Barbarian Legends - Goblinslayer 07

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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The events of Barbarian Legends occur many years before the events of Barbarian Tales.

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CITY OF YELEDOR

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"No! No!" Tix squeaked as the tightly packed mass of goblin warriors surged past him. The press of furry bodies pushed him back into the foul waters of the sewer. For a horrible moment he felt like he was going to drown, but then he broke the surface once more, just in time to see the last of the goblin-ogres clambering with unrestrained fury into the light. Above him, the mad face of Leprous Foulbreath leered down.

"Did you deliver the message?" burbled the diseasemonger.

"Yes!" Tix chittered, thinking that now was possibly not the best time to tell Leprous that the goblin troops above were now doing their best to hunt down and kill the barbarian to whom the message had been delivered.

**********

Girn could hear the shouts of his foul pursuers behind him, and the screams of the unfortunate beggars who got in their way. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the goblins were putting anyone in their path to the blade. The sight of it sickened Girn and he felt guilty for not stopping them. But he needed assistance for such a swarming and ferocious force. Every little pause and hesitation enabled them to catch up with him.

His wrist throbbed where the little goblin had bitten it. He noticed that the scroll it had thrown at him was crumpled in his hand. Briefly he thought of throwing it away. Instead he thrust it behind his loincloth and continued to sprint. At least he was not weighed down with heavy armour the way his pursuers were.

Girn ground his teeth and cursed inwardly at how naïve he had been. The goblins were clearly not gone. The sight of so many heavily armed in the streets could only mean that they were ready to begin an all-out attack on the city and that they had no fear of the defenders. Right now, Girn guessed, their confidence was justified. He could not see a single member of the city guard. Of course, most of them were probably up in the Noble Quarter around the palace, making sure all the guests at the king's party were safe.

Girn slammed into a wall and rebounded again, turning quickly to hurtle down a connecting alley. This area of narrow lanes and alleys was a veritable maze and he was not at all sure he was heading in the right direction. He could only move as quickly as possible and listen to the noise of his pursuers, hoping that he did not blunder round in a complete circle and run right into them again.

He searched his brain for a plan, but all he could come up with was to get back to the Full Tankard as quickly as possible and warn Hans and the others. At least there was a strong force of mercenaries and a potential rallying point for other warriors. Now all he had to do was find a way out. He continued to run.

**********

Tix tried to keep himself right in the middle of the teeming mass of warriors. He had endured enough excitement for one evening and did not need any more. He focused his attention on keeping Trolk Tul in sight. The Clan Frak leader's bodyguard of huge goblin-ogres represented his best hope of protection in the coming conflict. Tix seriously doubted that anyone would want to attack the huge creatures.

So far, the assault appeared to be going well. The goblin force in this area had met with little resistance. He could smell burning and the distinctive smell of acid and fire throwers. From the backwash of light off to the south he realised that some of the Clan Arx fire throwers were using their weapons on the buildings. Squinting through the shadows, Tix could see jets of flame squirting out at the tenements. Fire licked and curled at the woodwork. Stone began to splinter and crack under the sheer heat generated by the awesome goblin weapons.

Tix was not so certain that this was a good idea. He was not sure shaman Utkut would approve of such indiscriminate destruction of his future property. Of course, if the message Tix had delivered achieved its goal, the shaman would be in no position to voice his objections. He would be dead.

Tix wondered whether the barbarian had managed to escape. Part of him hoped not. He could still remember the wretched man's hand clamped on his shoulder, and the pain where the iron fingers had held him firmly. There was no sign that he had been taken prisoner, nor any sign of his corpse. Not that that meant anything, Tix thought. In these winding alleys, already crammed with goblin victims, a body could be lying almost anywhere. Already the goblin force had started to break up and fan out. Some of the warriors, meeting little resistance, had already begin looting and eating.

Tix was not sure that this was a good idea either. Surely things could not go so easily. Surely they would meet more resistance than this? Where were the accursed human warriors? His questions received no answers. All around, buildings were beginning to burn and smoke billowed into the sky.

**********

Skrag Nrak clambered up the sheer face of the cliff leading to the palace. The line attached to his grapnel held firm. The heavy weight of the rune-encrusted seeing stone entrusted to him by shaman Utkut personally rested securely in the knapsack on his back. Skrag Nrak braced himself and scrabbled for purchase on the smooth stone of the cliff face. Things were going well. In a few more minutes he would be in position with the stone placed within the halls of the palace, ready for whatever mighty magic the shaman had planned. He would have played his part in the goblin victory today and gone some way towards mitigating the disgrace of his failure to kill the barbarian. Hopefully that painful memory was something which could be laid to rest before this night was over too.

Suddenly below him, in the distance, he heard the faint but distinct bellowing of goblin war cries, and the answering screams of their human victims. Twisting on the rope he glanced back and saw the eerie glow of what could only be fire throwers being used in the distance. Surely the attack had not begun already? The fools were supposed to wait until he was within the palace and shaman Utkut's plan had been implemented!

He cursed and redoubled his efforts to climb. The noise and the sight of the fire would draw human sentries and other spectators to the battlements above him. Skrag Nrak could ill afford to have his grapnel line discovered. All it would take would be one human with a knife to slice the rope, and his long and honourable career would come to an end. The Clan Dagger assassin pulled himself upward.

**********

The smoke and strange light in the sky confirmed Girn's suspicions that the invasion had indeed begun. He recognised the colour of the flames as being the same as those produced by the strange weapons which had destroyed the Office of Ingenuity. Looking back, he could see fire leaping from the rooftops of blazing tenements. The Office had been a separate building isolated behind the walls of its own grounds. The buildings here in this part of the city, in contrast, were packed as tight together as drunks in a crowded tavern. Many of them leaned conspiratorially over alleyways. Some were linked by high bridges far above the ground, and by supporting arches in the alleys. Most had thatched roofs and wooden support beams. Girn shivered in spite of himself. The conflagration was going to spread quickly. The city was going to burn.

Still, at least for the moment he seemed to have lost his pursuers. There was not a greenskin in sight. Better yet, he recognised this street at last and knew that he was not too far from the Full Tankard. Once he reached the tavern he would be able to put together a plan with Hans and the others. This was something he couldn't tackle alone.

Suddenly, from the mouth of a nearby alley he heard a shrieked war cry. Looking up, he saw a large group of goblins erupt out into the cobbled street. Gathering all his energy, Girn ran.

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Shaman Utkut led his elite force of skullbashers into position. His keen shaman's intuition told him that directly above them was the palace. He could sense its presence. He trampled the corpse of the sewer watchman beneath him and allowed himself to gloat. So far the Clan Dagger assassins had done their work.

Every human in the sewers who might have given away their presence was dead. By now, teams of shadow shivs would be in position at the base of the cliff on which the castle rested. Hopefully, by now Skrag Nrak would be in position too.

Utkut produced the scrying stone from within his robes. He began to mutter the incantations which would link it to the twin carried by the leader of the Dagger forces.

For a moment, brief niggling doubt flared in Utkut's mind. What if there was something wrong with the incantations? What if Utkut's sorcery was not as strong as he believed?

But only for a second did the shaman hesitate, before his natural confidence in his own mighty abilities returned. He began preparing himself, making himself ready for when the correct time came to cast the spell which would grant his forces victory.

**********

Ahead Girn could see the lights of the Full Tankard. The tavern represented at least a little safety from the horde of shrieking goblins on his trail. He could see Iskander and Gullen and a host of their companions standing in the street, shielding their eyes as they studied the distant fires.

"Goblins!" Girn shouted and saw them all reach for their weapons. In moments, swords glittered in the half-light of the burning city. From inside the tavern a number of armoured figures spilled out into the gloom. Hans was among them.

Girn raced up to the warriors as they braced themselves for the goblin attack. Behind him the goblins, unwilling or unable to give up the heady rush of the chase, came on like an avalanche of fury.

Girn made his way through the throng to stand beside Hans. The former mercenary had that look of mad joy in his eyes that he also got before the combat on the barge.

"I see you found our scuttling little green friends, Girn," he said, brandishing his weapon.

"Yes," Girn said.

"Good. Let's get killing then!"

Girn grinned widely.

**********

Doctor Pazio looked around him. Something was very wrong. Many of the warriors had gone to the battlements to look at the fires and not come back. Rebus had already herded the women back into the ballroom. Messengers had been rushing to and fro between Rebus, the King and those outside. Something was very definitely happening and he needed to find out what it was. If he had not known better, he would have sworn that Rebus had ordered the orchestra to play louder to drown out the sounds of the disturbance.

That must be it, Pazio thought, knowing that he had guessed the truth. Something was happening and in order to forestall a panic, Rebus was covering it up. He glanced around at the others present, and adjusted his mask. Most of the people in the ballroom consisted of ladies of rank, together with a sprinkling of hangers-on and those simply too drunk to leave the hall. Of course there were footmen present, and a few guards too, but the situation was not very reassuring. He glanced across at Rebus, filled with curiosity about what was going on. The arcane advisor was garbed as a wood elf warrior, complete with bow. Pazio walked up to him, still nibbling at a savoury.

"What has happened?" he asked.

"Some disturbance in the town, Doctor Pazio. Arson and possibly worse. With His Majesty's permission, I have ordered troops from the barracks to quell the problem."

"Nothing wrong in the palace then?"

"Not as far as I know, but I have ordered the guards to double-check."

"Let's hope that it is only some looters."

"Yet I fear the worst," Rebus said, looking up as another courier approached. Pazio agreed. Somewhere nearby his limited sorcerously trained senses told him that powerful magic was gathering. Rebus must surely feel it too.

**********

A guard rounded the corner. Skrag Nrak cursed and ducked for cover. The place smelled like shit. Looking around with his dark-accustomed eyes, he could tell this was, in truth, a human privy. Well, there were worse places to hide, he told himself, but this was not going to help his mission.

He knew it was no use. He was not going to make it to the great chamber above the ballroom that he and the shaman had agreed on. All of the stolen maps of the palace he had studied and still carried in his head told him this. He just did not have the time to get there and, even with his supreme skills at sneaking and skulking, he doubted that he could find his way, unseen, through the mass of humans crowding the palace corridors and heading to the battlements in search of a view of what was going on below. This place was just going to have to do.

He took the knapsack from his back and reached within. The heat and the glow produced by the seeing stone told him that he was only just in time. Perhaps even a little late. He wondered how long the shaman had already spent glaring out into the darkness of the inside of his pack. He shuddered when he thought of the wrath of Utkut, as he squatted down and gave the thumbs-up sign to the stone.

**********

Girn ducked the swipe of a jagged scimitar and lashed out with his greataxe. His blow took the goblin beneath the ribs, and cleaved upwards in search of its heart. The goblin gave an eerie high-pitched shriek, clutched its ruptured chest, and died. Girn swung his greataxe to remove the viscera from the blade.

He glanced around at the swirling melee. To his right he saw Hans dash out the brains of a goblin leader with the cosh he held in his left hand, while he fended off the attack of another goblin with the blade he held in his right. Iskander and Gullen fought back-to-back in the teeth of the tide of goblins. Somewhere in the distance he could hear someone bellow a war cry.

Right at this moment, it was difficult to tell how the fight was going. The mercenaries seemed to be holding their own against the tide of goblins, and the battle seemed to have attracted the attention of others. Humans were pouring out of the nearby tenements. Some clutched bedpans and pokers and other improvised weapons. Others carried swords and axes and other more useful-looking instruments of destruction. It seemed that the citizens had decided that they would rather meet their end in battle with their foes than be burned to death in their homes. That was good, thought Girn, for the mercenaries needed all the help they could get as more and more goblins were being drawn through the blazing streets to the sound of battle.

Even as he stood there, a severed head came flying out of the gloom, spinning, spilling blood from disconnected arteries, spraying all those below it with a shower of crimson raindrops. It arced straight toward Girn and he batted it aside with his greataxe. Fluid splattered his face and he fought the urge to lick his lips to clean them. Looking down he saw that the head belonged to a huge goblin warrior.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand quickly, worried that something might take advantage of his blindness and stab him. Shaking his head he moved forward to where he could hear Hans shouting. Ahead of him a wave of furious goblins scrabbled to overwhelm him but Girn hacked them down by the awesome power of his axe.

In the distance, looming over the great mass of lesser goblins, Girn could see a huge wedge of creatures he had come to think of as goblin-ogres. He dove into the seething sea of goblin. Within moments, his flickering axe had left a wall of broken and dying bodies all around him as he thrust his way towards the giant monsters that were his goal. Girn was an unstoppable force, pushing forward and shouting: "Follow me! Let's kill all these bloody goblins!"

As he hacked to left and right, he hoped the mercenaries were listening and following, otherwise he was in for a hard time when he closed with the goblin-ogres.

**********

Utkut glared into his scrying crystal. His head swam. His brain felt aflame. It made him feel dizzy and wonderful at the same time. At this moment, he felt sure he could perceive the underlying pattern of mystical forces focused on the crystal. He concentrated harder on making the thing work.

At last the darkness had cleared. At last he could see the leering face of Skrag Nrak. It appeared that the Clan Dagger assassin had reached his objective. Good, Utkut thought. About time. He could barely contain the enormous mass of mystical energy which boiled within him. He felt so saturated with power that it seemed that at any minute he might explode. His head swam and his vision blurred; everything seemed to swim around him. Frantically he tried to remember the syllables of the spell he had memorised so long ago.

For a long moment the words eluded him, squirming and sliding just out of reach of his thought processes. Utkut bit his tongue until he tasted blood. The pain seemed to sharpen his wits, for eventually the words came to him. He opened his lips and the syllables of his ancient language seemed to vomit forth from his mouth, ejecting with them a roiling cloud of dark, magical energy.

Utkut's heartbeat accelerated to levels he would not have believed were endurable. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his breathing was ragged and choked. He knew he was losing control of his spell and fought to rein in the flow of power before it destroyed him. Brain-blasting visions danced through his mind, and he knew that his seer's gifts had been driven to incredible new heights. Briefly his consciousness seemed to leave his body and scenes flickered through his mind in swift succession.

For a moment his spirit hovered over the city and he had a panoramic view of all that was happening. Below him the streets blazed with fire and violence. A river of goblins raced through the city, killing all that were in their path. Here and there they had encountered pockets of armed resistance where human garrisons or just the mobs of citizens had taken to the streets in defence of their homes. He saw swift, savage scuffles and giant goblins devouring the corpses of man and goblin alike. He saw burning buildings and broken bodies. He saw the whole of the great ancient humancity of Yeledor in flames.

Utkut's attention was drawn to one particular struggle which suddenly leapt into focus when he recognised one alarmingly familiar figure. The barbarian, followed by a disciplined pack of human warriors, were hacking through the goblin warriors towards the hulking bodyguards of Trolk Tul. In his trance state, Utkut could see the roaring goblin-ogres and the appalled look on the face of his henchling Tix as he contemplated the prospect of imminent violence. He saw the mad eyes of Leprous glaring into space as if he sensed the presence of some disembodied watcher.

It looked very much to the shaman like his plan was working and the interfering barbarian was about to destroy his bitter rivals.

Good, he thought, let him! Utkut would brook no others claiming an unfair portion of his glory. He didn't care losing all those warriors that stood in the barbarian's way.

He saw Wrench Claw-Arm bark instructions to his bodyguards and saw the long-barrelled rifles swing to bear on the barbarian. No, Utkut thought furiously. None of that! With an almost imperceptible flicker of his thoughts, he touched the gunner's mind. Its fingers curled on the trigger but its alloy bullet went wild, smashing into the skull of a nearby goblin-ogre, killing the brainless beast with an explosion of grey matter.