Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Read online

Upon reaching a checkpoint, they halted, hiding in the shadows of the tunnel. About ten goblins were visible either in the entryway or atop a battlement built into the cave. They had a clear view for a long distance; there was no safe approach.

  Orion looked ahead, face inscrutable. “This will be tough. It’s the entrance to the royal chambers. We need to be careful.”

  Narstron looked under the ranger’s shoulder. “Why don’t we just charge the gate?”

  Orion took on a pained expression. “There’s a garrison of at least five hundred goblins inside the walls of their complex, not to mention considerably more a few minutes away in the city.”

  Narstron’s eyes went wide. “Good enough reason, I suppose.”

  Orion waved for J’anda to join him. He discussed something at length with the enchanter while they waited.

  “So where is the Daring’s guildhall, Elisabeth?” Cyrus said, attempting to make conversation.

  She looked at him before answering, favoring him with a smile. “We’re in Reikonos, not far from the bank, in the guildhall quarter.”

  Erith cut in and gave Cyrus an amused look. “You’re a pretty lousy flirt, even for a meat-head warrior.”

  He sent her a glare before he could stop himself but when he saw the ear to ear grin of triumph on her face, he held his tongue. Niamh pretended not to hear her and changed topics. “Erith, when did the Daring start having the problems you were describing?”

  Her smile turned back to the sour look she’d worn since they met. It gave him a warm, happy feeling to see her like this. “It’s been a problem for years. We’ve been allied with Goliath since before Sanctuary came along, and with their fortunes on the rise and ours falling, it was only a matter of time before some rats decided to jump ship.” She grimaced. “Of course, I don’t think we’d anticipated that the rats in question would be almost the entire officer corps…”

  “I had no idea that the Daring were having that much trouble.” Niamh’s voice was sympathetic.

  “It’s not something we’re publishing on our recruitment materials.” Erith’s voice turned hard. “We’ll build back; we just need some time. Unfortunately, without the Alliance we don’t stand much chance of being able to offer experienced adventurers what they want, which is a chance to get more powerful weapons, armor and gold.”

  Niamh nodded. “I agree, but this turnout doesn’t bode well for the future of the Alliance. It just doesn’t seem like Goliath cares for supporting their allies. We all know this isn’t the first event they’ve failed to attend. I remember when we thought of this Alliance as one guild.”

  “Many still do, Niamh.” A malicious grin split Erith’s lips. “It’s just that some of them think that instead of Alliance, it says ‘Goliath’ on our crest.”

  Three goblins burst from the gates — the others looked strangely dazed. The first three were dispensed with in moments. Cyrus caught his with a slash of the blade across its skinny neck before the rest of his group could engage it. The goblin’s head floated through the air and came to rest in front of Erith, splattering her with blood.

  She was irate. “You did that on purpose!”

  Cyrus didn’t attempt to hold back his grin. “Did not.”

  “Did too!”

  “Children, please,” Cass said, smile bleeding through into his voice. “Nice work, Cy. If I didn’t know how truly wretched you were with a sword, I’d swear you aimed that shot right at your healer.”

  Cy snorted. “If you know what a princess my healer is, you should know why she needed to play catch with a goblin skull.”

  “Who are you calling princess?” Erith sputtered, all trace of humor gone.

  Orion called for more incoming goblins but instead of three, six charged forth. Cyrus stepped forward, nicking the side of the first goblin but failing to penetrate the scaly hide. He swung his sword at the second target, and connected with its forearm, drawing blood. Both goblins screeched and clawed at him.

  He managed to dodge the first one’s slashes, but in avoiding it he moved too close to the second and it managed to stab between the joining point of his arm and his chest plate. He felt the claw pierce him, and bit back the pain as he aimed a riposte across its eye socket. His slice took the goblin’s eye, causing a howl of pain. The rest of his party descended upon it, cutting it to ribbons as he turned to deal with the first.

  He found it turning on its heel to flee, but before it had a chance he swiped with his sword, giving it a firm cut across its back. As it staggered, off balance, Cyrus watched a shape detach from the shadows — Elisabeth plunged two swords into its lower back, prompting a scream of pain that cut off as it fell backward and she slit its throat. She looked back to see Cyrus watching her, as she wiped her daggers off on the tunic of the goblin. “Not very pretty when you look at them up close, are they?”

  “No,” Cyrus said, “They’re not.”

  The last sentry at the entrance to the castle needed to be dealt with, Cy reflected—

  He looked up the see it dead, riddled with arrows. Orion and a few other rangers were replacing their bows on their backs. “Mesmerize is an impressive spell, isn’t it?” Orion chuckled. “It left them dazed to the attack going on.”

  A piece of the puzzle clicked for Cyrus. A powerful enchanter could control the mind of their enemies, and J’anda had lulled the goblins into a virtual coma to get them to come in small numbers. Now he wondered if perhaps some enchanter’s spell had kept them from running when they realized they had waltzed into a trap.

  He had no time to further reflect on this possibility, as Orion called them to action again and they swept through the undefended gates, finding themselves out of the darkened caves and into hallways of stone.

  12

  Cyrus scanned the room as they entered a large chamber that could have come from any castle he’d ever seen. There were no patrols within the halls. “Easy so far, isn’t it?” he said to Cass, who was walking alongside him.

  Cass chuckled before answering. “We’re moving fast and we’ve been hiding the bodies of the sentries we’ve killed. It’ll get tough; just wait. I expect one hell of a fight in the throne room. Many, many guards there in addition to the royal family, who are not weaklings — they’re chosen from the finest fighters in the empire. It takes over a year of contests and battles to the death to determine the Emperor after one dies.”

  “That process has to whittle down their numbers,” Cyrus realized.

  “Weakening their military by killing a great many of their veteran fighters,” Cass finished for him. “You’ve got it. That’s why Orion’s plan is ingenious.” The warrior smiled. “We let them destroy themselves as a fighting force and we seize their treasury.”

  Cyrus looked at him, surprised. “You didn’t learn about goblin culture at the Society of Arms.”

  Cass laughed. “Hell no. They don’t teach you anything beyond what to do with a sword. I read a lot about the world after I left.” He slapped Cyrus on the shoulder. “You should try it.”

  They crept down the hallways, which were wide enough for them to walk four at a time. Orion stopped them outside a large door. They had passed a great many doors as they went, but this was the most baroque and impressive thus far, with carvings that covered it from floor to ceiling. “Behind this door are the Emperor and Empress of Enterra. J’anda, prepare the enchanters.” Cyrus saw Narstron at the head of his group, eagerly anticipating the battle. Andren was assigned to his team, as was Vaste. “When the door opens, we storm the room. Everyone ready?” Orion held up three fingers and began to count down… three… two… one…

  He threw open the door and the three warriors stormed past the ranger, picking their targets. Narstron was on the right flank and he engaged three guards on the right side of the room. Cass charged forward to the throne and caught the Emperor Y’rakh with a strike of his sword. It bounced off the Emperor’s thick skin, and Y’rakh flung out a hand, hitting Cass with a blow that propelled him backwards into a wall. He r
ecovered quickly, but it put him out of the fight for precious seconds as his group moved to engage the Emperor.

  Meanwhile, Cyrus caught sight of his target, G’koal, the Empress of Enterra. She stood slightly shorter than he but well over the height of the average goblin. He leapt forward, sword raised, and swung it at her. She met him with a perfectly timed backhand that sent him flying across the room the same way he’d seen Cass go sailing.

  He hit the wall and bounced up to see four Goblins blocking his path to the Empress. He watched as blue lights surrounded two of them, enchanters working to mesmerize them while he dealt with the other two. Empress G’koal was leering at him from the throne platform, across the room, silently daring him to come back for her. She had a sword drawn, holding it her side. The scabbard caught his gaze — it was red, with patterns running the length of it.

  His group was behind him at the door, moving through warily after seeing him flung across the room. A mending spell ran across his body and he cast a quick look at Erith, whose face was edged with concern. “That’s four!” he said in mild surprise.

  Her eyes found his, and all trace of sarcasm was gone. “Be careful,” she mouthed, too quietly for him to hear but plain enough to see.

  His group joined him in attacking the two goblins keeping him from re-engaging the Empress. His head was ringing from the hit he’d taken, but he killed one of them while his party killed the other. He saw Narstron and his group in the midst of at least ten goblins. Several had the dazed expression of mesmerization, but a few members of the dwarf’s party had fallen; there were bodies scattered around him. To his left, Cass waded into combat with the Emperor, his force behind him. Goblins were trickling out of a door in the wall behind Cass.

  “Orion!” Cyrus shouted. “We’ve got goblins coming through that door!” He gestured in Cass’s direction.

  Orion had a look of sudden panic. “It’s the door to the barracks! Elisabeth, keep it shut!” The ranger nodded and charged into the breach, knocking over three more goblins as she slammed the door shut. “Keep an eye out for any that make it past her!” A few grunts of acknowledgment met his order.

  A look at Narstron’s part of the battle told him that things were not going well on the right flank. More dead bodies, but what seemed to be the same number of goblins. Cyrus changed direction and led his group into the fray with Narstron. They killed four goblins with no appreciable decrease in the numbers of the enemy.

  As Cyrus looked up from the battle he noticed two more goblins slip into the fight. His eyes followed their path back to the door where Elisabeth had stood moments before, which now was only slightly obstructed by the corpse of an elf — goblins were pouring through in waves. He watched them hit the rear flank of Cass’s group at the door. Selene and Vaste were cut to ribbons by ten of the beasts. Another three pounced on J’anda, who was casting spell after spell, trying to stem the tide of foes. He crumpled and Cyrus realized for the first time, as the enchanter’s illusion dropped, that J’anda was a dark elf.

  The moment the enchanter died, the noise level in the room exploded as every one of the goblins J’anda had mesmerized — almost thirty by that point — woke from their trances. Cass’s group, focused on the Emperor, was hit by a wave of goblins. Cyrus watched Niamh barely escape in a gust of wind too small to take anyone else with her. Nyad was killed as four Goblins impaled her with their claws from three different directions. Eyes rolling back in her head, she dropped to the ground.

  Cyrus redoubled his efforts, swinging his sword as hard as he could. He was rewarded with three kills in three seconds — two decapitations and he pierced the last goblin cleanly through the heart. Even as the last goblin dropped, four more swarmed to replace it. Blocking their strikes as he retreated toward the wall, he heard Erith’s scream behind him, and watched as two goblins finished her off. Behind her he watched Orion melt into the shadows unseen.

  Time slowed down for Cyrus. He saw Curatio, of all people, swinging a mace, crushing the skulls of three enemies with one swipe. He watched as five goblins swarmed the healer, pulling him to the ground. Cass died, the last of his force, as the Emperor let out a screeching cry of victory.

  His own party decimated, Cyrus moved closer to Narstron, who was now cutting through a pile of goblins attacking him with great intensity. The dwarf’s blows were so strong that they were severing limbs and heads with every slash. Andren was buried under the dead, he was certain. Cyrus had his back against the wall, swinging like mad, and could see Narstron doing the same, using his lack of height to evade the enraged goblins that came after him in a swarm.

  Cy risked a quick look at the Empress. His eyes froze as a human-sized figure emerged from behind one of the thrones, gliding toward the Emperor, completely covered in a long black cloak, head obscured by the cowl.

  Cyrus felt a sudden, sharp pain in his shoulder. One of the scaly creatures clamoring over him had found purchase in his armor and fully exploited it. He felt the hot blood running down his side, felt his right arm cease working abruptly, and he had one arm left to swing his sword with.

  A strangled victory cry rose from the throng to his right and he caught sight of Narstron lifted aloft on the shoulders of a crowd of goblins. A strange chant rang out over the room, something that sounded to Cyrus’s ears like, “Gezhvet! Gezhvet!” He twisted back to deal a killing blow to a goblin in front of him and saw the black cloaked figure reaching a hand out to the Emperor, who pulled a large warhammer from his belt and hand it to the figure somewhat reluctantly.

  Cyrus’s senses were flooded with the beasts as his focus shifted to the growing number of goblins attacking him. The strange, pungent smell of them filled his nostrils. It was suddenly hot in the depths of Enterra, and there were more goblins than he could count. He felt another sharp pain, this one in his leg, and it brought him to his knees. As he looked up into the black eyes of Empress G’koal, standing over him triumphant, he tried to swing his sword at her. She swung her blade across his neck, hard, as he watched it, eyes transfixed on her elaborate scabbard. He felt a draining sensation, then lightheadedness, and his last vision was of the goblin Empress, somehow, impossibly, smiling in victory.

  13

  Cyrus awakened, light bleeding into his vision. He saw Selene, badly wounded, shaking and crying, standing above him. He recognized where he was, as he looked up — it was the entrance to Enterra, where he’d fallen over and been helped up by Elisabeth.

  “Selene!” he cried out. “What happened?” He caught sight of Curatio and Vaste moving among bodies, lined up in rows. The invading army, Cyrus realized.

  The elf did not respond at first. “Niamh fetched help,” she said, struggling with every word.

  Sounds of battle from down the corridor drew his attention. A goblin corpse flew through the air and landed at the edge of the rows of bodies. Alaric Garaunt followed it, anger radiating from the paladin even though his mouth was the only part of his face that was visible through his helm. The knight was flanked on either side by Terian Lepos and Vara, who each wore a neutral expression.

  “The corridors in front of us,” Alaric said, voice taut with rage, “are quite clear now.” The Ghost calmed. “We won’t be seeing any more goblins in this segment of the caves for some time, I suspect. The rangers are bringing the dead out as quickly as safety permits.”

  Cyrus looked to find Curatio nodding quietly. The healer turned away to another body, channeling powerful magics that lit up the inside of the cave. “If you can bring them to me, I’ll resurrect them as quickly as possible.” The healer tensed for a moment. “This would go much faster if not for the fact that Vaste, Selene and myself are the only healers that know the resurrection spell.” Curatio paused for a moment, looking almost reluctant. “Is there no other…aid…for us?”

  Alaric’s face was hidden behind his helmet, masking most of his expression, but his mouth was drawn tightly in a line. “It would appear you have things under control. If the situation becomes dire, we will
do…” the knight paused, searching for words, “…whatever it takes… to resurrect them all before time runs out.”

  Vara made her way forward. “I can help. Though my mending spells don’t have the power of a healer’s, they can at least help relieve the pain.” Curatio nodded and Vara began to move among the wounded, starting as far from him as possible, breathing a few words here and there. Cyrus could hear thanks being murmured to her.

  Brevis stood up to catch Vara’s attention. “My boot is missing.”

  Vara looked at him, calm, cool, uncaring. “This affects me how?”

  Brevis looked back at her, expression dull. “Did you take it?”

  She blinked three times in rapid succession. “I didn’t touch your corpse except to drag it out of the way to make room for more bodies,” she said in a tone of near disbelief. “Besides,” she told him. “You’re far too ugly to molest when you’re dead.”

  A familiar glint found its way into Brevis’s eye. “What about when I’m alive?”

  A roll of the eyes. “When you’re alive, you smell too poorly.” Vara continued to work her way through the ranks of the freshly risen, casting healing spells.

  Cyrus sat up, gingerly at first, and looked around. He saw Orion talking to Cass and Erith. None of them had been healed yet, and each was clutching painful-looking wounds. He suddenly understood why he was in such pain. No healer had the magical energy to spare for mending spells when there were so many dead to be brought back. He caught Andren’s eye in the corner and hobbled his way over to him, nearly falling over and catching himself on a cave wall for support.

  Andren handed him a flask. “You look worse than I do,” he said as Cyrus took a drink. “But not as bad as Orion.” The ranger, though uninjured, had a haunted look in his eyes as he and Cass exchanged words with Erith, whose normally dark blue skin was much paler. “Or Curatio, come to that.” Curatio was working feverishly with the other two healers, casting resurrection spells as quickly as they could. “You only have so much time to cast before someone is dead for good.”