The Farmer - Day 13

  Tiller’s eyes went wide with existential horror.

  Bonk stepped forward, the flailing goblin hanging from his outstretched arm.

  Tiller’s eyes darted to the severed head of the other goblin on the ground before him, then back to Bonk. His mind raced. Bonk was stone-banded, of some kind of fighting class. He’d been told he would stand no chance against him in a fight. It seemed like he would have no choice but to find out.

  Bonk started trotting forward. Tiller turned to Bean, who had been sitting nearby. The little creature was looking worriedly at the big green newcomer. Tiller hissed, “Run!” When Bean hesitated, Tiller threw loose earth at him. Louder, “Run! Get!”

  Bean scampered away into the long grass. Tiller grabbed his shovel and turned to face Bonk.

  Affecting what calm he could, Tiller said, “We can talk about this, Bonk. It’s not exactly what you think.”

  Bonk threw the remaining goblin away like a used-up drink can. The ropey body smashed into the earthen walls of Tiller’s shelter and through to the other side. “Oh? Time for talking now, is it? After the hit failed? Wasn’t time for talking before, no?”

  Bonk did not break stride. His huge heavy steps crushed small crop plants without discernment. Tiller deepened his stance, squeezing his knuckles on the shovel handle. The ogre was less than five yards away, closing fast.

  Tiller swung. The edges of the shovel blade glimmered as his shovel sigil glowed. He stepped into the swing. He’d grown so accustomed to his sigil, so attuned to his shovel. Bonk’s eyes even faltered, the little orbs springing wide in surprise at the speed and ferocity of the attack. The shovel flashed in the sunlight, arcing toward Bonk’s face.

  Then Bonk caught it by the handle, just below the blade. Tiller jerked, straining, but Bonk’s grip was immovable.

  “I’m going to make you regret-” Bonk’s words died as a pillar of earth exploded from the ground, catching him under the chin in an uppercut that lifted him off his feet.

  The ogre landed on his back, groaning in surprise. Tiller was free. He reached back, winding up, and leapt forward, shovel slicing down in a savage arc, blade gleaming, sigil glowing.

  Bonk rolled to his side, protecting himself with his forearm. The shovel blade bit deep into the meat of his forearm, lodging there. Blood erupted as Bonk grunted in enraged agony. Tiller had to jerk and pull on the handle to free his weapon. He didn’t waste a moment, hacking down again. Bonk rolled away, finding his feet, the shovel glancing off the side of his skull. It opened another wound there, a slice of flesh dangling, more blood running.

  “Gonna fucking-” Bonk roared, rearing over him, but the words died again as a pillar of earth punched him in the side of the head. The ogre didn’t go down again, but he staggered, clutching his skull, shaking his head.

  “The fuck are you doing that-” he growled. There was anger foremost on his green face, but confusion and maybe the seeds of fear as well.

  Tiller swung; Bonk parried with the back of his forearm. The earth surged up, smashing him in the sweet spot between his legs. He doubled over, exposed, the blade flashed, cutting the top of his skull.

  Momentum, eagerness, disbelief, raw animal instinct, all swirled in him, driving him forward, feeding his actions. He could do it. He didn’t have to die that day. He could do this.

  When Bonk’s face turned back to him it was different. The visage was already grisly, blood flowing from head wounds, painting him red. Flesh dangled from the flap. But now the eyes glowed red, a sigil burning on his wrist.

  “WAAAARRRRRHHHH!” Bonk roared, all beast suddenly.

  Tiller swung but the creature was suddenly a juggernaut, punching the shovel aside. The blow was so strong it smashed the shovel from his grip. A fist plowed into him. Pain exploded, air evacuated his lungs, his body spasmed as he was thrown across the ground. He landed hard, tumbling through young plants, breaking their stems. He got to his knees before the ogre charged him again, moving so fast, too fast, impossibly fast.

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  Tiller flung an arm out, guiding the earth, striking Bonk with another pillar. He tightened his fist as it struck Bonk, the earth responding by contracting, becoming harder and denser. It just broke on the ogre like water on the shore. The earth flowed over and around him, suddenly without effect.

  “Oh shit!” Tiller grunted, then another blow, to the head this time. He flailed as he went airborne again, stars exploding in his vision. His ears rang. A high-pitched whining filled his ears, nearly deafening him. Another sound, a whirring vibration, added to the sensory confusion.

  Bonk was over him. His eyes were glowing red, his lips frothing, nostrils flared. The intelligence was gone. This was an enraged bull in an ogre’s skin. A fist fell like a meteor. Tiller managed to roll out of the way. He spun his wrist; a ball of earth flew from the ground, breaking on Bonk. Bonk didn’t even notice. Another fist fell, Tiller rolled, the fist exploded the earth by his ear. The next fist struck his chest. His whole body tried to explode, the pressure of the impact cracking ribs, spearing his ragged body with pain, making his guts want to pop.

  The fists fell in a storm. Each blow was titanic; Tiller’s ability to process his inevitable destruction faded into a tempest of agony and concussion.

  Then, somehow, the shovel was in Bonk’s huge hand, blade pointed down like a dagger. Tiller was drunk on agony; he could only waver, half-close one eye, as the shovel fell.

  A blur of something, a disgusting meaty thwack, and blood geysering from Bonk’s head. The ogre was tossed aside, and suddenly there was air above Tiller again.

  “RAAARRGH!” Bonk roared, still all animal.

  Tiller tried to rise, but his body shook.

  Bonk charged a newcomer, a thick muscular human in spiked leather armor, holding a bloodied single-headed axe.

  The man smiled with savage eagerness.

  Bonk charged him like a bull. The man spun, a sigil flaring on his wrist, and landed easily away. Bonk’s charge carried him past the man, shredding more crops with his churning feet. The beast turned, charging again, when a tornado of blades and stone buzzed into his side, grinding the flesh to ragged meat. Bonk howled in pain, flailing. As he swiped at the new attack, the man with the axe rushed him, spinning to deliver a blow to the torso that buried the axe.

  Tiller found his feet. How could Bonk still be standing? It was impossible. And yet a fist flew, smashing into the buzzing whirlwind. The whirlwind exploded, strangely shaped pieces of stone scattering, small hatchets tumbling to the earth. The man with the axe pulled his weapon free and swung again. Bonk launched at him, grappling. Another sigil flared and Tiller could not fathom how the man put up the fight that he did. It was cartoonish, their bodies struggling, the sheer mountainous mass of the ogre eclipsing the human, and yet he fought, wrestled, almost seemed like he could overpower the bigger creature. But inevitably he dragged him down, and Bonk was on top of him, crushing the man to the ground, hands around his neck, squeezing, growling, saliva drooling from his maddened face.

  Tiller dashed in, maybe staggered would be better. Tiller stagger-dashed, shoulder charging, burning the last of his earth sigil to punch Bonk with the earth. A hand snaked out, a whip of meat, and a hand had him by the throat too, jerking his body, smashing him to the ground. Bonk was above both of them, crushing them, squeezing, lungs heaving with rapid animal pants.

  Tiller’s vision narrowed, the pressure in his eyes exploding, his hands flailing at the grasp. A trickle of thought. Was this it? Could this be how it ended? Would he never see them again? His wife? His kids? In a way it seemed like the logical end. He’d never really believed…

  The pressure suddenly slackened.

  Tiller’s vision came back. The grip at his neck went slack, Bonk’s eyes lost their blazing redness. His expression was suddenly pallid and confused. Then Tiller saw the dagger handle, sprouting from the side of Bonk’s skull, blade planted deep in the matter of his brain. The ogre tried to rise, but his massive limbs just spasmed; he tumbled to the earth, twitching.

  As Bonk’s form tilted away, the haggard form of the goblin was revealed. He looked down at Tiller with eyes drunk with pain and grief and exhaustion. “I do believe… that will be that… pip… pip…” then he tilted and collapsed on the ground. Tiller tried to rise, to finish the ogre, to just prove he was alive. But he sank back to the earth, blackness surrounding him and carrying him away.

  Moments later, or hours later, let’s just say time later Tiller had awareness again. A voice, enthusiastic and exuberant, deep but not unpleasant: “Fuck yeah, Lit… stone robot, check this out! A cinder sigil! Nice, eh? What’s it do? Berserker? Hmmm… I like the sound of that.”

  Another voice, with an artificial flavor to it, “Easy up, bruh. You want to think about that one.”

  The deep voice chuckled, “Did you see what green and nasty was able to do with it? Bet I’d look sick with my eyes all beast-mode like that. And look, another notch on the bar! Iron here we come!”

  Tiller pushed himself up. Bonk’s body lay in the ruined heap. The axe-man stood over it, a glowing sigil in his hand. Beside him was a shorter, wider creature, made of stone segments, eyes glowing blue.

  The surviving goblin still lay unconscious, chest rising and falling uncertainly.

  The man saw him move and seemed to forget everything else. He came to him, walking with the confident air of the school quarterback, a hero radiating self-assurance. “Hey! That was a fucking close one, wasn’t it? Here-”

  He extended a hand, which Tiller took. The man was strong, shockingly so, and Tiller was hauled to his feet.

  The stone construct said, “Uh, bruh… that dude is so totally concussed, he shouldn’t be standing yet…”

  The man didn’t seem to notice him. He only had eyes for Tiller. He said, “Well shit, there you are. Another human. Or hoo-man? You heard that one yet? Anyway… you’re the first I’ve seen since I got here… I’m hoping you can help me answer a few questions. I’m Cutter.”