The dark cloaked figure stared out of a huge side window in the tall tower, lost in his thoughts. Spread out below him was a red and brown clay desert for as far as the eye could see.

The rock-strewn landscape was desolate and foreboding, full of crevices and rises, fit only for beasts such as dragons. He could see several of them flying in circles a great distance away. This barren land was what he called home, but not for long.

The dark cloaked man turned and faced the seven fat green blubbery man-like creatures, sitting around the big stone table in the middle of the room. They were quiet, nervously waiting for him. He walked over to the table and sat in the empty stone chair, across from the goblin kings.

“We march on the land of men with the new moon. Are your armies prepared?” he asked in their language.

The fatter of the seven tribal kings spoke, hesitantly, “Our armies are assembled above the passes that lead into the lowlands. They are ready.”

“And you’ll be able to retrieve your weapons?” the dark figure questioned.

The same fat king, Tubby, spoke again, “We remember. The knowledge has been passed down from king to king. We’ve waited for this day for centuries. But . . .”

“Speak freely,” the cloaked one commanded when the fat goblin king hesitated.

“The boxes that they’re in are protected. We’ll need magic to open them.”

“Perhaps these will help?” The dark figure reached under the table and retrieved a large bag, which he dumped out in front of them. “Give one to your strongest warrior in each tribe. Have each one drip his blood on the weapon and it will be magically bound to him.”

The fat goblin kings chittered excitedly. Lying on the table were seven magical weapons, all red and black. They were a bow, a boomerang, a large axe, a large hammer, a mace, a sword, and a spear.

“Study the map and know where you’re to attack,” the dark one said, and began pointing at the tattered parchment. “You with your 13,000 at Trader Town. You with your 10,000 at Gilead Castle. You with your 10,000 at Frontier Fortress. You with your 9,000 will strike the Two Towers of Dwain. You with your 5,000 at Tuggle City. You with your 5,000 at Mt. Esha. And finally, you with your 8,000 will circle far to the west, dropping south, where you’ll then make your way to Port Turin.”

The goblin kings nodded in agreement. When the Dark One stopped speaking, each king grabbed one of the magical weapons and left the room. The black cloaked figure went back to his large window and stared out of it.

I will smash my sixty thousand goblin forces against the kingdoms of men, dwarves, and elves. That alone should crush them, but if it isn’t enough to break them, then I have additional powerful allies.

In the distance, he could see several of the flying shadows break off from the main group and begin heading towards his tower. So, it has begun, he thought, as he walked back to the stone table and began rolling up the map. Two words were written at the very top. “The Glen.”

  *   *   *

Several days later, in a land very far to the south, Lord Prince Talban scratched his yule’s neck. This caused the large beast that he was riding to let out a snort of appreciation.

Yules were not known for making much noise, but they did let out occasional snorts of contentment. Lord Prince Talban had been riding the beast hard, not that the creature minded, because the sturdy green reptilian animals were built for long distances.

The wingless, half dragon-half dinosaur creatures had long bodies, a tail nearly as long as a man, and four stout legs covered in muscle. They were twice as long and slightly taller than the horses that the men of the Lower Glen rode.

Although they weren’t as fast as horses, they could travel three times as far, without rest. They could also suffer various wounds without faltering. That made them perfect mounts for the vast open terrain of the Upper Glen. 

At thirty, Prince Talban was King Darian’s oldest son. He had flowing black hair and was considered to be quite handsome. He was brash, and a bit of an adventure seeker, always traveling to where the action was. That had earned him a lot of respect.

And travel they had. The slender black-haired prince and his men had been following the prints of a goblin horde for over two days now. They had been on the move constantly, only catching the occasional doze in the saddles of their yules.

The prince had pushed his men hard, because the goblin tracks were leading straight north, towards the protection of Timber Lake Mountains. They had followed the prints of two other groups last week, and had turned back only when they reached the shadow of the mountains.

Men of the Glen rarely ventured into Timber Lake Mountains. It was a natural border between the land of men and the land of the seven tribes of goblins.

Goblins had a milky green color to their bumpy warty skin, and most stood about four feet high. They had yellow pointed teeth and wore a perpetual scowl. Their worst feature was that they smelled atrocious because they never bathed, and actually loathed getting in water.

They dressed in animal furs and leathers, which they often obtained by raiding the Upper Glen. Most goblins had round pudgy noses and deep-set black eyes. They were an ugly brutish lot. 

Lord Prince Talban had a second reason for wanting to find this horde. The group had dug an iron box out of the earth and had taken its contents. The large chest glowed with a magical hue.

The iron box was completely caved in, looking like a very powerful weapon had done the damage. It was odd that the goblins had travelled so far into the Upper Glen and located a buried box in an unmarked, unremarkable field.

None of this made any sense to the prince. Talban wanted to know what they had taken from the magically protected box, and he knew that his father, King Darian, would want to know as well.

King Darian was the leader of the Yule Riders, tasked by the other twelve kings of the realm to patrol the Upper Glen for goblin encroachments. The Upper Glen was large and had been broken into three patrol areas; the Western Rim, the Eastern Rim, and the Central Rim.

Generally, patrolling was an easy task. King Darian always ran a couple of squads in each patrol area. Being out on the rims was most of the men’s favorite part of being a Yule Rider.

The Bone Breaker Tribe and the Black Eye Tribe were the only goblins that Lord Prince Talban had ever seen. The Bone Breakers were the largest of the goblins. They were incredibly strong, and could often break a man’s bone with a single punch, earning them their name.

The Black Eye Tribe earned their name from dark rings of pigment that colored the skin around their eyes. It was believed that the other five tribes had not entered the Glen in over two hundred years.

It was common for the Yule Riders to encounter small hordes of Bone Breakers, or Black Eyes, about once a month. A goblin horde was a family group of males, usually numbering anywhere from twenty to fifty, although Lord Prince Talban had defeated a horde of nearly a hundred with his father’s patrol last summer.

A horde was always led by a family leader called a yorg. The yorg was usually the largest member of the horde and always the strongest. He dominated the other members with fear. A yorg had no qualms about killing a disobedient underling.

Lord Prince Talban and his twelve-man squad continued north, and just as they reached the growing shadows of Timber Lake Mountains, they caught sight of the horde.

The goblins numbered around twenty-five, with a large male that was surely the yorg, leading them at a fast trot straight towards one of the mountain paths. We got them! Talban thought. Their yule’s were faster and they would catch the horde at the foot of the mountain.

“Charge!” Lord Prince Talban shouted at Hark and Maylay, the two lords that always rode beside him.

Lords Hark and Maylay were the two most experienced fighters in his patrol, and were most likely assigned by King Darian to protect him, more than anything else. This did not bother the brash prince, because he liked and greatly respected both men.

Hark was funny, always with quips and pranks. The man loved to poke fun at his companions. Maylay was usually at the brunt of his jokes, but he too could pull a good prank, keeping the amusing Hark in line.

The remainder of his squad consisted of two captains, the rank just under a lord, as well as six warriors and two archers. The men raised their brown shields, that bore red dragon emblems in the center, and began to race towards the goblins.

The two archers were the first to strike, launching arrows from the backs of their yules. One arrow flew wide, but the second found its mark, piercing the nearest goblin through the back of its green neck.

The creature let out a gurgling shriek when he fell, spitting up blood. The yorg immediately let out a howl, and pointed towards the advancing yules, signaling the underlings to swing around and charge towards the men.

Lord Maylay reached the horde first, and sliced his sword through a stocky goblin’s stomach, dispatching him quickly. Lord Hark was the second to strike, and soon had another goblin underling dead at his yule’s feet, its head separated from its body.

Two things caught Lord Prince Talban’s eye as he shoved his wicked looking, black razor-edged magical spear, into a rather scrawny goblin in front of him. First, the enemy bore the tattooed markings of the Bone Breaker Tribe.

All goblins wore three lines of tattoos on their broad flat foreheads. The first line identified their tribe, while the second denoted their family name. The third line was a series of dots designating their rank. The more dots, the higher the rank. All goblins in a horde had at least one dot on their third tattoo line.

Talban had thought that they were Bone Breakers, even before he had seen the markings, because of their size. The goblins of the Bone Breaker Tribe grew rather large, at least a foot or two taller than the goblins of their six sister tribes.

Even though they were more dim-witted than the other goblin tribes, they nearly matched the height of men and were feared a little more than some of the other groups of goblins.

The second thing that Lord Prince Talban noticed was their metal weapons. He had never seen goblins use anything other than wooden clubs, or an occasional wooden spear.

The goblin that he had just killed had been holding a short sword! His captains and warriors rushed past him, engaging more of the enemy. This shook him from his thoughts.

The yorg let out another howl and swung a large axe at the nearest man, striking him in the center of his chest, killing him instantly as he flopped lifelessly from atop his yule. This brought another howl, one of glee, from the big yorg.

Three more goblins rushed forward, launching long barbed spears at the nearest riders. One of the spears pierced another warrior through his abdomen, while the other two struck the unfortunate man’s yule.

Both tumbled to the ground, sending the wounded yule rolling onto its back, crushing the wounded rider, while flailing its legs and tail wildly until it died. One of its sharp claws raked across the face of a warrior riding by, killing him.

The yorg let out another loud goblin howl and charged at Lord Maylay. The tall skinny man barely dodged the large swinging axe while he slid from his saddle. Maylay drew his blade and approached the goblin leader. 

Lord Prince Talban tried to ride towards the two combatants, but a small scrappy goblin rushed at him. After grabbing onto the side of his yule, the creature plunged a dagger into the animal’s front leg.

The yule reared up onto its hind legs, sending the small goblin sprawling, which nearly threw the prince off as well. The yule brought its clawed hoofs down onto the underling that now lay in front of it, crushing the scrawny creature into a green mush.

Meanwhile, the yorg raised its giant axe to take a second strike at Lord Maylay, when an arrow from an archer struck its arm. The yorg hesitated, looking at the fresh wound.

Lord Maylay took the opportunity to slice his sword across the goblin leader’s belly, causing it to fall onto the ground with the contents of its stomach pouring out around it. The remaining goblins saw their leader fall and began fleeing up the mountain path.

The men that were still seated atop yules quickly rode them down, striking from behind. The death cries of howling goblins echoed off the nearby canyon walls, as none were allowed to escape. The entire battle had lasted no more than a couple of minutes.

Lord Prince Talban looked at the carnage strewn about the landscape around him. Twenty-five goblins lay dead, along with three of his men and a yule. He had not lost a man in over a year, and grimaced at the thought of losing three of his companions in one encounter.

Another Yule Rider Patrol Leader, Lord Marcus, had encountered an unarmed Black Eye horde twice this size, just a few days ago, and had not lost a single man in the battle. 

The bald black Marcus was a good friend of Talban’s, and extremely capable in combat. Still, Talban realized that goblins with steel weapons might even up the odds a bit. He had to warn his father, King Darian, and the rest of the Yule Riders.

After they tended to their dead, he ordered his men to set up camp in a small nearby ravine. They would nurse their wounds and get some much-needed rest.

At first light they would head out. That night they did not light a fire because they could hear the sounds of many goblins howling from the canyons of the nearby Timber Lake Mountains.