Chương 4: A Bump in the Night

"What was that?" I asked nobody in particular. Bump. Bump. Scratch. Maybe it was just the wind. Or maybe Madam Moolisa was up to her late-night shenanigans? Yeah, that must be it. Then I heard the whisper of voices outside. Carefully, I stood, trying not to make any noise. Harder than it looked, considering the old wood of the house squeaked with every step. The room was dark except for the faint orange glow leaking up from below, and the floorboards felt cold beneath my feet.

Dust shifted in the moonlight near the little window. Down the stairs, I saw Ebbin still sleeping in his chair. The hearth still crackled low, soft black plumes escaping up into the vent and out through the ceiling. The room smelled of old smoke and the lingering remains of supper. His blanket had slipped halfway off his knees, and his head rested against the back of the chair, mouth slightly open as he breathed. There was a jiggle at the door handle. Slowly, it opened. Good thing I had put in a metal stopper.

Ebbin had been far too trusting. The stopper caught, and there was whispered frustration from the other side of the door. A few fingers scratched briefly at the gap, then vanished. I heard the sounds trail off. Good. I was hoping it wouldn't come to a fight— The window burst as a rock came flying in. Glass sprayed across the room in glittering shards, catching the hearthlight before scattering over the floor. Cold night air rushed in behind it, carrying the smell of damp grass and manure.

"What the hell—" Ebbin started to say as he fell from his chair. I heard a crack, and I wasn't sure if it was the floorboards or the man's hip. From the sound and cry of his voice, I had my answer.

"Ebbin," I said, ignoring what was happening outside. Madam Moolisa bawled outside, the sound panicked and deep enough to rattle through the walls. Those hushed voices grew louder and louder, harsh whispers cutting through the night.

"Quiet the beast," one said, squeaky and yet somehow dangerous. I knelt near Ebbin.

"Are you okay?" I asked. The man pushed me back.

"Run. Hide. Do not sacrifice yourself for an old man."

"What are you talking about?" Ebbin got a far-off look in his eye.

"Goblins… They've not been around these parts in some time. Yet with the war…" He swallowed, his face tight with pain.

"Anyway, save yourself. Don't worry about me."

"Shut up," I said, trying to lift him. He felt like a heavy sack of potatoes, and he screamed as I tried and tried to get him to his feet. His weight sagged against me, hot and trembling, and the smell of sweat and old wool filled my nose.

"Something's broken," he said matter-of-factly.

"It is… my time. And yours as well. You know enough of the world to go out, live your life, and finally find your class. You don't need to help this lonely fool anymore." Tears flowed down my face.

"But you need my help." Ebbin gave a rough laugh.

"I never needed your help, lad. I wanted it. You reminded me so much of when this house was full of life and warmth, and I… I selfishly kept you here. You were never much of a farmer. Your true skills lie elsewhere and now… now you are free." The old man pushed me back.

"Now go out the back. Take a weapon. Anything you can find." Ebbin, with his final strength, pulled himself up to a sitting position. He looked regal and noble in that moment as fires burst into light outside, illuminating his face. His eyes were hard-set and determined. Shadows moved across the walls as flames licked higher beyond the window, and the broken glass on the floor flashed like tiny stars. I felt that if I disobeyed him, cast aside his words and dragged him out, he would hate me for it. And that…

that I couldn't handle. I wiped away tears and ran toward the back door. On my way, I knocked over a small kitchen knife. It fell and stuck into the planks with a dull thunk. I stared at it for a moment, my whole body quivering. The handle was plain wood, the blade short, nothing more than a tool meant for vegetables and scraps. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I picked it up and carefully escaped through the back door.

Luckily, the goblins had not seen the back door, which was far less secure. Carefully, I snuck my way out. The night had turned sharp and loud. Smoke rolled low across the yard, stinging my eyes. I could barely hear it, but the goblins had entered the house, and one was talking with Ebbin. I saw Madam Moolisa terrified out of her udders. Somehow, she had gotten herself locked inside a small, segmented area. Her eyes were wide and rolling, the whites bright in the firelight.

Her hooves stamped the dirt, and her bell clanged again and again against her neck. I opened the wooden gate.

"Get out of here," I said, slapping her hindquarters." Run!" The cow didn't need much prodding. She took off at a gallop into the night, her bell fading as she disappeared beyond the edge of the yard. I did much the same for the rest of the animals, eventually heading to the barn where I released the surly burro who had pulled the cart to market. It scampered off, not seemingly noticing or caring about anything.

Chickens burst from their coop in a frantic flutter of feathers, scattering into the dark like thrown leaves.

"What are ye' doin?" a voice asked from behind. I turned and saw nothing. Then I looked down. Around my waist in height, I saw a grotesque little thing with large bat-like ears, gnarled teeth, and a crooked nose. Its skin was a sickly green-gray, stretched tight over sharp bones. Its clothes were little more than stitched scraps and stolen cloth, stained dark in places I did not want to think about. Nobody had to tell me anything—this was a goblin. The goblin pointed a knife forward.

"I won't ask ye' again… what are ye' doin?"

"Taking care of the animals—" The goblin stepped forward.

"Cause it seems to me that you're tryin' to steal our animals. Our dinner. Is that what ye is doin?" It was dark still, but the flash of light that came from the house, now on fire, illuminated the knife in a sinister way. The blade was jagged and dull in places; the edge catching red-orange flame as smoke drifted between us.

"Ebbin!" I yelled as I went to run past. The goblin blocked my path with the knife, taking a swipe at me. I stumbled back; the tip passing close enough that I felt the air move against my shirt.

"Easy there… if you are wantin' to save the old man, yer too late fer that. Man wasn't all there, anyway. Kept talkin' bout his wife. Old fool. I sent him to see her."

"You… what?"

"Are ye daft, lad? I killed the old man. Slit his throat with this here blade." The goblin held it up, and I could see it was coated in blood. Fresh blood. It brought the blade down… and licked the blood off. Something deep and primal in me was close to snapping. I could feel it. Yet something held me back. Fear. I was scared. Scared of death. Pathetic.

"Now then," the goblin said, "time to join him." He stepped forward.

"Stay back," I said, swinging my kitchen knife wildly.

"Stay away!" The goblin merely grunted in satisfaction as he came closer, no more scared of my knife than if it were a fly. His feet moved through the mud with soft, wet steps. His smile widened, showing teeth too sharp and too crowded for his little mouth. A whistle sang out in the air. Then, suddenly, a thwump. I stared at the goblin and saw that an arrow was sticking out of its chest. The knife fell from its hand, and I kicked it away, holding my knife aimed at it.

The goblin smiled up at me, teeth sharp, but blood now spilled from its lips.

"Let none escape," I heard a voice call. It was loud and deep, full of bravado and justice. A horse neighed, and when I turned to look, I saw a man in shining armor atop it, sword held high. Then that sword came down, cleaving a running goblin in half. There was sudden chaos as some goblins scrambled to run while others fought. All died the same. Arrows and swordplay took down most, but I saw a few spells as well as ice magic fluttered in the air, chilling it at the same time.

Frost spread in pale veins over the trampled grass. The air snapped cold against my skin. Goblins shrieked and fell, their shadows twisting in the firelight. In a moment, the flames that had consumed the house were put out, steam hissing from the blackened wood. Before me stood three heroes. A human man with sandy blond hair, silver armor, and a sword. Beside him was a white-haired horse, snorting clouds of steam into the night air.

Then there was an elven woman carrying a short bow, with long hair finely interwoven. The last was a man shrouded in a dark cloak, holding a staff. I'd heard of this before. A party of adventurers. The only thing they were missing was a healer of some sort. As if to answer my question before I asked, the man said, "We've been tracking these bastards for a week. They wounded our healer. She's getting treatment back in town, yet someone mentioned that they saw goblins this way.

We almost brushed it aside as goblins aren't known for coming this far into settled territory, but I'm glad we didn't. Damn war's got everyone in shambles, monsters included."

"I… thank you," I said.

"For saving me." And then I remembered something far more important.

"Ebbin!" I gasped, running toward the house. The door was completely separated from the hinge, lying crooked across the threshold. Smoke clung to the entryway, and the walls were scorched black where the flames had bitten into them. The floor was slick with water and scattered with ash, broken glass, and muddy goblin tracks. Sure to his words, the goblin had done what he had said. I found Ebbin in the same place I'd left him, throat slit, but eyes open and bright, staring up at the ceiling and beyond.

The fire had gone out, leaving only smoke and the dim glow of embers behind him. He seemed… At peace. That was the best outcome I could have hoped for.