Patrol.

He lumbered more than walked, chipped claws splaying over the dripping stone; the mountain-water—river?—roared alongside them, hiding the more quiet shrieks of the goblins as they griped and hollered various complaints. Not that they had any room to complain.

The muscle of their group had more ability to. Half a handful of bedraggled animals, chained not by any restraints but just the fear of running away, eyes fixed both on the darkness ahead and the glint of the goblins' spears.

Akkyst found himself oddly poetic at times.

He shuffled forward, easing onto his front paws to keep the bladehawk steady; he was taking a break from his endless swoops and dives through the caverns, keeping watch ahead but always lured back by exhaustion. Not a creature built for the mountain, for the dank and the dark, but he had been captured by some opening overhead.

Because that was what the war horde did, wasn't it? Bred like crazy to grow their army and supplemented it with whatever beasts they picked up on their endless territory patrols. The miner goblins were too busy trying to develop better weapons and the mage horde had their pursuit of greater magic, so the war goblins had only their number to increase.

His mysterious senses told him chip-on-the-shoulder. He didn't know what that meant.

And so they walked, two dozen goblins alongside a dozen beasts; most were common enough mountain denizens, boulder-beasts and magma-salamanders and earth-shakers. The bladehawk was a commodity, chosen for his ability to fly—though unsteadily in the dark—ahead and warn them of danger. The jaguar was dragged for her silent paws and keen eyes.

Akkyst was taken for his muscle, and in comparison, he had only had to fight other beasts for scraps of food at the end of the day. Most patrols were quiet, never running into opposing goblins or threats larger than a hungry cavern jackal. Thankfully. They went out, they came back, and they fought each other for what food they were offered for a job done.

But there would always been patrols, what with this new threat and the rising concern over territory and war, and he was starting to run out of hope he'd escape before they'd run into other goblins.

All goblins feared the Growth.

"This way," a goblin hissed, stabbing their—her? He was getting better at telling them apart—spear towards an entrance carved under a rocky shelf glittering with mica. "No filthy mages should be patrollin' this entrance. We'll slither in an' do a look-see to find a way to their base."

The other goblins, rather than seeing that as a horrible idea, cheered.

The war beasts looked at each other—though many of them couldn't communicate as freely with each other like Akkyst could, there was still some understanding. A handful of the older creatures were too far gone, fanatic beasts bred and bathed in war, but the newer additions still wanted to leave.

But they would listen.

Akkyst rumbled, dropping flat to his stomach–the bladehawk clambered off his back and hopped awkwardly under the shelf, the jaguar's lithe agility getting her through the gap without problem. He and his new bulk gained from the constant fights and battles had slightly less ease, jamming his massive shoulders against the stone to the jeers of the goblins already through. No time to waste; he growled, claws scrabbling for a hold, the jaguar offering a quiet purred encouragement.

With a deep, tearing scrape of skin against stone, Akkyst burst through the gap, panting wildly. Stars. He had gotten larger.

The fang-rat, even more monstrously sized than him, howled and threw itself at the wall, one remaining eye bulging and red-veined in frenzy. The stone shuddered, dust billowing, and hardly another second passed before the beast's raw power ripped a new hole and let it stagger through, thin fur patchy and scarlet but hardly seeming to notice.

Akkyst, rather befitting of his name, awkwardly shuffled back to let it pass.

He watched it, though. It had been there well before he had been captured and the goblins seemed to like it; a favoured pet they could point in a direction and let it attack. Driven mad by how many years?

And how many for him?

There was no passage of time under the mountain, no dimming of the quartz-lights; but he knew it had been long enough. The taste of mushrooms was all but forgotten; the comfort of the green beds gone.

He shook his head. Not the time. He stooped, letting the bladehawk rest once more on his shoulders, bristling up to let the jaguar hide in his shadow opposite the goblins, and lumbered on. Mage goblin territory. It looked the same as the war horde's, if better kept; he could see tracks and paths maintained throughout the surrounding stone, the river bent into shape to avoid a tunnel or hand-holds carved into a wall to lead to a bat's den.

It was peaceful, somewhat. The drip of water off stone-spikes, the rumble of the river moving deeper beyond, the click of his claws off the ground.

Then they rounded the corner and came face to face with another group of goblins.

Everything went wrong very quickly.

There were less of them, maybe a dozen, and they were short and even more spindly to boot; they carried no weapons, wearing only clothing made of mushroom flesh and with bits of bone dangling from their ears, and looked profoundly unsuited for combat.

But they were very clearly not from the war horde. Their skin was more blue than the pale green of his captors, marred with twisting black patterns, and a glow flickered to life on their fingers once the shock wore off.

Mage goblins.

Akkyst didn't consider himself smart, but he could pick up on clues.

He roared, rearing to his hind legs; the bladehawk managed to flutter off in time and hide behind, his thin, fragile bulk no match for the opposing goblins. The jaguar snarled, ears pressing flat to her grey-green fur; the many-fanged rat large enough to compete with a mountain squealed and charged, goblins flooding in after.

Old scars ached at the thought of combat, but Akkyst knew he was larger than his fellow two prisoners. They wouldn't survive an actual fight like this.

So he bellowed, fangs bared, and charged as well.

A mage jumped to her full height, hands glowing a sickly red; she barked a few words he didn't understand and fire poured from her grip, swallowing the dim glow of the quartz-light and billowing through the caverns. The war horde goblins shrieked, ducking behind their creatures; the fang-rat howled, thin fur burning, and threw itself at her. She disappeared beneath its bulk.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Akkyst ran, the stone shuddering beneath his bulk. A mage with bone embedded into their face stood to match, fingers glowing yellow. He slammed his shoulder into the wall and dust exploded out; the mage paused, coughing, hands losing their light for just a second. He buried his fangs in their throat.

Above, he could hear the bladehawk's shrill cry; a feather loosed from his wings impaled a mage's lower leg. She howled but still managed to duck underneath a magma-salamander's burning spit.

He shook his head, bellowing; the blood ran down his throat in the sickliest of ways. Another mage threw out his hands and pale light dove into the surrounding mountain, stone trembling with magic. A warrior goblin shrieked as she fell into a pit that hadn't existed a second before, the stench of copper filling the air. Someone behind him howled.

Akkyst lumbered forward. A mage spread her hands as two warrior goblins engaged, spears flashing as a third snuck around to hit her exposed back. Deep purple leapt to her fingers and the two approaching goblins froze, the same colour crawling over their eyes; they twitched, dropping their spears, and made to lay down.

He bellowed, the mage startling bad enough to lose concentration, and the third goblin stabbed her from behind.

But beyond that three more goblins fell to another burst of fire, the fang-rat howling as stone grew over its hind legs and pinned it to the floor. Akkyst roared, charging; he dug his claws into the rock and heaved.

The rat helpfully thrashed and writhed and finally tore itself free, one limb hanging loose in its socket. It didn't seem to notice as it ignored him and threw itself at the closest mage. The bladehawk swooped overhead, four wings flashing; in the confusion no one noticed where the launched feathers came from. He was safe. Akkyst lashed out wildly at the nearest mage, forcing them to stop trapping a magma-salamander in another prison of stone, and ran; where was the other?

Two goblins decking out in a scrabbled pile of ghostly glowing light and spears, a boulder-beast shrieking as it dropped into another tunnel, warrior goblins freezing as purple light overwhelmed their senses. He ran, heart thumping, searching–

And saw the jaguar, sprawled on the stone floor, twitching weakly past the lightning coursing over her fur.

There was someone in front of her.

Akkyst didn't think. He just moved.

The mage shrieked as he barreled through whatever spell they were casting, fingers flashing through every shade before they settled on a pale grey; stone erupted from beneath and caught him in the leg. He heard more than felt it break; a terrible crack, echoing even in the midst of the battle, and only a second to prepare before agony raced through his every sense.

And with that blow, he missed his mark; he fell right before the mage, howling, and didn't manage a single injury. Failure.

Akkyst writhed, heaving for breath; his front leg seemed less broken than shattered, and there would be no more walking. But the jaguar was paralyzed behind him, though alive, and still the war raged on. The mage before him seemed to still be gathering his wits, not yet acting; so he had to act first.

Maybe it was the presence of other mages, maybe it was the desperation; but he reached for powers he hadn't used since the defeat that had started all of this, the subtle twisting of shadows and light hidden deep in his being. He felt his shadow lengthen, growing blacker than black, and twine around the jaguar's limp body. He knew, more than saw, that she was now veiled.

And with that he sagged, clutching his useless limb, and waited.

But the mage just looked at him, eyes still wide with surprise, and turned to fight something else.

What?

The mage spread his hands and launched a blast of lightning, roiling messily through the space and slamming into a collection of warriors; their spears and armour caught most of the attack but still they yelped and hollered, pulled away from their attack on another mage; and then they looked across the room.

The fang-rat had finally fallen, fur still smoldering weakly as a mage collapsed to her knees beside it, blood leaking from her eyes; boulder-beasts and magma-salamanders howled from their various stone prisons, trapped well below the battle; the bladehawk had rather correctly seen how things were going and had huddled himself up in a hollow near the ceiling, wings tucked tight to his body. What war goblins left were either injured or fleeing.

And so the last group of the warriors fled as well, abandoning their beasts and scurrying home.

Akkyst closed his eyes. He'd escaped, at least. A short time was as good as any. The bladehawk would be able to flee if he waited until they were either distracted or gone, and there had to be an exit from this mountain nearby; the jaguar would stay in his shadow for as long as he could maintain it and run when she healed from her paralysis. They would be free. It was what he had fought for.

The thought was strangely comforting. He had at first protected them just because he was the largest, growing endlessly from his juvenile stage and easily able to hide them behind his bulk. But there had always been the underlying thought that it was for them all to escape.

But he found he was quite content that at least they had.

That comfort disappeared when he opened his eyes and found a mage standing before him.

No injuries, no exhaustion; nothing he could even try to exploit to eke out a win in his condition. He growled, ears flat, and shifted so his good paw was braced to move. The goblin tilted her head to the side, dangling bones clicking against each other. She reached forward, extended a knobbled finger with a hazy glow, and made a sort of gentle calming sound ruined by a typical goblin rasp.

Akkyst flinched, baring his fangs, and answered in kind with a swipe for the offending reach.

The goblin squawked and backpedaled, finger flashing an decidedly less friendly shade of red; Akkyst scrabbled against the ground, ignoring his broken leg, bellowing even as he kept the jaguar hidden behind him. He couldn't let her get past him, not with his two other beasts to protect–

Another goblin got to her first.

Not so much arriving as just appearing from the shadows, a goblin marched up and swatted her finger away, He hardly looked to have enough muscle to kill a cave-fly but she recoiled like he'd stabbed her, arm clutched to her chest.

This one was even shorter than his fellows, spindled and knobbly; but where the other mages had bones hanging from their ears and clothing made from mushroom flesh, this one had swooping… ribbons? robes? made of something that looked like stone but clearly wasn't, jewels bobbing from his extended ears. White fur sprouted over his head. "Idiot," he said, voice crackling. "It doesn't know what you're doing. Bloody hard to heal something when it's attacking you."

Akkyst paused.

He hadn't exactly encountered a surplus of magic in his life—whatever the old caverns used didn't count—but he supposed her spell could have been for healing. It would explain why she had to get close instead of just firing from a distance. Maybe.

He dropped from standing on his hind legs, fangs still bared but no longer snarling. His magic shadow stayed firmly over the jaguar but he settled onto his haunches, narrowing his eyes at her finger. Did the colour of the light say what spell it was? He'd seen the bright red for their fire spells, but it had been white. Healing, or at least something less violent?

He happened to glance up and see both of them staring at him.

The jeweled goblin blinked once, twice. He couldn't have been more than half of Akkyst's height while sitting down but he marched up with no fear, knobbly fingers pressed together and eyes bright. "Oh. Oh."

Akkyst fought the fairly intense desire to kill him for getting that close. It was difficult to do.

"You can understand us?"

Oh.

He paused; because while yes, he could, was it a good idea to reveal so? He'd never shown the war horde that, too scared of what they would do to him, and because they talked around him when they didn't think he could understand; but these goblins were trying to heal him. Would they treat him like more of an equal if he could communicate?

Well. Roughly. He still didn't know how to speak.

But he did know some basic movements he'd picked up from the goblins.

He nodded.

The goblin's eyes gleamed very bright in that moment, jewels bouncing against his ears. "Well then. Hello, mighty one; I am Bylk, Chieftain of the Magelords."