Goblins were easy to kill. They were without magic; not to say that they had no mana—all living beings possessed mana in some quantities—but magic was just not ingrained in their culture. The use of spells was foreign to them. They did not use bows and arrows, ranged weapons of any sort, traps, none of that. They used wooden cudgels to strike at their foes, and their usage of mana was barbaric, unrefined, primitive. No armour, no protection apart from their tough skin. A few arcane arrows to the head and they were gone. They were no fun.
Jelnar sat atop a pile of goblin corpses, fiddling with his medallion. Blood streaked his adventurer’s uniform, marred it of its pristine white, tarnished. He slicked his hair back, his hand dirty and sticky. The battlefield smelt of iron, blood staining the air, left its acrid stench in the battle’s wake, lingering. When Jelnar was on a quest to kill, he left no survivors. He wasn’t an amateur.
“Third tribe, no luck,” he said. The medallion wasn’t responding here. If there was any sign of the relic nearby, it’d be glowing a bright green, thrumming with power. “Pity.”
“No response here too?” Horus was wiping his sword, cleaning it of its blood-stains. “I’m starting to doubt the prophecy. What use would a tribe of goblins have for a mana relic anyway? Goblins aren’t mages of any sort.”
“Do not doubt the Oracle of the Muddled Lights,” Jelnar said. It was prophesied that within the depths of the Velhana jungle was a goblin tribe which possessed one of the greatest mana relics in the whole of Sigana: The Eye of Zokurath. “Don’t be impatient. This is only the third tribe. We just have to find the rest of the tribes and the Eye of Zokurath will be ours.”
Horus scoffed. “Yours. The relics will be yours. Don’t misconstrue things, little mage.” The sun-warrior stood up with a sigh, bones creaking. Despite his age, the large man was still one of the strongest warriors of his Order. His hair, formerly a pale blonde, was now greying, tied up in a bun. He reminded Jelnar of a lion. “When your father called in for his favour, I didn’t expect to be going around slaying goblins. What a chore.”
“House Lariel is indebted to you, Sun Warrior Horus.”
“Sure, sure.”
Jelnar heard a sound. Behind him was a faint rustle, a crackling of leaves. He swivelled his head around, scanning the area. A goblin—an alive goblin.
After being caught, it rushed at him, tried dashing towards, waving its cudgel around, screeching. It was trying to sneak up on him. He jabbed his hand out, palm facing towards the monster.
“Ensnare.”
Mana rippled around the creature, swiftly solidifying, turning into an arcane net. It latched around the goblin, trapped it. It tried to struggle. Another thing he noted about goblins was that they were stubborn. Even when encountering an insurmountable enemy, an inescapable force, they still tried to struggle, to break free. But what use was that?
Horus stood back, unimpressed.
“Speak, monster.”
The goblin tried spitting at him, but missed. “I do not speak with monsters. You will go to Tishana. The Abyss will welcome you with its cold embrace, human.”
Jelnar laughed. “Me? Monster? You goblins are so… funny.”
He grabbed the air, clutched it into a fist.
“Burn, slowly*.”
The mana around the goblin roiled, bubbled up. The air around it started to simmer, blurring in heat. And then a roar. A fire erupted around the monster, burning it alive, slowly, agonisingly. The creature screamed, yelling in its foreign goblin tongue, shaking violently.
Jelnar used to believe that death was boring, a flicker of your life ending just like that. A fade to black. The end of something miraculous, and you wouldn’t even remember it, you wouldn’t even remember death itself. And he loved living. That's why hearing these screams, the life flickering away, the end of something miraculous… it invigorated him. Proved to him that he was supposed to live, that he was strong. That life, ultimately, was the powerful conquering the weak.
Horus appeared in front of the goblin in a flash, a gust of wind left in his wake. He took his greatsword and slashed at it, decapitated the creature’s head cleanly, rolled off into the ground. The burning ceased. The jungle was silent again.
“I agreed to come with you to find a relic, Jelnar,” he growled, walking up to him. He was tall, towered over him, cast his large shadow over Jelnar’s body. “Not to torture helpless monsters. I won’t let you indulge in these deranged games, little Lariel. Do not waste my time.”
Jelnar nodded. “Apologies, Horus.”
He scoffed, set his greatsword aside.
“Where are we headed to next?” Horus asked.
If the Eye of Zokurath wasn’t here, it meant that the relic must be located somewhere deeper in Velhana. Jelnar stared at his medallion, stared at the dull crystal embedded in its centre. He traced the engravings along its golden surface, felt the grooves of its intricacies. The Eye of Zokurath would be his.
“The Port Town of Hinurtha. To visit my grandmother.”
—— – -
Goblins were stubborn. They had been negotiating with the Shis Talis for what felt like an hour now. Arguments were being repeated, points were missed, and—much like a prisoner—the discussion was going nowhere. And much like a prisoner, Endhi wanted to escape.
“Again, we must put away our differences. If we want to survive—”
“Survive? When did the Shis Hekit grow so weak-willed? Letting a group of humans set you on your toes, shaking like rotten dogs. We are goblins. We do not group together like cowards, we fight,” said Elder Kekta.
Kekta was a big man, bigger than Endhi, even. The seat under him was on the brink of collapse, creaking from his weight. And each time he slammed the table—which was often—the table would vibrate and shake violently like an earthquake had come to seek vengeance on him. Taking revenge on his being for forcing the earth to bear his weight. Even at his old age, Endhi was unsure if he could beat him in a fight.
Elder Olna looked frustrated. So did the rest of Shis Hekit, all lined up on one side of the rectangular table. “We are goblins, so we fight together. There is no cowardice in forming an alliance to ensure our victory. The humans have grown and progressed through their unity, through cooperation. It is time we do the same,” she said.
“And why should we stoop to their level? Why should we throw away our honour?”
“Because we will die if we do not,” Endhi said, slamming his palm onto the table.
The room was silent now. The two sides of the room, the Shis Talis and Shis Hekit, stared at each other, grim. Kekta looked angry, tapping his finger on the table impatiently. The rest of the Shis Talis looked conflicted, as if something was on their minds.
Endhi held up two fingers. “Two tribes. Two tribes were wiped out completely in the span of two weeks. By one group of adventurers. Do you think your tribe is any different, Talis Kekta? That our tribe is any different? What makes you think that we will fare any better?”
“Do not insult our tribe. We are not as weak as those lessers,” said another Talis goblin.
“We do not insult, but only speak the truth. To think that the Shis Talis, or even the Shis Hekit will overcome these goblin hunters is a fool’s dream. The reality is that if we do not join forces against this enemy, our demise will be inevitable,” said Hekit Asan.
“Listen to us, Elder Kekta. We only want the best for the whole of the Velhana goblin tribes,” said Endhi. “Do you not have people within your tribe that you care for? That you want to protect? Set your pride aside. For those that you love.”
Kekta had his hands clasped together, silent. He was ruminating on something. So were the rest of the Shis Talis. They were all silent, conflicted. It looked like they were… hiding something.
“There is only one thing I must confess. I was… hesitant about this cooperation because I was weary of the Shis Hekit’s character. But… I admit that I do think this alliance will be necessary. To ensure the survival of my clan, the survival of those I love,” Kekta said. He sighed. “I must reveal something to you all.”
The rest of the Shis Talis looked worried. Talis Kekta stood up.
“Sheiha,” he whispered to the air. “Come out.”
Above them, a figure started to materialise, started to appear out of thin air. The air warped around the being, at first translucent, then slowly forming into a person. A child. A human child.
“Father?” said the girl.
She floated in the air, twisting and moving slowly. Her skin was a pale white, not green in the slightest. She wore a brown tunic with brown pants, mirroring the colour of her hair. And she was small, not like her ‘father’ at all. What was green, however, was one single eye.
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She had two eyes of differing colours, one brown and one green. The brown eye was completely ordinary, normal, plain. The green eye, however, possessed an almost hypnotic quality, glowing bright and powerful. It almost hurt to look at.
The whole of the Shis Hekit stood up, gasped.
“A human!”
“She’s floating!”
“Her eyes…”
“What is the meaning of this, Talis Kekta?” Elder Olna asked. She looked as confused as the rest of her tribe. So was Endhi.
“Yes, she is a human child. We found Sheiha years ago, stranded in the Velhana jungle, lost, without a guardian. We had no idea what to do with her. Even though we’re goblins, even if we’re supposed to hate humans, I couldn’t just leave her there, leave her to starve to death or to be mauled by some wild wolf.”
He had his eyes closed, rubbed his eyebrows. “So I took her in. Raised her as my own. Treated her like I would my own child, as if she was a goblin. The only issue, of course, was that she was human. And that she possessed… strange magical abilities.”
The child floated towards Talis Kekta and hugged his arm. He patted her on the head, smiled at her. “She is my only child. My daughter, Talis Sheiha. I osho her with all my being. I would fight the world for her.”
He let go of her and stepped onto the table. He knelt down, then pressed his head against the table, placed his palms together in a pleading motion. The Shis Hekit looked uncomfortable.
“Please,” he begged. “If we form an alliance, please… treat my daughter like any other goblin. As if she isn’t human. Please protect her.”
The whole room was silent. A father begging for the protection of his daughter. For his human daughter. He would fight the world for her.
Endhi leapt onto the table, clasped Kekta’s hands into his. He understood all too well the worries of a parent. He understood the love that he felt for his daughter. How he would fight for his love. He felt it, that love, that strength, that conviction. To love, after all, was to fight. This was a man, on his knees, fighting for his daughter.
He looked back at Hekit Olna. She nodded. “Talis Kekta. I swear by my love for my children, by the strength that I hold, by my whole being, that the Shis Hekit will protect your daughter. Raise your head,” he said.
Kekta looked up towards him, still kneeling.
“We are goblins,” Endhi said. “We fight together.”
And the rest of the Shis Hekit cheered.
“We are goblins!”
“We fight together!”
“Glory to the Shis Hekit! Glory to the Shis Talis!”
Talis Kekta started to cry, bawling his eyes, snot dripping from his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. Thank you for accepting my daughter. I swear by the Shis Talis that we will aid you in this battle.”
Both goblin tribes rejoiced, went to each other’s sides and clasped hands. Kekta hugged his Sheiha, tear-ridden and snotty, his daughter looking very confused. Endhi smiled. They would fight together.
—— – -
Goblins were bad at apologies. To the Shis Hekit, ‘sorry’ came in the form of a heart-felt battle. Klik needed to apologise to Zelena, and he was sure that brandishing his cudgel and thwacking her on the head would not be her idea of reflection and remorse. He did feel sorry—he just didn’t know how to tell her. For always nagging her about teaching him magic, for clinging to her, for visiting her so often. For lying.
What would he say? That the reason he wore this mask, hid under his cloak, wasn’t because of his burn scars, but because he was a monster? That he wasn’t human?
He trudged along the gravel path towards her house, looking down, slid his feet by one by one, felt the pebbles grate against his soles. Klik was scared. More scared than he was when facing down his father, battling each other. More scared than the first time his family caught him sneaking off to the human town. More scared than when he first lost his cudgel, tried searching for it everywhere.
What would she say? Would she accept him? Shoo him away? Try to… hurt him?
He bumped into someone face-first, got knocked back a bit.
“Zelena, I’m sorry for asking you to teach me magic again. I wasn’t—”
“What’s this about magic?” The voice wasn’t Zelena’s, but a young man’s.
“Who—” Klik looked up.
The man had short blonde hair, green eyes that looked down on him, thin like a snake’s. He was smiling, amused, but also had an aura of danger. He looked ready to strike him, even with his hands held behind his back and his head jutting out in curiosity.
“What is your relationship to my grandmother, masked boy?”
Grandmother? This man was Zelena’s grandson? Now that he looked closely, he could almost see the resemblance. The green eyes, the blonde hair…
“We’ve known each other for a few months. I visit her—”
“Why do you wear a mask?”
“To hide my burn scars,” he stammered.
The man stared at him. His eyes inspected him, scanned his entire being. They stood there for a moment, still, staring at each other. A sweat trickled down his neck. Did he already suspect him? Was the mask not enough? Klik prepared to run away, muscles taut, ready to dash.
“I enjoy the look. It lends you an aura of mystery.” He turned around, started walking. “Follow me.”
With his back turned to him, Klik noticed something, a symbol on the back of his uniform. A golden diamond with the Adventurer’s insignia: a sword broken in half. His heart sank. He’d heard from his tribe that a group of adventurers was going around, hunting goblin tribes in Velhana. An adventurer appearing here in Hinurtha, at a time like this…
The adventurer turned around, walked towards him.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he said. He tried grabbing onto Klik’s shoulder, but he dodged, jumped backwards. Klik tried scrambling back, legs flailing.
The man laughed. “Why are you so skittish? I don’t bite. Usually.”
He took a step forward, offered Klik his hand. “I’m just tired of walking all the way back. I'm sure you wouldn’t want to spend your time walking to her house in this sweltering heat, sweaty and tired with your mask and all. Give me your hand.”
What? What did he mean? If the adventurer wanted to attack him, kill him, Klik was sure that he would’ve already done so. He was confused, but gave him his hand anyway.
The man smiled. “Recall.”
The world blurred, became a mix of colours, of light, of darkness. His head spun, and suddenly, reality snapped back, left him on the doorstep of a house. Zelena’s house. In one moment they were hundreds of steps away, walking along the gravel path, and now, they were at their destination.
He felt sick. He felt like vomiting.
“Ugh. What… what happened?” Klik said, bending over, hands on his knees. His head hurt.
“Magic.” The man was still smiling. “Very useful spell. Only works on places you’ve very, very recently been to, though. Your first time teleporting will make you dizzy, nauseas. Everyone goes through it.”
Klik was about to vomit. He held onto a wooden beam for support, started to retch.
Zelena’s grandson looked concerned. He placed a hand on Klik’s back. “Heal, lightly.”
Just as he was about to vomit, still bent over with his hand holding the beam, a cold, soothing energy washed over him, rid him of his dizziness. The world felt normal, still, clear. He felt normal. Better than normal, even. He stood up straight, jumped on his feet, tested his physicality.
“What did you do to me?” asked Klik. He spun his arm around, stretched it. He felt the tiniest bit more flexible.
“Just a light healing spell. The first one should be more potent, all your kinks and pains should be cleansed,” he said. “Don’t expect consequent heals to be that effective.”
“Wow…”
Klik came to a sudden realisation. He’d just seen someone cast magic right in front of him. Even better, cast it on him. Twice. This was his first time seeing anyone cast any spells, and they were as wondrous as he expected. The ability to do anything…
He should’ve expected Zelena’s grandson to be a mage, but it surprised him nevertheless.
They entered Zelena’s house. It smelt of cinnamon and spices, herbs plucked from the forest. The room, as always, was surgically clean, almost too clean. Zelena spent a lot of time tidying her house, organising things around. She said it calmed her.
“Nothing’s changed. Everything’s the same as I remembered,” the man laughed. “Grandmother!”
A rustle of pots and pans echoed throughout the house, a stream of footsteps, and there was Zelena, rushing out to meet them. She was silent. “Jelnar?”
“You look as healthy as ever, grand—”
“Why are you here? Why have you come to meet me?” she asked. She looked angry.
“Does a grandson need a reason to meet his grandmother? I’ve missed you, Zelena,” he said, walking towards her arms spread, anticipating a hug.
She pushed him away. “Don’t play your little games, Jelnar. I’ll ask again: What do you want?”
He paused, face now wiped of his smile, stood frozen. Then he laughed. “You’ve been hiding a relic from me, grandmother. Where is the Eye of Zokurath?”
She paused.
“I know nothing of this eye you speak of. Scurry off now. I’m tired of your antics,” she turned to leave, then looked back at Klik. “Go home, Klik. Don’t involve yourself with this man.”
She left, just like that. Klik was confused. Wasn’t family supposed to love each other? He had his fights and disagreements with his family, but they would always reconcile after. Weren’t humans supposed to be loving and forgiving? Kind to one another? Why did Zelena even refuse to listen to Jelnar?
“She still hates me,” he sighed. Jelnar looked at Klik again, curiously, scanned him. “You have decent magic potential. Klik, was it?”
Klik nodded, confused. Jelnar stared at him for a while longer before nodding to himself. He placed his two hands outward, pushing them around himself.
“Silence, ward.”
“Wha—”
The air around them warped. The world went silent. Klik could only hear the closest things around him—his breathing, the creaking of the wooden floor as he balanced from foot to foot, Jelnar playing with his medallion, ruminating. It felt like they were the only ones that existed. What was this spell?
“Don’t worry, she won’t hear us,” Jelnar said.
She won’t hear us? What for?
“What… what do you want?”
This was some sort of silence barrier that prevented the outside world from listening in on their conversation. The mage wanted to hide something from his grandmother. Klik was worried. What if he knew he was a goblin and wanted to hurt him now? What if he was going to attack him? And Zelena wouldn’t be able to come save him, wouldn’t be able to hear his cries for help. He inched further away from the adventurer, tried slowly escaping.
“You want to learn magic, do you?” Jelnar asked. “Why don’t you become my apprentice?”