Chương 10: Return of the Carrion King

Grelgo rubbed the lengthy scar on his chin—a gruesome thing, acquired during his first battle. It was never the injury that was the problem. It was how he acquired it. He had tripped and fallen on his own axe, almost ending his life. If not for the enemy combatants thinking he had killed himself, he might not be here today. He never thought he'd live to see the day when he outlived that embarrassment. The wound was the exact kick in the ass he needed to climb the ladder—to be his clan's finest soldier.

Over time, all of those who laughed at him—insulted him—by calling him Grelgo Axe Face, were proved wrong. Over the years, the scar on his chin became not a mark of shame, but a mark of pride. Gone now were the stories of him falling on his own axe. Almost no one knew the true tale now, besides his closest confidants and wife. Grelgo leaned back in his chair of bone, popping his back and stretching out the sore in his ass from sitting in the accursed thing.

A chair made of hip bones—who would have thought it would be so uncomfortable. Too long had he gone without battle. Too long had these lands known peace. Each of the goblin clans in the wilds bowed to him now, save for a few of the outcast tribes. They lived only because he was merciful enough to allow them the privilege. One day the humans would return to these wilds in force, and this new generation of children could know true battle. True fury. Rumors ebbed and flowed.

Among the humans, there were very few who traded goods and information with the goblin clans. But while they were few and far between, the information was consistent. The Adventurer's Guild grew by the day. Already their scouts had been spotted trekking through the woods, eyes hungry for treasure and the blood of any peoples they deem "beasts". Footsteps pounded on the dirt outside the command tent, and Grelgo's wife, Muutcha, charged through the tent flaps.

"Grelgo!" He frowned. Sweat dripped from her brow, dirt staining her otherwise pristine white dress.

"What is it?"

"The scouts have returned. Something stirs to the east. A great power."

"Speak plainly. Is it the Guild?" She shook her head, panting.

"No. None of us are sure what it is. All we know is that it is near Stick's encampment. My best mages were knocked out by the power of it, and I have only just now recovered." Grelgo jumped to his feet, leaving the bone throne behind.

"Stick? Could it be…?" Stick had been gifted an unnaturally long life, and with that, an uncharacteristically vivid imagination. The old goblin and his clan were nothing but pests, buzzards. You'd have to be mad to worship and praise the same dead and desolate cave for well over 200 years.

"Nonsense." Muutcha shook her head.

"Come outside and look for yourself, Grelgo." Grelgo exhaled through his nose, but did as his wife said. He stepped outside and looked over his domain. His command tent was pitched atop one of the highest hills in the region, and gave him a full view over the towering trees and broken mountains that were his domain. Strength. Power. Stability. Two scouts stood just outside, both looking into the distance. Something stained the horizon.

A black tower, with jagged spikes lining its sides, poked out of the forest, parting the clouds around it. Impossibly tall—the structure reached up into the heavens, scarring the blue sky with something tainted and evil. A growl formed in Grelgo's stomach.

"Gather another scouting party." The sun rose over the horizon, lighting up the black tower in detail. Hollow crossed her arms, looking up at the great iron doors that blocked them from entering. All morning they had tried to pull them open with no success. Now, several clan members had tied ropes around the oversized metal rings hanging from the doors, and pulled uselessly. Even with ten goblins manning a single rope, the door would not budge. Hollow would save her strength.

The doors would open on their own terms, it seemed. Behind her, the rest of the clan worked to clean up their destroyed village. Stick led the effort of saving what they could, but there was nothing of value left. Stone buildings were now piles of smoking rubble, and any wooden structures were but ash in the wind. The tower destroyed everything.

"The cave is gone," Meena, one of her scouts, said. Hollow looked over her shoulder. She hadn't expected to have a scout back so quickly.

"Entirely? It hasn't just been caved in with the earthquake?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"The…entire hill is gone. It's like it was just plucked out of reality."

"…and shifted into a tower," Hollow said.

"Have you heard from any of the others? Is there any sign of Travis—the Carrion King—anywhere?"

"No. His trail cuts off at where the cave entrance used to be." No matter what Stick said, this was a disaster. Hollow took a few steps back, craning her head up to gaze upon the highest point of the tower. A speck. One would need a telescope to make it out in any detail.

"And Grelgo's men? Is there any sign of him?"

"Last reported sightings of his scouts are still a week old. I know you are paranoid, but—"" Paranoid?" Hollow barked.

"Meena, overnight a massive tower sprouted out of the ground that will be visible to who knows how many people? It's not just the other goblin tribes we have to worry about now—it is anyone who might be interested in claiming this discovery for themselves. How long until the humans come?"

"The Carrion King will protect us, will he not?" Hollow clenched her jaw, picturing the out-of-place oaf one last time. If they were relying on him—they were fucked. Stick approached her, his limbs heavy, skin burned from working under the pounding sun.

"Three dead. Two missing." He watched the tower crew, rubbing his face.

"No luck opening it?"

"Not yet," she said.

"Have you tried just…knocking, yet?"

"We have been pulling on the door for hours. Why would knocking change anything?" He shrugged.

"It's worth trying. If the Carrion King is in there…" Hollow shook her head and sighed. She waved away the goblins on rope duty, and shouted, "Alright, back away. Let's try knocking." Everyone looked at each other and shrugged, dropped the rope, and backed away. The doors hung high over her as she approached. The statues on either side glared downward, blue-burning torches flickering in the wind, their faces twisted in agony. She couldn't remember the last time she felt nervous.

But there was no sense in not doing a thing just because you're afraid of it. She rapped her fist on the door, and the metal rang out like a gong. Hollow took two steps back and waited. The resonance faded, and she looked over her shoulder to look at Stick.

"I told you so." But the door clicked—a latch thrown open. Iron ground on iron, and the gates inched open, sending a wave of frigid air blasting against her.

"C-Carrion King?" Hollow stuttered.

"Ah! Hollow! Stick! I was nervous I'd sprouted this tower out somewhere else entirely." The human had changed. Blood, gore, and viscera stained his old, strange clothes. His shaggy brown hair transitioned to pure silver, hanging down well past his shoulders. His eyes glowed a deep red, piercing through her. This was the Carrion King she had expected. Minus the outfit. A strange skeleton flanked him—one not much taller than Hollow herself. Its build was… wrong. Half-made.

It held a skull in one hand, whose blazing blue eyes flashed excitedly at her gaze.

"My lord! You've returned!" Stick shouted, stumbling forward and dropping to one knee.

"We had the scouts out all night looking for you. We feared we had done something to offend you. I suppose this tower is your announcement of your return to the world?" The Carrion King looked up at the tower, biting his lip.

"Yeah, you could say something like that." Fresh air and sunlight. I took a deep breath, stretching out and letting the sun warm my skin. I didn't know how long I was inside the dungeon, but the cold air and darkness hadn't affected me as much as I'd anticipated. Stick refused to meet my eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto the ground beneath my feet.

"Please, stand. No reason to be so nervous," I said. Stick gulped and then looked up at me, still not meeting my eyes.

"Understood, my lord." [These are our defenders?] For now, yeah, I channeled back to the core. [We are so fucked.] Rubble surrounded the tower. I wouldn't have recognized the bones of the town if not for the tearful goblins poking around the debris. The tower had sprouted in the middle of their village—sprouting from where my statue once stood. The crushed milk crate had been recovered, set to the side of the iron doors. Even the chapel was gone—a pile of misshapen stone where it once stood tall.

Smoke rose from the surrounding ruins. Fire flickered, and wind spread ash into the forest beyond. The streets where children once played were now filled with splinters and broken promises. Stick's clan labored over their fallen homes. A cry echoed out from an older woman as she pulled a body out of the rubble. She fell to her knees, choking back tears. Others surrounded her, placing hands on her shoulders. The woman looked at me, a flash of anger in her gaze. I swallowed.

"Did I do this?" Hollow spoke.

"Three…four, now, have died since the tower's eruption. Everything…everything is gone." Her words were a stab to the heart. I took a step back.

"That wasn't my intention. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"You need not lift a finger!" Stick said.

"Such things are beneath you—""No. No they're not." I set my jaw.

"None of this is beneath me!" I'd not just destroyed the dungeon, I'd destroyed the livelihood of dozens of people. For generations this town stood—in honor of me! —without issue, and within 24 hours of me being here, I'd reduced it to ash. This was more than just burning down their winter stores. The things lost here could never be recovered, not in the way they were before. Would I really live up to my villainous name so easily? Without even trying? What had I expected would happen?

That I would leave the tower, embrace the goblins, and we would just go on our jolly way? There was no more running away. Not anymore. I steadied my voice.

"I can't replace the people you have lost, and for that I am sorry. But I will make things right somehow. Bring your wounded inside the tower, as well as any supplies you may have. We can use the tower for shelter until everything has been rebuilt properly." Stick's eyes watered.

"Are you sure, my lord? I would not want to displace you."

"You are doing no such thing. Now please. We have work to do." The old goblin nodded and turned around to gather everyone. Hollow took another step forward and spoke in a hushed tone.

"I don't know your plans, but be warned. The other clans will come soon, and we must be able to defend ourselves. With the loss of our village, we have lost our weapons."

"I will handle it."

"How, exactly?"

"By killing some rats."