Blood Money - 7. Here Be Goblins

They didn’t leave the bedroom for several days. Arlo lost count of how many times they came, how often they jumped each other again. True to Coradiel’s word, the next time there were ropes. Ropes he let Arlo bind him with, ropes he let Arlo gag him with.
Arlo was more than happy to be in control for once.
But finally, a bell rang through the house.
The amurrun’s ear flicked tiredly. He snored, snorted, cracked an eye open. And came face to face with the most gorgeous ass he’d ever seen.
“Praise Arshea,” Arlo grinned, before swiping across Coradiel’s cheek with a tongue.
“Not now,” Coradiel chided, standing up. “We have a caller.”
He pulled on a silken robe, covering up Arlo’s prize. Yelping as Arlo swatted his ass, Coradiel strode across the room and threw the bedroom door open.
Sighing, Arlo pulled another robe on and followed the half-elf from the room. Creeping down the steps, the catfolk peeked around the corner as Coradiel opened the portal.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Lord Arthien. Your presence is requested at the Pediment, along with… your colleague.” A man glanced past Coradiel. Glancing down, Arlo paled as he realised his bits were hanging out. He stumbled back with a curse and a thud, falling up the stairs.
“My apologies,” Coradiel said quickly. “Please inform the justice we will arrive within the hour.”
“Shit shit shit-” The door closed, and footsteps thundered toward the stairs. Arlo curled into himself, trying to scramble up the stairs.
“Hey-” Like a gunshot, the word cracked across Arlo’s mind. He flinched. “Hey, are you okay?”
A hand grabbed his arm, lifting Arlo. He was forced to uncurl, held up by the paladin’s iron grip.
“Look at me. Deep breaths. You’re okay. They won’t be back.”
“Bu-but now… they saw me… and they saw you-”
“So?” Coradiel brushed Arlo’s cheek gently, before pressing a kiss to his lips. “No one gives a fuck. They’ll talk more about you flashing them than they will about us being together. No. One. Cares.” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, the women will care that I’m no longer available.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I only take one partner at a time, so until you’re done with me, I’m yours.”
Arlo sniffled, swallowing around a lump in his throat. Fuck, how wimpy could he get?
“I can’t believe you’re letting me have all this control.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Coradiel asked.
“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” Arlo shrugged, blinking away fluid in his eyes. “I’ve always-”
“Been the one giving up control? Well, it’s time for you to live the other way around.”
“Okay. Um… we need to get going,” Arlo tried. “You said an hour.”
“So I did.” Coradiel released him, nudging Arlo back upstairs. “So I did.”

- - - 

The Pediment Building was the local courthouse and jail all rolled into one massive building. And much like the courts on Earth, everything moved at a snail’s pace. It took nearly half a day for Arlo and Coradiel to be seen by one of the thirteen justices, only to be handed a sealed letter declaring the lost letter of Ezanna Scarnetti legal and valid.
“You will leave for Sandpoint immediately to deliver this note,” an officer decreed. Arlo could only nod in agreement — they’d get their horses and be out of the city within the hour.
It wasn’t until they were saddling their horses with gear that he realised-
“-where are we sleeping tonight?”
“Hmm?”
“I have my tent in my bag, but I really don’t want to squeeze into that in the field,” Arlo continued. “Is that inn of yours within distance?”
“Sure is; if we ride hard, we could reach it about an hour past sundown,” Coradiel replied, tossing several packages of food into his saddlebag. “Not too hard though. We want to make sure our horses can make it to Sandpoint without having a heart attack.”
“I… uh, I’ve never galloped before,” Arlo admitted, climbing onto Jack’s back.
“That’s fine. We’re trotting. Horses like these should have about thirty kilometres in them for a trot; we can give them a short break for supper, then walk the last six in about four hours.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Arlo frowned as the town bells tolled noon.
“It’s the best we’re going to do,” Coradiel said, mounting up. “After you.”

- - -

Two days of hard riding left Arlo almost as sore as that time he’d pounded fence posts for a twenty acre farm. By hand. In hundred degree heat. In short, he was absolutely miserable by the time they rounded the Ashen Rise.
A sudden scream told him he wasn’t getting any relief soon.
“Come on!” Kicking his horse into a gallop, Coradiel charged ahead, drawing his sword with a flourish. Arlo dropped out of the saddle, scrambling for his gun.
In the distance, fire and smoke blotted out the late evening sunlight. Shadows marched against the billowing smoke.
Musket loaded, he mounted Jack again, and took off as fast as he reasonably could while still keeping his seat. Bouncing in the saddle, the catfolk stared in horror as an army of nearly twenty goblins battered at the Sandpoint gate. Bodies lay strewn about the wall, human and goblin alike. Worse, Coradiel was on foot beside his dead horse, standing his ground as a group of five goblins charged him down.
Dropping out of his saddle, Arlo landed with a breathless oof. He stayed down, bringing his musket to bear.
“[Mage Armour]. [Abundant Ammunition]. [Mage Bullet: Flaming].” It took nearly ten seconds to cast his spells, in which time, the goblins had closed with Coradiel. Arlo squeezed his trigger.
CRACK!
A goblin collapsed in a heap of flames. Arlo leapt to his feet, cursing while he tried to reload. He dropped again.
Coradiel stood tall against his foes. His sword flashed black in the night, his bronze skin shining in the firelight. A goblin fell, and then another, as the paladin masterfully beat off his assailants.
But more were on their way.
Arlo took a breath. He couldn’t hope to fight off ten warriors, let alone twenty. The few archers on the walls were doing what they could, and Coradiel was providing an adequate distraction, but there was no way this wasn’t going to end in disaster for those outside the gates.
His gun swept around to the back lines. A massive goblin barked orders in the back, pointing with fire and finger.
A deep breath.
CRACK!
The goblin fell, burning, screaming. It crawled to its feet, shouting for warriors to head toward the mage, kill the mage. Swallowing down his fear, Arlo reloaded quickly.
CRACK!
The leader collapsed again.
And the army fell apart.
Screaming, hollering, the goblins fled into the night the second their master died.
Scrambling to his feet, Arlo raced toward Coradiel, catching the paladin as he fell. Blood spattered over his hands as Arlo frantically dragged the half-elf toward the town. A health bar flashed dangerously, and Arlo cried out as it hit 0.
“OPEN THE GATE!”
“OPEN THE GATE!”
The wooden barrier creaked as it opened. A shadow darted through, and screams broke out amidst furious sword clashes. Arlo ignored it all, limping Coradiel into the walls.
“Medic!”
Soft hands grabbed the paladin, lowering him to the ground. A glowing green infused his battered body, and cuts and scrapes began vanishing. Arlo shoved past Father Zantus, pressing his fingers to Coradiel’s neck. The health bar flashed over Coradiel’s head, and a 6 appeared.
“He’s alive,” the catfolk breathed in relief.
“He’ll be fine,” the cleric agreed. “Just took a few hits.”
“Few hits…” Coradiel muttered, blinking blearily. “Feels like more than a few hits.”
“You’re alive though,” Arlo insisted.
“Arlo… our horses… I have the note in my bag.”
“You almost died and you’re worried about a stupid letter?!” Arlo exploded. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you no sense of self preservation? If you’d stayed back, we could have fought them off together!”
“Yes,” Coradiel said simply.
Arlo groaned. Standing on shaky legs, the catfolk stormed back through the gate. Minutes later, he led Jack into Sandpoint, loaded with his and Coradiel’s bags.

- - -

“They’ll be back.”
It was a grim prophecy foretold in Mayor Kendra Deverin’s office that night. Arlo and Coradiel sat straight-backed in twin chairs, surrounded on either side by Sheriff Belor Hemlock and two guards. Not that Arlo planned on doing anything. But the presence of the sheriff — and this close! — was unnerving to say the least.
Still, Arlo had one card he needed to play. The goblins would be back. And he could use that to his advantage.
“I’ve driven them off twice now, or at least disrupted their plans twice,” he pointed out. “I’m a citizen of Sandpoint, with a vested interest in seeing this town safe — but I can’t help protect the town if Master Vhiski has his claws in me.”
“What do you know about Jubrayl Vhiski?” the sheriff demanded suddenly.
“Nothing I can tell you, out of fear,” Arlo admitted. “But he owns the house I live in. With his threat lingering over me, there is little I can do other than serve at his whim.”
The mayor’s fair face soured. But she nodded.
“I will see to it that your house becomes property of the city of Sandpoint,” she said. “You will still pay for the privilege of living in a house as fine as the one on… Main Street, was it? However, I think you’ll find Sandpoint a much less… unpleasant employer to work for.”
“Thank you, Lord Mayor,” Arlo dipped his head, beaming. That was a lot easier than he expected.
“Of course, a rent must be negotiated. Twenty gold a month seems reasonable.”
Ten gold less than Jubrayl had been demanding? Sign him the fuck up. Arlo grabbed the coins from his purse, dropping them on the Mayor’s desk.
“Then I will do everything I can to aid Sandpoint,” he said. “Including ensuring that the goblins do not attack ever again.”
“I will do the same, with no reward necessary,” Coradiel added beside Arlo.
Kiss ass. Arlo rolled his eyes.
“With your permission, I would like to formally deputise the both of you,” Sheriff Belor said. “You will have the weight of office behind you to help you in aiding the town.”
Arlo’s face soured, mirroring the mayor’s pursed lips. But he nodded all the same.
“I cannot give information on Jubrayl,” he said. “The most I can offer are my sincerest apologies and a vow to never work for him again.”
“That’ll have to be enough for now,” Sheriff Belor sighed.
“What were our losses this evening?” Coradiel asked.
“Ten farmers fell fleeing the oncoming horde. Two of our militiamen perished on the wall, but your timely intervention kept any others from meeting the same fate.” Mayor Deverin sighed heavily. “It is a hard loss. But it could have been much worse.”
“Do we have any scouts that could warn us of approaching goblins?” Arlo demanded.
“Only Shalelu Andosana, but she’s unreliable as a scout. She stops by maybe twice a season,” Sheriff Belor replied. “We do not have the numbers to post pickets while also dealing with crime in town. It is my intention to go to Magnimar and beg for a platoon of soldiers, in hopes that we might fend off another assault.”
“Then we will keep an eye on the town,” Coradiel said. “You have my word as a paladin; the town will not fall while I draw breath.”
“Excellent. Your first task will be ensuring everyone is indoors,” Sheriff Belor said. “That will make it easier to search for any goblins who might have slipped through the gates.”
“Consider it done,” Arlo said, rising.
He slung his musket over his shoulder, made sure his spellbook was on his hip, and headed out of the garrison.

- - -

Sandpoint was a small town. Not a mile wide, it nonetheless was a town. Arlo was surprised by how long it took to walk from one end to the other. Working in conjunction with Coradiel, the two walked a long beat, checking doorways, alleys, eaves, anywhere a goblin might have ducked to hide. Arlo was pretty sure no goblins had made it through the gate — even the one who’d darted inside when he brought Coradiel through the gate had been quickly skewered.
The town bell rang out — nine tolls for the evening. It would not ring again until six bells in the morning. Arlo crossed Coradiel’s path, almost brushing against him.
“Any news?”
“Nothing.”
The two glanced around, taking in the silent town. Arlo shivered. Maybe it was just the adrenaline catching up to him, but he was cold, chilled. Something was in the air. And he didn’t like it.
A bloodcurdling scream.
Arlo all but jumped out of his skin. He swung his musket around, loading it in a swift motion. It was way too fast — a musketeer on Earth couldn’t hope to shove a cartridge down the barrel and have it fire correctly.
It was funny, the little snags his mind caught onto when he was scared shitless. But his gun was loaded, and he was racing after Coradiel before he’d fully registered motion.
“Goblin!” A woman raced out of a house, clutching a child to her breast. Behind her, another kid stumbled outside, covered in blood
“Coradiel, make sure they’re okay!” Arlo snapped, before racing inside.
His gun swept the room, knocking a cabinet over. Arlo winced, choking up as much as he could as the long barrel caught on a wall. A trail caught his eye, spatters of blood leading through a narrow doorway. The catfolk cocked his musket.
He rushed into the next room. A bed sat in the corner of the room, sheets rumpled but unstained. Scanning the room, Arlo paled at the sight of two bodies: a dog, and a man. Reaching down with his gun, Arlo carefully nudged the man’s body.
It rolled over.
Before he could take a proper look, a screech caught Arlo. His musket swept up, catching a goblin in the gut. Arlo didn’t think; his finger squeezed the trigger.
A bright flash in the dark. A loud report.
And the goblin flew back. Arlo didn’t wait to reload — he charged into the basement the goblin came from. Swinging the musket around, the catfolk slammed the butt into the goblin’s head, again, again, again, until he’d caved the beast’s skull in. Arlo spun, sweeping the basement.
Nothing leapt out at him. Nothing attacked. No one screamed. A steady drip plapped in his ears, and he looked up. Warm, sticky blood spattered on his forehead.
Dropping to his knees, Arlo finally let the stress catch up to him. Bile spewed from his maw, spraying across the floor. Ragged gasps burned his lungs, and he whimpered, frantic for air. But only more vomit came.
“Arlo?”
He lunged for his musket. Falling back, Arlo squeezed the trigger as a shadow blocked out all light.
Nothing happened. Nothing happened.
“Easy there.” Coradiel pressed the barrel aside and down. He crouched beside the amurrun. “I sent the Barretts to the cathedral. Father Zantus can watch out for them right now.”
“The body?” Arlo shuddered at the thought. He swiped across his forehead, and stared at the blood smeared on his hand.
“Dead,” Coradiel said quietly. “Can you cast a light?”
Shaking hands rose. Arlo croaked out, “[Light].” And there was light, shining on the blood still dripping through the floorboards.
Coradiel knelt beside the dead goblin, riffling through the scraps of clothing. A ripping sound bared the emaciated body, and Arlo looked away quickly.
“What the fuck are you doing? I don’t think digging through pockets for loose change is the right move here!”
“This goblin’s been here since the first attack,” Coradiel explained. “He hasn’t had anything to eat since then; he’s been hiding down here.” The paladin pointed toward a pile of refuse that made Arlo gag yet again.
“Well then, Batman, what does it all mean?” Arlo demanded.
“It means no one got through the barricade tonight. No one else has reported goblins.”
“Great. And what are we supposed to do about the father? That thing was trying to eat him alive!”
“I’ll let the family know,” Coradiel said, kicking dust over the spreading pool on the floor. “Sheriff Belor can dispatch a team to deal with the bodies in the morning. And… I… I don’t know. I don’t know what comes next. We just… go about our business, I guess.”
“Hello?” The sheriff’s voice echoed down the stairs, and Arlo shuddered.
“Speak of the devil,” he muttered, picking himself up. “It’s safe!” he called up to the sheriff.
Sheriff Belor stepped slowly down the lit steps, his face ghostly pale despite his Shoanti heritage.
“What was it?” he demanded.
“Goblin. From the first raid,” Coradiel said, motioning toward the corpse. “Everything is safe in here. If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long ride from Magnimar. We’ll be of little use to you in our current state, so I’m going to take Arlo home.”
Sheriff Belor’s expression softened. He nodded, stepping aside. Before leaving, Arlo cast a light spell on a stone to grant the sheriff illumination.
Then the two left, escaping the nightmare they’d found themselves in.