Chapter 3 - Anticipation

The men gathered around the Sergeant were ragged. Moans were still coming from the injured, and most sat lazily rather than standing. No one was holding watch. No scouts were being sent forward. This was a nightmare, thought Abel. This was nothing like the glorious stories of heroes, smiting invaders and saving the village. This was pain, exhaustion, and despair. Even after Hannibal's rallying speech, it was hard to fathom that they could continue forward. But damn, he was right about Talbot and the missing guards. Those men had taken up the watch when the King bled Lake Top dry. They couldn't leave them out there, and right now, there truly was nobody else.

Twenty paces away, Hannibal’s eyes were locked on the horizon, unmoving. He had been gazing north for a few minutes now. Finally, he returned to the group and ushered everyone to come near. “We’re closer than I thought. I can see the pass ahead. If Talbot’s earlier reports were any good, the goblin camp should be through that narrow cut a league out. I wanted to catch them after sunrise when those bastards would be sleeping, but this patrol put us in a real sour pinch. Instead, we are going to have to make haste and catch them before sunrise. I suspect that patrol would have been due back about that time. Perhaps some of the camp will be deep in their drink by then. Step lightly lads, bring only what you need for this last stretch. Don’t need you bogged down by your packs when we strike.” The men around him sighed and slumped even further. Their faces were gaunt, eyes sunk downward, but they began to stand and trudge forward, forming a loose gaggle.

Hannibal led the way into the bleak darkness ahead of them. Their pace was much slower than their previous rush across the black plains. It seemed a grim, reluctant march. Abel could sense the tension in the men around him. They were walking to almost certain death. He had overheard villagers talking about the goblins slowly moving out of their hovels to the North. Rumors said there were hundreds of goblins crawling around the black rocks.

A dozen guardsmen against hundreds of goblins? And they were hardly full-fledged soldiers. Hannibal’s rallying speech had begun to wear off, replaced with a new sense of gloom and terror. Abel tried to set his mind right, focusing on the task at hand. There was no turning back, only forward to save Talbot and his men. The same people that had risked their lives for years protecting him and his father. Now, he had the opportunity to do something meaningful. No more scrunching his brow over arithmetic equations. No more recitations of the latest theorems on the astral expanse. All of that was nonsense, impractical. This was real to him, a real chance to make a difference. Was this what duty felt like? He had heard Hannibal prattle on about duty during his brief tenure as a recruit. Alright… He might as well be a recruit still, but he couldn't quell the emotions welling inside him. He missed his friends and missed his father, but his desire to save these fine men was immeasurable. Abel would fight with everything he had.

A soft, eerie glow was peering over a latticework of rock formations ahead. Ahead of the column, a quiet fist raised up, signaling a halt. Hannibal made some foreign hand gestures to the awaiting soldiers and paused as if expecting a response. Hannibal dropped his head, and Abel assumed he was sighing… or maybe praying. The Sergeant quietly trotted back towards Abel and another tall gaunt figure next to him. Corporal Darrid stood to his left, eyes narrowed and lips imprinted in a permanent scowl on his face.

"You two," Hannibal pointed at Darrid and another man, "go on up and take a closer look at that camp." Darrid promptly snapped to attention with a quick salute and made his way forward to the rocky ridgeline ahead, leaving the other man behind. The shorter man tried his best to mimic Darrid with a haphazard salute. The recruit fumbled his spear as it dropped to the rocks with a soft crash. Abel winced as the short man collected his weapon. Meanwhile, Hannibal’s face screwed up into a scowl, “Damn it lad you’ll get us all killed before we even have a bleeding chance. You…” Hannibal pointed at Abel now. “I hope you’re not a fumbling mess too aye?”. Abel nodded. “Good, get along now and follow the Corporal quiet like, pretend you were trying to steal a peek at Master Hatcher's daughter. Nice and quiet lest his wife catches you and gives you a beating with her broom. Except it won't be a broom, it will be twenty damn rusted daggers. And those cursed goblins will be a wee faster than Mrs. Hatcher”.

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The Corporal had already put thirty paces between them, but Abel caught up quickly. Abel was careful to stay light on his feet, avoiding any loose looking stones or rocks that littered the hillside. Thoughts of Mrs. Hatcher’s daughter, Freya, raced unbidden through his head. She worked at her parents’ inn serving patrons and had even smiled at him a time or two. Her smile was lovely, and his thoughts drifted to her golden hair, tied in a braid down to her waist. Gah. Hannibal was a wretched man saying such foul things about an innocent girl. Abel had a mission to do now, time to get his mind right.

Honestly, Abel had no clue what he was doing. Stealth reconnaissance in the night was not something his father prepared him for, nor the fortnight he had spent training with the Provincial Guard. He had, however, played 'Sneaks and Guards' when he was a child. Abel wasn't the best among them, but he often found himself prowling for hours, sometimes trying to outwit and out-sneak his friends. Once, he had managed to be the last boy remaining, crawling all the way across the 'border' without being caught. He was abruptly given away when his father came shouting for him to return home lest he be locked out of the house for the night.

The Corporal's pace was slowing now as he turned back his twisted glare at Abel. Darrid made some foreign gestures with his hands. Abel could only assume to them be some sort of military hand signals. The two laid down their spears at the base of the rock pile and began slithering up the slope. Abel eyed each rock in the darkness, trying to gauge its integrity before placing his weight. He couldn't see well, with the light from beyond casting a deep shadow upon their slope. As the two men approached the crest, heads slowly appearing above the ledge, they saw two goblins guarding the front of a hobbled cave entrance. The goblins were sitting lazily against the wall, with a fire still smoldering in the center of the makeshift courtyard. Abel could even see the rise and fall of their labored breathing. As a matter of fact, they were snoring! He could see it now; their heads were slumped, chins sagging to their chests. The two green figures were unmoving except for their ragged breaths.

The entrance was unusual, perhaps a mine shaft long abandoned. Abel thought he could make out timbers supporting the entrance. It looked to be in extreme disrepair, ready to collapse. More rocks were piled and wedged near the posts, perhaps supporting the failing structure. The goblins were notorious for their scavenger like behavior, preferring to steal and pillage. Goblins did not build structures or weapons. They were not intelligent in the civilized sense, adept only at killing and havoc. They lived liked animals, preferring burrows and natural formations. Their only proclivity for technology was for human-made items: weapons, armor, and above all else – gold. They hoarded trinkets and gems, but to what purpose, no man knows. Men only know that goblins murder with ease, looting corpses and homes of any valuables, only to disappear into the night.

Abel could now see a subtle glow against the darkness, hints of yellow starting to illuminate the once black sky. Dawn was nearing, and the goblins would be settling into sleep for the day. Abel looked over at Darrid, who nodded back towards their group of men. Cautiously, they scrambled back down the rocky ledge towards their squad. Upon returning, Darrid informed Hannibal of the sleeping guard, urging them to strike quickly before they stirred.

Hannibal pondered the information before gathering the men once more. "Alright lads, we move in twos, quickly and quietly. I will take the lead, with Darrid behind, and the rest of you will pair up. We will dispatch those goat eating guards upfront and move into the cave. Stay alert boys, we might get lucky and they're all dreaming deep of some goblin wenches… Or we might not. If the tunnels branch, I will split off two of ye to go searchin’, and the rest of us will keep pressing. Ready your knives. If you find one snoring, put your dagger through his throat so it can’t scream to his sodding mates. Don’t sit around waiting neither, there’s probably more bastards waiting to be pricked. We are looking for Talbot and his men. Once we find them, grab ‘em and get ‘em out of the tunnels." Hannibal scratched at his ragged beard. "Don't be fooling about trying to be no heroes. Pair up”.

The men looked around and began pairing up. Hannibal looked to Abel and whispered, "With me lad." A formation took shape, and Hannibal surveyed the motley group. He pointed two fingers towards the tunnel, flicking his digits twice. Abel fell in step next to Hannibal, leaned forward and knees bent. The silent trail of soldiers slinked towards the maw of the cavern; like an oblivious worm, waiting to be consumed.