A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 2101: King of the Land - Part 6

Amongst the shingle, larger rocks saw water trapped, forming odd sorts of rock pools, like the ones that Oliver had seen on the beach near the Emerson Capital. Here, when Oliver stepped on them for a closer look, he saw the discarded shells of dozens of crayfish, from where the birds had beaten them against rocks with their beaks, and torn through the soft flesh beneath.

Despite the horrors of the battlefields that he had seen, and the many corpses he had seen scattered that very day, the sheer scale of the number of dead crayfish made him blink for a second. It almost seemed like an act done out of anger, rather than of hate.

"Comeeee onnnn. Come onnnnn. It’s going to turn into something nasty, I do tell ya."

"Nasty nasty – no fancy of mine."

"Then hurry your boots. It’s our job to deal with this, ain’t it?"

"I’m hurrying my boots, but there’s heaviness in this hammer, see?"

"It’s your turn, though. You can’t complain. Boooooo!"

"I’m not complaining, but if you’ve got a word or two to speak, maybe you lend a hand to this hammer dragging soldier before I gets it stuck on a rock?"

"But that ain’t fair, is it? I always help you, you never help me."

"And what’s if it turns into a goblin while we’re nattering away like this, eh? Who will you rely on then? It’ll be me, won’t it?"

"But ifs... Oh... Oh... Ohh... We might be too late."

Frowning at the chatter, Oliver tried to find the source of it. Two birds eyed him from further along the beach with an odd amount of intelligence in their eyes. He almost half-believed it was them doing the talking.

Then he saw a twitch, where those crayfish shells were gathered in their odd sacrificial mounds. He tilted his head, wondering how one might have escaped the small genocide.

Then another twitched, and he frowned again. The little voices added their panic.

"Oh dear, oh dear, it’s happening! I hate this bit. It’s the worst. Eeeeeeeee! Hammer them!"

"Calm down, you know rushing it won’t help anymore. Get too close and we’ll be sucked in too. We’ve got to wait this out now."

"Oh blast, I hate this. I wish you were quicker."

"Yes, yes. You know I’ll sort this."

"I wish I were a baker."

"You said that back when you were a builder."

"And now I’m a soldier! It’s even worse!"

"You can complain all you want in a little while. Concentrate now. It’ll be fine – but that doesn’t mean you can afford to panic."

The little voices were only a slight distraction now, for before Oliver’s very eyes, all those gathered crayfish shells began to move. They flickered, and flew, as if controlled by a mage’s telepathy. Oliver looked around him with narrowed eyes. Not fear – something closer to anger. The sacredness of the beautiful river bank that he embodied. Whatever creature that might exist to rob it of its peace, he would cut down without hesitation. The blade of Dominus Patrick came free of its sheath, and the sheath fell to the floor, as Oliver’s other hand slid onto the handle to support the weapon.

The two watchful birds from earlier flew over in a panic, hearing the shells clatter around, for it was a loud thing now. A small little whirlwind, the height of a child, sending all those scattered crayfish shells and claws twirling.

"Oh don’t, you fools! You’ll make it worse!" Came the cry of a small voice, just in time for one of the birds flying over to be sucked into the whirlwind, with an incredible degree of force. One moment it was flying at speed, and the next, it was wrenched back with a squark as if someone had hit it as hard as they could.

It was torn apart, in a terrifying mess of blood and bones. Though the blood only ran red for a second, and a moment later, it turned black. The liquid found its form with a suddenness, and solidified in a hand, snatching the other bird in before it could turn away.

"Oh Gods... This is going to be a bad one. It can’t just be a goblin now, can it?"

"It seems we got unfortunate. This happens now and then. There must have been a particular amount of resentment hanging around here... I wonder if another one of the boys has been lax on their duties?"

"And now we’re going to get gobbled!"

"We can’t get gobbled."

"We’re going to get gobbled regardless! It’s coming for us! Leave the hammer, we’ve got to run!"

A face was beginning to form at the top of the black whirlwind – one that Oliver thought he rather recognised. A mixture between that of a Hobgoblin and a goblin. Whichever one it was, Oliver could feel an aura growing with malice.

In time with the fright of the little voices, that black arm that it had grown for itself reached out once more. It came skirting at speed towards Oliver. Terror – Oliver felt that. He had a sense that it wasn’t reaching for his physical flesh, but more for something deeper. As his sword came slicing down, he almost feared that it wouldn’t cut it. And in fact, it didn’t.

It swung through the air, and it certainly attacked the arm, but it didn’t cut it so much as repel it. Like one of Volguard’s magnets set facing the wrong way, the arm was repelled by something that seemed more like an invisible wall than a blade. There was a hiss from the head that was forming, before the arm retreated entirely, and urgently began to look elsewhere – straight in the direction of where Oliver thought those voices to be coming from.

"Oh dear, oh dear! We’ve got to run!"

"It’s only got about another minute left of its formation phase. If we keep an eye on it, and stop it from grabbing too much else... No, wait! We’ve got to distract it! That’s the only way!"