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  [Marrok]

  The goblins had been training hard for the last few hours and had finally settled down to make a temporary camp, hidden but just overlooking the entrance to the dungeon. Marrok had sent two off for firewood whilst the others went hunting for prey. He had stayed to prep the camp which involved clearing an area to sit on and digging a firepit. He had carefully scoped out the wind direction and placed them away from the dungeon side. He didn’t want their smoke and flames to draw attention from the dungeon. If those strong looking adventurers returned, he didn’t fancy their chances.

  An hour later the firewood party returned and they lit a fire, it was hard work, but as always it paid off and soon they were crouched around talking of things to come as some rabbit roasted over the fire.

  Marrok had tuned out letting the others talk about whatever they were interested in. The others perked up, suddenly and Marrok looked over, following their gazes to the dungeon entrance where they saw the young group return, exiting from the entrance, one of them hobbling along supported by his friends.

  “Attack” one of the goblins said encouraging violence, Marrok thought it was Shull, the most prone to reckless violence of this second group. Last time he had brought Brey and Lorg with him and they had been controlled. Forroll too, she had impressed him and though she had been silent this time, he knew he would count on her a lot. She was going to be his and he would make sure she earnt her way into his group.

  “Yes, let’s kill them” another echoed, probably Krik. Marrok wasn’t sure.

  “NO!” Marrok said firmly, controlling the groups bloodlust. They needed to maintain control and secrecy.

  “They are from the village, we must leave them be for now, no one can know we are here or we will get pushed out again, that or slaughtered as they come to establish the dungeon. We must bide our time.”

  “But Marrok, we can wipe them out and they will blame it on the dungeon.” Shull advocated.

  “No! There’s that other team inside and we have no idea how long they will be gone, we can’t risk it for a bunch of kids that won’t even put up a fight. I promise my brothers, soon we will have more targets than we know what to do with, but for now we must let the humans discover the dungeon, draw more of them here for us to slaughter and have no reason to suspect that we are up here.”

  Grudging approval came from the group and Marrok relaxed, now sure that he wouldn’t have to wipe out Krik and Shull. He wouldn’t let them jeopardise this opportunity for him. If they played this right, Marrok knew he would push his tally higher and higher and maybe, just maybe it was in his reach to get to hobgoblin. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let anything get in the way of that.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Focusing back on the dungeoneers he watched the boys dropped off their struggling friend outside the entrance, on one of the more comfortable rocks and then they returned to the dungeon, laughing jovially about the treasures they were getting and how easy it was. Marrok knew the dungeon was anything but easy.

  It put on this fa?ade for the first level, but it was a fa?ade nonetheless and he knew it couldn’t be underestimated. The kids would not all come out he thought, giddy as they were over treasure. They would push on, die, and then feed the dungeon evermore. The real treasure was the high mana levels to train in and the fights to hone skill against, that was what a dungeon was for, the treasure only a bonus.

  The boy left outside cried in pain, having been left alone and injured in the middle of the woods he was feeling weak and alone. Pathetic, Marrok thought.

  “Weak” the other goblins laughed, mocking the young boy. “Barely a scratch and it cries. We should put it out of its misery, a kindness.”

  “No, Shull.” Marrok replied, amused but firm.

  They watched for another hour or so as the boy slowly got his act together and waited for his friends, sitting on the rocks with his knees held tight to his chest. The wind carried away the light of the goblins’ fire, the smoke and their talking too, leaving them relaxed and entertained as they watched him, dreaming about how they would kill him.

  An hour later the goblins heard, from the entrance, a shuffling that soon revealed to be the return of the boy’s group, or rather one of them did, his face as white as the ash of their fire and tears streaking lines down his face.

  The reason was evident immediately by his presence alone. The goblins, noticing, edged closer, leaving the crackling fire and sneaking through the brush until they could hear the boys.

  “John?”

  The boy who had just exited the dungeon shook his head.

  “Th…The… They’re dead Indry” John stuttered after a moment. “Oh God, how did it go so wrong” he said before bursting into tears, his chest rising and breathing stuttering as he sobbed.

  Indry took a hobbled step back, affronted at the news that had just been delivered.

  “What?” He asked, disbelievingly.

  “What do you mean John?” he continued getting angrier as he questioned in disbelief.

  “The tree… the trees were alive… it… Mik got hurt…, bird…, we tried t… we move… under the tree… but the tree killed them… Marcus and A… Ardoi, they were… dead before I saw…” John stuttered out between sobs as he tried to explain what had happened.

  Marrok understood enough to know that the trees had got them, he knew it was likely and he had half expected it really. It had seemed once they had dropped Indry off outside that they had yet to see the trees, they were too cheerful and excited about the loot.

  The other goblins smiled in relish of the death that had encountered the group, happy to know the humans had suffered. Marrok knew they would definitely have to leave the boys now, let them report to the village about the dungeon so that no search party was sent out to the woods to discover the tribe.

  Quiet laughing echoed around the group, thankfully quiet enough to not reach the boys. Marrok shut them up with a glare. “Quiet you fools!” he hissed at them.

  “NO!” Indry, shouted out, finally realising his brother was dead, “I have to get him, he can’t be dea… No, John, we have to get them!” the boy yelled, hobbling round John towards the entrance.

  “No, Indry. It’s no use.” John replied, standing up to restrain his friend. “We can’t get them, we need to get back to the village, and we can get Sigurd and the adventurers to find them.”

  “John, I can’t leave him, my Ma, John, my Ma will… I’ve got to get him back, there’s magic, they can…”

  “They can’t, Indry they can’t, and I won’t let you back in to kill yourself too. We… we have to go. Come on.” John mumbled, guiding Indry away from the entrance.

  They sobbed together for a while talking in hushed tones that escaped the goblins who watched on, ecstatic.

  The boys started to walk away and Marrok and the tribe left them to it, surely the other adventurers would exit soon and then they could finally go in, ready to get stronger.