Death After Death

He woke up in a cold sweat shortly before dawn, uncertain of what to do. His dreams had been extra vivid since he’d become unstatued. Even taking that into account, though, this felt somehow more prophetic to him. They’d died repeatedly, separately as well as together, as he’d overcome this group only to be killed by that one or defeated all the warriors only to be burned alive by the shaman. In most versions of that recurring nightmare, he never made it out. Still, the ones he returned to the Baron bearing a corpse or a disfigured child were the worst of all as his subconscious went into overdrive.

Simon was filled with trepidation when he finally started to get ready that morning as he racked his mind for some way to keep the kid that was being entrusted to his care unharmed while he completed this mission. If he could just do that much, then he could finally take a break and try to figure some things out about this crazy world and come up with a plan. Maybe he could even figure out how to rein in his fire spell or learn to use an actual bow instead of the crossbow he’d been stuck with so far.

When he arrived at the Baron’s manor shortly after sunrise, he was informed that they were still having breakfast and he could wait in the servants’ kitchen. Simon would have been offended at that, but the biscuits and gravy they served him mollified him until his charge had eaten and dressed.

When Simon saw the Baron’s son, his heart sank further. The kid was wearing real armor in the form of a breastplate and chain mail, at least, but it was obviously a little too big for him and much too heavy to explore a cave. When Gregor moved, it was awkward and unbalanced, and Simon worried that if he took too large a swing, he would fall over.

“Handsome little devil isn’t he,” Baron Corwin announced. “Ready to go win a war all by himself.”

“Well, Mr. Corwin, Sir… the armor is really nice… it’s nicer than anything I could hope to afford, but I’m afraid if we go out like this, it will put your son in real danger,” Simon said, trying very hard not to sound like a jerk.

“What do you mean?” the Baron asked in a puffed-up way that made Simon sure that this was a mistake.

“I mean that… well… Gregor - Caves can get pretty tight; why don’t you crawl under that table for me,” Simon asked, trying to shift the noble’s intense stare to anyone but him.

The boy looked uncertainly from Simon to his father, who snapped, “Go on, son, it’s like I told you. In all other things in life, commoners like this will obey your orders, but in their area of expertise, listening to those you employ will save your life.”

Simon was pleased and annoyed by the backhanded compliment as he watched the man’s heir get on his hands and knees and try to crawl under the end table. On the one hand, it was nice that someone thought he had expertise in something, but on the other, this whole ‘better than everyone else because of the family you were born into’ routine was about 200 years out of date as far as he was concerned.

They both watched how awkwardly the boy moved, and when he was halfway under, Simon pointed out, “See how stiffly he moves and how loud his armor is? In the pit… I mean the mine shaft, we won’t even be able to hear the goblins coming.”

“I see,” the Baron said in grudging agreement, “what would you suggest then?”

“Do you have something like this?” Simon asked, gesturing at his own armor. “It offers decent protection from their teeth, but… it’s a lot easier to move in.” Here at least, Simon spoke from experience. He’d tried the suit of chain mail in the cabin several times, and it very rarely came in handy.

“That’s not really the sort of thing that a Baron or his heir would need to wear,” Baron Corwin answered, shaking his head. “The only ones around here that might have something like that would be our guards, our huntsman.”

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“Well, are any of them about the size of your son?” Simon asked, unaware of what an argument that would turn into. Apparently, it was insulting to expect the boy to wear the armor of some commoner. In the end, Simon apologized grudgingly and offered to take care of the problem himself, but the Baron wouldn’t hear of that either.

In the end, they spent the next several hours looking for someone on the grounds with armor that could fit his precious son, but then they had him wear a nice jacket on top of it even though the day was already starting to get warm. Only after all that was finally done did they set off toward the mine on horseback.

Simon hadn’t ridden a horse since a particularly awful summer camp when he was fourteen, but the animal was docile enough. So, he followed the young man, and they made pleasant conversation. Gregor asked Simon about his travels and his battles, and Simon mixed just enough falsehood with his truths to keep the conversation going, but in truth, he felt a little lost by the end of it. He’d expected someone a bit more childish, but it was clear to Simon that this was nothing but an adult in a child’s body the way he picked up on the inconsistencies in his meandering tale.

They tethered the horses when they arrived, and Simon looked at the tunnel. And the forest hills beyond. This was definitely the sort of place where goblins might choose to hang out, though he didn’t smell them yet. Simon went in a few feet until the light of day started to peter out and sniffed, but smelled only rock dust. The next step was, of course, to light some torches and start exploring, but something about the dreams from the night flashed before his eyes, and he knew that, in good conscience, he couldn’t take the boy with him. He might be grown up for his age or whatever, but it was obvious to Simon he’d never been in a life-or-death struggle like this before.

“I think we’re going to smoke them out. The infestation here is too bad,” Simon lied as he came out of the cave.

“But Father had some adventurers try that last year, and the goblins just came back,” the boy protested. “Surely such evil creatures do not mind the fumes of hell.”

Simon smirked at the boy’s lack of basic knowledge, reminding him of just how backward these people really were. “Is that what those events tell you?” Simon asked, trying not to sound too smug. “Then today, we will teach you something new.”

They spent the next 30 minutes building a small fire at the entrance to the mine and a large pile of green branches to go with it. Then, after Simon felt a twinge of jealousy after he watched Gregor light the fire with some flint, they started to pile the green branches onto the small blaze until the whole place was nothing but a cloud of smoke.

“So, do we just wait for the goblins to come out then?” Gregor asked.

“We’d be waiting a long time, I think,” Simon said, looking at the giant blaze they’d created. “You see how the smoke goes into the mine? That means there’s airflow.”

“Well, of course, there is,” the boy shrugged. “How else would you vent such a large mine?”

“And how else would the goblins get in?” Simon answered, pretending he’d already known that.

After that, they started tromping through the forest on foot, looking for any sign of their prey. After half an hour, they found the first vent from the trickle of pine-scented smoke coming out of it, but there was no sign of goblins. So, they continued on to the second and the third vent shaft. Each time the smell got fainter, but it was still noticeable.

“That’s as far as it goes,” the boy said finally, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Are you sure you’ve really killed goblins before?”

Simon seethed at that but bit back the caustic words on the tip of his tongue. Instead of insulting the boy, he just said, “Gregor, when you’ve been in as many caves as I have, you’ll know that there’s always more entrances and exits than you think there are.”

With that cryptic response, he continued in the same direction they’d been traveling for a while before he turned and started heading toward the sound of running water. That was when he caught the first hint of sulfur and filth that told him that goblins were nearby. The scent of burning wood and pine tar was perfume by comparison.

“Shhhhh,” Simon whispered as he drew his blade and started to slowly go towards the scent. The boy quickly followed his example.

When they reached the treeline, they found a crevice not so far from the shore of a river with five agitated goblins milling about in what shade they could find. There was no way they would willingly be out in the daylight, which meant that his smoke trick had worked, he congratulated himself. Simon’s biggest concern was that they would scatter when they attacked in such an open area or even attempt to flee underground.

So they split their assault and charged from two different directions at once. Simon was hesitant to leave Gregor on his own, but he told the lad to just yell loudly because goblins were fairly cowardly, and to Simon’s eternal surprise, it worked.

They both charged, but only Gregor screamed a bloodthirsty battle cry, so the goblins charged Simon, and he made quick work of the first three. He decapitated the first one to reach him, ran the next one through, and bashed the third one with his shield hard enough to crack its skull. After that, he played with the last two, giving his young charge ample time to make his own kills.

In the end, none of them got away, and as they sat on the bank drinking water and congratulating themselves for their victory, Simon felt like maybe this was what his dungeon experience had been missing the whole time. He’d killed lots of things, but he’d never done it with someone, and somehow it was that teamwork that made it hit differently.