Lord Fidium was deep in thought. His patrol had been moving north on Frontier Road for three hours and had not encountered any goblins. It had been over a week since King Darian had set up Tent City in Kokor Village, so the enemy should be near.

The squad leader rubbed his stubbled chin and then pulled some thickets from his flowing brown hair. They hadn’t been away from Kokor long, and already he felt sweaty and dirty.

Kokor Village had been a good choice for the mobile base camp. It was a small town with no more than twenty wooden structures in total. All of the villagers had been evacuated to Port Turin, leaving only an eerie silence behind, to greet King Darian and his men.

Kokor Village was about half a horse north of Keyorlock, which left about a horse and a half to patrol between Kokor Village and Hogarth Hills. Every day since setting up their tents in Kokor, the Yule Riders had patrolled north on Frontier Road, as well as in the fields to the east and west without encountering any goblins.

Maybe Frontier Fortress is holding the enemy back, Lord Fidium mused. Highly unlikely since several patrol leaders had seen large columns of smoke rising from the direction of Kaylor.

A slight movement by the west side of the road caught his attention. It was a goblin concealed in a nearby bush, stringing his bow. Superior eyesight was another gift from his mushroom experience during his Quest.

“Shields up!” Fidium ordered, and raised his, just as the sky became thick with goblin arrows when Flesh Eater archers sprung an ambush!

Thud! Lord Fidium’s brown shield reverberated with the strike of a goblin arrow. Several more followed and soon half a dozen arrows were protruding from his shield. The yule next to Lord Fidium reared up with two fresh arrows stuck in its side. The animal fell, throwing its rider to the ground.

“Charge into them!” Lord Fidium yelled, knowing that they would be picked off by such a large horde if they tried to withdraw.

Lord Fidium turned his yule and rode into the brush line that was concealing the goblin archers on the west side of Frontier Road. His yule immediately trampled one of the red pupiled goblins that was lying concealed in the low brush.

He swung his sword, slicing through two more goblins with one strike as he charged forward. He could no longer see any of his men, after entering the tall foliage, but could hear their mounts crashing through the brush around him, mixed in with the sounds of combat and the dying screams of goblins.

An enemy arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing Lord Fidium’s face, followed by a second that struck his yule in the side. He urged his mount forward towards the bush that was concealing his new attacker.

The small green goblin jumped up and charged at Lord Fidium, with a jagged dagger in its hand, only to fall beneath a mighty blow from the squad leader’s sword.

Lord Fidium heard a loud crash and then a yule rushed into view. It carried his flag bearer, a young warrior named Twider. He was the newest man to the squad.

“I think we are winning, but---”, Twider stopped in mid-sentence, when a large flat headed spear pierced his back and exited through the left side of his chest.

Twider looked down at the protruding spearhead, and then tried to grasp it from behind, where it had entered. A large yorg stood grinning with its red pupils glinting in the sunlight, just behind the young man, holding the far end of the weapon.

The goblin leader jerked the spear back out the way it had entered, pulling the wounded Twider from his yule. The young warrior screamed when he toppled to the ground, where he quickly became motionless.

Lord Fidium rushed at the yorg with his sword raised. A moment before he struck, an arrow whizzed by, striking the goblin leader through the left eye. The yorg staggered backwards, while clawing at the offending arrow, and then fell over. The beast let out a couple of heavy breaths before it became silent.

Lord Fidium turned to see one of his archers standing between two nearby trees. He was on foot with his yule lying dead behind him. Even with two goblin arrows stuck in his left shoulder, his aim had been true.

The sounds of battle died down and the surviving patrol members began to regroup on Frontier Road. About forty bodies of goblin archers from the Flesh Eater Tribe lay dead throughout the brush. Lord Fidium had lost four of his men.

A captain, an archer, and two of his warriors had fallen. Four more of his men had arrow wounds. Three yules had also died, with the rest having at least one arrow sticking out of them.

The patrol tended to their wounded men and animals, and then stacked the bodies of the Flesh Eaters into a large pile and burnt them. When the sun began to fall, the weary riders turned back towards Kokor Village, with four of their own now riding strapped across their saddles.

                                                    *     *     *

In an unknown location, Lord Caspiat stood outside the entrance to a cave. His attention was on nine wooden stakes sticking out of the ground, standing roughly six feet tall.

At the top of each stake was a goblin head, with each green face caught in its own frozen death pose. They were goblins from the Bone Breaker and Swamp Crawler Tribes.

Nailed lower down on the stakes was a large bear hide with words written in green goblin blood scrawled across it. The words were written in the goblin language saying: Warning! All goblins must leave their heads at the front entrance before entering the cave!

The slender black lord caught himself smiling at the crude joke. He looked towards the cave entrance when he heard the faint sound of laughter from somewhere within.

Now he was no longer smiling because he knew that the danger within was very real. That is why he had decided to personally deliver this message, rather than risk one of his men. He was certain that he was already being watched.

Lord Caspiat unbuckled his belt sheath and laid his weapon on the ground near the goblin heads. He had left his shield on his horse. He peered into the cave entrance and cautiously entered the black hole, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He immediately felt a cold blade on his neck, pressed firmly against his jugular vein.

“Walk slowly forward,” a voice whispered in his ear while the knife pressed even deeper.

Lord Caspiat did what he was told, walking slowly forward, yet feeling only the blade from behind him. He could now see a faint glow in front of him and then the passage opened up into a large cavern, dimly lit by a small campfire in the center of the room.

The smoke licked its way up the ceiling, where it snaked along several large boulders and disappeared into various cracks and crevices, apparently finding its way outside, following some unseen route.

There looked to be about seven people sitting around the fire, all of whom immediately stopped talking and grabbed their weapons, when Lord Caspiat appeared. The unseen figure from behind shoved the black man, sending him to his knees.

“How did you find our hideout?” asked a short black female, maybe in her mid-thirties, with scraggly short black curly hair.

She approached him with a dagger in her left hand. She wore the brown leather tunic common to thieves. It provided some protection while allowing maximum manual dexterity for climbing walls, picking locks, and slitting throats.

“My king told me where to find you,” Lord Caspiat answered, looking the female straight in the eye.

“Liar!” she shouted, then moving with surprising speed, punched him in the face with her right fist.

The blow knocked Caspiat back. He hadn’t expected such strength from so small a woman. When he looked up, he could see several others moving towards him from the shadows and realized that his count of seven was a severe underestimation.

“I am Lord Caspiat from Port Turin and have entered your domain unarmed,” the White Sash Brigade Commander said, with a trickle of blood running down his lip. “I have a message from my king for your leader.”

“Unarmed? Into a lair of thieves and murderers? That was your mistake,” the scraggly haired female swung at him again.

This time Lord Caspiat caught her fist in his hand with a loud smacking sound. He twisted her around, knocked the dagger from her left hand, and shoved her away. Instantly, a boot kicked him hard in the back, knocking him face fist into the dirt.

“Enough!” the voice was deep and firm, with an air of command. “That’s no way to treat High King Tronin’s personal messenger.”

Lord Caspiat got back up to his knees, and watched the new speaker approach, noting that the strong voice did not match the slender body.

“I’m Bullseye the Bow Slinger,” the man spoke through a red mask, and in fact, wore all red from boots to baggy tunic and hood. “I hope this message from your master is worth the life you forfeited the moment you entered our cave uninvited.”

“I serve my king and my life is his to do with as he pleases,” Lord Caspiat replied, meaning his words.

“Good work Twoober. You can go back to guard duty now,” Bullseye ordered, the red mask covering his entire face, except for his eyes, which were barely visible through slits.

Lord Caspiat thought he should stand, but was unsure if the man behind him had left, because he had heard nothing. He glanced at Bullseye, thinking that he didn’t want that blade back on his throat.

“Give me your message,” Bullseye said in his deep strong voice.

Lord Caspiat rose, and after brushing the dirt from his clothes, pulled a sealed scroll from beneath his chainmail. He walked over to Bullseye, realizing that the man was a full foot shorter than he was, yet the leader of the thieves stood his ground, showing no fear.

“From High King Tronin’s hand to your hand, Bullseye the Bow Slinger,” Lord Caspiat said, handing the scroll to the bandit leader.

Bullseye broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. He took a moment to read it, then turned his attention back to Caspiat.

“Your answers to my next couple of questions will decide your fate,” Bullseye the Bow Slinger said. “So, answer truthfully.”

“I always do,” Lord Caspiat replied firmly.

“First, how did High King Tronin know about this location? This hideout is held in extreme secrecy amongst our kind,” Bullseye asked.

“High King Tronin knows many things, including information that he gives no explanation for.” Lord Caspiat paused, choosing his next words carefully, “I am his most trusted guard and even I do not know how he gets his information. Some say he’s a wizard, while others say he’s psychic. I do not know for sure, but I’ve never known him to be wrong.”

The uninformative answer seemed to unsettle the leader of the thieves, who thought for a moment before asking, “Is the goblin threat as great as this letter states?”

“I didn’t read the message, as it was not meant for my eyes, but we believe that Frontier Fortress and Trader Town have already fallen, as well as Tuggle, city of the apes. Gilead crumbles as we speak. The seven tribes are sparing no one as they advance south,” the royal messenger answered.

“How long until the goblins reach Port Turin?” Bullseye asked another question, the conversation causing more of the bandits to gather. 

“No more than a couple of weeks, maybe sooner,” Lord Caspiat stated.

Bullseye the Bow Slinger turned away from Lord Caspiat and began to pace. He then looked about the room at his band of thieves. Lord Caspiat could see over forty of them now.

“We have a decision to make,” Bullseye’s voice boomed across the cave. “The seven tribes have invaded the Glen and are making war on all who live here. The high king has offered us amnesty for all the crimes that we have committed. In order to receive this amnesty, we have to go to Port Turin and help defend the city.”

“Nonsense!” the scraggly haired black girl spat out. “I’m wanted for three murders. More likely our necks will meet a noose than find amnesty, if we set foot in the capital kingdom.”

“King Tronin’s word is more solid than gold!” Lord Caspiat interjected. “That’s known throughout the lands.”

“It’s true Icky,” Bullseye said to the woman. “I met Tronin a long time ago. He’s a man of his word, no question about that. The real question is, do we want to fight for those who have been hunting us all these long months?”

“I too am a murderer several times over,” a bearded burly man spoke. “Amnesty sounds real good from where I’m standing.”

“Aye!” some of the others agreed.

“But we live good here!” Icky shouted, her dirty curls bouncing as she yelled. “We take what we want, eat what we want, and live how we want. Are you willing to give all that up?”

“No!” most of the bandits agreed.

“Listen to me!” Bullseye’s firm voice interrupted the argument. “Our way of life here is over, no matter what we choose. We lost four to the Bone Breakers yesterday and six to the Swamp Crawlers a few days before. They’re coming. It’s no longer safe here.”

“You are our leader,” the bearded murderer spoke, leaning on the handle of a wood cutting axe. “What do you want to do Bullseye?”

The bandit leader placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side, taking a minute to think before he spoke, “I can not be your leader here Jorgon. Everyone must make their own decision. I don’t relish the idea of dying alone here in this cave, so I for one, will go to Port Turin and rejoin the world of men, aligning my fate with theirs.

Regardless of our moral differences, our fellow humans need us, and we share a common enemy. The scroll said that I could retain leadership of this group, so all who’re with me will fight under my command in the capital city. Decide!”

“To Port Turin!” the thieves began shouting in unison, all wanting to follow their leader.

“Well Lord Caspiat, I guess your fate will be met on another day, for we’ll be following you to Port Turin.” Bullseye the Bow Slinger laughed. “Help yourself to some of the high king’s best meat that we borrowed. It’s cooking on the fire. Then get some rest, for tomorrow we ride for Port Turin!”