The Goblin Nation - 119 The Thread Connecting Them

Sun wanted to follow Hart, but he was right. It was better to hear from the mysterious Pagasa in person. For now, he wanted to go to Shuja. Sun walked past the many fireplaces lighting the dark cold night. The flames’ light was strong but not strong enough to outshines the beautiful stars hanging in the heavens.

Shuja was outside the safety of the walls, pacing back and forth while reciting her words. Sun emerged through the broken gates of the walls and quietly watched her. Her skin was light pink like petals of cherry blossom trees. In contrast, her black hair fluttered against the gentle wind, revealing a hint of her orange and purple feathers growing behind her neck and ears. For Sun, her beauty could outshine the full moon above them and the bonfire dancing behind the walls.

Shuja eventually noticed Sun staring at her, “Sun! How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, I just got here,” Sun walked out, and his body was revealed under the tender moonlight. “Isla told me to come here because you wanted to tell me something.”

“She did?” Shuja pulled her hair back and grabbed her bow leaning against the wall, “Well, I do have something to say. Can we find a place to sit down first?”

“Sure,” Sun and Shuja walked back inside and sat on the bench at the furthest corner of the camp. “So, what do you want to tell me?”

Shuja fiddled with her fingers, trying to form her sentences in her head before telling Sun. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but thinking about it is not helping, so I’ll just tell you. Isla offered me this bow, and in exchange, I was to become their Chief.”

“Their Chief?”

“Yes, this bow was used by their previous Chief.” Shuja showed Sun the silver bow, “I didn’t accept it at first, but now I have it in my hands.”

“Yeah, but Isla gave it to you to rescue Artio. Unless she is planning on using this moment to make you their Chief.”

“No, she wasn’t planning on doing that. I gave her the bow after the battle. Not once did she mention making me the Chief. But the more I think about the offer, the more enticing it was for me. Imagine an entire tribe following me, a woman that lived off the land while doing her best to avoid the men during the spring. I was just a mere hunter. But it’s not like I want to be a Chief because of the power. I have all the power any goblin desires back in our tribe.”

“You don’t need to remind me, hahaha! I can still hear our Legions complaining about you bossing them around.”

“Exactly!” Shuja laughed along with Sun, “But something was bothering me about the Maston tribe and Isla. When they offered me the Chief’s position, not once did they talk about the richness of their tribe to coerce or bribe me. They talked about how their tribe was a beacon of hope to those that seek help. The woman mostly, but even the men from the Orgut tribe came to them for help.” Shuja looked to the sky, “And that’s when I realized what that strange feeling was. They were asking me to help them, and yet my first thoughts were to find excuses.”

Shuja looked back to Sun. Her clear blue eyes were filled with passion and anxiety. “Sun, I want to help them. Ever since that day, when I lost my friend, I made it my mission to never turn my back on those that need me. So I want to stay with the Maston tribe and be their leader.” Then she turned her gaze away, “And there’s no real reason for me to come back with you.”

“But I want you to stay with me,” Sun blurted out so suddenly that even he was surprised. “I mean, I rather you stay with us.”

Shuja maintained her composure despite her heart beating faster and louder than a raging storm, “Thank you, Sun.” But when the words exited her mouth, her emotions quickly followed, rushing out from her heart. She leaned forward and kissed Sun on his cheeks and whispered, “But I can’t run away.” Then she ran back to the goblins and dark elves celebrating among the pyres.

While they celebrate, Hart prepared the coaches for their departure. He tied the Blacks Crows and shoved them on the wagons. During this, one of the Black Crows caught Hart’s attention. Horace, one of the officers of the Black Crows, was a well-known poet from the northern savage lands. He left the cold frontier in pursuit of greater wonders to grow his skill as a poet.

It’s not uncommon for an inspiring bard to become entangled with mercenaries in their adventures. In fact, most of the talented court poets and jesters started out as bards traveling across Venusia. Curious, he asked Horace about his most recent works from his exploits. He sat on the edge of the wagon, listening to orc bound in chains.

“My greatest work. My magnum opus has yet to be realized.” Horace told him, “But I witnessed first hand the most beautiful thing an orc like me will ever see.”

“And what is that?”

“The goblins and the fire hiding within them. I am inspired to write a poem as dazzling as their flame, and muses will help me put it on paper.” Horace stared to the sky, “Not even the stars could match their flame. But I don’t understand. What are these goblins, and why is something so beautiful hide inside that horrid visage.”

Hart got off the wagon, “Because beauty means nothing.”

“Well, it means everything to me. As a poet, my journey has led me to see many things. Some were gruesome, some were warm, but this one can never happen again. It’s far too remarkable to happen again in my lifetime.”

“And I’ll tell you right now, there are those that are hoping you’re wrong and that it does happen again.”

“And who those people?”

“Does it matter, when your future resides beneath the earth, never to bask under the sun?” Hart walked away. Hart, too, saw many beautiful things this evening. Some of them were things he had no idea could even exist inside this strange forest. A forest that buried a forgotten time, no longer part of history.

And one of them was Sun. He thought Sun was fairly normal for his kind. In fact, Smoke was far stranger at first glance with his special kas. But then he entered the burning building. Inside, he saw a strand of mana, so thin it could have been mistaken for a spider’s web. Hart’s keen vision and allowed to see this mana glow brighter than the surrounding fire. He followed it, which lead him to Sun. But he knew that Sun was just one end of the string.

The other end was far from the camp. The thread traveled across the forest, towards the eastern mountains. Where the thread goes is a mystery to Hart, but he could guess that this special connection Sun has will guide him to his destiny. And maybe he will not fail like the first goblin.

The party ended as the cold night extinguished the flames. Only the large burning barn kept them warm in the night. When the dawn approached, the dark elves quickly ran inside the cave and in the safety of the coaches from the scorching sun. They bid farewell to the goblins that were in shackles with them and to their savior.

The brothers were astonished to see the dark elves so openly welcoming with the goblins. But it made sense after the horrible they endure with the goblins that the dark elves would grow to understand the goblins. And it helps that these goblins were not the violent type, unlike the ones living in the northern parts of the forest.

The dark elves descendent back to the dark caverns to return to their home beneath the heart. Meanwhile, the goblin tribes parted ways. The Orgut traveled with the brothers and the women as they escort the humans to the petty kingdoms from the south. And the majority of the Maston tribe stayed in the former camp to finish their ritual along with those too injured to travel with their tribe.

Smoke volunteered to stay in the camp to help heal those in pain, but they insisted that they will be fine. Most of the critically injured were healed during last night’s celebration and they were grateful enough that they survived their grave injuries. They wanted Smoke to travel with his brothers and rest his body. He has done more than enough in their eyes.

A large treasury was found inside the barracks of the Black Crows. Bret Hart took the portion that was pillaged from the Dark Flower kingdom, and the rest was left for the goblins. Sun had no use for the gold, but Arga was ecstatic to be given the bounty. The Orgut tribe could trade these treasures for livestock that they desperately needed after the mercenaries massacred their herd.

They also told Sun that he could hire a blacksmith to fix his broken sword. Sun planned to have his sword fixed in the dwarven kingdom, but he could at least take a look. They followed a river running down to the human kingdoms.

The male goblin children from the Orgut tribe were infatuated with the cat-like ears and tail coming from Stick. They would chase the tail, and when they grab, they will pull the tail as hard as they could. “Quit it, you little brats!” Stick yelled at the children. They would run away to hide behind Natasha.

“Hahaha,” Natasha laughed, “You know, you’re mom and aunt also hated it when the kids grab their tails.”

Stick was far too annoyed with the children constantly running around him, trying to grab his tail again. Smoke and Rock could not help but laugh when Stick tried to scare away the kids.

Sun was busy to notice the commotion happening with Stick. He was walking, side by side with Shuja, on their way to the petty kingdom of Mayflower, where Artio’s family live. They did not speak on the way, but they walked closely together while holding hands.

They arrived at a small village. The villagers knew the Orgut tribe, as the two would occasionally trade. The old village chief welcomed the goblins, “Hello, I am Marcy, the village Chief.”

“I’m Sun, and this is the Orgut tribe.” Sun turned to Arga, but the Orgut goblins were already busy trading with the locals. “Guys, shouldn’t you introduce yourselves.”

“Morororo,” Marcy laughed, “We’ve met them before. But you and you’re companions are our new visitors. May I ask for their names?”

“No problem. This is my brothers, Smoke, Stick, and Rock.”

“Hello,” The three said.

“A green skin beastkin, never seen one before,” The old man walked up to Stick, “Are you perhaps a halfling? I see that you have feathers as well. In fact, all of you have feathers.”

“Yes, they all do,” Artio interrupted.

“Oh, pardon my intrusion. I didn’t mean to offend you with my comments.”

“It’s alright. I don’t really mind,” Stick said, “Just don’t grab my tail.”

“Morororo. I won’t be doing that then.” Marcy steps back to give the brothers space, “And may I know your name, ladies?”

“I’m Shuja,” Shuja stepped forward, “And this is Natasha and Artio.”

“Artio?”

Artio took off her bow and presented it to Marcy, “My name is Artio from the house of Morrigan. And this bow should be enough evidence for you.”

Marcy dropped on his knees, and so did the villagers around them. The Orgut tribe was startled to see the jolly villagers they were trading suddenly turn docile and submissive at Artio’s presence.

The scene embarrassed Artio, “Please stand up. I don’t need you guys to bow. I just wanted to request a carriage to carry Natasha and I to my uncle’s castle.”

“Yes, of course!” Marcy got back on his feet and ordered the locals to arrange the carriage.

“My companions also request for a blacksmith to fix his broken sword. Please lead him to your local craftsmen.”

“Right away, ma’am!” Marcy took Sun with him to meet their village blacksmith. Meanwhile, Smoke, Rock, and Stick took a tour around the village, and the village women took Artio, Shuja, and Natasha to their bathhouse to freshen up.

“What about me?” Cossack said as they left him, “I didn’t get to introduce myself.”

“Chief!” Korge yelled at Cossack.

Cossack jumped off his feet and screamed, “Korge, you scared me!”

“Sorry! Korge just want Chief know what tribe trade.” Korge grabbed Cossack’s hand and pulled him towards the villagers and goblins trading their goods. The village did not have enough goats to trade for the gold the goblins brought, but they did have one animal they could trade that is worth the tribe’s riches.

Cossack’s jaw dropped, “I know what that is. It’s a horse.” The villager presented the tribe with a beautiful white stallion. It was their second-best horse, and they were willing to trade it for the gold. There’s only one problem; the horse was picky with its riders. “Can I ride it right now?”

The villagers looked at each other with very nervous looks. Not willing to destroy their amicable relationship with the goblin tribe, the villagers told Cossack the horse’s problematic temperament. “That doesn’t matter to me!” Cossack declared while his nose flails about like a rattle snake’s tail, “Do you know who I am? I am Cossack, the troll killer!”

The villagers took the horse to the field where a small fenced area was built used to store their larger livestock. Everyone stopped their transactions and gathered to watch the spectacle. The horse entered the starting gate’s cramp space while one of the villagers fitted the saddle on it. “This horse’s name is Splat.” The villager told Cossack, “Be careful when you ride him.”

“Alright,” Cossack climbed the fence and hopped on Splat’s back. “By the way, why is his name Splat?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

The villagers opened the gate, and Splat rushed out. He ran in circles while jumping and kicking the air. Cossack held on to the reign for his life as his flail around like a doll. His body slammed against the horse’s thick neck and robust bottom, and he eventually loses consciousness for a few seconds. Then Splat stopped, and Cossack’s aching body fell to the dirt. “Ooh!” The spectators said.

But Cossack was not giving up. He swore in his name that he would ride Splat to the sunset and, most importantly, change that awful name.

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