Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5 Page 2

Such horrors, of course, were by no means the special province of goblins. Be it goblins or be it a dragon, no adventurer was safe in the clutches of any monster. So Goblin Slayer’s response was perfectly natural. He spoke in a quiet, detached—almost mechanical—voice. “Regardless, we’ll kill the goblins. That is the quest.”

  “…There’s got to be a nicer way to say all that,” High Elf Archer said with understandable annoyance, but Goblin Slayer didn’t appear to notice.

  “What can we do?” Priestess said with a little shrug and a helpless smile.

  Lizard Priest broke in with fortuitous timing, not that he was necessarily trying to make things easier on the girls.

  “I wonder what reason goblins would have for attacking a village in the middle of winter.” His huge body shivered, almost theatrically, as if to emphasize the cold. “Would it not be more pleasant for them to stay quietly in their caves?”

  “Well, Scaly, it’s just like with bears, isn’t it?” Dwarf Shaman answered, stroking his white beard. He unstoppered the flask at his hip, taking a swig and then holding it out to Lizard Priest. “Here. Warm up your insides a bit.”

  “Ah! You have my gratitude.” The priest opened his huge jaws and took a gulp, then replaced the stopper and handed the flask back to Dwarf Shaman.

  The dwarf gave the container a shake, listening to the slosh to judge how much was left, then put it back at his hip. “Y’need plenty of food and drink and sweets stored up to make it through the winter.”

  “Oh? Then it seems like autumn would be a better time to attack a village.” High Elf Archer spun her finger in a circle in the air and, with all the confidence of the ranger she was, said, “That’s what bears and other hibernating animals do.”

  “But even bears sneak out once in a while in the winter,” Dwarf Shaman said. “What about that?”

  “Sometimes they don’t have a choice, like if they can’t find a good cave to sleep in, or if the harvest was poor in the fall.”

  No one knew more than elves when it came to hunting and trapping. So much so that even the argumentative dwarf could only mutter, “I suppose that makes sense,” and nod.

  The conversation caused Priestess to put a finger to her lips thoughtfully and mutter, “Hmm.” She felt like she had all the pieces in her head. Now she only had to put them together…

  “Oh!” she exclaimed when the insight struck her.

  “What’s up?” High Elf Archer asked.

  “Maybe,” Priestess answered, “it’s exactly because the harvest festival is just over.”

  Yes, that has to be it. Even as she spoke, she grew more and more sure.

  “The harvest is over,” she went on, “so the storehouses in the villages and towns are full. And the goblins—”

  “—want it all for themselves,” Lizard Priest said, finishing her thought.

  “Right,” Priestess said with a small nod.

  “I see. So even goblins are capable of the occasional logical decision.”

  “More likely they’re just trying to cause the most possible trouble,” Dwarf Shaman said, tugging at his beard.

  “No,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “Goblins are stupid, but they’re not fools.”

  “You sound pretty sure about that,” High Elf Archer said.

  “I am,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding this time. “Goblins think of nothing but stealing, but they do apply their intelligence to their theft.”

  He took a close look at the arrows he had been working with, then put them into a quiver at his hip. He appeared satisfied with the work he had done as they walked. “I’ve experienced it.”

  “I see…,” Priestess said with some admiration.

  High Elf Archer threw in her own hmm, but it wasn’t his words she was interested in. What had drawn her attention were the bow and arrows—which she normally considered her own specialty.

  “…So, Orcbolg, what were you doing with those arrows?”

  “Preparing them.”

  “Oh, really?” She reached out with a motion so smooth it could barely be sensed and took one of the arrows out of the quiver.

  “Be careful.” That Goblin Slayer stopped with a warning and didn’t scold the elf showed he was used to her curiosity. He did, however, sound somewhat annoyed.

  High Elf Archer sniffed in acknowledgment and inspected the arrow. It was a perfectly normal cheap bolt. The quality was not remotely comparable to an elvish arrow. The head had a murky sparkle in the winter sun. High Elf Archer tapped it lightly with her finger.

  “Doesn’t seem like it’s poisoned or anything…”

  “Not today.”

  “Aw, be nice!” The elf frowned at the brusque words but made a sound of interest as she turned the arrow around. “The arrowhead isn’t fastened securely. It’s gonna fall off, you know.”

  And indeed, it was just as High Elf Archer said. Perhaps because of Goblin Slayer’s fiddling with it, the tip of the cheap arrow was no longer fixed in place. Even if he managed to hit his target, the arrowhead might well break off, and it would almost certainly come down at the wrong angle.

  “Orcbolg, you are hopeless.” High Elf Archer gave a broad shrug and a shake of her head, adding, “Sheesh,” for effect.

  She decided to ignore the dwarf behind her, who said, “You’re showing your age.”

  “Here, give me that quiver. I’ll fix them for you.”

  She held out her hand, but Goblin Slayer just looked at it. Then he said, “No,” and shook his head. “They’re fine.”

  High Elf Archer stared at him blankly. “How’s that?”

  “Because we don’t yet know where the goblins are sleeping this time.”

  “And that’s connected to these arrows how?”

  It makes no sense!

  When there was something High Elf Archer didn’t agree with, she could be awfully prickly about it.

  They had known each other for nearly a year now. Goblin Slayer sighed. “When the arrow hits, the shaft breaks off, leaving only the head.”

  “So?”

  “The head will be poisonous.” He held out his hand. High Elf Archer grunted and politely returned the arrow. Goblin Slayer put it gently back in the quiver. “So long as they don’t take it out, but simply go back to their hole, their flesh will begin to rot, and the sickness will spread.”

  And goblins had no knowledge of medicine—at least for now.

  A cramped, dirty nest. Wounds that wouldn’t heal. Rot. A wasting disease. That meant…

  “It probably won’t kill them all, but it will be a major blow.”

  “As usual, Orcbolg, your plan makes no sense to me,” High Elf Archer muttered, her face drawn. Beside her, Priestess looked up to the heavens as if in distress.

  Gods. O gods. He doesn’t mean ill…well, except to goblins. But please, forgive him.

  It was much too late for her to be shocked at anything he said or did, but still, she felt compelled to offer the occasional prayer.

  Goblin Slayer, moving at a quick clip, looked at her. “Are you that surprised?”

  “…Er, well, uh…” Priestess couldn’t quite decide where to look. “I mean, this being you, Goblin Slayer, sir…”

  “Is that so?” he said quietly, evoking a laugh from Lizard Priest.

  “Do not let it bother you. It is certainly most like milord Goblin Slayer.”

  “True, it’s not like we had any illusions about how Beard-cutter thinks.” Dwarf Shaman took the flask from his hip and took a swig of wine to ward off the cold. Fire wine could practically burn; it was enough to put the smell of alcohol in the air.

  High Elf Archer choked quietly, pinching her nose with one hand and waving away the smell with the other. Dwarf Shaman wiped some droplets from his beard.

  “We’ve still got no answer to our original concern,” he said.

  “Original concern?” Goblin Slayer asked. “Which one is that?”

  “There’s no way the girl is unharmed.”

  “You mean the
chances that the kidnapped girl is still alive.”

  “Right.” He looked at Goblin Slayer and wiped more vigorously at his beard. “They’re apt to eat her, aren’t they? Otherwise they only have another mouth to feed. They’ve no reason to let her live through the winter.”

  “Winter is long,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding. He spoke coldly. “They’ll want something to pass the time.”

  Not much later, they noticed a single column of smoke rising from the village at the base of the mountain.

  §

  “Orcbolg…!”

  High Elf Archer was the first to speak, her ears twitching.

  Down the road, not far away, some smoke was rising. Perhaps it was from a cook fire? No.

  “Goblins?”

  “A village. Fire. Smoke. The smell of burning. Noise, screams… It seems likely!”

  “So it’s goblins.”

  Goblin Slayer nodded in response, and without a moment’s hesitation he took the little bow off his back. Moving quickly now, he tugged on the string with a practiced hand, then nocked an arrow and drew.

  No one had to give the order: the entire party followed after him immediately. The goblins attacking the village were hell-bent on thievery; they hadn’t even posted any sentries and didn’t yet know of the approaching adventurers.

  How would the party punish the goblins for foolishly giving them such an advantage?

  “Goblin Slayer, sir,” Priestess said seriously, despite her hard breathing and a face drawn with nervousness, “should I prepare my miracles…?”

  “Do it.”

  “Right!”

  Priestess had been an adventurer for a year already. True, all she had done was slay goblins, but the density of her adventures was far greater than most novices. That was why she didn’t have to ask which miracle to prepare but only whether she ought to get ready. She had, after all, known Goblin Slayer longer than any of the other party members.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak.”

  She held her sounding staff to her chest and prayed imploringly to her goddess. It was an activity intense enough to shave away part of her soul. A true miracle, one which allowed her consciousness to touch that of the gods in heaven.

  A faint but pure light came down from the sky, embracing Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest. This was the miracle Protection, which had saved Goblin Slayer and the others in more than one moment of crisis.

  Lizard Priest ran, kicking off the ground, narrowing his eyes as the phosphorescence surrounded him.

  “Hmm! Your Earth Mother is indeed capable of miracles. If she were a naga, perhaps I would convert to her worship. Now, then…”

  He had already finished his prayer to his terrible forebears, the nagas, and a fang polished like a blade was in his hand. Lizard Priest had agility enough to charge the foe at any moment. Now he looked suspiciously at the village and called out, “Milord Goblin Slayer, shall we attack the goblins or protect the villagers?”

  He answered calmly, “Both, of course.”

  High Elf Archer let out an admiring exhalation. She looked every inch the tracker as she ran along, bow in hand.

  Even as he assessed the situation himself, Goblin Slayer said to Lizard Priest, “How does it look to you?”

  “…Not very good, I fear.” The lizard was a veteran warrior priest, and his judgment carried the ring of authority. “I don’t hear the clanging of swords. That means the battle is over; they’re focused on stealing now.”

  “If they think they’ve won, that will make them vulnerable. We don’t know their strength, but…”

  But that was normal for this party. Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate.

  “We go in from the front.”

  “Dragontooth Warriors?”

  “No. I’ll explain why later.” Then Goblin Slayer picked up his pace. Priestess had her hands full trying to keep up, while Dwarf Shaman stuck out his chin, running along as fast as he could.

  Goblin Slayer was not one to deceive. If he said he would explain, then he would. That was why none of the party members objected. Anyway, there wasn’t time to argue. Their party didn’t have a leader as such, but when it came to fighting goblins, who else were they going to follow?

  “Don’t use potions. But don’t hold back with your spells.”

  “You’ve got it!” The answer came from their spell caster, Dwarf Shaman. “I s’pose it’s up to me which spells I use?” As he dashed along as fast as his little legs would carry him, the dwarf was already reaching into his bag and rifling through his catalysts.

  Even if there were a great many enemies, the chances of one who could use magic were slim—and not just because they were dealing with goblins. It was simply the way of the world. The fact that three of their five party members were spell casters was a sign of how blessed they were.

  “Yes, I’ll leave it to you.” Goblin Slayer nodded, then glanced at High Elf Archer. “Find high ground and see what’s going on. You’ll be our support.”

  “Sounds good.” She gave a smile of satisfaction like a happy cat. With an elegant motion, she prepared her huge bow and set an arrow.

  Everything was ready. Keeping his eyes forward as they advanced, Goblin Slayer said, “First, one.”

  An arrow flew soundlessly through the air, burying itself in the base of the skull of a goblin who stood lolling at the entrance to the village.

  “ORAAG?!”

  The brain-dead goblin pitched forward, but it wasn’t clear whether any of his companions noticed.

  “N-nooo!! Help—help me!! Sis! Big siiiiis!!”

  For at that moment, they were busy dragging a girl out of a barrel where she’d been hiding. She screamed and kicked, but they had her by the hair; the goblins didn’t seem to have grasped the situation yet.

  At the same instant that the first goblin fell dead, bud-tipped arrows began to fall like rain, sprouting from eyes and necks.

  “Hey, Orcbolg! No fair starting early!” High Elf Archer, her lips pursed, offered almost as many complaints as she did arrows. Once she had shot down the goblins, she jumped, from barrel, to pillar, to roof. It was a feat that could only have been possible for an elf, born and raised in the trees, an incredible display of acrobatics.

  “What? Huh…?” The village girl stared in disbelief.

  As Goblin Slayer ran up, he said briefly, “We’re adventurers.”

  The girl was still young—she could hardly have been older than ten. Her clothes were plain but made of fur; she had clearly been well cared for. When she saw the silver tag that hung around Goblin Slayer’s neck, her eyes welled up with tears.

  Silver. That meant an adventurer of the third rank. An adventurer’s rank represented his abilities, as well as how much social good he had done. It was the most important form of identification on the frontier.

  Goblin Slayer wasn’t distracted for a second; he looked around, speaking quickly. “Where are the goblins? How many are there? What happened to the other villagers?”

  “Er, um, I—that is, I don’t… I don’t know…” Terror and regret drained the color from the girl’s face, and she shook her head. “But—everyone—they all assembled in the village square… My older sister, she said… She said to hide…”

  “I don’t like it,” Goblin Slayer spat, readying a new arrow from his quiver. “I don’t like any of it.”

  His whisper contained a wealth of emotions. Priestess gave him a searching glance, but it didn’t stop her from kneeling in front of the young girl.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “We’ll help your sister, I’m sure of it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really!” Priestess pounded herself on her little chest and gave a smile like a blooming flower. She patted the shivering girl gently on the head, looking into her eyes as she showed her the symbol of the Earth Mother. “See? I serve the goddess. And—”

  Yes, and.

  Priestess shook her head. The girl
followed her gaze as she looked up. The grimy armor. The cheap-looking helmet. A human warrior.

  “And Goblin Slayer would never lose to a goblin.”

  Goblin Slayer glanced at the girl and Priestess, then glowered at the village, where the sounds of thieving could be heard.

  “The enemy still hasn’t noticed us. Let’s do it.”

  “Wait—there is danger.” Lizard Priest somberly offered his view of the situation. “Goblins or not, the enemy seems to be organized. We must not presume too much.”

  “Their willingness to attack in broad daylight suggests there may be advanced types of goblins with them,” Goblin Slayer said.

  So perhaps they should not let any information get back to the nest.

  After a moment, Goblin Slayer took the arrows, meant to kill slowly, and returned them to his back. In exchange, he drew the familiar sword with its strange length.

  “I don’t want to risk any of them escaping, but it will be difficult to keep them bottled up in the square.”

  “In that case, let me handle the town square—take ’em all out with magic.” Dwarf Shaman pounded his belly like a drum.

  “Hmm,” Goblin Slayer murmured, rolling the goblin corpse onto its back with his foot.

  A crude pelt. For a weapon, a hatchet it must have stolen from somewhere. Its color was good; it showed no sign of starving.

  “It depends on the numbers.” Goblin Slayer grabbed the hatchet from the goblin’s hand, fixing it at his hip. He looked up and saw High Elf Archer waving from the rooftops. Her long ears were twitching; she must have been trying to read the situation by the sound.

  “Five or six of them in the square!” she called out in a clear, carrying voice, and Goblin Slayer nodded.

  “How many are there in the village as a whole? Even just that you can see.”

  “There are lots of shadows, so it’s hard to count. But I’d say not more than twenty.”

  “So this is just an advance unit,” Goblin Slayer said and quickly began to formulate a strategy.

  Assume there were fewer than twenty goblins, including the three they’d killed earlier. There were six in the square. That meant fewer than fourteen around the perimeter, engaged in looting. It was only a guess, but it probably wasn’t far off.