post 17

Honey barked, and Cassia tried to shush her. But it was too late. Atropos dug his heels in and stopped, stopping Cassia as well. A warm current brushed over her head and she gasped. A shaggy figure rose from in front of them in the road. Flickers of green rippled along its fur, like the play of lighting on metal. The werewolf stood upright on its clawed back legs, but it hunched over, baring abnormally long canines that gleamed grotesquely in the unnatural green light. The shoulders and torso of the wolf were those of a man’s though his arms were much longer than usual, since they helped in the creature’s lope. Its eyes were slanted and sharp over a flat nose and wide, slack mouth. Its ears were flat and pointed against his head, like and elf’s, but hairy.

“What do you want?” demanded Atropos.

Cassia blinked at him. Atropos should know exactly what they wanted – the werewolves wanted them dead, so that they could eat their flesh.

It growled, a low, grating sound at the back of its throat. Low yips sounded from various points encircling Atropos and Cassia. She glimpsed a movement to her right, but she did not dare to move. Cassia squeezed her eyes shut and held Honey close to her. She had heard that death by werewolf mauling was extremely painful – but she hoped that they were merely legends – no one survived a werewolf attack.

“I don’t understand,” Atropos was murmuring, “How did they catch up so fast.”

“There are many things you don’t understand, elf.” A hooded mage stepped into the ring. A hand reached up and pushed back the hood.

Atropos stared, “Diamantia?”

Cassia gaped at the figure, so much like her, yet not.

The girl laughed and pitched her voice higher, “try again, Atropos.” Cassia shivered. The voice was exactly like…

“Cass…ia?” Atropos glanced at her, right next to him, and blinked back and forth between her and the hooded girl, who blinked back coyly. He shook himself free from his daze. “What are you?” he demanded fiercely.

A laugh tinkled from the girl’s lips, and she pulled up the hood so that her face was in shadow again. “Haven’t you guessed? I am the Eirdna, mage of all mages. I am what you care for most, I am what you despise and fear above all else.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” declared Atropos.

The voice sighed through the hood. “Of course not. Tempest is so paranoid about whom he tells about me. I am his greatest weapon, after all. I torture his victims in their final moments of life, and they will never be seen on the face of the earth.”
Cassia looked at her in horror. In her hands, where she had not noticed before, Eirdna held a green sphere. Eirdna held up the ball. “You wondered how the werewolves caught you so quickly. You were right to be curious. Werewolves cannot run.” She laughed scornfully. “And my werewolves cannot speak, either, nor do anything that displeases me.” The ball glimmered dully under the green. “This is the source of my control,” she said, rolling the sphere between her fingers. It fit neatly into her palm, and was weighty, judging by the way he held it. She glanced up suddenly, at Atropos, and from the depths of her hood her eyes flashed with a green light. The ball glowed with sudden energy.

“What is it?” Atropos stared at it, fascinated.

“You would not have heard of it,” Eirdna said, smiling indulgently. “Look at the werewolves. Look closely. What is missing?”

Cassia looked. The closest one was barely five feet away. His unwrinkled face looked young, like Thad. Cassia wondered how the person had been so unfortunately converted. The nose was short and muddied, the eyebrows had grown upward, to meet the hair drifting down from the scalp. And his eyes? A shiver ran through her. There was only one. The left socket was stuffed with dirt.

“Their left eyes,” Eirdna said, smiling. “That is how you control werewolves. It is a complex formula, but what you have when you are finished,” she sighed, “is unimaginable power.”

“It is never wise to tell your enemy your strategies,” remarked Atropos with a grimace, looking for a way out.

Eirdna followed his eyes. “You will not find any openings, believe me. Which is why I can well afford to tell you everything. You will not live past the next ten minutes.” Her eyes glittered. “So you will take these secrets to the grave.” Eirdna raised her arms, and the werewolves tensed to spring.

Atropos glanced at Cassia. He looked down in defeat. Cassia closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like to die.

Then there was a screech. Cassia opened her eyes again. The green that hummed in the air.

The werewolves and Eirdna had collapsed to the floor. The hand which had held the green orb lay outstretched. The orb was pierced like bead on a slender, feathered arrow. The point of the arrow was embedded in Eirdna’s throat.

A rustle from the undergrowth snapped Atropos and Cassia into alertness. Atropos drew his sword as a small figure emerged. The figure was a short girl, with plump fingers which clutched a bow almost as tall as her. Messy red bangs partially obscured lazy, mischievous eyes. Her grin revealed sharp, white teeth. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” The girl asked with a slight lisp.

Atropos narrowed his eyes slightly, still wary. “We are fine, but we would have been torn to bits had you waited a while longer.”

The grin grew wider as the girl shrugged and brushed off the dirt from her brown dress, belted at the waist. “Details. You’re alright now.”

Atropos rolled his eyes.

Cassia blinked slowly. “You’re a goblin!”

The girl made a gesture with her hands, flicking her palm up, curling her fingers slightly. “I am very much a goblin. You are a human. And you,” she repeated the gesture to Atropos, “are and elf.”

“How very observant of you,” growled Atropos.

The goblin girl quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Cassia looked around. The mist had receded slightly, probably because of Eirdna’s death, but the light was still dim, and the bodies that ringed them looked like mere lumps in the earth. She counted the werewolves. There were eleven. Honey shivered suddenly. She looked down to see Honey’s fur standing on end. Cassia frowned. The threat was over. Was the goblin girl untrustworthy? She looked at her, still standing in front of them, one long bare foot over the other. She was relaxed, resting her chin on her hand and the hand on the top of her curled bow. An arrow was clasped lazily in her free hand, and the goblin girl regarded the two of them through lidded eyes.

A movement caught Cassia’s eye. The mound behind the goblin was rising slightly. So slowly that Cassia would not have noticed it if Honey had not caused her to be on supercharged alert. She glanced at Atropos. He was scowling at the ground, his jaw working, his eyebrows knitted in thought. She returned her gaze to the goblin, and tensed. The werewolf was rising quickly now, one eye opened wide, nostrils flared. He was no longer controlled by Eirdna, but that made the situation worse, not better – he was acting on pure, unbridling bloodlust. Honey shifted and Cassia felt the dagger that Archia had given her press against her side. In one swift motion – later she was unsure of how she managed to retrieve the dagger without entangling the scabbard in her clothing – she hurled it at the mass of fur.

The goblin girl’s eyes widened slightly as the dagger hurled towards her, but she did not move as it swept past her and embedded hilt-deep in the chest of the werewolf. A budding growl died into a whine. Cassia froze, weak with relief. The goblin girl grinned, slower than before, but more sincere. She cocked her head slightly. “Well, you aren’t as slow with a weapon as you are with words, at least.” She repeated her hand gesture, but this time bowed her head slightly over her open palm. “A-ril, human girl.” She straightened. “Follow me.” And with that she turned and began to skip lightly up the road.