When Goblins Rage (Book 3) Page 11

  As though aware of the elf's lethal thoughts, the red-haired man tightened his grip on Hudson. And said; “Tell you again. He meant no offence, Long-ear. We're just a bit jumpy is all. Ain't every day you're surrounded by an army of Grey Jackets.”

  Hudson frowned, made to pull himself free, but trusted his partner enough to not try too hard. Instead scowled harder and accepted the excuses made on his behalf. “Shit,” he muttered. “What're you being like that for? I ain't scared of her. She's just a fucking Long-ear, man. We killed plenty of them before.”

  “Trust me, partner. We ain't killed one like this,” Hicks said softly. Turned his attention back to her. “Ain't our business what you do, Long-ear. We'll keep out of your way. But don't be thinking just because I'm holding him from jumping you means he ain't good at what he does. He is. Like to think I am, too. And two of us against you? Well. I'll wager you know how that fight will go down. And Hudson's right. We killed a lot of your kind before.”

  “You said it, feller.” The elf's lip curled slightly toward the scar on her cheek. “You ain't met my kind before. If you had, you'd be dead.”

  Hudson snorted, but it was Hicks who answered; “Won't argue about it, Long-ear. Not here. Not now. Let's just keep it civil. Could be we'll need each other soon enough. Hate to think we couldn't put aside our differences long enough to survive this. There's more than enough folks outside that wall want us dead. I don't see why we should help them get what they want, right?”

  Shrugging, the elf moved slowly toward the door. She knew Hicks was speaking more for Hudson's benefit, so felt no need to make any reply more than a grunt.

  She leaned in the doorway and watched the townsfolk as they scurried around like insects beneath the walls. Saw the old man working to sharpen swords. An old lady bringing a basket of feathers to another old lady who was busy trying to make arrows.

  They wouldn't be good arrows, but even a bad one could kill.

  Pressed up against the parapet, a dozen or so archers. One or two dressed in the uniform of the town guard. The rest were mercenaries, chosen for the skill with the bow.

  Some peered out through the crenels, no doubt juggling the chances of survival in their heads. Others squatted, inspecting their equipment. Trying to wrestle their fears.

  It wasn't a big town, so they were forced to spread themselves thin along the parapet above the gates. Too far apart, she thought critically. If the Grey Jackets decided to encircle the town and come from all sides, the battle would be over quickly.

  But the walls which faced the Bloods weren't as easy to approach. Deep fissures in the earth were crumbling and unstable. And the wall was higher on that side. High enough to keep the Dhampirs from leaping over. That's what they'd been built for.

  Two other sides were similarly high, and deep gullies made it impossible for any attack to move quickly. The only practical approach had to be the gates.

  Her eyes settled on the biggest figure on the wall. Lord Sharpe.

  The tall man was shouting orders and strutting among the guards, mercenaries and townsfolk alike. Growing more and more frustrated with the speed at which he'd had to form his defences, his face was red with fury and sweat stained his old uniform.

  He felt her gaze, and for a moment his eyes met hers.

  Then he looked away, spitting wetly at the ground.

  Beside him, Pryke scuttled to catch up. The young man glancing often to where she stood, until Sharpe cuffed him on the side of his head. After that, he was more discreet.

  “How long do you think before they attack?” Hicks asked, stepping up beside her.

  “Not long.”

  “We can't defend that wall for long.” He licked his lips nervously. “There just aren't enough of us. When the Grey Jackets get inside, they're going to slaughter everything alive. Townies. Us. It's gonna be murder, Long-ear. Plain and simple fucking murder. You ever been in a siege?”

  “Nope.”

  “I have. Not inside. But outside. Was a bastard to bust those walls. By the time we got in, we was so riled up we couldn't think straight. So when we got inside, we did terrible things.” He shuddered, remembering. “Things even I was ashamed of. Not sure I want to be on the losing side of a siege.”

  A shadow flickered on the edge of her vision again, and this time she swore she saw a flash of green.

  “Fuck,” she growled.

  “What is it?”

  “Goblins.”

  “Goblins?” Hicks pushed past and craned his neck to where she'd been looking. “I don't see no fucking goblins.”

  “You won't,” she told him. “Not until they're ready to chop you into little pieces.”

  “Maybe they're stuck here, too,” Hicks said. “Maybe they'll fight with us.”

  “Bullshit, man,” Hudson scoffed. “They'll run away, too. Or hide in a fucking basement somewhere like the rats they are.”

  “Grey Jackets hate goblins almost as much as they hate elfs,” Hicks said. “Gives them a reason to fight.”

  “They're cowards.” Hudson sniffed hard and clenched his fingers into fists as he turned his attention to the wall. “Shouldn't we get up there and help out? Don't want to miss the fun.”

  Hicks couldn't resist smiling affectionately at the young man. “You're an idiot.”

  “You want to let them kill all the bastards by themselves?”

  “I still think we should just jump the wall. Safest call.”

  Hudson looked outraged. “No fucking way, man. I ain't jumping out on this one. I'm gonna kill me some Grey Jacket motherfuckers. Gonna wet my axe in their little fucking brains.”

  “You sure about this?” Hicks still looked concerned.

  “Sure as anything, man.”

  “Then, let's go kill some scum.”

  Hudson flashed a grin before marching off toward the wall, leaving Hicks standing beside the elf.

  “We shouldn't stay,” he sighed to her. “We should jump the wall. Get the fuck out of here. We stay, and we're gonna die. I can feel it in my bones. But I know he couldn't live with himself if he ran away from this one. Was a bunch of Caspiellans who killed his parents. That's enough to give any man a thirst for revenge. So, what am I going to do? I'll have to stay, too. Because I love the stupid sonofabitch. Just hope I can keep him from getting his dumb head cut off. Guess you reckon that makes me stupid, too?”

  The elf rubbed at her scar and decided there was nothing more to see. Showed him a twisted grin before turning to go back inside the inn. “No sweat, feller. Already figured thinking's an alien concept for you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The elf wanted to get some rest before the incoming fight. Her body needed it. But the sight of the goblin changed her plans.

  She waited until she Hicks stepped out of the inn before rushing back to the window beside the door. Slid up beside it, careful not to show herself, and slowly inched along until she could see across the street.

  And saw the goblin again.

  The creature was crouched beside a few crates pressed against the mouth of the alley. It peered out at the inn's crusty frontage, but didn't seem to notice her in the corner of the window. Instead, it looked to be wrestling with the decision to run across the street, or to move back into the shadows of the alley.

  It licked its lips, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

  Glinting green eyes blinked.

  Then, froglike, it leapt into the shadows and disappeared.

  The elf scowled, then spun back into the heart of the taproom. Looked for the stairs leading to the rooms above, and ran up them without a sound. Her heart beat hard in her chest and she expected goblins to dart at her from every shadow.

  Reaching the top, she paused, listening for the slightest sound. The merest creak of a floorboard.

  Heard nothing.

  She tried a few doors and found one unlocked. Entered the room with a rush, Fulci's Last Joke spinning ruthlessly in her hand. Muscles tight across her shoulders as she prepared to throw.
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  But the room was empty.

  She angled quickly toward the window and pressed herself against the wall. Nosed the curtain apart and stared down at the street.

  Saw a few men struggling with a brazier. Figured Lord Sharpe was preparing hot coals to drop on attackers at the wall, and let out a grunt of satisfaction. So, the man wasn't completely stupid. He obviously had a few ideas.

  She saw him near the gates, inspecting a barrel of white powder.

  Frowning, she wondered what it might be.

  Then saw the goblin again, ducking behind a water trough. Her violet eyes narrowed to slits and she gripped the small knife in her hand so hard it felt like her knuckles would splinter.

  Especially when the creature froze suddenly like a cat caught in the light.

  Then his head turned. Achingly slow, but steady. Upward.

  Green eyes touched hers as he spread his wide mouth into a grin as she recognised him.

  The shy grin.

  And then the shadows swallowed him whole.

  She blinked.

  The creature was gone.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  One second he'd been there, and the next he was gone. Ribbons of black had simply consumed him, leaving nothing. Not a trace of the goblin remained.

  She jerked the curtain wide, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow, seeking any sign of the creature. Saw nothing.

  Nothing but pale snow, murky slush, and black mud streaking the town.

  The elf spat a curse and backed away from the window, suddenly afraid. She knew goblins were sneaky. Knew they could move with stealth. But to disappear into the shadows? What kind of magic did they have?

  Her mind raced, trying to remember everything she knew about goblins. But everything she knew was from the stories she'd been told as a child. That they were little more than primitive creatures. A step up from rats in the street. Born thieves and cowards who murdered in gangs.

  Mobs, as they called themselves.

  And they worshipped a god from before the time of Grim and Rule. A god as sneaky as they themselves. The god called Eventide.

  But there were no stories of goblins using magic. No stories of goblins disappearing into the shadows.

  Frustrated, she reeled away, slamming the door shut with a vicious kick. Hoped it'd slow them down. Or at least give her some warning if they tried to come through.

  Drew Excession, a heavy blade with a thick jagged spine. An evil blade which wouldn't hurt as much going in as it did when torn free. Teeth bared, the elf faced the door and waited.

  Waited to hear the padding of footsteps up the stairs.

  And heard them.

  Heavier than expected.

  Slow.

  She lifted the heavy blade. Felt the rough handle in her palm and the thrum of her heart in her ears. Could smell incoming violence like the dusty scent of snow about to fall.

  She took a step back, wiping at her face with the back of her fist.

  Her head felt like it wanted to explode.

  The handle of the door trembled as it was touched. A tentative nudge.

  Something slithered across the back of her neck. Down her spine. Over her ribs.

  A cold sensation which made her skin ripple beneath her shirt. Sweat squeezed through the pores under her arms and she tensed. So hard it almost hurt.

  Sucked a breath as the handle turned slowly.

  Then the door opened

  And Fulci's Last Joke left her fingers, drawing a yelp from the doorway. The flash of steel whipped past the young man and thudded into the wall behind him where it shivered angrily. It'd missed his throat only because she'd somehow realised through her curtain of fear that it wasn't a goblin.

  Instead, the young guard, Pryke.

  She hissed as he staggered back in surprise. “Fuck!” Then she lurched forward. Grabbed him by the coat and slammed him back against the wall. “What the fuck were you doing?”

  His eyes were wide. Any wider and his eyeballs would fall out of his skull. His mouth hung open and he stammered while visibly searching for thoughts to string a sentence together with.

  “I'm sorry,” he managed between gasping lungfuls of air. “I was-”

  “You were what?” Ice cold fury twisted her guts.

  “I just came to see if you were okay,” he offered feebly. “You looked a mess when you arrived. I was worried.”

  Confused by his words, she looked at him like he was crazy.

  Which, in her mind, he was.

  “You just scared the shit out of me, Pryke,” she snarled. Her heart was still beating wildly. The hate was almost solid in the air, and the young guard's looked sick.

  “I didn't mean anything,” he said. Tried to reach out to touch her arm. To assure her he was harmless. “I just wanted to see you.”

  The elf frowned, her mind strung out on her own fear and disbelief as Pryke's hand reached for her. When she spoke, her voice was colder than the ice which clung to the mountains looming above the town. “What are you doing?”

  Pryke tried to smile. His mouth twitching into the semblance of one. But his eyes were still wide. Still rimmed with desperation as he struggled with his own emotions. Emotions heightened by awareness of the army camped in front of the town. An army which would be trying to kill him at any moment.

  An army which had stolen his fear.

  And made him bold.

  So he reached for her.

  “You're beautiful,” he said, voice husky and dry. “And so lonely. I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. I just wanted to say-”

  Her fist smashed hard, nearly crushing his cheek. As it was, he was thrown sideways by the impact and landed on his knees, clutching at his face. Blood spattered the floorboard and more drooled down between his fingers.

  He stared blankly for a moment at the red wetness. Then swivelled to face her, flinching at the look of disgust she directed at him.

  “Wait! I didn't mean-” His protests were cut short as he realised she was shuddering to keep from kicking him. Yelping in terror, he slithered backward toward the stairs, still trying to hold the flap of torn skin to his cheek.

  But she stalked him, absently plucking Fulci's Last Joke from the wall.

  “You piece of fucking shit,” she growled, tears burning in the corner of her eyes. Tears of rage. “I should kill you. Should cut your fucking balls off and nail them to the floor. But I won't. For one reason. Because you didn't know. Didn't know that just a few months ago, I buried my husband. You didn't know that. But now you do. And if you try to touch me again, I will kill you. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

  “But I didn't mean it like that! It's just-”

  She did kick him then. Hard in the ribs. Enough to make his torso sound like a drum. “Out!” She spat at him, chasing him down the hall. Her head rang with an intense anger, nearly blinding her behind a torrent of tears.

  Tears not for the young guard, but for her husband. Lost to her forever and the guilt of his loss stabbed deep into her heart at the thought of being touched by anyone.

  It wasn't her fault, she knew.

  It was Raste's, and he was dead. But nothing was bringing Talek back to her. And no one could replace him.

  She cursed Pryke, a string of venom which left his jaw open and eyes wide. Aimed another kick at him, but missed. “Get the fuck out, you fucking piece of shit!”

  Struggling with his terror, Pryke kicked away from her and made it to the stairs. Hands held out, palms up. Trying to calm her down. Knowing it was futile.

  Stumbled to his feet and began backing down the stairs, eyes sparking with humiliation. Humiliation which quickly turned to a rage to match her own when he saw she wasn't following him down. That she was satisfied to let him leave even though her entire soul howled for his blood.

  But there was enough of the elf's own thoughts to stop her. She tried to convince herself he was just a foolish boy. A youth with no experience. That he hadn't known
what she was going through.

  That he was warped by his own fears and wasn't thinking properly.

  She turned to go back to her room, pushing at the hate. Trying to settle herself.

  He was just a boy, she told herself.

  “I'll kill you for this,” he said through gritted teeth. His spittle, stained pink with blood, dribbled down his chin as he spoke. “You Tainted cow. You'll see.”

  Fulci's Last Joke splashed into his shoulder, tearing a shriek from his lungs. And then he slipped on the stairs. Tumbled down, screaming.

  She followed, a deep guttural snarl crawling across her lips. Could taste iron in her mouth. The glorious taste of violence. All forgiveness was disintegrated by needlepoints of hatred.

  The thrill of killing him was too much to resist, and she raised Excession high above his head as she landed on top of him, legs pinning him to the ground. Could feel the screams of the young guard washing over her like a sonic wave.

  All her fears.

  All her doubts. Her pain.

  Everything swept away in that single moment as she prepared to send his soul shrieking into the ever-hungry jaws of the Shadowed Halls.

  “Stop!” Another voice roared from nearby. “Don't you dare kill him! I need him! I need every man who can hold a sword.”

  Her violet eyes flashed toward Lord Sharpe, whose falchion was drawn. A brutal looking thing, held by a brutal man. A man whose own need to kill was laid bare on his face.

  She looked down at Pryke, his face twisting between terror and hate.

  “He ain't no man,” she said icily. Then reached down. Snatched Pryke's coat and lifted him up as she got to her feet. Flung the wounded guard toward Sharpe and aimed a kick at him as he sprawled before the self-proclaimed Lord. “But you want him alive? Then keep him the fuck away from me.”

  Lord Sharpe's glanced at Pryke, eyes burning. “Get out of here, you stupid shit. Get Berek to see to your shoulder. Go on, fuck you. Move, before I finish what she started!”

  “Wait,” the elf called as Pryke started to leave.

  “What now?” Sharpe lifted his sword, ready to fight.

  She held out her hand. “My knife. I want it back.”

  Pryke whirled to face her. “Hey, fuck you-”