Laksha
ASH
Marrow Row is fairly smoking with half of the trees cleared off the pass on the lower cliffside of the forest. My lightning roared through the bank of the creekbed, zigzagging low like a storm across the rocks as we were ambushed by twenty capable hobgoblins, and roasted most of them into piles of black dust. Nine of them lay in pieces around my feet. Ten were killed by me and my magic, five by Dionie’s sword, three by Finn, and one by the sole remainder of my traveling retinue after six lesser fae succumbed to the onslaught of the attack. Those bodies were also in pieces, as they were nearly made a meal out of each time one was felled.
Now, the single living attacker was pinned to a marrow tree with six of my very own daggers through his clothes.
“We cannot leave these bodies on the row to rot and call attention to,” I say in way of order to my remaining party. “Place them in the deepest dark of the creekbed while I question this… imp.”
The hobgoblin snarls, his wide reptilian eyes flexing and spiraling from green to black then yellow and back, the way they often do when their rage becomes nearly too much for them to control. ”Bakareshna! Si ‘il vet-na! Il vet-na! Il vet-na!”
I snort, my hands flaring to life with magic as Dionie and friends begin maneuvering the dead to their final resting place. “I don’t speak Goblin you little fool. So answer me in the way of common fae or die here and now. Why did you attack us?”
He hisses, his pointed yellowed tongue slipping out as he grumbles, “Release our queen or you will die. Over the fire, you fry, fry, fry!”
I chuckle at that. “A noble cause it would be, if I was in possession of such an animal that would be called queen to you, but I am not, so it is not.”
The hobgoblin snarls, his rage causing his eyes to bulge a bit as his sinewy muscles flex against the blades that keep him anchored. “We have been waiting long, long, long. For you to take her is wrong, wrong, wrong! You cannot have her for your own. Will eat your flesh, will eat your bone!”
With just a swipe of my fingers, I zap him with a little friendly fire, slapping a hand over his mouth as I do, to keep his screams as quiet as the dying wind. “I possess no creature of yours. Do you understand?”
He squirms against my hold and I release him so that he might speak again.
He fairly spits at me with a cackle of laughter, “Possess a mess, silly prince. What mess do you? What mess you do? What?”
For goddess’ sake. Perhaps hobgoblins are as stupid as their minion.
“All that I possess is a hatred for scavenger fae, which is what you are. Disgusting loathsome creatures who serve only their greed and cannot speak a lick of sense.”
The hobgoblin practically shakes with anger. “We’ll not serve the false one true, nor will we serve the likes of you. Our queen, our queen, we mean our queen. Give her back and all is keen.”
“Sadly little imp, I have no idea whom you speak of,” I say, bored as Dionie and the rest trudge back in my direction from the creek now laced with the blood of my fae soldiers. “Pity, you shall die now, for I have no more use for your riddles.”
As I raise my hand to grant him a final blast, he panics and screams, “Returned she has, she has returned! When she crossed, our magic… BURNED! Know you not and not you know, she is no mortal. LET - HER - GO!”
I freeze.
Daphne.
Is it her that he speaks of. Suddenly, I know this as confidently as I know my very own name.
“When she crossed?” I mimic, stepping so close that I am granted the fetid stench of his ghastly breath. Throwing a look over my shoulder at Finn, I call out, “Scout the trail ahead and make sure it is clear,” then, “Dionie check the back.”
Dionie sends me a pointed look, taking the remaining fae soldier with him to grant me the privacy I so seek.
Turning my eyes back on the hobgoblin I whisper, “You call too loudly of her return, creature. I should kill you for that alone. We are much too close to the False King’s lands, friend.”
His eyes brighten with a swirl of green magic, his face blanking out for a moment in shock, but then he whispers, “You know, you know. So let her go! Keep her not, you can’t, you see. Belongs to you, she’s not! So free!”
“You make very little sense to me, creature. But the little sense that you do make ought to be kept secret, for if you speak the maiden’s name he will hear you this close to the realm… do you understand?”
Suddenly all anger washes from his eyes and he nods, sadly. “Carry her, a smell, you do. You on her and she on you.”
I grin at him, then whisper in his ear. “I am on your side, little imp. For I serve her as well. But no one else in my party… tell. ”
He seems to understand me quite a bit better now, and the smile he flashes is nearly childlike in its splendor as he nods ecstatically.
“All clear!’ Dionie says in way of warning as my three companions head back up the path.
“Do you have a name, soldier?” I ask the little guy. Hobgoblins are bigger than goblins, but not by much, so when not pinned to the tree, he will stand about a foot shy of my chin.
“I do, I do, if you do too. My name is Laksha and my vow be true.”
“Well then, Laksha,” I say, as I unpin him from the Marrow tree and he gazes up at me in wonder, “I have just lost about six of my men. Can you ride? For it seems I have a few spare horses?” He nods emphatically and I ignore the spittle that flies from Finn’s mouth in disbelief. “Silence!” I snap at my cousin. “He is the last of his party. He has proven himself an accomplished killer and he will ride with us. But only-” I meet his eyes, a secret message passing between us both “-should he wish to.”
Laksha frowns, his pale green hide pickening with a goblin’s blush. “Proud I be, to serve you, me. I can ride, you’ll see, you’ll see!”
With a grin, I help him onto a large black steed and whisper close, “Remember what I said, Laksha. The identity of the lost one must remain secret. We ride for her kin. What say you?”
In a burst of excitement, he tears into the flesh of his palm with his teeth and drips the dark green of his blood onto the ground, black dust sparkling within. “An oath, I swear. I do not dare, break my word, my word, you heard.”
Finn grumbles, “Oh this should be great fun.”
All I can do is smile.
It certainly shall.