53. Storming Haalbeg #2
"The Blood Falls was supposedly once part of Mytherra. Before the goblins formed this dimension. Maybe it got pulled into Haalbeg during its formation." Baz adds this tidbit like the information-hoarder he is.
The vivid red torrent hisses as it strikes the rocks below, crimson plumes swirling into a steaming river that cuts through the barren land.
"Which direction to head in? I can't smell or feel any life nearby." Silas asks, staring off into the distance.
"Let's stick together and follow the river for the time being." Azael suggests, observing the surroundings with narrowed eyes.
Leaving the roaring falls behind us, we move quickly letting Azael take the lead. My heart pounds with resolve.
I’m coming for you, Flame. Hold on.
Haalbeg closes around us like a predator scenting prey. The blood river slithers at our side, the air tasting metallic, thick with decay.
Jagged cliffs like fangs rise at a distance, and I swear it feels like the ground itself is breathing at times.
We manage to avoid lava pockets and quicksand pits as we keep moving for hours.
Creatures prowl in the gnarly terrain, a crawler writhes out of a fissure, its dozen needle-like limbs skittering as it lunges at us and I set it on fire.
It screeches and slithers back into its hole.
Farther in, a skeletal-wraith drifts in the river, a floating mass of stretched tendons and limbs. Its tongue drags through the blood, slurping eagerly. We hold our breaths as it passes us, cackling gleefully.
The light dwindles further until it becomes pitch dark and the river narrows to almost nothing. We keep going, and with each step the feeling of dread increases. I can only imagine the state my Flame must be in.
None of us rest. I don't know how much time passes, but when it feels like we've been walking for days, a castle looms at a distance—its obsidian silhouette rising like a predator's maw against an eerie purple-red mist. The ground is slick, and from a distance I can hear goblin cackles that carry unnervingly through the foul-smelling wind.
"Fuck! This is a place of nightmares." Archie mutters under his breath.
Wards shimmer faintly around the castle gates.
"Goblin spell. Sloppy, but cruel. It'll burn through flesh and bones and metal too." Alistair remarks studying the wards as we take cover behind a copse of barren trees. "It'll probably alert them about trespassers too."
"Fucking maggots!" Silas growls.
"I can probably create another portal inside the castle, but I'm not certain where we'll end up." Ispahan frowns looking thoughtful.
“We’ll take our chances.” I state firmly.
"That seems to be the least disruptive choice." Baz adds.
Ispahan draws a glowing sigil in the air, and a lattice of light forms. When he presses it forward, the inside of the castle appears in the vertical gash.
"Come on." He whispers and we step in one by one ending up thankfully in a dank corridor stinking of rot and damp earth.
It's dark where we huddle together. Stocky goblin guards with rotten teeth and sharp spears patrol lazily, unaware of intruders slipping through.
We wait until the coast is clear and move deeper into the castle.
At one turn, we find two goblins mid-conversation—one dragging a sack that has a small limb peeking out.
The skin is mottled gray hinting that the person is already dead.
"Fuck! Is that a child?" I whisper incredulously.
"Fucking bastards abducting children and killing them!" Silas growls, as Archie holds him back.
One of the goblins pipes up in a gossipy tone, "Kiri says the Nephilim King's daughter is a powerful little thing. Shame that moth-male ruined the plan. Could've gained us a mighty favor with our liege!"
"I bet the Rephaims are fucked now!" The other one laughs gutturally.
The callous comments are enough to make Ispahan blaze white with fury. He is ready to pounce but we manage to hold him back at the last moment.
"Careful. If they sound an alarm, the whole army will fall upon us." Rhazien whispers urgently.
"Good that he got hold of that succubus chit! Did you see her on her knees in the throne room? Her belly was huge and her tits looked so soft. I wanted to squeeze them so hard. I bet our liege will teach that whore a lesson!" The first goblin cackles like a hyena and that seals his fate.
Rhazien traces like the wind and slits both their throats with two blades in a smooth arc.
Their headless bodies drop where they are standing before they can make a single noise.
"What? Now we know we need to head to the throne room." He shrugs, looking at us as he wipes the greenish black blood off his blade.
I carefully check the sack they were carrying, and realize it's two baby nymphs inside. Hardly a decade old. Their eyes have turned milky in death with faces frozen in fear and rot has already set in.
The loathing against Vroc intensifies inside my chest until I'm vibrating with anger.
"Control yourself, Ifrinn. We'll get our revenge." Azael says from behind then uses his angel fire to turn the bodies into ash.
A small mercy for innocent souls already lost.
After dumping the goblins and their severed heads in a dark corner we press forward, hopefully in the direction of the throne room, fuming with impotent rage.
The winding corridors abruptly lead us to a bunch of goblins exiting a chamber with huge iron doors guarded by more goblins with spears.
They spot us immediately and Rhazien's blades burn white, cleaving through three goblins in a single strike. Silas shifts mid-leap, fur bursting along his skin as claws rip through another's throat. Archie lets loose a feral snarl, his wolf snapping bone and tendon with savage precision.
I spin my twin machetes, cutting a path through the chaos with surgical efficiency, while Alistair's eyes glow, thorny vines sprouting from his palms, binding and strangling the shrieking goblins.
Azael's angel fire roars, turning spears into molten slag, as Baz hurls balls of dragon fire that explode like bursts of lightning.
Ispahan cuts through the goblins with his glowing sword like butter.
We charge through the heavy iron doors into a cavernous chamber, fighting our way through blood and slime and cutting down hoards of foul smelling goblins to find Vroc, the Goblin King waiting for us at the far end on a gnarly throne.
He watches with his yellow gaze, amused, as the blood of his soldiers paints the walls and the floor.
"At last I have been waiting for you all to arrive." He says with a cold smile, as he straightens, steepling his fingers.