We lost nine of the pilgrims and nearly half the others had been wounded in the unexpected attack.

Gideon and I drank the majority of the goblins while healing the wounded, but even with the influx of mana we were mentally exhausted by the time everyone was healed up. What would have been a complete disaster before the aurora, nearly fifty wounded, was now nothing more than a time consuming hassle of triage and miracle healing.

But without four dozen goblin corpses providing fuel, there’s no way we could have healed everyone. We need some way to store mana. Either that, or healers are going to need sacrificial animals or something. Maybe volunteers?

I had separated the goblin corpses so the other gifted could easily absorb them based on their cores, but most were black with only a few available in other colours. I found myself cleansing the stygian motes from the other Gifted after they had Consumed? Drank? Looted? those infected with black mana. The effect on the others was the same as I had felt after draining the porcuweiler - a certain drunkenness and lowering of inhibitions as black motes flowed through their bloodstream.

Even with the calming aura Gideon exuded, the people were understandably distraught after the attack and casualties. After some discussion about burial, I convinced the survivors to allow me to disperse the dead into the aether. We held a small service for them while the tired defenders kept watch. After Gideon had finished delivering an eulogy, I approached the first corpse, a woman who died protecting her seven year old daughter. Millions of motes flowed out of her body as it disintegrated under my palms, swirling in aethereal currents before vanishing, leaving behind nothing but clothing and a tiny red core.

“I saw that,” Gideon said, his eyes wide with wonder.

The others nodded, even the non-gifted.

Mercy elaborated. “It was like streams of light flowing out of her before she vanished.”

“I guess if the motes are dense enough anyone can see them,” I muttered before rising and speaking louder for the gathered crowd. “Every society needs rules. Our First rule is that the Gifted do not cannibalise people. We disperse them into the aether and bring the core back to their loved ones. We set their soul free to be reborn… or something.” I said the last part under my breath.

“I thought the first rule was cardio.” Thom muttered, just loud enough for those around him to hear.

I turned around, looking at all the Gifted behind me. A division was already occurring. It was easy for the Gifted to identify each other by the spark burning in their heads and they gathered like a flock of birds, separating from the others into a clique.

“And the Second rule is that with Great Power comes Great Responsibility,” I said, meeting the eyes of each of my children. “I know I’ve always preached that family comes first, but each of you should understand that we have an obligation, a duty, to protect those weaker than us. Every Gifted is the equivalent of a civil servant in my opinion. We serve the People.”

Nick stared at me hard, his eyes glittering with unspoken words.

I turned back to the dead and dispersed each of them into the into the aether, composing a small ceremony on the spot.

“Death is but passing through a door that opens to a new life, and you will be missed by all who knew and loved you. Although we must depart for now, some day we shall discover new realms beyond this world, and on that day, we shall meet again.”

Sending their motes into the flickering aurora above, the aura of the crowd shifted with each display, from a grey-orange confused suspicion to a rose tinted compassion as they shared in a collective grief over the loss of friends, neighbours, loved ones.

Nick spun my silver and some copper salvaged from nearby telephone lines into alloy coins the size of a half-dollar, affixing the core firmly in the centre. These keepsakes were presented to the survivors after the dispersal of the corpse, a memento of their loved one.

Approaching the newly orphaned girl after the ceremony, I held out my hand. “What’s your name?”

She muttered something, looking down at the coin in her hand.

“What? I didn’t hear that?” I said, running a hand through her tangled afro.

“What happened to my mommy?” She asked quietly, holding the coin with a tiny blue core in her hands. “Where did she go?”

I motioned for Astrid to stand next to me. “What’s your name,” I asked her.

“Cindy,” she said, staring at the memento in her hand. “Cindy Spears.”

“The soul of your mother is in the aether all around us Cindy,” I half-lied, making up a story on the spot, speaking loud enough for those gathered to hear. “Her memories are inside the core that came from her body, but her soul is all around us.”

“Mum is inside this stone?

“No,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a soft smile. I needed a shave. And a shower. “Her Spirit is in the stone. Her Soul is in the aether that surrounds us. You saw the lights disperse into the winds, right?”

She nodded. “How do you know this?” She asked.

I blew out a great sigh. “Do you want to hear the whole truth, like a grown-up?”

She nodded instantly, the grief in her heart not allowing for anything else.

“The truth is that I don’t know for certain,” I said, looking into her brown eyes before scanning the hundred plus people gathered around us. “I can see motes, mana, magic, whatever you want to call it. You’ve seen it today yourselves. When something dies, I can see a burst of motes stream out of the core. That, I believe, is the Soul. The motes flow out of the core and join the trillions and trillions of motes that I see everywhere around us. What’s left is the Spirit, the memories, contained in the core. There’s no motes left in that core, just memories.”

“What was your mother’s name, Cindy? I asked with a quiet voice.

“Glenda.”

I held my hand out for the coin, taking it from her tiny fingers then passing it to Astrid.

“Will you please summon the spirit of Glenda?” I asked.

Astrid’s fingers trembled as she took the coin from mine. Gathering her mana, she pushed it into the tiny red core that once resided in the heart of Glenda.

Indigo mana gathered around Astrid’s fist then streamed out, splattering on the ground in a complex pattern. The motes around us shifted, streaming into the pattern as Glenda coalesced from a fog of technicolour light. She was a short, slightly overweight woman, maybe five foot five inches and one hundred fifty pounds, wearing tan chinos and a white polo. A certain mischievousness filled her features, making me believe for a moment that she was actually sentient and not just sapient. She bowed to Astrid before turning to face Cindy. Cindy flung herself at the Summon, bawling her heart out as she clutched its waist tightly. The spirit of Glenda stared impassively into nothingness as her child wept against her breast.

“It’s not alive,” Astrid said, wiping away tears. “It’s just a puppet that looks like her, there’s no thoughts, just a robot that exists for as long as I feed it mana.”

I motioned surreptitiously for Astrid to dismiss her summon, watching as Glenda dissolved into motes that flowed back into the core clenched in her fist.

“All her memories of you are in that core,” I said to Cindy as I presented the coin back to her. “Keep it safe.”

Nodding, she wiped her eyes and clenched the coin tight in her little fist.

“You’re with us now, so let’s go meet everyone.” I said, taking her hand and guiding her back to meet my family and the other Gifted.

Mental note for Future Me: We need orphanages, or foster care or something. And schools. I’m too old to raise more kids.

My ex-wife Sylvia was pale and sweating by the time the impromptu memorial service was finished, stuffed full of unprocessed blue mana from two of the goblins. “You got to cycle it and spin it,” I said, taking her by the arms and steadying her. “Focus and get it moving before you pass out.”

Troy hovered nearby, a mixture of jealousy and worry on his face. “You’re pretty lucky to have a Gifted wife, she can help protect you.” I said to him with a smirk.

Sometimes I’m an asshole for no reason.

Watching the thin accretion disk in her head increase in speed, thin currents of blue motes began flowing through her blood joining with the metaphysical construct. It began to wobble dangerously as she struggled, pulling in other types of mana once all the blue was exhausted, growing more unstable until Sylvia moaned with the effort.

I pushed my aura against hers. “Let me inside you,” I said, just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

The aura around her flickered and then we were joined intimately, unlike we ever were during our marriage. Pushing the muddle of her emotions away, I concentrated on the disk of motes around her core, pushing against it gently with a thread of my intent, dampening the wild oscillations.

A brilliant flashbulb went off in my mind as it snapped into a new configuration and started sucking in unprocessed mana, feeding a steady stream of blue motes into her core.

She sagged in my arms for a moment before looking into my eyes with a grin. “Holy shit, that’s an incredible feeling.”

I knew exactly what she meant. It made you feel jittery, edgy, like you had done a line of blow with a whisky chaser. Walking the edge of a precipice, where one false step would send you plummeting into a black abyss or soaring into halcyon skies.

Pushing her at Troy, I looked at the other Gifted. “Anyone else?” I asked. Nicole was stuffed with yellow, but not quite overflowing. Mercy and Nick had split the reds I sorted so they were okay. I hated to waste the corrupted goblins since I could process the black mana, but I wasn’t going to chance being drunk with power before we were safe. I dispersed them and collected two dozen black cores.

I also learned that the black motes were infectious as one of the non-gifted caught a whiff of the black motes. I watched as they joined the cloud around his heart stone. Cleansing him, I grimaced and forced my monkey brain back into his cage. There was too much to do and I didn’t need any self doubt right now.

The survivors were rallied, carts righted, supplies recovered, and bolstered by Gideon’s aura and the fact that my family and the inner circle were moving onwards, everyone pushed on. Gideon, Tomas, Wendy, Mercy, Chris, his red-core wife Aggy and daughter Kristina, Nicole, and the other gifted gathered around me in an inner core of faithful who sought a promised land that I hoped to deliver.

As we marched east along Hwy 190, a goblin bolted out of the bushes, running across the road, vanishing into the rapidly regrowing woods around us, putting everyone on high alert. A dozen yards later a battered highway sign stood next to a pockmarked asphalt road: “Florida Parishes Juvenile Detention Centre”

“You think that’s where the goblins came from?” I asked, holding up a hand to halt the procession.

Chris answered. “I saw a child turn into a goblin back in Albany. I know it sounds crazy, but the boy was sick for a few days, then he just transformed into a goblin. It managed to injure a dozen people before escaping into the woods.”

I frowned upon hearing that. “So that wasn’t just some urban myth?” I asked. “Children really do transmogrify into goblins?”

Chris nodded and looked around at those gathered. “You’ve seen it, right?” A few heads nodded while the majority of the others looked undecided. Judging by the aura of Chris and the few who nodded, they were telling the truth as best they knew it.

“What causes it?” I demanded, quite aware that Astrid was still a teenager.

Chris shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “The only thing that I know is that the mother of the boy was…” he paused.

“What?” I demanded.

“She was abusive,” Chris said. “At least, that’s what others said about her. I don’t know for certain.”

I made mental notes. Goblins, children, abuse. Then I plowed forward with the inner circle.

“Half our day has been spent fighting, recovering, grieving. If we continue on, we’re only gong to make it another dozen miles before sunset - which will leave us camping in the open and goblins at our rear. If this detention centre is a goblin nest, we could clear it out and spend the night in relative security because they probably cleared out anything else around their nest. Suggestions?”

“Smash them,” Chris said.

“Destroy the nest,” Nick said, seconded by Thom, Doug, Astrid, Tomas, and several others.

In the end, the gifted moved in to destroy the nest, if one was actually there. We moved down the asphalt road, heading towards the institutional buildings, built in a style reminiscent of the 1960s, all brick and narrow windows.

As we moved forward, I kept pinging the area, telling Sylvia to yell if she detected anything. Nothing but rabbits and other small game filled my inner vision until one flared to life and ran from the woods. Other innocuous game turned into blood red auras filled with psychotic hatred as goblins rushed from the buildings.

Mental note: Goblins can suppress their aura to look like low-level game until they attack.

We were prepared this time, falling back and luring the dozen goblins into a pincer that smashed them into oblivion. I swept them off their feet with a tentacle, and Nick spiked them with summoned stalagmites of earth while Doug sowed disorder in their ranks. Anything else got smashed into left field by Tomas or sliced into ribbons by Thom. The entire battle was over in five minutes, a stark contrast to the chaos that caught us us off guard an hour prior.

As we cleared and secured the buildings, we encountered several goblin females. They viciously attacked our forces, sending several of the defenders scrambling for a medic.

The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

We entered what appeared to be a common area or break room of some kind, piled with mattresses and blankets where the goblins apparently slept in a communal pile. The wailing of an infant filled the air, sending Astrid hurrying forward.

“Formations!” Doug barked, startling me. The other Gifted scrambled into position with the melee fighters supporting long rage catsters. I felt a twitch at my mind, a mindless urge sending me to move left to support Astrid and Moonie. I cast a glance at Doug and spotted various silver threads flickering in and out of existence, connecting with people for a moment before vanishing. I firmed up my aura, fixating on the idea that I was one hundred percent against mental control. The urge flared into compulsion, then vanished.

I made eye contact with Doug, moving my fingers to point between my eyes and his. A faint blush covered his face before I turned to give Astrid support. She was struggling over the chaotic heaps of mattresses piled in the middle of the room, heading towards the wailing infant. I pushed off with my aura, soaring through the air to land next to her.

She was staring at the ugliest baby in the world. Pale green, spindly, hairless, with teeth that would leave scars on any teat unfortunate enough to enter its mouth. Reaching into the nest of filthy blankets, Astrid pulled it free and clutched it to her chest, running a hand along its back to sooth it.

“That’s a goblin,” I said quietly, hoping my voice would carry the need for what must be done. I mentally prepared myself to do the needful.

She whirled on me, eyes bright with unshed tears. “So what? It’s a baby! What are you going to do, kill it? Leave it to die on the slopes of Gibraltar because it’s deformed? It’s a baby! We don’t eat people, we don’t kill babies!” She clutched the infant tightly, causing it to squall in distress.

I backed away from the ferocious display. I had never seen Astrid so passionate before.

“You realise it’s not a pet?” I said.

“I don’t…”

I held a hand up to interrupt. “The adults attacked and killed us without any warning. I understand that babies are innocent, but a baby cobra is full of instincts that will cause it to bite you no matter how well you treat it.”

She glanced at the snuffling bundle clutched in her arms. “I hear what you’re saying, but if we don’t try… Those goblins were people right? Everything is changing right? So this is a baby, and he deserves to be treated as one until… until…”

I laid a hand on her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably on the pile of foam mattresses. I have always encouraged, demanded, that my children question authority, question the rules in place. You never follow the orders of someone until they have gained your absolute trust and respect - and even then, you still question. “Okay. You made your point, and I respect that. You did good. A bit emotional, but you raised good points and I can’t ignore them.”

“You agree?” She asked, face damp with tears as she met my eyes.

“No,” I admitted. “But I’m willing to listen to you and see how things work out. The moment it goes feral and hurts someone, you will put it down. Understand? Old Yeller, remember?”

She sobbed and looked down at the grubby thing in her arms, then nodded.

Then she whispered the first rule of hunting.

“If I kill it, I have to eat it.”

I squeezed her shoulder and pressed my head to hers. “If you kill an animal, you have to eat it, that’s the rule,” I said. “I don’t think it’s an animal, just… unfortunate.”

Astrid gripped me in a one armed hug, the tiny goblin squished between us squalling with discomfort.

Copyright © 2022, Conteur. All Rights Reserved.

120.2v1