LITTLE THINGS - Chapter 4

The next few days were relatively uneventful.

The guard rotation remained unusually active, but now they had something to do. After her dad reported the attack, Mayor Thorndyke looked almost pleased. It wasn’t an expression Amelia was used to seeing on him, since he usually looked angry whenever she was around. But he was all too happy to be able to make all the soldiers milling around actually do something, even as he kept arguing with Captain Gerry over this or that.

Amy hardly paid attention to that, though. After a couple days--after Dad was willing to let her out of his sight again--and no goblin camp was discovered, Amy started feeling…

Annoyed.

Annoyed at herself. Dad said that a single goblin was no danger, and yet she had walked in on one, armed while the goblin was not, and had still come away the worse for the encounter. If Dad hadn’t shown up when he did, who knew what could have happened?

Well, she knew what was going to happen next time. She wasn’t going to let a lousy twig of a monster like that one get the jump on her ever again. So while Dad was lending his tracking skills to the soldiers in the forest, she was at Madam Rosie’s, studying.

Oakwood didn’t have a library, so most of the books in town could be found at Rosie’s clinic. She traveled a lot when she was younger, and collected books where she could. Some of them she even wrote herself. She had written field guides on herbs and their healing properties, lists of common and exotic animals and how best to treat injuries they cause, primers on surgery and all the ways she’d seen fool doctors mess up; that last one was especially fascinating, if nauseating. The book Amy wanted today, however, was Rosie’s old monster manual.

Rosie walked back in from her backroom and dropped the worn-out journal on the table in front of her. Amelia took the seat across from here.

“Thank you for letting me look at it,” Amy said. “I know it’s important to you.”

“Oh, pish posh.” Rosie waved it off. “What did I write all this down for if not for young’uns like yourself?”

The elderly elf blew a layer of dust off the book that set Amy coughing. Under all that dust was a dull red cover. Gold lettering, still as vibrant as the day it was made, proudly declared that this was the Rosalyn Nettle’s Guide to Beasts.

Rosie looked it over with a frown. “Has it really been so long since I cracked this open?” she mused quietly. She opened it carefully, and the spine creaked. “It seems so.” She turned it around and passed it to Amy, who took it eagerly. “Be gentle with it, Miss Scourier.”

Amy grimaced at the use of her last name, but didn’t bother to correct it. Instead she focused on the guide. “Hey, I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Do anything for a hundred years and you’ll get decent at it,” Rosie said dismissively. “That’s not the first version of my manual, you know. The first few got destroyed in battle. Version Two saved my life, actually--I was keeping it in a breast pocket and it stopped three different arrows from reaching my ribs!”

It was hard to believe, looking at her. Madam Rosie acted like she was Oakwood’s doting grandmother. When she wasn’t treating injuries she was baking, watering flowers around town, giving sweets to children when their parents weren’t watching, and yes, lending out her books to anyone who wanted to read. She was hunched with age and her hair was so white it was almost blue. But she never used a cane, and the other elders always deferred to her when she spoke at town meetings.

Madam Rosie called it a monster manual, but in truth it was her journal, filled with the notes and musings of a seasoned adventurer. Not every adventurer chronicled their journeys, but according to the few wanderers to pass this far east, an adventurer’s journal was invaluable. It was the wisdom of their forebears, after all. Lisiin was a dangerous place outside the cities and well-trod roads, and the more advice newbies received, the more likely they were to survive to teach the next batch. Even short and unfinished journals by fools whose adventures ended too soon could be used as an example of what not to do. Monster manual, adventure guide, whatever people called them, they were highly sought after.

Rosie’s journal was thick enough to use as a doorstop. She lived long enough to retire, and she did that while being a healer. It was honestly incredible, even Amy had a hard time connecting the young and boisterous woman speaking to her from the pages with the nice old lady sitting across from her.

…was a hell of a day. Boris walked off road and tripped over a troll nest. I’ve never seen a baby troll before, and I hope I never do again, because Momma Troll didn’t like us being near them. The ugly beast had a hide made of stone worn smooth like a river rock, and Jolson’s sword broke against it. Arrows did nothing but anger it more. Boris had better luck with his axe, especially after he discovered the joints were softer than the rest of its skin. As always, I ended up being the one to save the day by casting a spell to put the Beast to sleep. Jolson talked us out of killing the beast, not willing to leave the baby motherless. Frankly I would have killed the whelp too. One less Troll in the world. But instead, damn his bleeding heart, we ended up carrying the 800 pound Monster and its child a mile away from the road. Hopefully it won’t decide to wander back…

“Huh. Baby trolls are kind of cute,” Amy said, smiling at the picture accompanying the story. It looked like an unfinished statue of a very chubby baby.

Rosie leaned forward to glance at the relevant passage and made a sad sound. “Ah, yes, well. I’m glad Jolson talked me out of it.”

Amy flipped through the Guide, occasionally stopping to marvel at the sketches or read an interesting anecdote. The door to the clinic opened at some point and Rosie left to see to a patient.

The entry on goblins ended up being towards the front of the book. The picture in the book was a lot uglier than the one that broke into her home. The uncolored image didn’t show off its green skin, but it had long pointy ears like a parody of an elf’s, and Amy caught herself rubbing hers unconsciously. It sneered at her from the page over a hooked nose and snarled with a mouth full of sharp teeth. It was also severely underdressed.

Amy immediately covered the picture with one hand as soon as she noticed it. “Madam Rosie~!” she whined as Madam walked back in. “Did you have to be so… accurate?”

The old woman burst out laughing. “Hm, yes, that loincloth doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?” At Amy’s sour look she cackled even harder. “I had to see so many half-naked goblins in my time, it’s only fair I inflict it on everyone else!”

Amy rolled her eyes, ignoring the embarrassment heating her cheeks. “I’m glad the potato thief knew how to cover up…”

“Lucky you,” Rosie teased. “Now,” she said as she sat down again, looking serious. “Thank you for reminding me that it was your home that the goblin broke into, because this is the part where I ask you what you plan on doing with this information.” She tapped one nail on the top of the page and stared Amelia down.

Amy met her gaze for as long as she could. This ended up not being very long, and she looked down at the book to pull it towards herself.

Goblins are primitive creatures and a hallmark of any starting adventure. As scavengers, the little monsters continually creep closer to civilization no matter how many times they get driven back.

Rosie pulled the book away. “Miss Scourier, I already know what you’re planning to do. But I want to hear you say it.”

“I want…”

“Yes?”

A single goblin can be driven off by an armed and sufficiently determined child, but there’s never just a single goblin. Breaking up goblin camps is a frequent and recurring task given to starting-out adventuring groups of as few as three. Goblin strongholds, however, can require entire guilds to mobilize.

“I wasn’t able to do anything, and it’s my fault he came to town in the first place.”

Rosie leaned back and looked at her expectantly.

Goblins are Monsters, but multiple encounters over the years have led me to believe that they could be more if they tried. It’s despicable is what it is. They could create and build but they choose to destroy and steal the creations of others. As they are now, no matter where they go, they’re hated and unwanted.

Amy reread the last sentence, then closed her eyes and sighed. When she looked up again Rosie smiled.

“Do you have an answer for me, Miss Scourier?”

Amy hesitated. “I w-want… I just want--”

The door to the clinic slammed open, and a lot of people started shouting. In one case, screaming.

Rosie was up in an instant, and Amelia slumped in relief at dodging the question. Then, because she still wanted to know what was happening, she tucked the Guide under her arm and followed the old woman into the main room.

Waiting for them were a group of soldiers. Captain Gerry was there with one of his lieutenants, and the two of them were holding back a dwarf with the two swords of a corporal on his arm.

The dwarf was being suspended off the ground by the two humans, but he was still managing to pull against their grip with intimidating force. He thrashed madly, yelling in their rough tongue and grasping for weapons he didn’t have anymore. Every few seconds he broke off into subdued whimpers before screaming again and thrashing with new strength. His eyes were madly staring off in different directions, focusing on things that weren’t there.

“Madam Rosie!” Gerry shouted over the dwarf’s screaming. “We need help!”

Rosie took the scene in for just a moment, then extended two fingers and moved in. Green light surrounded the tips of her fingers, and she poked the afflicted in the forehead.

The dwarf immediately froze with a choked sound. He sagged in the officers’ grip and they set him down gently on the floor.

“I wasn’t sure how much longer we could hold him,” the lieutenant admitted.

“What happened?” Rosie asked, slowly sitting down on the floor next to him.

Gerry shivered. “Demons. At least twenty of them. Mostly imps led by a couple druden.”

Rosie hissed. “I thought all the Pitmouths were closed. Help me get his breastplate off.”

Gerry joined her on the floor and rolled him over to undo the straps. “I did too, but the Deadlands are big. It’s not impossible that one was missed.” He pulled the chestpiece off, then the chainmail underneath so that only his undershirt was left. Once that final layer was unbuttoned, they all winced at the bloody lines criss-crossing his skin.

“Oh my,” the healer murmured. “Oh my oh my…”

“Wait,” Amy said. Captain Gerry looked at her like he hadn’t noticed her yet. “H-How is he hurt? His armor wasn’t touched.”

The captain shook his head. “They--”

“Page one sixty-five,” Rosie interrupted. “Gerry, you and the other one hold his shoulders. He’s going to struggle in a second.”

While the adults dealt with the patient, Amy flipped through the Guide again. Not every page was numbered, since it was hand-written, but enough were that it wasn’t hard to find what she was looking for.

The page in question was much more clinical than what she’d read so far, with fewer anecdotes.

Demons

The more prominent native inhabitants of the Blasted Pits. Demons come in almost as many different shapes as wraiths, but are far more dangerous. In fact, demons are among the only creatures that pose a significant threat to wraiths, along with everything else. Normally trapped in their home plane, demons can find their way to our world in multiple ways, but most commonly by foolish wizards who underestimate the danger.

Amy read ahead past the introduction and flipped to the next page, and almost dropped the book. On page 166 a hideous drawing snarled at her, with curling horns and tattered wings and wickedly serrated claws. The caption labeled it a ‘wrath devil.’

…imps are the weakest type of demon, but they can still pose a danger to the unprepared due to a trait they share with, ironically, the upper echelons of demonkind. An imp’s claws, as described by my colleague and distinguished mage Ronivale, are “selectively real.” He describes them as being able to partially phase back to the Blasted Pits while also remaining on Tarnim. In practice, this means that an imp can attack an armored man as if he is naked, completely ignoring anything between claw and flesh. Only cold iron is able to provide any form of protection.

Amy blinked, then looked at the dwarf’s chest again. The poor soldier’s wounds weren’t very deep or wide, but there were an awful lot of them.

“Wow… how do you fight those things?”

“Normally,” the lieutenant answered, “we don’t. Demons are almost unheard of out here. Otherwise, well. Only the claws are able to do that. The rest of the imp is still solid, so just fight it like anything else.”

“Arn got swarmed,” Gerry grunted. “We could have taken care of it, but--”

“Get ready!” Rosie said suddenly, and that was all the warning they got.

She pressed her hand against Arn’s chest, and pulled. A hateful red light appeared under her hand, and the dwarf surged to life once again.

He kicked and thrashed and fought, and Amy backed away with wide eyes. Was it getting warm?

The soldiers pressed down on his shoulders as instructed, putting all their weight into holding him down, while Rosie pulled on that glowing red ball that didn’t want to let go of his chest.

“You… you…” The dwarf rasped, voice raw from screaming.

“Don’t listen to it,” Rosie ordered.

“You… You worthless pyrite. Where do you get off, captain? I’ve been a soldier since before you were born and I’ll keep going til after you’re gone, and you think you have a right to order me around?!”

Gerald’s mustache twitched as he bristled, but he didn’t respond. So the demon turned to the Lieutenant.

“Frank… You’re the worst swordsman I’ve ever seen. And my nephew could make a better sword than that metal club you swing around.”

The lieutenant scowled but kept quiet.

“...Also,” the demon said, grinning through the dwarf’s beard. “Remember when you got all sad and mopey because your girl back home’s letter didn’t come?”

“Don’t listen to it!”

“It did come, actually. Murray got nosy and read it behind your back, then decided to hide it from you when it turned out she married someone else--”

“He what?!” Frank snarled, outraged. “She what?!”

The demon laughed hatefully. But then Rosie cut it off by finally wresting it out of the corporal’s chest and threw the ball of light against the wall.

With a pop the ball coalesced into a tiny, ugly imp, a foot-tall humanoid with violently red skin and little wings that couldn’t possibly get it off the ground. But they did, when it got to its three-toed feet and tried to make a run for it.

Amy surprised herself by pulling out her bow and readying an arrow, but before she could finish and let it fly, Rosie pointed at the imp and barked a single word.

The imp burst into golden flames, falling to the ground with a shriek. In less than a second only ash remained.

The clinic fell silent.

The dwarf took deep, haggard breaths. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around confusedly. “Wh… wha happened? How’d I get ‘ere?”

Frank stood and punched the wall before walking out.

“What’s wi’ him?”

“Go back to sleep, Arn,” Gerry said, looking exhausted. “We won the battle by the way.”

“The battle? Whu battle? Woodland Tower hasn’t been attacked in… wait, no… there were… demons and… lotta imps… oh, no.”

“That’s enough,” Rosie said, and sent him back to sleep. “Help me up, dear.” Amy let the old elf use her arm to pull herself up, and afterwards Rosie dusted her hands. “I’m getting too old for this kind of excitement.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, Madam,” Gerry said sincerely. “Have you given any thought to an apprentice? We can always use more healers.”

He gave Amy a look as he said it, but Rosie shook her head. “I’m afraid no one in Oakwood has the gift. Except for the Vinlan lad, but he’s still too young to start lessons.”

“Shame.” The Captain groaned. “Now I have to make sure Frank doesn’t kill a fellow soldier… it’s been a disastrous few weeks. Demons!”

“I can imagine.”

“Did you say it was harder than it should have been?” Amy asked quietly. “It sounded like you were about to, but--”

“No, you’re not wrong,” he agreed. “Twenty imps should be annoying but not a danger to the Wall. Even the druden would have been manageable, if we were all well-rested. But Thorndyke keeps pulling more and more soldiers from the Wall to hunt his imaginary goblins and we’re getting spread too thin.”

“Imaginary?!” Amy protested. “It wasn’t made-up, I--”

“I believe you saw a goblin, Amelia,” Gerry said, raising his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean to imply the opposite. But it’s been five days scouring the woods and no one’s reported even a sniff of goblin activity. I’m thinking your invader might have been a forward scout, or possibly even a lone wanderer. But the Mayor refuses to let us stop until we find and destroy a camp.”

Rosie clicked her teeth. “Remind me again why you listen to him?” she asked. “Sjin’s never swung a sword in his life. It baffles me that he has any authority over the Wall.”

The captain shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. But he’s the highest civic authority in the closest town to the Wall, and apparently that means I have to do what he says. At least until the message I sent to the Colonel returns. Hopefully that will give me the authority to ignore him.”

“Bah. It was better when Sycal was in charge. He knew to let the soldiers do their job.”

“As you say, I never met him.” Gerry shook his head. “Take care of Arn, would you? I’ll send someone down with your payment tomorrow. I have to catch up to Franklin before he does something he regrets.”

“Of course, dear.”

The captain left at a fast walk, leaving Rosie and Amy alone with the sleeping dwarf. They looked down at the patient.

Rosie sighed. “Would you be a dear and--yes, thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Amy said with a strained voice as she hauled Arn to his feet. Dwarfs were heavy.

----------------

After they got him situated in a cot, Amy had some time to think.

So… the soldiers were having problems because the mayor was scared of goblins. They couldn’t find any, and he didn’t believe they weren’t there. That was how she understood things.

It sounded to her like if someone found the potato thief again, then everything would go back to normal. There would probably be a reward for it. People would be grateful.

Amy left the clinic to make some preparations. Hopefully Madam Rosie wouldn’t mind if she borrowed the Guide for a while longer.