The scent of flowers and herbs wafted from a garden behind the goblin shaman’s home, almost intoxicating. It almost reminded Avalon of Leifey’s own garden, which she used to make her poultices. The woman who named herself Goburika tended to her own garden with great care, that much was obvious. When she fed her guests, Morgan was slobbering for seconds before Avalon had finished his bowl of something that the shaman called “slop.”
Calm yourself, Morgan. You’re embarrassing us in front of the shaman. Avalon said. He devoured his own food hungrily, but Morgan reduced himself to a ravening animal as he inhaled the next bowl of slop that Goburika served.
The subtle flavors are irresistible, you can’t blame me. You must not. A stream of drool escaped the corner of Morgan’s mouth to soak the leaves that covered his torso.
Avalon almost reached out to strike the spirit, to discipline him as a good master should, but Goburika placed a gentle hand on Morgan’s shoulder as she spoke. “If you do not take the time to savor your food, you will finish it before you are able to enjoy all of its flavors.”
Morgan frowned at his bowl of slop. She is wise.
A goblin wearing a golden circlet lined with bright, colorful feathers called out from outside Goburika’s home, but Avalon noticed that he didn’t take a single step past the doorway. “I hear we have human visitors, why was I not informed? I should’ve been the first to greet them. My brother has told me that they mean to help us fight the orcs.”
Goburika sighed and welcomed the goblin into her home. “Avalon, Morgan. This is the chieftain of our hillfort, Gobjak.”
“Indeed, this one is Gobjak. I hope you enjoy your stay at Ken-Rheo.” Avalon and Morgan continued eating, paying no mind to the chubby goblin chieftain. “And you must be Avalon, Beast King of the Evergreen. I recognize you from your kingly visage. Very rugged, very masculine!”
Morgan ignored the hand that Gobjak used to pat his shoulder, but Avalon felt the need to correct him. “I am Avalon, you fool.” He said.
“How can you be a king, you’re just some girl.” Gobjak leaned towards his face, too close for his liking, and stared at his body in a manner that disgusted him.
Avalon struck out, slapping the chieftain’s pudgy cheek with the palm of his hand, and Gobjak fell to the floor. There were tears in his eyes, but he was lucky that Avalon chose not to strike him with the back of his hand. The chieftain of Ken-Rheo was even softer than Severino. If Avalon’s knuckles struck against Gobjack’s teeth, he would’ve lost quite a few of them.
“You struck me! Wryyyy!” Gobjak cried out in distress, but no guards came running to rescue him. Avalon sniffed the air, Gobjack had come alone when a man like Harold might’ve brought an accompaniment of guards wherever he traveled.
“Of course he struck you. It was very rude to do what you just did.” Goburika said as she helped Gobjak to his feet.
“Was it? Well, then I apologize.” Gobjak stopped crying as soon as he started. “May I join you all for dinner? That smells delicious.”
After Goburika served him his food, Gobjak savored every bite with more refinement than Avalon and Morgan combined. It made Avalon feel some sense of shame. He had spent centuries as a centaur and learned the bare minimum when it came to courtesy. It was something that shackled humans, prevented them from living free, or so he thought. Gobjak almost looked like an elven king dining at his high seat, especially beside Morgan. The spirit took his time to savor his food, but swayed side to side as he smacked his lips, his mouth full of food.
We are like wild animals next to that fat chieftain. Avalon said.
I like animals, there’s nothing wrong with them. Morgan said, scolding in his voice.
You are a spirit and I am a centaur. We are a cut above the ordinary animal. We possess something the elves call ‘sentience.’
Who cares about elves anyway?
Avalon almost choked on his food. Morgan was right, who cares about elves anyway? To think that Gobjak could even dare to shame him. Avalon threw his bowl at the chieftain, spilling its contents onto his clothes. It was a dreadful waste, but examples have to be made.
That was a waste. Morgan stated, shaking his head.
“I am angry with you, Gobjak.” Avalon said, crossing his arms, wallowing in his lost pride. “Now I wish to fight, when will the orcs attack? Gobir said you saw visions.”
“A storm gathers and will reach the island when Fall gives way to Winter.” Goburika said and handed Gobjak a cloth to wipe his face with.
“That’s weeks away.” Avalon muttered. His enrollment into the Academy wasn’t until several months, he had plenty of time, but he didn’t want to spend more time merely waiting for a fight than actually fighting.
“Ah, this was my favorite tunic!” Gobjak exclaimed.
“You should have treated our guests with more care.” Goburika told him, but turned her attention to Avalon. “But you should not have acted out in such a way. It was unbecoming.”
Acted out? I am not a child. Avalon said.
In a way, you behave as petulantly as Gobjak.
Morgan’s assessment made Avalon cringe. “I apologize.” He said. “I promise to protect your hillfort and its inhabitants when the orcs attack. That will be the good service I will render to you, so I hope you can forgive me.”
“Only when the orcs have been beaten back!” Gobjack cried out and ran from Goburika’s hut.
Avalon almost felt regret for his actions. “May I have another bowl of your slop. Please?”
A warrior ran into the hut and Avalon prepared for a fight, but the warrior’s fight was not with him. There were three ships approaching the island bearing the colors of the island’s orc enemies, fast approaching. The fighting would start sooner than Goburika had believed. Avalon was almost forced to drag Morgan from his seat, but the spirit was almost as eager to fight as he was. The orcs had interrupted their meal and they would pay for it with their lives.
Avalon followed a column of soldiers marching to a beach to the south. Goburika followed close behind them, the fist-sized gem in her staff hummed with power. It was green and enchanted by the island forest, because of her affinity for its magic, and she promised to make good use of it when Avalon took to the field. When they arrived at the beach, its white sand sparkling in the sun, Gobir was barking orders from atop a large black wolf.
Not as large as Hippolytus, but the wolf was nearly the size of a small pony. Far larger than the average wolf. The wolf growled at the white stag that approached, but lightning crackled between Hippolytus’ antlers and the wolf’s ears pulled back in fear. Gobir called out. “Can you keep your stag away? My dire wolf will be more afraid of him than of the enemy.” Despite his words, the elder warrior laughed with approval. After all, Hippolytus was a good friend to have in such a fight.
Goburika waved and called out. “Gobir, have you taken command?” The shaman was calm and composed, but there was a strange anxiety in her words.
“Yes, defending Ken-Rheo falls upon my shoulders.”
“How do you plan on repelling the orcs?” Avalon asked.
“We will meet them here. Archers on this slope will shoot them full of arrows while the spearmen defend them. Gobured’s trick, but on a larger scale.”
“What about the rest of us?”
“You go when I go, me and my picked men will tear through them. With you by our side, it’ll be a clean sweep. Shaman Goburika should also save her magic until then.”
“But the shaman has so much power, surely she should be at the very front. With all of your strongest warriors.”
Goburika cleared her throat. “Actually, my magic is more suited to strengthening or healing others. A support role suits me naturally.” If the shaman’s magic was restrained to a supporting role, tied to the fate of others, then it was no wonder that she required help for her island. It was almost disappointing for so much power to be wasted in such a way.
The three orc ships in the distance were pushed forward by their square sails, striped blue and white. When the wind died down, the sails were pulled up and oars jutted from the ships sides. Around a dozen oars propelled them forward. Goburika spoke quietly, loud enough for only Avalon to hear, to voice her suspicions to him. That there were around three sailors per oar, but that meant there were at least thirty oarsmen per ship. Which didn’t include the roughly two dozen warriors who stood on the decks of each ship.
Avalon considered the shaman’s words. In total, if Goburika’s suspicions were correct, the orc warriors numbered around two hundred fighters. Ken-Rheo’s warriors prepared to face them on the beach, standing in their neat formations. However, even including the handful of heavily armored warriors who stood with Gobir and his wolf at the rear, the four dozen archers and four dozen spearmen arrayed on the beach numbered at around two hundred and sixty.
Furthermore, they wore less armor than the average human soldier that Harold employed. The steel on their heads were the only pieces of solid metal armor on their bodies. Not even Gobir or his hand-picked warrior wore the kind of small breastplate that Ryman wore. They were suited for defending their homes, never challenging strong enemies where they might be found, but defending their island home made them complacent. Not just in their discipline and armaments, but also in their leadership.
Gobir had brought too few warriors to kill a rogue criminal like Gobured. Even now, he brought too few warriors to fight the orcs. As though he intended to have Avalon intervene on his behalf two times in a single day. If Avalon had the time or the authority, he might’ve armed as many people as he could. Ken-Rheo would field as many warriors as there were weapons. He’d send people to carry rocks if he could, to throw them or bash them over their enemy’s skull.
It was one thing to prepare for a fight, or even to avoid it, but the fight was upon these goblins now. And the moon of war demanded they used every resource at their disposal. Avalon looked to the blue skies overhead, tinted with orange across the horizon as the sun began to set. He might’ve wished for the red moon’s blessing, even if it meant surrendering himself to the yellow moon’s gaze. Experience or no, defeat would mean losing what little they possessed.
Are you afraid? Morgan said as he pulled his sword free and looked at his reflection.
Of course not, I can’t wait to fight! Avalon responded, but he couldn’t help but worry. How long had it been since he genuinely tested his strength against a strong foe? There were few of those when he was elevated as the Elm of Eternity’s first and foremost defender. His heart shuddered as it longed for the Sacred Tree’s guiding hand.
Avalon pressed the flat of his blade against his forehead, the blade that Sparrow intended to kill him with. “I will not fail, Aurora. I will return this body to you, so keep mine safe for me until then.” His words were soft, almost a prayer as Leifey had taught him, but it hardened his determination.
As the first of the longships slid across the beach, he raised his spear and roared. The goblin spearmen arrayed on the beach cheered, beating their spears against their shields. The orcs jumped from their ships and cried out their fury, silencing the goblins. Their dark, gray-blue faces twisted as they exposed their thick lower canines, almost like the tusks on boars, which made them appear like savage animals. The kind of predators who subsisted only on the flesh of their prey.
Each of the orc warriors stood twice as tall as the goblins and nearly twice as wide, as large as men like Harold and Gunnar. They were clad in dark mail and steel caps as the goblins were, but they moved easily. A volley of arrows flew from the goblin archers and the orc warriors raised their large, circle shields. Banded by steel and reinforced by metal at their center, the arrows either bounced off or embedded themselves into the wood of their shields.
A handful of arrows found their mark, but the orcs pulled them from their flesh and tossed them aside. A few of the orc warriors dared to laugh as they tossed the arrows back at the goblins. A warrior among them, covered by a wolf cloak as Gareth had been, raised his axe and charged forward. His roar was followed by the warriors who followed after him as they crashed into the center ranks of the goblin spearmen.
The archers loosed their arrows at the orcs, but their arrows were ineffective. Their bows were too weak, their arrows too small. The spears of the goblins were also too short, shorter than the hafts of the orc long axes or barely longer than the length of the orc swords. These weapons were good enough to fight other goblins. Not much else. If the goblins were to survive, as he promised Gobjak, Avalon needed to act fast.
Avalon pointed at the warrior who led the charge into the goblin ranks and declared, “We’re killing that one first!”
Hippolytus’ antlers crackled with lightning and orcs pointed at the white stag as he sauntered around the goblin left flank. The orcs tried to push forward to break the goblins, but they were more resilient than they seemed. Hippolytus shot a bolt of lightning at the orcs, blowing a hole through their lines. It killed a handful of their warriors and bought enough time for the goblins to reform their lines, but they would crumble as soon as the fighting resumed.
Avalon leapt from Hippolytus’ back to give the white stag freedom to move, since he and Morgan could fight on their own two feet. The two clashed their steel against their enemy’s shields, but they were more than a match for orc strength. Avalon kicked at a shield, sending its wielder tumbling backward. It allowed Morgan to exploit the opening and strike at several orc warriors who found themselves scrambling in the sand.
The goblin spearmen were emboldened by the orc blood spilling onto their beach and Avalon rallied them forward. The left flank of the goblin lines curved as they fought towards the center. Despite the losses they suffered, the goblins slowly gained ground with Avalon and Morgan at their head, who left dying orcs in their wake.
Stolen story; please report.
Orcs tried to flank the goblins as they themselves were being flanked, but Hippolytus conjured lightning to roast the orcs in their armor. Each bolt was stronger than he had been normally capable of, like great spears of pure light when they were once arrows. Goburika had climbed onto his back and her magic swirled around the white stag. He shot several bolts of lightning in quick succession, but remained energetic. While the shaman’s magic had an affinity for nature, it fueled Hippolytus’ onslaught.
Morgan sniffed the air. Smells delicious. If we finish this battle early, the dead may still be warm.” The spirit’s face twisted into savage fury as he threw himself at the orcs, cleaving through flesh or bashing through their chainmail.
The orc warrior who led the charge called out to the warriors around him. “To me! To me! Let’s kill those humans.”
Avalon called back. “If you want me, then come get me! I’m right here!” The warrior’s eyes went wide in shock and Avalon couldn’t help but to laugh as he cut through several orc warriors. “Come here, coward!”
The orc warrior accepted the obvious bait and pushed past the orcs around him to reach Avalon. Morgan tried to press forward but Avalon held him back with an arm. “This is our duel, do not interfere.” He brandished his spear at the orc warrior as he asked, “What is your name, warrior?”
The orc warrior charged forward, ignoring the question, but Avalon was the first to strike. The black blade of his spear rang as it struck the shaft of the orc warrior’s long axe. The orc was stronger, but Avalon was faster. Avalon dodged the orc warrior’s attacks with ease. Each twitch of the orc’s muscles warned him of every attack, but it was all he could do to stay in the fight.
Avalon sent out a flurry of quick jabs at the orc warrior’s face, who blocked each strike with the flat of his axe. When the orc warrior overextended himself in a wide swing, Avalon tried to exploit the opening, but the orc warrior’s hand left his axe to smack Avalon across the jaw with the back of his fist.
The blow made his vision blur and ears ring, but Goburika’s magic brought Avalon back into the fight before the orc warrior could bury his axe into his chest. The orc warrior accused Avalon of cheating their duel, because of Goburika's interruption, but Avalon wasn’t about to scold the shaman. As Goburika’s magic strengthened Hippolytus’ lightning, it sprouted a new growth of the Evergreen inside Avalon.
Magic manifested itself in physical form to wrap around his body, as it had for Leifey, but it wasn’t quite the same. Where the long golden robes of Keeper of the Sacred Tree trailed behind her, a uniform that emphasized the dignity of her station, Avalon found that his own robes were more like the dresses he had been stuffed into at Castle Longfirth. The skirt that hung to his knees fluttered noisily in the wind and loose sleeves hung awkwardly from his arms, separated entirely from the main body of the dress.
The forest’s magic, absent of the Evergreen’s touch, tinged the dress heavily with green. Its influence likely weakened the effect of the magical uniform, affecting how it manifested in the physical world, but glowing golden roots of the Evergreen extended throughout the dress to make itself known. It hummed with familiar power that Avalon wanted to use.
His vision focused on the orc warrior and as the world went quiet around them. The smell of blood was thick in the air, but the acrid smell of fear wafted towards Avalon from all directions. Between the goblins and the orcs, all eyes were watching him warily. Afraid of what he might do.
Avalon let his magic surge and the wood of his spear drank what it could until the black blade of Avalon’s spear erupted with Sparrow’s black fire. Its foul stink overwhelmed his nostrils, but he charged toward the orc warrior with his spear raised. The orc raised his axe to defend himself, but Avalon’s spear shattered the orc’s axehead on impact. The orc's eyes were wide open in utter shock and Avalon thought he saw golden antlers glinting in the orc’s black eyes, crowning his head, as his fiery black blade cleaved through the orc warrior’s chest.
Blood sprayed from the wound and black flames erupted through the orc warrior to engulf the orcs who stood behind him. As soon as the orc fell to the ground, the world roared back into deafening motion. The goblins cheered as orcs screamed in shrill terror. The orcs who weren’t burning alive fled the field to return to their ships. Avalon called out to Hippolytus, but his voice caught in his throat. His link to Morgan was severed as well, silence was his only response when he called out to the spirit.
They needed to pursue their enemy to butcher the orcs on their ships, to set their ships aflame while they hid inside, anything to ensure their final defeat. Instead, Avalon felt Morgan at his back, grabbing his shoulders to hold him upright as his knees buckled. His spear fell from his grip and he tried to reach out to grab it, but he lost consciousness before it hit the ground.
When Avalon awoke, he found himself in the shaman’s hut on a bed of furs. He lifted his sore body from the bed, the first bed he’d slept on since he regained the first whispers of his magic. When his head bent low, a crown of flowers with vibrant blues, yellows, and reds fell to the ground. He strained his back to bend low and retrieve the crown, feeling the magic radiating from each petal. Avalon placed it onto a table, as gently as his weary arms would allow.
He tried to make his way outside, calling for the magic of the island’s forest to strengthen him, but he dropped to his knees on a patch of grass in Goburika’ garden. Surrounded by flowers and herbs, magic washed over him as a gentle breeze blew through the forest. It was a calm moment of peace, but there was something wrong with the inner system of roots that Morgan helped him prepare, the inner vessel that stored his magic. It was frayed, trying to push beyond his skin, as if it needed room to grow.
A shadow cast over him and Avalon found Morgan eating from a bowl of slop, looking down at him as ate. You are finally awake.
Goburika brushed past Morgan and knelt beside Avalon. “How are you feeling? You were asleep for a few days.”
“A few days? What did you do to me out there?” Avalon considered lifting himself off the ground, but he laid in the grass. The sun’s warmth felt pleasant on his skin.
“My magic is supportive in nature. It strengthened your magic, but your body must not be accustomed to it yet.” Goburika placed her palm over Avalon’s forehead. “You seem to be alright now.”
Hippolytus wandered close and rubbed his muzzle against his cheek. He scratched the stag under his chin and smelled the slop he’d been eating. The beast had been dining on the shaman’s delicious slop while his master was asleep.
“Your magic strengthened Hippolytus’ lightning. And it reinvigorated what remained of the magic of the Evergreen left inside me.”
I haven’t felt this way since I was a young centaur, running through the fields. Avalon said. My muscles have all become sore, but my magic is failing me.
You’ve overexerted your magic as well as your muscles. You will recover in time.
My magic? Avalon felt his magic pulse through his body with every beat of his heart. In his chest, it was as though a second heart was beating. One made of magic, a mirror to the one made of flesh. What is that?
It’s your mana form. Do you not know what it is? All living creatures have it.
I have never seen during my long centuries as a centaur.
Then you must not have been strong enough to see it.
The very idea was unthinkable. Avalon had been far stronger as a centaur, he was the Beast King of the Evergreen. The preeminent authority when it came to brute strength. Wherever the Sacred Tree had sent it, it must be a different world entirely. After all, neither the moon gods nor the Sacred Tree could have simply disappeared. Rather, it was Avalon himself who was sent far away.
“Can you use my magic to help me recover?” Avalon said, gritting his teeth as he forced himself off the ground.
“There is a hot spring that can help with your pain. Since your pain came from your overuse of it, more of my magic won’t be enough.”
“Then what, I’m supposed to soak in warm water?”
“The hot spring isn’t magic, but it’s sacred. Blessed by the goddess of rivers and streams, to heal.”
Avalon wasn’t sure he’d be welcomed in such blessed waters, he had been a spirit of the Evergreen and nature itself was the closest thing he had to a deity, but he was willing to try. Goburika had rendered him good aid, showing him a way to sacrifice the magic of the forest to fuel the magic of the Evergreen. If she believed that he would benefit from the waters of the hot spring, then he would trust in her judgement.
Avalon climbed onto Hippolytus, who was forced to kneel for his weakened master. For once, he needed to ride on the stag’s back for more than a pleasant view. He would not have made it to the hot spring without his steed, which was located at the foot of the mountain at the island’s very center.
Along the way to the hot spring, the goblins that looked upon them were less suspicious. Some were even happy to see them, stopping in place to stare in awe. Goburika informed him of the rumors spreading through the island, of the white stag and his companions who delivered Ken-Rheo hillfort from ruin.
They were heroes to the goblins and children ran towards Hippolytus to rub his side, until their mothers pulled them away, apologizing for the intrusion. Avalon just smiled and he remembered when he first returned from a successful raid. The spirits of the Evergreen greeted him with such adoration as well.
When they arrived at the hot spring, a goblin uniformed in pale blue robes stood in front of a large wooden gate, the only entrance through a wall made of standing timber. A palisade, as humans might call it. “Welcome, Shaman.” The goblin said and bowed to Goburika.
“Inform the nereids of our arrival. My friends here are in need of the hot spring’s sacred waters.” Goburika’s smile was pained, uncomfortable with the greeting.
“As you say.” The goblin left, walking towards a smaller side entrance, but Avalon noticed that the goblin sent scornful glances his way. For all of Avalon’s apparent heroism at Ken-Rheo, the goblin simply didn’t care.
“He does not like us.” Avalon said.
“All he sees are humans. Like the orcs, humans are an age-old enemy. I’m just glad nobody was foolish enough to attack you.”
“We’re not humans. Not truly.”
“I have heard of your story from Morgan. He claims to be a spirit and you are a ‘Beast King’. I hope you understand that it’s hard to believe.”
Goburika’s doubt disappointed Avalon, but he understood her perfectly. He held out his hands and stretched his fingers wide. They weren’t what they were supposed to be and neither was the rest of him. Avalon was Avalon, but he wasn’t surprised if nobody truly understood what that meant.
The gates of the hot spring swung open, its metal hinges creaking from the strain. A pale blue woman stood waiting and Avalon almost mistook her for an orc, if not for the gills on her neck and the fins in place of her ears. First goblins, then orcs, and now nereids. Avalon was discovering many new peoples during his travels. With luck, he might even find a few centaurs who could bring him home.
“Goburika! It’s been a while, I’ve missed you!” The fish woman threw her arms around the goblin shaman, the bangles on her wrists clinking with every small motion.
“I’ve missed you too, Sashi.” Goburika exchanged kisses on the cheek with the fish woman and introduced the other visitors to the hot spring. “The humans are Avalon and Morgan. The stag is named Hippolytus.”
“Welcome, please come in. I’ve heard so much about you.” Sashi waved them into the hot spring.
As Hippolytus sauntered behind the palisade walls of the hotspring, warm steam wafted into Avalon’s nose. He sneezed and nearly fell from Hippolytus’ back, if not for Morgan pushing him back into position. The fish woman laughed and directed them towards a pair of doors, one entrance for women and the other for men.
As Sashi led Goburika into the women’s section of the hot spring, Avalon directed his steed into the men’s section. Goblins and fish men in various states of undress stared in his direction, confusion in their faces. “Is that an elf?” Someone asked, but another shouted out, “No, that’s a woman! Get that femoid outta here!”
Sashi ran to Avalon’s side and pulled him from his horse to set his feet onto the ground. “That section is for men!” Sashi laughed nervously at the spear pointed at her face. “You need to go to the section for women!”
“I am-“ A man, Avalon might’ve said.
He looked down at the flat space between his legs. It was the same as when he was a centaur, since his bottom half had been that of a horse. His horse cock would’ve hung further back if he still had his rear legs, but that part of him had disappeared.
Avalon left Hippolytus and Morgan to do as they pleased while Sashi dragged him away into the women's section of the bath, into a place she called a changing room. Clothes were stripped away and dumped into different baskets, an interesting custom to a centaur who had only worn vests for very specific occasions, but he paid it no mind. How else could anything get clean, if not naked? When Sashi seated him on a wooden stool and doused him with a bucket of tepid water, scrubbing at his skin with a sponge, Avalon had to complain.
He nudged at Goburika’s fleshy thigh with the tip of his toe, who was seated nearby and washing herself with her own bucket. “Where is the hot spring? If I wanted this, I could’ve stayed at the castle in Longfirth.” He said. The water had been clear, but it was tinged with brown as it swirled into a drain.
The fish woman splashed a bucket full of water into his face. “This is all part of the ritual, just relax and I’ll take care of the rest.” She said and Goburika giggled as Avalon sputtered water from his mouth.
“Rituals.” Avalon muttered as Sashi lifted an arm to scrub at his side.
When the fish woman was satisfied with her work, she allowed Avalon to enter the hot spring area. Sections within sections, each obscured from view by panels of dead wood. Despite Goburika's connection to nature, much of it was wasted. As with their conduct and behavior in their little hillfort village, the goblins were like humans with regard to their propriety. Which compelled them to construct overly elaborate structures.
The hot spring in the women’s section was divided by a wall of dead wood from the men’s section. At the very least, if everyone bathed together, there would be no need to fell so many trees. It’s how centaurs bathed. Were centaurs so different that these goblins, and nereids, shared more similarities with humans? It seemed such a natural occurrence for centaurs to bathe communally, it was all he’d ever known, but seeing the goblins and nereids segregating themselves made him wonder.
Did orcs believe in the same kind of propriety as everyone else seemed to? It wasn't usually something Avalon cared about. He'd found enough differences between centaurs, elves, and dwarves that he believed differences were the only thing they shared. But what if they were more similar to each other than they were to centaurs? It left them as the odd ones out. Avalon dipped his foot into the warm waters of the hot spring, testing its feel on his skin, before plunging himself beneath its waters.
Avalon was far from the kingdom of the Evergreen. When he had found himself in human lands, he tried to obey their customs. To the best of his ability. He could do the same for these goblins and nereids. At the end of the day, the authority of strength was something they all believed in. There was no need to trouble himself with pointless conflict, even centaurs needed rest from making war.
When Avalon rose to the surface and gasped for breath. He rested his head against the edge of the pool and stared up at the mountain that overlooked the hot springs. It was, in actuality, a dormant volcano. Avalon had seen enough hot springs to know. The water of the springs were heated by the molten rock that drifted below. An utterly mundane phenomenon, no true blessing from a deity, but Avalon felt the muscles in his body relax.
“Perhaps I must be a believer in your goddess to feel her blessing in these waters.” Avalon wondered aloud.
Goburika drifted to his side to rest beside him, as Sashi did the same on his other side. “Some of the more pious among the islands swear the waters are blessed.” The shaman said.
“Maybe it just feels that way.” Sashi offered and sighed as she sank below the water. Bubbles floated to the top and popped across the water, but the fish woman stayed submerged. Since she had gills, she could breathe underwater. Right?
“Where are you going after this?” Goburika asked.
“I want to find strong enemies to fight.” The orc warrior who led the charge into the goblin center was a tough opponent. It was unfortunate for the orc that Goburika’s magic had been the deciding factor in Avalon’s victory, but what mattered was that it was another step taken on his path home. Strength may have authority, but victory was the final judge. “How did you strengthen my magic? Can you teach me?”
“Teach? I’m not sure what you want me to teach you.”
“When your magic flowed into me, the magic of the forest burned away and fueled the other magical energy inside me.”
“All I did was feed my magic into yours, like I did with your white stag. Everything else was your doing.” Goburika shrugged. “It all comes naturally, like instinct.”
“Maybe I can learn how.” Avalon thought back to the battle on the beach, it was hardly the great invasion that Gobir promised. “Do you think the orcs will return?”
“I hope not, but they will. Two hundred orcs make for a very large raiding party, but there are more of them than that. I saw them in my vision, over twenty ships. Nearly thirty.”
“What is that, over a thousand orc warriors?”
“Over, for sure. All the clans on the island will defend each other and a few mainland clans have promised support, but the orcs are strong. You saw them fighting. When Gobir took a count of the dead, most of the dead orcs were slain by you, Morgan, or your white stag. We’d need to outnumber them three-to-one to stand a chance.”
“Will you stand a chance?” Avalon asked and Goburika covered her eyes with her palms, refusing to answer.
Avalon almost felt sorry for the goblins, they were thoroughly outmatched. The orcs had several advantages over their enemy. Tactical advantages, such as their individual strength, but also strategic advantages, such as their numbers. The latter is what won wars, or so a travelling elf warlord had claimed.
Left to fend for themselves, they were sure to lose, but Avalon didn’t intend to let that happen. “I will fight with you when the time comes. I came here to fight strong enemies, the strong enemies have yet to be defeated, therefore I must stay. That’s something called logic, I learned it from elves.”