Chương 83: Chapter 63: Max - Greenglade (Part 3)

Rulon looked up from the body at his feet.

"What is?" Max pointed down.

"The trail." Cass followed the gesture immediately. Max stepped around one of the fallen goblins and looked toward the far side of the hollow.

"It came straight through here. Same spacing, same direction, no sign they ever broke stride." Rulon straightened. Borin glanced between the bodies scattered across the ground and the faint impressions disappearing beneath them.

"And near thirty goblins were using this hollow."

"Exactly," Max said.

"If the people we're following had been attacked here, we should've seen something before we walked in. Blood. Bodies. Tracks breaking apart. Anything." Elias looked back toward the way they had entered.

"Especially if they were carrying bodies. They wouldn't have been able to fight without leaving a mess behind." Cass was already moving. She retraced several steps toward the eastern edge of the hollow and crouched where the original corridor of tracks disappeared beneath the overlapping goblin prints. For a while she said nothing, picking through the churned ground one impression at a time before shifting farther forward.

"There." Max stepped closer. Cass pointed to a deeper mark beneath several smaller prints, then another farther ahead.

"Same depth as before. Same spacing." She continued through the hollow, finding the line again wherever the goblin tracks had failed to erase it completely.

"They didn't scatter," she said.

"Didn't turn aside. Didn't stop." Rulon looked west, following the direction she was moving. Cass rose near the center of the hollow and pointed toward the hills beyond.

"They walked straight through."

"And nobody bothered them," Borin said. Rulon surveyed the brush and broken stone where the goblins had been hiding only minutes earlier.

"We made it what, twenty paces before they hit us from every direction?"

"About that," Max said. Alina stood nearby with one hand still resting lightly against her healed side.

"Maybe they knew the goblins were here."

"That still leaves the goblins," Borin said.

"Knowing where they are doesn't make them less territorial." Alina looked toward the western trail.

"Maybe they knew how to pass through?" Elias studied the tracks for another moment.

"Or the goblins knew them." That left a brief silence. Rulon looked back across the hollow, then toward the routes the survivors had taken into the hills.

"Could still be timing," he said after a moment.

"Maybe the goblins moved in after they passed."

"Could be," Max said. Cass dusted her hands against her trousers.

"I wouldn't put much money on it." Rulon sighed.

"Neither would I." He rested one hand on the pommel of his sword and looked west again.

"But six of them just ran that way, and we don't know how many more are waiting beyond those hills. I'm not walking us into another ambush just to prove a suspicion." Max looked around the hollow. Blood darkened his own sleeve, Rulon had a cut across his upper arm, Elias's shirt was torn and stained where the arrow had struck him, and Alina's tunic was in considerably worse shape despite Borin's healing.

"Agreed," he said.

"We've learned enough for today." Rulon nodded.

"Then we head back." They retraced their route through the hills, leaving the hollow and its dead behind. Nobody spoke much on the return, and all of them paid closer attention to the brush and ridgelines than they had on the way out. By the time Greenglade's palisade came back into view, the sun had dropped noticeably toward the western horizon. Rulon slowed as they approached the gate.

"I'll take everything we found to Brenna. The oil, the battlefield, the trail."

"And the goblins," Max said. Rulon glanced back toward the hills.

"Especially the goblins." He turned toward the gate.

"You lot get some rest. Been a long enough day." No one argued. They passed through the western gate and split off inside, Rulon heading toward Brenna while the others made their way back through Greenglade toward the Green Stag. The light was already beginning to fade by the time they returned to the Green Stag. Max found Alina behind the inn a little while later, sitting on the edge of a water trough with her bow across her knees.

She had changed out of the bloodstained tunic, but one hand kept drifting toward her side, fingers brushing the place where the hobgoblin's knife had gone in. She noticed him approaching.

"Borin already checked it."

"I wasn't going to ask." Alina looked at him. Max stopped beside the fence.

"How's the shoulder?"

"That was still asking." Max grinned.

"Different question." She rolled it carefully.

"Sore. Works."

"That's good." For a few seconds neither of them said anything. Alina looked back down at the bow across her knees.

"I couldn't do anything."

"When it had the knife against your throat?"

"Before that too." Her fingers closed around the bow.

"Once it got hold of me, I couldn't get my sword around. Couldn't get away. Then it had the knife up and I was just..." She stopped.

"Still?" Her eyes lifted.

"That part was right." Alina frowned.

"Didn't feel right."

"Doesn't matter how it felt. Once a blade is sitting against your throat, that's not the time to prove how brave you are." Max leaned back against the fence.

"You stayed calm enough not to get yourself killed while Cass found an opening. That was the right move." Alina considered that, though she didn't look particularly satisfied by it.

"The problem happened before the knife got there," Max continued.

"It got inside your bow, caught your sword arm, and once it had control of your body, you were fighting its strength instead of your own." She glanced at him.

"So what should I have done?" Max looked toward the narrow yard beside them.

"Tomorrow morning." Alina followed his eyes, then looked back at him.

"That sounds ominous." Max just grinned at her, and headed toward the door.

"C'mon, let's get some rest." Early the next morning, Max was waiting for her behind the Green Stag. The narrow yard between the stable wall and the split-rail fence was uneven and cramped, cluttered with barrels, troughs, and patches of loose straw over packed dirt. Alina stopped when she saw him standing in the middle of it.

"You picked this place on purpose."

"Of course."

"Because it's terrible." He nodded.

"Because fights happen in terrible places. No weapons today." She sighed and set her bow and sword against the fence. Max stepped closer.

"Yesterday, by the time that knife reached your throat, you were already out of good options. So we're working on everything that happened before that." He took hold of her wrist.

"First mistake most people make when someone grabs them is pulling straight back." Alina immediately tried. His hand barely moved. Max raised an eyebrow.

"That was deliberate," she said.

"Sure." He loosened his grip and turned her wrist slightly.

"Don't fight the whole hand. You're not stronger than every person who's ever going to grab you, and you definitely weren't stronger than that hobgoblin. Find the weakest part of the grip." He showed her the angle slowly, turning her wrist toward his thumb until she slipped free.

"Your turn." The first attempt failed, as did the second. On the third, Alina stopped trying to wrench her arm away and turned sharply instead. Her wrist slipped loose. Max nodded.

"Again." They repeated it until she could do it without pausing to think, then he changed the grip. Wrist. Forearm. Both hands. Each time he made her find the point where his control was weakest rather than trying to overpower him. When she slipped free of a two-handed grip for the fourth time in a row, Max stepped behind her.

"This was closer to what happened yesterday." His arm came around her upper body, pinning one of hers against her ribs. Alina tensed.

"No knife," Max said.

"If there's already a knife against your throat, you don't start throwing yourself around unless you have no other choice. We're trying to stop things from getting that far." She nodded silently.

"First, don't waste strength pulling against the hold," Max continued.

"Feel where my balance is." Alina shifted experimentally, and Max tightened his stance.

"Again." If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. She moved her weight the other direction, then abruptly dropped lower and turned. He adjusted easily enough to keep her in his grip.

"Better idea. Too slow." She exhaled through her nose.

"You really enjoy telling me what I'm doing wrong."

"I enjoy not having to watch you get stabbed." Max reset the hold.

"Again." This time she moved sooner, dropping her weight and stepping diagonally across and away him rather than simply pulling forward. Max had to shift one foot to compensate.

"There. You felt that?"

"Yeah."

"That's what you want. You don't have to throw someone twice your size across the room. Make them move when they don't want to. Make them loosen their grip. Make them worry about their own footing instead of controlling yours." They reset. Alina tried again. Then again. By the sixth attempt, Max had to work noticeably harder to keep the hold. A voice came from behind them.

"Well." Max closed his eyes. Cass stood near the corner of the inn with an apple in one hand, watching them with open interest.

"Morning," she said.

"Keep walking."

"I was going to." Cass took a bite, then gestured with the apple.

"Then I discovered whatever this is."

"It's training." She grinned.

"Very intimate training."

"Cass, whatever you're–" Max felt Alina shift a fraction of a second too late. She dropped her weight, pinned his arm against her body, stepped across his stance, and turned hard. His footing vanished, and Max hit the dirt shoulder-first before rolling onto his back. For a moment, nobody moved. Then Alina laughed and raised both arms into the air in victory. Cass chewed thoughtfully.

"Excellent lesson." Alina stood over Max with a broad grin.

"You said to use the opening." Max stared up at her. Then he laughed once and pushed himself to his feet.

"Yeah. That counts." Cass lifted the apple toward Alina in salute.

"Fair fights are for tournaments and idiots. Use whatever you can find." Max brushed dirt from his shirt and grinned mischievously.

"And since you've apparently mastered putting me on the ground, we can move on to what happens when somebody does it to you." Alina's joy faded.

"Wait." Max stepped in and shoved her. She stumbled backward, caught herself, and managed to somehow look proud and offended at the same time.

"That wasn't a fall."

"No. That was me being nice." He swept her leg. Alina hit the dirt with a hard thump and lost most of the breath in her lungs. Max crouched beside her and held two fingers near her throat like the point of a knife.

"That's a fall." She glared up at him while catching her breath. Cass took another bite of her apple.

"I'm beginning to understand the teaching method. Very hands-on." Max stood and offered Alina his hand. She took it.

"Landing is part of fighting," he said as he pulled her upright.

"If you hit the ground flat, lose your breath, and spend three seconds figuring out which direction the sky is, you might not get another chance." He stepped back.

"Push me and watch how I fall." Alina shoved him when he nodded. Max gave ground rather than fighting for his balance, turned as he fell, landed on his shoulder, rolled through the motion, and came back onto one knee before rising.

"The goal isn't to make falling pleasant," he said.

"It's to keep control of yourself while it happens." Alina looked at the dirt. Then at him. Then she sighed.

"You're going to knock me over a lot, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Thought so." They started slowly. At first Max told her which direction the pressure was coming from, giving her time to turn with it and spread the impact instead of stiffening against the fall. Once she stopped landing flat, he stopped warning her. A shove from the front. A pull from the side. A hooked ankle when she expected the pressure higher. Alina hit the ground badly more than once, but each time she rose a little faster.

Before long she was rolling through most of the falls instead of fighting them, using the motion to get a knee beneath herself and create distance as she came back up.

"Don't think about hitting the ground," Max told her after another attempt.

"Think about what you're doing immediately afterward." He knocked her balance sideways before he finished speaking. Alina turned with it, rolled across one shoulder, and came back onto her feet several steps away with both hands already raised. Max nodded.

"That." She was breathing hard now, hair loose around her face and dirt smeared along one sleeve. Max grinned.

"That one didn't look terrible." She grinned.

"High praise." They kept going. By the time Max finally called an end to the training, Alina was sitting on the fence rail trying to catch her breath while Max retrieved her sword and bow from where she had left them.

"You're improving quickly," he said, handing them over.

"I should be." Alina took the sword from him.

"You've spent half the morning grabbing me, putting me on my back, and making me do it again." Cass, who had been heading back toward the inn, stopped midstep and raised an eyebrow.

"Am I interrupting something? Should I give you two some privacy?" Alina went still. Max looked over at Cass, who was already grinning at the reaction she'd gotten.

"You know what I meant," Alina muttered, her ears turning redder by the second.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to." Max failed to hide the beginning of a grin. Alina pointed at him.

"Don't." He raised both hands in surrender and backed away. She shook her head and started fastening the sword back at her hip, but her attention drifted toward the western gate.

"You think something's going to happen today?" The question took the humor out of the moment. Max followed her eyes toward the palisade.

"Maybe." He considered it for a moment.

"Yesterday might've forced their hand. We followed their work farther than they probably expected, and now Greenglade knows someone has been moving bodies through the area and which direction they went." Alina rested one hand on the pommel of her sword.

"So if they know we're getting close..."

"They may change whatever they were planning." Max looked toward the gate for another moment before shrugging.

"Or nothing happens and we spend the day waiting." Cass tossed the remains of her apple toward a nearby barrel.

"Thrilling." Max glanced toward the inn.

"Either way, we can wait after breakfast." Alina pushed herself off the fence.

"Best thing you've said all morning." The three of them drifted back into the inn as the rest of the town began to stir. A cart rattled slowly across the square, its driver muttering under his breath as he bounced in his seat. Two merchants argued quietly over the placement of a stall. Somewhere nearby, someone had already begun cooking, and the smell of hot bread and rendered fat drifted faintly through the air. Inside the Green Stag, the common room was only just waking.

A few early risers sat near the hearth with mugs in hand while the innkeeper moved between tables with practiced ease.

Max sat and checked his gear out of habit more than necessity. He tightened a strap, adjusted his sword, then left it alone. Across from him, Alina fidgeted, adjusting the wrap on her sword hilt again, then double checking her quiver. Elias sat with a cup in hand and a book open in front of him, quiet as ever, while Borin spoke briefly with the innkeeper. Cass lingered near the door, watching the street with idle interest. It felt almost normal.

Max stepped back outside a short while later to people watch, the others following at their own pace. The square had filled in more now. Voices had risen. Movement had picked up. A few townsfolk passed them with nods. Others simply went about their morning. For a short while, nothing happened. Then a guard came sprinting through the morning crowd towards the Green Stag, stopping a few feet in front of Max. The man panted, and managed to spit out a few short sentences between gasps.

"Headwoman Brenna sent me. Movement west of the fields. Figures on the flat." The guard turned and moved toward the gate. Max and the others fell in with him without a word. They reached the wall a few minutes later to find Headwoman Brenna already there. She stood near the tower platform, posture straight, eyes fixed on the field beyond. Around her, guards lined the palisade. Guardsman Alex stayed close by as she paced back and forth. Some of the men stood steady, but others didn't.

One gripped the rail too tightly. Another shifted constantly, attention flicking between the distant figures and the gate below. Captain Rulon moved to Brenna's side as Max and the others approached. The shapes resolved themselves in the distance, eight figures standing in a straight line across the open ground, just beyond bow range. At first glance, they might have passed for soldiers standing in formation, but the illusion didn't survive a second look.

Gray skin showed between pieces of scavenged armor, slack faces stared toward the walls, and several carried wounds that should have left them lying where they fell. One stood with its head tilted at an angle no living man could have held for long. The eight undead remained perfectly still, weapons ready in their hands as patched breastplates, torn mail, and dented helms caught the morning light.

"They're not advancing," Alina said quietly. Rulon frowned.

"Why just stand there?" Brenna didn't answer. She kept watching the line, studying it. A flicker of movement stirred below as several guards shifted near the gate, tension carrying through the formation.

"Hold," Brenna said sharply. The movement stopped. Silence stretched another heartbeat before she made her decision.

"Send a unit out, Lieutenant. Test them. Do not overextend."

"Yes, Headwoman," the Lieutenant called from below. He turned at once.

"Form up! Half the watch, with me!" Boots struck the ground as the gate opened wider and nearly twenty men filed out, spreading into a rough formation as they advanced across the field. Max kept his eyes on the undead, but they didn't move until the guards were well clear of the gate. Then all eight turned together and began walking away from Greenglade.

"Hold!" Rulon barked down from the wall.

"Back to the gate! Now!" The guards hesitated only a moment before retreating, and the instant the last of them began pulling back, the undead stopped. All eight turned together and walked back to their original positions, where they resumed their silent watch across the field. Brenna exhaled slowly.

"So they're choosing when the fight happens."

"Someone is," Borin said. His attention remained fixed on the distant line.

"That fits with what we saw in Stonebridge, but this is different." He shifted his hammer against his shoulder.

"Eight bodies won't take a town. They're not here for that." Elias leaned forward slightly against the palisade.

"They're testing your response." Rulon glanced at him.

"Twenty men advance, they retreat," Elias continued.

"Pull the men back, they return. Whoever's controlling them is learning what Greenglade does without risking the undead." Borin grunted.

"Aye." He tapped the head of his hammer lightly against the wood beneath his feet.

"The dead in Stonebridge were sent our way and kept coming until we put them down." He lifted his chin toward the eight figures.

"These turned back the moment the numbers went against them, then came right back when the danger passed."

"That's not instinct," Elias said.

"And it isn't simple animation." Rulon looked toward the field again.

"So whoever raised them is watching."

"Or close enough to know what's happening," Borin said. Cass rested her forearms against the palisade.

"Either way, they're setting the terms." Brenna looked toward her. Cass nodded toward the undead.

"Send too many and they leave. Send too few and you give them the fight they want. If they leave, they could come back whenever it's least convenient."

"Maybe after dark," Alina said. Rulon's jaw shifted.

"Or after we've moved men somewhere else." Brenna turned toward the party.

"Then what do you recommend?" For a moment, nobody answered. Max looked over the eight undead again.

"If we drive them off, we solve nothing."

"Agreed," Elias said.

"And if the controller is testing response, chasing them teaches them exactly how far we're willing to pursue." Cass nodded.

"Which means we shouldn't chase at all." Borin looked toward the line.

"But leaving raised dead standing outside the walls isn't much of an answer either."

"No," Max said. He looked from Borin to Elias, then back toward the field.

"We know what happens if we send a large force. They leave. So don't send one." Rulon glanced toward him.

"What do you suggest?" Max shrugged.

"There are eight of them. Send eight people who can handle themselves, and maybe they stay."

"And if they do," Alina said, "we can destroy them before whoever's controlling them changes the plan." Cass pushed away from the palisade.

"No pursuit if they run."

"Agreed," Max said.

"If they retreat, we let them. If they commit, we finish it." Rulon considered the field for a moment.

"Small enough not to scare them off. Strong enough not to get butchered." Borin nodded.

"And close enough to the walls that retreat is still an option." Brenna looked between them, then toward the undead once more.

"Alright." Her attention settled on Max.

"You take the lead." Then she turned to Rulon.

"You go with them. Take two more. Eight against eight. Let's see how they react to a fair fight." Rulon nodded and faced the guards along the wall.

"I need two volunteers." There was a brief pause before Alex stepped forward from beside Brenna.

"I'll go." An older guard followed a moment later.

"Same." He looked toward the party.

"Thomas." Rulon nodded once.

"Good. You two stay with me unless I tell you otherwise, and if one of them gives you an order in the middle of the fight, you follow it." Both men saluted.

"Yes, Captain." Rulon started toward the stairs, then stopped and turned back.

"One more thing." Alex and Thomas looked at him. Rulon pointed toward Elias.

"When he shouts the name of a Spell, move first and ask questions later." Elias gave him a sidelong look. Rulon ignored it.

"Learned that one the unpleasant way." Alex glanced toward Rulon's damaged sleeve, then back to Elias.

"What are we watching for?"" Earthsplit means get off the ground I'm pointing at," Elias said.

"Immediately. It'll break and buckle beneath you. Frostsheet means much the same unless you enjoy fighting on ice." Thomas nodded.

"And there's one more you should know about. Radiant Flare." Both guards waited.

"Bright enough to blind you if you're looking toward it when it goes off," Elias continued.

"If I call it, turn your eyes away until the flash passes. Somehow, blinding my allies never seems to work out in my favor." Rulon gave him a flat look.

"Anything else likely to ruin my day?"

"Several things." Rulon stared at him. Elias allowed himself the faintest smile.

"Nothing to do with my Spellcraft, I assure you." Rulon turned and started down the steps.

"Fair enough." Cass snorted behind them. Brenna cut across the exchange.

"Save it for when you're back inside the walls."

"Yes ma'am," Rulon called back wothout turning his head. The eight of them descended from the palisade and crossed through the gate together. Ahead, the undead still hadn't moved. They waited in their straight line across the field as Max and the others began walking toward them.