Rico hung his head as Luther tended Randall’s wounds. There was little doubt that his friend was dead. He’d found the wolf as a pup and raised him by hand. Now he was gone, and Rico felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.
“We need to keep moving,” Wesh said quietly, placing a hand on the druid’s shoulder. “The goblins know we’re here, and they’ll probably be organizing some sort of defense before much longer.”
Rico nodded silently and moved to rejoin his companions…his new friends. As he did Skud walked past him and awkwardly patted his back.
“Skud like wolf,” the half-orc mumbled and then walked on.
Miraculously, the front doors were unbarred and swung open easily. The floor of the large room beyond was hard-packed soil, as if the builders either ran out of lumber after building the walls and roof, or as if they simply never thought about building a floor. A number of poorly preserved horse and dog heads were mounted along the eastern wall, while along the southern one hung a pair of large bat-like wings tacked to the wall with daggers. The deputies had little time to peruse the room’s contents, however, as a loud battle cry went up from the dozen goblins gathered within the room as soon as the doors opened.
The company was hardly caught off guard, and as the goblins swarmed to attack, they were ready. Fire erupted behind the horde as a sphere of flames appeared out of thin air at Wesh’s command. The ball of fire began rolling towards the shrieking goblins at the rear, and they pushed forward, driving their comrades towards the waiting arms of Skud, Adso and Randall. Rico sowed further confusion among the vermin by indiscriminately tossing smaller balls of flame among them, snarling savagely as he did so. The battle was a foregone conclusion, and would have been a flawless victory if not for dumb luck…of the worst kind. Randall and Skud stood side by side, meting out death to any goblin that got too near, yet there were just too many to watch all of them at once. For the briefest of moments, Randall turned his attention away from his own foes to make sure none had gotten past him. When he turned back, he saw a whicker of steel as one of the goblins stepped onto the back of another and leaped. The next thing he felt was a sharp, stabbing pain in his eyes, followed by pitch blackness. The goblin’s blade had struck with deadly accuracy, slicing both of Randall’s corneas. He was blind.
Luther saw it happen as if time had slowed. He saw Randall rear back from the attack, and when the big soldier opened his eyes, they were a bloody, ruined mess. Desperately, Randall struck out around him with his hammer, managing only by pure chance to strike down one or two advancing goblins, but the other little devils knew that he was helpless, and they started circling him purposefully, careful to stay clear of Skud’s blade. Fear gripped Luther’s chest as he saw the goblins preparing to strike, and he rushed forward with no idea of what he was going to do. Without thinking, he struck out with his bare hands. Adso had been teaching him the basics of self defense so that he might not present such an easy target. Now, it was as if instinct guided his hands. At the last moment, he opened his fist, striking the nearest goblin with a meaty slap of his palm. So strong was the blow that the goblin collapsed to the ground, stunned, but still breathing.
“What have I done?” Luther gasped.
“Saved Randall’s life,” Dex snapped as he drew his bow string again and again. It wasn’t long before the last of the goblin’s fell, with only a few more minor wounds suffered by the deputies. Luther rushed to the side of the goblin he’d struck, feeling for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he found one, strong and steady.
“He’ll live,” the priest announced.
“Not if I can help it,” Dex said, drawing his dagger.
“No!” Luther shouted, interposing himself between the rogue and the goblin. “He can’t harm us and he’ll be out for hours. There is no need for the slaughter of a defenseless foe.”
“Do you think he’d do the same for you?” Dex sneered.
“No, but that is what separates us from them,” Luther said calmly.
Dexter shook his head and sheathed his blade with a dismissive wave at the priest. Luther quickly rose and went to Randall.
“I can’t see,” the soldier said calmly.
“I know,” Luther said softly. “I’m afraid my magic can’t heal this”
“So…I’m blind? Forever?” Randall asked quietly.
“I…I don’t know,” Luther replied. “I know there are prayers capable of removing such maladies, but they are beyond me. It’s possible that Father Zantus may know of them when we return.”
“But what good am I to you in the meantime?” The big warrior shouted.
“Easy, soldier,” Wesh said. “You can still swing that hammer. You’ll just have to trust us and let your other senses help you until we can make it back to Sandpoint. We can’t turn back now, and we can’t leave you by yourself.”
Randall remained silent, but nodded after a few moments.
“Good,” Wesh said, patting his shoulder. “Adso can guide you for now.”
The monk stepped forward, placing Randall’s hand on his shoulder.
“Trust me,” he said. “When I say where and when to swing, you just do it. Everything will be fine, you’ll see…er, you’ll find out.”
Randall snorted. “Guess I’ll have to get used to it. Lead on.”
_______________________________________________
The fort was strangely silent after the melee in the entrance hall. The company had thought that the battle, coupled with the one at the front gates, would have brought every goblin in the place down on them. Room after room was empty of anything living, just storage space and the stairwell to the second watchtower, where no sentries had appeared during the fight for the gate. Beyond that area, however, Dexter pressed his ear against a door and motioned for his companions to stay quiet. After several moments, he drew back.
“More goblin dogs,” he whispered. “I’m pretty sure. Sounds like a good size pack on the other side.”
Wesh sighed. “SOP then, gents. Skud, Adso, you take point. Randall, are you up for this?”
“Just tell me what to kill,” the soldier smiled grimly.
Skud started to count three, but only made it to two before he yanked the door open. The large courtyard beyond was open to the sky. Tenacious clumps of partially trampled grass grew fitfully here and there in the hard-packed earth, in places stained with blood or scratched with furrows. To the north, what looked to be two dead goblins lay slumped at the entrance to an outbuilding. Eight of the rat-tailed dogs frolicked and scampered about the yard like a litter of overgrown pups. When they heard the door open, they all paused and turned towards it, tilting their heads comically to one side, ears perked. When they saw no goblins entering the court, however, their ears lay flat and their lips lifted back from their teeth in rabid snarls. Yowling and growling they bolted across the yard like hounds after a fox. Skud and Adso darted out to meet the rush, Randall hustling along behind the monk, still gripping his shoulder. Wesh and Rico positioned themselves on either side of the door, while Dexter knelt in front of it, bow in hand. The seven deputies of Sandpoint were all starting to feel a bit like veterans by this time. They had learned to anticipate one another and work cooperatively. Each had his role, and carried it out skillfully. Fists and steel flew with deadly accuracy from Skud and Adso, while Randall’s hammer, though a bit more clumsy, still managed to strike its target more often than not with the monk’s guidance. Dexter’s arrows struck unerringly, while fire and force from Wesh and Rico wreaked havoc among the dogs. In less than two minutes, the battle was over, with most of the companions having suffered only minor wounds that Luther quickly tended.
Dexter meandered across the yard to get a better look at the goblin corpses while Luther was busy with the others.
“Hey Luth!” He called. “Come see what you make of this.”
The priest crossed the distance quickly and bent to examine the bodies.
“No dog did this,” he said. “Their skulls were crushed by something very heavy.”
“Get a load of this door,” Dexter said, running his hands over the wooden portal of the outbuilding. It had been nailed shut from the outside, and additional boards had been nailed over the nails. Nevertheless, the door was cracked and splintered in several places.
“Looks like someone wanted to make sure whatever’s behind here stayed put,” the rogue observed, and then placed his ear against it. “Sounds like something big’s moving around in there.”
“Can you get the door open?” Wesh asked.
“Sure,” Dex shrugged. “It’ll take a little time, but why would you want to? Whatever’s in there doesn’t seem too nice.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Wesh replied. “It kills goblins, and you know what they say about the enemy of my enemy.”
“Yeah,” Dex smirked. “He might still wanna kill me once my enemy’s dead.”
He opened his belt pouch, nonetheless and took out several small tools as he went to work on the door. Several minutes later, he removed the final nail.
“There you go,” he said, stepping to what he judged to be a safe distance.
“Skud?” Wesh nodded towards the door.
The half-orc grunted and pulled the door open with one hand, his sword gripped in the other. A high-pitched whinny came from the gloom within, and then a solid black stallion, easily a head taller than Skud, lunged forward, rearing on its back legs and pawing the air. Froth foamed around its mouth and its eyes rolled hugely in its head. Though large, and powerfully built, it was obvious that the beast was in bad shape. Its ribs could be easily seen protruding through its dull hide. Skud raised his sword, but Luther quickly stopped him, stepping in front of the barbarian.
“Easy! Easy boy!” he soothed to the horse, hands upraised as he slowly approached. The horse dropped to all fours again, but pawed the earth angrily. Cautiously, Luther drew closer, voice low and calm as he advanced. His hands were within inches of the stallion’s muzzle when suddenly, it reared again, one iron-shod hoof kicking out towards the priest, striking him squarely in the belly. Luther doubled over, all the air forced from his lungs along with a spray of blood from his nose and mouth. He collapsed to the ground, and the horse advanced, rearing again to stomp the life out of him. Desperately, Luther clasped his holy symbol to his chest, calling on the power of Irori. Golden light poured from between his fingers, and he felt his pain abate immediately. At the same time, the stallion dropped its fore hooves to the ground on either side of his head, and it stood over him, snorting. The soft light washed over it as well, and though it still looked emaciated, its coat regained some of its luster. Slowly, it backed away, eyes still large, breath still coming in violent rasps.
“Let me try,” Rico said. The druid stepped forward, his hand dipping into his belt pouch and producing a green apple, which he held out to the stallion. His eyes locked with those of the horse, and something passed between them. Cautiously, the stallion stretched its neck out and took the apple from Rico’s hand.
“He says his name is Shadowmist,” the druid said calmly.
