The Goblin Wars Part One Page 18

  Calming his mind to concentrate, Gravlox closed his eyes and placed both of his hands against the stone. He remembered the feeling of energy he commanded in the clearing against the human soldiers. The magic within his small body swirled and made him nauseous. Gasping for breath against the swell of energy, Gravlox let it go. Tiny cracks shot forth from his hands and split the stone where he was kneeling. Tendrils of black smoke curled up from his hands. “There is too much magic,” he whispered. “I can’t control it.”

  Vorst and Master Brenning moved away from the shaman and watched him in silence as the cracks along the stone slowly spread. They weren’t deep, violent fissures, just a small sign of the unpredictability of shamanistic power.

  Try again, Vorst tapped against the stone floor, although she wasn’t sure if Gravlox would even notice.

  Gravlox put his hands against the damp floor of the sewer and sought out the unstable source of magic within his soul that connected him to everything. His pale hands trembled with energy and the air around his fingertips crackled. More black smoke curled away into the stagnant air and a profound shudder rocked Gravlox’s body. He could sense the immense river of natural magic coursing just beneath the edge of his consciousness. The shaman could see the glowing river like a fire on the horizon, blurred by a distant setting sun. With a hesitant mind, Gravlox reached toward that fire and brushed it with his fingertips. The jolt was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Pure white magic shot through his body and brought him to the ground. With a violent convulsion that nearly broke his spine, Gravlox retreated his consciousness from the source of magic.

  Approaching the fire more slowly, he called out to it. No words accompanied the message, just a magical sensation of peacefulness. The burning image of magic revolted against the telepathic communication and raged with blind fury. A great heat swelled up in the stone chamber, sizzling the moist water droplets and causing the moss to wilt.

  Fire was surrounding Gravlox in the mysterious realm of magical connections. He had not tried to approach and manipulate the essence but somehow it surrounded him, burning his mind and tearing away at the walls of his sanity. A voice behind the fire pushed out like the blast from a massive furnace and tore through the air. “Get out!” it yelled. The disembodied voice was full of anger and restlessness that betrayed underlying fear.

  Gravlox did not waver. His magical being held firm against the torrent of ethereal flames that continued to assault his mind. Without thinking, Gravlox stepped forward through the fiery wall and saw a face on the other side. His features were strained, tortured even, and Gravlox could make out thick white ropes binding the face and holding it above the flames. Gravlox tried to reach out to the face with calming energy but the fires lashed out at him before he got near.

  The sewer around the three beings shimmered in unseen heat. Vorst and Master Brenning both feared that they might be blown apart by the release of energy when Gravlox’s trance subsided.

  With fire licking all around and igniting the world, the face turned to snarl and spit at Gravlox’s intrusion. The shaman recognized the face at once and nearly lost his concentration. Gravlox sent another magical wave of energy toward the burning face. The message was delivered like a barrage with fleeting images of pain, fear, darkness, and suffering. As if the face understood the communication perfectly, the fires subsided and died to smoldering embers. The face struggled against the white ropes, tossing and turning in every possible direction.

  Gravlox could feel his strength deteriorating and knew that his willpower was about to break. The shaman sent one final message flying forth from his mind, a message of urgency and a clear mental picture of the sewer where he was trapped.

  Fully exhausted and moments from his mental breaking point, Gravlox collapsed into a heap on the floor. The stones of the sewer were hot to the touch and steamed where his pale skin trapped water against them. Vorst rushed to his side, thankful that her beloved had survived and equally thankful that Gravlox had not destroyed the entire city.

  “The magic wasn’t mine,” Gravlox managed to say. He rolled to his side and coughed. The air of the sewer was too hot and too stagnant to offer any relief. “Gideon, it was his. Everything I felt was coming from him. He could set the whole world on fire, but he is coming to help us.” Vorst cradled him in her arms and held his head close to her chest.

  “Human friend comes and rescues us,” Vorst said without taking her eyes from Gravlox.

  Master Brenning breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in many days. “I’m very interested in meeting this friend of yours,” he muttered, but knew the goblins weren’t listening.

  Within a few short minutes, a thunderous sound shook the sewer and knocked moss from the walls. The shimmering magical light wavered in the air and more water started to drip down from above. A second report followed the first and a large stone fell to the ground beside Vorst. More and more hits rocked the chamber until a large shaft of natural light suddenly appeared. The three shielded their eyes against the brilliant sunlight as one more strike turned the top of the sewer system into rubble.

  A massive tree was lowered into the sewer, temporarily blocking the harsh sunlight. Gravlox and Vorst, knowing the trick well, grabbed onto the tree limbs and held on tightly. Master Brenning, not knowing what to expect, shook his head and wrapped his arms around the tree next to Vorst. One great heave had all three of them sprawled out in the sunlight behind the Castle of Reikall.

  Master Brenning recognized Nevidal before he made the connection between the massive man and the apprentice he had once trained. The two men didn’t say much but rather nodded their appreciation to one another in a solemn moment of silence. The old smith stroked his beard as he walked around Gideon’s tree-like legs and inspected the tight cords of muscle breaking out all over his body. There was no question that the paladin was nearly consumed by his sword’s enchantment. Gravlox’s healing magic had staved off the demonic poison well enough to stabilize the mixture of magic working within the paladin but the enchantment could not be stopped. Without the remnants of the poison slowing Nevidal’s consumption, Gideon would surely be dead.

  “There isn’t much time,” Master Brenning said while Vorst acted as a translator for Gravlox. “We need to return to Talonrend before it suffers the same fate as this once-fair city.” The four companions stood behind a castle they had previously thought beautiful. From a distance, they couldn’t see the charred streaks of ash around the shattered windows and the dried patches of splattered blood that dotted the stones. Reikall had undergone great terror and had not survived.

  “You need food,” Vorst replied. They had none with them and the city was so consumed by blight that anything they might salvage from the ruins was sure to be rotten.

  “I can get food along the way, but we have to move, now,” Gideon said definitively. Gravlox, Vorst, and Master Brenning climbed atop the giant’s shoulders and hooked themselves into the leather straps of his armor. The metal sleeve, tucked away in Vorst’s pack, had remained unchanged by Nevidal’s magic, but the rest of Gideon’s armament had grown with him. The paladin’s braided black beard was well over the average height of a normal human and swayed calmly back and forth with every step like a great pendulum.

  Speed and endurance were two things of which Gideon’s enchanted body had a great deal. He bounded into the forest, leaping streams and fallen trees as though they were puddles and broken sticks. It didn’t take the paladin long to spot a deer and deftly cleave it in half with his sword. A flare of holy radiance from Nevidal cooked the meat of the animal almost instantly. Able to make fantastic speed, the group could see Terror’s Lament shining high against the sun before nightfall.

  “The goblins will come from the east, from the river,” Vorst said, pointing at the imposing shadow of Kanebullar Mountain far in the distance.

  “We should return to the city at once and warn them of the incoming horde of undead!” Master Brenning shouted. He beat his fists into Gi
deon’s back but the huge man remained silent.

  “Your people will kill both of us.” Vorst knew it was true. She would never be accepted into Talonrend, even to help fight a war. She pulled Gravlox down from the harness and led him by the hand in the direction of the river. “If we can just tell them that there is more to life than war and conquest…”

  Gravlox stopped and brought Vorst tight against his side. “Are you alright?” he asked in the high-pitched goblin language. The concern in his voice did little to mask his fear.

  “I can feel her again. In the dead city, it was like I was free. I felt like you. We are closer to her again. Lady Scrapple knows I am here. I sense her presence like a painful splinter in my back that I cannot reach. I know she is there and can see me. I’m scared, Gravlox.” Vorst buried her head in his chest and fought back tears.

  The two humans didn’t know what to make of Vorst’s sudden and emotional outburst. Until very recently, Gideon and Master Brenning had never imagined that the short, pale-skinned creatures were capable of any emotions at all, much less love and fear.

  “If we don’t return to the city at once, we will be branded as traitors and exiled!” Master Brenning’s bearded cheeks flushed a deep red as he yelled. Few people who had known the revered smith had ever seen him so torn. Before anyone else could speak, Brenning started trudging through the open plain toward Talonrend.

  “Do we just leave them here, then?” Gideon called after his former teacher. “These two goblins saved both of our lives. We have a debt to them.” With one massive stride, Gideon was able to put a hand firmly on Brenning’s back and turn him around. “We cannot leave them until we know that they are safe.”

  “The goblin army is camped out there by the river,” Vorst said, pointing east. “If we return, they kill us, both of us.” She stood hand in hand with Gravlox, looking Master Brenning in the eyes.

  The smith ruffled a hand through his beard. “We have to prove your worth, then, to the folk of Talonrend. If you were spies,” Brenning spit as though the very taste of the word disgusted him, “you wouldn’t have dragged me out of that hole. I owe you that much.”

  “We should make ourselves useful then,” Gideon said. “Master Brenning, go back to the city and tell them I rescued you. Don’t mention the goblins, but we need to warn them of the reanimated corpses approaching the city.” The paladin smiled and the sword in his hands flared to life. “I will stay with these two brave warriors and see if we can’t go and stop this invasion before I die.”

  “Yes, there is also the matter of that sword…” Master Brenning thought back on how many years it had taken him to craft it. The project had nearly bankrupted his forge, but it was his life’s work, whether Gideon knew it or not. “You do recall how to stop that enchantment, right?”

  The humor of Brenning’s jest was lost upon the giant paladin. “I have to kill someone. The abominations in the caves didn’t have souls.”

  “And as far as I know, no offense to you two, goblins do not have souls either. At least, goblins do not have any souls that would please Nevidal.” Master Brenning thought to his long hours of study in the library at the Artificer’s Guild that had led up to the forging of Nevidal. He had lived in that library for what felt like a lifetime.

  “You may want to try a graveyard,” he said wistfully, entranced by the soft magical glow of the weapon. “Souls are said to linger there. All sorts of aspiring magic users and artificers visit graveyards at night to see if they can’t capture the wandering souls and harness their energy. Most of the time, the dark energies of a captured soul will turn against the wizard and either kill him or corrupt him. Poor fellows…” The smith, despite loathing the amount of time he had spent away from his beloved forge, had truly enjoyed his time of study in the library and remembered almost everything he had read.

  “If I find any souls wandering a graveyard, I will be sure to tell you.” Gideon managed a half smile as he hefted the wicked blade in his strong grip.

  Brenning’s unruly beard jostled as he laughed. “If I remember correctly, a few of the famous necromancers throughout magical history have recorded finding flowers that bloom atop gravestones in the dead of night. The ghost flowers, as they are called, are rumored to be born out of the combined souls of everyone buried at the site. Pluck me one, will you?” Master Brenning turned to make his way back to Talonrend before Vorst furiously burst into action.

  “What’s wrong?” Gravlox asked with a fearful voice.

  Vorst ripped through her pack and withdrew the lantern she had stolen from the necromancer the two had killed. Lifting the lantern above her body like a warrior who had just decapitated a dragon, Vorst was too excited to even speak. Gideon and Brenning stared at her in wonder, looking all around and worried that the small goblin’s actions might be a prelude to danger.

  “This… This, metal torch,” goblins didn’t use lanterns or oil lamps so Vorst had no idea what the word might be in the human language, “This has soul. Take soul!” she said, jumping up and down.

  “What are you talking about?” Master Brenning said, his tone suddenly serious. “That beat up lantern has a soul locked inside?”

  Mimicking the motions of the necromancer at the graveyard, Vorst tried her best to explain that the man had captured ghost flowers within the object before she had stolen it. “We try and find necromancer dust for poison, got metal torch full of glowing flowers from graveyard!”

  Stunned into silence, the humans stood slack-jawed and stared at the elated goblin female until she finally threw it at Master Brenning and yelled. He caught the lantern and peered through the glass, seeing the swirling mist of captured souls up close for the first time.

  “Not yet,” Gideon said as he took the lantern from Master Brenning. It was awkward to hold the item with the handle of Nevidal still firmly attached to his palm. “The enchantment will end, yes, but if I am going into a war against soulless goblins, I will need my sword.” He patted the throwing axes dangling from his side. The deadly projectiles looked like tiny playthings against the giant’s tree-like legs. “I will keep this with me and use it when the time comes. The enchantment won’t kill me just yet.”

  “So you think,” Brenning scoffed. The burly smith shook his head, unsure of how much time Gideon had left before the holy magic consumed him. Using the rope from Vorst’s pack, Gideon tied the lantern around his neck.

  “Go now, warn the city, and get them ready for our two goblin guests.” The giant shrugged to adjust the rope that felt like an unwanted collar of oppression. Knowing that a captured soul was lingering inside the magical metal lantern made the paladin uneasy.

  Without another word, Gideon, Gravlox, and Vorst watched as the man they rescued from Reikall disappeared into the horizon toward the towering stone walls. The paladin felt a renewed vigor for battle with the lantern swinging awkwardly around his huge neck. Using his massive fingers and making sure not to let Nevidal accidentally touch anyone, Gideon hoisted the two goblins onto his back and began striding toward the Clawflow.

  Yael and Keegar saw the fast approaching giant and fled back to their own lines. The hand-and-a-half sword pulsed and thrummed with every powerful step the man took, sending fear into every goblin who managed to see him. “We will need more than a cavalry defense for that behemoth,” Yael whispered to himself. Images of a sprawling goblin army flitted through his head, mental communications from Lady Scrapple. “Yes, it is time,” he said with more confidence. “We must strike now. If every human is as large as that one, we are doomed.” Keegar’s thickly muscled legs propelled him much faster ahead of Yael, who struggled to keep the scout in his sight. A foreign emotion, something between nausea and curiosity, crept up from the depths of Yael’s mind and made him stop. He knew that Lady Scrapple was inside his mind and he keenly felt her presence like a tangible object resting in the back of his skull. She was suggesting that Yael go and meet the main bulk of her forces. It wasn’t a command. Lady Scrapple was asking Yael for
obedience. The pale-skinned goblin readily complied and turned his course for the river.

  The sheer number of goblins arrayed on the eastern bank of the Clawflow River took Yael’s breath away. The army stretched for miles to either side and seemed to extend all the way back to Kanebullar Mountain. Spear tips and arrowheads glinted in the waning sunlight as the rigid drones swayed slowly in the breeze. “Oh, Mistress…” Yael couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “This is why you can’t control us all… There are so many…” Lady Scrapple sent telepathic emotions of peace and silence to the commander as he surveyed the army.

  This is what you were bred for, Yael. The voice was strangely soothing, coming from the back of Yael’s consciousness. It felt almost like a thought, except that it wasn’t in Yael’s own voice. They will listen to you, Yael. You are their commander. Start the invasion. I will move when the time is right and destroy the human walls. Yael sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady himself. There will be more soldiers, always more soldiers. Do not concern yourself with their safety. Victory is the only path now, Yael. Make the mountain proud.

  Lady Scrapple’s departure was even more shocking than her speech. In an instant, faster than he could respond or even think, the Mistress of the Mountain was gone. It was then that Yael realized she had always been there. Her sudden disappearance left a gaping void in the outer reaches of Yael’s mind. It was a chasm he did not know how to fill. “Are there any left in the mountain?” he finally managed to say after he regained his composure. None of the goblins responded. “They are mindless, totally vacant,” Yael reminded himself.

  “Soldiers of Kanebullar Mountain!” Yael shouted. At once, the thousands of empty goblin eyes locked onto their commander. He stood on the bank opposite the army and looked slowly from one flank to the other as he spoke. “We take the human city this night!” Yael would have continued, but he realized that inspiration was meaningless to soldiers lacking the capacity to understand it. “To me,” he commanded and the response was overwhelming. Goblins splashed through the river without hesitation. The once clear current of the Clawflow turned into a muddy morass of goblin soldiers as wave after wave of the drones swam across. They assembled themselves into the blocks as quickly as they could and Yael was forced all the way back to an abandoned farm house in order to make room for the army.