Marrowsh, a grizzled goblin and the ambush leader, finishes speaking. It's time to go. He sprints into the woods, and the others follow. Once, I would've struggled to keep up.
Now, I manage to keep my pace in cohesion with the others.Yet, even as I run, climb, and jump, my mind goes back to that last day of my previous life. When I start remembering I really can't stop.
Luckily it's been happening less often lately.
So, there I was, buying a beer in a mini-market, with a pre-rolled blunt tucked behind my ear. I remember how happy I was when weed became legal. I really shouldn't have been, in my thirty years of life, I had spent almost fifteen of them fighting some kind of addiction. I never tried to lie to myself. I was, and still am, weak. Firstly in the body, secondly in the mind, and without any doubts, in the spirit. I was thirty, living in the worst part of the city.
No aspirations. No dreams.
But that blunt was a prize, and a deserved one for once. I managed to fight off the worst addictions and just found a new job, so I wanted to reward myself a little bit. To be fair, I still had some problems, mainly with my phone. Oh, how I loved it. Without the drugs, it was my only escapism left. Surely, it wasn't healthy to spend as much time as I did reading and watching it, but I didn't have much else in my life to do.
We've arrived at the rally point, the other goblins stop and everyone goes to the assigned place up in the trees. I climb mine and sit on a branch beside Greech. The rough bark digs into my fingers as I grip the branch. The wind shifts, making the whole tree sway slightly beneath me.
Greech gives me a toothy smile and a thumbs up. I can see the excitement in his eyes. We both are Newbloods, the freshest recruits of the Warrior Clan. This is going to be our first battle.
It wasn't easy to get into the Warrior Clan. I remember my first days in the tribe... I was so scared, so confused. But they still took me in, helped me, fed me. Without them I would have just died in this forest. I learned to shut up, to work. Initially I thought my supposedly superior human mind would make me their leader, but I discovered quite fast how wrong I was.
The goblin life is a grueling life, and to live in the tribe means to work hard for the tribe. And so I worked the field, hunted in the woods, and finally earned a spot in the Clan. Greech was much younger but he immediately took a liking in my strange ways. We trained together and today is the day we have to prove we are a worthy addition to the Warrior Clan.
Still, I can't shake the feeling that the old me would be horrified if he knew how I normalized the violence in this new life of mine. I remember the hours wasted on my phone, arguing with strangers over things I thought mattered. I am embarrassed to admit that out of all things, my phone is what I miss the most about my old life.
Now I watch my right hand. My thumb barely remembers the scrolling motion, but now it knows how to grip a sword, how to hold on tightly enough that it won't slip in the heat of the battle.
The wind whistles some more.
Only now I notice how high on the tree I am. At least eight meters, and the road below is not made of mud but of solid stones, fitting together a little too neatly, smooth and unnaturally perfect compared to the wild forest.
Made by human hands.
Yes, I was shocked when I learned all the races that live in this world: elves, dwarves, orcs, but most importantly many, many humans. And yet, here I was in the body of a goblin. Why couldn't I just be a human like all the stories I was always reading on my phone?
But those were just that, stories. This is real, and it's so different. So slow. These months I've lived here, have passed second by second. The stories only show the best parts, the exciting moments. Truth is, everything is just a mind numbing routine. Not so different to the boredom of my precedent life.
And even now, waiting for the most important and dangerous moment so far, it's so boring. We've been up in these trees for hours now. The sun is slowly going down, and all I can do is watch Greech and the other goblins, perfectly hidden in the leaves, their bodies matched and masked, ready to spring in action. But I am not ready. My mind goes back, once again, to that day.
After buying a beer I just found a nice bench in the park, lit up the blunt and grabbed my phone. I spent the next couple of hours drinking, smoking, and watching stupid shit. Is it bad that I miss it so much? Then, it was late and I just headed back home.
"Home" was the smallest room possible in a massive apartment complex in the worst part if town. But that was what I could afford. I was going up the seven flights of stairs with my head down on my phone. To be fair, I rarely walked looking in front of me, I found walking so boring that I had to have my phone out. Honestly, it's almost impressive I was never hit by a truck while crossing the street glued to my phone.
But this time something made me raise my head: I had finally reached my floor when I heard screaming. I shoved my phone in my front pocket and looked up to see what was happening.
My memories are interrupted by a sharp jab to my ribs.
I blink. The leaves are rustling.
Greech hits me again and then points at his ears so I put my hearing to work. It's incredible how deaf I was before, and how much I can hear now. I hear the other goblins quietly breathing, I hear every single leaf moving with the wind, and I can hear, in the distance, horses coming. How many? I focus on the noise.A deep, rhythmic tremor against the earth. Four… no, six. Two guards and four for the carriage, exactly as was expected. My grip on the sword tightens.
I have tried rationalizing this attack. We are basically thieves, we are going to rob a wagon full of what are essentially taxes. And yet, none of the goblins see themselves as criminals. They see this as an act of guerrilla warfare. The humans, the city, are the enemies. The guards are hostile combatants.
I've always imagined the goblins as lowlife, vermin happy to pillage and murder, and I guess that's also how humans here view them. But living with them, as them, I've learned how they are just regular people, brought to their extremes. My tribe has lived in these woods as long as they know, but in the last years the neighboring city has started to cut more trees, be more aggressive. The goblins see this as a war because they feel under attack. The humans call the goblins uncivilized, yet their idea of civilizationerases every aspect of the goblin culture, and does not even accept the goblin itself.
So now, we will ambush them and take their gold for us. Usually, these caravans are so heavily defended that it would be suicide to try and attack them, but it seems that one particular noble just puts a couple of guards there and calls it a day. This year we have many old goblins and the gold in this singular carriage would be enough to pull the whole tribe through the winter.
No, this is a robbery and I am probably going to kill somebody. How can I justify this to the old me? I've always lived surrounded by violence but always sweared that I would not partake in it.
Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. The last time I felt like this, is that day.
When I heard screaming and I saw two men trying to kick down my apartment door. Two cops. I was still high and, even if it was now legal, the second I saw them I decided to book it, but they also saw me. I remember their weapons, in a second pointed at me. I remember being so scared and thinking I was going to faint.
The memories are slowly fading away. Maybe it's a good things that it keeps getting more difficult to remember.
Maybe it was just a bad dream, and I truly am just a little crazy goblin.
Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself of that, because I do not want to remember how I bled out on the ground, in that hallway, that night.
Once again I focus on the horses.
They are now coming around the trees and I can see them. The first to come are the two guards. One is short and dirty, while the other is taller with a sharp look. They have the city heraldry on the horses but the noble symbols all over their armor. Funny thing, they remind me of the sports teams I used to watch, with their sponsors printed all over the clothing.
I try not to chuckle at such a stupid thought in such a dangerous time, while the carriage itself is now visible. Four horses pull a massive wooden wagon, overflowing with chests. Even more than what I imagined. The driver, a short gnome, seems to be almost sleeping with the bridles in hand.
We are going to kill them.
The Chief told us that nobody trusts goblins, and that humans will always fight to the death. So we stopped even trying to take things without killing anybody. But still, while I look at them I can't stop trying to find something to hate, so it would be easier to justify the violence we are going to enact. For the other goblins it's easy. In these months I've heard so many stories of the humans kicking, spitting on and even killing goblins just for existing.
All the goblins hate humans to death and likewise. For me it's not so easy, having been a human, they do not look like monsters but just… people. The short one scratches his beard. The tall one cleans a smudge on his glove. Still, I know for sure none of the humans would even hesitate before killing me, so I must do the same, if I want to live in this world.
Then something happens. Behind the carriage, there is something else. Four figures, are walking, guarding the chests.
I know all the goblins are silently wondering what has happened, this was not part of the plan. With the enemies doubling in numbers the ambush becomes now lethal. With just overfifteen goblin warriors, we could manage taking on three enemies without losses, but now? A lot of goblins are going to die if we decide do go through with the ambush. Maybe I am going to die.
To make things worse those four look like adventurers, the one thing goblins hate more than anything. Not one goblin hasn't lost a parent, friend, or child to the blade on an adventurer. We are lucky none of those four is a ranger or we would already be spotted.
They keep walking, oblivious, and are now almost under us. The goblins seem to still be unsure, but it's clear that even counting the adventurers, this carriage is less guarded than what is should be, with all its treasures. There wont be another opportunity like this one.
Oh, how I want to be the hero and jump head first into them, screaming "Glory to the First Blade!". How could I be scared of death, me who has already died once? And yet, my legs are frozen in place. My breath comes in short, shallow bursts.The fear of death. I know it too well.
Oh how I lied to myself, how I perfectly remember every moment of it.
One agent has his hand still on my door, his pistol raised, while the other moves toward me, barking orders. I am like a stone statue, with my hands raised I can't move a muscle, not even to answer.
"Why did you try to flee? Is this your apartment? Do not move! We have a warrant for the man living in apt. 37 floor 6! Do not move!!"
I gather all my strength to speak.
"I live here, but this is apt 36, floor 7..."
The first agent had his gun now mere centimeters from my face, I could see the inside of its barrel, while the other one was still at my door.
The closest one slowly lowered his weapon while glancing at the floor number on the wall.
"It seems we are on the wrong floor" he mumbles, putting his pistol away. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience" he adds, and I remember thinking how he sounded just annoyed at me, not sorry.
But hearing these words and seeing the gun gone, lifted a world of worries from my shoulders. And I relaxed. My hands, until now raised over my head, lowered. And maybe it was muscle memory, maybe it was trying to ground myself, but my right hand went straight for my phone, in my pocket.
I didn't even have the time to actually touch it.
The second agent, he never holstered his weapon, and the moment he saw my hand move, he pulled the trigger. Not once, not twice, but eight times. And I only know because I remember hearing the Glock clicking after he emptied the magazine.
The shots themselves, in the narrow hallway, to me sounded like a single long explosion.
And the pain, it was everywhere, all at once. A burning sensation. I remember hearing the other agent shouting. Was he scared? Angry? Just annoyed for the paperwork they would now have to compile? I felt so wet, for a moment wondered if I just pissed myself. This was all I could think lying on the cold ground. My phone still in the pocket.
Surely it wasn't a clever move what I did, but didn't deserve to die like that. 30 years gone down the drain because of a stupid mistake.
I never want to feel again what I felt that day. Dying knowing I had wasted my life. At least, if I die now, it will be while trying to provide for the tribe.
Even with this thought, I couldn't move. The silence was deafening. I could see the adventurers, now directly below me. One had a bow, one a big shield. One a longsword and one.. just a staff? Could it be a mage? I knew magic existed but in these months all I saw was some minor things from the Shaman. A proper mage would be able to wipe us all without breaking a sweat.
Suddenly, a scream wakes us all up from our scared immobility. The Ambush Leader, Marrowsh, jumped from the highest tree screaming "Glory to the First Blade!".
It was one of the most important traditions of the tribe. In war, if someone invokes First Blade, every goblin that hears it must join the fight. Being the First Blade was a great honor, and if he died before we all joined the fight, it would bring dishonor on us and our whole families.
Once the word is spoken there's no coming back, and Marrowsh made the decision for us all.
I see him landing perfectly on the gnome driver and cutting the horses free. All the goblins follow him, and Greech pushes me down the tree before jumping. As I fall I can't help but wonder if he saw the hesitation in my eyes. Does he think I'm a coward?
I fall on the carriage and almost get knocked out by the impact. All around me is chaos. The horses are running, the tall guard falls on the ground shouting while the other one stands fast and readily cuts the head of the first goblin that attacks him. A head rolls. Try to not recognize the face. Greech is running. The adventurer with the bow doesn't even have the time to take an arrow out the quiver before Greech plunges a short sword in his neck.
So much blood, it's spilling everywhere.
The others fights, while I can't even manage to stand up, my knees still weak from the fall, or maybe just the straight panic. All my training seems so far, so useless now. This violence, this death, I can't keep up. I see the mage conjure a small fire bolt and shoot it straight through a goblin. Try to not recognize the face. It's Snafu. I can see his skin melt while he falls screaming. I see the mage hit by swords and knives, the magic too weak to save him.
I finally manage to stand straight and grab my sword, when one of the adventurers climbs on the carriage. I see, in his bulging eyes, the same blind panic I'm feeling. He was clearly just trying to run away from the carnage but now he meets my gaze. His sword is sheathed, he can't be older than 25.
I wonder what goes trough his mind when he looks at me. "Just another blood-hungry goblin" that is all I am to him. Still, now that I have one of these humans in front of me, I can't manage to see the enemy, but just another terrified man. I can't bring myself to hate it. Yet, I wonder if I would feel the same if I had lived here all my life, and not just the last six months.
My philosophical reflections are interrupted abruptly by his screams "I surrender! Please, you can take everything!". I am speechless. I assumed I wouldn't be able to understand his language, I didn't expect him to be able to speak Goblin.
Behind me I can hear swords tearing skin, bodies dropping on the ground. It's not the time to inquire about linguistics. Marrowsh screams to surround them, use the numbers to our advantage.
I'm not moving, I can't.
I notice Greech, maybe following that order, that with a knife in hand is approaching the scared adventurer from behind.
The human is too occupied with me to notice. I can see how he is going to be stabbed in the back, how he is going to die just before me. I realize how this man life is in my hands, I could warn him, I could save him. He will just have the time to die, but I will have all the time to watch the eyes of a dying man.
But he is not a man, he is the enemy, and I know we stopped taking prisoners because they never did it.
Greech is now almost in position to strike. He raises his knife and I tense up. Maybe I can try and convince them to spare the adventurer. I have to.
"He surrendered!"I scream, my voice breaking. The adventurer turns, following my gaze and unsheathing the sword. Not fast enough.
Greech leaps, plunging his knife in the adventurer's chest. The sword, too slow to stop the attack, yet manages to slice across Greech abdomen.
I am still not moving.
I see blood gushing out, on his clothes, on the ground. Who's blood?
I am still not moving.
Frozen, with my sword raised in the defensive position I've practiced many times. Who's blood it is? Both the man and the goblin fall to the ground. All around me, the violence is finally stopping. No more humans are standing. Only with this realization I manage to finally move.
Coward.
I run to Greech, not to the adventurer. I can see he's still breathing but the sword has slashed his torso badly and blood is pouring out quickly, too quickly. Even with this urgency, I can't stop myself from looking at the human.
He is lying with his back on the ground and the eyes raised to the sky. The knife stuck in his chest up to the hilt. I can see he is also still alive but clearly it's not going to last long. The Clan's healer, Voss, pushes me away and starts trying to stop the blood form Greech's wound.
I feel so useless. Such a useless coward. I crawl towards the adventurer.
His breathing is ragged, blood is filling his lungs. He's just there, with his arms sprayed, almost like if he was crucified. He is going to die.
Without even thinking, I grab his hand.
He immediately squeezes my hand and I hear him trying to talk.
"Just wait for me… wait for me Clara, I'll show you"
It's barely understandable gurgling. His other hand now grasping at something in his pocket.
"Wait for me, it's a quick escort mission, they didn't even want us"
I can feel his hand becoming weaker.
"I'll be a real adventurer Clara, now I'll get up and…save… everyo..."
I will never forget the moment I saw the light leave his eyes. They just became so still, with a silent scream forever trapped inside.
I feel like I should close his eyes but can't bring myself to touch his face. It's face? What was one a person just became an inanimate object before my eyes.
Did I look like this when I died? Did my killers feel anything of what I am feeling now? Except I'm not his killer. Am I?
I look at his other hand, still in his pocket. Whatever he was trying to grab, he didn't have enough time to take it out. I can see something shine inside his fist, a crystal maybe? Without thinking I reach out to take it. It's the size of a grape. Hard, cold.
Suddenly, I come back to my senses. I realize where I am, what I am doing.
Next to me Greech is still being tended to, his bandage already soaked in blood. Is it may fault he got wounded? Did someone see me, see my weakness? Panicking I look around, but the few goblins left can't seem to care less about me. All except one.
A pair of eyes are looking straight at me, while I'm still holding the human's hand and at the same time stealing from him.
Marrowsh's eyes look like two hot coals, burning right through me.
For a second that seems like an eternity our gazes are locked, then he quickly turns around barking orders about taking the chests back to the hideout.
Everything feels so far, the two guards dead over there, the adventurers killed over here. Corpses of goblins all around. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I had no idea how I was going to react to my first real fight, but this isn't what I had in mind. It's almost like I'm dissociating. They died, I survived. I should feel happy, do I?
I feel like shit. And I never felt such raw disgust as right now catching myself stealing from a man that has just died. "Looting the enemy" was such a simply ingrained concept, but in this moment I understand I would never do it again. This is different than taking meat from an animal. I regret grabbing the crystal but I feel I can't now just throw it away.
I didn't even fight yet I feel exhausted. A cold stillness pervades me, now that it's all over. All I can think about are the lives that ended in these minutes. Each one of them, human and goblin, lived for years just to come to this moment, and to end like this. I wonder, did the guards regret taking this job in their last seconds? Their bodies now lie on the ground lifeless, and the blood... the blood is everywhere. I see it, I hear it still spurting out, I smell it permeating the air.
And it's so red, and there is no telling where the human blood ends and the goblin blood starts. Now, from such different bodies, the blood is all mixed together, and it's the same color, the same smell.