A Bored Lich - Chapter 395
Frey’s eyes were glued to the sled as he raced out into the open, but a familiar chime stopped him in his tracks. His gaze locked onto a familiar toy. ‘Is that…Arte’s?’ he thought.
His hesitation cost him, alerting the goblins to his presence. Their shrill cries dragged him back to reality. Half of them turned tail and ran with the sled while the other half knocked arrows to their bows.
A few months prior…
Frey tossed and turned in his sleep, his blankets drenched in a cold sweat. “No,” he muttered. The year-long war had ended but the bruise on his back, Ashtehar’s parting gift to him, was still painfully fresh.
“You weren’t strong enough, Frey,” an accusing voice rang out in the darkness. “You were weak.”
“Hopi, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
A soft chime cut through the nightmare. It was so clear and crisp, as if it had lifted the pillow off Freys’ ears. Frey’s eyes cracked open, and he found himself no longer trapped within his recurring nightmare.
Crickets hopped through the bright moonlight, singing a song to celebrate the summer night’s pleasant warmth. A gust of wind reached through holes in the shack’s walls and stroked Frey’s sweaty forehead. He sat up and scanned for the source of the chime; Arte’s toy.
It was a doll of a knight with a silver bell embedded in its chest. Black, button eyes stared from an expressionless, straw-filled face.
Arte’s little hands reached out towards his toy, which had fallen through the crib’s bars. His enormous eyes were wide with mixed emotions, teaming with silent tears.
Frey gently picked the toy off the ground. Arte reached out for his toy but Frey pulled it away from his tiny hand. Arte let out an unintelligible mutter, but his intent was clear. Frey smiled, held it within Arte’s reach, then pulled away again.
The pleasant chime sounded. His soft smile widened. However, Arte was determined not to give up. He sucked up his tears and kept fighting.
“You’re just as stubborn as our grandfather is,” Frey remarked to himself.
The battle over the toy knight grew so intense that he barely noticed a shadow entering the room. “What are you doing?” a baggy-eyed Gwen asked, staring daggers at the little toy. Arte grew silent.
“We couldn’t sleep.” Frey explained.
“Not that,” Gwen hissed. “You mentioned our grandfather. You swore you wouldn’t do that anymore. We both did.”
“He can’t understand me,” Frey reassured her.
“I-I don’t like it,” Gwen stammered. “We already got our lives tangled up like this because of him. Remember that little shelter we made out of things from his broken spatial ring? Remember how you had to sell off those weapons just to make enough coins so we could afford this place?”
Frey nodded: “I remember.”
“Well I don’t want to,” Gwen insisted, glancing at the toy knight. “He doesn’t need to know who his grandfather is. We don’t have to listen to grandfather’s stories anymore, or lie about living up to his overly-righteous values. Just forget him. He’s gone.”
Arte’s face reddened as he began to cry.
Frey raised his voice over his nephew’s crying. “Arte should know the danger he might face.”
Gwen prodded a finger at Frey’s chest: “He’s my child, brother, not yours. I won’t allow any of this stuff to haunt us anymore. Arte’s going to be a normal kid and live a normal life. I’m tired of it all. I’m going to bed. Anything else you want to lecture me about?”
Frey sighed: “I’m sorry.”
Gwen stopped in the doorway. “You always are so pessimistic and distrusting with everyone. Then when it’s your family, suddenly you’re so obsessed, it’s like you’d rather die than see us suffer a scratch.”
Frey chuckled. “That’s what we were told to do, to look out for one another. You remember that promise, right?”
Gwen rolled her eyes: “I’m going to bed. Take care of him for me.” She slammed the door in Frey’s face and stormed back to bed.
Frey cursed and held the toy above Arte’s crying face. “There there. Everything is going to be ok. Everything is going to be ok.”
Its chime rang clear and crisp throughout the rest of the night…
The toy’s chime was rustic, almost crying out for its owner. Frey snatched the toy off the ground, then swung his shield through the rain of arrows. He didn’t just want to kill the goblins. They needed to die, all of them. A torrent of life essence condensed around his body. He charged into the thick of the group.
Faced with a hulking, huffing brute of a man, the goblins drew their blades and threw themselves at him.
Frey was alone after all, and each time he swung, there would be bound to be an opening; that was what they thought.
Frey rooted his feet to the ground, and pulled his pole axe back, and put all his weight into the swing. He watched the blade sail through the crowd; shattered blades, severing bodies, and sending whatever remained to the ground – either twitching or motionless.
He exhaled a large puff of fog, surprised that he had to struggle in order to keep his balance. He shook his head. ‘I can’t be this tired,’ he thought. The fight wasn’t over. The Lava Boar’s horn still sat on the sled. He wiped the sweat from his face, and kept running after it.
Wolves pulled the sled through the forest while the surviving goblins let loose their arrows at the pursuing Frey. Harmless the arrows may be to Frey, since he had a shield to intercept them with, they slowed him down. The distance between them only grew.
‘If only this stupid snow wasn’t in my way,’ Frey thought. His armor was made for flat dirt, not trudging through the snow. He was not a fast runner to begin with. The only thing he could do was condense more and more life essence around his legs, but that had its limits.
The goblins laughed at his misery. No matter how strong Frey was, he wasn’t as quick as their mounts. It was only a matter of time till they lost him.
“No you don’t,” Frey yelled out. Desperate, he forced even more life essence around his legs. He winced, feeling both his stamina reserves draining away and his muscles burning. When he kicked off the ground, he flew into the air. His stomach dropped. He flailed about uncontrollably for a dozen paces before crashing to the ground. He cursed.
The goblins’ laughter began to fade.
Frey leapt to his feet. Arte’s toy knight slipped out of his pocket, its rustic chime grating against his ears. While he had run and fought, he shouldn’t have been so out of breath. ‘Something’s wrong with me,’ he thought, shaking his head. The only thing carrying him forward was the raw anger that chime invited into his heart. He shoved the toy back into his pocket.
‘Alright, let’s try this again,’ he thought. He dusted himself off, bent both his legs, and leapt as far forward as he could. His head sailed over the treetops for a moment before he landed back down. He smiled, catching a glimpse of the fleeing sled. He leapt off his other foot, his momentum continuing to build up with each jump across the snow.
“Hello again!” Frey laughed aloud. The goblins looked back in horror as he landed on their sled, smiled, then brought his pole axe down with a resounding bang.
Everything went flying.
Frey woke up to a grumbling stomach, finding himself lying face down in the snow. He pulled himself to his knees. He could see vague outlines growing smaller, the retreating goblins. He rubbed his eyes and things began to clear. ‘I must be getting out of shape,’ he thought. ‘Didn’t I eat before I left? Why are goblins such a pain today?’ He glanced to the side to find the remains of the sled.
Searching through the remains, his fingers were eventually burnt by the object he was looking for, the lava Boar’s tusk. ‘Finally, I can get this back to Elero.’ He smiled and put the tusk into his spatial ring, but as he turned to leave, the toy in his pocket jingled. Arte was still missing.
‘Those goblins couldn’t have gotten far,’ Frey thought. ‘There are some caves nearby they’re probably based in. I can come back…or maybe not. They failed their mission. They’ll likely send out more goblins to get another horn. More humans.’
He took a deep breath, stretched, and continued marching onwards. “You’ll have to wait a little longer for me, Elero.. Olpi can take care of you in the meantime.”