Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5 Page 6

  “A fine question. Perhaps when I become a dragon, I shall understand.”

  “Are you… I mean, you don’t have any doubts that you’ll be able to become a dragon?” Priestess asked, sipping hesitantly at her wine. A small sigh escaped her lips. “I mean…breathing fire and flying through the air… Maybe those are things you could do with miracles?”

  “Heh-heh-heh! That’s how the old folk describe dragons, all right!” Dwarf Shaman had already drained one cup and was pouring himself a second. “But you can’t believe most of what old folks say anyway.”

  “But in my hometown resided a great and terrible dragon that had turned to a skeleton. And if apes can become humans, surely lizards…”

  Priestess smiled slightly at this grave murmur from Lizard Priest. Each person had their own faith.

  “Oh, that’s right!” High Elf Archer said suddenly, snapping her long fingers. “When you become a dragon, you’ll be immortal, right? I’ll come visit you!”

  “Oh-ho.”

  “I mean, we’re talking at least a thousand years, right? You’ll get super-bored. You’ll go crazy without any friends to help you pass the time.”

  She said seriously that she estimated at least 60 percent of the world’s rampaging dragons were just looking for something to do.

  Lizard Priest nodded in acknowledgment. Then he tried to imagine what it would be like when he became a dragon.

  “A dragon who speaks of the adventures of Goblin Slayer. One visited by a high elf.”

  “And…one that likes cheese,” High Elf Archer put in.

  This caused Lizard Priest to roll his eyes happily. “That sounds quite congenial.”

  “Right?”

  “But enough of that. A thousand years will pass in due course, and we must attend to what is coming now.” Lizard Priest turned to look at Goblin Slayer. “Milord Goblin Slayer, how shall we attack them?”

  He had been listening to the conversation silently. Now he said, “Good question,” and immediately lapsed back into thought. Then he said, “I think we should do as we usually do. Warrior in front, then ranger, warrior-monk, cleric, and spell caster.”

  “By the book,” Lizard Priest said.

  “That tunnel looks wide enough,” said Dwarf Shaman, who had peeked around the snowdrift for a look at the entrance. “Perhaps two by three will do?”

  Goblins had good night vision. The entrance to the nest yawned silent and dark. There didn’t seem to be any guards. Was it a trap? A careless oversight? Or…

  “Feh. My wine doesn’t taste so good anymore,” Dwarf Shaman said with a cluck of his tongue. He must have noticed that the waste at the entrance was more than just trash.

  The body of an adventurer lay among the refuse. The corpse had been thrown away as if it were no more important than a broken-up fence. Her equipment had been stripped off; it was clear she had been much defiled, and her exposed remains gnawed on by beasts.

  Cruelest of all, the adventurer appeared to be an elf woman. Appeared—well, she must have struggled, and the violence seemed to have continued after her death. Her ears had been cut down to the size of a human’s, the tips stuck in her mouth. The goblins’ twisted games knew no bounds.

  High Elf Archer glanced at Dwarf Shaman. “Hmm? Something wrong?”

  “…Naw. Nothing,” he said bluntly. “But take my advice, Long-Ears, and don’t go peeping around too much.”

  “I would never. Most of the time.”

  “Hey,” Goblin Slayer grunted, and asked softly of Dwarf Shaman, “…was Gold-hair there?”

  The dwarf shook his head slowly. He stroked his beard, took another look, then shook it more firmly. “Doesn’t seem so, as far as I see.”

  “Then we may still have time,” Lizard Priest said, and the other two men nodded.

  Priestess shuddered, perhaps intuiting something of what their conversation portended. Goblin Slayer tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Let’s go.” Then he glanced at the girl’s pale, bare feet. “Put on your socks and boots.”

  §

  The shadow of the torch flame danced eerily in the wind. But the angle at which the tunnel had been dug meant that even just a step inside, one was sheltered from the snow and the wind; one could almost be warm. If it weren’t for the smell of meat and excrement that drifted from within, the place could almost be cozy.

  “Hmm. The path descends at a rather steep angle,” Lizard Priest said, his tail swishing with interest.

  “Yeah, but it goes right back up again over there,” High Elf Archer said.

  “Mmm.”

  It looked as if the goblins had dug down into the ground immediately upon beginning their nest and then come back up. The rather severe angles didn’t seem natural; most likely, they had been made by goblin hands.

  “Hmm. Quite a clever barrier against rain and snow,” Dwarf Shaman said, showing his fine knowledge of construction. He glanced back over his shoulder at the entrance. “Any precipitation that blows in gets caught here and doesn’t go any farther into the tunnels.”

  “Goblins make things like that?” Priestess said, blinking with perplexity or, perhaps, surprise. She well remembered what she was often told: that goblins were stupid, but they weren’t fools. In other words, just because they didn’t have much knowledge didn’t mean they didn’t think. But this…

  “I don’t know.” Goblin Slayer’s answer was dispassionate, almost mechanical. He drew the sword at his hip and used it to stir the pool of waste at the bottom of the depression. He clicked his tongue. “We can’t say anything yet. All I can tell you is, try not to step in the water.”

  “Is there something in there?” Priestess asked.

  “It’s a trap. There are stakes at the bottom.”

  A pit trap, in other words. Rather than burying it, the goblins had hidden it at the bottom of a waste pool.

  High Elf Archer, testing the depth of the pool with one of her bud-tipped arrows, frowned. “Ugh. That’s vile.”

  “I need you to listen for enemies.”

  “I know, I know. Leave it to me, I told you.” She jumped nimbly over the pool, but then winked mischievously and laughed. “I can’t stand getting so dirty too many times.”

  A fragrant sachet hung around High Elf Archer’s neck to help keep away smells. She twitched her long ears with pride, but Goblin Slayer shook his head and said bluntly, “Getting dirty isn’t the point.”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha… Right, but, well, when you get that messy, it’s a pain to clean up… Right?”

  Priestess heard the hollow note in the elf’s laugh. A similar pouch hung next to the status tag around her own neck. She may have gotten used to rubbing blood and guts all over herself, but it was never something she enjoyed.

  Come to think of it, the pile of corpses next to the tunnel entrance was much the same. She had plenty of experience with goblins now, had seen this many times and fancied herself accustomed to it—but still. She needed more than a joke or a chuckle…

  “Hey.” High Elf Archer, up ahead, glanced at her and nodded gently. She was the same way. Elves had exceptional sense perception. Seeing the flutter of the archer’s ears, Priestess nodded back.

  “Let’s…do what we can.”

  “Right.”

  After going down and then up two or three more slopes, the party finally arrived at the cave’s main tunnel. The torch had nearly burned down, and Goblin Slayer replaced it with another from his pack.

  “Hold this.”

  “Oh, yes, sir!”

  He gave the smaller torch to Priestess, while he held the new one, which burned brightly.

  The humans were the only members of this party, indeed, the only ones in this cave, who lacked decent night vision. In the light from the torch, Goblin Slayer examined the earthen walls intently.

  They seemed to have been dug with some crude tool. They were rough but sturdy—a textbook example of a goblin nest.

  The problem was elsewhere.

  “I don’t see an
y sort of totems.”

  “Does that mean there are no shamans?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

  “Mmm… But wouldn’t it be easier for us if they don’t have spell casters?” High Elf Archer asked.

  “It had begun to bother me as well,” Lizard Priest said, opening his huge jaws. “The attack on the village, the skill with which they dispatched the previous adventurers. It would be hard to imagine that there are no brains behind this operation.”

  “Do you suppose it’s another dark elf or an ogre?” Priestess asked.

  “Or maybe…a demon?” High Elf Archer whispered with a petrified expression. The word echoed through the halls of the cavern, making their hair stand on end.

  The adventurers looked at one another, and then Dwarf Shaman, stroking his beard, let out a breath. “Ahh, stoppit already. No sense getting all uptight over hypotheticals.” He reached up (because he was very short) and slapped Goblin Slayer on the back. “This isn’t exactly what we call ‘striking a famous sword with a hammer.’ But, Beard-cutter. We ought to focus on what we can do now.”

  “Yes,” Goblin Slayer said after a moment. He raised the torch and took another look at the wall, then nodded. “Were you alluding to a dwarven proverb?”

  “I was,” Dwarf Shaman said with a pleased sniff.

  “I see.” As Goblin Slayer set off walking with his usual bold stride, murmurs could be heard. “There’s no need to further forge a famous sword.” And then, “Hmm. Not bad.”

  The layout of the cave didn’t seem too complex, and they followed the path for a while. There was no sign of goblins, only a pervasive stench of rot.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick,” High Elf Archer muttered, pulling her collar up over her mouth. Nobody else said it aloud, but most of the party seemed to sympathize with her—Goblin Slayer excepted.

  Eventually they came to a T-shaped intersection. High Elf Archer immediately crouched down, inspecting the floor carefully for footprints.

  “Lots of prints heading to the right,” she reported, clapping her hands to get the dust off them. She couldn’t always read man-made buildings, but in natural settings like this cave, her eyes were reliable. That suggested that to the right were sleeping quarters, with an armory or warehouse to the left. Or perhaps…

  “Last time, we started with the toilet,” Dwarf Shaman said.

  “Correct,” Goblin Slayer said. “It would be inconvenient to miss someone simply because he was using the bathroom.”

  “Same plan this time?”

  “Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted.

  Should they do the same thing they had done before? Was it safe to use the same strategy each time? What was the likelihood that the enemy would predict what they were going to do?

  Imagine. Think. If a human’s actual armaments were his first weapon, knowledge and planning were his second.

  If he were a goblin, what would he do?

  “We’ll hit the right first.” Goblin Slayer made his determination without compunction. There was no debate.

  High Elf Archer nocked an arrow into her great bow, while Lizard Priest prepared a fang blade. Dwarf Shaman had his bag of catalysts in hand, and Priestess gripped her sounding staff firmly.

  They moved quickly through the tunnels, arriving at a large, hollowed-out living area. There before them was a horde of goblins, carrying shovels and pickaxes as if preparing for a surprise attack…

  §

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!”

  With these words, Priestess seized the initiative. She did this through no special ability—just a roll of the dice. But the way she intoned the Holy Light miracle without hesitation was a sign of how much she had grown. She held up her staff, the end of which was host to the sacred miracle. A brilliant light filled the cavern.

  “GORARAB?!”

  “ORRRG?!”

  The goblins, struck by the holy light, pressed their hands to their eyes and cried out. She counted ten—no, fifteen?

  “Seventeen. No hobs, no spell casters. Archers present. Let’s go!”

  For the adventurers, who had the light at their backs, the illumination was no problem at all.

  “First blood is mine!” No sooner had Goblin Slayer issued his order than a bud-tipped arrow began to fly. High Elf Archer had drawn back the spider-silk string of her bow elegantly, releasing the three arrows she carried in a single motion.

  The cavern may have been dark and confined, but that was no hindrance to an elf’s aim. Her skill was so advanced that it was hardly distinguishable from magic. Three goblins collapsed where they stood: fourteen left. A hail of stones began to assail the remaining creatures.

  “Come out, you gnomes, it’s time to work, now don’t you dare your duty shirk—a bit of dust may cause no shock, but a thousand make a lovely rock!”

  Dwarf Shaman flung some sand into space, turning it into rocks that rained down on the enemy.

  “ORGAAA?!”

  “GROOROB?!”

  The goblins howled and fell back. The Stone Blast spell assailed them indiscriminately, breaking bones and tearing flesh.

  At this point, of course, spells that harmed the enemy and those that aided allies were both of use. It was Dwarf Shaman himself who had settled on Stone Blast, an offensive technique. Spells that struck an entire area were best while one held the initiative, before engagement with the enemy.

  Ten goblins left. Screeching and weeping their vile tears, the monsters surged forward.

  “Here we go! You’re up, Beard-cutter! Scaly!”

  “Hrrrooahhh!”

  “Good.”

  One great roar and one curt reply: the two members of the party’s vanguard stood blocking the entrance to the room. It was only logical that they not enter; when fighting a large number of opponents, it was wise to choose a choke point and defend it.

  The enemy, which had outnumbered them nearly four to one, was reduced to half its strength. And only two or three goblins could stand abreast in the tunnel. Against the two warriors, and in light of the terrain, the fight was nearly even. It only went to show how crucial it was to take the initiative in combat.

  After all, there would always be more goblins than there were adventurers. The fate of adventurers who sought to face goblins without acknowledging that basic fact was a cruel one.

  “GORROB!”

  “Eeyahhhh!”

  The goblins were still half-blind from the flash of light; their attacks were hardly worth worrying about. Lizard Priest struck out with claws and tail, dealing one goblin a mighty blow and rending another to pieces. Eight left.

  Lizardmen respected animality—for it was a bestial nature combined with keen intellect that defined the nagas. Violent and brave, war cries mingling with prayers, Lizard Priest threw himself at the surviving goblins.

  “Hmph.” Just beside him, Goblin Slayer stabbed the creatures in their vital places—quietly, dutifully, precisely.

  Throat, heart, head. It didn’t matter. Humanoid creatures tended to have a great many weak points. Goblin Slayer personally preferred the throat. A stab there might not result in an instantaneous kill, but it would render the target helpless. He kicked aside a choking goblin and hurled his sword at another one farther away.

  “ORAGAGA?!”

  “Ten, eleven.”

  His target collapsed, pierced through the throat. Even in the dark, his aim was exact.

  Six left. Goblin Slayer shoved a club belonging to one of the dead goblins with his foot, kicking it up into his hand. He caught an ax blow from the goblin beside him with his shield, then aimed a strike of the club at the creature’s stomach.

  “ORARAO?!” Something disgusting poured from the goblin’s open mouth. Goblin Slayer struck again. This made two more since his last count.

  After dealing a vicious blow to the creature’s skull, Goblin Slayer nonchalantly swept the vomit fro
m his shield.

  “Thirteen. The enemy is going to recover soon.”

  “Right!”

  Four left. Hardly an excuse to take it easy, of course.

  Despite the nervousness evident on her face, Priestess held up her sounding staff and invoked another of the soul-erasing miracles.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!”

  The Earth Mother answered the prayer of her faithful disciple with another miracle. Blinding light filled the room once more, banishing the darkness of the cavern.

  The goblins, however, were no fools. They were certainly not intellectuals, but when it came to cruelty and malice, they had no equals. And when this total lack of principles was joined to violence, the result was inevitable.

  The staff the girl held up had shined. Now she was raising it again. That meant it would shine again.

  One of the goblins, putting these most basic facts together, ducked his head. Unfortunately, he was one of the archers. As his three companions were murdered, he kept his head down, waiting for his chance, bow and arrow at the ready.

  “Hh—Haagh!”

  The shout seemed to be one of shock. Someone tumbled: it was High Elf Archer. The goblin’s arrow had lanced between the two frontline guards to strike her. A critical hit indeed.

  “What is this, now!” Lizard Priest exclaimed.

  “Hrrgh…” A crude but sinister arrow stuck cruelly out of High Elf Archer’s leg.

  Goblin Slayer glanced back, then tossed his club before running over to the elf.

  “ORAAG?!”

  Woosh. The club spun once in the air and then connected firmly with a goblin’s head, provoking a scream. It wasn’t enough to kill the creature, though. As he ran, Goblin Slayer picked up a dagger from the ground, covering the final few steps in one great leap.

  “GOAORR…?!”

  The goblin grabbed his arrow and spun, trying to get away, but he was too late. The dagger plunged into his heart, twisted once, and it was over.

  “Seventeen…”

  That was all of them.

  Looking around at the pile of corpses, Goblin Slayer picked up a nearby sword and put it in his scabbard.