Heartstone

Goblin Slayer

Yaz

Night arrived, and the world plunged into darkness. Firelight reflected off the canopy of needled branches overhead and the massive, cinnamon-coloured trunks of the redwood trees that surrounded the gully. In another setting, it would be beautiful. But drums and chanting and the screech of goblin voices filled the air.

Yaz quietly made his way around the edge of the gully, picking his way between ferns and deadwood, searching for signs of Arwin and the nymphs. He kept a wary eye out for patrols and guards. And it was well that he did. When the pregnant woman was hauled out and began giving birth to baby gobs, it attracted the attention of poorly-disciplined guards just ahead of him.

They drifted away from their posts to the edge of the gully, where they could watch, yakking and hooting and no doubt eager to join their fellows.

Yaz hated the idea of leaving the woman to her horrid fate, but realistically there was little he could hope to do by charging in there alone. He made good use of the distraction she presented by disposing of nearly a dozen green thugs around the gully rim as he circled it. He picked up a well-nicked, rusty dirk from an early victim and snuck up behind the others, cutting throats or sliding the blade into an ear or heart. Though he'd once been a knight, not a rogue, he could do the job when he had to. He moved as quickly as he dared, frustrated and tense because he knew time could be short.

Then something caused him to slow.

In one corner of the gully, firelight seemed forbidden to enter, struggling to penetrate darkness deeper than the night, something unnatural.

Creeping closer, the air became more humid, the sounds of celebration muted, and Yaz's eyes adjusted.

The space was filled with a fat, leafy oak tree, something that shouldn't have grown in this evergreen forest. The bark was dark-iron gray. Little purple explosions of bioluminescent ferns poked up from around some of the gnarled roots. A patch of glowing, blue fungus infested one side of the tree and vines with bunches of pink flowers akin to wisteria draped from some of the overhanging branches.

Yaz had never seen anything like it. It looked beautiful but otherworldly. If this tree had anything to do with the goblins, it had to be dangerous. Instinctively steering clear, he cut across this end of the gully, which seemed safe enough because the goblins looked like they were avoiding the dark tree, too. He climbed up the other side of the gully and moved away from the dark tree, casting a worried glance over his shoulder as he went.

Hobgoblins hauled a male prisoner out of a cell and led him to the cooking fire. For a moment, Yaz panicked, thinking it must be Arwin, until he heard Arwin's protests from below, where they'd dragged the other man from.

The prisoner was chained to a pole and hung to roast while still alive. His screams encouraged goblin jeers. Those closest licked their lips and drooled in anticipation. The human wasn't the only thing cooking; a variety of beasts and pots of dead things, mushrooms, and wild vegetables hung over multiple fires. Feeding this greedy mob would take more than one human. But everyone has their favourite meat.

Yaz slew the nearest green goblins on watch. Reaching a point above the prison, he cautiously climbed down the side of the steep gully, working his way between the ferns while trying to stay hidden by their foliage.

He put his foot down, and it sank without purchase into empty air.

Surprising himself, he lost his grip and fell past a well-camouflaged window that he hadn't noticed. He landed hard on the ground outside the prison door, right between two startled hobgoblin guards.

One shouted in alarm, speaking in goblin tongue, a language Yaz had learned a millennium ago. "Enemy!"

The sounds of celebration shifted as nearby goblins and hobgoblins heard the cry and caught sight of Yaz.