Mutts, fleabags, and goblins

“There’s a dread lynx den on the other side of the river, and they seem to have caught the scent of our Zorians!” Wergnar announced.

I gave him a confused look, and replied calmly. “The river is too deep for them to cross safely, and if they do, we can pick them off one by one. No worries.”

“No, no. Up here on the hill, the water is shallow—they could strike at any moment!”

My uncle stood up and sprinted to the rest of the troops. “Up on your steeds! We’re moving out!”

Everyone obeyed, and I too mounted my Zorian. However, I was not intent on fleeing. My mug contorted in gleeful grin as an idea took shape inside my dome. “Wergnar, show me where we can cross the river on horseback.”

***

EKERMUN

‘Bout a month back, a human army crossed them mountains between Illgrum and Vistoloc and came marchin’ into Bugretanii land. First week they just took their time lootin’ villages, fillin’ their bellies. Once they got what they needed, they set their sights on our capital—figured nothin’ got more wealth than a tribe’s heart, right?

Our Gnobble pulled back to Arobrixa with his Crawgoblin guard—twenty of ‘em. He sent me out gatherin’ Hobgoblins from nearby villages to help defend. Trouble was, lotta lads couldn’t leave their posts—if they did, other newcoming raiders would just sweep in and burn them places down. We’d lose the tribe just the same. Either the capital falls and the tribe’s done for, or the capital stands but everythin’ else goes up in smoke. Either way, bad end.

Still, I scraped together ‘bout thirty fighters and hauled ‘em to Arobrixa. That gave us near three hundred in the hillfort, though less than a fifth had Kragnin trained up proper. Three Highgoblins, one Gnobble, five Gobkin, thirty-six Crawgoblins, rest Hobgoblins. No Goblins at all, which is somethin’ worth notin’. Most other tribes got a mix of the high ones, the low ones, and a handful of middlin’. Us? All mid-tier. Stronger than the weaklings, not near as mighty as the elites. A hard, trained lot, but nothin’ flashy.

Even so, Arobrixa’s a strong hillfort. High walls, good ground, tough to storm. So with that and the numbers, we figured we stood a chance. But truth is, them humans had better gear, sharper steel, finer armor. Hard to stand against that, no matter how tough the defenses.

We knew this was comin’, but that don’t make it any easier to accept.

Some o’ them humans was heavy-armored, some light, marchin’ neat in rows. Looked like the retinue of a lord, maybe two, ‘cause I saw two banners, two colors wavin’. Could be them lords had joined hands for the fight.

We were holed up in Arobrixa, keepin’ watch over the bridge. From the walls we could put arrows in any man fool enough to cross. But if the fort fell, all Bugretanii lands across the Aro river would be wide open for plunder. Felt like the whole fate of the tribe was sittin’ on my shoulders, least that’s how it weighed on me.

Two days back we were near four hundred strong. Already lost fifty. Most from them night raids we tried that went bad, some from the fire arrows the humans loosed into town. Houses caught flame quick, and even with the river right there, we couldn’t fetch water—gate was shut tight, else we’d be cut down the moment we opened it.

So I just stood there on the wall, watchin’ the place burn, keepin’ an eye on the bridge, prayin’ the town would keep holdin’ too.

They were bangin’ the gate, and y’know when you force open a locked door and it budges hard? The lock keepin’ the door shut, but the wood bendin’ to yer strength? Imagine that, but with a huge gate.

The men and I were ready to meet these criminals with spear in hand. The plan was simple. We reckoned if we’re gonna lose anyway, might as well strike ‘em deeply too. ‘Nough so they can’t plunder no more for some time. The gate falls, and we fall on them.

I gave the bridge a final look. “Oi?”

There were goblins on the other side of the bridge. On horseback. Twelve of ‘em. Their skins ain’t green like a Hob’s, so they gotta be at least Crawgoblins. It don’t make sense. Our Gnobble hadn’t managed to warn the folks beyond the river ‘cause them humans arrived too fast. There shouldn’t be any reinforcements from this side, let alone Crawgoblins.

That’s when I saw their silver hair.

“High chief! There’re twelve Ausmulian goblins by the Aro bridge!” I alerted our Gnobble. He came up and took a gander himself.

“Zorians? How come the dread lynxes have yet to pounce on them?” the high chief murmured. “Were the Ausmulii tribe not entrenched by the lynx menace?”

The cap’n of the Ausmulian band crossed the bridge. He held up some horn and blew on it. Ah. That sound coulda woken up my old man from his grave. So loud. The guy shot our high chief a glance, and our boss jumped into action.

“Archers! Up the wall!” he roared, “Warriors, to the gate!”

“What’s the plan, chief?” I asked.

“Ekermun, was it? You ascended by fighting a bunch of lynxes, no?”

“Aye, boss!”

“Splendid. Hold your position on the wall, and once you spot dread lynxes, you will take charge of our forces and drive them off. Don’t let them enter the town.”

“B-but sir, I’m just a Crawgoblin! Ain’t no way I know how to command armies!”

“Alas, my chiefs and I must assist the Ausmulians in their ploy. Listen, Ekermun. You must do your duty, and we shall come out on top,” our Gnobble turned away and towards the men. “Open the gate, and sally out! CHARGE!”

Wake up an’ focus. I took a gander at the battlefield. Them humans were so distracted by the Ausmulians and their blarin’ horn that our charge took ‘em for a loop. They scurried back.

“Isseze! Chetacion len!” one them human commander spat out in their language, and them soldiers fell back in formation.

Disciplined folk, huh? You had to hand it to ‘em. They wiped the shock off their foreheads, and met our men with greater power. Tch. If only we had those dang blades and hardy gear, we woulda done ‘em in by now.

“Lennerots, phasizion len!” the man-commander barked like the mutt he was. His pikemen left the fray and formed a wall. They stopped the charging Ausmulian cavalry in their tracks.

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.

Them horses up front pulled to a stop, but I still heard gallopin’. Looked back at the main scrap and saw another steed bust out the woods behind the humans, with twenty more right after him. And behind ‘em? A wave of them cursed lynxes, chasin’ that Zorian meat like it was a feast.

That bunch of Ausmulian riders was led by a goblin darker than any I’d seen. Darker even than our high chief, which shouldn’t be possible, seein’ as he’s a Gnobble—can’t get darker than that. Then I saw him. “Hol’ up just a dang minute… that’s chief Albar!”

He smashed straight into the humans’ flank, catchin’ ‘em clean by surprise. His horsemen, high up on their mounts, carved through the enemy line. Two Highgoblin riders even cut off the commander’s pikemen, makin’ the rest of them Ausmulians push forward blind into battle. Then the lynxes Albar had with him tore into the fray, scatterin’ the humans, givin’ our lads room to dig in and hold the town gate.

But them beasts weren’t picky—they came for us too. Some of our lads already droppin’ under their claws. That was my cue. I leapt down into the thick of it, landed square on a human, crushed him flat, and fought my way back behind our shield wall.

“All you lot, with me! We need flame for these fleabags!” I ordered them. They followed, straight to the armory. We hauled out torches, lit one, then the rest. I lashed mine to my spear for reach, and the others did the same.

“Go! The gate!” I roared, and we charged back in, fire in hand. We burned man and beast alike, drivin’ ‘em all back. Soon enough, it was man fightin’ lynx, not us, and we took the ground.

The human commander called a rout—“Feyulez! Feyulez!”—and they broke. Never came back to test Arobrixa again.

“Cavalry! In pursuit!” Albar howled like a wolf, chasin’ the broken line till he caught their commander. He passed the word to a lad, Wergnar: “Take the riders, kill as many lynxes as you can! The humans are finished.” Then he waved another man over—"Uncle! Come, make this man understand.”

The horn-blower, the leader of the bridge riders, stepped up, said a word to the captured man. Then, just like that, they let him go.