by Brent Evanger
from The Hidden Threat
***
Bracing herself against the gentle movement of the ship, Mefaren looked out across the waves toward the shore. Morning mist still hung thick in the air as the merchant vessel approached the rocky beach. The signal fire, a pinprick of dancing light cutting through the fog, meant the coastline was clear. The Hanseatic League sailors quietly stood ready, these were ask-no-questions professional types. With a slight gesture the captain set the crew to motion. Sails were furled and with a rattle of chains the anchor dropped, the sound of the splash swallowed by the fog. Groups of men quickly lowered a small boat over the side and hoisted a large wooden crate from the deck with rope and pulley. As she strolled to the rail, the heavy crate, her precious cargo for these last few weeks, was already settling into place aboard the small boat, weighing the rowed vessel down with its squirming contents.
With a handshake she passed the final portion of the delivery fee to the captain and climbed down to take her place in the bow, ahead of one pair of rowers. The rhythmic beating of the oars in their locks, muffled by the enveloping mist, was the only noise as the signal fire slowly came into focus. The bump of the small boat striking the bottom brought forth a startled click-clacking noise from the crate. The six sailors jumped into the shallow surf and pulled the boat fully ashore. Struggling mightily they unloaded the heavy crate, leaving it in the sand near the fire.
Mefaren acknowledged their efforts with an appreciative nod as the men pushed their rowboat back out into the foggy surf. Then she was alone, scanning the line of trees while whispering a few arcane phrases of protection.
Presently she caught movement to her right–a figure wearing a breastplate striding out from the cover of a boulder. The gray skinned hobgoblin was a foot shorter than her, but solidly built. She coolly met his hate-filled gaze as he warily closed the distance. Mefaren tossed a large satchel onto the ground between them. The unmistakable clink of coins–lots of them–rang out. The hobgoblin quickly knelt, greedily opening the sack and running his hands through the contents. Satisfied, he stood up and barked out a command. With a scowl he pointed toward a nearby tree, then shouldered the satchel and walked past her.
Glancing back as she moved to the tree, Mefaren saw a number of hobgoblins arriving at the crate sizing up its bulk. The hobgoblin leader paused to kick sand onto the signal fire, scattering the embers with his armored foot. Mefaren found the saddled horse tied to the tree, as per the agreement. With her belongings secured to the saddle, she rode up the trail away from the seashore. A monstrous howl turned her attention back through the trees and mist toward the beach. She caught sight of a large ogre, struggling to carry the crate across the sand. “Disgusting creatures, all of them” she muttered, grimacing as she rode on toward the border.