make other, better, less dangerous friends.” D’hibuk lowered his club, and guard, even further.
“It’s important to stay loyal to friends…”
“But farmore important to stay loyal to your family. You’ve only been friends for a few days. How much loyalty, if any, do you owe her?” D’hibuk rested his club on the ground.
Saul studied the goblin, his brows furrowed in concentration. As if considering what the goblin officer said and trying to come up with a price.
Light leather armor, unhardened. My axe can cut through that like butter .
“How much?” Saul asked as he walked towards the goblin, casually dragging his axe on the ground behind him. The weapon left a shallow groove as it cut across the leaf laden forest floor.
“Well,” D’hibuk said. He reached for his pouches, a satisfied smile on his tusked face.
Must wait. Need to be closer. Catch him off-guard.
D’hibuk took his eyes off Saul for a split-second.
Now!
Saul swung his axe with as much force as he could muster in his right arm. The axe sliced through the goblin’s light armor and stuck in his ribcage at an upward angle.
D’hibuk shrieked in pain and surprise. He swung his club at Saul.
Too late.
Saul raised his left arm to block the blow while shaking his axe free from D’hibuk’s ribs. D’hibuk screamed in renewed agony. Saul’s left arm turned numb from the slam of the club, useless.
But his axe was free.
Saul hacked again, one-handed. The axe bit deeply into D’hibuk’s shoulder, close to the neck. D’hibuk dropped his club, fruitlessly trying to stanch the flow of blood from his wounds with his hands.
A red mist crept across Saul’s eyes. He raised his axe and swung down again, and again, and again.
“Son, you can stop now. It’s over.”
Saul felt a warm, familiar hand grip his shoulder. The red mist receded from his vision. Saul gladly dropped his bloodied axe and, weeping, buried his face in the warm, comforting expanse of his father’s broad chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TO LINWOOD
Geoff surveyed the ruins of the goblins’ camp, careful to keep his face expressionless. Logan was patting down the last clump of dirt over the last grave. Karin ducked into what used to be the goblin captain’s tent to check on the children. And to check on the cyrion. Let’s not forget her . Arti was stirring a pot of who-knows-what, made with ingredients salvaged from who-knows-where, over the resurrected remains of the goblins’ campfire. Not very many Outpost civilians survived the rescue attempt at dawn. Not the adults, at any rate.
Geoff focused on his son, Saul. They shouldn’t have meddled. Jon gathered more fuel, as per his mother’s directions . True to form, instead of helping in some way, Saul was gamboling around and chattering to Jon like a demented loon. Geoff forced himself to turn away, lips pressed tight in a bitter smile of disappointment. Too hard? Karin always said I was too hard on the boy. If only this were true. I fear I’m not hard enough . Geoff rubbed his hand, calloused from fourteen years of smithing, over his stubbled face and heaved a sigh of frustration.
Assigned duties completed and the meal cooked to Arti’s satisfaction, they all gathered around the resurrected campfire. Arti spooned pottage into chipped bowls. Logan distributed the steaming bowls and gave Arti a peck, oblivious to the streaks of dried goblin blood on her cheek. His own bowl in hand, Logan joined the rest of them. He sat cross-legged beside the fire to eat. Geoff’s eyes rested briefly on his son. Saul had grabbed the bowl handed to him and slurped without even waiting for a spoon.
Foolish, ill-mannered boy.
After a while, Logan put his spoon into his empty bowl. “We’ve let you down. You boys shouldn’t have been forced to mount a rescue.” He set his emptied bowl aside. “We tried to keep you out. We told you to stay put.”
Saul turned to Karin. “Mum, will Anya be all right?”
“Is that her
“It’s important to stay loyal to friends…”
“But farmore important to stay loyal to your family. You’ve only been friends for a few days. How much loyalty, if any, do you owe her?” D’hibuk rested his club on the ground.
Saul studied the goblin, his brows furrowed in concentration. As if considering what the goblin officer said and trying to come up with a price.
Light leather armor, unhardened. My axe can cut through that like butter .
“How much?” Saul asked as he walked towards the goblin, casually dragging his axe on the ground behind him. The weapon left a shallow groove as it cut across the leaf laden forest floor.
“Well,” D’hibuk said. He reached for his pouches, a satisfied smile on his tusked face.
Must wait. Need to be closer. Catch him off-guard.
D’hibuk took his eyes off Saul for a split-second.
Now!
Saul swung his axe with as much force as he could muster in his right arm. The axe sliced through the goblin’s light armor and stuck in his ribcage at an upward angle.
D’hibuk shrieked in pain and surprise. He swung his club at Saul.
Too late.
Saul raised his left arm to block the blow while shaking his axe free from D’hibuk’s ribs. D’hibuk screamed in renewed agony. Saul’s left arm turned numb from the slam of the club, useless.
But his axe was free.
Saul hacked again, one-handed. The axe bit deeply into D’hibuk’s shoulder, close to the neck. D’hibuk dropped his club, fruitlessly trying to stanch the flow of blood from his wounds with his hands.
A red mist crept across Saul’s eyes. He raised his axe and swung down again, and again, and again.
“Son, you can stop now. It’s over.”
Saul felt a warm, familiar hand grip his shoulder. The red mist receded from his vision. Saul gladly dropped his bloodied axe and, weeping, buried his face in the warm, comforting expanse of his father’s broad chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TO LINWOOD
Geoff surveyed the ruins of the goblins’ camp, careful to keep his face expressionless. Logan was patting down the last clump of dirt over the last grave. Karin ducked into what used to be the goblin captain’s tent to check on the children. And to check on the cyrion. Let’s not forget her . Arti was stirring a pot of who-knows-what, made with ingredients salvaged from who-knows-where, over the resurrected remains of the goblins’ campfire. Not very many Outpost civilians survived the rescue attempt at dawn. Not the adults, at any rate.
Geoff focused on his son, Saul. They shouldn’t have meddled. Jon gathered more fuel, as per his mother’s directions . True to form, instead of helping in some way, Saul was gamboling around and chattering to Jon like a demented loon. Geoff forced himself to turn away, lips pressed tight in a bitter smile of disappointment. Too hard? Karin always said I was too hard on the boy. If only this were true. I fear I’m not hard enough . Geoff rubbed his hand, calloused from fourteen years of smithing, over his stubbled face and heaved a sigh of frustration.
Assigned duties completed and the meal cooked to Arti’s satisfaction, they all gathered around the resurrected campfire. Arti spooned pottage into chipped bowls. Logan distributed the steaming bowls and gave Arti a peck, oblivious to the streaks of dried goblin blood on her cheek. His own bowl in hand, Logan joined the rest of them. He sat cross-legged beside the fire to eat. Geoff’s eyes rested briefly on his son. Saul had grabbed the bowl handed to him and slurped without even waiting for a spoon.
Foolish, ill-mannered boy.
After a while, Logan put his spoon into his empty bowl. “We’ve let you down. You boys shouldn’t have been forced to mount a rescue.” He set his emptied bowl aside. “We tried to keep you out. We told you to stay put.”
Saul turned to Karin. “Mum, will Anya be all right?”
“Is that her
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