The door

As evening fell, the crickets began to fill the air with their annoying song. Raki tried to trample as much of it as he could as he made his way past the reeds, skirting a stagnant stream, even though the feat was much bigger than him. Not bad: the crunchy sound of breaking insects was a hilarious jingle.

The extra equipment he had loaded onto his shoulders weighed uncomfortably. He was a survivor, he could not afford to drag the spoils of war through the lands but, rather than abandon the swinging sword or the surplice, he would eat them.

He still could not keep his eyes above the level of the vegetation when, without warning, he heard the sound of a chime blown.

Raki froze. He listened to his ear.

Nothing.

He felt his right hand, observing the holes he had made himself with the spur, hours ago.

Then a new noise, this time metallic.

- Chains and gears? -

He was sure he wasn't wrong, not about such a thing.

Carefully he decided to go upstream and discover the origin of the artificial sounds. As he progressed, however, the only possibility, the only origin that such clashes could have become more and more clear in his mind.

He had to reach the end of the reeds before he could realize where his crooked footsteps had led him.

Palisades of oak wood stood out against the darkened sky. Against the leafy background, lonely, thorny trees guarded two large observation towers, tied together by arm-thick cords. They seemed to be about to fall at any moment. At their feet peeked out the thatched and dung roofs of a village like few others.

Never seen such a thing, Raki thought.

From his hiding place among the branches, he observed the heavily reinforced door of the enclosure, which by means of even heavier chains was raised to cover the main entrance. There was no ditch to cross, only trench pikes, but the gate was still a drawbridge.

The clarion sounded again in the dry air. Raki looked up, noticing something on the right-hand tower that he had previously missed. A fat, wrinkled arkà was blowing into the mouthpiece, the lard dangling out of his coat like a pig now ready to be slaughtered.

Rubbing his ears, he felt luck smirking at him again.

- An Arkà city! -

Raki immediately saw food, shelter, weapons, and a group of unwary to manipulate. A grin spread across his face: he couldn't hope for a better match! A real town, out of the caves, right in its path! As the door, lifted by the clattering chains, was about to close, he realized that he was not going to miss the opportunity.

He left the shelter and at a brisk pace came into view in the space in front of the breach. Dust and insects followed him.

- Hey! Hey! - He made no gestures, merely attracting attention.

The fat goblin on the turret jumped. - Stop! Don't move! - He nearly fell downstairs when he warned a patrol on the scaffolding.

The drawbridge stopped.

- Who are you? - a grumpy voice croaked, hidden by a helmet. He was standing at the top of the barricade, just rushing to look at the suspected traveler.

- I need food and rest! - Raki answered.

- Where are you from, huh? Where do you come from? -

- The mountains! -

- There are no goblins in the mountains! -

Raki hesitated irritably. Why had that filthy guard not called him arkà, but goblin? And why the fuck had he told him that there were no members of their people in the mountains?

Raki struck the sword on the first stone.

- Instead I come right out of the hole, stinking, drilled between the granite buttocks of the Ippancha! -

- It is not true! It is not! -

- Yes, it is true. -

- You lie! Snort-snort! -

Raki growled, spat, and shouted to the sky: - I can pay. -

The sentry's eyes sparkled, first with surprise, then with greed. Raki was right.

- What have you got? -

Other goblins had joined the scene, gathered on the scaffolding, their lumpy noses stuck in the openings between one trunk and the other of the fence. It took only a handful of seconds for the first fights to break out, with paws, fangs, and black mop sprouting from everywhere.

Raki thought about what to offer. He carried the remains of the attacker with him, but inside a small town, some things lost their value.

- Jewels - he winked. From the pouch he pulled out the earrings stolen from the corpse and rubbed them between his fingers, showing the glint of the rough metal in the last sun of the day.

The drool at the guard's mouth was obvious.

A few seconds passed in which she seemed undecided. One of his companions raised his bow, quickly drawing it towards Raki. An ugly, barely functional weapon. He could still have fired a fairly accurate shot and taken the loot, had he been quick enough. The guard with the helmet, however, was quicker: he raised his pike and pierced the side of the shooter, who gasped to the ground.

He glared at the whole group.

The obese abdomen did not stop swaying.

Finally, he turned to Raki, who had advanced to just outside the entrance. - Wait there, right there. -

With a leap, he disappeared from sight. Several others followed him like turkeys swaying at the sight of the grain.

A gust of wind and nothing more was heard. Raki looked around impatiently. What were they doing?

Finally a noise. On the other side, the small entrance doors were opening, set in the drawbridge.

Clack-clack. The gate was almost all up.

Raki would get in quickly and settle down well.

Or at least he believed it.

He believed it and had believed it, surely until the moment he noticed the door lowering.

Get down quickly. Very quickly.

The sound of the loose lifting chains filled his ears as the giant slab of wood and iron, pushed by its own weight, collapsed to the ground.

Raki knew he was in the wrongest place possible.

He tried to escape certain death, swerving to the side, but he couldn't.

As he was smashed to the ground, all he could think of was that those greasy lunatics had been able to smash the city gate full in his face.