The following day – afternoon. The goblin’s lord was sitting with an emotionless expression. The goblin that was supposed to bring meat from one of hunting outposts came empty-handed. He said that outpost was empty – only a fireplace with cold ashes and rabbit’s bones. Hunters were not there, neither was food. Their equipment was missing too, so the gob reached the conclusion that they did not come back yet from hunting.
But, it was simply wrong. At least one person was always supposed to be in camp – exactly for the sake of spreading information. The lord could demand the whole outpost to return to the nest as fast as it was only possible. Goblins couldn’t read nor write, so the only way they could deliver their orders was via direct conversation. He knew that, the veteran that was a leader of that hunting group knew that…
… So what happened?
The messenger stayed in the camp for two hours, but after no one came back, he decided to return and report it. And he did very well! If he would get some silly ideas about looking for them, he would risk not returning himself. Not that Lord cared about single gob’s life, putting it simply – dead gobs can’t bring the report back.
Of course, he decided to send yet another group into that location. He has to know what happened. Were hunters attacked by the same creature that killed harvesters and patrolling groups?
For the terrifying rage of Khai’li! What was happening!?
He took control of his tribe over a year ago. Five months ago he subordinated another tribe by killing his rival. Three months ago they almost completely drained resources from their homeland and two months ago they decided to relocate. For a month they were traveling, mostly at nights and traveling through the forests, for if such a big horde was to be spotted by humans, they would be dealt with immediately. No one likes traveling tribes of green skins.
For a month their life became much better. The forest was thick and located far away from bigger settlements and traveling routes. They could do whatever they wanted, the forest was deprived of any magical or intellectual predators. Just lots of animals – that’s it. Until now.
The thing that killed harvesters was intelligent and good with its hands – in the end, it builds traps.
But why was it attacking them? It wasn’t taking bodies with itself, so it didn’t consider them as a lower link in food-chain. It didn’t torture them and the traps were made to deliver the fastest death – so it wasn’t looking for vengeance nor pleasure of the act of violence.
It was just methodically bleeding them out. Attacking where they did not suspect to be attacked. Like cutting branches of the tree before chopping it down in one go.
The question remained – where would it attack now? He decided to send manpower to every outpost, group and squad located outside of the nest. Whenever it would attack now – it would meet heavy resista…
By Kha’li!
He sent his men everywhere. EVERYWHERE… left barely anyone to protect nest itself… He was so foolish. Even goblins had a way of acquiring honey from wild bees – one goblin would enrage the nest making all the bees attack him before he would start running toward the river to hide from them, and once the nest would be empty, his companions would crack the nest open…
In this particular situation… were they bees?
As if proving his thoughts - a loud noise could be heard from the other side of the settlement, as if lighting hit the ground causing the earth to shake. He bolted outside from his tent, and what he saw made his heart froze.
Lots of dust was still covering his vision, but what he did notice was that the dust was rising around their smithery and tools storage. Most of their utility rooms were packed in the cave – their food storage, their offspring pits… but the cave wasn’t big enough, so they were forced to build several “facilities” outside of it, right under the wall of the mountain.
All the hunters and patrolling groups were outside of the nest looking for the new enemy, there was no one left to look around the nest itself!
For the rage of Kha’li! There was still over forty goblins in here! Who would just storm in to wreak havoc? And how?!
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Once the dust settled down they could see the smithery and storage room – or, what left of these. Younger shaman quickly approached ruins and sniffed loudly with his nose.
- “Ashwood…” he mumbled under his nose.
- “You said that in such a tone as if I was supposed to know what the hell it is.” Lord didn’t yell. His shamans were not ordinal gobs that required shouts, screams or whip to keep doing their duties.
- “We are using its bark in rituals. Very flammable, it leaves very specific smell…” indeed, when he mentioned that he could smell some weird
- “… it could be a very handy weapon… why aren’t we using it?”
- “It’s chaotic. Unpredictable. No humans nor elves are using it either. Instead, they are using something that they call dragon’s oil – made by dwarves. Cheaper, easier to store. Easier to control… This… only madman would use it.”
- “Why?”
- “The ashwood has to be… alive. Wet. Once you cut it off the tree it starts drying off very quickly. Once it’s completely dry… it burns. And if lots of it is stacked tightly together… You see, it starts burning from the deepest part – from core, center. It starts spreading, pushing its structure apart… have you ever played with fish bladder as a child?”
Common toy of goblin’s kids. They would take internal organs of animals (usually those that they couldn’t eat) and turn them into single-use toys. They would fill them with water until it would pop from within caused by pressure. Goblins had no respect for any part of once-living beings.
Goblin’s lord only nodded with his head
- “It’s the same mechanism. The heat pushes it further and further until it eventually breaks. But, once it breaks it’s not water that splashed in all directions…”
- “But fire. Fire under pressure.”
- “If you want to stop it from burning – or exploding – you have to keep wetting it. Otherwise…”
- “What do you think about it?”
- “It’s definitely not a savage creature, sire. I heard about wild people living in the forests, perfect hunters, very skilled with the creation of traps… but, using ashwood… it knows alchemy… or, at least basic uses of rare and wild plants and trees. No savage could calculate nor plane this action so perfectly.”
- “How did ashwood ended in our storage room? So much of it atop of that?”
- “I… Don’t know, sire, there are many ways, it could come right before the dawn and throw it in… but its highly unlikely to happen. That creature is far too careful, no one ever saw it… at least didn’t live long enough to tell about it, risking like that is outside of its moves pattern… I would rather be suggesting that it drugged one of the workers that were gathering timber wood, and once he was sleeping it replaced his bag with ashwood – then our own gob would throw it into the storage… or it could be something completely different.”
- “Why did it attack the smithery? Up until now it was targeting vital groups far away from the nest. Low risk – high reward… now, it’s opposite…” smithery was just a lump of burned clay in which they heated up metal. They could rebuild it in a jiffy
- “… I don’t know, my liege. This creatures appears to always be one-two steps ahead of us. Or maybe it’s attacking completely at random? I… all my hypothesis are no longer valid. Sorry, my lord.”
The young shaman was working very hard for past few days and nights trying to find a patter between attacks – trying to deduce the new attack location.
- “Order to rebuild the smithery and storage room. Smithery should be ready by tomorrow, day after in worst-case scenario, don’t bother with the storage – we will just push few boards together – that will do… also, find all the goblins that brought materials to the nest in the past two days – ask if anyone them noticed something different, lost consciousness or left his bag unattended. If you would find the guilty – execute him.”
- “It will be done as you command, my lord.” Young shaman bowed his head.
The shaman would do it in a different way, but the words of the lord are absolute.
What the two of three “smartest goblins in the nest” failed to notice was that this particular action wasn’t as pointless as they believed. The loud explosion forced all nest’s habitants to drop their tasks and duties and gather around the ruins of craftsmen facility – facility that was located on the other side of the nest, leaving cave opening without protection. Each and every goblin was busy with saving every remaining material that wasn’t completely destroyed. Because of that, they failed to notice a tiny shadow entering the deepest part of the nest – the cave in which their offspring was usually living (right now running across the destruction site), their food supplies were placed and slaves were chained.
It was the food that Elana targeted – or, to be precise – their primitive water tank. She wasn’t an alchemist, but Mr. Zariel would every now and then talk about alchemy – showing plants and telling how to prepare some more or less complex potions. And, because it was Mr. Zariel speaking – El was literally devouring knowledge. She spend hours walking over the forest picking the most toxic herbs – those that he told her to even avoid touching. She had all the time needed to locate the tank and throw the entire bag of herbs inside of it. It would take some time for plants to spread their juices into the water, but it didn’t matter. El was a rouge. Someone that was less than a shadow.
In her mind, the game of chess kept on being played. The queen was taken down. King is in check.
Your move.