Cadence looked from the grim faces around her to the still, silent farm stretched out ahead of them. It was one of the small family-owned properties that lined the road leading out of Felisen, one the half dozen sprawling farms responsible for much of the food that the villagers both ate and traded. The villagers Ryme had spoken to earlier had brought rumors of a thick green fog that had covered the farm throughout the morning hours of the day, and she had brought all of the available hunters with her to investigate, as well as Storyteller. The mysterious adventurer had insisted Cadence join them as well, and Ryme was too anxious to contest the request.
The property seemed normal enough now, though. There was no sign of the mysterious fog Ryme had been told about. If anything, to Cadence, the most unsettling thing about the farm was the stillness. On a bright springtime afternoon like this, it should’ve been bustling with activity.
Even as the group of hunters watched from the shaded woodline at the edge of the farm, a strange noise split the air, somewhere between a screech and a cackle. Cadence had never heard anything like it.
“Some kind of monster?” Her voice was little more than a whisper when she spoke.
“Not like any I’ve heard,” Brian said. The youngest of Felisen’s hunters had conjured his ensouled spear, and was turning the shaft absently in his hands. Cadence didn’t bother to point out that after less than a year as a hunter, he was far from an expert.
“Quiet, both of you,” Ryme hissed. “Storyteller. What can you tell me?”
“I suspect it was a miasma,” he told her quietly. “But we’ll need to draw them out to be sure.”
“Who is ‘them?’” Denning growled. The powerfully built man was several inches shorter than Storyteller’s own height, though he was significantly broader than the relatively skinny man.
“Goblins,” Storyteller explained. “Likely only smaller ones, and I suspect only a few will come investigating. They’re not known for their initiative.” He looked at Ryme, then jerked his head toward Brian and Cadence. “They’re minor monsters. It’ll be good training for these two.”
Ryme frowned, but nodded swiftly. “Very well. Brian, Cadence, get ready. Markey, Smith, I want you ready to provide backup if they need it. Denning, keep a watch in case any try to flank us.”
Cadence had never seen her mother operating the field before. The firm but loving woman she had grown up with had temporarily been replaced by a hard-eyed huntress, giving decisive orders with the air of someone who expected no questions or complaints. Cadence quickly pulled out her shortbow and strung it with smooth motions. Ryme had Cadence spend an hour every night practicing stripping and stringing her bow, building both the muscle memory and the callouses to do so quickly and efficiently.
Cadence set an arrow–one of the ones she had fletched herself–to the string, and held another flat against the bow itself. Then she focused on her mother briefly, reaching for one of the gifts Ryme had gotten from the Archer gift Storyteller had helped her receive.
[Gift of the Archer] reflected
[Instant Volley] - Active, Attack - Make a special attack that causes a launched arrow to duplicate twice in midair. Lesser stamina cost.
“Ready,” she declared quietly, blowing out a slow breath and trying to calm the nerves that would make her hands shake and spoil her first attack.
Next to her, Brian completed a couple quick stretches, and set himself in a runner’s stance in preparation to use his Mobile Strike to start the fight.
“Go.” Ryme’s voice was a whip crack.
Storyteller’s icy blue eyes sparkled and he pointed to the empty field before them. Cadence felt the power surge through him, a sensation like her hair standing on end during a storm, then flick across the field before manifesting into a crash of lightning and thunder, a brilliant flash followed by a booming crack.
There was a moment of silence, then more of those weird, high-pitched cackles began to echo across the property, quickly getting louder.
“They’re coming,” Storyteller advised them. “Feels like… two. No, three of them.”
“I’ll take the forwardmost,” Brian said. It was a basic hunter tactic to call their targets, avoiding confusion and making their attacks as efficient as possible.
“I’ll handle the rear,” Cadence responded. That was a traditional archery technique her mother had taught her, aiming for the enemy farthest back so that the ones in front didn’t know their numbers were being reduced. “Meet in the middle.”
The wait seemed to stretch interminably. Cadence was sure it was less than a minute, but it felt closer to an hour as she stood, arrow nocked, ready to fire. Finally, a few shapes rounded the side of the farm house, ambling across the field in a weird, clumsy-looking run. Cadence was sure that not too long ago, she wouldn’t have been able to see the goblins from so far away, but the awareness boon from her gift of the wanderer let her pick out the details of the monsters.
She almost wished she couldn’t. They were terrible, unnatural beings, the product of magic–the miasma Storyteller had mentioned, Cadence guessed–warping the animals that had once lived on the farm. The front two looked like they had once been dogs, now warped to stand on two legs, their muscles and bones looking like they had been clumsily resculpted to force them to stand upright, resulting in the odd, unbalanced lope they now used to cross the field. They were even shorter than Cadence, the transformation clearly not adding any mass to their bodies, and their arms were too long, boasting rotten yellow claws that looked dangerous enough despite their size.
Bringing up the rear was what must’ve been a goat previously. It was similarly mutated, though it was stouter, and still covered with the same shaggy fur. Its arms looked almost underdeveloped compared to the powerful hindlegs that propelled it forward in an odd rolling stride. The obvious threat was clearly its two curling horns, which were far thicker and heavier than any simple goat’s should be, forcing its head to stay bowed. Once it had a straight runway, Cadence assumed it would set off in a charge, using those horns to bludgeon its enemies–in this case, Brian–to a gruesome end.
As planned, Brian had immediately sprung forward while Cadence looked over the enemies. The enhancement from his gift of grace propelled him across the clear lawn between the hunters’ hiding spot and the approaching abominations. His conjured spear flicked out as he did, and his dash ended in a perfectly poised lunge, sending the full force of his momentum and the full weight of his body forward, concentrated into the point of his spear. His Mobile Strike ability only further enhanced the attack, and whatever magic had turned the dog he struck into a barely humanoid monster was not sufficient to dull the force of the attack.
The tip of Brian’s spear plunged in under the monster’s ribs at a slight angle, and emerged in the area between its shoulder blades amidst a gout of blood. The slavering dog-goblin gave a breathy whining noise that hurt Cadence’s ears, but though it briefly struggled, it only sank a few more inches along the spear’s haft before it sagged in place, dead.
“Cadence!” Ryme hissed, and she blinked in surprise. For all of her training, this was still Cadence’s first true fight, and the sudden, startling violence of it had stunned her for a moment. The same attack Cadence had mentally compared to playing tag had just instantly and gruesomely killed one of the warped monsters–but there were still two more enemies to go.
This was no game. If she failed, people would die. She could die.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Brian had braced his foot against the dead dog-goblin, trying to kick it off his spear so that he could face the second canine monster, but that still left the larger and more dangerous looking goat-goblin, who was bracing itself to charge. If it could gain any momentum, it could likely kill Brian by itself, and even if it failed to do so, the interruption would no doubt give the dog-goblin the chance to savage him. Cadence’s brief affair with Brian had ended in disappointment for both of them–but the image of him dead at the hand of these two unnatural creatures sent a silvery bolt of alarm through Cadence’s spine and finally galvanized her into action.
All of the training she had undertaken since she received her gift finally kicked in. Cadence raised her bow, pulled the string taut, and hesitated a bare moment to sight on the monster. She exhaled, and with the breath went her arrow. Enhanced by the power of the ability she had copied from her mother, the arrow multiplied in mid air, and three arrows shot towards the goat-goblin. One sailed wide, another shattered when it hit the monster’s curling horns, but the third landed cleanly, sinking a couple inches past its tip into the thick fur of its upper arm.
The monster reared back, seeming more surprised than pained, and looked around in a frenzy, making discomforting bleating noises. That only made it easier when Cadence sent her second arrow flying, again enhanced by Instant Volley. This time only one arrow was ineffective, flying past on one side, while the other two stuck in the monster’s gut. The high-pitched bray it made was clearly pained, but the monster had just as clearly seen where the arrows came from. It lowered its head, and began barreling towards the trees where Cadence and the others were hidden, as swift as she had feared.
Cadence reached for a third arrow, but fumbled it, cursing to herself as it fell to the ground.
Ryme’s curse was louder. “Smith! Take it!”
“No!” Cadence said, frustrated. Not waiting for a response, she threw down her bow and hopped out of the bushes, directly in the path of the charging goat-goblin. She spread her legs and crouched slightly, setting her weight between them. She thought of when she had watched her mother fight Denning. Ryme was stronger than the brawler, but also significantly smaller. She had claimed that managing her center of gravity was key in fights like that, as her strength didn’t make the small woman any larger or heavier. Cadence blew out a breath as she braced herself, mimicking her mother’s stance from that fight and spreading her arms like a wrestler. Then, the moment before the goat-goblin struck her, she used her Soul Surge.
[Soul Surge] activated
Strength attribute boosted
Each of her hands caught one of the stout monster’s horns–and she stopped its charge flat. Instantly, the monster’s forward momentum stopped, her own feet sank into the soft soil underneath her feet, and a burning snap turned her right arm into a firestorm of pain. Cadence screamed–but her Soul Surge was still enhancing her, giving her strength on par with a large man. It was more than sufficient to throw the surprised, now off-balance goblin back a step, even if her body wasn’t strong enough to ignore the damage from the attack. That gave her enough room for her good arm to reach for the hatchet riding at her side and, in a motion she had practiced half a thousand times in the past weeks, she drew the blade in a wicked slash that cut the goat-goblin’s furry throat wide open in a fountain of gore.
Cadence stood up straight, wobbling slightly for a moment, and looked down at the monster. The first thing she had ever killed in combat. Then the searing pain of her arm and the disgust at the shower of blood that soaked her upper body hit her. The metallic tang of the warped animal’s blood lit up her nose and tongue, and she had to blink the sticky viscera out of her eyes. Cadence fell forward on hands and knees to vomit, and the moment her weight settled on her right arm, the pain seemed to shoot through her entire body. Pain was the last thing she felt before she blacked out.
#
Cadence woke up, sputtering, to the shock of a cold splash of water slapping her in the face.
The girl yelped and sat up straight, flailing her arms about until she managed to wipe her eyes clear. Ryme stood over her with an arched eyebrow, a tiny smirk, and a dripping, overturned bucket. “Nap time’s over, Cadie.”
Cadence glared up at her mom, and wiped off her face again as more water dripped out of her blue hair. It was only when she examined her pink-stained fingers that she remembered the fight, and how she had passed out. And the fact that the very arm she was using to wipe off her face should have been screaming in pain.
“What happened? How long was I out?” she asked, climbing to her feet. As she did, she took a catalog of her body, and realized that not only was she no longer hurt, she didn’t even feel drained by the pair of special attacks and the Soul Surge she had used. “Did Storyteller use one of those weird potions on me again?”
“Next time I can just leave you to fix your broken arm on your own!” the lanky man called from several feet away, where he was surveying the visible farm land.
“It was only a few minutes,” Ryme explained wryly. Her smile dropped away as she continued, “That was a bad decision, Cadie. Strength without resilience isn’t much good for catching an attack like that.”
Cadence frowned to herself. “I know, I just…” she sighed and admitted, “I didn’t think about it. It just made sense that I could stop it.”
“Everything has a cost, Cadence. Most gift abilities have some sort of balancing element to them. Your Soul Surge might be strong, but it still only affects one attribute. It doesn’t give you a comprehensive boost.”
“For now…” Cadence muttered to herself, remembering the way Storyteller had fought the ogre. He hadn’t been limited to just one boost then, she knew.
Ryme followed her gaze to Storyteller, and she shook her head. “Same gift or not, you can’t compare yourself to him, Cadie,” she admonished her daughter. “It’ll be years, decades even, before you hit Expert, and I’m fairly certain he’s beyond even that level.”
Cadence shook her head in frustration. She felt her face twisting into a pout, and tried to will the expression away. Judging by her mother’s face, she had only moderate success. Trying to change the subject, Cadence tilted her chin towards where Brian, Smith, and Markey were examining the defeated dog-goblins. “Did he manage to take them down by himself?” she asked.
“Barely,” Ryme told her with an eye roll. “He relies on his spear too much, and he took a nasty cut when the monster got inside his guard. Ellie’s potions proved enough for him, at least.”
Cadence didn’t manage to hide her grimace at the mention of the girl. Ellie was Brian’s age, and was everything Cadence wasn’t. She was tall, curvy, calm, polite. Storyteller had helped her gain the gift of alchemy to go with the gift of the herbalist she had for a couple years, and Ellie was now building a reputation as a healer, something the town had desperately needed.
Cadence was also fairly sure that she had started seeing Brian since they had broken things off.
Ryme noticed her daughter’s reaction, but decided against commenting on it. Instead, she walked forward, giving the order for everyone to gather.
“Right. What else do we have to deal with then?” she asked the collected group.
“There’s movement in the fields,” Denning told her. “Couldn’t tell what but I’d bet my hat some kind of bramble-spawn manifested out there.”
“You’re not wearing a hat,” Cadence pointed out, earning a grin from the older hunter.
“He’s probably right,” Storyteller acknowledged. “I’m sensing more goblins out past the house, and there’s a potential for warbeasts too.”
Ryme cursed. “What about the Beltleys?” she asked. The Beltleys were the family who owned the farm and, along with a few hired laborers, worked the fields and cared for the animals.
“No sign of them,” Smith said, Markey nodding in time with his words
“I have some ideas…” Storyteller said absently. “But I’ll need time to investigate.”
Ryme nodded. “Right. Can we expect any of the farm animals caught by this miasma would be affected like those… things?”
“It depends,” Storyteller said. “The smaller ones, basically anything that masses less than the average person, will get turned into a goblin like those. Without reinforcement, they’re textbook minor monsters, dangerous in their own way but stupid and relatively frail. The bigger ones will be turned into warbeasts–even less intelligent, but significantly more deadly, lesser rank at least.”
“Denning.” Ryme asked. “Do you know what animals they kept in the barnyard?”
The big man most often led the patrols through the farms, and he nodded thoughtfully to the question. “A few pigs. A hen house with a rooster. Couple cows, two old plow donkeys.” He paused, then added, with a meaningful look to the corpses of the first three goblins, “Two dogs and a goat.”
“So as many as a dozen or so remaining enemies, maybe more.”
Storyteller raised a hand to get Ryme’s attention. “Would you mind a suggestion, Mistress Ryme?” Cadence’s mother shook her head, and he continued, “I’m sensing two clusters of fairly weak goblins, likely the pigs and the chickens Denning described. Of the four remaining monsters, I can only detect two, in the same direction.”
“Those’d be the cows,” Denning suggested. “They’re kept not far from the sty and the hen house.”
Storyteller nodded. “So likely, the donkeys are in the fields, along with an unknown number of bramble-spawn transformed from the crops. I’d suggest that Cadence and Brian may benefit from fighting more of the weaker goblins, particularly if you are observing, Mistress Ryme. Then Denning can lead the others in the fields.”
“And you?” Ryme asked.
“I’ll be trying to find the family that owns this place.”
Ryme narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, and asked, “You have soul sense, don’t you?”
“Correct.”
“Very well. These minor goblins, you think they’d be about as strong as those Brian and Cadence already defeated?”
“The pigs would be. The chickens would likely be even weaker, but more numerous. You’d be unlikely to find better live training for your young people.”
Ryme considered for only a moment before giving her approval. “Very well. Cadie, Brian, you’re with me. Denning, Smith, Markey, be careful. Storyteller… I suspect there’s nothing I can tell you you don’t already know. But good luck, in any case.”