment. Furlus Goblincrusher admitting he is wrong!"
"I admitted nothing, oh dark one," said Furlus, wringing out his beard. "I simply said I'd keep quiet for now. Let's just concentrate on getting through this giant dung pit. I've had too much open sky above me on this journey, and now these filthy Bloodlands are getting to me. I guess I just need to get back to the silver mines and the Deep Forge."
"Of course," said Taris. "We all know how lovely the mines are."
"A Tree Dweller like you wouldn't understand," mumbled Furlus.
The stench and misery continued throughout the day. The riders became distracted, paying little heed to their surroundings. They simply pushed onward as the hours slipped by. They ate a quick lunch of dry foods, without dismounting, and rode without pause until dinner. At dinner, they seated themselves on a log and forced down some leftovers from the inn.
When they set off again, the Iracus Trees formed a forest, while the mist became almost like a solid wall. They were forced to go slower than ever. Twice, Taris stopped his horse and sat still, gazing off into the fog as if straining to see or hear something. But when asked about it by Cordus, he simply shook his head and they continued on. Because the sun was lost from view, it was difficult to tell what time of day it was, but they felt it was nearing evening.
When Taris stopped for the third time, the sorcerer spoke. "I think Goblins are watching us. I can't tell how many, or their kind."
"How long have they been following?" Cordus asked.
"I'm not sure."
Furlus readied his axe. "Something to interrupt the boredom, I guess."
"Let us hope they're not Goblin Lords," said Cordus, drawing his broadsword. "That's the last thing we need right now."
"Not likely," said Taris. "No Goblin Lord has ever been spotted near the Middle Bloodlands. But anything is possible, I suppose."
Cordus shook his head. "Before breakfast, Sambar described, for me alone, Goblins that resembled Lords. A Ranger spotted them on the road. I fear they might be planning to finish us off before we reach Dremlock."
"I'll bet they're waiting for us to pass through the North Gate," said Furlus. "Then they will try to ambush us."
"You should have told us earlier," said Taris, shooting Cordus an angry glance. "Why did you wait?"
"I didn't want to scare the boy," said Cordus.
"But if these are indeed Goblin Lords we're dealing with," said Taris, "then we should have been watching for them."
"We were staying alert, regardless," said Cordus. "I intended to tell you, but the hours slipped past quickly."
Lannon glanced about, but all he could see was mist. His hands clenched Taris' cloak so hard his fingers ached. He thought he could feel yellow eyes peering out at him, teeth and claws ready to rip the flesh from his bones like they had done to the merchant. He began to tremble, suddenly wishing he were safely back in Knights Valley or at Dremlock Kingdom--anywhere but in the Bloodlands.
"Calm yourself, Lannon," Taris said to him. "We will protect you."
"Draw your sword, Lannon," Cordus commanded.
"What?" said Lannon. "You mean...?"
"You ride with Knights," said Cordus. "You are expected to fight with us if need be. You wanted the sword, and now it is yours. Thus, we no longer protect an unarmed lad. Now, draw your sword!"
With a trembling hand, Lannon drew the bone sword from the sheath at his belt. It felt cumbersome and useless in his grasp. He had no desire to test his skill against the Goblins.
Cordus nodded to him. "You will fight only when ordered to, however. Is that understood?"
"It is definitely understood," said Lannon, breathing a sigh of relief.
The Knights stared off into the mist, and exchanged concerned glances. Grim tension hung between them. Even the horses seemed to feel it, for they whinnied nervously.
The land crept upward and then flattened. The mist thinned, revealing two huge boulders on either side of the road. Smaller boulders lay just beyond them, barely visible in the fog. Thick Iracus roots clung to the two big rocks, hanging off them like ragged spider webs, their strands disappearing into the mist.
"The North Gate," Cordus said quietly. "The Hills lie not far beyond. This is where the Goblins will probably make their attack."
Taris rode up alongside him. "I sense the Goblins are close." The sorcerer pulled a stone dagger from his cloak, and it erupted into greenish flames.
Just then, a tall figure walked from the mist. It was a Foul Brother--yet certainly not one of normal intelligence (which for a Foul Brother was virtually no intelligence at all). It wore a black cloak and carried a twisted wooden staff. It was powerfully built, with hands and feet that were slightly larger than those of a human, and its head was bald, with deep lines in its forehead. Its dark eyes--usually sad and dumb on these creatures--were narrowed with focus. A single red rune was painted on its forehead.
Lurking behind it were two dark, wolf-like Goblins with tails and claws, their green eyes shining wickedly. They held back, standing on their crooked hind legs, just barely visible in the fog. The humanoid Goblin walked between the two great boulders and stood facing them in the road. It raised the staff menacingly.
"A Lord!" Taris whispered.
Cordus held forth his broadsword. The blade gleamed brightly--almost white--as if charged with pale energy.
"Stand aside," Cordus ordered the Goblin Lord. "You dare block the path of Divine Knights? We are on important business."
The Goblin snorted with laughter. A whisper curled out from it like icy fingers that seemed to creep over their flesh, causing chills. The horses shifted about uneasily, but held their ground. Lannon pressed closer to Taris. His heartbeat was pounding hard in his ears.
"I am simply a messenger sent to warn you," the Goblin Lord said. "Soon Dremlock Kingdom will fall. The ways of the past will no longer prevail against us. Leave Silverland while you still can."
Furlus drove his horse forward, scowling, but Cordus stopped him with a motion of his hand. "What is this nonsense you talk?" said Cordus. "Do you really think your words make any difference? Your fate is sealed in steel and blood. Silverland will soon be free of your evil."
"I do not fear you," the Goblin Lord hissed. "You cannot slay me. I alone seal your fate and that of Dremlock Kingdom. Give up, Lord Knight, while you still have the chance. There is no shame in it."
&nb
sp; "Give up?" Cordus' blue eyes burned with fury. "Defend yourself, Goblin, for I now take your filthy head!" With that, Cordus' slapped his horse on the neck. The Greywind steadied itself, snorting, and then charged.
The two wolf-like creatures slipped away into the mist.
The Goblin Lord hurled its staff at Cordus. The twisted piece of wood smoldered with dark flames as it tumbled towards the Lord Knight.
Cordus cleaved the staff in two, causing it to explode in a shower of purple sparks and burning fragments, most of which glanced off Cordus' magnificent silver breastplate. Unharmed, Cordus calmly brushed coals from his beard. The Goblin turned to flee.
Cordus' gleaming blade lashed out and sliced off the Goblin Lord's head. The body slumped to the ground, the head rolling off into the mist.
"Let us ride swiftly from this place," said Cordus. "Do not look back, Lannon."
But as they started off, Lannon's curiosity got the best of him. He and Taris rode at the rear, with Cordus in the lead, and so he chanced a look behind him. Sprouting from the neck of the dead Goblin were dark tendrils. They slithered across the ground towards something in the fog. Quickly Lannon turned away, his face pale.
From out of the mist behind them came evil laughter.