“Will that be all?” The burly boatman swayed as he stood on his little vessel. Two bulging eyes glared. “I should shove off soon. Bandits–and worse–like to hang around the river, as you know.”
Ardwin nodded. “That’s all. Tell Mayor Christoff that I send my regards.”
“I will.” The boatman waved. He shoved off the riverbank with his oar. “Good luck, Ranger!” The man paddled against the current of the Twinstone until becoming a tiny bobbing mote atop the green water. Ardwin scanned the river banks to the north and south before turning west and ascending a soft slope of grass.
Trekking across open terrain, Ardwin found the Old Colonial Road. The Imperial Inquisitors will have elves in their ranks. Their ability to track life essence is too good for Abbot Herman not to utilize. I should avoid any roads and cities. He promptly crossed and broke into a dense forest with a high but barren canopy. Ardwin’s feet crunched on the dying leaves that painted the forest floor orange, yellow, and brown. Thankfully, a drizzle of rain and a steady breeze dampened the noise. I’ll take my chances with bandits. Then again, if what Morganna told me is true, any elf or halfbreed can track me from leagues away. He passed between the ancient sentinels in their seasonal slumber.
A midmorning fog engulfed him. All those years, I thought I was invisible.
There were few bushes or briars. The Burgundian Duke kept the banks of the Twinstone deforested for effortless engagement with enemy troops. Ardwin wished he still had his walking staff, but it was in Ottoburg, along with the rest of his gear and supplies scavenged over the past months.
He found a little spring cutting through a wide valley and walked against its current. The valley narrowed as its walls rose. Ardwin climbed the westward rise and crested its tree-spotted knoll only to spot a plume of smoke rising in the north. Someone’s keeping a fire. Curiosity got the better of him, so Ardwin spun, flaring the tail of his cloak and becoming invisible. He passed through a grove of white birches with few leaves clinging to their thin branches.
Ivory gave way to a green pasture. Brown and gray tents circled the clearing. A large fire blazed in the center. Ardwin smelt seasoned pheasant roasting over the flame. Hiding behind a tremendous oak at the edge of the clearing, which marked the end of birch territory, Ardwin watched an old man with a bald head, a bushy gray beard, and a big fat gut limp over to a little boy of six or seven, pick him up, and muss his hair. The little boy laughed. At the other end of the clearing, weaving between tents, a group of children ran around playing chase. Three women in vibrant blue and yellow dresses washed laundry at large copper basins. Refugees? We’re a long way from Coblenz. Why are they out here in the wilderness? Ardwin wanted to join them, to take up a false identity and figure out who these people were, but an intuition whispered: it’s not worth it.
Two men stood at the edge of the camp, speaking. Ardwin skirted around the encampment, the wind in his cloak carrying him like a silent breeze. Moving from tree to tree, he got within earshot of their conversation. “There’sh another wagon making itsh way down the road,” a one-eyed man with few teeth said. “Refugeesh. No guards.” He shrugged.
“They won’t have much to offer then,” the other, a short, scrawny man with a crooked nose, said.
“The war’sh bleeding everyone dry,” the one-eyed man retorted. “Taksh man and the mershenariesh get them if the Duke’sh men don’t. Not much left for ush.” He chuckled. He slapped the short man on the shoulder. “But we’ll get by ash we alwaysh have. The war can’t lasht forever.”
Bandits.
“Come on,” the one-eyed man said. “Let’sh go get some food.” Ardwin watched them join the rest of their crew around the campfire.
Children played. Women sang as they worked. It was not your typical holdout. They’re going to attack a wagon full of defenseless refugees. Ardwin watched the men slice freshly cooked meat and eat straight off the fire. Sun rays danced between the barren branches and wooded walls guarding the west.
It will be dark soon. I’ll wait for them to make their move.
Ardwin nestled between a tree and a bush, watching the skies as the moon reached its zenith. The forest grew silent. The women and children turned in first. Eight men remained sitting around the fire. As their conversation dwindled, the men exchanged knowing looks and armed themselves with spears, swords, and axes. They marched east toward the Colonial Road, stepping swiftly. “We’ll make it by daybreak,” a man said. “And be back by dinner.”
Ardwin followed them down a path perilously close to the one he’d just taken. Where were their perimeter guards? Their lookouts?
They descended into the valley beyond the birch grove. We’re far enough from camp. I could take them right here and put an end to them. Ardwin crept from tree to tree, watching the disorganized gang pass silently through the still of the night. What of their children, though? They’ll probably grow up to be bandits, too. If that’s the path they choose. But they haven’t had time to choose, have they? And if these men die, will their mothers take up their swords, or will they stave off starvation with a sharp end? Perhaps they will leave?
I can’t control what they will do, Ardwin chided himself. But I know what these men are going to do if I don’t put a stop to it.
Thick branches loomed overhead. Underbrush lingered in the lowland. Ardwin closed in, picking up his pace, drawing his bone-hilted dagger from its sheath. Two men fell behind the rest. They walked shoulder to shoulder, whispering, just a few feet ahead. Ardwin rose from his crouched position, walking tall, still invisible, and lifted his dagger to strike. “Madeline will be nine next week,” a familiar voice said. In the forest’s darkness, Ardwin could barely discern features, but he paired the voice with a short, skinny man with a crooked nose.
“Maybe you can find her something nice in this haul?” his comrade whispered. “A dress or a toy!”
“Shut up back there!” An unfamiliar voice called from the darkness ahead. “Frederick has men patrolling these woods for deserters night and day. And you two want to talk about a little girl’s birthday?” The pair shook their heads but trekked onward. “Get your heads on right!”
Ardwin stood frozen, dagger waiting to fall, as his mark walked out of range. He watched the men fumble through the forest, wondering: How have they survived so long? No guards watching the perimeter of their camp. No discipline. Running his hand through a tangled beard, Ardwin hatched a plan. Perhaps there’s another way? With a flap of his magical cloak, Ardwin soared into the air and landed on the top branches of a tree. Eight bandits walked below. “Hold!” He shouted. The men stopped. Each raised their weapon high, turning their backs to one another. “Don’t attack! These men look like regular people!” Ardwin paused. “Speak now! My men are restless and eager for a fight. Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Who’sh ashking?” The toothless man spat.
“Rodrick of the Green Leaf!” Ardwin lied. “Lieutenant of the First Ranger Division. Are you coming from the south?”
“No!” the scrawny father of a soon-to-be nine-year-old shouted. “We’re just woodsmen! Returning from work! We’ll get this valley cleared out by tomorrow evening. Don’t worry! We’re exhausted, so we certainly don’t want to impede upon your duties, Roderick. Good evening to you and your brave men!”
“Woodsmen don’t need swords!” Ardwin replied. “We just sacked a bandit stronghold south of Coblenz, so I’m wary of armed men parading around at night. In the name of the Duke, I command you to drop your weapons!”
“Why should we believe you?” The unfamiliar voice joined. “We can’t even see who you are! You say you have an army? Where are they? Prove it! Prove that you’re a ranger!”
“An army?” Ardwin jumped down from the tree, landing without a sound. He spun, undoing his invisibility, and marched toward the men. The scrawny father brought up the back alongside his confidante. “Rangers don’t command armies,” Ardwin said. “Seven killers are hiding behind seven trees. They await my command. Throw your weapons down and return to your camp. In the morning, take your families east, to Ottoburg, or further.”
“To Alexandria?” the father asked.
His confidante snickered. “You’d have us be slaves? Peasants? At least we’re free men out here. And you should know that there’s no work left in Ottoburg, or any city for that matter.”
“I don’t care where you go,” Ardwin said. “I want you out of my forest.”
The other five bandits crept through the underbrush toward the conversation. “Where’sh the devil?” the toothless man asked. Two gnarled old hands wrapped the long handle of an ax. “If you prove you’re telling the truth, I’ll drop my aksh right now!” He cried in Ardwin’s general direction. “Prove it!”
“Hold up, Hester,” the father raised his right hand. “Maybe we should listen to him?”
“Why?” This voice belonged to a tall, broad shadow whose right shoulder sagged over a limping leg. “This man’s bluffing. If he were a ranger, he’d have sacked us by now. Use your head, Benny.”
“Would he?” The father—Benny—turned on the big man. “What kind of idiot would jump out of a tree and give himself up? He could’ve slit my throat, but he didn’t! You’ve heard stories about rangers. They don’t just go around sacking people for no reason. I say we listen to the man!”
“I shay we kill him!” the toothless bandit urged.
“Hold!” Ardwin shouted, spreading his arms wide, looking from left to right beneath the canopy of his cloak’s hood. “I don’t want another massacre! Lay down your weapons!”
“Maybe Benny has a point,” the confidante and fellow straggler said.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” The big shadow trampled through thickets and brush, barreling toward Ardwin. He raised a longsword overhead. “I’ll kill the little rat! Come here!” The big man swung his sword with all his weight behind it. Ardwin stepped to the left and delivered a swift punch to the man’s liver, following up with a flurry. The big man fell with a big thud. Five rushed him. The toothless bandit was closest, so Ardwin dispatched him with a kick to the jaw, probably loosening a few more. The next wielded a sword. Ardwin dodged a swipe and closed in with a few punches to the midsection, then looped his right fist over his opponent’s shoulder, connecting with the temple and knocking the bandit unconscious.
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The father and his confidante stood still in shock while Ardwin made quick work of the others. The big bandit made it back to his feet and recovered his sword. Ardwin brawled with the big man, slipping beneath the lumbering oaf’s long limbs and striking with precision: liver, sternum, nose, finishing with an uppercut to the jaw that knocked the big man back to the ground.
Ardwin stood over his enemies, who writhed, moaning in pain, or slept on the cold ground. He drew his dagger, pointing it at Benny and his friend. “You’re still holding weapons.”
Metal clattered against the earth. “We just want to return to camp,” Benny said.
“You can’t hold out here forever,” Ardwin said. “Go. This is your first and last chance. And If you attack anyone on the Colonial Road, you’ll see what I can do with this dagger.” He sheathed Animiki’s Talon. “My men will scout these woods for the coming weeks. If you’re still here by noon tomorrow, we’ll arrest you all, but I don’t want to do that.”
“Is the Duke preparing for another invasion?” Benny asked. “The Rangers always showed up before an attack.”
“We’re just securing the borderlands,” Ardwin assured. “Now go. Leave your weapons, though. I can’t have armed brigands running amock in my woods.”
“These are dangerous times, sir,” Benny said. “Bandits, deserters, goblins. Traveling unarmed is foolish! I have children to think about. What if we’re attacked on the road? We need protection. Please, be reasonable.”
“Cross the Twinstone.” Ardwin walked closer to the men. “There are farmlands in the Golden Valley and plenty of mines in the hills, too. You’ll find work. If you’re resourceful, you’ll survive. That’s more reasonable than living in the wilderness, killing and looting your neighbors. You have so much pride in your freedom. Is this how you honor it?” He spat. “War turns men into beasts. Leave before I convince myself that you’re better off dead.”
Benny and his confidante gathered the others from the dirt and stumbled through the darkness. Ardwin hid their weapons in a little den beneath the gnarled roots of an old oak tree. With luck, no one would find them. I should go find these refugees–make sure they’re safe.
Don’t forget you’re being hunted, a voice of reason whispered. I need to keep moving. I’ve done what I could for them.
An orange, pink, and yellow backdrop highlighted the treeline behind him. The sun rose in the east. “Goblins?” Ardwin grumbled as he pushed a leafless limb out of his path. The forest floor thickened with brambles and briars. I didn’t think they traveled this far west. It makes sense, though. Goblins are like buzzards, swooping in to pick away the rotten flesh of a carcass. Undergrowth gave way to an open meadow. Across the meadow, a grove of pines littered the ground with their needles. That grove would make a pleasant camp, but it’s too open. He searched the surrounding woods for a den or a thicket where he could form a temporary dwelling. A laid-over beech tree with rotting limbs provided a frame. Shaggy pine limbs formed the roof. Ardwin lashed it all together with strips of bark, then slung his knapsack inside. He stepped thirty paces away and circled his dwelling. It blends in well enough.
Satisfied, he crawled within the lean-to and covered himself with his elf-woven cloak. Wind crept through the cracks of his dwelling. Ardwin shivered, tossed, and turned, but eventually, sleep claimed him. He woke to a high sun and a chilly breeze. His teeth rattled in his skull. He rubbed his arms with his hands, then left his lean-to, dragging his knapsack behind him. I need to move and warm up before I get sick.
The pine grove led Ardwin to a little creek flowing into the east, rounding the contour of a subtle but steady rise in the land. He walked against its current. The creek led to a circular pond surrounded by trees and barren berry bushes. Ardwin stopped to rest by the pond and eat from his rations, then followed the bank, feeling the land rise beneath his feet, growing steeper and steeper until he crested a wide rim. Ardwin climbed a mighty oak–the tallest he could find–and looked into the west, beyond a sea of brown limbs and leaves, at a red sun falling behind a golden horizon. The Fields of Milanis, Ardwin confirmed. In another day or two, I’ll leave Burgundia and enter Milanis Duchy. Perhaps my fortunes are about to change? He turned to the east, looking behind. The sky darkened. Blue and grey pulled away to reveal dozens of silver stars piercing a purplish and black blanket. The Twinstone River curved like a green ribbon through the countryside. He saw the Old Colonial Road running parallel to the waters, many miles inland, obstructed in parts by the forest canopy. Then, he spotted a thick column of black smoke rising above the treetops. Isn’t that..? They didn’t leave? Damn them!
Ardwin clambered down from his high perch. “Are they still trying to convince me that they’re just woodsmen?” he muttered.
Night enveloped the world. Ardwin’s cloak carried him swiftly down the soft rise, dodging between trees and leaping over the underbrush. I should have checked their camp for more weapons. He found the pond and followed its crooked tributary. Instead of marching through the pines, he flapped the corners of his cloak and summoned a gale to carry him over their shaggy bristles. He landed in the center of a meadow. Ardwin leaped into a spruce and began jumping from tree to tree, following the smoke. What will I do? There are women and children in their camp. Will I wait around for them to venture out again? Or fight them in front of their families? If I commit myself to this, I must do it right. I can’t afford witnesses. The voice of reason returned: Or to waste any more time on them.
The yellow light of fire pierced through a web of woven branches. Ardwin drew his dagger. He jumped onto a high tree overlooking the camp. Their tents burned. Bodies littered the campground, young and old, human and inhuman. Ardwin lowered himself, then shoved off the branch. His magical cloak carried him gently to the ground. Benny’s confidante lay next to the campfire, stiff fingers clutching a charred log, a short arrow buried in his back. Four green-skinned creatures with bristly hairs and fat fingers sprouting short, black claws lay dead nearby, clothed in primitive furs and hides. Goblins! Arwin scoured the camp. Benny, the toothless man, and a few women and children were missing. Otherwise, there were no survivors. And it’s my fault! I disarmed them! He picked up a goblin’s crude spear and tossed it into a burning tent. The structure collapsed, spraying sparks and smoke into the air. “Damnit!”
He stood, clenching his fists. They’ve taken the others back to their den!
Ardwin searched for tracks leading into the forest. Goblins move silently but travel in war bands that leave rather apparent tracks. He found a path of trampled grass and little footprints, accompanied by boots and shoes. Ardwin took off into the night, hurrying, following the war band’s trail. Can I catch them in time?
They cut north into a deep region of the woods entangled with thorns. Tracks became more and more.
A group broke away to the right, so he followed their trail and soon encountered a putrid smell he knew all too well–death. He covered the bottom half of his face with his cloak. Ardwin crept down the trail. The tracks ended in a small clearing surrounded by pines. A twisted figure of broken bones, torn flesh, and ripped clothes lay at the center of the clearing. The toothless bandit met a gruesome end.
Ardwin returned to the original trail and sprinted, catching a wind in his cloak that propelled him faster and faster. He noticed a string of human skulls dangling from the low branch of a beech and tendrils of smoke drifting lazily into the air, so spun, flaring his cloak and becoming invisible. Thorn bushes formed bristling hedgerows that created a solid wall. Round holes offered entry into the hedge but were far too small for a human to crawl comfortably. Ardwin looked at the trees. Skulls of every species decorated hundreds of branches. This is a large den.
Every book I’ve read said the Dukes eradicated the goblins centuries ago. How long has this forest been untended?
A woman’s scream broke Ardwin’s contemplation. He leaped into the air and landed in a tree, looking down upon the briar-woven complex. The maze grew away from a rocky cliff face that joined two ridgelines. At its center, in a circular courtyard of thorns, Benny held his daughter close and huddled with the other members of his camp. Their hands and feet were bound with leather strips. Goblins armed with spears and clubs patrolled the perimeter of the hedge. A shrill scream sounded from inside the cave. Ardwin spread his cloak and glided, invisible, into the center of the goblin stronghold, landing on trampled dirt. Ardwin crept toward the cave, crouching low. A woman’s cries of terror were cut short by one last heaving grunt. The huddled survivors trembled and whimpered as their goblin captures laughed. Benny kissed his daughter on the forehead.
Ardwin ran to the cave, slid through the low entrance, and skidded to a halt within a mouth-shaped cavern, falling deeper and deeper into the earth. Dozens of green and red-skinned goblins stood around a cauldron, watching it simmer. Six of the creatures dumped the woman’s body into the massive iron vat of bubbling red liquid. A large goblin with a thick mat of black fur growing up his back and an iron skullcap on his head stood next to the cauldron. He raised two ape-like hands in the air and shouted: “Dai’u’uk! Dai’u!” As Ardwin understood, this meant: “Die you human! Die!”
The crowd answered with elation.
That must be their leader. Ardwin eyed the creature’s iron hat. All the goblins wore metal beads and piercings or held metal weapons in their hands. Ardwin raised Animiki’s Talon and aimed at the cauldron between them. He pierced his thumb with the pointed pommel of his dagger, and lightning erupted from its silver steel blade, striking the cauldron. The lightning arced from the cauldron to the big goblin’s iron hat, then to any nearby glittering jewelry and weapons. Thunder shook the cavern. Each of the little beasts fell into a smoldering carcass. Cries resounded outside of the cave and deeper below.
War drums echoed: thump, thump, thump!
Ardwin bolted toward the door, where he encountered three goblins with spears lowered. They did not see him leap over their heads and draw Ninathril from his side, so he hacked them up from behind, then turned toward the courtyard of thorns.
Thump, thump, thump! The drums echoed behind.
Thump, thump, thump! Goblins laughed and howled, their little feet stamping the stones in rhythm with the drums, sharp teeth chattering.
Perimeter guards rushed toward their dead comrades at the entrance of the cave. Ardwin leaped over them, landing next to the prisoners. He spun and allowed his invisibility to fade. “Ah!” Benny’s daughter cried, shoving her face in her father’s chest. Ardwin cut Benny’s bonds, then extended Ninathril to the shell-shocked father, who stared up at him with vacant red-ringed eyes.
“Fight!” Ardwin cried. Benny pried his daughter away with the help of a nearby woman, then took the sword from Ardwin’s hand.
Six goblins closed in, charging with spears lowered and clubs held high. A mass of the little creatures spewed forth from their den, spilling into the courtyard. “Kill any that comes too close!” Ardwin commanded as he ran headlong into their ranks. He dodged a spear and spun, flaring his cloak and summoning a wind, sending their vanguard flying back toward the cave, barreling into the beasts behind them. The entire swarm surged forward. A fat goblin swung with a bent sword, which Ardwin’s dagger passed cleanly through, landing in the goblin’s throat. He spun again, drawing his rapier and severing a goblin’s head from its shoulders.
Wind in his cloak, Arwin weaved in and out with supernatural grace, sowing death. Few made it past, but those who did met a swift end at the hands of Benny, who wielded Ninathril as though he were born for it. Such was Ninathril’s magic.
The goblins backed away, forming a defensive line at the mouth of their cave. More and more gathered in the mouth of the cave. Thump, thump, thump! Soon they would swarm the courtyard. Thump, thump, thump! Ardwin backed away. He walked to Benny and sheathed his rapier. “Sword,” he said. Benny stepped back, then looked at Ninathril with wide, blinking eyes. “My sword, please.” Benny handed over the ancient blade. “Arm yourselves and get out of here. Make for the Old Colonial Road, and don’t look back! I’ll take care of these beasts.” With Ninathril in his right hand and a dagger in his left, Ardwin turned toward the goblin den. “Go!”
Benny gathered a few spears and handed them to the eldest survivors. “Come on!” He shuffled his daughter away toward the hedgerow. Before disappearing into the folded thorns, Benny turned and looked at Ardwin one last time.
Ardwin waved him away. “Run!”
The goblin mass surged forward. Ardwin charged with arms spread wide, swinging his long sword as two little green beasts got too close, slicing them in two. The swarm shied away. They don’t want to die, either.
Ardwin let out a battle cry, challenging them. I suppose we’re not so different, are we?