As exhausted as I was, my goblin had lots of energy. He was a wild one. He wanted to roam the Wastelands now that he had returned. But underneath that excitement lurked pain. I didn’t understand why. I drank a rejuvenation potion and rolled up in a corner, as I didn’t have to take a watch. Even with the potion and the goblin’s energy, I couldn’t keep myself awake. With the second soul a part of me, I fell sound asleep.
I woke up refreshed the next morning, as the goblin’s strength added to my own. He was just as eager to get on the way as I was. I needed his strength, because after performing all those rituals, there was no way in the Inferno I could go on without him. My magic wasn’t strong, and I needed more time to recover. We left the empty bags of blood and departed from the cave.
As the days passed and our group inched our way closer to Masep, the number of Wasteland creatures increased even during the daytime. We were all alone. There were no signs of patrols from Alexandria, and we didn’t expect them this deep into the Wastelands.
Jastillian didn’t know of any more safe places, as we had reached the limits of his travels. We spent all our time outside, and we couldn’t even make a campfire in case we attracted attention. Two of us were on guard at all times.
The good thing was that, with our new disguises, we didn’t have to go out of our way to avoid other creatures, although Jastillian would steer us away when groups got too close. We all knew my magic was successful; we felt it. But when we looked at each other, we felt ridiculous.
Eventually, though, we ran into trouble and had nowhere to go.
A group of four loud humongous ogres stumbled our way from behind a rock cropping, cutting us off from our route. We didn’t hear or see them coming until it was too late.
My heart nearly burst out of my chest, and I ached to scream. It wasn’t because I was scared of the gigantic creatures. I had killed many before, but this time was different. The goblin smothered me with anxiety. I had to calm myself and not tremble because of him.
I glanced around, judging the ogres’ distance from us and calculating how fast I could run northeast, deeper into the Wastelands where I would be safe with more of my kind. I shook my head. That wasn’t right. This wasn’t home. Home was in Northern Shala. With Krystal.
I stared at the others. They were having the same problem I was. Demay’s left hand was shaking, and he grabbed it with his right to stop it. Behast snarled, drool dribbling down his chin, straining to attack. Prastian froze like a statue, his eyes glassy. Jastillian’s lower lip quivered, and he couldn’t even look at the ogres.
We needed to pull ourselves together. It didn’t matter how big the ogres were or that they could kill and eat us without a thought. Then I remembered other goblins—friends—that had been slain by ogres, and I crumpled to the ground and put my hands to my head.
I clearly remembered hulking ogres ravaging goblins, pulling their limbs apart and smashing their heads in a frenzied bloodlust. My eyes widened as I thought of someone close—my lover? my wife?—no,
his
wife, dying. I was powerless as she was taken away from me and I—he ran away. Guilt and fear from that powerful memory threatened to overwhelm me.
I dug my feet into the ground. I wasn’t going anywhere except to Masep. I had to make sure Alexandria would be forever safe from Premier. I had a duty both as a wizard and as someone who deeply cared for the princess.
I grasped my magic to soothe myself and him, but the goblin’s panic and those flashbacks made it almost impossible. I rubbed my forehead and shook my head. I should have realized this was going to happen. Krystal was right. This spell was far too dangerous to be used. There was just not enough room in my body—or anybody’s body—for two souls.
No matter how hard I thought or talked to myself, the goblin didn’t understand that he was still dead and they couldn’t hurt him. They could only hurt and kill me.
My friends broke the goblins’ hold over their bodies, but their scared faces lacked the confidence and calmness I had seen them wear in battle so many times before. I was positive my own face was the same.
Since it took us too long to regain a modicum of control, the ogres had closed on us to where we could no longer run. We now had no choice but to fight, yet we couldn’t get ready for it.
My friends couldn’t free their weapons in time and my magic was unfocused. The goblins were too much to handle. My raging fire inside only fueled the terror. The goblin was as terrified of my magic as he was of the ogres. Our only saving grace was that the ogres didn’t carry any visible weapons and the hunt wasn’t in their eyes. It was like we were beneath their notice. My goblin was angry at that.
The leader of the pack stopped in front of Jastillian. He peered down, his large eyes settling on Jastillian, and I suppressed a shiver. He roared. We all jumped, and Demay tumbled and fell. Deep laughs came from the ogres. They pushed us aside and stumbled by. Their breath had a foul, tangy smell. I knew they were drunk, although it wasn’t alcohol. Memories of a dark, thick, tar-like brew flashed in my mind. The same relieved look smoothed all of our grimy, blood-encrusted faces as the ogres departed the area.
----
It took us far longer to reach Masep than I liked, but it was necessary. We encountered more of the Wasteland creatures and we needed to learn to control our goblin spirits until we were no longer frightened of them. We were more at ease whenever we saw a group of goblins, but we had to contend with our spirits fighting to join them. When we passed by ogres and trolls, we avoided them, more out of our barely controlled fear than from them threatening to harm us. We still did our best to keep away from all large groups of creatures, so we ended up not traveling in a direct route to Masep.
The spirits took over at times. We couldn’t fight them on everything. Even though the elves and I didn’t eat meat, the spirits influenced us to consume things like grubs and worms, and we knew just where to find them too.
As time progressed and we reined the goblins in, they started to be helpful. They remembered caves to hide out in and places where ogres and trolls could be avoided. They were excited when they realized we were taking them to Masep. Whenever we talked about Premier, or even when I just thought about him, my goblin would clam up and I would shiver as if a cold knuckle ran down my spine.
I was able to keep my goblin under control by thinking about the princess and how warm and good she felt when she was cuddled up in my arms and pressed against my chest. She gave me strength even when we weren’t together, and reminded me of what I had to do. I wanted to return to that and to her.
But it wasn’t going to be easy. Renak’s castle was going to be difficult to get into, even with the disguises. There was only one known way in and that was going to be guarded. We would be surrounded by thousands of Wasteland creatures, our bodies occupied by goblins we could barely control, and Premier would have to know I was coming for him.
According to my calculations, we still had a few days before Premier’s power returned in full, and that was the only thing in our favor. But even a weakened Premier would be extremely dangerous.
We finally arrived at Masep. The five of us stood at the edge of
a cliff, peering down into the place that was once the heart of Renak’s operations during the War of the Wizards.
We were over five hundred feet above the ancient city. Masep was nestled into a huge crater with walls too steep to scale down. Small fissures had torn into the walls, creating gashes of jagged rocks. Steam leaked from those holes, blanketing the city in a low fog much like a morning’s mist. Fifty feet away, at the south of the city, was the only visible way in. There was a dim light in and around Masep that seemed to have no clear source.
Other than that eerie light, darkness smothered this portion of the world like ash after a fire. Huge, black clouds hovered over the city. Lighting raced constantly through the clouds, and thunder cracked and boomed across the sky. The hair on my body stood on end as the magical power of the place brushed against my skin. So much energy buzzed in the air that even my friends felt it. The elves twitched their ears, and Jastillian turned his head as if sensing something.
I held my breath. It couldn’t be Premier, could it? Could he be gathering in energy from the Wasteland creatures, using it to fuel his own? Could whatever dark secrets he’d unearthed from Renak have helped him restore his power? I tried to tap into the earth’s mana. It was gone. Whatever disturbance I had felt near the border of Alexandria and the Wastelands was strongest here. It worried me that Premier might be behind all of this.
I shook my head. That couldn’t be it. The magic was far too ancient and powerful for Premier to be responsible for. It was something else, something greater and more deadly than Premier. I hoped it was not something I’d have to deal with.
I followed the source of that power and found it underneath those dark, ominous clouds, at the far end of the city, at Renak’s enormous tower. I had expected a castle much like the one in Alexandria, but the lone, rectangular tower was far more imposing against the bleak landscape.
A deep abyss surrounded the tower. There was only one stony walkway from the tower to the city, and it was blocked by a twenty foot gate. Guards stood at the entrance.
The tower had plenty of windows, but only a few still had shutters. One window had a broken shutter constantly flapping in the cool breeze. Gargoyles perched on the tower, the gray beasts watching the city. One gargoyle’s head was missing. A few vultures circled over the city, but none of them dared to venture over Renak’s tower.
I took a deep breath, knowing I’d have to see if my magic could permeate the building’s defenses. If I could feel the magic from this distance, what would happen if I tried to directly access it with my own?
I had to find out if I aimed to go in there. I couldn’t be like the vultures, afraid to venture near. The goblin in my head screamed for me not to use my magic, but I ignored him.
I summoned a tiny bit of mana, careful of Premier sensing me or the backlash from Renak’s magic. I wanted to bypass the castle’s magic and see if I could sense Premier. He could be anywhere in that building, but if he was gathering in magic, I would know. I closed my eyes, guiding my mana across the width of Masep. When I brushed up against the castle, the tower’s magic surged and threw my own magic back at me. I yelped and bent over.
“Hellsfire, are you all right?” Demay asked.
I nodded, then put a finger to my mouth. I focused and used even less magic against the tower. It was like running my fingers over blades of grass, except that this grass would snap and bite my hands if I pushed hard enough. My magic crawled against the tower, trying to be as unobtrusive as a summer’s breeze. Even though the tower was physically decaying, the magical barrier Renak had created to keep his secrets was still strong after all these centuries. I couldn’t get in.
I let go of my magic and gave up. We were going to have to go down there and get a closer look.
I stared down into the city below. Through that low fog, thousands of dark shapes scurried about. Trolls, ogres, and goblins stuck close to their respective races. With their gray, brown, and dark green skins, they looked like stones in a steam-filled bath. A vicious bath, as fights broke out wherever the colors clashed. We were going to have to navigate in those deadly waters.
I walked over to Jastillian and Prastian, who peered at the map taken from Alexandria’s library. They chattered between themselves, looking down into the city and pointing. I told them I couldn’t sense anything inside with my magic.
“That’s all right,” Prastian said, glancing up from the map. “We’re having our own problems. The map is old and some of the buildings marked are gone.”
“Aye,” Jastillian said. “And what’s left don’t appear to be the same buildings as before.” He leaned forward and squinted, using his superior eyesight in the dim conditions. “All I see are shanty towns and tents, and I doubt they contain the same things as they did before. This is just a small setback. We’ll find a way in.” Jastillian smiled and his eyes twinkled. “I can’t wait to go into Masep and get inside that tower.”
“You sound so...excited,” Demay said, looking incredulous.
“We’re about to do what no other has done in centuries. I’ve always wanted to come here. Think of all the information we can learn! And we’ll be walking in history.”
“No,” I said. “We’ve got to be on guard.” I glanced up at the black clouds, feeling the tingling magic stroking against my arms. They swirled with power. As Stradus once taught me, that power had to be used somewhere. “Something’s wrong.”
Jastillian crossed his arms. “I understand, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
I nodded. “I agree. But let’s make sure it’s not our
last
opportunity.”
“I can’t see a way into the tower,” Demay said.
“We need to get closer,” Behast said. “And we need to do so without attracting attention.”
“We have an idea,” Demay said.
We all shifted our bodies toward him.
“Sorry.
I
have an idea.” Demay clenched his fist so hard his hand paled, and he glared at the ground. “My goblin makes it feel like we’re home. He wants to run off and be with others of his kind. It’s getting harder to control.”
The others nodded, but didn’t meet each other’s eyes. I also had a hard time controlling my goblin, but unlike the others, mine didn’t want to run away to join his own kind. Mine wanted to run away from me whenever I used my magic. He was scared of my magic and of Premier. While he made it hard to control my own body, if I balanced it right, I could scare him into submission. But I also made it possible for his fear to overwhelm me.
“I say we let them,” Demay said.
“What?” Behast asked.
“We give them control. We blend in and do as they would. We let them guide us into not making any mistakes. They’ve been here before, at least mine has.”
“But there’s only five of us,” I said. “Without more, we’re going to get into fights.”
“Then let’s find some,” Behast said.
“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” Jastillian said, raising a finger. “It’s a fair plan, but goblins won’t allow just anyone to be in their group. They have different tribes. There are goblins with piercings in their bodies and others with cuts in their arms. We’ve shared the goblins’ memories during the past few days; you know they were in their own group. It’s how they were found and killed.”
“Then what do we do?” I asked.
“We wait and watch.”
“But we can’t wait long,” I said. “We’ve got to make it inside that tower before sundown.”
“What happens then?” Prastian asked, looking back down at the creatures in the city.
“I’d just feel safer within the tower’s walls then surrounded by thousands of these creatures at night.” I glanced back at Renak’s tower. “Not that we would be any safer in there.”
We crept downhill, closer to the road leading to the gates of Masep, and hid behind a tumble of boulders, watching the unique cliques of creatures passing on their way into and out of the city. There seemed to be no guards—creatures were free to come and go as they pleased. The more I studied them, the more I could see the nuances to the creatures’ appearances. It puzzled me at first, because I thought of them as nothing more than mindless animals—creatures I killed to protect Krystal and Alexandria.
A group of five trolls had iron bands wrapped around their forearms, while another group wore huge cloaks of goblin skins. That sight started my goblin spirit gibbering. Three ogres passed by, their ears and noses pierced, with a large piece of metal running from nose to ear. There didn’t seem to be many goblins that were as plain and unadorned as we were. There were a few, but Jastillian thought it best we wait for a larger group.
“There!” Jastillian said. “That’s our group!”
He pointed to a group of about thirty goblins. They didn’t have any uniform marks and had a mish-mash of adornments, from piercings to scars. I didn’t understand why he wanted to go with this group.
“But they’re all different,” Prastian said.
“Exactly. Some of the larger groups are together by force or by choice. If by choice, they’re more apt to let others join their group. Remember, we must
act
like goblins. Be frightened of the other creatures, talk in a broken speech, and stay together. Allow our goblin spirits to guide us.”
“But not too much,” I said. “Don’t let them take over.”
They nodded in understanding.
We crossed the short distance and merged with the pack of goblins. A few turned a wary eye on us, but then returned to their conversations. The group looked exhausted. Deep bags were etched under their eyes, and scars and bruises covered their little bodies. Unlike most of the goblins we saw, these were armed with large swords, chipped from use, and wore dented battle armor.
The entrance to Masep slanted down into the city’s bowl-like structure much like someone sticking their tongue out. Pieces of a once huge gate thrust out to greet us. The enormous hinges were rusted, and a large piece of broken wood swung from one side. Once through the gate, the shambles of a road became streets of broken stone. Just inside the city gates, the bottom half of a broken granite statue greeted us. I stared at its feet, reminded that Renak didn’t just use these creatures to fight for him during the war.
Even though I had the goblin’s memories and had overlooked the city from the cliff, Masep still wasn’t what I expected. We followed the broken road, navigating the small camps populated by various creatures. They ate, chatted, and fought with each other. A group of four trolls huddled near a small campfire. A goblin fed her child a handful of grubs, and he greedily slurped them.
We strolled through their marketplace, gawking at the shops set up. They all looked eerily familiar. A lot of the stalls were constructed of nothing but rotted wood or scrap metal. The bigger and more popular ones, like the blacksmith’s, were in the crumbled buildings that once housed Renak’s people. We passed by an ogre roaring as he tried to get creatures to buy his roasted rats. A troll stonemason chiseled away hard rock, crafting clubs and other blunt weapons.
The creatures didn’t purchase items with useless coin. They bartered with objects and food. They paid with entrails, the black blood dripping from their hands; scalps of human hair were traded, some even still attached to the top part of the head; wolf pelts were swapped; and the bigger creatures exchanged the swords and armor that wouldn’t fit them, presumably from smaller creatures they had killed.
It shocked me that they were able to trade with one another and not fight and kill each other, despite small struggles breaking out all around us. At the stalls, they shouted and growled. They pointed their fingers, ogre and troll spittle flew everywhere, and goblins hopped up and down in anger. Even when the customers outnumbered the sellers, or were just bigger, they didn’t kill them or even reach across and take what they wanted.
At the end of the market, we saw a strange sort of tavern. The sweet aroma of boiled blood seeped from it. The goblin inside of me was desperate to go and take a drink. My mouth watered at the thought of it.