When they arrived at the foundry, Eric was surprised to see a demon already there and inside the protection of the magic barrier. It was crouched over the spot where Eric had killed the other demon. Gouge marks in the stone floor and a drop of blood in particular had caught its attention.
While the first one Eric had encountered was a foot soldier, with thick limbs and a wide chest, covered in heavy dark plates, this one seemed more of a scout. It was lean and cunning, with a feral intelligence behind the eyes. Bright red with vertical slits for pupils, they seemed to gauge and take in all with practiced care. It must have stood twelve feet tall, with slender but muscled arms and long legs bent backwards at the knee. Its scales were dull crimson edged in black, more oval than diamond shaped and tightly spaced for protection. Rather than plates across its back, there were finned spines a foot long, from obsidian black to orange and black again at the tip. Its chest was striated with corded muscle beneath a harness of steel spikes worn crosswise like a vest. It hands and feet resembled claws, with long talons and barbs along the backsides. Its maw was draconic, a short snout with pointed teeth and a series of nostrils across the top. It had no ears or hair, just a head covered in tiny black spikes.
Within seconds its essence was overwhelming. The bright of its crimson aura washed over Eric like tingles across his front, tantalizing parts he no longer had. It was summer warmth on the face, the breathy intake of fresh baked goods and the numbing rush of realization one was about to have sex. However strong the soldier had been, this demon’s essence put it to shame.
It was increasingly difficult to think of anything else.
“Greetings,” Griz said and bowed to the demon with the deference of a diplomat or politician. “To what do we owe the honor?”
The other goblins kept working, heads down to avoid eye contact. The incessant sound of hammering rang out in time to glowing sparks and the bright glow of freshly poured molten metal.
There was a feel of magic coming off the demon, not as strong as its essence but there all the same. It was like stepping into a strong electrical field, one that could jolt outward and strike at any moment.
It warned of danger.
How the hell did it get in here? The thought was hazy in his mind, beneath the shouts and sudden screams that wanted the demon’s power, like a barrage of his own voice demanding, Do it! Just do it!
“A servitor has gone missing,” it said in a voice more rasp than whine, the slow paced speech of one who gave thought to every word. The demon eyed Griz and stood to its full height. It completely ignored Eric. “I tracked his scent –” the demon pointed toward the gouges – “to here. Explain.”
“There must be a mistake,” Griz said. “I’ve not seen a demon here since collection. Perhaps he was one of those who helped carry arms back to the citadel.”
Damn, Griz. You go, boy! Eric had to admit, it was a pretty smart explanation. He had trouble keeping his own thoughts in check, though, was clenching a fist to fight back the urge to attack. The demon noticed but said nothing. Just fucking kill him, already! Eric growled inwardly at himself. Shut up, goddammit. Shut the fuck up!
“Seekers do not make mistakes.” The demon stepped forward and faced Eric, looked up into the glow of his eyes as if trying to gauge intent. “Considerable strength would be needed to best a servitor.”
Son of a bitch. Eric knew they were playing a ruse to save the foundry, but the sudden proximity… You better back the fuck off!
“Indeed,” Griz agreed, “so much so that I can’t think of many creatures even capable of it. Isn’t it more likely that this soldier is out on the hunt or has taken the fight to the fey on his own terms, rather than a highly unlikely loss to a mysterious predator?”
“What purpose does this serve?” the seeker asked and tapped Eric’s chest with a talon. “It looks awkward, clumsy and lacks the finesse of your usual work. Surely, it is not meant to fight.”
If Eric didn’t know better, he’d swear the demon was trying to goad him. It wanted him to attack. All he had to do was reach out and grab its spindly throat. Its face was so close he could feel its breath across his own.
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“That’s just a worker,” Griz assured him. “We goblins are not known for our strength. We need such things to help with heavy lifting.”
The demon dragged its talon over Eric’s chest, filling the air with a low pitched screeching and several sparks. It only slightly marred the surface but enough to enrage Eric. It was all he could do to keep from striking out in a frenzy.
“It is a tool then,” the seeker said, “a stupid thing to be used. Give it to me.” It kept its gaze upon Eric and grinned. “As a show of a good faith.”
Griz seemed at a loss but managed to finally say, “I cannot. It is just a tool but an invaluable one. I can offer you anything else you see here, for your personal use.” He headed toward a collection of fine steel swords pegged to a wall separating the foundry. They hung over bundles of numerous, more common weapons ready for the next collection. “These are our finest,” he said and pointed to a row of masterfully crafted long and great swords. “I could even add an enchantment for you, given enough time.”
The seeker seemed to consider but never looked away from Eric. Its talon continued to etch a path across his dark metal.
“No need. I will let you keep your toy.”
The seeker shoved Eric back a step, hard enough that a less coordinated creature would have stumbled and fallen. The demon was much stronger than it looked. Eric’s eyes flared bloody red.
“Oh, dear,” the shaman said.
Eric smashed his head into the seeker’s, sent it reeling back but kept it close by grabbing hold of its neck with both hands. He growled in anger, a fury spurred by the demon’s taunting and a desire to take its essence. Eric squeezed with all his strength and forced the seeker downward.
Eyes narrowed, one foot braced behind, the demon looked as if it had expected the assault. It immediately raised both hands to grab hold of Eric’s wrists. There was no denying its strength, but the gurgled struggling meant it was fighting just to breathe.
Talons raked Eric’s wrists. They marred the metal but couldn’t reach the runes inside. The seeker raised both arms and smashed down into the crooks of Eric’s arms. Magic formed in one hand as a ball of swirling violet. It plunged the sphere into Eric’s face, and it broke apart as a burning flash of wild flames.
Eric didn’t need the false approximation of eyes to see. He used his entire body to sense his surroundings. The magic jarred that ability, though, like overcharging all his sensory input. Momentarily blinded, ears ringing, hands extended just for balance, vertigo threatened to send him down onto his back.
The demon grabbed Eric by one leg and pulled, drove an elbow into his chest to propel him even further. Eric felt himself go down and crash hard against the floor. Stone cracked outward beneath his weight. The demon was suddenly on top, clawing wildly at Eric’s eyes and throat. It reached back with both hands and called magic to either one.
Eric caught both wrists as they came down. Two more spheres crackled with black lightning just inches from his face. Whatever magic this was, its intent was to kill. Eric squeezed, forced both wrists back, but the bones wouldn’t break.
All the goblins but Griz had fled to the lower level. The shaman was moving his staff through the air in a small circle while quietly chanting.
Is this his chance? Eric thought, also wondering if he’d taken on more than he could handle. Is he gonna help, or is he gonna fuck me?
“You have broken our pact,” the seeker said to Griz, his voice strained from the struggle. “When I do not return, Karron will know of your betrayal. He will seek to destroy all of goblinkind. Not only on Taellus but on your home world as well.”
Eric changed tack and brought the demon’s hands together. The magic clashed and exploded into bright shards of ebon flame. A flash of blue rose up between them. The demon screamed in anguish, its hands all but destroyed. Some of the bones and bits of muscle still remained but the dark magic was spent. Eric rolled, forced the seeker beneath his weight. He held the demon down by one hand at its throat.
“You talk too fuckin’ much,” he growled and grabbed its face with his other hand. Eric pushed for all he was worth with both hands. “And those goblins are mine!”
The seeker’s neck snapped in two places.
Eric was barely able to breathe a sigh of relief, to let loose his hold, before the change came upon him. Like a spike of adrenaline, it seized his every thought in a mix of sated hunger and dying pleasure.
It’s the fucking hunger that kills me. I can’t take it anymore. I’m no good if I can’t think straight.
And with that his choice was made.
The exultation faded, and so did the hunger. Eric still wanted to feed on essence, but it no longer drove him. As much as he wanted other changes, he would never again be a victim to that unrelenting desire.
Eric sat up and looked at Griz.
“Shit,” he said. “I fucked up. I just couldn’t take it.”
“No, master. You did the right thing.” Griz moved to stand before him, as other goblins were starting to come out from hiding. “He forced our hands.”
Eric snorted. “We didn’t do shit. I’m the one who killed it.” He looked the shaman over, though he wasn’t really all that surprised. It’s not like they were friends. “For a second, I thought you were gonna help.”
“I did, master,” Griz said. “I knew you would turn the seeker’s magic against him. I shielded you from the blast. The spell he was casting… it would have torn you apart. It was the best I could do, given the circumstance.”
Huh. Eric recalled the flash of blue light as the demon’s magic exploded. Guess he did help.
“I didn’t realize,” Eric said. “Thanks.” He got up to his feet and looked around at the foundry. “Well, this place is burned. Start packing it all up. We’ll make a new one at the castle.”