Chapter 6: The Treasure Cave

 

  Stryg woke up in the early hours of dawn to the sound of rustling leaves. He cracked open his lilac eyes, his pupils wide ovals in the early dawn. Ostroz was curled up by the campfire, he seemed worse for wear. Srixa lay on the other side of camp, a satisfied smile on her sleeping face.

  Stryg spotted a figure emerging from among the trees. It was the huntress, Bril. She looked tired, maybe even angry, Stryg wasn’t sure. She quietly made her way over to Second Mother and huddled next to her.

  “What happened?” Second Mother whispered.

  “I didn’t let him, I didn’t let him,” Bril whispered. “...He said he is going to kill me.”

  “Not while I’m here,” Second Mother whispered furiously. “Stay close to me the rest of the trip. I won’t let him harm you, even if it costs me my life.”

  Bril nodded and hugged her. Second Mother rubbed her back with a comforting touch. Stryg had never seen Bril so scared or Second Mother so kind. It was strange.

  Crovor arrived at camp a few minutes later, bloody claw marks over his cheek. He glared at Bril but said nothing when he noticed Second Mother staring at him with wide, dangerous eyes.

  The shaman shuffled his way to the other side of camp and went to sleep.

  Stryg closed his eyes before anyone took notice of him.

  Stryg was the runt of his generation. If he got on the shaman’s bad side, Stryg would end up dead before nightfall. Second Mother would protect Bril, a skillful huntress, but who knew if she would protect a runt like him from the shaman’s anger?

  An hour later, Stryg quietly got up. He walked a few dozen paces away from camp and began his morning training. While his muscles still ached, he forced his body through the familiar kata. He welcomed the pain as it roused him from his sleepiness and kept his mind from wandering to unsavory thoughts.

  A few hours later the group was fully awake and ready to move out. Despite having clearly been treated roughly by Srixa last night, Ostroz kept trying to talk with her. She turned down all his advances and even threatened to pummel him for good measure. Despite that, Srixa made sure to walk in front of all the men, her lovely hips swaying for all to see, much to Ostroz’s delight.

  Stryg didn’t bother trying to talk to her. Srixa was looking for an exciting, powerful mate, which no one in the group had proven capable of. She definitely wouldn’t be interested in a goblin who couldn’t even beat a simple gatherer like Gathi.

  As for Bril, Crovor had been forced to keep his distance thanks to Second Mother’s visible disapproval and cold demeanor. It really seemed the Mother would attack the shaman if he made a move towards Bril, even if it cost Second Mother her life.

~~~

  The next few days passed by without any dangerous encounters. Crovor claimed it was thanks to his meditation and the moon’s blessing.

  One evening during a break, Crovor returned from his meditation.

  He cleared his throat and addressed the group, “We won’t be sleeping tonight. The cave is nearby, and it's best if we enter at night.”

  Stryg felt a sudden rush of fear and excitement. He was excited that they were finally near their destination. They had yet to face any real difficulty and he hadn’t been able to redeem or prove himself in any way.

  Stryg had to prove his skill, bravery, and even ruthlessness in front of the others, otherwise he would be cursed to live in shame for the rest of his life; which would be quite short if First Mother had anything to say about it.

  Stryg felt anxious as the group broke camp. The trees grew closer to each other while they walked. If there had been any moonlight, the red leaves of the ashen trees would have blocked most of it. Unfortunately, it was a new moon, there was no moonlight at all.

  Goblins could see fairly well in the dark, but they could not see in pitch darkness. Crovor was forced to make a small orb of fire with his magic. Had the shaman always known they would travel at night? If so, why hadn’t they brought any torches?

  “You’re lagging behind,” Srixa chastised him.

  Stryg realized he had been walking slower than the rest. He hurried to catch up.

  “Why are you talking to him? You should be focused on me,” Ostroz wrapped his arm around her shoulder

  “Dream on,” Srixa kicked his shin.

  “Ow, dammit!” Ostroz whimpered as he hopped on one leg.

  Crovor raised his hand, “Quiet, we’re here.”

  The group stopped and raised their spears and bows in anticipation. Crovor pushed past a few more bushes and led them into a small stone clearing.

  Stryg struggled to see what was ahead, he was shorter than most, and being in the back didn’t help. Eventually, the group spread out and Stryg understood what had them so tense. A gaping hole lay on the barren ground, the cavern’s darkness was so deep that not even Crovor’s flame could peer into its depths.

  “You first,” Crovor pointed towards Second Mother.

  She narrowed her eyes, “I can’t see down there. Shouldn’t you go first?”

  Crovor stumbled a step as if he had been greatly offended, “I can’t go down first. I’ll be in the back so I can cast my magic if anything happens.”

  “Then why don’t you send Stryg, mother moon has chosen him right? He should be fine,” Second Mother argued.

  “Ah, yes,” Crovor looked at Stryg. “I almost forgot. Stryg should go first. Lunae, our great mother moon, will protect him.”

  Everyone turned towards Strgy expectantly. The young blue goblin eyed the dark chasm, cautiously. He dreaded going down there, but he had to. This was his chance to prove himself.

  He’d be fine, he told himself, after all, Lunae was watching over him. With slow steps Stryg lowered himself into the cave. His claws gripped the unseen jagged stones as he climbed down. Fear crept into his heart as he went deeper into the murky dark.

  Stryg looked down, as if it somehow helped. There was nothing but darkness. He didn’t know where to grab onto. He glanced up and saw a small pinprick of light where Crovor and the rest were waiting at the top. How far had he descended? 50 feet? 100 feet? Stryg wasn’t sure. His arms were tired and as he looked back down he wasn’t sure how much further he had to go.

  All around him was pitch black, until it wasn’t. Stryg didn’t understand what was happening, but the stones around him gradually became visible as the darkness slowly receded. He could somehow see down here, despite no light source.

  “Praise Lunae,” Stryg whispered in reverence.

  The mother moon had blessed him with sight when he needed it. The fear that had crept into his heart disappeared as quick as the darkness. He had been chosen for this quest and he would see it through to the end.

  Stryg looked down and realized there was only about ten feet left before reaching a rocky floor. It seemed to be made of a pale white stone, dolomite perhaps?

  Stryg clambered down the last few rock ledges and landed with a soft thud. Two large tunnels sprawled in front of him. He wasn’t sure where to go, but surely Crovor did. Stryg looked up and called out the rest, assuring them it was safe.

  Crovor looked uncertain, but made the others go down one after another. Eventually, he was forced to quench his small fire and climbed down too.

  “Can’t see a damn thing,” Crovor cursed under his breath while he climbed down with utmost care.

  After about twenty minutes, Crovor finally reached the cavern floor. Taking a deep breath he refocused his mana and created another orb of flame.

  Crovor wheezed and struggled to keep the flame alight. He avoided letting anyone notice. It was taxing to cast the flame spell once. Casting twice in a small span of time and after a long climb was pushing his body to its limits.

  “Are you alright?” One of the hunters asked.

  “I’m fine!” Crovor snapped.

  He waved his makeshift magic torch around to survey the area.

  “Oh, no,” Crovor whispered.

  This wasn’t what he had heard. There were two tunnels.

  Stryg walked up to him, “Great shaman, which tunnel do we take? Right or left?

  Crovor ignored the boy. How the hell was he supposed to know which path was correct? This wasn’t part of the plan. Crovor had assumed this would be quick. He’d go into the cave while they slept, grab the treasure and get out. The shaman began to worry that he had underestimated the difficulty of the situation.

  The rest of the goblins looked at him and voiced the same question, “Which way do we go?”

  “Shut up and let me think!” Crovor shouted.

  “What does a little goblin have to think about?” A voice hissed.

  Stryg turned around, a blur of red passed by the corner of his eye.

  Crovor cried out in pain as his body smashed into the wall, his bones cracking from the force. The small flame in his hand sputtered out of existence, plunging everyone into total darkness. The group of hunters shouted in fear and began swinging their spears blindly, hoping to hit the enemy in the dark.

  “I was sleeping so comfortably too. Did you think you could act so loud in our home? Well, at least you brought food. I do love goblin flesh,” the unseen voice mocked.

  The hunters jabbed their spears into the dark and shouted various war cries, most to the affect of ‘fuck you’ or the like.

  Stryg stood still, however. His voice caught in his throat. He was the only one who could see. The only one who saw the monster creep out from the tunnel. Her long wine-tinted hair draped across her snow pale face. Orbs of jet black framed around her crimson eyes. A long forked tongue flicked out of her mouth, tasting the air. Stryg’s eyes looked down past her naked upper body; a red serpentine tail grew down her waist, and slithered across the floor.

  The lamia smiled as she watched her prey flail in the darkness. She whipped her tail about, smashing two more goblins into the wall. The muscles in her tail practically hummed with strength as she flung it with enough force to shatter bone.

  The lamia circled around the terrified goblins. She smiled with delight and picked one off at a time. She wrapped her tail around one of their feet and yanked, sending a goblin’s head cracking into the floor. She’d dragged another away, sinking her fangs in the huntress’ necks. The lamia loved the way they spasmed as the venom burned their insides.

  Bril screamed as the lamia’s tail latched onto her ankle and pulled her away. Bril stabbed at the monster, but despite her skill, it was almost impossible to hit a target she couldn’t see. The few strikes Bril did manage to land, bounced off the red scales without a scratch.

  The lamia wrapped her serpentine body around the struggling goblin tightly. She smiled as Bril’s bones cracked beneath the pressure. Bril tried to scream, yet only a small gasp escaped her lips. The tail coiled tighter, Bril’s spine snapped with a sickening crunch.

  The lamia uncoiled her tail and threw the dead goblin away. She moved to her next victim, listening to the vibrations resounding off the cave walls. The goblin’s hearts thrummed with fear, she loved it.

  While the rest swung their spears in hysteria, one goblin stood still with fright. The lamia smiled, she loved easy prey. She glided towards him with a silent grace. The lamia couldn’t quite place why, but he seemed a bit different than the rest. Perhaps he tasted better. She unhinged her jaw and opened her gaping maw, venom dripping from her fangs.

  Stryg’s heart raced as he watched the lamia move closer. He had just seen this monster murder half his tribemates with ease. He didn’t stand a chance, but he had one advantage. She hadn’t realized that he could see her.

  Stryg gripped his spear. She moved closer, her unnaturally large mouth slowly reaching towards his neck. Stryg lunged forward with all the force he could muster, his spear plunged right through her throat. She lashed out and stumbled backwards with a gurgling scream. Her body writhed on the ground as she clutched at the spear lodged in her throat.

  Stryg watched in disbelief as the lamia bled out and died.

  “I-I… I did it. I actually killed it!” Stryg ran his trembling hands through his hair.

  He had slain the monster! He had redeemed himself. The moon’s blessing had saved him.

  “What!? Is it dead?” A hunter called out.

  “Really?” Another hunter answered hopefully.

  “Who killed it?” Srixa muttered cautiously.

  “I’m alive!” Ostroz shouted.

  Voices called out back and forth in relief and uncertainty, but one voice pierced through the group.

  “Where is the shaman!?” Second Mother yelled.