“The Darkness comes,” said a melodic, high-pitched female voice, speaking in the goblin tongue. “I can feel it growing all around and within me.”

  The speaker sat obscured by an unnatural cloud of shadow that hovered at the head of the obsidian table. A large amethyst hovered over the center of the table, casting a pale lavender light about the cavern and illuminating the faces of those gathered, except for the hidden female speaker.

  There were fifteen individuals at intervals around the table; twelve seated and five standing.

  A pair of kobold priests, swallowed by oversized black robes with faces hidden by low-hanging cowls, stood offset from the table to the left of the shadowy cloud. Seated in front of them were six goblin chieftains – one with a ridiculous headdress of feathers and plumes that wiggled and bounced at its wearer's slightest shifting.

  Across from the goblins sat a black elf with skin the color of ebony wood and perfectly white hair. A few chairs down on the same side of the table sat an attractive female in a shimmering dress of green scales, with long, black hair and a subtle purple tint to her complexion.

  Standing at the table between the elf and the lady in the green dress were two massive, malformed ogres. One was notably larger than the other.

  Two imposing trolls completed the gathering. One armored cave troll stood behind and to the right of a common troll. Dressed in regal attire and adorned with gold jewelry, the second troll sat at the table and directly across from the hovering shadow.

  “You sure that isn’t me you feel inside you, my dear?” asked the dark elf.

  The female voice giggled, almost like a child. “Stop that, M'zuphilis! This is important. The dreamer now slumbers and soon the horrors of his nightmares will manifest on the surface realm. We must take initiative.”

  “You have called us here to tell us what we must do?” growled the larger of the two ogres, its orange skin reddening around the eyes and nostrils.

  The goblins muttered amongst themselves, except for the largest among them, seated closest to the veil of shadows. His bald head and brow showed the wrinkling of age, and the two large canines protruding from behind his lower lip framed a tightly closed mouth. His eyes conveyed experience and wisdom.

  “I have,” said the female in a melodious, almost song-like voice. While her lilting tone might have delighted humans or elves, it came across as rather harsh to those present. “Assembled here are the leaders of their kind in the near realms. This council, impromptu and small as it may be, represents great power, which could be deployed for great effect with the dark tide.”

  “You each came of your own accord, and you are not being held here. If any wish to leave, then do so.”

  A wave of grumbling rolled through the chamber. The ogres shifted their weight to move; several goblins were already on their feet turning towards the exit.

  “Just know that if you leave now I will find no favor with you later should you seek my aid,” the voice sang.

  The chamber abruptly fell silent. The goblins returned to their seats. Both ogres settled their weight beneath them once more.

  The Rellum Borex, a cave troll and commander of the military for the mighty troll king in this region, shifted its weight subtly but deliberately. It slowly but not casually tightened its grip on the haft of its great, spiked maul. Standing a motionless but imposing figure, nine feet tall in steel plate armor that boasted curved horns on the spaulders, breastplate, knees, and helm, its eyes glowed red through the visor's slits.

  The seated troll, the Orco-Regnum, viceroy of the troll king, gave a slow nod of its wide, hammer-shaped head. The fine garments, gold rings, and magical amulets conveyed dignified power. Its clear yellow eyes remained fixed upon the female speaker.

  “Your threat is noted, matron,” the troll viceroy clarified. “We remain, but the Reg-Bellarco-Rex, our king, moves only on his own timeline.”

  “Of course,” said the pleasant female voice. ”I ask only that we delegate relevant actions and spheres of operation in this forum, allowing each sovereign the time and place of their choosing to act.”

  The cavernous room remained quiet. Perhaps taking the silence as her cue, the female speaker leaned forward into the soft purple light.

  A more stunningly beautiful face one would be hard-pressed to find. Exquisite features set and proportioned perfectly, sultry eyes and relaxed yet pouting lips, the face of this creature must have rivalled the beauty of Siriana, the F’zalt goddess of love and romance.

  The goblins barked and then groaned in pain. Two fell to the floor. The chief with the elaborate headdress stood with a start then staggered backwards into the cave wall, his crown of feathers and plumes dancing wildly.

  The kobolds averted their gaze, hissing and cursing.

  The two ogres threw up their forearms to shield their eyes from the painful glare of the matron’s beauty. The huge creatures began to tremble and sob.

  The dark elf smiled and whispered, “So lovely.”

  The lady in the shiny dress of green scales sat comfortably and without expression. Her kind were not afflicted by the dangerous and toxic beauty of the matron; she also knew the latter had no ill intentions towards her.

  The mighty Rellum Borex shuddered and nearly doubled over, its armor clanking and clinking.

  The Orco-Regnum maintained poise, neither flinching nor making a sound. Patiently it stared at the radiant face with narrowed eyes, stoically accepting the pain that seared through its torso and limbs.

  The troll viceroy knew it should avert its gaze, lest it be wounded gravely or even stricken down. At the same time, it knew the Reg-Ballarco-Rex would destroy it for showing weakness or capitulating. Like a fire the pain roared higher, blurring the troll’s vision; its mind began to race as its pain tolerance faded quickly.

  To its immense relief, the painfully beautiful face withdrew into the veil of shadow cast around the head of the table. The searing agony gradually subsided; the troll heard its own heart beating between its ears and realized it had been afraid.

  Those afflicted composed themselves. The matron spoke again: “Other regions of these realms are likely not being so organized. Certainly the goblins and trolls of elsewhere will be inspired and compelled to act by the coming darkness, but their measures will pale in comparison to our own strategic approach, and we will find favor in the very darkness itself. We will reap the most rewards and can then – should we choose – subjugate other regions to our will.”

  At this, the kobolds whispered among themselves, then hissed approvingly. First one goblin, then another smiled deviously. All six goblin chieftains cackled wickedly.

  The two ogres, not as bright as their fellows, looked at one-another in puzzlement. The lady with long black hair who wore the green dress leaned towards the pair of brutes and whispered something.

  The blank stupidity of one ogre’s expression shifted slightly. The other ogre tilted its head, its face taking on the look of recognition. The ogres again looked at one-another, nodding. “To our will!” said one.

  “Yes!” said the other, slamming its fist onto the shiny black tabletop. It struck with enough force to shake the entire table. Its fist made a crackled dent on the obsidian surface, and a long crack formed all the way to the head of the table.

  The matron giggled. “Yes. You see now the opportunity at hand.”

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  Both ogres nodded vigorously, then pointed to the cracked table and laughed like monstrous children. The cackling of the goblins arose once more to join them.

  “Ambitious,” noted the lady in the green dress of shiny scales; she spoke directly to the shadow. “We have always been willing to aid your kind, matron. Ours is a long and storied history, is it not?”

  “Thank you Jhazarleah, and yes, long and storied indeed.” the hidden female sang.

  “Come now, Orco-Regnum,” spoke the matron. “I know your Reg-Bellarco-Rex would rejoice in the crushing of his neighboring troll king, Troglodeus. A victory that has long eluded your citadel.”

  “Such a triumph would indeed be fortuitous,” the Orco-Regnum replied. “Your logic on the rewards of an organized front is sound, matron. It seems we may have underestimated the validity of your initiative.”

  “I make no promises, matron,” said the dark elf M’zuphilis casually. “But tell me what you would have the dark elves in my company do for your cause.”

  The matron knew better. Dark elves acted only in their own interest. “I would hire some of your best elves to remove a nuisance from my path. Another Alkar; a blue elf with whom you may already be familiar.”

  The dark elf’s fa?ade of civility melted into a half-snarl. “Of a particular blue elf I am aware.”

  “We will speak of the specifics once this assembly is adjourned,” the matron said.

  The dark elf nodded, then laid a folded, black, silk panel of cloth on the table. “I have also brought that which you requested from the old world.”

  Silence hung a moment after the Nokturum finished speaking.

  The female voice spoke again, this time in a tone of restrained jubilee. “You mean to say… is that the spindle?”

  The dark elf unfolded the silk square to produce a stitching spindle; a rounded, ornate handle of bog oak with a lead shaft and a selenite whorl or weight for pulling the fabric into form as it is spun.

  “I give you the Spindle of Necessity,” M'zuphilis announced.

  “Ahead of your own timeline!” the matron squealed. “You went all the way back to Auld Ur, found the artifact, and now deliver it two weeks early! Was it in the ruined city of Lana in the kingdom of Odele as my oracle said?”

  “My dear you advanced me enough gold to buy a city-state on The Arm should I see fit,” the dark elf reminded the matron. “An expedited trip back to the old continent seemed not too much to ask. And yes, my agents found it in the workshop of the wizard Gorthreas Lim in the ruined city of Lana.”

  “My thanks M'zuphilis,” chirped the lovely creature in the shadow. “You have accelerated my designs significantly.”

  “A pleasure.” The dark elf half-bowed.

  “We are eager to afflict the goodly races,” said one of the goblins. Looking to the others, he then said, “Let us combine our ranks to make a stouter force and move on a village of the humans.”

  “Very good,” the matron replied. “Then let us waste no more time. I suggest the goblins continue to increase raiding activity on the back-country roadways and begin stealing children from isolated settlements.”

  “My tribe is preparing to ambush a trade convoy in the main pass of the Dombahu Ridges as we speak,” said one goblin chief.

  “My people are likewise planning to assault a major merchant house as it moves its wares inland from the human port city Asmoth Snan,” said the chief with the feathered headdress. “But we are forced to be wary of the rangers who serve the surface duke named Mershod. They are formidable and have slain many of our warriors.”

  “Yes!” another chief spoke up. “The rangers of Mershod are a nuisance for my people also. Among their ranks are a giantess and a great wolf, terrible in battle are both and a blue elf who has skill with both the blade and his elven witchcraft.”

  “A blue elven nuisance!” another chieftain joined in. “He has killed dozens of my warriors near the moon bog.”

  “Now I know we’re talking about the same blue elf,” said the dark elf to the voice in the shadows.

  I have foreseen his whereabouts. You shall have him. Said the female voice directly into the mind of the dark elf.

  “A wolf that stands like a man, who has with him a powerful wizard, has slain seven ogres on the Jagged Jaw mountain range just yesterday,” the larger ogre spoke slowly and with a slight slur. “Word of this travelled quickly to my ear, and the warriors are both eager for his blood and stunned that he could slay so many of their brethren.”

  “I am aware of Mershod’s rangers, and of this wolf you speak of,” said the matron. “He will soon be in the palm of my hand. Within one or two days he will come to me willingly, unknowing of the trap I have laid.”

  Murmurs of approval erupted.

  “Hgrrhak,” the matron addressed the ogre mohon’kos, or supreme chief. “Have your warriors continue their attacks on the mountain settlements. They need not worry further about this nuisance wolf.”

  Hgrrhak grinned like the idiot he was and nodded.

  “At the present time, we trolls of the citadel Abznakerūm Danundibub have little interest in travelling to the surface,” announced the troll viceroy. “I shall, however, see that some of our lesser subjects nearer to the surface realm are at your service, matron.”

  “That would be lovely,” the matron replied. “I note some of your subjects have already been inspired to act by the dark tide – an entire village of Al Dandi taken away? This is most impressive.“

  The troll viceroy nodded. “Their work has pleased us as well. Though distant to our citadel that band of cave trolls is quick to be loyal and do as asked. I will send word to their leader to seek your audience if that is your wish.”

  “Oh yes it is surely my wish,” said the matron. “I reciprocate.” She waved her hand toward the hooded kobolds. “Tsnern and Bkivikd have travelled quite some distance to join us here... all the way from the mountains of the serpent’s tail in the surface kingdom of Ziliador. I believe this is the northmost region of Troglodeus’ domain.”

  “So it is,” said the Orco-Regnum.

  “They will give you what information they now have—for I bade them keep watch some months ago—then perhaps you have some specific items they might keep an eye on when they return home,” the matron explained.

  “You are a well-studied diplomat and practiced negotiator, matron. I am unsure whether to thank you or be cautious,” the Orco-Regnum said evenly. “For now I will be pleased by your boon and enact my offering to you.”

  “As for the brilliant suggestion to combine the goblin forces, I agree,” the matron continued, addressing the goblin chief who had proposed it. “If you can raise a small army of your kind within a tenday, my clan will move alongside you. We will burn the humans from their homes in the Waywards, and then onto the fishing village of Pisca S’gash!”

  The goblins cheered at this announcement.

  “Krunk will be my liaison to the other goblin tribes.” said the voice behind the shadow. “Advise him of your progress and assume his instructions are my command.”

  The older goblin with the seasoned eyes nodded, his eyes remained forward fixed like a disciplined soldier. “It is my privilege to serve as your liaison matron.

  “Jhazarleah.” the matron called on her one true ally among the fiends in attendance. “When will you awake in your true body?”

  “Not for a century hence matron.” explained the lady in the shiny green dress of scales. “My two sons will each sleep another decade beyond that. My daughter, however, is awake at this time and will aid you in my place.”

  “I haven’t seen Smoldora since the day she hatched.” the matron said wistfully. “It will be good to see her again.”

  “She will come when you call.” said Jhazarleah.

  “Very good.” sang the female voice. “This is a very good start.”