Chương 15: Chapter 14

Outskirts of Erem Mallorn the elf There was a distinct and looming sense of fear, when standing in relatively open terrain before an unknown number of enemies with gonnes. The primitive bullets would have a difficult time penetrating his armor, but he'd be feeling the bruises from each and every impact. Even now, the pain blooming in the back of his head was birthing a fresh new headache. The gonnes would take quite a bit of time to reload, and he had twenty good ironwood arrows.

Meant for hunting wild game, but the durability of the ironwood process ensured that they wouldn't break on him without dedicated effort. The issue being that he wasn't sure how many goblins there were in the dark, and if he had enough arrows for all of them. This fear from staring down a firing line was secondary to realizing that half of them had already fired at some point and were instead running straight at them in a sprint.

Twelve or more bodies half-shrouded in their own shadows and ratty boots pounding on smoothed pavement. His ears folded back in panic and his hand reached for the first arrow. The moment his fingers touched the ironwood, his thoughts smoothed over, and suddenly he was just shooting swallows again. Mana filled his bow, and a terrible calm filled his mind. He stepped back, readied an arrow, and fired in one smooth motion.

The foremost goblin fell, a sharp-thunk as the arrow speared its head and sent both to the ground. Five psh-booms of gonnefire echoed out, one punching him in the gut, one making his lizard-tailed companion grunt-hiss in pain. Draw-release, and another goblin fell to the ground. Drana thrust forwards, spearing a hook-nosed, green-skinned figure in the dark. A moment later she pulled back, avoiding the flying tackle of another goblin in the dark. A complete disregard for their lives, or the lives of their comrades.

He continued to walk backwards. Draw-release. A shaft of ironwood flew from his fingers and sprouted in the skull of another would-be tackler. He had to keep her from getting overwhelmed, otherwise he'd be without a bodyguard against the rest. Five psh-booms of gonnefire repeated. Another punch, this time to the shoulder. Shrapnel and splinters burst from the wooden pauldron even as pain bloomed in his upper arm.

One of the goblins running towards them yelped in pain and fell, rolling across the ground before picking itself up again and snarling. Draw-release. His arrow smashing into something that sounded like a thin sheet of metal and punching straight through, making another goblin fall. It coughed and sputtered up blood as it hit the ground, a punctured lung. Drana swung, great blade of silver flashing in the dark and cleaving a goblin in twain, the momentum carried into an arcing kick with her great clawed feet.

A wet squelch of tearing flesh followed as another greenskin crashed into the ground. Draw-release. Another arrow flew from his bow and smashed into a goblin near her, sending it to the ground. He had to- Something hard smashed him in the head, making him stagger back with ringing ears and briefly-blurred vision. The sound of crude wood and metal clattering to the ground followed shortly after.

His hand reached for another arrow, before aborting the attempt and jumping to the side as a shape blurred towards him in the dark. A goblin had just thrown something at him, something like a- Their empty guns, tossed like heavy wooden boards without care for the weapon, briefly throwing him off. He jumped to the side again and drew an arrow to- Drana was about to be tackled. A snap-shot to the side downed another goblin on her position, saving her for another moment.

She was getting farther and farther from him, they needed to pull back and start kiting- Another carelessly tossed gun smashed into his arms, throwing off his train of thought. There were two goblins rapidly approaching him, hurling whatever they could get their hands on at him as they moved. They had moved widely around Drana's swings and focused their efforts on him. He needed to fall back and make spa- Drana was still up at the front, having not moved significantly since the fight began.

Wide swings, thrusts, and the sweeping of her claws allowing her to maintain a circle of cutting death. If he fell back now, she'd be left to fend off the bulk of the group on her own- she'd be dead.

"DRANA! FALL BACK!" he roared. There were only a handful of goblins near them, but the remaining had since fired their gonnes and were about to reach her.

"FALL BACK!" He needed his sword, hi- It was over there, by her side at the front, a position about to be overrun with goblins in melee. He had dropped it to quickly draw his bow at the beginning of the battle. There were two greenskins between him and it. They were about to reach him. Another gun was thrown his way, spinning through the air on a collision course with his head. He raised his hand. The barrel made a 'thunk' noise as it met his palm.

The pain rippled down his arm and disappeared somewhere in his chest. He stepped forwards, pouring mana into his new club and swinging. The club made a satisfying 'thump' noise as it smashed into the side of a goblin's head. He staggered to the side as he was tackled, the little frame of the other goblin latching onto his bow-arm and holding on as tight as it could.

"Little bastard!" he snarled as its eyes glared hatefully up and little feet ineffectually kicked at his side. He raised his hand and smashed it down into the goblins face, bruising his knuckles in the process. The goblin held on. He punched again, staggering to the side and trying to extract the little man from his arm. Something, his fist or the nose of the goblin, broke with a loud crack and hot blood began to spill. The goblin held on.

He raised the butt of the pilfered gun, smashing it down on the goblin's face and finally dislodging the little bastard, making it fall back. He extracted himself, stumbling away from the grasping hands and turning to- -be tackled again, another snarling, hooked-nose man grabbing onto his side and legs and stopping him from moving. His heart thundered in his chest. Mallorn began to scream hatefully, smashing the gun down. Sharp cracks and bloody pulp sprayed from the goblin's face as he beat it down.

Once, twice, then- Another goblin latched onto another limb, sending him to the ground. In the distance he could hear the sharp swings of the greatsword cutting through air and flesh alike, and the claws of the lizardgirl scraping across paved road. In the vicinity, he could hear the snarling of goblins and see the flashes of shadowed limbs and gleaming eyes. Desperation fueled his strength. He smashed a fist into a goblin's face. Then again, then again, then again. Fists started beating against him.

His limbs, his torso, his helmet. Anywhere they could reach. Others approached to kick with boot-clad feet. His hand slipped free from one goblin's grip, his hunting-knife withdrawn, and wild swings began. A stab between the eyes, a slash of the throat. A stab between the ribs. A slash of the ar- Something heavy smashed against his head. Everything went dark. — Outskirts of Erem Lucia the dark elf If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Hooves pounded on earth as the sounds of gonneshot grew more and more distant behind them. Eventually nothing could be heard but the exertion of the stallion and the heavy, tense breathing of the people, the sounds of violence and goblin-shouts unable to break through their shell of hoofbeats. Not being able to hear any of it only heightened her tension. There was no relief found in ignorance, only an ample fear and dread for what might be occurring far behind them. Ten seconds.

Then twenty seconds, then forty seconds. Two minutes at full gallop passed before the gates of Erem came into sight. Grand, towering things of heavy woven wood banded with great bars of overlapping steel. Sixty feet at their highest point, and half that as wide, framed with two great 'arms' of terraced fortification glaring down at an entrance-yard. There was a secondary, smaller gate in the front of these outer fortifications.

Before this gate stood two great troll-sentinels, clad in scaled leather and scaled mail, with great sharpened horns curling out from the sides of their heads and adding another two feet to their height. Hooded lanterns hung from their horns, facing outwards and casting light on whatever they happened to look at. They wore warmasks and chain coifs, and glared at everything that approached the gates they guarded, brandishing straight-angled blades longer than she was tall and shields larger than most doors.

"AN ATTACK ON THE ROADS!" she called out desperately, clinging to the sides of the horse as it galloped up. The Bastard pulled the stallion's reins back just in time for it to slide across packed earth, kicking up dust and soils as it did.

"Huahhh?" one of the troll-sentinels called out, his great voice booming without any effort, raising a hand up to the side of his ear.

"Attack eh?" Dura scrambled off the horse as soon as it stopped, landing heavily on her back before scampering up and running to the troll-sentinels, little boots making clopping noises. One of them, fourteen feet tall at least, ducked down on one knee to better hear her as she approached.

"I AM DURA OF CLAN GRAVELBROOK!" she wailed, practically tackling the troll-sentinel's leg and pulling herself up to his knee.

"I was kidnapped! Then rescued! And we were attacked again on the road by goblins! My rescuer is holding them off! Please save him!"

"Hrrngh!" one of the trolls gave a great bellowing grumble at that.

"Clan Gravelbrook! I've heard of their missing daughter!"

"Aye! I've heard the same" The kneeling troll suddenly rose up, catching Dura in the palm of one mailed hand as he did.

"Uthn! Go with these ones and sort all this goblin business out! Galin! Go tell the Gravelbrooks a little lady claiming herself their daughter is home!"

"Aye, Thorin!" The other troll-sentinel grumbled, his voice rolling over and echoed by another troll-voice from the inside of the fortifications. Uthn stomped forwards, massive strides carrying him to them in two and a half steps. He reached down as he did, plucking Lucia from the side of the horse and raising her up to his shoulder.

"No need to work that pony anymore, poor thing looks all tuckered out!" The troll-sentinel rumbled with faint laughter, which was deep and rolling and loud enough to shake her bones and hurt her ears from this distance. Lucia was more preoccupied with adjusting herself on his great swinging shoulder, trying to find an appropriate grip as the trollguard reached down again, snatching the panicked-looking Bastard off his saddle and bringing him up to the other shoulder.

"Hold on, little-folk! A moment wasted on picking you up again is one not spent running!" Uthn warned, making sure to keep his head still and shoulders straight as he moved.

"You already had the dark elf to guide you! Why'd you need me too?!" the Bastard complained, finding a place to set his feet and clinging onto a sort of curved decoration-horn, which functioned well as a handle. She had already found the one on her side, and had pulled herself up into a position to serve as lookout. The troll-sentinel let out a long rolling chuckle at that, picking up in speed as he did.

A rapid walk quickly turned into a colossal run, massive boots crashing into the smoothstone road again and again as the troll began to move in earnest. In proportion it was a steady run, a careful gait required by the immense scale and weight of the troll and his armor. In true size, it was a land-devouring gallop, each colossal step off the smoothstone carrying them a full horse-length or more. A steady pace that tossed her entire body about with each and every bone-shaking thud against the ground.

Most importantly, it was just as fast as the horse. Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump. The boots of the troll made a sound like the beating of war-drums as he troll-sprinted, paired with the shaking of his chain and coat of scales, metal clattering against metal like a heavy thunderstorm. She had not killed many trolls before, and certainly none quite so heavily armed as this one. She was glad that she was a petty thief on most occasions, and a professional assassin never.

"How far out, little-folk?" the troll-sentinel rumbled at them through steady and tremendous breathing. Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

"Two minutes perhaps, as the horse gallops," Lucia replied quickly, whole body jostling about and fingers quickly growing numb from the force of holding on.

"Huaaah? I didn't hear that!"

"TWO MINUTES MAYBE!" she yelled, ears pulled back in frustration.

"Hrrngh-hum, good! Not too far!" the troll-sentinel replied with a long groan and hum. Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

"I don't hear any gonnes," Rayne spoke out with a grim tone.

"Maybe they won!" Lucia growled at him. He pulled back slightly from his grip on the troll's shoulder to give her a troubled expression. It was difficult to make out in the dark of the night, but the moon was sufficient to see a frown and furrowed of his brows.

"Or they ran out of bullets! Gonnes take too much time to reload!"

"... Could be," he replied grimly, acknowledging the possibility but his tone easily indicating just how little stock he put into it. Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump. The smell of death, blood, and sulfur wafted up to her nose and they continued along. The moons gleamed down their twin lights upon the world, and the gloom slowly parted as the troll's pace trampled the distance between them and their destination.

"There!" she called out, making sure to yell and point forwards as she did so the troll-sentinel would hear.

"On the road ahead!"

"Hrrngh! I see it!" the troll boomed, pace slightly slowing as he came up to the scene, before pulling to the side and stomping on the dirt next to the road. Great grooves were carved in the packed earth as the troll forced his immense bulk to slow, boots tearing dirt and dust and grass for a dozen meters to bleed off tremendous momentum. Several long seconds passed for the troll to slow himself safely, and once he was slow enough she leapt from his shoulder and down to the ground.

She stumbled and collapsed as she landed, bones and limbs shaken up to a lush numbness that made it difficult to control her body. She snarled and forced herself up, rushing forwards to the silent scene under the light of the moons and the twin lanterns hanging from the troll-sentinel's horns. A great number of goblin corpses littered the road, staining the smoothstone with their blood and viscera and polluting the air with their sulfur-stink.

A great number of wounds covered each of them, with split throats and mashed faces and shattered skulls. Even through thin plates of crude bronze and other weak goblin-craft. She could smell lingering traces of honey and woodsmoke, but the drowning stench of sulfur made it impossible to determine where precisely. Her senses simply weren't as trained as they should have been. She snarled, moving forwards and disregarding the corpses.

The light of the hooded lanterns traced over the scene as the troll-sentinel walked along, carefully evaluating everything as he did. Amidst a number of bisected goblin corpses, the lizard was laid out, one great clawed hand still clutching her greatsword. She was thoroughly stained in blood and gore. Lucia flipped her over carelessly, planting fingers on her throat and waiting a moment. … Thump-thump.

"She's alive," she declared coldly, standing up.

"Bastard, get down here and stabilize her!" she ordered with a snarl, casting her gaze around with an ever-increasing sense of dread.

"I- what do you expect me to do? I'm a Bastard!" he complained, falling off the troll's shoulder and landing harshly on the ground.

"I expect you to look after her while I find Mallorn!" she roared, making the Bastard flinch back and raise his hands compliantly.

"Two then?" the troll-sentinel rumbled down at them, turning his head about and scanning over the road carefully.

"I see only one along this stretch."

"He was with her!" Lucia shouted out, frustration and fear gnawing at her.

"She was supposed to defend him! I told her to!" Rayne paused, before glancing down. He bent low and picked up a familiar shape.

"I believe this is his bow." He tossed it her way as he approached the lizard. She caught it numbly, staring at the snapped string and the bloodstains. Rayne frowned at her, eyes furrowed and expression troubled. He reached down to the lizard and quickly began to check her over, seeing for anything that might be an injury.

"A bow in that condition and this many corpses? I think they might've got him, they almost got her too." Lucia clenched the bow hard enough for her knuckles to pop. She refused to acknowledge the furious tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Your friend has been taken then," the troll-sentinel rumbled out, a contemplative tone in his voice.

"But the Uznarag-girl, she remains here. A very strange thing for goblins to do." She froze, as did the Bastard, eyes darting over to the troll-sentinel as he mused aloud.

"If they were simply indulging themselves as goblins do, they'd leave his corpse behind and take her living back to their goblin-barrows for molestation." The troll-sentinel shook his head slightly, stomping over and casting his gaze back and forth along the road another time.

"If this were a robbery, they'd take her troll-sword as well, and leave both their corpses behind."

"But they left her alive, and left her sword," Lucia muttered, eyes focusing into pinpricks as she began to follow the train of thought.

"But he is gone, and she lives." The troll-sentinel wasn't able to hear her, and so simply continued to speak. He raised an immense hand up to rub under the chain coif that covered an immense blond beard.

"Goblins have little use for a corpse- save for eating- and they left the corpses of their fellows behind in their flight."

"Hrng-hum." The troll-sentinel nodded, coming to a conclusion.

"They were aiming to capture your friend then, and bring them to some employer."

"... How did they know we were coming?" Rayne asked, with furrowed brows and a deeply concerned tone.

"More importantly," Lucia snarled, ears pulling back in hateful intent.

"Where do they sleep at night?"