The week that followed passed quickly. I returned to helping Digby run his shop, only now, Digby trusted me enough to be open with me about his dealings. I was introduced to several of the other goblins, or svartalfir as they called themselves (I mentally translated the word as goblin, since it was too apropos not to). The goblins seemed to form the economic and social backbone of Dogberry Lane society. Unbeknownst to the authorities, Dogberry Lane was a place of remarkable industry and ingenuity. The narrow maze of shacks concealed a hidden whiskey distillery, a set of productive mushroom farms, and dozens of small-scale manufacturing shops. I also found myself repeatedly invited to join Digby and the other goblins for late night parties, at which we drank illicit liquor and a played a board game that the goblins referred to as fidchell. I almost won a couple times, which I considered an impressive feat, given that my opponents had been playing for decades or even centuries.

Winter was coming on for real now. My duties now included clearing the snow from the streets near the shop, as well as periodically knocking it off the roof. Once it was discovered that I could complete this task quickly and easily, the neighbors soon requested the same service. I didn't mind too much. I suspected that my stats would show some kind of reward for my efforts eventually, and anyway, my reputation in the neighborhood could use the boost. I offered to cut some timber from the nearby forest and reinforce the roof so that it wouldn't be in danger of collapse from moderate snowfall, but Digby politely declined. Apparently, Dogberry Lane is tolerated by the local authorities on the assumption that it is a disgusting warren of poverty that will scare the less destitute citizenry into keeping up their work. If they knew how prosperous the people here really were, they would quickly act to stifle the competition. The economy of Rocky Shore was almost wholly dependent on the shipping industry, and nearly everything sold there was imported. Garth-Morhead was therefore quite eager to prevent any home industries from popping up outside of their control.

The small copper coins that I earned from these activities meant very little to me. Most transactions on Dogberry Lane involved a complex web of gifts, promises, and little understandings rather than simple transactions. Meals were a common form of payment.

I was enjoying a meal of bean soup with mushrooms at a food stall a little way down the street from Digby's shop when an absolutely ear-piercing shriek suddenly ripped through the evening air. As soon as I heard the sound, I was certain that everyone else had as well, because everyone began rushing to return home as quickly as possible. Diners left entire meals uneaten in order to get away quickly, something normally unthinkable in such a poor community. I threw back the last of my soup and forced it down, and asked the cook (whose section of the lane I had cleared of snow that morning) what was happening. He was a goblin, as I could now tell at a glance.

“Bad omen! Go home immediately! We're closed! Get inside!”

I could tell at once that the sound hadn't come from anywhere in the town. Judging by the sound, it had come from a long way to the south, in the thick pine forest along the coast. It was too loud to be any human voice. It had spoken to me on a deep instinctive level, as though I had heard it with my spine as much as with my ears. I didn't really need to be told that it was bad news. I needed more specific information.

When I arrived back at Digby's shop (I walked quickly, but I refused to run), I found him in discussion with a knot of a couple dozen other locals. Many of them were goblins, but there were quite a few genuine humans in the mix, most notably Matilda and Gerald. Matilda was addressing the group.

“I know we are all afraid, but we need to remain calm. There must be some sort of threat for the Banshee to warn us of, but we do not yet know what it will be or how soon. Most of the town is going indoors for the night, but we responsible citizens must be on our guard. We need to establish patrols to keep watch through the night. Mr. Digby here has generously provided us with weapons to use in the event of an attack or an intruder of some kind. Remember to remain on your guard and don't do anything foolish.”

The assembled company had many questions that Matilda patiently answered in spite of the fact that she knew no more than they did. As promised, Digby provided a bundle of simple wooden spears, several heavy cudgels, and a few hatchets that he had squirreled away in some corner of his storeroom. Once they had finished outfitting the embarrassingly small local defense force, I pulled Digby aside to get his take on the matter.

“That scream was the voice of our patron. She often warns of coming catastrophe in this manner, especially if the danger is too near to send a messenger. Something big is happening, and it will be tonight. We'll start by patrolling the outer wall and checking the town's defenses.”

We did. Me, Digby, and two other goblins who I now recognized as Norbert and Statler walked the town's southern wall in search of any sign of trouble. Checking the walls from outside would be better, but the sun was already down and the town gates had been closed for the night hours ago. An eerie quiet had descended on the town, with everyone shutting themselves in. Everything seemed normal, until we reached the wooden watch tower at the south-east corner of the town.

“There's...there's no one in there!” said Digby, sounding more angry than afraid. With speed that only failed to surprise me because I knew that he wasn't human, Digby shot up the tower's wooden ladder. All was quiet for a moment as Digby surveyed the surrounding countryside. Then I heard the little goblins suck in air through his teeth in rage. He shouted to us as he slid down the ladder:

“Back to the shop! Quickly! We're under attack!”

We ran back the way we had come, but the scene that greeted us when we arrived was nothing like what we had just left behind. The air was filled with screams. Not supernatural cries, but cries of terror. The thick wooden wall had been ripped down near Matilda's shop, crushing several shacks in the process. There were sounds of doors being torn down and walls being smashed. Tall, muscular figures were streaming through the gap with weapons in hand. They weren't armed with makeshift weapons. I could see flashes of steel from swords, helmets and shields as we approached. In the light of the torches they carried, I saw clearly that they were humans, or more specifically, Vikings. I guessed that they had a different name in this world but the style of their helmets and weapons was unmistakable. Dozens of Dogberry Lane citizens already lay butchered in the street. The large bearded men who weren't fending off the few patches of meager resistance were hard at work, hauling crates of food, random valuables, and prisoners through the gap they had made in the outer wall. The town guards were nowhere to be seen. The screams I had heard were the calls of woman being dragged away.

Digby led the charge. He let out a high, screeching battlecry, and wielding nothing but a hatchet he cut down the first raider we encountered with blinding speed. I had no time to be horrified at the violence I was witnessing. I felt a rage, a sense of deep violation coupled with the desperate need to kill, and I willed that rage to fill my being. With my goblin companions around me, I let slip the dogs of war.

The raiders had initially scattered themselves to terrify the locals into submission, but seeing our counterattack, they began rallying toward us. Our only chance was to hit them hard and fast enough to force them to flee. In the torchlight, the movements of the enemy were clear in my vision, and I found that I could see their attacks forming in their motions long before they actually came. Time fell away and lost all meaning. I found myself slipping easily past the points of spears and slamming my mace again and again into the enemy. I crushed helmets, shattered skulls, and bashed through mail shirts to destroy ribs with a sickening crack. The enemy gathered around me and tried to pen me in, but the goblins thrashed any that attempted to flank me. I reveled in the gruesomeness of combat. My mace seemed to pass through shields and bodies with the force of a wrecking ball. Enemy blows landed on my shoulders and my chest, but I felt nothing except the urge to kill. More goblins rallied to the attack, and soon the raiders had formed into a circle around the breach in the wall. Throwing axes were hurled at us to try and weaken our ranks. Many were killed, but the goblin's rallying cry held the resistance together. The raiders were forced backward through the wall.

“Press the attack!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “They have prisoners! Don't let them escape!”

To my surprise, the bloodthirsty mob rallied behind me as I charged after the escaping raiders. The dozens of armed men who had been stacking loot and tying up prisoners in preparation for loading them onto their ship were forced to abandon their prizes and flee back to the beach. Some of them attempted to make a stand to allow their leaders to escape. We surrounded them and butchered them to the last man.

When I came back to myself, I was sitting on one of the stolen crates of grain as the goblins freed the prisoners. My whole body was shaking. I was covered head to toe in gore, and without the haze of bloodlust, the true horror of what I had just seen and done washed over me. My clothing was in ruins. Even my chain mail was sliced open in places. Some of the blood that covered me was my own. I nearly screamed when I felt a slap on my bruised shoulder.

“Stay with us, Raymond! Fun is over, now the work begins!” Digby's smile made me want to punch him. I had to remind myself that he wasn't human and couldn't comprehend what I was feeling.

I wouldn't describe killing over a dozen people as “fun”, but Digby had been right about the work. The remainder of the night was a blur of activity. All in all, thirty-seven people had been killed in the attack, not including the twenty-three raiders. All of those people had to buried. The enemies were simply stripped of their remaining equipment, dragged out into the snow, and burned without ceremony. I spent most of the night digging graves. Most of the bodies were partially dismembered, so leaving them until the next morning would risk attracting wolves and spreading disease. I was numb inside and out as I dug, the world around me felt colorless. Many families were forced to say goodbye to their loved ones. Simple wooden headstones were carved with names and simple bits of information about the interred person's life or occupation. Matilda had been killed trying to defend her neighbors with a simple wooden club. Dozens more were injured or traumatized. The community I had begun to feel a part of would be in mourning for weeks. I didn't think we would ever really be the same.

We finished back-filling the last of the graves. Part of me had felt like digging one big pit and tossing everyone into it, but these people deserved better. The air still stank of burning human flesh. Those people, in my opinion, had gotten off lightly. What I wanted more than anything was a hot shower, but that wasn't happening. I turned to see Digby waiting to speak with me again.

“Where have you been? Could have used a hand with the digging.” I barely even heard my own voice. It felt like someone else was talking on the other side of a brick wall.

“Seeing to my own people. Can't have anyone seeing us when we die.” he answered.

“Oh.” I suddenly felt like that wasn't sufficient. “Sorry.” That wasn't sufficient either, but close enough.

He nodded. “We only lost six. I don't think anyone noticed. If we hadn't had advance warning, it would have been a whole lot worse.”

He was graceful enough to look solemn and serious as he rattled this off, but I could tell he felt nothing for those who had been lost. Sorrow just wasn't in his emotional range.

“It also would have been worse if you hadn't been here. You're a warrior now. I hope you realize that.”

I didn't feel like a warrior. All I felt was tired, cold, and sticky. “Is there a point to this?” I asked bitterly.

“This was not some random raid. The town guard deliberately left us out in the cold, even before the attack landed. The Seelie were behind this. Those raiders knew exactly where to strike. Such a small group would never attempt to attack a town this size unless they were certain that there would be no resistance. This was an attempt to wipe us svartalfir out. Our presence here is no longer a secret.”

I almost just broke down and told him that I didn't give a shit about his people. I hadn't done any of this for them. It wasn't fair perhaps, but nothing is fair. Once again, I settled for silence.

“It's time for us to admit that this town is no longer safe for us. We must find somewhere else to settle.”

I wasn't entirely surprised by this conclusion. Certainly the rest of Rocky Shore had done plenty to make the citizens of Dogberry Lane feel unwelcome. This raid was just the most clear sign that their cold neglect had turned into outright hostility. I knew from personal experience that the Seelie were making moves to bring the town's leadership under their sway. Maybe packing up and leaving really was the solution.

“You think you could leave now? In the middle of winter?” I asked.

“I had hoped we could wait until spring, but the Seelie are forcing our hands. If we don't leave, they will find some other way to eradicate us.”

“Where will you go?”

He shook his head. “Don't know. The whole world seems to be falling apart these days. We could always go and beg our patron to shelter us.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said you hated to live under those mounds.”

“We do. We're desperate now. I suppose we could try making our own home in the wilderness, but that might be more dangerous than staying here. The wilds can be vicious, especially in areas that have never been explored thoroughly. It's a dangerous world no matter where you go. I will send a messenger to our Lady and ask her for advice. She sees far, and she may know of somewhere we can settle safely.”

“What about me? Could I come as well?” I asked. Rocky Shore had lost what little charm it once held for me.

“I would welcome your continued support. If I have to hack my way through the unknown wilds, you're the sort of fellow I want by my side.”

I smiled at this, in spite of myself. “What about the other humans? The Seelie may only hate you, but the magistrate did all this without even knowing that you exist. They think of Dogberry Lane as a drag on their ideal shipping port.”

“I will invite all our neighbors to join us once we have a clear destination. A lot of preparations will be necessary too. We won't be able to leave this week, and probably not the one after. I just wanted you to understand where we are now.”

“Well, thank you for keeping me in the loop. Now, I think I need to get some sleep before I fall over in the snow. Good night.”