067 – Interruption

***

“One more thing,” Putrizio said before excusing us from the Hall of Discipline. “You’ve been assigned a new mission, Strythe. You’ll set out tonight.”

“What? Me? A mission? By myself?” I stammered.

“No. You’ll be working under Famigrist. He asked for you by name for some reason.”

“The big monster? But he hates me.”

“Then you’d better work hard not to annoy him. The Goadsmen need a new batch of monsters to train for the army, so you’re to go up the river on a slave raid,” Putrizio said. “Studying is fine to learn the basics, but you need some real experiences to put those theories into practice. Capturing monsters is a good challenge for a disciple, and the wastelands make an excellent testing grounds. One should do away with the amenities of civilization from time to time and live off the land.”

I didn’t consider the citadel to be civilized or particularly amenable, but I didn’t want to downgrade to a tent in the wilderness either. “What about my new technique?”

“You can practice in the field. Our monsters march by night, so you’ll have daylight hours to meditate. Now go pack your supplies and report to Famigrist.”

So much for my comfortable life of wizardry. The whole world conspired to interrupt my revival of aetherics.

I didn’t have long to get all my half-finished projects in order and lock up my dangerous supplies. Zvidsi used my workshop from time to time, and Hwilla did daily exercises on the new arrays. They’d be in and out while I was away. And of course, Nimblesto would probably break in and mess with things again.

I packed my bag in a hurry, stuffing some useful runes into my satchel. Of course I brought Staff Version Two with me, along with a traveling cloak and wide brimmed hat. But I didn’t really know what a slave raid would entail. My only experience as an outdoorsman was my initial trek down the Spitpoison River. So I guessed about what things to take for an extended camping trip.

Famigrist the monster had come up out of the dungeon to the citadel’s superstructure. He assembled a group of masked minions for the trip and a unit of troll soldiers. The tribe of trolls had undergone a remarkable transformation since surrendering to the cult. Their dull eyes lost any sign of intelligence. They followed commands like golems with no will of their own. The Goadsmen’s training and punishing diet of vegetables had made the former raiders gaunt and servile.

“Reporting for duty,” I said.

“Ah. It’s you. Then our raiding party is almost complete.” The bulky monster had equipped segments of metal armor over his fur, although he did not carry a weapon.

“May I ask why I’ve been assigned to this mission?”

“Because we need scouts familiar with the valley. Goblins. You will command them since you are the ‘Goblin King.’ ”

“King of the goblins? Not me. I don’t believe they have a king. Or that they’re capable of having one. They’re harebrained savages.”

“But I’ve seen you with them. And the Ugloids told me you were the one who arranged for the local tribe to trade with the citadel.”

“I helped them to avoid extermination, yes. But I didn’t tame them into Warcreeps.”

“You have three hours to meet us at the riverboats. Gather your subjects, Goblin King.” Famigrist turned his giant back on me and shambled away. He gave me no choice.

I ran back to my workshop in a panic. I kicked open the door to find Nimblesto already tinkering with my lock boxes. The scoundrel didn’t even wait for me to leave the building before snooping around.

“You!” I shouted.

“Gah!” Nimblesto scrambled for cover, but I pointed my staff at him. He rose into the air while his tiny limbs flailed around. “No catch! No lift! Human free Nimblesto!”

“I’m in serious trouble because of you. Helping your tribe has earned me a bad reputation and a trip up the river without a paddle. So guess what. You’re going to be my new paddle.”

The workers must have given me the nickname Goblin King. It was not flattering. That was the equivalent of being named the Cockroach King. Now I was stuck trying to herd the little devils.

“No paddle! Goblin! Goblin no bird. Goblin no fly.” His red cap fell on the floor as he hovered next to me.

“You’re the only goblin who speaks a human language. So you have to come along as my interpreter. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Redcap!” he yelled desperately. I picked up his cap and slapped it on his head.

Nimblesto tried to flee again, but each time he did so I levitated him off the ground and gave him a quick spin around the room. Finally he relented. If I couldn’t escape this mission, neither could he. He recruited five of the hunter gatherers who frequented the citadel for trades. Nimblesto had clout in his tribe due to being their most skillful kleptomaniac. He was a hero to his people. If anyone should have been labeled the Goblin King, it should have been him.

I presented my irregular troops to Famigrist at the river dock.

“Good. Load the scouts on the foremost boat. We start at sunset,” the monster said.

The slave raid consisted of two flat bottomed skiffs. They had simple lateen sails, but little wind blew through the valley for sailing. Their main propulsion came from rows of oars worked by the minions and the trolls.

Although the boats were fairly large and capacious, they hauled minimal loads within. The equipment they did carry—ropes, chains, manacles, and iron collars—showed their main purpose, which was transporting captured monsters back to the citadel. The return trip would be much more crowded than the long voyage up river.

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Famigrist sat hunched at the bow of the first boat as a nocturnal lookout. The grim trolls pulled the oars in time to drums beaten by two of the Faceless. The slaving raid pulled away from the landing area and left the citadel in its wake.

I traveled into the boat with my new squad of scouts. Their tribe’s female goblins maintained a permanent village hidden somewhere in the valley, but the males set up temporary camps wherever they roamed. They lived as nomads. A free boat trip to the north did not bother them at all. And the humans and larger monsters provided the goblins a degree of protection from predators.

I had crossed the section of river between the citadel and the Mournhaven outpost a few times, but had never gone deeper into the valley.

“Where are we going, anyway?” I asked Famigrist. The monster raised his snout and sniffed the wind.

“To where the monsters are.”

“How long will this trip last?”

“As long as it takes.”

I could see this big furball wasn’t going to be very helpful. Nor much of a conversationalist. He was even more antisocial than me, hiding in his dungeon and only coming out at night, but at least people respected his privacy. They had to or he’d rip them limb from limb. I decided not to annoy Famigrist with too many questions and settled in for a long boat ride.

***

Our planet had a turbulent childhood before maturing to its current state. In the ages that the Earth and the Moon rotated out of sync with each other, the Moon moved through the sky much like the sun does now, rising in the east and setting in the west. The gravitational forces of those lunar cycles lifted the oceans up over the land and pulled them away, causing incredible rising and lowering floods. The flowing water eroded deep scars across the surface. The stress of gravity cracked the planet’s crust, and huge volcanoes vomited forth more fiery material onto land and across the sea. It was a violent and inhospitable world.

Once the Earth and Moon became tidally locked, things calmed down. The shattered bits of land all drifted together over millions of years, pulled by a gentler attraction toward the Moon. A new continent formed like a jigsaw puzzle with no matching pieces, just mashed together in a heap. The scars of the past gave the continent a wild geography, with many rift valleys and steep mountain ranges and extinct volcanoes and inner seas. The land was impenetrable to humans. Walking across the continent would take a lifetime. In my era, we crossed it by airship or went around by boat. Roads and railways only existed for short distances along the coast. The only people who ventured to the deepest parts were scientists and nature photographers. Now that the outbreak of daemons made the continent even less inviting, only magi and monsters dared to wander the hinterlands.

I sat idly on the skiff as it cut through the night.

The Spitpoison meandered so that, from above, it would look like a slithering snake. At points it curved back on itself and left behind oxbow lakes. Its winding course ran against the mountain ridges to the east and west that boxed in the valley.

The moon shown down on the swaying treetops and the surface of the river, bathing the night in violet light, but it could not reach the gap between the canopy and the forest floor. Two shadowy walls flanked the river, and from that darkness unknown creatures observed us.

“Nimblesto hate boat,” the goblin cursed.

“Why? It’s faster and safer than walking.”

“Humans boat water. Humans steal monsters. Humans chain, whip, kill.”

“Yes. That’s the plan.” I had spent so much time around these weird little creatures; I could now tell them apart. Nimblesto didn’t look like the rest of his tribe. He had a grayer cast to his skin and a rounder head. And, he insisted on wearing clothing other than loincloths and beaded hats. “How did you learn to speak a human language anyway?”

“Humans steal Nimblesto. Nimblesto live circus. Nimblesto tumble, juggle, dance. Humans laugh, point, clap.”

“You worked as an acrobat? How’d you get away?”

“Nimblesto slice throats.” The little goblin glowered at me.

My kidnapping him for this mission must have brought back some dark memories. I wasn’t exactly sure what a circus was, but if its training for juggling was anything like the Goadsmen’s training for war, I could understand his bitterness.

“Well don’t blame me for abducting you this time. I’d have liked to stay at the citadel too. We’re in the same boat.”

Had I been the only one kidnapping these goblins, they would have fled into the woods the first time we touched the shore. But the presence of Famigrist intimidated them into obedience. Nimblesto, being familiar with human societies, understood that a betrayal here could get his tribe expelled from the citadel or even hunted to extinction. He resentfully cooperated with the slave raid.

Famigrist stirred from his position at the bow of the boat. “It’s almost sunrise. We will stop here for the day. You and the Faceless can guard the camp while the sun is up.”

Our two boats rowed to shore. We stopped at a well defended position for an encampment. The river looped in a way to form a bulbous peninsula with a thin neck. This effectively gave us a large natural moat with only a narrow strip of land to guard. Famigrist jumped ashore and sniffed around for the presence of other monsters before the rest of us disembarked.

The trolls found sunlight irritating. They preferred to live underground or sleep through the day. The group set up simple tents, with just enough fabric to cover the dirt and keep off the rain, then crawled inside to sleep. A hard night of rowing had exhausted them.

“Will these Warcreeps be able to conduct a slave raid?” I asked Famigrist.

“Yes. That’s why we’re here.”

“They look too dull and lethargic to fight. In the beginning, the trolls were stupid, dirty cannibals, but at least they had some life to them. They fought back against our attack on the citadel. But now they’ve become sleepwalkers. They don’t even flinch when stung by a whip or raise a hand to defend themselves.”

“The trolls just need fresh air and moonshine. By the time we reach our goal, they’ll be thirsty for blood.”

“And what about the Faceless? Will they be up for a battle?”

I recalled the original scouting mission to the citadel ended with everyone getting slaughtered. The witches’ group of sparks all died, except for Strythe who only half-died. The continent was too dangerous for normal people.

“Only we monsters will travel inland to attack the troll tribes. The humans will stay at the river to guard the boats.”

“Oh. Great. Sounds good to me.”

“But not you. You’ll be in the raiding party,” he said. “Now keep watch over the camp while I sleep. The sun is almost risen.” Famigrist didn’t even bother to set up his own tent. He curled up at the base of a large tree and closed his eyes.

We humans took the day watch. At the edge of the river, the minions set up campfires to boil water and cook the food we had brought with us. Foraging off the land was too risky for them. The valley had too many poisonous plants and animals. The goblins knew what to gather for themselves but not what a human could digest. Their diet of toads and bugs would result in something worse than a stomach ache for anyone else.

“Nimblesto. Let’s put your gobs to work and have a quick scout around the area,” I said to the goblin. “This slave raid has interrupted my training and dragged me away from several important projects. But there’s no reason for it to be a total waste. Let’s consider this a field trip. We can do some important research along the way.”

“Human search what?”

“We can start with herbology. You native guides can help me identify and collect some samples.”

The band of goblins thronged around me. The tiny creatures were near the bottom of the food chain, yet they managed to thrive in an environment too deadly for human beings. They knew the Spitpoison Valley better than anyone, its dangers, its monsters, and its secret treasures.