Orvago used the narrow end of the cudgel to pry open one of the links on Horace’s arm chains next to a wrist manacle. The Ergothian explained how he had been taken prisoner on Schallsea Island and brought there. Orvago worked on the other wrist.
“And they let you get away now? After all their trouble?” the gnoll asked warily. “That does not sound like diligent Dark Knights. It sounds like sloppy ones.”
“Sloppy now maybe, but only because of the foreman.” Horace brought his hands up to his face, wiping off sweat. Direfang studied him. Horace looked changed, defeated. The skin hung on his arms, as if he’d been starved, and his face had developed jowls. His eyes were sunken. There were marks on his shoulders, as if he’d been beaten. Direfang knew well the signs of torture.
“You threw them into disarray,” Horace said. He shuffled over to Neph, the chains around his ankles limiting his movements. “They certainly weren’t paying any attention to me in all the confusion. My usefulness to them was over anyway.” He gently worked the bandages away from the goblin’s chest. “I well know they were going to kill me after the battle. A traitor to them, I am.”
“The Dark Knights will come back here,” Direfang said. “You are not saved yet.”
“Aye, Foreman. Not this night, however. They’ve wounds to lick and plans to make. And they know your kind sees well in the darkness. They won’t cede another advantage to you. But they will come back, I agree. Early in the morning is my guess.”
Horace’s hand glowed orange. “Zebir Jotun, Zura the Maelstrom,” he began. “Zeboim, who I revere above all else.” His fingers brightened as he touched them to the gaping wound in the goblin’s chest. “By the silvery hair of the precious Sea Mother, heal Neph and keep him safe.” Softer, he added, “Keep us all safe.”
Horace went from one goblin to the next, working hard to heal and pray, until he collapsed near the last one he tended.
Direfang had been gathering the clan leaders and discussing the options for the coming showdown with the knights. “Little more can be done to make this place more defensible,” he explained. “No more tracks, and no time for tricks. The Dark Knights’ magic would see through all of that this time.”
He instructed them to bring everyone together; then he returned to check on Horace.
The hobgoblin did not care for humans, and he detested Dark Knights. Like Mudwort-still missing-he hated Dark Knights above all for enslaving him years past. But he had grown familiar with Horace and was glad the Ergothian had returned to heal the wounded.
The four goblins the Ergothian had assisted were resting well, and Orvago had pronounced that all of them would live.
“Aye, they will at least live through the night now,” Grallik said. The wizard had spent the better part of an hour questioning Direfang’s prisoners. “But more goblins will die when the Dark Knights return. Without Mudwort, our magic is limited.”
Direfang grunted. “Did the knights say anything useful?” He pointed with the axe to where the humans remained tied up.
“Less than what Horace has been able to report. There were nine hundred knights, led by Commander Bera Kata.”
“Less knights now. Killed some.”
“Which will make Bera angrier, Foreman. She is a fanatic, a decorated soldier. Her men are loyal, and she is a clever strategist. She can’t be faulted for her loss here; like her peers, she underestimated goblinkind. But she will not underestimate you again.” Grallik watched Horace twitch in his troubled sleep. “They have a sorcerer with them who practices the darkest arts. Horace said Isaam can speak with the dead. I’ve heard of the man. His magic is likely more potent than mine.”
“Speaks with the dead? Then Isaam soon will have a lot of knights to speak with,” Direfang said brusquely. Behind him the ground was covered with goblins, all their colors mingling in the growing shadows. Twilight was claiming the sky.
“The Gray Robe agrees, the Dark Knights will come back.” The hobgoblin spit at the ground and raised his new axe. The blade gleamed despite the darkness. “The Dark Knights would come in the morning, he predicts. But goblins will not wait for the Dark Knights. This ends here, Grallik, Orvago. And this ends tonight.”
Direfang turned and walked through the army, marching away from his ruined city and toward where the knights had fled. The goblins fell into step behind him, first a few, slowly, then more quickly and in greater numbers, forming ranks as straight as any Dark Knight formation.
“Foreman Direfang intends to take the fight to the Dark Knights,” Orvago observed, turning to follow.
Grallik nodded. “Foreman Direfang has a death wish.”
BERA’S GRIEF
We go at them come first light,” Bera was saying. She walked in a tight circle in front of Isaam and Doleman, striking her fist against the palm of her hand, her eyes boring into theirs. Her thoughts whirled; she did not try to hide her haggard, harried expression. She’d let her men march into a trap.
And she’d let Zocci die.
They’d cut off his head-a big, ugly hobgoblin had done that. And then the murderer had taken Zocci’s ancestral axe, taken his life.
Her throat was tight and dry; her breath came in ragged bursts. She had rarely given vent to grief because she had never let herself get close to any of her men before. But the grief over Zocci hit her like a hammer. She’d had honest feelings for Zoccinder; she’d never know if they would have had any future together.
By the memory of the Dark Queen, don’t let me cry! She paced faster, thinking, trying hard to push the memories of the lost men out of her mind, striking her fist with renewed fury.
“Rats, they are. Stinking, filthy, a disease festering on this land.” But she couldn’t call them stupid any longer. “Kill them all. We must kill them. Come first light, there will be so much blood, the ground will not be able to drink it all in.”
She abruptly stopped and squatted. Isaam held a lantern over a patch of ground she’d been drawing on. “Here’s the bluff. I don’t think they’ll run far from it. The place is fairly defensible with all the pits they’ve dug, and with their druid who can bring the trees to life, but there must be a way. I wish we knew how competent the druid was, the scope of his magic.”
“I’ve an answer for that, Commander,” Isaam answered. “I’ve a way to neutralize their druid.” The sorcerer touched his finger to the lantern glass, raising his eyes to meet hers.
“I think I well know what you’ve in mind, old friend. Be careful with that sort of magic.” Bera made a mark to show their current position. “They knew better than to follow us here, the stinking rats. With Isaam’s shield keeping them at bay and us having the advantage here, they will stay put. They’ve no traps to rely on here. The advantage is ours away from their wretched camp.”
“But the druid,” Doleman risked asking. “Won’t the druid have every advantage here, where the trees are thick?”
“Apparently you did not hear Isaam.” Bera shook her head and continued to draw in the dirt. “We will come at them here and here and here, forcing them to the edge of the bluff and over. Three positions this time, at first light. Their eyes are best in the darkness, I believe. So we’ll have to wait until our eyes have the edge. Too, Isaam has some important work to do first.”
Word had reached her that the prisoner Horace had escaped during the brief battle. She had fumed then, and she fumed again.
“No provisions now or in the morning for the men who guarded him,” she ordered. “And no one goes looking for him. In his condition he won’t go far. Let some bear eat him.”
“What if he makes it to the goblins?” Doleman was again the only skeptic. “He could tell them our strength.”
She rubbed out a few marks and made some more. “He’s not so stupid, Lieutenant. They’d kill him before they recognized him. And if by chance they didn’t, then we’ll kill him at first sight when we march into goblin town.” She drew lines to indicate the river and made scratches for the pine forest on the other side. “Isaam’s shield-what he used to protect us-will be erected here and will keep the goblins from climbing down the bluff and escaping. We’ll pin them at the edge of the bluff.”