Chương 68: Chapter 52: Tribal Council (Part 1)

Dravak sat upon the great stone seat carved into the stone platform in the center of the cavern, the firelight catching the iron caps on his teeth and painting long shadows across the gathering tribe. The stone had been worn smooth by years of use, its edges rounded by the hands of Chiefs long before the Ironfang tribe had claimed this cave as their own. Grub stood on the platform beside the Chief now, only slightly higher than the rest of the cavern floor, but enough that he could see the whole chamber clearly.

Grub recognized many of the changes around the cavern. The racks along the walls, the vents that carried smoke upward, the careful placement of the work areas. They were small things on their own, but together they had changed how the tribe lived. As the tribe gathered in a wide half circle around the fire to hear Dravak speak, Grub felt a quiet satisfaction at how much the Ironfang had changed because of him. That satisfaction carried an edge of unease with it.

He'd spent the last months helping build something he intended to leave behind one day, secure in the belief that it would still be here when he returned. Yet the tribe still remained small enough that a stronger enemy could tear through the wall, kill Dravak, and ruin every plan Grub had made before the next sunset. The Ironfang had survived winter. That didn't mean they were strong enough to survive without him.

Grub had worried about spring ever since his private discussion with Dravak, Throk, and Kesh, when they began looking beyond the winter and toward the weakness it would leave among the surrounding tribes. He understood the opportunity, but strength could be spent as easily as food. Warriors could die taking prizes the tribe didn't need, while enemies who might have become useful were left bleeding in the snow.

The last time Grub had attended a Council, before the direwolf hunt, he'd stood below the platform and listened while the tribe's leaders decided what came next. Back then, he'd been lucky that Dravak listened when he argued for bringing the wolf pups home. Now Grub stood beside them. He had a place in the Council and a voice in whatever the Ironfang chose to do next.

More importantly, he might finally have enough influence to make sure everything they had built through the winter wasn't squandered the moment spring arrived. Throk stood to Dravak's right, broad arms folded across his chest, his scarred face lit by the shifting glow of the fire. Kesh stood on the other side of the stone seat, watching the gathering tribe with patient eyes. When Dravak raised a hand, the murmurs in the cavern died at once.

"The snow softens. The wind has lost its teeth. The rivers will soon rise. The thaw comes." He let the words settle over the gathered tribe before continuing.

"We endured the winter well. Better than most tribes. But spring is coming, and when it does, the Ironfang must be ready to strike." His gaze swept across the cavern, lingering briefly on the Warriors and Hunters gathered near the fire.

"So we choose our prey now, before the forest wakes." He jerked his chin toward one of the Scouts standing near the front.

"You. Speak. Tell us what you found." The Scout stepped forward, narrow and wiry, pine needles still clinging to the furs across his shoulders. He dipped a quick bow before lifting his head and soaking in a nasally voice.

"The Bristlehide tribe to the west is gone. Their camp was along the rocky edge of the mountains, but we found it broken apart. Shelters smashed, fire pits scattered. No bodies anywhere." Kesh frowned.

"Taken?"

"That's our guess," the Scout said.

"We found the remains of many tracks beneath the newer snow. Too many for the Bristlehide alone." He shifted his stance before continuing.

"The Red Tusk tribe to the north is larger than before. We believe they were responsible." Throk's eyes narrowed.

"How large?"

"We couldn't approach closely enough for a clean count. Their patrols are thicker now, and they watch the western paths carefully. We estimate between eighty and one hundred goblins. Perhaps more." A murmur passed through the cavern.

"They've begun moving west and south from their territory," the Scout continued, raising his voice to be heard.

"Their patrols range farther each day. The Bristlehide lands appear to be theirs now." Dravak's iron-capped teeth showed briefly.

"So the Red Tusk grow fat on stolen meat."

"Too fat for us to bite," Throk said. Dravak nodded once.

"For now." Grub kept his attention on the Scout.

"How large were the Red Tusk before winter?" The question drew several glances toward him, and the Scout looked toward Kesh uncertainly before answering.

"Our last estimate placed them between sixty and seventy," he said.

"Possibly more. Their territory was already difficult to watch closely."

"And the Bristlehide?"

"Forty," the Scout answered.

"Perhaps fifty." Grub frowned. The math wasn't adding up.

"Then why are the Red Tusk only eighty to one hundred now?" Throk gave him a flat look.

"Because conquering a tribe doesn't mean every goblin joins the victor."

"What happens to the rest?"

"Their Chief dies," Dravak said.

"Most of the strongest Warriors die beside him. Others fall during the fighting."

"Some flee once the battle turns against them," Kesh added.

"They scatter into the forest rather than submit."

"And the wounded?" Grub asked.

"The ones who can still walk are taken," Dravak replied.

"The ones who can't are left." Grub looked between them in disbelief.

"How much of a defeated tribe usually survives long enough to be taken captive?" They exchanged glances.

"About half," Kesh said at last. Throk shrugged.

"Sometimes less. Depends how stubborn they are."

"And this is a common way for tribes to grow?"

"It's the fastest way," Dravak replied.

"Kill the strength holding a tribe together, take whatever remains, and add it to your own." Grub nodded and fell silent. The Red Tusk had won, but they'd thrown away much of what they could've gained in the process. They could probably afford that. They'd already been larger than the Bristlehide, and absorbing the survivors only widened the distance between them and every smaller tribe nearby. The Ironfang couldn't afford the same losses.

Dravak leaned back against the stone seat, one heavy hand resting on its arm.

"The Red Tusk are too strong now. We watch them, but we don't fight them." His attention returned to the Scout.

"I want prey we can beat. A tribe worth taking. What else did you find?"

"The Duskroot still hold their den two valleys east," the Scout said.

"Twenty to twenty-five goblins. Thirty at most." Thirty. Grub studied the Scout more closely. Thirty goblins could make a real difference to the Ironfang. Hunters, Scouts, Warriors, perhaps more besides. Enough new blood to leave the tribe considerably stronger once spring truly began. But that depended on how they won.

"Their camp sits in a hollow beneath the roots of an ancient tree," the Scout continued.

"They rely on pits and snares throughout the gullies, with traps hidden beneath brush. Their fires burn low. Many appear sick or thin from winter, and their stores are nearly spent." Throk grinned.

"Then we know our hunt." Kesh folded her arms.

"Their traps will make the woods dangerous. If we try to move quietly through their territory, we'll fight them on ground they've prepared."

"So we don't creep," Throk said. He jabbed a thick finger toward the cavern floor.

"We push straight in. Loud and aggressive. Force them back to their den." Kesh exhaled slowly through her nose.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once, I actually agree with you." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Throk smirked as rough laughter moved through the tribe.

"If we try subtlety in those gullies," Kesh continued, glancing toward Dravak, "we'll lose goblins to traps before the Duskroot ever lift a weapon." Grub barely heard the laughter. Thirty goblins were worth taking, but not if half of them died before the fighting ended. The Ironfang could defeat the Duskroot easily enough. The harder question was how to win without destroying what they meant to take. If the two tribes fought the way goblins normally did, bloodshed was unavoidable.

Warriors would clash, Hunters and Scouts would join in, and by the time one side broke, much of the strength Grub wanted to preserve would already be gone. But perhaps they didn't need to fight that way. His gaze settled on Dravak. There might be another way. Dravak caught him staring.

"You've been quiet," the Chief said.

"But I know that mind of yours is chewing on something. What is it, Grub? Speak." Grub looked around the gathered Council before turning back to him.

"Before I say anything, I have a question." Dravak watched him for a moment, then nodded.

"Ask."

"What is the goal of the raid?" Dravak answered without hesitation.

"To crush them," he said plainly.

"And to take what they cannot defend." He ticked the prizes off on his fingers.

"Hides. Meat. Weapons." His iron-capped teeth flashed faintly again in the firelight.

"And the survivors become our slaves." Grub nodded slowly.

"What if we could take all of that," he said, "with little to no bloodshed?" He let the question hang.

"What if we could take everything they have," Grub continued, "and take every single one of them captive… without a real battle?" Throk barked a laugh.

"That sounds convenient." Kesh didn't. She watched Grub closely instead.

"How do you plan to do that?" Grub raised one hand and tapped the side of his head.

"With this." Then he tapped the left side of his chest, above his heart.

"And with this." Throk snorted.

"Very inspiring. I'm sure the Duskroot are trembling already." A burst of laughter moved through the tribe. Even Dravak's mouth twitched before he fixed Grub with a steady look.

"Go on." Grub nodded and stepped forward.

"Throk and Kesh are right. We push them hard and force them back to their den." Throk gave a satisfied grunt.

"But we don't follow them inside." Throk's expression soured. Grub looked across the gathered tribe.

"We already know we can beat them. That isn't the problem. The problem is how many are left when we're done. Their food, hides, and weapons matter, but the goblins matter more." He looked back to Dravak.

"If we rush their den, we'll win. We'll also kill half the tribe we came to take." Dravak grunted.

"So?"

"We drive them back like we planned, but once they reach the den, we stop." Grub drew a breath.

"I'll challenge their Chief instead." Throk stared at him for half a heartbeat before his grin returned, wider than before.

"You?" Grub nodded.

"A Chief wouldn't ignore a challenge from someone he sees as beneath him." Kesh's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Especially in front of their own tribe. It would show weakness." Grub inclined his head.

"A goblin's pride is easy to aim at," he said.

"Push it the right way, and they'll do what you want, even when it gains them nothing." Dravak spoke before Throk could respond.

"Under normal circumstances that might work." His gaze fixed on Grub.

"But these circumstances wouldn't be normal. He'd be in his den, with his tribe behind him, and an enemy tribe in front of him." Dravak's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Any Chief with more than half a brain wouldn't risk everything on a duel in that moment. It wouldn't be worth it." Grub didn't look away.

"Then we make it worth it." Dravak's eyes narrowed.

"How?" Grub met his gaze.

"We make it a wager," he said.

"Winner takes all. At least in their eyes." Low voices rose once again in the cavern.

"Silence." Dravak had stood from his seat, and his word cut through the noise. Goblins stopped speaking mid sentence.

"No more interruptions. Continue, Grub." He sat back in his seat once again.

"What do you mean?"

"We set terms for the duel. If I win, they surrender. Everything. No fight," Grub said.

"And if I lose, the Ironfang turn around, leave, and take nothing." One of the older Warriors spat into the fire.

"So we walk away empty-handed," she muttered. Throk let out a low whistle. Dravak leaned forward, his interest sharpening.

"Why would their Chief agree?"

"Because he'll think he can win," Grub said.

"He'll be defending his den, and he'll probably be bigger and stronger than me. More experienced too. From where he's standing, I'm giving him an easy way to save his tribe and prove he deserves to lead it." Dravak studied him.

"And if you're wrong?"

"I won't be." That drew Kesh's attention.

"How do you know?" Grub glanced between the three of them.

"Are there rules? Anything I can't use?"

"Only one," Throk said immediately.

"One against one. Nobody interferes until it's done." His grin widened.

"Anything else? Use whatever keeps you alive." Grub nodded.

"Then I use magic. Their Chief won't be expecting that." Dravak's brow furrowed.

"I've seen your magic. You mean to defeat a Chief by throwing pebbles at him?"

"No," Grub said.

"I can't win as I am now." Dravak gave an irritated grunt.

"You just told us you would win. Why should we build a plan around you if you can't?"

"Because I won't fight him as I am now." Grub held the Chief's gaze." Pebble Toss is Level Six. Before we march, I'll raise it to Level Ten and evolve it." Dravak's irritation faded as he understood.

"When it evolves," Grub continued, "I'll choose whatever gives me the best chance of killing someone larger and stronger than me. Then I'll train with it until I can." Kesh kept her eyes on him.

"You mean to gain four Spell levels before we leave."

"I do."

"And you're sure the evolution will give you what you need?"

"No," Grub admitted.

"But Stone Chip gave me several choices, and every single one of them was stronger than the Spell it replaced. Pebble Toss is already meant to strike enemies. Its evolutions should be built for the same purpose." Throk scratched at his jaw.

"Should be." Grub looked toward him.

"If I believe none of them can win me the fight, we abandon the duel and use the original plan." Dravak leaned forward upon the stone seat.

"So you're asking us to prepare for both."

"Yes. We lose nothing by driving them back to their den. If I have the Spell I need by then, we offer the wager. If I don't, the tribe attacks as it would have anyway." That earned a slow nod from Kesh. Throk's grin returned.

"Maybe this plan isn't as stupid as it sounded." Kesh didn't smile. She watched Grub for another moment before speaking.

"You understand what your place in it would be."

"Standing alone in front of their Chief?"

"Bait," she said.

"In a certain sense." Dravak's fingers curled around the arm of his seat.

"You'd walk before another tribe and provoke its Chief into staking everything on killing you?"

"Yes," Grub said.

"If it gives us the chance to win without losing lives needlessly." For several breaths, Dravak merely watched him. Then his iron-capped teeth appeared in a slow grin.

"You continue to think in strange ways, Grub." Grub allowed himself a small smile.

"Strange thinking has worked for us so far." The Chief's gaze lingered on Grub before he finally leaned back.

"Fine. We'll try it your way."

"And if their Chief doesn't take the challenge?" Throk asked.

"Then we do it the old way." Dravak bared his teeth.

"We break them." He looked toward his Lieutenants.

"Throk takes the center. Kesh takes the flank." Then he turned toward the young goblins and the direwolves resting near the cavern entrance.

"As for the wolves…"

"Chief," Grub interrupted. Dravak turned his head toward him, irritation flashing across his features.

"What now?" Grub glanced toward the children near the entrance, his eyes settling on Rika. She met his eyes and gave him another small nod.

"Before you decide where to put them, there's something else you should know." Dravak followed his gaze.

"Rika." Every face turned toward the young goblins gathered near the cave mouth. Rika stood among them with Ashpaw stretched behind her, his enormous black body rising and falling with each slow breath. The sudden weight of the tribe's attention struck her visibly. Her shoulders drew tighter, but she didn't look away. Dravak's eyes narrowed. For a moment, his gaze lost focus as the System answered him. Then his iron-capped teeth showed.

"Rika," he said, testing the unfamiliar name.

"Wolf Commander. She is System-blessed." A murmur moved through the cavern. The riders looked from Dravak to Rika, surprise spreading across several faces. Grub stepped down from the platform.

"It happened when she reached Level Five. The System still calls the others Warriors, but it gave her a Class meant for this." Dravak looked toward the other children again, then at Ashpaw and the other wolves stirring behind them.

"Hmm."

"They already listen to her," Grub continued.

"They have for a while."

"I've seen that." Grub nodded.

"Then you know why putting them in the main line would waste them. They're faster than anything else we have, and they've spent all winter learning to fight together." Dravak's attention returned to Rika.

"Step forward." She obeyed, approaching the platform with steady steps. Ashpaw lifted his head as she moved, and the other direwolves stirred with him. By the time Rika stopped before Dravak, every wolf near the entrance was watching. The Chief looked down at her.

"Can you command them?" Rika swallowed once and nodded.

"Yes, Chief."

"I don't mean chasing deer through the trees." His stare remained fixed upon her.

"I mean battle. Goblins screaming. Spears coming at you. One bad order and someone dies." Some of the certainty left her face, but she held his gaze.

"Yes, Chief," she repeated.

"I can." Dravak looked past her toward the others.

"And you? If I put you under her command, will you obey when the fighting starts?" The young goblins straightened, and several voices answered almost together.

"Yes, Chief."

"Yes."

"Of course." Dravak waited a moment, but no one took the answer back. Rika stood before him with her hands clenched at her sides. Grub could still see the nerves in the stiffness of her shoulders, but when the others answered without hesitation, some of that tension gave way. Her chin lifted slightly. The Chief rose from his stone seat and descended from the platform. Goblins shifted aside as he crossed the cavern, opening a path between the fire and the children.

He stopped before them and looked across the young goblins and the direwolves gathered at their backs.

"You began winter as children chasing pups through this cavern," he said.

"Now you hunt beside beasts large enough to tear apart grown Warriors." Ashpaw's ears flicked forward.

"You carried meat home when the tribe needed it. You trained while others slept. You fell, bled, climbed back onto your wolves, and did it again." Dravak's gaze passed across them one at a time.

"The cold couldn't keep you small." His voice rose.

"You aren't children anymore. You are Warriors of the Ironfang." The cavern erupted. Fists struck chests, weapons rattled against stone, and cheers rolled around the hearth until several wolves answered with excited barks and low howls of their own. One child grinned so widely his face seemed to split. Another stared down at his hands as though something about them had changed. Dravak let the noise continue for several breaths before raising one hand. It faded, and he turned back to Rika.

"The System names you Wolf Commander. The others follow you. The wolves follow you." His teeth flashed as he grinned.

"So I listen." He planted a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"You command them." Rika's breath caught, but she straightened and squared her shoulders.

"Yes, Chief." Dravak released her and faced them as a whole.

"You won't fight buried among the spears. You won't crawl along at the pace of Warriors on foot. You'll strike where Rika sends you, run where the others can't, and close your jaws around anything that tries to escape us." Behind them, the direwolves shifted and stretched, claws scraping against stone. Dravak looked over the young goblins who had grown beside them, then at the wolves now towering above much of the tribe.

"You entered winter without teeth of your own," he said.

"You leave it having grown fangs." He lifted his chin.

"From this day forward, you are the Fangs of Winter." For one heartbeat, the cavern went still. Then one of the children flinched.

"Wait." His eyes moved across something no one else could see. Another rider stiffened beside him.

"My Status…"

"It changed," another whispered. Then the voices came at once.

"Mine too!"

"Wolf Rider!"

"It says Wolf Rider!" Rika stood motionless amid the sudden shouting. Then, slowly, she smiled.