“Move aside.” I motioned to the guard with a dismissive hand. He had been warming his hands by a crackling fire as I approached.

“Sir.” He nodded, shuffling away from the makeshift cage he had been guarding.

Two days had passed since the goblin attack. The spell that I had rained down on the green tide had decimated their army in a single stroke. Flesh, bone and metal had all been devoured by the crimson lightning that ripped through them.

In the aftermath, the Son’s and the villagers had trawled through the scorched battleground for any survivors. There were a few injured goblins squirming around beneath the seemingly endless piles of bodies.

These survivors had been herded into the centre of the village and kept under guard. The cadavers had been piled into mounds and burnt. The embers of these pyres were still crackling outside the village. It is strange how quickly you can become accustomed to the smell of burning flesh. Eventually the smell of charred pork becomes unnoticeable.

Asha, with the aid of some of the women who had returned to the village, had insisted on treating the wounded from both sides.

When the reinforcements from Kerren had arrived, Torg had arranged for them to redouble the defences around the village in case of a follow up attack. A group of riders had been sent out to see if the goblins had regrouped.

Being ever the resourceful type, the villagers had taken it upon themselves to salvage the wood from the felled trees around the impact site. This wood was crafted into crude cages to encage their goblin guests. The rough-edged wooden enclosures could store five goblins each.

In total around thirty goblins had been recovered from the battlefield in a range of conditions. Some seemed completely untouched by the battle. Others had loss limbs or suffered extreme burns.

Nugget, the rider who had approached the village with the threat a few days ago had also been recovered. His body was found beneath the remnants of the goblin cavalry, which thanks to the villager’s defences had been largely pointless.

He was found collapsed beneath his faithful wolf steed. The beast must have collapsed on top of him, absorbing most of the damage. Nugget had not escaped completely unscathed; his left side must have been exposed beneath the wolf as he suffered burns to his arm and face.

The Son’s had requisitioned a room at the tavern to house Nugget in the hope of extracting further information on the goblin plans. Torg ordered that two guards were always in his room.

I opened the gate of the makeshift cage. The rough wooden door was lopsided, which made the bottom drag against the ground. It was made harder by the relentless rainfall that hadn’t stopped since soon after the battle ended.

Mud pooled up like sand as I scraped the door open. Inside the cage, five goblins were sat around on a simple hemp blanket. They had grey and white furs to keep their bodies dry and a wooden bucket filled with an unappetising swill of cold remnant meat stew to warm their souls.

Up close, the creatures were surprisingly like humans. They had short, stubby legs but regularly sized torsos. Their faces were wrinkled. Deep set small eyes sat aside beak like noses. They were green too, of course.

The group of prisoners scrambled back into a corner as I entered the cage, watching me cautiously. This was the third time today that I had entered the cages, alternating which one I entered on each successive visit.

I had made a promise to Kaiden to allow him to replenish his power in exchange for assisting me at the battle. It was beginning to feel like I had played right into his hands. Not that I could really think that, since he seemed to read my thoughts.

“I’m beginning to think you are starting to enjoy this.” His voice boomed, as if on cue.

“P-p-p-pliz. Mershy.” A goblin whimpered as I approached. Its compatriots had scampered aside, isolating the whimpering mess and leaving him to my mercy.

I had been surprised by how well the goblins could communicate. They may not be able to speak perfectly - often slurring their vowels - but they had enough words in their basic vocabulary to make their intentions known.

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The creature crab crawled back further, using its arms and legs in a futile attempt to dig into the mud and slide towards the corner.

“Sorry.” I muttered. Perhaps more to myself than to the creature before me.

My hand reached out, hovering just above my victim’s head. I released mana, in a similar process to the way I created my hand-held flames. The mana soaked into the creature, enveloping him.

I could feel my mana circulating around the creature. I could feel it racing through his veins. His body felt like an extension of my own.

Then I pulled it back, just how Asha taught me to extinguish the flames. As I retrieved my mana, the barbed tendrils gripped onto the creature’s life force and tore it out.

As the life force was transferred to my own, a surge of energy soured through my body. I’m ashamed to admit it but Kaiden was partially right. I was starting to enjoy it. Well, not the act of killing. I could take that either way.

The rush of the lifeforce was addictive. A wave of reassuring faint dizziness hit me. A surge of confidence. My mind raced with a thousand thoughts. I was full of energy.

As I enjoyed my soul-leeching high the creature before more crumpled. It writhed about in silent agony, limbs flailing. The others erupted in a chorus of whimpers.

Then the creature fell. Lifeless.

“We could have stopped feeding yesterday. You have the hunger.”

I stood, stroking my hair back and taking in a breath of that charred flesh breeze. Ahh. It felt good to be alive.

“Guard! Guard!” I ordered.

I could hear the rattling of armour from behind.

“My Lord!” The guard called.

“We have another one for the pyre.”

***

After my feed, I returned to the tavern to enjoy their allegedly famed mead. I’ve got to say, Torg knew his stuff. The rich drink was moreish, thick and syrupy with a light sweetness accompanied by smoky tannins.

I had been drinking for a few hours. Hell, I’d been drinking for a couple of days if we’re being honest. But I was only a little tipsy when Asha sat beside me and gave me a shoulder nudge.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.” She joked, wrinkling her face.

“It helps.”

“Hmm. Do you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Is there anything to talk about? We were under attack. We won. They lost. I saved the day.” I half-heartedly raised my tankard.

“That was an impressive show of power.” She agreed.

“Yeah. Sure was.”

“Master Kaiden told me something once.”

“I bet he did.” I said between hiccups.

Asha gently places her hand on top of mine. It was warm and smooth. Delicate.

“Power always comes at a cost.” She stated in a tone that reminded me of my primary school teacher.

“It sure does.” I agreed.

“Everything with magic is about balance. Just, don’t overdo it. OK?”

I looked at Asha, her youthful face was smooth and pleasing but her eyes were sorrowful. She smiled but it was a thinly veiled one.

I gave her a pat on the head.

“You’re right. I’ll be careful.”

She pursed her lips to reply but Torg barged in before she could form a sound.

“Thought I’d find you two here.” He laughed, placing a large hand on both of our shoulders.

“How is it going upstairs?” Asha enquired.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“I’m a busy man Torg, this better be good.” I said, instantly realising it sounded cooler in my head than out loud.

“Yeah, you look re-e-e-al busy.” He replied, titling his head in Asha’s direction.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It would be better if we discussed it upstairs.”

“OK, but if this is about another one of your debts-“

“It’s not. You will want to hear this.” Torg said, sounding surprisingly short.

We made our way up the tavern stairs. Torg stormed across the mezzanine floor that overlooked the main bar area and into one of the rooms. Asha and I followed.

As we entered the room, two Son’s acknowledged our presence.

The room was large, with exposed wooden beams running along the ceiling and leading the eye towards the back wall where two glass windows sat either side of a dresser. Leaning up against the left wall was a deep chest and a bed with a simple throw.

In the centre of the room, Nugget was restrained on a chair, his muscular arms bound by rope. He had dried blood caked onto his face which was still marred by char marks. He was topless, his torso covered in scars.

Nugget was much closer to a human than his compatriots that I had seen outside. I could tell from his stature that he was tall, just short of Torg’s height but not by much. His mass was lean, with significant muscle and not much fat.

“Tell them what you said.” One of the Son’s ordered, stepping towards Nugget menacingly.

Nugget lifted his head and stared straight at his interrogator. The room was silent as the pair just stared at each other. Then Nugget spat on the floor audibly and groaned.

“Why you.” The guard snarled and punched Nugget square in the nose.

His head knocked back and he let out a moan, but you had to respect the guy, he took it like a champ.

“That’s enough!” Torg snapped, staring at the guard who stepped back in response.

Nugget chuckled and raised his head in defiance. His eyes widened when he saw me stood at the door.

“You! You monster!” He growled, struggling in vain to free his arms.

“Nugget, we have treated your people well. If you want it to stay that way, I suggest you tell Lord Kaiden what you told me about the Orc Lord.” Torg explained in a firm but sympathetic tone.

“I told you already. There is no Orc Lord.” He snarled.

“Then who gave the orders?” Torg asked.

“Our orders came from the chief. The chiefs gathered with the humans in the West and agreed the plan. We are working with the humans to claim the lands. They promised us land.”