Astegur slammed the sharp edge of his axe into the goblin’s skull. Blood gushed up and over the weathered metal of his weapon before he dislodged it from the goblin’s body and let the blood spray across the clearing. Now that the last of them were dead, and the broken bodies at his hooves no longer twitched, he flicked his weapon clean. The mist cavorted and danced over the gore as it feasted.
He had been tracking this group of goblins for miles, hoping they would bring him closer to their leader, but this group no longer belonged to a tribe according to the dead goblin he just killed. This wasn’t the first band of goblins he’d felled, nor his second. They were scampering about, lost and scattered all along the barrier lands.
Astegur turned back to the defeated and looted what he could from their corpses: minerals, herbs, and other such trinkets. Nothing could be wasted, not in a place like this.
A trinket burned him and he cursed, letting it drop to the ground. He wiped his sweaty palm over his chest until the ache went away.
One of the fallen hobgoblins caught his eye. Astegur walked over to the corpse. He reached the dead husk and pulled open the satchel at its side. Several vials fell out. He sifted through them, picked one up, and uncorked it, sniffing its contents.
Blimwort and orc blood filled his nose, along with Enios water and…pure human blood? His eyes widened and he gripped his axe handle tighter. There was no allegiance between his brothers and the hobgoblins that ran rampant over the southern lands, but if they were aligned with the orcs and the orcs had enough access to human blood that they traded it with the goblins…
He needed to tell his brothers.
Trouble was brewing in the land they sought to claim.
Learning the news of Burlox’s fall had been a setback. With it now gone, there was only one other area that sacrifices now came from.
Thetras.
The very spot the Bathyr had their eyes on to rule. With the loss of Burlox, southern tribes had lost their supply of humans, leaving Thetras the next closest place to procure them regularly.
We did not come to these lands to serve a lesser power. The Enios centaurs ruled the South. Smoke leaked from his nostrils.They will move north to claim Thetras. He had already encountered several warbands moving upward for that exact reason.
Astegur corked the vial and placed it back into the satchel with the others before he took the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
He left the bloodstained clearing without looking back. If the orcs and goblins were truly aligned, that did not bode well for him. It didn’t bode well for anyone. If they aligned, it would be harder for him and his brothers to kill them, to conquer this land.
It appeared that more than one faction played for the sacrificial zones on the western borders of Savadon. War was imminent.
A drum sounded in the distance and his lips twisted into a sneer. He quieted his steps and ignored it although the weight of his battleaxe urged him to turn back and wet it with gore once again.
It was near dusk when he came upon the cliffs at the edge of the labyrinth walls. The same cliffs that overlooked the swamps and the wetlands between the walls and the mountains where his tribe staked their claim to the north and west. Where his brother Vedikus prowled.
If he listened closely he could hear the rushing water far down below where the waterways of the Enios sea became the wetlands.
He turned away from the endless haze and jumped down to a lower ledge of the cliff. He found the crevice that hid his camp along the rocky wall and slid into it. When he was well within the shallow cave, he pulled out a piece of blisterbark and blew on it, sparking it with his breath alone.
The cave, his belongings, and the firepit emerged within the weak light.
With a flick of his tail and a grunt, he set the blisterbark in the middle of the firepit and added several larger pieces to it that he had stored off to the side earlier. The cave was barely big enough to accommodate him standing, let alone him lying down, but it had been his home for the past several weeks.
From here, he could hear the call go out when Thetras made a sacrifice. He could hear creatures pass by above him. The cave kept him hidden and protected while he rested and that was all that mattered.
The smoke from the fire quickly rose to the top of the cave and gathered around his head. Now and then a surge of wind from the outside would blow through and clear it out.
He shucked off the goblin satchel and added it to the other items he had pilfered over the previous weeks. He made room for himself next to the flames and pulled out his bone bowl from his stash. With water from a separate pouch, he put the bowl over the flames and made a meal of barghest meat and roots. The sustenance calmed his bloodlust, the meat replenished his strength, and the smoke from the fire filled his pores. It began to rain outside and the fall of water filled his ears.
Astegur leaned back against the jagged cave wall and placed his axe upon his lap, ready for battle, even in rest.
A heaviness settled over him. He pushed the memories of the day to the back of his skull. The crackle of burning bark soothed like a midnight melody in his head.
His eyes had just begun to lower when a blast of magic slammed into his skull, disturbing his rest.
“Come to me,” a hushed feminine voice beckoned.
He tensed and straightened, not quite certain if he had heard the voice at all.
“Come to me.”
