by Al K. Line
Mithnite grabbed my shoulder for support and doubled over as he drew from the Empty to help stay conscious. He remained like that for a while as he paid yet again for his thievery—I guess having human form means even demons can't escape the pain—then we nodded to each other, tried not to breathe, and stepped inside, entering directly into a large room with a low, cracked ceiling supported by thick wooden beams.
At the far end of the room a huge open fireplace burned low, casting a queasy orange glow over the rough walls and the ancient, raggedy furniture. There were several tatty sofas and a lot of chairs, plus blankets, mattresses, and piles of rags. The room was so cluttered, the dark floorboards were almost hidden.
But there were no goblins.
We stood stock still for a while to ensure nobody had heard us enter, then tiptoed through the fetid mess, finding only two goblins snoring soundly. The next room was empty, and the one after that too. We passed through the kitchen, checked the old dining room and several other rooms, but forewent checking the old outhouse, neither of us risking puking up as the stink just getting close to the outside toilet was more than enough.
The stairs creaked terribly but the rest of the house was moaning and groaning as it slowly emerged from its slumber so I wasn't unduly concerned. I was growing more confident and had to check myself to eliminate the infection again, and as soon as I did my caution returned.
Upstairs were six bedrooms, two more rooms converted to bathrooms and too vile for me to even begin to describe, and the usual stained mattresses and rags, no room seemingly having less than five, maybe ten or more inhabitants. All we found were six goblins in one room all cuddled up to each other. They snored, grunted and snorted, uncaring about what bit of themselves they stuck into their neighbor or what bit of their neighbor was sticking into them.
We left as quietly as we'd entered and darted around the back to get fresh air before checking the barns and sheds.
The ground shook harder, my fear vanished yet again, and Mithnite looked at me funny.
"You want a piece of me come and get it," said Mithnite with a sneer.
"What are you talking about? It's the spell, or the virus talking, you have to fight it."
"Shut up, you aren't the boss of me." Mithnite swung hard and fast and I slammed into the house, cracking my head so hard I was out cold before I could moan about my coat getting muddy.
Making Up
"Shit, I'm so sorry. I... I didn't mean it." Mithnite was crouched beside me, fidgeting with his hair, scratching at his face like he was ready to rip the skin off, and biting his lip.
I rubbed at my head, felt a golf ball-sized lump recede as the spot warmed and my head crackled. "It's okay. Ugh, this place is nuts. Can you remember the fight we just had?" I recalled it all, same as I had all the other incidents where I'd lost my temper, hopefully he would too.
"Yeah, I remember. Most don't, right? Think it's just because we were expecting it?"
"Maybe. Here, help me up." I put out my hand and Mithnite hauled me to my feet. "Stay focused, and don't lose the plot again," I warned. "Keep a check on your emotions and if you feel funny just remember that deep down you're scared of me and I'll whoop your ass if you try anything. Okay?" I gave him a hard stare and he gulped. Then smiled.
"Sure, Kate. I know better than to mess with you. Haha."
"You better believe it, buddy."
Back on track, we skirted the farmhouse once more to the sound of buried thunder, the ground vibrating rhythmically now, like a piston slowly moving, building up steam. What were these sneaky buggers up to?
First we checked the huge open barn where the cattle used to be overwintered. It was deserted, just rancid straw in the gated sections for the animals. Long troughs ran the length of the enclosures where they'd poke their heads through the fences to feed.
It looked like the goblins slept here sometimes. There were piles of bedding in the straw where it had been mounded up but no sign of anyone at all. Next we checked the milking shed and other buildings large and small. All were empty, and mostly untouched, so we skirted around the back of the last, and largest building, the old hay barn. It was vast, a ramshackle construction of wood and metal with corrugated sheeting nailed to the sides and covering the roof in a patchwork of repairs apparently going back decades.
We peered in through rotten planks at the rear of the building, only to be confronted with a sectioned off area rammed with all manner of strange machine parts. Anything from giant cogs to lengths of steel, chains, ropes, pulleys, and endless machines I had no clue as to purpose. We shifted along the barn, peering in as we went. More rooms, more weird stuff. Then we walked cautiously along the side of the barn and heard a strange clanging. We checked through the gaps and could see the main space where bails of straw would have been stacked, most gone long ago, just a few towers of rotting straw standing around the edges like timeless sentinels.
Piles of excavated earth and rock dotted the interior, more machines and odds and ends, and in the center, leading from just inside the doorway to halfway back into the barn, was a ramp dug out of the floor.
I nodded to Mithnite that we should go back the way we came, so we crept to the rear again. "We should check out the other side first, see what they're doing before we go inside."
"You want to go down there? Are you nuts?"
"We've got to find out what they're up to. And how bad can it be? There aren't that many goblins in Cardiff."
"One's bad enough. And it can be very bad. It's goblins."
"Big baby. Come on." I wandered around to the other side, the side hidden from view from any other part of the farm, Mithnite trailing reluctantly behind.
"Bloody hell."
Mithnite walked straight into the back of me but I was too shocked by what I saw to tell him off or even give him a good glare.
"They must have been doing this for months." Mithnite whistled as we took in the sight before us.
Piled up almost as high as the barn itself was a mountain of earth and rock. And behind that a similar pile, and more and more, until all was lost to darkness. We moved forward cautiously, skirted the massive mounds. It was obvious the entire area, and on into the fields beyond, had a new layer of earth under foot. They'd been tunneling extensively and spreading the dirt over the acres of fields in an effort to hide their actions from anyone who came snooping.
I guess they'd finally given up on the secrecy and resorted to piling it all up. Maybe it was waiting to be spread or maybe they didn't care any longer. Who knew with goblins?
"This makes no sense," I said. "Goblins hate physical work like this. And why would they do it anyway?"
"Guess there's something down there worth uncovering," whispered Mithnite. Then his face brightened. "Maybe they've dug up a powerful creature that's cast this spell."
"What for though? Why would anyone, or anything, work for them? And what's the point? What do they have to gain by everyone losing their fear? Plus, the goblins are affected the same as everyone else."
"Dunno. Must have a cunning plan. So devious."
We walked around another large pile and as I turned to talk to Mithnite I lost my balance. As I fell, I realized I'd tripped over the legs of a sleeping goblin reclining against the earth. I slammed down hard and pain lanced my palms as shards of rock dug into the flesh. I rolled and turned as the goblin woke with a start and opened his mouth to shout a warning.
Simple's Best
I launched to my feet, watching in horror as the goblin's mouth opened wider and he readied to scream, but then his head whipped sideways as Mithnite's fist connected with his jaw. I heard bone crack and the goblin's eyes widened in shock for a moment before he hit dirt. He twitched violently then went limp.
"Damn, you didn't need to do that. You broke his neck," I gasped, part of me wanting the goblin to be all right, the other part relieved Mithnite had acted so fast.
Mithnite stared at me, then the goblin, then at his own fist, as if he'd just realize
d it was him who'd killed the poor creature. "How... how did I do that?"
"Because you hit him really hard."
"Yeah, but I've hit loads of Hidden and they've never died."
"Just lucky, I guess." I brushed myself down then grabbed the legs of the goblin and dragged his surprisingly light body away and into a gap in the mountain of rubble where it had partially caved in. I manhandled him in then covered him up as best I could, enough so he wouldn't be spotted with a casual inspection. When I returned, Mithnite was rooted to the spot, looking worried and shamed.
"I killed him, Kate. How could I?"
"It was an accident." I put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed; his body was as tense as a board.
"That doesn't make it right," he said shivering.
"No, it doesn't." What can you say when something like this happens? Fighting is one thing, killing defenseless creatures quite another. But we had bigger Hidden fish to fry, and we had to discover the root cause of this problem. "You did what you had to do. Just a lucky, or unlucky, punch. It happens. Come on, we can't stop now."
"Damn." Mithnite raised his fist and stared at it again, shook his head, then thankfully snapped out of it. That's the thing about this Hidden life, violence becomes part of you, and you accept it. What should have left him shaken for days, haunted for years, was just one of those things, part of our world, and for that, and for the lack of emotion such acts left, I will always be ashamed.
We took our time navigating the mounds, watching for guards or sleeping goblins ready to trip us up, and just as well. The closer we got to the front of the building, the more problems we encountered. I had to deal with three sentries, Mithnite knocked out two more with enough magic to leave them out cold for at least a few hours, and as we emerged alongside the building's entrance, more goblins exited the barn, chatting among themselves and laughing in that vomit-inducing way of theirs.
Green light spilled out as the doors were opened, a sickly pallor much brighter and more iridescent than their own skin but somehow undoubtedly goblinesque in nature. With it came a wave of violence, of fearlessness, and I felt my feet moving forward involuntarily. I had to forcibly stop myself from rushing out there and beating them to a pulp with my bare hands just because I didn't like the way they laughed.
Mithnite was the same. As I got myself under control, he shoved me aside and marched forward, only some fast shuffling and yanking him back out of the light saving us from having to deal with a half dozen cackling goblins and who knew how many more inside. I placated him using hand signals and we spent several minutes getting ourselves together, the urge to go smash heads receding but never quite leaving. Maybe it was just the default setting—goblins have this effect on most Hidden. Maybe it was the stupid noses, or the piggy eyes, or the tight-lipped smiles devoid of mirth or warmth, or their ridiculous pot bellies they seemed to think looked great. Or their long weird arms, or their gross scaly green skin or...
"Kate, Kate!" Mithnite hissed.
"Damn, sorry. I started getting worked up and hating them so bad. Ugh." I got control again, only this time firmer, and let my disgust ease away. There was now no doubt about it, this lack of fear, this lack of restraint, it was coming from inside the barn, emanating out or through the ground. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump thrumming through my system like it could control my emotions and increase my heart rate, somehow alter the vibrations within, the firing of neurons.
We huddled down and watched as more goblins left, opening and closing the barn doors as they did so, the vile green light contaminating the night every time. Those that emerged were filthy, covered in dirt and oil or slick with an unknown substance that coated them like gel. They seemed happy, too happy, and there's a saying that holds true. "Never trust a smiling goblin."
Dawn broke and it seemed this was the time for them to call it quits. The barn doors slammed open and a score of filthy dudes—I'd yet to see a female goblin—emerged cackling and shouting at each other, clearly relieved to be above ground.
We waited for ten minutes more as they settled in the house, then with a nod to each other we did our best sneaky stealth crouch and dashed across the open to the barn doors, eased one open, and slid inside.
No turning back now.
Into the Fiery Pit
As dawn broke and the eastern sky promised rain and cool air coming in from the Atlantic, we closed the barn door behind us and stopped dead in our tracks. Almost the width of the barn was a gaping maw that angled down shallowly. Compacted earth covered the interior but thick dust nonetheless clouded the air.
A green glow shone out from the wide tunnel mouth like a corrupted goblin night light, pale yet sickly enough to turn my stomach. The throbbing had gone, the ground was still, replaced by a deep silence no less threatening. The barn was packed with more strange machine parts, excavation tools and mining equipment, but of most interest were giant cogs easily twenty feet high, massive splits in the metal telling of incredible forces. Chains, and bearings the size of cannonballs lay in haphazard piles, and everywhere were what looked suspiciously like green body parts.
We shifted to the side to check and I was right. There was a pile of severed arms and another with random bits of goblin, like they'd been dissected with a blunt chainsaw, or the cogs and chains. Part of a despicable machine designed to eat them up and spit them back out in bits.
"This is getting freaky," whispered Mithnite, eyes darting every which way.
"What are they doing down there?" Whatever they were up to it was certainly dangerous.
"Something gross and gobliny. Why don't we go home, give Dancer a call and let him come sort this out?"
I was about to tell him that was a stupid idea, but it was sensible. However, this was what I was tasked with doing. My job was to find out who was causing the issue and deal with it. If that meant going into spooky green tunnels then so be it. "Come on, Mithnite, you've been to the dwarven underworld, you're a damn reincarnated demon tasked with fixing tears in the fabric of hell itself, and you're scared about a little tunnel?"
"No, that's the point. I'm not scared, and I should be. You too. The vibe is still in the air even though the lack of fear itself has gone. I can sense the aftereffects of whatever they've been doing and I don't like it."
"Me either. Come on, I'll hold your hand if you want."
Now, I'm not saying I didn't find comfort in Mithnite's tight grip, but mostly it was to make him feel better. Honest.
"Down we go," I whispered, but my voice still echoed off the tunnel walls, lost to whatever was lurking below.
Rumbles and Grumbles
The tunnel began with a gentle slope that soon became steep and much narrower. Our way was lit by strings of bulbs, all green, which explained the sickly light. The whole thing was shored up with wood and metal in a worryingly haphazard way, hardly inducing confidence.
"It's enough to give a dwarf a fit," said Mithnite.
"Yeah, no wonder there's goblin bits in the barn, this thing seems utterly unstable." Yet for all that, it was obvious they knew what they were doing, that however random the shoring seemed there was reason to it. We kept on going, deeper and deeper, the tunnel gently easing left or right, presumably whichever way made the digging easier.
We went from compact subsoil, to soggy clay, to rock the deeper we got, and the further away we traveled from the surface the harder it was to stay in control. I grew less concerned about what we were getting into and more angry with the goblins, and Mithnite for breathing loudly or scratching his nose or doing anything. I could tell he was struggling with the same issues. Finally, we had to stop to collect ourselves or we'd be ripping each other to shreds carrying on like this.
For five minutes we breathed deeply and cleared our minds, let magic envelop us in its cold, uncaring embrace, and forced our bodies to shunt a calming chemical cocktail around our systems to give us clarity.
Fortified, we continued, no longer holding hands though as we kept gripping each o
ther too tight, neither one of us willing to allow the other to have the firmer hold. There were strange marks in the tunnel floor, grooves that had been carved out, and they bugged me. Then I understood. "For the cogs, you think?" I asked, squatting to peer at the narrow trenches.
"Could be. It'd make them easier to roll down."
"Hmm. Wonder what kind of machine it is? Can you make something that could cause everyone to lose fear?"
"Nah, whatever they're doing it's something else. Maybe it's to summon something nasty. Maybe the machine they're building, or have built, is part of a ritual, part of some magic they use we never knew about."
I went over what I knew about goblins, which admittedly wasn't that much, and I was certain they didn't use magic. Same as most true Hidden, they were merely creatures born of magic, they didn't use it like us.
"Maybe someone's shown them how to use magic, or they're able to summon something that will do it for them," I mused, talking more just to hear something than because I believed it. Truth was, neither of us had a clue and it was nothing but idle speculation to fill the void of silence.
"Or it's something from the dark realms, a demon of old. Not a human demon, a proper, massive, giant-horned ancient from the depths of the earth." Mithnite's teeth flashed green in a grimace of macabre excitement—he's always loved summoning demons, but hasn't got past calling forth something lesser, and usually of the impish variety.
"Let's hope not." I picked up the pace, keen for this to be over.
Finally, after an interminable time, we came to the end of the tunnel. My heart skipped a beat as I took in the sight before us.