Ganthe revelled.

 He found the echo of their boots slamming onto stone rousing.  Despite only numbering seven, it sounded as though they marched with an entire army surrounding them.

Princess Tegalie walked in the middle, with Ganthe and Heric either side of her.  At the four points (ahead, left, right, and behind)  a goblin marched in time with them.  An escort for the escort, Ganthe thought. Trailing behind was the tiny woman. Every now and again he heard her utter a soft oh no. Ganthe couldn’t agree more.

Heric had protested.  He did not want to leave the small cave.  Yet Princess Tegalie had ordered him to escort her.  Ordered both Heric and Ganthe, in fact.  Ganthe wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about that.  He was even more confused by being surrounded by goblins.  Not just the escort, but the ones they had passed in the cavern.

They sung , chanted actually, with beautiful deep voices, while standing in the middle of a mass of candles.  As Ganthe drew near, he realised that all of the singers had their eyes plucked out and the lids sewn shut.  Ganthe wondered if that improved their singing.

“I heard about this fella” Ganthe began. “It was at Hauenefels.  The goblins had destroyed most of the village, killed most of the locals, and in walks this fella, drunk as a lord.”

Tegalie eyed Ganthe, her expression  disapproving.

“Sorry. Very drunk,” Ganthe corrected himself. “He stumbles across the square to where there is a young woman tied to a post. She’s barely alive. The goblins all stare at him astounded.  None of them makes a move. The fellow saunters up to the woman and asks her, ‘Do you want to hear a really good goblin joke?’”

Heric smiled, just a sliver.  He’d heard the joke before.

“The leader of the goblins rushes up to the fella and shouts at him, ‘We are the Iron Owl.  We do not like joke.’  The fella looks at this goblin, that is about half-a-head taller than himself, and he smiles, ‘Trust me.  It’s a good joke.’ The leader screams again, ‘You not make joke.  There thirty of us, and one of you.’  The fella looks around at the goblins and nods. ‘You’re right’, he says, ‘I don’t want to have to explain it thirty times.’”

Tegalie clasped her hand to her mouth, hiding her laughter. “That’s awful.”

Ganthe glanced around at their escort.  None of them so much as flared a nostril.

“But now we know they can’t understand us.”

As they passed out of the cavern and into a curved stair leading up, the chanters followed behind them, still singing  in procession.  Ganthe wondered if they were truly blinded, and how they managed to not trip over the uneven floor or burn themselves on the candles.

 

Heric marched.

The cavern they now entered was massive, stretching more than a hundred paces in all directions.  It was lit up by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of candles, not just on the floor but on ledges that had been chiselled into the walls themselves.

“Do you have something to eat?” Tegalie asked. “ I have barely eaten all day. The refused to feed me. It would spoil the ceremony.”

“I’m sorry, Highness.” Heric said. “What are you expecting to happen now?”

“That’s a big sword,” Tegalie said eyeing the weapon in his hands.

Heric carried the weapon in ceremonial fashion: straight up, the hilt clasped in both his hands. “Yes,” he said.

Tegalie hesitated then said, “I’ve heard rumours that-“

“No,” Heric said cutting her off. “The rumours are wrong. Definitely wrong. Highness.”

“Oh.”

“What are you expecting, Your Highness?”

“You’re not a prince, a baron’s son, or even a lord?”

“I am as common as yesterday’s dirt, Highness.”

“Then I do not know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.  Sem has been handling it, and before him Lady Frista. And that awful hissing priest.”

“You know that Lady Frista has been arrested for planning to kill your grandfather?”

“Of course I do.  I’m also certain it’s just a terrible mistake. I plan to have her released as soon as I am able.  She is the sweetest person.”  Tegalie frowned as she peered at Heric, “Now I remember where I have seen you before.  You used to be her bodyguard.”

“Yes, Highness.  For a time I served in that function.”

“Then after this we should team up to free her.”

“No, Your Highness.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t believe there will be any after this for you nor I, Highness.”

“I have greater faith than you in this matter it seems...I don’t even know your name.”

“Heric, Highness.”

“Heric...?”

“Just Heric, Highness.”

“Are you an orphan?”

“For a great many years.”

“But you knew both your parents, correct?”

“I did, Highness.”

“Did they not have a family name?”

“They did.”

“But you refuse to reveal it to me?”

“I do.”

“If we were to marry, you would be required to reveal that name to me.”

“No.  I would take up your family name, as is tradition. You being a princess and I being dirt.  How did Lady Frista find out about the seer’s prophecy?”

“She already knew about it. She said it was part of something called the...Matsu Prophecy.  It’s very old.”

“What did it say?”

“I don’t remember much. It’s long. Apart from the matriarch being found and the line of kings revealed, there was something about the cobalt witch and the obsidian thief.  And the Dragon God’s fall, I remember that.  Have you ever heard of a dragon god?”

Heric shook his head, “No.  Why did you come to the mines?”

“This is the cradle.”

“What cradle?”

“That’s what they called it.  Lady Frista warned me that they were seeking the cradle, and that once it was found I would need to travel there as quickly as possible.  There would be a ceremony under the light of the full moon. But the message arrived too late, and I have been waiting ever since.”

“The full moon is a week away.”

“I know, but Sem and the priest agreed that now was the best time.  They couldn’t wait any long. You believe me to be a silly little girl, don’t you?”

“I believe you to have become misguided and unduly influenced by others.”

“That makes me silly, no?”

“No.  Just young. There is a tunnel somewhere in amongst this maze where I was ordered to charge down three men.  Three Imperial soldiers. Only later did I discover that my captain was having a joke and that he hadn’t meant me to attack them at all.”

“So that is how you know the tunnels so well.  How old were you?”

“All of fourteen.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“For what?”

“Disobeying an order.”

“I didn’t.  I killed all three.”

“By yourself?”

“My squadmates weren’t stupid enough to go anywhere near the new boy during a fight.”

Tegalie laughed suddenly. “That is a very big sword.”

“No.  This came much later.  Just a normal sword was enough trouble.”

“Heric?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“I am afraid.”

“So am I, Highness.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“What should we do?”

“I have a friend.”

“Will he rescue us?”

“No.  She is waiting in a cave for us to return.”

“And when you don’t return she will come to the rescue?”

“Not if she’s smart.  But she would tell me, both of us, to have faith.”

“Is she some sort of priestess?”

“She is, and I believe her to be a true vessel of The Gods.”

“I hope I get to meet her soon.”

“Me also.”

 

Lera prepared.

“Where are they now?” she asked, stretching her leg muscles.

Falduin remained at the corner watching the procession.

“Almost at the thrones.”

“How many goblins can you see?”

“About forty.  Mostly singers.”

“How many warriors?”

“Including the Hobgoblin?”

“Of course.”

“Seven plus the four surrounding Heric and Ganthe.”

“And the girl?”

“She has to be The Princess.  Nobody else would wear that in here.”

“Any sign of Ifonsa?”

“If she’s here, I can’t see her.  I expect the first indication will be someone falling dead with an arrow in their throat.”

“And Orwic?”

“Standing beside the Hob. Same with the other fellow.”

“The warlock?”

“Or priest.  I don’t wish to probe too hard in case he notices.”

“What do you think the pit is for?”

“I’m more interested in the second throne.  They were testing something on it, but I couldn’t work out what it was.”

Lera retrieved her shield and ensured it was sitting comfortably.  “How do I look?” Lera asked.

Falduin turned to her. “Does it matter?”

“I believe so.”

“You look like you’re about to make the biggest mistake of our lives.”

“Our lives?”

Falduin smiled, “Of course.  What the plan?”

“We save our friends.”

“Simple as that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They don’t look like they need saving just yet.”

“They will.”

“That confident?”

“I have faith.”

“I’m glad one of us does.  Come on.”

 

They approached the thrones. A massive figure stood before the throne on the right. The creature was so beautiful as to be terrifying to behold.  It was a head taller than Heric.  Its skin radiated white, as newly fallen snow, and darkened black, as jet at night, in evenly spaced stripes across its face.  It wore mail and breastplate, both made from gold.  It’s head was adorned by a golden circlet, in the form of a snake eating its own tail.  This was a hobgoblin, Heric knew.  A goblin leader. 

He had seen only one of them during The Goblin War, and then only in its last days. That one had been brown and grey, with traces of white.  It had fought to its last breath, despite being  peppered with arrows and assaulted by a dozen Eagle Knights. This one looked even bigger and more imposing.

On the left side of the Hob,  Orwic stood, leaning on Lera’s axe.  He watched as Heric and the others approached.  Heric thought he looked nervous.  On the right-hand side stood a tall figure, its features hidden by a robe and hood, of deep, purple silk.

The Hobgoblin spat out one word, and all four goblins escorting them stopped immediately.  Both Heric and Ganthe came to a halt, whereas Tegalie continued for an additional step.

The Hob began speaking, the words almost like a growl. Then it stopped and looked to Orwic.

“His Majesty welcomes Her Highness on this most glorious night,” Orwic translated.

As the Hob continued Heric whispered, “What do you see, Ganthe?”

“Danger,” Ganthe said.  “But also opportunity.”

Heric nodded sagely.

Since they had left the small cave, he’d surreptitiously gazed about, trying to evaluate their tactical situation.  With each step it appeared worse and worse, but he had to agree with Ganthe.  While their circumstances appeared grim, there were not completely forsaken.

There were ridges up along the walls both to his front and back.  If he could get the Princess up onto one of them, then she might very well escape.  There were exits leading from both.  

The one in front was closest, but that would involve going through both the Hob and Orwic.  The hooded one too, if he posed a threat.  That ridge was also the highest.  Even though the Princess looked slim, could he really lift her that high while defending her?

The one behind was lower, but that would involve going through all the chanters, which had gathered around them.  He might be able to employ the blind goblins as spoilers to allow him the chance to get The Princess away.   What he desperately needed was a distraction.

“You should speak for me,” Tegalie prodded him.

Heric realised that the Hob had finished its speech and Orwic the translation. They were waiting for a response. Heric hadn’t really been listening.  He did recall something about a joining ceremony and  the Nectar of Life, neither made much sense.  Perhaps Orwic wasn’t a very good translator.

“Why me?” Heric asked.

“He has a herald, so should I.”

He was about to ask why him again, but he glanced across to Ganthe, and then the little woman.  He’d quite forgotten her name.  He really was the best choice for herald.

“What do you wish me to say?”

“Tell him no.”

“No!” Heric said loudly.

That caused a stir amongst the goblins.

“Tell him I’m already betrothed.”

“The Princess Tegalie is already betrothed,” Heric shouted.

“And that he must fight my husband-to-be for my hand.”

“And if you wish my...her hand you must fight her husband-to-be,” Heric said. “To the death,” he added quickly.  He doubted it would matter, but the point needed to be made.  They weren’t playing around.  “Who’s this husband,” he asked Tegalie.

“You.”

“Oh no,” the tiny woman uttered.

The Hob barked.

All four of their escort turned on them, drawing their weapons.

“That’s a no.” Ganthe quipped. “In case anyone was wondering.”

Heric felt a sword point at the back of his neck, as two goblins came from either side and grabbed at Tegalie’s arms. 

A knife appeared in Tegalie’s hand so quickly that even Heric missed where she had produce it from.  She slashed at on of the arms reaching for her.  There was a howl of pain, and the escort bore down upon the Princess, knocking the knife free.. It clattered across the floor as Heric leapt forward, to protect her.

It might have turned ugly there, but a hiss erupted from the hooded figure, and the Hob barked again. The Goblins drew back, their weapons stilled but ready.

“Your friends will not be harmed if you submit willingly, Teg.” Orwic told them.

“I do not believe you, Sem,” she said.

Both Heric and Ganthe exchanged glances: Sem?

“It would be a dreadful shame to mess that beautiful gown with their blood don’t you think, Highness?”

“You made your point as elegantly as ever, Sem.  What do you need of me?”

“Come take your appointed place.  Come take the throne that was preordained, Your Highness.”

Tegalie turned to Heric.  She reached out and touched his arm.  “Have faith,” she told him.

Heric nodded, placing his hand upon hers.

Then Tegalie turned and approached the throne.

 

Falduin scried.

The tendrils looked wrong.  They resembled the ones he had seen when facing Stuska, but far stronger.  The coils were darker and tapped not just the Essence but another source as well.  He couldn’t determine which.

“What’s happening?” Lera asked.  She almost had to shout, the chanters were so loud.

They were located up on a ledge overlooking the two thrones.  Immediately below them was a pit.  Falduin had crept up on his belly to peer over the side, but only managed a quick glimpse.  The pit was filled with something like molten gold, but which had been mixed with a thick red-black oil.  It swirled and bubbled constantly.

Falduin had crawled further back, beside Lera, out-of-sight of those on the floor below.  He had sensed a disturbance below, the slow gathering of power, and had risked a view through his wizard lens.

“Something bad,” Falduin answered. “The wizard is preparing to cast a potent spell.”

“Then we need to attack before he can.”

“No, not yet.”

“Why?”

“If we time it right we can-“

There was a loud metallic snap, and the girl screamed, “No!”

“Oh no.” Falduin swore, “We’re too late.”

 

Their escort restrained Heric and Ganthe, removing Heric’s sword, and both of their knifes.  It was pointless struggling so neither of them bothered.  As far as Heric was concerned the die had been cast, but until the other numbers were revealed he was merely guessing.  All he knew was that his dice were about as dire as they could get.

The goblins dragged them forward and forced them to their knees.  They made them watch.

Orwic, or Sem (as The Princess called him), guided Tegalie to the throne.

“Take your throne, Highness,” Orwic shouted over the sound of the chanting.

“Know that upon my ascension our first order will be for your head to be removed from your shoulders, Sem.”

Orwic smirked, “So it will be, Highness.  Now sit.”

Tegalie moved over to the appointed throne.  It was the smaller of the two, Heric noted. She turned, and head held high, she sat.

“Highness, place your arms upon the rests. You’ll find it more comfortable.”

The goblins were all watching The Princess, Heric realised.  From the Hob; to their escorts and other warriors; and even the Chanters, they fixated upon her.  Heric thought they all had an expression of anticipation and wonder, as if they had never believed this moment would ever happen.  However, he was far from an expert on goblins or their facial expressions.

“Don’t!” Heric cried.  He immediately felt a blade placed to his throat.  It was his own sword, held by the goblin they had fought and kicked off the edge earlier. The goblin grinned at him maliciously.

“Nice blade,” the goblin hissed.  “Now I have one from each of you.”

Ganthe’s favourite blade hung from the goblin’s belt.

“Do it, Highness,” Orwic cried, “Or he dies now.”

Calmly, Tegalie raised her arms and placed them upon the armrests of the throne.  For a moment she sat there, her gaze upon Heric.  Then there was a metallic snap and Tegalie began screaming.

 

Ifonsa hesitated.

Which one?  One was further away, but easier.  The other was closer, but more difficult.  One would save her friend.  The other their goal.  She couldn’t do both.

She decided.  

She released.