VIII

Black and gray smoke billowed from the house before them, the crops utterly ruined—most of them uprooted and ravaged, or hauled off be the attackers.

A woman on her knees and hands cried out at the sky on a hill just beyond as Yoreno came forward. With him was Dantera, Sorika and Mai, along with Sir Wynet and his small group. They all glanced up at the sorry sight.

Yoreno regarded the worried and sorrowful face of a farmer. “You, master farmer.”

The man looked at him as he stroked the back of his head as if he had been clubbed.

“Are you the owner of this farm?”

“No, m’lord,” he said. “That would be Des.” The man’s eyes moved toward a body in the grass, then back up to the hill.

“Is that his wife up there?”

The peasant nodded as a group of other people went up the hill toward the woman—neighbors no doubt.

“What happened here?”

The man swallowed. “Goblins, m’lord.”

“What is your name?”

“I’m called Marsen, m’lord.”

“Which way did the goblins go, Master Marsen?”

He pointed. “Up in the hills. They have a trail that leads to their camp. But it’s too dangerous to go up there.”

“We will handle this. You and your friends take Des’s wife and leave here now.”

The man nodded. “Yes, m’lord.”

As he made to leave, Dantera spoke up. “Master Marsen?”

“Yes—“

Dantera raised a hand, but said nothing as she shook her head in frustration. Then she finally asked, “Marsen… did he have children?”

“No m’lady—“

She nodded. “Be off with you, then. Hurry.”

Sir Wynet stepped forward. “This happens far too often here in the Kingdom of the Blue Dragon as of late. We do not have the soldiers necessary to fight battles and burn out strongholds of goblins across this land.”

They had come here to investigate activity of mercenary adventurers causing trouble in this area, but instead they found burning cottages and barns and dead peasants. The fields were ruined.

They certainly had their work cut out for them, Yoreno thought. But there was nothing for it but to help, both out of duty, but also to flush the Nai Sha’el out of hiding—to force them into accelerating their plans.

They needed a goblin slayer.

Andaloo came forward. “With the king’s soldiers, dealing with problems through out the land, and many of them being called back to the castle, it’s sure to agitate things.”

“We need to be careful,” Sir Wexel said. “Gods almighty! We could be overrun!”

“Always a danger,” Liora said. “I’m going to move ahead and scout the area. I assume you want to go up the trail master Des spoke of?”

Yoreno nodded.

“I’m going with you,” Sorika said.

Liora nodded and the two women loped off into the trees on group’s right flank. Yoreno glanced back at his small force. The Emblazoned Party had been cut in half, but it was still strong. He had Wynet’s party, and ten of the king’s soldiers.

It was time to go to work.

“En garde,” Yoreno said in the fashion of the southern kingdom of Yor’an Deu. “We kill goblins today.”

“Here! Here!” a soldier with a pole axe shouted with his fellows. “We are ready, Lord Brendara!”

Seeing this enthusiasm to fight, Yoreno nodded at the men. “Let’s go.”