Jean Rabe: Death March

“Let the priests watch this nation grow, grow in spite of everything.”

The hobgoblin turned away from the sea and led the goblins inland.

The largest ship in port, the Mercy Corvan had four masts and blue pennants flying from the top of each one. There were three crow’s nests and men in each of them. One was a Dark Knight scout who had scant sailing experience, but he had keen vision.

Bera paced along a plank sidewalk so she could better watch the ship being loaded. The crates and barrels were meager, given the number of knights they would have to feed. No matter how much she berated the local merchants, she knew she could extract little else from them. They told her that a well-dressed half-elf with a heavily scarred face had been through the town seven days past and had purchased practically all goods and supplies. The merchants tried to soothe her ire by suggesting she stop in one of the ports to the west and replenish along the way. But she had already tarried there too long and was anxious for the chase.

Bera stared at the ship. Along the top at the rear were ornate carvings of horses pulling a man in a chariot. The chariot man was dressed in a flowing robe, and his left shoulder and arm were exposed, an ancient style of dress she thought had been favored by the Irda. Birds with human faces were perched on the exposed flesh, all expertly rendered and painted garishly. Only one of those faces looked feminine. There were windows rather than portholes in the ship, the glass gleaming in the bright afternoon sun.

She shuddered, still furious the goblins had eluded her. She’d heard from a few sailors that a half dozen ships had been bought by the fine-dressed half-elf; there were rumors they had picked up passengers along the coast-not humans. Honor, and her orders, demanded that she find the ships, the wizard, the priest, and the fugitive goblins and deliver Dark Knight justice.

Isaam was standing at the railing, supervising the loading of knights and supplies. The wizard’s magic had not led Bera there, however; it was the handful of goblins they’d caught along the river to the east. The goblins had crumpled under torture, revealing they’d been part of a much, much larger force, one led by a grizzled hobgoblin who was aided by a former Dark Knight wizard. The goblins had left the larger army because they were afraid of traveling on ships across the New Sea. She’d spared two of the goblins, and they were in Mercy Corvan’s hold. After they recovered from their injuries, they might be able to provide additional useful information. If not, she’d see if they could swim.

“The captain wants to leave at high tide.”

The words startled Bera, and she turned to see Zoccinder, who had materialized behind her. “I’m well aware,” she replied tersely.

“More knights have just arrived at an outpost on the edge of this city,” he continued. “Come from the north, they’re tired from the forced march. Their commander has turned them over to you, as he’s returning to his post. The knights will be at the docks shortly.”

“That makes nearly five hundred of us, then.” Bera had picked up additional knights along the river. The mission was of the utmost importance. Among other things, her own future depended on its success. “And I’ve received notice that two ships are sailing from the north.”

“An adequate force,” Zoccinder pronounced.

“More than adequate to deal with those rats.” Bera paused and watched an ungainly penguin waddle down the pier and launch itself into the water. “I’m impatient, Zocci. Let’s get moving.”

She strode to the gangplank, Zoccinder following, their boot heels clacking in time across the weathered wood.

“We will crush the rats and send a powerful message across the face of Krynn,” she whispered. “And we will send the souls of our traitorous brothers to the deepest corner of the Abyss.”