Grag’s POV
Grag shivered slightly. It wasn’t cold, but he had never been on a raid before. The Master had made him chief of Gravewell and now he had to prove himself to the other goblins of the village.
Rikkard was leading the raid. He was an imposing figure and intimidated even the ogres a little. The Master had made him a ring that let Rikkard understand and speak all languages so he could command the ogres and interrogate the human about the blacksmith. Crag looked down at his own translator ring.
He shivered again.
“Listen up!” Rikkard yelled to the ogres. “We are here to capture slaves. We are only killing those that need killing. Do you understand?”
The all nodded their affirmatives. There were six of the giant creatures. Crag knew that now from his lessons on how to count from Krelgr. The entire raiding party had sixty goblins, mixed from all the villages the Master had conquered and ten hobgoblins, including Rikkard.
The hobgoblin proved to be masterful at getting all of the goblins to work together out of fear of the Master. The hobgoblins walked with their noses up at the goblins, and a little at the ogres. The ogres didn’t seem to mind, but the goblins were even more cowed by the regular hostility of the hobgoblins.
Rikkard had told them that the hobgoblins were favored by the Master because they were bigger and smarter, and mor disciplined in combat. Crag could tell the goblins from Rikkard’s village. They stood stiffly and ready for combat in a nice line. The rest of the goblins just milled about waiting to be told what to do.
The hobgoblin chief finally addressed the goblins in the raiding party. “Alight, listen up mud-lickers. This isn’t a normal raid. We are looking for someone. Someone special! A blacksmith lives in this village. He is special! That means he is worth a thousand of you.
“We are going to sneak into the village. I don’t expect you to know what a forge is, but there will be no killing until we find it. We are going to sneak into the village quietly locate the forge, take the blacksmith and his family. Then, and only then, can you bring Zugnorak’s fury down on them. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Grag said with the rest of them, even though he was unsure about what a blacksmith was.
Grag wished he had the courage to ask, but he was not only afraid of looking stupid, he was worried that stupidity would get him killed. Sticking close to Rikkard may take him towards the front of battle, but it would also allow him to know who to kill and who to let live. It would also help keep him alive if Rikkard killed everyone who came near him.
A warmth radiated its way through Grag. It might have been the gnawing panic in his mind, but it couldn’t be, it seemed to give him a little courage. As the warmth passed his hands and feet, he felt the instinctual nee to draw it into himself. It came to him slowly, but left him just as quickly. Making every effort to keep it in, Grag almost missed the order to move into the village, looking for the blacksmith.
“Move in quietly. We want as few villagers creating a ruckus as possible. Rowdy human move about and it will be easier to find the smith in his smithy.” Rikkard said before moving forward. “Drekkar, take our forces to the left and come down on the village from that way.”
“Yes, chief.” Drekkar responded before motioning for the thirty highly disciplined goblins to follow him.
As they got closer to the village, Grag could feel the heat inside burn even hotter. He tried to stay close to Rikkard, to avoid any mistakes, but started to fall a little behind. Sweat got all over his face and began to get in his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the first building of the village. Picking up his pace a little, Grag felt like he was running.
“There.” Rikkard pointed at a building.
Part of the building was made of stone and was two stories tall. Connected to the building was an open overhang. Under the overhang was what looked like to be a bunch of metal objects that Grag assumed were tools of the trade.
“We are going to capture, alive, everyone in that building.” Rikkard said.
Rikkard tested the door and it appeared locked. With ease he rammed it with his shoulder and it opened. He rushed in with the other hobgoblins. There was screaming from inside the hut. Within moments the screaming stopped and Rikkard emerged with an older woman in tow.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
His hobgoblin companions walked out as well. There were five adults, two males and three females, and five children. The children sobbed quietly.
“Please don’t kill us.” The oldest looking woman begged.
“Do as you are told and you will live.” Rikkard replied. “How many people live in this village?”
“I don’t know.” The woman replied.
Rikkard grabbed her by the face and growled. “Looks like you will make a tasty treat for my friends here.” He forced her to look at the ogres.
“90, maybe 100, I think.” One of the younger of the two men said.
Grag wasn’t good at telling the ages of humans, but the man looked to be the oldest in the bunch with grey hairs on his head and beard. Like the younger male, he was built strong with powerful muscles. The oldest man must have been the smith and they younger man was probably his apprentice.
“Are there other smiths in the village?” Grag asked.
He could feel the heat continue to grow.
“No.” The older man said. “Just me and my son Royce.
“Are there any magic users, or anyone that could cause problems?” Grag asked.
For a long moment no one answered. They just all stood there looking at each other and the ground.
“You heard the goblin!” Rikkard snapped. “People of note. Who are they?” He shook the woman he was holding hard.
The woman burst into tears. “Um, there is an alchemist named Gideon, Gideon Blackwood.” Rikkard stopped shaking her.
“Anyone else?” He asked.
“The firewood maker has a bad temper and likes to fight.” The older man said. “He could give you trouble.”
“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rikkard asked. “Go capture everyone you can. If you come across the alchemist, try to keep him alive, the commander will want to talk to him.”
Screams started coming from the village’s east side where Drekkar had gone. “Looks like they know we are here. Go quickly.” He pointed at the anvil and tools of the blacksmith, then looked at the ogres. “Grab all you can carry; he is going to need it.”
“Stop!” A man with an axe said.
As Grag looked at the man he could feel the heat in him get warmer. “Surrender.” He stuttered at the man.
“Never!” He yelled. “Don’t worry Joyce, I’ll save you.” Then he began to run at the group.
“Kill him.” Rikkard said. “Last thing we need is trouble makers in the slave pens.”
Shaking with fear Grag stood with his spear at the ready.
“Die, creatures of darkness!” The woodcutter yelled raising his axe above his head getting ready to strike Grag down.
Rikkard barked out a laugh.
Grag was sweating so bad he couldn’t even see. His entire body got warm and he could barely think. He dropped his spear.
“What are you doing Grag, you plan to kill the human with your bare hands?” Rikkard asked.
The heat seemed to burst within him and traveled into the ground. It shot as such a speed it was hard to keep track of it. The heat stopped at was seemed like a giant orb of heat and pressure. Inside himself he could feel a connection between him and this, this source. He knew what it was. It was the source of fire magic, and now he was tethered to it. Grag was connected to the source.
He drew on the power from the source, but he felt full. He was no longer confused about what was going on. Slowly the fire mana that had built up within him leaked out.
Runes began to for in his mind and he knew what to do with them. He pushed the mana into the shape of the fire rune and lifted his hands at the woodcutter. With spectacular flair fire jumped from his hands and caught the woodcutter in the chest.
The woodcutter was engulfed in flames and screamed loudly as the fire ate his flesh. The man fell to the ground and writhed around for several long moments before dying.
“Grab the axe, it will be useful.” Rikkard said.
All the ecstasy Grag felt about having gained magic quickly fled when he heard Rikkard. Grag looked back at the hobgoblin, who in turn was staring at him. Seeing Grag wasn’t moving, one of the other goblins, ran up and grabbed the axe, he left Grag’s spear at his feet.
The rest of the raid went on without incident. Gideon Blackwood was found and surrendered without fuss. The captured slaves carried alchemical goods as well as smithing equipment, leaving the goblins free to poke at them with spears.
In total 38 people were captured. At least 17 were killed and the ogres slug the dead bodies of a few people to eat as they walked. It looked like one or two of the humans were going to start something, but changed their minds when the ogres started eating.
Instinctively Grag knew how to pull on his tether to gain fire mana. He pulled on it and slowly allowed the mana to leak out before pulling more. He had hoped he would gain more runes if he pulled on the tether more, but he had no such luck, so he only knew of the one rune.
Rikkard kept glancing back at Grag, which made him nervous. He never knew what to expect from the hobgoblin. The big hobgoblin talked to Paul with some disrespect in his tone, but at the same time seemed loyal when the vampire wasn’t around.
When they were almost back to Gravewell Rikkard got close to Grag. “How long have you been able to use magic?” He asked. “Having skills like magic can turn the tide of a battle. The commander killed a great spider and two ogres with magic. It is something to be respected and feared.”
“It just happened.” Grag responded. “I didn’t know it before the raid.”
“So, the commander doesn’t know you have it?”
“No.”
“It is important he knows.”
Grag merely nodded. He was unsure if he wanted to tell Paul he had magic. What if the master killed him as a potential upstart to his own power? Throk once strangled a youngling for looking at him in a way that he thought was a challenge. The ability to use magic was a far greater threat to ones power than a look.