The goblin village was restless.
Smoke curled from crude chimneys, and the stench of rotten flesh mixed with the sharp tang of burning resin. At the center, the shaman stood tall, or as tall as a goblin could, its hunched frame draped in bone charms and strips of dried flesh. Its eyes glowed faint red, and its staff pulsed with a sickly light.
It screeched in a language that clawed at the ears. The sound rolled through the clearing like thunder, and the goblins answered with snarls, roars, and the clatter of bone weapons.
Arin and the group crouched in the shadows, watching.
Raul's voice was low, sharp. "They're splitting."
Arin's eyes narrowed. The goblins moved in packs, ten groups, each with two warriors and eight regulars. One hundred goblins in total, marching into the forest like bloodthirsty ants. That left the shaman and fifty regular goblins behind.
Victor whispered, "There are too many."
Raul smiled, a nasty, wolfish smile. "Not if we burn them."
Arin blinked. "You're serious?"
Raul's grin widened. "Perfect time. Guards are low. We set fire to the village, raising panic. The search teams will take forty to fifty minutes to return, even if they see smoke. Otherwise, they're gone for hours."
Victor swallowed. "And the shaman?"
Raul's eyes gleamed like steel. "Mine."
The plan was brutal. Simple. Perfect.
Arin and Victor circled wide, moving like shadows through the undergrowth. They carried resin-soaked cloth, stolen from goblin huts days ago. Raul vanished into the heart of the village, daggers whispering against his palms.
The first flames licked the edges of a hut. Then another. Then another. Smoke curled upward, thick and black, clawing at the sky.
Panic spread fast.
Goblins screeched, scattering like rats. Victor roared, shield raised, hammer swinging. He crushed skulls, shattered ribs, and sent bodies flying. Arin was a storm, blade flashing, with absolute precision. They killed fast, clean, merciless. Fifty goblins fell by their hands, their blood soaking into the dirt. It had been easy; these weren't fighters, not even scouts.
Arin got nothing for his own kills, and he didn't care. Sixty from Victor's was enough. A win was a win.
Inside the shaman's hut, Raul moved like a shadow. The creature lay curled on a bed of bones, its staff resting against the wall. Raul's dagger hovered inches from his throat.
One breath. One strike.
The blade sank deep, but not deep enough.
The shaman's eyes snapped open, glowing like molten jade. It screeched, a sound that cracked the air, and Raul's ears rang like bells. He slashed again, aiming for the neck, but the blade only carved halfway through. Blood sprayed, hot and black.
The shaman didn't die.
It grabbed a pouch, spilled ash across its wound, and the bleeding stopped like magic. Then fire bloomed, raw, hungry, roaring from its staff. A fireball slammed into the wall, turning bone charms into molten slag.
He looked at Raul and smiled, crooked and disgusting, as if the failure pleased him.
Raul cursed, rolling aside as another blast scorched the floor. Heat clawed at his skin, and smoke burned his lungs. He darted in, daggers flashing, carving deep into the shaman's arm. The creature howled, swinging its staff like a club.
Raul danced around it, Nimble Steps carrying him in blurs, strikes biting deep. But the shaman was relentless, its magic wild and furious. Fireballs tore through the hut, turning wood to ash, bone to dust.
Outside, Arin and Victor tore through the village like demons, rushing toward the shaman's hut. Smoke choked the air. Flames roared around them. The village was already burning.
Arin turned toward the hut. Smoke swallowed most of the village, but Raul stood clear of it, blood-soaked, daggers flashing once more as fire clung to him like a beast.
Victor grunted. "He's still fighting?"
Arin's jaw tightened. "He's trying to exhaust it."
Victor spat blood. "We don't have time."
Arin's eyes flicked to the treeline. Shadows moved, far off, but closing fast. The search teams had seen the smoke.
"Fifty minutes," Arin whispered. "They're almost back."
Victor's teeth scattered like dice, voice rough and ragged. "Then finish it! Don't let it live another second, end it now!"
Arin's grip tightened on his sword. He started toward the hut, smoke clawing at his lungs, heat licking his skin.
Inside, Raul was a blur, daggers carving, feet flowing like water. The shaman roared, fire blooming in its hands, eyes glowing like hellfire. The hut shook, flames eating the walls, ash swirling like snow.
Raul grinned, teeth sharp, eyes wild. "Come on, you ugly bastard."
The shaman screeched, raising its staff high. Fire gathered, bright, blinding, hungry.
Raul lunged.
And outside the village, the drums began to beat.