Xensor moved through the dim corridors of the basement, his boots echoing sharply against the cold stone floor. The flickering torchlight cast jagged shadows across the walls, but he barely noticed. His mind buzzed with irritation and no little fear. The reports were clear… the Goblin Army was closing in, and it was only a matter of time before the Goblin King himself made an appearance. He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking.
And it was Helena's fault.
"Helena," he growled under his breath. Even now, her name brought a sour taste to his mouth. His mistake was allowing his desire for her to overpower his good sense, a mistake he would not make again. Although he had to admit, even now, her calm refusal to cower when she'd been caught out had wrung reluctant admiration from him. Not that it would help her, any.
Xensor pushed open the wooden door leading to her cell, the hinges groaning in protest. The faint scent of damp stone and mildew greeted him, but he stepped inside without hesitation, his presence filling the small space like a storm cloud.
She was seated on a crude bed against the far wall. She didn't rise at his entrance, nor did she flinch. Her posture was poised, regal even, as though the cell were merely a royal chamber. Her bruised, pale face was calm, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and her eyes… Jareth's eyes… met his without fear.
Xensor stopped just inside the doorway, his dark armor blending into the shadows around him as he surveyed her. The light from outside the cell cast shifting light across her face, highlighting the quiet confidence that radiated from her.
"You seem… comfortable," he said, his voice like velvet stretched over steel. "I wonder how long that will last."
Helena didn't respond. She merely raised a brow, her gaze steady, as though waiting for him to reveal his next move. The silence grated on him.
"Do you not understand your situation, Princess?" he snapped, taking a step closer. "Your father and is Army might be outside, but you… you are here. And you are alone." His voice darkened, dripping with malice. "Do you truly believe they will come for you in time?"
Her lips twitched slightly, but whether it was a smile or a grimace, he couldn't tell. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but carried an undertone of steel.
"I am not alone."
Xensor stiffened. Her words were maddening, her serenity infuriating. He had broken countless prisoners… kings, warriors, even the most defiant rebels… but this slip of a girl refused to bend. Her lack of fear made his blood boil, and yet, deep down, it unnerved him.
He let out a low, humorless chuckle, stepping closer until he towered over her. "Your bravado is charming," he sneered. "But it is misplaced. Do you think you can intimidate me with riddles and silence?"
Helena didn't react. Instead, she leaned back slightly, as if his presence was no more troubling than an annoying insect buzzing around her. The quiet confidence in her gaze made him hesitate, a flicker of unease crossing his mind.
It was then that he noticed the faint sounds… a barely audible rustling, as though something small moved in the shadows of the cell. He turned his head quickly, his sharp gaze scanning the dim corners, but he saw nothing. Just the stillness of the cell and Helena's unnerving calm.
"You're hiding something," he said slowly, his voice lowering into a growl. "What is it? Do you have some pathetic hope tucked away in these walls?"
Helena's gaze didn't waver. She said nothing, but her lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
Xensor's patience snapped. He took another step forward, reaching toward her as if to seize her by the arm. "You think you can mock me—"
He froze.
The shadows moved. Four small figures darted from the cracks and crevices of the cell, their movements impossibly fast. Before Xensor could react, one of them leapt onto his arm, its sharp claws digging into the leather of his sleeve.
"What—?" he hissed, shaking it off, but another appeared, and then another. Tiny, green-skinned creatures with glowing eyes and jagged teeth swarmed him, their hissing laughter filling the cell.
"Goblins," he whispered, his voice tinged with terror.
The smaller goblins had been considered little more than pests lurking in the corners of the Underground. After they'd captured him in the last war, Xensor knew better. But this… this was different. Their coordination, their determination… it was unlike anything he had encountered before.
He raised his hand, summoning the crackling energy of a levin bolt. The magic surged, bright and deadly, but before he could release it, the goblins darted away, their movements a blur. His spell fizzled harmlessly against the stone wall.
"Vermin!" he roared, spinning as another goblin latched onto his back. He swiped at it, but his hand met empty air as the creature scrambled out of reach.
The goblins were laughing now, a cacophony of high-pitched giggles that echoed off the walls. They weren't just attacking… they were playing with him, toying with him as though he were a hapless doll in their grasp.
One of them yanked his hair, sending him stumbling. Another nipped at his leg, its razor fangs piercing through the leather. Panic clawed at the edges of Xensor's mind as he realized he was outmatched, and that his biggest fear was now coming to life.
Helena hadn't moved. She sat silently on the bed, watching as the goblins swarmed him. Her serene expression didn't change, but her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"You Goblin bitch!" he yelled, as another group of little goblins entered the cell and leaped upon him.
"Damn right," replied Helena, a savage smile now spreading across her face. "And proud of it."
Xensor's head snapped toward her, his face a mask of fury and fear. "You—" he began, but his words were cut off as a goblin climbed onto his shoulder and bit his ear.
With a final, desperate lunge, he ran through the open door and bolted into the corridor, his armor in tatters and his skin in shreds. The assault intensified. The goblins swarmed over him like a living tide, their claws ripping at his skin, their teeth nipping at his flesh. He staggered, his vision narrowing as the walls seemed to close in around him. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and his heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might burst.
He tripped over his own feet, falling hard onto the stone floor. The impact jolted him, but he couldn't muster the strength to rise. The goblins piled onto him, their shrieking laughter filling his ears. It was too much… the pain, the humiliation, the sheer terror.
Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, and for the second time in his life, Xensor felt utterly powerless.
Eanraig looked out the window at the Goblin Army, now close enough that he could clearly see the Queen and the Lord Martial at its head. The ice in his blood was now working its way into his heart… which was pounding in fear. As he watched, the Lord Martial waved his hand, and what looked like a hundred of the little Goblins grabbed the hands of the soldiers next to them… and vanished.
For a moment, he stood there stupefied, then his brain caught up with his heart and he ran to the opposite window. Below, he saw the little Goblins, running all through the courtyard, inside the courtyard, destroying absolutely everything in their path. The Greater Goblins they'd transported were cutting a swath through the panicked troops, a small squad of them moving toward the gate, obviously intending to open it to their Army. To the West, he could see orbs… sailing through the air as if tossed, and when they hit the ground, they exploded with flashes of yellow… and what looked like shards of metal flying through the air. The metal shards cut through the troops nearby… cold iron, no doubt. He saw four of the Greater Goblins… one of them surrounded by an incandescent blue glow, with a hellish expression on his face, firing off multiple levin-bolts from his fingertips…
Oh, sweet goddess… it's the Goblin King!
The Goblin King and his companions carved their way through the guards towards the rear entrance of the manor. As Eanraig watched in horror, the Fae were cut down without mercy. The Goblins then vanished from sight as they crossed through the doorway.
Toby tightened his grip on the grenade he was holding as he followed Jareth and the others down the dark, twisting corridors of the Fae manor. The air was thick, charged with the tension of impending battle. Every nerve in Toby's body was on edge, his ears straining for any sound of approaching enemies.
He glanced up at Jareth, striding ahead with his usual confidence, and felt a pang of admiration. Jareth always seemed so sure of himself, so untouchable, as though the chaos around them was just another game for him to master.
The sound of boots pounding against stone shattered the silence. Toby's eyes narrowed as a squad of Fae soldiers appeared at the far end of the hall. Their armor gleamed, their swords raised as they charged forward. The leader pointed directly at them.
"Goblin scum!" the soldier barked, his voice cutting through the din. "You'll go no further."
Toby braced himself as the clash erupted.
Jareth moved with effortless grace, his levin bolts flashing in the dim light as he dodged and struck with precision. Garthan was a whirlwind of raw power, his sword cleaving through enemies with brutal efficiency. Tremane, with all the grace of a dancer and the silent efficiency of an assassin, seemed untouchable, each attack perfectly timed, his foes falling around him.
A soldier broke through the fray, charging directly at Toby. He sidestepped the blow, his left hand automatically reaching for his cold-steel dagger. With a quick pivot, he drove the dagger into the soldier's exposed side. The man let out a choked gasp and crumpled to the ground.
The tide of the battle shifted as small, green-skinned figures began to emerge from the shadows. Toby's eyes widened as the Ughlánas swarmed onto the scene, their sharp claws and jagged teeth tearing into the Fae soldiers with gleeful abandon.
The high-pitched cries of the Ughlánas blended with the clang of steel and the crackle of magic. Toby watched in amazement as they darted around the soldiers, climbing up their armor and slashing at their exposed faces and hands.
As the last Fae soldier fell, Toby leaned against the wall, shaking his head in awe. The corridor was strewn with the bodies of their enemies, the air thick with the smell of blood and magic. Around him, the Ughlánas celebrated, their shrill voices a chaotic symphony of victory.
"Garthan," Jareth called, his voice sharp and commanding. "Which way?"
Garthan pulled his sword out of his fallen opponent and pointed down the hall. "The command center must be close, to be defended this strongly."
"Then let's not waste time," Jareth said, turning to Toby. "Keep those toys of yours ready. We'll need them soon enough."
The group moved forward, the Ughlánas scurrying ahead like scouts. As they reached a branching corridor, one of the Fae soldiers, clearly posted to keep watch, turned to run. He sprinted down the corridor ahead, his polished armor glinting faintly in the dim torchlight.
"Stop him!" Jareth commanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
Tremane surged forward, his boots pounding against the stone floor. Just as the soldier reached a fork in the hall, Tremane threw himself forward in a desperate lunge, swiping his sword low. The blade caught the back of the soldier's leg, slicing through the leather strap of his greave. The soldier cried out, stumbling to the ground with a heavy clatter.
The soldier struggled to rise, but Garthan was already there. The towering warrior grabbed the Fae by the back of his armor and hauled him upright as though he weighed nothing.
"You're not going anywhere," Garthan growled, his voice as deep as a drumbeat. He slammed the soldier against the wall, pinning him in place with one hand, a dagger ready in the other.
Tremane stood nearby, catching his breath. He held his blade at the ready, glaring menacingly at the Fae soldier. The man's face was pale and streaked with sweat, his eyes darting between his captors like a cornered animal.
"Where is the command room?" Jareth asked, stepping forward. His tone was calm, almost conversational, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. The soldier said nothing, clenching his jaw tightly.
Jareth tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Ah, the silent treatment," he mused. "How tiresome." He turned toward Garthan with a chilling smile. "Garthan, remind him that silence is not a virtue here."
Garthan grunted in acknowledgment. He loosened his grip just enough to let the soldier slide a few inches down the wall before slamming him back against it with a thud that echoed down the corridor.
The Fae soldier gasped, his composure cracking. "You… you can't… do this," he spat, though his voice trembled.
"Ah, there it is," Jareth said with a smirk, stepping closer. "A spark of courage. Misplaced, of course, but admirable in its own way." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me where the command room is, and I might consider leaving you intact."
Before the soldier could respond, small shapes darted into the edge of Toby's vision. The Ughlánas had joined them, slipping from the shadows like predators sensing blood. They surrounded the soldier, their wide eyes gleaming and their sharp teeth bared in wicked grins.
One particularly bold goblin climbed onto the soldier's shoulder, hissing in his ear. "Tell him, tell him! Or we'll have fun with you!"
Another tugged at the soldier's boot, giggling as it tried to pry the leather free. "I wonder what his toes taste like!"
The soldier's gaze flicked wildly between Jareth and the Ughlánas. His breath came in short, panicked gasps, and beads of sweat dripped from his temple. When one of them climbed onto his other shoulder and began tapping his head with a tiny claw, his resolve finally shattered.
"Down the hall!" he cried, his voice cracking. "To the left, then up the staircase… it's bolted and warded against intruders!"
The Ughlánas cackled, their high-pitched laughter echoing through the corridor. The one on his shoulder gave him a playful slap on the head. "See? That wasn't so hard!"
Toby watched the scene with a mix of awe and amusement. He had never seen fear wielded as a weapon so effectively. Jareth's calm dominance, Garthan's menacing strength, and the Ughlánas' chaotic energy had all worked together to break the soldier in record time.
He glanced at Jareth, who was studying the soldier with a faint smile. The Goblin King looked pleased, but there was a coldness in his expression that sent a shiver down Toby's spine.
"See how simple honesty can be?" Jareth said, stepping back and gesturing to Garthan. "Let him go."
Using the pommel of his dagger, Garthan gave the Fae a swift tap on the head, then dropped the soldier unceremoniously to the floor, where he collapsed in a heap. The group continued moving through the winding corridors of the manor with increasing caution. The walls bore scorch marks and the occasional smear of blood… signs of earlier skirmishes with the Ughlánas, no doubt. Jareth led the way, his claws extended, his palms glowing with blue light. Behind him, Garthan held his sword at the ready, and Tremane scanned their surroundings with narrow, wary eyes.
Toby followed, clutching his sword and grenade tightly. He could feel the tension in the air, a palpable energy that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They were close.
When they rounded the final corner, they saw it: a set of massive double doors at the end of the corridor, reinforced with iron bands and inscribed with glowing runes. The aura of protective magic emanating from the doors was almost tangible, crackling faintly in the air.
"This is it," Tremane said, his voice low. "The command room."
Garthan approached the doors first, running a hand over the intricate runes etched into the wood. His eyes narrowed as he gripped one of the iron bands, testing the strength of the barrier. With a grunt, he threw his shoulder into the door, but it didn't budge.
"Bolted," he muttered. "And those wards won't make it easy."
Jareth stepped forward, studying the runes with a critical eye. He waved his hand over the surface, muttering an incantation. The runes flared briefly, emitting a sharp crackle that forced him to step back.
"Impressive work," he admitted, though his tone was laced with frustration. "The wards are layered. Any attempt to dispel them would take hours… and that's assuming we don't trigger a counter-curse."
Tremane crossed his arms, his expression one of mild annoyance. "I don't suppose we have a shortcut? That is, unless we want to blow the entire hallway apart."
"Tempting," Jareth muttered, "but inefficient." He glanced at Toby. "Any ideas for this little puzzle?"
Toby reached into the satchel slung at his waist, pulling out a small, sticky lump of taffy-like substance wrapped in waxed paper. The Ughlánas, who had been chittering nervously in the shadows, leaned closer, their wide eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"What's that?" one of them whispered, tilting its head.
"It's something I've been working on," Toby said, unwrapping the taffy and rolling it into a pliable ball. "It's sort of like Aboveground 'plastique'. It reacts to levin bolts. When you hit it with one, it destabilizes whatever it's stuck to. If we put it on the hinges, it should take them out."
Jareth raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And this won't end with us buried under rubble?"
Toby smirked. "Only if you miss."
The Ughlánas burst into giggles, and even Garthan let out a low chuckle. Jareth's lips twitched into a faint smile as he stepped aside. "Very well. Show us what you've got."
Toby approached the doors, carefully pressing the taffy-like substance onto each hinge. The material clung easily, spreading slightly as he molded it into place. He worked quickly but methodically, ensuring the substance covered enough surface area to destabilize the heavy doors.
When the last hinge was coated, Toby stepped back and turned to Jareth. "It's ready. Hit it with your strongest levin bolts."
Jareth rolled his shoulders, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. He raised his hand, summoning crackling arcs of lightning that danced along his fingertips. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the first bolt toward the upper hinge.
The bolt struck true, and the taffy began to bubble and hiss, emitting wisps of smoke. The hinges glowed red-hot as the metal began to corrode.
"Again," Toby urged, motioning toward the other hinges.
Jareth obliged, sending another series of bolts to the middle hinges and a third to the lower ones. Each strike sent a ripple of energy through the doors, the wood groaning under the strain. The taffy hissed louder, melting into the metal and destabilizing the structure.
Then, with a deafening crack, the hinges detonated.
Marcas ran up to him in panic, "What do we do? Eanraig… what—"
The doors to the command room blew in, off their hinges and accompanied by acrid smoke. The Fae in the room froze in terror… raising their hands in surrender, their faces white. The Goblin King strode into the room, fangs bared in a snarl, his hands splayed at his sides, wicked black claws extended and glowing with a blue light. To either side of him were two platinum-haired warriors, the resemblance between them uncanny, although one looked somewhat younger. Bringing up the rear was a Goblin with curly golden hair, a glowing yellow orb in each hand. As if that weren't frightening enough, about five or six of the little Goblins wove their way between the warriors, their eyes glowing, their needle-sharp teeth bared. The rage on the faces of all the Goblins was a tangible thing, and Eanraig felt like he was going to void himself at the sight. The younger platinum-haired warrior met his gaze savagely, then raised a brow with a chilling smile.
"Hello, boys," he said in a low voice dripping with mockery and menace. "I think you have something that belongs to us."
Author's Notes:
So, why were they moving to the command center first and not searching the basement? Two reasons… they knew the Ughlánas were with Helena and that she was safe. They needed to find the wards that prevented her from being transported out. They also needed to find Xensor. His capture would end the operation.
Besides… I wanted a dramatic entrance.