Newt narrowed an eye. 'You're making that up.'
'I am not. I was told it was not uncommon, given their insatiable appetites.'
Gwurm liked to tease Newt, but in this, he sounded sincere. I certainly believed it possible, which only made the prospect of a horde of the beasts all the more terrible.
The soldiers assembled, and we watched from the fort gate. The Captain introduced Wyst of the West, and the White Knight began a speech that was no doubt sincere in its passion. I couldn't hear much of what was said, but I saw the Knight's inspiration enchantment work its magic on the assembly.
Most were moved. Their hearts filled with a soft glow that gave them courage. Enough to keep them from deserting for a while at least.
Those easily enchanted or truly brave shone bright in the crowd. There weren't many of these. Perhaps twenty-five of the five hundred. This was more than I expected, and I knew that these men would lay down their lives as long as they fought by the White Knight's side.
Finally, there were the craven few without an ounce of valor in their hearts for the magic to play upon. These men would vanish by dusk, if not sooner. I guessed their number at fifty, less than I'd expected.
Wyst did not speak long, trusting in his magic to reach the men. The Captain issued orders. Some soldiers were to notify the civilians of the hasty evacuation. Most were to prepare for tactical drills with the White Knight. I gathered the horde was only three or four days away, leaving us not much time to prepare.
When the Captain retired to his office, I told him of my intention to stay. Both the Captain and Newt fixed me with peculiar glances.
'Are you mad?' the Captain asked. 'Do you have an inkling of what we're in for?'
'A good witch walks beside death.'
'I've yet to see magic be much use on a battlefield. Still, some armies do swear by it. The Tyrle Kingdoms reportedly employ several regiments of zombies with some effectiveness, and every man in Hurgle's Marauders is enchanted to explode when killed, which is very distracting in the middle of a fight, I can personally attest. Not to mention horribly messy.' He rubbed his eyes, full of worry and weariness. 'You can stay but please don't enchant my men without consulting with me first.'
'Thank you. I think I know of something to sour the taste of your soldiers.'
'Would that stop the goblings from eating them?'
'Nothing overcomes a goblings appetite,' I replied, 'but it would lessen their zeal.'
'That's something at least, I suppose.'
I promised to deliver the tonic by tomorrow morning, and the Captain dismissed me with a noteworthy lack of enthusiasm.
Outside, Gwurm was speaking with Wyst of the West. I stayed back and waited for them to finish. Newt, who could no longer stay quiet, spoke low enough that only I could hear.
'Why are we staying?'
'Because this is my job,' I said in an equally low whisper.
'Your job is vengeance. Remember your dead mistress.'
I swatted him hard across the backside with my broom. He jumped, forgot his oath of silence among men, and swore.
'Why did you do that?'
I smacked him again, harder this time. Newt shouted out, 'Damn it! That hurt!'
'Good. Now listen, and listen well. I welcome your opinion. Feel free to offer it whenever you like. But make no mistake about it, I make the final decisions on what we will do, where we will go, and who we will kill. Is that understood?'
'Yes, yes, mistress. Whatever you say,' he grunted without much enthusiasm.
I let go of Penelope. She struck him softly across his tender seat and jumped back to my hand.
'Of course, mistress. I meant no disrespect.'
'Yes, you did, and I'll have no more of it. If you're unhappy, take your leave. Otherwise, shut up and stop second-guessing everything I do.'
He grumbled. The demon in him so hated being dressed down, but an unreliable familiar would do me little good. Penelope trembled in my grasp, eager for another swat.
'I'm sorry, mistress. You're right, of course. I overstepped my bounds, and I humbly beg your forgiveness.'
He wasn't truly sorry. Nor was he the type to humbly beg for anything. Expecting sincerity from a duck with a pinch of demon was asking too much. It was enough that he maintained a false, yet respectable, humility.
Penelope shook, begging for another shot. I squeezed her tight, and she relented.
'Very good. I'm pleased we understand each other.'
One thin soldier no more than sixteen years old had been close enough to catch our conversation. He measured Newt with a vaguely shocked expression. He was not so much frightened as surprised.
My familiar hissed in a decidedly unduckly manner. 'That's right. I talk. I also devour souls, and what a tasty little soul I'll bet you have.'
He took a single step toward the soldier. The boy turned and tripped over his own feet. Newt chuckled while the young man scurried away.
Gwurm and Wyst of the West parted. I worried the Knight might want to speak with me, but he went to preparing the soldiers for their drills. Gwurm returned to my side.
'Nice chap,' Gwurm remarked. 'He just wanted to apologize for judging my character based solely on my species. Says there's even a troll in his order who's distinguished himself as an exemplary champion.'
Gwurm had not given the slightest hint of insult after their first meeting, but just because he accepted such inconveniences as a troll's burden didn't make them right. Wyst's apology showed his good character, and his good character only made me hunger for him more in ways both carnal and carnivorous.
I kept my eyes low and buried such desires beneath more immediate concerns. But it wasn't easy, and it was proving more difficult each time.
IN THE SAFETY OF my tent, I borrowed Newt's body again. He didn't complain about the switch. He liked wearing my body. My green eyes gleamed with sinister delights. He had no doubt dreamed up all manner of twisted, demon-born fantasies of what he might do with it given free rein. I warned him he only enjoyed its full use by my good graces. Should he behave in any inappropriate way, the privilege would be revoked.
He acted as if he didn't need to be told this. I made a point of telling him anyway. Then I dispatched him and Gwurm to gather the ingredients I'd need for the Captain's tonic. They set off on their task, and I set off on mine.
I stepped out of my tent, found a bare spot, and stomped my web foot four times. Then I shouted because one must be loud to attract the slumbering earth's attention.
'Hello there, good earth. Any goblings down there?'
The earth replied with a vaguely feminine voice, yet deep and slow as the earth should have. 'No. No goblings down here.'
'Could you point the way to the nearest batch?'
It took a minute for the earth to take in the question, but she knew the answer. The earth was hardly aware of anything happening atop her but knew all that went on below the surface. An arrow drew itself in the dirt. I thanked the earth for her help, but by then she had gone back to sleep.
I took to the air, circling the fort once to stretch my wings.
I kept from looking down for fear of glimpsing Wyst of the West. There were more important matters at hand.
I soared over the forest, stopping every fifteen minutes to check with the earth, whose directions, while reliable, were always in need of some adjusting. After a few hours, I found the horde.
There was no need to consult the earth because the forest below grew deathly quiet. Not a chirp or a chitter or a squeal rose from the trees. All the birds and beasts that hadn't been eaten had fled the area. I landed without worry. Goblings were nocturnal. They spent their days sleeping in burrows. I spotted dozens of entrances in the soil. No efforts had been made to hide them. And why should there have been? The creatures were dug deep into the earth, and any attempt to flush them out would only drive them deeper. A legion equipped with the finest
