XENIXALA

  Key Alchemist Xenixala of Xendor, The Mighty Conqueror of Eenokeea, Diviner of The Chaos Orb, and eater of ‘The Apple of Anguish’, smiled knowingly at Edwardius riding beside her, who did his best to avoid eye contact. Instead, he kept his gaze focussed on the hillsides, pointlessly scanning the dirt and dust that lolled across the horizon.

  ‘How much further Felina?’ Xenixala winced into the sunlight. ‘I’m starting to chafe.’ She wriggled on her demon-steed’s saddle, but it didn’t help.

  ‘Not much further, Xeni my darling!’ Felina’s words were like nails on a chalkboard. Pixies had such ridiculous high pitched voices. It was like someone was pinching their nipples.

  ‘This so-called “Chosen One” had better be here, Felina, or I’ll turn you into a worm.’

  Felina chuckled. ‘Oh, Xeni, have no fear! The soothsayer was very particular.’

  ‘You said that days ago.’ Xenixala made a mental note to ready a worm enchantment.

  Felina looked back at Xenixala, lips pursed. ‘As my mentor used to say before he died, “the journey is more important than the destination”. We’ll reach him eventually, so try to enjoy the ride.’

  Xenixala rolled her eyes. Felina had returned rather too quickly to her sickeningly perky self after the resurrection. It had been impossible to get any more alone time with Edwardius. Instead, she had been subjected to days of tedious riding while Felina sang her songs and blew kisses. Bards really were the worst. The only thing that kept her going was Edwardius’ obvious discomfort. He could barely look either of them in the eye, preferring to ride in sullen silence. It was astonishing that Felina was yet to pick up on it.

  Edwardius held up a fist, bringing his horse to a stop. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’ All Xenixala heard was the clopping of hooves.

  ‘That. Listen closer. It’s like... someone weeping?’

  ‘I thought that was you, Edwardius.’

  ‘Shh.’

  As much as she hated to admit it, a faint sobbing was indeed coming from far below the narrow hillside path.

  ‘Quickly,’ Edwardius’ eyes glinted. ‘Follow me.’

  They took their mounts down the slope and towards the sound, their steed’s sliding on the loose rocks. At the bottom, they followed the maze of the ravine, turning this way and that. Closer and closer. Louder and louder the blubbering became.

  Until they saw the source.

  Before a cavern entrance sat a pathetic looking creature with a dog-like face. Tears glistening on its snout as it cradled a corpse, coating its mismatched armour in blood. Smoke billowed from the cavern, filling the air with the aroma of burned hay and candles.

  Edwardius released his grip from the hilt of his sword and ran his fingers through his blond hair. ‘This is a fresh assault. The Chosen One can’t have gone far.’

  ‘Let’s speak to this poor thing,’ said Felina. ‘Perhaps it knows which way he went?’

  The three dismounted and cautiously approached the wretched monster. The creature didn’t even look up at them, it remained transfixed on the corpse on its lap.

  ‘What is it?’ Felina whispered.

  ‘Looks like a kobold to me,’ said Edwardius.

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  Xenixala wiped her mouth and threw the empty Elixir bottle to the floor. ‘Isn’t he a bit big for a kobold?’

  ‘He’ll be a leader.’ Edwardius strode forward, addressing the oversized kobold. ‘Hail, friend. What brings you so much sorrow?’

  The kobold recoiled at the sight of them. ‘Adventurers!’ It hissed. ‘Go away! You take all. No more for you here.’ It hung its head, defeated.

  Edwardius bowed. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Edwardius and these are my companions, Felina and Key Alchemist Xenixala of Xendor, The Mighty Conqueror of De…’

  Xenixala coughed. ‘We don’t need to go through all that now. Xenixala will do.’

  ‘But last time you insisted that…’

  ‘Just don’t alright?’ She turned to the kobold. ‘Okay creature, why are you so whiny?’

  It wiped tears from its furry cheeks. ‘Grom.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Grom. My name Grom.’

  Xenixala laughed. ‘You have a name? Cute. Creatures don’t have names.’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘Well, how come I never heard of one then?’

  ‘You no ask.’

  Xenixala couldn’t fault that logic. ‘Whatever, Grom. What’s the deal? Let me guess, some hero clad in armour ran through here and killed your whole nest and took all your gold and heirlooms?’

  Grom nodded.

  ‘How long ago?’

  Grom caressed the bloody mess on his lap. ‘Still here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He no go. We doomed.’

  ‘Care to elaborate?’

  Grom looked up. ‘He kill everyone. Son, friends, wife.’ He raised the bloody body towards them. ‘This wife. He stab her. He burn too. Burn all things. Now nothing I have.’

  Felina put her hands on her heart. ‘You poor dear.’

  Grom spat on the dirt, scowling. ‘Me no need pity from adventurers. You do this all time. Every place adventurer go. You kill. You take. How so heartless? No care for life?’

  Edwardius shuffled uncomfortably, making his armour clatter. ‘I am a Holy Paladin, of The Order of The Mole. I treasure all life, I live to protect the weak and…’

  ‘Protect weak?’ Grom scoffed. ‘You kill weak.’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘You kill kobolds other times?’

  ‘Well of course. I fight evil in all its forms.’

  ‘Kobold not evil.’

  ‘Of course you are.’

  Grom glared at him with his beady eyes. ‘No, we not. Why?’

  ‘Well… look at you.’ Edwardius waved his hand. ‘You’re, you know... evil.’

  ‘Me not know. Me good person. Me loved family. Me want peace.’

  Edwardius stood proud, confident. ‘Kobolds aren’t peaceful. Creatures like you attack us whenever we enter their lair. We’re simply acting in self-defence.’

  ‘We self defence. Come to our home.’

  ‘But… but you’re born of evil. You serve the Dark Master. You worship the evil gods...’

  ‘Me worship no-one Pally Din. Me just want home. Be safe. But nowhere safe. Not here. Not nowhere.’ He waved a crumpled, blood stained pamphlet. ‘Eric promised we be safe here. No adventurers here he say. He lie. Nowhere safe.’ The tears streamed down his face. ‘Kill me. Get done. Me no want life. Not in adventurer world.’

  Edwardius turned back to Xenixala and Felina. ‘The beast is clearly deranged with grief. Should we put him out of his misery?’

  Xenixala shrugged.

  Felina stepped between Edwardius and Grom. ‘My dear, can’t you see this poor thing is in pain? Surely we can help him?’

  ‘Indeed we can,’ said Edwardius. ‘We can purge the world of his evil.’

  ‘He says he’s not evil,’ said Felina.

  ‘That’s exactly what an evil creature would say.’

  ‘Me not evil.’ Grom piped in. ‘I hear you.’

  Felina raised her eyebrows. ‘See?’

  ‘My darling,’ Edwardius pleaded. ‘The monster wants to be killed. Surely, on a utilitarian level, the kindest thing to do would be to treat him as…’

  Grom exploded in a splatter of blood.

  Edwardius and Felina both looked at Xenixala, who smiled, her fingers still outstretched from the spell.

  ‘What?’ she said, closing Wordsworth. ‘Evil or not, I don’t care. The Chosen One’s here so let’s look inside.’

  Edwardius wiped the blood from his face. ‘You could have given us a bit of warning.’

  Felina remained motionless. ‘Xeni… that was most unkind. How could you?’

  Xenixala opened Wordsworth again. ‘You want to end up like Grom?’

  Felina stood, mouth agape.

  ‘I thought not.’ Xenixala froze. Dozens of kobolds ran out of the entrance of the cave. They streamed in all directions, screaming and shouting.

  Behind them, a silhouette appeared from the shadows. The man stood, stance wide, cape flapping in the breeze, chest bare.

  Then he moved. Steel flashed, cutting, slicing the kobolds with precision. They wailed and yelped. Some desperately thrust their spears at the figure, but he stepped aside with no hesitation and decapitated them. Xenixala was sure the man yawned. Others fled, but the man tossed their discarded spears, catching them perfectly between the shoulders and pinning them to the ground.

  The last kobold fell and there was quiet.

  The man stopped, wiped his sword on a rag, then levelled his gaze on Xenixala, Edwardius and Felina. His piercing eyes betrayed nothing.

  Edwardius drew his sword, Felina pulled her lute from her back, Xenixala flicked Wordsworth to page three-two-six.

  Silence ensued.

  ‘There you are, right on cue.’ The figure finally spoke. His voice was high pitched, like a child’s, yet it carried far. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m The Nuub, but some people prefer “Chosen One”.’