Are you in there?’
We settled further in, so far that even the sharp sting of a slap across our face didn’t faze us.
‘Don’t hit her, you git,’ Hiral said with a snarl. He liked us, too, although he was loath to admit he liked anyone. In fact, he was bleeding inside at the loss of Blondie. She had been one of the only living creatures to abide the little gwyllion, and he found it hard to imagine a future without her friendship.
The part of them that was Jane marveled at the creature’s omniscient viewpoint, even as she shrank away from Hiral’s pain. She had enough of her own…
But the creature was there, helping her lapse back into memory…
When they came to again, they were lying in a room. A goblin was flashing a light in their eyes, like a human doctor would. Finally, he sat back, shaking his head.
‘There’s nothing physically wrong with her. She’s in a traumatic fugue state – totally disassociated. You are aware of her medical history?’ The goblin spoke with a lovely accent Jane couldn’t recognize, but even as she questioned it, the creature supplied the answer – Irish, Dublin, upper class.
‘No, we’re not aware of her medical history.’ It was Griffin again. His voice might be smooth to a human ear, but underneath his calm tone lurked annoyance.
‘Well, she’s gone doolally before, and under similar circumstances.’
‘Doolally?’ Griffin’s voice was dry. ‘Is that the technical term?’
The goblin winced, as if remembering to whom he was talking.
‘Sorry, sir. I meant she’s had a psychotic break once before, and been committed.’
‘Great. She’s been like this for a week. Our champion is a lunatic as well as a halfling.’
There was a time that comment would have amused both the creature and Jane greatly, but now they felt nothing.
The goblin, however, was not amused.
‘She’s no lunatic, sir. She’s traumatized. She suffered an initial experience of loss as a young woman, in which a loved one died. Now this experience mirrors that one, only with two loved ones, one of whom died and one of whom became, excuse me, a great bloody dragon. Her mind needs time to process, to heal itself.’
When Griffin finally spoke, his always-cold tones had dropped into arctic temperatures.
‘Remember your place, goblin. Healer or no, you can be replaced.’
The goblin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped in air.
‘And this “trauma victim”, as you call her, is our champion. She is the only one who can kill the monsters that will, at any moment, recommence ravaging our lands. We need her on her feet and ready to fight. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The goblin’s voice was quiet.
We stopped listening at that point, in favor of our memories spinning before us like dangling sweets.
Anyan was calling for us, and we were trying to answer. His voice was weak, as if shouted through layers and layers of thick cotton, but we ached to respond.
That’s when the mage balls started hitting our shields.
We opened our eyes, unimpressed to find Griffin lobbing missiles at us in a bid to get our attention. Behind him, a spitting, struggling Hiral was held by two goblin guards. Magog and Gog stood to one side, looking uncomfortable.
‘There you are,’ the Alfar said, his voice irritated.
We blinked at him, our only response.
‘You do not seem to understand the enormity of this situation,’ the Alfar said. ‘You are the champion, and you have been playing this game of yours for two weeks now. We can no longer indulge your little strop.’
Our ire rose at his words.
‘The Red and the White have been spotted,’ Griffin continued, his gaze locked on ours. ‘Our reprieve is nearly over. They will attack soon, be sure of that. And we need our champion.’
We did not respond.
Griffin took a step closer, his face now inches from ours. ‘Look, halfling. Your bedmate is dead. He is the White now, and therefore our enemy. He must be destroyed, and unfortunately, we have to rely on you to help us. But if we attack now, we have a chance.’
Jane’s fear grew inside us, but we soothed her. Griffin continued.
‘The Red and the White are still weak, still recovering. We can send in our best forces – immobilize them for you. All you need do is strike the killing blow. Even a halfling can do that, no?’
We thought over what the Alfar had said. We conversed.
What if he’s right? asked Jane. What if Anyan’s gone?
[Do you believe that?] asked the creature.
No. No I don’t. But what are our