Chapter 36: Chiefly Matters

As I padded down the right tunnel, the din steadily increased in volume. So too, did the orange-yellow tinge of torchlight. Somewhere up ahead there were a great many goblins.

Fifty yards later, the corridor ended in an arch broad enough for an entire squad of goblins to walk abreast. With my back braced against the passage wall, and doing my best to remain out of sight, I edged up to the arch and peered within.

Beyond the arch was an enormous cavern. Torches were dotted all along the chamber’s rim. More torches were affixed on wooden stakes at regular intervals along the floor as well, but the cavern was so large that, despite the many torches, it was gloomy and full of dancing shadows.

Most of the floorspace was taken up by long rows of tables, many more than I had seen in the other room that I had mistaken for the goblins’ main dining-room. This is a great hall, I decided.

No goblins were seated at the tables though. But neither was the chamber empty.

Gathered against the cavern’s far end was a crowd of some fifty-odd goblins. My heart sank on catching sight of their numbers. So many, I despaired. How am I going to defeat them all?

The creatures were pressed up against a large wooden dais, hollering and cheering while watching the spectacle playing out on the stage with avid interest. What I had first mistaken for yells of panic were actually jeers of laughter.

Fearing the worst, I lifted my gaze upwards to ascertain the source of the goblins’ amusement. An oversized chair—a throne really—had been placed on the dais, and standing before it, was the largest goblin I had yet seen.

Without doubt, he was the chief I had heard the other goblins talk of. Nearly twice my own height, the chief towered over every other creature in the room. Facing off against him were the two dire wolves. With raised hackles and barred fangs, both beasts circled the goblin. The two wolves sported a host of cuts and bruises, while the chief’s spiked hide armor was spotless.

I bit my lip worriedly. What was going on here? It was clear from the chief’s languid stance and the negligent manner in which he swung the greatclub in his hands that he felt not the least bit threatened by the beasts. Nor did the spectating goblins seem to believe their leader in any threat.

But if that was the case… why were the dire wolves squaring off against the goblin chief in a direct confrontation? The wolves were smart enough to size up the odds. Why abandon their hit and run tactics?

A blur of movement in the shadows cast by the throne attracted my attention. Narrowing my gaze, I focused on a half-seen figure. It was a pup. No, not one, but three dire wolf pups. Each was chained by a metal collar to the throne and was straining at their leashes to get free.

“Ah,” I breathed. Now the adult dire wolves’ actions made sense—both the urgency that drove them, and the imperative that forced them to confront the chief.

They are trying to save their pups. Still, the manner in which they sought to do so was foolish. The dire wolves could not triumph.

A pup whined. Another yelped. Seemingly in response to her pups’ distress, the dire wolf mother darted forward to nip at the chief’s heels. But the goblin had been anticipating the attack. His club swept downwards in a brutal arc and crashed into her midriff.

With a yelp of pain, the dire wolf mother was sent flying through the air before crashing back onto the floor in a boneless heap. The whines of the three pups turned to angry barks and growls.

I bit off my own cry of anger and stopped my first reckless impulse to draw my blades and charge into the chamber. I could no more prevail against the goblins in direction confrontation than the dire wolves.

Forcing myself to patience, I studied the fallen beast. She was still and unmoving, but from this distance, I could not tell if she was unconscious or dead. Either way, there is nothing I can do to help her yet.

I turned my gaze to the dire wolf sire. He was pacing in wary circle just outside the range of the chieftain’s club. But he made no move to attack. He was either wiser than his mate, or less driven by rage. The chieftain twirled his club and watched the beast with a sneer pasted on his face.

I tore my gaze away from the pair. Their confrontation could only end in one way, and if I wanted to help the dire wolves, I needed to figure out a means to do so while the goblins were still distracted.

I scanned the rest of the cavern. On the right side of the chamber were two large black cauldrons laid over two open fire pits. Near the pots were four goblin workers. They were the only goblins in the chamber not gathered near the stage, yet their gazes were just as transfixed by the goings-on on the dais as their fellows.

A cream-grey goo was bubbling inside the cauldrons. Raising my head, I took a cautious sniff. It smelt like some sort of gruel. Has the night passed? I wondered. Was that why the goblins had gathered here? For breakfast? I wasn’t sure, but it was clear the goblins intended on eating soon.

My thoughts whirled, and a bold—if risky—plan took shape. My gaze flitted between the cooks and the stage. I didn’t know how much longer the goblins would remain distracted. If I was going to act, it had to be now.

Go, Michael.

Banishing my doubts, I retrieved a handful of items from my backpack, then crept into the room.

~~~

Slipping from shadow to shadow, I made my way towards the two cooking pots as fast as I dared.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dire wolf sire was still patiently circling the chieftain. I didn’t know if the beast had a plan, but I silently willed him not to attack. The longer the contest between goblin and wolf dragged on, the more time I had to enact my plan.

For now, both the crowd of goblins and cooks remained mesmerized by the spectacle on the stage, making my task of sneaking through the cavern’s jumble of shadows easier.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! Your sneaking has increased to level 30. Your skill in sneaking has reached rank 3.

I made it to within a few yards of the bubbling cauldrons undetected. Crouched down under a table, I considered my next move.

Only a few feet separated the four cooks from the two pots, and the area between was unfortunately well-lit. But the goblin workers had their backs turned to me and the cauldrons. I could reach the pots unseen, provided none of cooks turned around.

If that happened, it was game over.

I licked my lips nervously and got going. Ducking out of the shelter of the table, I moved forward, one cautious step at a time.

I judged it t was ten steps to the cauldrons. I took the first step, then waited with baited breath. No reaction.

I placed my next foot forward. Still no reaction.

Another step. A cry rose from the dais. I stilled. A roar followed from the crowd. I didn’t turn to look. It would only waste valuable time. My concentration absolute, I placed another foot forward, then another.

A pup howled. The sound was forlorn and grief-stricken. My heart sank. Was the dire wolf sire dead? I stepped forward again, my eyes fixed on my destination.

The crowd bellowed again, drowning out the pup’s cries. I stepped forward. I feared I was out of time, but I was committed now. Turning around now no longer an option.

Another step. Two more steps and I would reach the cauldrons.

“GOBLINS!” a voice shouted suddenly. I froze.

“LOOK at these pathetic dogs!” the speaker continued. “Is THIS what you’ve been afraid of?” It was the chief speaking, I realized, but I didn’t dare turn around to look.

“WHY?” he thundered. “They are nothing more than pitiful beasts!” The chief’s words reverberated throughout the cavern, and as their echoes died, the watching goblin’s yelling died down.

I closed my eyes, then screwing up courage took another step forward, trusting that none of the goblins’ attention would waver from their leader.

“With me as your chief, you need fear NOTHING! Do you hear me goblins?”

“AYE!” fifty voices roared in response.

I stepped forward again. I was at the cauldrons finally. Moving with deliberate haste, I unwound the poisoned darts from the cloth protecting them and dropped them into the cooking pots.

You have lost 3 used poison darts and 2 unused poison darts.

With my deed done, I turned a slow circle. The chieftain, I finally saw, was still on the stage with his eyes turned downwards and directly upon on the crowd of goblins gazing adoringly at him.

“We will KILL all the players,” the chieftain screamed. “We will earn the Master’s reward. WE. And only we will do this. Our tribe.”

“AYE,” echoed the goblins.

I began my careful journey back to shadows, with a half an ear on the chief’s words. It had not escaped my notice that the goblin leader was not only larger than his fellows, but that his speech was smoother and more cultured too. He will be a dangerous foe, I thought.

“And then,” the chief continued, “we will return to the surface and RULE. We, the Fangtooths, will stand above all other goblins. We and no other.”

“LONG LIVE FANGTOOTH. LONG LIVE CHIEF,” the goblins sang.

I reached my table without mishap and ducked under. The table was wide, and the shadows beneath it were deep enough, that unless a goblin looked directly under, I wouldn’t be spotted. I was safe—for now. Heaving a relieved sigh, I turned my gaze upon the stage again.

“These dogs will serve us,” the chief said. Bending down, he picked one of the squirming dire wolf pups in his hands. “Fangtooths will ride wolves—not worgs. They will be a symbol of our supremacy. Dire wolves will bow to Fangtooths. How say you, my goblins?”

“CHIEF, CHIEF, CHIEF,” the goblins bellowed, shouting each worder louder than the last, until their utterances blended together in an unintelligible and deafening wall of sound.

I clamped my hands against my ears, wincing at the painful noise. Blimey. These goblins are fanatical. Good thing, they won’t be around for much longer. Making myself comfortable, under the table, I settled down to wait.