Chapter Thirty-Five: Goblins, Women, and Dogs (Part Two)

“Mage?!”
The moment they saw Jen disappear, the gray dwarves were stunned. What kind of turn of events was this? Had he just cast some spell to escape? Or was this some sort of trap? Could it be that the mage had conspired with Kardec to lure them here, planning to kill them and erase all evidence?

Anyone who spends enough time in the Underdark is bound to develop a touch of paranoia—though, more often than not, it is entirely justified.

With that thought, the gray dwarves immediately raised their weapons, forming a defensive formation as they watched their surroundings warily and uneasily. It was as if the shadows were already filled with poisoned arrows and crossbows, only awaiting a signal to reap their lives.

The command came even faster than they had imagined.

“What are you waiting for?”

At the sound of that voice, the gray dwarves turned in surprise and saw Jen had reappeared beside the stone wall without their notice, his glasses glinting coldly as he stared straight at them.

“Hurry up—time waits for no one. Or do you wish to linger here and chat with the goblins?”

With those words, Jen’s figure flickered and vanished again.

This time, the gray dwarves realized something was amiss. Gazing at the small pool before them, Torg hesitated, then, with the look of a man about to march into fire and blade, waded into the water and peered along the wall. It was only then that he discerned the secret.

In the gap between the stone walls, there was a pitch-black fissure, just over a man’s height. A moss-covered, vine-entwined plank lay crookedly over the entrance, and natural protrusions along the outer edge hid the opening in shadow. Close the plank, and from the outside, it was indistinguishable from the solid wall.

No wonder the gray dwarves could never find the goblins’ lair. They despised running water and rarely approached damp places. The goblins, though foolish, possessed an uncanny knack for survival. Even when pursued, if they could just reach this gap and cover it with the plank, the water alone would mask their tracks and scent.

How those goblins had discovered this wretched place was anyone’s guess.

Staring into the pitch-black passage, Torg hesitated, but in the end, he entered. Whatever else might come, destroying the goblins would benefit him as well. At the very least, it would deny Kardec any excuse to act against him.

The passage was even narrower than Torg had imagined. A stout human would get stuck; even for the short gray dwarves, they had to proceed single file. The slippery moss underfoot made the already steep path more treacherous, and Torg had to move with utmost care to avoid tumbling down like a boulder—a prospect he was certain would be thoroughly unpleasant.

Still, the goblins’ choice of hideout was inspired. Without the mage, Torg doubted they’d ever have found the true entrance. Now, he almost felt grateful to have Jen on his side. Unbeknownst to Jen, Kardec’s order to hunt goblins was meant as a curse—to keep Torg and his patrol far from Brandon Stonehold for life, risking death daily, unless he succeeded.

But if he completed this mission, then no matter what losses he suffered, Kardec would have no grounds to banish him from Brandon Stonehold again!

After more than ten minutes picking their way along that narrow, steep, and slippery passage, the view ahead suddenly opened up.

“What is…?”

Torg’s eyes widened in astonishment at the scene before him. A vast cavern yawned at his feet, as wide and open as a stadium. Luminous mosses clung to the smooth dome above, casting a gentle, bright light over the immense chamber. He could see crooked streams fed by underground waters, and a haphazard sprawl of shanties, resembling a refugee camp more than a settlement. In the distance, the high-pitched chattering of goblins echoed through the cavern, but there was no urgency in their tones—they had yet to realize intruders had entered their midst.

To think, such a place existed so close to Brandon Stonehold!

Torg was so shocked his eyes nearly popped from their sockets. He never would have imagined that beneath the surface he trod daily lay a world apart—if only he’d known, he would have brought a mining pick and dug for treasure himself!

“I don’t believe we have any time to waste, Mr. Torg.”

Jen’s voice called Torg back to reality. Looking toward the sound, Torg saw Jen lounging casually against a nearby stalagmite. Not far from him lay two or three goblin corpses, torn to pieces, yet no one seemed to have noticed. How Jen had managed it was anyone’s guess.

“What now, Mage?” Torg asked, shaking off his astonishment. His warrior’s instincts returned at once; grasping his battle-axe in both hands, he glared malevolently at the distant goblin settlement. Behind him, the other gray dwarf warriors gripped their weapons, grinning savagely at the prey before them.

“Attack. Kill them all,” Jen ordered, his words simple and direct. For the gray dwarves, that was all the instruction they needed.

“Let’s go! Let’s show these green-skinned mongrels what we’re made of!”

A savage cry rose up as the gray dwarves, led by Torg, raised their axes and charged forward in a whirlwind assault. Their heavy steps pounded the ground with dull thunder, and though their bodies were small, they bore the momentum of tumbling boulders.

There were roughly three hundred goblins in the settlement. Of the fifty gray dwarves under Torg, thirty had been dispatched for the diversion outside with Enoa and the others; only twenty warriors remained here for the assault. Outnumbered as they were, Torg seemed unconcerned.

The goblins, however, saw things differently.

At first, the sudden attack threw them into confusion and panic; they stumbled back, kicking aside anything and anyone in their way, fleeing in chaos. But when they realized their attackers numbered only twenty, their cowardly bravado surged. With a harsh cry, an elderly goblin leader—draped in animal hides and brandishing a rusty iron spear—rallied his kin. The goblins seized their weapons and surged forward to counterattack.

Though clad in battered armor, the gray dwarves were armed to the teeth. The goblins, as always, cared little for defense. Jen spotted one small goblin drowning in an oversized leather cuirass, so heavy it hindered him more than it could ever protect.

Reality proved this out: as the leather-clad goblin stumbled forward, Torg roared, crouched, and swung his axe in a brutal arc. Blood sprayed as the goblin’s legs were severed. The creature collapsed, howling and writhing in a pool of its own blood—until a gray dwarf’s iron boot crushed its skull, ending the pointless struggle.

Wave upon wave, the goblins crashed forward, but the gray dwarves formed a living bulwark. Their axes showed no mercy, hacking goblins apart—split in two or worse. Blood and severed limbs flew; the gray dwarves revealed their cold and ruthless side, leaving no enemy alive.

It was nearly enough.

When Jen saw a gray dwarf impale a goblin whelp on his axe and lift it high with a grin, he turned his attention away, narrowing his eyes and turning the black staff in his hands. Just as he expected, the elderly goblin, faced with the carnage, could endure no longer. Muttering strange words, the goblin raised his hands and scattered a black, sand-like powder over his kin. At once, the goblins covered in the stuff began to grow; their eyes reddened, their shriveled arms swelled like balloons, muscles bulging with unnatural strength…

A bolt of lightning split the air, streaking toward the old goblin.

He had no chance to react. The searing lightning struck him squarely, and thunder exploded outward, crackling in a web of raw power that engulfed every goblin within two meters. Whatever strength the black powder had bestowed was now meaningless—all that remained were charred husks.

That was the final straw.

At the death of their elder, terror overcame the goblins. Screaming, they abandoned all order and fled for the distant tunnels, desperate to escape.

But their path was blocked—a massive, shadowy beast stood there, tail lashing.

As it opened its gaping maw, the fate of the goblin horde was sealed.