The last of her goblin attackers thrust its spear forward. It dug into the earthen armor but didn’t break through, even if it would cause a bruise on her side. Hannah ignored that and swung her fist up and under the chin of her last foe. She drove teeth up into the tiny brain as its feet were lifted from the ground.

  Emiri had even less trouble with the last four goblins. Two of her enchanted shurikens flew out and embedded themselves into the necks of the two goblins furthest from her. The nearly two hundred points of health damage that each blade caused in conjunction with the gaping bloody wounds they left had both goblins dropping to their knees, clutching futilely at necks from which the last of their lifeblood spurted into the snow at their feet.

  One step took her forward and around the spear of the closest goblin so that she was able to stab it fatally through the eye with Mage Slayer. The weapon didn’t erupt with the devastating power it held against casters, but it was still a masterfully crafted dagger, which produced instant death as it was driven into the tiny brain of her goblin target.

  The last standing goblin moved forward to thrust its spear at her. With her superhuman balance, she jumped up on the shaft of the spear that was extended and ran in a pair of steps to kick under the chin of her goblin foe. His head whipped back, and the neck took more damage than it could bear. The tiny creature fell backward, but she wanted to be sure, so she held out her free hand and cast a quickened Acid Spear into its face.

  It briefly screamed, but the combined damage was too much, and a second later it was dead. With all of their foes fallen, Emiri looked to the ogre that Balayria and Deoca were engaged with. She had been rushing to finish their foes off, but it was clear that she had worried in vain.

  The ogre was swaying side to side under the influence of some spell or potion that the half-orc had used. Glancing down to see a broken vial at the beast’s feet, Emiri guessed it was one of her stupor potions. Its hide was peppered by more than a dozen arrows from the moon elf, some of them driven half their length into its tough body. Finally, it lost its footing, and Balayria stepped forward to slash her short sword across its exposed neck, ending its life.

  The four women looked at one another, and sighs of relief combined with grins at how easy that had been passed between them. Horns sounding, though, convinced them that it wasn’t going to stay easy for long. Emiri picked up her shurikens while Deoca salvaged as many of the arrows as she could from the ogre’s hide. Hannah reversed her earthen armor spell, but it took time for the earth to fall away from her.

  Balayria was busy casting a spell. Emiri didn’t know what it was for sure, but likely some type of illusion to hide their escape. By the time Hannah was ready to go, the half-orc said, “We need to move. They are almost on us, but this spell will make them think we are going to the right. So we need to go left.”

  Emiri smiled. “Left it is, then. Deoca, lead the way. Try to find us a safe spot to gate from. Hanna, bring up the rear, please.”

  Everyone nodded. This was one of the things that Emiri liked working with all women. No egos to get in the way like there were with men. Everyone just did their best for the team.

  Then they were off and running. Hannah and Balayria were strong, but definitely both much slower than Emiri and Deoca. The forest warden was well aware of their capabilities and set a pace that matched what they could do rather than trying to push beyond them.

  They ran at a fast but not breakneck pace for twenty minutes, and Emiri started to think that they might have gotten away, when the unmistakable sound of goblin laughter started to come up behind them. Even with the false trail that Balayria had laid, there were simply so many goblins that it wasn’t unthinkable that their warlord simply had his minions fan out in all directions. One thing had been made abundantly clear during their days of observation, Thelan the Basher didn’t care one bit about the lives of those who served him.

  Still, that wasn’t the issue now. The issue was that they were about to be caught by a cackling pack of goblin scouts. They were fast and could run forever, so escape seemed unlikely. Deoca called back, “I will delay them so that you can all gate home.”

  Emiri thought about her words for a minute. The old her would simply have screamed no at the idea of someone, anyone, sacrificing themselves for her. Now she had responsibilities. Now she had to be pragmatic. She was no longer a soft earthling. Now she was a proud moon elf of Eloria, but neither Emily Nelson of Earth nor Lady Emiri of the Circle were quick to give up on people.

  She had chosen the women, the blades who made up her Kirun Sisuta, carefully. They were women that she got along with. They had a combination of skills that worked well in tandem, and she had had one other requirement. Something that she might not have thought of but for Daichi’s teaching. Each of them either had or had the potential and had been taught the spell Gate. They were all bound back in Eris’ Rise, and any of them could escape if they could have the tick of free time to cast their spell.

  It had been her intention that they get enough space away from the goblin camp that they could all gate out without worrying about a goblin sling hurtling a rock at their head. Apparently she still had much to learn about strategy because her plan had backfired. They would have been better off simply trying to gate away immediately under the cover of Balayria’s illusion.

  Her thoughts raced by in a flash till she shouted back, “No sacrifices today. Hannah, stone perimeter. Balayria, strongest fear rune you can paint, and Deoca, help me keep the enemy off of them. You take far targets. I will handle anything that gets too close. On my mark.”

  She counted out one—two—three, and then all four women sprang into the ordered actions. Emiri didn’t bother watching Hannah or Balayria. She trusted that they would accomplish the assigned tasks. As for Deoca, she watched in awe as the woman loaded three arrows to her bow and fired them all simultaneously, each arrow taking a different target in midair.

  That elven guy she used to think was so cute from the Ring Lord or something—it was a movie that Dave had made her watch—would have eaten his heart out to be as good as Deoca was. Even more though, Emiri laughed at the idea that any elven male would have such long hair. Then a pair of goblins were upon her. They were fast, but nothing compared to the new her.

  She sidestepped one clumsy attack and drew a dagger across the goblin’s throat while turning her motion into a leg-sweeping kick that knocked the other goblin prone. Without hesitation, she dropped and drove her dagger into his soft throat. It was a fast death, perhaps not as quick as stabbing him through the eye, but more sure with less risk of her blade being deflected. She would make their deaths as merciful as she could, but these creatures threatened her family, and that was all the motivation she needed to end them.

  No sooner had she finished off another pair of goblins before Hannah was crying out, “Gather round.”

  Emiri kicked away the only other goblin close to her and then sprang to stand next to Hannah. Deoca dropped down from a tree branch to join them, and suddenly the earth rumbled around them, earthen walls sprang up from the ground around them, and in less than three seconds they were encased in a dome of solid stone. There wasn’t much room to spare, but it was enough for them all to stand comfortably.

  She looked at Balayria, who winked. There was something lascivious about her friend with her halter tops and winking gestures, but Emiri loved her for the zest with which she lived life. As Balayria snapped her fingers to trigger the magic she had painted into a rune on the ground, the sound of fearful cries echoed off their stone encasement. The fear magic must have taken root because it sounded like goblins were running everywhere.

  “Now, before any of their casters get here to break down this barrier. One at a time. Balayria, Deoca, me, and then Hannah. I’m sorry to have you stay last, but you need to hold the barrier.”

  “Honored to serve, my la—I mean Emiri,” Hanna replied.

  Over the next half minute, they all winked out one by one, just in time before a monstrous foot came crashing down on the stone dome they had been hiding in. Emiri didn’t know about the foot, but she breathed a sigh of relief at being back home. No time for rest, though. She needed to find Dave and the others. They needed to know just what they were facing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “The best revenge upon those who would hold us back is to fulfill the potential they failed to see.”—Private journal of Emily Nelson.

  Konig, Capital of Albia, Royal Academy—Jackson Nelson

  Over three months had come and gone and still no exams, no competition, no tests setting one student against another. The instructors were very hesitant to say anything to Jackson or any of the other students, so for the most part life at the Royal Academy just continued on.

  This semester was so different from the past, though. Sure, Tabor had been his friend before, but now Jackson had his own little clique. Or maybe it would be better to say that he was part of Gianna’s clique. She was the princess of Miromar and its heir, given that they allowed female rulers there, unlike Albia.

  Her royal status was something that she conveniently seemed to forget whenever she wanted to get into mischief with him, Tabor, and Milessa. Then out of the blue, if he ever did something to annoy her, she was very quick to remind him. Worse, sometimes he didn’t do anything, at least not anything that he understood or that she would explain to him, and still she would snap out at him about how she couldn’t court a country bumpkin.

  Tabor was even more clueless than Jackson was when it came to the girls. Jackson did remember something his mom and dad had talked about. Something about pulling the pigtails of girls that he liked. Gianna kept her hair in a long single braid though, and he would certainly never pull on it.

  Jackson could admit that he did like Gianna. She was a dear friend. They got into so much trouble together, but as two of the highest-ranking nobles, not to mention a princess and her own noble-born handmaiden slash bodyguard, they always seemed to get away with nothing more than a stern lecture. It was during one of those times that Milessa took to calling Jackson a silly boy.

  He didn’t really care for that nickname, and every time that he tried to get her to explain the meaning, she and even sometimes Gianna would end up laughing so hard they hit the floor. The other half of the time, though, Gianna’s face would get so red she looked like steam was about to erupt from her ears. During those times, the princess would usually end up tugging on Milessa’s arm and dragging her away.

  Then he wouldn’t see either of them until the next day, at which point they acted like nothing had happened. One time when he was vaguely worried that he might have upset his friend, he had gone to her section of the living quarters to apologize, even though he didn’t really know for what.

  He was stopped, and the guards stopped him. Jackson was nearing the third tier and didn’t fear many men, but these guards of hers were also part of the elite griffon riders of Miromar. They were seasoned veterans who stopped him with just a look. Jackson honestly thought if they had their way, he wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with the princess at all.

  They seemed to think that he was a bad influence on her. The very thought made him laugh. As if she wasn’t the one who came up with 90% of their shenanigans. When one of the professors sat on a cushion soaked in rotten cow milk, who came up with it? Gianna, of course. When Michael’s training stave was expertly sawed so that the middle would split in two when struck, who came up with it? The redheaded princess.

  Jackson always gladly went along with her, though. He might not be running from bullies anymore. He might have been able to hand them their own backsides now, but that didn’t change that it was gratifying to get these small revenges.

  Just because the professors wouldn’t tell Jackson and the others what was going on didn’t mean that some soldiers were not more talkative. Anytime they could get one of the Albian soldiers alone, they caught little bits of gossip. What they did hear didn’t paint a very rosy picture.

  His favorite source of information was a guard named Simon. Simon always seemed to draw the crappiest details, even to the point that when Jackson found him this morning, he was assigned to guard the outhouses next to the training field.

  Jackson’s quartet made a special trip to find him after breakfast for the latest update before class. When they saw the man slumped against his pike, standing between the two outhouses, Jackson laughed. The rest of his party had a different reaction.

  “This is shameful. No soldier in Miromar would hold themselves in such a slovenly position,” Gianna said.

  “Blame this on the man, not the nation, Princess,” Tabor began. ”Soldiers in my father’s army have real discipline.”

  “The question is, why is he out here in the first place?” Milessa asked.

  Tabor responded, “It’s likely a punishment. He was stationed to guard the outhouses to show that is all he is worth. It is meant to be a boring, shameful duty with the added consequence that it smells awful. Can you imagine what it would be like if it wasn’t wintertime.”

  “Eww, I don’t wanna get any of that on me,” Gianna said.

  Jackson laughed. “Says the girl who dragged all four of us down into sewers.”

  She didn’t respond but just crossed her arms and harrumphed.

  “Just let me do the talking. We don’t want him thinking you are all looking down on him,” Jackson said.

  “What makes you think that he is gonna talk?” Milessa asked.

  “A couple of things. First, he was ready to spill his guts about a series of disappearances last week till Sergeant Miller interfered. Then there is the fact that I acquired a couple of sweet rolls from the dining hall for him.”

  The others all smiled at him and agreed to let him take the lead after that. When they reached the outhouses, he called out, “Looks like a rough duty, Simon.”

  The man looked up as though he hadn’t even heard them approaching; then upon seeing who it was, he said, “You don’t know the half of it. I’ve been here for the entire night and can’t leave my post till lunchtime.”

  “That sounds pretty brutal,” Jackson replied.

  “It sure is. The only upside is that this gods-cursed stench here helps keep my hunger at bay.” Then, as if to put a lie to his words, the man’s stomach growled.

  “Well, I can’t get you off this duty, but perhaps as one friend to another, I could offer you a sweet roll.” Jackson then pulled out a large pastry the size of a man’s hand, with pecans and a sweet drizzle of honey over a swirled concoction of flour, butter, sugar and cinnamon.

  Simon’s hand reached out, and he said, “You truly are the son of a Chosen, a gift from the gods here to comfort poor old Simon.”

  “Well, maybe after a couple of days of this, you can get rotated back out into the city,” Tabor said.

  Simon’s eyes shot wide as saucers at that. “Uhh, no, I guess tending this post isn’t so bad. That city isn’t a place any right-minded guard would want to be patrolling now.”

  “Why do you say that, Simon?” Jackson asked.

  “There be monsters. Monsters, I tell you. They are all over the city. Every night at least one person is snatched. Sometimes right from their bed. Sometimes without any warning, but the worst ones are the ones who be screaming. The guards get there, and t’aint nothing there but claw marks, torn pillows, and not a sign of the one who was taken.”

  “Do they have any idea about who is taking them?” Jackson asked.

  “Me money’s on the fiends that you fought in the sewers, Master Nelson. I knows you did your right best, but my guess is that some of the buggers got away.”

  The four spoke rapidly about the possibility to one another before Gianna asked, “Why isn’t your king doing something about this?”

  Simon spoke through a mouthful of sweet roll. “Begging your pardon, Princess, but I can’t rightly say.”

  “But surely you have heard something,” Jackson said.

  “You can’t be telling people that Simon told you this, okay?” the lazy guard asked as he looked from face to face.

  “Oh, of course, you can count on us,” Jackson said, and then made the motion of zipping his lips shut, locking them with a key, and then throwing the key away.

  Simon simply stared at him, perplexed, until Tabor said, “Never mind, the Nelsons have some weird customs up north. All he meant to say was that we won’t say a word about you.”

  “Okay then, besides the disappearances at night, and now the reports of monsters roaming the streets, there have also been riots at the castle, work stoppages by the millers, blacksmiths, and teamsters. All of thems is demanding that the king make the city safe again. But from what I hear, most of the army has been sent to the south in order to stop some kinda squabble with Faelora.

  “Apparently the queen’s brother has taken offense that King Harold was stepping out on his sister, and is coming to restore her honor. So most of the army isn’t even in town. I also heard that Duke Holstein had to levy some troops to bring them to protect the capital while the royal army is gone and until the western army can reach the capital. Apparently the duke’s men will be here to help support us in the next four or five days.”

  Once the guard started talking, he just kept going. So much so that Jackson wasn’t sure if he was going to even stop to take a breath. When he finally did, there was a great deal of information to process. This couldn’t be good. Not any of it, really. The question was what was worse.

  Just as the friends started to talk about it, Jackson heard a voice call out, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” It was Master Meyer, the battle craft instructor. Jackson was immediately on guard because of his impression that Master Meyer might have been the man they’d encountered in the sewers.