The Goblin Adventure

CHAPTER 1

Augustus an Grakh felt the danger.

Assassins, again.

He scanned the dim cavern and the large corridor running into it. Goblin hovels built one atop the other shone in the dim firelights of the cramped city. Light glittered off of glass windows handcrafted by glassblowers in reds, blues, greens and ambers.

To his left was an open woodshed, the doorway hung over with leather. To his right was a balcony.

Archers.

From a normal walk, he dove for the woodshed. Rolling into the space, he rolled right up against the feet of two goblins.

Not archers this time. Thugs.

He saw the glint of daggers. Rolling with a violent twist, he escaped the thugs' first stabs. A further roll and he gained his feet – right up against the wall of the shed. He hit his head hard and saw flashes of light before his eyes.

He whipped his two swords out and tried to blink away the effects of banging his head. Daggers flashed and he moved his swords somewhere in their vicinity.

A slash ripped his forearm and he snarled. His mind focused on the pain. His vision cleared. A double-overhead swirl-slash had the two assassins reeling back in surprise. He didn't give them any more time to accomplish their wicked deed.

Fast fast, faster.

Roaring, he launched himself toward the two, a sword aimed for the face of each. They lifted daggers to block and save their eyes but Augustus dropped down to a knee. He swept his swords together and across each other. The disembowelment was swift. Both goblins shrieked and died clutching their intestines.

He panted in the adrenaline rush of combat and looked at his attackers. They were poor - simple laborers of the Ta caste. He almost pitied them. But that made him feel better in a way.

The fool who hired them didn't have the wealth to hire the more capable warriors of the Og caste.

He brushed off his tunic and left the shed, sparing not another glance backward.

*  *  *

Vincens Gemsmith straightened his sash. He eyed the two goblin guards at the well-built border between their two underground kingdoms. Dwarves had made peace long ago with the goblins and had maintained that peace at all costs. The Dwarven-Goblin wars had been bloody, costly, and detrimental to both.

Now, if not friends, they were comfortable neighbors. If dwarven ambassadors had their way, there would be perpetual peace.

He saw the approach of his escort, the second in command of what the goblins called their forces.

Augustus, he said. I... He saw the tear in the sleeve of the goblin's tunic.

It's nothing.

And the blood?

They were too poor to use poison.

Vincens shook his head. Such indecencies did not exist in the Dwarven Kingdom of Dar Taugh. My friend, I do not know how you survive.

The green-skinned face turned to him. The golden pupils showed little emotion. In most respects, the goblins resembled thinner versions of the dwarves. Only the goblin shamen carried beards, though. Except for the pointed ears and sharper teeth, the goblins could pass for sickly humans. The shiny black hair was combed straight down on the goblin's skull.

Augustus paced beside him as they made their way to the Gathering. I am not sure how you dwarves survive the tedium of constant mining.

He clapped his hand to the goblin's shoulder. Well, some of us study runes.

The goblin snorted.

I hear your father is ill? Vincens said.

A sigh. I suppose it is not like a huge secret jealously guarded by bearded dwarven runekeepers...

He hummed. I am sorry to hear it, in any event.

Augustus looked down at his torn sleeve. I suppose that is why these attacks are increasing. The ever-shifting plays for power.

Maybe some don't like your ideas.

Augustus stopped. And why? To reclaim our honor, our dignity, our history—

I did not mean to sound as if I didn't like them either—

The goblin grunted. How many centuries would the dwarves live with the stigma that we have carried?

He kept quiet, but he wondered if his fellow dwarves would stand for even a year of being falsely accused as had the goblins. I may not be within my rights as a trade ambassador to say so, but there would be few dwarves who would not support in principle the reclamation of your honor.

We once traded with humans. Our glassblowers were known the world over. It is time the lie was exposed.

The dwarf agreed, but said nothing. How much pressure built over the centuries? What form of reclamation would goblin revenge take? He had to be careful as Augustus was next in line when his father passed as warleader of the Tarong Deeps.

He walked silently next to the goblin. They were of the same height, but the dwarf was more muscular and not green. Both had their hands behind their backs, looking around at the sometimes permanent structures the goblins had constructed over the centuries. Stone houses crowded wooden shacks. Vincens had to admit that goblin glassblowers had a flair lacking in dwarven glassblowing. He wasn't sure if any dwarf would want to look out a red window, though.

The land above might have changed—

Augustus interrupted him. It might. But we know the town must still be there.

And if the town has long since vanished to time?

Then we shall dig up their bones and make totems of them.

The look of determination convinced him that the goblin meant every word. You must do what you must, of course.

That's what I love about you, Vincens. You support me without supporting me.

He chuckled. I suppose I do. But I really do.

They shared a look.

Groups of goblins around fires and lingering in doorways gave the dwarf a look of respect. Not out of fear, but out of familiarity. Long had they warred, and viciously, but now no more.

He felt as if the goblins were sometimes backwards, sometimes ignorant, and sometimes naive. But then he realized just how differently advanced they were. While the dwarves prided themselves in meticulous order and planning as a group, the goblins prided themselves in the pursuit of individual goals to the exclusion of all else.

He had seen the goblin manufactories. Their use of bone was amusing, but ingenious. One could say that the dwarven production of the firethrowers was due in part to goblin ingenuity. Dwarves had provided a flammable liquid. Goblins had figured out how to use it as a weapon.

If he had to admit, though sloppy, goblin engineers could produce astounding devices rivaling anything the dwarven engineers could produce. The dwarves only exceeded them in runecrafting – jealously guarding that secret no matter how many smiles were thrown about a room.

You here for wood?

Indeed.

What are you offering? Augustus said, but his tone said he knew the answer.

Gems, like usual.

I will insist on spearheads.

Still not making them yourselves?

Getting the Kas to change their focus can be difficult. The artisans make what they make and grin at you when you ask for something different.

Vincens shrugged. Your crafters must make what they feel profitable—

They should be making what I tell them.

You aren't warleader, yet.

They passed the crowning achievement of goblin artistry - a large fountain of water coming forth from the mouth of some surface-creature no one knew the name of anymore. Glass and rock made up the sculpture and the work was precise, cunning and artistic. Nothing like it existed in Dar Taugh.

These creatures could use a dose of focus. What they might accomplish then could exceed that of the dwarves.

When I am, things will be different.

Goblinkind has built a fine kingdom down here—

Now you sound like the shamen. Where is the honor in hiding from those who would lie?

Vincens looked into brilliant, blazing eyes of fervor and conviction. There was no way he could ever convince Augustus of forgetting the past. But should he? Would it be right to even try? What if their positions were reversed?

And he knew, the Royal Dwarven Legionnaires would have marched long ago.

I can't—

I know.

But all of dwarvendom would be behind you.

Augustus nodded. It is something for which we do not seek approval and something that we would need to do on our own.

Vincens grunted.

The goblin glanced at him. We would not need approval because we do not fear the outcome. We would not want support because the righting of the wrong is something we need to accomplish on our own.

Vincens agreed with him, but it wasn't something he was officially allowed to discuss. What if the inhabitants of Valley Springs are no longer there? What will you do if on emerging you find nothing?

Then we will hunt down their offspring. Augustus opened the crude door to the Gathering Hall.

*  *  *

Vorban Teneje, Khan of the Tajumwali Hordes, stalked into his tent. His warlords awaited him at the large center table. As one, they were fearsome to all who met them. As one, they all feared Vorban.

He was swarthy, eyes bugging and face seemingly on the verge of exploding. His cheeks were taut and red, his lips full and flush. He was dressed in white linens that bulged over his frame.  A red sash belted his girth. He had heard himself described as a stuffed sausage. Those men no longer lived.

The warlords were silent, as was the custom.

He motioned to a servant boy for the platter of sweet-meats. A delicacy now, due to its rarity, the meats were thin slices from the backs of those they conquered. The Tajumwali were not flesh-eaters like the savages across the ocean, but they did find power in consuming the flesh of their enemies. They were more sophisticated in eating human flesh than mere cannibals.

Pulling his dagger and using the point, he sifted through the maps. Silent eyes were carefully directed down. He never asked them their opinions. They never offered them, either. They were here to hear his commands. That they carried them out as well as they did afforded them the titles they held.

As I expected, the Palanisi are bled thin. Even with the addition of Arkader. More land to cover and Arkader never had an abundance of troops. He gently stabbed the point of his dagger on the map. We will continue to push Arkader and Kellwood this season.

He did not receive any input.

He did not expect any.

Assemble your forces once the harvest is done. We will send Bolvar and Tubaal against their northern defenses.

The two warlords bowed their heads.

The rest of the horde will strike the Duchy of Bainwright as we have in the past. The pressure on both will cause their forces to try covering everywhere at once. One of the two attacks or both  will split their empire wide open and deliver them into our hands.

He selected another succulent of human flesh from the platter.

Perhaps a fast victory will allow me to consider lifting the ration laws against flesh. The Palanisi are the last of the empires on this continent. We have swept the others before us and we will sweep them as well.

He circled the table behind his generals. I had thought to put them all to the sword to cleanse our lands of this filth, but I believe we should breed them for these delicacies. Win these battles as I command and we will all feast on our enemies.

The warlords bowed as one.

Vorban knew they would be victorious; any fool could see it. He imagined that the Palanisi imperials could see it, too. Yes, he would make food of them all. For their impudence in defying him these past years, he would deliver a decree setting up special areas to breed the survivors for food. Then all could have this delicacy.

He selected another sweet-meat and savored the flavor of victory.

CHAPTER 2

Augustus accompanied Vincens into the Gathering Hall. Around the center totem, goblins of all castes congregated. The Og caste of warriors were there, weapons in evidence. The Kar caste of engineers were there, scribbled plans and notes tucked under arms. The Ka caste of artisans were there, a few standing ready with a couple of crates of display goods. A couple of Ta caste laborers stood ready, if needed. But commanding the presence at the base of the totem were the shamans of the Rek caste.

You look like you're going to be occupied for a while, he said.

The dwarf nodded. Indeed.

Grinning goblins of the Kar rushed to Vincens who had a delighted smile in return.

Approaching Augustus was Derkrin rek Logosh, shaman, and about the only one in the Rek caste that seemed friendly.

How much was game? How much was real?

As the other shamen, Derkrin grew a long beard. Hanging from their chins in a single rope of wispy hair, the rest of their faces were bare. Only shamen could grow them, but whatever magic allowed them to do so did not impress him. He also wore the customary skull cap fashioned from the skull of a digger.

Agst, Derkrin said.

He grunted. He had long ago stopped trying to correct the goblin mangling of his name. Most goblins thought it insulting to bear the name of a dwarf, even one so famous and respected as General Augustus Firehammer of the Royal Dwarven Legionnaires. What is it, shaman?

Sagash forbids you to mention—

Augustus snapped. He forbids me nothing!

The shout echoed through the Hall. Goblins ceased their murmur and all looked as one to him. While not the warlord yet, he was of the An caste and technically higher than even the High Shaman of the Rek caste.

He glared at the high shaman.

Sagash leaned forward, as if to press the message he sent.

A power play? Here? Why now? Was Sagash responsible for the two thugs and the failed assassination?

The high shaman did hold a lot of respect among the castes. It could be that after all these centuries of tradition, Sagash thought it time to remove the Steel Crown from the An caste and put it on his own head. His father sick, Augustus was the only direct heir within the caste. The rest of the Ans would be too weak to oppose Sagash from taking the Steel Crown.

Go back to your digger, Derkrin

The shaman gasped at the insult to his master.

Augustus sneered at the goblin sitting up on the bench under the totem.

He uses it like a throne.

Annoyed, he strode through the crowd and sat beside Sagash. That earned him a satisfying scowl of aggravation at least as deep as his own. The two glared at each other while he fingered the torn sleeve of his tunic.

I would not have you upset the dwarves— Sagash said.

It is not for you to decide. It's is only for you to advise—

You do not wear the Steel Crown yet, young one.

He looked at the age on the shaman – the long white beard, the white hair coming from under his crown-like digger skull, and a gnarled hand gripping the high shaman's staff. I wonder if you are too old to give any further—

The staff slammed down. The warlords do not direct the shamen.

And neither do the shamen direct the An caste.

The foretelling—

Pah! Your fantasies—

Do not insult the magic of the shamen.

I wasn't; I was insulting you.

Sagash stared for a moment, a frown on his face. Your fall will be the salvation of the goblin peoples.

Yes, you told me your foretelling many times already.

It is good to hear.

I disagree.

Shamen foretellings are exactly why we advise.

Your ramblings are just dreams.

When you die and take your ludicrous fantasies of conquering some long-forgotten surface town with you, our people will be saved. You must die or we are doomed.

You would hide down here—

If you lead us to the surface, our people will be destroyed.

Turning to look him full in the eyes, Augustus smiled. But there was no mirth in the pointed teeth he displayed. I will lead us to the surface and I will lead us to victory. It will happen quick quick, quicker, than you desire.

Friends? Vincens stood before them at the bottom of the steps. I can pass along these correspondences to our artisans in Dar Taugh, but I came today for more wood.

Sagash looked to the dwarf. More wood is unusual this time of year.

Yes, we are constructing more caravan wagons to facilitate trade between our hold and Dar Mithrus. Our expansion into the old hold goes well.

Augustus nodded. Even their friends were re-establishing contact with the surface. They were even expanding back into a hold they had outgrown. They had left the old hold, abandoning it and found a newer, larger one. But then they had stagnated, warred with the goblins and their numbers dwindled. But of the last few decades, their numbers had been back on the climb. Dwarven homesteaders volunteered to re-inhabit the smaller hold and make it viable again.

Sagash scowled. The Reks believe you should tunnel your way between the two holds and avoid the surface.

Vincens clasped his hands. With pursed lips, he slowly bowed. We are, indeed, in the planning stages for such a connection.

Augustus knew that his friend left unsaid that trade between dwarves and the Palanisi humans had exploded. But the dwarf was here for matters of trade, not policy.

The shaman nodded. And what do you offer—

Augustus broke in. Spearheads.

Both looked at him.

You have bone— Sagash said.

Bone spearheads won't penetrate metal armor. The Ans ask for metal spearheads.

The shaman growled. We can use gems—

Spearheads.

I can relay the request— Vincens said.

It is a waste of time, Sagash said. Our own Kas can fashion metal spearheads—

Augustus slammed his palm down on the bench. "They won't because you advised them not to. Either accept the trade or tell our own Kas