'After a while, word got around. It's a nice place, close enough to the city for a day trip. Plenty of fresh air. Over the years you've become a bit of a tourist attraction. Some of us from the old country, we come out, attach ourselves to your household for a few months and see a bit of the countryside before we head back.'
Jennifer thought for a moment. 'Are you telling me I'm some kind of a kobold backpacker hostel?'
The talkative one waved his hands in a placating gesture. 'We help out around the place, Miss. Make sure the animals are looked after, keep the house tidy. It's more like a working holiday'.
'Well I never,' said Jennifer. She looked at their injuries. 'You better let me see to that arm young man. I've looked after enough animals to know when someone needs a splint.'
The kobolds looked back at her with serious eyes. 'No time for that, Miss. There are more than three of them I'm afraid. It looks like a bloody army out there, and they're massing for an attack'.
Jennifer felt a stab of panic. 'What do we do?'
'Get back inside, Miss. Perhaps go upstairs and stay out of sight. We think they're after us. Hopefully they'll leave you alone once they've got us.'
'Don't you give yourselves up for me,' said Jennifer. 'I've never deserted anything in my care before, I'm damned if I will now.'
'Oh, don't worry, Miss, we'll fight,' said the lead kobold. 'But still, it'll be easier if we don't have to worry about you out in the open.'
Jennifer couldn't deny the logic of that. She went inside and closed the door. Her cane forgotten, she went to the mantel and grabbed the trophy the local council had insisted on giving her for 'contributions to civic amenity' a few years back. The thing weighed a tonne and even with her aged muscles she should be able to do some damage with it. After turning off the light, she sidled up to the window and peered out. Her three protectors stood in loose formation around the front door. In the yard, she saw the dust resolve into shapes. There must be over one hundred creatures out there. What hope did they have?
As if sensing her thoughts, the chatty kobold looked back over his shoulder at the window. 'Oh, I forgot to mention, Miss. We don't take up a lot of room when we visit. And like I said, your place is very popular.'
All around the front veranda kobolds began to appear. After she got to fifty, Jennifer lost count.
With a roar the two forces crashed together.
***
'By all of hell's fiery pits, where did they come from?' Misthrado spun around and grabbed Sandrath by the arm, pulling him across and forcing him to his knees. 'You bloody well told me there were three of them!'
Sandrath looked as confused as Misthrado felt. 'I don't know, your majesty. The scouts watched for days and only saw the three, I swear it.'
'Bah,' spat Misthrado, lifting Sandrath and throwing him to the side. He turned to his other lieutenants. 'Bring up the other two brigades. We'll show these kobolds that a few house spirits can't get the better of us. And bring me my sword while you're at it.'
He hadn't intended on giving his troops a full blown battle. In fact he hadn't expected any serious opposition until he reached the first of the major cities. The Fae were so predisposed to individuality that all his reconnaissance had told him that a concentrated force of a couple of hundred would be more than enough to pick off individual pockets of resistance. He had planned to seize the sites of power long before anyone could organise against him. And here he was, the first engagement of his new army and he was fighting off the largest gathering of kobolds he'd ever seen. Even if he was victorious, there would be survivors who'd escape to the city. The element of surprise would be lost and his enemies would have time to prepare.
Misthrado's dark wings stretched out, twitching and stirring in automatic response to his anger. He dealt a therapeutic backhanded blow to a nearby cowering servant and strode forward to lead the second wave of his troops into battle.
***
Jennifer stared through the glass into a scene that was equal parts wondrous and terrifying. Creatures she'd only read about in stories flickered in and out of existence, joined in a chaotic battle royale. Her kobolds were on average much smaller than their foes, but what they lacked in size, they made up for with... well, she would've liked to have said with tenacity and pluck, but really it was sheer bloody ferocity. The battlefield had degenerated into a shambles, any attempt at an ordered assault crumbling as her kobolds encouraged the opposing force's natural tendency towards bedlam. It was hard to tell, but it seemed to Jennifer that her kobolds were getting the upper hand.
A horn blasted in the distance and the attacking force disengaged, retreating to the edge of the property. The kobolds regrouped, dragging their injured and dead back towards the house. Jennifer opened the front door and began shepherding the wounded into the living room, which had started to resemble a field hospital in a war zone. On reflection Jennifer supposed it was. Using skills acquired over a lifetime of caring for sick and injured animals, she started helping where she could.
A few minutes later the horn sounded again. Jennifer looked outside, and saw a much larger force approaching the house. At its head stood the largest man she had ever seen. Her eyesight wasn't the greatest but it looked like a giant with wings, holding a ludicrously big sword.
The talkative kobold, who had apparently been appointed as her liaison officer, was the tongue twistingly named Grallazenphof ('call me Gral'). He blanched at the oncoming horde. 'Bloody hell, Miss, that's Misthrado. He was banished from Europe years ago. Never knew he'd ended up here. Most people think he's dead.'
Jennifer could see that they were outnumbered. She turned to Gral. 'Any suggestions, young man?'
Gral stood, the lines on his face screwed up into mazes of uncertainty. 'I sent some of the younger lads into town to try and round up some reinforcements, Miss, but I don't think we can expect much help from that quarter for a while. We could try to run, but they'd catch us pretty fast out in the open, especially with you tagging along, Miss. No offence.'
Jennifer's running days were well behind her. 'None taken,' she muttered. She straightened as she came to a decision. 'Well then, there's nothing more you can do for me. You should all go now while they are regrouping. You'll be able to slip away. You seem pretty good at concealing yourselves.'
Gral's face twisted in revulsion. 'But, Miss, we're bound to your household.'
Some of the old confusion slipped in behind Jennifer's new certainty. 'I thought you said that was only temporary? That you were here for a visit.'
'Sure, it's fine to leave when everything is going well and there are plenty of other kobolds around to look after things,' said Gral. 'But to leave when you're in danger and the whole household is about to be overrun? We'd never be accepted in kobold society again. It's unthinkable.'
Jennifer paused to digest the not altogether sensible mores of the kobold community. From the look on Gral's face and the incredulous muttering of those in earshot, she could tell she wasn't going to have a lot of luck convincing them to leave. She thought about what she'd witnessed in the previous fight.
'They seem like a pretty unruly lot, Gral.'
'Oh yes, Miss,' he responded. 'I'm surprised he can hold them together. No one has ever had much luck forming a Fae army. It's why humans rule the world. We're too bloody disorganised.'
'And I'm the head of the household? That makes me your leader?'
'Ah, yes, Miss. I guess that's true, technically.'
'Well, quickly young man. Give me the cliff notes version of Fae battlefield etiquette,' said Jennifer.
She settled back and listened as Gral went through a beginner's guide to Fae rules of engagement. As she listened, a plan started to form. She doubted the kobolds would like it, but it was the only thing she could think of that might save lives. She waved over a few of the more focused of her new followers and began her spiel.
***
Misthrado marched towards the house, determined to cut down these upstarts straight away. T
he kobolds weren't in good shape. One decisive thrust should wipe them out.
He was half way across the yard when he noticed the old woman stepping off her front porch, a gaudy statue of some sort in hand. A small group of kobolds stood behind her, a fidgeting and scowling honour guard of sorts. Battered kobolds leaned out of every window of the house, watching the scene playing out before them.
'Misthrado, isn't it?' The woman's voice carried thinly across the yard. 'What brings you to my home?'
He raised his hand and his army stopped behind him. What a fantastic opportunity. As frail as she was, the old lady was the mistress of this forsaken hellhole and she had addressed him in parley. This provided him with a chance to engage in a bit of awe inspiring speech making to impress the troops. She was human and was not covered by the law of the Fae, so any terms he agreed to would not be binding. He could secure her surrender then butcher the damn kobolds once they stood down and no one would gainsay him. Indeed, his reputation for ruthlessness would only be enhanced.
He drew himself up to his full height and projected his voice in practiced cadences designed to daunt.
'I am Misthrado, Lord of the Underworld and Destroyer of Nations. My armies will conquer this puny continent and soon I will take my rightful place...'
'Yes, yes,' the woman broke in. 'So, since you're the leader of this invading army, I understand I can challenge you to a trial by single combat. Is that right?'
No one interrupted him. No one! Off balance, Misthrado looked at her with suspicion. There must be some trick here. In a flash of insight, he thought he saw it.
'Ah, you've found some kind of champion to fight on your behalf, have you old woman? I counsel against it, there is no kobold alive that can match me. And if your warrior were to lose, both you and your whole army would be mine to do with as I pleased.'
The old woman smiled. 'No champion, Misthrado. Just me. You can use a champion if you like.' She hefted the golden figurine. 'If it's all the same to you I'd like to keep the trophy though.'
Misthrado heard sniggering in the ranks behind him and realised the situation was fast spinning out of his control. Destroying this old woman would be easy. Too easy in some ways, it would reduce his standing with his troops. But still, not accepting the challenge would be even worse.
'Keep your idol, human,' he snarled. 'I'll even leave behind my sword. Tearing you apart with my bare hands will be the highlight of my day.'
He slammed his sword point-first into the ground, then strode forward into the now empty circle of grass that lay between his army and the house. The old woman tottered forward, her trophy held before her like a talisman.
Misthrado screamed his displeasure at this humiliating scene for all to hear. The faster he removed this impudent woman's head and put this whole damn day behind him the better. He crouched in preparation for an eviscerating leap.
It was then that the first knife pierced his thick skin. As he twisted towards the source of the pain, kobolds appeared all around him, stabbing, clawing and biting. The kobolds at the window had been a ruse, a small part of her force left to give the impression the house was fully defended. The remainder had snuck out and lay in wait to catch him once he was separated from his troops.
Within seconds his wings had been punctured and he was bleeding all over. He swung his arms, trying to find enough space to fight back but the numbers were overwhelming. His own army stood paralysed, watching as he collapsed under the weight of so many kobolds. No matter how good an individual fighter was, anyone could be taken down if enough enemies were piled on.
'This is a violation of Fae law,' he hissed while trying to protect his vital organs.
Even above the noise of battle, the old woman must have heard him.
'Well, I don't know anything about that dearie,' she said. 'I'm not Fae.'
'My armies will destroy you,' he gasped.
'I don't think so,' she replied. 'They don't seem like the type to follow orders, and with you brought down I see quite a few of them leaving. I suspect you're going to have to find yourself another army.'
Misthrado didn't have to see his horde to know she spoke the truth. Even at the height of his powers, keeping this many Fae under control was difficult. 'It's not fair,' he yelled.
The old woman didn't seem sympathetic. 'Yes, well a seven foot half-demon warrior taking on a little old human lady isn't exactly punching in your weight division is it? Fair is as fair does, if you ask me.'
Misthrado was losing blood quickly and knew that if he didn't leave now he may never do so. With a roar so loud it shook the house on its foundations, he managed to dislodge enough kobolds to leap into the air. His damaged wings barely held him aloft as he retreated, the remnants of his army streaming away beneath him.
It would be years before he'd recover from this. He shrieked his frustration into the night sky as he flew back towards sanctuary.
***
Dawn's golden light found Jennifer and Gral sitting on the front porch. Her kobold guests had spent the night cleaning up, and only some trampled grass and a few broken windows showed that anything special had happened at all.
With the excitement passed, Jennifer felt the old lethargy seep back into her bones. She let the sunlight warm her as she sipped a hot cup of tea.
'Will he be back?' she asked.
'Not for a long time, Miss,' replied Gral. 'Although you'd better watch yourself. He'll want his revenge.'
After setting her tea aside, Jennifer closed her eyes to settle in for a short doze. 'Then it's lucky for me I run the best kobold backpackers lodge south of the equator.'
Author's note
To be honest, “Showdown” was just a lot of fun to write. There was a call for submissions for an anthology that asked for fantastical creatures that were not from your normal, more popular menagerie in speculative fiction. I liked the idea of the Fae revolution starting in Australia, I liked the idea of Fae backpackers and my very minimal research told me that kobolds were a little more complicated than the rat-like creatures I remembered from playing Dungeons and Dragons in my misspent youth.
Sadly, “Showdown” didn’t make the cut for the original anthology but was eventually picked up (and paid for!) by Electric Spec Volume 9 Issue 2 (https://www.electricspec.com/Volume9/Issue2/V9Issue2.html). There was a very nice introduction given by the editors, and I loved being part of the publication. Electric Spec is still going strong today – why not check out their latest edition?
About the Author
Mark found that his midlife crisis came in the form of attempting to write speculative fiction at a very slow pace. His wife maintains this is a good outcome considering the more expensive and clichéd alternatives. Evidence of Mark's attempts to procrastinate in his writing, including general musings and reviews of books he has been reading, can be found at www.markwebb.name.
You can connect with Mark online at:
Blog: www.markwebb.name
Twitter: www.twitter.com/@webb_ma
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