[Diary Entry To Be Added]

Calan’dal left Cathran and Arahn with the dryad to go wake the twins, then made his way down the hill to where Morvar was leaning against the arched entrance. He relayed the information they had discussed to the troll, getting the expected grunt in reply. A few moments later the others joined them, Evan dozily rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“We may have a small problem,” the elf noted as they bid goodbye to the dryad and walked back out into the passageway. “And when I say small I’m talking about the size of the tunnel that’s been dug in the wall.”

“We can get through there easy,” said Lem.

“Oh I know that,” Calan’dal agreed. “But I’m not as young as I used to be and I’m worried if I got down to crawl through there I wouldn’t be able to get up again so easily.”

“So the leader of the expedition leaves the dangerous stuff to the lackey’s, is that it?” growled Morvar.

“It’s fine,” assured Arahn. “Cathran and I can go with them; we can fit through there if we’re careful.”

“The hell it is,” said the troll angrily. “You could be walking into absolutely anything.”

He had a point though. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the other side of the wall and without Morvar’s strength or Calan’dal’s powerful, though of sparing use, magic there was a chance the four kids could find themselves in over their heads.

“Someone has to though,” Arahn pointed out.

“So we dig out the wall until all of us can fit,” said Morvar, punching his own palm and glaring.

“Because that won’t attract attention at all,” said Lem sarcastically.

“None of you have ever been thieves before and it really shows,” added Evan.

“What do you suggest then?” asked Calan’dal.

“We go in quietly, check out what’s in there and if it can talk we try to schmooze it.”

“And if it can’t?” asked Morvar. “Or would rather just eat you?”

The twins didn’t seem too concerned, though they were probably doubting anything that would make a hole in the wall their size, was that much of a threat.

Lem unsheathed her dagger and gave it a wiggle. “I know where to find a guy’s kidneys.”

Arahn wanted to ask what she planned to do if whatever was in there didn’t have kidneys, but he also didn’t want to step on her confidence. It was nice to know at least one of them wasn’t shaking in their borrowed boots. He had to consciously stop himself fiddling with his earing again.

Since they’d arrived the presence of Morvar’s hulking figure had imparted an odd sense of calm for the human. Sure the troll was dangerous in his own right but knowing the man was on their side and had, so far at least, proved himself willing to jump into the fray in their defence was comforting. It could just be because he knew he was a lot more resilient than the others, but it was nice nonetheless.

“I suppose it’s decided then,” said Calan’dal. “Though I should remind you, this isn’t supposed to be a suicide mission. Not this early in our journey anyway!” He laughed, but when no one else joined him he stopped again quickly. “Anyway, if things are looking pear shaped come back. We can always think up a plan B once we know what’s in there.”

As gung-ho as the elf had been about the expedition, it was nice to know he wasn’t that eager to have his companions running head long into death.

Together the four of them crawled through the winding passage, emerging from the other end in a long cavern with a low ceiling that had been roughly dug out of the earth. Thick tree roots were protruding out of the east wall of the dug cavern as they grew down into the cave from the garden above.

Campfires were dotted around a central aisle. Several of the roots had been hacked up into logs and Arahn suspected that was what was being used as fuel. Sitting around the fires, perched on rocks, were dozens of small humanoid creatures, with familiar wide faces and bat like ears.

In the city where Arahn grew up there had been plenty of goblins like the twins. Pale skinned, but with flushes of colour in their round cheeks, large brown eyes and hair every shade from a pale cream to a deep golden blond.

These goblins though, could not be more different. Their skin was the colour of chalk, stark white and thin, bearing dark veins under the surface, and their long, lank hair had the same stark lack of colour. The scrawny, malnourished looking creatures hunched close to their meagre fires, bulging yellow eyes staring deep into the dancing flames.

“Eugh,” Lem groaned, distaste clear in her tone. “Feral goblins.”

“Yeah,” agreed Evan, though he kept his voice low. “Bet you they don’t even speak the common tongue.”

“Well they haven’t figured out shirts yet, so I doubt it.”

At the back of the room, was the largest campfire, where some rats were being roasted on sticks. Behind the fire, sitting on a throne constructed from the passage wall’s missing stone bricks was a goblin wearing a crown crudely fashioned from bent wire, with several scratched and dinted baubles tied to it. Around his neck he wore a large chucky pendant in the shape of a sun that hung from a fine gold chain which felt out of place compared with the rest of his ragged dress. Beside the throne were two hairless dogs, with rat-like faces and teeth, which were occupied with a pile of bones.

As soon as the group had entered the goblin on the throne had looked up from admiring his pendant, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“Who enters the realm of Goblin King Plogg!” he screeched, in very simple, heavily accented common.

“Guess one of them can speak,” said Evan, while Lem sniggered behind her hand.

“His name is Plogg.” she said almost disbelievingly.

“Quiet,” Cathran hissed. “Don’t you see the pendant around his neck? The shape is the same as the lock in the trap room.”

The twins oohed softly in understanding and Evan mimed zipping his lips.

“Forgive us for intruding on you, your majesty,” said Cathran as they approached the throne. “We were wondering if you may be able to assist us.”

When the King looked confused and started chattering unintelligibly to a nearby goblin Lem rolled her eyes.

“Small words,” she hissed as she brushed Cathran aside and stepped forward. Standing in front of the king she spoke in a loud voice while gesturing energetically to herself. “I am Lem, a Human Goblin from above ground!”

Around them the goblins exploded in excited chattering, while the king looked nervous.

“What you want from King!” he demanded.

“No want from King,” Lem said shaking her head so hard her ears flapped. “King quest, give us job!”

Clearly taken aback by the direction of the conversation, it took a moment for the King to reply, but with his followers watching the proceedings he was quick to play along.

“Yes, tribe need help,” said the King, before pointing at the roots growing from the walls. “Tree invade home. Kill tree. King could do it but—”

“King cannot leave subjects,” interrupted Lem. “Good King stay and protect tribe!”

“Yes,” agreed the King immediately. “You go destroy tree!”

“Burn tree!” chattered several of the goblins around the campfire.

“Yes!” cried the King liking this idea. “Burn tree to cinders!”

In response to this order Lem held out her hands. “Reward!”

“What you want?” asked the King suddenly wary.

Lem pointed to her own chest. “Necklace!”

The King grabbed at the necklace defensively.

“Want use key,” said Lem slowly, choosing her words carefully. “King know key, yes?”

It was clear the King had no idea what was going on anymore, but he was in too far now, he had to go along with it and agree or else his subjects would start to doubt him.

“Of course King know!” he exclaimed confidently.

“Need key to open door,” said Lem. “Unlock door and bring back treasure. Give treasure and keep key.”

At the mention of treasure the king’s eyes lit up and Arahn suspected the tree had changed priority in the goblin’s mind.

“What kind treasure?” he asked eagerly.

“Me not know,” said Lem. “Door locked, need key.”

The king slumped back in his chair looking grumpy. “Then how you know is treasure?”

Lem hesitated and Arahn’s heart leapt.

“Because we already found some treasure!” he exclaimed suddenly.

The king’s gaze snapped to him in an instant. “What treasure? Show treasure!”

Arahn reached into his bag and pulled out the small money pouch the twins had found in the treasure chest. The sound of the coins jangling around inside pricked the ears of every goblin in the room. Eagerly the king shuffled forward in his chair and held out his hands for Arahn, who upturned the pouch into his open palm. The shower of silver and copper brought a huge grin to the goblin’s face, making him giggle like a child. He held up one of the newer silver pieces and twisted it around to make it catch the light from the nearby fire and sparkle.

The money was barely enough for a decent dinner out at the tavern, and yet the way the king looked at it you would have thought Arahn had served him a royal ransom.

“Where you find?” the king demanded suddenly.

“Outside the locked room?” Arahm ventured.

Lem jumped on the comment immediately. “Yes! Shinies outside locked room, so more treasure inside, need key!”

“Fine,” said the King forcing the tone of his voice to sound authoritative. “You take key and bring back treasure.”

“Then keep necklace?” asked Lem. “Gift from King?”

Suddenly both twins started jumping up and down chanting “Gift!” enthusiastically. After a moment the King screamed for silence and made to remove his necklace. Before he could, the goblin at his side pulled him down by one large ear and began chattering loudly into it.

“Girl stay here,” said the King suddenly after he broke away. When Lem pointed at herself the King shook his head and pointed to Cathran. “No! Human girl stay here. You bring back treasure, burn tree and get girl back, keep key.”

The twins looked back at Cathran with wide pleading eyes and after a tense moment Cathran nodded nervously. The King clapped his hands eagerly, obviously thinking he had made the better deal. The twins dashed forward to take the necklace, before turning around and scrambling back towards the exit. As Arahn turned to go, Cathran grabbed his hand.

“Take the bag,” she whispered softly, sliding it from her shoulder in such a way that it slid down onto Arahn’s arm “I don’t want them getting their hands on it.”

“Don’t worry,” Arahn assured her as he pulled the bag onto the opposite shoulder to his own bag. “We’ll come back for you.”

“What if you don’t find any treasure?” asked Cathran, eyes wide and a nervous edge to her voice.

Not knowing what to say all Arahn could do was give her hand a reassuring squeeze before following the twins back out into the passage.

Just as they were reaching the end of the tunnel Arahn stopped. Evan and Lem were crouched near the entrance, bat ears twitching. The boy crouched and snuck forward. Outside in the corridor he could hear Morvar and Calan’dal talking.

“They could be back any moment,” the elf was saying. “Are you sure this is the conversation you want to be having?”

“Good a time as any,” replied the troll. “So?”

“I must commend you on your perceptiveness,” Calan’dal said. “Dare I ask how you knew?”

“The way you cast,” replied Morvar matter-of-factly. “There are no runes on your staff for you to call power from, you have no runic stones, no spell woven robes, nowhere for you to concentrate the focus of your spells.”

“Well you’re not wrong there,” Calan’dal admitted. “But what makes you think it’s blood magic? I could be an elemental mage, they don’t need runes.”

Arahn’s eyes widened. Morvar thought Calan’dal was a blood mage? That was a pretty serious accusation. Blood magic was illegal in pretty much every civilised society on Alvis. The Leimirra Inquisition had hunted users zealously across the continents for hundreds of years and you were lucky if all you got for being caught was the noose.

“The grooves in your staff,” replied Morvar. “They’re drawing lines.”

“Drawing lines you say?” repeated Calan’dal, a tone of good humour in his voice. “Somehow I don’t think you’re talking about pretty pictures.”

“No,” Morvar growled, a touch of anger seeping into his gravel. “You dip the point of the staff in a pool of blood, then you use magic to draw it up through the grooves and let it soak into the wood.”

“And yet,” said Calan’dal. “We’ve yet to encounter any great degree of gore so far since we’ve come down here. How am I casting then?”

“You’re using your own blood,” said Morvar his tone turning grim. “But you’re old, your blood is weak. You weren’t suffering from mana loss after your casting killed the spiders, you had anaemia.”

“You’re surprisingly knowledgeable about this kind of thing,” said Calan’dal after a long tense silence. “And here I thought you were just a warrior.”

“I am,” Morvar stressed, a slight grit to his teeth. “My brother, curses upon his head, however…” The troll trailed off. “No, you don’t deserve that story. Not someone who trades lives for power.”

“I’m not a necromancer,” said Calan’dal, sounding insulted.

“Might as well be.”

“Now see here, magic is a complicated, multi-faceted, web of arcane and elemental powers. No mage just wakes up one morning and decides: Today’s the day I become a blood mage.”

“So what tipped you over the edge then?”

“You don’t deserve that story,” snapped Calan’dal angrily. “You see, two can play your game.”

The silence that descended outside in the corridor was laced with rage and hate, and for a moment Arahn was convinced he was about to hear the sounds of an explosive battle.

Eventually the elf spoke up again. “Are you going to tell the others?”

“I should tell ‘em, you know? Tell ‘em what you are.”

“They’ve already seen what I’m capable of.” The elf paused and the tension in the hall was palpable. “What good would it do them exactly, to know? To fear their contractor?”

Silence descended again and the next time Morvar spoke he sounded grouchy. “You think you can keep it to your own blood?”

“I’ve managed for the last few decades,” replied Calan’dal stiffly.

“Fine, well if you can keep managing then I can keep it to myself.”

“How generous,” said the elf snidely.

“But I swear, if you do anything, to any of them…” Morvar trailed off ominously.

“An empty threat,” said Calan’dal. “But noted all the same.”

A tug at his sleeve made Arahn look down. Lem was looking up at him in the dimness of the passage, pressing her finger to her lips. He nodded and the pair snuck back up the tunnel a little ways, their light steps silent on the soft earth. Then they turned around and started bounding back towards him making enough noise to be heard out in the corridor.

“We’re back!” Evan exclaimed as the twins burst back out of the tunnel, followed by Arahn.

“And look what we got!” sing-songed Lem waving the pendant key under Calan’dal’s nose.

“Splendid!” said the elf. “What did you find in there?”

Arahn started to explain what had happened but as soon as he mentioned the goblins the twins rolled their eyes.

“I hate talking with ferals,” spat Lem, sounding as though saying the word put a foul taste in her mouth.

“Don’t I know it,” agreed Evan, moving away from the hole like it carried a disease.

“Where’s the woman?” Morvar demanded suddenly, staring at Cathran’s bag on Arahn’s shoulder.

“There was a bit of an incident,” Arahn tried to explain sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

“What kind of incident?” growled Morvar slowly, his meaty hands curling into fists.

Arahn stammered out the rest of the explanation of their encounter.

“It’s fine,” assured Lem quickly when Morvar looked ready to explode. “We’ll get her back, easy.”

“Yeah,” agreed Evan. “We could give that King any old shiny rubbish and he’d think it’s amazing. As long as we don’t take an age to come back she’ll be right.”

“Then we don’t wait,” said Morvar, turning on his heel and setting off back up the corridor, the others at his heels.

To their relief, when they returned to the room with the trapped floor, the wall was still open and the keyhole was visible through the panel. Lem passed the pendant up to Calan’dal who slotted it into the gap and gave it a turn. There was loud grinding sound beside them making Calan’dal step back as the entire wall slide sideways, revealing the entrance to the hidden room.