Mythica, book 1, Chapter 12.

Chapter 12.

As they followed the road to Golden Harvest Village, Sabine considered getting in touch with Hamish. Enough time had passed for him to reappear at another graveyard, but they were in the wilds and her Call of the Grave was only giving her faint responses. Not wanting to go out of her way for a chat with the annoying advisor, Sabine figured she would wait until they reached the village. Given the remote location of the village, it was likely to have its own graveyard or some other resting place for their lost loved ones.

While they walked, Sabine took Hamish’s advice and began to focus on her mana pool. It was a chaotic mess and seemed to actively resist any of her efforts to manipulate it. The power held in a roughly spherical shape, perhaps that was either her will at work or that of Gnessos. Despite being held into a rough position, the mana railed against its cage, refusing all but Sabine’s most forceful efforts to control it.

About the only thing she could do with the mana, was command it to power her weapons and body in combat. Still, it resisted, but Sabine’s god-granted ability forced the mana to obey in those cases. Healing her injuries was the only other way the mana obeyed, and even then, it did so passively without Sabine being able to direct or influence it in any way. The work to control her power was frustrating and despite the time she spent on it, Sabine didn’t feel that she had any additional insight into how this whole mana thing worked.

Sabine had been so distracted by trying to control her mana that she almost missed the trail that led to the village. It wasn’t a widely traveled route and the winter weather had started to cover the dirt path with a dusting of snow. There was still enough of a trail for the pair to follow, though Sabine could have done without Orren needing to stop now and then to rest or eat. She gave up on her mana for the time being and used the downtime to scout the area. Being ambushed by highwaymen or beasts at close range was not that likely now that she could sense the life force or essence of undeath in a small area around her.

Orren tried to occasionally engage her in conversation as they walked, but Sabine had little to say to the man. He seemed a nice enough person, but too weak to be out here on his own. Orren’s family must not have liked him much to send him without any support other than a pouch full of coins. He certainly wasn’t wise to the ways of the world, having lived in academia and not the rough streets and battlefields where Sabine had honed her trade.

His powers were interesting and could be very useful if they ran into some strange creature she hadn’t fought before. Orren could support a small group of fighters by pointing out the weakness of his enemies, but he would need to learn more in the way of physical combat before Sabine would consider him self-sufficient. If she had been inclined to form an adventuring party to deal with the bounties on the board, Orren would have been useful support for the group.

“I suppose we’re getting close, not exactly the most active bunch, are they.” Orren said. The terrain had gradually changed as they traveled, the rough and rocky ground had given way to open, snow-dusted fields and rolling hills that the path wound through. It was late afternoon when they began to pass farmsteads. Nobody seemed to be around, and every house they passed was boarded up.

Hammerhead had mentioned that the farmers near the village left their homes and sheltered through the night in town. It was common for people to group together when facing a threat, and goblins weren’t known for taking on even a modestly sized village without a lot more numbers than Hammerhead seemed to think the greenskins possessed. Being this late in the afternoon, it made sense that the outlying farms would have wrapped things up for the day early to make it to the village before darkness fell.

“These aren’t warriors, just simple folk trying to feed their families. You can rest assured that they wouldn’t leave their homes unless they thought the danger was real. At least their troubles didn’t start during harvest time,” Sabine said. People thought that farmers didn’t do much in the winter, but that was far from the truth. From her childhood, Sabine knew that farming was a year-round toil and one she wanted no part in.

“How many goblins are supposed to be out there? Enough to scare the whole village is likely far more than a single warrior, no matter her skills, to defeat,” Orren said.

“Maybe they’re overreacting, but there were at least enough goblins to defeat their small militia. I’ll be safe enough. I don’t plan to take on the whole goblin horde all at once, I’ll track down smaller groups and eliminate the threat in more manageable encounters. Look, the village is up ahead, let’s hear from the horse’s mouth about these goblins,” Sabine said as the village was finally revealed when they passed over a low rise.

This was a small hamlet with a couple of dozen homes and a few larger structures that looked to be warehouses, various shops, and a bustling tavern. Despite its size and limited manpower, the villagers had spent some effort to make the place defensible. A makeshift fence had been built around the town, more like something you would construct to keep the cattle from wandering off, not something to defend against a goblin horde. The village was in a large valley at the base of some foothills that led toward a mountain range to the north.

The road they were on led to a gap in the fence where a pair of villagers armed with farm implements stood watch with looks of concern on their faces. If the sight of a pair of travelers had them worried, Sabine didn’t give them much chance if a horde of goblins struck. When they were within twenty yards of the village, one of the guards shouted out.

“Hey there, who are you, and what’re you doing here?”

“My name is Sabine Giroux, and this is Orren Cavendish. We were sent by Hammerhead to help you out with some goblin problem I hear you’re having. I want to speak with Gilroy, I hear he’s the one in charge,” Sabine said, trying to appear as friendly as possible.

“Yup, Gilroy’s here, he’s over at the inn getting folks squared away for the night,” one of the villagers said.

“So, are we allowed to enter?” Sabine asked. The pair of villagers guarding the entrance still clutched their weapons, in this case, a shovel and a pitchfork, like they were ready to attack.

“Yup, you’uns can go right on in. Just look for the building with all the people gathered around it, that’ll be the inn,” the villager with the pitchfork said.

“Hey, how are you two supposed to fight off a passel of them there goblins? You got one sword and dagger between the two of you,” The one with the shovel asked.

“Hush Jimothy, look at all the books that feller has, them’s got to be some wizards or something like that,” the guard with the pitchfork answered. The pair then started arguing, completely forgetting about Sabine and Orrin, which she was more than fine with.

People were gathered around the inn and what looked like a large warehouse. Many were carrying bedding and other items, and all looked weary after a hard day of work and what promised to be a difficult night’s sleep given the limited accommodations in town. Sabine wasn’t too worried about a room at the inn, she didn’t need sleep, and Orren could fend for himself.

“Is Gilroy here?” Sabine asked a matronly woman who was handing out some blankets to those who hadn’t had time to bring them from home.

“Elder Gilroy!” The woman shouted. A stooped, tired-looking older man that looked like he was carrying the weight of the world with him walked over to join them.

“Beatrice, don’t go hollering this elder crap, I’m your husband, Gilroy Sarkis, not some jumped-up mayor or whatnot. Who do we have here, we don’t see too many new faces around this place,” Gilroy said, reaching over to hold the matronly woman’s hand as if by force of habit from being married for many years.

“I’m Sabine Giroux and this is Orren Cavendish. Hammerhead sent me to help you sort out the problems you’re having. I believe the issue was some goblins that are causing trouble?” Sabine said.

“While it’s nice to see that Hammerhead hasn’t forgotten about the bounty I placed, I fear that our problems are a bit more than the pair of you can handle,” Gilroy said skeptically. Sabine started to get mad, feeling her anger rising as this man questioned her ability. She suppressed the feeling, as she could detect no insult was intended by the plain-spoken man. He had a genuine question and given the current state of her gear, she couldn’t really blame him.

“I can assure you that I’m a competent fighter and a trained soldier. My gear may not be the best right now, which is part of why I agreed on this bounty, I hope to earn enough to get some proper weapons and armor. As for Orren, he’s not part of the fight, I just escorted him here after he ran into trouble on the road,” Sabine said. Gilroy looked like he was mulling over what she had just said.

Now Gilroy, you can’t be thinking of letting her chase after those goblins all on her own. I won’t be party to getting this young lady killed,” Beatrice said, giving Gilroy the stink eye.

“While I don’t claim to be an adventurer myself, I can vouch for Sabine’s competence. Two ruffians tried to rob me on the road and she dealt with them both in a matter of seconds,” Orren said.

“I’m not calling you a liar, young man, but I’m not convinced that this young lady with only a short sword could best two ruffians,” Gilroy said.

“Not only the two ruffians, but she also slew a ghoul that I was trying to document for my compendium,” Orren said, not realizing that he was making her exploits seem even more fanciful.

“What about a dragon, did you bag one of those before breakfast this mornin'?” Beatrice said, her and Gilroy having a good laugh at Orren’s claims.

Sabine had about enough, and her anger flared once more. She said nothing just set her pack down and started rooting around inside it. Several other villagers had come over and were watching the spectacle, which wasn’t making it any easier for Sabine to resist punching Gilroy in the face. Finding the sack with the head inside it, she handed it over to Beatrice.

“There’s my proof,” Sabine said.

“Proof? What kind of nonsense is…by the gods, get that thing away from me!” Beatrice shouted as she opened the bag and saw the bog ghoul’s head inside. With a wet plop, the bag hit the ground and the head rolled free, causing more than a few of the gathered villagers to gag when the smell of the foul creature finally hit them.

“One frail little girl with a shortsword did this, something I don’t think half your village together could have handled. I’m here to collect a bounty, not that I don’t appreciate your concern for my safety. Just point me in the direction of the goblins and I’ll take care of the problem,” Sabine said firmly.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean any insult, it’s just that,” Gilroy muttered, stumbling to find the words he wanted.

“No apologies necessary, Gilroy, I know how I look, and it wasn’t exactly unreasonable to assume I was crazy. Why don’t you tell me about the attacks on your village and I can get started on solving the problem,” Sabine said while scooping the severed ghoul head back into the sack, much to the disappointment of several children who had gathered around to get a peek at the monster and poke it with sticks.

“Very well, allow me to invite you to our home. It’s the least I can do for insulting you,” Beatrice said, leading Sabine to a house not too far from the inn.

If Gilroy was in charge of the village, he didn’t appear to be flaunting his position or using it to fleece the locals if his home was any indicator. It was a simple affair and didn’t stand out from the others in the village. A small lawn and tidy garden surrounded by a short white picket fence gave it a homey feel, though most of the fence had been torn up recently, likely to reinforce the hodgepodge wall around the village.

Beatrice had a pot of tea on the stove, and she poured a cup for each of them. Sabine declined the offer of something to eat, but Orren wasn’t shy and gratefully accepted a plate of stew that was simmering in a kettle next to the tea. They had been on the road for a while and Sabine remembered that the taste of trail rations got old rather quickly. The tea was soothing and warm, but there was still a pinch of pain as her mana burned off the liquid inside her. It appeared that enjoying a nice cup of tea was something that she would never experience again.

“What did you want to know about the attacks?” Gilroy asked.

“As much as you can tell me. Start with when the trouble first started,” Sabine said, trying to get as much intelligence on the foe as she could.

“It’s not been that long, just after the last fall harvest. One of the hunters was working out toward the mountain, and he spotted goblin tracks. He notified us of the potential problem, but it was deemed far enough away to be of much concern for the village. Various creatures come down from the mountain from time to time, but they rarely bother settlements of our size,” Gilroy said, stopping to sip his tea.

“The hunter never actually spotted a live goblin, only the tracks?” Orren asked.

“Aye, but Loren knew his trade and if he said they were goblin tracks, I believe him. Sadly, Loren was the first to go missing. The day after he came to town to report things, he just disappeared. After that, one of the homesteads close to the mountains was found abandoned with the door broken in. The people that lived there were good folks that wouldn’t have left the area without saying goodbye to their friends in the village. That was when we gathered the militia and set out after the greenskins.”

“I heard the militia was ambushed,” Sabine said.

“They were, and we lost three good men that day. Without Loren’s tracking skills, they missed the signs of the ambush until it was too late,” Gilroy said.

“How many did you lose, and how many goblins were there? It would also help if you told us how the goblins were armed,” Sabine asked.

“We lost three that day, two to arrows and one to a spike trap that the goblins had set on the trail. Most would have survived, the wounds weren’t too bad, but the goblins had some kind of poison on their arrows and traps, and that’s what done the militia in,” Gilroy said. Sabine could see the sadness in his eyes, these weren’t faceless soldiers in an army, these were town militia. Each and every one of them would be known by the villagers, and they likely left behind families who would struggle in their absence.

“How long after did the militia try again?” Sabine asked.

“Two days later, after more folks went missing, another farmstead near the mountains, and a visitor who was looking for a place to settle down,” Gilroy said.

“Who was the visitor?” Sabine asked, if someone was aiding the goblins, it could account for their success. It wasn’t unheard of for bandits to work with greenskins, setting up places like the village for a cut of the loot. The arrangements usually ended with one side killing off their “partners”, but that didn’t always deter those with nefarious motives from taking the risk if there was enough coin involved.

“He was an older man, a kindly sort named Riley. Said he was tired of the city and looking for a farm and a little land to call his own. We warned him of the danger, and he promised to look at property that was well away from the mountain, but that didn’t seem to help him since that was the last anyone saw of him,” Gilroy said. Maybe this Riley guy had something to with it, Sabine thought, but he could also just be another innocent victim.

“What’s been happening since the militia’s gone missing?” Sabine asked.

“More farms were attacked, or at least that’s what we assume since the places are empty and the doors and windows smashed in. We even had some with blood stains to show there was a struggle. Them goblins even took the bodies with them, and I don’t rightly want to know what they planned to do with them. That’s when I sent the bounty to Hammerhead and most of the folks from the outlying farms now bed down here in town during the night, which is when the goblins seem most active,” Gilroy said.

“Where do you think I can find the goblins? Do you have a map?” Sabine asked.

“Yes, let me get the map,” Gilroy said, rooting around in his small office for a moment before he found a map of the area.

He pointed out the village and where the ambush took place, up in the foothills to the north of town. Goblins liked mountains and caves, so that fit their normal habitat, but something still felt off to Sabine. Sure, goblins were stupid, but a small band wouldn’t trouble a village of this size, knowing that reprisals would soon follow. A band of gobs big enough to take on the village would just overrun it, not pick off isolated farmsteads.

“I think I have what I need to get started. Is there anywhere in town that sells supplies or a blacksmith that works on weapons?” Sabine asked.

“Zillman’s has a few weapons, but what he had in stock has likely been picked over by any farmer who had enough coin to purchase something. Still, there should be something there that might prove useful, and he’ll give you a fair deal. Our blacksmith is good for horseshoes and plows, not so much with armor and weapons since there’s usually not a need for that sort of thing out here,” Gilroy said, pointing out the nearby shop to Sabine.

Orren was on his own to find lodging. She was going scouting after seeing if there was anything worth purchasing at the shop. After that, it was time to kill some goblins.