Chapter 77: Grash’s Army Arrives
The Ashmork army reached the foot of the hill beneath the cold morning sky, and Grash rode at the center of the formation with his eyes fixed upon the slope ahead.
Tud’or had forced him to acknowledge something he had spent his entire life refusing to accept. These kobolds were not simply another weak lower race that could be crushed whenever the Ashmork Clan desired. They had produced warriors capable of threatening him, and if the kobolds were allowed to recover from yesterday’s losses, they could become an even greater problem.
That was why Grash had refused to wait.
His army had abandoned the previous campsite and relocated much closer to the kobold colony’s entrance. He didn’t want the distance between them to give the Vaal’kor enough time to recover or escape.
The hundred goblins accompanying him were already beginning to spread out as they reached the base of the hill. More than seventy were foot soldiers, fifty of them equipped for close combat while another twenty carried bows, darts and slings. Fifteen Tiger Boar riders remained mounted, their enormous beasts snorting and pawing at the ground as if they could already smell the blood waiting above them. The final five were shamans dressed in the same red cloaks worn by Rudor, their faces partially concealed as they carried the tools and charms necessary for their magic.
"Set up camp here and send scouts to map the terrain." Grash ordered, his voice carrying across the formation.
The goblins immediately began moving. Tents were unloaded, mounts were guided toward a safer patch of ground and several soldiers started clearing areas where the army could establish defensive positions. Others prepared to move up the hill and examine the surrounding terrain.
Lucy, Brox and Rudor rode toward Grash, but the expressions on their faces were anything but relaxed. Their chief had been injured yesterday, and although he had magic to recover emarkably quickly, the three of them understood better than most what that recovery had cost him.
"Chief, don’t you think you’re putting a bit too much strain on yourself?" Lucy asked, her voice carrying genuine concern.
Rudor nodded. "Chief, despite being fully healed, the healing drained your stamina. You should be resting."
Grash didn’t even look at them. His gaze remained fixed on the hill and the distant cave entrance hidden among the vegetation.
Grash finally raised his chin.
"Rudor, come with me with your best men." He said before turning his Tiger Boar toward the cave.
Rudor released a defeated sigh. He already knew arguing would accomplish nothing.
"Understood."
He quickly selected ten soldiers from the nearby formation, choosing seven close combatants and three marksmen to accompany them. Once everyone was prepared, the small group moved after Grash, leaving the main army behind as they approached the colony.
Rudor eventually rode closer to his chief, his eyes constantly moving across the trees and surrounding rocks. The previous day’s battle had taught him not to underestimate the kobolds, particularly after witnessing their willingness to fight against an enemy considerably stronger than themselves.
"Chief, they may lay an ambush now in revenge. Withdraw behind our soldiers." Rudor advised.
Grash shrugged as though the suggestion barely deserved consideration.
"Kobolds are cowards. After losing their mightiest warrior yesterday, they are more likely to stay hidden inside their little cave than lay an ambush."
Rudor frowned but didn’t argue. The statement was difficult to dismiss when considering the condition of the kobold colony after yesterday’s battle. Still, his instincts remained uneasy.
Even now, Rudor wasn’t particularly eager to approach the enemy’s territory. If the kobolds had somehow managed to hide another warrior like Tud’or, he would rather discover it from a safe distance.
"So what are we here for exactly?" Rudor asked.
Grash didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he suddenly raised one hand.
"Quiet."
The entire group stopped.
Grash slowly dismounted from his Tiger Boar and allowed the reins to hang loosely from his hand. His eyes moved toward the enormous cave entrance several dozen meters ahead. Vines had grown across portions of the rocky opening, while flowers and other vegetation surrounded the entrance, making the place appear strangely peaceful after the slaughter that had taken place there only yesterday.
Nothing seemed out of place. That was precisely what bothered Grash.
He lowered his gaze.
The earth appeared untouched. There were no obvious footprints, no blood trails and no disturbances that suggested the kobolds had made preparations around their entrance.
Grash crouched slightly, studying the ground.
"Make brooms from twigs. Sweep the surface." He ordered.
The goblins immediately understood.
Three of the seven selected soldiers dropped their weapons and began gathering branches and thin twigs from the surrounding vegetation. They quickly bound them together into crude brooms before returning to the area around Grash.
Then they began sweeping.
At first, Rudor and the others simply watched in confusion. The action seemed almost ridiculous after the battle they had fought yesterday. They had expected Grash to order an assault, perhaps even a magical attack against the cave entrance. Instead, their chief had brought them here to sweep dirt.
Then one of the soldiers suddenly stopped. His crude broom had pushed away a thin layer of soil, exposing a faint line beneath it.
The expression on his face changed so quickly that Rudor immediately became alert. The other two soldiers continued sweeping, and within moments, more markings began appearing across the ground.
Rudor’s eyes widened.
"Arrays!" he gasped.
The word immediately caused the others to stiffen.
The soldiers stopped sweeping, suddenly afraid that even touching the ground might trigger whatever had been buried beneath it. One of the marksmen instinctively stepped backward while another tightened his grip around his bow.
Grash remained completely still. His eyes slowly followed the exposed markings.
He didn’t need Rudor to explain what he was looking at. He understood enough about arrays to recognize the danger, and more importantly, he understood exactly who might have created them.
Outside of Tud’or, there was only one kobold who had ever given Grash that particular feeling of unease.
The child.
The strange young kobold teenager who had spoken words of power with an ease that had made Grash’s instincts scream. He had watched the child use magic as naturally as breathing, displaying a familiarity with power that didn’t belong to someone of his age.
Grash’s gaze slowly moved across the ground, following the partially revealed patterns toward the cave entrance.
His lips curled.
"That little brat is still alive." Grash said, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.