The Goblin and the Empire

by JD Cole

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “In creating Strenovia, we Dragons tried to mimic the Twynlight. We live on Earth, and at the same time we are living in magical copy of the Earth in a different age. If you can try to imagine dozens of Strenovias, and having awareness of them all at once, and even being able to interact with all of them at once, that still does not fully describe how the Twynlight lived.”

  Devon nodded for her to continue, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “The Twynlight was dying. Oddly enough, it seems his species are not immortal, yet he somehow was able to create us as such. Or perhaps we are only immortal in this dimension. We don’t really know. The Twynlight’s powers, the characteristics of his species, are a mystery to us. But his final use of that power was to create the Regents, the first three Dragons. The Twynlight conjoined them to the magical energy generated at the core of the barren earth, ensuring almost limitless magic would always be at hand for their use.

  “He survived several centuries after creating the Regents, but could no longer move as he once did. As his body died it was slowly trapped in a single dimension, or realm. The realm you and I were hatched into. His outward form began to resemble wood, cracking and breaking many times until finally, at his death, he looked like a large tree.”

  “What did the Regents do then?”

  “As I said, the Twynlight spent the rest of his life with them, communing and teaching. They began to form the earth into a world of beauty, as the Twynlight had asked of them. Atmosphere, water, life; the earth slowly began to grow from where the Twynlight’s final resting place is-”

  “The Twynlight’s body is still around?”

  “Yes. We will visit him in time.”

  “So he’s a giant tree?”

  “The Yggdrasil, yes.”

  Devon scrunched his face in disbelief. “Okay, so who are the Regents, now? They’re still alive?”

  “Yes. Thiddir, the Storm. He is the first of the Regents. While coequal with his siblings, he is considered, by us, to be the lord of them, as they typically follow his guidance. The next to receive breath was Cwydd-”

  “Seaweed?”

  “See-wid. We also refer to her as The Light. And of course, there is their sister, Jaster, the Mother.”

  “A brother and two sisters, huh?”

  “In truth, they are not physically gendered as we are. You could barely even describe them as physical beings, they are much more like the Twynlight than we are. Their personas are determined by their temperaments. The Storm is noble and decisive, willing to use his power aggressively when he deems it necessary. The Light and the Mother are both nurturing and meek by comparison. The Storm himself has said the Twynlight created them so on purpose, deeming it the best way to balance the way that their power would be used to shape and create a new world.”

  “Takes two chicks to match one dude, huh?” Devon chuckled.

  Zaiyensa responded with a forceful, back-handed slap.

  “Wow, laulau, I was just kidding!” Devin complained, rubbing his arm. “Sheez, you hit hard! So, wait, if they’re not really guys or girls, how the rest of the Dragons came out then?”

  “That is the majesty of their power. You and I are capable of crafting mortal life like animals or faeries, but the Regents can create immortal life. With this power, they created us. Dragons begin as eggs, gestating for as much as a thousand years as the magic woven by the Regents matures, bonding with the Earth’s energy until finally we hatch, immortal and all-powerful.”

  “Yeah, but, is it only the Regents who can create eggs, or do you guys… you know? Have kids of your own?”

  Zaiyensa smiled. “Yes, we procreate, but not often. The Regents spawned the first four Dragons, who then went on to spawn the next generation, and so on.”

  “How many Dragons?”

  “Including you and your brothers, nineteen. Though Christian may not be considered a Dragon. We will see.”

  “So, get fourteen others I still have to meet.”

  “You will not likely meet them any time soon. We are very solitary beings. T’rsing and I are only present because we were tasked with subduing Krin Ahgl, and must witness his trial. Our law requires witnesses be present when any of our kind are charged with crimes.”

  “Ha! Dragons get jury duty too! That suuuucks,” Devon observed.

  “Indeed. But that is why T’rsing sought you and Ben. It could be that you have information that will quicken the trial so that we can be released to our own vices again. T’rsing and I do not enjoy each other’s company. Though, Krin was able to gather us more than a few times for his games.”

  “What games?”

  “In times past Dragons made our presence known to various groups of mortals. Humans and faeries both. Those contests can be quite stimulating.”

  “Contests?”

  “Krin would establish rules and goals, and we competed in battles of wits. Respect and honor were won by guiding the mortals into completing tasks with the least amount of interference from us. The last time we were all together was several thousand years in the past.”

  “Yeah, I remember you said you was Aphrodite. So you guys got your gits and shiggles from messing with people? That’s uncool.”

  “If you can still say that to me a million years from now, once you’ve truly discovered what ‘boredom’ means, I will reconsider my behavior. Besides, the mortals I blessed time and again never complained.”

  “How did you bless anybody?”

  “I was the goddess of love, Devon. I helped unrequited lovers into each other’s arms, I rescued innocents caught up in wars, I gave children to barren women. I even enjoyed romance with mortals on occasion.”

  Devon thought of Kim. “Is it hard, watching somebody you care about get old and die?”

  She shrugged. “All mortals die. But I never committed myself to any of them long enough to see them age. I suppose it’s a bit sad that I’ll never see any of them again.” She shrugged again. Devon frowned, deciding this ancient chick had no idea what he was talking about.

  As their truck crested a hill, they spotted a group of soldiers who saw them at the same time. Devon pointed, slowing down. “I wonder if these guys—”

  The men all brought their rifles into readiness, not yet aiming at the truck but obviously suspicious.

  “They’re friends of kicked-asses we left behind,” Zaiyensa confirmed by scanning their thoughts, chuckling at the terminology.

  “Those mullets going ruin this truck if they start shooting,” Devon growled.

  “You remember that we can fly?”

  “I like keep it low-key. I no like draw attention to Chris. He deserves to be led into our world, not to have it dropped on his head.”

  “Fair enough,” Zaiyensa nodded, unconcerned. “Why do you refer to them as fish?”

  “I dunno, that’s just what we call guys we don’t like. We call girls tunas, and guys mullets.” He lifted his foot off the accelerator, allowing the truck to slow further, riding its momentum down the slight incline. “Can you make it so if they shoot at us, the bullets just go right through without damaging the truck?”

  “Childsplay, and quite boring.”

  “Okay, how about you transform their guns into something like… I dunno… you said you can create life, like animals?”

  “That takes considerable power and concentration, but yes,” she replied, looking at him now with renewed interest.

  “Skunks, then. I never seen one skunk before, but I hear they pilau, stink. You can do that?”

  Zaiyensa laughed. “Indeed!”

  “And make sure you point the skunk’s okole straight at their faces!”

  Zaiyensa smiled, staring intently at the soldiers. Devon’s eyes darted between her and the road, anxiously awaiting the punchline to this magical prank. Then it happened. One moment the soldiers were walking onto the road to stop them, rifles ready, and the next, each of them had a large skunk in his arm, and Zaiyen
sa immediately spooked each creature, triggering their impulse to spray. Devon screamed in laughter as the communists began vomiting and clumsily retreating off the left side of the road from the angry animals.

  Devon hit the gas and peeled past the soldiers, holding up a one-fingered salute. “Yoo-Ess-Ay!” He yelled out Zaiyensa’s window. “You gotta teach me that,” he managed through his laughter. “Wow, making animals is nuts!”

  “I actually cheated quite a bit,” she admitted. “I did not create anything, I simply reached across the earth seeking skunks, and when I found enough of them, I used ethergates to swap them with the soldiers’ weapons.”

  “That’s still awesome!”

  Zaiyensa couldn’t help but get caught up in his humor and wonder. “Yes, it is!”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Ercianodhon laid his hands on the stone surface, leaning over the unconscious form of Tom Ingram on the sacrifice table, scowling. “I command you to waken him!”

  Kirama cowered at the other end of the table. “If it was possible, you know I couldn’t disobey you. But I cannot wake him. I have tried many times!”

  “Why! Why does he sleep? What did you do to him?”

  “I did nothing, I swear! I only healed his wound to keep him from dying, as you commanded!”

  “And yet he has not woken since then!”

  “You know I would kill you if I could,” Kirama whimpered, finding just a bit of courage. “Yet I cannot, your curse burns inside me and forces me to obey. But it was you, goblin, who commanded me to attack and torture the human nearly to death. Needlessly! I could have claimed his blood for you without spilling it all over the ground! If anyone is to blame, it is you!”

  The Goblin King eyed the little sprite, knowing she was keeping something from him. She could not have cast any spell other than what he told her, though. The guardians were unable to use magic except as commanded by their masters. And Incerra was nearly depleted: he’d used most of Kirama’s power to break through the sprite defenses at Windham, and what was left he’d commanded her to use for healing this human and creating a vulnerability in his life force, a vulnerability that Ercianodhon could use to reach the queen. Once the magic was completely gone, Kirama would be able to resist his influence, and he would have to imprison her again until he could strengthen himself and force the weapon to obey him once more.

  He growled in frustration. Then he stood up straight and took several deep breaths, calming himself. Torturing the human was not his goal, it would simply have been an amusing benefit. Clearing his mind and refocusing himself, he closed his eyes and began reciting one of his meditation mantras. Kirama had highlighted Tom’s blood connection to Kelli, making it much easier to find. As Ercianodhon chanted, his mind felt its way through Tom’s life force, sensing Kelli bit by bit. As he found the tiny strands of the jimani girl in her father’s blood, he mentally grabbed hold of them, weaving the strands together… effectively creating an unbreakable rope in his grip that, once finished, would allow the Goblin King to kill the Sprite Queen.

  Kirama began to shuffle away, distracting the king and breaking his concentration. He immediately vaulted the table and grabbed the girl, picking her up and flinging her into the wall. “Be silent!” he roared. Orange mist poured from the veins in his wings, seeming to advertise his mood.

  The elemental could not be physically harmed, but was still fearful of the enraged goblin as she stood. She noted the bright discharge from his wings. Ercianodhon’s nature was well known to her; he wasn’t completely fae, being the spawn of a dragon, but somehow she thought the magic he possessed had more of an explanation than that. It felt severely corrupted to her.

  Ercianodhon returned to the table and began chanting once more, struggling to contain his emotions, struggling to focus. This spellweaving would be complex and time consuming, and there was little room for error. If he was careless, he could easily kill this human before establishing a connection with his daughter, removing his only means of reaching her. Even avoiding that, there was a strong chance the magic would not be strong enough affect the queen, given the magic barrier all of Windham was protecting her with, and he would only get one chance at weaving this curse on her.

  He also noted the vapor leaking from his veins, and tried to ignore it. He had not been born with that orange mist in his veins. But the memories were traumatic, and he could not completely block them out. The self-righteous sprites had cast him, an infant, out into the stars.

  And someone had found him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Okay, here’s what I’m proposing,” the Hood said. “If my fellow humans will agree to help, I think the best chance for success will be to draw the Goblin King’s attention entirely to this Matari place you’re laying siege to. I suggest we light the place up like a carnival. We don’t go all-in to win the war just yet, but we make it so loud and hot that the king absolutely cannot ignore it. While he’s there rallying his troops, we dedicate a team to focus solely on retrieving the elemental weapon from him.

  “Then, while he’s completely occupied at Matari, the Paladins can use their transport to sneak a small group to the Shadowlands, as few people as we can get away with. We infiltrate the castle, find the queen’s father and get him out. When the dagger, Incerra, is back in the sprites’ possession, we can go ahead and let loose with everything we have and end this war. But before I go into more detail, does anybody have any objections to considering this new option?”

  Meshra leaned forward, resting an elbow on the raised table. “Your proposal is daring, Master Hood, I have to give you that. I gather your ‘lighting the place up’ entails an overwhelming attack against the city. But even if you can manage such an attack, that is no guarantee it will draw the king from his castle.”

  “From what little I’ve gleaned,” Derek replied, “the two obstacles keeping your army from taking the city are the swarms of goblins, and the walls themselves. If they,” he pointed at Sean and Marc, “get rid of those walls for you, what does that do for your forces? Will the war shift in your favor?”

  There were loud laughs from many of the gathered faeries. “We are all awed by your weaponry,” Meshra said, “but at their thinnest those walls are still ten to twelve lifs thick. If you could open even an elf-sized hole in one of the northern walls, where their defense is likely weakest, I would name you my firstborn and commit my entire family’s wealth to you.”

  Derek shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, I already have parents. If General Vox is agreeable,” he nodded at the lion-man, “perhaps you could find a suitable place for him to demonstrate whether those walls would stop him or not? Maybe there’s a piece of this mountain you wouldn’t miss having around?”

  The laughter stopped at that claim. Meshra slowly straightened up, eyeing the humans for several heartbeats. “All right,” he said finally with a subtle nod. “If the General wishes to demonstrate his might, and if one of our mystic or sprite friends would be kind enough to retrieve one, then you can use a trialstone.”

  The Hood looked at Sean. The look on the metahuman’s face was hard to read, but he still seemed undecided on providing support. Sean only waited a moment before speaking up, however. “What is a trialstone?”

  Meshra spoke quietly with one of the sprites, who wove an ethergate that opened like a clamshell onstage. When it closed and disappeared, a tall, ragged block of stone had appeared. “A trialstone is raw oliantril, the ore that we refine into mythrill. These stones are used for testing enchanted weapons. The more powerful a weapon, the greater the chance it can damage a trialstone.” He pointed out many nicks in the surface, and a few large gashes. “Most blades, however, are destroyed when tested against one of these.

  “If any human can significantly mark this trialstone, we will take Master Hood’s proposal under serious consideration.”

  Sean stood with his arms crossed, watching the Hood move toward the trialstone.

  “May I examine this?” Derek asked Meshra. The vampyr
e nodded, and Derek touched the harsh stone. There were numerous scars from blades that had bitten into it. A blue glow briefly pulsed under his palm as he fired his tractor beam at it. His computer used the split-second grip he’d established to estimate the material’s density. “Holy crap,” he breathed. He walked back to Marc and Sean. “I’d love to get my hands on some of this,” he thumbed at the trialstone. “Almost twice as strong as titanium, at a third of the weight. Dunno what its melting point is, though. Do you have anything armor-piercing?”

  Marc and Sean looked at each other, then at the trialstone. Sean rumbled, “Are you sure about that? Raw material tougher and lighter than titanium? How is that even possible?”

  “Mars magic, man! If they were your allies, you might be able to get some trade going with them,” the Hood prodded.

  “All right, Hood, for the time being I’ll play along with this. I’m not committing to any military action just yet, but we’ll see where this goes.” Walking toward Meshra, he asked, “Right, then. Any chance we could do this outside? This will likely make a mess.”

  Meshra looked to Brevha, who shook her head. “The wards against spies are already in place around the auditorium. It would take much time and energy to construct another shield elsewhere.”

  Sean nodded. “Fair enough, as long as we’re not the ones who have to do cleanup?” Brevha raised an eyebrow, then nodded. Then the metahuman stepped forward, using his outside voice. “Attention, everyone! We accept Pembruh Meshra’s challenge, but for safety I would ask everyone to gather on this side of the stage behind me! And be warned, most of our weapons are not subtle.”

  For the next several moments, everyone moved to comply, including everyone seated before the stage. Sean waved Colonel Richards’ VT-4 forward. “Greenbay, front and center!”