You’d think that chasing a seven-foot-tall goblin through a village built for three-and-half foot tall gnomes wouldn’t be that difficult. I mean, where the hell could he hide? Mace was almost six feet tall and virtually eye-level with the roofs of most buildings. I should’ve seen the monster’s head and shoulders crashing through the village.

But no, as soon as I entered the village after Trox, I couldn’t hear or see him. The buildings were dark and growing darker by the minute after the electricity had gone out. The sun was setting outside, and the mirrors were dimming way too fast for my comfort. Shadows crept across the small streets, and the alleys were shrouded in almost impenetrable darkness.

Not only were the alleys and buildings dark, but there wasn’t a soul about. I knew all gnomes who couldn’t fight had either fled across the lake in any boat they could find or were hiding quietly in their homes. The quiet was unsettling given the frenetic activity I’d seen just an hour ago.

And it was unsettling because I knew Trox was hiding out there somewhere.

I ran about twenty paces down the main road where I’d last seen him before I stopped and listened. I heard nothing besides the deep thumping of my heart in my ears and the battle behind me. I whipped my head around, searching for a clue to where he was hiding, but I couldn’t find anything.

Either he was crouched down somewhere holding his breath, or he had portaled out of the village. I didn’t think he’d portaled out because I hadn’t heard a thunderclap, and I didn’t feel sickened like I always did around Krait’s magic. He was out there somewhere, but where?

I was about to curse when I heard a clay pot crash onto stone in the alleyway to my right.

I whispered, “Ancestral Shield,” and gave it five Magic Points. I felt the magic leave my chest and then sensed, more than saw, an ethereal blue shield encase my body.

I crept toward the edge of the short stone building where I’d heard the smash, holding my breath and trying to avoid tripping over debris in the meager light. I gripped my longsword tight and peaked one eye around the corner.

The alley was darker than the road, but I could see the buildings around it and the pieces of a red pot on the ground five paces away. Nothing else moved.

A roar burst from the alley behind me on the left side of the street. I had no time to turn before I was body-slammed into the alley with the broken pot. I landed with an explosive gasp as all the breath left my lungs. I rolled a couple of times but had the Dexterity to use that momentum and jump back to my feet. I had somehow kept hold of the sword and brought it up, ready to defend myself. I felt Mace berating us for falling for such an obvious tactic. I didn’t need to check my Hit Points to know that I was far more humiliated than hurt by the slam.

Trox came charging down the small alleyway like an enraged elephant, his shoulders barely fitting between the buildings. It was a sight that would make any sane person run the other way as fast as possible.

But Trox held a long sword above his head that was far too small for his hand. It looked perfect for mine, though. It was my Ancestral Longsword. And the sight of it made me stand my ground.

“I kill you with your own sword!” Trox yelled in a frightening roar that came deep from his massive chest. He brought the sword down at me in an overhand chopping motion as though it were a scimitar. It was the only move he had due to the close quarters, for he couldn’t swing the sword from left to right without running it into the buildings on either side of him.

I blocked the blow with my mundane sword. The force of Trox’s attack made my sword vibrate painfully in my hands and almost shoved the blade back into my face. But the force of my block made the Ancestral Longsword bounce up off mine, and for a moment, exposed Trox’s gut. I tried bringing my sword around for a horizontal slash, but he kicked me with his huge, booted foot. The kick glanced off my right thigh but was still enough to spin me to the right and expose me to his next attack.

Trox’s next swing got me on the right shoulder. My Ancestral Shield—combined with Nissa’s chain mail shirt—deflected most of the blow’s damage, though I still felt a crunch in my shoulder that sent shockwaves of pain throughout my chest. I bounced like a pinball off the buildings to my right and left before landing on my ass ten feet from Trox. And to make matters worse, I dropped my sword. It clanged to the cobblestone alley near Trox’s feet with a sound that seemed to echo my doom.

I reached into my cloak for my right shoulder; it was definitely out of its socket. Warm blood trickled down my side. Trox almost killed me with a deflected blow. He would undoubtedly kill me now that I was defenseless.

Trox kicked my sword behind him so that I had no hope of reaching it. He took a couple of steps forward and sneered at me. With my Ancestral Longsword raised above my head, he said, “You more trouble than the money I get for you alive. I kill you now.”

Imminent death slowed time down for me. It gave me a chance to have a real conversation with Mace in the second before Trox’s death blow.

“This is it,” I thought to him. “Any ideas?”

Mace was silent for a fraction of a fraction of a second, then said, Yes. But I don’t like it.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Of course you know what I’m thinking. We share minds. And it’s our last resort.

“I promise not to tell Stephen.”

But I will know.

“Do you want to live or not? Because I’m going to need your skills for this. We have to do it left-handed.”

Another fraction of a fraction of a second went by before Mace said, I want to live.

That’s all I needed to hear.

Trox raised my Longsword with a snarl, ready to cleave my head. With my left hand still inside my cloak feeling the warm blood from my wounded shoulder, I shifted it to the pocket where I’d stored the dagger someone had left for me at the bottom of the gravel corridor. I pulled it out, called on Mace’s Precision Strike skill, gave one Magic Point to Enhanced Ancestral Smite, and prayed that I didn’t need to yell out the spell's name for it to work.

Just before Trox’s swing reached its apex, the dagger flashed from out of my cloak, and I flung it at the goblin wizard. The dagger sailed end over end, its rune-etched blade reflecting the paltry light still shining from the mirrors above. I felt my Precision Strike skill and the magic of Sonja’s Battle Cry buff aid the accuracy of my attack. The knife’s blade disappeared to the hilt into the center of Trox’s chest, where his green goblin skin showed through his black dragon scale trench coat. The ethereal blue light of my Ancestral Smite burst from the wound, enveloped Trox in a flash, and then disappeared.

Trox stood frozen with the Longsword above his head, his yellow eyes wide with shock. Then the sword landed at his feet. He looked down stupidly at the knife poking out of his chest, reached for it, and pulled it out. A huge gout of black-green blood came with it. The giant goblin fell to his knees and leaned against one of the buildings. He still held the knife and stared at the blood spurting from his chest wound.

Then he looked at me—now eye level since he was on his knees—more in surprise than pain. He dropped the knife and slumped against the building next to him.

I picked up my Ancestral Long sword. Mace seemed to sigh with relief, and I felt my ancestors' wisdom, strength, and divine magic fill my body and soul. I’d only been parted from my Ancestral Longsword for half a day, but it felt like years.

I put the blade against Trox’s neck. He didn’t even try to knock it away. Blood pumped from his chest wound, and his green goblin face turned more ashen by the moment. Then he gave me that evil goblin grin that he’d worn when he slaughtered all those gnomes. He started chuckling in a deep rumble that held no humor or joy.

“What’s so funny, Trox?” I asked, keeping my longsword against his neck. It even drew a bead of green-black blood, but Trox didn’t flinch away from it.

“Kill me, and you never learn how I found your boy.” He coughed, and black blood oozed from his mouth. He grinned, his sharp teeth covered in the blood. “Heal me, and I tell you, Paladin.”

I stared at him for a few seconds without moving. “Now, why should I believe you?”

He coughed up more blood and leaned backward on his knees against the building. He grunted from the pain of his wound as black blood pooled all around him.

“Barney told me,” he said, then issued a cruel, gurgling laugh.