A massive rumble came from ahead, a rockslide pouring down outside the tunnel entrance, sending a cloud of dust in all directions. Suddenly, nothing could be seen beyond Brogan, who still knelt on one knee, groaning in pain. As the dust settled, three goblins with rusty swords burst from it and rushed toward Brogan, the monsters emitting hoots of anger.
Blythe shouted, “Brogan! Look out!”
The man knocked one blade aside, breaking it as Augur’s tip lopped off the hand of another attacker. The third goblin slipped in with a thrust, impaling Brogan’s upper torso. The big man cried out as an arrow pierced the goblin’s throat. Jace loosed his other knife, killing the handless goblin, as Adyn sped in and killed the last monster with a vicious diagonal slice across the chest. It fell with a squawk, convulsing in pain as it died.
When the dust cleared, nothing moved, the mouth of the tunnel partly obscured by a mound of rock.
Jace hurried forward as Brogan fell into a sitting position, then lay back against the cavern wall. Kneeling, Jace took in the arrow jutting out of the man’s thigh, another protruding from his shoulder. The worst was the gash near his collarbone, his tunic and vest soaked with blood.
“Narine!” Jace called. “Come quickly!”
Blythe skidded to his side and knelt, her hand cupping Brogan’s cheek. “You big idiot.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “How am I supposed to keep you alive when you act so recklessly?”
He grunted weakly. “We all die sometime. I prefer to go out in style.”
“You aren’t supposed to die. Not yet,” she sobbed.
Narine pushed Jace aside and knelt in his place. The hair on his arms stood on end as she embraced her magic. He backed away and turned toward the tunnel mouth where light seeped through the three-foot gap between the landslide and the rocky roof.
Without a word, he began stepping over dead goblins while drawing the dagger at his hip.
Rhoa stepped to the broken edge of the room and peered down. A pile of rock lay below, goblin limbs visible here and there. Upon the rocky shelf overlooking the city, none remained alive, save for the magic users. Each shaman wore a hideous sash made from human bones, a loop of smaller bones upon its head, giving the impression of a gruesome crown. The shaman had ceased creating fireballs, their gazes drawn toward the rockslide covering their dead brethren. One of them looked up, its red eyes spotting Rhoa. It pointed toward her and began to speak in a guttural language.
I see no weapons, she thought. I just pray their magic has no effect.
She turned to Rawk. “Lower me down.”
“What?”
“We have to stop them. I am immune to their magic. Lower me down.”
Algoron stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “Ready.”
Appearing unsure, Rawk grabbed her other hand. She backed to the edge and both dwarfs squatted, their free hands digging into the rock for grip. Crouching, she began inching her feet down the sheer, stone wall, continuing until both men hung from their waists, arms fully extended. She looked down, the drop now ten feet.
Looking up, she said, “When I say three, let go.” She braced her feet against the wall, ready to push off. “One, two, three!”
The dwarfs released their grips, her upper body falling backward. She pushed hard with her legs and launched herself into an arcing backflip, carrying her out beyond the debris. She landed on the rocky plateau and rolled backward with her momentum, drawing her fulgur blades as she rose to her feet.
The shaman were waving their hands, chanting in unison. A burst of angry, red sparks shot out from the one in the middle. Striking her, the crimson electricity fizzled and dispersed, arcing across the stony ground. The goblin magic users paused, gaping at her in shock.
She burst into a run, heading straight toward the monsters, closing the gap before they could react. Her blade pierced the chest of the one in the center in a splash of blue sparks. Its red eyes bulged, its body shaking as it fell to the ground, ripping the blade from her grip.
With a violent backhanded swipe, she slashed across the torsos of three others, the tip of her remaining blade dragging in a trail of crackling sparks. The monsters cried out and stumbled backward, toward the cliff edge. She pressed them, slashing this way and that, narrowly missing as the enemies shied away. One squealed as it stepped back into open air and fell from sight. Another went for her wrist, gripping it with both hands. Although wiry, the goblin was stronger than it appeared. Rhoa fought it, but the thing wouldn’t let go. Finally, she put her boot against its midriff and pushed. The goblin lost its grip and reached for the hilt of her blade, tearing it from her grasp as it fell backward. This goblin screamed when blue sparks burnt its hand. Its momentum took it over the edge, both it and the blade flying into space and out of sight.
The last shaman near the cliff edge waved its hands and began to chant, preparing to unleash a spell. Weaponless, but not helpless, Rhoa stepped toward the monster, spun, and kicked backward. Her heel connected, launching it out into the air before it tumbled to the ground eighty feet below.
She then gasped, her eyes widening with dread when she saw a goblin shaman standing just a stride away. The monster held a rusty sword above its head, prepared to cleave through Rhoa’s skull.
Jace climbed the rock pile, avoiding the exposed, gray limbs of dead goblins as he peered over the top. All the shaman had abandoned the bonfire, their backs toward him as they stood in a half-circle. A ball of vile, crimson sparks blasted from them and enveloped Rhoa only to disperse, bits of the magic skittering across the ground, leaving her unharmed.
She attacked, killing one with her first strike and driving three others toward the cliff edge.
With the shaman distracted, Jace climbed over and down the pile of rock. He rushed forward with an underhand thrust, burying his dagger into the spine of the nearest shaman. The one beside it turned and backed away while rolling its hands, speaking in grunts and growls. A thread of blackness came from the shaman, striking Jace in the chest. The amulet turned ice cold, but the magic had no effect, the black tendrils evaporating.
“Your magic won’t work on me,” he said with a grin just before he leapt forward with a sweeping slash of his dagger.
The goblin’s throat opened in a gash, dark, thick blood oozing out as it clutched its neck and collapsed
He turned to find a shaman gripping a rusty blade sneaking up on Rhoa. Desperate, Jace threw his dagger, the twirling blade reflecting firelight as it sailed through air. Unfortunately, it was his standard dagger, not a throwing knife. The extra weight and length threw off his aim. Rather than strike the monster in the back as intended, the blade sailed high.
I missed.
The monster raised the sword, gripping it with both hands as Rhoa spun around. Jace’s errant throw struck the shaman’s hand, slicing through fingers and smashing into the hilt. The goblin shrieked, dropping the sword, the edge of the falling blade slicing down the monster’s back, leaving a trail of dark blood. It waved its arms and staggered until Rhoa kicked its leg out from underneath it. The monster hit the ground hard, landing on its side. With another kick, Rhoa sent the squealing, bloody goblin off the cliff.
Panting, Rhoa turned toward Jace. “That was incredible. Striking the monsters hand with your throw… If you had gone for its back, the blade would have come down on me anyway.”
Jace blinked, surprised at her assumption. Playing along, he shrugged. “It was my plan the entire time.”
She shook her head as she approached, still breathing heavily. “You saved my life. Thank you. It almost makes me feel bad about things I have said about you.”
“Almost?”
A grin crossed her face. “Most of it was true, so…”
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
36
Recovery
Through gasps for air, Jace grumbled, “Why did…” He sucked in a breath, “The biggest person in the group…have to get injured?”
Brogan was heavy, even with Jace carrying
just one of the man’s legs. One of the ex-soldier’s arms was draped over Rawk’s shoulder, the other over Algoron’s, the two dwarfs bearing much of the man’s weight. Adyn carried the other leg until she was relieved by Blythe, the two women taking turns during the descent to Kelmar.
The footing became easier when the ground leveled, but the man remained just as heavy. They crossed the bridge and entered the city. Fires burned here and there. The surface of some buildings was stained black, as if the stars in the stone had been snuffed out. Jace wondered if a cleaning would revive the sparkle or if the fire had somehow burned it away forever.
Two squealing, wild-eyed goblins came racing toward them, an armed dwarf giving chase. For a moment, Jace feared they might attack, then realized the monsters were in flight mode. As the goblin in the lead ran past Algoron, Jace kicked a leg out, hooking the goblin by the foot. It tripped, rolling along the ground, its gangly limbs flailing. The trailing goblin stumbled over the first, also going down in a heap and a shriek. The dwarf caught up and swung his battle axe. Jace turned away before the killing blow landed.
As they advanced through the city, they found more and more dead goblins. Here and there, a dwarf lay amongst them, but the count easily exceeded ten to one. Some of the dead were citizens of the city – a few female dwarfs, several human males, and two children, the sight of which stung Jace to the core and brought tears to his eyes.
Outside the dwarven barracks, dead goblins lay in piles. Ranks of armored dwarfs stood ready, watching as the small party wove its way through the remains. A command was issued, and the defenders parted. Hadnoddon stood on the stairs between the dwarven soldiers and the temple entrance.
The stern dwarf gave them a nod. “Well done. We may have been overwhelmed by numbers if it had continued much longer. Shortly after the fireballs stopped, the monsters lost their will and began to run.”
“Kill the shaman…and the rest will crumble,” Jace panted, repeating Brogan’s statement from earlier.
The dwarf gave him a nod. “Aye.”
“Is there any chance a few of your men can carry this lummox?” Jace groaned between gasps “He is at least as heavy as he appears.”
Hadnoddon gave orders. Four dwarfs rushed in to take over, relieving Jace and the others of the burden.
“He is injured and needs assistance,” Narine said.
“Take him to the infirmary,” Hadnoddon ordered before turning toward Narine. “The sisters will heal him. They have skill in that area.”
“I will go with him,” Blythe said, her face etched with concern as she hurried to follow the soldiers carrying Brogan.
Jace sighed in relief and worked his neck and shoulders to loosen his muscles as he and the rest of his companions climbed the stairs and entered the temple.
The receiving hall was filled with worried citizens huddled in clusters, children hugging their parents, many of the female dwarfs sobbing. All eyes followed the dwarfs carrying Brogan until they disappeared down a corridor. Those gazes then turned to Jace, some filled with hope, others with fear.
He glanced toward Narine, feeling as if he should say something to ease their fears. “The worst is over. The goblins are defeated,” he shouted. “You will be allowed to return to your homes once the soldiers have cleared the area.”
The reaction was instant, the room turning from silence to a buzz of conversation, hugs, and sighs of relief.
Narine touched his arm as she leaned close. “What prompted you to say that?”
“I… I guess I wanted them to feel better, to know they are safe.”
She kissed his cheek and whispered, “That was thoughtful of you.” Her tone then changed, lightening. “Be careful, though, or the others might realize you care for people beyond yourself.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Don’t say such things.” Grabbing her hand, he led her through the crowd and into the side corridor leading toward their rooms. “We are done here. Let’s go.”
Adyn rushed past him. “I’ll clear the way.”
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Go on, Adyn. We will be up in a moment.”
The bodyguard gave a knowing smile as she turned at the landing, her footsteps fading as she continued her ascent.
Jace faced Narine, the two of them alone in the corridor. “Remember how you jumped down on me and I cracked my head open?”
“You told me to jump. You said you would catch me.”
“Yes, but how can I catch you if you jump while I’m not looking?” His hand went to the back of his head, his hair crusty and matted with blood. “Wow. Does that need a washing,” he mumbled, wiping the hand on his breeches.
“Yeah. You hit the ground pretty hard. I feared I might not be able to wake you.”
He gently rubbed a smudge from her cheek. “It looks like we are both filthy from crawling around in those tunnels. You could use a bath, as well.”
She looked down at her dress, stained with dark patches. Turning her palms over, they were even worse. She cringed. “I didn’t realize it was this bad. A bath is certainly required.”
A grin stretched across his face. “In that case, the tub in my room seems large enough for two.”
Her eyes widened, and he feared she might slap him. Instead, she bit her lip, the corners turning up in a smirk. “You are such a rogue. But you come up with the best ideas.”
With her hand in his, he led her up the stairs, more eager to take a bath than he could ever recall.
Brogan stirred and opened his eyes. The image was blurred, two pale shapes hovering overhead. He blinked and squinted until the image coalesced. Two seers looked down at him – an old crone and another so young he thought she was a girl at first glance. The older woman had a slight build and a pinched face. The other was plump, with rounded cheeks and full lips. It was hard to tell, but he guessed her age to be no more than twenty.
“He wakes,” the chubby sister said.
“Of course,” replied the older one. “With the poison gone, his fever has faded and faculties have returned.”
“Poison?” he mumbled.
“Of course not,” said the older sister. “But the blade that stuck you left filth behind. That wizardess only made it worse when she sealed up the wound. If left unchecked, it would have festered and killed you as readily as any poison.”
The mention of his wounds brought him back to the fight with the goblins – an arrow in his shoulder, another in his leg, a sword near his collarbone. Soldiers don’t survive such things. But here he was, very much alive.
Grunting, he tried to sit up, but the two seers pushed him back down.
“Remain here for a while and rest,” the younger one said.
The older one added in a firm tone, “We have other patients, so don’t cause us trouble or you will only do them harm with your distractions.”
When the two sisters moved away from his bed, he saw Blythe standing in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest. With red eyes and blotchy cheeks, it was clear she had been crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her arms dropped to her sides, her lips pressing together until they turned pale. The steel in her eyes was a clear warning. He was in trouble. “What do you mean what’s wrong?” She strode toward him and threw a punch, striking his injured shoulder.
“Ouch!” The wound might have been sealed, but it remained tender, and her jab sent pain shooting down his arm and up to his neck. Wincing, he held his arm. “What was that for?”
“For scaring me!” she shouted. “Why do you continue to throw yourself toward danger? First with Despaldi, then with the wyvern attack, and now you take on an army of goblins. I lost Phantom in the last attack and almost lost you twice over. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
Memories from those encounters flashed in his head. In each situation, he had attacked with aggression, throwing caution aside. “I… I just reacted to the situation.”
Hearing the lie out loud had him wincing even before sh
e punched him again. Pain flared from his shoulder, leaving him gasping as he turned away.
“Stop!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Stop lying to me.”
He grit his teeth and gathered courage as he sought the answer to her question. Somewhere deep within, he found the truth.
Turning toward her, he replied in a hushed voice, embarrassed to say it aloud. “I am nothing but failures and lies. You would be better off without me. I should never have come.”
Her expression softened. “Why would you say that?”
His stomach twisted from having to share his burden with her, but he knew she would have it no other way. “My regrets haunt me, Blythe. They are dominating and countless. If I can go out as a hero, leave something positive behind, perhaps I will rest well when I am dead.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and he feared she might strike him again. Instead, she took his hand and held it to her chest. “Do you feel anything for me?”
His heart began racing, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. “Of course I do.”
“As a friend…or something more?”
“I…” Am a coward. Run away, Blythe. I am no good for you. Once again, his thoughts and actions were not in sync. “More,” he croaked, then hastily said, “But I am too old for–”
“I am no child, Brogan.” The steel had returned to her voice. “How old to you think I am?”
“You…” Careful. Women can be sensitive about their age. “Didn’t you say you were twenty-something when we met?”
“Yes. Twenty-nine.”
“See.” He sighed. “I am forty-two. Far too old for you.”
“Brogan, we met six years ago. I am now thirty-five and not getting any younger.”
He blinked when he realized she had aged just as he had. The difference between forty-two and thirty-five seemed so…irrelevant.
She leaned over him, her head tilted as she gazed into his eyes. “Haven’t you wondered why I remained? Why I have lived in that lonely valley with you for the past six years?”
Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set Page 88