The ridge was still about a quarter mile from their current position. However, before reaching the ridge, something startled Valen.
He heard some kind of sound like running water, a great rattle of feet and breath and rustling brush, and it came from the south at a speed that made no sense for anyone walking.
Then the undergrowth on both sides of the road shook, and the goblins burst out into the open by the dozens, a ragged crowd of thirty or more, with spears and clubs held loosely in their fists.
"Form up!" Marcus shouted. "Crossbows, up! Hold until I say!"
But the goblins did not charge.
Valen saw it a moment before anyone else did, and he could never afterward explain how he knew. They were running with their heads turned over their shoulders, their yellow eyes wide and glassy, and every one of them was staring back at the dark trees they had just left.
At a glance, it didn't seem like these goblins were ambushing them. But instead, it appeared as if they were fleeing.
