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The rest of the Goblins and lone Human, the rear-guard, fled on every mount they had available, many running on foot. They might have been pursued, but there were still Goblins on the hill. Forty Redfangs stood on the hill, banging swords on shields, hooting, loosing the Thunderbows down at the Humans. They dared the Humans to come and take it, aiming at the riders, if not their mounts. So they did.
The Redfangs collapsed the dirt walls of the pass, fought with the Thunderbows as the Humans came up, and made them work for every step. They held the enemy for nearly fifty minutes. Kevin had no idea how they did it. What he did know was this: when they caught up to the group running for the High Passes, there were only six left. It had been one of the more successful battles as Goblins counted it. Not all of them had died.
In fact, less than a hundred had. The slaughter at their outpost had been one-sided. Humans had run into waves of crossbow bolts until they stopped. Only at the end had it gotten bloody, along with casualties from fighting adventurers in the city. However, a hundred Goblins had died. Kevin had even known some of them, briefly.
Still, they had died and still they had followed Rags for this risky plan. They had picked their battles, and there was no chance of all of their tribe being wiped out like at the Floodplains. Even so. Kevin rode with Poisonbite behind him. Taganchiel snapped, looking back over his shoulder. They found the Ogres, jogging at a good clip, but not towards their next rendezvous spot. Some of their Goblin companions were with them.
One leaned out of her saddle and snapped at Taganchiel. She pointed the direction they had to go. He pointed, and without a word everyone broke right, racing in the only direction they could go. The Goblin only shrugged. Rags had the Healer. If they lived, they lived. If not? The thing about stories was that you told the same ones time and time again. Just in different ways. It was rare that he took notice of the weather.
Yet, even in his busy day—and every day was busy for King Itorin II—he noticed how blustery it was. He remarked on it over breakfast with his family. Immediate family, that was, and the ones in the capital. Itorin II was, in the way of many Terandrian monarchs, in the habit of spreading his bloodline around.
Two daughters, three sons. A good mix age and gender-wise. You could make do—again, like Calanfer—with more of one than the other, but this was almost perfect. Sometimes…sometimes Itorin wondered if that too had been arranged. For his two elder sons? If one was returned from his command in safety, but at the front, they would make small festivities of it. The other was in training. With the half-Elves. Again, his two youngest were easiest as breakfasting companions.
They loved to talk about tutoring, what they saw on the scrying orb they were glued to, songs from the Songstress, the Singer, questions about some part of ruling Ailendamus they found fascinating, badgering his wife, Oiena, to buy them a trinket while knowing he might indulge them…. But today they were unusually eager to finish breakfast. That idle question garnered such looks of patented surprise and even scorn from his son and daughter that Itorin Zessoprical II was quite taken aback. His daughter, the youngest, but still already nine— nine, how time flew— Oesca, informed her father patiently.
The King of Ailendamus, great superpower in the world, rising star to the faded kingdom of old, King Itorin II, Heir to the Lance-Arrows of Ailendamus, Keeper of…etcetera etcetera, gave his daughter a blank look. They had to explain, and assure him that no, no one had been taking artifacts out of the vaults.
Especially given what their Uncle would think of that. The name also made Itorin recall something. The one that had obsessed Rhisveri so? When Itorin finally came to the window, he saw her. Just like yesterday, when Rhisveri had thrown a huge tantrum for reasons beyond him. He locked eyes with the Wind Runner of Reizmelt, the Courier from the scrying orb.
She was outside the castle, summoning the wind to blow mightily. Whirling around this part of Ailendamus in such ferocity…. No, wild grace. Mighty gusts of wind, yes, but only terrifying in a way that exhilarated, as you felt when you beheld a mighty storm without rain, whipping trees and grass around. When you realized how mighty nature was.
The air whipped at her dark hair. Her silk guest clothing was light purple running to green jade, and it blew in a way about her naturally as the wind snatched at it that some movie directors paid lots of money to emulate. Her eyes were open wide, and she had a strange smile on her lips. Patently mysterious. Oh yes, and one more thing. Itorin II could see her quite well because she stood, arms outstretched, facing towards him.
In fact, the royal chambers were quite high up. Thusly, the Wind Runner was standing on top of a tower. Right on the edge, in fact, as the wind blew around her. Facing the royal chambers. Oesca and Ivenius pointed at Ryoka, the older [Prince] bouncing on his feet like he was as young as his sister was and not a [Squire] in training.
Itorin vaguely wondered if he should call the guard. What was she doing up there? How did she know where the royal chambers were? Oiena sounded horrified, as a former [Princess] of Taimaguros might. Ryoka Griffin smiled at him, with that same enigmatic look. Then she bowed. Only then did Itorin realize that a pair of armored figures wearing the colors of the Order of the Thirsting Veil were doggedly trying to climb up the tall tower towards her.
She just smiled, lifted something up, and jumped. It was…something you never forgot. Yet her limp body did not bounce from the roof and land terribly still far below. Rather, the Wind Runner leapt off the tower as the [Knight] reached for her…and flew. For a tenuous second, her bare feet began to descend.
Then her momentum shifted. She flew up as the wind blew in a fierce updraft. He had seen [Mages] fly. Oesca danced, pointing with simple delight. The Wind Runner held onto something that ballooned out above her. Itorin II recognized it. Strained as it inflated perfectly in the wind. Ryoka Griffin soared past the [Knight] who made a grab for her and nearly fell off the tower.
She floated down and away as the King of Ailendamus watched. Of course, she got in trouble. No less than the captain of the guard was ready to slap her in irons and beat her for daring to interrupt the royal family. To which the Wind Runner vouchsafed one thing that kept her alive before the [Prince] and [Princess] came running to demand flying lessons. The [Royal Captain] hesitated. He stared at the angry Thirsting Veil [Knights], at Ryoka, and at the band on her wrist supposed to lock down her magical powers.
Which it did. All her amazing magical powers like casting uh, [Flashlight]. Ryoka Griffin knew that he knew what it was. She gave him a big, unhelpful smile. She saw how his eyes flickered at that. Ryoka was still ready for some impositions, but then came a striding figure. We must speak, if the winds say it so. By earth and sea, by land and tree, will you speak with me? The Wind Runner turned. To her eyes, a limping…woman made out of branches turned to stone came her way, her bark fossilized with time, damaged with battles or trials long gone.
A mask hung around her neck, a tiny version of the one in the Court of Masks, but one shaped with exquisite care, more than those there. It was a perfect replica of what everyone saw, and Ryoka did after she adjusted her perspective. A short—but not too short—Dwarf woman, almost as old, hair gone white rather than grey.
Forgive the interruption. We were just attending to a matter of royal security. We did not intend to disrupt the gardens. They looked somewhat apprehensively at the woman they knew as the Conservator of Forests, a high-ranking position in Ailendamus. Fithea gave the man a blank look. Her voice was no different than it had been in the Court of Masks. Dry, cracked, but with a spark of life. The Dwarf woman stared at the [Royal Captain].
He looked ready to insist, but then came two screaming figures. The [Royal Captain] tried to block the [Princess] from this miscreant. Upon which point she grew vexed at him. Ryoka felt bad for the man. And the grass. Lady Fithea, I would be delighted to speak to you. Maybe in an hour? So saying, and before they could grab her, the wind blew up her sailcloth again and she glided over the heads of the guards, and awed children.
Like a herd of cattle following the parasailer, they raced after her as she flew away. All I need now is some candy. Someone flies around and scatters candy for kids? And here I thought I was the first person to channel Mary Poppins. Ryoka Griffin landed. She turned, and her fans swept around her, begging to use the bedsheets.
For a second, the Wind Runner remembered kids doing this for the first time. She looked towards the palace, where a [King] no less had come out to talk with the royal guard. She looked at the bangle on her arm, imprisoning her. I have done this before. Not in the same way. Not exactly like this. But it was familiar. This time…Ryoka Griffin bent down.
Your Majesty, Princess Oesca, I think? And Prince Ivenius? Good morning to you! The Courier sketched a bow. The [Princess] drew up short and everyone else drew back as they realized they had crowded in front of her in their excitement. Rank still existed in Ailendamus.
I am Princess Oesca. But I hope you will not wait on my title. Oesca sounded unhappy. As a child might, when reminded of her rank as an impediment to fun. Oesca and Ivenius, named after their parents. Naming traditions. Ryoka had researched all this. She smiled. If I may, I could call you…Oesca? The girl asked eagerly.
Ryoka saw a woman sprinting at her, faster than the worried [Knights]. Well, in for a pinch of pain, in for a wagonload. That was the Ryoka way. So she winked at Oesca. You could even fly around like I did. As if Ryoka was going to let her soar hundreds of feet in the air holding a bedsheet, friendly wind or not.
And I should hate for you to get in trouble, Miss Griffin. Did that young man find you yesterday? I directed him towards you, but I heard little of his fate. Thank you for that. I should thank you, Princess Oesca! As I was saying.
Everyone can certainly sail around on the ground. Would you like to go for a ride? She held out a hand, and smiled, a twinkle in her eye. The twinkle of little girls who broke laws and rebelled. She still had a bit. Step away from that—your Highness! The [Carer] racing towards Ryoka was clearly trying to use a Skill and failing. Oesca stared at her, the adults, and then at Ryoka. She winked at Ivenius. Then Ryoka gripped Oesca tightly with one arm, and lifted the bedsheet parachute with the other.
The wind dragged them up as the [Carer] leapt. She had a good pounce. But it was only of surprise for the first, dizzying second of ascent. Then she screamed and laughed—in delight. She kept tight hold of Oesca. Next time I need to make a harness or an easier way to hold onto them! However, the Princess of Ailendamus knew none of this. She waved with both arms in an astonishing display of trust at the people below, the envious children, as she flew around the palace, and awed people looked up.
Ryoka saw a snappily dressed man tilt his head so far back he nearly fell backwards. She nodded at Baron Regalius. While children were first to know, it was hard to miss a flying Courier. The Wind Runner was in Ailendamus. And she was seen, skipping across the ground with the [Princess] of Ailendamus no less, racing across the gardens, as the wind blew strongly.
Laughing with the delighted girl in tow. Ryoka Griffin actually missed a lot of the punishment and haranguing. Mostly because King Itorin II, the furious [Caretakers], Royal Captain, and all the others, even Rhisveri, took one look at her curled up on the ground as Oesca berated Gilaw, and felt bad for her.
It was an amazing flying kick. Ryoka had to hand it to Gilaw—or she would if she could move. Ryoka was just grateful she had no appendix anymore or Gilaw might have popped it. You will also confine your…mobility…to the royal grounds and not the palace itself. One of the [Knights], Dame Chorisa, informed Ryoka with a blank face. Ryoka, wincing, put her hand over her ribs. Was that…Great Knight Gilaw who hit me? The Thirsting Veil Knights gave her bright smiles behind their visors, Ryoka was sure, that mixed schadenfreude with…Ryoka suspected…a bit of familiarity.
The Wind Runner began walking down the corridor, now perceiving a certain amount of looks her way, but she spoke to Chorisa. She is an…unusual case, Miss Griffin. Zealous beyond reproach. Mute, however, and prone to overeagerness in some regards. Without manners or social graces, but she is entrusted to monster-slaying and guardianship of some of the most important members of Ailendamus.
Another [Knight] muttered. Ryoka, wincing, nodded. Dame Chorisa eyed her, then walked in front of Ryoka and came to a stop. It was walk into her or stop, so Ryoka stopped. However, if you conduct yourself so again, we will be forced to address the issue. The Wind Runner smiled winsomely. She gave Ryoka a narrow-eyed glance. You have to do what you have to do. I have an invitation.
Can you escort me there? Chorisa looked like she wanted to escort Ryoka to a locker and keep her in there. That would be the private section of the palace. The Estexil Wing. Adjacent to the Court of Masks. Visitors are not allowed license to enter…even Baron Regalius or a [General] would be prohibited to enter. You can ask her, but we could go over rather than waste time. Court of Masks, you said? I know the way. Another figure materialized and marched off.
Chorisa followed Ryoka, speaking hotly as the Wind Runner practically skipped along. Want to go hand-to-hand? I like non-lethal fistfights. You can even book a timeslot in the Ryoka-asskicking schedule. They were being followed. Doggedly; with literal dogs, or so the Goblins speculated. Both sides were using camouflage and speed Skills, and Poisonbite was leading them now, so she was making the best use of her Skills, which were suited to the job.
Even so…she scowled as she tossed more of the [Thief]-brand scent-destroyer on their trail. In short, as Kevin translated it, the Goblins had no way to find a hiding spot. Not with the Humans being able to track them and literally overturn every nook and cranny.
They could find a place to hole up and hope to outlast or just make a glorious last stand. The Goblins accepted this with equanimity, to some extent. There were ten Ogres present. All of whom looked pretty upset at the idea of dying.
Even…dangerously upset. The Goblins were remarkably calm; the tallest Goblin was shy of seven feet here, and they were hobs. The Ogres were nine feet tall or larger. Somo insisted, urgently, pointing a huge maul she wielded one-handed at Taganchiel, then Poisonbite. Both Goblins shrugged. High Passes…we climb and look for good spot?
Poisonbite grinned. It certainly sounded like a better option than a slaughter in a cave mouth. They peered up at the mountains. I can slow them down. He began sweating instantly. It was Somo who interrupted. Somo was a bit smarter, though, and smacked him so hard Kevin saw the ground actually move a bit under his feet. The Ogre, cross-eyed, slunk back in line as she snapped.
She waved a club. Instantly, Poisonbite went for the dagger at her wrist. She was ready to turn and throw, but Taganchiel gave her a warning look. Somo was conferring with the other Ogres. She frowned mightily, sniffed the air, and checked the mountains nearest to her. She looked at the others. They were doing the same things as her. Not by checking the mountain, but by stomping over to the nearest tree, tearing off a branch, and munching on it. Another scooped up some dirt, found a stone, and began to chew.
The Goblins and Kevin both stared. Yet Somo got an answer as an Ogre nodded. She turned to Taganchiel. Which, to be fair…Taganchiel raised his brows. Somo made a snorting sound and spat. Ogres had more staying power. Ogres had memory. Ogres were also not like onions and got no jokes in that regard, Kevin had learned. Somo pointed. Apparently they knew something. The Goblins began to move, after the short break, and the jogging Ogres were suddenly leading.
Taganchiel asked the obvious. Maybe die. Humans not follow long. Not stay long. Bad stay long. Somo repeated herself. Getting nervous. But it still beat having no place at all. He gulped. Fifteen lives? Oh, she meant fifteen generations.
Kevin wondered how long that was. Ogres could live a long time…he licked his lips. Big clan die. Somo and nine Ogres and Goblins…not live long. Humans die too, though. Kevin traded a look with the others. One of the surviving Redfangs slowly began checking her weapons, grinning as her friend traced new lines of red on her skin.
Somo waited. What got the Thousand Warriors Clan? She licked her lips as her Ogres led her unerringly towards the entrance to below, ahead of the Humans who had spotted them. The Ogre came to a stop, and pointed, as the stone changed, and they found a tiny crack in the foot of the mountain. Down into darkness. Down into the deeps. Ryoka Griffin missed meeting Fithea. She was actually busy with work, but she gave orders that Ryoka Griffin be admitted past the Golem Sentries in this private wing of the palace.
Not the Order of the Thirsting Veil, which made them mad as could be. She had not missed the way the Wyrm looked at her when she taunted him with the magical obol. However, he had refrained from summoning her instantly. Fithea, though…she looked at Ryoka differently. Like, well, the last member of a dying species seeing hope for the first time. It bordered on maniacal, having gone way past obsessive. Ryoka just hoped it would help. And there were no minders.
Ryoka hurried along the corridors, and noticed a few things at once. No cleaning staff were presumably allowed here, so it looked like someone literally just blasted a tidal wave spell through the corridors every now and then.
Ryoka suspected that because of the streaks of dirt on the marble. And feathers. Someone had a feather problem. Huge dandruff. There were discarded seeds here and there, footprints…. Ryoka Griffin wished she had slippers as she padded bare-foot down corridor after corridor. Yes…this was definitely a lair of multiple people. It even had an entrance from the Court of Masks. Of course. Sophridel, the Elemental of Masks, ensured their secrecy. It was the caretaker of the Court of Masks.
Probably the boss. A lot younger. Compared to all three, she was practically a baby. She was still not an expert on the wind, her running was arguably surpassed by the best of both worlds, and so on, but she was probably a reigning expert in immortal studies. She could tell Gilaw was young. Who else was here, though?
That was the question. Ryoka got her first answer soon enough. She came to what looked like a hallway leading to various activity-rooms. The sound of splashing water hinted at a bath, or pool. Is that a greenhouse? She peered through the door, and saw a huge, just, multiple-olympic-pool sized body of water. No…a practical lake in itself. Was there a dimensional spell on the room? There had to be! Ryoka gaped up at the sunny ceiling, which looked like it was actually outside.
Onto a beach on the far end, and what looked like a damn reef and other underwater nods. She heard laughter, the clink of glass. But could you believe it? Prince and princess of…? Do you think they were serious? I was just—Gilaw, come in. You can swim in that form? You have to learn to swim…come on. Aunt Fithea! A laughing group was in the middle of the body of water.
They were teasing a dark-skinned woman with her huge mane of hair. She looked decidedly younger, despite the illusory spell, as she nervously peered into the water she was definitely afraid of entering. Not that she should have feared drowning. Not among the company of the laughing group inside. But some had beautiful scales, rather than skin. Gills, or something, and fin-like protrusions. Webbed fingers. Completely Human on others. There were only, oh, eleven she saw visible.
Yet they swam around, as energetic as could be. With floating dishes, gossiping, talking about their experience on land, as fast in the water as Ryoka was on land. Maybe faster. After all. They had huge tails, some forked, others the single flipper you imagined. Some had predatory teeth, others not. Nevertheless…they were definitely Mermaids. A laughing young man turned sun-bronzed skin to the door. He saw Ryoka instead of Fithea and went still.
Gilaw, shuffling away from the water, glanced up. Ryoka had not expected Merfolk of all species. It made sense. Drowned Folk existed. Unicorns had once existed. Why not Mermaids? One of the Merfolk screamed. He pointed at Ryoka with a look of such genuine terror Ryoka backed up. Gilaw looked as the Merfolk dove, and Ryoka felt the underwater panic vibrating beneath her. Gilaw rose, her eyes flashing. Too late. The Great Knight charged at her with a cawing scream.
One fist raised—and she did look like she knew how to brawl. Ryoka backed up. The immortal leapt. It would have worked, but Gilaw ran into a wall of wind. It flipped her into the pool. She landed, eyes wide, and immediately began thrashing and drowning, making screaming protests. Ryoka hesitated, but she saw the Merfolk moving in the water below. Oh shit, were those weapons? She ran for it. She dashed down the hallway, hoping to get back before Gilaw found her, so Fithea could sort this out.
It was obvious after mere moments of descending into the darkness that this place was not natural. Kevin felt it in his bones. The strata of the rock was uniform. They had to move quickly too; the Humans had seen them entering and were coming. A big army. Yet the Goblins were cheerful. As one Redfang, Atter, cheerfully explained to Kevin, this was a good place to die.
She was a former Mountain City Hobgoblin, hence her advanced command of linguistics. Compared to that, the Redfang next to her, a normal-sized Goblin, yet wearing the Redfang paint, was practically unintelligible and had no Shaman-name. He was called Pillowhead. There was a difference in Antinium and Goblin naming conventions.
Antinium were random, like Kevin2 and Infinitypear. Atter assured Kevin. Pillowhead, who had grunted after surviving the outpost stand, gave Kevin an amiable grunt. Kevin looked at them. Die they might, though. Taganchiel had placed a ward at the entrance.
He was monitoring it as they fled, following Poisonbite now, because her eyes were best and the Ogres only knew this place, not the layout. Down they went. Through smooth stone tunnels. Debris became increasingly apparent, and some kind of detritus on the ground. None to obstruct movement, but it proved someone had been here.
Someone had built this place. Kevin shined a wand up and saw the strange, pale stone. Why was it so cavernous yet so clearly made? The answer came to him as they passed by a more intact part of the caves. He gasped. Atter made a sound. The part of the tunnel not worn to craggy stone was clearly a road, and the walls were not yet fully obscured. Kevin saw cut stone, old reliefs on the walls, depicting some design or mural…he swung the wand of light around.
It was too silent down here. The Goblins moved, and the heavy tromp of the Ogres and the jingling of armor was the only sound Kevin heard. But he had been promised something. Drums in the…. Perhaps no one was here anymore? Kevin really, really doubted it.
More likely, whatever was here might not have known there were intruders yet. However, any hopes of that ended as their pursuers entered the caves, spreading out through the branching tunnels, or as Kevin now knew, hallways. They made a lot of sound, a furious din in the distance. They had to come on foot, probably, so it was a foot-race, but the Goblins were slowing. They felt it too. Something was down there. He almost wanted something to pop out as the Goblins marched downwards. Just get it over with!
What was it, Crelers? Evil horrors? Kevin nodded, gulped. He really had to know. Atter glanced at Taganchiel. She was about to dispel his fears that this particular horror was unknown to her when it happened. The first beat rose upwards from the ground. An earth-shaking sound.
It made the Goblins and Ogres freeze. It made Kevin pee, just a bit. Even the Humans stopped for a second. Everyone turned their heads wildly, setting themselves, waiting for an attack. But Kevin knew. Oh, he knew. That sound was huge, and in this confined space, it echoed for perhaps miles. It had come from far away. It was the sound of something coming. Something waking up. He heard it again as Poisonbite wavered. Then she glanced over her shoulder, bared her teeth. Light from behind them.
Someone was blowing a horn , and the pursuers converged, finding the tunnel the Goblins were heading down. Kevin pumped his arms and legs, and one of the Goblins turned—tossed something down and the howls of pain told Kevin they had deployed a trap. That was the sound it made. The sound of a drum, the boom of it in your bones.
Less loud this time? The first had been a wakeup call. But this next one, when it came, did not leave the silence lingering long. The beats began. Picking up in speed. Kevin heard them, the boom of something in the darkness. They were coming. Oh yes. Even the pursuers seemed nervous—but it meant they picked up speed instead. They wanted the Goblins dead now, before this trick or external threat got them.
The Goblins and Ogres sprinted into a huge space, some giant walkway or gathering point, mere seconds before the Humans. Somo actually turned and struck low someone charging after her. There was a scream—pursuit slowed a bit as the Humans realized they still had to fight at the end. More pursuers were coming out of other tunnels.
Poisonbite just snarled. She did an amazing dive sideways and a crackling ray blasted the stone. Everyone started running after her, dodging as Taganchiel shot magic back. It was fast now, a rhythmic beat Kevin was amazed by. Whoever was heralding their imminent horrific demise also had amazing beat control. Well, if movies could do it…the thunderous sounds were a quick rhythm, just a bit slower than his terrified heartbeat.
The Goblins, Ogres and Human slowed in their mad dash. They hesitated, but an army was coming towards them from the rear. Kevin heard the drumbeats change one last time. Kevin stumbled. He slowed, as Poisonbite pointed and everyone ran left, staring at something coming out of the darkness. Wait a second. That was a half-beat. That was…. That sounded like something else, suddenly. Terrifying in the darkness, loud as everything. But it also sounded like….
Someone had interrupted the steady downbeat, throwing in double- thums and a changing tempo. It was music. And it was getting louder. He saw her gesturing, pointing. Get to the side! Yet the world was filled with the drums. Now it was a march. Thunder in the caverns. The Humans slowed, weapons raised, shining lights into the darkness, illuminating the Goblins, the Ogres, Kevin….
Edition Number : 1. Skip to main content. Search SpringerLink Search. Editors: view affiliations Dale Salwak Professor of English. Buying options eBook EUR Hardcover Book EUR Learn about institutional subscriptions. Table of contents 19 chapters Search within book Search. Page 1 Navigate to page number of 2. Front Matter Pages i-xviii.
Contemporary Trends Front Matter Pages Hooked… Nina King Pages Mountains and Caverns Alan Sillitoe Pages Nagy Pages Sine Qua Non Frances H. Bachelder Pages
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