Chapter Twelve

  The Goblins in the Rose Wood

  They had lost their gold, their horses, and nearly everything they had, but it seemed they could not lose their pursuers. The imperial guard had stormed after them with all the vigor of young bulls for three entire days. Nephis and Kugo were tired and cold; it was only the ever-watchful Moss that kept them from collapsing into the tangled grass. They stumbled through the tall roots and low branches of the woods, terrible little hands pulling at their feet and pants and skirt. Though it was a trial for weary minds to navigate them, they had been the princess’ savior, for the tall, full-breasted warhorses of the palace guard could do little more than inch forward through the brush. Even still, half the guard leapt off their mounts and rushed in after them.

  For three days, they had not slept more than hand’s worth of hours and had eaten little more than a fistful of bread, not that they had any left. No, nearly everything, but what rested in Nephis’ purse and on Kugo’s waist had been cast away as a distraction or handed over as an over-generous bribe to a passing peasant, who no doubt felt this was the day Fortune herself had descended to kiss his face. But they could not stop to rest, for there were only terrible ends for them if they did. Their heads ached and their bodies screamed at them to slow or, better yet, to stop, but all Nephis could tell herself was to throw one foot over the next.

  The shouting and clamor of the guards echoed behind them, bouncing and crashing through the trees, and getting ever close. Kugo strained his ears. There was something rumbling in the distance, the Petal River, an ironic name as it was wide and violent, throwing itself one way and then the next. Only the sturdiest of sailors and ships took its passage, the rest fearful of losing their goods or lives in its racing. Kugo kneaded at his cloak. They were coming to the end of the glade, everything passed here was hills and plains for two dozen miles. Once the guard brought the horses around, they would be caught in no time. He pulled at the good and worn hilt of his thin blade. The palace guard wore shining plate. Even if he were the better duelist, which was doubtful – the Emperor only took the best soldiers for his personal guard – but even if he were the better, there was little chance of breaking through the hard steel. Worse still, it was not one or two guards that followed them, but five. Now Moss could doubtless make pancakes of them, but Kugo hesitated to suggest it. The Princess showed no malice towards them; rather, she seemed to have some affection for them, refusing at once to allow Kugo to trap the way behind them. And so they ran. And so the guards drew ever near.

  “Don’t slow now, Nephis,” Kugo called through heavy breaths.

  “Urgh,” Nephis had tried to say something, but only weariness answered. She had begun to regret her dramatic exit from the castle. “I,” she finally pressed, “am,” she said between a breath, but she could not finish her thought, only groaning – the exhausted spirit within demanded to escape.

  All of a sudden, Moss swept her onto his shoulder, her head narrowly missing branch after branch. She hung like a wet towel, and her legs felt like iron hot off the anvil. He thundered forward, holding out his hands like little bucklers, smacking any limb or obstacle away. It was effective, but a trivial thing to follow after. Moss felt a distant crack upon the air, “They’re getting closer,” he warned in a sturdy voice.

  Kugo’s thoughts were clouded. There was no good way out, only less certain ones. But a choice had to be made: the hills or the river. Near certain capture or near certain danger? “Nephis,” Kugo called, “Can you swim?”

  “A little,” Nephis groaned, “It isn’t ladylike.”

  Kugo made up his mind, the rushing Petal River it would be.

  They stumbled out of the glade and stood not ten feet from white river. So loud was it that Kugo could hardly hear himself. It was like the thundering of drums or the scream of a violent beast. It churned and grinded in front of him. The ground beneath his feet shook before it. Petal, what a terrible name.

  But as he paused and as he hesitated, five guards in black and red burst from the forest. Kugo and Moss whipped around to meet them. They, too, were frazzled and weary, but less so than Kugo. One of them had even managed to keep his spear the whole way. He jut it at Kugo, and in only five steps it hung above the monk’s belly.

  “Unhand the princess!” the guard demanded. “There is nowhere left for you to run!”

  For a moment, Kugo almost laughed. Did this guard think it was a kidnapping? Well, this was not the first time he had kidnapped the Fair Lady, then. “Come and take her, then!” Kugo cried, supposing Nephis could save a little face if they were caught, he would be crucified either way. He grabbed hold of the golem’s great arm. “Moss! Into the river!”

  And Moss drew him and the princess into his fold and fell back into the roaring maw of the Petal River.

  All at once, it whipped them forward. Nephis clung to Moss like a rat, her now tarnished nails dug into his wooden arm. When she looked back, the guards were a distant memory. But she could only look for a moment. The river swung them from end to end, as if it meant to choke them. It plunged them into its depths. Nephis was blinded by the spray and the foam. The river hated them. It dragged them and beat them and drowned them. Moss crashed into a great stone that stuck from the water like a fang, but Nephis could not see it. She only felt the shock run through her chest and arms as it bit Moss. And then into the cold water again. When she came up, when she could see a flash of light, she gasped for air, and was pulled beneath the surface, into the home of Petal, where light nor the prying eyes of a concerned neighbor could reach. They were eddied and choked and cracked beneath the water again and again and again.

  It felt to Nephis as if only seconds and entire hours had passed at the same time. But still the river ran. They were bobbed up and down, dragged like chattel down the way. Up ahead was little more than churning, spinning waters, like a great millstone. She was battered and bruised, and could hardly breathe, but the Petal River did not stop. The river meant to kill them, for daring to enter it to take its way. Nephis held fast to Moss like a drowned rat to salvation, for he was the closest thing to it right now. It cracked her, it wailed upon her, the river plunged her beneath until she was blue in the face.

  And then, it stopped. The river lost all its malice and wicked heart, and she and Kugo and Moss floated gently along. She and Kugo hacked, coughing up water and breathing in the fresh, abundant air. Her head spun, yet she could not bear to loosen her grip, sure it would start again, but it never did. And for a while, they all waited silently, the breeze and rushing air like kisses on their faces, easing the aches of the past three days. Not after long, the river pitifully spat them out onto the black bank. They scrambled up the hill and into a well-tended field, and lay gasping for air and shivering in their wet clothes.

  Still fearing the guard, though they were now miles upon miles away, the three of them crawled into tall stalks of wheat, still green and yet to come into their own. There they lay for hours, not even thinking of being caught out by the farmer, for they hardly had the will to think. The farmer must have already seen to this part of his crop, for he did not come all day long.

  After some hours, Nephis caught her breath and her mind began to turn. She pulled from her velvet bag a few old and fragmented scrolls. They were drenched, but by some miracle, were otherwise unharmed, if made a bit bleary. She lit, by a spell, the smallest fire in the world, so to dry out the velum. Each of them described an old and ancient artifact, one capable of granting the wish of he who held it. Judging by their archaic tongue and faded faces, each of them was older than the Empire of Radina. She had stolen every scroll which mentioned the Vallai Kai, the Stone of the King, that she could carry, and gently folded them into her purse. None of them were flippant, all spoke of the stone as if it were quite real, if long gone. All except for one.

  Between her finger and thumb, she held a fragment no larger than a leaf. Yet it was not like the other fragments, brown and yellowed, flaking and fading. This one shone like gold, and its ink seemed as if it were made of crushed rubies, for it was red and glittered in the light. And along the bottom and side were filigree of masterful art, that of vines and towers and clouds. Not in all her life had Nephis ever seen a scroll or tome like this one. Written, in that ruby ink, was old and tongue-tied language that, for all her knowing and learning, she could just make out what it was trying to tell her.

  Tis d??e, dyde His Hāli?ness, se Hlāford Cyning, Micel and E?esfull, wealdan tone Stān Mid ēAHM in His ?erād and ārās for tā ?lfe of Valkeath ?ife of ?lāse and ?eluste

  “On this day, did His Holiness, the Lord Emperor, Great and Terrible, wield the Stone” (this part was unintelligible to Nephis, some collection of letters rather than a word) “. . . in His grace and rose for the Elves of Valkeath a boon of glass and pleasure.”

  Its precise meaning was lost on her, but what she did know was that Valkeath was the old name for a region along the Western coast. It was not far from Remare, perhaps two or three days' walk if one was kind to themselves; one if they were desperate. But she had never heard that it was once inhabited by elves. What a strange, intoxicating notion. That below the earth and stone might be hidden a world where the elves once lived, perhaps one of glass and pleasure, as the fragment implied. Moss, too, was excited by it, by the idea that he might find and meet an elf. Or at least find what they had left.

  Nephis gazed long at the note, final, solid proof that there really was something out there. She watched as the light of her small fire reflected off the gold, shining, sparkling into her eyes. They had little in the way of clues or hints about where to look, only that out in Valkeath was there something to find and spur them forward. But for now, sleep. All the aches and terrors of the days before seeped out of her like sweat or phlegm. And the cold, hard earth, which had so often been the thorn in her side, was now better than her feathered bed back home. More comforting it was, softer it seemed, Nephis did not even think to curl up or pull her arm from under her. Quickly, her mind left her for the ground, and the long, heavy night took her.

  When they at last awoke, the sun had long risen above the horizon. Every bone in Nephis’ body ached, and she could hardly bring herself to stand up. But not wanting to be caught by the farmer, Kugo pressed them on. Groggily, she marched. Though it was a bright and blue day, it might as well have been full of fog and sleet. For her mind was full of the stuff, and still lay back on dirt in that wheat field. But in time, her lifeblood began to course through her, and she was awake.

  They were now some past the hills, and may have been able to see for miles, were it not for the oaks that ran along the road. These were old-growth, gnarled, and fat. Like craggy elders that never seemed to die. Not even the stones could outlast them, broken apart by sure, slow roots, or eaten up by a fattening trunk. To their left, though, were green fields of wheat, and peas, and barley, and white petaled marigolds which speckled the cornrows like little gems.

  Nephis had never seen, or cared for, farms this close up. Only ever from the cabin of her carriage or from the window of her tall tower. But now, she could reach out and touch it, and feel the stalks run along her hand. They had a rougher feel to them than she imagined, almost as if the wheat was trying to hold on to her as she passed. And all in the air was the fresh, dusty, full-breasted scent of summer crops – if mixed in some with sun-baking manure. And for a long while, they walked in the quiet, to little more than the flitting and singing of birds.

  At long last, they trudged into a town. Some little thing along the road. Without thinking, Nephis began to amble towards the main street (the only street), but Kugo caught her by the shoulder.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked.

  “To find something to eat!” she exclaimed, “It’s been days since I have had a full meal!”

  “And it will be days more,” Kugo replied, and opened their coin purse. It was empty, but for dust and silt.

  Nephis stared into the terrible thing, still damp from the river. It was one of them, that is, damp and empty. Nephis fell to her toes, her knees against her chest as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Ooooo,” she moaned, “I am going to starve to death!” But then a fire lit in her eyes. “No!” she exclaimed, “I can make this right.”

  And she marched them down to the town’s thin, earthen road to its tavern, brimming with men even though it was still daylight. She burst into the bar, and it fell silent. Nephis wiped her face of all cleverness and kept a cool, fiery glint in her eyes, and marched to the barman, who looked at all three of them queerly.

  “Can I help you, stranger?” he asked, and made no effort to hide his reservation or distaste.

  “I am Nephis F-” her second name caught in her throat. She could not say it. Though they had lost the palace guards, and though the news of her missing or kidnapping had not spread so far, the word that the daughter of the Emperor had wandered into their little village would spread like wildfire.

  To the barman, the strangeness of the day had only begun. There stood before him a disheveled girl, or perhaps a young boy, gasping for words. Her hair was frayed out like a sad dandelion, dirt smudged her face, and her once scarlet and golden robes seemed to the barman like ruddy brick and dull sand. There was a wildness to her eyes, and a pale hue to her cheeks, and she and her strange companions smelled of sweat and still water. Her companions, too, were something to be wary of, great, terrible fellows. One was something he had never seen, some creation of faerie. Doubtless, they were no good. And for a moment, he felt sorry for her, carried along by such gruesome men. Then again, it was she who came up to the bar, so perhaps she was alright in that manner.

  “Can I help you?” he asked again, this time slower.

  “I would like a room,” she said sharply. “And food.”

  “A room?” he asked, his voice thick with offense. “This isn’t a hospital. It’s my house,” he clicked. The gall of strangers, always the gall of them. The barman did have a spare room for friends or strangers with coin. The strangers were always terrible, but their coin was always welcome. However, these vagabonds did not seem to have any. So off they would go.

  Nephis began to protest and, without thinking, pulled up her hand to show her signet ring. But as her hand rose, Kugo clasped her ring-hand, hiding it with a thick, leathery glove. And in that moment, the princess came to her senses and shamefully covered her silver ring. Kugo pulled her away from the barman and into an empty corner. The eyes of all the local men were on them, so he spoke quietly.

  “We don’t have the money for a room,” he said. And he pulled off his thick, heavy boot and shook it over the ground. Three bronze coins plinked pitifully onto the floor, bouncing once before lying lamely on the floor. He peeled each one off the ground. “Three bronze coins. It will buy you a bowl of something, if you are polite,” he instructed her, and set the dull, still, damp coins in her palm, against her fine, kingly ring.

  “What are we going to do?” she whimpered.

  “We’re going to find work,” he said, “We’ll beg for it, if we have to.”

  Nephis did not respond, and only looked on the coins and ring.

  “Go and stop moping,” Kugo said, “Go ask for something to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she spat back, with a huff.

  Kugo groaned, “Do what you want,” and he walked off to speak with the local men.

  Nephis sat against the wall of the inn, warming herself in the morning sun. She held her signet ring between her soft fingers and watched as it shone in the light. It was a pretty thing. Upon its face was the regal countenance of the three headed dragon, her many-great grandfather. This ring alone could open any door and grant an audience with any man. It fit snugly on her. She recalled the day she was fitted for it, a small thread of gold run looped around her slender finger. Even now, not having been polished for some months, it sparkled, having lost little of its luster. In its band, she saw her own face reflected, sad and pale and dirty. The daughter of the Emperor could not be such things, nor could she be seen in a sideways town running from his will.

  A man hobbled passed her, a frantic look in his eyes, and he burst through the doors of the tavern. Nephis quickly hid the ring away. When he had gone in, she pulled it out and gazed longingly at it for one more moment. Slowly and gently, she tucked the ring into her purse and closed it shut.

  “My daughter! They took my Miriam!” the man cried. He was a strong, swarthy man in sun-worn clothes, and he walked with a limp.

  The tavern fell silent. “Who took your daughter?” the barman asked.

  “Goblins!” he said with wheezing breath, “They came from the Rose Wood, and grabbed her from the field.” He began to shake, “Please! Someone get my daughter back! I can’t, not with my damn leg.”

  And the tavern was silent.

  Nephis peeked in through the doorway to see what the commotion was, and she watched as Kugo slowly walked towards the farmer with heavy, dull steps. “I will get your daughter back,” he said in a grim voice.

  “Oh, thank you!”

  “But, you must pay me,” Kugo threatened.

  “What?” the farmer stuttered.

  Nephis ran in towards the monk. “Kugo!” she cried, “What a terrible thing to say!”

  He ignored her. “Pay me now, and pay me when I return with your Miriam,” he said.

  “You can’t extort him like this!” Nephis protested.

  “Alright,” the farmer sniffled, and shakingly drew a clipped silver coin, like a half moon, from his pocket, and gave it to the masked man.

  “Good,” Kugo said, “You will have your daughter back.” And Kugo went to the barman, who still stood in shock.

  Nephis ran up to chastise him for this, but Kugo acted as if she did not exist, and demanded the barman give him food for the coin. Soon, the shaken barman returned with some small loaves of bread and dried, salted meat that he had meant for himself.

  Moss looked curiously on, unsure of what to make of it all, and twiddled his great wooden claws.

  “Kugo!” Nephis burst, now a little red in the face. “How dare you! This man needs our help, and you are asking for money? You’re holding his daughter hostage-”

  “Eat,” he slammed a loaf of thick, dense bread into her hands.

  Her stomach growled upon feeling it, the crumbs and flour dusting her hand, its faint, warm scent tracing her nose. Nephis wanted to still be mad, but she could not bring herself to speak.

  “Were you going to go and rescue Miriam on an empty stomach?” Kugo asked. “We have no money, we have no food, we have no work, and we don’t have the luxury of you flashing your good birth. Eat, so you can be strong.”

  Nephis took a trembling bite of the bread. Though it was only wheat and salt and water, it was sweet to her, and she tore it apart.

  “Now take us to where your daughter was stolen,” Kugo demanded of the farmer before he slipped the cured pork beneath his cowl.

  And the farmer led them to the far outskirts of the village, to a small, but lush farm at the edge of the oak forest.

  Goblins were wicked creatures. Short and stunted, with wrinkled, dull skin. They lived to steal and scavenge from the weak, and shrank away from the strong. These had taken more than the farmer’s daughter, his tools, and drying corn were dragged away, and his prized horse had been slain, leaving a bloody trail through the slashed and burned field. Their fire had even reached his home, which bore its scars, only put out by luck, for the farmer had run as soon as he could.

  “Wait back in town,” Kugo instructed, “Take what you need, and what you can, in case the goblins return. If we are not back in two days’ time, we are dead, only then you may mourn.”

  The farmer nodded solemnly and watched for a while as they set out.

  Tracking the goblins was not difficult. Goblins, by the common understanding, were not intelligent creatures. Where the orc was wise, and was simply hampered by its wickedness and rage, the goblin contained within it few if any virtues. They were dull and foul, capable of making little more than a simple spear or hammer. They lived in the dirt because the holy light of the sun hurt their eyes, and they stole because it was easier – not that they were capable of anything grand. As such, the goblins who raided the farm made little effort to conceal their tracks. The blood of the slain horse guided them throughout the forest, smeared upon every low branch, darkening the good soil of the Rose Wood.

  Even still, they walked as silently as they could, for they knew not where the goblins hid or if they were near. The woods were as old as they seemed from the road, great, gnarled things with black bark. Their roots wove throughout the woods, only cleared when they began to obstruct its dirt path. Eventually, the bloody trail left the packed earth and spilled into the tangled brush. It snagged at them, pulling at their legs and feet, trying to hide what lay within.

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  But not after long, did the horse led them to a hovel in the earth. A small mound overgrown with grass, and an entrance poorly hidden by reeds lay in the earth. Kugo looked around, perhaps fearing the creatures were up in the branches, but he saw nothing. He thought for a minute to smoke them out, but the poor girl was likely within. The hole was hardly waist high for Kugo, and surrounding it, hidden in the grass, was a spray and pool of blood. The horse had been too large, and so it was cut into pieces.

  “What are we waiting for?” Nephis hissed, “Who knows what they plan for her?”

  “Wait,” Kugo warned, “Something isn’t right. We can’t barge in like this.”

  “They’re goblins, Kugo,” she replied, “What do you expect of them?”

  “It’s just an open hole,” he said, “No guards, no look out?”

  “The forest is their guard,” Nephis said in a whisper, “No one ever accused goblins of being bright; they covered the hole with reeds and called it a day. Let’s not waste any time. If you’re going to prepare, do it now.”

  Kugo peered in. The tunnels were low, suited to the small creatures. “Tunnels,” he hissed, “I don’t like it.” He found a branch and bound one of his swords to it using his leather belt. It was not sturdy, but it was better than trying to cut in the low tunnels. “Do you still have the knife I gave you?” he asked Nephis.

  “Yes,” she said, and pulled it from the folded sash that lay across her waist.

  “Good, take it out of the sheath, you may not have the time when we are there.” Then, he took off his now loose pants, leaving bare his grey-blue legs and short, white braies.

  “Really, Kugo?” Nephis groaned as she tossed the leather sheath in the grass. “Is that necessary?”

  “Now is not the time to be prudish,” Kugo countered. “Now let's go.”

  Kugo crawled in first, followed by Nephis, and the rear was brought up by Moss. The tunnels were dark and tight. It took a while for their eyes to adjust, though Kugo’s were better in the dark. Each of them had to crawl or hunch over. Kugo was careful to feel for holes or slopes in the wall, where a passage might be hidden. And soon, they came to a cross. Two branches, one heading to the left and one heading to the right. Light footprints went either way, but some blood still lay dribbled into the dirt, like small pearls leading to the dim right path. He peered down both ways, but could not see anything. Kugo gestured to the right.

  Yet all this way, they had not seen or heard one goblin. Blood pumped in their heads, pounding, pounding, pounding; it was all they could hear. Nephis could hardly see. Kugo was little more than a dark smudge in front of her. She ran her fingertips along the walls, afraid of falling, but also afraid of touching something terrible. She held her breath as much as she could, breathing softly and rarely. Nephis strained her ears, trying to pick out anything in the dark. And then, shifting. Something nearby moved. Was it Kugo? Was it Moss? Was it her, and she had merely imagined it some place else? Or was it a goblin lurking nearby? She swallowed the thought away and went to move forward. When suddenly pain shot up her leg, and she let out a cry. Her voice bounced down the thin tunnels. A small, jagged spear, stuck in her leg, right above her ankle. Quickly, it was yanked out and disappeared into the wall. She felt down and saw there was a long gap along the tunnel wall, right where a man’s leg might be.

  “What happened?” Kugo cried.

  “There’s a gap, there’s a room next to us!” she cried, “I’ve been stabbed.”

  Then another spear shot out towards Kugo, but he moved out of the way and caught it. Snap. He broke it with his leg. He began to beat at the dirt wall, but it was too thick.

  “And from Heaven came the first flame. And from the flame came ovens and man.”

  Nephis reached out her hands before the gap and chanted the spell, a fan of flames rushed from her fingertips and into the secret room. Yipping and howling echoed from the goblins within, and the pattering of feet left them. Kugo rubbed the spear tip against his bare leg and found it was wet and viscous with something.

  “Poison,” he tisked, “We have to leave,” he demanded

  “But the girl,” Moss protested.

  “We’re going to die!” Kugo cried.

  “But what will happen to the girl?” Moss asked again.

  Then the halls were filled with the yipping and the shrieking of the goblins. The terrible sound bounced through the barrows, throaty, high, and harsh.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Kugo ordered.

  And Moss began to crawl backwards, but then the sound of rumbling feet echoed from behind them, and the cries followed. Goblins from the opposite tunnel rushed in and began to stab and hack at Moss.

  Moss twitched as they did, the weapons were only pricks, but he could feel as small bits of him were cut away. He tried to push back and to kick, but there was not enough room.

  “They are here,” he said, “Cutting me.”

  Kugo swore and jut out his makeshift spear. And then a cry echoed from before them, that of a young girl.

  “NOOOO!” she shrieked.

  And Kugo rushed forward, crawled down the tunnel as fast as he could. Nephis and Moss followed, spears sticking into Moss. Soon, the goblins found that Moss did not bleed, but that Nephis did. And they began to stab their spears past him, at her, trying to prick or pierce her. She cried out in fear as once nearly caught her in the mouth. Moss was too great for them to pass, but they stabbed all the same, trying only to get lucky once. She rushed forward to stay out of reach, but there was little place to run.

  The tunnel now grew a little lighter; there was some room beyond they had lit. And as Kugo turned a corner, a goblin burst from around an alcove and jammed a crude knife into his shoulder. He bellowed in pain. The creature was ugly. It looked at him with great, bulging black eyes and terrible, rotting fangs. Its short snout flared, and it dug the knife into Kugo. Then it leapt at him and tried to gnaw into his ear, but Kugo threw his good elbow back and the creature flew back upon a rock with a terrible crunch. But even still, it pulled itself up, a fragile arm broken and its head stuck lilting to one side, and it threw itself again at Kugo, trying to take its knife back. He kicked at it like a mule, and it fell back and tumbled before the princess.

  “Nephis!” he cried, “Your dagger, kill it!”

  “Ah!” she cried back in a trembling voice, and fumbled for it in her sash. The goblin was trying to stand up again, though its shoulder and back were broken, it still pushed itself up. With a shaking hand, she plunged the blade into its bony, pale chest. It howled in pain, swiping at her, swiping for her eyes. The blade had hardly pierced it. She howled back and pulled it up and stabbed it again, this time a little deeper. The goblins behind Moss shrieked and tried to reach past him, tried to wriggled through the gaps. It was all he could do to block them. Again, she stabbed it and felt the blade stick against him, resisting her, she threw all her weight into it as the goblin shook and gargled as blood filled its throat. Its black bile spat up at her as she wrestled with the blade, trying to keep it down. Eventually, it stopped. But the howling and the crying did not.

  Kugo pressed forward, deeper into the bowels of the goblin nest. Yipping and shadows poured from in front of him. And then, they were upon him. Two of the foul creatures sprinted down the tunnel, crude spears in hand. They charged, their wide mouths gaping open, revealing their uneven, pockmarked teeth. Kugo plunged his makeshift spear forward, catching one in the chest in one fell swoop. But the other did not even seem to notice, and it ran passed him, its spear flying towards Kugo’s neck. He beat the spear aside and snapped the branch of his makeshift weapon. And with the broken shaft, he clubbed the goblin in the head. Though the tunnels were so tight that it did little more than stun the wretched creature. Kugo gouged out the great, soft eye of the goblin. Its cry was so loud and horrible that Kugo pulled back for a moment. But staring at the face of the ugly creature, he was filled with a dark rage, and hearing the shrieks of the girl in the room beyond, it took all he could not to spit at the goblin. He beat it, cracking its skull under his great and powerful fists.

  Crawling past a corner, they came to a chamber marked by a fetish that hung above the entrance. The terrible idol was made of bone and hair and shaped into the crude visage of a large goblin head. Kugo rushed in, his shortened spear in hand. The room was larger, its domed ceiling high enough that Kugo could almost stand up, and a small fire burned in its center, filling the chamber with smoke. But on the far wall was the girl, young, lying bound on a dirt altar. Her clothes were torn and cut, so that her legs and belly were exposed. And covering her skin was thick, white fat, spread all over. Her fair skin was reddened with dozens of thin, rough cuts all across her, and blood mixed with the fat and the dirt. Standing over her was a goblin more wicked and terrible than the rest. He wore a strange headdress and held the rough blade of a scythe, stolen from the farm.

  Seeing them, the shaman turned its ugly head and hissed and gargled. Then, it took the scythe and pressed it against Miriam’s neck. The goblin grinned, its cheeks crinkling in joy and satisfaction at its cleverness. The girl looked to Kugo, fear and panic in her eyes. He was stunned and stood dumbly for a moment.

  “Okhung daguul!” Kugo demanded in the Black Speech, ‘Let the girl go!’

  But there was no understanding in its eyes; Kugo may as well have gargled and shrieked at it for all he knew. They stood for what felt like an hour. Miriam whimpered and tried to pull back, but the goblin only pressed the blade deeper.

  Nephis crawled out of the tunnel – she was pale and breathing heavily. She tried to stand, but immediately fell. She held her leg, but could not feel her hand against it. It was numb and near lame. The goblin’s eyes leered towards her hungrily. And in this moment of distraction, Kugo pounced and tore the scythe from its hand. They wrestled for a moment, but in this chamber, Kugo could move freely, and he was so much stronger. He cut the shaman’s head from him, shearing him like barely.

  Moss plugged the hole. And the goblins howled at their leader being killed. Scratching at him, and reaching passed him, trying to grab at Nephis. There must have been dozens of them. They clogged the hole like fat in a sewer. But seeing Miriam, wounded and trembling, Moss grew to hate the foul things. He pulled himself out of the hole. And as they tried to rush through the gap, he would kick them, punting them back. He jammed his great claws into the packed dirt wall above, silently crushing any goblin that tried to pass him beneath his heavy feet. Nephis saw, in the light, little vines wriggling out of the tunnel ceiling. And when he was ready, and when the tunnel was packed to the brim with the things. He looked down upon them, his sapphire eyes glinting coldly in the faint light.

  “Hurt,” Moss’ voice echoed. And the tunnel before them collapsed, the dirt slid down upon the goblins, crushing them all in an instant. And it was quiet.

  Kugo fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air in the smoky room. But seeing the poor girl, still shivering and unable to say a word, he cut her rugged bindings from her. “You’re alright,” he said in a kind voice, as strong as he could manage. “You’re okay.”

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Miriam,” she answered in a quaking, tiny voice.

  Kugo sighed in relief.

  “Nephis,” he demanded, “Put out that fire, there’s too much smoke.”

  “Kugo, I can’t feel my leg,” she answered in a still, calm voice, but her eyes were sharp with fear.

  Kugo cursed. “Moss, put out the fire, now!”

  And Moss did, though quite gingerly. Dirt was spread over it, and with it, the chamber was near pitch black. But not entirely. A small beam of light shone through a little spot in the wall.

  “I guess they weren’t as stupid as I thought,” Kugo mused as he stared at the foggy light. “Nephis, how are you feeling? Besides the leg, I mean.”

  She took a moment, “I will be alright for a while,” she answered.

  “We need to find a way out of here,” Kugo said, “Can you get us a light?”

  Nephis held her tongue.

  She groped around in the dark until she found what remained of the fire, stinging her hand upon the still-warm embers. She spoke a spell, and the tip of a half-burned branch ignited, like a small torch. She stuck into the ground, and the room was brightened in dim, flickering light. The room was not large for a man, but for a goblin, it must have been stately. The walls were studded with alcoves, all holding strange idols and gruesome tools or crude jars. Stolen knives and thrown away trash, all marked and scratched with crooked and shaking runes by the shaman. Bones of man and goblin alike were laid on little altars to whatever foul god or spirit they worshiped. But among these was something strange, something of good craft and taste, but still foreign to people of this wood. A silver statue lay among the goods, it was not too large, only the side of a thumb. It was of a bird, a vulture of some kind. The vulture was not a common symbol to these people, but that was not the strange thing. No, white stone stuck to it like barnacles, it had been hacked from a wall.

  “What is this?” Nephis wondered, and she asked Moss to grab it.

  He turned it over and over, and saw that it had little, delicate carvings on it. But they were not the work of the goblins, whose runes were childlike. These were thin and precise. “It’s like the elves,” he said, “It’s like the cloak.” And indeed, though he was the only one who had seen it, the fashion of the cuts was the same as the flowers on the cloak.

  Nephis and he poured over it, trying to discern something about it. Kugo, meanwhile, desperately searched the room for an escape.

  But there was no way out. This chamber was the place to keep secure. There were no gaps along the walls for secret rooms, no crawl spaces for the goblin escape, nothing.

  “We’ll have to dig our way out,” Kugo decided, his bare grey legs and white breeches exposed. Nephis groaned and slipped off her red and gold robes, leaving only a white chemise covering her body. They were long, and she often tucked them into her black skirt. She hoped they were long enough.

  “Here,” she tossed the robes. “Have some shame.”

  “I could say the same to you,” he answered and tied the robes over himself.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Slowly and carefully, Moss and Kugo began to excavate the ceiling, digging a tunnel up into the domed, earthen ceiling. Nephis scooted over to the girl and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You are in good hands, Kugo is an excellent man.”

  “Mm,” Miriam said softly, and her breathing evened a little more. “Who are you?” she asked in a small voice. “Why did you come here?”

  “Your father sent us to rescue you,” Nephis paused for a moment, a thought flickering in her mind. “He would have come to rescue you himself, but his leg was bad; he could not run on it.”

  Miriam nodded.

  “Now, let us get you cleaned up a little,” Nephis said and began to gently scrape the fat from her. The girl seemed in her right mind, it was only cuts and wax.

  “Are you an angel, miss?” Miriam asked.

  “What? No,” Nephis said in surprise.

  “Well, I’ve never seen you before, and you speak so fittingly,” Miriam explained, now a little more awkward.

  Nephis did not have an answer for that. “No, I am . . . ordinary, vulgar,” she sighed, a twinge of sadness in her voice.

  “Vulgar?”

  “Erm,” Nephis fumbled.

  Then light spilled from the ceiling, as the boys had broken through the first shaft. And soon, the way was widened, just enough for Miriam and Nephis to squeeze through. Moss vaulted them up, Miriam first, and then Nephis, who crawled out, her leg still lame. But, seeing how tattered Miriam’s dress was, how exposed she must have felt, Nephis leaned over the hole, “Kugo!” she called, “Throw me up my robes!” And soon after, they were pressed up by Kugo’s swordspear.

  “Here, help me with my leg,” she asked Miriam, and Nephis wriggled out of her black skirt and sash, leaving her only in her long, white undergarments. “Put these on,” she offered the girl her clothes.

  “But you’ll be in your breeches!” Miriam exclaimed.

  “I believe you are wearing less than I am, at the moment,” Nephis countered. And indeed, the cuts along the girl’s dress were dramatic, leaving her stomach and long legs open to all to see, the rest covered by strips of hanging fabric.

  Miriam shamefully looked down and then glanced at the hole.

  “Go on, be quick, before they get up,” Nephis teased. “Oh, but do me a favor. There are a pair of trousers around the way, lying on the ground. Could you bring those to me once you are changed?”

  And Miriam crept off to change, looking over her shoulder the while, soon returning with the long, sturdy pants. Nephis tossed them down the widening hole. “. . . Good thinking!” Kugo called back. Indeed, it seemed Miriam had not noticed that his legs were the wrong color in the fighting and the dim light.

  “I didn’t see at first,” Miriam began, clutching the fine crimson robes, “But these are very soft robes, miss, like petals on my skin. They must’ve cost a hoard of money! Are you rich, miss?”

  Nephis was struck in the heart again. “No,” she answered, and the word was heavier on her tongue than she expected, “At the moment, I believe we have three copper coins to our name.”

  “What?” Miriam giggled, the fear leaving her eyes, “I have more than that! But, I s’pose you must be right. Rich people are always pretty and clean and they’ve got fair skin. And, uhm,” her voice trailed off.

  “And I am not?” Nephis finished.

  “I didn’t want to say it,” she admitted.

  “I will have you know that rich people get dirty like the rest, they just take care to their appearances,” Nephis said.

  “There! You did it again!” Miriam exclaimed, “You talk all with your nose and speak harsh-like, ‘rest’” she mimicked, accentuating her ‘t’.

  “It is just how we talk where I am from,” Nephis pulled her into herself, a bit embarrassed and a bit pleased.

  “Are you telling the truth?” Miriam asked, “’Bout not being rich?”

  “I have no money,” Nephis said. “Nothing at all.”

  “If you say so . . .” Miriam gave up.

  Moss and Kugo emerged from the hole.

  Kugo was sure to cover up his skin completely. “How are you feeling, Miriam?” he asked, “Are you alright? They didn’t . . . do anything to you?”

  Miriam was a little scared of Kugo; it was clear to see, she pulled away from him, but could not keep her eyes off the snarling mask. “I’m okay, they cut me up some, and it stings real bad, but I’m just fine.”

  “Good,” Kugo answered, a gentle smile slipping from him. “Nephis, how is your leg holding up?”

  “The same as before, I still can’t feel it,” she answered grimly.

  “Why do you wear that mask?” Miriam interrupted.

  “I have a defect from when I was born, it makes me unsightly,” Kugo answered immediately, hardly even thinking of what to say.

  “Well, I don’t mean to be rude,” Miriam stuttered, “But could I see your face? I’d like to see the man who saved me. I don’t mind a rough face. I see my father every day.”

  Kugo paused for a moment, and an awkward tension hung in the air. “No,” he eventually said, “I don’t like to scare young girls.”

  Miriam looked disappointed, but didn’t say anything. And the air grew weightier.

  “I’m going to make sure there aren’t any goblins left,” Kugo said clumsily and excused himself.

  They waited for him, Moss low by the entrance of the tunnel, ready to rush in if Kugo called, but he never did. Eventually, he returned, and he carried a clay pot and a rough bag of something light. “I didn’t find any, the collapse must have gotten or trapped all of them. But I did find something,” he presented the pot and dumped out the bag. On the inside were a number of wild plants, long and green bitter lettuce, and wild poppy, among other varied herbs. “I think your leg should be alright, Nephis,” he said. “I will bet it’s just meant to numb. That way they can kill you or keep you, er, as a pet or sacrifice.”

  Nephis was somewhat relieved, though she refused to take heart until she could walk again. When he returned, Miriam was already asleep. Her sun-kissed face, now gentle, free of terror and pain. Kugo scooped her up, and Moss took Nephis on his back. But as they began to walk back, Miriam stirred. And she looked up at Kugo, and into his mask. “You’ve got very kind eyes,” she whispered.

  “Ah, thank you?” he answered.

  She drew her head to his, “What is he? You called him Moss,” she asked quietly, almost second handedly.

  “He’s gentle, you needn’t worry,” he assured her.

  “Alright,” she said, and then paused. She kissed him upon the forehead of his wooden mask. “That is for saving me.” She buried her head in the white mane that spilled over his shoulder, he could feel the burning of her face through his armor. They walked in quiet and peace for a long while.

  Once Miriam was asleep, Nephis turned her head to him, “I don’t like to scare little girls,” she mimicked him.

  “I don’t!” he defended himself in a hushed voice.

  “Little girl,” Nephis joked again. “She might be older than you, you know?”

  “Shut it!” he said.

  Nephis snickered. “Why didn’t you let her see your face?” she asked. “I don’t think she would have minded.”

  “No, she would have,” he rebuked her, “And even if she didn’t, the rest of the village would have.”

  “What, for saving their daughter?” she pushed back.

  “It wouldn’t matter to them, as far as their concerned, I am a vicious monster, this may be a scheme. They’d have me in a pool of my own blood as quick as they knew,” passion tinged his voice, though he stayed at a whisper, “Maybe she wouldn’t hate me, she might not run. But she doesn’t seem like the girl who can keep her mouth shut.”

  A small smile crept back onto Nephis’ mouth, “No, I suppose she doesn’t seem like that sort of girl,” she teased, “Why don’t you show her your face, even still, she might kiss you then.”

  Kugo didn’t respond.

  “What? Do you not want to shatter her imaginings? Do you want her to dream of Sir Kugo and his ‘very kind eyes’?” Nephis could not see it, but Kugo had grown very flushed in the face. “Well, not that it would do you any good, Brother Kugo.”

  “I know my vows, but can I have a moment!” he groaned, “I can at least dream about it, even if I can’t have it!”

  Nephis could not help but laugh. “I was right! That’s very sweet.”

  Kugo did not say a word, but only fumed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I did not mean to make fun of you.”

  “This will come back to bite you,” he warned.

  “Will it now?” she asked.

  “Yes, I won’t forget.”

  “KsKsKs,” Nephis laughed and snorted, “Good luck, Sir Kugo.”

  And they returned to the village, the very same day. When he saw them, Miriam’s father ran, nearly falling to meet them. The father and daughter sobbed in each other’s arms, the terror of the night spilling away. He thanked them over and over again. “I don’t have any money, but wait here for a day, and I will have it for you. I promise!” Kugo ensured that they would a stay a day. When they admitted they had no money for a room, the farmer gave them an attic to sleep in. And Kugo and Nephis collapsed, falling to a deep slumber nearly immediately. Moss, meanwhile, turned the silver vulture over and over in his hands, wondering where it had come from.