The Wall of Darkest Shadow (Nysta Book 5)

by Lucas Thorn

  “Broken?” The elf slid the knife away. “Ah, forget it. Is this a short story?”

  “It not long story.” He held up three fingers. “It only start four day ago.”

  Nysta sighed. Looked around. Found a small pile of solid-looking rubble and sat on it. “Okay, feller. I reckon I'm as ready as I'm gonna get.”

  “Me tell, then. It six suns ago.”

  “Seven,” Stingnose said. “Seven suns.”

  “Me tell story, fuckhead,” Tophead scowled. “You not tell story. You tell story, then it seven.”

  “Me sorry.”

  “You shut face.”

  “Me shut,” Stingnose murmured.

  “It eight suns ago,” Tophead continued. “Eventide come to Wallrats. He say big boss of Wall is fucked in head. He say big boss will open Big Gates and let Rule come inside. He say we not let Rule inside. Rule not even knock on door. Or ask to be goblinfriend. He not even like goblin. And he not taste good, too. Eventide say his leg taste bad. Eventide say we not let Big Gate open. He say this number one Wallrat job.”

  “Big boss? You mean, Bucky? General Buckinum?”

  “We not know name,” Tophead said. He shrugged. “Humans have stupid names. Names not have meaning. We not care. He just big boss of Wall. We know he look like. We find soon. We open him up. Put his insides on outside of Wall for Rule to see. Eat his ear with bits of bat.”

  The elf patted the heavy blood-soaked sack at her foot. “Reckon I already beat you to that, feller. Didn't eat him, though.”

  “You got bits of big boss?” Tophead licked his lips. “You trade for bits of ork? I got ten bits.”

  “I got seven bits of troll and a bit of wolf,” Kickleg said, pushing forward.

  “Ain't mine to trade,” the elf said. “It belongs to Asa. The Imperial Princess.”

  “Daughter of Emperor is here?” Tophead frowned. “Why she not stop big boss opening Big Gate? Why we do everything?”

  “She tried, feller. But you've been killing her people from inside the Wall, and Bucky's been killing her people from outside. She's pinned between the two of you.” The elf leaned forward, eyes drilling into the old goblin. “Reckon the bits of ork you ate belonged to someone trying to do the same job as you were.”

  Tophead copied her and leaned forward, mouth widening into a big predatory grin. “They not good at job if die.”

  The other goblins laughed, with Kickleg clapping her hands together as though Tophead had just won a great battle. “It good one,” she said. “If you goblin, me say you owe bit of man.”

  Sighing, the elf remembered why it was she hated talking to goblins.

  It was too easy to get caught in circles.

  “Well, you stopped the gate from opening. What's next?”

  Tophead looked at her like she was an idiot. “How fuck me know? Eventide say we not let Big Gate open. He say this number one job. He not say how. Just say it never open. We eat bits of ork and we have good idea.”

  “It Dimrod's idea,” Stingnose said. “He even write poem for it.”

  “It good poem,” Kickleg said with some reluctance.

  “It not just my idea. It all Wallrats idea,” Tophead continued, ignoring them. “We say best way to stop Big Gate opening is kill everyone. Then no one can open Big Gate.”

  The goblins all grinned as one.

  Melganaderna's shock wasn't easily hidden. “Really?”

  Tophead nodded happily. “See? It good idea.”

  “Best ever,” Deadeye chirped. “It too hard to know who open Big Gate if too many inside Wall. If no one inside Wall, then it easy job.”

  “We like easy job,” Tophead said.

  “But how do you get around?” Melganaderna asked. She waved to the room they were in. “Aren't the rooms all out of control?”

  “Out of control? Who say out of control? We go where Wallrats want.”

  “The orks were saying they tried getting around, but when they do, the rooms don't go where they're supposed to. They said the rooms are broken.”

  “That stupid,” Deadeye said. She twisted her mouth into a look of disgust. “What orks know? They got little brains. It why bits only last few days. Then taste bad.”

  Kickleg slapped Deadeye's shoulder. “But they got big ear! It last weeks!”

  “Ork not go where ork want to go,” Tophead said, his expression resembling a weasel more than the predatory frog he looked like. “But ork go where Wallrat want ork to go.”

  The goblins all laughed as one, lifting goblinknives and letting out a quick cheer.

  “We bring ork to us!” Stingnose cried. “It save walking.”

  Nysta resisted the urge to wade into them all with her knives. “Are you telling me that Eventide gave you control over the Wall?”

  “How Eventide give that?” Tophead shook his head. “Eventide not make Wall. Grim make Wall. He make Wall with Demon Man.”

  The other goblins tapped their chests with three fingers at mention of the Demon Man, and the elf felt a shiver in her bones though she couldn't say way.

  “Demon Man?” Melganaderna asked. “Did he have a name?”

  “He Demon Man,” Tophead said. “We not talk more about Demon Man.”

  “He scary,” Kickleg said, shuddering.

  “He eat bit of goblin,” Dimrod said.

  “A hundred bits,” Deadeye said, her mouth drawing back into a grimace.

  Tophead shuffled on his feet. “Thousands.” Then tapped his chest with three fingers again before smiling. “No. Eventide not help. We get magic stick from deathpriest. He say we keep Big Gate safe. He say he trust us. Eventide tell him so.”

  “Magic stick?” Melganaderna lifted the axe. “Will your magic stick get us back to the Doomgate? It's just, we've got friends there. Friends who can help keep it safe. We want the same thing, Tophead. We want to protect the Fnordic Lands and keep Rule from getting inside.”

  “Umm,” Tophead took a step back and looked apologetic. “It not my decision.”

  “Then, who do I need to talk to?”

  “You need talk to big big boss. She own Wall. Only she say if we take you to Doomgate.”

  “Alright,” Melganaderna gripped Torment tighter. “Where is she?”

  Tophead frowned, not understanding. “What you mean? She right here.”

  “Where?”

  The old goblin raised a gnarled old hand, knotted with age, and pointed a bent finger at the elf. “She right there. She own Wall. Eventide says so. He say we hold Wall for Bloodhand.” He eyed her with genuine curiosity. “You not know?”

  Nysta sighed as Melganaderna swung toward her with an incredulous look squeezed oner her face. “Don't look at me,” the elf said. “I didn't expect to be moving in here.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The crystal wand was about three inches long. Mostly clear except for threads of grey mist which swirled inside the crystal itself. The elf turned it in her fingers, wondering what magic had made it. When she moved it close to her ear, she could hear a soft tuneless humming.

  At first, she tried to concentrate on the hum. Had to shout at the goblins to get them to be quiet. Pressed it against her ear and finally had to admit it was too soft a sound to make out.

  It irritated, though. Like the chitter of small insects buzzing through pipes in the wall. Out of sight, but never out of mind.

  The elf spun the wand in her hand, moving it lightly between her fingers and across her knuckles. The balancing trick drew an appreciative cry from Kickleg.

  Nysta's gaze eventually settled on Tophead, violet eyes lidded like a wolf studying potential prey. “Okay, feller. How does it work?”

  His stumpy fingers scrubbed at his chin through the wiry beard. Green eyes phased out of focus as his mind tried to work the answer to her question into words.

  Words he probably didn't understand himself.

  “Me not sure,” he said at last. “Deathpriest say it magic stick. Point and tell it.”

  “Tell it wh
at?”

  “Tell it where want to go. Or what to do.”

  “Turn lights pink,” Kickleg cried, running up to the elf and tugging on her jacket. “Please, elf. Turn lights pink!”

  Tophead reached out and pulled the smaller goblin away. “You shut fuck up, Kickleg. No time for pink.”

  “Always time for pink,” Kickleg said. Stuck her tongue out at the old goblin, then stomped back to Deadeye. Muttered something dark, which Deadeye looked surprised to hear.

  Stingnose giggled.

  Nysta frowned at the crystal. “You can change the light with this thing?”

  Tophead rolled his eyes. “Yes. It change light. But it not toy. Deathpriest say so. Eventide say so, too. He say it not toy. Say be careful. He say Big Wall not always do what magic stick say. He say if Big Wall not like what magic stick say, Big Wall kill whoever hold magic stick. So, you leave lights same. If Big Wall want pink light, Big Wall already have pink light.”

  “Wise,” Dimrod intoned.

  “It not wise,” Kickleg snorted. “Why not change light pink? Pink nice colour. Me like pink.”

  “Me like pink, too,” Stingnose said. Then, when Deadeye looked at him, he looked away. “What? It nice colour.”

  “Red better,” she said. “Red like manblood.”

  “Me like red,” he said defensively. “But pink nice too.”

  “Are they all like this?” Melganaderna asked Nysta, keeping her voice low.

  “Hmm?” The elf looked up from the crystal. Then at the goblins arguing over favourite colours. Nodded. “Yeah. But you should be grateful. Usually, if there's more of them than you, they'll try to kill you. Eat you when you're done. If you're lucky.”

  “Do I want to ask why that's lucky?”

  “Because if you're unlucky, they'll eat you before they kill you.”

  “Yeah.” The axewoman showed a grin. “I can see why Chukshene hates asking you questions.”

  “What you want Wallrats do?” Tophead came over and squatted down awkwardly next to the elf. The heavy goblinknife in his old hand dropped to the ground in front of him. Its savage spikes rusty and bent. Stained with old blood which had etched itself into every notch in the ugly blade. He rubbed his old knuckles, clearing invisible aches and eyed her with feral expectation. “We kill everyone?”

  “Everyone!” Deadeye shouted suddenly. “Kill everyone!”

  The other goblins cheered, waving goblinknives high above their heads. “Everyone!”

  “Shut fuck up!” Tophead hissed at them. “Now not time for shit. Sit. Shut up. Let Bloodhand give words.”

  “Words,” Dimrod said, turning the word in his mouth like it was an unfamiliar food he didn't quite like the taste of.

  Nysta shrugged. “Reckon we need to get back to the Doomgate. I made a promise to Asa that I'd get this feller's head to her. Aim to keep that promise.”

  Melganaderna, sitting cross-legged with Torment across her lap, watched the elf carefully. “And then what? What if that cleric and his men have attacked already? What if Hem and Chukshene aren't ready? Nysta, they could be in a lot of trouble.”

  Tophead looked confused. Then at the elf. “Why trouble?”

  “We just poked a bear in the eye and ain't got enough to defend against it. Even if most of them were illusions, enough of them weren't. We're outnumbered two, maybe three, to one. And I ain't gonna ask how many you got, because no doubt it's gonna be six. Or five. Or some other bullshit number.” Nysta looked intently at the old goblin. “But, just in case, have you got enough to fight about a hundred trained men and a cleric?”

  He thought about it.

  Carefully.

  Then shook his head. “We not fight that many. We die quick.” Then, before Deadeye could say anything; “We kill plenty, but we not enough. We need, maybe, five times more goblins. Especially if there bear. It angry bear?”

  “Angry enough it lost its head,” the elf said, flashing a smirk. “Well, that still tells me nothing. Let's try something else. Are there more goblins than you in this place?”

  “We all that left.” He shook his head, a sombre expression on his withered green face. “Many go meet Eventide in Hall. They get warm place.”

  “Warm place,” Dimrod echoed, tapping his cheek three times. The others nodded with him.

  The elf resisted the urge to spit. “Fine. So, any chance there's more of you fellers on their way?”

  “No more. Eventide call goblin meeting. He want words. We not invited.”

  “Not popular?”

  “We got special job,” Tophead said proudly, his lips carving upward to show rows of sharp teeth despite his age. “Number one important job. Everyone say we lucky. There big fight to join Wallrats. But we best there is, so no more needed. And, we have Bloodhand. Bloodhand fight. Eventide said so.”

  “And Spoonfed,” Dimrod said. “He fight, maybe.”

  Deadeye snorted. “Spoonfed fucked in head. You see.”

  “It so,” Kickleg said. “Really fucked in head.”

  “He fight good,” Dimrod said. “Eventide said so.”

  “Maybe.” Deadeye looked away. “But he still fucked in head.”

  “We all fucked in head sometimes.”

  “Wise,” Tophead said.

  “Spoonfed?” Nysta pulled her eyes away from the crystal, where she'd found herself drawn while the goblins bickered. “Did you fellers say Spoonfed is around? Where is he?”

  “He not here,” Tophead said. “He gone.”

  “He leave Wall with Longarm. They not want stay and fight. They say they do better things.” Deadeye scowled at Dimrod, daring him to disagree. “I say they coward.”

  “Not coward,” Dimrod said. “Spoonfed fight good. And he not Wallrat. Wallrat do number one job. Spoonfed okay to leave. Eventide say so. You heard him say so. Not good you say bad word about Spoonfed.”

  Deadeye grumbled under her breath, but looked away. Her cheeks might have been darker, or the light was playing tricks on the elf's eyes. Either way, she gave up trying to understand. She waved a hand at Tophead. “See if you can get us to the Doomgate, feller.”

  “Me not sure room go all way to Big Gate. It not work like that.” He pointed to where the doorway was sealed. The light around it swirled with glittering energy. “We bring room to us. Not bring room to it.”

  She pressed fingers to her temple. “So, bring the Doomgate to us.”

  “It Big Gate, Bloodhand,” he said slowly. “It not come us. Not want to. Can bring different room, maybe.”

  “One room had bits of cow,” Kickleg said. Her smile widened more than it should have been able to. “It best room ever.”

  Deadeye shook her head. Held up a hand with three fingers showing. “Room with six orks better room.”

  “That good room, too.”

  “There many rooms,” Tophead told the elf. “Not just rooms with bits of cow. Maybe one close to Big Gate.”

  “Do the best you can, then. But we need to get there quickly, I reckon.” She held out the crystal to the old goblin.

  Tophead took it and frowned. “Why you not want magic stick?”

  “Reckon I've had my fill of magic,” she said cryptically. “You keep it. Just get us to the Doomgate any way you can. Quicker you get us there, the quicker you get as many man bits as you want to eat. Don't figure Asa's one to stop you chowing down on Bucky's boys. What's left of them.”

  “What left?” Deadeye's head snapped up and she eyed the elf with sudden panic. “Why not many left? There heaps of soldiers on stairs.”

  “Three at least,” Dimrod confirmed. “Maybe six.”

  “More than six, dummy,” Deadeye scowled. “Enough for long eat. Why no more?”

  “Because they're probably fighting at the Doomgate now,” the elf said. “Told you that. Every second we wait here, another one of Bucky's fellers dies. And not by my blade. Reckon that offends me right now.”

  “Orks eat all manbits,” Stingnose said, a clear note of panic in her voi
ce. “We go now. We not want miss out.”

  “I like ear of man,” Kickleg said dreamily. “It soft and chewy. Ork is okay, but man is better.”

  “We go,” Tophead said. He moved as quickly as his bent legs would carry him and held the crystal against the door. Closed his eyes and shouted; “You take Wallrats to room near Doomgate. Quick as fucking shit!”

  Deadeye launched to her feet as the room started spinning. “Quick as fucking shit!”

  Stingnose snatched Kickleg by the shoulder. “Bet bit of bat I fall five times! You only fall four!”

  “You got deal!”

  “Shit,” Melganaderna flattened herself on the floor, squeezing her eyes shut. “I fucking hate this. My guts are trying to climb up my spine. Strangle my brain.”

  “Thought you were a warrior,” the elf said. “Not a bard.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” the elf growled through her teeth. “Hitched myself to a bad joke is all.”

  Then she doubled over as the room whirled. Her brain felt like it was turning around inside her skull. The room shuddered. A goblin ploughed into her, sending her onto her back. Her head hit something hard and she bounced away, tasting iron.

  The goblins shrieked with laughter.

  Even Tophead seemed to be flinging himself around without thought of hurting himself.

  Furniture slid along the floor.

  A desk toppled, crashing into the wall.

  The lights between the massive stone blocks pulsed rapidly. Sparks spat and hissed.

  A sound, like gears whirring. Echo of tin sheets and thick fluid gushing. Foaming.

  Metal screaming from far away. Something heavy ground against the outside of the room, blasting the interior with thunder. Something else, titanic and stretched to breaking point, snapped. The recoil of it whipped into whatever was outside and one of the stones split with a savage crack.

  Silence.

  Then a rush of air whooshed through the crack and the room pivoted. Her stomach leapt upward as the room dropped into the darkness within the Wall.

  “We crashing!”

  The elf thought it was Deadeye who screamed.

  Looked around, still dazed, and saw it was Stingnose, who'd grabbed hold of Dimrod. The two goblins hugged each other, eyes bulging as the room dipped and soared as though from a massive height. Air whined outside the room, whistling fast.