Vashti Valant - Slave of the Goblin

“What a charming story,” Laya said faintly. “Why are you removing your gloves?”

“Don’t worry, my dear, I won’t harm you,” said Strathgora. “I intend to do you a favor in fact, and kill the brute here who spent the night ravaging you. Of course, after that I will let you take the blame for his murder, and the subsequent wrath of my father.”

“You won’t get away with it, Strathgora,” Akraz warned. He should have seen this coming, he cursed himself. All his scheming would have been for naught if Strathgora eliminated him now.

“Will the brave Goblin General try to run from the touch of a young girl?” mocked Strathgora, advancing on him with her arms stretched out like an eager lover. “Don’t forget I also have a winged form.”

“If I die from poison, everyone will know you committed the crime, not the elf wench.”

“I’ll wrap the leash you used on her around your throat to suggest she strangled you. Chief Yaguz will perform the investigation, and if he discovers any discrepancies, he won’t care.”

“But why?” cried Laya. “Why are you doing this, Strathgora? What have we ever done to you?”

“It’s not what we’ve done,” said Akraz. “It’s what I know. Isn’t it, Strathgora?”

“It’s what you know I know, to be precise,” she said. “I cannot let you tell my father that I overheard his plans for my future. He must think me ignorant if I am to counter him.”

“There’s another way, Strathgora,” Akraz said, his mind racing. It was not what he had planned, but if he could only convince this heartless bitch… “Help us escape. Me, Laya and the elf Lathaniel who is a prisoner in the tower.”

“You must be mad.”

“Then we’ll be gone, no threat to you.”

“You’ll be no threat to me dead, and that’s quite a bit simpler than trying to sneak three people out of Mount Murk,” Strathgora pointed out with undeniable logic. She lifted her hand to his face and held it a mere breath away from his cheek. Akraz stood very still.

“I plan to betray your father to the other side,” he said, gambling everything. “I am going to warn the elves about his imminent attack on Sylvindell and offer them a way to counter it.”

He heard Laya gasp in surprise beside him, but he did not dare wrench his eyes from Strathgora.

“This is your selling point?” she asked dryly.

“Your father will not dare offer you as a virgin bride to the Dark God in the wake of a humiliating defeat,” Akraz said. “It will buy you time to plan your own future. Unless you want to be Queen of the Thirteen Hells.”

Strathgora shuddered. She was, after all, Akraz reminded himself, quite young. She let her hand fall away from him. Thoughtfully, she replaced her gloves.

“Why the elf in the tower? I can get you two out right now, but he is under guard. My father isn’t done playing with him.”

Because Laya loves him . “Three, or no deal.”

“Very well. But you two must leave first, now, while I have you here. It will take me longer to reach the third one, but he will join you later.”

Akraz hesitated. Nothing would stop her from going back on her word, if she even understood the concept of a word of honor. But he hesitated to push his luck any further.

“Agreed.”

Strathgora slipped her hand into a pocket on the inside of her cape from whence she procured two tiny vials. “Drink this. It will turn you each into birds. Fly due west for the rest of the night, but land before sunrise. The magic will wear off with the changeover of the light. If you forget to land, you will plummet to your deaths. I saw it happen to a white swan once. It took us a week to clean up the mess.” She wrinkled her nose.

Akraz took the vials. At least he didn’t need to speculate if they contained poison. Strathgora would not need to bother. He handed one vial to Laya.

“On the count of three?” He raised an inquiring brow. Laya nodded. “One…two…three!”

They swallowed the potion.

Akraz had expected them to become swans, like the captives in the Garden of Poisons, or Strathgora herself. Instead, they became two eagles. He gave silent thanks for the power and wingspan of eagle form as they flew, for they had but six hours before dawn to fly past the regions of Chavana under the control of Zathstragomal’s minions.

They could not speak to one another, but with screams they urged one another on to a final burst of speed as the eastern horizon began to lighten. They could see the campfires and tents of an army in the hills ahead. The question was, whose army? Akraz recognized the banners of several human lords, but that told him nothing. Had the soldiers of these lords submitted to Zathstragomal, or did they represent a strike force loyal to the Lost King?

Akraz wanted to fly past the army, just to be on the safe side. The first rays of light peeked over the edge of the earth already, however, and he could feel his wings tingle. Even if dawn had not threatened them, Akraz could see that Laya was exhausted. They dared fly no further.

The landing of two eagles aroused only minor curiosity in the soldiers who were just waking to prepare their morning grub—until the kiss of dawn fell full on the two birds and they underwent the transformation into elf and goblin.

“Akraz!” said Laya. “I’m sorry… I’m so tired…” She passed out in his arms.

A dozen soldiers with swords drawn tightened a noose around them. Akraz had transformed with his true face showing. Still, what the soldiers saw could not have looked good—a large man in the black uniform of Zathstragomal holding a naked, whipped woman in his arms.

The soldiers looked grim. They sent one of their number to go inform a leader, someone named “Hunter”, of the situation and then held their vigil around Akraz in silence until Hunter arrived.

As soon as Akraz saw Hunter, Akraz knew this must be the Hunter, a notorious thorn in the side of Zathstragomal.

“Nemesis!” said Hunter, upon seeing Laya. He reached to take her from Akraz’s arms. Akraz cradled her against his chest and growled. Hunter paused.

“It’s like that, is it?” Hunter’s eyes narrowed. He jerked a gesture to his soldiers. “Escort them both to my tent.”

Hunter’s tent was larger than Akraz’s den back under Mount Murk, and better furnished. It reminded Akraz of the tent in which Laya had first kept him prisoner. Hunter gestured to a bed—not a cot—a real bed, with sheets and pillows and embroidered blankets. Akraz gently deposited Laya’s naked form modestly between the covers.

“We knew that Nemesis had been captured by goblins,” said Hunter.

Akraz straightened. He faced Hunter. Here it comes, Akraz thought. The human will order my death—or torture, followed by death—for what I did to Laya.

“We never expected to see her again,” continued Hunter. He put his hand on Akraz’s shoulder and met his eye. “Thank you for helping her escape.”

Confused, Akraz could only drop his jaw.

“I have never seen an elf with your coloring,” said Hunter. “You are not of Sylvindell.”

He thinks I’m an elf? Akraz touched his own cheek and realized that in his true face, he could pass for a meaty elf. No wonder the human warrior was being solicitous instead of homicidal.

“No,” Akraz said, “I am not of Sylvindell.” He added, “I have been a slave in Zathstragomal’s dungeons since I was a just a child.”

It was the truth, albeit a truth meant to mislead. But it is the human who has made his judgments based upon skin deep appearances , Akraz argued with himself. I’m merely letting him believe what he wants .

“Was she raped?” Hunter asked softly.

Akraz reddened. He could not answer. Hunter drew his own conclusions from that too. He swore under his breath, cursing Zathstragomal and all goblins. Then, in a wild motion, he whisked his sword out of the sheath across his back.