Chương 92: Chapter 70: The Strength of The Tribe

The morning after the Duskroot arrived, Grub stepped outside and found the first real hint of spring waiting for him. It wasn't here yet, but for the first time in months, it felt close enough to notice. He stopped just beyond the cavern wall and lifted his face toward the sun. The air still carried winter's chill, and snow remained thick beneath the trees where shadow lingered longest, but the wind no longer cut through fur, cloth, and leather with the same merciless edge.

Water dripped steadily from melting snow along the ridge, exposing dark stone beneath, while patches of wet earth had begun appearing around roots and fallen branches. Sunlight spilled between the trees in pale gold, and somewhere deeper in the forest, one bird called before another answered from farther away. Grub stood there for a while, breathing air that smelled more of wet earth and trees than frost.

"About time." Then he turned and went back inside. Warmth closed around him as soon as he passed through the wall, carrying the familiar smells of woodsmoke, cooked meat, damp fur, and the faint bitterness of Aldren bark, needles, and herbs from somewhere near the Medics. The cavern was already awake. Two goblins fed split wood into the main hearth while several direwolves sprawled nearby, soaking up the heat.

One of the younger Riders brushed dried mud from a gray wolf's flank as another tossed it a strip of dried meat, which the beast caught neatly before settling back onto the stone with a satisfied huff. Farther into the cavern, most of the Duskroot were awake as well. Some sat beneath their borrowed furs eating from wooden bowls, while others watched the Ironfang moving around them with quiet, wary attention. Hask sat near the front of the wounded cage and caught Grub looking his way.

Grub gave him a small nod, and after a moment, Hask returned it before turning his attention elsewhere. Near the sick cage, one of the Medics crouched beside the prisoner whose fever had worsened during the march, checking his breathing before pulling the furs more securely around him and passing over a steaming cup of Frostvein tea. Another was already making his way toward the wounded with fresh bandages tucked beneath one arm. Grub slowed as he passed, watching them work.

That was one of the changes he liked most. Months ago, nearly every new idea had depended on him being there to explain it, demonstrate it, correct it, and then explain it again when someone inevitably decided to improvise. Now the Medics knew their work well enough to continue without him, and the same was increasingly true of the Builders.

Grub's attention drifted toward the broad opening along the right side of the cavern, where the storage alcove looked noticeably different from when he had left four days earlier. Before the warband departed for the Duskroot hollow, he and the Builders had already carved out a sizable chamber, large enough to solve most of the tribe's immediate storage problems once it was finished.

Without his magic, pushing the excavation deeper into the mountain had been slow, so the Builders had turned their attention to everything else they could improve. The rubble left behind from the larger excavations had been cleared away, rough sections of wall and ceiling chipped smoother, and several shallow shelves cut directly into the stone.

Timber braces now supported sections of ceiling the Builders distrusted, while tools, spare spear shafts, baskets, and folded hides had already begun filling the finished portions of the chamber. The deeper excavation still had plenty of work left. The rear wall remained rough and uneven, several sections of floor rose in awkward ridges, and one side narrowed where stubborn stone had slowed progress, but the alcove had continued changing without him.

A pair of Builders worked beside one of the timber supports, driving wooden wedges between the beam and the stone overhead. Two Warriors hauled a sled of broken rock toward the entrance while another Builder crouched beside a newly carved shelf, worrying at a narrow ridge of stone with a bone chisel. Grub stepped aside as the sled scraped past, then wandered toward the shelf just as the Builder struck the ridge again. A small chip broke loose, but the rest of the seam held.

"Giving you trouble?" The Builder glanced up.

"More than it should." Grub crouched beside him and ran his fingers along the raised strip of stone.

"It's shallow."

"That's the problem. The hammer is too much for it, and the chisel keeps splitting around the edge instead of taking the ridge cleanly." He tapped the stone with one finger.

"I can keep working at it, but I'll probably damage the shelf before I get the damn thing smooth." Grub studied it for a moment.

"I could use Stone Fragmentation." The Builder looked at the shelf, then back at him.

"You could also save us time by breaking the entire thing and making us start over." Grub chuckled softly and frowned.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

"Your old Spell would be better." Grub looked at him.

"Old Spell?"

"The one you used when we were making the vents. The small one."" Stone Chip."

"Yes." The Builder nodded toward the ridge.

"That would take this off without touching the rest." Grub looked back at the stone and frowned.

"I don't have Stone Chip anymore. It evolved into Stone Fragmentation." The Builder was quiet for a moment.

"You still remember how you cast it, though?" Grub frowned.

"Of course I remember."

"Then why not try?" Grub looked at him. The Builder shrugged.

"You used it constantly. If the System changed the Spell, that doesn't mean you forgot what you were doing before." Grub opened his mouth, then stopped. That was... Actually, he had no idea whether that was true. He had cast Stone Chip hundreds of times while carving the first vents, probably thousands if he counted every tiny correction and adjustment along the way. He remembered the Mana gathering in his palm, the pressure focused against one point, and the controlled break that followed.

He'd simply assumed that once the Spell evolved, the old version was gone forever. Grub looked back at the ridge.

"I'm not sure Spells work that way."

"Neither am I," the Builder said.

"But if the alternative is me spending another hour ruining this shelf one chip at a time, I think it's worth finding out." Grub laughed softly.

"Alright. When you put it like that, I guess I can give it a shot." He placed his palm against the stone and focused. His Mana began settling naturally into the familiar pattern of Stone Fragmentation, but Grub stopped before completing it and tried to remember what had come before. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Stone Chip had always been smaller and more controlled.

Instead of sending fractures spreading through the rock, he had gathered the Mana tightly against a single point and pushed just hard enough to break away what he wanted. The memory returned more easily than he expected. Grub closed his eyes, gathered the Mana against his palm, shaped it into that old familiar pressure, and pushed. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then a sharp crack sounded beneath his hand, and a thin sliver of stone broke cleanly from the ridge and dropped into his palm.

Grub opened his eyes and stared at the piece of stone before examining the clean break left behind. Beside him, the Builder leaned closer.

"Huh." A faint chime sounded inside Grub's mind. The Builder glanced from him to the ridge.

"Well?" Grub slowly smiled.

"I think you were right." He opened the notification. [Congratulations! Do you want to re-learn Stone Chip?] [Yes / No] Grub selected Yes, and the notification changed. [Spell Learned: Stone Chip: Tier 1 — Level 10 — 100%] He stared at the message for a moment before pulling up his Spell list, where Stone Chip had returned exactly as he remembered it. Out of curiosity, Grub waited to see whether the System would offer another evolution now that the Spell had returned at full mastery, but no prompt appeared.

That suited him just fine. Stone Fragmentation was already better for breaking apart larger sections of rock, while Stone Chip gave him back the precision he had been missing. Grub closed the window and looked toward the Builder. The goblin examined the clean break along the shelf, then gave Grub a satisfied nod before setting his chisel against what remained of the ridge.

"Much better."

"Glad at least one of us thought of it." The Builder grinned and returned to work. Grub crossed toward the unfinished rear wall, where the last Builder was examining the next section they intended to open. Four days without his magic had left the deeper excavation mostly where he remembered it, and with most of his Mana still available, there was no reason not to put it to use. He placed his hand against the marked section of stone.

"Back up." The Builder grinned and moved away.

"Glad to have you back." Grub cast Stone Fragmentation, and rock cracked loudly through the chamber as a web of fractures raced outward. A heavy section of the rear wall broke apart and crashed onto the floor, sending dust rolling through the alcove while the Builders immediately moved in to separate the loosened stone from what still needed breaking. Once the air cleared, Grub shifted several steps farther along the wall and cast again.

He kept working until his Mana was empty, leaving several more sections broken open and the Builders with a fresh mountain of rubble to clear. The chamber was still far from finished, but the rear wall had moved noticeably deeper by the time Grub dusted the stone grit from his hands and stepped back into the main cavern. The entrance opened just as he emerged, sending a brief sweep of cool air across the chamber.

Kesh came through first, with two Scouts close behind her, all three streaked with mud and melting snow from a morning beyond the cavern. One Scout carried a strip of bark scratched with markings while the other held a flat piece of slate. Kesh spotted Dravak near his stone seat and headed straight toward him, the Scouts following at her heels. Grub followed at a slower pace and stopped close enough to listen as Kesh handed over the bark.

The Scouts began reporting what they had found along the northern ridges and valleys, pointing out old tracks, signs of hunting parties, and other evidence of movement while Dravak studied the markings. There was still no sign of a Red Tusk warband moving toward Ironfang territory. When the Scouts finished, Dravak set the bark beside several earlier reports near his stone seat and reached for the slate. Grub's eyes lingered briefly on the growing stack.

The Red Tusk might have been quiet for the last few days, but with the snow beginning to thaw and travel growing easier, he doubted a tribe somewhere near a hundred strong would stay quiet forever. He left Dravak with the Scouts and continued toward the prisoner cages. The Duskroot had been awake for hours already, and whatever chance any of them might have had of dozing through the morning had certainly ended once Grub started breaking pieces off the mountain. Most of the Duskroot were watching the cavern now.

The fear hadn't disappeared, but the rigid tension from their arrival had eased enough for curiosity to begin showing through it. One prisoner sat near the bars following the Builders as they hauled fresh sleds of broken stone from the storage alcove, while several others watched a pair of Warriors drilling near the hearth, their attention fixed on the repeated footwork and controlled thrusts. A direwolf padded past the cages on its way toward the fire, and several Duskroot instinctively stepped back.

It stopped halfway across the cavern and yawned, exposing rows of long teeth and wet, gleaming canines. The prisoners retreated another step before the wolf closed its mouth, shook itself, and continued toward one of the Riders, where it accepted a strip of dried meat and sprawled comfortably beside the hearth. Slowly, the Duskroot drifted back toward the bars. Grub kept walking, watching their attention move from one unfamiliar thing to another.

Every few moments, one of them glanced toward another prisoner as if silently checking whether they were seeing the same thing. When he reached the largest cage, he stopped. The Duskroot who hadn't needed treatment after the hollow fell were inside, including all seven pregnant captives. There was enough room for everyone to sleep comfortably, but considerably less once they were awake, eating, moving around, and spending the entire day behind the bars.

Grub had spent enough time arguing that pregnant goblins needed more food, more rest, and less unnecessary strain that leaving them sitting in a crowded cage all day felt like a poor way to follow his own advice. He turned toward the two Warriors standing nearby.

"Open it." One of them looked over.

"Why?" Grub pointed toward the seven pregnant Duskroot.

"I'll explain in a minute. Bring those seven out." The Warrior hesitated only briefly before reaching for the door.

"Right." The cage opened, but none of the seven Duskroot moved at first. Only when the Warrior motioned them forward did they begin emerging one after another, eyes moving between Grub, the nearby wolves, and the rest of the cavern.

"Come on." Grub led them toward one of the warmer hearths, gathered several thick furs, and spread them across the stone. He pulled a bowl of dried meat closer as well.

"Sit. Eat if you're hungry." They hesitated before lowering themselves onto the furs. None touched the food. Grub turned toward the five pregnant Ironfang near another hearth.

"You five. Come here." The goblins exchanged looks before one frowned at him.

"Why?"

"I need all twelve of you together." They approached with a few muttered complaints, but when they reached the hearth, Grub pointed toward the open space on the furs.

"Sit." The first goblin folded her arms beneath her chest.

"You going to tell us what you're doing?"

"Yes. Sit first." She held his gaze for a moment, then lowered herself onto the furs. The others followed, some more reluctantly than others, until the five Ironfang sat among the seven Duskroot. Grub looked over the group.

"New rule. From now on, pregnant goblins eat more, rest more, and don't do hard work unless we actually need them to." One of the Ironfang frowned.

"We can work."

"I know. Nobody said you couldn't."

"I hunted until the snow came."

"And you'll hunt again." Grub gestured toward her stomach.

"Right now you're growing another goblin. That's work too." Another snorted.

"We aren't weak." Grub nodded.

"I know."

"Sounds like you think we are." Grub closed his eyes and rubbed briefly at the bridge of his nose.

"Throk tried telling me yesterday that hard lives make hard goblins."

"Of course he did," one of the Ironfang muttered.

"I told him starving a child before it's born isn't training." Grub glanced around the group.

"You're not helpless, and nobody is treating you like you are. You can still work. You just don't need to spend all day hauling stone, running through the forest, or doing something exhausting when another goblin can do it instead." The first Ironfang glanced down at her stomach.

"Until the children are born?"

"Until the Medics say you're ready afterward." She looked back up.

"How long is that?" Grub shrugged.

"I have no idea. Ask them." A few of the Ironfang laughed. Another glanced toward the Duskroot sitting among them.

"And they stay out here too?"

"Yes."

"They're prisoners."

"I know. They're still prisoners." Grub nodded toward the nearby Warriors.

"If one tries to run, call a Warrior. If one gets sick or needs help, get a Medic or help if you can." The goblin looked between Grub and the Duskroot.

"So now we're watching them too." He shrugged again.

"You wanted work." She stared at him for a moment before snorting.

"Fine." One of the Duskroot had been watching the entire exchange with a furrowed brow. She glanced down at the furs beneath her, then toward the bowl of meat still sitting untouched beside the hearth before looking at Grub.

"Why do this for us?" He looked down at her.

"Because healthy mothers have a better chance of having healthy children."

"We aren't Ironfang."

"Not now." Several of the Duskroot looked up at that. Grub shrugged.

"Maybe you never will be. I don't know yet." His eyes dropped briefly toward her stomach.

"But the child you're carrying didn't lose that fight. There's no reason to make it start life weaker because you did." The Duskroot stared at him for a moment before looking down. Beside her, one of the Ironfang reached for the bowl of dried meat and pulled it between them. She took a piece for herself, then nudged the bowl toward the Duskroot.

"Eat." The captive hesitated before taking one. Another Ironfang shifted farther onto the furs to make room, then looked toward the Duskroot beside her.

"How long until yours comes?" The answer came quietly. The Ironfang frowned.

"That soon?" Another Duskroot answered before the first could, and one of the other Ironfang leaned closer to listen. Grub turned away while they were still talking and headed deeper into the cavern. There was plenty else that needed his attention.