“There’s a group of about two hundred,” Gren said on the radio, “A half-mile, north-by-northeast.”

An army of zombies marched forward. There were little gaps in their lines, for Gren and the other scouts to retreat back through. The forest broke their orderly formations up still further, although the Haunted Woods were not as dense as most of Xyla’s domain. Still, the zombies were not capable of stealth, and even zombies alone outnumbered the group they charged toward.

Gren stationed her archers a little forward, and she scanned the trees constantly for goblins, using binoculars that Abby had given her, radioing positions when needed. She saw one waiting for her to get close enough to shoot at, trying to stay hidden. With the binoculars, she could see the creature’s beady little red eyes.

Wearily she unstrapped the compound bow from her back, looked through the affixed sight, adjusted for wind and distance, and, safely outside of the goblin’s range, unleashed an arrow.

It all seemed more than a little unfair. This was not the stuff of sagas, told in the great hall in alliterative verse. They were not outnumbered. Technically, there were more goblins in the forest, but they weren’t in a single mass. They’d split into groups big enough that the beastkin couldn’t take them on, but other than that they were as dispersed as possible, to scour the forest for an elusive foe that knew the woods better than they did. Even massed, their slightly greater numbers wouldn’t be a match for the much larger soldiers of Abby’s army. She suspected they didn’t even need the zombies.

Most of the goblins were not in trees, or alone. As much as Gren lamented that no poet would enshrine their daring deeds in striking stanzas, she wasn’t going to take unnecessary risks. After all, she had a baby on the way.

Ten or so of them suddenly ran out. She pointed her bow, and ten meters to her left, Lysandra did the same. She debated retreating, but no, they could deal with ten. Gren could sense Shizuka moving around to flank. Damn cats, they didn’t do as they were told.

“Wegibup!” the goblins yelled, and threw a mix of little swords, not more than daggers really, five-foot long spears, and bows to the ground.

Daring damsel, destroying the disarmed. No, it just wouldn’t do. Life could be so unfair sometimes, but she reminded herself that she had a beautiful wife and an amazing chosen family. She lowered her bow. “What did you say!”

“Wezurender!”

A flash of orange. Fucking feline. Was she just going to murder the prisoners? “Shizuka, stop!” Gren yelled, hoping against hope that this time she’d obey directions.

“Or we’ll shoot you!” Lysandra yelled.

Shizuka was in mid-leap from one tree to one just over the goblins, and Gren could almost swear she could hear the scrape of her claws as they dug in to stop her from her next bound. Well, that worked, although Shizuka’s hiss at Lysandra was audible even from a hundred meters away.

Prisoners were a pain in the ass. If you were going to keep them, you had to watch them. Which meant detailing people to do that. Maybe she should have let Shizuka do her thing; it would have been quick and simple. But Abby would be displeased, and looking at the bigger picture, it was better to have the goblins know surrender was a viable option.

“All right,” Gren yelled. “March this way.”

The goblins marched. And behind them, more streamed forward, dropping weapons onto the pile. Lysandra never lowered her bow. Shizuka never budged from her tree. Gren suspected that they were watching each other as much as the goblins.

Gren signaled for a couple more of her scouts, an orc and a troll, to close in. Together they watched the goblins as they marched in a straggly line. Gren counted a hundred and fifteen of them.

“Prisoners incoming,” Gren said into the radio. “Okay if we send them right through the zombies?”

“I’ll have to order them not to attack,” Abby said. “Just a minute, will you?”

“Stop!” Gren yelled at the goblins. “Right there!” And then to Abby. “Yep, we’ll hold on for now. But there are a handful of us watching over a hundred of them.”

The goblins stopped. Their shoulders drooped, and they hung their heads low. The one thing goblins usually had in abundance was energy, but not these.  They looked physically exhausted, as soldiers often looked toward the end of a campaign, and morally defeated. Gren wondered if they really even expected mercy. They likely wouldn’t have received it from most armies, so they had to be pretty desperate to try surrender at all. Perhaps at best they were anticipating a lifetime of slavery.

If they were this dejected and tired, why had they decided to attack their neighbors? It didn’t make sense. Maybe they were faking it.

“Okay, Gren, we’re ready. Send them through. I’m going to get them all the way out of the forest, and I’ll set up a ring of zombies around them so they won’t go anywhere.”

“Alright. You know, once they are out of sight, you could just kill them. I know we want other goblins to surrender, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, and you won’t have to detail so many resources. I mean, what are you going to do with them long-term, anyway?” She knew what the answer would be, but she felt it was her job to provide options. No doubt Enash was giving Abby the same suggestion, but it would be different coming from her. Maybe.

“You know I won’t do that.”

“Yeah. I know. Lysandra had to threaten to shoot Shizuka to stop the ferocious feline from eviscerating them.”

“Good for Lysandra,” Abby said. “Give her a kiss for me.”

Wait, don’t I get a kiss? Gren wondered. But then she realized that if she kissed Lysandra, she most certainly would. “Will do, curvaceous commander.”

She grinned. That was a good one, she thought. And thinking about Abby’s curves always put her in a good mood, as well as other things about Abby that started with “C.”

She told the other scouts the plan and then yelled to the goblins. “Okay, this way! I’ve been told you’ll be treated well, but you need to keep moving until we get you to a good place.”

The goblins wearily resumed their march. They almost resembled small zombies at this point in the way they shambled. Goblins could move better than that, but maybe not these ones, at this time. Gren watched their heads bob up and down. They were like a bubbling liquid, kind of, viewed as a mass, a viscous liquid, like Lesseth maybe, or something with chunks in it maybe.

“Ugh,” Gren said, turning her head away.

She threw up.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Shizuka said, looking down at her from a tree.

Gren looked up, with effort. The catgirl’s tail was swishing, and she was stretched out on a limb.

“Good guess,” Gren said.

“I thought I smelled it on you. Abby’s?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder,” Shizuka said. “Whether you’ll have a boy or a girl, or –”

“Me too,” Gren said.

War in novels, and often even in history books, is about the clash of arms and acts of heroism. And sometimes that’s true, but more often than not, it’s really about logistics.

A second group surrendered, and I had to send more zombies and a few people away from the forest to guard them. I placed Talos in charge of the prisoners, in part because I thought that if he healed a few of them that would go a long way to making them feel safe.

And therefore docile. The source of this content ɪs novelFɪre.net

Well, sure. That didn’t hurt.

I also had to detail people to pick up their weapons. I considered putting them in my bag of holding, but I wanted to be free to do other stuff, and I didn’t want the bag too far away from me, either.

I reinforced Gren’s scouts with more people, so that they could better deal with any future surrenders. I wasn’t surprised when she got on the radio again.

“We’ve got another group,” she said.

“Great.”

“Shizuka wants you to kill them all.”

“Tell Shizuka I appreciate her advice, but don’t intend to follow it.”

“Anyway this group is different. There’s a guy, and I think he’s in charge, and I think he’s saying, ‘Take me to your leader.’”

“Really? How cliché.”

“How can that be a cliché? It doesn’t even alliterate.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to him. Send him through the normal way. How do I recognize him?”

“He’s huge!”

“Oh, well, that will do.”

“By which I mean he’s about four feet tall.”

“Great.”

“Seriously, he’s got a hat, that’s another foot high. So he’s detectably distinct.”

“Got it.”

It took a while for them to get to me, but twenty minutes later I saw him. Sure enough, he was the biggest goblin, and he had what looked like a brown felt top hat on.

Betsy pointed at him. “That there is the head honcho,” she told me.

I walked forward, which made both my human guard and my demon guard twitchy. Kendala moved with me, always a step behind and to my left. Valeria was at my right. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Queen Abby.”

He turned. “I wanna dalk to the one in jarge.” He talked very quickly, his words running together.

“I’m in charge,” I said.

“You Gween?”

“Queen, yes.” It was still weird to refer to myself that way.

“Husband Ging?”

“I’m not, um, I don’t have a husband. So no, I’m it.”

“No, really,” he said. “Where is da man in jarge.”

Kathy, behind me, chuckled. “Welcome to the club, Abby,” she said. “See what we have to put up with all the time?”

“Not in Abbyland,” I said. “Look, I’m in charge here. I’m the queen. Are you the king of the goblins, or some such?”

“Emberor!” he said proudly, and pointed at his top hat. “Where is man in jarge?”

He was about the size of an emperor penguin, I suppose.

“Goblins are very patriarchal,” Valeria said.

“I see that.”

“Maybe you should show him your cock,” Kendala suggested.

“That shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Sure,” Kendala said. “But it would be fun.”

I didn’t want to reinforce any notion that having a penis meant that you were somehow more fit for leadership. I took a step forward, instead. “You doubt I’m in charge, little man?” I wasn’t tall, but I was taller than him, even with the hat.

“You can’t be in charge, you’re a woman.” I was beginning to translate his accent automatically. I couldn’t blame him for staring at my breasts, because he had to look up to see my face. The other goblins were watching, too, and looking a bit tense. If I did anything to their leader, I might have a riot on my hands.

Instead, I lifted my shirt.

Stunning Beauty.

Oh yeah. When in doubt, show ‘em the knockers.

It had the desired effect. For a few seconds, all the goblins just stared at my tits. And then I pulled my shirt back down. “Anyone doubt I’m in charge anymore?” I asked.

The goblin emperor blinked at me.

“Uh, no?”

Yeah, I could have gotten the same effect by lifting my skirt, but this, I thought, would land differently.

“May I say something, Abby?” Kendala asked.

“Sure.”

Kendala stepped forward. “She is Abby, queen of Abbyland,” Kendala said. “Ruler and protector of orcs, trolls, and beastkin, and Uber Archfiend of Tartarus. And my Employer.” She capitalized it.

“Employer?” The goblin asked.

“Like an Emperor, but more absolute,” Kendala explained.

Okay, I had never quite managed to get that concept across. Still, I thought we were in a good place.

The goblin king said, “I had been prepared to offer you my daughter, and other women for your harem. I guess that’s out.”

“Still works,” Kendala said, and then looked at me. “Or not. But I know people who think they are just the right height.”

The goblin looked at Kendala, and then Val.

“You’re a lezbo!” he suddenly said.

I groaned. “I like women, yes. I’m not interested in you offering me yours.”

A three foot tall goblin girl pushed herself forward from the crowd. She had bright pink hair, and disproportionately large breasts, that were barely contained in a dirndl like outfit. “I’m the Brincess Gobzmegged,” she said, swishing her hips and sending her bosom wobbling.  I won’t keep transcribing her accent. “But you can call me Princess Maggie. Are you sure about that?”

“Um,” I said. “You’re very cute, and all, but –”

“I don’t take rejection well,” she said, and pointed at me. A little flame flickered on her finger for a moment, like a lighter flame.

And then I felt a burning sensation, and realized my clothes were on fire.