goblin in the hut had drawn their combined attentions and they had sent her whirling, dispersed. The old agreement held little sway, it seemed. Now all she had the strength to do was watch.
How had these interlopers even found out about the child she had created? It had never been her will that the child’s hair turn blue, but when it had she had thought it a sign that her cause was good. She had certainly never intended to fulfil someone else’s prophecy. With cold realisation, she understood that she had created champions for her enemies! The child who should have been born of Old Magic was sundered, divided into light and shadow. For the second time in her long existence, the Lady Vyasinth saw a breaking of balance.
•
Swords clashed again, and Dakur cursed – this was taking too long. It had been minutes since Elessa had cried out for aid, but this Black Goblin was proving a formidable opponent. Only last year Dakur had won the Spring Tournament, beating the former titleholder decisively, and it had been easier than this. This little bastard was quick.
He’d dodged Dakur’s initial surprise swing – if indeed it had been a surprise – spinning out of the sword’s path like a whirligig. He was all claws, gleaming fangs and a treacherous flashing blade wielded with such fluidity that it would have been awe-inspiring to watch had Dakur not been so focused on keeping it well away. The goblin fought in a confusing flurry, ducking and weaving, gliding in and out of Dakur’s reach, sometimes disappearing behind a tree or rock only to leap out again from an unexpected direction. More disturbingly, the creature fought in total silence, never a grunt or a threat or a laugh. Just the unknowable stare of his orb-like eyes.
Dakur deflected defensively, waiting for an opportunity to lash out in return. So far his offensives had met only empty space, his opponent preferring to wheel out of the way than actually meet his steel. Their swords only connected when the goblin attacked. It was infuriating.
The creature leaped up onto a rock and Dakur avoided lunging at him, waiting instead for the inevitable disappearance into the undergrowth. Instead the goblin sprang at him bodily, batting Dakur’s blade aside while in the air and crashing against his chest, knocking him down. The goblin dropped his sword to grab Dakur’s sword arm and pin it to the ground, using his other to slip a dagger from his belt. As the dagger flashed down, Dakur’s free hand shot up to catch it a handspan from his throat. For a moment they lay locked, the goblin so close that Dakur could smell his earthy breath. He tried to twist his sword arm free, but the goblin dug his claws in harder, forcing Dakur to drop his blade. He gritted his teeth as he pushed back on the dagger.
‘Strong for a little fellow, aren’t you?’ he grunted.
In a painful movement, he wrenched his pinned wrist free to crack the goblin across the jaw, spattering the black chin with his own blood. The force of the blow knocked the creature off him, dagger and all. Dakur rolled for his own sword but the goblin leaped on his back. He elbowed the creature viciously in the face and staggered to his feet, sword in hand. With a bellow he spun around.
On the low-lying branch of a tree some paces away, the goblin sat watching, his sword stuck upright in the wood beside him.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Dakur said. ‘Had enough, have you?’
The goblin slowly uncurled a claw. Dakur frowned, but looked down to where the goblin pointed. As his gaze fell, he let out a cry of surprise. Protruding from his belly was the hilt of a dagger.
Giddiness swept over him. He fell to his knees, pawing at his ruined stomach in disbelief. Then, with a bark of anger, he yanked the dagger free, raising it for retribution.
The branch was deserted.
There was a soft footfall on the leaves behind him.
•
Elessa was tiring and the wound in her side was agonising. Whenever she moved, pain
How had these interlopers even found out about the child she had created? It had never been her will that the child’s hair turn blue, but when it had she had thought it a sign that her cause was good. She had certainly never intended to fulfil someone else’s prophecy. With cold realisation, she understood that she had created champions for her enemies! The child who should have been born of Old Magic was sundered, divided into light and shadow. For the second time in her long existence, the Lady Vyasinth saw a breaking of balance.
•
Swords clashed again, and Dakur cursed – this was taking too long. It had been minutes since Elessa had cried out for aid, but this Black Goblin was proving a formidable opponent. Only last year Dakur had won the Spring Tournament, beating the former titleholder decisively, and it had been easier than this. This little bastard was quick.
He’d dodged Dakur’s initial surprise swing – if indeed it had been a surprise – spinning out of the sword’s path like a whirligig. He was all claws, gleaming fangs and a treacherous flashing blade wielded with such fluidity that it would have been awe-inspiring to watch had Dakur not been so focused on keeping it well away. The goblin fought in a confusing flurry, ducking and weaving, gliding in and out of Dakur’s reach, sometimes disappearing behind a tree or rock only to leap out again from an unexpected direction. More disturbingly, the creature fought in total silence, never a grunt or a threat or a laugh. Just the unknowable stare of his orb-like eyes.
Dakur deflected defensively, waiting for an opportunity to lash out in return. So far his offensives had met only empty space, his opponent preferring to wheel out of the way than actually meet his steel. Their swords only connected when the goblin attacked. It was infuriating.
The creature leaped up onto a rock and Dakur avoided lunging at him, waiting instead for the inevitable disappearance into the undergrowth. Instead the goblin sprang at him bodily, batting Dakur’s blade aside while in the air and crashing against his chest, knocking him down. The goblin dropped his sword to grab Dakur’s sword arm and pin it to the ground, using his other to slip a dagger from his belt. As the dagger flashed down, Dakur’s free hand shot up to catch it a handspan from his throat. For a moment they lay locked, the goblin so close that Dakur could smell his earthy breath. He tried to twist his sword arm free, but the goblin dug his claws in harder, forcing Dakur to drop his blade. He gritted his teeth as he pushed back on the dagger.
‘Strong for a little fellow, aren’t you?’ he grunted.
In a painful movement, he wrenched his pinned wrist free to crack the goblin across the jaw, spattering the black chin with his own blood. The force of the blow knocked the creature off him, dagger and all. Dakur rolled for his own sword but the goblin leaped on his back. He elbowed the creature viciously in the face and staggered to his feet, sword in hand. With a bellow he spun around.
On the low-lying branch of a tree some paces away, the goblin sat watching, his sword stuck upright in the wood beside him.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Dakur said. ‘Had enough, have you?’
The goblin slowly uncurled a claw. Dakur frowned, but looked down to where the goblin pointed. As his gaze fell, he let out a cry of surprise. Protruding from his belly was the hilt of a dagger.
Giddiness swept over him. He fell to his knees, pawing at his ruined stomach in disbelief. Then, with a bark of anger, he yanked the dagger free, raising it for retribution.
The branch was deserted.
There was a soft footfall on the leaves behind him.
•
Elessa was tiring and the wound in her side was agonising. Whenever she moved, pain
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