Goblin Nation

LESSONS AND LOSS

Skakee took a wide swing at Rockhide, her fist connecting against the side of the old goblin’s face. He staggered from the blow, and she jumped on him before he could regain his balance, legs wrapping around his waist and hands slapping at his shoulders. She opened her mouth wide and bit him on the cheek.

He roared as they tumbled to the ground outside a leaning building, other goblins gathering around and rooting one or the other on.

Sully plunged through the growing crowd in a dozen steps, trying to grab Skakee off Rockhide and ending up getting tangled in their flailing limbs. The hobgoblin went down as the onlookers cheered.

Graytoes pulled away from the mass, shaking her head and cradling Umay close. “Do not watch such silliness,” she told the baby. “Umay should grow up not to fight.”

Several members of the Skinweaver clan brushed by Graytoes, nearly knocking her down.

“Someone hurt?” Sallor paused to ask her.

“Probably,” she answered. “Certainly by now.” Graytoes hurried along as more goblins rushed in to see what the excitement was.

The sounds of construction stopped, and the air was filled with the chattering of goblins and hobgoblins and the occasional sound a fist makes when striking something. The fight had escalated into a brawl beyond Skakee and Rockhide.

Toward the center of the big fight, Sully found himself buried by five members of the Flamegrass clan. They were pummeling and kicking him, and one snarled and bit his leg.

“Sully is wrong!” one of them hollered.

“Sully did it!” another shouted.

“Did what?”

“Where is Sully?”

“At the bottom!” That came in unison from Cari and Keth, who overlooked the fight from their perch high in an oak.

“Hit Jando-Jando!” someone called. “Hit him hard!”

“Bite Nkunda!”

The first whoosh of fire was barely heard above the din. But the second was louder. It was followed by the roar of a furious hobgoblin waving an axe in a circle above his head, the blade catching the breeze and whistling.

“This … will … stop … now!” Direfang dropped the axe to his shoulder, stepping into the midst of the fray.

“Stop it!”

Despite his orders, the fists continued to fly. Flamegrass clan members were fighting each other, as were a few Boarhunters.

Direfang roared again and gestured to Grallik, who complied with another column of fire, so close that it singed the hairs of some of the goblins.

Still, clusters continued to punch and scratch. Direfang passed his axe to Rustymane and grabbed Gnasher by the shoulder. The two hobgoblins waded into the fray and began plucking the combatants apart. Direfang was struck more than once in the process, and Gnasher was kicked so hard in the shin that he reacted violently, hurling the offending goblin over his shoulder and into the nearby leaning home. The wall teetered before falling over, taking the rest of the small structure with it.

“No!” Skakee bellowed. She was hoisted by Direfang off the unconscious Rockhide. From her high vantage point, she saw the remains of the home she and a few clansmen had been building. “No! No! No!”

Direfang shook her hard and brought her down in front of his face. “Stop now!”

“Skakee started it,” Jando-Jando offered over Direfang’s shoulder. “Got mad at Rockhide.”

Several in the crowd agreed Skakee was the instigator. Direfang thrust her under his arm as he moved among the others, continuing to pull apart the rest of the brawlers. Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted at them. “Stop! Now!”

He muttered as he approached two Flamegrass clansmen pulling at each other’s hair. “S’dards, the lot! Time wasted fighting! S’dards!” They stopped as he loomed over them.

Gradually everyone quieted. Some of the goblins returned to their home-building work, and others who had been in the brawl wandered away to avoid Direfang’s ire. Four were so battered, they had to be carried off by their clansmen. But a large crowd still remained clustered around the hobgoblin leader.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he’d just run a great distance. Red lines showed in the whites of his eyes, and his brow knitted in consternation.

“Wizard!” The hobgoblin gestured with his head, and Grallik edged through the mass. Direfang’s hands were full-two goblins clutched by the scruff of their necks in his right hand, and a young Boarhunter held in his left. Skakee struggled under his arm, but he squeezed her hard and she stopped.

“I’ve no spell to make them get along,” Grallik told the hobgoblin. Then more softly, he added, “However, I can burn whichever ones you decide to kill.”

Direfang remembered his time at the Dark Knight mining camp when the priests would use their divine magic to stop fights in the slave pens, coerce the goblins into working harder and longer, and quiet pockets of rebellion.

“Horace …” Direfang said, his voice a low growl.

“Yes, he could have managed to bend their wills,” Grallik finished. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have let him go on Schallsea Island.”

Direfang released the Boarhunter clansman, who scampered away, kicking dust up in his wake. After another moment, he released the pair he’d been holding in his right hand. They stood at his feet, looking up at him repentantly. When he raised the edge of his lip in a snarl, they bolted, nearly knocking Grallik over in the process. Direfang jostled Skakee around, putting his hands under her armpits and lifting her up to stare into her wide, leathery face. She showed no fear. Instead, she looked angry.

“Rockhide will be fine.” That came from Rustymane, behind Direfang, who pointed to the old goblin sitting dazedly nearby. Rockhide seemed only half awake. “That pale healer woman …”

“Qel,” Grallik provided.

“Qel will mend Rockhide.” Rustymane scooped him up and lumbered off toward where goblins had been building the healer and the gnoll a small house.

“Qel should not have to mend Rockhide,” Direfang complained after Rustymane and his charge were well out of earshot. “Rockhide is old, Skakee. What is the matter with you? What could the old one have done to prompt this fight?”

The lines on her forehead grew more pronounced, her stubbornness deepening. “Should have hurt Rockhide worse,” she spit. “Should have …” She raised a little fist and shook it in the old goblin’s direction.

“What did Rockhide do?” Direfang repeated.

The crowd of goblins had been quiet, but a giggle erupted from a Flamegrass clansman near the front. Direfang shot him a fierce look, and he instantly quieted.

“Skakee, what did …”

She gestured toward what was left of the home that she and a few of her fellows had been building. “Rockhide did that.” She stared at the collapsed walls.

“That fell during the fight, Skakee. Rockhide had nothing to do with-”

One of the goblins in the front made a feigned coughing sound to get Direfang’s attention. “Uh, Rockhide leaned against Skakee’s home,” he said.

“The wall leaned a little with Rockhide,” another interjected.

Direfang felt his stomach start to churn.

“Should have hit Rockhide much, much harder.” Skakee balled her fists and shook them in the direction of Qel’s home site. “Hope Qel cannot help Rockhide. Hope Rockhide-”

Direfang sat her down. “Rockhide did nothing bad on purpose, Skakee.”

“Made the wall lean. And that made the house fall in. Rockhide’s fault. Should have hit Rockhide-”

“Leave, Skakee.”

She swallowed hard and stared at him. “Leave? Leave what? Leave what is left of this house? Nothing is left of this house. All the work and-”

“No! Leave this city, Skakee.”

From deeper in the crowd came a few gasps of surprise. Even Grallik raised an eyebrow. All eyes were on Direfang, and the sensation felt uncomfortable, like insects wandering aimlessly across his scarred hide. A part of him regretted his ruling already, wishing he’d not said anything so harsh and instead had simply scolded her. A part of him was secretly glad.

Direfang squared his shoulders and stared down at Skakee. One of the smaller goblins, she didn’t even come up to his waist. “It is time for Skakee to leave this city. There is no place for such a goblin that fights with old ones over an accident. If the house had been built better, the wall would not have leaned. The fault is not with Rockhide. The fault is with Skakee for starting a fight. The wall could have been repaired.”

She sucked in her lower lip and shook her head, disbelief etching her features. “Sorry, Direfang. Should have thought. Should not have hit Rockhide. Should apologize and-”

“Should leave now,” he said, each word hard and distinct.

“But-”

He growled from deep in his throat, and a line of drool edged over his lip and spilled onto his chest. He bent over and stabbed a finger into her chest, toppling her.

“Now, while Skakee still breathes.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She sucked in a great gulp of air at the threat to her life and scrambled backward, kicking up dust and bumping into the legs of her fellows. She got to her feet and shook her head again.

“So sorry,” she tried. “So very, very-”

Direfang took a step closer and closed his right hand into a fist, the skin paling around his knuckles.

She broke into a sob and whirled, pushing through the goblins behind her, little feet thudding against the dry ground and sending up puffs of dirt.

Goblins started arguing, some pointing at Skakee, others at Direfang.

“There could be another fight, Foreman,” Grallik said, padding up to the hobgoblin’s shoulder.

“What did the wizard say?” That came from Rustymane, who understood very few words of the common tongue.

“Quiet!” Direfang bellowed.

The arguing grew louder, and Direfang gestured to Grallik. The wizard nodded, sending a stroke of fire down behind the assembly. The scent of burned earth filled their nostrils.

“Skakee did wrong,” Direfang said loudly. His throat ached from the effort; he felt weary. He heard a rustle in the branches overhead and looked up. A few dozen goblins were hanging on thick limbs, listening and watching from a safe distance. “Skakee was punished. Simple.”

“Direfang had no right,” one of her clansmen risked speaking up. “Direfang cannot-”

“Cannot keep order?” the hobgoblin asked. He took a step toward the bold goblin and bent low to stare him in the face. “Someone must keep order, Grimstone, or chaos will rule this city.”

Several goblins agreed with Direfang, nodding vigorously and whispering that Skakee was indeed wrong to hurt such an old, clumsy goblin.

One of the Skinweavers pointed to a shrunken head dangling at his side. “Better to fight elves than goblins,” he said loudly for all to hear. “Better to collect elf heads.”

“Grimstone is wrong,” a hobgoblin named Gralin said. “Direfang is right.”

Grimstone held up his right arm and slapped his elbow with his left hand. It was an obscene gesture that riled up the goblins near him.

“This clan did not want to have a city at all,” a Fishgatherer said. “Not yet. No buildings yet. Wanted to explore first. This is a very big forest; this spot might not be the best.”

One of his clansmen pushed him. “The river is good here. This is a fine, fine spot.”

Arguments swirled, with some goblins agreeing there might be a better location for a city, one clan suggesting the mountains far to the east would be a good place for the goblins to live in caves. Another said caves would remind him of the Dark Knight mines, and he could not live or eat there.

Direfang’s stomach churned more violently, and he felt bile on his tongue, listening to all the endless chatter.

“Underground is for goblins,” a youngling suggested in a low voice. “Should not build homes. Should dig them. Father said Direfang is silly. Goblins belong in the earth where it is dark and comfortable and where the rain does not reach.”

A Boarhunter recommended all building stop and the army press south … then north again, forever wandering in search of better game and taking whatever they needed from the land.

Direfang guessed there were nearly two thousand goblins in the vicinity, most of them trying to utter an opinion, a few shouting they were hungry, voices rising angrily. His mind drifted away from the confrontation with Skakee and Grimstone. Again he thought about finding a way to feed all of them.

Grimstone repeated the obscene gesture and spit at Direfang again. “No right. In the mines Direfang was a foreman. Here Direfang has no-”

“Order!” Direfang hollered. Whispers continued, like the drone of a swarm of insects. “Order! Grimstone can follow Skakee.” Direfang rose to his full height and set his fists against his hips.

“Direfang is wrong.” Grimstone puffed out his chest. One of the taller goblins, at well more than three feet, he was also one of the stockiest, with a belly that spilled over a leather belt. “Direfang cannot say which goblins stay and which goblins go. This is a city for goblins, not a city for Direfang.”

“This is not a city for chaos.” Direfang lowered his voice solemnly, the murmurs in the crowd fading so they could hear him.

Grimstone used the obscene gesture again and again, directing it at only Direfang. “This is not Direfang’s city.” He insisted, waggling his fingers in the direction of Qel’s home. “This is not a city for a human or a …”-he searched for the word-“gnoll. Not a city for a Dark Knight wizard.” He pumped his fist in the air. “This is a city only for goblins. Direfang should leave. Skakee should come back.”

The thought teased the hobgoblin’s mind-leaving. It would be the easy thing to do. His stomach wouldn’t churn, and he could live without the constant chattering and squabbling of this or that clan. They could well build the city without him.

“Direfang must leave,” Grimstone continued, adopting a haughty pose.

Direfang recalled that the same pudgy goblin had caused a stir on a few occasions in the slave pens. Then, too, he had tried to pit one group of goblins against the other. An instigator, Grimstone was. Direfang stared at the instigator.

“Direfang must follow Skakee and never come back. This is not Direfang’s city.” Grimstone waved his arms, trying to get the goblins near him to agree.

Rustymane passed by Direfang and strode right up to Grimstone. The hobgoblin had a grin splayed wide on his face.

“It is not Grimstone’s city either,” Rustymane said. “I agree with Direfang. Time for Grimstone to follow Skakee.”

“Yeah, time for Grimstone to leave.” That came from Sully, who held Direfang’s axe over his shoulder. “Past time.”

“Past time!” hollered Keth from up in the oak tree. “Well past time!”

“Past time!” became a chant that swelled, drowning out all other sounds as more goblins came to investigate.

Grimstone’s face fell as the tide turned against him.

Flamegrass clan members grabbed at the large goblin, who managed to wrestle himself away from the first bunch. But more came at him, accompanied by Boarhunters and Rustymane. They jostled and pushed until Grimstone was overcome by the throng. Then they pushed him south toward the bluff and the river.

“Leave, Grimstone,” Rustymane said, grinning. “Find Skakee and start a city for two.”

Grallik stood just behind Direfang and tipped his chin up to speak into the hobgoblin’s ear. “In your effort to avoid chaos, Foreman, you could well have helped to nurture it. From here on, your goblins might decide on a whim to oust this or that troublesome character with little provocation.”

“Then hope that the goblins do not want to oust a wizard,” Direfang said grimly, flashing a look at the human. He retrieved his axe from Sully and headed north to cut down a tree.