The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  He absentmindedly patted his pockets.

  “Yigging Exile,” he said. The Stone was gone. “Find the stone!”

  Aquira took off to look for it, but Whitney saw it in a goblin’s dirty grasp. “There!” he shouted. The thing was mesmerized by the gem, but its eyes looked pained. He considered waiting to see what kind of effect it would have if held for a length of time but worried it might only have a limited use and somehow be rendered worthless.

  Whitney rushed the creature. He closed his fist, ignoring the pain from the rope burns and raw palms. The goblin looked up, startled, and instead of hitting the stupid thing, Whitney grabbed the stone and pulled. His heart wrenched upon its touch. His throat seemed to be closing, and he heaved.

  “You little… no good… thieving…”

  It yanked back, blubbering something incomprehensible, but Whitney was stronger. The Brike Stone came free, and he toppled, landing on his backside. He saw the goblin soaring through the air above him and managed to pull his dagger a second before it landed on him. Its teeth chomped near his face, snapping and barely missing his nose. Whitney shouted for Aquira, tried to get his blade up, but the goblin had his arm pinned down.

  Whitney stared up at a cracked bone mask, more than half of the creature’s reptilian face visible. Its skin appeared to be dripping off like dark green sludge. Saliva poured from its open maw, the smell of it like week-old fish. A gobbet of flesh hung from its forehead, and thick black ooze dribbled out of a deep wound.

  Though he couldn’t raise his dagger, he got his other hand free and slammed the goblin in the side of the head with the Brike Stone. It rolled off him, not dead, but clearly stunned. Whitney rose and ran again. He heard Aquira above him but didn’t take the time to look. He shoved the stone into his pocket, and relief washed over him.

  “This is nuts,” Whitney said. “We’ve gotta find Sora and the others and get the yig out of here!”

  He’d expected it to be challenging to find them in such a dense crowd, but he hadn’t considered the noticeable height difference. He spotted Lucindur’s tall, Glintish frame almost immediately. Sora was beside her, surrounded by a wheel of mystical flame.

  “Sora!” He kept calling for her while he did his best to not trample the dwarves.

  They were fighting too, it seemed. Aquira made a beeline for them and engaged in the conflict.

  With Aquira back with Sora, Whitney was left to focus on not dying. Goblins were everywhere. Blood and black ichor literally flowed through the streets like rivers.

  Is this all from the stone? Whitney thought again.

  If it was, at least that was confirmation that they’d taken a step closer to taking Nesilia down. However, that also meant they might not live long enough to see the plan come to fruition.

  A goblin dropped down in front of him from somewhere above and slashed. Ducking, Whitney narrowly avoided a sharp set of claws. His head swam, though, the constant loss of blood from his shoulder wound proving to be severe. The goblin came at him again, and Whitney rolled backward, then perched on one knee. The motion had saved him, but he was now so dizzy he saw two of the attacker… no, there were two of them now.

  “Shog,” Whitney swore, closed his eyes, and prepared to receive the next blow squarely.

  But it didn’t come. When he opened his eyes, he saw a blur of black and gold.

  “I dunno if this be yer fault, but ye ain’t dyin before I get answers,” Gargamane the Gold said as he tore the goblins to shreds.

  Whitney wasted no time while the dwarf engaged. “Thanks!” He said as he stumbled toward Sora.

  When Whitney caught up, he saw Lucindur jab what looked like a dwarven short sword into a goblin’s eyeball just as it was about to swipe at Sora from above. Tum Tum drew large swaths around himself with a warhammer while Brouben chopped the enemy to bits with his big axe.

  Sora whipped around and blasted a goblin over Whitney’s shoulder with a ball of flame, nearly singeing his eyelashes. He fell back, and seconds later, Sora was there to help him up.

  “Are you okay?” Sora asked, staring at his wound.

  “Never better,” he panted. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “No kidding,” Sora said, sending another burst of fire at the mobbing goblins.

  Whitney watched, stunned. He knew she had power, but to see her throwing around fireballs like they were bales of hay on the farm was different. He was used to her having to slice herself to summon even the faintest bit of magic, then being immediately drained.

  “Brouben, how do we get out?” Lucindur called.

  “Follow me,” he said, driving his axe blade through the skull of his latest victim.

  He led them past the many houses, each having to battle as they went. The closer they got to the great hall’s exit, the thicker the crowd. When they reached the main stairway, Brouben stopped and threw up a hand. Before them was a mass of dwarves and goblins all entangled in warfare.

  “Not that way,” Brouben said. “Ain’t gonna happen. C’mon!”

  He changed course and took them through a series of tunnels just like the ones they’d originally entered through.

  “Glass Queen’s sparkly tits, this is madness,” Tum Tum said. “How did those beasties get into Balonhearth? Place is a fortress!”

  “Its my fault!” Whitney said.

  “What?” Sora said. “No, it’s not.”

  “It is. I grabbed the stone, the world started shaking, and the goblins showed up.”

  “That’s what that was,” Lucindur said.

  “Ye got the stone?” Tum Tum asked.

  Whitney pulled it out as they ran. The blood-red stone sapped the light from the whole tunnel.

  “Wow,” Sora said, reaching for it.

  He tossed it back into his pocket immediately. “You don’t wanna touch that.”

  “Whit,” Sora said, grabbing him by the arm. He turned to her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “’Okay’ is a relative statement,” he said. “I’m pretty woozy from blood loss.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she said, smiling broadly. She leaned in and kissed him.

  “Now I’m really woozy,” he said, throwing his hand over his forehead.

  Sora laughed and placed her hand over his wound, closing her eyes. Whitney winced, but a feeling of cool comfort flooded him as blue smoke rose from the spot. When she removed her hand, he was miraculously healed. And she didn’t even faint.

  “There,” she said. “Good as new.”

  “That’s some trick,” Brouben said.

  “Thanks,” Whitney muttered.

  “We gotta get goin,” Brouben said.

  They pressed forward around a corner, down a ramp. They were running, but there was no indication anything was following them.

  “I think we lost them,” Tum Tum said as if reading Whitney’s thoughts.

  “Still think we should run,” Whitney said.

  They all picked up the pace.

  “This was us,” Sora said. “She knows where we are.”

  “Nesilia?” Whitney said.

  “Who else?” Tum Tum growled.

  “Lucindur did her thing and sent me somewhere. There was a village on fire. Nesilia saw me in the vision. I came to and not a minute later, the whole mountain was crawling with goblins.”

  Whitney swore.

  “We knew this would happen,” Lucindur said, voice dripping with regret. “Using my magic.”

  “It was my choice, my lady, and mine alone,” Brouben said.

  “It could be worse,” Whitney argued.

  “Halt right there!” a voice shouted from behind.

  “Ye couldn’t keep yer mouth shut?” Tum Tum said.

  Whitney looked over his shoulder to see Gargamane the Gold and his men following behind.

  “There’s an exit. Up ahead,” Brouben said.

  “Did we at least find out where she is?” Whitney asked Sora as they ran.

  “No, but we know where
she’s headed. Yarrington,” Sora said.

  “Yarrington?”

  “She’s headed straight there, surrounded by an army, set out to destroy Iam’s beloved Kingdom. I know her mind, Whitney. I can… feel it. Revenge is all she wants. She’s consumed by it. Distracted. It will be the best place to get a jump on her.”

  “Shog in a barrel,” Whitney said. “We have to warn Torsten, then. Make sure they’re ready to fight and win us an opening.”

  “Our thoughts exactly.”

  “I only wish it weren’t so far…” Whitney said.

  “Are ye really gonna complain about a long walk?” Tum Tum asked.

  “I need to get ye away from him first,” Brouben said, thumbing back to Gargamane.

  “Speaking of, are we almost there?” Whitney asked.

  “Right here,” Brouben said. They came to a stop at a small vertical shaft with a ladder leading upward.

  Sora sent a fireball back through the tunnel. It wouldn’t really hurt the clanbreakers in their armor, Whitney didn’t think, but it would buy them some time.

  Whitney held his breath for a moment. He didn’t know what would happen once they crawled up that ladder, but he knew what needed to happen here. He grabbed Sora and kissed her deeply, one hand on each of her cheeks. When they were done, he said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “All right, all right. There’ll be plenty of time for that if the goddess don’t kill ye.” Brouben motioned to the ladder. He tossed Whitney a key. “Up ye go.”

  “What is this thing?” Tum Tum asked as Whitney climbed. “Ain’t never seen it before.”

  “Hatch leads up to Groblegrook’s blacksmithy,” Brouben explained. “Always thought he was crazy for wantin it to be in the valley, but he said the steel gets its hardest when it cools in the snow. Guess it’s a good thing. Once ye get out, go south about a day’s journey. Ye’ll soon recognize the area if ye’ve got any adventurin under ye.”

  “What—yer not comin?” Tum Tum asked.

  Brouben placed a hand on Tum Tum’s shoulder. “These be my people, and I be their Prince. I can’t leave em like this. Not when I caused it. I’ll rally those loyal to me and drive the beasts back into the darkness, away from you lot. Besides, someone’s gotta hold off Gargamane and his clanbreakers.”

  “But your father—“ Lucindur began.

  “Will do what he thinks he must. And so, will I. I belong here, defendin til death.”

  “Sounds likely,” Whitney said from above.

  “Aye, but I’ll die soakin in the blood of the enemy, not hiding away like gold in a vault. Ain’t a better way to go.”

  “I can think of many,” Whitney said. “But it’s your life.”

  “Thank you,” Sora said to Brouben, taking his hand and staring straight into his eyes. “Make things right with your father. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  “Let’s hope Nesilia’s claws aren’t in too deep,” Brouben said. “He was a brave man once.”

  Whitney noticed Sora’s features darken at the thought. “Sora, we gotta go!”

  Gargamane was shouting again, this time incensed by the flame.

  “It was good seein ye again, old friend,” Tum Tum said.

  “And ye,” Brouben replied. “If Meungor gives a shog or two, we’ll meet again. Otherwise, I’ll see ye for a pint in his halls.”

  “Rock below, rock above,” Tum Tum said and mimed toasting his goblet.

  “To Yarrington,” Whitney said, throwing open the hatch. “I can’t wait to see how much Torsten has missed me.”

  XXVIII

  The Caleef

  The Black Sands were harsh and unforgiving. Even with the water they could gather in Saujibar, and food scavenged from Nahanab, many didn’t survive the trek. Especially the children and those markless who’d grown so used to the luxuries of Latiapur.

  Bodies were left behind for the gallers and the wolves. Mahi hated every moment of it, but the limited supplies and access to shade needed to favor their army. Not a single warrior was expendable against Nesilia’s darkness. Especially now that Mahi had seen firsthand what she was capable of.

  But, finally, they’d cleared the M’stafu Desert, where the black sand swirled away into the white. Where the air was cooled by moisture and a draft blew in from Trader’s Bay. The Wildlands, as Torsten Unger had called them, was now behind them as well. White Bridge was not far.

  Mahi unfurled the cloth wrapping her half-bald head and breathed it in. She longed to feel the kiss of the wind on her skin but knowing it was there would have to suffice.

  “I never thought I’d be so happy to leave our lands,” Bit’rudam said, riding another zhulong at her side. Mahi wanted to ditch hers like Torsten had, but she knew it was foolish. She needed all her energy for the fight to come.

  “Babrak’s lands now,” she said.

  “They’ll never belong to him. We’ll destroy this Nesilia, and then we’ll drive him out, I swear it, Mahraveh.”

  “One fight at a time,” she said.

  “I know, but… how can you be so calm about this? He was one of us.”

  “Because he’s aligned with a monster,” she said. “First time he steps out of line, he’s dead. And you know him. That won’t take long.”

  “It will not feel as good if we are not holding the blade.”

  “And yet, he’ll be dead,” Mahi said, giving her zhulong a kick. It trotted ahead, leaving Bit’rudam to consider things.

  There was truth to what she’d said, but that wasn’t all. She was calm. Remarkably calm. And it was likely because the further away from Latiapur and the Black Sands they traveled, the more her memory cleared.

  In Latiapur, she had to continually fight back the surge of blessed memories from Caleefs past. She hadn’t even realized how incessant it was until now as her head quieted. This was a blank slate, where few Caleefs had previously ventured.

  She raced by the horde of marching people. Torsten offered her a nod, still leading the zhulong carrying his King’s body. His people glowered, though said nothing. Everyone was far too exhausted by then to argue.

  But at least Torsten was right about one thing. Babrak’s army never pursued them. Even as Mahi crested the nearest hill and glanced back, they were nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but if Torsten was right about Nesilia’s arrogance, it would be what undid her.

  She should have slaughtered us all when she had the chance, Mahi thought.

  Seconds later, an arrow split the dirt a few feet in front of her. Her zhulong squealed as it spun away, and she reached for her new spear. Armor clanged as Serpent Guards ran to her aid, forming a wall before her and unsheathing their weapons. Torsten mounted the zhulong along with Pi’s body and hurried her way.

  Mahi didn’t flee. She soothed her zhulong with soft strokes behind her ear and stood proud, staring across the field of crusted dirt, toward a trench of wooden spikes filled with Glass archers.

  The line of them had their bowstrings pulled taut, while the man who’d fired stood, awestruck, staring at his hands. The arms of the others all trembled as they held, waiting for orders from commanders who seemed as dumbfounded as they were.

  “Don’t fire!” Torsten yelled, waving his arms as he raced by. Bit’rudam charged out of nowhere, his zhulong skidding in front of Torsten’s and sending it onto its hind hooves. Torsten grasped to hold Pi’s body on.

  “My Caleef, fall back, it’s an ambush.” Bit’rudam said, whipping around.

  “Get away from him!” Sir Mulliner roared. He charged from seemingly out of nowhere and barreled into the side of Bit’rudam’s mount. Mahi couldn’t imagine how much hitting the side of the muscular beast must have hurt, considering he and the other Shieldsmen had ditched much of their plated armor by then to combat the heat.

  Mahi rolled her eyes. While arguing broke out behind her and more Shieldsmen and Shesaitju arrived, tempers flared. She spurred her zhulong forward, remembering the stories of the last b
attle here. How one stray arrow fired by Nesilia cost hundreds their lives. All because their two Kingdoms couldn’t trust each other. Wouldn’t trust each other.

  “My Caleef!” Bit’rudam shouted. She heard what sounded like a punch, then the squeal of a zhulong. Its hooves crunched dirt behind her.

  “Relax, Bit’rudam,” she said. “It was an accident.”

  “How do you know? This could all be—“

  “Because they won’t shoot me,” Torsten said. He rode up behind them, and as Mahi glanced back, she noticed the lines of opposing forces preparing to skirmish at the crest of the hill.

  “I don’t always need your protection,” Mahi addressed Bit’rudam.

  “I know, I—“

  “And you don’t always need to apologize. Now, go and tell everyone to put down their swords so we can cross White Bridge.”

  Bit’rudam stared silently for a few seconds, then bowed his head. “Yes, my Caleef.” He hurried away without letting her see the shame painted on his cheeks.

  “Sheath your swords!” Lord Jolly shouted as his horse trotted up.

  “They’ve all been through a lot,” Torsten said to Mahi.

  “And we haven’t?” she replied.

  He grunted in response, then turned back to his men. “Sir Mulliner. Lord Jolly. Keep everyone in line, or so help me, Iam.”

  “My pleasure,” Lord Jolly replied.

  Sir Mulliner responded only with a grimace and a half-nod.

  Torsten then nodded Mahi along toward the Glass army’s camp, and they set off alone. The eastern spires of White Bridge rose high above them, the tops charred and broken apart. Trenches with spiked walls were dug in a large radius off the entry, filled with archers and the army’s camp.

  All around it was a dirt field with patches of trampled grass. One swathe of the dirt was a much darker color than the rest, and tips of stray arrows that hadn’t been cleared away glinted in the afternoon sun.

  “That’s where my father died?” Mahi asked, knowing the answer.

  “It’s where we all would’ve died if not for Iam,” Torsten said.

  “Where was your god in Latiapur, then?”