Chapter Five
Dark Age Year 871
Sixth day of the Eighth month
As they all took up a defensive position around the camp, with the campfire slowly roaring behind them and Jabari’s wagon parked and tied to a massive tree several feet away from their camp, Tharos could sense something beyond the trees and bushes. However, it didn’t feel like people to him; no, this was something else, something inhuman and unfriendly. He sensed their utter hatred and contempt they had for him and his travelling companions. In fact, it was that feeling that alerted Tharos to their presence. Before that, all he sensed and felt while enjoying exotic food and the roaring of the campfire was the pulsing life of the random wildlife. He didn’t know what they were, but he had a few guesses, and whatever they were, there were a lot of them, maybe Twenty to Thirty by his count at least, and they were not friendly, as was most encounters he had out in the woods. Aside from those random trysts he would have during the travels he had during his youth, the feeling of warm white arms and soft and firm bosoms resting on his chest, in the glow of the moonlight while enjoying wines, and other sweet nectars.
To his side, he could see Rayner and Cenric readying their weapons, while Jabari took up position behind all three of them, grabbing his hand crossbow from underneath his robes in his left hand, with his right hand gripping the hilt of his short sword scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. Cenric was right next to him, their shields interlocked, while Rayner was behind them, his great axe drawn, his head swaying back and forth, his nose twitching, and his face tensed up in a wolfish expression. “Come to Rayner, come,” he shouted and thundered into the darkness, his voice echoing like the beating of war drums, as Rayner shouted out his challenge for all those who stood before him to taste his axe. Cenric turned to him. “What are we fighting this time?”
“Don’t know, but there are about Twenty to Thirty of them. We are outnumbered.”
“So the usual then,” Cenric replied. As he spoke, several arrows were released from the treeline on Tharos right, aiming for the gap in the group’s defence where Jabari stood in the Center. Seeing this, Tharos quickly positioned himself in front of Jabari, his shield and armour deflecting the arrows, with some just bouncing off harmlessly. Jabari retaliated with a cross-bolt that flew through the darkness like a shooting star, hitting its target with a loud thunk, followed by an inhuman shriek echoing through the air.
Giving the arrows a quick glance, Tharos could see that they were made from a mix of various bones or wood with iron tips. They appeared rather poorly made, as if they had been looted or crafted by unsophisticated hands. This could only mean one thing to Tharos—goblins. As soon as he realised this, about twenty goblins, along with a chieftain, emerged from the treeline, while the rest remained hidden in the trees, notching and getting ready to shoot another volley of arrows. The goblins were as tall as men, but were skinny and lanky like starving dogs and smelled like them too, with pale gray skin, sharp pointed ears, small mouths filled with sharp needle-like teeth, and bumpy, hook-like noses, with the smallest slits for eyes. They were armed with crudely made or stolen axes and spears. One of them, the tallest among them, carried a nice-looking one-handed sword with a gold-encased hilt and wore a small metal crown on his head. All of them were wearing crude leather or hide armour, except the chieftain who was wearing an ill-fitted chain shirt, who pointed his sword directly at him, almost like it was a challenge, a challenge which Tharos was more than happy to humour.
Oh, a goblin chieftain. I haven’t seen one of those in a while, and I sense no mana in them, so they don’t have a shaman with them. That is good news, Tharos thought to himself as he assessed his new foes. Most goblin tribes and war bands were led by a goblin chief who was often the smartest, strongest, and tallest among his kin, or rarely a goblin shaman. Much like the orcs, those among the goblin race who were blessed with the gifts of sorcery were often more powerful than their non-magic kin, and their power was only matched by their cunning. Another relief to Tharos was that there weren’t any orcs in their number. While the various tribes of goblins and orcs would fight among themselves or each other, it wasn’t uncommon for them to team up against a far greater enemy, such as the human race or the elves and dwarves, whom they held in utter content and hatred.
Not that the feeling wasn’t mutual, the orcs and goblins were the antithesis of Civilization, order, and goodness, embodying all that was chaotic and disorderly. Even the most barbaric of men couldn’t hope to reach the levels of depravity that the goblins and orcs displayed on a regular basis. In fact, it would take a rather rare individual to even come close to the level of vileness and evil that existed in every pore of the goblin and orc race. They were a race that even his people wouldn’t fully eradicate, despite their advances in magic and technology. No matter how many of them they wiped out, more would appear. It was rather odd for the orcs and goblins to be an entirely genderless and asexual race; there were no male or female orcs and goblins to reproduce. They seemed to have sprouted from the earth and would continue to do so until the spring waters that gave them life dried out entirely, but neither Tharos nor his people could find where they were coming from, and the spiral knows they tried. But regardless, Tharos would slyly bring sweet death to these foul creatures that polluted the world, like weeds. The current state of Aria was bad enough without such disgusting things existing.
With a primal scream and pounding his chest, the group of goblins charged at them, axes and spears waving in the air. The goblin chieftain made a beeline for Tharos, and what followed next was a melee of axes, spears, arrows, and crossbow bolts flying through the air, shields blocking the onslaught or harmlessly bouncing off their armour. While his companions were busy slaying goblins left and right, Tharos found himself locked in a sword duel with the chieftain goblin. The goblin was as quick as the wind, and his sword technique was that of a trained warrior. As Tharos went in for an overhead strike, the goblin chieftain countered by trying to throw dirt and grass in Tharos’ face. Hey, that’s my trick, Tharos thought to himself as he raised his shield to block. Using the momentum of his blade swing, he tried to deflect the goblin’s blade to open up an opportunity. However, as he did that, the goblin countered by allowing his blade to be pushed along and using the speed and momentum to spin around. On his return arc, he disarmed Tharos by cutting his shield hand. Tharos dropped his shield in pain as blood started pouring from the stump that was once his hand.
Tharos then retaliated by splashing his own blood into what seemed to be the creature’s eyes. It recoiled as the stump where Tharos’s hand was began to regrow, while his former hand turned to ash on the ground. Gripping his sword with both hands, Tharos initiated his counterattack with a series of rapid strikes aimed at the arms and legs of the goblin chieftain. The goblin managed to dodge, duck, weave, and parry most of them, redirecting one to harmlessly hit his rusting chain shirt. As the two clashed swords, a few more goblins joined the fight, one of them carrying a long spear trusted at Tharos. Narrowly missing Tharos’s head as he jerked to the left. Axes were then swung at him by the other two goblins arming straight for his arms and legs.
Twisting his blade to face the chieftain, Tharos then ducked and spun. He high-jump kicked one of the goblins square in the chest while stabbing the other one through the skull. Finishing his spin, the goblin with the spear attempted another thrust. Tharos grabbed and pulled him in, raising his arms and reversing his grip on the sword. He brought it down like a hammer, spiking the top of his head with green blood gushing out like a geyser. As he pulled his sword out, the last goblin and the goblin chieftain returned and rushed with a series of blows after Tharos had just killed two of them with minimal effort. The last goblin holding the axe rushed in first, and the goblin chieftain was setting up his strike. With a quick flick of his blade, that goblin’s head was severed, now rolling on the floor, painting it green with its blood. Meanwhile, in the same mountain, Tharos once again locked blades with the goblin chieftain, feeling a rush of strength that hit like lightning.
The night was illuminated by the sparks of their blades, and the ringing of steel on steel echoed throughout the air, replacing the sounds of the roaring fire. After another minute, Tharos could see that many of the goblins were dead or dying, and the goblin chieftain, who had numbers on his side, saw his forces dwindling. Recognising this, the goblin chieftain pushed Tharos back, and with an inhuman scream, he and the remaining goblins fled into the bushes past the tree line.
“Cowards!” Rayner shouted at them, his voice booming in the air, as they scattered like rats into the night. Both Rayner and Cenric were covered in spatters of green blood, another reminder of the battle they had fought, but importantly a reminder that one’s life hangs on a knife’s edge. You could be alive and full of life one moment, and the next you could be a puddle of blood, as your corpse lays still on a bed of reeds.
Looking around him, he saw nothing of value, just dead goblins and what passed as armour and weapons for them, worth less than the materials they were made from. As all three of them started to lower their weapons, Tharos heard a clapping noise. It was Jabari.
“I must say, I heard stories of your battle prowess, but to see it first-hand, you are well worth your price in coin,” Jabari remarked. Tharos could almost feel himself blushing, not that you could tell by his dark tanned skin, which was almost shimmering in the moon and firelight.
“I am eager to please,” he said, giving a small mock bow to Jabari, who was now turning his attention toward Rayner and Cenric. “And your companions did well as well. The three of you make a great team.”
“Perhaps we would if the whelp killed more,” Rayner responded.
“Hey, I’m doing my part,” Cedric answered back. However, before Tharos could intervene, he saw Jabari looking into the treeline with widened eyes. It was one of the first real showcases of emotion Tharos had seen on his face. Not that he had to; he could feel the panic in Jabari.
“What is it?” Tharos asked Jabari, as both he, Rayner, and Cedric looked in the same direction. Jabari pointed, and Tharos then saw, to his horror, what Jabari was looking at. The horses and wagon that were carrying the medical supplies they were being paid to transport had just been stolen by a bunch of goblins, right under their noses. It seemed like this job wasn’t going to be as simple as they first thought, but this was nothing that Tharos wasn’t used to. With any luck, they could recover from this turn of fortune. There were one thousand talents of gold on the line, and Tharos was determined to make sure Jabari got his coin’s worth out of him.
