Three goblins led Moka and Carwen through the forest. As the group traveled, they picked up shadows, trailing them from a distance. Azarus watched as two goblin patrols altered their passage. One ran ahead, while the other followed them with weapons drawn. Other than her ears twitching, causing her earrings to jangle, Moka showed no signs of having noticed the add ons. She slowed her pace, allowing their escort to drift further ahead and out of earshot.
Azarus’s champion whispered to the empty air next to her, on the opposite side of where Carwen stood. Through her illusion, Azarus saw the elf in question frown as Moka leaned in close to her.
“Can you start a fire?”
The illusion’s lips did not move as Carwen responded.
“Like a cooking fire?”
Moka’s ears laid flat on the back of her head. She kept her irritation off her face by a hair. Elbowing Carwen’s illusion in the side, she meaningfully touched her bandolier with her other hand. Several paces later, Carwen made the connection.
“Oh, a magic fire.” To her credit, she did not respond right away, giving the question due consideration. “Yes, but it’s difficult. And tenuous.”
Moka passed her the grenade in her hand, palming another from her bandolier. One of the spear bearers glanced back at them. She waved the grenade in his direction, snapping off a spark. When he turned back in a huff, she whispered instructions, keeping her lips from moving to the best of her abilities.
“Worst-case scenario. Light, throw, and run. Do not let the fire touch you.”
Beneath her illusion, Carwen nodded, studying the clay orb in her hands. She ran a finger along the blood stained grooves, feeling the triangles etched into its surface. Tucking it away, she shot the goblins in front of them a dark look.
“Do not worry. If I need to sustain a few burns to free my village, I will do what I must.”
Moka took a hissing breath in through her teeth. Her eyes tightened, but she purposefully avoided looking at the elf.
“Stupid.”
Carwen’s dark look changed targets, focusing on the goblin next to her.
Next to Azarus, Zag woofed, the sound closer to a snort than a sigh. The god grinned, ruffling his hound’s ears. He had a point. Carwen resembled a cat in the rain, tattered dignity held together by spite.
“Do we need to have that conversation now?”
A low rumbling emerged from deep within Moka’s throat. When the three goblins in front of them halted and turned to stare at her, she stopped growling, coughing into her hand. She shrugged, pulling an untransformed flower from her pocket and taking a bite. Speaking around a mouthful, she waved the patrol forward.
“Sorry, I choked.”
The three goblins exchanged glances and hand signs, not a shred of belief between them. Azarus heard a few soft chuckles in a nearby bush. The goblin hiding inside covered his mouth with both hands when Moka shot a glare in his direction. Shrugging in unison, the patrol resumed their trek, trudging up the hill at an idle pace.
After several minutes of silent travel, Moka resumed their hushed conversation.
“I’m not mean, you’re dumb. It’s a special fire. Acts weird.”
Carwen’s sunset eyes widened. Her ruby red lips mouthed the word ‘oh.’
Azarus could admit it was quite a charming expression for a mortal. Scratching his stubble, he tried to figure out what bothered him. He glanced down at Zag, curled up with his side pressing into Azarus’s leg. What he saw confirmed his position. There was an element of perfection in divinity that mortals could not compensate for. [Fae Enchantment] was not strong enough to compensate for that. He scratched his perfect hound behind the ears, his eyes twinkling as the pats elicited a tail wag.
Carwen, the imperfect beauty she was, did not appear willing to let Moka’s disrespect slide so easily. She took a sharp breath, preparing to retort. Moka beat her to it.
“You can’t even make yourself less pretty. Stupid to pretend you would burn for your village.”
The [Village Beauty] spluttered, earning a sharp glare from Moka. Her prepared response died on her lips as she fumbled with her words. Moka tried and failed to hide her smug expression.
Azarus thought Carwen had a point in their previous conversation. Moka had a petty streak. However, she was not wrong. Carwen’s self-sacrificial statement reeked of bravado, if not to the extent Moka implied.
Contrary to Azarus’s expectations, Moka did not press the point. Her expression softened in the tense silence. She glanced over shoulder, taking in the encroaching shadows. With a sigh, she offered the elf an olive branch.
“Don’t worry. You won’t need to sacrifice yourself.” Her lips quirked into a cheeky grin. “This plan will work. I’m usually pretty lucky, even in my dreams.”
Carwen huffed. She walked in stormy silence for several minutes, but let the matter drop. As they climbed the slope after their escort, she voiced her curiosity.
“Are you a prophet, then? Is that why your god chose you?”
Moka rolled her eyes, shooting a look at the patrol in front of them. The three goblins had their backs turned, but their ears twitched like they were trying to decipher their whispers. She grunted, taking several steps before answering.
“No. I am doing tasks for him in exchange for power.”
Carwen’s illusion did not hide her puzzled expression. She hurried after Moka, both her illusion and her true body looking down at the shorter goblin from opposite shoulders.
“And your task is to… help the hopeless? It seems vague.”
Moka grunted. Carwen waited, expectantly, for a reply that never came. After a few minutes, she hummed to herself, speaking her thoughts aloud. She spoke under her breath, casting the occasional glances at the goblins ahead of them but seemingly oblivious to ones behind.
“It also seems odd that your god would give you fireballs in a bottle if your goal was to help people. Does he expect violence to be a large part of it?”
The surrounding forest had changed. Dozens of shadows trailed behind them, darting to and from cover. Overhead, branches rustled as curious goblins followed them from above. Scraps of cloth pinned to the trees marked their journey deeper into the goblin’s territory.
Moka shielded her eyes as they walked out into a clearing, approaching a ring of trees similar to where she met Carwen. Chains wrapped around the trunks of the trees, stretching out between them. Embroidered silk and satin sheets, mixed with a variety of large shirts and long dresses, hung from the chains to create cloth walls. They exited the treeline, a small stretch of grass standing between them and the camp’s guarded entrance.
A dozen goblins lazed about just outside the entrance. They chatted amongst themselves, growing silent as Moka and Carwen approached. In a flurry of activity, they all began speaking at once, passing items between each other. Azarus watched them bet with silent approval. It looked fun.
Moka took a deep breath, bracing herself. She whispered a last set of instructions.
“Stay quiet and be forgotten. I’ve got this.”
As soon as the words passed her lips, she puffed her chest and took a bold step toward the group of goblins. The group of chattering raiders grew silent, their expressions expectant. Moka stuck her chin in the air, projecting as much confidence as she could.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Take me to your chieftain.”
A bark of laughter broke the pregnant silence. The group broke into a chorus of shouts and carousing, echoed by the additional dozen goblins emerging from the forest behind Moka and Carwen. Carwen yelped when she noticed them, drawing laughter and pointing claws. Moka snapped her fingers, sending a spark dangerously close to the fuse of her grenade. Everyone froze, dozens of red eyes on the object in her hand. A shirtless goblin, tall and lean, shouldered his way out of the crowd. Three fancy skirts, red, yellow, and blue, of distinctly different styles, hung from his waist in tatters. He gestured to his compatriots, then to himself.
“It’s a good idea. Fireball in a bottle is dangerous.” He glanced around, a smirk on his lips and a knowing sparkle in his eye. “We are all grouped up.”
From the back of the group emerging from the forest, another voice chimed in.
“Big problem. Boss deals with big problems.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, followed by a scattering of chuckles. A third voice aired their opinion.
“Will be fun.”
Hoots and howls of agreement echoed through the clearing. The dozen goblins blocking the entrance plastered pleasant smiles on their faces as they parted to make way for Moka and Carwen. They revealed the entrance, marked by two massive red curtains. The thick cloth looked like it belonged in a grand hall, proving the power and wealth of a monarch. Instead, the gold embroidered fabric was here, stained and muddy. Branches stuck through tears in the cloth, like the curtains had been dragged through the forest before being hung up.
The chain wielding leader of their escort pushed through the curtains, the two spear bearers peeling off to hold the entrance open. Moka passed through, her attention focused ahead. Carwen lingered, running a hand down the fabric.
Inside the circle was a glade. Azarus was hesitant to describe what he was looking at as trash, certain there was a purpose to most of the objects there. However, by all appearances, the glade was as much garbage as grass. Bones, rags, broken tables, and torn cards littered the once lush grass. Shattered glass glittered in the greenery. Piles of chains lay, tangled and unorganized, around an iron cage off to the side. It looked large enough for one person, despite being empty.
In the center of the glade, a hole in the ground acted as a focal point. Tool marks marred the edges. As the group entered, a pair of goblins crawled out of the hole. They stood up, shoving each other with familiarity while dusting the dirt off each other. Upon seeing the approaching elf and unfamiliar goblin, they shared a look, then darted back down the hole.
The patrol led them to the hole, lining up around the edge. Two dozen goblins trickled in behind them, craning their necks to watch the show. With a grin, the chain wielding goblin gestured down the hole.
“Boss is in her lair.”
Moka returned the gesture, her slow repetition performed with a mocking air.
“Good. Show us.”
The speaker grimaced. He glanced down the hole, then back at the grenade in Moka’s hand.
“Don’t want to.”
Moka responded to his declaration with silence. After a few seconds, jeers rose from the crowd of goblins behind them. The speaker shared a glance with the rest of his squad, then raised his hands in defeat. He took a step forward. His foot met empty air as he dropped down the hole. The two spear bearers followed close behind.
Keeping one eye on their rowdy audience, Moka leaned over to inspect the hole. After a moment, she leaned back, looking begrudgingly impressed. Reaching over her shoulder, she tugged on the [Ironthorn Staff] strapped to her rucksack. Satisfied it was secure, she affixed the grenade in her hand back to her bandolier and motioned for Carwen to join her. Together, they looked down into the tangle of vines underground.
The vines wove together like nets, creating sloping layers and hidden pockets. Clusters of flowers, glowing soft blue, lit up the darkness. The lights combined with the layers created the illusion of staring into a well of stars. Their escort scampered down the vines. The dark silhouettes of lounging goblins moved through the layers toward the disturbance. A voice echoed up.
“Hands off! Present for the boss coming through.”
Standing next to Moka, Carwen let out a shuddering breath. She chewed her lower lip, looking behind them at the gathered goblins, then back down the hole.
“I cannot go down there. They are everywhere. We will never make it back.”
Moka side eyed Carwen’s illusion. Seeing the unhidden fear on the elf’s face, she glanced around, looking at the ground near her feet. After a second, not finding what she was looking for, she spoke.
“We got this far. We’ll never know unless we see it through.”
Carwen tsked. Moka’s ears twitched, swiveling toward the sound. The elf was vocal in her disagreement.
“You suggest madness. I cannot, will not, be captured. I-”
Moka’s hand shot out, grabbing on to the air. Azarus saw her strike with uncanny accuracy, grabbing the [Village Beauty’s] elbow despite her illusion. Carwen broke off with a yelp. Moka looked up, roughly where Carwen’s eyes should be, her ruby eyes sincere. Behind her, Carwen’s illusion bore a startled expression.
“We’re in too deep to back down now.”
Azarus sensed a shiver run through Carwen as she used [Read the Room]. Moka’s grip tightened. She pulled, causing Carwen to stumble a step, her invisibility shimmering. Her ruby red eyes had a bright sheen.
“This is what you wanted. You have the tools to strike back.” She spoke fast and hard, for all she kept her voice was low. Her next words sounded rote, like she had said them in her head a thousand times before speaking them aloud. “Our failure is still a victory if we take them with us. There is nothing to lose.”
Carwen’s brow furrowed, her eyebrows clashing together. She opened her mouth to object, but the wind snatched the words out as Moka leapt into the hole, pulling her along. Her instincts kicked in. A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of the elf. Azarus watched as a wave of discomfort passed through every goblin in earshot. Carwen snatched a vine with ease, clinging to it for dear life. She did not stop screaming until Moka climbed up from where she fell further down, and sucker punched her in the ribs.
Carwen’s look of fear morphed to shock and betrayal landed as her eyes landed on Moka. The goblin glared at her, one hand clinging to a vine and the other sticking a claw in her ear as if trying to dig something out. She snarled at the elf.
“I want to be nice, but you make it hard. No one is coming to save you. Screaming is pathetic.”
Carwen’s face went through a series of emotions, starting at hurt and ending in outrage. Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled with her grip to point a finger at Moka.
“I have every right to express my emotions! Especially now! I-”
Moka shushed her, pointedly looking at the curious shadows creeping closer from the lower layers. She poked the air in front of Carwen, causing the elf to flinch out of the way.
“Screaming has a purpose, to call for help. When there is no help, it signals weakness. You need to pretend to be strong. Or else.”
Moka held Carwen’s trembling gaze, her firm stare speaking volumes. The elf shivered, her knuckles white where she clung to the vine. She looked down, seeing the darkness stretching down. Her face paled. She gulped.
“It’s too much. I have never-”
Moka reached out. Carwen flinched, but Moka just laid a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. A prick of light hung above Carwen’s head, showing the return of the [Autumn Pixie]. Moka patted the elf on the shoulder, treating her to a slight smile.
“It’s okay. Just pretend you can, and keep pretending until you can’t. I do it, you can do it.”
Carwen nodded. Her illusion resettled over her, hiding her trembling. Moka climbed down several feet, then paused, making sure the elf followed her. She stayed nearby as they climbed down, occasionally landing on a layer to switch vines. They climbed in silence, except for Moka’s occasional whispered encouragements.
Their escort stayed just ahead, at the edge of their sight. From Moka’s earlier climb, Azarus judged they descended roughly seventy feet before the cloth started appearing. Strung throughout the layers, various sheets of material hanging from chains created a glowing labyrinth of vines and fabric. Soft light from the flowers lit the myriad of colors, creating a kaleidoscope descending through the vines. The patrol gathered at a gap in the fabric, leading into the cloth maze.
The designated speaker gestured into the gap.
“Boss is in here. Just follow the maze all the way down.”
Moka took one glance at the cloth and shook her head. She pointed at it.
“Lead us there.” When the three goblins looked unmoved, she unclipped a grenade from her bandolier and spoke like she was commenting on the weather. “Cloth burns better than flesh.”
The three goblins took her meaning, but only shrugged. The speaker jerked a finger at the gap behind him.
“This close, the boss can deal with it.”
So saying, the three goblins dispersed, grabbing vines and pulling themselves up and away. They did not go far, joining the other shadows with red eyes that watched them.
Moka drew herself shoulder to shoulder with Carwen’s illusion. She whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“Pretend you can. Make the world prove you wrong.”
Taking her own advice, Moka pulled on an air of confidence, wearing it like a cloak. She snapped a spark into existence, as if proving she still could. Without a backward glance, she walked straight into the cloth labyrinth.
Azarus watched the pair enter the maze with naked enthusiasm. He could feel the resonance in his domain increase, growing with each obstacle his champion cleared, drawing closer to the final confrontation. Curiosity gnawed at him, urging him to zoom ahead to observe Moka’s opponent. He resisted the urge, wanting to experience the reveal at the same time she did. Still, he wondered if this Warlord could hold a candle to the skinwalker, or if that had been a fluke.
Time would tell, but he was willing to bet the screens would make things harder and harder, urging him to spend his points. The [Divine Store] lingered in the back of his mind like a loan shark preying on the poor and desperate. He dismissed it from his thoughts, trusting he had done enough to prepare his champion.
Leaning forward, the god eagerly awaited the results of his choices.