7. MAXTEN'S MIRACLE

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As the goblin crew started trotting in the direction of Bellra, Colb looked back at the dwarven army. They were marching eastward – back to the temporary civilian campsite – with Leader Glazeanvil held high upon their shoulders in a parade of gratitude. A few squadrons trailed at the end of this display, working together to transport their wounded and fallen at a more leisurely pace.

The general mood of the dwarves seemed overwhelmingly upbeat due to their victory, however Colb could not help but feel uneasy seeing the charred remains of the few that had been blasted by chunks of lava during the battle.

“Hmmm, this has gotten little too real for me, yes?” Colb muttered as he trotted in a different direction, with his friends.

“Rrghegh,” Drek replied gruffly, “this is way of survival. Stop thinking like medic and start thinking like soldier. We won.”

“Hmmm, I guess so,” Colb responded, twiddling a wand between his thumbs. The chef goblin looked down at the cool blue object held by his gnarly fingers. It was a leftover Yiklar Wand of Rainfall he’d found on the ground of the battlefield, which seemed worth keeping.

Colb then glanced over at Stibs, who had his new blowgun kit strapped to his belt, and new mirror-like shield strapped to his back. “Do you think we will be fighting more things during this journey, hmmm?” Colb asked the group.

“Hurmph, it’s a long way to Wealth Mountain from Bellra,” Stibs replied, pulling out his Yiklar Map of Finding Location to show Colb. “There could be anything in our way. We need to keep our guards up.”

“Hmmm,” Colb replied solemnly, his voice a bit quieter than usual.

After some more walking, with Drek and Stibs lighting torches to illuminate their hike as the night darkened, the goblin crew eventually came upon a flat, open area.

27 pulled the brown doorknob out from his pocket, to which the other three goblins nodded in immediate silent agreement. And so, while the dwarves likely threw a party in the campsite they’d backtracked to, the goblins silently enjoyed a bag of dead toadroaches together in their Yiklar Folding Cabin, then peacefully succumbed to a little well-deserved rest.

In the morning, Colb awoke to see that Stibs had been awake for some time. The old goblin had gotten up early to forage outside the cabin, and had returned with a bundle of wild rosemushrooms before Colb had even opened his eyes. Once the chef goblin was up, he sautéed the squishy plantfungi in some grapeolive oil from 27’s kitchen cabinet, then served them to the others for breakfast.

As the goblins finished up their meal, they heard the dwarven army marching nearby. “Hurmph, I guess they got an early start,” Stibs mumbled. “Shall we join them?”

27 and Colb exchanged a glance. “MMmMmmmm, I guess we could?” 27 said.

“Hmmm, Leader Glazeanvil figured out we’re responsible for the coralwhale, yes?” Colb informed the team. “Hmmm, but Sunbolt said we should be safe, since we redeemed ourselves with the summer antlizard, yes? Hmmm, even still, I’m not sure we should risk joining them.”

“Rrghegh… let’s trail them in the shadows,” Drek pitched.

“MMmMmmmm, okay,” 27 said. Stibs and Colb nodded in agreement as well. The goblin crew then hopped out of the Yiklar Folding Cabin, safely shrunk it down and stowed it away, then proceeded to trail a quarter mile behind the dwarven parade as it marched to Bellra.

The walk took the entire day, with the dwarven refugees finally reaching the village about an hour before sunset. When the goblins arrived behind them, they observed the refugees listening to a welcome speech, delivered by one of Bellra’s dwarven leaders: a muscular fellow covered in hair that had been dyed bright red. His only visible facial features were his pale, pearly, spherical nose poking out of his mounds of hair, and his hammer-shaped left ear, which he’d shaved around to show off an anvil-like earring.

“HOH, for those of you that haven’t met me, I’M Leader Boldpass of Bellra,” the dwarf announced. Leader Boldpass spoke with vigor, putting particular emphasis on certain words without a clear reason as to why – a style of dwarven dialect, Colb supposed. “WE welcome you, to Bellra, brothers and sisters!” Leader Boldpass was standing on an exceptionally tall stone, speaking out to the mass before him. Around the stone, eleven other dwarves stood silently, all wearing matching sets of brilliant armor. Colb recognized the six leaders of Dalrek amongst them – including Leader Glazeanvil – and presumed the other five to be leaders of Bellra, same as Leader Boldpass.

The four goblins slid behind an old wooden cart near the refugees, deciding it best to keep a low profile for the time being. While Stibs pulled out his Yiklar Map of Finding Location and discussed next moves with 27, Colb continued listening to the bellowing voice of Leader Boldpass.

“OUR scouts informed us of what’s happened in Dalrek, and so WE’VE dug spare sleeping holes to account for your presence,” Leader Boldpass announced in Dwarvish. “PLEASE, make yourselves at home, GOOD friends from the east.”

“Rrghegh… what’s that guy babbling on about?” Drek muttered to Colb.

“Hmmm, his speech pattern’s a little strange, but he’s one of Bellra’s leaders, yes?” Colb replied. “He’s welcoming the refugees, yes?”

“Rrghegh… he should be welcoming us. We almost died slaying summer antlizard, and we didn’t get anything in return.”

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“Hmmm, we received forgiveness for destroying Dalrek, yes?” Colb said. “I know we’re laying low, but in theory, all is forgiven, yes?”

“Rrghegh… fine, we’ll count that as reward from Dalrek, but Bellra still owes us too. Having that path available is probably just as good for them as it is for Dalrek,” Drek spat. The young goblin seemed grumpy after walking all day. “We should ask that leader with the red hair for some goldatinum!”

“Hmmm, I think we shouldn’t push our luck, yes?” Colb replied. “I think we should just grab the special spear we came for, then leave for Wealth Mountain, yes?”

“Hurmph, easier said than done,” Stibs threw in. Colb and Drek looked over at the old goblin, who presented his Yiklar Map of Finding Location to them. “First of all, it’s getting late, so we should rest now and figure out the spear thing tomorrow morning,” he grumbled. “Second of all, Wealth Mountain is here.” He pointed to the top-right corner of the map. “…and we are here,” he continued, pointing to Bellra in the bottom-left portion of the map. “There’s a lot of water between us and Wealth Mountain, which is something we’ll have to deal with.”

“MMmMmmmm, and I am not getting another boat that was made in an hour, no I am not,” 27 added immediately.

“Rrghegh… so let’s demand free boat from red-haired dwarf leader,” Drek pitched. “Reward for fighting summer antlizard. For helping Bellra by clearing trade route.”

“Hurmph, that’s not a bad idea,” Stibs replied. “I’d rather just get some supplies and make a boat, but if we have to keep the whole team comfortable…” he glanced at 27, “…then I could see that working as well.”

Colb shook his head in disagreement, but stopped when he saw 27 nodding at the idea. “Free stuff! Free stuff!” Drek started chanting softly. Colb let out a sigh, acknowledging he’d been outvoted on the matter.

As the dwarves of Dalrek dispersed, settling into their new temporary homes, the goblin crew popped their heads out from behind the wooden cart. Like Dalrek, at least 80% of the buildings in this town were built into underground holes. It seemed that all the dwarves liked to sleep underground, and preferred to hold meetings and other business interactions beneath the soil as well. The few above-ground buildings included stone bathhouses, army training grounds, and flat tents under which dwarves appeared to be doing a strange form of yoga.

A little further back, some dwarves were wearing cheaply made armor and battling with foam sticks. A small crowd of dwarves cheered them on from the sidelines. “Rrghegh… what are they doing?” Drek asked, pointing out the odd display.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, yes? I could go listen with my crystal, yes?” Colb pitched.

“Hurmph, let’s stay on task, goblins,” Stibs butt in.

“MMmMmmmm, Stibs,” 27 replied, “it’s okay. How about you and I go scouting for a secure area to set up the Yiklar Folding Cabin, while these two investigate that crowd? We’ll meet back here in an hour to grab Colb and Drek, then turn in for the night at the cabin. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have fresh minds to locate the Yiklar Spear of Irreversible Death and acquire a boat, yes we will.”

The goblins all shrugged in agreement. With that, 27 and Stibs set off to scout for a good place to make camp. “Rrghegh… alright, Colb,” Drek mumbled. “Let’s go – it’s time to eavesdrop.”

The goblin duo carefully made their way over to the odd performance, and hid in a nearby sleeping hole that gave them a good view of the action. Colb’s Amulet of Open Ears radiated with light as he listened to the Dwarvish voices, which sounded higher-pitched – perhaps, younger – than the voices he was used to from the soldiers of Dalrek.

“Have at thee!” a dwarf with silvopper-colored hair yelled, stabbing a foam stick into another dwarf’s parchment armor. Colb translated a play-by-play to Drek as he listened.

“Aaauhg,” the stabbed dwarf replied, the foam rod now getting tangled in his sticky brown beard. “How could you, a lowly servant, defy me, the great tyrant king of the dwarves?”

“I am no servant to you,” the first dwarf replied, as other dwarves started surrounding his opponent. “I am Maxten, and I am a servant to dwarvenkind.” The other dwarves pulled out foam sticks of their own, and pointed them menacingly towards the tyrant king. “Through war, we now end your tyrannical rain. Let the new Dwarven Republic last longer than the Dwarven Kingdom!”

Another dwarf stepped forward from the group. “Look around you as your empire halls, erm- falls, you dirty king. Know that Maxten will become worshiped as the god of war upon his death. Through his miracles, our republic will thrive forever.”

“Rrghegh… Maxen? God of war? Some dwarf was screaming about that during the summer antlizard fight,” Drek mumbled.

“Hmmm, I think this is a historical reenactment of some sort, yes?” Colb noted.

“Nooooooooooo…” the dwarven king cried, as the dwarves surrounding him began to beat him senseless with their foam sticks.

“Thus end the events of the great war, which concluded 2,086 years ago today,” a young, yellow-haired dwarf announced to the nearby hairy crowd that had been watching. She absent-mindedly twirled part of her bright beard in her fingers as she spoke. “Maxten, who eventually became known as our dwarven god of war, still looks over us from beyond the grave. He looks over Bellra, our leaders, and indeed the entirety of the Dwarven Republic.”

The announcer stepped back, and was replaced by a much more nervous-looking dwarf. This dwarf looked down at a sheet of parchment, and started stiffly reading from it. “Maxten’s story tells us that no enemy is too powerful for a dwarf to overcome.” This dwarf’s voice sounded a bit dry, and their performance was a little bland compared to the yellow-haired presenter before them. “However, not every society can surpass overwhelming odds like a dwarven one. Thus, with the perfect Dwarven Republic created, Maxten spent his final 86 years of life assisting other societies that were in need of dwarven might. Even beyond death, he continues to do this: providing a miracle for allies of our good Dwarven Republic once each century.”

Colb and Drek exchanged a glance. “Miracle?” Drek questioned.

“Hmmm, that’s what they said, yes?” Colb replied with a shrug.

The dwarf let out an audible sigh, then stepped back as a third speaker approached the crowd. This dwarf had bright, purple-dyed hair styled in such a way that his head looked like a furry ball covered in spikes. “Almost one thousand years ago, Maxten’s miracle empowered an ancient human to defeat an insanely overgrown autumn giraffeworm that threatened their society. As a result, the Human Empire remains friendly with the Dwarven Republic to this day,” the dwarf announced. “Tomorrow, Maxten’s miracle will strike again: this time, for the benefit of the Goblin Tribes, whose investments into Bellra have done much to improve our way-of-life.”

Drek’s ears rose with intrigue. “The goblins are a people of knowledge,” the announcer continued. “As inventors, they wish to empower a weapon of their own creation with Maxten’s might. Such a gift will allow them to someday overcome an otherwise insurmountable foe – and we give it willingly, as thanks for their many, many gifts to the city of Bellra.”

Hmmm, I see what 27 meant when he said the western side of the Dwarven Republic was more receptive to the Yiklar, Colb thought to himself. These dwarves of Bellra seem to have a much more favorable opinion of goblins than those of Dalrek, yes?

The purple-haired dwarf then stepped back in line with the other two speakers. “Look to the skies tomorrow morning, and be witness to the power of Maxten,” the three dwarves announced in unison.

The dwarven crowd produced a modest applause, as the actors continued to slap the king around with their foam sticks.

“Hmmm, now the crowd is applauding, yes?” Colb translated.

“Rrghegh… that part I could tell for myself,” Drek replied. “That miracle sounded like it might be for us?”

“Hmmm, it did sound like that,” Colb agreed. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, yes?”