by A. C. Salter
They flew for the remainder of the day, the sun disappearing from the red sky to be replaced by a full moon. They had passed many tributaries and forks in the river but as the stars began to fill the night the falcon swept low to follow a fast-flowing stream that headed away from the Twine. The husk of a broken boat protruded from the water, its wood having gathered moss and was rotting.
This is the place, Crayl said as he descended to the bank and glided between trunks to a squat fallen tree. He landed on a branch which sunk with the weight. That was when Dylap realised it wasn’t a branch, or indeed a fallen tree.
When I left this place, this body still had a head.
Dylap climbed from the falcon, his legs feeling weak from the long journey, Crayl seemed as fresh as ever. He walked along the giant carcass, soaking in the details of the goblin’s body, or what was left of it. The animals of the forest had taken what was edible, leaving mostly bones and the rotten parts of goblin flesh which even the scavengers couldn’t bear to eat. Yet the head had been removed recently. A foul odour clung to the gaping hole at the end of a stump, the neck squashed flat with the spine bone breaking through the skin.
The entire sight was grim, if something were to spark a memory, surely this would? But nothing came. Feeling downhearted, Dylap paced along the length of the arm, the bones beneath moving with his gait. He spotted something held in the giant’s clenched fingers, a feather.
One of mine, Crayl explained. I attacked the pair and was grabbed as I tried to peck his eyes out. After I escaped, the other goblin stove this goblin’s skull in with a rock.
Dylap glanced back at the ugly mess that was between the shoulders. Why take his head if his skull was smashed?
Crayl didn’t answer.
Dylap paced back along the arm to the severed neck. On closer inspection, he saw that cuts along the flesh had been made by a small blade, perhaps belonging to a fairy. It must have been an arduous job to hack through the entire neck so somebody was desperate to remove the head.
They spent the remainder of the night searching for more clues, anything that might jolt his memory, but by the time dawn began to creep overhead, they left the goblin corpse to begin searching up stream. It wasn’t long before they found a large waterwheel attached to a hovel. The building was dilapidated, its crooked chimney leaning out over the stream and threatening to topple at any moment.
The smell of damp mildew filled the air as they circled the cottage, searching for any signs of occupancy.
There’s the severed head, Dylap said, pointing to the jawless skull at the base of the door. It appeared as though it had been thrown or kicked out of the hovel and now lay facing up, staring through empty sockets. Discarded clothes, sticks and bones lay beside it, giving the appearance of a discarded doll, albeit a gruesome one.
They were about to land by the window when Crayl spotted movement from a nearby tree.
It’s a tamed thrush, he said and landed beside the frightened creature. It attempted to pull away from them but was bound by its reins which were tied to a twig.
Shh, easy now, Dylap said as he soothed the bird. He placed his hands against its head and sought a link with its mind. When he harvested the information he wanted, he turned to Crayl.
He belongs to the night watch. His master is in the hovel, along with a finch and what looks like Captain Fenwick.
Dilbus caught a fleeting glance of a shadow passing the grimy window, a bird or maybe death itself? Coming to take what would soon be his. Genili slept beside him, her head resting in his lap. She had murmured through bad dreams the entire night yet had mercifully gone silent as the first glimpse of the morning began to peek under the door. Which was more than could be said for Limble who’d kept up his snoring since going to sleep before the sun had fully vanished. Yet the fairy had endured a horrific ordeal at the hands of the goblin. Spread out on the table, wings pulled back for inspection, limbs pulled at, tapped for strength while the evil giant grinned on, marvelling at his new find like a sugar sprite in a honey pot. The inspection had lasted most of the day, the goblin scribbling notes onto a piece of parchment, dipping his quill into ink before licking the nib. He drew a rough plan of a brooch, including a copy of Limble’s wings. Satisfied with that, he had placed him back into the cage and spent the rest of the evening sharpening his tools.
How Limble could sleep, Dilbus would never understand, but he wasn’t about to wake him and cheat him from what was most likely the last peace he would experience before being butchered.
His companions remained quiet as the goblin snorted into wakefulness. The hefty giant sat up in his cot, rubbed his head and rose from the bed. He absently scratched at his pot-belly as he lumbered over to the cauldron and stirred the remains of yesterday’s slop. He’d had the majority of the contents the previous evening and so was disgruntled to find only a few feathers and a soggy saddle amidst the gristle at the bottom.
Dropping the spoon, his ugly head turned to the cage, yellow eyes boring into Dilbus as he sauntered closer.
“You’ll provide a little meat, I suppose,” he said, tapping the side of the cage and waking the others. “It’s not like I can use your crippled little body for much. And I’ve plenty of fairy dust, so…” He smacked his belly and set it wobbling. “You’ll fill a little gap.”
The goblin began to whistle a merry tune as he returned to the fire and began to stack kindling.
“He’s going to eat you,” Limble said, shuffling from the bars to regard him with a pasty-white face.
“It appears that way,” Dilbus replied, watching the flames beginning to tickle the bottom of the cauldron. “There are worse ways to go, I suppose.” Although at that precise moment, he couldn’t think of any.
The previous night had been long and sleep never came to claim him. Instead, he stared at a string of glowing sun gems that hung from the rafters as he sought a means of escape. There would be none from inside the cage and he doubted that the goblin was foolish enough to leave an opportunity once he came to retrieve him. Instead, he studied the picture of Dylap and devised a plan that might see him and his companions released.
Now the bubbles in the cauldron had begun to rise to the surface, the goblin approached the cage and slid the bolt.
Limble and Genili cowered in the corner while Dilbus walked to the centre, opening his arms wide to offer himself up to the monster.
Fighting the rising terror that trembled through his bones, he didn’t struggle as the huge fingers reached inside and grasped him. The air was forced from his lungs as the fist squeezed his chest, yet still he remained still. He waited until the goblin had pulled him clear of the cage before putting his fingers in his mouth and whistling.
“Wazzat?” the goblin said, bringing Dilbus closer to his face for inspection.
When he was close enough, Dilbus shouted with as much effort as he could, the remaining air in his lungs spilling out.
“Dylap,” he bellowed, then pointed at the picture on the wall.
“Eh?”
Long grey hairs that sprouted from the goblin’s ear tickled Dilbus as he was shoved towards the waxy hole.
“Dylap,” he shouted again. “The fairy with the spines that sting. I know where he is.”
Wiry eyebrows drew together as the goblin scowled down at him. His glower following to the picture that Dilbus pointed to.
“Falon? He lives?”
Dilbus nodded enthusiastically, hoping that this Falon was one and the same creature. “He’s in Farro.”
“Eh?”
The goblin sorted through the tools on his table, scattering knifes, pincers and grips until he found a small brass funnel. He held the narrow stem to his ear while shoving the other end over Dilbus’s head.
“I said, I know where this Falon is.”
The funnel was snatched away as the goblin paced over to the likeness and held Dilbus closer, an anxious look smudging his features into a pinched expression.
“I want him back,” he dem
anded hysterically. “Where is he, tell me, TELL ME!”
The goblin couldn’t control his excitement and Dilbus thought he might be crushed within his fist. At least one of his ribs had broken, the pain jabbing into his chest. It wasn’t until the monster regarded him that he realised and eased the pressure.
Dilbus slowed his breathing and pointed at the funnel and then at the goblins ear. Nodding the goblin did as instructed and placed the brass instrument to the side of his head.
“I will bring him here, if you let my friends go,” he said. “It’s not too far, I can be back in a few days.”
The goblin slowly placed the funnel back on the table, his thumb idly stroking Dilbus along the side of the head as he stared out of the window, then back at the bubbling cauldron before regarding Dilbus once again.
“Falon has been in my family for generations, he was very precious, very special. My Great Grandpappy sold his wife and three of his brood so he could purchase a special god-created jar to preserve him. I don’t know how the old devil trapped the Lightning Prince, but he did and Falon had been part of this house for hundreds of years. I’ve lived here for almost two hundred of them, my brother too, until he tried to steal Falon from me.” The goblin slammed a fist into the table, making the tools bounce. “I put a stop to him, snuffed his life out, but the jar and Falon were swallowed by the Twine, gone.”
“I will bring him back,” Dilbus shouted, pointing once again at the picture. “The Lightning Prince may once again sit upon that shelf.”
“Nope,” the goblin said as he shook his head, as if ridding himself of the memories. “You’re lying, I see that now. The Prince has gone, you’re trying to trick me. Twas nowt but a cursed fiend anyway, I’m best not to have him, besides, I am awfully hungry.”
The fist that engulfed him tightened again and Dilbus felt the grating bones of his ribs grind together, blood rushing to his head.
“I doubt you’ll taste as good as your bird did. I may need to throw your chubby little friend in with you too.”
Dilbus kicked his legs and sank his teeth into the mottled green flesh of the giant’s index finger, but they couldn’t penetrate the skin. He was at the mercy of the goblin as he crossed the room, carelessly swinging him over the cauldron. The steam rising, sticky and hot as it clung to his face and hair, which now dangled above the bubbling broth. A broth that he would be a part of.
He heard the screams from the fairies left in the cage. He felt sorry for not rescuing Genili, she was too young for her life to be snuffed out before it truly begun. And Limble, not the brightest of fae, but loyal to a fault, he would be leaving behind a family. Out of the three, he felt himself to be the luckiest. With no dependants, not even a sweetheart who would miss him, his death would cast the least ripples. His end would also be swifter, painful, but at least he wouldn’t be tortured on the table.
A fat bubble burst upon the surface of the broth and a drop of the hot liquid spattered against his jaw. Immense pain forced a cry from his lips as the hand that bound him shook with the laughter billowing from the goblin. It ceased as a large shadow struck the window and crashed through the panes, showering the floor of the hovel in glass, crumbling lead and broken bark.
Sharp and screaming, the shadow flew around the room before diving at the goblins face, talons imbedding into the cheeks as a hooked beak viciously tore at an eye.
The black monster of Farro, Dilbus thought as the fingers around him let go and he fell towards the slop.
Closing his own eyes, resigning to the fact that he was going to die, he let go of the breath he was holding and began a final prayer to the Blessed Mother he was about to meet.
“Got you,” a voice said as he was snatched from the air. “Hold tight.”
Dilbus held tight and when he dared to look, it took him a moment to fathom what had happened.
“Dylap?” he asked, clinging to the fairy’s spines, mercifully they didn’t sting.
When he glanced down he saw that the fairy was riding Limble’s thrush, and handling him a lot better than Limble ever did. “How did you find us?”
“I’ll explain later, Sir. We need to rescue the others. I don’t know how long Crayl can hold off the goblin,” Dylap said as he guided the thrush to the cage and landed beside the bolt.
“Crayl?”
“Take the reins,” Dylap ordered, throwing them to him before jumping from the bird.
Dilbus could only watch as Dylap opened a leather pouch that was tied to his belt and appeared to summon a stream of silver dust that wrapped around the bolt. It formed a kind of loop at one end and curled about a bar of the cage at the other.
“Incredible,” he muttered as the two ends constricted and the bold slid open.
The falcon shrieked as it tore free from the goblin, dragging a putrid orb from the bleeding eye socket.
Crying in pain and anger, the goblin clutched at the bloody mess of his face as he swatted at the huge bird.
“Gonna tear you apart,” he wailed as he clattered into the table, spilling tools and knives. “I’ll kill you all.”
Limble pushed Genili through the opening, into the arms of Dylap and he propelled her towards the thrush before helping the larger fairy out.
“Climb on,” Dilbus shouted to the girl who seemed in a daze. In the end he reached over, grabbed her arm and yanked her onto the bird’s back. “Keep focused, we’ll make it.” But as the crashing behind him grew closer, he was less sure.
“Go,” Dylap shouted, pointing to the ruined window. “Now!”
Fire now erupting through his body, Dilbus kicked the thrush into flight, narrowly missing a lump of wood that the goblin had thrown at them, and flew for the opening.
Fresh air hit them as they glided outside. The morning sun touching his skin and never feeling as good. Yet he put that aside as he landed high up out of the goblin’s reach, dropped Genili onto a branch before flying back for the others. Landing on the broken window pane, he searched, but couldn’t at first locate them.
“Falon? It is you,” the goblin blurted between repeatedly swinging a table leg around his head, aiming for the black monster. The falcon weaved easily between the blows, landing scratches and gashes upon the hideous giant with each attack. “When I’ve beaten this cretin, I’m coming for you.”
It was then that Dilbus saw him. Dylap was standing on the shelf, gazing up at the painting of himself. His spines were flat against his back as he stared open-mouthed.
“Limble, hurry,” Dilbus hissed, finally spotting the portly fairy as he scurried along the table, leaping over the sharp implements before taking to the air. He’d almost made it to the window before the goblin turned on them, staring hatred through his remaining eye.
“Hurry!”
Turning the thrush about, Dilbus waited until he felt Limble land on the saddle behind him, then dug his heels in to the bird’s flanks. Yet no sooner were they airborne than long green fingers grasped the thrush’s leg and yanked them down.
Screeching in pain the thrush flapped its wings but couldn’t go anywhere, the goblin had a good grip of them.
“Dylap?” Dilbus shouted, casting a glance at the fairy who had now leapt from the shelf and landed on the falcon.
They swooped around the room before flying at the goblin, the trail of silver dust streaming behind them until Dylap directed it into the grotesque face.
The goblin coughed and spluttered, releasing his grip of the thrush to swat at the dust.
“No!” he yelled, as he scrambled out of the window, falling to a heap in the mud. “No, no, no,” he yelled thumping the earth with each word spat.
Safe in the air, Dylap recalled the dust and it flowed back into the pouch. Like the passing few moments, it all seemed totally surreal.
The falcon landed beside Genili and Dylap offered her his hand. Reluctantly at first, but encouraged into action by the goblin’s harsh words, she took it and was hauled onto the neck of the black monster and Dylap protectively folded h
is arms over her.
Dilbus guided the thrush as they followed them away from the hovel, traveling downstream until they came to a birch that sat back from the water and away from any pursuit.
Trepidation willing him to fly on, Dilbus landed beside the falcon. If it was going to attack it would have done so already, and if Dylap trusted it, the fairy that had just saved their lives, then so too should he.
“Are there any others?” Dylap asked anxiously.
Dilbus shook his head. “They had already perished, the goblin made fine brooches from them, the disgusting creature.”
“Brooches?” Dylap muttered, staring at the branch before them. Dilbus got the impression that the fairy was working something out, a past memory perhaps?
Now the threat had gone, and her life was once again her own, Genili began to cry, sobbing as she leaned into Dylap’s back.
“How did you find us?” Dilbus asked. “Nobody knew we were there.”
“I was searching for answers of my own. I came to find Genili and the others and to root out who was responsible for their disappearances. Somebody I hold dear at Farro has been charged with their kidnapping and murders.”
“The gem collector?” Limble asked, suddenly sitting straighter.
“No, Elaya, the split-wing. Why do you think it was a gem collector?”
Dilbus turned to him, wondering the same thing. Limble shrugged. “Genili said she was shown the back of a beetle trap, the gem collectors have a beetle trap. Also, when we were in the hovel, did you notice the string of gems along the rafters?”