by JD Cole
Contents
LEGAL STUFF
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 01: MEANWHILE, IN THAT OTHER PLACE
CHAPTER 02: WETTING THE BED
CHAPTER 03: OPENING MOVES
CHAPTER 04: BECAUSE WE'RE RANGERS
CHAPTER 05: INTELLIGENT MAGIC
CHAPTER 06: MAKING HIS ACQUAINTANCE
CHAPTER 07: A GIRL AND HER DRAGON
CHAPTER 08: SEPARATED BY STARS
CHAPTER 09: SECRET IDENTITY
CHAPTER 10: CONVERGING
CHAPTER 11: STRENOVIA
CHAPTER 12: EXTINCTION
CHAPTER 13: SWORDS & SORCERERS... AND SPECOPS
CHAPTER 14: DIPLOMACY
CHAPTER 15: WHO OR WHAT IS THE KHOREV?
CHAPTER 16: WHO OR WHAT IS THE GOBLIN KING?
CHAPTER 17: ELEMENTALS
CHAPTER 18: A GRAND ALLIANCE
CHAPTER 19: DRAGGIN'
CHAPTER 20: A PLAN COMES TOGETHER
CHAPTER 21: COMMON BOND
CHAPTER 22: DUNGEONS & MECHAS
CHAPTER 23: DA BRADDAHS KUNALI'I
CHAPTER 24: NOW IT'S GETTIN' REAL
CHAPTER 25: RESTRAINT
CHAPTER 26: THE RESCUE: PART ONE
CHAPTER 27: DIVERSIONARY MERCENARIES
CHAPTER 28: THE RESCUE: PART TWO
CHAPTER 29: THE SPRITE QUEEN
CHAPTER 30: THE RESCUE: PART THREE
CHAPTER 31: THE FINAL BATTLE
CHAPTER 32: CATCHING UP
CHAPTER 33: NOT OUT OF THE WOODS YET
CHAPTER 34: THE END OF THE BEGINNING
CHAPTER 35: STAY TUNED...
ABOUT
The Goblin & The Empire
by
JD Cole
Amazon KDP
First Edition
Copyright © 2021 by JD Cole
Cover illustration by Ilham Z © 2021
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All right reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places and events portrayed in this book are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental, or portrayed with artistic and historic license.
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The Dimension Arcana
Sen'giza
The Goblin & The Empire
The Dragon's Armada (Winter 2022)
Faery, Human, Earthling, Citizen (TBD)
The Final Expedition (TBD)
THE GOBLIN & THE EMPIRE
« PROLOGUE »
The Aftermath
Conflict is the only constant among mortals.
It was war that saw the water elemental’s imprisonment, and now, centuries later, it was war that had freed her.
Less than a week prior, the elemental had been forcefully woken from a slumber imposed upon her by her creators, who had trapped her within a barrier of enchanted ice. She had yet to learn the circumstances of her release –it had not been intended, that much was certain— but the human adolescent that had unwittingly freed her held both the answer and the means to ensure the permanence of her newfound freedom.
The world had changed much in her absence. The elemental nearly lost sight of her quarry several times, so stunned was she by the things she saw here. There were structures surrounding her that bested the castles of old that she had known. Impossible as it sounded, this city, called Boston by its inhabitants, was far more impressive than even the elf capitol at Jenshire in the Faery Realm.
Skyscrapers, the humans called these towers. The description was fitting. Looking up from street level, one could almost believe the sky was being scratched as it passed over the top of these magnificent edifices. Further, horses were nowhere to be seen: the humans were now riding in carriages which moved under their own power, and at greater speeds than any horse-drawn carriage could attain. The manner and attire of the people, the endless lighting fixtures that were not born of flame, the curious weapons they wielded in battle… this world was far removed from the one that had existed at the time of the elemental’s capture. Gone were the knights and villagers, vanished were the castles of stone and wood. She sensed no magic in this place, for the humans had fully reverted to their scientific ways. The faeries were a memory long forgotten to them… but newly rediscovered by her teenage benefactor.
The elemental had quietly trailed the boy during his adventure in the Faery Realm, the realm of her prison. She followed him and his allies as they crossed over into this, the realm of Men, where faery kind existed only as whispers and shadow.
A vicious battle had been fought here this night, leaving much destruction and death in its wake. The elemental, watching from concealment, had witnessed golems unlike any she had ever seen: machines formed in the likeness of men, with skin like polished crystal. The boy she sought had defeated them—and their master—with the help of his companions and their magic. As desperate as the elemental was to claim the boy, he kept company with powerful faeries, among them a Dragon and the Sprite Queen herself. The elemental dared not approach the boy in their presence, but now they were gone, and he was alone.
Spying him once more, the elemental passed through the wall of a nearby structure, moving up through the ceilings to a higher floor to observe and track his actions unseen. She would soon venture closer to him, but only when she was certain she could capture him in secret, in the chance that he managed to resist her ambush. She could not afford being discovered by anyone —human or faery— just yet, and this boy was unlike any mortal she had ever encountered. His resourcefulness and intelligence were not to be underestimated, and she had come to realize his strength and speed also defied human limitation. He was dressed all in black, with a tight mask and a deep hood to hide his features. The people here called him “the Hood” for that very reason, and seemed to regard him warily, as if a rogue.
With the human once more in her sight, she watched as he dug through the rubble of a destroyed building. A sobbing child came into view, held in the Hood’s arms. Reaching down, he then helped what must have been the child’s parents from the rubble as well. Two more men were also pulled from the ruins when there was an explosion in one of the nearby skyscrapers. When he was assured that the group he’d rescued was safe, the Hood raced toward this new tragedy, and the elemental leaned out the window, melting into a flow of water that trailed after him.
He is an idealist, she concluded. Just like Arthur. How ironic that she would be claiming another human so similar to the last.
~
The directional microphones in his helmet picked up the screams and cries for help coming from within the flames. Emergency responders in the area, the ones still alive, were overwhelmed and likely unable to move with any swiftness to this newest disaster. The Hood darted through an alleyway, leaping against the wall on his left to vault onto the second-story roof on his right. The burning tower was two blocks away if one took the street, but going over buildings would be quicker, if one had the means.
Magnetic fluids pulsed through the veins of his unique armor, surging, expanding, cycling through various density states which enabled the armor’s augmentation systems to grant the Hood extra physical power. He was exhausted, having been on the move almost non-stop for two weeks now, engaged in a battle that he hoped was finally over. The past hour had seen more rescues than gun battles, at least.
His feet pounded across the rooftop, and he threw his righ
t arm out ahead of himself, pointing at the top of the next building. The tractor beam generator on his forearm, one of only five in existence, fired a stream of blue energy that raced across the gap between buildings, latching onto an overhang high above.
The armor’s onboard computer, directed by the Hood’s very thoughts through a one-of-a-kind neural interface, calculated a mass/resistance formula for the tractor beam. The Hood wished to catapult himself from his current location to the twelfth floor of the burning tower — the floor where the explosion had occurred. The computer recognized this wish as a command, and using range-finders, GPS plots and environmental factors —including the estimated structural integrity of the piece of building he had latched onto— told the beam generator how much tension to create in the grappling beam, and when to actuate the “snap” that would pull the Hood into the air, not unlike an overstretched bungee cord.
This whole process occurred in three one-hundredths of a second.
The Hood took one bounding step before the beam generator violently yanked itself toward the grapple point, taking the Hood with it. His armor absorbed the brunt of the pull, sparing his arm and shoulder from anything beyond minor discomfort, and the beam disengaged as he shot past the overhang into his pre-plotted trajectory. Sailing through the sky at twenty-four knots, he gently arced toward a ruinous window that drunkenly belched fire into the early morning air.
Flipping himself to land feet-first, the Hood spread his legs and bent his knees to keep from destroying the wall as his heels crunched into the spackle-like surfacing above the window. He used his fingertips and arms to absorb the rest of the impact, steadying himself against the wall before sliding down. The tip of his boots landed lightly on the slim window sill below him, crunching the remaining shards of glass into pebbly debris, and he rolled forward through the window.
Flames reached out to lick at the Hood’s fire-resistant uniform as he stood in what had once been an office. His armor was environmentally sealed, and the helmet he wore under the mask and hood circulated clean, filtered air for him. He followed sounds of pain and fear to find a man curled up next to a wall, coughing and trying to feel his way toward an exit. The Hood knelt and placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Sir, are you injured?” his mechanically-disguised voice asked.
With a cough, the man shook his head in response, then began waving into the distance. “Down the hall, couple guys…”
The Hood looked to where the man pointed and saw that the ceiling had caved in. “Is there an exit on the other side of that?”
“Don’t know,” the man wheezed. “I think so, can’t remember. I just started here yesterday.”
The vigilante picked the man up and pulled him over his shoulder, returning to his entry point. “Hold on, this is gonna be really spooky for you.”
“What are you-!”
The man never finished his sentence, his breath sucked away as the Hood dove out the window, latching his tractor beam to the wall as they fell twelve stories. The beam tightened, simulating the friction of a multi-stranded rope, slowing their fall enough that the man was able to regain his breath and scream just before they landed. The hooded rescuer’s boots lightly touched the sidewalk, and in one swift, smooth motion he lowered his stunned rescue-ee to his feet just moments before the beam snapped to pull the Hood back toward the window.
The man’s knees gave out and he looked up, wide-eyed. “Are you friggin crazy?” he yelled, shaking his fist.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” the vigilante mumbled. Back inside the building, he returned to the collapsed ceiling and activated his visor’s thermal filter. The rubble was on fire, but most of the floor was not. Living bodies would be easily discernable even in this heated environment. With a punch and a shove, he cleared enough room to pass into the hallway beyond and noted there was indeed an exit stairwell at the far end.
Unless the men left up here had been severely injured, they’d likely made use of the stairs. The Hood moved to inspect three doors just to make sure no one was left behind. He checked the left door first, finding an empty conference room. Across the hall he opened the door to a modest office, which was also empty.
Opening the door to the last office on the right, the Hood found a man standing at his desk, furiously pounding away at his keyboard. “What are you doing?” the Hood demanded, striding toward the desk. “You need to get outta’ here!” The décor and furnishings here marked the office as an engineering workspace.
The engineer quickly overcame his surprise, and shook his head. “Not yet!” He returned his attention to his workstation. “I have to warn everybody, first.”
“Warn who about what?” The Hood moved to look at the screen.
“We got hit by RPGs from the outside, I think, but those robot things are inside the building,” the engineer said. He pointed to a monitor at another desk. It was security video that must have been from a camera elsewhere in the building, trained on the robots.
The National Guard had taken to calling them “glassies”: artificial soldiers armored by a glassy substance molded to look like human musculature. They seemed to have been programmed to kill as many humans as possible, and were still fulfilling their task despite the Hood and his allies having defeated their monstrous owner hours ago. The glassies here were trying to break into a particular room. “The sub-basement level houses the back-up generators for this place,” the engineer explained.
“Diesel?”
The engineer nodded, his fingers flying across his keyboard as he finished an email. “Phone lines are all busy or jammed, can’t even get 911. I’ve been watching these robots, they brought canisters of something with them, and it looks like they used it to pressure seal the entire sublevel.”
“If they cause an explosion-”
“This whole building might come down,” the engineer finished. “There! I just forwarded all the video and my warnings to every local group I can think of who might be able to clear the area.” He planted his palms on his desk and let out a heavy breath as he looked at the security video. The glassies were inside the generator room. “Pays to be friends with the IT guys. They gave me access to the CCTV as a fun little perk. I’d have never seen this if they hadn’t.”
“Um, we need to go now,” the Hood pointed out, thumbing at the window.
“I didn’t know you could fly,” the engineer said, obviously apprehensive.
“Fly? No. I’m really quite good at falling, though.”
“You’re not serious.”
“You really think the elevator’s safer?” the Hood asked as he began pulling the metal-framed window out of the wall. Before he could finish, the floor shifted violently beneath him. The window cracked and sent shattered glass across the office. The Hood managed to grab the engineer and shield him as they were both thrown toward the doorway. They hit the wall, but then the floor dropped out from under them.
The building was collapsing!
“Hold on!” the Hood yelled, curling his left arm around the engineer’s waist. His right hand gripped the edge of the door frame, and he pulled his legs up, bunching them against the sturdy frame. With a strength-enhanced leap, he shot through the destroyed window and immediately fired his tractor beam back toward the crumbling structure. The beam caught hold, and the Hood used his momentum to swing around toward the roof of a nearby building, where he threw the engineer to safety—give or take some cuts and bruises. Continuing his swing back toward the building, he scanned the windows for signs of any more trapped people. His microphone array caught several screams amid the background noise, but there was no way to immediately pinpoint their sources.
On a guess, he tightened the beam and pulled himself toward another window, crashing through the weakened glass. The Hood’s bullet-proof armoring and mechanical strength were common knowledge to the people of Boston, but the full extent of his physical abilities were not as well-documented. With inhuman agility, his limbs pushed and pulled himself through the decaying arti
fice, focusing on a single voice. Breaking through a plaster wall into the hallway, he found a woman screaming and clinging to a file cabinet as the world fell apart around her. Further down the hallway, dozens of people flailed about helplessly, bouncing and careening off each other and a cascade of debris.
Grabbing the woman, the Hood fell with her into an office. Regaining his feet, he rolled and clumsily slammed into another window. This one was undamaged and held against the blow. Dust and debris clouded everything. None of his imaging filters could penetrate the cloud, and the chaotic movement of the walls and floor left him disoriented. The Hood struggled to find purchase against something —anything!—that would give him leverage to force his way back outside.
For the third time in less than two weeks, he faced death. The woman’s screams suddenly made him focus.
If I die, so does she.
Without warning or explanation, the outside wall peeled away… no, it cracked and exploded outward like a frozen sheet of ice! For a split second Derek believed he saw a gust of rain swirling around the opening as the dust and debris was sucked outside. The cabinet that had been the woman’s life raft fell against the Hood’s shoulder. Not questioning the opportunity presented to him, he grabbed it and flung it with all his might toward the new opening. The moment the cabinet left his grip, he latched his tractor beam to it, recalibrating the projector with thought-commands. Instead of acting as a grappling system, the beam now repelled the object it held, giving it a more forceful momentum and shooting it rapidly into open sky. Immediately the projector defaulted to its original setting, and the flying cabinet pulled the Hood and the woman into the clear with it.
The woman continued to scream, her face buried in his neck as they soared above one street, then another. The cabinet crashed into an apartment building. The Hood lifted his legs behind himself, the motion causing his body to arc upward as he disengaged the beam, and he flipped his body until he was flying feet-first away from the chaos. Dirt and rubble was being thrown up all around them as the office tower crumbled in demise. When the Hood’s feet contacted the wall of the next building, he squatted so that his waist and head were upright, still holding tightly to the screaming woman, then leapt upward as best as he could using only the balls of his feet. The roof was near enough that he could grab it, and he vaulted himself and the woman over the edge to drop behind four feet of brick and tar. Finally on stable ground once more, he knelt and held the woman, shielded from the violent scene.
