The party of four stood outside the abandoned house in the abandoned village of Shalebeak. Ben had a sling bag, fashioned from an old burlap sack, slung over his shoulder with various vegetables harvested from the neglected fields in the surrounding area. Ann had rolls of fabric strapped to her back with a cord she had made from reed-like plants that grew near the central communal well. Although Jor initially protested, the Priestess insisted on carrying the few ‘blankets’ they had scavenged.
The two soldiers had similarly fashioned sling bags with various supplies they deemed necessary for the long trek through the pass of Shattered Tooth Mountain. After filling their waterskins with water that Ben had boiled in the trusty pot, the group gathered and took stock of their supplies once more. The young man had lost his short sword after his training with the old woman, but he had come to prefer the long staff she had taught him to use. Ainsle, who was the last person to leave the dwelling, whistled, and as the young man turned to look at her, she threw a staff toward him. He caught it and inspected the weapon.
"Had some free time, you know how it is." Ainsle grinned.
The staff was, in fact, a spear that the old woman had fashioned from the shorter of the two staves they had used to train. The spearhead appeared to be Ben’s tarnished short sword, which increased the overall length of the weapon to match the staff he was used to closely. Ainsle had taken obvious care in crafting the spear, as he noticed that the haft had been smoothed, oiled, and material shaved down in certain places to balance the weapon better. Leather strips were wrapped around the joint of the spearhead and near the butt.
"Ainsle, I don’t know what to say," Ben said, eyes wide as he ran his fingers along the smooth haft.
"How about, ‘Your majesty, I weep at the beauty of such a fine implement of death. I shall name my firstborn in your honor!’, or something like that." She cleared her throat.
The three turned to look at her in silence.
"What? You lot never read any Fastillo novels?" The Berserker said, astonished that her traveling companions did not recognize the reference.
Ben thought he heard Ann mutter under her breath, "Wow… She’s really good at that…".
Ainsle folded her arms and cast her eye at her feet as she lightly kicked at the dust while mumbling. "Uncultured little shits…"
"Uh, thank you, Ainsle. Truly, it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Well, it’s the first, which technically makes it the best… This means a lot to me." The young man dipped his head.
She faced Ben and spoke. "It’s not much. Actually, I doubt that it’ll last the trip, to be honest. But hey, should be fine for skewering a few buggers on the way." She smiled and wiggled her brow.
Jor clapped two times to get everyone’s attention.
"Let’s go over everything again." The Squad Leader spoke in a tone that affirmed her title. "Once we enter the pass, we’ll be moving in single file. I will be on point, and Ainsle, the rearguard. Watch for my signal. I trust that you two remember what we spoke about earlier.-" She looked at Ben with a raised brow.
Ben and Ann had been given a crash course on various hand signals, most of which he thought to be arbitrary. But he seemed to remember the important commands such as stop, go, get down, and silence. He nodded in affirmation.
"-There will be times when I can’t verbally relay orders, so please be vigilant. Goblins are rarely considered more than pests; however, the presence of a fortified village suggests that there are powerful hobs or even shamans among their number. Treat the eventual encounter as if it were a real battle because they won’t hesitate to kill you. Ainsle, anything to add?" She looked at the Berserker.
Ben thought that the old woman’s grin was made even more menacing with that monstrosity of a mace strapped to her back.
"Yeah. Those fuckers are small and fast, so don’t be afraid to fall back if you’re overwhelmed. Don’t bloody get overwhelmed." Ainsle emphasized the latter and Ben shivered. "Watch out for their teeth too, 'cause we had a lad lose his leg to infection after he was bit." She exhaled as if she remembered the image. The old woman faced the Priestess. "Sugar, you can handle the Shamans?"
The Priestess nodded and replied with a smile.
"Yes, please allow me."
Sugar? Hmm, this is a new development.
Ben frowned as he tried to figure out how he missed the progression from less flattering pet names to Sugar.
The old woman winked at Ben and continued.
"That’s about it. Oh, and Benny-boy? Don’t blow your load too early. There’s gonna be a lot of them. A lot." Ainsle’s ever-present grin grew impossibly wide.
"Yes, ma’am." He replied stoically.
Jor seemed satisfied as she nodded.
"Alright, let’s move."
The party abandoned the abandoned house in the abandoned village, and Ben felt as if he had abandoned his sanity. The trek was slow and arduous. The trail that Jor had led them to was about a half hour's walk from the village, and it was then that the young man appreciated the sheer size of the Shattered Tooth Mountain range. They navigated through thick evergreen trees and the occasional bush that had grown over the footpath, and Ben’s insubstantial calves began to ache. Eventually, at what appeared to be a bit before midday, as he judged by the sun overhead, the trees began to thin, and the entirety of the valley below could be seen from their vantage point. Jor stopped and faced the party.
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"Let’s rest here for a moment. The goblin village is over that ridge, so we best catch our breath now."
Ben eased his aching calves as he sat down on a large rock. Ann joined him and offered her waterskin, which he gratefully accepted.
"So, any tips on what to expect?" He asked the Priestess between deep breaths.
He noticed that the blonde woman didn’t seem any worse for wear. Her twin braids were draped neatly over her breast, and her fair skin was only lightly moist from the trek. Her lips pursed as she considered his question.
"In honesty, this is my first time attacking a goblin fortress, although I have come across their kind before." She fiddled with a splinter of wood that was caught in her nail. "They’re not very intelligent, well, I suppose Casters have more intelligence than most of their species."
"Have you killed any before?" He asked.
"Not directly, no. But I’ve slain Witches before, and Shamans are, fundamentally, wild Casters who rely on instinct and intent. So please allow me to deal with them."
Ben nodded. He wrestled to stop his nervousness from surfacing. He decided to change the subject before the eventual clash.
"So, I see you’re getting along with Ainsle." He wasn’t sure whether or not to phrase the statement as a question.
"Yes. It seems that you and her are kindred spirits, and I find many of her qualities to be endearing, as I do yours," she said with a soft smile.
"You mean the swearing and constant innuendos?" Ben replied with a grin of his own.
Ann’s only response was a smile and a shrug. Jor and Ainsle crouched at the edge of the ridge and appeared to be engaged in an argument before the Squad Leader shook her head in dismissal and approached the pair on the rock.
"We’ve been spotted," she spoke calmly. "Ainsle has the opinion that we should charge the scouts and prevent them from getting word to their village."
"Are they watching us now?" Ben asked as his head swiveled to try and spot the goblins in the trees.
Jor snapped her fingers and drew the young man’s attention to her. "Don’t make it obvious that you know they’re there. We’re going to try to neutralize the scouts. If we miss one, be ready." She pointed to the ridge about twenty paces above them. "Past that ridge is a plateau, and about fifteen paces from that point is the village. It’s pretty much open ground, as all the trees in that area have been felled. Once we pass that ridge, there’s no going back."
Ben was startled at the seriousness of the Archer’s tone.
"You mean we can’t retreat?" He asked.
"We have the advantage of strength, size, and superior weapons on relatively flat terrain. If we were to retreat down the trail, we’d be peppered with arrows by a force with a high-ground advantage. It’s too risky."
Ann touched his hand and nodded before speaking.
"I believe we’ll be fine."
Jor seemed to hesitate slightly at the Priestess’ words but continued nonetheless.
"Stash your bags over there where Ainsle is." She indicated the direction toward the scarred woman with a tilt of the head. "We can recover our supplies once the village has been cleared."
Ben nodded and sat in silence.
"Now," the Squad Leader ordered, tone firm.
The young man jolted at the reprimand and, along with Ann, jogged over to the Berserker. He found that Ainsle had stored Jor’s and her sling bags in a depression between two small rocky outcrops. The pair stored their supplies, and Ainsle regarded Ben with a manic grin.
"You ready, Benny-boy?"
Ben’s eyes widened at the glint in her eye. He gulped.
"Yes, ma’am," he affirmed shakily.
Ainsle’s head tilted backward, and she let out a sinister, bellowing laugh that caused the hair on the young man’s arms to stand on end.
They’re insane. The lot of them.
Ben told himself.
He felt an oppressive aura radiate from the short, old woman. He turned wide-eyed to Ann, who smiled with soft blue eyes.
"Annie," he whispered. "Is she going to be alright, you know, with the…" He gestured to his stomach.
Her soft smile seemed unshakable. "Yes. I worked hard to focus the Aura spell on a smaller yet denser area of effect last night. She was almost completely healed this morning." She winked. "Maybe I can learn and improve too."
Ben wanted to smile and sigh in relief, but the ominous feeling that crept around his periphery distracted him from feeling anything other than anxiousness. A gnawing feeling of hunger welled up in his stomach in response. His nerves were on fire. He turned to regard the Berserker again, yet she wasn’t standing next to the pair. He followed the source of the radiating presence and looked up to see her back as she stood atop the rocky outcrop. She had her great mace in one hand, leaning against her shoulder. A few loose strands of her grey-blonde hair had come loose from the high bun and danced in the wind.
Jor whistled, and Ben turned to face her. She indicated with a hand signal that the pair should get ready to charge the ridge. She selected two arrows from her quiver and nocked one while holding the second in the same hand that drew the bowstring. The Archer aimed at the trees to their right and drew and released an arrow. Before the arrow had reached its mark, she drew the second one and fired towards a speck on an outcrop on the ridge. The first arrow had met its mark Ben heard the impact and a gurgle before silence. The second arrow hit its mark as well; however, he heard the sound of a high-pitched scream, and the speck on the rock flailed around on its perch.
A loud, resonating sound of a horn blowing filled his ears.
"Shit." He heard the Archer curse, frustrated. "Move!" She ordered.
Ainsle hopped off the outcrop and fell into a sprint, her great mace in one hand, trailing furrows in the dirt as she dragged it behind her at an impossibly blistering speed. Ben was overcome with an irrational feeling of excitement and anticipation. He followed spear in hand. Slowly at first, before steadily increasing his pace until he ran at a full sprint. He crested the ridge to find a wall of sharpened logs placed vertically, with what appeared to be a gate bound by hinges made of rough cord in the ground in front of him.
A group of six short humanoid creatures jumped off the spiked wall and ran to intercept the diminutive Berserker, who hadn’t slowed down at all. The goblins were short with dirty, light green skin, sharp, hooked noses, and pointed ears. If he hadn’t known, he thought that he could’ve easily mistaken the creatures for dirty human children.
As Ainsle, at a full sprint, approached the group, she swung her great mace in a rising arc to meet the defenders. Bodies exploded at the unstoppable force of the ridiculous weapon. Dark red blood sprayed a fine mist over the old woman as arms, intestines, and various parts of the creatures were propelled to impact against the village wall in sickening wet thuds. Her hair, face, and armor were covered in a sheen of thick red liquid. She bared her teeth in a terrifying smile.
Three goblins, who weren’t inside the arc of the attack, were scrambling away in retreat. Ainsle stood and let out a coarse, haunting laugh. Ben’s sprint was slowed somewhat by a familiar vibration in his chest. He stared at the reddened old woman, and a vision of long, upturned horns of fiery obsidian erupted from her forehead in a flash before they disappeared as if they weren’t there. She let out a chilling cackle and screamed without words.
"Rage."