by Pirateaba
“Which isn’t here because…I don’t get that bit.”
Ilvriss turned and glared, only half-acknowledging Jelaqua’s bright smile. Zel cleared his throat and nodded at the Gold-rank adventurers. They were awarded a place at the meeting due to their experience, although neither Ulrien nor Jelaqua had spoken much up till now.
“Liscor’s army is a mercenary one. They spend months, sometimes years in the field, earning money. They’re exceptionally good at their job—with them here the Goblin Lord could assault the walls and would definitely fail to seize the city.”
“However, they’re too far away to return and preoccupied with fighting. They have agreed to send a unit to defend the city. They should arrive…in time.”
Zevara gritted her teeth and lashed her tail. Olesm winced. The reply from Liscor’s army had been short, concise, and unhelpful. But that was the relationship between city and army. It was always strained.
Ilvriss cleared his throat, looking annoyed at the interruptions.
“In the meantime, we shall prepare the city for attack. If it comes to it, we can hold the walls long enough for reinforcements. However, I doubt the Goblin Lord is foolish enough to besiege us. If he is…”
If he was, it was war. Olesm swallowed hard and looked around the room. The plan was good and simple and it had mostly been politics argued over so far. However, no one had brought up the white Dragon in the room and Olesm was afraid that if he didn’t speak now, he’d lose the nerve. Cautiously he coughed and raised a hand.
Instantly, every eye was on him. Olesm felt himself pale as Zel Shivertail himself looked at him, but he stood and spoke hoarsely.
“Begging your pardon Wall Lord—”
Ilvriss nodded graciously at Olesm, smiling a bit. He had been very nice to the Drake, which was at odds with all the things Erin and Ryoka said about him. Olesm continued, speaking to him and Zel.
“—But what about the Antinium? I understand that if it comes to a siege, the Antinium are called upon to defend the city. However…”
Ilvriss’ smile vanished and Zel shifted. The two Drakes looked at each other as the council room fell silent. Yes, the treaty clearly spoke about Antinium aiding the city. But they had only done it once, when Skinner attacked. And the feelings the two Drakes had about the Antinium were abundantly clear.
“If it comes to that young Swifttail, we shall…appraise the Antinium situation as need be.”
Ilvriss spoke to Olesm, but, the Drake sensed, to Zel as well. The [General] nodded.
“They may be helpful. If not…”
Another silence. If not, it might mean another war, far worse than any war with a Goblin Lord. Olesm looked around and sank into his seat. Now he was wishing he hadn’t brought up the issue, because he was really worried.
“If it is the Antinium that concerns you, perhaps it would be best to focus on the Goblin Lord as a threat first, yes? A known enemy in the trees and one underfoot is better than a shadow on both sides.”
Someone else spoke up. Regrika Blackpaw leaned over the table, larger than life, a giant of a Gnoll. She smiled reassuringly at Olesm and he found himself smiling in return. Ilvriss nodded.
“True. I would like to know how our warnings about the Goblin Lord were ignored so badly both armies were surrounded.”
“They knew about the undead, but the exploding ones we saw must not have been mentioned to either general. Or whoever briefed them thought it wasn’t a concern. Neither one expected them to be underground.”
Zel muttered. Ilvriss pounded the table with a fist.
“Ridiculous! If I find the Drake who thought the undead weren’t a concern—”
“The [Scout] that Hawk found fled the battle before the end, but he saw the undead rising. His conclusion was that the Goblin Lord was far more powerful a [Necromancer] than anyone suspected. Hiding the undead beneath the snow—that’s a tactic Az’kerash used to use in the Second Antinium War.”
Ilvriss and Zel shared a concerned glance. Olesm’s heart beat wildly. The [Scout] that Hawk had found had been on the edges of the battlefield near the end. He’d seen the last charge of Garusa Weatherfur, and heard the horns signaling a full retreat. No one close to the place where Thrissiam Blackwing had made his last stand had survived.
“Hrm. It is not good, no. But we must know how much of the Goblin Lord’s army lives, yes? I know Goblins rebuild their forces quickly. It is essential to find out. Hrr. Are there any who might scout the army?”
Regrika looked around the table at the Council. A few heads shook—the leader of the Adventurer’s Guild, a very old Drake lady that Olesm recognized, spoke up. She was Selys’ grandmother.
“There’s not a Drake or Gnoll adventurer worthy of the name in the city who could do it to my knowledge. Not a City Runner either; Hawk might be able to do it, but he would refuse to go near the Goblin Lord’s army. Quite sensibly, too.”
“There’s a [Scout] in my party, Halrac Everam. He might be able to do it, but I’d hate to risk him as well.”
Ulrien volunteered the information quietly, and the Council members looked at him. The huge Human man was like a reassuring rock, for all he was…Human. Zel shook his head.
“I would hate to have any of our best die trying to scout the Goblin Lord’s army, Regrika.”
“Hrm. True. But are you sure there are no City Runners of renown? I would love to see a list—if the Courier Hawk will not do it, a City Runner might. Courage is needed in dire times, and I would speak to any who might volunteer for such a mission.”
The Gnoll [Champion] seemed insistent, so after a moment one of the Council members fetched a list with names of City Runners in Liscor. Regrika pawed through the list, staring at sketches of faces, names, levels, and then looked up.
“I see the issue. Few with high levels. Are you sure there are no others?”
The Council hesitated. Olesm realized they had overlooked someone and spoke up excitedly.
“What about the door to Celum? There are more adventurers and Runners through there.”
Regrika blinked at him.
“A door? What is this?”
Olesm explained briefly about Erin’s magical door, and the Named Adventurer Gnoll shook her head in amazement. That she was impressed made Olesm proud for Erin. Zel nodded slowly.
“True. I’d overlooked the door, but if it came to a siege, I would hope that Erin would allow us to bring her inside the city. Her door could sustain us in a siege and bring reinforcements if needed—”
“Humans!”
Ilvriss uttered it as a curse and folded his arms. But Olesm had remembered something else about the inn and edged over to Regrika Blackpaw tentatively.
“There is another Runner who might be willing to take the risk, Miss Blackpaw.”
“Oh? Why is she not on the list? Is she Human?”
The Named Adventurer looked intrigued. Olesm nodded eagerly.
“Her name is Ryoka Griffin. She’s quite good—she ran through the High Passes by herself, once! I could introduce you to her perhaps.”
“A Human female? A City Runner? Or…a Courier?”
“Not a Courier, Miss Blackpaw, but she’s probably the closest to it in Liscor or Celum!”
Regrika bared her teeth in a smile.
“I would like to meet such a Human. Yes, thank you Olesm Swifttail.”
Olesm flushed with pride. Jelaqua spoke up as well, coming over while Zel and Ilvriss and Zevara argued about Humans.
“We all stay at the inn. We’d be happy to show you around after this.”
“I would be most honored, yes. And I shall introduce you to my companion too. She is a powerful [Mage], a Gold-rank adventurer. We must drink together, yes?”
“Of course! I’m sure Erin and Ryoka would be honored to meet you!”
Olesm practically fell over himself with pleasure. Another famous guest for Erin’s inn! Wouldn’t she be pleased when Olesm brought a Named Adventurer to her inn?
After a
moment Ilvriss called everyone to order. He pointedly tapped on the map with the Goblin Lord’s probable location on it.
“Our business is not concluded. We have more to do. Regardless of whether or not the Goblin Lord attacks, I suspect him to head north. If he does, we must ensure the nearby villages are cleared long before his arrival and track his movements heading north. Hopefully he becomes the Humans’ problem. Either way, we must prepare ourselves.”
Ilvriss’ eyes glinted as he looked around the room, meeting everyone’s gaze but Ulrien and Jelaqua’s.
“The Goblin Lord must die.”
—-
“The Goblin Lord must die. However, I regret to say that we will most likely be gone before he falls.”
Xrn stood in the chamber of the Queen of the Free Antinium and spoke calmly as she held her staff. Three other Antinium stood with her. Tersk of the Armored Antinium, Pivr of the Flying Antinium, still covered in wounds, and Klbkch. The Queen of the Free Antinium looked down at Xrn.
“I see. You will return to the Hives?”
The blue Antinium lowered her head and Klbkch felt an ache in his chest.
“I must. The Grand Queen wishes me to return and fears I may be wounded if the Goblin Lord attacks.”
“I see.”
Klbkch’s Queen shifted her weight. He saw her looking from Prognugator to Prognugator, and then at Pivr’s wounded form with some satisfaction. Her only comment was to Xrn, though.
“I trust you have seen what my Hive has produced and seen the worth of it.”
“I have.”
Tersk stepped forwards and bowed. He was still not wearing his armor. He seemed greatly changed as he addressed both Klbkch and the Queen.
“I have seen much my Queen will see the value of. Much. I will petition her to recognize your Hive formally.”
“I too. The Antinium should not face such a threat below. Not alone.”
Pivr spoke up, sounding subdued. Klbkch glanced at him, surprised. Xrn nodded at both and then spoke up, voice clear as she clicked her mandibles together respectfully.
“We have agreed that your Hive is worthy, Queen of the Free Antinium. To that end, we shall request that a link be set up between Hives. We have magical artifacts that may do so—for now, we must communicate between Listeners.”
Ah, yes. The Antinium created specifically to listen. It was a crude way of communicating at distance and the other Hives all used magical artifacts to speak, rather than Listeners. But the Free Antinium had been cut off for years thanks to their ‘unproven’ status. Klbkch tasted acid. His Queen surely felt the same, but she only inclined her head to Xrn.
“In ages past we linked minds. Now…we cannot. However, I will confer with the other Queens as to what is to be done about this Goblin Lord, gladly.”
“I am pleased, oh Queen of the Free Antinium. I thank you for your hospitality, though we shall linger for a few days more. I wish to…take in this city, and I understand both Tersk and Pivr have their own needs.”
Xrn nodded at Klbkch. He nodded back. They had a few more moments. Time…oh, it was so fleeting. But perhaps this door—Erin’s door—they had talked, Xrn and he. They had made plans for the future. So had his Queen. The Antinium would live. They would restore themselves and return to Rhir. This Goblin Lord wasn’t worth mentioning.
—-
Osthia Blackwing was now convinced that there was no greater threat on the continent than the Goblin Lord. None. Not even the Antinium were so dangerous. Not because the Goblin Lord himself was that terrifying—he would have lost the battle against her uncle and Garusa normally. No, it was his master that scared Osthia to her core.
Az’kerash, the Necromancer, hovered in the air before the kneeling Goblin Lord in his tent. Osthia, bound and helpless, could only stare up at the projection of the dreaded enemy of the Drakes as his deathless gaze swept the tent.
Black eyes and white pupils. One look from the [Necromancer] sent chills down Osthia’s tail. But the man’s voice was refined, scholarly.
“I do not see why you need the Drake. Oldblood she may be, but a useful corpse she is not. Unless you intend to keep her for other…diversions?”
There was disapproval in his tone. Osthia shivered in cold fury. She would rather die. But the Goblin Lord hadn’t touched her except to interrogate her about his master. The kneeling Goblin shook his head.
“She is spy. Tells me information.”
“Information I already have.”
Az’kerash’s voice was filled with scorn. He gestured at Osthia, and then made a gesture. A map floated in the air in front of Osthia.
“I need no spies, only magic. And I have given you your orders. Go past Liscor. Reclaim the Goblins in the mountain. Tame their leader, build your forces. Wreak havoc among the Human lands and become the Goblin King if you are able. If not, die cursing your weakness.”
He stared down at his apprentice, the Goblin Lord. But it seemed to Osthia that Az’kerash was speaking not as a master to a pupil, but a disinterested owner giving instructions to a dog. The Goblin Lord’s fate only mildly concerned Az’kerash. It was chaos he craved.
“I have my trusted servants in Liscor. Their tasks must not be compromised. They have been occupied there for a long time, it seems. Gathering information.”
Servants? Osthia started. The [Necromancer] had servants? Az’kerash seemed preoccupied, but suddenly the Goblin Lord laughed. Both the Drake and man stared at him.
“What do you find funny?”
“Servants? Not in Liscor long time.”
“Really? I was assured by Ijvani that they had reached the city long past when I inquired.”
The [Necromancer]’s eyes narrowed. The Goblin Lord laughed again, clearly delighting in informing his master of the lie.
“Not true. I met them. A week ago. They were lost. Could not find Liscor.”
“Indeed?”
Az’kerash’s brows snapped together. He frowned.
“In that case, it seems I must reprimand my servants. Thank you for telling me.”
Both Osthia and the Goblin Lord took some small pleasure in seeing the irritation on the Necromancer’s face. He waved a hand, about to dismiss the spell and then spoke curtly.
“Go north as I have told you, my apprentice. Burn the cities as you pass. Leave strong ones undefended. And kill the Drake. I do not like loose ends.”
His image vanished. Osthia saw the Goblin Lord stand up, brushing dirt from his knees. He looked at her. And she knew that she would live.
Because if there was anything the Goblin Lord could do to spite the Necromancer, he would. He was Az’kerash’s enemy as much as anyone. But Osthia feared…she feared they were all just pawns in some larger game the Necromancer was playing. She just wished she could tell someone what was happening.
—-
Plots and treachery. Intrigue, planning—the minds of the leaders of many sides plotted and thought away across the continent. Each had their own agenda. Each was a fool. For however strong they may be, whatever powers they possessed, what were they?
Merely mortal. Well, Az’kerash might be an exception, but he was still young. Especially by Dragon standards.
In a game of armies and kings, of death and battle, a lone Dragon sat in his cave, aloof from it all. He was mighty. He had lived through the rise and fall of greater empires than any that now existed on the earth. He was a ruler of fire, one of the last and mightiest of his kind. He was a Dragon.
And now he had reached perfection. On the ground of his cavern, the Dragon gently and with exquisite care, extended a claw. With the finest of control he gently lowered the talon a fraction and tapped a glowing screen.
The iPhone beneath the Dragon blinked for a second, its screen glowing brightly in the dim light. It was surrounded by ice and cooled by powerful freezing spells; it seemed that it had a tendency to overheat and Teriarch couldn’t be bothered to keep repairing it with magic.
And the iPhone was especially strained
as of now. Teriarch’s eyes flicked as he analyzed the small screen and he breathed out. At last. He had done it. He had struggled—so hard! And he had persevered. He had accomplished what no other being in this world had done, he was sure of it.
“Let me see. As of now, I am producing…”
His eyes flickered over the screen. Teriarch counted for a moment, and then took a breath.
“Five hundred thirty-eight quintillion, two hundred fifty-five quadrillion, eight hundred two trillion, nine hundred seventy-one billion, six hundred twenty-one million, three hundred sixty-two thousand, four hundred and eight…excuse me, four hundred and nine cookies per second, given of course a lack of any manual input on my part.”
Teriarch proudly stared down at the screen of the iPhone, which was showing a game and a lot of numbers. Cookie Clicker, the app, ran on as Teriarch gently tapped the screen a few times, watching cookies soar across the screen.
He’d done it. He’d clicked the screen, bought many, many upgrades, and finally, become a lord of cookies. Teriarch had no idea what the strange confectionaries actually tasted like, but he was sure they were some sort of granulated sugar treat. He’d had similar substances over the years, even if he’d never had ‘chocolate chip’ cookies.
And now he was producing so many! Teriarch was at the head of a virtual cookie empire that could literally bury his opponents live in cookies. He had enough cookies to fill the sea, to build himself a castle and army! He could do anything! He was a cookie god!
The Dragon blinked at the tiny screen and then slowly rolled—or perhaps collapsed—onto his side. He stared at the screen.
“I feel so empty.”
4.27 H
[Warrior Level 1!]
[Skill – Basic Footwork obtained!]
[Princess Level 6!]
[Skill – Royal Tax obtained!]
Lyonette woke up. The bright sunlight of dawn was the first thing she saw through the open curtains of her window. She looked around in a sudden panic, remembered that Erin had told her to sleep in today, and relaxed. Then her eyes widened.
