Conqueror

by Isaac Hooke

  The mental fist he had wrapped around the mage’s mind collapsed just as if he were crushing empty air.

  He could only conclude that Mauritania had given the goblings orders to kill any mages that became injured. Vorgon would have warned her he could Break them in such a state, after all, especially after what he did to Ziatrice.

  Well, even if he hadn’t broken it, at least there were no more mages back there, so that was one positive. Still, the hoots and howls didn’t let up behind him. He had lost his connection to Barry and Terry, and there were no other weak-minded goblings that he could sense back there.

  With the stone blocks on their feet, Hansel and Eddy were continuing to slow, and the goblings were catching up. Malem considered trying to hack away those blocks while the monsters were on the move, but that wouldn’t be an easy task. It was certainly possible, but it would take a lot of time, and he’d have to keep feeding the monsters stamina to counter the drain the heavy weights were having on them. The most sensible solution was to stop first, and then hack away the blocks. But then the goblings—and the basilisk—would quickly be upon them.

  A potential plan formed in his mind. He immediately shared it with Abigail, Gwen and Ziatrice via their mental connection.

  It’s not going to work, Gwen sent.

  It will, he told her. It has to.

  He instructed the monsters to begin doubling back, leading the pursuers in a wide circle until Eddy and Hansel were running directly over terrain they had covered previously.

  As they came upon the site where the mages had died, he instructed the bull to hold a tentacle close to the ground: Hansel retrieved Balethorn from George’s stone grip as it passed, breaking away the hand that held it entirely.

  Hansel lifted the hand and blade toward him, and Malem pried the hilt out of the rock fingers, breaking them away one by one while he cradled the blade with his other hand.

  When he had it loose, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and the blade remained silent. It thirsted only for dragons. He promptly sheathed it.

  According to his beast sense, the basilisk had increased its pace, and was racing past the goblings toward him and the others. It must have sensed that something was amiss. Either that, or it was sick of toying with its prey and had decided it was time to fight.

  Malem couldn’t help the malevolent grin that formed on his lips.

  Good. Let us fight, basilisk.

  13

  Malem instructed Hansel to come to a halt. He had Eddy assume a position beside him, and had the monsters lower them to the ground.

  “Weyanna, Abigail, you’re the weakest among us at the moment,” he said. “Hide behind that tree and close your eyes.”

  They obeyed, moving behind the tree in question.

  “Xaxia, give Gwen your blade,” he ordered.

  Xaxia reluctantly gave Biter to Gwen, who had slung her bow, Wasp, around her shoulder by the bowstring. Xaxia replaced the weapon with a small dagger she drew from her leggings.

  “Remember, it’s only temporary,” the bandit told Gwen.

  The half gobling nodded. “I prefer the bow anyway.”

  “Close your eyes, everyone,” he commanded. “And turn around.”

  He envisioned the necessary mental images required for the bull to obey him, and then he too closed his eyes and turned around. He drew Balethorn once more. It still remained silent.

  According to his beast sense, the basilisk had pulled away from the goblings and was rushing his position. He had about fifteen seconds until it reached them, he guessed.

  He listened, but didn’t hear the beast coming. What if he was wrong? What if it was closer than he guessed, or farther? His beast sense had never betrayed him in that manner before, but anything was certainly possible…

  And then that familiar roar-screech came again, with a volume level that seemed appropriate for the distance away his beast sense told him the creature was.

  He instructed Hansel to race forward to meet the creature. The bull was to wrap its tentacles around the basilisk and keep the beast pinned to the ground. Hansel was also supposed to hold its breath the whole time. He just hoped the ghrip understood his mental imagery.

  Hansel broke away from the group, crashing through the trees, and intercepted the basilisk. Two great thuds filled the air; the first when the two creatures impacted, and the second when they hit the ground together. He heard the sound of breaking branches as the two struggled and rolled around. And then sounds of struggle ceased, with only the hoots and howls of the incoming goblings remaining.

  “Now!” he yelled. “Hold your breath, and attack!”

  He held his breath and dashed forward with Gwen and Ziatrice. Malem shared his beast sense with the pair, allowing them to feel the positions of the dueling beasts even with their eyes closed. Then he dashed forward with one hand in front of him until he felt something leathery. That would be one of Hansel’s tentacles.

  He patted his hand along its boundaries until he touched a large feather, or feathers. The basilisk.

  There was a new sensation accompanying the discovery of those feathers… it felt as if the exposed flesh of his hands and face had suddenly been dipped in some sort of oily grime. It had to be the noxious fumes emanating from the basilisk, fumes that would turn him to stone if he breathed them.

  Leaving his hand there to mark the feathery surface, he placed the tip of Balethorn close to his thumb, and then drove the blade inward, hard. Through the hilt, he felt the vibrations as the magic sword ripped through feathers and muscle.

  The sickening whispers of metal plunging through flesh came from either side of him, where Xaxia and Ziatrice were also plunging their magic blades into the basilisk.

  The creature screamed.

  He withdrew Balethorn and stabbed again, choosing an adjacent spot. Again.

  The sword gave him no vitality with each strike, nor did it hum. It simply stabbed, like a sword should. The grimy feeling he experienced on his exposed skin only worsened with each strike, and he had to constantly remind himself not to inhale.

  He could feel the beast squirming underneath him, but so far, Hansel kept it pinned. Beside him, he heard Gwen repeatedly stabbing it with Biter, while Ziatrice hacked into its flesh with Wither. Both occasionally grunted as they performed their grim task, and he sometimes felt the spray of blood—the hot droplets dripped down his face.

  He reached out with his mind, but when he touched the basilisk’s will his mental tendrils still evaporated.

  The howls of goblings were rapidly growing in volume. They would soon be upon them.

  He instructed Eddy to circle around the pair of dueling monsters to intercept the goblings. He shared his beast sense with the ettin, which would allow Eddy to roughly target their positions. He heard the repeated clunk of heavy stone on earth as the ettin moved into position, followed by the sickening thumps and the screams of the surrounding goblings as Eddy used the stone blocks coating its feet to deadly effect.

  Malem stabbed the feathery surface beneath him a few more times. He was running out of air… holding one’s breath was one thing, but exerting oneself at the same time was another thing entirely.

  He could sense Hansel rapidly weakening beneath him. It was doubtful the bull would be keeping the basilisk pinned for much longer. Not with how much the creature was physically flailing about.

  He attempted to wrap his will around the basilisk again. Finally he was able to take hold. The loss of blood from the stabbings, combined with Hansel’s tentacles slowly crushing the life out of the creature, had finally weakened the basilisk enough for him to attempt a Breaking.

  But the creature resisted him. On the plus side, it had ceased struggling beneath Hansel, and was now concentrating all of its efforts on breaking free of the mental vise Malem was applying.

  He sensed a gobling rushing him from behind—it had sneaked past Eddy and rounded the dueling monsters. Malem was forced to temporarily pull away from the basilisk to defend h
imself. He kept his mental hold on the creature even as he turned his back on it, and risked opening his eyes to face the gobling. He was relieved to find that the basilisk was nowhere in sight: behind the gobling only awaited more forest. He still held his breath, however, just to be on the safe side.

  He easily parried the blow the gobling threw at him, and stabbed the beast through the neck on the riposte. He tightened his hold on the basilisk at the same time the gobling fell, but still was unable to squeeze his will through entirely.

  Keep aggravating it! he instructed Gwen and Ziatrice. I want the basilisk to bleed!

  Can’t… hold… my breath for much longer! Ziatrice sent.

  Get back and take a break if you need to, he sent.

  He felt her moving away; closing his eyes, he returned to the basilisk to take her place. He kept up his pressure on the creature’s mind the whole time.

  When he reached the monster, that oily miasma surrounded him once more; he felt around Hansel’s tentacles until he found the basilisk once more; the feathers were sticky with blood. He plunged his sword in to the hilt.

  The creature screamed.

  And just like that, Malem crushed its will. The basilisk’s mental presence expanded into his mind, taking up seven slots.

  He sent the creature a mental message immediately.

  You are to mark my whole team as “do not turn to stone.” Do you understand?

  In return he received the usual positive vibe that indicated the creature had understood and obeyed.

  Get back! he sent Gwen. The basilisk is mine!

  He raced away from the basilisk, and instructed Hansel to release the creature and put some distance between itself and its former prey.

  He opened his eyes as he ran away. Just in time to meet the next two goblings that had circumnavigated Eddy and the dueling monsters.

  He risked an inhale—he had to, he was nearly dying—and rasped for breath as he deflected the two blows. A large halberd swung into them from the side as Ziatrice cut open both of their leather-encased chest pieces with a single blow.

  Malem continued running until he was behind the tree where Abigail and Weyanna hid.

  As if that thick trunk was going to protect him from what he was about to do.

  He could feel Abigail in his head. She seemed to be doing okay. But he had no sense of Weyanna of course. A quick glanced told him she was all right, if a little pale.

  “You made it,” Abigail said.

  He nodded distractedly. He felt terrible, not just because he had been holding his breath, but because of the drain to his stamina caused by Breaking the powerful creature.

  Ziatrice and Gwen joined him behind the tree a moment later. He borrowed vitality liberally from both of them and felt better immediately.

  Ziatrice gasped at the sudden drain, dropping her halberd and folding her arms as if suddenly cold. She leaned against the tree, shivering. Gwen fared little better. She trembled visibly, and her legs gave out underneath her.

  Whoops. Too much. He put some back. He borrowed from Hansel, Eddy, and the basilisk to replenish them.

  “Asshole,” Ziatrice said, standing.

  Gwen was back on her feet as well. “So?”

  He took a deep breath, and then peered past the edge, toward the basilisk.

  It was looking right at him.

  He didn’t turn to stone.

  Feeling more confident, he stepped out entirely. “It’s safe.”

  The women joined him.

  Xaxia held out a hand to Gwen. “Can I have what’s mine?” She kept her eyes upon the basilisk the whole time.

  Gwen returned the magic sword to Xaxia.

  “Do you understand me when I speak aloud?” Malem asked the creature.

  It smirked. “I speak the Common tongue, yes.” Its voice was deep, foreboding. Evil.

  “Good,” Malem said. “Turn your gaze upon the goblings assaulting my ettin.”

  The basilisk bowed its great avian head. “As you wish, my master.”

  The poor ettin was surrounded by the smaller creatures, and was quickly tiring as it tried to stomp them all. Goblings were climbing up its legs and stabbing their short swords into the exposed skin above the cement blocks; they’d leap away onto another hilt embedded in its flesh before Eddy could swat them away. The ettin’s calves were slick with blood because of that.

  The basilisk had obeyed him, but since none of the goblings were looking at it, none of them succumbed.

  Malem promptly whistled, causing many of the goblings to look his way. The basilisk was almost directly in front of them, so of course they couldn’t help but meet the deadly creature’s gaze. All of those goblings that glanced up promptly turned to stone. Nearly all of the monsters that hung from Eddy’s legs dropped to the ground, having become stone statues.

  More looked toward the basilisk, they couldn’t help it, so that almost all of them, even those still on the ground, became stone. The rest retreated without looking back—they understood their basilisk had turned on them.

  “Basilisk, exclude the goblings from your deadly gaze,” he said. “I don’t want any of them to turn to stone for what I have planned next.”

  “It is done, my master,” the basilisk said.

  Malem sent Hansel forward, and instructed the ghrip to latch onto the closest gobling.

  The bull dashed toward the fleeing creatures, its concrete-encased tentacles thudding loudly on the earth, and thrust one of its free upper tentacles toward a gobling. It drew the creature toward its beak, and held it there, helpless above the maw.

  Malem broke the terrified creature easily—he hadn’t been sure if he’d have to injure the gobling first, but apparently not. He had two slots left, and shoved its mental presence firmly into them.

  He instructed Hansel to release the creature, and it dropped to the ground. Its crotch was wet where it had pissed itself.

  He drained half its stamina, and the creature slumped.

  “Thanks, by the way,” Malem told the basilisk when the gobling remained flesh and blood.

  The basilisk inclined its head in appreciation.

  “Do you have a name?” he asked the powerful creature.

  “Khaan,” the basilisk responded.

  “Khaan,” he said. “Seems fitting, somehow.” He nodded toward the wounds he, Ziatrice and Gwen and caused. “Will those heal up?”

  “Given time,” the basilisk said. “I will be weak for the next several hours, however.”

  Malem turned his attention on the gobling next. “Approach,” he commanded.

  The smaller creature moved forward weakly, cowering before him and the others. And the basilisk.

  The gobling looked like a typical specimen of its kind, though its nose was a little longer, if possible, and its belly a little plumper. It also had a wart near its right nostril that reminded him of Frank.

  The gobling kept its gaze mostly to the ground, but glanced up occasionally to look at each of its captors in turn. When the gobling spotted Gwen, it did a double take, and its expression momentarily brightened as if hopeful her green skin meant the creature had a friend among them. But it lowered its gaze in disappointment a moment later. No doubt the expression Gwen wore was none too friendly. From the anger he detected from her energy bundle, he thought he knew why.

  She doesn’t like the gobling part of herself.

  That wouldn’t do. He made a mental note to sit down with her about that later.

  “What is your name?” Malem asked the gobling in the most imperial tone he could muster.

  14

  Malem waited, but the gobling didn’t answer. He was about to ask again when finally it spoke.

  “I am Sark,” the creature said.

  Rathamias stepped forward to scowl at the gobling. “Wretched creature.” The orak wrinkled its nose.

  Sark recoiled before the black mage.

  Ziatrice didn’t scold the orak, instead allowing it to have its fun with the gobling.

&nbs
p; “Tell me, Sark, why do you hunt us?” Malem said.

  The gobling kept its gaze down. “Queen told us to watch for you.”

  “Queen?” Malem said. “What queen?”

  “Eldritch Queen,” the gobling replied.

  “Mauritania?”

  Sark looked up, momentarily meeting his gaze to nod before dropping its eyes to the ground once more. “She’s the one. Told us to search for you, she did. Told us hunters would be coming. Promised a great reward for your heads.”

  “She was actually here?” Ziatrice asked.

  The gobling’s eyes darted up at her, then dropped in fright. “No, Mistress. Her messenger was.” Sark ran a green hand across its bald head, wiping away the growing perspiration.

  “That explains why the gobling mages weren’t wearing the robes of their profession,” Xaxia said. “Mauritania’s messenger would have instructed them not to.”

  “I thought I was the only one who noticed,” Ziatrice commented.

  “How many of you are looking for us?” Malem asked.

  “Our whole tribe,” Sark replied. “And other gobling tribes, too. Maybe all. Messenger told us he couldn’t stay long. Had other tribes to meet.”

  “That means we’re going to encounter more of them before this day is done,” Malem said. “Considering that some estimates put the number of gobling tribes in these woods at close to a hundred, with a total population a thousand times that.”

  “That’s a lot of monsters,” Gwen said.

  “It certainly is,” he agreed.

  “Yes,” Sark said, looking up as if gaining confidence that its new master wasn’t going to kill it, at least not immediately. “Master only encountered a tiny portion of our tribe. The others are spread throughout this region, hunting for you in small parties. When you were spotted, we dispatched couriers to inform the others. They’ll be coming, soon.”

  “All the more reason to keep moving,” Malem said. “I’ve heard enough, we head east as soon as we free Hansel and Eddy!”

  Xaxia and Ziatrice joined him in breaking through the cement blocks that hindered the tentacles of the ghrip, and the big feet of the ettin. Balethorn easily shattered the material, as did the magic weapons the women wielded.