Slisork, son of Usmirx, clambers deftly over the rocky outcrop delineating the southern edge of The Abyss, the Diamond Sword of Besmirched the Elder in one taloned hand. His shell-phone rings.
Plucking it from his cloak pocket, he snaps, “Yes. What now?”
“Stand-by, I have S’tan on the line,” says a voice sounding remarkably like his mother.
“Mother dearest, it’s you, isn’t it? This is not a good time,” he says.
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” she continues.
“MOTHER! Drop the pretence. I’m on an important mission,” Slisork, the last remaining assassin of the Goblin army of terror, stands up to his full four-feet-five inches, and glares at the shell phone.
“Vot could be more important than talking to your mother? You never ring me. I always have to ring you. Vot did I do to deserve such a son?”
Read more: Hua Jin revealedSlisork sighs, props the diamond sword against a boulder and steels himself as he paces up and down. “Mother, I’m at the South Pole, half a mile from The Abyss. I’m tracking a dangerous gang of goblin killers, who are bent on attacking our Lord S’tan in his own home. And you’re ringing me to complain about something. It’s always complaints.”
“Oh babashka, how could you say such a thing? And to your own mother,” she cries.
Cutting his losses, Slisork says, “Okay, what is it this time?”
“It’s your father. Such a beast. I don’t know vhy I put up with him. I should have eaten him centuries ago,” his mother replies.
“What’s he done now?”
“You know that lovely seeing-pool you got me for my birthday? Vell, he’s only gone and dropped a keg of kitten-beer into it. Now I can’t see my favourite Schlope-Opera,” she wails.
Slisork sighs again, being an only son carries a tariff. In his case he is the family tech expert. If only they’d RTFG. He says, “Mother, have you read the grimoire?”
“Vy vould I do that? I have a son,” she says exultantly, as if this explains everything.
“Because it says in the grimoire, which I placed conveniently in the cabinet under the seeing-pool, that you should drain the pool, fill it with the blood of thirteen squirrels, then say the incantation described in the trouble-shooting section at the back. Then it will autotune to the programmes you like to watch. It’s not sprocket science,” Slisork spat through gritted teeth. He could feel a funeral coming on; a nice get-together to mourn the passing of the family matriarch.
“I knew you vould know the answer. Such a clever boy. At the South Pole, you say. Have you wrapped up warm? You vere such a sickly child. My sister, Breemswoop, says it’s your father’s blood.”
Slisork closes the clam, puts it back in his pocket and sniffs the air. The howling winds have died down, and for a moment, the shifting dust of snow falls to the ground in silence. Narrowing his eyes, he looks across the plain between him and his quarry. Six shuffling shapes stagger towards the amorphous blackness of The Abyss. Six? There were seven. He counts them out on his hand: Ironbell, Biter, the Fae Queen, that idiot Voss – a fine leader he turned out to be; Tony, the Angel of Death; the half-breed, Lightweasel, and the human cook, Jin. Jin is missing.
He rubs his head and thinks, “Perhaps they ate her.”
His ears prick up when he hears a click, right at the edge of perception.
“Hello, ugly boy. You goin’ somewhere?” says a voice. A willowy figure appears around the edge of the rock against which his diamond sword is propped. She picks up the sword and twirls it appreciatively.
“Hua Jin, I presume,” Slisork snarls as he dives at her.
Jin dances out of the way of his charge and brings the sword down in a scything arc, slicing off six of his eight toes. “You should be careful, ugly boy. Sharp things can be dangerous.”
Slisork howls, and eyes flaring red, he swipes at her face with a taloned hand, which she dodges with a swaying motion, like a cat facing down a cobra. With a flick of her wrist, the sword flashes across his face, slicing through a warty protuberance at the end of his bulbous nose. Bringing it to rest against his throat, she steps behind him and says, “Go ahead, try it, and I’ll be playing kneeball with your head before you can say ‘Slorg, that hurt’. I could do with a bit of fun.”
“Get it over with, human,” growls the goblin.
“Tha’s not my call, ugly boy. Ironbell will decide your fate,” Jin says nodding in the direction of the walkers as they struggle across the open plain. She steps back and withdraws the sword, keeping it levelled at the panting goblin.
“Weak. You humans are as weak as mice. If it weren’t for those accursed gnomes, we would have defeated you,” Slisork snarls as he steps towards the disparate band walking ahead.
“You know the thing about humans? There are lots of them. And I like to keep it that way. You’ll never defeat them. Not while I’m around,” Jin says, allowing her canines to slide over her lip.
“You’re a vampire?” Slisork lets out a laugh. He chides himself for not guessing. Her speed of movement in the Battle of Dudley should have told him.
“Indeed, I am, but I’m on the wagon,” she replies, remembering her sworn oath[1].
“Then you owe allegiance to our Lord S’tan. Why are you siding with the humans?” he snaps.
“You wouldn’t understand. Now get walking,” she says, picturing the tall, handsome figure of Constable Biter. He was like a son to her, and so long as she drew breath, or didn’t as the case might be, she would see no harm came to his gravelly head.
As they walked across the plain, the wind started to howl again, but the two supernatural creatures soon caught up with the band of adventurers as they neared the lip of The Abyss.
“Hey, look wha’ I found,” Jin says to Ironbell, prodding the squat figure of Slisork with the point of the diamond sword.
“What would a goblin be doing out here in the wilds of Antarctica?” Ironbell ponders. He clears the wind-whipped snow from his goggles and peers at Slisork.
“Whatdyathink?” Slisork says, baring his teeth.
“Probably to do away with us,” Lightweasel observes. She circles around the goblin, patting him down for hidden weapons.
“Don’t worry, half-breed, your pet vampire here made sure I am clean,” Slisork snarls.
“Vampire?” Lightweasel says, suddenly wary.
“It’s a long story, Umros, baby, and I guess I should have told you sooner. But I’m on the wagon, so you need have no fear of me,” Jin smiles toothily.
Umros backs away, nearly tripping over the hog-tied and prostrate figure of Malachai Voss, her hand on her sword. Ironbell reaches out and touches her arm gently.
“It’s okay. I guessed Jin’s true nature a long time ago. I’m more surprised the fae haven’t said anything,” Ironbell turns to Queen Flaxmain and raises an eyebrow. She flits agitatedly around the two gnomes.
“We knew, as we know all past events. But it was determined Hua Jin is a key component in the recipe of S’tan’s ultimate downfall,” Flaxmain says as she settles next to Lightweasel.
“You could have told us,” Lightweasel says, her mouth a flat line and her eyes narrowing behind her goggles.
“Then perhaps you should know, it was your father and mother who were instrumental in saving Hua Jin,” Flaxmain smiles at Lightweasel and then nods at Jin.
“Which means—and to say I’m flabbergasted beyond all normal modes of comprehension is to understate it emphatically—it was I who saved you from the daemon by positioning myself between you and the stake it was trying to stab you with,” Constable Biter says, stepping forward, his arms held wide.
“Yah, dats correct, Bitey baby,” Jin says, stepping into his embrace.
“Oh dear,” Tony Boneyface moans, his voice echoing around the plain like a cat trapped in an oil can.
“So, it was you who provided the funding for my education at the police academy,” Biter says, almost in tears.
“Oh, dearie me,” Tony groans, looking at his shell phone.
“What’s up, boney man?” Jin says, standing back from Biter.
“I’ve had an official message,” Tony says, rising up to his full height.
“What’s it say?” Lightweasel enquires, craning to have a look at Tony’s shell phone.
“I have a job, and you’re not going to like it,” Tony responds. If ever a skull-faced apparition of death could look sad, this was that moment.
“What job?” Lightweasel lifts her goggles and squints at Tony’s shell-phone.
Slisork, taking advantage of the friends’ inattention, rushes forward as fast as his two-toed feet can propel him. He grasps Jin and launches himself at the gaping maw of The Abyss, releasing her to fall into the blackness, before twisting and rolling back to a crouch, clutching the diamond sword dropped by Jin.
“That job,” says Tony, hovering over the edge of The Abyss, looking down at Jin, who is on a ledge several hundred feet down.
“So, you thought you were safe from Slisork. Well, this is the Diamond Sword of Besmirched the Elder, the only weapon effective against trolls,” Slisork says triumphantly.
“Apart from large quantities of dynamite,” intones Ironbell.
“Yes, that too,” snaps Slisork.
“And a steam-driven jack hammer,” says Lightweasel.
“Well, apart from dynamite and a jackhammer, this, the Diamond Sword of Besmirched the Elder, is the ONLY weapon that can defeat a troll,” Slisork rolls his eyes, just as Biter, snapping out of his shock, steps forward and punches Slisork in the chest with all his considerable strength.
“Oh, that’s got to hurt,” says Ironbell, wincing.
“Eeyew, I’ve never seen a goblin turn inside out,” Lightweasel adds, looking at the fallen shape of Slisork, who now resembles road-kill.
Biter takes two quick strides and leaps into The Abyss after Jin. He lands with a thud on the ledge next to her, just as Tony descends alongside them.
“No, go away, Tony. You’re not wanted here,” Biter wails.
“I’m afraid he is, big man,” Jin gasps. She pulls her robe to one side to reveal a tree stump sticking through her chest.
“I can patch you up. Don’t go, Hua Jin,” Biter moans.
“She has to. It is written,” Tony intones. He holds up his shell-phone. On it is a single line of text: “Countess Hua Jin.”
“Nooooo,” Biter cries and tries to grab the shell phone, but his hands pass right through it.
“It’s okay, big man. My time has come. Now you must fight with all your might for Queen Flaxmain and Detective Inspector Ironbell. Don’t let them down,” Jin says, her voice weak with pain. The light goes out of her eyes, and her body relaxes with a final sigh.
“Goodbye, Bitey-baby,” a voice echoes through the cavern as Tony turns and walks away, hand in hand with the fading ghost of a young Countess Hua Jin. “Goodbye, mother,” says Biter as he begins the long climb back to the lip of The Abyss, tears streaking his stoney face and revenge in his stoney heart.
[1] Hua Jin swore to never feed on trolls, humans, or gnomes after a young, orphaned troll, at the instigation of a human/gnome couple, saved her from certain annihilation when she’d been attacked by a stake wielding daemon in the Goblin Wars. Unknown to her, the couple were Lightweasel’s parents, but she’d been keeping an eye on the troll ever since, and even paid for his entry into the police academy. That troll is Constable Biter.