The Land: Founding (Chaos Seeds Book 1) (8 page)

 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 staff, 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, surround by a charnel house of their own
creation. The imagery did not reach them though, 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 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 as a warrior
that had been a 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.

“How much mana do you have left,”
Richter asked.

 “I’ve managed to recover about thirty
five points. Enough to imbue two or three arrows or one very strong strike.”

 Richter absorbed this
information silently. At his current state, his Wisdom had only ten points.
That equated to one mana point regenerated every ten seconds. Sion’s Wisdom had
fifteen points, which would increase mana regeneration but not by much. The
risks of waiting for full regeneration outweighed the benefits though, when
those roving patrols of goblins were factored in. And so the two Companions
made their way forward into what was clearly not a natural formation. Though
the outside looked like roughhewn stone, the inside of the cave, showed tight
fitting blocks comprising a hallway of grey marble. Richter could only imagine
that the opening, having been exposed to the elements, had eroded over time
while deeper into the structure the original architecture had been preserved.

 Their footsteps echoed as they
moved forward. There was a sense of heaviness and age to the place. It was
clear from the lack of trash and offal that not even the goblins had the nerve
to disrespect this place. They listened intently, but heard no signs of life.
The sun had set as they made their way back to the encampment, but it would not
have mattered if was noon on a clear day. Sunlight had never reached the depths
of these passages. Using a torch taken from the goblin encampment, they moved
forward in a small sphere of flickering light, the entire rest of the world
seemingly draped in darkness.

 On they walked for several
hundred yards, steadily going deeper as the floor sloped downward. After a
final turn of the hallway, they walked into a large gallery. The ceiling
reached a hundred feet into the air, and multiple hallways branched out
irregularly from the roughly circular room. All of this was of less importance,
however, than the room’s occupants. They had finally found their quarry. In the
middle of the room, there stood a large goblin with a reddish hue to his green
skin. There was a second slightly taller figure reclining against a large
mound.

 The goblin chief was just over
four feet tall and powerfully built. It wore leather boots and a tunic made of
poorly sewn together animal skins. Over this was a chain mail shirt with a
large rent in the side, most likely created when the chief had killed the
previous owner. A large axe was by its side and buckler hung from its arm. It
leaned heavily upon its weapon, and glared with all of the animosity its
weakened body could afford it.

 Its companion was five feet
tall or would have been if it was not hunched over. It was covered in black
robes. Dark splotches gave a matted look to the rough material in places,
giving that blacker than black appearance that is only imparted by congealed
blood. It had sickly mustard yellow skin and was completely bald. Its face was
more human than the other goblins, but its beady eyes imparted the same
malicious glare as the goblins. The deep wrinkles on its face gave it the
appearance of old age. It held a staff in one hand with a small animal skull
attached to the top and red veins of color glowing up its black length, the
color throbbing at the pace of a measured heartbeat.

 “Hobgoblin,” Sion spat.

 The mage nodded, the same smug
smile on its face not changing. It was the chief who spoke in guttural but
clearly understood common tongue, “Why are you here? Why has a human allied
with this forest rat?”

 “You are in the Forest of
Nadria, filth,” Sion shouted back. “Answer instead why you, a fire goblin from
the mountain tribes has come to sully this ancient place. What is your
purpose?”

 A raspy chuckle came from the
hobgoblin. With a loud breathy whisper, sounding like the crumpling of old
parchment, “Have you forgotten so quickly? Have your people forgotten so easily
the Places of Power that exist in the world? We are here with a glorious
purpose. To reawaken forces and corrupt them. We will cleanse the Forest of —
Urghk
!”

 All Richter was aware of was
blue flicker, and then the hobgoblin’s body was flying backward. Looking to his
right, Sion shrugged, “I decided it was time to fight, not talk.”

 Guess that makes me Eastwood,
Richter thought with a grin, drawing his own arrow and firing at the goblin
chief. The chief blocked with his buckler, clearly not easy prey like the dead
goblins outside the cave. He drew again, confident that the two of them could
overcome the sickened goblin, but then the mound that hobgoblin had leaned
against turned around. Richter was suddenly staring into the bloodshot eyes and
frothed muzzle of a rabid cave bear. You have got to be kidding me! That was
Richter’s repeating thought as he began to launch arrow after arrow at the
bear. His short bow lacked to power to deeply penetrate the bear’s body,
unfortunately.

 Richter dodged to the side as
the bear took a swipe at him with its massive paw. It still caught him in the
side though, and flung him several feet through the air. He landed hard, losing
fifteen percent of his health from a glancing strike! Rolling with the blow, he
regained his feet only to see an axe head swinging at him from the left.
Falling on his backside again, he felt a brush of air on his face as the
passage of the axe passed only a finger length over his head. Dropping his bow,
he drew and threw his dagger in a weak underhanded toss towards the goblin
chief’s face. The buckler again moved to block the strike, knocking the
projectile to the ground.

 The distraction allowed Richter
to regain his feet and draw his short sword. He began to swing his blade with
an untrained, but furious barrage at the goblin chief. He had to hope that Sion
could occupy the bear. The boom he heard from his right followed by a roar of
pain and anger gave him hope for a respite from the animal. As he rained blows
upon his foe, it was clear that the poison had taken a toll. A particularly
heavy blow drove the chief down to one knee. Grabbing the buckler attached the
goblin’s right forearm, he pulled the chief forward off balance. The goblin
fell to an awkward stance on all fours, one shoulder higher as it braced the
buckler against the ground.

 The goblin chief’s prone
position offered Richter the opportunity he needed. With his stamina lowered to
30%, he reversed his grip on the short sword and drove the blade down through
the goblin’s back. The two feet of blade penetrated the chainmail covering him
and sank until only a few inches remained free. The red goblin shuddered and
then died.

 Turning to his right, Richter
saw Sion running from the bear. The sprite was quickly losing ground. Scooping
up the axe he threw it with all of his strength! The weapon was strangely
unwieldy though, and only struck a glancing blow. It did pull the bear’s
attention though, and it turned to lumber toward its latest aggressor. As it
hobbled its way toward him, it was clear that it had suffered damage, but also
was more than hale enough to still be able to cause him serious injury. Placing
his foot on the body of the chief, he attempted to pull his sword out of its
body. The sword was stuck fast in the body!

 At his current rate of
exhaustion Richter could barely muster the strength to continue. An arrow from
Sion struck the bear in its hamstring causing its leg to collapse. Richter
sighed in relief, the bear was only a few feet away when it dropped. Richter
drew his battered knife and prepared for a last stand as it continued to crawl
towards him. That was when he saw Sion lightly jump on its back and run swiftly
towards its neck. With a sharp jab, the sprite plunged his sword into the crook
of the bears neck and front leg. When the sword came out, there was a bright red
spout of arterial spray. As its lifeblood spilled on the floor, the bear made a
pitiful mewling noise and then finally collapsed.

 Feeling exhausted, Sion looked
to the up just in time to see a dark bolt of energy surging from the magician’s
staff. The only cover available was the bear’s body. Sion fell to place the
animal’s body between him and the hobgoblin. There was no great blast of force
like with the imbued arrows. Instead dark tendrils of magic crawled over the
bear’s body liquefying the flesh and causing large gobbets of meat to slough
off. Richter picked up his bow again, and shot an arrow at the mage. The
results were less than impressive. The arrow it bounced off an invisible
barrier surrounding the black clad figure. The red light on the mage’s staff
began to throb faster and with more intense red color, looking like lava seen
through basalt.

 There could not be much time
until the mage released whatever horrible spell he was building up to. Basic
rule of thumb was that the longer a spell took to cast, the more powerful the
result. This would most likely be no different. With no time to lose, Richter
knocked another arrow, giving his complete focus on
Imbuing
it with his mana. After only a moment it glowed golden. He released, and this
time the arrow maintained its shine as it streaked toward the mage. It too
struck an invisible barrier but the extra force added caused the hobgoblin to
stagger. Once it lost focus on the spell it was building, the light gathering
at the staff’s tip died. A second and possibly more important consequence, was
the hobgoblin grabbed its head in both hands and shouted out in pain. The
backlash from the interrupted spell must have been horrible based on its cries.

 Knocking another arrow on the
string Richter once again focused his magic in the arrow, pouring more energy
than before. For one, then two heart beats, he held his bow at full extension
as the golden glow brightened and black streamers seemed to cross over the
golden shell, then he released. The resultant boom deafened both he and Sion
momentarily. The mage must have lost the ability to maintain its shield with
the backlash. The arrow flew unimpeded and then detonated on target. The chest
of yellow skinned mage caved inward and a red mist appeared in the air. The
staff fell from its outstretched fingers as its body was flung across the room.

 The stench of blood, viscera
and feces filled the room after the fierce fight. The two Companions stood
looking at their vanquished enemies. Having given it their all they both
stumbled towards the center of the room and the body of the slain goblin chief.
Standing there above its body they suddenly heard raised voices and angry cries
coming from the tunnel. It could only mean one thing. A patrol had returned!

 Richter looked to Sion, “Run. I
don’t have much stamina left to resist them, but I will be reborn if I die. You
won’t.”

 Grimly Sion looked back, “The
only known way to the surface is the direction they are coming from. Personally
I have no interest in dying alone in the dark at the claws of some subterranean
monster. I will stand or fall with a friend!” With that he stuck out his arm,
which Richter clasped, each holding the others wrist.

 Sion released his grip and
said, “Now move quickly. We have one chance. Goblins are cowards at heart, and
will always bow to those of greater strength. Take the axe and remove the
chief’s head.”

 Not wasting time asking more
questions, Richter picked up the axe. Again it seemed somehow to want to squirm
out of his grasp, but his control was sufficient for this task. He struck down
at the chief’s neck, severing it in two strokes. Seeing a clear gem by the
chief’s body, he also picked that up and put it in his pouch.

 “Now pick up the head, and
stand by me with the axe at your side.”

 And so the Companions stood,
awaiting the goblins as they noise of their approach grew louder. The sprite
was covered in gore and blood, a large tear in his cheek where the bear had
scored a hit upon him. The human was favoring one leg. The wound from his
skirmish with the scouts had reopened during this latest fight. Richter’s green
armor was
bespeckled
with blood, both red and black.
Despite his exhaustion, he stood tall and held the chief’s head by the hair.
Drippings of blood making a soft
pat
pat
on
the floor beneath it as the head surrendered its remaining fluids. This was the
sight that greeted the goblins that filed into the open space of the cavern.

 Sion said in the common tongue,
“This is our land! We will nourish it with your blood as we did the blood of
your comrades! The Land is always thirsty!”

 Richter followed in the
goblin’s own tongue, “I have taken the head and axe of your leader. I WILL take
your souls as well! This was not enough,” and with that he tossed the chief’s
head to lie at their feet. Then shouted “Kill them!”