Slaide was digging for something in his pack as he answered. “They’re… uh… you’ve heard of goblins, yes? Shit… where did I put it? So… they’re like goblins… except… there it is…” He withdrew a roll of cloth and began wrapping his leg. “Like I was saying, they’re nasty relatives of goblins, but smaller and cleverer.” He held up the arrow. “Their weapons-craft is superior to most lesser beings. Combine that with their ability to actuallyusethem? Well, this is what happens. Oh, and they’re particularly skilled… in… poisons.” He winced.
And then he toppled over.
“Slaide? Shit! Slaide, get up!” She was no longer being quiet.
“Can’t… poison… arrow. Magic… blocking.” His voice was strained, barely above a whisper. And somehow he managed to convey his annoyance just the same.
No no no. You are not leaving me here alone like this.“Slaide, I need you to stay with me and tell me what to do. Please!”
Something moved in the brush across from them, and she froze. She’d ignored her locket’s prior warnings, but now it wasunmistakable: danger lurked nearby. In the tall grass, a small form moved, two grotesque yellow eyes blinked. They were staring.
At her.
Think, Hazel. Think.She didn’t have any weapons with her, but Slaide did.
She dove toward him and heard the gobkins burst into movement behind her. She tucked into a roll and grabbed his ashwood bow and three arrows from the ground. By the time she was standing, the bow was drawn, string taut and prepared to fire. Her toad-like adversary was nearly upon her when she released, sending the arrow through one too-large, sickly-yellow eye with a squelch. The beast reeled backward with the force of the blow, flopping twice before it went still.
Another arrow flew past her head, and Hazel whirled to find her assailant posted on a boulder at least fifty paces away. In an instant, she sent an arrow back at him—while dodging his second shot—and thumped the gobkin in the chest, knocking him from his perch. Two down. But how many were there?
A gurgled cry sounded from above her, and she looked up just in time to see a third gobkin diving toward her from a tree limb, daggers outstretched. She dove just out of reach but quickly realized her mistake as she righted herself.
They weren’t after her; they were after Slaide.
And she’d given the beasts exactly what they wanted.
SECRETS
Hazel stared in horror at the gobkin before her, his wart-riddled skin and horrendous underbite stealing the show as he snarled at her. Large tusks protruded from his lower jaw, and she shuddered at the thought of those tusks ripping into her flesh. Or Slaide’s.
Slaide was still laying on the forest floor, nearly paralyzed. The gobkin turned from Hazel and approached Slaide warily, as though he knew what the man was capable of. Hazel wondered if this had been a planned ambush. Either Slaide and these creatures had a less than pleasant history, or they were going to pounce on the first unsuspecting travelers to ride through this territory, no matter who they were.
Regardless, she needed to move. He was still far enough away from Slaide that she wasn’t overly concerned with skewering the wrong target with a wayward shot, so she made her decision and nocked her last arrow. As she steadied her breath and prepared her shot, something rustled behind her. Before she could so much as peek over her shoulder, something barreled into her, causing the arrow to loose prematurely, finding itself embedded in a nearby birch tree.
She rolled over, grappling with her gobkin attacker in order to get onto her back, where she could better defend herself. The beast lunged, claws swiping and teeth gnashing as she tried to push it away with her feet. But it was relentless, taking blow after blow to its face and soft body, completely unbothered in its pursuit of destroying her.
Deep down, Hazel was losing control, panic and uncertainty creeping in. She no longer had the upper hand in this fight. She chanced a glance at Slaide and found the other remaining gobkin still circling him, taunting, playing with its food. Slaide’s body was twitching, his feet trying to move as though the poison was slowly wearing off, but they were both running out of time.
Pain lanced through her forearm, her thoughts cut short as the gobkin clamped down on her. Flesh and muscle gave way easier than wet parchment, and she was certain the bone would soon snap. She would not die this way.Could notdie this way. Then something occurred to her: she had another weapon at her disposal.
Hazel didn’t know what she was doing, but she had to try. She closed her eyes and focused inward, trying to find that deep, warm light she’d gathered in the past. She pushed past the pain of the gobkin above her, shredding her arm to get to her face and neck.Focus.She dove deeper and deeper into her mind, wondering if it was possible to get stuck in one’s own self-conscious.
And then, like a beacon of hope, there it was.
Hazel grabbed it fiercely, a fine thread of power, and began her ascent toward the surface. As she drew the power upward with her, it grew in size and strength until there was no more room. Nowhere for it to go.
She erupted into a ball of light, all the energy she’d built up blasting outward from her body. The gobkin was caught in the blast and thrown against a nearby tree, where she heard his bodycrack before he fell into a limp pile on the ground. It hadn’t occurred to her to check Slaide’s proximity to the blast before she’d essentially detonated herself, but she was pleased to see she hadn’t obliterated him.
Better still was the sight of Slaide—mobile enough to finally be able to fight for himself—landing a killing blow to his assailant. He drove his dagger in hard as the gobkin’s body came down upon him, spraying him with black blood. Its form went limp against Slaide’s chest with a gurgle. Trapped under the corpse, Slaide coughed and gagged at its stench.
Hazel tasted the familiar burnt flavor of charred ash, just as she’d experienced in her previous magical outbursts. She righted herself and made her way over to Slaide. She grabbed hold of the dead gobkin by its shoulder, trying not to breathe in the reek of rotting flesh emanating from its body as she lifted it off him.
“Gods, I hate those things,” he groaned, taking in large breaths of untainted air. “More a nuisance than anything, but they’re full of tricks.” He looked up at Hazel. “And specialize in ambushes.”
After a few more moments and with Hazel’s help, Slaide scooted back to the base of a tree and rested his back against it. As she was aiding him, she caught Slaide staring at the torn skin along her forearm. At how the injuries were less severe than they should be.
She expected to see bleeding, torn flesh. Instead, she found an injury that appeared several days old.What in the name of the gods… I’m healing?She met Slaide’s eyes with her own, and a smile slowly formed on his face.
“Well, that’s certainly interesting.”
