The Fifth Dawn

CHAPTER 12

“Why does it resist, my Creator?” Memnarch asked the empty air. “Does it not know how fragile life truly is? Has this creature not yet seen enough pain?” The Guardian paused, listening to a voice that Slobad couldn’t hear. “Oh, very well. More pain, then.” He lumbered over to where the goblin hung in the rack and pressed a blue jewel mounted on the base with one pointed clawtip.

Flaming agony shot through Slobad, making his tortured muscles spasm chaotically. But a tiny part of his mind ignored all of this. A tiny part of Slobad had walled itself off within his brain, like the goblin himself had done so many times to escape danger. And that part of his mind refused to give up.

Glissa was alive. When Memnarch had given Malil his orders, Slobad could hardly believe it. Now that slim thread of hope-Glissa, alive, and still causing trouble for Memnarch, no doubt needing Slobad’s help-was all that kept the goblin from dropping into an open pit of despair. So while Slobad screamed as every nerve in his body burned, his hidden self still held out hope of rescue.

Finally, the Guardian stepped forward and depressed the blue gemstone a second time, and the fire dissipated.

Slobad sniffed gingerly-his nose was already broken in at least three places-and detected the distinctive aroma of cooked goblin. It was a lot like normal goblin, but with many of the more noxious surface odors burned away. He spat blood and bile.

“Hey … uh … ugly,” the goblin wheezed. “Call that … torture? Should try to eat … my cooking. Huh?” He laughed, which came out sounding more like a dry, persistent hack, then descended into a half-minute coughing fit. When that had run its course, Slobad added, “Oh yeah … where Glissa. Huh? Can’t find crazy elf … some god.”

“It tests me, my Creator,” Memnarch said. “It actually think it can taunt me. Me.” The Guardian chuckled, and reached out with a silver claw. He gently stroked the side of Slobad’s face, and the goblin found the energy to jerk back as if burned. Which he was, now that he thought about it. “Such a curious creature. Does it know it’s here by accident? Rusty, dusty, aggravating goblins crawling over this world like vermin. They all crawl, my Creator. Elves. The cat folk. The thrice-damned humans. Even my vedalken are truly nothing but infections, like this spore. I know that now.” Memnarch chuckled again, which disturbed Slobad a great deal more than the Guardian’s more predictable maniacal laughter. That laugh was maniacal, but something about that low chuckle was insane.

“Look who talking, bug,” Slobad managed.

The Guardian waved a claw, and Slobad felt an invisible hand slap him hard across the face, leaving three thin lines of ochre blood welling up on Slobad’s cheeks.

“Does it appreciate the honor?” Memnarch’s claws curled into a fist, and the goblin flinched, but the Guardian just rapped lightly on Slobad’s forehead, like a nervous suitor knocking on a lady’s door. “The instrument by which I ascend. It is in this puny insect brain. Waiting to be realized.”

“What?” Slobad managed. “I got spark now too … huh?”

“The vermin attempts another joke, my Creator. Yet this little ovoid atop its shoulders has displayed a remarkable affinity for building. It is an artificer. A designer and builder of things.”

Slobad couldn’t imagine what Memnarch was getting at. Or how he knew about Slobad’s abilities, for that matter. Then again, the Guardian had thousands of years to study the denizens of “his” world. Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise. “Been over this, crabby. You built a world, huh? So build your own stuff-Slobad’s busy. All tied up, huh?” Slobad giggled a little too madly.

Memnarch smiled, a look Slobad had grown to fear ever since his capture. He scuttled over to the goblin and pressed the flat side of a clawed finger into Slobad’s esophagus-not hard enough to break the skin, but Slobad preferred his windpipe open.

“Its torture is about to end.”

“Great,” Slobad rasped, his voice reduced to little more than a squeak by the claw tip now pressing against his throat. “How about now?”

Memnarch released his pressure on Slobad’s throat and crab-walked over to a small, radiant scrying pool. “Its body is alive, and it will stay that way. The machine will see to that.” He muttered a few soft words Slobad didn’t understand and the pool flashed brightly for a moment then went dark. “The vermin-with-a-mind is about to touch greatness. And then we shall reassess the timetable, yes, Karn?”

Memnarch held out a fist, which shimmered briefly, then opened his hand palm-upward. A pair of flat, pearly shapes, each no bigger than a goblin’s ear, undulated rhythmically in the Guardian’s open hand. Something about the way they wriggled reminded Slobad of the slagwurm he and Glissa had faced in the Tangle.

“Think I skip dinner, huh?” the goblin rasped. “Slobad ate maggots for breakfast. Roughage.”

In a flash, Memnarch lashed out with the spiny end of one crab-leg and with delicate precision stabbed it into Slobad’s tongue. The goblin squealed like a stuck djeeruk. The Guardian slapped the hand holding the two writhing silver worms over Slobad’s open mouth.

The goblin had to stop screaming-he could no longer draw any air. Slobad started to shake, choking, when the wriggling creatures in his mouth slid down his throat, turned upward to enter his sinuses, and finally settled on either side of his head in his inner ears. Slobad feared the worms were entirely too close to his brains.

He was right.

Glissa and Lyese, their hands bound behind their backs with wiry rope, marched up the long, dusty path that Alderok Vektro promised would soon lead to some answers. He had steadfastly refused to answer any other question Glissa asked, least of all her pointed, specific questions about Dwugget.

They had left the razor fields far behind and climbed the steadily rising trail for over an hour. The path wound round, under, and over bizarre gold and iron mineral formations. At the moment one side of the path was open to the sky, affording a clear view of the shining lands now far below. Most of the moons had set, leaving only the emerald newcomer to cast its ethereal pall over the landscape. Soon, that moon too would set, and they would be in darkness. And when that happened, Glissa hoped to be heading back down the mountain.

The only trick was how. Try as she might, she couldn’t loosen the hard, fibrous bindings, and she had no weapons or even any way to warn Lyese what she had in mind. She wasn’t going to take off and just leave her sister to face Dwugget.

As far as the “Prophet” Dwugget was concerned, Glissa was still baffled. First, the Krark cultists hadn’t been where they were supposed to be. Now Dwugget was this Vulshok’s lord? It didn’t make any sense, and she wished again that she hadn’t lost the seeksphere in the fight. The wise old goblin that Slobad had introduced her to was gentle and intelligent. He’d been a valuable source of information when she had first set out with Slobad to find out if the world really was hollow. These thugs weren’t acting under the auspices of the Dwugget she knew.

But how well did she know the old goblin? Slobad had vouched for him, and Dwugget had even given Glissa a copy of the Book of Krark, an ancient tome that convinced her she was on the right track. But Slobad, cunning and bright as he was, could also be too trusting. It was possible that the wizened elder her friend knew was but one face of a despot. Or worse, Dwugget had taken on the mantle of the shaman that had once cast the Krark out of the mountains.

As she turned back from the razor plains, the elf girl thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked again there was nothing. Great, she thought, something’s hunting us on top of everything else. Or I’m going crazy.

Or maybe, she thought as she spotted a glimmer of silver and a pair of flashing golden eyes, just maybe, this is going to work out.

As casually as she could, Glissa sidled ahead until she was side by side with her sister. The goblin guards didn’t seem to take notice. They were herding the pair of elves and expected a little movement as the loose formation trudged onward.

“Hey,” Glissa whispered softly, hoping the ringing footsteps of the armored goblins on the hard bronze path would mask her voice. None of the goblins looked up, and Alderok Vektro continued his slow, heavy strides.

Lyese cocked her head slightly.

“Something’s following us,” Glissa continued. “Stalking us.”

“I know,” Lyese replied, “Leonin?”

“I hope so. Get ready to run.”

“Way ahead of you.”

“Silence!” the fat goblin snarled, and smacked Glissa on the back with the flat end of his spear. “No talk!”

“We’ll be good,” the elf girl replied. She glanced sideways at Lyese, who winked. Or blinked. It was hard to tell.

The attack came as they entered a narrow draw between jagged, natural iron walls that rose hundreds of feet on either side. A half dozen furious roars exploded in the dusky night, and six feline shapes descended on the goblin brigade from above. Curved silver blades flashed, cutting down several of Glissa’s captors before the first one had a chance to scream.

“Good timing!” Glissa shouted to the leonin. She let out a battle cry, ducked her head, and charged the fat goblin. She caught the little brute full in the chest with a savage kick, and he flopped onto his back, unmoving. She whirled on one foot and swung the toe of her boot into the groin of another goblin, whose spear clattered to the rocky ground as he doubled over in pain.

The rest of the guard was either engaged by the leonin commandos, or trying to close on Lyese, who had a kick for any goblin that got too close. This was Glissa’s chance to get out of her bonds. She dropped onto the ground and scooted over to the spear the fat guard had dropped and sawed her bindings against the sharp edge of the tip. After a few second, she felt the last fiber of the painful cable snap, and she was free. Glissa grabbed the spear and scrambled back into the fray.

Before she could get her bearings, a fleeing goblin barreled into the elf girl from the side. Glissa snapped the blunt end of the spear into his gut and vaulted the diminutive soldier into the air. She heard the goblin smack into a towering iron ore spire with the clang of a bell clapper.

Scanning the melee, she finally spotted the big Vulshok. Alderok Vektro was standing clear of the fray, furiously summoning magical aide for the goblins. A flash of red from Vektro’s gauntleted hands, and the diminutive warriors were encased in thick bronze armor that fused to their rusty red hides, making them look like miniature golems. The goblins’ weapons burned with unnatural red flames and sparked as they clashed with leonin longkives. None of them had been able to reach the Vulshok priest yet. Glissa noted the leonin were all wearing the helmets and lightweight armor of the Taj Nar Sky Guard, and wondered why they hadn’t attacked from pteronback. Had the pterons been lost? It would explain why they’d been late to the party.

With his footsoldiers holding the leonin at bay-even the leader, who faced three of the magically augmented guards-Vektro had turned on Lyese. Glissa charged into the fight, kicking goblins aside and plowing a path to her sister. She saw a ball of orange-red flame forming in the Vulshok mage’s upturned palms. The glow cast deforming shadows that made Vektro look like a monstrous goblin-human hybrid, and he cackled as power surged into existence at his command.

Lyese didn’t see her peril or Vektro. Glissa’s sister was doing her best to help the leonin fight off the triple-team of goblins with another stolen spear, but was having trouble finding an opening.

“Lyese! Watch out!” Glissa shouted, and launched herself at Vektro.

The next few seconds passed at a crawl. As her sister spun toward Vektro, one of the goblins slammed a fist into the small of Lyese’s back. The human raised the fireball over his head, apparently willing to fry his own troops to get at the others. Glissa heaved her stolen spear.

Lyese arched her back and screamed as the goblin followed his punch with a sweeping kick to the younger elf’s ankles that sent her sprawling backward.

“Guluhr immohl!” Vektro bellowed, and released the fireball just as Glissa’s spear skewered the human’s unprotected shoulder. The priest’s spell went wide and slammed into the canyon wall over the heads of a pair of goblins slugging it out with two leonin commandos, sending the combatants bolting for cover as chunks of slag and white-hot ore rained down.

Glissa slammed into Alderok Vektro with the speed of a charging zauk, her momentum helping her drive the big man down hard on his back. But Vektro was faster than he looked, and surprised the elf girl by tucking his legs as Glissa came down. He kicked out hard at the elf girl’s gut as he rolled over backwards, flinging Glissa into the air. She twisted and managed to let her shoulder absorb most of the blow. Glissa came up standing a few paces away from Vektro, but her shoulder felt disjointed and she had no weapon. She saw Vektro’s eyes flash red and he held his hand apart, summoning forth another gout of burning magic.

“I still won’t kill you,” he snarled through a wicked grin. “But I will hurt you!”

The fire sputtered and died as a silver blur collided with the big human. The leonin followed through with a wicked kick to the side of Vektro’s head, and finished by removing his own pteron-bone helmet and knocking the Vulshok back one more time as the human tried to raise his head.

Glissa grinned at the Kha, who jerked the dazed Alderok Vektro to his feet and quickly bound the big human’s hands behind his back. “Raksha,” she said, “you might want to take his gauntlets, too, just in case.” Surveying the scene, she grinned and added, “And thanks.”

Every goblin lay unconscious or otherwise incapacitated by injury. It appeared the leonin had gone out of their way not to kill the goblins, which Glissa thought wise. Whatever Dwugget was up to, he could still be a potential ally. And she wasn’t sure this Alderok Vektro was really in league with the old goblin priest anyway.

The other five leonin-all females, Glissa now saw, which made sense if they were all skyhunters-bound the goblins and saw to serious injuries on both sides that needed immediate attention. Glissa heard Lyese whisper an old healing spell their mother had used to fix small knicks and cuts since they were both little, and was surprised to see that she was using the magic on the Kha. Raksha, meanwhile, yanked hard on the Vulshok prisoner’s wrists. The big human emitted a surprisingly high-pitched yelp.

“Thank you, Lyese,” Raksha said. “What do you think, Glissa? Are these our goblins? This one’s bigger than I expected.”

“That human calls himself a Vulshok,” Glissa replied, rubbing her wrists to get blood flowing through them again. “Says his name’s Alderok Vektro. He’s going to take us to see Dwugget. Aren’t you, Vektro?”

Alderok Vektro’s eyes flashed with hatred, but he was unable to free himself from the Kha’s iron grip. “The Prophet will have you skinned alive! Your pelts will line his trophy hall! I shall feast upon your roasted eye … AAAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!”

“Quiet, human!” the Golden Cub snarled, twisting the man’s wrists. “We shall tear out your throat if you do not cease at once!”

“Wait,” Glissa said, shaking off a leonin who was trying to set her injured shoulder in a sling. The hulking human’s eyes had glazed over, and his skin was rapidly growing pale. “I think he’s passing-”

Vektro went limp.

“-out,” Glissa finished.

The elf girl looked incredulously at Raksha Golden Cub. The Kha wore the same light silver plate as the skyhunters, though his bore a golden icon of the yellow sun, or moon, depending on where the viewer came from. He carried no sword, though Glissa did note that all six leonin wore the same long, curved knives hanging from their belts. Like the others, the Kha had a small supply pack strapped firmly to his back so as not to hinder motion in a fight. Tied to Raksha’s pack was a larger bag holding something gourd-shaped. The leonin were barefoot, which didn’t surprise Glissa. If she had weapons like that at the ends of her toes, she wouldn’t wear shoes either.

Glissa accepted her sword from one of the leonin without taking her disbelieving eyes off of Alderok Vektro, and slid the Viridian blade back into place on her belt. “What happened to him? Is he still alive?”

Raksha held the human higher and sniffed him gingerly. His nose wrinkled.

“No. If he’d expired, the human would smell a great deal worse than he already does. He smells like a goblin,” the Kha explained. “He may have had a low pain threshold.” Raksha let the big human drop unceremoniously to the ground, and picked up the Vulshok’s gauntlets. “Or maybe he wasn’t as tough as he looked without these.” The Kha passed the gauntlets to one of the female commandos, who tucked them into her own pack.

“We’ll get back to him,” Glissa said. “What kept you?”

“An old friend of yours stopped by,” Raksha said, the growl replaced by a brief flash of teeth that Glissa hoped was a smile. It was always hard to tell with a leonin.

The Kha swung the larger pack off his shoulder and tossed it to Glissa. She thought she heard a sound like a muffled yelp. “That’s not a gourd,” Glissa said unnecessarily, holding the pack out as far from her nose as possible. Whatever was in there, it smelled terrible.

“Open it carefully. He might bite,” Raksha said.

“Thanks for the warning,” Glissa said, and flipped the pack open.

“Long time, no see,” said Geth’s head.