บท 27: Getting Spotted
Over the next several days, Amukelo honed was carefully observing the goblin's movements, marking the size of their groups, and ensuring that no one would notice his attacks. Amukelo was patient, waiting for just the right opportunities to strike.
When he found smaller groups of goblins, he would strike them making sure that none of them would escape to inform the others. The goblins rarely had a chance to retaliate before he cut them down. With every encounter, his confidence grew, and so did his efficiency. Amukelo began taking on larger groups—five or six goblins at a time. Still, he avoided any group accompanied by a troll. He had seen what trolls were capable of, and he wasn't yet sure if he could defeat one.
Despite his growing skill, one thing gnawed at him: the activity wasn't slowing. No matter how many goblins he killed, their number seemedonly to grow. More appeared every day, as though the mountain itself were spawning them. It became clear that this problem wouldn't resolve itself through his current efforts.
One evening, as he trudged back from an uneventful day of stalking goblins, Amukelo muttered to himself, "I can't keep this up. If this doesn't change soon, I'll have to leave this place."
"I'll start packing my things tomorrow," he decided aloud. "If nothing changes, I'll leave by the end of the week."
The words felt like a defeat, but Amukelo knew he had no choice. Staying would mean death.
As Amukelo neared his cave that evening, he heard a sharp, splintering crack. He froze, trynig to locate the direction of the sound. The sound came again, louder this time, followed by a deep, resonant thud. Then he realized that it was coming from the direction of his cave.
Amukelo's heart raced as he abandoned all caution and sprinted toward his cave. The closer he got, the louder the destruction became. He stopped just short of the clearing where his cave was hidden, crouching low to remain unseen.
A group of about ten goblins was gathered around his makeshift home. A troll stood at the center. It wielded a club larger than Amukelo's torso, using it to hammer away at the wall he had painstakingly built. The goblins chattered and howled, smashing anything that wasn't already destroyed.
Amukelo's fists clenched at his sides as rage boiled in his chest. The sight of the troll shattering his shelter, his only safe space in the mountain, filled him with hatred. He wanted to charge at them, to stop their destruction, to make them pay for what they were taking from him.
But that hatred was tempered by fear. His breath came in shallow gasps as he realized the reality of the situation. A troll and ten goblins? It was suicide. He couldn't fight them all. He'd barely survived the ten goblins alone.
He felt paralyzed, torn between the desire to protect what was his and the primal instinct to survive. The troll let out a guttural roar, bringing its club down in one final swing that shattered the wall completely. The goblins surged forward, pouring into the cave with whooping cries of triumph.
Amukelo's chest heaved as he crouched behind a boulder. He wanted to charge in recklessly, but his mind screamed at him to stay put.
Then he noticed something—the troll wasn't following the goblins inside. It stood outside the cave, watching the entrance like a guard. The goblins inside were out of sight, their muffled voices echoing from within.
'This is my chance. If I can take out the troll, maybe I can block the entrance and trap them inside.'
The thought gave him a surge of adrenaline. He knew it was risky, but he also knew that this might be the only opportunity he'd get. He adjusted his grip on his sword, trying to steady his trembling hands. His breath quickened, and he felt the familiar chill of fear crawling up his spine.
With a final, deep breath, he sprang from his hiding spot and charged at the troll. The creature didn't notice him until the last second. Amukelo plunged his sword into its back with all his strength, hoping to end the fight quickly. But instead of the clean kill he had imagined, the blade barely pierced the troll's thick skin.
The troll let out an ear-splitting roar and swung around, its massive club. Amukelo barely managed to jump back in time, the club missing him by inches and slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash.
Amukelo cursed under his breath. "Damn it, it's tougher than I thought."
The troll turned to face him fully now, its small, beady eyes glinting with rage.
Amukelo took a few cautious steps back, his breath quickening, every muscle in his body tense. The troll stomped forward, raising its club high above its head. Amukelo knew he couldn't stand his ground against the troll. Especially with the fact that the goblins were still inside.
Just as the troll brought its club down in a powerful swing, Amukelo darted to the side and broke into a full sprint. The club smashed into the ground where he had stood moments before. The troll roared in frustration and began chasing after him.
Amukelo's heart raced as he ran, his legs burning with the effort. He glanced over his shoulder to see the massive creature charging after him. To his relief, no goblins followed—it was just him and the troll.
He veered into the woods, hoping that the thick trees would slow the troll down. Amukelo weaved between the trunks, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs. The troll, however, barreled through the forest without care, smashing through trees as if they were twigs. It was far faster than he had anticipated.
Amukelo tried to think of a way to lose the troll. He zigzagged through the trees, taking sharp turns and doubling back on his path. But no matter how quickly or unpredictably he moved, the troll stayed hot on his heels, its massive legs allowing it to cover ground far faster than Amukelo could.
He pushed himself harder, his lungs burning and his legs aching, but the troll was relentless. Every time he thought he had gained some distance, the crashing of trees behind him reminded him of how close it still was.
Suddenly, the dense forest opened up to reveal a sharp cliff ahead. Amukelo's chest tightened as he realized his path was coming to an abrupt and dangerous end. He scanned the area desperately, looking for a way out. The troll roared behind him, the sound reverberating through the air like thunder.
Amukelo tried to pivot and change direction, hoping to find another escape route. But as he turned, the troll was already too close. Its momentum carried it forward, and Amukelo saw its massive body struggling to slow down as it neared the edge of the cliff. The ground beneath the troll's feet crumbled under its immense weight, and with a guttural roar, the creature toppled over the edge.
Amukelo's relief was short-lived. The force of the troll's collapse caused the ground beneath his own feet to shift and crumble. He felt the earth give way, and he lost his footing, sliding uncontrollably toward the cliff's edge. In a desperate bid to save himself, he drove his sword into the ground, hoping it would anchor him.
The blade bit into the dirt, slowing his descent but not stopping it entirely. His feet scrambled for purchase, kicking up loose rocks and dirt. His left hand clawed at the ground, but the sharp stones tore at his skin, leaving his palm raw and bloody. The burning pain shot up his arm, but he didn't dare let go.
Despite his efforts, gravity pulled him closer and closer to the edge. His sword slipped from its hold, and before he could react, he went over the side. A gasp escaped his lips as the world tipped and he began to fall.
Amukelo's mind raced as he plummeted, the wind whipping past his face. He struggled to orient himself, searching for anything that might break his fall. His eyes locked onto a thick branch jutting out from the cliffside below. With no other options, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed it as he fell past. The branch cracked under his weight but held long enough to slow him down slightly before it snapped completely, sending him falling once again.
He hit another branch, this one larger than the first. It broke his fall further, but the impact knocked the air from his lungs and sent him tumbling through the foliage of a tree. Branches and leaves tore at his clothes and skin, slowing his descent as he fell from one branch to another.
Finally, Amukelo hit the ground with a heavy thud, the air knocked from his lungs once more. He lay there for a moment, dazed and gasping for breath. Every part of his body ached, but as he wiggled his fingers and toes, he realized that, against all odds, he hadn't broken anything.
Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs. His clothes were torn, and his hands were bloodied, but he was alive.
Amukelo let out a shaky laugh, half in relief and half in disbelief at his survival. He collapsed back onto the ground, staring up at the sky through the canopy of trees.
"I'm alive," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "I actually survived."
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