Chương 13: Friend Not Foe

Knee-buster peered over a fallen tree. The sheer destruction around the tower was unimaginable. A forest had been shattered; the heretic's village leveled to dust. But despite all that, spirits were high. People sang over the rubble, working hand in hand to pick up the broken pieces. It was disgusting. There was a reason Knee-buster was chosen for this job. He was, and had always been, the best. Grelgo's eyes and ears—and one of the few scouts that had a brain.

When Grelgo asked for a scouting party—Knee-buster knew he meant a raiding party. The rest of his crew remained further back in the woods. On his signal they would all charge forward and lay waste to this pathetic clan. Too long had Stick not been held responsible for his heretical ways, and with the rising of the cursed black tower, he'd gone a step too far. He mounted his crossbow on top of the log, and waited. And waited.

"Come on, where are you?" he murmured. Minutes passed without any sign of the goblin. Only when Knee-buster was ready to pick up and find a new position, did someone new appear amongst the rubble. Not a goblin, but a fucked up looking skeleton. It was goblin sized, but the bones were all wrong. It lacked any joints for any dexterous movement, and in one hand it held a skull.

"What the hell?" Following close behind, a human. Straight silver hair hung down past his shoulders. His skin was pale, his eyes a piercing red. Even the clothes he wore were foreign, unrecognizable from any human style that Knee-buster was aware of, even as caked in blood and torn to shreds as they were. Knee-buster's eyes were drawn to the blade in his hand. He had seen imagery of such a blade before. It was long, a proper longsword by human standards.

Red runes etched down its center, glowing bright despite the mid-day sun high above. The Carrion Blade. He gulped. This was far, far worse. The tower. The destruction. It all made sense now. The Carrion King had returned. He adjusted his aim to hover over the man. The Carrion King. What rewards would be showered over him for slaying such a foe? Even as the human stood there, he exuded pure evil. A thousand memories flooded through Knee-Buster's head. Everyone knew the tales of the Carrion King.

Of his ancient dungeon. Vampires. Ghouls. Zombies. Ogres. Rats… Knee-Buster winced. Rats. The most terrifying of them all. All Knee-buster had to do was exhale, and the bolt would fly. Then he'd call for the rest of the party, and this would all be done with. In all his years he'd never missed a shot. One bolt was all it would take. He lined up his sight on the man, and inhaled. One shot.

"Oh hey, there's one!" the man said, pointing a finger at Knee-Buster. Six blood-soaked giant rats stepped out of the tower, directing their gaze towards the goblin. Knee-Buster screamed, and pulled the trigger. The crossbow bolt launched forward with a snap. I blinked, confused.

"Why is he—?" The bolt went wide, smashing into the tower. I frowned as the splintered piece of wood clattered to the ground. The goblin standing behind the log brought both his fingers to his lips, and whistled at an ear piercing pitch.

"We're under attack!" Hollow yelled.

"To arms!" The goblins scrambled around me as I stared dumbfounded at the fleeing crossbowman. Crossbowgoblin?

"Stand back, my lord," Stick said.

"You cannot risk injury against these foes." The fleeing crossbowgoblin spun around and launched another bolt in our direction. This one found a target, driving right through the throat of a goblin who rallied to defend me, splattering blood onto the dirt. From his lips, a blue soul rose into the air and dispersed. I clenched my teeth. I had hoped I would be able to at least speak to these other clans before they resorted to bloodshed. Anger. I raised my sword.

"I shall handle this myself." Stick tried to argue, but I barreled forward, the zombie-rats at my heels. My body was like the wind. I pushed my exhaustion aside, letting each stride take me a meter at a time. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The goblin tossed his crossbow to the ground, whistling again, more frantic, more crazed, but he was no match for me. I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to eye level. He screamed.

"Who sent you? Grelgo?"

"Yes! Yes!" he screamed, "I was forced against my will! To slay you before it was too late! Please, spare me!" I frowned. The goblin's voice wavered, eyes darting to the side. Was he lying?

"Fire!" the goblin screamed as if he was on the verge of peeing his pants.

"Fire!" Knee-buster sounded, a bark of confident command. There was a way out of this. Knee-buster wasn't dead yet, and he managed to lure the man into a trap. A dozen crossbows snapped, pelting the human with sharpened bolts. Pain. No, not piercing the human. Piercing Knee-buster. A crossbow bolt cut through his throat, his abdomen, and one even pierced the backside of his knee. He gurgled, trying to curse at his companions' poor aim, but his life already faded from his eyes.

He took one last look at the man holding him. The man's red eyes flickered, and black, wispy tendrils tore into Knee-Buster, and he felt his soul tear. Several crossbow bolts fired at me at once, and I raised the goblin to defend myself. The shock of the attack passed in a few seconds, and I looked down at the pincushion I was holding. Life fizzled in his eyes, and I winced, watching as his soul prepared to leave his body. It was a boundary I needed to cross, sooner or later.

I activated Harvest, and pulled his soul from his dying core and added it to my collection. His body went limp, and I dropped him to the ground. [Common Soul Harvested] A dozen goblins gawked at me. I pointed my sword at them, channeling an ounce of villainous energy.

"Where is Grelgo? I shall spare the first one of you to throw down arms, the rest shall die by my sword—" Each of their crossbows clattered to the ground, hands raising in surrender. This was easier than I thought it would be. The zombie-rats flooded into the clearing, snarling and spitting blood at the surrendering goblins. [You should just kill them and be done with it.] No. We need to work with them. I cleared my throat.

"In that case, I shall spare all of your lives, and you can join me in repairing the village. How does that sound?" A goblin stepped forward, nodding.

"Yes, sounds excellent, your highness! I—""Defend the Carrion King!" Stick cried as Hollow and several others ran into the clearing, spears and blades flashing. Before I could tell them to stop, half of Grelgo's men's heads rolled.

"Stop stop stop!" I said before Hollow could kill any more. Wasted souls…

"I pardoned them!" Hollow frowned.

"But these are Grelgo's men, they're here to kill us! They already killed poor old Flatskull."

"But we surrendered!" they shouted back. I ground my teeth.

"And we won the battle. They're surrendering and have lost several of their men. Now, please, can we cease with the killing?" Hollow and her companions sighed in disappointment, while those of Grelgo's clan sighed in relief. I stepped over the pincushioned goblin and approached the others.

"Why were you sent here?" One goblin with a wicked mohawk crawled across the ground to bow before me, three others following at his heels.

"Grelgo sent us to investigate the coming of the strange tower!"

"Yes!" another one yelled.

"We were to capture Stick and bring him back for interrogation."

"We would never mean you any harm, your highness!" I sighed.

"Then why did you fire at me?"

"It was Knee-buster," the first goblin said.

"He twisted Grelgo's words. Disobeyed to get ahead, I think. But you can always trust Spit-tooth. I have never told a lie." The others opened their mouths to reply, but I glared at them and they shut up.

"Okay, Spit-tooth. I would like to speak to this Grelgo. Could you be a doll and head back to schedule a meeting time between us?"

"Of course, your excellence!" Spit-tooth said.

"I shall gather my companions, and we will return in no time."

"No. Not quite. Everyone else will remain here." Grelgo's men looked at each other for a moment, unsure what to expect from that.

"Don't worry. It'll be fun!" I said in my most confident voice. We gathered in the throne room, the remaining eight of Grelgo's men exploring the space, open-eyed. A few stared up at Karen, not entirely sure what to make of the dungeon core. For all I knew, they only thought it was something pretty. [A single one of these newcomers could throw a rock at me and do some serious harm, you know.] Are you that fragile? [No. But with our ongoing luck, they would find the one weak spot that would shatter me entirely.] I rubbed at my temples. I needed a plan for what was to come.

"Stick, do you have any paper?"

"Paper? We have some old books, but nothing blank…" Damn. I wonder if there was anything quite like a good old Excel sheet in this world.

"Well, see if you can find some. Break it up into grids if you can. Meanwhile, the rest of you can get to working on repairing the village." Hollow shook her head.

"Are you sure that's the best idea? Even disarmed—" One of Grelgo's men with an eyepatch growled.

"What, you think we're untrustworthy?"

"Yes. Precisely." I groaned.

"You, Eyepatch. How long until we hear back from Grelgo?" The others took a step back, jaws agape.

"How did he know his name?" Another voice squeaked, "Is he a psychic as well as a murderer?" Eyepatch grinned.

"Please, just call me Patch. Old Spit-tooth is lazy, it'll take him at least a day to get back to camp. Probably another until Grelgo actually sends a message." Hollow elbowed me.

"These are killers. Send them up the tower." Now, why hadn't I thought of that?

"Hollow, Stick. See them rearmed. I'll gather my skeletons and rats, and we can see how far we can get."