“Excuse us,” Jake said, trying not to laugh. Although he was not in his cups like Amari, the half elf had imbibed enough that the redhead’s actions seemed silly rather than alarming.

The ham-fisted gentleman who the Salvarian had stolen a bite from wiped his mouth on the collar of his burlap shirt. His beady eyes glared from Jake to Amari, and then back to Jake. The code of chivalry passed down from the Knights of Scara Brae ran deep in the blood of the men on the island nation. Even a random blacksmith’s apprentice (which was what the big man appeared to be, judging by his corded muscles and callused hands) would be unlikely to ever show any aggression to a lady.

Her male companion, on the other hand, had no such protection. The rywan trunk of a man gave a wordless growl and started to rise. Jake caught him in an Akashiman fingerlock, using the hold on the smallest of the man’s digits. He sat the smith back down in his chair and apologized again.

“Really very sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.” Jake grasped Amari’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll be on our way.”

Several men from other tables stood up, blocking their path to the door.

Oh no, Jake thought, And I don’t even have my sword.

A scream from outside tore through the walls, followed by another, and another. Cries of pain and wails of terror, with only a single discernible word among them.

“Goblins!”

The mood in the dive shifted immediately. The men who had menaced the strangers turned towards the door like one body, most strapping on swords or other weapons that they had removed whilst enjoying their meals. The women set to gathering tables and chairs between them, preparing to barricade the door after the fighters departed.

“Fuck that shit!” Amari exclaimed as Jake opened his mouth to suggest she stay behind, “I’m coming wish you!”

“I was only going to suggest you stay here to protect them,” Jake said. “Come on then.” The pair ducked out the door following the flood of fighters. The wind had cleared the clouds, and the moon enlivened the bedlam below.

Goblins swarmed from building to building, wielding sickle swords and small spiked axes. Most of them were shorter than Jake, but built solidly, and they fought in clever groups of three and four, isolating their human targets and overwhelming them, harsh shouts ringing from their leathery mouths.

“Keep close!” Jake cried, grabbing Amari’s dress as the press of people threatened to separate them. The Scarans fought in larger knots than the goblins, forming circles back to back to back to avoid being singled out by the bloodthirsty savages. Jake kicked the first goblin that came close in the ribs and stole its sickle sword, shoving the snarling creature away with a stumble. He passed the hooked weapon to Amari.

“A sword!” The half elf yelled over the melee, “I must have a proper blade!” The Scarans ignored him, clutching their weapons in white-knuckled determination. Jake leaped and kicked the next goblin to come along in the jaw. It stumbled, and Amari stabbed it through the neck. The half elf snatched up the axe it dropped and swung viciously to fend off another pressing pair. He could use the captured weapons, but a proper long blade would be like an extra friend watching his back.

Although the Scaran folk fought bravely, the goblins had the element of surprise, and an advantage in numbers. If the Knights of Scara Brae opened the city gates and rode out, surely the goblins could be defeated. But the city’s bells had not even begun to toll.