(Madok POV)

I wake up only to find myself in pain. Really quite a lot of pain. Enough that I feel sick to the stomach, and know in my bones that I’m not walking away from this one.

When I look down to my side I see a shredded mess, long deep tears stretching from armpit to stomach. The goblins were thorough, although apparently not quite thorough enough.

When I look around my head spins, and I lie back until my vision clears and the nausea recedes a little. Lani is sitting besides me, some plants I don’t recognise in her hands and a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"How… how did it go?"

When she hears me she looks surprised, and draws closer.

"Lay still! I’m doing what I can but the wounds will start bleeding again if you thrash about."

"Yor? Did he..."

"He’s just on the other side of the gully. Yor got off better than you, but you both paid the price for your clever scheme.

Now, stay calm while I try to keep your blood inside you."

She pulls out another plant and starts chewing it, occasionally spitting the pulp out and rubbing it on my wounds.

"What are you doing? That’s… disgusting..."

"It’s something the elf healer taught me, it should help against the pain."

"Should? So far I’m… unconvinced."

"I am not certain. There is a plant that looks just like it, but that one only causes heavy itching when applied."

"If that is the case then I think you are using the wrong plant. I feel like a swarm of biters is digging into me."

Lani lets out a small laugh before removing the pulp and applying the other plant. Once she’s chewed the stem to shreds and lathered me in it, she stands and gathers her materials, presumably in preparation to inflict her tortures on Yor.

As she is turns away I finally ask the question I’ve been dreading.

"How bad is it? How many did we lose?"

"Six. Three others won’t make it back to camp. Five more will have to be carried, including you and Yor."

"The goblins?"

"We got all but three. Forgu’s already taken a band to track them down. A total victory."

"We won."

"We did, thanks to you and Yor. Still, a heavy price."

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(John POV)

"That went a lot better than I expected, a total victory. I thought their numbers would give them more of an advantage."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Rather too easy..."

"And it seems that someone did pick up a few things during the elves’ stay. Just not quite enough yet to give use access to any healing related skills."

"John, we have a problem! Headcount, 8 goblins are unaccounted for!"

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(Jormund POV)

I lower the bucket into the river, intending to take some back to camp, when I hear the footsteps. Immediately, my Hunter’s instinct tells me something is wrong. The paces are too short, the footfall too light. Not human. Danger.

I drop the bucket and spin, hunkering into the riverbank grasses. Goblins, eight, heading towards the village. Our hunters are nowhere to be seen. No time to lose, I grip my spear and circle ahead of them, staying low and out of sight.

When I reach the first hut, they are still just over the ridge. I call out to Lani’s father, as quietly as I can.

"Lor! Get everyone moving! The goblins are here!"

Lor doesn’t argue, and starts herding everyone into the sturdiest hut with the strongest door.

I melt into the long grass, utterly still, and watch as the goblins close on the village fire. They’re careful, even hesitant, not the triumphant march I would expect of a total victory. I await the right moment. Then, like a blessing of pure fate, it comes: one of the giant colourful savannah beetles leaps into the sky across camp, rasping loudly and drawing every eye. Now.

I make a mad dash towards the goblins, catching them by surprise. One of them goes down to a heavy kick, bones breaking under the impact, and I crush his skull before any of them can react. One down, seven to go.

Pulling out my axe, I swing it at the closest goblin. It throws its arms up instinctively, the blow intended for its head instead sinking into forearm. Crying out, it stumbles back, narrowly missing my spear-thrust towards its midsection.

Another one jumps towards me but mistimes it, a good punch stuns it before it can connect. I take the opening and smash it across the face with my axe. Two down.

But now, another goblin has flanked me, and I spin to face it too late. My spear falls just a little short.

My throat, searing pain.

I fall to my knees. Everything goes dark.

.

..

...

Noise. Is that a woman’s voice? Clear as midwinter sky, beautiful as the blooms of midsummer's eve.

"He’s dying. We can’t do anything."

Clear, beautiful. Like a death hymn.

I hear another voice, a voice so ancient and so removed from my understanding that my mind fails in description, even to myself.

He speaks in a language so complex and powerful that I see colours where there are words and smell the different seasons with each sentence he speaks.

The voice of the woman once more.

"No, we need that power. We can’t waste it for him."

Once more the Ancient sounds, and as it does I feel his age, each syllable like tree rings and the crumbling of mountains.

"You’d bet so much on such a gamble? On those odds?"

Now the Ancient burns with the heat of a summer blaze. It’s painful, like the worst burn I’ve ever felt but applied directly to my mind. Each word seems endless, incessant pain.Then, the final word freezes the flames, a crystalline blaze of pure cold.

I try to open my eyes.

"Alright, we might as well try. Don’t blame me when it doesn’t work, though."

I drift for a time, taking bliss from the lack of incomprehensible heat in my soul. When I finally pry open my eyelids I see something I could never have dreamed of. Before me floats a woman, hanging in the air like reeds in the current. I blink, but her feet resolutely refuse to touch the floor. As for the floor… I don’t understand. Even the colour is unreal.

I instantly know the woman to be the Ancient’s companion. She looks like such a voice made flesh, wearing garments unlike any I have ever seen, woven of cloth unequaled in my knowledge. Then, she glides towards me. A small globe of red, ochre light wafts down from above, landing gently in the palms of her hands as she reaches out towards me.

"May this Blessing take you far, young one."

After these words the world slowly becomes black once. My mind is reeling from what I’ve seen, and so I grasp some small, comprehensible reality. I think about her eyes and commit to memory the colour that they held.

As I fade, she smiles.

"The colour is called Jade."