Chronicles of a So-called Fire God (Abridged)

9. The Fire God Revealed

It took a little while before we had enough strength to move once more. Our clothes were dry, thanks to the late evening sun, but our hearts were heavy. Even the glorious colours of the sunset were not enough to lighten our mood. We were mourning the loss of Lestergrad, Torq more so than myself. I'd only known Lestergrad a short while and I know he was beginning find issue with me, but he was my friend, one of only two I'd ever known. My heart ached.

Darkness meant possible trouble out here in the open and meant that seeking shelter was a priority. We decided to move into the forest surrounding the lake, if nothing else than to climb a tree to sleep there.

As we walked towards the line of trees, we saw that there was a hill in the midst of the trees and decided that from there we may be able to take some bearings and work out our next move.

Upon entering the forest, a breeze greeted us. The chill air did nothing to warm me up. My clothes may have dried, but I was still cold from my swim.

The wind wasn't all that I had heard. I was certain that once we entered the forest that we were not alone. A twig snapping to my left confirmed my assumptions. Torq heard it too and gripped his axe ever tighter in readiness. All I could see from the direction of the noise were trees and leaves, my eyes were not as quick to adjust as Torq's. His dwarven heritage granted him eyesight as if it were day under the shadow of these trees. The setting sun was nothing but a memory now and I was struggling in the dark.

"Be ready," he said.

I could see he was intently looking at something, but what I didn't know nor could I see.

"Want elf," spoke a voice in the darkness. More of a wheeze than speech. The speech was followed by such a stench my stomach roiled. "Only want elf," the voice repeated, extending the last syllable into a hacking cough. Then the stench once more. The smell of death, of rotting corpses.

"There's no elf here," I said. I hoped that would buy a little time. I was low on my magic having used a lot of spells recently and not had enough time to recuperate and build my strength. Magic, like any ability, needed to be practiced to improve. But also like any other ability, a wielder needed rest from time to time, much like a training warrior who needed to rest after a long, hard lesson from his master at arms.

There was another movement, this time to my right. I could see this one thanks to the moonlight shining through the trees and reflecting off the newcomer. Why the moonlight was reflecting off these creatures, which I knew couldn't be right, was both disconcerting and something I didn't have time to consider properly. There was more movement. This time directly in front.

"Can we discuss this?" I asked. "We don't wish to hurt anyone," I added.

"Don't we?" hissed Torq.

The set of his jaw told me he was ready for a fight and ready to fight anyone. Losing Lestergrad had had a big impact on my friend.

We cautiously backed away towards the lake from these creatures, and they followed, as expected.

As they stepped out from under the trees and into the moonlight I could see they were covered, head to toe, in sticky pitch. The reflections I was seeing earlier now made sense, but having the knowledge didn't ease my fears. The moonlight also helped me see what our foes were. They were goblins, and now there were five of them. We were significantly outnumbered.

There was only one idea that I had. These goblins were coated in pitch, a highly flammable substance. If I Could catch enough of them with one of my flame-cone spells, I might just even up the odds for us. It would take a little coaxing though to get them into position.

I stepped forward a little and in a loud, commanding voice I spoke, "My name is Gransta! Begone, back to your lairs, or face my wrath."

"You hold no fear for us, Fire God," spoke the lead goblin. His fetid breath reached me even from where he was standing. Again it was the stench of death. "Give us the elf and we'll let you live."

"You think you can kill a god?" I laughed. I was extremely nervous if I had to be honest, but there was no way I was going to show how nervous. Torq looked at me and I hoped I appeared as confident as I was trying to sound. I shrugged off the question on his face when he mouthed, 'god?' at me.

The goblins didn't seem to care. They kept on coming in their odd, shuffling way. Their gait confused me. It looked like they were struggling to walk. Then I spotted that one of them was missing an arm, and another was missing nearly half of its head. These were not normal goblins. The stench of decay grew as they came closer.

These were undead! That had to be it. There could be no other explanation.

I incanted my power word and flame engulfed my right hand. "Torq my friend, these are not living goblins," I said. As I spoke I raised my right arm and pointed towards the group approaching. I let the power build again. The intense pain I felt throughout my whole body told me I needed to rest. I'd never felt pain like this before. Using this much magic without a proper rest in-between was dangerous, and I knew it. Unfortunately, there were few other options available.

I raised my left hand, the flames already building around it. The goblins still approached. When they were no more than six feet away, I could hold in the power no longer. I had to let go. The flames shot out from my hands, brighter and hotter than any I had ever done before. Three out of the five were caught in the blast. The lead one was incinerated almost immediately. Their pitch coating was helping the flames.

Torq rushed towards the one with only one arm and swung his axe; he easily split the goblin from head to foot. The fifth came shuffling towards me, but my strength was spent. I could not defend myself, I could barely even lift my weapon. My head was swimming as I sank to my knees, flaming, literally, goblins running around me. They didn't scream, they felt no pain. Being undead would probably do that for you.

Darkness was claiming my senses, the remaining goblin was sniffing around me, seeing if I would react, or defend myself. I could not. I saw a raised hand, covered in pitch, aimed at my face. Claws were ready to attack. The hand missed in its swing as my face headed for the dirt. My head thudded against the ground and I slipped into unconsciousness.