Illyana’s blade wept out in a low arc, catching a goblin at the neck and shaving his head clean fro his shoulders. She spun about just as the first spurts of arterial blood erupted from the newly made stump and skewered another goblin as he rushed her from behind. Her sword, bolstered by her magic strength, punched clean through his mail and pinned his body to the wall of the burned out shack behind him.

  “Illyana!” Varis shouted from behind cover, an overturned wagon lined with the corpses of humans and goblins. “Behind you!”

  Illyana’s pointed ear twitched, and she managed to glimpse another goblin emerging from the cover of an ash tree just off the side of the road. He was lifting a freshly reloaded hand cannon into view, grinning with bloodthirsty malice.

  Her muscles burned with exertion, magic pulsing through her sinews. Even with this heightened speed, it would take too long to wrench her sword free before the beast pulled the trigger. But, fortunately, she wasn’t without options.

  Illyana’s hand whipped toward her belt, swiftly drawing the hand cannon she’d been given. The Manticores had only been given a modest amount of training with them. Velasco’s people had only recently perfected reverse engineering the things, and they hardly had an unlimited supply of black powder and lead bullets on short notice, but it beat being at a disadvantage.

  The thunderous crack of gunfire filled the area, echoing into the trees. Her shot struck the tree beside the goblin, blowing a fist-sized hole through the trunk, wooden shrapnel shredding his face. The goblin shrieked, blood dripping from his face. His own shot went wide as a result, punching into the wall behind Illyana.

  Huffing, Illyana wrenched her blade free and sped toward the goblin. The goblin hissed and cursed, fumbling for the shortsword on his belt. Her claymore cleaved him from shoulder to hip before he could draw.

  All fell silent around Illyana, save for the huffing of her breath. Sweat dripped from her brow as she stood up, glancing back to the starting point of the violence. The trading post really had been utterly ransacked. The two story structure was scorched and riddled with arrows and bullet holes. Plenty of corpses lined the roads, dead horses included, and the nearby wagons had been similarly ransacked.

  Scouts only got a report out as the massacre began, when the goblins and their human allies in the Brotherhood had raided the place. They’d come in like a tidal wave, killing anyone who wasn’t fast enough to get away. Then, the scouts reported, the supplies had been raided from the wagons and the trading post.

  By all estimates, the Tarley Post was one of the wealthier ones in the region, only a short southern jaunt from Sentinel. One shuddered to think how much wealth had been plundered from the lockboxes. They had also found an alchemist’s wagon among the wreckage, and it didn’t take a genius to know they had likely found a supply of black powder among his wares.

  The Manticores had come upon the goblins who stayed behind, content to celebrate in the wreckage with the alcohol they had stolen from the traders. Illyana had seen the interior of the trading post only briefly, caught a glimpse of the people not lucky enough to be quickly killed in the immediate chaos of the ambush.

  She had known goblins to be hateful creatures, capable of terrible things. But she had ever known how terrible their tortures could be until now.

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  Illyana spent a moment lifting the remaining powder and ammunition from the goblin at her feet and then stalked back to the roadside structure. Varis emerged from behind cover, wiping goblin blood from his blade.

  “All that time and trouble spent driving these insurrectionists from the capital, and they go straight to roadside robbery, like common bandits.”

  “They’re worse than bandits.” Illyana glared to the remains of the trading post. A shudder ran briefly through her body. “Far worse.”

  They made their way across the corpse strewn road, where the rest of the Manticores had gathered. They bore their own scars and injuries, and Illyana could see at least three of their number had been killed in the fighting. While they were still getting to grips with the hand cannons, the goblins had them in larger number and had had more training with them to boot.

  Try as they might, it was hard not to underestimate the goblins. But the creatures were far more cunning, and far better equipped, than anyone ever dared fear.

  Ladoss turned and spat into the dirt. “Chime caught one in the neck. Benorre was shredded by that bomb blast. And Crystelle?” He shook his head. “Goddess. When did goblins get so dangerous?”

  “Since Lord Bleak appeared. Whoever that is,” Varis said casually. In some of the writings and missives they had recovered in their raids, that name had cropped up plenty of times. A code name, no doubt, but nobody had any clue who could be behind the moniker. Some big shot in the Brotherhood who had survived Velasco’s purges was the most likely guess. Or an agent from outside Arcadia, seeking to undermine the kingdom.

  Ladoss spat again. “Pain in the arse.” He watched the remains of the trading post, a bitter grimace crossing his aged face. “We need to... We oughta send word back to the capital. Get people to clean this mess.”

  Illyana nodded grimly. “I’ll head back to the wagon and prep a bird.”

  “Captain!” a voice hoarsely called. Illyana watched as Tode and Sedvick dragged a goblin from the brush, each holding the armoured figure by one arm. He was injured, a great gash across his brow while his cuirass seeped with blood. “Got a live one!”

  “Bring him here.” Ladoss lifted a knife from his belt. “I’ll peel his skull like an orange. After we get some information.”

  The goblin looked up as Ladoss approached, and gradually the Manticores formed a ring around him. He smirked despite his injuries, revealing a mouth drenched in blood. “You speak common?” Varis asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

  “Do,” the goblin growled. “Speak dirty human language. Dirty monster tongue.”

  “Calling us monsters, is that it?” Ladoss asked. He scoffed and pressed the tip of his blade under the goblin’s chin. He barely reacted, even as blood seeped freshly sliced skin. “You’re one to talk, you little bastard. And talk you shall. Who’s Lord Bleak?”

  The goblin grinned, his teeth stained crimson. “God. Saviour. Give goblins what we deserve. Kill you all. Make you bleed.”

  Illyana grit her teeth, fighting the urge to strike the beast. “What we deserve?”

  The goblin’s eyes swivelled toward her, and suddenly the malice in his expression was magnified tenfold. “Elves killed my parents. Killed brothers and sisters. Killed children. We love and grieve. Suffer for centuries. No more. Never again. Now you suffer and die.”

  Illyana staggered back. She had killed goblins before, but never children. Yet, she supposed, each goblin she had killed had had family of some kind. Maybe even friends and loved ones.. but could goblins actually care for anyone, even their own kin, so strongly?

  “Enough,” Ladoss said, shooting the goblin a withering glower. “I don’t care about your damned family. I want to know Lord Bleak’s true name. Tell me, or so help me those wounds of yours will start to look pleasant compared to what I have in mind.”

  “You will know his name. When your kingdom crumbles. When your streets flood with blood. When you feel our pain as we do.” He cackled, his tongue moving about his jaw as if trying to fish an errant chunk of food from his teeth. “You will know.”

  Illyana saw it all too late. A pellet of alien matter that had been carefully planted into one of his molars, which now sat hollow in his jaw. He crunched on it with ferocious force, and gagged as noxious green gas exploded smoking from his maw.

  “Damnation!” Ladoss recoiled, throwing an arm around his mouth and nose. The goblin fell back, thrashing and foaming at the mouth. He was stone dead only a handful of seconds later.

  Varis lowered a cloth from his mouth. “A potent cocktail of poisons. The kind only an expert alchemist could concoct.”

  “They’d rather die than answer questions,” Illyana murmured. “And once more we’re left in the dark.”