Chapter 58: Arriving Two Weeks Early
Life within Vaal’kor continued under a strange balance of urgency and routine. Every kobold understood that Grash’s army was coming within a month. No one knew the exact day, only that each sunrise brought them closer to war. The knowledge hung over the colony like a shadow, yet rather than sinking into fear, everyone worked harder than ever before.
The hunters ventured deeper into the Evergreen Forest, the gatherers returned with every edible root, herb and fruit they could find, while the builders expanded food storage chambers and reinforced the cave entrances. Every pair of hands in the colony remained occupied from dawn until nightfall because everyone understood the same truth. If the coming war dragged on, starvation could prove deadlier than the goblins themselves.
Ru’k found himself unexpectedly placed in charge of the hunting parties. Despite his constant complaints, he threw himself into the role with surprising enthusiasm, leading warriors and gatherers across the southern forests in search of prey. Every evening they returned carrying dire rabbits, mountain goats, boars and every other creature unfortunate enough to cross their path.
Meanwhile Ka’z and Tu’ka became almost impossible to find within the colony. From morning until sunset they remained with their respective squads, drilling formations, testing reactions and improving teamwork. Drax oversaw Ka’z’s recruits with the merciless discipline of a veteran soldier, reducing every mistake to muscle memory through endless repetition.
Kurg and Za’r rarely left the sanctuary anymore. Under Kong’gong’s guidance, Kurg disappeared into the deepest chambers of the colony each day before sunrise, only returning long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Za’r devoted herself entirely to Tong’a, learning the duties of an Oracle while assisting Lady Zira with treating the ever increasing number of exhausted workers who pushed themselves beyond their normal limits.
Despite the pressure surrounding them, everything progressed with remarkable smoothness.
Ka’z had already designed the defensive arrays protecting the southern borders, yet he deliberately refused to deploy them.
"It’ll only become a problem for our own hunters," he explained when Lan’ka questioned him.
The southern forests remained the colony’s primary hunting grounds. If dozens of invisible magical formations suddenly littered the area, the first victims would likely be Vaal’kor’s own people. Ka’z therefore decided the arrays would only be installed during the third week, when every hunting party would already have returned and the colony would be preparing exclusively for war.
Days quietly slipped by. Before anyone truly noticed another week disappeared.
The second week had arrived.
Far beyond Vaal’kor’s territory, the silence of the southern Evergreen Forest was broken by the rhythmic pounding of hundreds of feet. Branches snapped and leaves trembled under their advance
The distant growls of striped boars echoed between ancient trees.
One after another, goblins emerged from the dense woodland. Most advanced on foot carrying spears, axes and crude shields fashioned from thick timber and beast hide. Others rode enormous tiger striped boars whose tusks were almost as long as short swords. Their mounts charged effortlessly through uneven terrain, crushing bushes beneath their immense weight.
At the very front rode Grash.
Unlike the ordinary warriors surrounding him, his body was covered in thick fur coat. His massive boar snorted heavily beneath him as it carried him toward the ruined clearing.
The moment they arrived, the entire army slowed. Ash still covered patches of scorched earth despite the passing weeks. Broken spears remained scattered across the battlefield. Blackened cooking pots lay overturned beside collapsed shelters.
Buzzing insects swarmed over bloated corpses that had long since begun rotting beneath the afternoon sun. Bones protruded through torn flesh while scavenging birds hurriedly scattered deeper into the forest upon hearing the approaching army.
Every tree surrounding the clearing still bore unmistakable scars from the battle.
Grash slowly surveyed the destruction without saying a word. His crimson eyes eventually settled upon one corpse lying half buried beneath collapsed timber.
"Rok..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Several nearby riders instinctively lowered their heads. Everyone here understood what happened here.
One of the riders finally urged his striped boar closer.
"Chief..."
Grash slowly inclined his head without looking away from the battlefield. The thirty goblins entrusted with securing a foothold in the southern region were all dead.
Not one had escaped.
Worse still, every spare weapon, every sack of dried meat and every reserve supply prepared for the main invasion had vanished.
Nothing remained.
Without those provisions, sustaining a prolonged campaign deep inside enemy territory would become considerably more difficult.
Grash’s jaw tightened until the muscles visibly bulged beneath his skin. He finally turned away from the corpses.
"Half of you establish camp. The rest form hunting parties."
His eyes swept across the surrounding forest.
"I don’t care whether it walks, crawls or flies. Kill every animal you find. We replace our supplies ourselves."
Nobody questioned the order.
Within seconds, the enormous column split apart with practiced efficiency. Warriors immediately began clearing ground for tents while others disappeared into the forest carrying bows, spears and traps.
Grash, however, continued deeper into the southern region accompanied by only five riders.
"Ooh, shit..."
A massive goblin scratched beneath the enormous wolf pelt draped over his broad shoulders.
Standing nearly five and a half feet tall, Brox looked less like a goblin and more like a boulder that had somehow grown limbs. His chest was absurdly wide, his belly thick with muscle rather than fat and his short arms possessed enough bulk to rival tree trunks. A long white beard reached almost to his waist while the severed wolf’s head rested atop his own like an intimidating hood.
"Chief’s really pissed now."
"Obviously."
Riding beside him was Poh, a goblin barely four feet tall whose unusually long limbs made him resemble an oversized forest monkey.
"Even the Gnolls haven’t killed this many of our people. It’s only natural."
"Oh, both of you shut up. Chief deserves time to mourn."
Lucy sighed loudly from atop her striped boar.
Unlike the rough appearance of most female goblins, she wore carefully stitched animal skin clothing that wrapped around her waist and chest without restricting movement. Bone charms decorated both wrists while several more hung around her neck, softly clattering together whenever her mount moved. Her short bowl cut framed sharp eyes that constantly observed everything around them.
Tal merely laughed.
He appeared noticeably younger than the others, possessing short black hair, pointed ears and an athletic frame that made him look more like an adventurous youth than an experienced warrior.
"Relax. I’m sure Chief doesn’t mind."
Several meters behind the group rode the final member.
Rudor.
Unlike everyone else, nearly his entire body remained concealed beneath a crimson cloak whose hood completely obscured his face.
Only two blood red eyes remained visible beneath its shadow. Every breath emerging from beneath the hood produced an unsettling rasp that sounded almost painful to listen to yet nobody commented on it.
Even Brox kept unusually quiet whenever Rudor was nearby.
Having served beside Grash longer than anyone present, Rudor understood that silence like this only appeared when their chief’s anger had reached its deepest point.
Nothing except blood would satisfy him now.
The small group continued riding quietly beneath the forest canopy then Grash suddenly pulled sharply on the reins. His enormous boar skidded several feet before stopping completely.
Every rider halted immediately behind him and silence descended.
Grash slowly turned his head and his nostrils flared once. His crimson eyes settled upon one particularly dense section of woodland several dozen meters away.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled into something between a sneer and a growl.
"I smell a damn rat."
The words dripped with contempt, disgust and hatred.
His gaze never wavered from the thick vegetation where a kobold scout lay perfectly concealed beneath carefully arranged branches and leaves, every muscle in his bodies frozen as cold sweat silently rolled beneath his scales.