Chapter 146 - 147: The Goblin Camp

Chapter 146: Chapter 147: The Goblin Camp

Daniel remained perfectly still at the edge of the treeline, his gaze fixed on the goblin camp as he studied every detail with the cold patience of someone who had learned long ago that rushing into a fight was a good way to die, and his eyes moved slowly over the goblins themselves, over the crude weapons they carried, over the scattered positions they had chosen around the fire, and over their numbers with the kind of careful attention that turned a messy camp into a map of threats and openings.

There were ten goblins in the camp, perhaps twelve if he counted the two smaller shapes moving near the far side of the fire, and they were small in the way that hungry things are small, green in the way that old bruises are green, and ugly in a manner that seemed almost proud of itself, because they were laughing and eating and shoving one another around the fire with the careless confidence of creatures who had no idea they were being watched.

And in the center of it all sat the Hobgoblin, a large and muscular and brutally ugly creature that had planted itself on a flat rock like a king on a throne, eating a piece of meat with slow, deliberate bites while the smaller goblins gave it a wide and respectful space, and Daniel understood at once that this was the leader, not because anyone had told him so, but because the entire camp seemed to bend around the creature’s presence.

Daniel studied it with the same patience he had used on the others, noting its size and its strength and the relaxed way it held its shoulders, the confident tilt of its head, and the dangerous ease of a creature that had never needed to hurry because everything smaller than it had learned to move out of its way.

Then he looked at the others, at their faces and their eyes and the determination they were trying to hold onto, and he felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle across his shoulders like a coat he had worn so often that he no longer knew how to take it off.

"All right, listen closely, because I am only going to say this once and I want every one of you to understand exactly what your job is before we step out of these trees," he whispered, and they leaned in together, their faces close and their breathing quiet, and they listened with the kind of focus that only comes before violence.

"Lyra, you are our ranged attacker, so you stay back where you can see the whole camp, you use your guns, and you pick off the goblins one by one from a distance where they cannot reach you, because the last thing any of us needs is for you to let them get close enough to drag you into a knife fight."

Lyra nodded once, her guns already drawn and held low but ready, her eyes sharp and steady as they moved from one goblin to the next like she was already counting the shots she would need.

"Fluffy, you are our shadow, so use your stealth and get behind them before the fighting really starts, attack from the rear where they are not looking, and keep them confused long enough that they cannot decide whether they should run toward Cheeky or turn around to deal with you."

Fluffy nodded, her daggers already in her hands and her eyes fierce in the firelight, and she looked like she was already halfway into the shadows even while standing still.

"Cheeky, you are our tank, so use your iron skin and draw their attention as soon as we move, take their hits if you have to, and protect the others by making yourself the biggest and most obvious problem in the camp."

Cheeky nodded, her iron skin gleaming faintly as she rolled her shoulders, and her eyes were determined in a way that made Daniel glad she was on their side.

"Paul, you are our support, so use your wind to keep them off balance whenever they start to group up, help wherever you can, and do not push yourself past the point where you become another person I have to worry about."

Paul nodded, the wind already beginning to swirl around his hands in a thin, restless spiral, and his eyes were tired but determined in the way of someone who had decided to keep standing even though his body would have preferred otherwise.

"Mittens, you stay back, because you are not trained and you are not ready, and I need you to stay behind us where the fighting is thinnest and stay safe even if you think you should be doing more."

Mittens nodded, her face pale and her small body trembling, but she was there, and Daniel supposed that was the only thing he could ask of her right now.

"Brick Head."

Brick Head puffed out his chest so far that it looked like he was trying to make himself wider than he was tall. "Yes?"

"Try not to die, Brick Head, and I mean that as sincerely as I have ever meant anything, because I would prefer that all of us walk away from this camp with the same number of limbs we arrived with."

Brick Head blinked once, then twice, as if the instruction had taken a moment to travel all the way through his skull. "That’s it?"

"That’s it."

"Okay!"

Daniel looked at them then, at his team and his family and his friends, at the strange little group that had somehow become the center of his world, and he let himself feel the fear for exactly as long as it took to recognize it before he pushed it down where it would not slow his hands.

"Ready?" he asked.

They nodded, and they were ready, or at least they were as ready as anyone could be before walking into a goblin camp with a plan that depended on all of them doing exactly what they were supposed to do at exactly the right moment.

"Then let’s go."

They moved.

Lyra went left, slipping through the trees until she found one with low branches and a good view of the camp, and she climbed it quickly and quietly, settled herself into a fork in the branches, raised her gun, and aimed with the calm focus of someone who had already decided which goblin would die first.

Fluffy went right, disappearing into the shadows so completely that Daniel could not track her after the first few steps, and she moved like a ghost through the underbrush, unseen and unheard and patient in the way of a shadow that only becomes dangerous when it decides to move.

Cheeky went forward, walking straight toward the camp with her iron skin gleaming and her fists raised, and she was the distraction and the tank and the wall that the goblins would break themselves against before they ever reached anyone else.

Paul went behind Cheeky, his wind swirling around him and his hands raised, and he was the support and the backup and the quiet force that would keep the fight from turning into a slaughter in the wrong direction.

Mittens stayed back, hiding behind a tree with her hands pressed against the bark and her eyes wide, and she watched and waited and trembled, but she stayed where she had been told to stay.

Brick Head went forward with his fists raised and his face set in an expression of tremendous determination, and he was the idiot and the wildcard and the unpredictable force that might break the goblin line or might simply break a few goblins before they figured out what to do with him.

Daniel went forward too, his hands in his pockets and his expression calm, and his eyes were cold in a way that made the firelight seem warmer by comparison.

They were ready.

The goblins saw them.

They stopped laughing and stopped eating and stopped everything, their mouths falling open and their eyes going wide as they stared at the strange group walking out of the trees toward their camp, and for one brief moment the entire clearing was silent enough that Daniel could hear the fire crackling.

Then one of them screamed.

"Humans!"

The camp erupted into motion as the goblins grabbed their weapons, raising clubs and spears and knives with frantic energy, and they charged forward in a loose, screaming wave that was less a formation and more a collection of bad decisions moving in the same direction.

Cheeky met them first.

She walked into the camp with her iron skin gleaming and her fists raised, and she was a wall and a fortress and an unstoppable force that did not slow down when the first club cracked against her shoulder or when a spear tip scraped across her arm or when a knife blade shattered against her side.

The goblins attacked her with everything they had, their clubs bouncing off and their spears breaking and their knives shattering, and Cheeky did not flinch or stop or even seem to notice as she punched a goblin hard enough to send it flying backward, kicked another hard enough to collapse it in a heap, and slammed a third into the ground hard enough that it did not get up again.

Lyra fired.

Her bullets cut through the air and found goblins with sharp, precise cracks, and they dropped where they stood and did not get up, and she fired again and again and again, each shot another goblin down and another gap opened in the chaos.

Fluffy appeared behind the goblins like a nightmare stepping out of the dark, her daggers flashing as they slashed and cut and killed, and she disappeared before they could turn, reappeared behind another goblin, and attacked again with the kind of ruthless efficiency that made the rear of the goblin camp the most dangerous place to be.

Paul raised his hand and the wind gathered around him, spinning into a thin blade that he threw across the clearing, and it cut through a goblin and dropped it before the creature could even scream.

Brick Head charged with his fists raised and his face determined, and he punched a goblin so hard it flew backward, kicked another so hard it collapsed, and headbutted a third so hard that it did not get up, and somehow his wild, reckless attack fit perfectly into the chaos the others had created.

The goblins fell one by one and two by two and three by three as the camp dissolved into shouting and blood and broken weapons, and they were overwhelmed and outmatched and defeated before most of them had time to understand what was happening.

The camp went silent.

Daniel walked through the destruction with slow, unhurried steps, looking at the fallen goblins and their broken bodies and the blood darkening the dirt, and he did not stop until he stood in front of the Hobgoblin.

It was still sitting on the rock, still eating its meat, still watching him with the same patient, amused expression it had worn since the first goblin screamed, and it did not look scared or angry or even particularly surprised.

It stood up.

It was large and muscular and ugly and tall, taller than Daniel and taller than anyone else in the clearing, and when it dropped its meat and grabbed its weapon—a large, spiked, deadly club—it did so with the calm confidence of a creature that had never needed to prove anything to anyone.

It walked toward Daniel with footsteps that cracked the ground and eyes that were cold and a smile that was cruel, and it stopped in front of him and looked down at him from a height that was at least a foot above his own, maybe more.

"You," it said, and its voice was deep and rough and guttural in a way that seemed to come from somewhere far down inside its chest.

Daniel did not answer.

"You killed my goblins."

Daniel still did not answer.

"You will pay."

Daniel smiled, a cold and dangerous smile that did not reach his eyes. "Try me."

The Hobgoblin raised its club.

Daniel raised his fists.

The fight was about to begin.