Barbarian Legends - Goblinslayer 07

Pazio's training at Sahar Khan came to good use in an unexpected way. His mystically attuned senses could see that the thing fairly bristled with dark magical energy. He was enough of an adept himself to see that there was something deeply unnatural about it.

No living creature should be able to wield or contain such power without suffering the consequences. At the very least, it should go mad. At most it might explode, blown apart by the vast energy roiling within its body.

Where could it have acquired such power, Pazio wondered? Despite the seriousness of the situation, he yearned to know Rebus' thoughts about the matter.

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The creature slurred its speech and the stumbling, jerky movements certainly hinted that something was wrong with it. The way its head twitched made it look as if it were in the terminal stage of some fatal affliction. Yes, the creature was most certainly mad. No doubt about that. The way it had so casually blasted apart anyone who did not answer its questions to its satisfaction stated that fact clearly. The question now was what was he, Magister Rebus Gaudulfus de Passereau, Arcane Advisor to His Highness the King, going to do about it?

He was appalled by his own cowardice. Each time the creature had gathered its dark powers, he had sensed it. He could have at least tried to work a counter-spell but he had not. He had been too overcome by the horror of the thing's appearance and the thought of what might happen to him if he had intervened. He felt sure that he would lose any mystical duel with this sorcerous goblin and that attracting its attention would be fatal. Even if he could somehow hold the goblin mage in check, its black-armoured lackeys filled the room.

At a word from it, they would surely cut him down with those cruel swords. So he had done nothing and half a dozen people had died. He was proud of what Lord Fulcher had done, the way the man had defied the goblin before he died. Why could he not summon such courage? He was appalled that he had done nothing to prevent such loss of life. Now the king himself stood in peril, willing to give his own life to spare his subjects. Rebus vowed that this time, he would intervene, if the goblin attacked. There would be no more magical killings if he could help it. He would make his station of Arcane Advisor quite clear!

"I will do no such thing," the king said, unable to hide the tremble in his voice. "I would rather die than order my troops to surrender to you foul vermin."

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"Foolish human -- that is just what you will do, if you defy me!" Utkut said. He raised his hand and dark magical energy played around it menacingly. The male flinched slightly, but did not move or open his mouth. Utkut wondered if there was some way around this impasse. Perhaps if he ordered some of the humans tortured before his eyes he would weaken. Utkut's experiments had led him to believe such a course would often work. Yes, that was it!

Then from somewhere around him in the ballroom, he sensed the slow build-up of magical energies. They were not goblin magical energies either. He heard footsteps rushing closer too, even as he turned his head to seek their source.

"What have we here?" a harsh grating voice said like two great boulders rubbing together, cutting like a knife to the very core of Utkut's being. "It looks like we're just in time to kill some goblins."

Utkut quelled the urge to squeal out of fear. He could only imagine one being that harsh, flinty growl belonged to. The shaman jerked his head to one side just to confirm his worst fears, and he saw that they were true.

Standing in the entrance to the chamber was the barbarian, and behind him was a teeming mass of human troops.

Utkut howled in frustration and rage. He reached deep into his corrupt soul and hurled all his lethal power at his enemies in one mighty blast.

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Girn prepared himself to spring to one side as he saw the midnight black thunderbolt gather around the shaman's hand. The nimbus of evil mystical power around the goblin's head was so bright that it was almost impossible to look at. The enormous blast of destructive power was suddenly unleashed directly at him.

There was a mighty flash and a crackling, booming noise as of thunder unleashed directly overhead. The air was filled with the reek of ozone. Girn was vaguely aware that two bolts of energy had leapt from the shaman's hands. One was aimed at him. One was aimed at Iskander. He couldn't dodge and braced himself for the impact and the agonizing pain that would surely follow such a sorcerous attack.

Instead of the anticipated blast of incredible pain, he felt nothing except a mild tingling on his flesh and his hair starting to stand on end. He opened his eyes and saw that he was enveloped in a golden field of energy. Long golden lines raced from the aura that surrounded them back to the hands of Magister Rebus. Iskander had been less lucky and his charred body fell to the floor beside him. Girn could see the look of strain on the magister's face. Grateful as he was to the magister for saving them, he knew that the Arcane Advisor could not long stand against the storm of magical power which surrounded him.

Girn roared. "Goblin scum, your life is over!"

He charged through the corona of coruscating energy. The mass of citizens charged right behind him.

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No, shaman Utkut thought in panic as he saw the barbarian racing towards him. This was not happening! How could this be? How could that abominable barbarian appear to thwart him in his hour of triumph? What evil deity protected him, and kept him alive to interfere in his plans time after time? He bared his lips in a snarl and continued to unleash his destructive energies against the swirling golden shield which stood between the barbarian and destruction. He could feel it start to give way under the relentless pressure of his magical energies.

Unfortunately it was not giving way quickly enough. At the rate the barbarian and the citizens were closing the distance between them, they would reach Utkut before he could shred their flesh from their bones. He snarled a curse, and reined in his spell, knowing that something other than magic was needed now.

"Quick!" he ordered his skullbashers. "Kill them now!"

The skullbashers moved to the attack. Of course, they had heard of this barbarian. Tales of the destruction he had wreaked among the goblins were legend among the army assaulting Yeledor. His very presence was demoralising to Utkut's troops. The way the barbarian decapitated the experienced skullbasher squad leader as if he were a mere dummy did nothing to reassure the goblins. Nor did the vast howling tide of angry humans flowing into the ballroom. Utkut sensed that the morale of his force was mere moments from breaking.

Swiftly he weighed the odds of victory, and saw that his moment had passed, and that triumph had slipped through his talons. Now it was a case of measuring his chances of survival. If he left now, while his troops still slowed down the pursuit, Utkut realised he might reach the privy. Once there he could use the scrying stone to create a gate back to the sewers. Of course, now with his power at a low ebb, he would not have the strength to hold it open for all his warriors. In fact, he doubted that more than one solitary goblin would escape through it.

Still, he knew the genius of Utkut must be preserved. On another day, he would return and take his revenge.

"Forward, skullbashers, to inevitable victory!" Utkut shouted, before he turned and ran with all his might.

He did not need his shaman's intuition to tell him that the slaughter behind him was going to be one-sided and merciless.

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TO BE CONTINUED...