God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

Grash, his commanders and roughly half of the remaining army stayed outside the cave entrance, listening to the cries coming from within. The sounds carried surprisingly well through the stone, sometimes arriving as distant screams and sometimes as frantic shouts that suddenly ended without warning.

Every soldier standing nearby heard them. Some shifted uneasily on their mounts, others tightened their grips around their weapons, and a few repeatedly glanced toward the cave entrance as if expecting something terrible to crawl back out.

Grash noticed all of it, but he gave them no attention. His eyes remained fixed on the darkness ahead. He had known from the beginning that there would be casualties. Invading a cave occupied by another race was never going to be clean, especially when the defenders had the advantage of knowing every passage and corner.

The first wave had never been intended to win. Their purpose was to determine which tunnel led toward the kobold living quarters, and fifty goblins were a price Grash had already accepted before they entered.

Still, thirty minutes was a long time to listen to your soldiers die.

Grash’s fingers slowly tightened around the reins of his tiger striped boar as another distant scream echoed from the cave before fading into silence. His expression remained unchanged, but Rudor, who was riding nearby, noticed the slight narrowing of his eyes. Grash had expected resistance. What he had not expected was for the first wave to take this long to identify the correct route.

If they had failed to find the living quarters, Grash would have been forced to send another group inside, and another after that until the entire cave had been mapped out through blood.

Fortunately, he did not have to make that decision. Two goblins suddenly emerged from the darkness.

Two of them practically fell out of the entrance, their bodies bruised and filthy, their clothes torn and their faces covered in dust and blood. One collapsed immediately onto his hands and knees while the other stumbled several steps before dropping onto his side. Their chests heaved violently as they fought for breath, and for several seconds neither seemed capable of speaking.

The soldiers closest to them immediately rushed forward, grabbing their arms and pulling them away from the entrance while others crouched around them.

"What happened?" one soldier demanded. "Which tunnel?"

The goblin lying on the ground swallowed several times before finally managing to raise a trembling hand toward the cave.

"The fourth tunnel," he gasped. "That’s the way."

The soldiers immediately looked toward Grash.

The chieftain stared at the two survivors for a few moments before giving a simple nod. That was all the confirmation he needed. Their faces told him enough about what had happened inside. Whatever awaited them in the fourth tunnel had already slaughtered most of the first wave, but at least the sacrifice had produced something valuable.

Grash’s eyes hardened as he looked toward the cave.

"It’s our turn."

The words were quiet, yet the effect was immediate.

The goblins around him straightened their backs. Fear remained, but it was buried beneath something stronger now. Their first comrades had entered the cave as scouts. Their deaths had revealed the path, and now the real army was going inside. There would be no more wandering blindly through different tunnels.

Grash swung himself from the back of his tiger striped boar, landing heavily on the ground. Rudor, Lucy and Brox dismounted immediately afterward, followed by the remaining fifteen or so hobgoblin riders accompanying the chieftain. The mounts were valuable, but they were useless inside the cave, and trying to force them through the narrow tunnels would only slow the army down.

With a simple gesture from Grash, several goblins stepped forward and led the mounts toward nearby trees. They tied the animals securely before returning to the formation, while the rest of the army rearranged itself around their commanders. Grash waited until everyone was ready before raising his hand and then lowered it.

The army moved.

Grash and his commanders entered first, followed closely by the fifty or so goblins selected for the assault. The cave swallowed them quickly, and within moments the bright daylight behind them had become nothing more than a distant glow. They proceeded through the familiar entrance chamber until they reached the large opening where the six tunnels branched away from one another.

The entire group slowed as silence descended over the chamber.

There was something deeply unsettling about standing in the same place where fifty of their comrades had entered only thirty minutes earlier. The first wave had stormed through this exact chamber with weapons raised and confidence in their hearts. Now not a single one had returned except two survivors who had barely been able to walk.

The six tunnels stared back at them like six open mouths. Several goblins instinctively tightened their grips around their spears. One looked toward the darkness behind him before quickly turning away.

They were terrified.

Grash understood the feeling. Even though he had fought countless battles, there was something different about entering an enemy’s home. Outside, an army could spread across open ground, maneuver around its enemies and exploit numbers. Inside a cave, the stone itself became another weapon. Every corner could conceal an enemy. Every narrow passage could become a killing ground and every sound could be misleading.

Grash did not allow himself to hesitate. He stepped forward without hesitation. Brox, Lucy and Rudor followed beside him, and the commanders’ calm movements gradually restored the confidence of the soldiers behind them.

If their chieftain could walk into the darkness without fear, then surely there was nothing to be afraid of. It was a simple thought, but armies often survived on such things. Courage was contagious, and so was fear.

They entered the fourth tunnel.

The passage immediately became narrower, forcing the goblins to reduce their formation as they advanced. Their footsteps echoed against the stone while the torches they carried cast restless shadows along the walls. Grash kept his attention moving constantly, examining the ground, the walls and the ceiling. The deaths of the first wave had taught him that the kobolds had prepared this place carefully, and he had no intention of allowing his soldiers to die needlessly.

Eventually, they reached the narrow passage and Grash stopped.

Ahead, the tunnel had been reduced to a thin path with deep pits on either side. Wooden stakes covered the bottoms, and several goblin corpses remained impaled among them. Their blood had dried across the sharpened wood and stone, while discarded armor lay scattered near the entrance to the passage.

Grash’s eyes immediately moved toward the armor. All was abandoned before the soldiers had attempted to cross.

Rudor walked closer and studied the arrangement before looking toward Grash with narrowed eyes. "This place was specifically made to disarm our soldiers."

Grash slowly nodded.

There was little doubt about it. The kobolds had understood that armored goblins would have difficulty crossing the narrow passage without losing their balance, and the fear of falling onto the spikes would naturally encourage them to remove their equipment. Once they did, they would emerge on the other side without the protection they needed for the next stage of the battle.

It was clever.

Grash crouched and mana immediately began gathering at the tip of his index finger, forming a faint blue glow. He pressed the glowing fingertip against the earth and began carving a rune directly into the ground. The surrounding goblins watched silently as the final line was completed.

"Earth Magic: Shifting Earth!"

Buzz!

The rune flashed and the earth beneath the passage suddenly moved.

A thin layer of soil rolled across the pits like liquid before rapidly hardening into a solid bridge. The wooden stakes disappeared beneath several inches of compacted earth, leaving behind a sturdy path wide enough for the army to cross without having to sacrifice their armor.

Grash rose to his feet and stepped onto the newly formed path. His commanders followed while the army crossed behind them, and nobody needed to remove their armor.

Once they passed the trap, the tunnel widened again. The relief lasted only a few moments.

Five bodies were scattered across the ground ahead.

One had been torn apart by an explosion, leaving pieces of his body spread across the stone. Another had been impaled by a cluster of earth spikes. A third was blackened and twisted from what appeared to be an electrical discharge, while the remaining corpses showed injuries caused by different forms of magic. The air carried the unpleasant smell of burnt flesh.

Rudor crouched beside one of the bodies and examined the ground.

"Arrays," he muttered.

Grash did not answer. He had already reached the same conclusion.

They continued.

The farther they went, the more deliberate the tunnel became. The passage twisted unnecessarily, forcing the army to make turn after turn before gradually narrowing again. The walls began closing around them until the space became just wide enough for roughly five goblins to stand shoulder to shoulder.

Grash stopped and his eyes moved across the walls before shifting toward the ceiling then back toward the darkness ahead.

His instincts were screaming at him this was too convenient. The fourth tunnel had been designed to funnel them toward something.

Grash slowly raised his hand.

"Infantry, move up. Shield wall."

The order traveled backward through the formation.

The goblins immediately began moving ahead and shields were raised. Spears were positioned through the gaps as soldiers gradually formed a compact wall that filled the tunnel, while the ranged fighters moved behind them. Bows were drawn, arrows nocked and held ready. Grash remained behind the formation with Rudor, Lucy and Brox, watching the soldiers advance into the darkness.

Brox glanced toward the shadows ahead.

"They are close?"

Grash nodded firmly.

"Very."

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The sound of dozens of armored feet striking stone echoed throughout the passage as the goblin army advanced in formation. The shield bearers kept their weapons steady, refusing to allow the confined space to disrupt their arrangement. Behind them, the archers followed closely, their bows already drawn enough to release at a moment’s notice.

Grash followed from the rear.

Finally, the darkness ahead opened into a larger section of the passage.

The first goblin stepped around the corner and his expression immediately changed.

A shield wall stood directly ahead. Dozens of kobolds occupied the passage, their shields overlapping into a solid barrier while spears extended through the gaps. Behind them were ranged fighters with slings and stones ready, and behind those soldiers stood the remaining kobolds, waiting for the battle to begin.

The goblin army halted.

The sudden stop traveled backward through the formation as soldiers collided with the backs of those in front of them. A few raised their weapons instinctively while others stared at the kobold formation with expressions of disbelief.

The kobolds had been waiting.

Ka’z stood behind his soldiers, his spear held loosely in one hand. He had been expecting them.

Then Ka’z saw the figure standing behind the goblin shield wall and he world seemed to narrow.

Grash.

The goblin chieftain stood several dozen feet away, surrounded by his commanders. His eyes moved across the kobold formation before finally settling directly on Ka’z.

For several seconds, neither moved or spoke. Then Ka’z’s eyes slowly began turning crimson as murderous intent gathered around him.

"You bastard!"

Ka’z hissed, his voice low enough that only those closest to him could hear it. His fingers tightened around his spear until his knuckles strained beneath his scales. Then his lips pulled back into a grim expression as he stared directly at the goblin chieftain.

"We meet again!"