Chapter Eleven — Trodden Hat
Don’t leave me, Holsley.
The flames jolted up the bloated chests as panicked goblins rushed about in a bid to put out the fire under Stabby Toe’s orders. Holsley caught their blurry forms as an afterthought — a mere background to the bonfire in the centre of the room. His real attention was on the disembodied voice emanating from it and the erratic beating of his own heart.
You have to save me. Please.
Holsley coughed. The heat was already too much. He could feel the fire crawling towards him, making him sweat and itch as his skin began to blister. A part of him wanted to succumb to it. Lay down and allow the flames to take him as penance. That’s why he couldn’t move. He was about as stiff as a wooden mannequin.
Holsley.
‘Holsley!’ Merhim’s hoarse voice cut through the chaos, but Holsley was only slightly aware of it. ‘We’ve got to get out of here, kid. Now!’
It was like Holsley was floating above himself. The young bard could see the gnome, could hear him, but could not control his body. Compared to the sound of thudding in his chest, Merhim’s voice was small and distant. His heart hurt with the pressure; it was so constricting. It was beating so fast. Was it going to explode?
Merhim grabbed Holsley by his shoulders but didn’t shake him. Instead, with a gentle voice, he cut through the noisy flames and forced his head to take up the entirety of Holsley’s vision.
‘Holsley,’ he said calmly. ‘I want you to breathe, okay, eh. Slowly. Just nice steadying breaths and, as you do so, count to ten.’
Something was thrust into Holsley’s open hand. Without looking, he knew that it was the lute. His lute. It calmed him a little, centred him, and he inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. He coughed. The smoke was billowing out of the fire. They didn’t have much time before this room was a thing of the past.
The gnome counted aloud as he massaged Holsley’s shoulders.
Holsley breathed with the counting, taking a breath at each interval. They needed to be quick. The fire was raging. He found his heartbeat easing as he counted along in his head. The strangled echoes of the past were replaced with peace. It was just him, Merhim, and his lute.
Roland was in trouble, Holsley reminded himself, so he couldn’t die here. Not now.
By the tenth steadying breath, the young bard had calmed his heart. The gnome took his hand, and before he could even glance at the fire, they were both out of the room. Holsley looked back only once, but it wasn’t to settle his eyes on the inferno. It was to catch sight of Stabby Toe, who was still furiously trying to beat the flames out.
It wouldn’t be long before those dagger-like toenails were coming for him.
‘I’m okay,’ Holsley said as they rushed up the long tunnel. He leaned against a wall to cough out the last of the smoke in his lungs. ‘Yeah, I’m okay.’
A few things came to light with the return of his calm and, just as importantly, his breath as they continued their sprint up the tunnel leading away from the guv’nor’s room. Merhim, who had returned to his natural pale skin, held a small wooden chest. One that must’ve been stolen from Stabby Toe’s treasure.
Holsley also couldn’t help but notice their party had grown by another member. The tawny wizard, surprisingly rakish and tall compared to the young bard, was just ahead of them and seemed more eager than anyone to leave these claustrophobic tunnels.
There was also the matter of the wand. Holsley still had his fingers wrapped about it. In the confusion and the chaos, he hadn’t even realised he had kept the wretched thing. Unsure of what to do with it now, he stowed it away inside his satchel to return it to the wizard later. For now, he didn’t want any more fires.
They were in sight of the food hall — the choking aroma of freshly culled animals could account for that much.
Holsley pushed through the stench, but before they could step out of the tunnels into the large room, they were stopped by a sudden animalistic cry. Behind them, Stabby Toe was roaring, and the oversized goblin did not sound happy. Even though Holsley couldn’t understand what he was saying, he could guess that all efforts to save the throne had not prevailed.
‘Does anyone remember the way back through the tunnels!?’ Merhim said frantically, looking across the eatery at all the goblins between them and freedom.
The wizard shook his head.
‘Uh, I think I do,’ said Holsley, knowing for a fact he only had a vague recollection of the route at best. ‘The bigger problem is getting past these goblins.’
‘Perhaps I can help.’ The wizard rolled up his sleeves, and as he did so, Holsley looked at the circles, not unlike his own, on the digits of his left hand. By far, this wizard was the more powerful spellcaster between them. Unfortunately, most of the circles were red, meaning they were expended. ‘I know a spell that can get us through this.’
‘Aren’t you out of magic?’ Holsley asked, keeping an eye on his digits.
‘I will simply have to push through.’
That was a bad idea. Holsley knew that. The elves had taught him what happened to spellcasters who went past their physical limits. At best, you would become severely weakened, and at worst, you could contract a sort of arcane plague that transformed your entire body into magic.
That’s why every spellcaster volunteered to have the circles tattooed on their fingers, just so they could keep track.
The wizard fished into a small pocket pouch on his belt and pulled something out of it. With wild fingers, he enchanted whatever was in his hand with arcane words pulled from the long spell. After that, he blew the dust over the three of them and tapped each on the head with his long finger.
Holsley, Merhim, and the wizard instantly turned invisible and wasted no time stepping into the room.
The invisibility was strange. Although Holsley could see himself, obviously the goblins could not. Being this close to another creature was so surreal without them being aware of your presence. Around him, goblins got on with their meals without a care. Devouring the meat with their pointed fangs.
One goblin caught his attention. It was eating meat, like the others, but taking smaller, more refined bites and taking its time to chew. Fascinated, Holsley approached this goblin and leaned towards its face. A black billiard ball eye. This was Boblin the Goblin, the little goblin Holsley had enchanted in the woods.
The goblin stopped, and its billiard ball eye swung around to focus on him. Holsley smiled. That was strange, he thought. It was almost like the goblin could-
‘Oh,’ Holsley whispered.
Every goblin eye was on him.
He looked back to find the wizard sloped against a table, his breathing erratic and his skin both pale and green. The wizard looked ill, maybe even worse. This is why you didn’t overuse your magic. Not only was the wizard on death’s door, but it had also resulted in the spell faltering and failing, and now they were stranded in a sea of goblins.
The young bard put up his arms and stepped back, eventually bumping into Merhim. The goblins licked their lips, eyes wide with excitement. Had there always been this many in the eatery, Holsley thought, he could’ve sworn there was much less than this ten minutes ago. They all reached for their rusted weapons.
Just when he thought they were about ready to dogpile on them and get right to the stabbing, Lady Luck reared her head again and saved their necks.
Tens of Goblins came running out of Stabby Toe’s tunnel in sheer panic. Some were even on fire, which drew attention away from the young bard and his acquaintances. They were shouting and screaming, and the other goblins were creating a quick and terrifying picture.
The wizard had set fire to the room, defied their leader, and was now out to get them.
Like a virulent disease, all it took was one of the infected to pass on their fear to another. From there, it spread, causing chaos and goblins to run from the hall into the accompanying tunnels. None knew what was happening, but that didn’t matter. They all knew that they should run.
In seconds, the hall was emptied of everything except the meat left at a standstill on the makeshift treadmill.
Holsley guessed this confusion wouldn’t last long, but it went a long way in giving them some much-needed time to flee. Stabby Toe still had his wits about him, and he was the main danger. If the gargantuan goblin regained control of his horde before they escaped, they wouldn’t be getting out alive. So, keeping all of that in mind, they didn’t slow to take in their surroundings.
***
The wizard stopped first, a quarter of an hour later. Though, in fairness, they were each exhausted and breathless.
Holsley knew this wasn’t right. He’d navigated them into these tunnels and was now lost as to where they were. The young bard knew they could escape out of that big hole near the cave entrance, but how they could find it quickly became a deepening mystery. The goblins should put up a sign or something, he thought.
‘Can’t you do anything?’ Merhim straightened, a sigh thoroughly caught in his throat, and his chin aimed at the wizard. ‘I know you don’t have any spells, but maybe a magical item or something?’
The tawny wizard shook his head in apology. ‘No, no, I’m afraid not, my friend. The goblins were careful not to let me rest. Thus, I have no magic left in me for spells. If I had my spell book, I may have been able to do something, but alas, that was burned a few weeks ago.’
‘Weeks!?’ Holsley spluttered.
The wizard nodded. ‘That’s how long I’ve been down here.’
‘I’m surprised they didn’t kill you, eh,’ said Merhim.
‘They wanted me to teach them magic,’ replied the wizard, straightening his back — Holsley heard the click of his bones and winced. ‘A fact of which I refused. So, they tried to torture me instead.’
‘Are you really a wizard?’ Holsley meant to whisper it, but it came out loud and almost question-like.
‘That’s correct, my boy.’ The wizard coughed, wincing slightly as he stooped lower against the wall. He did not look well. That didn’t stop him from bowing shortly, though, and sweeping his misshapen hat in a formal gesture. ‘Most call me Trodden Hat on account of my well-travelled headgear, and yes, I am a wizard. An accomplished wizard of some renown, as is the fact of the matter. I studied at the prestigious Tower of Spells and specialised in the art of conjuration.’
‘Lot of good that is if you can’t cast any spells,’ muttered Merhim behind crossed arms.
Trodden Hat gave him a sideways smile. ‘What may I call the two of you now that you know of me, hmm?’
‘I’m Holsley,’ Holsley said, gesturing to himself. ‘That’s Merhim.’
‘Yeah, yeah, we’ll get to our introductions later, eh!’ Merhim swept up the small wooden chest he had snatched from Stabby Toe and held it between his arms again. ‘For now, we need to figure a way out, eh? Running around in circles ain’t doing us any favours.’
‘I do have one trick.’ Holsley fumbled with the lute. He glanced down at the last circle on his little finger. It told him he had one good spell left in him for the day. ‘We need someone who knows the way out, but I don’t think a goblin will tell us.’
Merhim raised an eyebrow as Trodden Hat grinned and clapped his hands excitedly, then devolved into a somewhat concerning hacking cough.
Holsley was about to elaborate when a sudden voice cut through their planning.
Low, grumbling, and especially sour. It came all of a sudden and all around them, echoing off the walls as if it were everywhere at once. ‘I can smell you,’ it said. That was Stabby Toe. ‘You thinks you can up and steal our wizard. You ain’t stealing nothing! We’re coming for you.’
‘There!’ Trodden Hat pointed across the tunnel towards a strange device resembling a horn with a taught string attached and following along the length of the wall.
‘What is it?’ Holsley asked.
‘A speaker,’ replied Merhim with a short nod. ‘We’ve got these back where I’m from. Stabby Toe’ll be somewhere talking into another one, and his voice will be shouting out through any that are attached.’
‘That’s quite ingenious,’ said Trodden Hat, curiously stroking his beard.
‘Thanks,’ replied Merhim, as if the idea belonged to him alone. ‘Are they that desperate to learn magic?’
‘That Stabby Toe has some big ambitions,’ replied Trodden Hat. ‘He wants to use magic to take control of the Longwalk Woods.’
‘All the more reason to get out of here,’ said Holsley. ‘Now, help me look for an animal. Any animal at all. Anything that’s seen the outside world.’
Merhim gave the young bard a curious look, but Trodden Hat merely smiled as they did what Holsley asked.
It didn’t take long to find something. Merhim had been the one to spot it with his superior vision in the dimmed light. The gnome pointed up at a bat who had settled into the higher part of the tunnel walls, where it was lovely and dark.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Merhim curiously.
‘Uh, talk to it, hopefully,’ replied Holsley, preparing his lute and a scrap of paper with the appropriate spell from his satchel.
If he had to be honest, this spell was the most disappointing one in his arsenal. The elves had taught it to him, hoping it might encourage the young bard to step outside more often, but it hadn’t. If anything, it had had the reverse effect.
The spell was one of animal language. It allowed its caster, for a brief amount of time, to speak in the language of animals and understand what was being said. Now, to Holsley, that had originally sounded truly amazing right up to the point that he learned most animals made poor conversation partners. They rarely thought about anything other than food, sleeping, building a nest, or finding a mate.
With the lute in hand and the spell’s notes threaded through the strings, Holsley got to work.
It was a discordant melody designed not to entice or please. The harsh, cutting strings made Holsley cringe, and he resisted the urge to stop. Merhim and Trodden Hat didn’t resist, however, and slapped their hands so fast over their ears that their faces turned red. Once it was done, a slight bolt of green energy shot into the young bard’s throat.
Holsley set the lute down.
‘Uh, hello?’ Holsley approached the bat. It didn’t stir. Holsley tried again, louder, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Leave me alone,’ the bat replied in a harsh, unforgiving voice. ‘I crave the solitude of the darkness.’
‘Oh, sorry about that.’ Holsley turned to the other two for support, but he realised quickly that they couldn’t understand a single thing he was saying. He was speaking in bat-like chirps. ‘Um, I just need directions for the way out.’
‘There is no way out,’ the bat moaned, languidly unfurling its wings as it did so. ‘Death is the only release from this twisted tale.’
‘Uh, right.’
‘Do you want to hear some of my poetry? I don’t think it’s very good.’
‘Uh, well—’
‘I stare into the dark and say nothing when it stares back,’ the bat recited. ‘I live like an animal, blood and wails, life submerged in black. Now more than ever, I need—’
‘I thought it was, uh, very good,’ Holsley interrupted. Gods, he hated talking to animals. ‘Now, about that way out.’
‘Sometimes, I let go of the ceiling and just drop to the floor, hoping to feel something. Anything. I have so much pain inside of me.’
Holsley turned back to Merhim and Trodden Hat, who gave him a look as if to say, ‘Well?’ but his look in return was a decisive, ‘Nope.’
More than a little disappointed, the bard left the bat behind as the last circle on his little finger changed from black to a faint red. What a waste of a spell. They were about to round the next corner when the bat spoke up again for the last time. ‘The walls change around me, confining, crushing, and paths adjust without goodbyes.’
‘What did it say?’ asked Merhim.
‘Nothing useful.’ Holsley sighed. ‘Looks like we’re going to have to figure this out for ourselves.’
NEXT CHAPTER
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