Forging the Half-Goblin Sorcerer Page 12
In midwinter, a messenger arrives from the palace saying that the king wants to present a key supporter with a distinctive steel sword. Trak brings samples of his most recent work to the king’s audience chamber. The king steps forward and selects a deadly looking broad sword, fitted with an ornate bronze hand guard. It is the first time he has seen the Dragon Fire pattern and is enthralled by how the torch light in the chamber playfully flickers off the blade and animates its surface. “This will do nicely. With swords like this, your plan to finance iron production will succeed.”
The king has the weapons cleared from the room, but invites Trak to remain by his side as a large crowd of nobles is ushered into the chamber. Krage is among those admitted. The king begins, “We have asked you here so that we might honor one of our leaders for his service to the kingdom.” He bids the head of the secret police to step forward. Lord Lizardthroat walks to the front, bows and turns to face his peers. “Lord Lizardthroat has brought new intelligence on the activities of the men in the south. His informants confirm that King Red intends to invade our southern border as soon as the winter has lifted. Thanks to Lord Lizardthroat, we will be ready. He will command a force that will be joined by the Duke of Uisgebeatha’s forces to secretly reinforce the border. They will catch the invaders off guard and eliminate the threat before the kingdom is seriously threatened.”
“As you know, we have been greatly concerned about the new iron weapons the enemy introduced during the last war. We are pleased to announce to you that we now have iron weapons of our own. As a result of Lord Lizardthroat’s financial support, his Blue Daggers will be armed with a thousand steal swords.” An attendant brings forward the box that contains “The First.” The king removes the sword and holds it up to view. Before passing the sword into the crowd for inspection, he proclaims, “It goes without saying that all you hear today is a state secret. No word of our plans or of our new capability is to be discussed outside this room.”
After the commotion produced by the new sword settles, the king again stands on his platform, this time holding the elegant broadsword Trak created. The flickering Dragon Fire is clearly visible. “As a token of the kingdom’s appreciation, we present to Lord Lizardthroat the finest weapon known in this or any other kingdom.” He places the hilt of the sword in Melkerei’s hands. The nobles are stunned by the magnitude of the gift. Melkerei’s financial contribution must have been magnificent.
The king is aware that every fighting man in the room wants to arm himself and his troops with the new technology. “Unfortunately, it will take time to produce enough new weapons to equip all our troops, but we will do so as quickly as resources become available. Before we adjourn to the feast hall where we will toast Lord Lizardthroat, we would like to introduce to you the scholar who discovered the secret of iron making. This is Lord Dragonfire of the Isle of Uisgebeatha.” Trak is dumbfounded by the prestigious name the king has bestowed on him. After a moment’s hesitation, the young lord bows to the nobles who clatter their teeth and clap politely before trailing behind the king as he leads them out of the chamber into the feast hall.
Krage intercepts Trak at the door and pulls him aside. “I hope the political lessons of this morning’s audience have not escaped your notice.”
Trak replies, “Clearly, the king intends to finance the rearmament of his armies by intimidated his nobles into bearing the cost. He has successfully manipulated his rival, Lord Lizardthroat, out of the capital. Despite what he said about the need to guard state secrets, he obviously wants everyone to know about the new metal. He would never announce a true secret in such a public setting.”
“I agree. By making a public announcement, the king makes certain that Lord Lizardthroat keeps his part of their arrangement. He also puts his nobles and generals on notice that if they want iron swords they will have to pay for them. You must play some part in the king’s plan or he wouldn’t have drawn attention to you in the way he did. I must give the matter more thought. You must appreciate that King Giforing and Lord Lizardthroat have long been political rivals. A few generations back, a king died without leaving a direct heir. Two noble families both claimed the throne. In the end King Giforing’s family won out, but the Lizardthroat clan has never forgotten and still believes the crown should be theirs. They are forever scheming to bring down the king, yet they must be careful that in so doing they don’t weaken the kingdom to the point that it becomes easy prey for foreign invaders. With Melkerei preparing to leave the capital, both you and the king should be relatively safe from his intrigues, but it would be wise for you return each night to the temple where Melkerei’s tentacles can’t reach you. I will arrange for permanent living quarters.”
Lord Lizardthroat admires his new Dragon Fire sword.
***
In the months that follow, Trak spends his days at the king’s smithy and his nights in the Septantrak. As the weather muddies the roads and hinders the transport of ore to the capital, iron production slows. Trak’s attention turns to designing new types of armaments. His goal is to make himself indispensible to the king by becoming the premier weapons maker in the kingdom.
For centuries, goblins have fought with a short sword and a small wooden shield that they fashion in wicked shapes and embellish with magical symbols. To appear more fiendish to their foes, goblins grease their bodies and file their teeth. With woad they paint themselves blue. Those who can afford jewelry decorate their arms with spiked bracelets and their necks with bronze torcs. They tattoo and paint charms on their bodies to appear more fearsome. Except for a leather or bronze helm and light leather armor, they prefer to fight unencumbered. Many even fight naked, believing supernatural forces protect them. But in the end, their real protection comes from their sword and shield. During the last war, the enemy introduced not only a new metal but also new tactics that render the goblins increasingly vulnerable.
The faces of veterans reveal deep concerns when they recall how the enemy’s iron swords smashed their wooden shields and sliced through leather armor. “Like choppin’ through cheese,” is how one soldier phrased it. Enemy bowman raked the ranks of goblin attackers. Their small shields offered inadequate protection from arrows hailing from the sky. Every salvo launched by the enemy left a dozen goblins wiggling on the ground. Clearly, a larger and stronger shield is needed, but the conundrum is that the shield’s weight can not be increased substantially or it will be too heavy to be carried and maneuvered by a charging foot soldier.
Trak meets with the craftsmen who manufactured shields for the infantry. They agree only iron can withstand the iron weapons of the enemy, but a shield made of iron is prohibitively heavy. The best compromise is a wooden frame reinforced by iron. Trak asks that several shields be deliberately sacrificed to study how they break when struck by iron weapons. The shield makers are reluctant, but in the end, five shields are stacked against a wall and slammed with an iron sword. The craftsmen aren’t happy with the results, but the pattern is clear. When a sword strikes the edge of a shield, a large chunk is cleaved off, but the shield remains functional. However, a strong blow directed at the center of the shield shatters the cross struts that brace the back. If the shield does not entirely break in half, the arm grip is ruined and the shield made useless. A way is needed to strengthen the shield’s center.
Trak fashions a thick iron plate. With the round plate riveted to the center, the shield’s strength improves, but the added weight is noticeable, and impacts on the plate jar the shield arm and tire the bearer. After blocking a few pounding blows, a soldier could barely keep the shield raised above his head. Trak realizes that protecting the shield’s center is analogous to building a helmet to protect the skull. The solution is not to make the shield thicker, but to contour the front of the shield so that the impact is deflected to the side. In the end, the shield makers design a curved shield that partially wraps around the bearer. They cover the front of the shield with boiled leather to stop arrows, and Trak adds to the middle an eleva
ted iron ridge to deflect the impact of a blow away from the vulnerable center. The shield is longer than the traditional round shield. Placed side to side, a line of these shields would block incoming arrows as the attackers advance.
Trak begins to play with the shield’s basic shape. If he is going to curve the front of the shield and raise its center, why not go a step further. He sculpts the center plate to resemble a goblin’s snout and integrates the snout into an angry face. He hopes it would make charging goblins appear larger and more ferocious. “Let the enemy believe that demons from the Underworld are descending upon them.”
It is all well and good for goblins to eschew cumbersome armor and rely on their quickness to outflank an opponent, but Trak is only half-goblin and is neither small nor nimble. He reasons that armor would offer him protection, and he has the strength to carry the extra weight. He hasn’t forgotten the slashing cut he received to his cheek and leather vest. He takes an idea from the ceremonial armor worn by the manikin in the broch. He rivets overlapping, oblong plates between a boiled leather outer layer and the felt lining. His creation proves remarkably flexible.
Trak wants to incorporate a mask into his helm that will intimidate opponents. He settles on a skull design. It creates large eyeholes so that his vision will not be obstructed and a chin-guard that resembles a skeletonized jaw. Before he even finishes making his skull helm, soldiers begin requesting personal armament. Lord Lizardthroat likes Trak’s new helm so much that he commissions the smithy to make a hundred helms for his elite personal guard. He requests a design that mimics the face of a giant lizard. It is Trak’s first big commission, and the money he receives seems exorbitant by the standards of the Isle of Uisgebeatha. Trak divides the manufacturing of the lizard-helms into a series of discrete tasks that are assigned to different smiths. Trak assembles the finished product. He pays the workers, and keeps the extra for himself. Trak is delighted to have found the means to acquire a personal fortune. With a small amount of money he can establish his own smithy. In a few years he could gain wealth and, with wealth, power and influence.
Trak seeks Gerum’s advice. He tells the king’s smith that he wants to establish his own business and sell arms directly to kingdom’s ruling class. “Are ye mad?” warns Gerum. “The king will look the other way if ye keep your business enterprises small, but become too ambitious, and ‘e will be forced to remind ye of your place. He may have given ye a fancy name, but in ‘is eyes ye are just ‘is servant and exist to serve ‘is needs. What’s more, ye are a cross-breed, and for that the nobles despise ye. Without the king’s protection, they will quickly smash the comeuppance out of ye.” The truth of Gerum’s words thrusts a dagger in Trak’s ambitions. There is nowhere in the goblin kingdom where, despite his skills and fancy name, he can be more than a nobleman’s servant.
***
Trak studies every type of weapons and armor he can get his hands on. Veterans show him the war trophies they have collected on the battlefield. Trak studies lethal looking axes and battle stars. He wants to understand how each is used. Spore have relied for too long on swords, bows and spears—weapons that the enemy is well trained to defend against. Trak wants weapons that the enemy will be ill-prepared to fight.
This sets Trak to thinking how best to defeat a man protected by heavy iron armor. Slashing blows are not very effective against iron plate. The trick is to stab the unprotected areas of an opponent’s body—his groin, his armpit and especially his neck. When it comes to killing, the more gruesome the better. It occurs to Trak that the thousand steel swords he and Gerum made for the king are not the most effective weapons to use against a man wearing armor. A thrusting spear would serve better. What’s more, a spear tip is easier to manufacture and requires less iron than a sword.
In his military training, Trak was taught to advance in formation but once the enemy was engaged, to pick an opponent and fight one-on-one. Why? He knows that the men in the south form defensive formations that are not easily penetrated. The goblins tire more quickly than men. The longer a fight lasts, the greater the chance a goblin would end up hacked to pieces. What if, instead of engaging in one-on-one combat, goblins learn to fight in teams? He imagines a line of goblins facing a line of men. The men will defend against the goblin immediately in front of them. Trak imagines the goblins thrusting their spears not straight ahead, but at the man who stands facing his companion on the right. Trak knows he has no practical military experience and his idea is probably crazy, but he decides to discuss the matter with the king’s master-at-arms who has the experience to quickly point out the fallacy in his thinking.
He finds the master, whose name is Hogarth, standing on the palace training field. Hogarth is considered a hero of the last war. He showed extraordinary courage in defense of the king and rose quickly to the rank of master-at-arms. Trak finds him engaged in casual conversation with several of his senior guards. During the last few months, the master’s respect for Trak has steadily grown. Trak’s swords are wondrous. The cross-breed only asks for the minimum needed to make weapons and always delivers what he promises. Trak has brought with him one of his new shields and a newly engineered halberd that is embellished with an extra hook for pulling riders off their horses. He would have preferred to discuss his idea with Hogarth in private, but there seems to be no easy way to get rid of the guardsmen who are standing about.
He begins. “Pardon my ignorance, but I need the benefit of your experience.” Trak pantomimes a combat scenario, playing the roles of both the attacking goblins and the defending men. He blocks an imaginary opponent’s charge with his shield and obliquely thrust his spear into the side of the equally imaginary opponent that engages his neighbor to his right. After explaining his idea three times for the benefit of additional guards who become curious and wander over to join the conversation, he asks his assembled experts for their opinions.
Trak expects the guards to laugh at his pantomime the same way Duke Amin’s soldiers guffawed at raw recruits, but no one is even smiling. One soldier says he doesn’t like the idea but isn’t sure why. Another suggests that it is cowardly. “It is like stabbin’ someone in the back.”
The master-at-arms isn’t sure. He fought men in the last war and saw the heavy casualties the goblins suffered against the larger, better equipped enemy soldiers. He would consider any tactic that might increase a goblin’s chance. Hogarth remembered how at the Battle of the Dragon’s Belly, he saved Grenab by driving his spear into the side of a man who was about to decapitate his friend. “For your idea to work, a soldier would have to completely trust the goblin next to ‘im to protect ‘is front,” the master said. “I don’t know if such trust can be taught to recruits. Give me a couple of days to play with your idea, and I will let you know what I decide.”
Chapter 9
Fools who travel without friends fall through sieves.
Goblin Proverb
Neu Ardonbrae:
As the weather warms, the ice melts and roads dry. Lord Lizardthroat marches out of the city at the head of a thousand troops, each armed with a new iron sword. Crowds line the street and cheer their champions. In the temple, Trak has grown accustomed to his apartment. It consists of two rooms and a small balcony overlooking the city. The suite appears to have been designed for the short-term use by a visiting dignitary. He takes his morning and evening meals in the same dormitory where he was quartered when he first arrived in the city. Dressed in a white robe, he walks freely through the temple’s corridors. Except for a few locked doors, there are no restrictions. Trak makes exploring the temple his evening’s entertainment. He often visits the balcony where the Greeting of the Sun ceremony is held, but Myrel is never there. It is as though she has vanished from the Septantrak.
The temple workers seem interested in him. They want to know about his life on the Isle of Uisgebeatha. The workers are particularly polite; they never mention his mixed-blood or inquire about his parents. He has lengthy conversations with the high priest, Alrik Red
eyes who administers the temple’s affairs. Alrik encourages him to visit and welcomes questions about the ancient religion. His skin is the whitest Trak has ever seen, but it is his penetrating blood red eyes that give his words their stamp of authority. Trak would accompany the albino cleric as he made his evening inspection of the temple.
“I am most interested in magic,” Trak admits. “Where can it be found? Can I experience it for myself?”
“I can describe it for you, but only those who have completed training and taken vows are fully instructed in the art,” Alrik replies.
“I feel I experience magic when I forge metal. Is the magic of your religion something similar?
“You have picked an interesting example,” Alrik responds. “The Septantrak is built in this volcano because the power in molten rock drives all magic. Spore are not in themselves magical, but some learn to control the power of the earth and sometimes the Earth Spirit bestows power unbidden on an individual.”
“What power can there be in an extinct volcano?” questions Trak.
“Come with me.” Alrik picks up a lantern and leads the way through an unimposing door. They descend through ancient twisting passages until they arrive at an enormous cavern whose roof is lit by an orange glow. Alrik extinguishes the lantern he carries and guides Trak to the very heart of the chamber where they stand on a cliff and look into a fissure where hundreds of feet below a ribbon of molten magma flows. Trak recognizes the same luminescent orange that emanates from his forge. He stands mesmerized as the heat from the lava creeps into his body. He hears the Earth singing, like a siren calling sailors onto the rocks. “Yes, there is magic here. I can feel it!”