Seven Goblins

Seven Goblins

Taddy McGill pulled the heavy sheep’s hide tighter around his neck and leaned closer to the window. He could see his parents sitting with some of their friends at one of the long benches near the central stage, close to the big fireplace. This was one of his family’s Mid-Winter traditions. They would trudge through the snowy streets to the Dark Blossom and sit outside for a while sharing mugs of spiced apple juice. Then, as the night grew darker and colder, his parents would head inside, sitting him on some crates by one of the windows, wrapped up against the cold in his father’s big woolen coat and the sheep’s hide that usually sat on his parent’s bedroom floor.

The Blossom attracted a lively crowd, who returned every year for the Mid-Winter concert. The proprietor, an old Dwarf named Navi, had many contacts in the entertainment business which helped to ensure his Tavern was always the busiest and most popular throughout the year. But it was on this night when the mysterious stranger always came to play.

Some said that he was married to one of the Lords of Waterdeep’s daughters and she had tamed him and taught him to sing. Others spoke of his years adventuring throughout the many kingdoms, where he had learned the art of entertainment from the Twisted Witches of Nevermere and had his throat charmed by Mermen in the bay of lost souls. Taddy had even heard one old man whisper that the stranger had once lived with Giants and they had taught him the true meaning of sadness, which was why when he told a story, it was impossible not to be moved by the emotions contained in his words.

Taddy believed that every tale was probably true. The man they all came to watch was the best there was, he sang the best songs, spoke the most amazing poems and could spin a tale so fine it stayed in your memory all year round.

Tonight was no different, possibly his best performance yet. The first few acts had warmed the crowd up nicely and then the old Dwarf – Navi – had introduced the stranger to the crowd. This year he went under the name Sleigh. Every year it was different, but they all knew it was him. He was unmistakeable. First, he had played the crowd favourite ‘Fireballs Burned their fur’ next he had told the classic poem ‘T’was the night before Mid-Winter’ and a hush had fallen inside the Dark Blossom as every ear hung on his every word.

Now, through the grimy glass of the window, Taddy could see Sleigh stand up and begin to walk amongst the tables as he began his next story. The words were feint but the stranger’s voice carried through the cracks around the glass.

A long, long time ago. In a land far, far away there lived a tribe of barbarians who roamed the cold lands of eternal ice. These nomadic folk lived a simple life on the ever-moving glaciers and frozen tundra as they tented their herd of reindeer following the eternal migration as it made its way across the snows looking for fresh grass to eat.

The land was hard, the life was hard and it crafted the tribe to be equally hard. The barbarians grew big and strong from their diet of reindeer meat and their constant labours looking after the animals. They were happy and the tribe grew in size just as their well-tended herd increased until it was so vast in numbers that it stretched from one horizon to the other, constantly moving over the cold northern lands.

The tribe kept the deer safe from predators, they cleared the wolves, chased away men hunting for hides and even killed one of the fearsome hungry Mountain Giants of Mur.

The tribe began to trade with the people of the warmer lands, they would sell beautifully carved trinkets made from the antlers which the herd shed every year. The greatest profit was from the sale of Reindeer dung which, when dried, burns with a steady heat and is used in many forges by the greatest dwarven smiths.

Then the deaths began. The Barbarians following the herd began to notice skeletal remains of reindeer stripped to the bones and lying on red stained snow. Each morning as the herd wandered onward, the numbers of the dead grew.

The tribe consulted the elders who set guards around the herd but the deaths continued.

The tribe began to camp amongst the animals, but their tents were trampled in a stampede and even greater losses occurred amongst the herd.

The elders turned to mystics, hired elven rangers and even consulted with the Star Seers of Entwhil. The mystics were mystified. The rangers were found frozen to death and the Seers only suggestion was to hire some help.

A small note was posted on a message board in every village and town that lay in sight of the snows until eventually a band of brave adventurers ventured north to find out what all the fuss was about.

The honourable Captain Blare along with his most loyal friends: Meremin the cleric, Rally the half-elven sorcerer, Lightfinger the infamous thief and Narvi with his famed war-hammer, followed the tribe for weeks. They lived with the tribe and learnt how to care for the herd. Each morning. As the animals walked across the snow, seven piles of bloody bones remained behind. Seven reindeer killed each night.

The herd had thinned, once thousands strong it now numbered in the hundreds. The barbarians themselves had become a thin and ragged people, worn down by the terrible losses of their most sacred animals.

For weeks the adventurers tried to help. They would camp with the animals, ride upon them, guide them to different valleys nestled amongst the frozen hills, but nothing worked. They could find no cause for the deaths.

The remains were examined, and it was clear that the flesh of the reindeer was being eaten by something as there were small teeth marks etched in the bones as though they had been gnawed upon.

Did the herd have some sort of parasite that was consuming the creatures from the inside? Were they being attacked each night by monsters that lived under the ice?

No one knew.

Eventually, most of the tribe moved away, their hearts broken by the losses they were suffering, hoping to start anew somewhere else in the wilderness. The herd now numbered less than one hundred. All of whom were checked daily for any signs of illness, groomed for skin infections, fed the best grain and watched over constantly. With their numbers so few it was easy to see them die.

In the middle of the night, seven of the herd would collapse suddenly, blood would spray in to the air as the other animals shied away and then just bones would be left on the cold hard ground. Each death took mere seconds to occur, no time for the watching adventurers to do more than draw their weapons and take a step before the grizzly executions were finished.

Rally was became more and more despondent. During their time with the herd and the tribe he had come to love the gentle deer, and they seemed to love him in their own way, brushing their velvety noses against him as they passed, lowering their antlers so that he could scratch behind their ears.

It was Narvi who recognised that the only way they would unlock this mystery was by using Rally’s hidden talents and he approached the others with his plan.

“Right you lot. We need to get Rally really fired up. He is getting so sad it is making me feel sick looking at him. We need him pissed off. Really pissed off. The only way we are getting our asses out of this frozen waste is for him to do some big magic.” The old dwarf glared at the others as each began to take a breath to object.

Lightfinger was the first to voice his opinion, “I’m not sure that is a good idea. Whenever he does big magic we barely survive. Remember that time we…”

“Gods! I get shivers even thinking about that time in the forest when…” Meremin was cut off as Blare barged into the conversation.

“I’ve still got scars where he…”

The others all looked at him and his words trailed off.

“Which scars? It’s hard to tell. I thought you liked scars. You have so many.” Lightfinger pointed out helpfully.

Blare pointed to a particularly nasty lump of paler skin tissue that ribboned across his left bicep, “This one.” Then he jabbed a finger at a long deep fissure that ran across his chest, “or maybe it was this.”

“What’s wrong. Are you all scared? Got any better suggestions to get this job done?” Narvi stood there stroking his beard glaring at each of them in turn.

“I suppose we have tried everything else.” Meremin looked a little sheepish as Lightfinger raised an eyebrow at him. “How are we going to get him to do his thing?” The cleric asked.

“Just follow my lead.” Narvi said walking away towards where Rally sat looking miserably out at the endless snow.

“How are you doing?” Narvi asked placing a friendly hand on Rally’s shoulder.

Rally looked up as his friends all gathered around him.

“I just want them to be safe, to stop dying. There are so few left now. Only fourteen. By dawn the day after tomorrow the whole herd will be gone.” Rally sniffed loudly, not bothering to hide the tears freezing on his cheeks.

“We won’t let that happen. We will find a way to save them.” Meremin said hopefully.

“We tried everything. There is no way to stop it. Look, even Comet senses her fate.” Rally pointed at one of the reindeer who was scraping at the snow with one hoof her head hanging low not even bothering to nibble at the short grass she was exposing.

“You named one!” Laughed Narvi.

“They all have names.” Rally said lifelessly. “Didn’t you know?”

“No. I didn’t. I don’t talk reindeer.” Narvi winked at Blare then continued, “Sounds like a stupid name for a reindeer if you ask me. Why would they be named after things shooting through the sky?”

“Yeah. Is that one called sun? Mabe I should show it my moon!” Laughed Blare.

Lightfinger looked away, it felt so wrong being this mean to Rally.

“No! That one’s called Dasher and he does not want to see you exposing your bottom.” Rally’s voice was starting to crack a little.

“Dasher! More like Rasher, nice and crunchy fried up for whatever keeps eating them.” Blare continued harshly.

“Don’t be horrible Blare. That one next to him is called Vixen, she is scared and afraid.” Rally looked like he wanted to go over and give the reindeer a hug.

“Vixen! Vixen! Where do you get these names from? Horrible affliction is more like it! Ghastly infestation over there is looking at me funny, perhaps he is suffering from bad indigestion!” Blare seemed to be really getting into his role as a nasty bully.

“No that one next to Vixen is called Blitzen, not infestation! I don’t really like your tone.” Rally’s face was beginning to turn red and his fists were clenching and unclenching rapidly.

Lightfinger and Meremin grabbed an arm each of Blare’s and pulled him back a little way as Narvi stepped forwards to drive the nail home.

“If you love these reindeer so much, why don’t you do something? You’re a failure Rally. You can’t stop them from dying. We might as well kill them ourselves and have a nice bit of roast reindeer meat for dinner!”

“No!” Screamed Rally, his eyes beginning to glow as soft violet light burned within them. “I won’t let you kill them!”

“Then do something. We all came to protect them. Find the evil creatures that are hurting the herd. Protect Dasher and Comet!” Narvi ordered pulling his war-hammer free of its loop at his belt.

Rally began to rotate on the spot, snow pulling free of the ground in great chuncks and spinning in an ever-increasing maelstrom around him. Narvi pulled his shield from his back and crouched down low, providing some small shelter for Lightfinger and Meremin to hide within. Blare took a step backwards as slivers of ice began to lash outwards from the freezing storm gathering around Rally.

One of the reindeer nearby suddenly collapsed as blood gouted upwards from it.

A thin, pale hand reached out from the swirling snow and pointed above the herd, purple light exploded out from Rally as powdered ice sprang upwards from the ground surrounding the animals.

Seven small humanoid shapes were outlined in the sky, swooping down towards Vixen.

A knife flashed through the air, embedding into the closest creature as Lightfinger was the first to react.

Blare charged forwards, swinging his sword. Narvi leapt up, his hammer arching through the night sky and the fight was well and truly joined.

As the first body thudded to the ground the reindeer scattered and shards of glowing purple ice lashed into the air all around the adventurers revealing more small, green creatures falling to the ground.

Lightfinger’s rapier whipped out taking one creature in the throat. Gore sprayed across his face as Blare severed another through its neck and shoulder. As another green-skinned monster tried to stand its body was crushed back into the earth by the falling weight of Narvi’s war-hammer and another was struck down by a column of searing flame that fell from the sky as Meremin whispered a silent prayer to the gods.

Within moments it was over.

Rally stood screaming, a long thin shard of ice held in his hand, pining a squirming, squealing goblin to the ground via a nasty hole in its side. Narvi put a comforting arm around his strange friend’s shoulders and murmured to him gently.

“It’s alright Rally. You did it. You saved them. You can let go now.”

The cry coming from Rally’s throat gradually died and he slumped down onto his knees next to the stricken goblin placing his hand to the dying monster’s face.

“Why?” He asked.

The goblin calmed and stopped struggling looking at each of the adventurers in turn. “We hungry. We feed.” Blood began to froth at the edges of its wide mouth.

Meremin sensed enchantments upon the goblin’s flesh, complex weaves of magic. “Who did this to you?” He asked.

“The giver of gifts, the master of winter, the one who judges and deems you naughty or nice.” The goblin’s weak voice hissed.

“Never seen a goblin fly before.” Said Lightfinger watching the grizzly scene.

Rally began to weave his fingers through the air and a patchwork of purple light began to pull from the goblin and twist through the air as the goblin scrambled weakly at the icicle pinning it to the ground before its eyes rolled back and it exhaled its final slow breath.

Rally continued to twist his magical threads through the air weaving together a glowing tapestry which he cast outwards to fall like a net over the remaining reindeer who bucked and shivered for a moment before settling to stare with their strange eyes towards the young half-elf.

“What did you do?” Asked Meremin.

“Took the best of this creature and gifted it to them. Energy and life. What had been taken from them,” He paused dramatically then looked Meremin directly in the eyes, “And a little something extra!” Rally smiled warmly at them all and began to float up into the night sky.

“Come Dasher, come Vixen. Come Comet, come Blitzen.” He called out.

Lightfinger instinctively notched an arrow and drew his bow as the reindeer all around them began to gallop up into the air following Rally but his arrow was never fired as he watched in wonder.

That is how Daddy Mid-Winter came to have his seven-flying reindeer. Traded to him by the barbarians of the north after they were rescued by Rally and his adventuring friends.

The crowded bar erupted into jeers and laughter as Sleigh picked up his Lute once more, his story over for now.

Taddy looked away from the grime-smeared glass as a clattering sounded from the rooftop behind him. He was turning to see what the noise was as the door of the Dark Blossom swung open and his father drunkenly lurched out and handed him a steaming cup of spiced apple juice, slopping some of the delicious liquid onto the sheepskin pulled tightly around him. “There you go lad, drink that to keep warm. We’ll be out in a while, your mam just wants to hear ‘Fireballs’ again then we can go home.” He disappeared back into the hubbub through the door.

Taddy gazed up and could have sworn he saw a white tail disappearing upwards to blend in amongst the stars.