Chapter 9: Porter

Following Buckle's quiet footsteps, I soon became distracted by looking at the trees and plants that we were passing. Shrubs I didn’t recognize, tall evergreens that were likely pines or Redwoods, moss and the occasional wildflower were viewed as equally interesting. ‘I wonder why I seem to recognize names for some plants, but not others?’

After about 15 minutes Buckle spoke without slowing down. “We’re ‘bout ta leave the area where I’m mostly sure we won’t have any troubles, goin’ into an area I am sorta sure we won’t have any troubles. I know it ain’t easy with ta weight on yer back, but see what ye ken do about walkin’ soft, ‘n we should get ta God’s Bath in an hour er so.”

Softly replying with an affirmative, I began to pay more attention to how Buckle walked, so far as I could ascertain, to see if it was possible to mimic his steps. With both of us already lacking shoes or boots it was rather easy to see that the goblin was avoiding weak sticks or detritus, but with my larger feet that seemed to be more of a challenge. Of course, I also had longer legs and was taking fewer steps to each of Buckle’s, so perhaps it was working out as the shorter fellow didn’t make any comments about my making too much noise.

After another half hour or so, Buckle held up his hand and came to a stop, looking out to the left of the path on which we were traveling. Looking in the same direction, I didn’t notice anything unusual, more underbrush, more pines. With a look back at Buckle I saw he had swapped out his walking stick for the bow attached to the pack and had already strung it in the seconds I’d looked away.

His voice in the barest whisper reached my ears, “Sumpin’s stalkin’ us lass, most like it won’t do more, but eyes open.” Then the goblin returned to making quiet footsteps on the path.

Looking out again, I failed to see or hear anything that stood out as unusual. Gripping the axe a little more firmly, my grey feet continued to follow along the path, the briefest ripple of nausea shivering through me as I glanced down at where my toes avoided a fallen branch. As the minutes passed, I began to notice that some of the ambient sounds from the birds had quieted. Buckle was walking just as silently as he had been, but a little faster, causing my own stride to lengthen.

After a few more minutes of quickened movement, Buckle hissed, “Drop yer pack, we…” and his voice died away as a rustle and howling grunt came from a cluster of bushes to the left of the path.

Buckle’s bow swung in the direction of the noise and I saw a form launch itself from the underbrush. Somewhere between three quarters and a meter tall, fur in brown and green, claw tipped limbs that stretched out towards Buckle as the goblin loosed a shot and attempted to roll away from the creature.

Neither attack nor defensive roll were as successful as Buckle may have hoped. While the arrow hit and stuck into the creature’s shoulder, this didn’t seem to slow it. One of the long clawed limbs found purchase in the goblins leather jacket and overbalanced him, dragging him to the ground as yelps came from both tumbled figures.

“Run lass!”

I didn’t really think about it, something inside just drove me into action. Fleeing didn’t feel right. It just didn’t FEEL like an option at all. Glancing about I looked to see if there was another threat, but if there was, I didn’t see one, not that I’d seen this one before it burst from the underbrush anyhow.

Seeing Buckle try to force his bow in between himself and the gnashing and slavering maw of this furry bundle of rage, I measured my distance and readied the axe in my hands. And lift and…

Buckle flung himself up against the weight of the attacker succeeding in a reversal of positions. The goblin now astride the ball of claws, teeth and fur continued to press the bow in between them while claws from below scraped at the leather clothing, occasionally finding blue-green flesh.

… no swing. Realizing Buckle couldn’t see me, and all of his attention was on the monster? Creature? Demon?

Attacking someone who is wrestling is probably not wise, but watching the claws spill Buckle's blood seemed more than reason to try. Might be a lost cause otherwise.

Raising the axe well above the grappling pair, I simply yelled, “Buckle Left!!!” and started to swing the axe down, hoping I could abort to the side if needed, hopeful that injuries would only go to the intended target. Well, injuries that I would inflict as I was seeing more and more blood coming from my goblin acquaintance.

Buckle’s ears twitched and a momentary panic grasped my heart before he threw himself left pushing away from his bow and the teeth and claws below him as far as he could as the axe descended.

*Shink*

*Snap*

*Splorch*

A spray of blood from the creature emerged from the cleft that the axe had made.

“Oops, sorry Buckle.”

Looking at the aftermath of the swing, I was more distressed than I’d been during the altercation. Sure the creature stopped, the axe embedded in between beady eyes and cleaving down to the toothy maw. But that wasn’t the only damage done. Buckle’s bowstring was severed, as was about 4 cm from his pointy right ear.

Off balance due to the pack that remained on my back, I half collapsed and half bowed to my knees beside Buckle, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Buckle, can…” a groan and shudder from the smaller man put me in check.

With a slow shove the goblin levered himself off the dead furry beast and fell to his side, revealing wounds in his arms and legs. “Oi, lass. Drop that pack ‘n pull mine off. In mine are some belts ‘n you kin use em… and some hides ta tie up these cuts… Don’ worry ‘bout tha ear. Alive is a fine reward fer a bit o’ flesh.” His words were interrupted by the occasional hiss as he seemed to be feeling more than a little pain from his wounds.

Seeing that none of his wounds were still dripping, I looked Buckle in the eyes, “Are you stopping your blood from dripping somehow?”

“Aye lass, blood is mostly water, ye know.”

“Can you keep doing that if you don’t have to walk?”

“For a while, I s’pose, but what does…”

I pulled the axe from the beast and grabbed the broken bow, placing both across Buckle’s chest, asking him to hold them. Taking a last look at the battle site I was startled to notice that the furry attacker had vanished after removing the axe. With a quick look about, only revealing a pool of blood and an ear tip, I grabbed the severed bit of ear and tucked it between Buckle’s fingers and the weapons held to his chest. Before scooping him into my arms. Willy hopped from somewhere and landed on me, bouncing from the ground to my grey arm, then up to my shoulder like I’d seen the toad sit on Buckle. Startled more than I had been by the combat, or Buckle’s injuries, I let out a bit of reflexive noise, something between a squeak, a yelp and a chirp.

Hearing a soft chuckle followed by a pained groan from the goblin, I carefully lifted Buckle, with his pack still strapped to him and weapons held by him, into my arms. With extra care to keep my balance and not jostle my injured companion, I stood as delicately as I could manage.

Beginning to walk in the same direction we’d been fleeing towards moments ago, I had to hope there wouldn’t be another attack.

Strides grew longer as my tall frame became more used to the weight in my arms. “Buckle, I don’t want to distract you from keeping your blood inside, but if you or Willy can make sure I keep going the right way, that would be… Helpful.”

Humorously it was a croaking sound by my ear that responded. Glancing at the toad it raised and lowered his head, mimicking the nodding Buckle and I had done as an understood gesture of agreement.

“Oka-ay… Croak if I go the wrong way.” I replied before picking up speed to what felt as fast as I could go without jostling Buckle overly much.

Passing pines and undergrowth, time seemed to lack much meaning as the weight in my arms and on my back finally felt like they were making an impact on those muscles. Trying to ignore any discomfort I continued to move swiftly, as silently as I could manage, while trying to move smoothly along the trail. There was a bit of a nervous time as I balanced my way over flat rocks set as a path across a stream, and again as Willy had to help me select the correct path from 3 divergent options once we had crossed the water.

A handful of minutes after setting foot on the correct path I began to hear sounds that indicated other people; a hint of a shout coming through the trees, a sound of clanging metal, and as I got closer there was even a shriek that sounded more like children at play rather than danger or pain.

Coming around a particularly thick clump of underbrush I could at last see some sign of civilization. Rows of planted crops lay in front of me; beyond which, rising above the path, was a raised wall of stone and wood.