Disclaimers, author's notes, etc: Well, I've finally gotten up another chapter to this thing, and I can only pray that it hasn't gotten lame. No, I haven't been waiting for a set number of reviews, I'm just a busy person and a lazy, easily distracted writer. Many, many thanks to you all for the feed-back, I really appreciate it. A few people thought I was making Etoh too negative, which I'd probably agree with. On one hand, I wanted to flesh his character out a little beyond the constant niceness that we see in the OAV. On the other hand, I probably did too much speaking through him, so I'll try to make him a little…well..cuter. Of course, now I'm probably making him too incompetent, but hell…I'll do my best. Also, I know late-night conversations are a cheap plot-trick for character development, but I like stuff like that. And I promise Slayn will have more lines next time. Oh yeah, I don't own any of the characters, except a few, and they're not important. Mighty creators, please don't sue.
Within an hour of leaving the little town of Hamel, the priest, sorcerer, and thief were bound, gagged, and looked to be in significant danger of being killed and eaten. They argued about it for weeks afterward, out of earshot of their companions, but were never able to determine exactly whose fault it was.
It wasn't until the shadows were lengthening across the hills that they began to talk about a plan. They'd walked relative quiet for about twenty minutes. It wasn't just a lack of good ideas, although that was definitely part of the situation, but that they had no idea where the goblins in question might be hiding. The best information that the townspeople had been able to offer was that there was a band of about thirty, and that they usually attacked from "that way," meaning the road that led out of town to the west.
That had been the direction that they were taking towards Wort, so Etoh speculated that they probably would have run into the goblins anyway. In fact, he thought, brightening, it was perhaps for the best that they had run into trouble in the village, otherwise they would have been ambushed on the road. So, Falis really was looking out for them. He moved on, lost in his own comforting thoughts, while the silence stretched out and began approaching uncomfortable.
Parn was usually the one who started conversations. Parn was the catalyst for group relations, and really the only reason that the strange mix of a party had anything to do with each other. Without Parn there, Etoh felt shy and awkward, even though the mage was friendly, and the thief had proven himself to be basically good at heart. He thought that Slayn was feeling the same way without Ghim there. They were really the same, Slayn and he - both introverted, bookish, preferring to be alone with their own thoughts. Woodchuck was not bound by any of these personality characteristics, and seemed to care so little about what the party thought that Etoh suspected he was sometimes over-obnoxious, just to test reactions. So of course it was he that started the conversation again.
"We can't go on like this. This is just dumb," he declared, stopping suddenly and turning to face the other two. It wasn't the caustic sarcasm that he was capable of, but softer, cautious tones. He was worried, Etoh saw, and therefore all business.
"I do agree," Slayn said, so naturally soft-spoken that he didn't need to lower his voice at all. "I've been trying to think of the best way to go about this."
"Whatever we do, we need to get off the road. They could be anywhere," Wood gestured at the hills around them, ominous in the fading light, "and we're right out in the open."
"Yes, I've been thinking about that," Slayn mused. "I think I've got a few spells that could make things easier."
"Well, whip 'em out, by all means. Let's just talk about plans someplace less conspicuous."
Etoh let himself be led, cautiously, off the road without agreeing or disagreeing with his companions. They seemed to have forgotten he was there.
"Well, it's not like you'll be much good right now," Jarden began coyly. "Or ever," he added. "They'll only be calling on you if they need healing or a worship service." Etoh didn't even bother to respond to the voice. Sometimes, even a live-in bully (who was, after all, really controlled by his own doubts and fears about his competence) was best handled by the silent treatment.
He simply followed Slayn and Wood in a meandering path around the hills, which Wood insisted was necessary and practical if something had seen them leave the road (and Slayn insisted was pure paranoia). The hills were getting steeper beyond the village, becoming the foothills of yet another range of mountains that the adventurers would have to cross. That meant another week or so of aching feet, but at least they'd be out of the heat, which still hung like a stifling blanket over the landscape.
The group finally settled into the tall grass at the base of one of the hills, after Wood had done a quick, careful scout to all sides.
"So," the thief said, settling down and looking to Slayn, "Plan?"
"I don't really know how we'd go about attacking them, yet…Maybe a sleep spell done from a distance would be the best bet…"
"That'd save some time and effort…and bruises, probably. But that's assuming that they're all together in a group, and not scattered around….right?"
"Mmm…yes. But that's what I've been thinking about. I've got a spell that could help us locate the goblins, or at least let us understand where they are."
"That'd be wonderful, Slayn. How does it work?" Etoh offered. If he couldn't help immediately, at least he could be good-natured and polite. He tried hard not to lose it, even when he felt otherwise on the inside, partly because people like Jardin often commented that these characteristics were all a Falis priest was good for. Besides, Slayn wanted to teach, and he loved explaining, enough that the magic-challenged Ghim began to complain about being a perpetual test audience.
"It's really nothing complicated," Slayn said, too humble to brag even if it had been a three day, multi-level spell. "Just a search and find…I send out the magic, and it leads me to a target…by sense, you understand, Etoh."
He did. There was a certain feel to magic, whether it came from a god or the earth - not quite heat, not quite electricity, most definitely power. Anyone with some spiritual sensitivity could sense magic well enough to follow it.
"Well, hell, don't explain it, just do it," said Woodchuck, who almost definitely didn't understand, and didn't want to.
"Then what?" Slayn asked, already gripping the staff and closing his eyes.
"Then we'll figure something out, I'm sure."
There were a few mumbled word, and the staff flared up, lighting the sorcerer with a soft glow and sending shadows into the hollows of his thin face. Wood started, and looked around nervously, as though the light had drawn unseen armies around them.
"Does he have to shine like that?" he asked Etoh in a hoarse whisper.
"Probably," said Etoh glibly. Somehow, seeing the ever-dependable Slayn at work made him feel as though their problems were solved already. Slayn had been a quiet fixture at the back of his village for about five years, four of which he had spent in training, so neither he nor Parn had known much about him before the adventure. He had figured out, though, in Slayn's first year there, that most problems, from drought to ogre attack to a sick cow, could be solved by consulting the mage. And he called himself a novice.
After a good ten minutes of Slayn glowing and mumbling, while Woodchuck looked around worriedly every few seconds, the light winked out and the mage slumped against his staff.
"Are you all right?" Etoh started forward, although there wasn't much a priest could do to renew a drained sorcerer. Healing injuries was one thing, replacing energy was another thing entirely.
"Yes…It just took a bit longer than I thought," Slayn said, looking drawn and pale. "I'm getting some odd results. I think it might be interference from the village." He obviously thought that the sentence was self-explanatory, but seeing blank looks from both of them, continued. "The way Devin uses magic is sloppy, and leads to a lot of extra energy in the air. It should be…mostly harmless, because it'll just diffuse over the area. But it'll mess up any sensing spells that I try to cast."
"Did you get anything we could go on?" Etoh asked.
"Yes, I believe so…most of the readings come from that direction," Slayn pointed north. "I think they're clustered in a group. If we slip up on them, I could cast sleep, and that might solve our problems."
"Then what?" Wood asked.
"Then," Slayn continued, looking a little annoyed at having the burden of the plan thrust on him, "I try to recast a spell I used at Parn's village. I'm assuming that some evil influence has fallen over their minds to make them act this way."
"How do you know that? What if they're just jerks?" Wood pressed.
"Goblins do not raid villages at random, and they almost never attack in large bands like this, " Slayn sighed, now going into full school-teacher mode. "They usually attack travelers in small groups or pairs. Something must have happened to stir them up. Anyway, if I can't cast sleep in time, you and Etoh can keep them away from me long enough to cast this spell. If you happen to see a goblin that's larger or better dressed than the others, try to target it. It'll probably be the leader, and taking it out may scatter them."
"All right then," Wood said, now looking a little more certain. "Consider it done."
"Great plan, Slayn," Etoh beamed, feeling relieved. Being away from Parn, his constant protector since childhood, made the whole operation uneasy and uncertain. But having Slayn there was like a giant safety net. "I don't see what could go wrong!" he continued happily.
"Oh, Etoh…don't ever say that," Wood groaned.
They followed Slayn through the winding valleys, the mage shuffling slowly with eyes closed and one hand groping at the air. Etoh held onto his arm to keep him from stumbling, and Wood wandered between guarding them to the front and protecting their rear, one hand resting on the handle of his largest dagger.
"Don't be so nervous," Etoh said, feeling better and better about the operation as time passed. "Slayn knows where they are."
"Slayn said he couldn't quite tell, and we're still out-numbered, no matter what happens," Wood responded, still scanning the hills around them.
"It'll be fine," Etoh assured. He would have considered it his job to say things like that even if he hadn't felt it, and things were definitely looking up.
They walked for another twenty minutes, occasionally stopping and doubling back as Slayn lost and regained the signal. Finally, he stopped at a narrow gap between two particularly tall hills, and pointed at the small valley within. The grass had been cropped much shorter than what was on the surrounding hills, and the remains of a small campfire could be seen in the middle.
"There's a strong signal coming from in there," the mage whispered.
"Riiiiiight….so where are they?"
Slayn considered this, looking around the small area.
"Like I said, it's a confusing spell - they might be over the next hill, or they may have buried some of their dead here. They might be sleeping at the far end, and we just can't see them."
"Or, they could be hiding at the top of these hills, waiting for us to wander out there so they can jump us," Wood protested.
"There's nothing on the hill-tops around this valley," Etoh argued. The moon was bright, and although the valley was shrouded in shadow, anything on the hills would have made a visible silhouette.
"They could be hiding in the tall grass. They could be anywhere!"
"Yes," Slayn agreed. "They could. But I can't get any more specific with this spell - there's too much strange magic in the air from that village. We can't stand here forever. I think we should venture in an investigate."
"I think that's a really bad idea," Wood hissed.
"You think everything is a bad idea," Etoh replied, slipping past him into the valley. "We have to do this one way or the other." Maybe, he was beginning to think, he could actually do something without Parn there to forever watch his back. Sure he was a home-bound little priest who had been, in his childhood, very easily beaten up, but that didn't make him helpless. He gripped his priest's scepter tightly, something Jarden had once cruelly called the "Phallus of Falis". They would find the goblins, work quickly, and then go back and rescue their friends. And everything would be fine.
And that was his first big mistake.
They were getting near the burned-out campsite when there was a faint rustling in the grass, and a goblin popped into sight. It didn't emerge out of the grass, or leap out of the shadows, but simply appeared out of thin air, crouched and motionless. For a moment, it stared at them, not looking particularly frightened, as though it didn't expect to be seen. Then, Wood slipped protectively in front of Slayn and Etoh, pulling out his dagger and raising it to throw.
The creature gave a startled yelp. It looked at them, looked down at it's own, now visible self, glanced back up at them. It grunted something in it's own language, a coarse, unintelligible growl with a strange tone of uncertainty to it. Although it sounded like a rabid dog, the rabbit-in-torchlight expression it wore made Etoh think that the word might translate easily into English: "Oops." Then it winked out again.
At that point, a lot of things happened at once. Woodchuck dove forward, grabbed the air around what was presumably the neck, and stabbed at it. A strangled squeal that rose up and died away suggested he had been successful, but the body did not conveniently become visible, except as a slight depression in the grass. There wasn't much time to dwell on this, though, as shapes were rustling through the tall grass, down the hill and towards the party.
"Run!" Woodchuck ordered, suddenly having no qualms about being the one in charge of "the plan". He darted back to Etoh and grabbed him unceremoniously by the front of his robes in order to drag him forward. Etoh began a few halting steps, but between worried glances back at Slayn and stepping on his long robes, he stumbled and fell to the ground. Behind them, Slayn shouted a single word, and the little valley was flooded with light. This made the movement in the grass easier to see, but when the rustling reached the valley, it burst out onto the short scrub, and became nothing at all.
No, that wasn't quite right. As Etoh climbed back onto his feet, aided by Wood yanking up on one arm, he saw that the footsteps thudding towards him on the shorter grass had a shimmering form above them. It flickered as it moved, and pieces of goblin anatomy winked in and out of sight. A sinewy bicep here, a tip of an ear there, a sudden shadow that should not have been there spreading out behind it. He could still see the hill-top and night sky through the space above the foot-prints (which were pounding down faster and making him think that perhaps he should do something). It was like a little piece of reality had been draped with a silvery gauze, about the size and shape of an average full-grown goblin. It was like someone was badly botching an invisibility spell.
The caster was no where to be found, but Etoh had a sinking feeling that the odds had suddenly doubled against them. Devin hadn't mentioned a mage on their side. And a mage there must be, because goblins using magic was about as likely as ogres singing and dancing. It must have been the invisibility spells that put so many interfering signals in the air, not just magic from the village.
All this observation took place in a matter of seconds. As the flickering figure reached them, Woodchuck shoved Etoh back onto the ground and whipped his dagger hand around.
"Oh, for God's sake," the thief snarled, grappling with the hazy figure. He didn't specify which god, exactly, but was speaking more from depths of frustration and fear then faith. Even in those confused moments, as Wood finished the job and tossed another mostly invisible, completely dead goblin onto the ground, Etoh had a second to feel shame prick him. It seemed obvious that the thief's frustration wasn't directed at the sudden attack, but at him, the clumsy, soft-skinned priest who couldn't even run away to literally save his life.
"We still……need….to run…." Wood gasped, his sentence extended by the two mostly invisible goblins he was now sparing with. Etoh bashed one of them with his priest's scepter, the way he had when he had raided the cave with Parn, and felt vindicated to see it go down. Or see the depression in the grass, anyway.
"There, see? I can fight!" he thought.
Wood barely seemed to notice, and instead shoved him at Slayn, who was standing rather bravely with both eyes closed, murmuring magic words. A small whirlwind of energy surrounded the mage, and was impressive enough that no goblin was approaching him.
"Go help Slayn cast whatever. I'll cover you both," Wood said, eyes darting between the indistinct figures, waiting for targets to come in range.
Etoh stumbled back, and took a swing at another shimmering figure, burning with frustration. It was a common layman's mistake, but priest's spells and mage's spells were two entirely different brands of magic. One drew energy from the world around them, and the mage's own strength, and molded them through force of will. Etoh's "magic" drew power from the gods above, and wasn't controlled by individual will, but that of the god. When it came right down to it, priests really had a greater power at their disposal, serving ultimately as a conduit for the power of a god to flow through. But their options were limited to what a god was willing to allow. Sorcerers, having to pull energy from the elements by the force of their own will, had much less power, but could do as they pleased. That was why priests usually gently referred to sorcerers as, "Like us, but arrogant." Unbeknownst to Etoh, mages often referred to priests, in turn, as "Like us, but wimpy." So the quiet little rivalry, which only the most zealous on either side usually acknowledged, pretty much balanced out.
What all of that meant was that, although they used similar techniques, Etoh would have little chance of knowing what spell Slayn was casting, and no way of helping him.
There was little holy magic that he would have time to offer, though, and they probably could only afford to have one party member lost in the private little world of spell-casting. So Etoh contented himself with backing himself up to the rim of the little whirlwind that had surrounded Slayn, and bashing at any goblins that dared to come near. He didn't particularly like using the scepter for violence, although that was one of it's official uses - "For defensive purposes, if a priest has not the time for holy magic." Defensive purposes was a nice way of saying bashing someone's brains out, and it was harder than it sounded. Every now and then, he got in a good hit, but more often, he lashed clumsily and nearly knocked himself over with the momentum of the swing. Physical activity had never been, and never would be, he now suspected, his forte.
Under the sound of the whirling energy, Etoh could hear the soft chanting.
"Those whose minds have been clouded by evil…let your hearts be set free…"
It was the same spell that Slayn had cast in the village. He was, Etoh realized, casting two spells at once, maintaining a shield in his mind while chanting the second, which would lift whatever evil magic was making the goblins behave strangely. Between swatting at goblins, which was quickly seeming unnecessary with the whirling energy barrier that Slayn was maintaining, Etoh had a moment to marvel. Slayn was thin, and frail-looking, and was forever insisting that he had a lot to learn - but what he could do with his own quiet strength and determined concentration was amazing.
It began to work, as the goblin nearest Etoh swayed, the red of it's eyes rolling up into a blank white. It had faded into almost complete visibility, and the few nearest him were doing the same. Around him he could hear the sound of weapons slipping out of limp hands and thudding on the ground. This was good, because his scepter had slid out of his nervous, sweat-soaked hands on the last swing, and buried itself in the ground. He took this moment to retrieve it.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed from some distance away in the crowd. It was a bolt of something that was not quite fire, and not quite electricity, but most definitely power. Etoh threw himself on the ground, and felt the tips of his hair singe as it passed by over-head. It slammed into the sorcerer's shield with a sharp burning sound - not quite like lightening striking the ground, more like lightening striking other lightening. Slayn sagged in the middle of it, unburned, thankfully, but with pain and panic etched into his sharp face. He had been casting two difficult spells when the other one hit, and his hold over both had been broken. But magic didn't just cut itself off, not when it was summoned and working. Magic had to be actively shut down, or else, with no guiding hand, it would run wild.
The shield became a scorching wind that blew out in all directions, knocking people off their feet (or, more likely, knocking goblins off their feet - Etoh and Wood had wisely hugged the ground by this time) and flattening the grass. But the second spell that Slayn had been working on, that one was harder than it seemed. Going into a mind, even the simpler, more single-purposed kind possessed by the goblins, was a difficult and delicate task. The brain was like a complicated little glass ornament; the slightest bump the wrong way could smash something beyond repair; and it crackled with a strange energy all it's own. The spell that Slayn had been attempting was now swirling around in the minds of three unfortunate goblins. There were shrieks, and a nasty bubbling sound.
There was a reason that Slayn had found Devin's clumsy use of magic so offensive. It was easy, horribly easy for it to slip away from the hands of the user, and often the results were harmless or even humorous (Slayn told and retold the story of a fellow student who had attempted a transformation into a crow, and wound up with feathers sprouting continuously from both ears). When a great deal of energy was built up, however…
Three goblins standing over Etoh stiffened in surprise as their heads exploded off their shoulders. Wet, sticky nastiness that Etoh didn't want to begin identifying splattered across his back, as he clasped his hands protectively over his head. The three bodies fell twitching to the grass, while Etoh watched in horror. He'd gone out prepared to kill them, but this was gruesome.
"But it was also quick," offered a more practical part of his brain. "They'd wind up dead either way, and they probably even felt this."
"They felt it," Etoh answered weakly. "They were screaming." It was a good point, though. There was no point in getting upset over what had been an accident, and probably had killed the creatures (evil creatures, Etoh reminded himself, who had been out to kill him) almost instantly. So no need to over-react.
He started to stand, lurched with sudden nausea, and threw up on the grass.
"Wuss," Jardin chuckled. "I don't even need to say much here, do I?"
That was enough to pull Etoh to his feet again, spitting the bitter taste out of his mouth. Time to re-assess the situation (and wish, for the fourth time at least, that Parn was there). Slayn was on his knees, sweat standing out on his face, arms wrapped around the staff, which was probably the only thing still holding him up. Around him, stunned goblins were climbing to their feet. Several feet away, Woodchuck was taking the opportunity to leap on a dazed opponent, giving Slayn and Etoh only a brief, curious glance over his shoulder.
Etoh stared hard in the direction that the magic had come from, but the source wasn't difficult to see. Towering above the other goblins, who were still picking themselves off the ground, was one that was significantly larger, sterner, and more capable of bipedal movement. But it was most definitely a goblin, which confused the situation even more. Goblins were wild, vicious creatures, barely capable of a primitive society. Magic was right out. And to give the situation that extra touch of the ludicrous (which was quickly becoming normal on this particular mission), the creature clutched a staff, and wore a long, garish red cape over the black tunic and armor that most goblins wore. This was definitely the leader.
And, judging by the number of goblins still alive and well, the situation had not particularly improved.
Woodchuck, tossing down yet another dead goblin, looked up and seemed to come to the same conclusion. He drew back an arm and sent three short knives flying at the creature. It raised an arm, as if to bat them away, but sent a sparkling burst of light through the air as it swung. The knives were not deflected so much as vaporized. Wood, probably regretting drawing attention to himself, took a cautious step back. He was tense and poised on his toes, and, given another second, probably would have fled with or without his companions. Before he had a chance, the leader, either not wanting to waste magic, or flexing it's authoritative muscles, pointed at him and grunted, and several of the survivors jumped at him.
Etoh risked at quick glance at Slayn, whose drawn, pale face swept away any hope that he could cast the spell again. But fortunately, the surrounding goblins seemed too frightened to touch him after that little head exploding incident. Unfortunately, most of them were now directing their attentions at him. Suspecting that flailing at them clumsily wouldn't do much good, Etoh simply ran. It wasn't, he thought, as if he was abandoning them. If he could slip up the hill and hide in the tall grass, he might be able to cast the holy equivalent of what Slayn had attempted. He wouldn't have a chance out in the open, though.
Two dark shapes darted past him, and blocked his path to the front. Etoh tried to dodged around, but a clawed hand clamped down on his arm and tossed him back. He ripped away and ran in the other direction, realizing belatedly that he was being herded. He tried to break away to one side again, but the menacing outlines were there again, leaving him with no place to run but back towards the main group, and the leader. Woodchuck was not down yet - having run out of knives, he was falling back on the ancient bar-fighting technique of an elbow to the throat. But he was far out-numbered, and the leader was strolling up behind him with murder in it's eyes. In an ordinary situation, the man would have most likely noticed - heard, or felt with some kind of mysterious thief's sixth sense (which he once admitted was nothing more than good ears and paranoia) - but he was highly distracted.
"So, yell at him, idiot. It's not like you've accomplished anything else, here," Jardin snapped, and for once his criticism seemed like good advice.
In stories and ballads, battle dialogue had a certain eloquence. Even the roughest mercenary, when a few decades dead (or simply out of public eye) found himself speaking in cursive when his exploits were retold. So, Etoh would consider later, he couldn't really blame himself for thinking that a shouted warning could be an entire sentence. In the stories, evil-doers just sort of froze while last words, declarations of love, and explanations of philosophy were being delivered mid-parry. As it was in the real world, though, what was intended to be, "Hey, Wood, look out behind you!" was cut off at "Hey, Wo-" as the leader slammed it's staff against the man's head.
"Oh, well. Never mind, then," sighed Jarden in mock sympathy.
Guilt and panic poured into him. Logically, he knew that it wasn't his fault, but emotions pulled taut by stress were now snapping. Never mind that he'd helped Parn back at the village, Great Falis, he really was useless in battle, wasn't he? Yet some sort of instinct kicked it. Right as he managed a coherent thought, that being that he should go defend his fallen comrade, he realized he had already rushed forward, and was now practically face to face with the leader. Coherent thought fled again. One sweaty hand trembled around the scepter, he started to raise his arm, thinking vaguely that he ought to do something. His arm felt like lead, though, and his mind was lurching along like a cart through mud. Where, Etoh had time to wonder desperately, was the productive panic, the kind that seized a warrior and let him bash his way though hordes of Kobolds. If Falis hadn't seen fit to give him a strong fighter's body, he could at least give him the convenient kind of hysteria.
The leader grinned, and Etoh was close enough to see gruesome red strings of…something…caught between its long and pointed teeth. He could see the pock-marks on its leathery skin, the coarse tufts of hair poking out from its nose and ears. Never mind about what he could smell. It grinned at Etoh, spearing him through with its wild yellow eyes. There was intelligence and cunning to be read there, as well as a certain arrogance. As far as it was concerned, Etoh was caught and disemboweled as they stood there.
Then it reached out, and flicked him in the nose.
Etoh swung the scepter up in the clumsy arch, and bashed the creature in the forehead. It squealed and staggered, but at the same time, wrapped a hand around Etoh's neck, and shook him like a rag doll. Etoh pulled at the hand, and swung blindly with the scepter, but his vision was bouncing back and forth, and he was seeing three of the ugly face in front of him. Little black dots danced and spun in front of his eyes.
Suddenly, the arm tossed him back onto the ground. He could only lie, shaken and dizzy, and watch the stars wink in and out above him. Then, the leader's face filled his vision. Blood was trickling between the fingers it had cupped over the wound.
"You, little human, are going to die for that."
Etoh blinked. The creature was speaking in plain, common English, nothing like the snarls and squeals that usually made up the goblin "language". This was just as bad as magic.
"But not just yet," the goblin added, standing up and staring down at him. Clawed hands grabbed his arms on either side, and hauled him to his feet. His arms were forcibly crossed behind his back, tight enough to be painful. Hands were roughly patthing him down for weapons, while another goblin was brining rope over. Turning his head around, he could see that Slayn, whom the goblins had finally plucked up enough courage to approach, and Wood were being similarly subdued. Slayn was too exhausted to fight, and Wood, although not unconscious, was looking around dully, and not struggling.
As his hands were fitted into loops, and rope wound around his chest, Etoh took a deep breath. He'd read once in a story about how a hero had, by filling his lungs with air, expanded his body just a little, so that upon exhaling the ropes had been just a little loose. Of course, that character had had a mystical prophecy working in his favor, as well, and there didn't seem to be any that covered mild-mannered priests. Etoh was dragged to where his companions had been piled, and tossed unceremoniously against them, so that one was leaning against either side of his back.
Slayn's hands had been had been bound tightly together, so that any of the gestures that accompanied spells would be virtually impossible, and a cloth gag was stuffed in his mouth. Wood was tied only at the wrists and ankles, but with a complicated mass of knots that would likely take hours to undo. The dazed, unfocused look in his eyes suggested that he'd have trouble running away, even if not bound. His head hung limply against his chest.
"We," he said slowly, as though assembling the sentence was a delicate and careful process, "need to work on our coord'nation."
The leader was now some distance away, pulling up wounded and checking the dead. Out of hearing range. There were two goblins standing on either side of them, but they were watching the leader, not their prisoners. If there was some escape attempt to be made, now would be the time. The wind had been knocked out of him as he landed, and he found that the ropes were, perhaps, just a little bit looser. Not enough to really move, unlike in the story, but it was a vague step in the right direction.
"Wood, we have to do something right now. Did they miss anything while they checked you?" Etoh whispered.
There was a long pause from Etoh's left side, where the thief was leaning.
"Wood!"
"…..What? Etoh, I can't……focus real well right now…" Again, it sounded like he was hauling each word into the proper place, slowly and with great effort.
"Did they miss any weapons when they checked you?" Etoh hissed. There wasn't much time. "C'mon, you're a thief, you must have knives hidden all over you. If I can reach one, I can maybe cut us loose."
"What happened? Things keep winking in and out."
"Wegotcapturedbythegoblinsandyougothitonthehead!" Etoh blurted out frantically. The two guards glanced down at him, and he froze, but they looked back towards the leader again. "Now please, if you've got anything left with a sharp edge, give it to me now."
Silence from Etoh's left side.
"Wood!" Etoh leaned back sharply and jostled the thief, whose head snapped up suddenly.
"What? What do you want, Etoh?!"
"A knife!"
"Why?"
"Because we got captured and we're tied up!"
"By who?"
"What?"
"Who captured us?"
"What does it matt-goblins! We got captured by the goblins, and they're going to kill and eat us unless you can snap out of it."
"Oh."
There was another, horrible pause. Etoh could feel a trickle of sweat glide down the center of his forehead and drop off the end of his nose.
"Now, what did you want, again?"
"A knife!"
"…..Why?"
Before the conversation could circle around again, (because it's safe to say that it wasn't exactly progressing) the leader strode back towards them. A few of the goblins trailed along behind him, the others scattered. It grunted at the two guards, who stepped back obligingly, and smirked down at the captives, hands on hips. Maybe it was the obviously smug expression, but Etoh marveled that it looked surprisingly human.
"Well, this is an interesting little situation, isn't it? The only question is, do we eat you now, or eat you later?"
Slayn hadn't heard the leader's earlier comments, and now stared up at the goblin thoughtfully. Wood seemed to notice and come awake a little, sitting up straighter against Etoh. Etoh, meanwhile, found himself in the uncomfortable position of group spokesperson.
"What do you have to say for yourselves?" The creature smirked down at Etoh, suggesting that anything they had to say wouldn't make much difference.
"We're just a group of simple travelers-" Etoh began.
"Oh, really? Because, the way you talked when you left town, it seemed like you were on your way out to look for us."
"Um…we were kidding about that," Etoh tried, wondering how long they'd been watched, and why the hell they hadn't thought about it sooner. He really would have liked to ask the creature how it had learned to speak English, or cast spells, but he wasn't exactly sure how to bring the subject up, and didn't expect an honest response.
"Oh, really," said the leader, cocking an eyebrow. "Were you kidding when your little party killed twelve of my people?"
Etoh made some quick mental calculations. He'd taken down a few, Slayn had mistakenly exploded three, and Wood must have been awfully busy. To wipe out the band, all they'd need to do was repeat those actions….twice….while wounded and tired, never mind bound and gagged.
"Maybe if you pray hard enough, Falis will come down in a burning pillar and vanquish all your enemies," Jarden sniggered. "It'd be about time, because he certainly never saved you from me." Etoh didn't waste time trying to silence him. He always showed up when things got tough (like during seminary exams), and Etoh had more important things to think about. Such as how, if possible, he could talk their way out of this.
"Now, wait a minute. You're the ones who attacked us," he protested. "We were defending ourselves. You're the one who's responsible for the deaths of at least three of them, when you disrupted my friend's spell."
"You were on your way to attack us. I believe we were the ones on the defense."
"Why have you been raiding that village?"
"Why is that business of yours?" the leader countered. "Maybe we have a legitimate grievance against that community. And of course, you didn't even try to hear our side of the story, did you, little human man?" The leader continued. Etoh felt like he was being hustled by a smooth merchant. He could argue theology with the best of them, but people in the marketplace had an aggressive way of using words as nets, and such confrontations usually ended with Etoh buying something just to make the seller go away. And the two older, wiser men were currently incapacitated.
"Look, you're the one's talking about killing and eating us," he tried.
"Cultural observance," said the leader, flippantly. He seemed to have lost a great deal of his bite now that the group was restrained. Rather than murderous, he had simmered down to cruelly sarcastic.
"What are you talking about?" It was like being told that dragons burning villages was a way of artistic expression.
"Humans and goblins - two different species. Just like…say, humans and deer, right? You eat them, and we eat you. Simple."
That was putting an odd spin on things. Etoh wondered briefly what he would say if he encountered a talking deer with a similar list of grievances. "Well, I'm sure I haven't eaten any of your relatives, so…"
"It's not the same thing…and even if it was, I don't know what your point is," he protested.
"My point is that you came out here looking to attack us, and interfering in a matter that was none of your business. When we reacted, looking only to defend ourselves, you slew 12 of my men. You're probably going to be skinned alive for it, but I was just wondering if you had anything to say for yourself." The leader leaned in close, glaring down it's bulbous nose at Etoh.
It was bad enough that the goblin spoke, and that it talked about things like cultural observances, but what made things even stranger was that the leader seemed to be genuinely interested in the debate. It wasn't pumping them for information, as they likely would have done to it if the situations where reversed. It was gloating over them, certainly, but it hadn't made good on any of the threats. He'd never fought bad guys (and he was assuming that he could certainly call vicious creatures that ate people "bad guys") that were so concerned with establishing themselves to be in the right. But then, it seemed to just be the leader. None of the other goblins had joined in the debate, or even spoken, although a few still hung around behind the leader, watching carefully.
Etoh weighed his options. Slayn probably would have had a logical argument prepared, and Woodchuck, judging by how he'd handled the situation in town, would have come up with a very glib lie. But Etoh was suddenly the one in charge, and he was a priest. And priests told the truth and hoped for the best.
"And they wind up skinned and roasting over a spit," Jarden sneered.
"The local sorcerer has captured our friends, and forced us into this. He won't release them until we stop your attacks on the town," Etoh explained calmly. The words had a definite affect on the leader, whose grimace made an ugly face even uglier. Etoh hadn't thought it was possible.
"Devin?!" it spat. "That little bastard sent you all out against us? "
"You, uh…know him?" Well, of course it knew him, it would have undoubtedly seen the puffy little faux-mage if it had been raiding the village. But this smacked of a personal insult.
"I know him, all right," the goblin growled. "It's because of him that we've been stuck here for so long. We'd have been on our way long ago if not for him, you know. God, he's got such an ugly little mind."
"What do you mean?" The leader fixed him with a hard, suspicious glare, the kind that the Allanian soldiers had worn when they dragged the party to Fortress Myce.
"Never you mind!" he snapped. "This isn't any of your business."
"Look, I agree. We only came out here because he pushed us into it."
"Oh, don't whine," the leader said. "It's a little late to say that after what that sorcerer of yours did." He glared at Slayn, who stared back, unfazed.
"Maybe you'd like to talk to Slayn about that," Etoh suggested, feeling suddenly clever. If the gag came off, the mage might have a few spells still left up his sleeve.
"I'm hardly that stupid," the leader scoffed.
"Well, we're not getting anywhere like this." Gory battle aside, this felt like the conversation with Devin all over again. "What do you want from us? Why didn't you just kill us?" That last one made him feel especially bold. He didn't want to draw the creature's mind back towards the idea of disposing of them, but the whole situation has just strange enough to have an odd feeling of unreality to it. He kept expecting to wake up.
"I'm going to have a few words with you, little human, since we've agreed that you attacked us unfairly-"
"We didn't agree on anyth-" Etoh broke in.
"Agreed that you attacked us," the creature continued, "And you're going to tell me anything you know about the situation back in that village." There wasn't much that they knew about the situation back in the village, given that they'd only passed through briefly in the late afternoon. There was likely nothing they could tell the leader that it wouldn't have picked up already from it's night-time raids. And cooperation didn't seem like it would get them far. It seemed like the most he could do was push the leader in a certain way, and see how much information he could glean out of him. It seemed like the right thing to do, he'd also read about it in that story where the man with the mystical prophecy got tied up. He'd been out of his ropes and escaping by that point, having tricked the ogres into revealing the location of the captured princess, but Etoh reminded himself that not everyone worked at the same pace.
"How do you know we'll tell you anything? You keep talking about eating us, so what's the point? Or will you use your magic to pull it out of us?"
Score. The goblin leader actually looked unsure for a moment, before going back to irritation. Maybe it didn't actually have the skills to make them talk using magic, given the haphazard way it was using it, Etoh thought, feeling wonderfully streetwise and tough.
"I don't need to use magic. I'm not the one tied up, and in imminent danger of being a main course." it leaned in towards him, leering.
"If you kill us, you'll never know what we know." Etoh stared up at the leader, forcing himself to not waver, despite the smell wavering down towards him. It wasn't that they knew something important at all, but if this…thing was so determined that they did, at least it would leave them alive for awhile.
"You…you probably don't know anything, anyway!" the leader snapped, straightening up.
"Then why are you even talking to us?!" It was getting too frustrating for Etoh to even be frightened. It was like talking to Devin all over again, in more ways than one.
"Because…because…you're my prisoners!" The leader stopped, and looked over Etoh's head, confusion swimming in it's yellow eyes. It seemed to be talking to itself when it started up again."
"We captured you, fair and square, because you were going to attack us,"
"Because Devin took our friends, and forced us," Etoh broke in, but was ignored.
"And you killed several of my men, so it's only right that I use whatever means necessary to extract information out of you…"
"Like eating us," Etoh sighed. This time, a flicker of disquiet went across the leader's face.
"Well, of course we're not going to eat you right away. We'll…we'll…torture you first, and then we'll rip you apart one at a time!!"
This just wasn't right. Etoh had a sneaking suspicion that this was the goblin leader's first interrogation. It seemed to be making things up as it went along. It was still big, muscled and very dangerous, but didn't seem nearly so intimidating now that it was stammering for words.
"You don't even really eat people, do you?" he said, too caught up in the ridiculous situation to even be frightened any longer. The large red cape, which swirled around the leader every time it moved didn't help. And it was true that there had never been any solid proof of goblin dietary habits. The "be good or the goblins will eat you" story was just that - a story to frighten children. And people who managed one-on-one contact with goblins usually didn't stop to ask.
"Of course we do!" the leader explained, now looking openly disgusted. "Just…not quite yet, that's all." It stopped, shook it's head, and apparently found it's thread again.
"Now, you're going to stop talking nonsense, and tell me what you know about the village. And the stone," it added, towering over him again.
"Stone?" Etoh asked innocently, enjoying the look of surprise and fury that crossed the leader's face again.
"You don't know about…? Forget it! Forget everything! It doesn't matter, you'll be dead by the end of the night, anyway. Honestly, maybe your sorcerer friend will be able to talk with a little more reason."
It was as the leader turned it's attention to Slayn that Etoh realized the sorcerer was whispering. He hadn't heard it before, but there it was…words mumbled through the gag in a low chant. It was a spell, which meant that the new most important task at hand was to get the leader's eyes back on him.
Distraction, he badly needed a distraction. Wood wasn't speaking or moving, and for all Etoh knew, could have finally passed out. So it was still up to him. But talk for the sake of talk wasn't exactly his forte. Etoh was a listener, not a talker. He snatched up the first coherent idea that formed in his mind.
"Now we've got you right where we want you!" he burst out suddenly. The leader turned it's gaze from Slayn to him, and straightened up.
"What are you talking about, little pink fleshy thing?"
"This was all part of an elaborate plan, we've got a whole army that hovering around this camp, and if you don't untie us now, you'll only have yourself to blame for the results!"
"Stop your blathering," the leader snapped. "I know you're only trying to save your life, and it's very sad to watch."
"No, really, if you don't untie us right now and let us go free, I can't be held responsible for the results! You'll be obliterated, when our friends come to-"
Etoh was silenced as something rough and scaly hit his face with sledgehammer force. He swayed and blinked at the stars bursting in front of his eyes. The goblin had punched him.
"I'm not going to listen to your damn begging. Now shut it, or I'll gag you." His thoughts were wandering around in little circles, and he struggled to pick one up and run with it. Maybe he couldn't fight, and maybe he couldn't even wriggled out of his ropes under duress (because he didn't have a damn mystical prophecy), but one thing he could do was talk. And if that meant getting hit, well, he'd just bear it.
"Who's begging? I'm just trying to warn you, that if you keep us captive much longer, our friends will…." He trailed off, as the goblin leader gave him a look that was downright murderous. That possibility of that particular conversation track slammed shut.
Etoh risked a glance at his side. Slayn was still whispering, the slight movements of his fingers barely noticeable. Falis only knew how long the spell would take in casting, whatever it was. It would probably save all their lives, though, Slayn never took a risk that wasn't carefully calculated. Surely he could think of something else to fill up a few minutes.
"Say," he piped up suddenly, "Have any of you ever thought about the joys of letting Falis come into your lives?" The leader looked back at him.
"Now what?"
"You're all pawns for the powers of darkness, you know. Why else do you think you're so easily led? But with Falis in your life, you can be your own person…um…goblin…thing…"
"We are not easily led!" the leader snapped, looking surprisingly stricken. "We do our own thing, and I am in charge!" There wasn't time to think about what nerve he'd struck, and why. Etoh pushed on.
"Just think, if you accepted Falis into your hearts, you wouldn't have to eat people and live in caves. With the blessings of the God of Goodness, you could finally make peace with us-"
"Shut up!" It was actually, Etoh had to admit, a better reaction than he got when preaching in many towns. People there just tended to pretend he didn't exist.
"Let me start by reciting the first psalm. Maybe you could say it with me, and see how it makes you feel-" He stopped, as the leader was now standing over him, face tensed in fury. He wondered whether the distraction had perhaps been a huge mistake, but the staff, lying several yards behind the leader, began to glow. And the goblin's beady eyes were still focused on him.
"Great Falis, Creator of all things, Sustainer of all Life," Etoh chanted, screwing his eyes shut. He had a feeling he was going to be hit again, or worse, and didn't want to see it coming. He especially didn't want to look at the staff, for fear of what he might give away. And it was comforting, even in a situation like this, to block out the world, and put himself in his god's hands.
"You're doing something, aren't you…you're trying to distract me…from something.." The suspicion in the leader's voice trailed off, but suddenly, there were shouts and screams from all around them. Etoh opened his eyes to see the goblins standing guard collapse, their eyes gone white and blank. And he suddenly wished he hadn't opened them, as he saw the leader lunging forward towards him.
"You're casting a spell!" it roared, looking more frightening than it had during the battle. Etoh could only flinch back, and watch the claws sweep in towards his face. And then, a bony hand from his left side seized the goblin's wrist, and shoved it back. Woodchuck had apparently finally understood Etoh's message about the knife. The thief jumped up, ropes falling away from him, and began systematically pounding the leader in the face, while Slayn's muffled chanting rose and fell. In a moment, the goblin band was down, most from Slayn's spell, and the leader from the constant face-to-knuckle contact.
And it looked like it was all, miraculously over.
"Wood! You're okay?" Etoh would not have put it past the thief to have been over-playing his injury, so that he wouldn't be closely watched.
"No," Wood replied, curtly, tossing the unconscious leader down. As if to prove his point, he swayed like a drunkard, and collapsed onto his knees. He managed to still reach out and cut Etoh's ropes off, the priest flinching back a little nervously. Having a man who apparently couldn't see straight slashing at you was mighty uncomfortable.
"Hold still." Now that they weren't in immediate danger, Etoh got down to the business he knew best. He was, for a moment, tempted to slap Wood on the forehead and yell, "Heal!" the way he'd seen a rather showy cleric doing it in the market place. That urge passed mercifully quickly, and he murmured prayers to sweep cobwebs away from the mind, stop bleeding inside and out, and whatever else might be needed. Head injuries were unpredictable, and still a bit of a mystery to the priests treating them. What went on under the skull could only be understood after the skull was opened up, and at that point, the patient was a little beyond the help of a healer. Fortunately, the feel of the wound faded quickly under Etoh's hands. Wood waved an experimental hand in front of his eyes, stood up carefully, and gave Etoh an appreciative smile.
"Now that's something. Think Falis would do that for hang-overs?"
"Falis," Etoh dead-panned, "has no mercy for hang-overs."
"Falis don't have mercy for much, do he?" An argument rose immediately to Etoh's mind, a by-product of too much time in seminary, but he shoved it down and smiled instead. After their experience, bantering felt kind of good. His good mood was interrupted by an indignant "mmph!" coming from behind him, and he remembered that Slayn was, in fact, still bound and gagged.
"I was wondering how long you two were going to let me sit there," the mage sighed, as Wood pulled the cloth out of his mouth.
"Quiet, or we'll put the gag right back on," Wood grinned, cutting the rope off his hands.
"I did rather save the day, you know."
"Yes, yes, we all owe you one, don't get huffy. If we're talking about credit, I think I get an 'I told you so', also."
"Who's huffy? It's been a long night," Slayn protested.
It had been, because it took quite a lot to get the calm and balanced mage irritable. He was pale and shaky, and had to be helped onto his feet. Given that he'd used enough magic to exhaust himself, then still managed to cast one more difficult spell, this was understandable.
"You really did save us, Slayn. Thank you," Etoh said solemnly, feeling that the mage deserved some real praise. He offered him a shoulder to lean on.
"No, you don't have to say any…it was nothing much, really." Not one to stay angry, Slayn was quickly back to his familiar, humble, easily embarrassed self.
"No, it was a very neat trick. I dunno why you're always down on yourself." Wood was tying the goblin leader's hands and feet in much the same way he had been bound.
"I still have a lot to learn," Slayn gasped automatically.
"Where are we going?" Etoh asked, as Wood pulled up the leader, and tossed it (with some obvious effort) over his shoulder. He gave Etoh and Slayn a speculative look.
"I don't suppose we could head back to town tonight….."
Etoh was going to offer a diplomatic answer and save Slayn the discomfort of being the temporary weak link, but the sorcerer didn't seem to mind:
"No," he said flatly. "I can't make it without rest."
"Right…I figured. But we should probably get out of here. I dunno what these things'll do when they wake up."
"They'll probably scatter," Slayn explained. "Without some kind of evil influence, they're not likely to go after the village again. But it would be good not to be right here when they all come to."
So they managed to stumble along for about fifteen minutes, before deciding good enough was good enough, and settling down for the night. There wasn't any chance of going to sleep with a band of twenty some goblins soon to be wandering around the hills, even if they weren't likely to attack. Etoh was too charged up to sleep, at any rate. Slayn collapsed in the grass, yawning.
"Do you mind…if I…?" He trailed off sleepily.
"Go ahead…we'll stay up and keep watch," Etoh said.
"Don't let me sleep all night….and wake me up if it…" he gestured vaguely at the goblin leader," comes to. I want to know how it learned to speak and use magic. And I especially want to know what that band was searching for before we go back to Devin."
Etoh intended to let Slayn sleep as long as possible, all night if necessary, but he nodded solemnly.
There really wasn't much left to do. Etoh considered giving the goblin leader some holy healing, but decided that the bruises weren't worth the effort. Besides, magic might wake it up sooner, and he wanted to let Slayn rest.
"So, do you two have any spells to make it talk? Or should we just beat it up? More so, I mean." Woodchuck was sitting with his back to the other two, watching the moon-lit hills carefully.
"Slayn's got a truth-telling spell…but it's a bit unreliable."
Etoh didn't have to look to see that Slayn had dropped off. There was an empty silence where a scholarly explanation should have been.
"And I've got a spell to tell if someone is telling the truth…but I can't force information out of anyone."
"Ah. Right. Use that often, do you?"
"Not on this trip," Etoh said. He was tempted to add, "Lie often, do you?" but suppressed the urge. "We use it to try and settle disputes, search out spies…it's not completely reliable either, so we try not to let monarchs depend on it, but it can be useful."
"Sounds like something we could use in the guild," Wood said idly. "Would settle a lot of problems."
"You guys actually care about honesty?"
"Well, yeah…we do have to keep some kind of order, otherwise soldiers'd be down on us in a second. And people like to keep track of who owes who…we're pretty serious about that. I mean, people get bonded into the guild just to pay off debts."
"What kind of horrible organization do you work for?!" It wasn't really an accusation, just incredulity.
"Oh, we're not that bad. We wind up raising more unwanted kids than your orphanages. And we let them have a lot more fun," he added with a grin.
"How do children wander into the thieves' guild?"
"Very easily. You'd be surprised. Kids run away from home, or they get pulled off the street…women in the guild get knocked up…some people actually get married, if you'd believe it. And a good number of kids wind up sold to us…"
"That's horrible," Etoh repeated, not sure if he wanted to hear any more.
Wood turned around to look at Etoh.
"Look, the thieves guild really isn't all that vicious-"
Etoh snorted, in spite of himself.
"No, really. We're in the stealing business, not the murder business. People mostly keep to themselves, and the guild leaders don't have much to say to you unless you stir up serious trouble. But we're very, very serious about money. If you owe the guild a debt, they'll chase you across the island, and carve it out of you. Some people, with six or seven kids too many, will just hand one of them over and let him work the debt off. And that kid usually stays with us, because most ain't gonna go back to a family that did that to them."
"It ain't exactly a practice I'm fond of, and I wish sometimes that we didn't do it, but hey, not much I can do," he added, looking away.
A light went on in Etoh's head.
"Is that…." he ventured hesitantly, with a side-long glance at the thief, "Is that what happened to you?"
"Well…ye-es…" Wood said carefully. But not the way you're thinking."
"What do you think I'm thinking?"
"I think, " Wood continued, "that you're imagining me as an innocent little farm boy getting dragged off to a life of crime by the big, bad thieves guild."
That was, actually, what Etoh had been picturing, complete with a scruffy young boy wailing, "Father, no!", and a stern-faced farmer saying, "Sorry, son, this is the way it has to be."
"Um…"
"Look, quit trying to make excuses for me."
"Huh?"
"I think," Wood said, putting his arms behind his head, and leaning back casually, "that you've noticed by now that I'm not a horrible person, but you hate the kind of life I lead. So you're trying to figure out a way to make it not my fault. Unless I'm reading you wrong, here. I don't really know if you actually care that much."
"I'm not….I mean, I do care, but I'm not trying to…" Etoh stammered. There had always been a nasty contradiction in the teachings of Falis when it came to dealing with people of this particular social class. It was, "Falis is just, and the law must be upheld", vs. "Priests must show kindness and charity to all people." Etoh had usually compromised with a polite disdain, but spending time with Woodchuck, who seemed completely unashamed of his work (if it could really be called that), and was yet oddly likable, made it difficult.
"So, why are you like this?!" he burst out, frustrated.
"Etoh…relax and quit worrying so much," Wood drawled, looking amused. "The problem with you priests is, you get so uptight about rules that don't really matter."
"Those rules are important. They keep people from getting hurt."
"I don't really hurt people, though, not if I can help it. I just take stuff that ain't that important to them, anyway. I mean, if they really cared about their stuff, they'd keep a better watch on it."
"Most people aren't expecting to have their goods stolen out from under them."
"Their loss," Wood shrugged. "Heck, most people that we steal from are probably taught a valuable lesson about being careless. I figure, the worst I do is ruin someone's day, and given that I've had much worse things done to me, that almost puts me on the moral high ground."
Etoh had no answer to counter this argument. He was used to morality being debated rationally, and this was not quite logic.
"Look, I steal things because it's what I've been doing since I was four years old," Wood went on. "My dad was teaching me to pick pockets about as far back as I can remember. It's just like people that train to be knights, or priests, or mages. People get brought up a certain way, and they kind of walk themselves into a rut. And this is mine - it's what I know, it's what I do well, and I couldn't imagine doing anything else. And trust me…all in all, there's much worse things to do with your time."
"You're doing something else right now," Etoh pointed out, "Aren't you?"
"Well…yeah…but this is kind of a special case. I mean, this…it ain't quite me.." Wood shifted uncomfortably. "Don't get me wrong, I like you guys, and I don't mind risking my life for you, but I sure as hell wouldn't be doing this ultra-noble 'stand and fight' thing if I wasn't with you. I'd be doing the smart thing, the 'turn and run' thing."
"But you're doing a lot more than most thieves would do, I'll bet, "Etoh pressed. "Maybe you don't think you can be noble, but you must have the potential for it, otherwise you wouldn't even be here."
"I'm here because I owe your little idealistic buddy my life, and I wanna pay him back. Ain't nothing noble about it. And this quest thing won't last forever. Once it's done, I figure Slayn'll go back to being a small-town mage, and you'll go back to doing priest things, and I'll got back to doing what I do. Which I haven't been allowed to do much of on this trip…" Wood sighed, staring down at his hands. "Look, believe it or not, I've been on good behavior here, and it isn't always easy, and I know I can't do it forever. So quit pushing."
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, something that really was much easier when Parn wasn't around.
"So..did you really get sold into debt slavery?" Etoh finally jumped backwards to a less controversial conversation point, not wanting to end things on an awkward note.
"Oh, that?" Wood waved a dismissive hand, lapsing back into casual apathy. "Yeah, that happened a couple of times, but it wasn't really dramatic. Dad gambled a lot, and he had a tendency to make messes, then shove me in the middle of them and run away."
"It ain't like I was traumatized, or nothing," he added, noting Etoh's suddenly sympathetic look. "It just pissed me off, and after it happened a few times, I quit caring so much."
"That's terrible thing for a father to do."
"Oh, don't worry, I did stuff to him that was just as bad," Wood said cheerfully. "Nothing like a little back-stabbing and hatred for a healthy father-son relationship. It's just the way it is between guys. You're sort of a Mama's boy, ain't you?" he speculated.
"Yeah, sort of," Etoh admitted. "My father died in an accident when I was little, so it was just my mother and I for a long time…then she…got sick." Now it was Etoh's turn to trail off. He wished they had a fire there; it was always so convenient to stare at it when you didn't want to look your companion in the face.
"As long as we're telling each other our origins, let me guess…you lost her, and you were so upset, you decided to become a Falis priest, so you could spare other people that kind of grief. Am I close?" Wood was ticking off the list casually, but seemed to be making a conscience effort not to be callous.
"No," Etoh murmured.
"No?"
"No. I was already planning on the priesthood. Actually, after Mother died…I sort of lost my faith."
"Really?" Woodchuck raised an interested eyebrow, which was a lot for a man who generally shrugged while everyone else was talking about justice, and passion, and group togetherness.
"It was…hard," Etoh sighed. He was tempted not to say anything more, but decided that if a cynical and often aloof thief could explain his life and motivations, it was the least a priest could do. Hell, he was supposed to be good at this sort of thing.
"We were very close. I suppose…she was a little over-protective." That was an understatement. Etoh's mother had gotten hysterical whenever he was stayed out past sun-down, even if it was at his best friend's little cottage a few short minutes away. "She was the most important thing in my life at the time, and when she was ill, all I wanted was for her to be saved. I'd get up before dark in the morning, and just pray until the sunrise…asking Falis to make her well…or at least let me take the burden of her sickness." Etoh trailed off again, feeling a blush creep up his face. It wasn't the first time he had talked about this - Parn had heard all about it. But a certain local bully had caught Etoh one of those early mornings, shoved his face into the dirt, and never let him hear the end of it. Then again, that bully was being strangely quiet now, and Woodchuck, whom Etoh had not expected any understanding from, was keeping thankfully, respectfully silent.
"Well, after awhile, I just lost hope. My prayers started getting more and more bitter…I was actually sarcastic with the Supreme God of Light. Can you believe it?" Etoh managed to smile. Laughing at oneself always helped.
"Oh, I can believe it," said Wood, with a brief, guilty look upward, suggesting that he was probably sarcastic with the Supreme God of Light on a regular basis.
"Towards the end, I just started praying that Falis would take her quickly, and spare her the pain. But I didn't even get that, really. So, when it was finally over, I just….gave up on my god for awhile. It wasn't just that I was angry. I wondered what the point was."
"So, why the hell are you-" Wood started, then bit off the sentence mid-thought. When he began again, it was with the careful hesitation of one who is not used to tact, and is now looking for it.
"If you felt like that then, how did you wind up where you are now?"
"Well…I always felt him." Etoh wrapped his arms around himself, remembering the moments of peace that would come upon him on those early mornings. Nothing so dramatic as a hand on his shoulder, or a breeze on his face - just a quiet little warmth, blossoming in his heart. It was that kind of feeling that reminded Etoh exactly why he wanted to be a messenger, teacher, healer, and whatever else was necessary in the name of this god. "It was just my own arrogance, that I thought my needs were more important than others. Falis loves everyone, but he can't always save everyone. And he shouldn't, otherwise…well, life wouldn't be life if our god just protected us from everything."
Woodchuck muttered something that Etoh didn't quite catch, but sounded suspiciously like, "Heard that before."
"Anyway," Etoh went on, "I grew up as a spiritual person. I couldn't really abandon my religion, not matter what happened. After Mother died, it was all I had. Besides Parn, I mean. So I had to go back…"
"I gotcha…" Wood said, resting his chin on one hand thoughtfully. "Not about religion, of course…I've never gotten that at all. But I probably wouldn't have stuck around with Dad for so long if I'd had better options."
"I don't know if that's quite the same thing….I mean, Falis is there for me," Etoh said, slightly irked at the comparison. Mostly in defense of his god, whom he didn't care to see lowered, even in jest, even in hypothetical situations.
"Oh, c'mon, he wasn't that bad. I mean, he didn't hit me…" Wood trailed off, a distant look in his eyes, as though picking through old memories. "Well, not much anyway. And he looked out for me…um…sometimes…occasionally….well, almost never…but….but….he had some good points, really…"
Wood stopped and scowled, some kind of internal battle obviously lost.
"Come to think of it, he was an asshole, and I hated him. Thanks for reminding me." He crossed his arms and glared into the fire, not responding to Etoh's quick, stammered, ""Sorry!"
Uncomfortable silence once again, broken only in Etoh's mind, where Jardin was snickering.
"One of your only so-called talents, and you screwed it up," he crowed.
"Oh, shut up…just shut up," Etoh thought back wearily. He had been known in his village as a good counselor, although most people didn't realize that the word was synonymous with "good listener". That was all one really needed to do to relieve most people of their troubles, and Etoh, quiet, shy, mostly unpopular little Mama's boy Etoh, was very good at sitting back and listening. He really didn't want to leave the conversation like this.
"So…how about this crazy war, huh?" he said finally, looking for a safe topic of conversation. Woodchuck looked up, not seeming particularly angry any more, Etoh was relieved to see.
"Etoh," he said, not unkindly, but sounding a little exasperated, "Why don't we just sit and wait for awhile, huh?"
That, Etoh decided, was well enough, and it was time to leave well enough alone.
So they sat. And waited.
