Qolmador and Nomad walked through an ornate archway of silver and obsidian outlined with runic writing. Qolmador thought it roughly translated to: King’s Court, under protection of farm but the word farm didn’t make sense. He mulled on the thought but kept plodding along rough-hewn floors that noisily scraped Qolmador’s feet. Scraping footsteps followed by his talons clacking on the floor echoed around the empty halls while Nomad’s steps hardly made a sound.

  Qolmador stared at Nomad’s foot. “How are you doing zat?” He pointed at his feet.

  Nomad let out a breathy laugh but didn’t respond, a warm breeze welcomed them with sweet floral aromas past the archway. They walked into an oval room draped in silks. Amber light refracted through a stained glass window painting Ikemah in a ghostly array of colors. He floated with his legs crossed at the center of the room, surrounded by glowing-eyed goblins. Qolmador swore he saw silver threads hanging from his ears, but he blinked, and they vanished. Shaking his head, he focused on the finely dressed servants floating around, tending to Ikemah’s every need. Ten goblins filed his nails with viscous nutty oils. Three painted his face with softer green tones to erase blemishes. At his back, two others fed him fat squirming creatures that burst between his razor-sharp teeth. The rest, fifteen or so, cleaned the pristine marble room. Qolmador wondered what the room was before the time of the goblins.

  “Welcome, members of the 7th legion!” Ikemah the Oracle pronounced. “I appreciate you being the first to attend my court, for we have important business to attend,” An easy smile crossed his face. “But first, please, eat and get comfortable; I have a special offer for you both.”

  “If it’s all zee same to you, we have—” Qolmador started.

  Ikemah held out his hand, leaving the five attendance stuck in place. “Bah bah bah,” The Oracle tutted. “Eat and get comfortable.” Putting his hand back into place, the attendants resumed their task. Qolmador clenched his jaws and narrowed his eyes at the Oracle, nodding. “Good. I would hate to think you spit on the offer of a king.”

  “What is happening here?” Nomad asked in his head.

  “I am not sure.” Qolmador thought back, surveying the room.

  On the far wall was a table with dishes of fine meats and cheeses juxtaposed with silver platters of squirming bugs. Nomad nudged him, twisted a corner of his mouth, and stuck out his tongue. Qolmador shared the sentiment curling his tail around his churning stomach. A handful of floating goblins rushed to their side, ushering them to two feather-soft pillows. Nomad plopped down in a cloud of dust, his face melted with relaxation, giving a thumbs up to Qol. Ikemah curled his lip, baring his teeth but said nothing. Qolmador sat on the other pillow, minding his tail, and felt the supple cover on his scales. As they relaxed, as best Qolmador could, the goblins disrobed him, leaving him with his simple shirt and pants. He looked over and saw Nomad wrap his hand around the neck of one that dared touch his gun. It held firm to his torn jacket, trying to rip it off him. Ikemah looked down his nose at Nomad. “Don’t fight my Awakened, darling; they only wish to keep things clean,” Ikemah said to Nomad’s scowling face. When he let go, the Awakened snatched his coat, revealing several belts full of bullets. It floated away, holding the jacket at arm’s length with a scrunched nose.

  “What makes zem Awakened?” Qolmador asked, rubbing his horn. “Is it zee glowing eyes?”

  Ikemah let a sly smile pull at his painted lips. “Yes. And no. They are the goblins that have given themselves to a higher calling,” his painted smile grew wider. “You two would undoubtedly make an excellent addition to their number if you were interested. Qolmador and Nomad shared sidelong glances. Qolmador wrapped himself in his tail, staring at the pampered goblin.

  “That was a weird thing to say, right, Qol?” Nomad thought, in his drawl, to him. He nodded but never took his eyes off the goblin.

  Ikemah gave a dry laugh, scraping his long tongue over his lips. “Oh no, are we talking in private?” He emphasized talking. “That’s rude to do in the new king’s court.” As he spoke, all the Awakened turned their eyes to them. Various tools meant for chores became menacing weapons in their hands. “They get testy when secrets are being kept.” Motioning to the room.

  Nomad shifted in the pillow, snarling his top lip. “Is this gonna take long?” Ikemah and the Awakened focused on him. Qolmador noticed a slight delay in their movement. “Alright.” Nomad struggled out of the pillow, standing in front of Ikemah. “Qol and I have to report to the 7th back at the capital.” He drawled.

  Ikemah rolled his eyes and let his jaw go slack. “Oh, sit down; you aren’t going anywhere. Right, Qolmador darling?” His glowing eyes sparked for a moment but remained trained on Nomad. “Besides, I sent one of my Awakened to the capital three days ago to update your legion.” The two feeding him held a fat grub in front of his mouth that he bit into; its juices dribbled down his chin as he chewed. The pair turned away, twisting the corners of their mouths up.

  Nomad turned back first. “Wait, we got here three days ago. We hadn’t even cleared out the cave.” Qolmador felt Nomad glance in his direction, letting the observation hang. His mind started to race with the possibilities of this revelation.

  Ikemah nodded at them with an ever-deepening smile and flicked his eyes to Qolmador. “I had wanted to discuss you both staying here and helping me clear this old city. But since we’re on the topic, my dear kobold. What do you think my Awakened will tell the 7th legion?” Not biting, Qolmador stayed quiet. “Nothing? I guarantee they’ll say something; here. Let me help you. Our king and his mysterious death?” the Oracle cooed. Pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he should be working on started to fall.

  “Ain’t no mystery,” Nomad grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You shot that kris into his heart, clear as day,” Qolmador felt and heard his teeth crack from clenching so hard. At that moment, he realized how silent the room had become.

  Ikemah raised a delicate eyebrow. He shifted the room’s eyes to him. They moved a full second slower than the Oracle. “Is that what happened? Hmm, Qolmador?”

  Nomad tore his eyes from the Oracle to look at the kobold. “What’s he talking about, Qol?”

  Chuckling into the back of his hand, the Oracle looked at Qol. “Yeah, Qol. What am I talking about?” Qolmador looked to Nomad and tried to send him a thought, but the Oracle flared his eyes. A second later, the rest of the Awakened did the same, breaking his connection to Nomad. “No. No. I do not want secrets in my court, and since you won’t tell. I will. Nomad, when I came into the Big Tent for that pathetic display of a celebration, the first thing to happen was someone tapping my mind. What a strange thing to have happened, no?

  To my great surprise, there was an honest to gods psychic in our midst. That psychic and I spoke at length for what felt like years in my mindscape. During this time, he and I got to know each other and struck a deal. He would do something for me, and I would give him knowledge. Did I miss anything, Qol?” The Oracle emphasized ‘Qol.’

  Qolmador growled, seeing where this was going. “You forgot where you asked me to do you a favor.”

  Ikemah raised a manicured hand to his chest, and the goblins applying a lacquer froze in place. “I only asked to do something I didn’t want to do. How you interpreted that was up to you.”

  “Qol, what did you do?” Nomad asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

  “The king was not going to join the Demon Lord’s cause, even after we cleared the cavern.” Qolmador started. “We needed to make our missions successful.”

  Ikemah hovered toward them, waving his freshly lacquered hands wide. “My Awakened is moments away from giving his report. He’ll either declare war on the Demon Lord due to regicide by the hands of the 7th legion or that I’m joining the Demon Lord’s cause,” He paused to smile down at them, and the duo let their mouths hang open. “If I say the former, I’ll request you both stay in my city; if not, it’s war.” The threat hung for a moment. “Okay! Let’s discuss what I want.” He motioned for Nomad to sit again, and he did so reluctantly. “The past inhabitants overrun vast swathes of the city. I want you both to go into each district and wipe them out.”

  Nomad opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, narrowing his eyes at the oracle. “That it?” He growled.

  “Oh heavens no, I want you two to spy for me within the 7th legion. Then. I want you to do something I find distasteful to its leader Zengi. After that, I’ll take them under my command.” He took another bite of the still squirming grub as it squealed; chunks fell to the floor.

  Qolmador bore his teeth at the Oracle. “You and I made zee deal; he should not be punished.” He looked at Nomad, who kept his eyes forward, wishing he could connect their minds again.

  Ikemah turned his head followed a second later by the Awakened. “I’ve seen many futures, Qolmador. And not a single one shows Nomad abandoning you.” Qolmador saw a silvery shimmer in their ears. He let his right pupil rotate into a small mandala, seeing silver strands from the Oracle’s head. “Qolmador, what did I say about secrets?” Ikemah asked through his teeth.

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  Nomad cleared his throat, running his hand through his thick black hair. “I don’t see much of a choice.” Ikemah turned to him, and Qolmador let his eyes shatter. Hundreds, thousands of silver stands streamed out of the Oracle’s head. Every single Awakened had a strand flowing into their ears, so Qolmador pushed into one of their minds. He was aware that Nomad was speaking but focused on the biggest floating goblin in the room. It wore a blue robe trimmed with gold; its pocked-marked face showed years of a hard life.

  Inside its mind was a mess of thoughts that went nowhere and half-conceived plots of running away that went everywhere. Vast plains bathed in orange stretched from one side of its consciousness to the subconscious mind. Long, tall blades of grass sprouted from the ground where the two minds met. Coils of silvery thread wrapped around the plains making up the subconscious mind. Willing himself deeper into the mind, he saw a break in the field where the coils formed a dome. Under the dome was something the silver didn’t want him to see, so he pushed harder. He forced the dome up with sheer will, seeing its well-being choked to death. Letting go of the mind, he shifted his eyes back to normal and saw the rest of Awakened turn to Nomad. He held his breath, silently pleading for Nomad to keep his cool.

  Ikemah tilted his head to Nomad. “There is always a choice; all your choices seem shite at the moment, though.” He shrugged at him, causing the entire room to mimic the action. “I’ll ask once before I let my Awakened give the update. Do we have an accord?”

  Nomad finally looked at Qolmador; they shared a stern glance. “I ain’t ever been called stupid; I know when I’m beat.” His jaws remained clenched as he spoke.

  Ikemah clasped his hands together with a wide toothy grin.“Excellent, the 7th will be here in 3 months. Be sure to clear out at least one section by then, but choose the closest to my court.”

  Nomad grunted in reply. “I just want two things.”

  Ikemah and his Awakened frown. “I didn’t know you were in a position to negotiate but go ahead.”

  With a nod, Nomad grunted. “I need food for our Commander and a place to stay that’ll house us all.” Ikemah’s smile returned to him, offering a simple nod as his answer; several levitating goblins prepared the meals.

  The Oracle’s face narrowed to a point. “Say we have a deal then. I need to hear the words from both of your mouths.”

  For the first time since finding out what he had done, Nomad looked at Qolmador with resigned acceptance. “We have a deal.” A familiar column of light beamed down over both of them as they spoke.

  Ikemah turned his entire body away from them and bobbed toward a door neither had seen before. “The deal is made.”

  Qolmador’s eyes shattered as he forced back into the pock-marked goblin’s mind. Racing to the silver dome, he frayed its edges and let it loose from its moorings. The goblin looked confused and angry, throwing his hands to the sky and screaming bloody murder. Every retinue member stared blankly at his outburst as he ran screaming through the stained glass window. His shrieks were heard until a sickening splatter reverberated in the large oval room.

  Qolmador grabbed Nomad’s hand, dragging him outside before Ikemah realized what had happened. Wrenching his hand away in the grand hall that led them to the new court, they passed columns of statues—years of erosion made the statues smooth enough to rid them of any distinguishable features. Further past the new court, they entered the strange goblin shanty town built on top of an actual city. Sour smells assaulted Qolmador’s nose with the stench of rotting garbage. Nomad flicked a switch on his cheek, allowing his nostrils to breathe air. They walked silently to the Ogre with bags of squirming bugs. Once they filled in the Ogre, he pouted at them.

  “A raven just flew in saying I have an assignment in the Lava Mounts to convince the Magmalords to join our Demon lord. Even without reading his mind, Qolmador knew Nomad agreed that this was a suicide mission. They wished him all the best and gave him all the food they brought before he took his cart north.

  “Poor fool,” Qolmador said.

  Nomad turned and headed back into the city without a word.

  As Qolmador walked through the crowded and dirty streets of the goblin city, he couldn't help but think about the mysteries he would uncover. Yes, he had been duped into killing a king, but the professor might get precisely what he wanted. The thought of the professor sent chills down his spine and made his palms grow sweaty. How long had it been since he reached out?

  The duo crossed into the area of the city they were to stay in; Qolmador noticed that the buildings became more dilapidated, and the crowds of goblins became thinner. This part of the city seemed deserted, and Qolmador wondered if their new mission would start sooner rather than later.

  As he rounded a corner, he saw the building standing under a small hut made of mud and sticks. Nomad put a hand out to Qolmador, stopping him mid-step.

  Nomad pulled out his rifle. “Wait here.” He moved on the slick cobblestones without making a sound. He disappeared behind the house to emerge with a thumbs up; the duo walked into the building when Nomad rounded on Qolmador.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?” He spat, lifting Qolmador by the scruff of his neck, glaring into his eyes. “You killed a damned king!….” He whisper-shouted. “The oracle has so much leverage on us now.”

  Qolmador shrunk. “I didn’t think—”

  “No, clearly not!” Nomad growled, dropping him to the moldy, rotted floor. A musty cloud of stench wafted into his nose, making him snort it out. “What did you even get for your end?”

  Qolmador paused, wiping the grime that permeated the building off his shirt. “Knowledge. Well, zee promise of knowledge.” Syrupy moss squished between his fingers, making him stick out his tongue.

  Nomad’s face drew tight. “You killed a king for knowledge? Are you stupid?”

  Qolmador snarled at that. “Never call me stupid.” Both of his eyes faded to milky white.

  Nomad’s hand rested on one of the guns on his hips, raising the other hand to Qol. “Easy now.” Nomad scraped the slick moss on the floor away to give himself a rough foothold.

  Qolmador’s eyes filled with deep purple again. “I am never stupid.” He felt his shoulders relax, staring at the gunslinger in the rising light of the blood-red moon.

  Nomad removed his hand from his gun. “Alright, never stupid. But you put us in a bad spot, Qol. I need to know what was so worth it.” Nomad released the tightness in his chest.

  Qolmador rubbed his snout. “Zee cave had the bodies of the five heroes that banished zee first Demon Lord. The story goes that all five had to sacrifice themselves for zis to happen. But one of those coffins was empty. Since zat is true, was the first Demon Lord ever killed?” Qolmador searched Nomad’s face for understanding and continued seeing him slowly nod. “Und, why were zee bodies made into those brutes? Who could have done zat? Who is strong enough to have done zat? Whatever is in those caves is bigger than some king or zee 7th.” He took a breath and waited for Nomad to respond.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nomad sighed. “Fine. Those are powerful points, but we are bound to a terrible deal.”

  Qolmador sighed. “Ja. Und three months before zee 7th arrive.” He took in the simple room for the first time. Broken wooden stairs led up into pitch black, the walls had peeling paint that sagged to the floor, and the smell of mold mixed with sewage gripped his nostrils.

  Nomad crossed the creaky floor wiping off the only chair in the room. “Then we’re upgraded to spies.” He screwed up his face to the layers of dust that exploded when he sat.

  Qolmador swept his tail on the floor, clearing a space to sit. “Right. Und, zen have to kill Zengi.”

  A curious look crossed Nomad’s face. “Who’s Thengi?”

  “Zengi,” Qlmador said.

  “Thengi?” Nomad twisted his face, pouting his lip.

  “Nein, Zen… Oh, because of how I talk. Ha. Ha. Hahahaha” He broke into a giggle and then found genuine laughter in his belly. Letting it out, Nomad joined in, and the pair sat in the moment. A loud bang from the upper floor stopped their laughter. Qolmador wiped a tear from his eye, frowning. “Well, my friend, we have many problems und little course to create our own solutions.”

  Nomad caught his breath. “Yep.” He pulled out a gun from his hip holster. “Let’s start small.”

  Jutting out his chin, Qolmador nodded, letting the pupil in his left eye weave into a mandala. Bringing a finger to his lips, he gestured up the stairs and thought to Nomad: “Several large mindless creatures. Let’s show zem who lives here now.” Nomad grunted, walking up the stairs into the darkness.

  “Three months.” Nomad thought.