The Land: Founding (Chaos Seeds Book 1)

CHAPTER 8

Sion worked through the night and into the next day, storing his poison in small clay jugs covered in animal hide that he took from his pack. Richter looked doubtfully at the small quantity of poison being produced, but Sion assured him it would be enough. Finishing in late afternoon, the sprite sat back massaging his tired arms. Richter decided it was time to share the last of his plan, “Killing these lesser goblins, is probably not going to change much. We need to kill the Chief, and it seems reasonable to assume his magician may be responsible for the rabid wolves, so he will have to die as well. Those two need to be our goal above anything else.”

“While I was collecting the herbs, I was able to observe their camp. I never saw a red goblin come out, but when they all began eating, a few goblins went inside the cave with bowls of food. All the other goblins ate after that. They were probably bringing food to their chief and his pet magician. We need to get the poison in their retched stew just before they prepare to eat their evening meal to catch as many of them as possible. There will still be the patrols that are out of camp. They won’t be sickened, but we will have a window to act. Now, it is time for you to tell me the last part of your plan. How do we get the poison into the pot?”

“Well,” Richter replied. “Depending on your perspective, this is actually the easiest part. The pot is right below a large tree. That tree grows out of the shelf of stone that the cave is set in. The shelf is well covered with foliage and small shrubbery that leads all the way to edge of the encampment and into the forest.”

Sion nodded, being well familiar with the layout of the camp.

“Now,” Richter said with a barely concealed smile. “When you climb out onto the tree branch…”

An hour later, Sion was still cursing the stupid human, and his own greater stupidity for agreeing to this horrible plan. As much as he wanted to plant an arrow in Richter though, he had not come up with a better plan of how the two of them could kill more than fifty goblins. He moved along the escarpment not ten feet above the grunting goblins, hearing a mixture of common speak and their own guttural tongue. He moved slowly. Despite his justified faith in his concealment skills, one stumble or one loose rock would mean his death. If they were able to subdue him rather than kill him outright… well it did not bear thinking about. Goblins were the racial enemies of the Wood Sprites, and tales of their savagery kept many a sprite child up late into the night.

Keeping one eye on the goblins, and the other on where to find his next hand or foothold, he moved along the rocky shelf until reaching the tree. He climbed up the trunk and then out onto its limbs, grateful for the added cover of the large leaves. He slowly crawled out onto the branch above the stew pot. Looking down, he saw too many eyes looking at the pot in anticipation, and dared not drop the jar of poison at this point. He and Richter had agreed that the return of a patrol would provide the best distraction. Waiting on the tree limb, he attempted to ignore the burn from the fire 20 feet below, and removed the stoppers from both clay pots. As he slowly warmed, he vowed to repay the wretched human for this. He had seen that poorly concealed smile on his stupid, large face!

Luckily, Sion did not need to wait too much longer. There was a clamor to the south of the camp as a group of seven goblins returned blathering loudly about whatever stupid thing they had found on their patrol. Sion never would have thought he would be happy about the inane babbling of goblins, but it worked to distract the rest of the camp for a few seconds! In those moments of misdirection, he dropped the two jars of poison he had prepared. He held his breath during the short fall, praying his aim was true. Success! Both jars dropped into the pot, and quickly sank thanks to the stones he had placed in each jar to increase their weight. Some poison had fallen out upon striking the surface of the soup, but luckily whatever vile ingredients the goblins had found to make their stew left an oily surface. The dark color of the poison he had prepared could not be distinguished in the firelight. He started the slow climb back to the safety of the forest, and began to curse that damn human again!

Sion made his way back to the stand of trees that had been hiding them for the last day with no problems. They waited for another hour, and then cautiously made their way back to the encampment. When they got there, they realized they could have broken every branch they found along the way, and they would not have been detected. The stench of the camp had been increased five-fold. The bowels of every goblin there had been released from both ends, and almost all were on the ground groaning. Richter looked at Sion expecting to see another blood thirsty grin, but all he saw on the Sprite’s face was grim resolve. “I take no joy in slaughter,” Sion said arching his back and rolling his shoulders, “but I will not shy from it either.”

They knocked arrows to their bows and began. It took very little skill to strike the goblins since they were barely moving targets. They had decided not to imbue their first shots for several reasons. One, to keep the encampment from knowing their position as long as possible. Two, neither had enough mana to imbue the amount of arrows that were required. Three, Sion had coated all of their arrows with poison. Neither were sure they even had enough arrows, but thankfully Hisako had given them several dozen each prior to leaving the Hearth Tree. In the night, the arrows were nearly invisible. The whsst sound they made as they cut through the air was not loud enough to attract the attention of the goblins. Not when each of the green creatures were mired in their own personal hell. At near point blank range, their shots struck necks and chests center mass. Apparently the goblins’ sickness and position qualified them as helpless, because it seemed to Richter there were an inordinate amount of critical hits. That coupled with the damage the poison had already done meant one arrow was usually enough to finish each goblin.

They killed ten, then fifteen more before the camp at large became aware of them. Even then the cries of alarm were ignored for a few critical moments, being mistaken for the already existing moans of pain. By the time there was a coordinated counter attack, they had killed more than half of the goblins, leaving between fifteen and twenty scouts and warriors. As the goblins began to move towards the two archers, Richter’s shots grew more erratic, some missing, others hitting limbs but few striking critical points. Sion though, was able strike three more, this time infusing the strikes with mana. The scouts smoking chests made clear that they would not rise again.

The first scout reached Richter, and he smashed it in the face with the end of his bow. Stepping forward to give Sion the time to make a few more precious shots, he raised his knife and slashed at the next goblin. It ducked, sending a vicious swipe of its own knife back at him. His longer reach kept the scout from reaching him with its blade, but several more were right behind it. A second scout moved in to his right and grabbed at his leg, holding tightly. With the decreased mobility, Richter was not able to move out of range of the first and it dove towards him, the blade in its hand outstretched. It managed a shallow cut on his left leg. Hunching over slightly, he drove the pommel of his knife into the head of the goblin holding his right leg causing it to loosen its grip. At the same time he grabbed the other by the shirt and pulling it forward, easily off balance after its lunge; he quickly stabbed down into its neck causing a spurt of blackish blood, then whipped his blade at the goblin holding him. It went down wailing and holding its face. Seeing three more almost upon him, he fell back. Scooping up his bow he turned to run, shouting in the Sprite’s language, “Fade back to the trees, we will thin them there!”

A final blue streak shot right above his head, and elicited a squeal of pain behind him. Sion had been able to kill two others during Richter’s brief knife fight. That left about ten on their feet. Furious expressions were on the goblins’ faces. Running as fast as he could, he saw Sion join him on the right, the Sprite’s legs pumping as quickly as possible. The run was dangerous and the slice of moon above only gave partial definition to obstacles they ran past. They continued on for a couple minutes easily increasing their lead on the sick goblins. Sion had found a clearing, and they had marked it as a retreat point before they began their attack. Once it was in sight, Richter turned his head and shouted, “Go up in the trees. I’ll make a stand on the other side. When they run past you, start firing.”

Nodding, Sion ran for another half minute and then jumped to a low lying branch, scurrying up into the tree with his uncanny swiftness. Turning back, Richter checked his quiver finding only two arrows left. This might be bad, he thought. Taking a deep breath he centered himself looking back in the direction of their pursuit, only a few moments passing before the first of the goblins became visible through the trees. Seeing their quarry again, they screamed in rage, their bloodlust giving them the strength to ignore the sickness from the poison, if only momentarily. Two scouts ran ahead of the others blind in their bloodlust.

Richter watched them approach, waiting for a clear shot, not releasing his first shot until the scout was only twenty yards away. Not wasting time aiming for a critical shot to the head, he targeted its chest. The arrow punched all the way through its chest, knocking it back several feet and it crumpled to the ground. The thing squealed out its last breaths, reminding Richter of the noise his uncle’s horse had made when it broke its leg in a rabbit hole. Pushing aside the horrible sound, he drew and nocked his last arrow. The shot fired at a second scout at point blank range. It caught the arrow in its left chest, and its next breath turned into a bloody cough. Its momentum carried it forward though, the body crashing into him as it shook in its death throes. He shoved the small body to the side and stomped on its neck once. A sharp crack preceded the end of its pitiful cries.

Looking up he saw the remaining five, no six, goblins coming within sight range in the waning light. Unfortunately there appeared to be three goblin warriors in the group. Unstringing his bow, he held the curved four and half feet of wood in one hand with his dagger in the other. Looking at the green skinned devils with black blood dripping down his face, the putrid taste of it having worked its way into his mouth at some point, his nostrils flared as he screamed “Come on then!”

Screaming back with equal rage, they move forward en masse. As soon as they passed the tree that hid Sion, a blue streak shot down and pierced one warrior through the shoulder, the force of the blow tearing the goblin’s arm completely off. It fell to the ground screaming. Spurts of arterial blood escaped into the air as it felt in vain for its missing limb, its grim reality not yet setting in. In as many moments, a second and third arrow struck another soldier in the back and a scout in the head. It did not escape Richter’s notice that the second arrow had barely any concussive force, though it did knock the warrior onto its face. The third arrow, while deadly, had no blue tinge at all. The sprite had finally run out of mana.

Having revealed himself, it was easy for the last warrior to target Sion. It threw its heavy dagger into the tree, and though Richter couldn’t see the impact he heard a cry of pain. The sprite’s body hit the ground with a thud, apparently stunned for a moment as he did not immediately get up. The dagger was sticking out of his shoulder. The warrior pulled an iron headed cudgel from its belt, and moved toward where Sion’s body had fallen. Not willing to let his comrade be executed, Richter started forward swinging his bow in a large arc at the three scouts that were converging on him. The first two ducked of the way, but he clipped the last, sending it spinning to the side.

In quick response, the first scout drove its dagger into the meat of Richter’s thigh, sending a blaze of agony through him. The second goblin swung a club into his chest, but thankfully the smaller creature lacked the strength to overcome the defense of his Chest Plate of the Wood Sprite. Grabbing the arm of the goblin that held the knife, he kept him from withdrawing its blade from his leg. He drove his own bronze dagger into its neck. The weapon was too weak to bite very deep into the neck, but when he withdrew the blade it was clear he had struck a major vessel. More black blood sprayed across his face in a strong jet. A look of profound shock appeared on the dying goblin’s face as it opened and closed its mouth quickly with only blood escaping.

As it fell it released its grip on the dagger, but that didn’t help Richter. The damage was already done. 20% of his health was gone! His leg failed, causing him to collapse to the side. This might have been all that saved him. The third goblin that had been struck by the limb of his bow, and then forgotten in the ensuing melee, had gotten quickly back to its feet. It jumped towards him, but his sudden collapse caused it to miss. Richter and the two scouts landed together in a heap. With a short and strong surge, Richter pushed himself up on top of them plunging his dagger down again and again shouting his defiance, for a few seconds lost in the black haze of their blood, and his own pain and rage. Coming back to himself he remembered his companion and looked stricken in the direction of the goblin warrior expecting to see it holding a cudgel slick with the sprite’s blood and brain matter. He could not have been more wrong.

Sion was on his feet. He and the goblin warrior went back and forth in a deadly dance. The sprite’s thorn like sword darting in and out trying to skewer the goblin as its cudgel swung in strong arcs attempting to crush the smaller fighter. The sprite’s advantage was his speed, but he was clearly pained by the dagger sticking out of his shoulder. The goblin clearly had greater size and strength, but the poison must have slowed it down considerably as its motions seemed somewhat sluggish.

Moving forward to help his fallen comrade, he limped across the clearing as quickly as he could. Before making it halfway though, the fight concluded. Feinting forward, Sion immediately leaned back again. The overhand swing of the goblin’s weapon just missed his head before it struck the ground solidly. In that half second of over extension, Sion again stepped into the goblins guard and almost delicately drove his sword up under its chin and up into its brain. He stared his fallen foe in its eyes for a moment while the light died in its eyes. He then withdrew his sword and stepped back, letting the body slump to the ground. The two Companions looked at each other, surrounded by a charnel house of their own creation. The horrid images did not reach them though, as both were still caught in the embrace of bloodlust and pain. The death and gore registered no more than a second place runner registered to a gold medalist at the end of a race. They were still standing. Breathing heavily through their pain they looked each other in the eye, and Richter verbalized what was on both of their minds, “Let’s finish this.”

Both using Richter’s healing ring once each, it was enough to close their major wounds and stop the bleeding though they both still moved slower than before. They also both consumed Forest Sage, which Sion had confirmed was a basic healing herb. Retrieving what arrows they could, they hastened to get back to the encampment, and then up to cave upon the hill. They had not forgotten time was limited to kill the goblin chief before any patrols made their way back. Though the fight had been intense and painful, it had lasted barely fifteen minutes. If they did not waste time they might still accomplish their goal. Richter picked up a sword dropped by a goblin warrior on the way back to the ruin. Checking it’s stats as he walked he was underwhelmed.

You have received: Crude goblin cutlass. Damage 7-8. Durability 7/12. Item class: Common. Quality: Poor. Weight 4.3 kg

It did supplement his bronze dagger however, which was down to a durability of 4/20. Arriving back at the encampment, they made their way through the bodies, quickly ending the lives of any of the goblins still breathing. There was one tense moment. A warrior that had been feigning injury, turned quickly as they passed and drove a short sword towards Richter’s stomach. He knocked the blade aside with a bracer however as Sion stabbed it through the throat. Looking down, Richter spit upon its dead body, and then picked up the short sword.

You have received: Soldier’s short sword. Damage 10-12. Durability 23/30. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight 1.5 kg

“Thanks asshole,” Richter said with contempt, dropping the inferior cutlass he had taken.

It didn’t take long to reach the mouth of the cave. They both looked at each other wearily. Sion peered directly into his face saying, “We are now brothers in blood. Though I am not immortal like you seem to be, my soul is. If it is my time to rejoin the Universe, then I will do it gladly if it removes this threat to my people.”

Nodding back, Richter said, “It is noble to die for your people, but I say, let’s make these bastards die for theirs!”

A grin on his face, showing blood streaked teeth, Sion smiled back crazily. With that, they entered the darkness.