Chapter 9

  Sorrowknight

  Eldric grimaced and glanced to his right. Harlan, Vestara, and Nia all stayed low. Harlan, relaxed enough to sit cross-legged and lean back against a tree, as if they weren’t carefully watching a camp full of goblins.

  Eldric and Nia had met back up with Harlan and Vestara about twenty minutes earlier when the demon Imonek found them and brought the two groups together in the woods. Apparently, Vestara had been using the demon extensively to scout the locations of several goblin groups, and eventually it had led them to this camp.

  It had been here a while. That much was immediately obvious. Minor fortifications rose around it. A log wall was being erected, and some of the tents were already taking shape into more permanent structures. They were hiding behind what Eldric figured was the goblins’ butcher tent. Animal carcasses had been strung up and harvested. The thick stench kept other goblins away, making it perfect cover. Nia was struggling with the smell, unlike Harlan, who seemed to not have a care in the world.

  “The organization is concerning,” Vestara said at last. Nia nodded in agreement and mumbled her assent.

  The foxkin was pinching her nose closed, her lively tail slashing the air in frustration.

  “Yeah, but they are still goblins,” Harlan said. “Just set a few of their tents on fire and they’ll scramble in panic.” When they first arrived, he had been as careful as the other two.

  “Shouldn’t you be taking this more seriously?” Nia grumbled, looking over at Harlan with narrow eyes.

  “I am,” Harlan said with a smile and looked over at Vestara. “I am waiting for our warlock to work up the courage to attack.”

  “This has nothing to do with courage,” Vestara spat. Her whisper rose in tone as she seemed about to jump the older man. “These goblins have not been acting normally, and you know it.”

  “Sure,” Harlan shrugged. “Doesn’t mean they will be any more of a problem. They are gobs, Ves. Let’s just do what we always do and take them out.”

  “Humans…” Vestara mumbled, exasperation evident in every part of her being.

  “Elves.” Harlan sighed, shook his head, and looked over at Eldric. “And what’s worse, this one has a mean streak.”

  All eyes turned to Eldric to see how he would respond to suddenly being brought into the conversation. He was about to stand up and charge the camp himself, but as he went to rise, a hand grabbed the edge of his shirt and held him down. He followed the hand to see Nia gently grasping his hem. She shook her head and pointed toward the camp.

  What could only be described as a very old goblin stepped out of the ornate tent in the middle. He was holding a staff with a humanoid skull tied to it. Long white hair was tied ornately around bone hair ornaments.

  “A shaman…” Vestara muttered and then turned a venomous gaze toward Harlan.

  Harlan shrugged and whispered, “Okay, so that makes it a little different.” His words became grim as he moved away from the tree and settled down next to Vestara. “A shaman changes things. If it’s strong, it could really turn the tide in their favor.”

  The old goblin moved to the center of the camp and chittered and screeched in its scratchy dialect. Two goblins rushed over. They were heavily armored and wielded weapons that looked human-made. They kneeled to the shaman, heads bowed, as the shaman seemed to be lecturing them with words Eldric couldn’t hope to understand.

  One of the two bowing goblins lifted its head and chittered something. It happened in an instant. The goblin shaman shrieked and shoved its staff forward. Nia gave a startled cry that was drowned out by the thunderous backlash. The outspoken goblin was hurled through the air, wreathed in lightning, and exploded in a flash of sparks on the ground.

  Silence followed. The other armored goblin looked back to his similarly dressed partner before lowering his head back to the shaman.

  “I wonder if he’s strong…” Vestara whispered and looked at Harlan, who chuckled sheepishly.

  The shaman spoke at length. Other goblins began to gather. They walked out from their tents into the daylight, skin tones ranging from dark green to pale yellow, hunched and spindly as they walked. All of them kneeled before the shaman.

  As the goblin shaman spoke, Harlan looked over at Vestara. “Now’s our chance…” he whispered.

  Vestara could hit them all at once. They were tightly packed around the shaman now, heads bowed in a semi-circle around the tent.

  Vestara rose, an incantation on her lips.

  But something felt wrong to Eldric. A familiar dread began to rise in the pit of his stomach. He reached to stop her, but she hurled a fireball. It streaked through the air, expanding from the size of her palm to six feet in diameter.

  It homed in, aiming right toward the shaman. Nia and Harlan rushed forward, intent on taking out any of the stragglers. Eldric slowly stood, watching the fireball descend. His hand reached toward the other two to tell them to wait.

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  No explosion of fire came. Sound itself died in that moment as blue script enveloped the fireball and it vanished as if it had never existed.

  Vestara’s exhale of surprise was all that Eldric heard for a moment as both Nia and Harlan slowed. All goblin eyes turned toward them as a small but shadowed silhouette stepped out from the darkness within the shaman’s tent.

  Ethereal blue eyes opened in the tent’s darkness. All other defining features were absent, as if they were hidden by magic. Hidden by script.

  “A Sorrowknight,” the breathless whisper came from Vestara and Harlan at the same time.

  Eldric glanced at Vestara, looking for an explanation.

  “Later…” she growled. “This is bad.”

  The goblin shaman chittered, and in near unison the goblins rose and drew weapons.

  “We need to run,” Harlan spat. He grabbed Nia’s shoulder and ran past Eldric.

  Their gazes met. Eldric stared into the ethereal blue abyss, the eyes of a sorrowcursed. Something was wrong. This being was different from the cursed he had encountered at Cinderholt. He could sense the smile coming to its face.

  Whoever they were, whatever they were, they had some measure of self-control. Eldric knew one other thing. They were powerful. A light feminine voice spoke up. It was smooth as Fallaccian silks but may as well have just spoken a death sentence. “Bring them to me.”

  The goblins charged without hesitation, rushing toward the group. Vestara reached for him to pull him along, but he shrugged her off, his eyes never leaving the Sorrowknight’s. Vestara ran, Harlan and Nia close behind her, but he stayed rooted in place, his axe gripped tightly in his hand as the goblins closed in.

  He lifted the weapon, prepared to strike down the approaching goblins. Heat built in his chest as the mantra fell from his lips. The first goblin of many closed in. He clenched his teeth and brought the axe down, cleaving the thing in two. The one on its left died, then the one on its right, as Harlan and Nia stepped up next to him.

  “What are you doing, kid?” Harlan said and grabbed his bicep hard. “We run now!” Nia cut two more down as Harlan dragged him along until Eldric relented and the three of them caught up to Vestara.

  “Lead them away,” Vestara began in a clipped voice. “They will naturally scatter. We will use that to reduce their numbers.” Using the grace few other races could muster, she jumped a log in a dead run.

  “Fight on the run,” Harlan clarified. He stopped mid-step, pivoted and spun his massive greatsword around, swinging it into three goblins that had gotten close in their chase.

  The nearby goblins cried out and hopped away. Harlan used that moment to take off running again.

  Arrows streaked by them as the goblins with bows tried to land a hit. Vestara answered one of those arrows with a bolt of lightning.

  Nia zig-zagged, her speed on full display as she moved between the three of them and the goblins. She would strike decisively each time one got close, but her stride didn’t slow, allowing her to keep pace with them despite her erratic path.

  Eldric looked down, trying to keep his footing despite the rapid pace. A goblin moved out in front of him. He lowered his shoulder and drove into it, throwing it to the ground as he hurdled over it. His steps thundered forward, tearing through the foliage like it wasn’t even there.

  They ran, their rapid pace punctuated by bolts of magic, the screech of blades cutting through crude armor, and the cries of pursuing goblins as they were cut down.

  Eldric ran as hard as he could toward the sun, the rays pushing through the canopy of trees. He should be burning hot, but a chill began to consume him as if a spectral hand of ice were gripping his entire being. The woods around him began to fade as a fog settled over them.

  The sunlight faded and the sounds of pursuit died. He couldn’t hear the others anymore. He slowed, his heavy breathing the only sound he heard as he turned in place.

  “Nia?” he yelled. No answer came. “Harlan? Vestara?” he called for each of them. Movement passed the edge of his vision and he turned toward it.

  Nothing was there.

  Whispers surrounded him from every direction as Eldric turned in place. Glowing blue eyes flashed in the fog for only a moment before vanishing and reappearing yards away.

  He gripped the axe tighter, prepared to pray. As he opened his mouth to speak the mantras of his order, the words died in his mouth. That’s when he saw it floating just before him, as if it were dust on the wind. Glowing script was written into the nature of the fog. Sound itself seemed to die within it. He spoke, but no sound came. Yelled, but there was not even a whisper.

  The glow of his ember eyes dimmed as a small, shadowed form materialized within the mist.

  The Sorrowknight was cloaked in shadow, fog, and perhaps even the cold itself. Nothing was making sense anymore as she slowly approached. He could make out the slight sway of something behind her as she moved toward him without a sound. Thick mist clung to the trees like a viscous fluid. He felt as if he were underwater as she approached unhindered.

  Ethereal blue eyes shone from beneath the hood. He couldn’t make out any other defining features beyond her size and the eyes of a sorrowcursed.

  “You can call for them more… I don’t mind.” It sounded like her voice came from the fog itself. “Scream, Eldric. I’ll wait until you’re satisfied that no one is coming…”

  He struck with his axe, his roar soundless as he cleaved nothing but mist and script. Then she was beside him, her eyes looking at the spot he had just attacked.

  He turned and attacked again and again. Each swing met only parting fog. His breath came ragged as weariness settled in. The cold consumed him as he began to shiver all over. Frost clung to the crude axe before the blade cracked in his hand and shattered entirely.

  “Does it feel hopeless?” her voice whispered to him as if she were right next to his ear. “Your weapon is broken. The fire extinguished. All that remains is this lonely cold.”

  He responded, or at least he tried, but no words came. He could feel her smile, but the expression was hidden.

  She moved in front of Eldric. Those blue eyes searched him and squinted slightly as if she had found something there. “Are you afraid yet?”

  The question echoed Nia’s earlier. Had this Sorrowknight heard their conversation in the woods?

  He swung a fist through the Sorrowknight’s face, and she giggled as she vanished. Arms wrapped around his waist. These were not an illusion. He could feel the weight of a body press into his back. “Not yet, it seems…” she whispered. “Then you will lose more. What I do not take from you, my master will. There will be nothing in this world left to save E~.”

  Something pierced him. Not physically, not emotionally. This wound was in his very soul. A multitude of images flooded his mind, each one a different demise, not just his own but the demise of everyone he knew.

  The arms around his waist gripped tighter as he was overwhelmed by the possibilities forced into his mind. The apocalyptic thoughts vanished, replaced by moments of smiling faces, sitting in a study with Tolsten, Nia smiling as she laid her head against his shoulder. “Think of a world without suffering…”

  “I…” The lone word pierced the veil. The arms around his waist jerked in surprise. He blinked rapidly, trying to look past the visions of complacence.

  “E!” Familiar warmth filled his body as Nia’s voice shattered the fog. The arms vanished from around his waist. A hand grasped his wrist and pulled him to the side. The fog melted away and he looked into the lavender eyes that stared up at him in worry.

  “E…” Nia panted hard as if she had been fighting every moment he had been within the fog. “Oberton…” She managed to whisper and looked out from the mountainside toward the distant village. Flames were rising from within.

  The village was under attack.

  End Chapter 9