2 Slavers and worse

This is the second "chapter" in my “A boy, a dire wolf, and a goblin“ story.
Previous Item: "1 Easy Prey"   by etelan


Prayers on the grass

A week of horror had went by. Oribio walked as slowly as he could get away with. Like his sad companions his skin was covered in grime, sweat and scratches. His legs, sore from the forced march, sported bruises and blisters, while his back bore the marks of the bandits' impatience.

This was how it went. Oribio's last hopes plummeted when he discovered the line of captives that he was made to join: Two men, six women and sixty children, guarded by some twenty knights and forty men at arms sporting spears. Even if Bapor's watch would find they would not dare to face them.

“St Valeria, spare my soul.“

The kid didn't expect to survive for much longer. Back at home he would had never imagine his body not to collapse after this ordeal. In that, he found a small bit of consolation and boyish proud. I've made through the impossible. He silently reminded himself more than once and his hopes were that St Valeria would pick his soul soon and take him to Heaven, shining above with the saints. Mercy would be his by virtue of grace alone.

“St Valeria, spare my soul.“

Oribio no longer had his blessed medal to protect him. Prayer alone kept him from falling. The words in his head were building his resolve beyond pain and fatigue. This, too, shall pass. St. Valeria, keep me from sin, spare my soul

The human column halted. What the heck was going on? Oribio stood on his tiptoes, rising his neck to see the men on foot forming into a shield wall, while the riders formed into a wedge.

“Look! Goblins!!“

Should've they, the slaves, worried? Oribio had heard stories of cruel goblins and some of those were true. The prospect of ending up in a pot didn't seem that far-fetched now. Goblins, no doubt, would rather eat the fatty first.

But none of the captives ran away. Adults were restrained by fetters of iron, kids by exhaustion and the menacing sight of the wargs.

“Spare me, St. Valeria“

Battle

Don Alonso patted Lobo, calming his own thoughts. The humans had spotted them right when the goblin chieftain had wanted them to be: where the track met a ruined inn. It was good warg country: a green flat land intersected by streams and bushes with a few lamps of trees; the remains of the farm stood right at the center with rolling hills surrounded it all from every side.

Don Alfonso decided to wait and hope for a mistake of his enemy. With only twenty warg riders at his side it would've been foolhardy to charge the human war band. If at all, he'd wait for the night and pester his enemy taking a prisoner or two. Not much, but what else he could hope for? Oh, a little parley might ease up the moods a little.

Don Alfonso rode slowly with his lancers at his side. The twenty human riders could indeed charge at them, but he counted on the humans thinking they had an army of goblin hiding somewhere.

“What do you want, goblin?!” The human leader spat in the ground as his enemy got too close for comfort.

“Your name, if I can be granted such a gift from your mercy.”

Oribio could not believe his ears. The goblin's speech looked like it was taken from a Zid's epic song, a Sureñan accent and everything.

“Call me Sir Chains. That's all I'll grant you, together with your life, if you surrender nicely.”

“Brave words from one who hides from the truth. Well, my name is Don Alfonso de Tierraparda y Caninia, son of Gulluk and I shall defeat your host in battle or die under the sight of God Almighty, for you are an evil and powerful warrior; a fitting foe for my lance. Unless, of course, we solve our misunderstandings with wise words, or, lacking your goodwill, you accept my challenge on the field of honor.”

None among the humans could believe their ears. It was almost comical. This pitiful goblin, armed as a squire, and just as tall, was challenging a bandit knight, fitted with good armor and a true lance, to single combat. Now, who was this goblin? An unshaven short orc with dirty tiny tusks protruding from this foolish smile, a horned helmet that could have stolen from a theater, some older-than-God scale armor and a shield that looked older yet and with his bare feet in the stirrups of a warg who won't even show its fangs.

Sir Chains laughed. I shall not fall into your snares, old boy. “Men at arms, present your lances.”

Don Alfonso didn't wait for the human riders’ charge, but turned back with his goblins. A warg can be many things, but not faster than a horse, and they were outnumbered. His hopes rested on leading the humans as far as where the foot goblins were laying in wait.

A sloppy ambush

“Halt!” Sir Chains' knights chased the warg riders up to the hilltop, but not any further without pause to scan the bushes. But of course! There, they were, kneeling against the bushes another twenty goblins holding a line of spears. “Easy!” The human thought. “Turn right, flank them, and then charge, the whole goblin line would scatter before the wargs could turn back to help them.”

But Don Alfonso had a second, larger, less sloppy group, hiding for this eventually. Without a signal, knowing his role by heart, Killedsix, their commander, ordered his group charged the humans as they began their maneuver.

It was chaos and mayhem, for when the knights were about to re-arrange themselves, the rest of the goblins, came, wargs and all, from every side. Disordered the men gave ground, losing men here and there, until they dropped their weapons.

Sir Chains struggled ferociously to get himself killed but not suffer the humiliations and misery
he had imposed on too many for too long. But Fate denied his bid, and the devil didn't run to his help.
Instead, Lobo, jumping on the fraught bandit, knocked the slaver down and pressed him into the mud long
enough to be secured, and then led, together with the rest of the captives to a cave, to be guarded by the eldest goblins.

Next "BWG 3.- A boy named Bulky"