Chapter 14 - Watch him Die
I took another piece of ore from the bucket and brought it into my spatial storage.
Hunty was giving me ore faster than I could work it now, not caring what I did with it, as long as I gave him something by the end of the day. He trusted my inventiveness ever since I made my first self-repairing blade. It only had enough juice to fix itself two or three times, depending on the damage, but it proved that I should be left alone to do my thing. Now, all of the warriors had one.
A matching crate of leather strips and semi-straight Mendau wood were on the other side of the bars, but I didn’t need those just now. I had a bunch of this stuff squirreled away, but I didn’t want to empty the containers and not have anything to show for it. The goblins were lax with me now that their worries were closer to home, but their tolerance only went so far.
I stopped mid-grab when a sudden silence fell over the cave. The workers no longer shouted at one another. No one dumped their cart of rocks or threw any wood onto the stockpiles. For the entire time I’d been down here, the work had almost never stopped.
Then I saw them, a long procession of goblins, families with elders, parents, and children. Bandaged warriors with missing fingers or ears. Goblins that carried baskets on their backs heaping with clothes, tools, or whatnot. A few gaggles of goblins carried stretchers of the sick or wounded on their shoulders. All of them, whether they carried something or not, stared ahead with troubled expressions, worry and defeat evident in their eyes. All their stares were tired, narrow as if they only cared about the backs of those in front of them and the desire to keep moving.
Hunty slowly got to his feet, confused at first, but soon he was watching them all go, nodding to friends and kin, waving at others. No one had the inclination to wave back. Tiba materialized from the river of green people, tears in her eyes. She melted into Hunty’s arms and buried her face in his breastplate.
Grating, rumbling, the cave shook from an unseen force.
“They’re here, Hunty. The black ones are outside. Kuul has us all go into the deeper caves, and he collapses the tunnel behind us,” Tiba whispered quietly enough that only we could hear her. “The warriors say it is the black flood from the stories. The world is changing again.”
A loud crash echoed in the cavern. Something was wrong. The goblins, spurred to urgency, hurried forward, pushing those in front of them along.
The goblin healer reached into her pack and pulled out a sizable bundle of something, setting it down in front of the bars of my cell.
“Take as much as you can. Kuul is rationing the food soon, and he may not feed you, Ryan,” she said with a sad little smile. “I go down to help with the wounded. Good luck.”
Hunty wrapped his arms around his love, holding her close but never dropping his spear. “I am staying,” he declared, over the top of her head, his voice wavering but his eyes steady.
Tiba shuddered, shaking her head but got control of herself enough to look up and catch Hunty’s eye. “I know. See me later, okay?”
A scream pierced the air from somewhere out of sight. Howling, gibbering calls skittered through the cavern, shattering the quiet, and animalistic shrieks echoed off the walls until they came from everywhere.
The relative order in which the goblins evacuated dissolved, devolving into panic and chaos. Goblins screamed for each other, running further into the cavern, bunching up at the far end in a crushing mass of bodies.
For their part, the goblin warriors fought against the current, shouldering their way through the river of people, spears or swords held high so as not to accidentally harm any of their kin.
Hunty gave Tiba one last look, then bent down and took up his shield. Then he was off, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly to where the fight was, out of my sight.
Tiba looked at me and put a sympathetic hand on my prison bars, then she was off too, in the opposite direction, going with the tide to help how she could.
Bedlam.
Goblins trampled each other to get further from the danger, to get further down the tunnels. All the while, vicious yowls and goblin battle cries pierced the air.
I reached through the bars, putting my hand on Tiba’s bundle of food.
Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N
The bundle glowed, warped and disappeared to wherever these things went. I didn’t know exactly how large the space was, but it “felt” like I could fit plenty more inside.
I shifted over to the bucket of ore, still half full. Into the spatial storage it went too.
Reaching way out to touch the bundle of wood, I was waiting for the prompt to appear when something slammed into my arm so hard it wrenched my shoulder out of its socket. I felt the tendons stretch then give, and a scream tore its way from my throat.
More out of instinct than anything, I dove backward to get away from the bars, every motion a study in agony.
I looked down at the damage. My arm hung uselessly at my side, my shoulder burning as the swelling began. My shirt was shredded, and deep gouges I hadn’t registered oozed blood that dripped onto the floor.
*SLAM*
A glossy black body collided with my prison bars, the creature’s familiar too-wide mouth full of shark teeth gnawing and tearing chunks off the Mendau roots. It clung to the bars with its feet while reaching into the cell to grab at my legs, though it wasn’t quite able to reach. It shrieked and yowled, spittle flying from its maw, and its unblinking eyes shone in the dim light, madness and hunger swirling in the hollow orbs.
A swift figure barreled into the monster from the side, a spear taking the scourge-touched goblin in its ribs and bearing it down to the ground. Hunty’s form was perfect as he stepped back to retract his thrust, delivering the killing blow in the thing's throat before it could even register it was in a fight. It gurgled, thrashing at Hunty’s spear, but the life left its eyes quickly.
Hunty turned to me and did a lazy sort of salute. “I like this spear, human. This is a good spear,” he shouted over the din before he bounded off to rescue someone else.
The deep, growling basso of Kuul’s singing cut through the chaos, drowning out all but himself. The too familiar sensation of itching teeth and ringing ears returned from my memory of the day I was trapped in this place. Rumbling, grating rockfalls shook the cavern, enough to be felt through the rock of the floor and walls.
The lights went out. Then there was silence.
—---------------------------
Life came back to my little corner of the goblin caves as people found the courage to make noise again. They called for each other, some out of pain, others out of fear or loss. The smell of blood was thick in the air tainted with whatever it was the black ones had inside them. It reminded me unpleasantly of the rotting stairwell back at the tutorial facility.
That memory would probably never fade.
Torches and candles were lit, one by one until the cavern was awash in orange light like I’d never seen it before. The goblins didn’t need a lot of light to see, so the cave had always been a dim place. Now, though, when they needed to tend the wounded and collect the bodies, they lit everything.
I shifted uncomfortably in my cell. My shoulder would be better soon thanks to my Exotic regeneration, but that didn’t diminish how weird it was to physically feel the tendons and bone shifting back into place of their own volition. It itched and the bones ground together in a way that had me gritting my teeth.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
In front of my cell, Tiba had the wounded lying or sitting in ranks and files, the healer going from one to another bandaging wounds or checking on unconscious bodies. She stroked the faces of crying children and wrapped her arms around the bereaved. Her pouch of dried herbs never had a chance to be closed.
Others dragged the bodies of the dead to the side, away from the living. The corpses of the black ones went into the furnace.
—--------------------
My shoulder finally slipped back into place with a cool pop and a tingle that reverberated up my neck.
The goblins were largely asleep now, except for a few of the wounded in too much pain to get any rest. Their labored breathing intertwined into a disturbing background noise that permeated my cell and would probably haunt my dreams. The torches were put out except for the few the Stone Hearts actually needed to see.
The sound of quiet, angry words being exchanged reached my ears before their owners did. Kuul’s craggy hiss distinguished him from the others.
“It cannot come with us. It betrays us just being what it is,” he growled. “You talk with it too much. Pity rots your mind.”
Tiba was among the voices. “No. He is helping us, and he knows what the black ones do now. He can come. The black ones come closer, and they find ways inside.”
Kuul rebuked her, though. “Stop. That does not matter. The black ones want it, and they come for us to get it.”
“You want us to leave him? After everything he does?” Hunty asked, disgust creeping into his question.
“No,” replied Kuul as he finally stepped in front of my cell, a steely determination in his eyes. He scowled, raising his chin as if to pass judgment on me. “We can’t leave it.”
Tiba was there at Kuul’s side, leaning on him and looking up to try and catch his stare. “If you break your spell, we can take him with us. Ryan gives us weapons and armor, but now we need more goblins. Ryan can be a goblin.”
“Ryan should fight to save his own life, Kuul,” Hunty said as he stepped into view as well. His armor was crusted with blood, and his shield bore multiple gouges in the wood and iron. He turned to me, pleading with his eyes.
A complicated mix of emotions churned inside of me.
I wanted out. Desperately. I wanted to be somewhere with natural light. I wanted to go home. I wanted my freedom. The entire time I’d been here, every stolen moment was about preparing to do all of those things.
Now they were asking me to just… beg for permission? I opened my mouth to tell Kuul exactly what I thought of him, something I’d regret, but if my time as a slave taught me anything, it was patience.
Kuul would get his in time.
I cleared my throat and stood, slowly working the pain out of my shoulder. The words oozed out of me, viscous and bitter, like I had a mouth full of motor oil. “Just give me a chance, Kuul,” I said. I swallowed, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the bars, to imagine them withering away and leaving me a free man. My lips formed the word without my consent. “Please.”
Whatever I was selling, the old wizard wasn’t buying it, or maybe his distaste for me ran that deep. His mouth set in a tight, angry line and his gray eyes grew as hard as flint. Shaking his head, he put out his hands, and little lights danced over his fingertips. “It can’t be taken. It can’t be left,” he proclaimed with finality. “The Mendau eats.”
The ancient goblin magician began to sing. The sound rolled over Tiba as she pleaded for my life, over Hunty as he shouted at Kuul and gestured toward me with his spear, over me.
“Wait. Wait. Wai! Wait!” I repeated, not knowing what else to say.
Kuul heard none of it. He wouldn’t hear any of it.
The Mendau roots, so long a static obstacle I’d wanted to overcome, came alive. The wooden tentacles cracked and split, forming additional appendages that dripped thick, milky fluid that sizzled on the cavern floor. They slithered into my cell along the walls, reaching out for me, grasping at me blindly.
I kicked at the roots, scrambling backward to get far away from the cell door. It didn’t matter though. The roots grew and grew until they filled my prison from top to bottom, creeping along the walls like vines over wet rock. They herded me into a corner until all I had left was enough space to crouch there and wait for the end.
Hunty stepped in front of Kuul, shouting something in his face, but the song went on. Something changed. Hunty looked back at me with genuine fearful compassion in his eyes. Then he made his move. Turning back, he shoved Kuul, hard.
The old goblin staggered back, his song faltering with a gurgle. Something in his throat gave way with a wet crack, and he coughed up bloody foam, clutching at his throat with electrified fingers.
Seething anger and fear flashed over his face as his hand whipped up and made a slashing motion in the air.
Viper fast, the roots snapped back, their ropey tendrils reversing course and shooting from my cell, their barbed tips slamming into Hunty’s back so hard, his body lifted into the air, but now that the roots had something to grasp, they weren’t letting go. They squirmed over the goblin warrior’s body, wrapping around him over and over again, around his limbs, his stomach, his head and neck, tightening, ratcheting themselves until Hunty was pinned up against my cell’s bars.
“Hunty!” Tiba screamed, rushing to his side and pulling at the Mendau roots to give him some air. Hunty struggled frantically to free himself, but to no avail. The wooden tentacles wound over him faster than they could be pulled away.
Lying down on the floor, clutching his throat, Kuul looked on in terror, mouth agape, watching his magic do its grim work.
I blinked in shock. Hunty’s choked, tortured gasps were the only sound in the cave now, the only sound in this world.
I dashed forward, leaping over my cell’s hole, and slammed up against the cage’s bars. I was the second to Hunty’s side.
I should have been the first.
I tore at the roots.
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
I tore at them with everything I had, ripping at them until my prosthetic was slick with milky plant fluid and my natural hand bled, fingernails hanging uselessly off bloody nubs.
[You are bleeding. .5 HP/sec]
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec]
As they always had, the roots grew back exactly as they’d been instructed. What progress Tiba and I made in breaking the Mendau away, they came back twice as strong. What little we could see of Hunty’s skin slowly purpled then lost color altogether.
Tiba stopped screaming well after Hunty died, and even then she still fought to free him, whispering little laments to him as she tugged feebly at the Mendau.
Meanwhile, panting and speckled with my own blood, I only saw Kuul.
I locked eyes with the old monster, flexing my metal hand, wanting nothing more than to crush the top of the little green bastard’s skull and Consume it in front of his face.
Kuul coughed and rubbed his throat, but he’d otherwise regained his composure. He stared back at me with absolute, undisguised hatred. I could see, though, the way he avoided looking at what he’d done to Hunty.
He looked like he wanted to say something, order his warriors to kill me, but he couldn’t. He tried to speak but blood burbled out of his mouth and fouled his words.
The rest of the warriors arrived one by one, forming a semi-circle around their fallen comrade, none of them giving voice to their thoughts, allowing Tiba to grieve uninterrupted.
A spell of Kuul’s making, if not the one he intended, fell over the entire tribe then, held them enthralled, sapping their wills, dimming the light.
In the quiet, the ambient sounds of the cave seemed to lap at our ears. The dripping of water. The rush of the air currents. Faint scratching. Fervent breathing. Someone recognized it for what it was.
“Lights!” an observant goblin shouted.
Torches burst to life, bathing the cavern in orange again and chasing away the shadows, revealing dozens, no, hundreds of black shapes stealthily creeping over the walls and ceiling of the cavern.
The two groups stood there for a moment, surprised, no one willing to make the first move…
Until one of those black shapes dropped from the ceiling, among the wounded.
“Run!” commanded the warrior, lifting his sword and whirling it in a circle above his head. “Fighters to me! We go last! You!” he slapped one of his fellows on top of his helmet. “Get them out of here!” He ordered, pointing at Kuul and Tiba. The latter of the two lay slumped down at Hunty’s feet, nearly catatonic.
The tide was going out again. Green bodies streamed past my cell, this time pursued by snarling, howling monsters that ran among them tearing into their flesh and bathing in their blood.
Tiba was ripped away, carried out of my view by her kin, and Kuul, likewise fled with his escort. Before he was out of sight, he cast one last glance at me and spat blood in my direction.
The warriors did their best to hold the line, felling foes where they could, getting the living members of the tribe out and into another tunnel, but more of them fell than they could afford.
Then, like a black flood, scourge-touched bodies filled my doorway, slashing and clawing. Hunty still hung there in his wooden coffin, caged like he’d always feared. The black ones, in their fervor to get at me, ripped at his body. Hunty’s blood, overpressurized from the constricting roots, fast became the only thing I could smell.
My heart was going wild, hammering the insides of my temples. It had happened again. They kept dying.
They keep dying for me.
I bent down and retrieved the only thing of Hunty’s the roots hadn’t claimed
Hunty’s Spear: A cherished spear crafted by a fledgeling artificer and sized for a goblin. The spear tip is magnificently sharp and can repair itself multiple times before going truly dull.
Damage: 4-8 (Piercing)
Quality: Excellent
Style: Custom
Magic: Repair
The cell door was full of beady black eyes and slashing claws. Gibbering, howling faces pressed themselves into the gaps in the bars.
I gripped Hunty’s spear and rolled my neck. My heart thrummed in my chest, not like the weak, frail lump of muscle and connective tissue the rest of them had, but like an engine. Thundering, explosive power energized my body and fueled my hate.
A wordless roar burst forth from my chest as I dove headfirst into the tide.
Wrath.