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Bartz had simply assumed that there was a limit to the number of Goblins that could possibly inhabit a certain area.
He had never spent much time considering the living situations of Goblins, but the more he thought about it, the more it just seemed like an unspoken, absolute truth of the world. Like gravity, or the existence of magic. There should have been a finite number of them that could be somewhere at any given time.
Apparently not.
He'd been pretty wrong. And if he was going to be wrong, he had picked the absolute worst way to do it by stumbling into some kind of massive stronghold while looking for a place to rest.
He hopped on Boko and ran, but they gave chase. The entire area between the cave that he found and the town of Tule was evidently theirs, and they poured out into the sun in droves from all over the landscape. They crawled out of the base of the mountain range to his left. False bushes were pushed aside to make way for foxholes, and what he thought were tree stumps transformed before his eyes into camouflaged humanoid shapes. Wave after wave entered the fray to chase them, and just when it seemed like they had outrun the group next to them, another was up ahead.
"Uh, Boko?" Bartz called, leaning over his chocobo's neck. Boko's neck was extended forward, beak cutting the air for speed. His head bobbed with each powerful stride, and he sprinted as fast as his long legs would allow, wings clenched tight into his side. Boko spared him a short, sidelong glance from his wide, sky blue eyes. He looked kind of angry.
'What?!' his look screamed, and Bartz leaned back again.
"Never mind." He snapped the reins against Boko's neck instead. Boko blinked rapidly. His beak hung open around the bit in his mouth, opening and closing rapidly in his way of panting. When he felt the reins, he gathered a giant breath, chest expanding beneath Bartz's legs, and pressed harder.
Bartz glanced over his shoulder. The Goblins behind them were far enough away that he didn't think they'd be a problem, but the Goblins still in front of them, the ones still hurdling into the landscape and facing them down, held weapons. He spotted rudimentary wooden clubs, poorly carved bows and arrows, sling shots, and rusted knives that looked old and dull. The creatures fanned out across the path, running at an angle to try and cut him and Boko off.
Bartz was forced to steer Boko to the right to avoid them. He skirted by them with only inches to spare, and they dove at them as Boko passed, grabbing at Bartz's thighs and his boots. He kicked one away when it managed to get its hand around the stirrup, and another one tried to latch onto Boko, his claws scraping on the boney part of his lower leg. Boko's stride knocked it away, other leg colliding with its head as it fell.
Boko's gait stuttered. He lost his rhythm, and they slowed down dramatically while Boko regrouped with a heavy sigh. He let out a breathy, strained kweh! as the rest of the Goblins in the group were able to crowd around them.
"I got you, buddy!" Bartz yelled. He reached into the saddlepack behind him and pulled two Fire Stones that he had collected during his travels. He reared back and slammed them onto the ground behind them, between Boko and the Goblins. They exploded with a loud roar, and flames burst out in every direction, hot enough and high enough to sear against Bartz's back and Boko's feathers. Boko surged forward with an alarmed screech, flapping his wings, and Bartz clung desperately to the pommel as the Goblins were forced backwards.
Boko's stride picked up again, but it wasn't nearly as fast as before. He was tired, and Bartz's heart clenched in pity that he had to push Boko so hard. But they needed to get away. Boko's eyes rolled. His breath was heavy and stunted, and his legs trembled. Each impact of his feet on the ground felt more like a clumsy slam than a smooth ride as his exhaustion caught up to them, but he spared another glance at Bartz over his shoulder.
A quick, 'Thanks for that.'
Bartz patted his neck. They crested a small hill, and the town of Tule finally appeared, a speck in the distance. It was blocked by more Goblins. "Look! We're almost to Tule, Boko," he said. "If we can make it, the town guard will help us. I know you're tired, but I need you to turn on the jets, alright? You can do it."
Boko lowered his head. He snorted, tapping into the reserves of his endurance for a last kick. His feet picked up speed, running towards the town in front of him. Flimsy arrows and stones flung at them from on ahead, from a cluster of five Goblins that finally looked like the limit of their population. He didn't see any more emerging from behind them, likely too close to the town limits to brave a brazen attack.
The Goblins ran towards them, wooden clubs raised, screaming some kind of threat that he couldn't understand in their chittering, gutteral language. Bartz drove Boko on ahead and Boko's breath stopped, anticipating what Bartz wanted him to do. The Goblins closed the distance.
Boko lifted his foot high on the next step, slamming his claws down on the Goblin closest to them. It went down under his weight with a low shriek, and Boko pushed off, leaping high into the air. The Goblins pointed, jumped, swung their weapons and fists at Boko's belly, but Boko's flawless leap took them well out of range. He spread his wings for just a bit more distance, and they landed on the other side of the horde.
Boko's weight crashed down on his worn out ankles. His joints buckled. He rocked forward, belly nearly sliding on the ground in an awkward crab-like walk. He let out a rumble from somewhere low in his throat, almost in his chest, his admission of the immense effort he was using to keep them from falling. He took one step, then another, and used his momentum to carry him forward until he was upright again and back in a steady rhythm.
"Yes! Holy smokes, that was amazing, Boko!" Bartz cheered, keeping his voice light so Boko didn't see how alarmed he was at their near-miss. "Ah, did you see how high you jumped?!"
"K-Kweeehhh..."
"I know. We're almost there. Can you keep going? It's a straight shot to Tule-"
Bartz didn't see where the arrow came from.
All he heard was a sharp whizz. A flash of brown shot in his field of vision, then he heard the snap of the arrow tip puncturing the flesh of Boko's thigh. Boko let out a harsh yelp, an alarmed, high-pitched whine that Bartz had never heard before. His leg crumpled, and the world went sideways. Boko's body hit the ground, then his neck and his face, and Bartz was thrown straight over Boko's head. He became weightless. His insides were lifted straight up into his throat and the ground was blurring too fast past his eyes.
Bartz curled up, unable to even anticipate where he was going to land, and when the impact finally happened it startled him anyway. His body slammed into the dirt on his left side, and a harsh aching washed over his whole body. Immediately, stars burst in his vision as he rolled once, twice, his joints cracking off the ground each and every time he did until he finally came to a stop.
Before he could try to orient himself, a massive tangle of feathers careened over him and blotted out the sun. Boko tumbled head over tail feather at him until he did one final flip straight down onto Bartz's legs.
The pain was instantaneous, and Bartz let out a loud cry that ripped the air from his chest and tore from his throat. He felt bone snap. He heard bone snap, the sound and the feeling that jutted throughout his body making him sick. He felt muscle and soft tissue crush and manipulate unnaturally, pressed like in a sieve between the ground and Boko, and the aching and burning worse than anything he had ever felt before. His body squirmed instinctively. He was already attempting to shove Boko off of him, unable to care about anything else other than relief, but when his conscious mind caught up he doubted he'd be able to move his legs anyway.
Poor Boko was kicking his in tact leg, trying to get upright, and every jolt and jerk of his body sent fresh waves of sharp, digging pain over him. He screamed again, and when Boko rolled to the side off of him, he had an unobstructed view of his legs.
They were bent at odd angles. His leggings were twisted, the striped pattern revealing the severity. His right knee looked inverted, bent too far down into the ground, too flat to be natural. They ached and burned in a strangely numb way that knocked all other thought from his mind, and he groaned as he leaned back, only able to clutch at his hip.
Boko stood, limping heavily. Bright red blood flicked outwards from the wound, peppering his bright yellow feathers and leaking down his leg. He shambled over to Bartz, chest heaving as he stood over him, staring into his face. He must have interpreted the pain on Bartz's face, his clenched teeth, his own shallow breaths and the whimpers he couldn't choke down on the ends of each one. Boko looked over Bartz at the town in the distance, then over his shoulder at the Goblins who were closing in.
Determination sparked in his eyes. He maneuvered behind Bartz and his beak picked at Bartz's arm. He lifted it up and Boko clamped around his bicep, careful to not use the sharp part of his beak. He bit down gently, then hopped backwards. Bartz was dragged back. Boko hopped again, keeping his injured leg in the air, and Bartz was jerked again.
Boko hauled him towards the town. Each rock, each leaf, each twig or piece of debris or change in the ground jabbed into his legs and drew a sharp cry from him. His eyes watered and he felt nauseous. He watched the Goblins draw closer and closer, and every so often Boko would flap his wings and hiss in their direction, flaring his feathers to make himself look bigger. He was dragged another twenty feet before Boko dropped his arm without any kind of ceremony. He turned towards the town and screamed, flapping and hopping and making as much noise as possible. To Bartz's relief, he heard activity rise up in response. He heard people shouting, heard the clattering of weapons, heard guardhouse doors open and heard the pounding of feet over the grass.
"Someone's hurt out there!"
"Sound the alarm! There are Goblins out here!"
"The chocobo's wounded too!"
He wasn't sure how long he waited. But he grew more and more tired with each breath, a distinct heaviness falling over him and finally easing the pain in his whole body. Eventually, a crowd of people appeared around him, kneeling down next to him.
"Get him to the town! He needs a White Mage!"
"What's your name?"
"The chocobo dragged him here. Look at the trail of blood."
Boko.
Bartz peeled his eyes open - he didn't even realize he had closed them - and looked for his friend. He saw him limp to his side and drop, legs curling up, the arrow shaft sticking straight up into the air. Boko lay his head on the ground right next to Bartz as he was finally able to rest. He was breathing hard and heavy, but he was okay.
Bartz reached his hand out and buried it in the small, soft feathers of his head. He gave Boko a light scratch, comforted by his presence, and Boko leaned into his hand with an exhausted warble.
"Boko, you're . . . you're my hero. Thanks, buddy."
The exhaustion finally won, and Bartz slipped into the darkness that suddenly overtook him.