Qolmador, Nomad, and Zengi slammed through the auditorium doors into the war camp. Gritty swirling dust whipped Qolmador’s face and stung his eyes, forcing him to bring his cowl over his snout. The pungent odor of the 7th legion punched him in the nose next. It smelled like raw onions stewing in a pee-filled bucket. Fighting back a gag, he stepped on the slick, wet cobblestone and scanned the area for any sign of the intruder. Nomad stared down his scope whipping his rifle around in all directions.

  Clusters of tents around the auditorium created a veritable maze for them to sift through. The beige canvas of the tents made it impossible to see anything. Soldiers of all monstrous races slapped the gray cobblestone ground, rushing past the trio. They looked at the sky and all around them, searching for the threat.

  Nomad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Qol, you gotta stop making alarms.” He shook his head and resumed scoping the camp.

  Zengi spun on her heels, her massive orc frame towering over him with muscles bulging out of her uniform. “Where is he, Qolmador!?”

  Snapping his head up to her and blinked. “I… I will find him.” He closed his eyes, letting his psionics loose into the camp. His phantom alarm worked better than he thought; all the soldiers looked confused but tore through the camp. Sifting through the jumble of thoughts proved harder than he’d hoped for. Thoughts to protect themselves, thoughts of blind aggression mixing with self-preservation until he found the calmest mind.

  It wasn’t the calmest mind in the camp but the calmest one he had ever touched. There was such clarity during the chaos around him that it felt like an oasis in a desert. Nothing in the world compared to this. All the raging thoughts flooding his head faded to a whisper. Opening his eyes, he saw the creature, not its physical form but the stillness of presence, and he smiled. “He went down the alley behind us!” He pointed down the alley.

  Zengi ran around the auditorium to the back alley. A whooshing sound from her cape flapping in the wind made her seem powerful. She barked orders at passing soldiers. She stopped two orcs when they reached her. They threw their knifed hands to their eyes in salute.

  Zengi narrowed her eyes, creased her forehead, and then pointed down the alley. “He dropped out that window; Nomad winged him. Find the blood.”

  Qolmador grunted. Of course, he kicked himself for not thinking of that. Scanning the cobblestone, he saw a glossy red line leading into the mess hall. Nomad ran into the alley and bent down. His long duster scraped the floor as he pinched the sticky substance between his fingers. In a panic, Qolmador waved his hands at the trail of blood leading to the mess hall. With a thought, he made it evaporate into nothing.

  Nomad sniffed, then tasted the blood, to Qolmador’s disgust. And he looked down the alley away from where Qolmador pointed. Meeting Qolmador’s eyes, he sighed and looked back down the other end of the alley. “Zengi, I reckon he went down thatta way.” He jabbed his thumb to the north side of the camp, walking back to Zengi. “Let me take Qol and get a better vantage point.”

  Zengi nodded and grabbed two orcs, trying to run past her. They stumbled to a halt bringing knifed hands to their eyes in the 7th’s silly salute. Qolmador waved his hand again to wipe the rest of the blood clean as Zengi spoke. “Go down that alley and find an invisible spy. He’s bleeding, so pick up his trail.” Shaking in their dark leather armor, they ran into the alleyway.

  Qolmador watched the orcs stare at the shattered glass and stone on the floor, scratching their heads and pouting their lips; he couldn’t help but feel bad for them. “We don’t see no blood.” They shrugged at Zengi.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you serious? We shot it, and it bled; show them, Nomad!”

  Nomad held up his bloody glove. “It’s there, boys; just follow the blood.” He squinted at Qolmador, whose face was screwed up. “Go deeper in.”

  The pair nodded with slack jaws and walked into the alley. “We don’t see anything!” They walked back, looking defeated. Zengi’s face grew taut, and a vein threatened to burst on her forehead. She entered the alley, clenching her jaws with dangerously narrow eyes at the much bigger orcs. In a flash, she slammed one of the orc’s massive frames against a brick wall with a hard thud. Red dust fell over his bald head, and his eyes crossed. She dug her fingers into his chest, making something pop out of place, and tossed him to the ground.

  Her eyes glowed like a raging ember. “Go all the way into the alley,” she growled. “Find blood and follow it.” The orcs nodded as hard as they could. She stomped a foot next to his and tossed him to the ground. “GO!” She roared. Turning to Nomad and Qolmador, her rage-filled eyes widened. “Why are you both still here!?” Turning away from them, Zengi continued to bark orders at any of the soldiers unlucky enough to pass by her. Qolmador’s eyes flicked back and forth over the cobblestone catching another trail of blood again.

  It led straight into the mess hall, and he pushed his mind to find the calm again. “What are you doing!?” He thought to it in a panic. “I gave you a chance to get out of here.” He could feel his thoughts dripping with anger. Did he make a mistake? Despite himself, he admired the creature’s sheer talent. He had never seen a creature capable of achieving such a stillness of mind that it silenced the world so perfectly. Invisible of mind and body could be a powerful tool if used right. Though, he feared he’d pay for his admiration. This thing had to leave the camp to not draw suspicion on him. “Get out of here!” He thought to the thing.

  “I’m hungry.” Was all he got back.

  Qolmador stamped one clawed foot onto the slick cobblestones, clenching his fists. “I do not care! You have to leave before zee soldiers find you.” His head snapped to the training grounds and Formation Fields, where troops practiced battle lines. He could hear Zengi shouting orders across the camp to the hundreds of soldiers. She screamed her way to order in the confusion. Wrangling the troops training troops who already had weapons; she made them fan out through the camp. The soldiers in the formation lines ignored the chaos and headed to the mess hall.

  Letting his pupils shatter into mandalas, he scanned the immediate area, not seeing any soldier notice the rest of the blood. “Zere are soldiers heading to the mess hall right now!” His heart beat against his ribcage so fast he thought he might faint.

  “Alright.” The invisible creature said.

  Clenching his fists drove his nails deep into his palm. Warm, viscid fluid dripped to the ground as his heart raced. Taking a breath, he calmed himself and stalked off to the mess hall. He had the thing’s mind now and would break it if needed. A calloused hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him in place.

  Nomad grabbed his bleeding hand, whipping out a greasy rag. The grimy dirt scraped the back of his hand. “Qol, what are you doin’!” Their eyes met for a moment, and Nomad’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, hell, what did you do?”

  He felt himself shrink, seeing Nomad’s face fall in disappointment. “I technically didn’t do anything, but zee spy you shot is in the mess hall.” Qolmador bit his bottom lip, hoping not to have to explain more.

  Nomad craned to look at the mess hall and then back to Qolmador. “Did… Did you help him escape?” The android’s face twisted, his eyebrow raised, and his cheek wrinkled. “Why?”

  Qolmador wondered if he should tell him his entire thought process of the benefits of having such an ally. It would help them fulfill their missions, including the one he didn’t want to take from Ikemah. Studying his face, Qolmador decided not to lie but not give everything. “Yes. I directed him out of the camp, but he went to the mess hall instead.” He held up his scaly hand to stop the obvious “Why” question. “But I am almost out of time because zee formation teams are about to eat.” His eyes flew from Nomad to the formation teams a few feet from the tent.

  Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, Nomad yelled over his shoulder. “Major!” He let go of Qol and pointed to the formations when she looked up. “Get the formation teams to head east. Qol and I will are going for higher ground.” Zengi nodded and bellowed over the chaos to the formation teams. Qolmador watched their collective shoulders slump and give pitiful nods.

  Nomad spun him again, locking eyes. “This better not bite us in the ass.” Qolmador felt his cheeks flush from the annoyed look of his friend. Nomad blew out of his nostrils and stalked toward the mess hall before stopping dead. “Great. Yer friends are here,” His thick drawl stretching his words. He pointed toward the western entrance. Qolmador snapped his head to see a ring of floating goblins with glowing eyes. Their long black robes had a silver trim in the king’s new colors. Turning their unnatural eyes toward the pair, one pointed a long bony finger at them.

  Qolmador sighed, straightening his shirt and cowl. “You don’t have to join me.” He assured Nomad.

  Nomad bristled and kept his eyes on the goblins. “Shut up.” He stomped toward the goblins, making Qolmador rush to catch up to him. They moved past the squat stone buildings built into the city wall. Each building had a group of bureaucrats toiling away over desks; this was the one place Qolmador feared. The sadists would mire you in bureaucracy if given a chance. A shudder ran down his spine as they approached the goblins, from which group he wasn’t sure.

  Standing before the ring of goblins, he counted five of Ikemah’s Awakened and swore he recognized one. It had strange markings on its body that didn’t make sense at first. Where had he seen this one? He stared momentarily to see a face with bleeding eyes painted on its torso and face; then it clicked. This was the goblin he freed during their first encounter with Ikemah. The one that jumped out of the stained glass window.

  The one with the red markings hovered toward them with a placid face and tears running down its cheeks. “We are happy for your time.” It said, the tears falling faster than before. Qolmador looked to the others; none were crying, nor were their faces painted. “During this time, this one gives its life for the greatness of the oracle.” It said, spreading its arms wide and raising them to the sky. The painted eyes on its chest lit up in a crimson glow that began to sizzle the flesh underneath. A bitter smell of cooked goblin flesh stung his nose, causing him to bring up his cowl again. “I appreciate the opportunity to sacrifice myself for the great oracle’s whim.” His eyes glowed to match the burning paint on his flesh.

  Nomad twisted his lip. “Did you say sacrifice?”

  As the words left his mouth, the red paint split the goblin’s flesh into flailing, butchered strips. Horrid pops of bone and sinew filled the space between the goblins and the duo. The eyes on its chest locked onto them with the streams of blood flowing all over the cobblestone. It blinked several times, flicking them with viscera and blood. Qolmador felt his jaw hang loosely as the goblin cried in a wordless scream from its body twisting and bending from within. He thought to tap into its mind but thought better of it. Not even he could withstand so much mental anguish and walk away.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Nomad took a step back with a hand on his pistol. He nudged Qol, curling his lips and shaking his head. Qolmador felt his stomach churn when the goblin’s stomach popped out and slid across the ground. The smell of iron and bile permeated the air, choking Qolmador. He looked up at Nomad, whose eyes turned black, and his face went slack.

  After what felt like an eternity, the goblin’s body snapped and conformed into a fleshy construction of Ikemah’s face. It regarded the pair, then looked to the rest of the glowing-eyed goblins with blood dripping down its chin. He flexed his face in the new form, raising his brows, popping his neck, and testing his mouth. Qolmador saw the misshapen bones it used for teeth.

  Stretching its mouth wide, it smiled. “Well done, my darling, Awakened,” Ikemah’s face turned to the duo with the legs of the goblin turning its lower half. “I do so hate to leave my castle. What do you think of my new trick?” Ikemah asked. Neither Nomad nor Qolmador moved, frozen in place by this display. “Nothing quick to say, Kobold? What about you, android? Any more threats to make? Hmmm?” Ikemah’s face pushed forward, getting inches from them. Pieces of flesh plopped to the ground. “I thought not. But I’m not here to tease. No, I am here because we have a problem that I want you to solve.” Its eyes were made of lungs that wheezed when he focused on something.

  Shaking his head and taking in a steadying breath, Qolmador regarded the bits of flesh on the ground. “It does not seem like you have much time. What do you want?”

  The face did its best to elongate itself in shock but only lost some of its jaw. “Straight to the point then. There are spies in Gubbins, and I need you two to find them.” The lung-eyes sputtered when he tried to squint. “I have dignitaries from Sunspire coming today to talk with me about trade routes. The goodly king hopes I turn the city into a neutral territory as we are in a strategic part of the island.” One lung widened while the other narrowed at Qolmador. “Something to say?”

  Qolmador clamped his jaw shut and squinted at the grotesque face. “You are bold to speak so openly about a spy in the war camp.” He said, thinking about how the rest of the legion hated Ikemah. “Especially with your desire to do something distasteful here.” He found himself trying to read the rapidly decaying face to no avail.

  The face, or what remained of it, raised the arm that acted like an eyebrow. “Do you think me so foolish? My Awakened are blocking any of this conversation.” It nodded, losing its forehead. “What you say is true; you owe me much. But this request must take priority. Five merchants from Sunspire have entered the city; this would not usually be out of the ordinary. But, these merchants have not claimed any sales or purchases in the past three months.” The legs representing the cheeks fell free. “You will find them, and if you are caught or fail, I will disavow you both. Should you decide to betray me in any way, I will make sure the Demon Lord knows our little secret.”

  Nomad stepped forward, hand still on his holster. “Why ain’t you doin’ it yerself?” He spat. “You’ve got plenty of them Awakened flying around.” Ikemah’s sinewy face furrowed and looked away from them as if searching for something.

  Qolmador nodded his agreement to Nomad and the wisdom of his words, even if he didn’t realize it. “Zee Demon Lord does not know about these dignitaries, does he?” He guessed.

  One of the lungs fell free. “Qolmador, ever the clever creature. No, and I need it to stay that way.” It tried to sneer. “Do not get caught.” The face fell apart in a bloody mess on the cobblestones, leaving them with the Awakened. Levitating over to the pile of bone, muscle, and flesh, they waved their hands into the air, cleaning it up. But left the face lying on the ground, its eyeless skin bore holes into Qolmador. They bowed to the pair and stared at them. Nomad shifted in his boots under their withering gaze, but Qolmador sneered at them. He could feel Ikemah waiting for them to slip up.

  Qolmador let lightning crackle out of his mouth. “You can leave now.” With another bow, they drifted away one by one, each locking eyes with the duo as they left.

  Lingering on the face, he clenched his jaws and fists repeatedly until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

  Nomad squeezed his shoulder. “Didn’t this one jump out a window?”

  He nodded without a word and let his mind expand to the mess hall, not sensing the invisible creature. Nothing worked how he wanted them to, and life was much more complicated in the real world. If he was honest, a piece of him knew this would all blow up in his face. The professor did not prepare him to deal with real people and how messy they can be.

  Nomad pushed him on the shoulder. “Qol, Ikemah’s a problem.” Nomad spat on the ground.

  Qolmador nodded, sending his thought into Nomad’s mind. “I am forming a plan for him, but we will need zat invisible creature.” Without thinking, he picked up the face of the goblin on the floor. Turning the dripping skin in his hands allowed him to see a silver thread still attached to the back of the face. A sense of dread filled him, looking at the thread dangle in the wind. Forcing his eyes to shatter into mandalas, letters woven from the thread were revealed.

  Nomad peered over his shoulder at the grotesque mask. “Ugh, don’t pick it up.”

  Qolmador chewed his lip and then looked up at Nomad. “Remember the silver threads I told you about?” He asked, waiting for a nod. “Well, there is writing here that says: Awakened, never sleep.” He held the skin up to Nomad, earning a disgusted lip curl. “He’s telling us there is no escape.” Qolmador dropped the face and watched the last goblin float out of the city.

  Nomad grunted. “Even death.” Nomad sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you know anything about these merchants?” He looked down at the kobold.

  Qolmador shrugged. “Nein.” He sighed. “But I think zee spy could help us there too. He might even be one of zee merchants.”

  Nomad sighed and walked toward the mess hall. “Let’s track down your new friend.” Qolmador followed.

  Inside the mess hall was a staff of goblins with thousand-yard stares and a plate of bones on the big table. Thick globs of grease mixed with meat and bones littered the ground around the table. One of the goblins lay prone on the ground, mouth wide open and eyes screwed shut, gasping for air. The rest of the goblins hid under tables and wrapped themselves in tablecloths.

  Nomad stalked off to get a better look at the table, squinting at the cobblestones. He bent over and tasted the grease on the ground. “It’s great elk, I think.” He continued to investigate the scene.

  Walking up to a stunned goblin, Qolmador waved a hand in front of his face; it blinked once. Shifting his gaze to the kobold, he shook his head, making his ears flop. “Giant lizardman… He ate it all.” The goblin said; he wore a white uniform and beret. “It was so fast. Those elks feed entire camps.” Qolmador looked back to the pile of bones on the table as realization dawned on him.

  He called out to Nomad and pointed. “Zee invisible spy is a lizardman, und… he ate the giant elk.” Qolmador nodded, clearly impressed.

  With wide eyes, Nomad looked at the pile of bones and then at the little goblin chef. “What the hell happened?” He hoisted up a massive thighbone thoroughly picked clean, pouting his lip with an approving nod.

  The goblin threw down his hat and stomped it into the ground in a puff of chalky dirt. "What happened?! What happened!? A giant lizardman popped out of nowhere and demanded food!” The other goblins in the room grumbled in agreement. “We told him it was for the army, and he said it was okay. I asked him how that was okay, and he sat at the table. He said... He said, get this.” The goblin slapped Qolmador on the arm. “He said we have more in the forest, and we'll be okay." He pinched his fingers and thumb together and rattled his hands. "We told him he can't eat it, and Yoel over there, the one on his back, said to him: 'Hey, you big mook, you can't eat that.'” Qolmador’s eyes went wide, fully drawn into the story. “And let me tell you, he did not like being called a mook, even though he's a mook and his mother was a mook!" The goblin's seething rage boiled over, spurred on by the other screeching goblins.

  Qolmador felt the room start to turn violent; with a thought, he reached into the main goblin’s mind. He saw the red rage bubbling to the top and did the psychic equivalent of blowing on it. "Okay, zen what?"

  The goblin took a breath, and his face calmed a bit. The other goblins stopped egging him on. "Then BOOM! He knocked Yoel on his ass; I didn't even see him move. After that, he tore into the elk, eating bone and all. It was the worst thing I ever saw." His eyes glazed over, and his jaw went slack.

  Feeling his jaw open, Qolmador blinked, closed his mouth, and scanned the room for signs of the lizardman. As he approached the table with the destroyed bones, he saw deep tooth marks gouging the sturdy bones. A memory of first joining the legion at the professor's request popped into his mind. Low-level infantry troops were given giant elk bones as weapons and armor because they were the strongest and cheapest material. Yet here were several strong bones bitten into with tremendous ease. Maybe sparing this lizardman wasn’t a good idea.

  Nomad grunted at the far end of the tent near the back. "Blood, let's bring him in before he becomes more of a problem." With that, he lifted the tent flap and walked out of the tent. Qolmador waited for a moment, then spun his pupils around. He shaped air into geometric shapes. Enough patterns crystallized in the air for each one of the goblins in the tent. He flicked his wrist, causing the shapes to fly into the goblins. They all went rigid and then relaxed.

  Qolmador smiled at his skill and the pliability of goblins. "What have you done!? All of these bones need to be disposed of immediately!" He swept his arm over the remains. "Why would you try to crisp the skin with fire?! All the meat burned off, and now there is nothing for our troops." He may have laid it on too thick, but he wanted them rattled.

  Blurry eyes began to clear at Qolmador's scolding; their faces contorted while slowly nodding. The goblin with the beret stepped forward and snarled orders at the rest of the staff. They hopped to attention, clearing the bones and preparing for a dinner service they were unprepared for. Seeing his plan start to work, Qolmador slipped out the back after his friend.