King of the Goblins—Chapter 52

Ralcor lounged on his throne in a manner that said he didn’t consider us a threat. He looked at us lazily, a sword resting against the arm of the throne as if forgotten. He wasn’t even wearing armor.

The three women were off to his right, my left. They were still blindfolded with their arms tied behind their back. Anger boiled in my gut as I saw a fresh bruise on Zia’s face. Ralcor would pay for that, with blood and pain, no matter what it took.

“It’s about time,” Ralcor said, tapping his fingers on his knee. “You certainly know how to make an entrance.” He clapped a few times, then laughed.

“This ends now,” I said, and stepped forward.

“Oh, does it?” Ralcor asked, and leaped to his feet. In the same motion he snatched his sword up and held it at his side. He took a few steps towards us, eyeing each of us as if he were appraising us and deeming us not up to par. 

“Your time ends now,” I said. “No more will you—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with your speeches,” Ralcor said.

“He’s getting better at them,” Taranath added.

“Shut your hole, elf,” Ralcor said.

Taranath responded by nocking an arrow and loosing it. I watched as the arrow flew through the air…. And Ralcor twisted to the side. The arrow passed through nothing but air, and struck the stone wall far behind it.

“Maybe that will help you understand what you’re up against,” Ralcor said. “No one can defeat me. I have trained for more than two hundred years with the sword. There is not a man alive that can defeat me.” He sneered at us. “Or an elf, or whatever the fuck you are.”

I reached out with blood magic and tried to affect his body, but it was like trying to hold onto a greased up weasel. Only the tiniest bit of my magic made it through; not enough to change his blood flow, but I had to put enough effort into it that it would tire me.

Ralcor spun his sword in lazy circles as he watched me. “Yes, such a shame you can’t use magic on me. You have to fight me like a man. Well, are you ready to die, stranger?” 

“Honestly? Not really,” I said.

Truk moved forward, approaching the goblin king. Ralcor watched him with a disdainful sneer, uncaring that the spirit moved closer and closer to him.

“You killed me and violated my mother,” Truk said in a hard voice. “I have waited more than a century for my vengeance, but now is the time. Prepare to die in pain, you bastard.”

With that, Truk rushed forward, his hand outstretched. When he touched Ralcor, his hand passed right through him. Truk stumbled, clearly expecting to have touched the goblin king and not understanding what had happened.

“No!” he shouted. “This cannot be!” He reached out and tried to grab onto Ralcor, but his hand merely passed through him again.

I couldn’t help but notice the pendant around Ralcor’s neck. The stone in it glinted every time Truk tried to touch him. That was preventing him from being killed by the spirit.

“Oh, so sad,” Ralcor said in mock sympathy. “Not only did I kill you and beat your whore of a mother, but I took away your vengeance!” He leaned forward, almost nose to nose with the ghost of Truk. “You poor thing! Are you sad? Are you going to cry?”

“You bastard!” Truk shouted, swinging his arms at Ralcor but never connecting.

Ralcor straightened up and his mock sympathy faded into a cruel glare. “Pathetic,” he said, his voice as cold as the heart of winter. “Now get the fuck out of my way so I can finish this. You,” he said, pointing his sword at me. “Come here, now.”

“No,” Althidon said before I could answer. He stepped between us, his sword held ready.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ralcor asked, not even bothering to raise his own sword.

“Grand Duke Althidon, Sword-Master of Caelora,” Althidon replied. 

Wow. That title was a mouthful. I made a mental note to keep mine simple. Maybe even do away with my last name since goblins didn’t seem to use them. King Aaron, that was enough for me. Even King Aaron of the Goblins was pushing it.

“I’ve heard of you,” Ralcor said, his eyes narrowing. “They say you’re the best in the elven kingdom. I’ve often wondered how I would fare against you. Don’t even fucking think about it,” he said, glaring at Taranath, who had another arrow nocked. “If that arrow misses its mark by even the slightest bit, I will open you from crotch to throat.”

I shivered at the sheer malevolence in Ralcor’s voice. Althidon stayed in front of him, his sword held ready.

“I’ve got this, Taranath,” Althidon said.

Taranath threw a hand in the air in frustration. “Well, I guess I’ll just stand here and enjoy the scenery since suddenly no one needs me.”

Before I could even reply to him, Ralcor launched himself at Althidon.

It was honestly hard for my eyes to even follow. Ralcor moved faster than I thought it was possible to move. His blade was a blur, striking, slicing, parrying, all too quickly for me to track.

What was also immediately apparent was that Althidon, as good as he was, was the lesser swordsman in the fight. I had sparred against him many times and knew just how good he was with a blade, and he had the advantage of being a foot taller than Ralcor. But Ralcor’s speed was simply unbelievable. 

Althidon grunted as Ralcor sliced horizontally, opening up a red line on the elven man’s arm. His blade struck Althidon’s armor and bounced off, but Ralcor didn’t slow a bit. 

Truk shouted in frustration, unable to do anything. I wasn’t much better; I didn’t dare try to stick anyone with my spear. The risk of accidentally hitting Althidon was too great.

“Dammit man, make yourself useful and help the women!” I snapped at Truk. I didn’t know if he could even do anything, but it was better than standing there cursing at Ralcor. “Taranath, go help them,” I added.

Truk, being a spirit, moved quickly. The moment Taranath took a step towards the women, Ralcor suddenly launched himself backwards, dashed two steps towards Taranath, and sliced him across the thigh, deep enough that the elven man fell to the floor. Before I could even react, Ralcor had already returned to the fight with Althidon.

Fuck. I was in a bad situation. Ralcor had just shown us that he could kick all of our asses at the same time if need be. I ran to Taranath and used magic to heal the gash on his thigh. It was deep, severing the muscles, and took all my strength to pull it together.

“Do goblin women like scars?” he asked, forcing a laugh. “Ah, what a day. What a day. Here, let me get behind him. There’s got to be something we can do.”

Except there wasn’t. Ralcor and Althidon were very active in their fight, especially Ralcor. He stepped all over the place, probably on purpose so no one else could try to join in.

I firmed my resolve at that moment. I had to act, or all was lost. If I took a sword to the gut, I could always heal myself, but no longer could I just let Althidon do the fighting. I had to do something. 

I raised my spear and shield and took a step towards Althidon and Ralcor. I tried to circle around so that I was behind the goblin king, but he saw me and turned, keeping Althidon between us.

“Try again, maggot,” Ralcor said, talking through gritted teeth. “You can’t win. Accept your defeat. Lie down and die.”

Just then I heard a scream, the kind that men let out when killed by the spirits. I turned and saw Tressi sagging against her restraints. A moment later her hands were freed and she clutched at her face, weeping in pain.

Truk rushed towards Silvy and said something. I couldn’t hear it, but she immediately started sobbing, the sort of crying only a mother can do when concerned about her child. Her entire heart was in it.

Tressi crawled towards Silvy, both of their ankles still held by chains. She said something to Silvy, who choked out a reply that I couldn’t hear over the clatter of swordplay.

I raised my spear again and turned back to Ralcor, hoping to find an opening so I could stick that bastard in the back or the leg or something. I wasn’t above fighting a bit dirty. When the stakes were this high, you won at any cost. I took a deep breath and decided I would just rush him. I would get wounded in the process, but that would be enough for Althidon to get the upper hand. I just hoped I would be able to heal myself. As long as he didn’t take my head, I could heal myself.

But they were too fast. Adrenaline had given Althidon speed, and he managed to keep Ralcor at bay, although I saw the sweat on his brow from the effort. A dozen gashes leaked blood into his clothing. He knew he was outmatched, and he was doing everything possible to stay alive. There had to be something I could do. I wanted to scream in frustration.

The golden necklace around Ralcor’s neck suddenly split at the back and fell down his chest. His eyes widened as he immediately realized what had happened.

“No!” he shouted, and launched himself at Althidon, trying to end the fight as quickly as possible. He opened up a deep slash across Althidon’s arm and sliced him across the face, right on the mouth. I winced as blood sprayed from Althidon’s lips.

Except now Ralcor was vulnerable. I immediately reached out and pulled the blood from his arms. It only took a second or two for him to drop his sword and shriek in frustration as his arms went limp. Althidon followed up with an upward stroke of his sword, lopping off Ralcor’s right hand at the wrist.

Ralcor fell to the ground, screaming more in frustration than in pain. His arms were largely useless, but he wasn’t giving up yet. He rolled away, then staggered to his feet and ran straight for me, baring his teeth.

Was this guy really planning on biting me to death? It wouldn’t surprise me. I drained the blood from his legs and he collapsed to the floor after three steps.

Ralcor lay there, both arms and legs refusing to move, growling curses at us. He looked ready to commit the most horrific of crimes without a second thought.

“Truk!” I called out. “Now is your time.”

Truk materialized in front of Ralcor. He took a step towards him, then knelt down so that he was face to face with the goblin king.

“You killed me more than a hundred years ago, just for the crime of being in your way,” Truk said. “You killed so many people, innocent people to get this throne. What have you done since?”

“Who are you, even?” Ralcor asked. “No matter. Just another peasant, another—”

“I am Truk, son of Silvy,” he said proudly. “I know what you did to her as well. I have roamed the cemetery, longing for death for more than a hundred years, with my only thoughts being revenge. This has been a long time coming, Ralcor.”

“Fuck you and your mother,” Ralcor spat. “I would do it all over again if I could. I would—”

He cut off as Truk touched him. Nothing more than that; he simply touched Ralcor on the cheek.

Ralcor’s green skin immediately became pallid and turned almost white beneath Truk’s fingertips. The sickly whiteness spread across his face and down his neck. Ralcor screamed, then bit it off and reduced it to a growl, as if refusing us the right of hearing him scream. His growls and curses continued as the whiteness spread across his body, paralyzing him, seeping into his very flesh. Killing him.

“Tell my mother I love her, and I’m at peace now,” Truk said. After that, he vanished.