Chapter 81 - Go off Path

Tiba and her guards clambered over the pile of settling rubble that used to be the north wall before nearly collapsing into the waiting embraces of the dragonkin sisters. Geddon was only slightly behind, seeming to waffle between retreating to the fort and turning around to watch the carnage outside with the look of a kid seeing his first fireworks show.

The goblins were looking rough. All of them were covered head to toe in black soot and sticky mud. Both of Tiba’s guards had lost their armor somewhere out there, and one of them, Kelub, was wielding a sharpened stick instead of his spear. Tiba herself was covered in weeping scratches and cuts all over her exposed skin, presumably from running through underbrush or fighting a whole family of small animals, and the men had fared little better. Their clothes were in such rough shape, the only thing protecting all of the goblins’ modesty was the layer of mud and grime.

Beyond the walls, the forest burned. Gouts of flame shot down from above to engulf scattered clusters of scourge, incinerating them as surely as light from the maelstrom. Booming footsteps rattled my bones and sent jolts through my stomach. The air shook with every movement the giant made.

Tiba, only on her feet with the help of Kelub and the support of her spear, panted with exertion, her wet, matted hair draped over half her face, paused to take in the aghast expressions of everyone there. Then, she seemed to remember something and rushed forward too fast for Kelub to follow. He tried, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up with his queen anymore, instead, going down to one knee to catch his breath.

Trix was the first to speak. He’d slid down his rope and was staring wide-eyed at the trio of filthy goblins like they were spirits made flesh. “Your majesty! You made it! It is a miracle!”

Tiba didn’t seem to register anything we were saying, though. She stumbled over the loose rocks, putting a hand on Trix to steady herself as she searched frantically in the dark.

“Tiba? What happened out there?” I asked.

Tiba finally found the thing she was looking for. She rushed past Trix to kneel next to the bedroll where we’d stashed Beedy before the fight. It and Beedy had largely been spared the collapse of the wall, thankfully, though my workbench that he was under had not been equally spared. It was now a load bearing workbench, apparently, the only thing keeping its particular section of the wall upright.

With trembling fingers Tiba untied the knot on her herb pouch and reached gingerly inside.

“W-What is she-” Bole stammered from across the remains of the fire.

“She got her medicine,” I realized aloud. “Tiba-”

“Not now, Ryan,” she croaked dryly, reaching over to scoop a live ember from the fire onto a tiny pile of kindling. “Seconds count. I explain soon, but you really need to stay out of sight.” Then she began to chant something quietly as she ground something in a bowl over the open flame.

“It is a close thing. A bad thing,” Kelub lamented tiredly from beside me. “We go down into Stoneheart tunnels to get the medicine. We, her honored guards, tell her it is a bad idea. Bad place now that Black Ones use it.”

Kelub shuddered and gripped the remains of his spear, his gaze far away. In the flickering light of the fire, I saw black discoloration on the tip of the shaft that might have been blood.

“But she is a brave queen,” he continued, finally seeming to remember I was still here. “It is a small miracle we find one of these at all. Soon as she picks it, the plant starts to wither. No keeping. No drying. We have to run the entire way, quiet and quick before the medicine goes bad, but when we get here, there is no way to enter.”

“The infected are scattering before the giant thing!” Geddon announced from the rubble of the wall. “Whatever it is, it appears to hold more enmity for our enemies than for us. They give ground and run into their holes like mice! Haha!”

“The Black Ones,” Tiba corrected as she scooped the paste she’d been making onto a tiny fingertip. “He hates, most of all, the Black Ones.”

She spared a pitying glance over in my direction. “Mostly.”

Tiba scooted over to her patient and got a leg up and over Beedy’s body, straddling the man’s chest and setting her legs like she was about to ride a bull. Then, without warning, she jammed her whole hand way down Beedy’s throat.

Beedy almost immediately started to choke, his body reflexively writhing to try to get away from the thing that was suffocating him. His hands quested for something to push away, to grab and fight against, but Tiba didn’t budge. Beedy was too weak to resist even a tiny thing like her.

I put a hand out to stop Bole who had already begun to rush forward with his sword half out of its scabbard.

“Wait,” I told him.

Bole looked at me like I’d gone insane then tried to rush forward once more, but he was stopped cold. He was working against my metal arm, and it didn’t budge in the slightest. The look in his eye was manic, and for a moment, I thought I might have been in danger of him drawing on me. However, it only took him another couple heartbeats to get control of himself again.

Beedy gagged and spasmed, making terrible mewling sounds for a good minute before he stopped entirely, his body seeming to give up on struggling. Even his face went slack. Only then did Tiba take her hand from his mouth. Immediately, Beedy’s chest started to rise and fall, this time in a natural rhythm instead of the rasping struggle for breath as he’d been doing since his injury. For the first time in days of hellish torture, it looked like Beedy was truly resting without the pain. The change was like night and day.

Tiba sighed with relief as she pulled her hand from Beedy’s mouth and slumped forward, her eyes closing as if she were falling asleep on her patient’s chest. She didn’t though. She slid off Beedy and dragged herself over to the largest pile of remaining embers from the fire, sparing a lungful of air to blow on them halfheartedly before plopping down to warm her hands.

“That one has scars for his whole life, but he lives,” she rasped tiredly before asking: “Do you have any food or water for Kelub and Grosh?”

Trix was moving as soon as the goblin said food. I didn’t even have to translate. The little vulpa was already next to me listing ingredients to summon from storage, which I tried to oblige. I didn’t know the name for all of the things he was asking for, and he had to describe them to me, sometimes at length. That’s why you don’t ask the pack mule for stuff, you just take it. Unfortunately, this pack mule had to be asked.

Intuiting that the dangerous part was over, I finally let Bole go. He passed Tiba, stopping momentarily as if he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it after a look back at me. Instead he went over to Beedy, collapsed next to him and bowed his head over the other man’s chest. We all pretended not to notice the tears.

Careful to not get anywhere near the gap in the wall and show my face, I sat down a respectful distance from Tiba across the fire.

“The scourge had us encircled, and there was no way through.” I guessed. I’d been afraid of that. I’d delayed bringing down the trees as long as I’d dared, but it hadn’t been enough.

Tiba nodded. She was nearly asleep just sitting there, but at the same time, her gaze flicked back and forth frantically as if she were not entirely here with us. Understandable, considering how long she’d been hiding and running.

I tried to switch to a more casual tone, but it just clashed with the subject matter. “So you brought Kuul. That’s… inventive.”

The queen nodded again before finding the energy to turn to meet my stare. She looked frightened, sad, guilty, but relieved at the same time.

“He still pissed at me?” I asked.

Tiba shrugged, but her trembling lips gave good odds of the answer being more in the affirmative.

I ventured what I hoped was an appreciative smile. “Well, glad to have you back, regardless. We missed you,” I said, nodding in Bole’s direction before adding. “And thank you for Beedy. You went way above and beyond for him when you didn’t have to, and I think you saved two lives today. I haven’t met a lot of queens, Tiba, but I think I can safely say, you’re probably the best queen an honorary goblin can hope for.”

That seemed to get through to her. A little glimmer of light returned to her eyes, and she attempted a weak little smile, a tiny tear drawing a line of clean-ish green down her cheek.

“Thank you for not being mad,” she whispered.

I waved a dismissive hand and struck a nonchalant posture that I hoped was convincing.

“Pft. Mad? If Kuul still wants to kill me, he can take a number and wait like everyone else,” I said before leaning forward and adopting a more earnest tone. “You did what you had to do. We’ll talk once you’ve had some rest, okay? Geddon?”

“The giant is a terror!” Geddon announced excitedly. “The scourge do not even bother to fight. They truly can feel fear!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Okay,” I replied, standing to assess the damage myself. “We need to work on getting that wall patched up and the turrets back to sweeping. Think you can get on that?”

Geddon cast about the rubble under his feet and shrugged. “Maybe with a few weeks and good timber I could make a wall out of this mess, but this is stone work. No way are we getting a working wall up in time for it to be useful.”

“We’ll have to plug up the breach another way, then,” Samila suggested. “Maybe a flame turret and a deeper trench. That should at least blunt any charges aimed for it while we do a patch job.”

“Ugh. Not more digging,” Geddon groaned. “My blisters are only just now healing. You would think sword calluses would help with that, but evidently they are completely different areas of the hand.”

“Just wear your gloves, big baby,” Samila replied.

“I shouldn’t have to!”

Sissa lowered herself down from the ledge where she’d been watching the battle take place and dropped between the two of them. “I think we’re missing something here,” she said, turning to look at everyone expectantly. “Do you see? Anyone?” she asked.

No one offered up an answer.

She sighed and reached up to rub at her temple, though it was a largely performative gesture since her helmet was still on.

“This is the first time in days the enemy is not encircling us. This may be it,” she said.

I blinked, not quite following what she was saying, but my train of thought got there eventually.

“You’re saying we should make a break for it?” I guessed.

Sissa nodded. “The giant has offered us an opportunity, one we may not get again. The infected are scattered and diminished right now. This is our chance to slip through.”

“Your ride won’t be here for another two or three days,” I replied, shaking my head. “No one’s ready to travel, and Jassin’s army is probably even further out than your dragon. Then once I leave, that’s it. My turrets will just be paperweights.”

“If we move now, the enemy might be in too much disarray to punish us,” Sissa said. Her new sword was out, and her body was angled toward the breach in the wall like she was mentally preparing to charge out already. No, she was preparing to risk it all and be a big damned hero, and, in her mind, seconds counted.

“Wait. The monk is leaving? Why is the monk leaving?” Bole was on his feet again, turning confusedly from me to the others and back again waiting for a response that no one offered.

I had to diffuse this.

“That’s a big assumption, don’t you think? The scourge is a hive mind. We get spotted out there by just one, and we’ll be neck deep in bad. You’re really willing to bet everyones’ lives on this?” I asked.

Sissa gave me a pained look. “Ryan, the mission was never to hold out forever. It was to to bait the infected, get you to your exit, and save the world, necessarily in that order according to you.”

“Well, yeah!” I scoffed. “But it also wasn’t meant to be a suicide mission! I thought I’d made that clear! I was originally going to do it alone just to keep you and the others safe!!”

“You were going to feed yourself to a foe of superior numbers on their home turf. You had no chance by yourself. We had to come. I’m not proposing a noble sacrifice out of the history books. I’m simply talking about the less risky of two bad options,” Sissa replied.

“No, you’re not. You’re only looking at two of the worst outcomes and choosing one. We’ll find another way.” Real heat seeped into my voice, and my hands balled themselves into fists. There was no way it had come down to this. I wouldn’t let it.

Sissa looked me up and down and raised a disapproving eyebrow ridge. “I presented those two because all others are variations of them. We either stay and die or leave and perhaps live. That’s what it boils down to. What happens if the giant notices us while you think of another way to play this, and it decides we are worth incinerating as well?” She asked. “That would be certain death for all of us. We can’t fight it, and we can’t run from it either. The outcome would be the same as if the scourge overwhelmed us. Our best chance is to slip away while both forces are distracted. I believe the healthy among us can sneak out, show your face at the ruins to draw the infected, then give the wounded a chance to make for the mountains.”

Samila let out an indignant, choking sound at that. “No way you’re leaving m-”

“He’s not trying to kill us yet, and he’s not running out of Black Ones anytime soon. Better to wait and see rather than get everyone killed running in the dark,” I said. I knew my argument was weak. The others could guide me to the insertion point, but I didn’t know what else to say. Things were looking uncertain, but they weren’t so bad I’d risk the rest of them just to get home.

Sissa looked disappointed. “You know our safety is a secondary concern, Ryan. The mission is what matters, or have you forgotten that? How many lives will it cost if we don’t come through? Has it even occurred to you that we might all die here in this old tree, and Ralqir will have to endure another cataclysm? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but things aren’t looking ideal. The enemy is limitless. Our people are wounded, tired, and there is no relief in sight. That’s only going to get worse. Battle will take its toll, even ones we win. We’re only going to get slower and sloppier, and then there’s the giant. Can you guarantee we hold out against that? For now, the perimeter holds, but what about tomorrow when it decides to step across it? ” She asked as she gestured pointedly at the collapsed part of the wall. “If you die or, light forbid, are… converted, it’s over anyway. At least if we make an attempt now, you’ll be alive, and we’ll have a chance at survival too. Everyone has a chance to win.”

“The word ‘chance’ is doing a lot of work there, Sissa,” I shot back. “The goblins are dead on their feet, and Beedy is only just now back from death’s door. You’ll just be hunted down and made into one of them. That’s not happening. I refuse to let that happen.”

She took a step forward and drew herself up to her full height until she was only a few inches from looking me in the eye. “And who are you to make that decision for us? I guess ‘why’ is more of the question. Why do our lives weigh so heavily on the scale compared to all the people that will die putting this threat down if we fail? What makes us so special that we deserve that exceptional consideration? Shut up, Bole!” Sissa snapped, as the man opened his mouth to interject.

He did, indeed, shut up.

I struggled for something to say, an argument to make, but my words failed me. “You just- I mean, I can’t do that. I can’t just leave you out there and hope for the best. There has to be something else.”

The Sergeant let her arms dangle down at her sides and let out a long, tired sigh. “Look, Ryan, we all want you to stay. I believe we’ve all made that clear in our own ways. That doesn’t absolve us from the responsibility to our people. We’re here to save the world. Either we need to hold out longer than we are currently able, or we need to get you out of here, fast.”

Samila, Geddon, Bole, and Trix were all gathered around now but at a safe distance, Trix looking like he wanted to be even smaller than he was. Bole and Geddon seemed more unsure of themselves than I’d ever seen them.

I could feel my body tensing, the anger boiling up from inside. I refused to be backed into this particular corner. It couldn’t have come to my friends or the world. I refused to choose. “I see what you’re doing. You can’t-”

“Yes, I can! How do you not get this? The road before us is forking. One way means saving everyone we know at great risk to ourselves. The other, I can’t see the end of, Ryan, but it’s looking like death by a thousand cuts or under a giant’s foot. With stakes like these, I choose the path I can see.”

She spoke to the others now, turning her body to address each of them. “If saving innocent lives means our deaths, then there is nothing else to discuss. That is the Duty part of our creed. We don’t matter when weighed against the entire population of Ralqir.”

“You matter to me,” I said. My good hand was shaking. My jaw was clenched so hard my teeth hurt. I felt like a mountain was pressing down on my shoulders, and it was all I could do to stay upright. “You all matter to me.”

“You selfish prick!” Sissa shouted. Her sword had somehow come between us, the point suddenly an inch from my chest.

“Siss, wait-” Samila cautioned, putting out a hand to wave it between us, but Sissa wasn’t listening.

“We are not special! What about the families that used to live in Eclipse? The people in the market? We waded through their blood, Ryan. Remember? I still see it sometimes when I’m cleaning my armor, washing my clothes, and in my godsdamned dreams. Why do people like them matter less than us? You would bet the lives of all of our people just because you’ve known us for all of… what? Just over a month? How many would you let die just to preserve some tenuous connection you’ve imagined between all of us, just to spare your feelings? You, selfish, sentimental-” Sissa’s anger was boiling. Her scales on her face were the blackest of blue. Her face, stained by almost invisible tears as they streamed down her cheeks, looked like a porcelain mask cracking under pressure.

I didn’t have a heart anymore, but I felt like it had just been torn open, the blood allowed to leak from my chest, taking all my warmth with it.

Samila took a step between us and knocked Sissa’s sword to the side. She looked frightened, conflicted as she turned between the two of us.

“Siss, stop it. W-” She stammered.

“Ask him how many more of our people he’s willing to sacrifice,” Sissa barked. “Ask him.”

Samila looked at me and opened her mouth, probably not to ask but to mediate between the two of us somehow, but she froze, mouth open, the words dying on her lips.

I felt… cold. Still. Like everything, all the noise and distractions that had been weighing on me had fallen away. I was an icy pond, glass smooth and utterly quiet.

Below the calm surface, in the darkness of the deep, there were faces. I didn’t have to see them to know they were there. They’d always been there. They were the faces of those I’d let go. Those I’d failed.

Mom was there, of course. Vince too. Hunty. Others… less distinct, more ideas than anything but so very real to me like images conjured during a nightmare… the countless innocents of Ralqir.

My mouth worked without my consent, finally giving voice to the feelings I’d been afraid to express until now.

“How many would I sacrifice, Sissa?” I asked. “None. Not one goddamned soul. Not again. No more noble sacrifices. No more bodies on the pyre of the greater good. No more. I refuse.”

Sissa scoffed, preparing herself to say something well reasoned and correct, but I cut her off.

“I refuse!” I snarled. “This is the line! No one else dies for me! Not even one!” The ice of my frozen pond cracked and parted. The water churned, stirring up the things in the deep.

“The multiverse has taken from me,” I growled. The words left my throat like ice flows grinding together as they surfaced. “It’s taken more than its share, and I just let it happen. Well, I’m not doing that anymore.”

Samila took an involuntary step back only to bump into her sister. Sissa looked shaken too, like she’d seen something just now she didn’t like. The anger and frustration she’d been expressing evaporated in a matter of seconds. She wasn’t pointing her sword at me anymore. If anything, she seemed to want to reach out, but she was brave and true, her conviction unwavering.

“The world doesn’t work like that,” she whispered, pleading. “Sometimes we have to choose. We mortals make our choices as best we can. Then we live with the consequences. Those are the lines of fate. If you want to redraw those lines that’s… Admirable. But foolish. You’re not a god, Ryan.”

The statement rang in the air briefly. Then, a tiny thought crystalized at the very center of me, a kernel of something that clicked into place, connecting disparate parts of me that I’d never in a million years have associated with one another. It wasn’t something I could put into words. It was more of an enhanced understanding, one that shone a light on all the parts of my soul I hadn’t dared peer into for years.

“No, I’m not,” I admitted, turning away and stepping over to right the stool next to my workbench. I swept an arm over the rubble that covered it, sending the rocks and dust flying to expose the chalk drawings I’d been working on before. “Not yet, at least.”