Chương 97: Chapter 75: A Show of Strength

Six broken spear shafts and three surrenders later, Throk finally allowed the spar to end. The first surrender had come after Hask spent several minutes discovering exactly how large the difference was between fighting another System-blessed goblin and fighting one whose entire Class seemed designed around hitting things until they stopped moving. Hask had held his own better than most of the watching Duskroot expected. Better than Grub had expected too. He just couldn't match Throk's strength.

Every direct clash drove him backward, and whenever their practice spears locked, Hask had only a heartbeat before Throk began forcing him off balance. So Hask stopped meeting him directly. The same burst of speed Grub remembered from their duel appeared again, carrying Hask abruptly outside Throk's reach before the larger goblin could finish a strike. He darted around Throk's flank, landed a sharp blow against his ribs, and slipped away before Throk's answering swing could catch him.

The Duskroot cheered, and Throk answered with a broad grin. A heartbeat later, he caught Hask's spear against his own and wrenched hard. The shaft snapped with a sharp crack that carried across the clearing. Hask stared down at the splintered wood in his hands. Someone at the edge of the ring immediately tossed him another spear. Hask caught it, gave Throk a long look, and stepped back into position.

Hask landed hits twice more before Throk finally caught him during one of those bursts, stepped into his path instead of chasing him, and drove a shoulder into his chest hard enough to send him rolling through the dirt. Hask came up coughing.

"I surrender." Throk backed away just enough to give him room, spear still raised. Hask looked up at him. Throk waited.

"You heard me."

"I did."

"You're not stopping." Throk grinned.

"No." A few goblins laughed around the ring. Hask stared at him for another moment, then muttered something under his breath and pushed himself back to his feet. The second surrender came two broken spears later. Throk ignored that one too. By the third, Hask was breathing hard enough that even the Duskroot had stopped urging him back up. One side of his tunic was torn, mud covered most of his back, and a dark bruise was already forming beneath one eye.

Throk stood across from him with the remains of yet another practice spear in his hands, blood beading along a split in his lower lip where Hask had managed to catch him cleanly. Hask raised both palms.

"I surrender." Throk considered him. Hask narrowed his eyes.

"If you ignore me again, I'm walking away." That finally made Throk laugh.

"Fine." He tossed the broken spear aside and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of one hand.

"Been a while since someone made me take a spar seriously." Hask straightened a little despite his exhaustion.

"You could've stopped after the first surrender." Throk shrugged.

"Could've."

"Or the second." Throk grinned.

"Wouldn't have been as fun." Hask grinned back, then turned and walked out of the ring. The Duskroot immediately erupted around him, shouting their approval and calling out congratulations while several slapped spear shafts against the ground. Hask made it three steps before bending forward with both hands braced against his knees. One of his Warriors passed behind him and slapped him across the shoulder.

"Good fight, Chief." Hask nearly went face-first into the dirt. He caught himself and turned very slowly. The Warrior froze under the look that followed, but after several long seconds, Hask finally laughed.

"You try next." The goblin quickly disappeared into the crowd. Near the weapon rack, one of the Builders had found considerably less to laugh about. He stood holding the two halves of a broken spear while his eyes moved over the splintered shafts scattered across the clearing, silently counting each one before settling on Throk.

"Six." Throk glanced over.

"You broke six spears."

"They were practice spears."

"They were spears before you broke them." Throk shrugged.

"Make more." The Builder stared at him. Throk considered his response for a moment.

"Or make stronger ones." The Builder's expression became considerably less friendly. Grub stepped carefully away before someone decided this was somehow his problem too. Over the next few days, the Builders did indeed replace the spears. They also complained about it the entire time. Spring deepened around them as the days passed. The last stubborn pockets of snow sank into the earth, streams ran fuller between the ridges, and game moved more freely through the forest. So did goblins.

The first reports came quietly. Fresh tracks in the north where there hadn't been any the week before. A snare found cut loose along the western trail. Then an Ironfang marker scored across with a knife. The next morning, one of Kesh's Scouts reported smoke from a camp. Another found tracks from five or six goblins moving south before turning back. None of it was alarming on its own, but taken together, it formed a pattern. The Red Tusk were moving farther from their old territory, and closer to the Ironfang.

Three mornings after Hask's spar with Throk, Grub was near the cavern entrance when Kesh returned with two Scouts, mud darkening the lower half of her legs.

"Another fire," she said. Grub frowned.

"Where?"

"North ridge. Closer than the last one." One of the Scouts stepped forward beside Kesh.

"We found another set of tracks too. Six goblins, maybe seven. They crossed one of the smaller creeks farther north, then turned west."

"South side?" The Scout nodded. Grub's expression darkened.

"That's our hunting ground."

"Outer edge of it," Kesh said.

"Still ours." Kesh glanced back toward the forest.

"They're getting comfortable." Grub looked north for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah." Then Kesh added, "We found something else." Grub raised an eyebrow.

"Elk. Big herd northeast of here."

"How many?"

"Around fifteen." Grub's attention moved toward where several of the Fangs rested in the morning sunlight outside the entrance. Kesh followed his eyes.

"Rika was going to take them out anyway." She paused.

"Take Hask." Grub looked back at her.

"He's spent days watching the Fangs sleep, eat, and let Riders scratch their bellies." A faint smile touched her mouth.

"He should see why we count them when we talk about our strength." Grub glanced toward the cavern entrance.

"I'll get him. Gather the Fangs." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. By the time Rika had gathered the Riders, Grub had returned with Hask. They met near the entrance while the wolves shifted restlessly around them, and Rika listened as Kesh described where the herd had been seen.

"Fifteen?" she asked.

"About that. Couldn't get an exact count." Rika looked toward Grub.

"Five?" Grub considered the herd size for a moment, then nodded.

"Five. No more if the herd is still that large." Rika gave a short nod and turned toward the Riders.

"Five kills." The Riders nodded. Hask watched the exchange.

"Five?" Grub looked back at him.

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow.

"You say that like killing five elk is nothing." Grub glanced toward the waiting Fangs.

"For them it mostly isn't." Hask followed his eyes toward the wolves, then back to Grub.

"My Hunters would celebrate one." Grub grinned at him.

"Then you should enjoy this." Grub swung himself onto Sable's back and scooted forward to make room before offering his hand.

"Come on." Hask looked at Sable, then at Grub.

"You want me on that?"

"She won't eat you." Sable turned her head and looked back at Hask. Grub paused.

"Probably." Hask gave him a flat look while a few of the Riders laughed. He took Grub's hand and climbed on anyway. The Fangs moved quickly northeast through the forest. Sable carried both goblins easily, her long strides eating the distance beneath the trees while Hask gradually learned how much he needed to move with her rather than fight every shift of her body. By the time the herd came into view, he'd finally stopped gripping Grub quite so tightly.

They halted downwind from the herd below a low ridge overlooking a broad break in the trees. Grub slid from Sable's back, and Hask followed. The moment both goblins were clear, Sable shook herself once and trotted toward the other wolves. Hask watched her go before looking at Grub.

"She hunts without you?"

"Today, yes. Not always." Sable disappeared quietly into the trees. Below them, the elk herd grazed through wet grass and patches of old snow, their large bodies supported by long, slender legs. A single bull stood among the cows, his heavy antlers rising above the herd. Hask crouched beside Grub and watched the herd while Grub counted the animals moving through the wet grass. Fifteen. Across the clearing, Rika waited astride Ashpaw. Grub caught her eye and raised one hand with all five fingers spread.

She answered with a single nod. Hask noticed the exchange and shook his head.

"Still five?"

"Still five." He looked back toward the herd, then toward the wolves hidden among the trees.

"You really expect them to take five?" Grub smiled faintly.

"Watch." Hask frowned, but said nothing, and for several breaths, the clearing remained quiet. Then Sable appeared. She slipped from the undergrowth along the herd's eastern side, low and silent until one of the cows finally noticed her. Its head snapped up, and a sharp alarm call rang across the clearing. Sable accelerated, and the herd exploded into motion. More cows took up the warning as the elk surged away from her, their cries mingling with the pounding of hooves.

Two more wolves burst out from the opposite tree line, turning the fleeing animals back toward the center. The herd twisted, but another pair of Fangs appeared before them. Hask rose slightly from his crouch.

"They were already surrounded."

"Mostly." One wolf pressed close enough to force the lead animals left, then peeled away before antlers or hooves could reach it. Another cut across the rear, keeping the slower animals from breaking in the opposite direction. The herd compressed, shrill calls carrying over the churn of hooves. Then the Riders struck. A short javelin flashed from wolfback and buried itself high in an elk's hindquarter. Another Rider threw almost immediately after, hitting the same leg.

The wounded animal stumbled, and Sable launched herself forward and hit its flank hard enough to turn it toward another wolf waiting ahead. The second wolf lunged for the rear leg and bit down, dragging the elk into the grass. Sable was on it a heartbeat later, her jaws closing around its throat until the animal's struggling stopped. Hask's eyes swept across the clearing, following one wolf to the next as they pressed and redirected the herd. Then Ashpaw moved.

The gray-pawed direwolf had been waiting near the western edge of the clearing with Rika crouched low against him. When the large bull broke away from the herd and found what looked like open ground, Ashpaw surged after it. He was larger than the other wolves, broad through the shoulders and chest, but even with Rika on his back he closed the distance frighteningly fast. The bull veered left, and Ashpaw matched it without losing ground. Then he leapt.

Rika flattened herself against his back as Ashpaw struck high along the elk's shoulder. The impact turned both animals, and the bull's front legs folded beneath it with audible cracks before several hundred pounds of elk slammed into the ground. Ashpaw landed beside it and lunged immediately for the throat. His jaws closed, the bull kicked once, then again, and went still. Ashpaw released it almost at once and lifted his head. Rika tapped his side, and he turned away from the kill and surged after the herd again.

Hask stared after him for a moment before looking at Grub, disbelief written plainly across his face.

"That wolf just knocked down a full-grown elk." Grub smiled faintly.

"Ashpaw." Hask grunted in mild irritation.

"As if the wolf having a name makes that more reasonable." He turned and continued watching the hunt unfold. Another elk fell near the trees when a Rider drove a javelin into its side and one of the wolves brought it down before it could recover. The herd tried to break north, but Sable appeared ahead of them once again and snapped at the lead animal's flank, turning the entire group back toward the center of the clearing.

Another Rider struck as they turned, his javelin burying itself high in an elk's front shoulder. The wounded animal stumbled, and a wolf lunged into its flank and dragged it down. The surviving elk pushed desperately toward the southern edge of the clearing. Rika shouted once, and one of the Riders cut across their path while Sable drove from behind, forcing the herd to turn yet again. That was enough to separate another animal, and three wolves converged on it from different angles.

The elk twisted away from the first and ran directly into the second before disappearing beneath all three. Five. Rika's whistle cut across the clearing twice, loud and sharp, and the Fangs broke away immediately. There was no confused pursuit and no wolf chasing whatever happened to run nearest. The surviving elk burst through the trees and disappeared northward while the Riders regrouped around the fallen animals.

Sable stood among the fallen elk with blood dark around her muzzle, ears forward as she watched the surviving herd disappear into the trees. Nearby, Ashpaw paced around the bull he had brought down before turning back toward the others, looking almost disappointed that the hunt was already over. Hask remained silent while Rika dismounted below them and began checking the kills. Only after several moments did he look toward Grub.

"That wasn't hunting." Grub glanced at him.

"No?" Hask shook his head slowly.

"That was a battle." His eyes followed the Riders as they moved among the carcasses.

"They pushed the herd where they wanted it, cut off every place it tried to escape, then stopped when they reached the number you chose." Grub smiled.

"They're very good."

"I noticed." Hask looked toward Ashpaw, then out toward the trees where the surviving herd had vanished.

"You could've taken more."

"Yes."

"Maybe all of them."

"Probably." Hask turned back to him.

"Then why stop?" Grub shrugged.

"Because there were fifteen elk here this morning. If we kill all fifteen, there aren't any left to make more elk." Hask stared at him for a moment before the corner of his mouth moved faintly. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

"You do this with everything." Grub frowned.

"Do what?"

"Count things that don't exist yet." Grub's thoughts went briefly to the pregnant goblins back at the cavern. From the look Hask gave him, the former Chief had made the same connection.

"It seems useful," Grub said.

"I can see that." Hask started down the slope.

"That's the annoying part." Grub laughed and followed. Getting five elk back to the cavern took considerably longer than killing them. Several Riders returned for sleds while the others secured the carcasses, and by early afternoon the clearing had filled with Ironfang and Duskroot tying ropes, shifting heavy bodies, and arguing over how much weight each sled could safely carry. No one seemed particularly concerned anymore with which tribe an order came from.

A Duskroot braced one shoulder beneath an elk while an Ironfang tightened the ropes around it. An Ironfang shouted for two Duskroot to lift, and they lifted. When a Duskroot noticed one of the sled runners caught beneath a root, three Ironfang moved over to help free it without hesitation. The Fangs waited nearby through most of the work, some nosing around the carcasses while others sprawled in patches of sunlight or watched the goblins struggle with the sleds. None looked especially tired from the hunt.

If anything, several seemed impatient to be moving again by the time the last load was secured. Once everything was ready, the Riders brought the wolves forward and fastened them into their harnesses. Five heavy sleds followed behind the Fangs as the column started home, the wolves providing most of the pulling strength while the goblins guided the runners around roots, steadied the loads through mud, and shoved whenever the ground turned difficult.

Progress was slow across the wet spring earth, and it became slower still as the trail began climbing toward the ridge. They were still well short of the cavern when one of Kesh's Scouts appeared on the trail ahead. He didn't call out, instead raising one hand with his palm facing them. Kesh stopped immediately and lifted her fist. The signal passed back through the column.

Voices died, the goblins guiding the sleds brought them to a halt, and the Riders quieted their wolves while hands drifted instinctively toward weapons. Grub searched the surrounding trees while the Scout approached at a quick, silent jog, slowing only when he reached Kesh and Grub.

"What did you find?" Kesh asked quietly.

"Red Tusk." Grub's hand settled around his spear.

"How many?"

"Nine that I saw. Could be more farther out."

"How close?"

"Not far. Small clearing north of the trail, maybe two hundred paces from here." Kesh's eyes narrowed.

"Doing what?"

"Butchering a deer." Her jaw set. A patrol moving through unfamiliar ground was one thing. A hunting party stopping long enough to butcher a kill this deep into Ironfang territory was another. Kesh looked toward the trees.

"I want to see them." Grub nodded.

"So do I." He glanced back along the column. Five heavy sleds sat motionless on the muddy trail, most of the Fangs still harnessed to them while Ironfang and Duskroot stood scattered among the loads. Dragging all of that any closer would be foolish.

"Rika stays here with the sleds and everyone else," Grub said. Kesh nodded.

"Agreed." Hask had been listening nearby. He stepped closer but stopped short of joining them.

"Can I come?" Kesh looked at him. Hask shrugged slightly.

"I'd like to see what they're doing." Grub considered it for a moment. Hask and his tribe had been given more freedom over the last several days, and if the Duskroot were going to decide whether the Red Tusk were worth fighting beside the Ironfang, there was value in letting their former Chief see exactly how close the threat had come. He looked toward Kesh, and she gave him a small nod.

"Fine," Grub said. Hask moved to join them, and Grub nodded toward the Scout.

"Lead us." Kesh turned back toward Rika.

"Keep everyone here and quiet. If something goes wrong, get the sleds moving south and put the wall between you and whatever follows." Rika's expression hardened, but she nodded.

"Understood." Grub looked toward Sable. She had lifted her head and was watching him curiously.

"Stay with Rika." Sable's ears shifted back. Grub pointed toward the sleds.

"Stay." She huffed through her nose and settled her weight back down. Kesh looked toward Grub and Hask.

"Come on." The four of them slipped from the trail. The Scout led them through the brush at an angle, choosing his steps carefully as they moved between the trees. The sounds of the waiting column faded behind them until Grub could hear little beyond birdsong, dripping water, and the distant murmur of goblin voices ahead. After perhaps a hundred fifty paces, the Scout slowed and crouched behind a fallen trunk before pointing through the trees. Nine goblins occupied a small clearing ahead.

Two stood near the edges with spears in hand while the others worked over a dead deer. One carved meat from the ribs while another packed strips into a hide laid open beside the carcass. Their weapons remained close, but none showed any sign that they expected trouble. Grub crouched lower and let his attention move from the goblins to the clearing itself. That was when he saw the mark. Or what remained of one.

A familiar Ironfang notch had been carved into a tree near the edge of the open ground, but several fresh cuts had been dragged directly through it, leaving the old symbol scarred and difficult to read. Beside it, another mark had been carved into the bark. Red Tusk.