It was soon apparent that everyone in the clan had the exact same dream, with very small differences. After all, not every goblin was aggressive enough to really stand up to a dragon invading their dreams, and most of them simply shut up and listened to Anansi’s message. Normally, Mama Grimal would try to simply disregard this episode as some mass hallucination, something caused by the fumes from the boiling mud pools! It was much more common than one could expect! But no, even her rather skeptical perception of reality couldn’t simply ignore this.
Grimal barely slept that day, fearing another invasion from the nosey dragon. Goblins in the Undercaves lived by their inner clocks and slept whenever they felt like it, spending the rest of the night (As they were used to call their active times) working, eating or planning excursions to the surface, so seeing the old goblin sleepy and angry as she watched over from her hill was not all that unusual. She was practically falling asleep while leaning on the handle of her hammer, never really letting go of it.
She immediately woke up proper when she heard the loud, discordant sound of a snail shell trumpet being blown loudly, the unmistakable call of a herald. With the loudest, deepest groan imaginable, Mama Grimal walked out of her hut and through the single street in the middle of their little settlement, and approached the growing pile of goblins crowding around the poor messenger holding the snail conch.
“Alright, alright, off you go, all of you!” The old goblin growled and slammed the head of her hammer on the floor a few times, making it tremble hard enough to scare away most of the curious gang. Then, she addressed the poor messenger. “You. Speak.”
“A-A council has been called, Mama Grimal!” The critter said with a trembling lip. “You have to come with me at once!”
Goblin society wasn’t very ‘complicated’ when compared to other great cultures: they had no central government or anything of the sort. But, whenever there was a big problem to solve, the Clans from around the Undercaves each sent a representative to neutral grounds, and said representatives discussed the problem and a possible solution. Usually, the Clan wanting to issue the meeting was the one who provided the messengers.
It wasn’t the most efficient of systems, and determining what issues deserved a gathering was a huge ordeal on its own (many times it happened that some clans tried to start a meeting while the others rejected the motion or simply didn’t respond), but this had to be the first time since their massive exodus to the depths that they could all agree on something: This was concerning, and it had to be addressed now.
Even old Grimaline had to agree this was the right call, so with the heaviest of sighs she nodded twice and rested the huge hammer over her shoulders.
“Let me grab my poncho and we’ll go out at once…” The grandma said, turning away from the messenger and then proclaiming loudly. “I will be leaving with this messenger! If I see any of you bother the young boy—”
“G-Girl.” The messenger meekly corrected.
“If I see any of you bother the young girl, I will squash you with my hammer! You hear me!?” ThHere were some weak, annoyed but complying grunts coming from around her. “Good! Until I return, Kelek is in charge. This I declare! Now get back to your own business, all of you!”
Part of the job of being an old lady is knowing when and how to bark orders. With a satisfied sigh, she turned right around to go back to her hut, only to be stopped by a tiny, frail figure. Little Olk stood in front of her, staring at the goblin chief with huge, wet eyes.
“Can I go too?” He asked.
Grimal actually gave it a bit of thought, humming as she tapped her chin before simply answering. “No.”
“Please?” The boy pleaded.
“No.” The grandma maintained firm in her decision as she sidestepped the young boy and walked towards her hut.
“Please? Please please please? Super pretty please with glowing mushrooms on top?” Olk was not one to give up easily, prancing and hopping around Grimaline as she walked up the hill.
With anyone else, this would be enough to dry up her patience and earn themselves a heavy smack on the back of their head… but this was Little Olk we were talking about. The boy was special, and he knew it to a certain extent. Eventually, as they reached the hilltop and Grimal set her hammer down, she let out a sudden grumble and slammed the hammer on the soft ground floor. Olk immediately quieted down.
“Urgh! Fine, you are to come with us!” She finally surrendered. “Go tell your parents though. Quickly. I am not waiting for you, kit!”
“Yes!” The little critter celebrated. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Mama Grimal!”
With a big hug, the little boy jogged right back to the camp, while Grimaline walked into the hut and put on her old brown poncho, covering herself for a change and then looking at herself for a moment.
She had not worn this old thing since her days on the surface, it was a real nostalgic feeling. Honestly, even if the idea kind of terrified her a little, the prospect of feeling the sunlight and the wind back on her skin was… alluring.
Not to mention her old days of glory! Her times pulverizing human pests, running from the authorities and warring with elves and orcs… could this message really mean the return to such things?
The old goblin stopped looking at herself, sighing and picking up her hammer on the way back out. At the other side of the camp waited the messenger, Little Olk, and the disgruntled parents of the critter, who looked at the old goblin with doubt and a bit of indignation for not being asked about this beforehand.
Grimaline was not going to apologize for her decisions, even if she shared the parents’ concern.
“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go to the Fields already!” The elder goblin growled and began the march, leading both Olk and the messenger towards the cave systems connecting it all.
“The Fields? The Mushroom Fields!?” Olk asked, widely opening those huge, wet eyes of his.
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“The very same.” The messenger said with a hint of pride. “Those are the neutralest of neutral places!”
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mushroom Fields, a place roughly on the center of the Undercaves, was a beautiful sight and one of the only luminous spots in the whole region. A huge bubble of air, round around the edges and completely full of mushrooms, toadstools and mildew. There were specimens of all sizes, shapes and colours, some of them emanating enough light to illuminate the entire place. This is where the nearby clans come to harvest food and raw ingredients for booze and medicine.
It was way too big and fertile to be the property of a single clan, so when the goblins arrived at the Undercaves, they agreed that everyone would share this place.
As Grimaline, Olk and her messenger (who they just learned was called Ilma) arrived at the Fields, they had to cover their eyes and rub them slightly at the sudden change of illumination. The smallest of them looked around with curiosity and wonder, mouth agape as they all walked through. Colour and light weren’t exactly common in the world of the youths thanks to their monochromatic darkvision, so purples, greens and blues were a completely new experience to Little Olk!
“See those green mushrooms over there?” Mama Grimal commented with a smile, pointing at a cluster of little toadstools on the side of their road.
“Yes! Are they yummy?” The boy asked with big, excited eyes.
“No. They explode. Don’t touch them.” The elder patted her grandson’s head twice.
“Awwww…”
The trip did not take them that long, they didn’t even need a pause to sleep! Hours, minutes and day/nights were a bit of an obtuse and abstract concept that didn’t really have any weight in the Undercaves, but for the sake of understanding, we can say with confidence that they traveled for at least six hours on foot, with little pauses to eat, drink and rest.
Needless to say, Little Olk was feeling restless and impatient at the very start of the trip, so having his expectations finally pay off was a wonderful experience.
And deep within the fields, through the fungal forests, there was a round stone slab fashioned as a table, and eight stools standing right around it. The chosen place for all meetings of the Eight Goblin Clans of the Undercaves, roughly at the center of it all.
The representatives from the other twenty seven clans (and their respective messengers) had already arrived by that point; multicolored critters dressed in ponchos, with bone artisanry hanging from their necks and little helmets made from stolen leather on their heads. All of them were young and inexperienced, recently anointed as chieftains of their respective lands. Grimal felt a pit grow in her stomach, seeing that she was really the only remaining member of the old guard in this council.
“Ah, Grimaline the Voracious finally joins us!” One of the youngsters said. It was hard to pin down if he was being sarcastic or not. “Take a seat, we were just about to begin!”
“Hmph. No you were not. You wouldn’t dare to leave me out of this.” Grimal menaced with her hammer for a moment before sitting down, letting out a little yawn. She beckoned Olk with a hand, sitting him on her lap and getting him comfortable while Ilma the Messenger walked with the other of her own clan, clearly relieved to have returned.
“Is that your own kit you brought, Grimaline?” The same upstart goblin smirked. “I would have thought you were too old to have another litter! Congrats!”
“This is my grandson. His name is Olk. You will all treat him well or we will have trouble.” The long eared elder menaced again, while everyone at the table was suddenly distracted by the youngling.
“Awww look at his little cheeks!”
“So cute and sweet!”
“He’s a bit thin isn’t he? Have you been feeding him properly, Grimal?”
“Enough, enough.” The upstart goblin grumbled, trying to call for the attention of the Council. “We will have time to dote on the youngun later. Now, we have a big mammoth in the room!” The rest of the table sighed and nodded, regaining their composure and sitting back up. “We have all been contacted by this strange, draconic creature, yes?”
“Yes.” The whole table agreed.
“It said it was called Anansi.”
“Dragons are trouble.”
“It looked like a spider to me!”
“Balls to what it looked like.” Grimal suddenly grumbled. “Who cares? You are not considering taking this message seriously now, are you?!”
There was tension in the table, for it was clear most of them were quite enthused with this message. It had to be the best omen goblinkind had received since the days before the Exodus! And differently to many other omens, there was very little left to interpretation here. Anansi had been loud and clear about what they all had to do and why.
The real question left to them was: could they really believe in this?
“This is the chance we’ve been waiting for since before this generation was born.” The upstart goblin said with an excited grin. “A chance to reclaim new land, to actually bask under the Sun and thrive like our ancestors did!”
The goblins gathered there nodded with excitement, it was clearly a very widespread feeling. Grimal couldn’t really blame them for that, they all had grown up with stories of the surface after all! But as people thought that they were ready to make a decision, the elder cleared her throat and cracked her knuckles loudly, forcing everyone to turn and look at her. Even Olk, who was a little sleepy from the trip, opened his eyes wide and looked. Once she had their full attention, Grimaline said:
“Has this Anansi person promised protection for us along the way, too?”
The chatter had stopped by that point, and it had been followed by a deep and uncertain silence. Chieftains looked at each other, heads turned in search of answers. Some of them even looked at the gathered Messengers, just to be sure they hadn’t forgotten a detail of that dream.
Not even the upstart individual dared to say anything, for he knew this wasn’t the case. No protection had been promised, no clear way had been indicated. Anansi just said: ‘Head for the sea!’, and left it at that.
“That’s what I thought… let me tell you something.” Grimal sighed, softly patting Olk’s head. She would have wished he didn’t listen to this part but, the boy had to learn eventually. “Do you know what humans do to goblins up there?”
Some goblins nodded, gulping softly. The rest looked at each other with concern. The stories rarely spoke of what happened with goblin bandits got caught.
“They cut your hands. They peel your skin.” Grimal said, vividly remembering the figure of her beloved husband, hanging from the cross at the capital’s entrance. “They make you scream in pain and don’t even have the mercy of killing you. Then, they hang you in wooden crosses outside their cities… they use you to scare others, to make you remember what they do to goblins.”
“That was long ago.” The upstart suddenly said. “Maybe things have changed on the surface!”
“Have you heard of the few fools who still try to go out there? The poor bastards return with cut ears and fearful eyes.” Grimaline would have none of that hopeful talk. “Things haven’t changed at all!”
“B-But!” Olk’s voice suddenly called. “But you’re strong, right Mama Grimal? You can defend us if we go out!”
There was another sudden silence. Grimal froze, staring at her beloved grandson for a moment before looking up to the ceiling.
“Oh, sweet kit…” She whispered, feeling the fear and frustration crawling on her back. She didn’t want to admit how scared she was of the idea, how afraid she really was of the surface and the possibility of having to fight for her life again. But she couldn’t really lie either, even if it disappointed her grandson. “I—”
“CHIEFTAINS!”
A voice suddenly screamed to the top of their lungs. Everyone looked up and to one of the trails leading out of the Fields. A young goblin, not a messenger, a chieftain nor an invited guest, collapsed on the ground while gasping desperately for air. His pupils were extremely dilated, his eyes huge and shot with blood, the desperation was clear on him.
Some of the messengers were ready to approach and help the poor bastard back up, but he made wild gestures to keep them away, before screaming.
“HUMANS! THE HUMANS HAVE FOUND–!”
The goblin was silenced instantly by an arrow flying from the darkness of one of the many caves around the Fields. It tore straight through the back of his neck, crimson blood flying everywhere as the poor creature struggled in a vain attempt to breathe, reaching for his own neck before the pain, the shock and the bloodloss made him fall. His legs kicked a few times, before his body laid completely motionless.
The panicked eyes of the Council peered into the cave, only to see how a horde of torches broke the darkness within… and a group of at least twenty humans walking straight towards them.