Chapter 49 – The Burden of Truth
The line wound through the lower foothills, shoulders hunched and backpacks laden as they walked into the mountains. It had been midmorning when they had left the clan; all able-bodied fighters were with them. Those who had been issued some wore their newly crafted leather armour, along with dwarven weapons, making them look almost professional in the face of a stronger force. Not all the goblins had armour. Pardew hadn't had time, even with the help of his new apprentices, to make enough for them, but it would have to do.
Initially, the group was buoyant and jovial, but as the day wore on, the nervous tension grew until it pulsated like an open wound. The scent of uncertainty was palpable. The rain hadn't stopped, adding to the growing misery of the journey as they trudged through the bleak, windswept slopes of the harsh mountain environment, en route to Haskins' old farm. They would follow the same path they had previously. It wasn't easy, but it would be the safest route near Hillnot, without requiring an earlier entry into the valley. At least this time, they had ropes; Harm had ensured that before they had set off.
It was mid-afternoon when they began their descent; the path was not visible from the valley floor. The jagged protrusions of rocks and gorse bushes filled the landscape, providing them with cover.
As they neared the final descent, Harm took a moment to move out to a spot where he could see into the valley clearly. From the height and distance, Harm still couldn't be certain, but it looked like the group that had blockaded the trail to Hillnot had grown.
"It looks like there's more of them," Harm whispered to Dafu. "As soon as we reach the floor, we need scouts to check."
Dafu just nodded resolutely. The ropes had been invaluable as they finalised their descent. Not moving to Haskins' farm directly but staying at the base, keeping their distance. As the goblins sat hidden in the wooded valley basin behind the farm, Harm and Dafu walked amongst them, speaking to them and checking in. The mood was sombre, with no chatter and no discussion, just the painful wait for the call to arms, when they would see action.
Harm had spoken to them all before they left, warning them of the danger and the fact that the men they would face would outmatch many of them in both weapons and armour, even with their newly acquired equipment. Nothing had fazed them, their resolve absolute, at their chief's orders. More than one stated so, and a cheer erupted from the remainder. Harm's heart had leapt at the sincerity, but with it had come a crushing weight of uncertainty.
As Harm sat waiting nervously for the scout to return, he opened his interface for his followers. With all the clan members in attendance who could fight, there were sixty-four. More had wished to come, but had been stopped by Dafu, either because they were too young or too old, or pregnant, or had sproglings. There were various reasons. What surprised Harm when he opened his interface and checked through the names was that one stood out above all others. One of the final entries was Pardew.
The fact that Pardew now followed him of his own accord was the nonverbal affirmation Harm had needed. He had never even considered that he would, always assuming that he was just Pardew, a man whom he classed as a friend and had shared his darkest secrets with. Instead, he had shown his belief and testament to Harm's leadership.
"You followed me?" Harm asked Pardew as he found him amongst the resting troops.
"Aye. Of course," Pardew smiled.
"Thank you," Harm said. "You don't know what that means."
"It means I trust you."
Harm didn't reply; he didn't need to. He reached out and clasped Pardew on his shoulder.
"I'll be leaving with Mante shortly to go to Hillnot, just catching my breath before we go," Pardew said.
Harm smiled, nodding at his friend. "Good luck," he said as he walked to find Dafu. Mante was going to scout Pardew to Hillnot in case the mercenaries had scouts near the walls; he didn't want him being troubled before reaching there.
"Dafu, who do I assign as leaders, apart from you and Luubu?" Harm asked when he reached his friend.
"What do you mean?" Dafu frowned.
"You know that thing I have," Harm said, not wanting to be overheard.
"Oh, yeah."
"Fuck this, hang on." Harm said he was frustrated that he wasn't using its abilities more. He may as well get the benefits from the malicious god.
I can assign five leaders of squads, and doing so grants the leaders attribute boosts. Harm thought after switching to communicate directly with Dafu.
Dafu's eyebrows raised in shock at the news. Holy troll balls, say that again.
Harm repeated the thought. Now, apart from you and Luubu, who do I assign?
Maybe Nathic, Jillew and Garpu.
Nathic and Jillew were the two best archers in the clan, and Harm knew them both well. Garpu was one of Teras's old clan, and Harm had had little to do with him, but if Dafu vouched for him, he would take him at his word. It was as Harm was about to finalise the selections when he suddenly had a thought.
Should I not assign the weakest for now, to give them the boosts?
I wouldn't bother; you keep forgetting goblin clans, and most clans work on order of strength. Suddenly boosting lower members could destroy the ranks.
What ranks? Harm asked.
Even in Harms' mind, he heard the tut from Dafu. Have you learned nothing yet? The clan is structured by abilities and strength. Those who hold higher positions, such as lead hunters, are there because they are the best.
Then how come you are? Harm chuckled in his mind.
"Screw you," Dafu said aloud. Which made several of the others turn and look at him in surprise.
Probably because they are shit scared of you since I'm your friend; however, I do question why this is the case at times.
It's okay, half-ear, don't worry. Harm replied, which earned a swift kick into his ankle from Dafu, who was still sitting.
"Fuck," Harm hissed, rubbing it.
You play, you bicker, yet death is so close. The god's voice echoed as the moment of levity vanished in an instant.
Harm tried not to think and quickly turned off his telepathic links.
So close to fulfilling step one, yet you play like a child. The god's voice was derisive and incisive.
Humour offers relief from the pressures of combat, Harm retorted.
The god didn't reply. His silence was unnerving.
The scout appeared, who had been sent to check on the enemy lines.
"What d'ya find?" Luubu asked.
“Sixty or so, mainly swordsmen by the looks of it. Few crossbows and longbows. That's not the problem, though; it's that damn contraption they have with them. It looks like a trunk, hung by ropes."
"A ram," Harm said, as the scout frowned deeply. These goblins would probably never have witnessed a siege before. Harm had witnessed a siege during his adventuring years. "They use them to break through gates. They swing it like a giant club."
"Oh," the scout replied. "The group has town guards with them as well."
"How do you know?" Harm asked.
"Cos the bastard who killed four of my kin is with them." The scout was a goblin named Vaitu and had been a member of Murgo's clan. "We were on a raiding party a few years back now, and a patrol came upon us. Four on horseback, led by him. Evil fucker, they ran us down. I managed to hide but could do nothing to help as he tortured them, beat them with a club, breaking their bones, before he finally put them out of their misery." The scout turned, spitting angrily on the floor.
The fact that the town guard had taken pleasure in torturing the goblins made Harm feel sick to his stomach.
"He's a big man with long black hair and wears a cap."
On hearing his description, Harm knew who it was. It was one of Satil's top men, a man known as Bludger. He was known for his fits of violence and also for being a drunkard, although, unlike many in the town, he had never been put in a cell to cool down.
"I know who you speak of," Harm sneered. "I'll kill them all for hurting your friends."
Vaitu looked at him almost quizzically. "They weren't my friends, just clan members," he shrugged.
You speak of killing goblin torturers, yet are you not a goblin slayer? How many hundred have you killed in your life? The god asked, his voice mocking. How many in recent years, whose relatives you now lead?
The impression of the thought echoed, swirling in his mind as Harm looked at the Vaitu, then Luubu and Dafu. What was he doing? How could he have ever considered leading a clan of goblins? The god's words were true; he had killed easily over two hundred, counting his adventuring days. Yet here he was now, as their supposed leader. How fake could he be? He thought of them being his friends and extended family, yet some of those with him now he may very well have slain, their mothers, their fathers, possibly even brothers and sisters. His heart thumped; sheer panic swirled like a cloud in a stormy sky, growing in intensity and wrath as it filled him. He was unworthy, a liar, a betrayer, and wore a false face.
Dafu, seeing his friend's expression change and his skin pale, grabbed his arm. "Harm, are you okay?"
"No," Harm said weakly, his voice a whisper, and his head dropped.
"Thanks, Vaitu," Dafu said, dismissing the scout.
As soon as Vaitu walked away again, Dafu continued. "There's something up now. What just happened?" he hissed.
Harm looked at his friend, but was he his friend? Was he really, or was it all fake?
"I'm not worthy," Harm whispered.
"Worthy of what?" Luubu asked, leaning to hear him.
"Of this, I don't deserve to be chief," he said, looking at them both. "I stand here a killer, a slayer of goblins," the god's words still swirled in his mind, "Yet I have asked you to come to fight with me."
"What do you mean, slayer of goblins?"
Harm shuddered as he exhaled deeply. "During my life, I've slain hundreds of goblins." The past crimes he had committed against the goblin kin stabbed him like daggers; his gut twisted with sickness. Bile rose in his throat as he broke out in a cold sweat.
Luubu scoffed. "And?"
Harm's head shot up from where it had dropped, staring at her, confused and uncertain. "And you say?"
"Yes, and. What does it matter? I've killed enough, not as many, but must be fifty. Even Dafu has killed several."
Harm's brow furrowed.
Dafu nodded in agreement. "I think this is the longest the clan has been without a death caused by another. It's the safest I've ever known the clan."
"Dafu's right, and I know the other clans feel the same. They've all mentioned it. Life in the clan since you took over is the best it's ever been for all the clans. You're not a chief, you're a friend and a leader," Luubu said.
Harm swelled with emotions, turmoil, and torture from the gods' words, mixed with hope and what felt like love from those who sat in front of him.
"Well, he tries to be a leader only because I tell him what he needs to do," Dafu added.
It was then that Dafu received a kick on his ankle, this time from Harm. In that moment of camaraderie, the darkness was broken, his mind clearing of the pained torture the god had placed there.
Time ticked by slowly. "I need to check with Pardew to see how he's doing," Harm said to Dafu.
Mante had led them up the valley wall and then cut into the entrance to Hillnot. The town's wall utilised the natural rocky outcrops of the surrounding mountain crags, with its walls merging seamlessly into the rock faces. No one matched the dwarven engineers in terms of their skills as stonemasons. The wall ran several hundred feet, interspersed with the crags of impenetrable rock.
The territory of Freealis stretched through the mountain range before it eventually met the neighbouring territory. The mountains were known to be home to several beasts that the dwarves kept at bay with their regular patrols.
Mante led them as they neared the gate. "I'll wait just down here. You will be clear the rest of the way."
They were now close enough that a sharp-eyed guard could spot them.
That was the moment that Harm spoke to Pardew.
Pardew screamed, almost falling over; he had jumped so much from the sudden voice. His heart hammered in his chest as he spun around. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he snarled as he turned around, expecting to see Harm.
There was no one there as the voice reached him again. His pulse ran wild.
It's me. I'm speaking to you through thought, Harm said.
Harm had explained it to Pardew when he had opened up to him about everything, but it was uncanny hearing his voice perfectly clear without him being there.
You scared the shit out of me! Pardew thought.
Sorry. I wanted to check how you're doing.
We've just arrived, going to leave Mante here and go the last short distance alone. It's all clear, no sign of the others anywhere.
He heard the thwang and Mante's grunt before the voices from above.
"I got the fucker," Pardew heard the voice above shout.
"Stop!" Pardew screamed, staring up at the wall. Harm's voice was forgotten as Mante fell forward from the impact, a heavy bolt sticking out from his shoulder blade. Without consideration for his own safety, he stepped over the goblin's prone form.
"What do you think you're doing? Get out of the fucking way," a confused voice called from above.
"He's with me," Pardew replied as he held his arms up and waved desperately. His thoughts were running wild.
What's happened? Harm thought.
Mante's been shot, Pardew replied.
Shit!
A lantern was now held above the wall, its light just filtering down to where they stood.
"What do you mean he's with you?" A gruff voice asked. Pardew couldn't see the dwarf's face, obscured by the lantern's light.
"As I said, he's with me." I need to deal with this, Pardew thought with a panicked response.
Harm didn't respond.
"Then why did you scream? I thought you were being attacked?"
"Never mind that; what the hell are you doing sneaking along the damn wall at this time of night?" a deeper voice called.
"I've come with a message."
"What message?"
"I need to speak to your town's leader, Goldbeard. It's a matter of urgency."
Pardew heard muffled words. He could still see the ominous outline of a heavy crossbow pointing at him.
"Don't move," a voice said.
They were only about a hundred feet from the gate, where they were. Mante moaned quietly. Blood seeped from where the bolt struck him.
Pardew heard the gate opening and the heavy footfall of armoured dwarves approaching. Three shapes appeared out of the darkness. All three wore chain mail with plate breastplates and great helms. They were in armour much heavier than they usually wore. Two carried hand axes with shields, while the third carried a warhammer.
"Pardew? Is that you?" Harithy said in shock as he saw him.
Pardew was happy it was a face he recognised. "It is lad, and this here goblin is with me, so please don't hurt him," he pleaded.
The dwarves frowned, wondering why on earth he would be with a goblin. Pardew bent to Mante's side and placed his fingers on either side of the bolt before, with a sharp tug, pulling it back out. Mante let out a cry in pain as the pronged head of the bolt tore free with a sickening wet sound. "Sorry," Pardew said as he tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and plugged the hole.
"Can you help me?" Pardew looked up.
The dwarves looked at him for several moments before Harithy dropped his hand axe into his belt loop and bent down, helping Pardew get Mante to his feet. His arm hung limply at his side. The bolt had shattered his shoulder blade, and he yelped in pain.
"Let's get him inside," Pardew said as he took the goblin's weight and started towards the gate. The dwarves followed.
As soon as they entered, they were met by over ten dwarves, all heavily armoured and weapons drawn as the gate was closed behind them. The town knew what was out there; it was obvious.
"How did you get past the group?" A stocky dwarf wearing a blue sash showing him as a sergeant stood proudly among the others.
"We came down the valley side," Pardew said. "I need to speak to your leader. I have a message for him."
"The only person you'll be speaking to is the jailer until morning," the dwarf replied.
"No. No, it can't wait until morning. They are planning to attack, and I have news to share of help."
"Help?"
"Yes. Our chief," as the word left Pardew's lips, he suddenly realised how easily he had accepted the clan's culture and Harm as their chief, even if he didn't go by the title. "The clan chief is ready to attack the troops as they advance on the town. They will attack from behind."
The dwarven sergeant frowned deeply.
"Clan? Are you talkin' 'bout goblins?"
"Yes, and no. A man leads the clan. Harmonious Scrug has gathered the three clans of the valley together under his banner."
The dwarves standing around murmured as Pardew spoke, their faces filled with shock and confusion at what the old man was saying. "Why would a human gather goblins?"
"I know Harm," a voice from the group spoke out. A female dwarf, not that males and females looked much different, stepped forward.
"You know them?"
"Yes, Harm had a dairy farm in the valley; he used to bring his urns to sell in the market. I haven't seen him in months, and there were rumours that he had died. I know his family had. You remember that scare over the milk?" Several dwarves muttered in agreement. "We had to throw everything out, and that other person started delivering instead."
The sergeant scratched his beard thoughtfully. "But what's that got to do with him being the chief of a goblin clan?"
"That's what I'm here to explain to the town leader," Pardew said. Mante groaned; blood was leaking from his plugged wound and settling on the ground by his feet. "And can my friend have some help, please?" Pardew asked.
"This is highly irregular..." The sergeant took a moment before he continued. He looked at Pardew's pleading eyes; his face was honest, not one of a charlatan, and the sergeant had met many over his long life, the wounded goblin who brought no threat, never mind the words of his corporal. "Take them into the barracks. Don't let them out of your sight for one moment while I go and speak to Goldbeard."
Pardew sighed in relief as he was led to the barracks, hopeful that his message would reach its intended recipient.
