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Emily and the Goblin

  Emily awoke fully rested. The bedroll had been surprisingly comfortable, almost as much as the captain's bed aboard the Sea Serpent, and she stretched luxuriously before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The tent's fp was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to filter through. She dressed quickly in the tunic and scarf, then ced up her boots before stepping outside.

  Dorian was already awake, crouched by the now extinguished fire and nibbling on a piece of dried fruit. An oil ntern sat by his feet, its fme flickering slightly. He looked up as Emily emerged from the tent, offering her a smile. "Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?"

  "Very well, thank you," she replied, returning his smile.

  Emily took a seat beside Dorian and accepted the piece of dried fruit he offered her. As she chewed, her thoughts turned to their conversation from the previous night. "Have you given any more thought to helping me disenchant the Stoneshell?" she asked.

  Dorian looked thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It won't be easy," he said. "We'll need to find your companions first, though. And I need to go through that book you mentioned, and see the effect of the curse on your statue friend for myself."

  Emily felt a surge of hope. "Thank you, Dorian. I've read the book cover to cover—I think I told you about Zephyr, the author, st night. She reckoned that the curse could be lifted by performing some sort of ritual at a pce called Paja Abbey. Aria said that's where the mage responsible for the whole thing studied."

  "I have visited Paja Abbey. It's not far from the cave I used to enter the Deep Realm. I'll accompany you there. But now let us pack up and look for your friends."

  Emily pursed her lips. "That's very kind of you to offer, but I would hate to put you so much out of your way. Surely you have unfinished business down here? I... don't believe you've actually mentioned why you're down here, actually, even after giving me the third degree about it!"

  "What is this 'third degree' you speak of?" Dorian asked, the words unfamiliar on his tongue.

  "Uh, interrogating me, I mean!" Emily said. "So many questions!"

  Dorian smiled, moving to fold up the tent. "You have a peculiar manner of speech, Miss Emily. Though I've traveled all across Thesson, I've never heard anything quite like it. Where did you grow up?"

  Emily pouted. "You're doing it again! Answer my question first, and then I'll consider revealing that little tidbit."

  "If you insist," Dorian replied. "I was tasked by the potions master at the very Paja Abbey you speak of to gather some ingredients which are difficult to come by on the surface. One of them being nightmoss, the bck growth on the walls of the cavern where we met. I have gathered the requested ingredients now, and am ready to return to my client. So it only makes sense that we travel together—so long as my company is welcome, of course."

  Emily wrinkled her brow in thought. Dorian appeared perfectly sincere, but it was a surprising coincidence. But perhaps this had been why the Stoneshell had brought her here in the first pce. She was fast coming to appreciate that it held a much deeper magic than the ability to summon fire. As if in response to her rumination, she felt a comforting warmth against her chest, where the Stoneshell pendant rested.

  "It is welcome, of course," she told Dorian. "I hope you will find your payment adequate."

  Dorian had packed the tent up and put all of his supplies together in a rge bag which he now slung onto his back. His rge sword was tied to the back of it. Following a final inspection of the erstwhile campsite, he began trudging further down the tunnel, oil mp held in front of him, motioning for Emily to follow. "For the first installment, I will accept payment in information," he said, winking. "I am very curious to know about your hometown, or vilge. Does everyone there use these strange expressions, like 'third degree'?"

  "I grew up in a town called Greenville," Emily said, quite truthfully, as she caught up to him. "It's very far away from here—not in Thesson at all, really."

  Dorian's eyes widened. "Outside of Thesson? Across the Illian Sea? Or on the other side of Rath's Desert? I admit I have not heard of this Greenville—perhaps it is on the surface of the Near Moon." There was a hint of mockery in his tone.

  "It's not in any of those pces—I don't think," Emily said. "You can't get from there to here except by magic. Or at least, that's how I got here. How I ended up in Castle Elid, which had been closed to the world of Thesson by the curse I broke through taking up the Stoneshell."

  "I had wondered about that," said Dorian, ftly. "This is all quite extraordinary, though, you must admit."

  "Imagine how I felt! In my world, we don't have magic! It's the stuff of fairy tales and superstition! Or so I used to think, anyway."

  "No magic..." Dorian repeated. "What a strange and dull pce that must be."

  "It has its charm. I'd like to go back there again, I think, once I've helped the statues. My friends and family must be worried sick. I just don't know how. Aria told me when we met that we could find help in Lirethel, from the mages and schors there."

  Dorian nodded. "If anyone will know how to travel between worlds, it'll be someone there. You can find anything in Lirethel, they say."

  "That's encouraging."

  Dorian and Emily walked a little further in silence before Dorian spoke up again. "I hope that your companion are staying in one pce—it will be much more difficult to find them if they're moving around. Unless... do you have any personal effects of either of them with you? I know a few simple locating spells we might be able to use."

  Emily was about to remind Dorian that he'd found her with little more than a scarf and a pair of boots to her name when she had another thought. "The Stoneshell," she said. "Whenever I remove the Stoneshell, Aria becomes a real statue, unable to move. That implies a connection, doesn't it? Do you think we could locate her with a spell on the Stoneshell?"

  Dorian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That may work. Let me find my location ring." He removed the rge pack from his back and started rummaging through it, eventually producing a small silver ring, which he slid the onto the middle finger of his right hand.

  "Now Emily," he began gravely, looking Emily in the eyes with a singur intensity. "Locating spells like this are usually cast on mundane items—an item of clothing, a prized possession, a lock of hair. To cast one on a magical artifact is a more fraught process. Not only because of the artifact's own magic, but because of the increased complexity of its retionship to the located party. There is bound to interference, but you can minimize it. I am going to touch this ring to the Stoneshell. I need you to command it not to react. Use your channel of influence over the artifact to make it inert, if only for a second."

  Emily took a deep breath as she pulled the Stoneshell pendant out from under her tunic. "I'll try," she said, closing her eyes tightly.

  She focused her mind on calming thoughts. In her mind's eye, she saw small waves pping on the shore of a beach, a gentle breeze fluttering the leaves of an old oak tree. She saw her childhood bedroom, complete with the pink cat nightlight. She willed her breath to deepen and her heartbeats to slow, something she'd often practised with Aria. The Stoneshell felt cool against her chest, and she gave Dorian a thumbs-up.

  The slightest noise indicated the touch of Dorian's ring against the Stoneshell. Emily felt the briefest tingling sensation, but put it out of her mind at once, focusing on the image of a clouds drifting zily across a pale blue sky on a zy summer's day.

  Then her stomach lurched as the world turned upside-down.

  Emily's eyes shot open. Cold panic gripped her as she tried to make sense of the scene before her eyes. Dorian stood before her with a bnk expression on his upside-down face, and beside him stood another upside-down figure—someone small and green, with beady bck eyes.

  But it wasn't Dorian or the goblin who was upside-down. It was Emily. She felt the pressure of a rope around her ankles, suspending her from the cavern ceiling. The bottom of her tunic bunched up around the scarf she'd tied at her midsection, exposing everything from the top of her boots to her navel. But right now, that was the least of her worries.

  Emily realized too te that she had pced her trust in the wrong person. Hot tears welled up in her eyes as she gred at Dorian, who studiously looked down at the ground as he scattered white powder from a small brown bag.

  She wanted to shout a million angry words at him, but was so furious that her mouth was unable to form even one. With an incoherent scream, she punched out with one fist to shoot a fireball at him. But no fire came. A familiar, reassuring weight was absent from the back of her neck, and this made her feel even more naked than her exposed bottom half.

  The Stoneshell y on the ground beneath her, its chain pooled around the pendant. She attempted to summon it, but it did not respond. She tried harder. "Hnnng!" Emily grunted with effort, her muscles visibly tightening, but still the Stoneshell made no movement.

  "I'm very impressed, Mister Bckwood," said the goblin, reaching a hand down towards the Stoneshell.

  "No!" shouted Dorian, grabbing his wrist.

  The goblin snarled with anger, and Emily's heart lit up with a brief flicker of hope.

  "Not yet," Dorian continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Give it time to settle."

  Emily now noticed that the white powder Dorian had been scattering was salt, and he'd used it to form a circle around the Stoneshell. She had a vague recollection of the salt circle as a tool to stop magic. Was that what was preventing her from summoning the Stoneshell? How could something so simple contain its power?

  "If I must," grumbled the goblin, taking a small step back. "I'm watching you, Bckwood. I must have this artifact—such were the terms you agreed to. And I am not known for my patience."

  "Allow another minute for the circle to settle," Dorian said. "Then you'll have your precious artifact." He spat these words from his lips with barely concealed contempt.

  "Why, Dorian?" Emily asked, her voice shaking. Her whole body had gone limp, and was swaying slightly from the rope. "I trusted you!"

  The goblin cackled, but Dorian remained silent, studiously avoiding eye contact.

  "Worry not, girl," said the goblin. "Your trinket will do the Deep Realm a great service."

  Emily stared down hatefully at the circle of salt around the Stoneshell. After everything she'd been through and all her training, she had been defeated by a condiment—one that wasn't even unique to Thesson. A small, fragile circle of salt separated her from the awesome power that could make her tormentors wish they'd never met her. How absurd it was! A small, fragile circle of salt...

  Suddenly, an idea dawned on her. Eyes widening with realization, Emily sucked in a deep breath. Then she expelled a jet of air, directly on one side of the salt circle.

  A cloud of sand, dust and salt burst from the ground, stinging Emily's eyes. She ignored the pain, focusing on the Stoneshell. On vengeance. On fire.

  The goblin shrieked as a massive ball of fme erupted from the ground, filling the tunnel in a dazzling instant. There was a scuffle as he and Dorian scrambled back, both falling hard on the ground. "Stop her!" screamed the goblin.

  Fmes were all around Emily as her tunic burned around her, but the Stoneshell's fire left her skin and hair untouched. The pendant now hung suspended in the air, in the middle of a salt circle that was more broken than whole.

  A fsh of light hit Emily in the eye. Dorian held a handheld mirror at his waist, which he was rapidly tilting between Emily and the Stoneshell. And the Stoneshell began to fall.

  As Emily attempted to summon another burst of fire, something solid made contact with the back of her skull and everything went bck. The st thing she heard before she lost consciousness was the goblin's cackle.

  Darkness. Laughter. Harsh whispers. The feeling of falling, of being dragged, of being thrown around. Skin against sand and stone.

  When Emily awoke once more, she immediately wished she hadn't. Her body ached all over, her throat was terribly dry, and stubborn bits of sand clung to her eyes. It was dark and she was standing with her back against a stone wall. Cold steel manacles held her wrists suspended above her head, preventing her from sitting or even kneeling. She was completely naked, without her boots, the Bronzeband, or even her hair-tie. And, of course, without the Stoneshell.

  "Did you sleep well?" asked a horribly familiar voice, instantly making her situation feel a thousand times worse.

  Chained to the opposite wall was an older woman with jet bck hair, quite as naked as Emily, but wearing a cruel smile nonetheless. It was Era.

  "W-what?" Emily stammered through parched lips.

  Era sighed. "It would seem that the goblins in this part of the Deep Realm are not greatly enamored with mages. They call us evil, and bme every little thing that goes wrong in their lives on magic. Anyone suspected of doing magic is immediately thrown in this dungeon. As it is well known that all human magic relies on held and worn artifacts, they have also stripped us. Though I can't imagine there was much to strip off in your case."

  Emily made a face. "You seem very calm about this."

  Era narrowed her eyes. "If you were a real mage, like I am, you would know that there are no setbacks, only opportunities. From where I'm standing, the goblins have done me a great service by imprisoning you. All I have to do now is break out of this silly little prison, and collect my Stoneshell from wherever they're keeping it. This brief indignity is a small price to pay."

  "Then why haven't you broken out already?"

  "Another thing any real mage knows is patience, my dear little slut. My fairies are on their way to free me as we speak. While I wait, I will take the leisure to enjoy rubbing your face in it, after all the inconvenience you've caused me."

  "You tried to kill me!"

  Era rolled her eyes. "Oh come now, you must have known the risks when you chose to defy me the first time. I could have given you a very comfortable life on my estate, but you would rather traipse all over Thesson in nothing but a pair of boots, pying with forces you can't possibly control. Teasing boys with your supple little body and then burning them when they got too close, no doubt."

  "I have done nothing of the sort!" Emily screamed, her face red.

  "Regardless, it's all over now. I'm not sure what goblins do to magic users after they put them in the dungeon, but I don't think it's very nice. Nasty creatures, goblins. Twisted by hiding from the sunlight. Though too much sunlight on the body can also be a bad thing, as you so love to demonstrate."

  Emily said nothing. If she stopped responding, Era would eventually get tired of taunting her, and then she could have some peace to figure out just exactly how in the hell she was going to get out of this situation.

  "Oh don't look so worried, my dear girl," Era continued. "The goblins are a civilized race. I'm sure they'll give you a fair trial. Tomorrow morning, when I'm on my way back to the surface, Stoneshell in hand, they'll take you down from there and lead you to the courtroom. Completely naked of course, with a nice pair of manacles."

  Thoughts of being paraded down a dark underground street, jeered at on both sides by goblin hordes, came unbidden to Emily's mind. She struggled to shake them off.

  "I don't think they'll give you anything to wear. It's far too dangerous to pce potentially magical items in the possession of a mage. That's their philosophy."

  Images of standing in a court room, before a goblin judge, her hands held fast behind her back, helpless and naked. Emily imagined pleading her case to unsympathetic ears, and the judge pronouncing a sentence. She imagined rough goblin hands leading her away...

  "But you won't mind that too much, I'm sure. Perhaps you'll even enjoy it when the goblins sentence you to servitude in one of their nasty little hovels, cooking and cleaning and attending to... other needs..."

  If she didn't focus on escaping, what Era was saying and what she was imagining would could true. Emily shuddered, ignoring Era and mentally taking stock of her situation. She was in a goblin dungeon deep underground, wrists chained to the wall, with no magical artifacts. The st time she'd been in a comparable situation, she'd at least had Talyndra, a friend who'd helped her summon the Stoneshell. Could she do it again, without Talyndra's help? Where was the Stoneshell now?

  Whatever Dorian had done to prevent Emily from summoning the Stoneshell surely couldn't have been permanent. He'd admitted himself that the it was far too powerful an artifact for him to disenchant. Unless he'd been lying about that. The pang of betrayal was still raw.

  Her thoughts, and Era's musings, were disturbed by the sound of the door to the dungeon bursting open. Emily gazed frightfully at the open door, and a strangled cry escaped Era's throat. Was it already time for their trial? That Era might share her fate was cold comfort.

  Light flooded in, and a tall figure strode in from outside. It was Dorian. He set his mouth in a hard line in an attempt to hide the immense sadness that welled in his eyes as he walked slowly, deliberately, towards Emily.

  Somewhere in the background, Era squealed, contorted her body to avoid the gaze of a man who had not even registered her presence.

  A confused mess of emotions boiled inside Emily's chest, and she felt ready to burst. Anger at his betrayal, confusion at his presence, shame at standing before him without a single thread of clothing. Again, her emotions were too strong for words.

  He stood before her, motionless without a word. But his deep blue eyes told a story of deep anguish and regret.

  This was not enough to stop Emily from shing out with a knee, which Dorian's crotch narrowly avoided as he quickly stepped back. He did not, however, avoid the gob of spit Emily lobbed directly at his eyes. "Ah!" he cried. But then he was calm.

  Dorian opened his eyes again and locked them with Emily's, his serious expression incongruous beneath the dripping saliva. "I brought you something," he said. From a fold in his cloak, he produced the Bronzeband.

  Emily shook the chains on her wrists angrily.

  "Lift your leg," said Dorian.

  Emily paused for a moment, not wanting to part her tightly csped thighs, but then relented. Gingerly, she lifted her left foot, then extended her whole left leg in front of her, blushing.

  Dorian knelt down before her and slipped the Bronzeband over her foot, then pushed it up until it felt secure on her ankle, keeping his other hand on her heel to hold her leg steady.

  "I'd prefer not to be the audience for this," said Era.

  Dorian released Emily's leg and stepped back, ignoring Era. "I'm sorry," he said. "Victus—the goblin you saw earlier—is on the other side of town, where the nightmoss grows the thickest. He has the Stoneshell with him."

  "Why should I trust you?" Emily asked. "Why did you take the Stoneshell from me? Why are you trying to help now? Why are you doing any of this?"

  "I made a mistake," Dorian said, his voice cracking with pain. "It's all a misunderstanding. A big, horrible misunderstanding. I'll expin it all ter."

  "What makes you think there's going to be a ter?" Emily spat.

  Dorian's shoulders slumped. "If that's how you feel, I understand. I've given you the means to escape, and I've told you where to find the Stoneshell. I'm sorry for getting you into this. You won't see any more of me."

  Dorian took one st, long look at Emily before turning around and leaving the dungeon, closing the door behind him.

  "There's no accounting for taste, I suppose," said Era, some minutes ter. "He is quite handsome, if none too smart. Is that your type? What am I saying, of course you're not that selective!"

  Emily ignored the remark. All her focus was on the Bronzeband, and the power it gave her over stone. Since Dorian had left, she had been singurly focused on crumbling the area of wall to which her right manacle was attached. Sweat poured from her brow, and her stomach rose and fell with exertion, but she heard the sweet, sweet sound of shifting rock.

  "What is that bauble he's given you, anyway? I don't recognize it."

  Finally, there was cng as the manacle fell to the ground. Emily sighed with relief as her right shoulder rexed for the first time in hours. Immediately, she set to work on the left manacle.

  "What was that?" Era asked. "You—what? No!"

  "Shut up!" Emily hissed, focusing ever more intensely on the wall above her left manacle. It was slow going, but felt slightly easier than the right had been. In a few minutes, the end of the chain fell with a satisfying cng.

  Emily stepped forward, flexing her fingers and then rubbing each of her wrists, as much as she could with the manacles still attached. For the moment, she would have to carrying them around, along with her chains, but at least now she could move from the wall.

  She cast a sidelong gnce at Era, who gred at her. "I don't suppose—"

  "Not a chance," Emily snapped. "I'm sure those fairies will be along eventually. What was it you were telling me about patience?"

  Era muttered something unintelligible as she watched Emily saunter towards the door. As both prisoners had been chained to the wall, there had been no need to lock it, so it swung open just as easily for Emily as it had for Dorian. After a quick check that the space beyond was clear of goblin guards, Emily blew a sarcastic kiss at Era and slipped through, closing the door behind her.

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