Cyrion Read online

  “Jon, focus!” Arti said. “And what did we tell you about that knife?” She danced with practiced ease away from her opponent’s dagger thrusts.

  Jon darted forward and retrieved the Slayer.

  A pair of snarling wolves dragged Arti’s opponent down. She slit his throat with professional efficiency.

  Breathing hard, Jon scanned the scene, counting as quickly as he could. Thirteen goblin and eight human corpses. So there should be seven goblins left alive.

  So why can I only spot six? Jon’s stomach felt like it had dropped down to the ground. He was sickened with panic.

  Did Anya miscount?

  Did I?

  Wiping the sweat from his eyes with impatience and trying to quell a rapidly growing sense of panic, Jon counted again.

  * * * *

  Captain D’hibuk watched the trio from his perch up in the trees. His silhouette perfectly blended with the shadows of the forest at night. Ah! He could always count on the arrogance of the young. While he took the time to sniff out their every move, they did not even bother to check if he was still at camp.

  Aside from their arrogance, he also found humans gullible and greedy. Manipulating them required only intimidation, trickery or, his personal favorite, a certain amount of gold. A human mud slogger could be tempted to betray his superiors for gold. Not so for goblin-kind. He smiled when the immature human males left the MataPerak without even so much as a token wolf to guard her.

  Not that it would have made any difference.

  Captain D’hibuk remained motionless and silent, even as metal crashed and the dying cries of his troopers shattered the forest’s customary pre-dawn chorus. He ordered his troopers to keep the humans occupied for as long as possible, whatever the cost. They were chattel. Expendable. The mission was crucial. And the mission was never about rounding up humans. The mission, his mission, was always about obtaining the MataPerak at all costs.

  MataPerak. Silver Eyes.

  He did not know why General D’horek wanted her so badly. He did not need to know. He only knew he spent months laying this trap, ever since he heard a few rumored sightings of the MataPerak. He reveled in the warm glow of a job well done when he reflected on how all his hard work would soon come to fruition. D’hibuk took a lot of personal pride in the fact he found his work deeply satisfying.

  His smile widened when lupine snarls mingled with the screams of his troopers. A little longer…He wondered how General D’horek would reward him for his work.

  Now.

  D’hibuk jumped from his perch, landing on the forest floor like a single leaf on a still pond. He crept in perfect silence behind the MataPerak, a crude oak club in hand.

  In truth, D’hibuk did not really care for any reward. The most important thing—no, the only thing—was that he would make his General proud.

  A goblin soldier’s absolute, unquestioning loyalty to his superior was legendary.

  D’hibuk raised his club.

  * * * *

  Crack!

  The padlock finally shattered.

  Saul briefly considered putting Talitha in charge. Although very young, she was fearless. Unfortunately, she also tended to disappear into the bushes chasing an interesting beetle.

  Sighing, Saul turned to the girl next to Talitha.

  “Erin, you’re in charge.” Saul slapped one of Anya’s “liberated” daggers into her hand. He knew her well. After all, they had grown up together. She had a good head on her shoulders and was reasonably adept with weapons. And significantly less likely to disappear into the bushes, chasing a beetle.

  “Take the oxen and follow the wolves. Stay quiet. Go. Now!”

  “But what if they eat us?” Erin asked.

  Saul sighed. But also a bit of a scaredy-cat. Oh well.

  “They won’t. Trust me. I don’t have time to explain, just do it!” Saul shook his finger for emphasis. “Stay quiet, stay together, and don’t get lost!”

  Saul raced to the goblin camp, praying all had gone as they planned. He burst through the undergrowth with his axe raised high and a fearsome war cry on his lips. Saul skidded to a halt, war cry dying in his throat.

  The wolves…what’s wrong with them?

  “Jon!” Saul cried.

  * * * *

  The children had not gone very far at all when the wolves started rolling and thrashing on the ground. All the children huddled together, terrified.

  All, that is, save one.

  Talitha frowned. “What’s wrong with them?”

  Erin pushed the other children behind her, placing herself between them and the wolves.

  “I don’t know.” Erin caught Talitha in her arms, stroking the crown of her head. “But I think Saul’s right. They’re not going to hurt us. I don’t even think they can.”

  “Tali!” Erin cried as the smaller child broke free then darted to one of the thrashing wolves.

  She crouched beside it and stretched out her hand while Erin and the other children watched in silent fear.

  “It’s okay,” Talitha said, her fingers rhythmically stroking the wolf’s silver-grey fur. “No one is going to hurt you.”

  * * * *

  The officer! Where is the goblin officer? Jon finally realized.

  Without warning, all the wolves dropped to the ground, whining and crying as if in pain. They thrashed on their backs and sides, exposing their necks and vulnerable bellies.

  Anya!

  The fighting ceased for a split second. A goblin, deciding to take advantage of the situation, turned and charged at a thrashing albino wolf.

  Minari!

  Her mind is melded with theirs. If something happens to them—

  Jon raised Slayer and charged, screaming, intercepting the goblin’s path. He barreled into his side, knocked the trooper off his feet, and stabbed blindly.

  “Jon!” Arti’s voice rang with terror.

  “Arti, no!” Logan said. “We cover the wolves. Trust me.”

  Arti slashed at the closest goblin as she turned. Logan sidestepped his opponent, grabbed its outstretched arm, and twisted.

  The goblin howled in pain.

  “Jon!”

  Jon looked up and saw Saul on the other side of the camp.

  “Saul! It’s Anya! Go!”

  Saul turned and ran crashing back into the forest.

  Jon kept on blindly stabbing until the goblin stopped moving. He got up and charged at the next one, determined to keep on going until he knew Anya was safe.

  Or until a goblin brought him down.

  Whichever comes first.

  * * * *

  Saul crashed through the undergrowth. The goblin officer was bent over Anya, tying the last knots on the ropes that bound her.

  “Let her go!” Saul swung his axe.

  The goblin officer dodged easily.

  “This is not your fight, boy. I am Captain D’hibuk of the Unified Goblin Forces, and I order you to stand down.” D’hibuk rose and picked up his club.

  “No! She’s my friend, let her go.” Saul swung his axe again.

  D’hibuk leapt to the side. The boy and the goblin circled each other.

  “I have no quarrel with you. Just turn around and walk away. Your family is safe, and you will never see my kind ever again. Everything can go back to normal, just the way it was. I only want the MataPerak, the female. What is she to you anyway? Just someone you met a few days ago.”

  Saul stopped in his tracks. He found himself between the goblin officer and Anya. An unfamiliar coldness washed through his mind. He risked a quick glance at Anya’s still form. Still breathing.

  “How did you know we met just a few days ago?”

  “Because I’ve spent years tracking the MataPerak and the last few months laying this trap to catch her.” D’hibuk lifted his chin, chest thrust forward, shoulders back and feet apart. He was glowing with obvious pride.

  Saul studied his opponent. The goblin was not much bigger than he was, and armed only with an oak club.r />
  Anya said they were deceptively fast and strong. So, not good odds. What else is new? Well, he sounds arrogant. There is that in my favor.

  “Why is she so important to you?” Saul asked. Have to keep him talking. Get him to underestimate me. Maybe I can find a weakness. Saul lowered his axe all the way down, and let his left arm hang limp at his side and his jaw slacken.

  “I can pay you any amount of gold to secure the female.”

  Got you. “Any amount?” Saul bent his head towards the goblin, an apparent gleam of avarice and speculation in his eyes.

  “Any amount,” D’hibuk said, a wheedling note in his voice. “Think of what this kind of money can do for your family.”

  The goblin officer lowered his club slightly. Saul watched D’hibuk run his yellow eyes over his homespun shirt and torn leggings. He scratched his armpit and tried to look tempted by the goblin’s offer of gold.

  “But…she’s my friend.”

  “You are young. You’ll make other, better, less dangerous friends.” D’hibuk lowered his club, and guard, even further.

  “It’s important to stay loyal to friends…”

  “But far more important to stay loyal to your family. You’ve only been friends for a few days. How much loyalty, if any, do you owe her?” D’hibuk rested his club on the ground.

  Saul studied the goblin, his brows furrowed in concentration. As if considering what the goblin officer said and trying to come up with a price.

  Light leather armor, unhardened. My axe can cut through that like butter.

  “How much?” Saul asked as he walked towards the goblin, casually dragging his axe on the ground behind him. The weapon left a shallow groove as it cut across the leaf laden forest floor.

  “Well,” D’hibuk said. He reached for his pouches, a satisfied smile on his tusked face.

  Must wait. Need to be closer. Catch him off-guard.

  D’hibuk took his eyes off Saul for a split-second.

  Now!

  Saul swung his axe with as much force as he could muster in his right arm. The axe sliced through the goblin’s light armor and stuck in his ribcage at an upward angle.

  D’hibuk shrieked in pain and surprise. He swung his club at Saul.

  Too late.

  Saul raised his left arm to block the blow while shaking his axe free from D’hibuk’s ribs. D’hibuk screamed in renewed agony. Saul’s left arm turned numb from the slam of the club, useless.

  But his axe was free.

  Saul hacked again, one-handed. The axe bit deeply into D’hibuk’s shoulder, close to the neck. D’hibuk dropped his club, fruitlessly trying to stanch the flow of blood from his wounds with his hands.

  A red mist crept across Saul’s eyes. He raised his axe and swung down again, and again, and again.

  “Son, you can stop now. It’s over.”

  Saul felt a warm, familiar hand grip his shoulder. The red mist receded from his vision. Saul gladly dropped his bloodied axe and, weeping, buried his face in the warm, comforting expanse of his father’s broad chest.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TO LINWOOD

  Geoff surveyed the ruins of the goblins’ camp, careful to keep his face expressionless. Logan was patting down the last clump of dirt over the last grave. Karin ducked into what used to be the goblin captain’s tent to check on the children. And to check on the cyrion. Let’s not forget her. Arti was stirring a pot of who-knows-what, made with ingredients salvaged from who-knows-where, over the resurrected remains of the goblins’ campfire. Not very many Outpost civilians survived the rescue attempt at dawn. Not the adults, at any rate.

  Geoff focused on his son, Saul. They shouldn’t have meddled. Jon gathered more fuel, as per his mother’s directions. True to form, instead of helping in some way, Saul was gamboling around and chattering to Jon like a demented loon. Geoff forced himself to turn away, lips pressed tight in a bitter smile of disappointment. Too hard? Karin always said I was too hard on the boy. If only this were true. I fear I’m not hard enough. Geoff rubbed his hand, calloused from fourteen years of smithing, over his stubbled face and heaved a sigh of frustration.

  Assigned duties completed and the meal cooked to Arti’s satisfaction, they all gathered around the resurrected campfire. Arti spooned pottage into chipped bowls. Logan distributed the steaming bowls and gave Arti a peck, oblivious to the streaks of dried goblin blood on her cheek. His own bowl in hand, Logan joined the rest of them. He sat cross-legged beside the fire to eat. Geoff’s eyes rested briefly on his son. Saul had grabbed the bowl handed to him and slurped without even waiting for a spoon.

  Foolish, ill-mannered boy.

  After a while, Logan put his spoon into his empty bowl. “We’ve let you down. You boys shouldn’t have been forced to mount a rescue.” He set his emptied bowl aside. “We tried to keep you out. We told you to stay put.”

  Saul turned to Karin. “Mum, will Anya be all right?”

  “Is that her name?” Karin picked twigs off Saul’s hair. “She has a small bump on her head, but she seems fine. Only tired. Like you two little cubs.”

  Arti smiled and tweaked her son’s cheek.

  “Mum…” Jon frowned and twisted away from Arti in protest.

  The cyrion again. Geoff put his emptied bowl on the trampled summer grass. No sense wasting time on her. We all know how this must end. I need to redirect this. “Time is short. Ask your questions now.”

  Saul glared at them with accusation. “If you could fight so well, why did you let the goblins take you? How did you even learn to fight?”

  “Yeah.” Jon hurried to set down his still half-full bowl. “And how come the inn didn’t burn? Also, why did Anya say our weapons are magic? And you said The Slayer can do other things. Things like what?”

  Geoff studied Saul, keeping his face impassive and trying hard to fight the bitter disappointment welling inside. A foolish boy, asking foolish questions.

  “We’re going to have to tell them at some point.” Karin tousled Saul’s sun-lit blond hair. “I can hear Naeem bellowing for a report already. Plus, our cover’s completely blown.”

  “But make them work for it.” Arti leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her legs, amused expectation on her face. “Make this fun, Geoff. Give them something to start with, and see how far they can go.”

  Geoff spotted the twinkle of pride in Arti’s coffee-brown eyes as she watched Jon. He glanced at Saul with a twinge of doubt. Perhaps I expect too much of him, too fast? He cleared his throat. “Tell me lads, have you ever heard of the Watchers?”

  “Anya asked us if you were Watchers.” Saul paused for a moment, studying the grumps’ faces. “You are, aren’t you?” He turned to his mother. “Mum, what are Watchers?”

  Geoff bit his lip and stifled the urge to sigh. Karin had asked him to be easier on Saul, and he could never deny his wife anything. “This is as far as you can go?” Geoff kept his voice flat and the expression on his face inscrutable.

  “You said your cover is blown.” Jon nodded at Karin. “Which must mean regular people don’t realize you’re Watchers. And you said someone’s going to be bellowing for a report? Which means there are others. Superiors?”

  “Go on,” Logan said. “Try using those deductions to answer your own questions.”

  “This must be why you can fight so well,” Saul said. “But why did you let the goblins take you?”

  Geoff glanced at his squad. They kept silent, expectant expressions wreathed on their faces.

  Saul’s eyes widened in horrified realization. “You didn’t want to risk the others. Or you wanted to find out where they’d take you, and figure out what their plans were. We messed up your plan, didn’t we? I’m sorry.”

  “No, lad,” Logan said, his voice somber. “I think we found out what they wanted. As things turned out, we couldn’t keep most of the civilians safe anyway.” Regret crossed Logan’s face as he turned to the row of freshly made graves, which lined one side of the campsite.

 
“Oh,” Saul said. “So that’s why you made us do all those crazy things.”

  Karin smiled and straightened Saul’s collar. “What crazy things?”

  “Like dropping us down the well,” Saul said, his eyebrow arched.

  Arti snorted. “Dropped? We let you use the ladder.”

  “And left us in the middle of the forest.” Jon’s voice rose with accusation.

  Logan flapped his hand in dismissal. “Hardly right in the middle. You were within a day’s hike of the Outpost.”

  “But we took two days to even get to the campsite,” Saul said.

  Geoff shot an amused look at Logan. “We took the scenic route.”

  “It took us three days to find our way back,” Jon said.

  “You took an even more scenic route?” Logan arched his eyebrows.

  “All the magic we’ve encountered,” Jon said. “The wards on the Inn and on our weapons. You were responsible, weren’t you?” He paused and studied each Watcher in turn. “No spell caster has gone through the Outpost, so it’s got to be one of you. Who is it?”

  Geoff rose from the ground, made a quick graceful bow, and then sank back down again.

  Saul’s mouth fell open in utter shock.

  “We’re Watchers, lads,” Logan said, an expansive smile on his face. “We must be ready to pull up stakes at any time and start over somewhere else. Knowing at least two trades is part of the deal.”

  “Wait a minute. Mastering a trade takes years,” Jon said.

  “No one is talking about mastery,” Karin said. “We can get by and fool the casual observer. Anyone else is either another Watcher, or someone who needs watching. But let’s return to your other questions. We need to go soon.”

  “My dagger,” Jon said. “You used it to unlock your chains, right?” He unsheathed the Slayer and examined the blade. “Squirrel Slayer. I should’ve known. Squirrels are small, and can get almost anywhere. That’s why you suggested the name for my dagger.”

  Logan’s smile grew wider.

  “Dad, can the Slayer open any kind of lock?” Jon asked.