Spellsinger? I swore silently. So much for keeping Piaras out of this.
The goblin prince paused, listening. He gestured, and his guards spread out to surround the area where we were. They didn’t know our exact location, but it wouldn’t take them long, especially if they stepped on us.
My hands were sweating against the leather dagger grips. I forced my breathing to remain even, and released the shielding spell I had been holding, quietly I hoped, to cover both of us.
The goblin prince and his guards moved closer. They didn’t make any effort to be quiet. They didn’t need to. They weren’t the ones hiding.
“I give you my word, both of you will be released unharmed once I have the Saghred.”
That’s what the prince was saying, but that wasn’t what I believed. I kept my hand on Piaras’s shoulder, and willed him not to move. I need not have bothered with the warning. Piaras remained flat on the ground, peering through the thick reeds, eyes alert to the goblins moving toward us. The long dagger was in his hand, and the look on his face said that he wasn’t going anywhere else with a goblin tonight—and if any goblin tried to make him, they were going to regret it.
Prince Chigaru’s guards were armed mainly with swords. There were a few crossbowmen. Not nearly few enough, but I would take any advantage I could get. I wouldn’t exactly call what I sensed approaching us an advantage, but if it gave the crossbowmen something else to shoot at besides us, they were more than welcome to join the party.
I didn’t know what scared me worse: the goblins, what was stalking us, or what I wore around my neck. If metal could have emotions, I would say that the beacon was having some strong ones, and it was doing everything it could to compel me to share them. My mind knew I was outside and there was plenty of air for everyone. My body wasn’t convinced. The air was getting thick. Only one thing could do that. Magic. The bad kind. And there was entirely too much of it.
I was being hunted, and not just by the prince.
I looked up. A richly robed goblin stood on the far side of the clearing, halfway between us and Chigaru Mal’Salin. The prince’s guards froze. I didn’t blame them. I also didn’t need a formal introduction to the newcomer. We’d met last night.
Sarad Nukpana stood alone, completely unprotected from Prince Chigaru’s guards. Any one of them could have put a bolt in his chest. Not a one of them tried.
The grand shaman’s head turned, his gaze leisurely taking in every goblin in the clearing. Some of the prince’s guards shifted uneasily, some looked away. I heard branches snapping as a few goblins back in the trees bolted in terror.
“I should have expected a traitor to be hiding in the wild with the animals,” Nukpana said.
“Or Khrynsani to be consorting with monsters,” Prince Chigaru replied, his features expressionless.
Others emerged from the shadows behind Sarad Nukpana, some robed, others in royal Mal’Salin armor. They had no intention of attacking immediately. They were waiting for something, and I for one, could go through the rest of the night without knowing what.
A solitary goblin stepped forward as the others deferentially made way for him. This was unexpected. The beautifully intricate scrollwork on his chestplate clearly identified him. Twin serpents twining around one another, battling for dominance, both surmounted by a crown. He looked like a slightly older version of the prince.
King Sathrik Mal’Salin.
“Brother,” he said.
Prince Chigaru remained motionless. “Sathrik.”
“You will address your king as Your Majesty.” Nukpana’s voice was still and quiet, but the menace was clear.
“He is not my king, and he is no longer my brother,” Chigaru said. “He is worthy of neither my respect nor my honor, so I may refer to him in any manner I choose.” He laughed softly. It was hollow and without humor. “He should count himself fortunate I use his given name rather than others that come to mind.”
Piaras and I didn’t need to be anywhere near this reunion. If we ran, we would be shot. If we stayed, we would be found, and then shot. And that was if we were lucky. Clearly, the ending would be bad either way. At the moment, I didn’t know which Mal’Salin brother was worse, and I didn’t even want to think about Sarad Nukpana. I suspected Sathrik Mal’Salin lacked the power to call his grand shaman to heel if he wanted to play with us a while before he had us killed. Still, if his words to me last night were any indication, Sarad Nukpana wanted me very much alive. That might be even worse.
The prince inclined his head in somber acknowledgment of his brother as he slid his saber free of its sheath. The hiss of escaping metal was instantly repeated on both sides. From the eager faces around us, this was a confrontation a long time in the making. I so did not want to be here when it happened.
The night was suddenly split by a feral goblin war cry. I couldn’t tell which side it came from. It was immediately answered in kind by a raw voice. Bolts were loosed from both sides as the goblins eagerly charged each other.
I didn’t wait to see any more. I pushed Piaras to his feet and we ran back into the trees. I couldn’t see where I was going, and until we put the sound of goblins killing each other well behind us, I didn’t care. I found spaces between the trees, but more often I found brambles and vines. My face and arms stung with tiny cuts. The ground abruptly dropped away into a ditch. Piaras’s long legs took him to the other side. Mine weren’t as long, and I wasn’t as lucky. I landed just short of the rim, and my knee slammed hard into the ground. Tears came to my eyes, but I pulled myself up and kept running.
Piaras suddenly stopped. It was my turn to run into him. Fortunately for both of us, he didn’t fall down.
I saw what had stopped him in his tracks. I agreed with his decision. Sarad Nukpana wasn’t what I had sensed hunting me.
A black mass loomed before us. I had seen it before—through Siseal Peli’s dying eyes.
More of them glided from the trees, surrounding us. I felt rather than heard something move behind me. I spun, going back-to-back with Piaras, my daggers held low. I was face-to-whatever with one of them. I slashed where an abdomen should be, but the blade passed straight through it. An oily finger extended to touch me. The beacon kicked against my chest like a hammer. My chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe past the pain, and my vision blurred. The things drew back.
Someone was running toward us through the trees. Moments later four Khrynsani shamans burst into the clearing. Like Piaras and me, they stopped dead at the sight of the monsters. But unlike us, they didn’t seem surprised to see them. They didn’t exactly look relieved either. The shamans moved to surround them, chanting in low, sibilant whispers. I recognized some elements of a containment spell, but of a sort that I had never been taught, nor would ever want to learn. Perfect for monsters.
It had no effect.
It was the goblins’ turn to be surprised. I felt their fear, and the creatures’ hunger. They wanted us more than they wanted to obey the shamans, and the goblins’ spells just seemed to annoy them. Maybe it was me, but annoying these things didn’t seem like a good idea. The shamans didn’t see it that way and kept chanting. Two of the creatures turned toward them. The eyes of the goblin closest to us widened in disbelief.
Two of the things glided toward him. The goblin stopped chanting and drew breath to scream, but the creatures reached him before he had the chance. They flowed over the spot where he had stood. Nothing remained.
A static charge like the aftermath of lightning hung in the air. Two of the creatures had now fed, and the others shifted restlessly, eager to do the same. The remaining three shamans were more experienced. They didn’t run—and they should have.
Some of the creatures drifted closer to me and Piaras, their caution giving way to hunger. I fought back in every way I knew. Garadin’s lessons hadn’t left me unprepared. My repel and shielding spells were of the highest level, but nothing worked. The more I threw at them, the tastier a morsel I became. Magic didn’t stop them. It fed them.
The final goblin shaman managed to scream before they took him. Then Piaras and I had their undivided attention.
Garadin had taught Piaras protection spells, but because of his age and inexperience, I had assumed they were only the most basic. I was wrong.
Piaras sang. His normally warm, rich baritone turned harsh and dark, the notes booming and discordant. He sang in goblin, the language the creatures supposedly obeyed, the language of dark magics. I didn’t like hearing it from Piaras. But the monsters just ate it up. Literally.
Spells didn’t work, sung or otherwise. Shields didn’t work. They just swallowed them whole. The beacon thrashed against the center of my chest like a wild horse fighting a bridle. I froze, suddenly more afraid of what I was thinking than what the monsters were about to do. Prince Chigaru said the beacon was connected to the Saghred. If I was connected to the beacon, I was connected to the Saghred. The creatures ate everything I could give them. Could they eat everything the beacon—and the Saghred—could give them? It didn’t seem to think so. And with my life in danger, I didn’t have a choice, regardless of what the Saghred might do to me.
There was an opening just beyond where the creatures circled us. Both of us wouldn’t have time to reach it, but if I could distract them long enough, Piaras might.
“Get behind me,” I told him. “When they come after me, I want you to run.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Do it!”
Piaras glanced sharply at me, his mouth forming the word “no.” The sound never made it out. He saw my face and froze. His own reflected disbelief—and fear. He was afraid of me. I didn’t know how he saw me in that instant, and I didn’t want to. Prince Chigaru’s words came back to me. Death. He saw death reflected in my eyes. Was that what Piaras saw now?
The Saghred’s power was building. I couldn’t stop it any more than I could stop the goblin-spawned things that closed on us. I couldn’t resist the power and found that I didn’t want to. My hand went to the center of my chest. It felt like it belonged to someone else. The leather of my doublet was no barrier. I didn’t feel the beacon, I felt what lay beyond it—wild and whole and wide awake.
