Izzy Chapter 25: Ashes (Patreon)

Izzy, Mash had decided, was ungrateful, pigheaded, insufferable, determined to get her tribe killed, and a body snatching sneak thief to boot. And the only way to get her to see how much she needed Mash, that she should listen when Mash tried to help, was to let her dig herself into a hole she couldn’t get out of without Mash’s help. The tricky part was how to do that without getting anyone killed, but Mash would have to risk it — if Izzy stopped listening, that was going to happen sooner or later anyway.

And it might happen sooner rather than later. Izzy had gathered their scrum and told them something along the lines of, “We’re going the long way around to kill some gnolls on the other side of the camp, and if we’re spotted we’ll run away towards the human village, blah blah blah I’m so smart.” Something like that, anyway. Mash had hoped that Stick would say something, but he was as quiet and obsequious as the rest of them. Meaning not at all, but he did what Izzy told him. He did look at Mash a couple of times, but he always looked away quickly, no doubt intimidated by the stern look she kept leveled on Izzy.

Now Izzy was leading the scrum across the road, far to the west of the gnoll camp. They had their dagger and their spears and their caltrops, and Stick had made some kind of poison from a mix of leaves and berries that he swore would make any wound burn and bleed like hell. Ideal for hit-and-run attacks, especially with arrows or javelins. Not that Izzy had asked the Crafters to make any before dragging everyone out, but that was no surprise. She didn’t think! And if she didn’t think, and she didn’t listen, how could she expect to rescue everyone? She couldn’t, that was how!

Now she was setting up another ambush. How very original. But why was she having Twitch and Buttercup spread all their caltrops along that nearby gully?

No. She refused to ask. She’d just wait for Izzy to fail and then use this as further evidence for how they should always talk things through first.

Mash couldn’t even see how Izzy expected to catch anyone. It wasn’t like they’d set their ambush along the path of a gnoll patrol or hunting party. She’d sent Caj out to find one, but then she hadn’t even had the patience to wait for him to come back!

When Caj did return, though, Mash started second guessing herself.

“Found two groups of the bastards,” Caj said. “One of five, one of three, neither too far off.”

“All right. Go to the smaller group and piss them off. Get them to chase you, and lead them here,” Izzy told the fairy. “And you’ve got to make sure they come from there, right through here,” she continued, pointing between two trees not that far off and then tracing a path with her fingers to the ambush site.

“Yep, can do, boss gobbo!” Caj said, and zipped off.

It might be possible, Mash admitted silently, that Izzy had put a little more thought into this than she’d given her credit for.

The scrum all took their positions. Before long the angry yips and growls of gnolls could be heard through the trees, and shortly after that Caj passed between the trees Izzy had pointed out, turning and slowing to curse and make obscene gestures at the three gnolls pursuing him. He flew right past the ambush, and the furious gnolls followed.

It was a slaughter. While Izzy sent the female at the rear flying several lengths into the air, Stick pulled the breath right out of the male in the middle. The male at the front got piled upon by five merciless goblins. He didn’t stand a chance, and the scrum quickly moved on to finish off the other two, splitting up to do so. The female had landed hard and was in no shape to defend herself as Crash descended on her with his axe. The one with no breath tried to run but didn’t get far before he collapsed, and with four goblins hot on his tail, that was that.

They must have gotten lucky. Clearly, that was it. Mash was happy that no one got hurt, of course she was, but this was luck. That was all it was. They hadn’t even used the caltrops, so it wasn’t according to plan!

When another ambush went off without a hitch the next day, Mash told herself that Izzy was simply copying what Mash had already shown her.

They didn’t find a suitable group the day after that, but yet another day later the group that Caj brought was five strong. The goblins disabled two gnolls and retreated past the caltrops, which took two more to the ground. Then they ganged up on the only one still on his feet and dealt with the downed gnolls one by one.

Mash was about to swallow her pride and congratulate Izzy. It was right there, stuck halfway down her throat, when things became clear. Those gnolls weren’t alone. They were bait. Feisty bait, but bait nonetheless.

As the goblins and their fairy auxiliary congratulated each other and looted the dead gnolls, Mash, from her higher vantage point, saw more of the fuzzy bastards creeping in from all around. In a way she felt pleasantly justified in her scorn for Izzy's tactical acumen; there was no one on watch, and the short fight hadn't exactly been silent. At the same time, a bunch of people Mash cared about were about to die.

This was no time for spite or pride.

“Run!” she shouted, hoping that Izzy would understand how serious she was. Thankfully Izzy froze, tilting her ear as though to listen, and Stick looked directly at Mash, his face showing his complete attention. “Gnolls! Lots of them! Run, now! Past the caltrops, then keep going!”

Izzy didn't hesitate. She snapped, “Leave it, follow me! Quick, quick!” and set off towards the gully with the caltrops, staying low and fast.

There was no good direction to go, but that was the least bad one. There were no gnoll females directly ahead, and the males there averaged a lower level than elsewhere. “Two right ahead of you! Weak!” Mash warned, “Then another close behind them, a little stronger.”

No alarm had gone up from the gnolls, the goblins being too low to the ground and among the ferns to be easily visible, but there would be one soon. As the goblins carefully went around where they knew the caltrops were, Izzy stage whispered over her shoulder, “Three fuzzbutts ahead. Stick, blind the one to the right! Everyone else, gang up on the left! I take the middle. Don’t bother finishing them, keep moving! Attack when I do!”

With that they scurried up the far bank, into a bush and under a large, fallen tree, and…

And three gnolls snuck right past them, clambering over that same log, leaping over the bush, and sliding into the gully.

The goblins looked at Izzy. Izzy looked, dumbfounded, through the bush where the gnolls had disappeared.

“Where to, ghost?” the Shaman whispered, and under Mash’s guidance they were off, heading south. Away from the Tree, but more importantly, away from the gnolls.

  *

“We going back home, boss?” Crash asked as they followed the river farther downstream.

“Yeah,” Izzy replied. “Getting too busy near the gnolls, need to lay off for a while. May as well see if there’s anything left.”

“Figure not,” Crash said, scratching his neck. “Humans, you know? Burn anything they don’t steal.”

The other goblins nodded solemnly. “So do we, sometimes,” Izzy pointed out, probably dredging out one of Mash’s own memories.

“Don’t mean to!” Squirrel objected. Which, Mash agreed, was an important difference. If you burn a village as you raid it, you can only raid it once. If you leave it standing, you can come back over and over again. Basic sense, that.

“Why did they attack at all?” Izzy grumbled, and Mash and Howl answered at roughly the same time.

“Probably because we stole that stupid bird,” Mash said.

Howl’s suggestion was, “Raided ‘em too many times.”

“Yeah, could be,” Crash agreed.

Izzy scowled. “Well, we’re taking a look. And then we’ll go to the human village and take a look there, too. If they stole our stuff, maybe we can steal it back.”

This, the others agreed, was an excellent idea.

  *

The old camp, Mash’s home for most of her life and the place where she’d made all her happiest memories, was a ruin. Not that there had really been much in the way of structures there, except for the oven and the pottery kiln, but what there had been lay in pieces, and all that remained of the rest of the camp was a burned out clearing. The humans must have taken the time to torch each individual tent and hut — they hadn’t stood close enough for the fire to spread on its own.

In the middle stood the remains of a pyre, reduced to ashes and scattered bones.

“At least they didn’t leave them for the animals,” Izzy said solemnly, cradling a small, scorched skull in her hands. Mash wondered who it had been. One of the kids was all she was sure of.

They’d been prepared for worse. Savaged, rotting bodies, or perhaps even flocks of animals still tearing at what remained. It had been many days, but not forever, so it seemed possible. Instead all that they found were ashes, a cold comfort in the midst of the destruction of their home.

“Tell me that you’re still going to avenge this,” Mash said, watching her remaining family listlessly picking through the remains. “Izzy, tell me that no matter what happens with us, if we like each other and get along or not, you’ll still free our tribe, and get back at those humans.”

“You raided them,” Izzy whispered, but there was no conviction behind the words. Nothing to make Mash think that Izzy thought that justified anything.

“We took a bird! Sometimes some chickens or tools. A pig, once. We scared them a bit, might have chucked a rock or two or accidentally set a hut on fire, but we never killed anyone!”

Izzy looked back at the pyre, and Mash looked with her. There were so many bones there.

“We’ll make them sorry,” Izzy said, not enthusiastic, but determined. “I promise. We’ll make them sorry.”

They didn’t find much. A few small things that had been trampled into the dirt and forgotten, or tangled up in a fallen tent and somehow spared the fire. Little charms and figurines, mostly. Nothing useful, but they kept them. Then they all gathered around the ashes of the pyre. Stick stood in respectful silence, and even Caj grasped the solemnity of the moment and kept his gob shut as the others said their goodbyes.

They said their goodbyes to those that they’d seen die and to the tribe as a whole. But not to anyone who might still be alive. That would be the height of bad luck.

They said their goodbyes to the tribe, because it was clear now that the old tribe was dead, gone with the blood and the fire. They would build a new tribe now, made of the survivors of many others. One that would be strong, and vigilant, and beyond all, safe and prosperous.

The tribe of Boss Mash would never let human or gnoll or anyone else destroy them again, and may the river take those who tried.

“All right, scrum,” Izzy said after a long time had passed — the sun had moved noticeably in the sky. “Let’s take a look at that human village.”

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Like I said in the latest biweekly report, I'm shifting most of my spare writing time to Starmind. Izzy isn't cancelled, but there may or may not be a chapter next week.