Chapter 22: Brian Meets Risoart

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[This is a revision of this earlier post and contains some revisions inspired by this Gemini Chat.]

Chapter 22: Brian Meets Risoart

Brian looked up at Risoart, his wrists chafing against his bonds. "Aren’t you going to offer a man a drink?"

Risoart growled.  “Start talking.  And this had better be good.”

"Not even a splash of that Elvish wine? I know you keep a sack of it.  And you know that I’ve been up in the mountains for years, without a decent cup of wine. I’ve forgotten what fermented grapes even taste like."

“No wine.”

"A smoke, then? I always like to smoke when I’m telling a good story.”

Risoart scraped a heavy wooden chair across the floorboards and sat opposite Brian, leaning his bulk over the table.  “Let’s get something straight.  I’m here because you insisted on seeing me.  I didn’t ask to see you.  And I don’t feel obligated to make you feel comfortable while you talk.  Now, if you tell me something useful, possibly I can find my way to giving you some drinks or tobacco.  But you had better get talking first.”

"Right. Well." Brian leaned back, squinting at the rafters as if searching for a thread. "Where to begin? I suppose, looking back on it all now, you’re going to ask me why I didn’t realize it sooner.  I mean, it all seems so obvious in retrospect.  But you have to keep in mind that up in the mountains, it’s a whole different world.  People don’t think up there like they do in the forest.  All you care about is surviving the night, and keeping your throat safe from wolves and the occasional stray ogre.  No one up there even talks about what is happening in the forest.”

"Get on with it," Risoart growled, his hand resting near the pommel of his sword.

“I am.   You see, there was this old couple up in the mountains.  I don’t know how old they were exactly.  On the one hand, their skin was really weathered and taught.  If you looked at their skin, you’d think they were at least ninety years old.  But on the other hand, they weren’t some weak old doddards.  They were both tough and grizzled.  The man especially could still put up a really good fight.  I once saw him cornered by three ogres; he butchered two and sent the third running back into the dark.  Oh, and that’s the other thing.  He said he was just a simple woodsman, but he had a sword that no simple woodsman would ever be able to afford.  And his wife knew all about herbs and medicines.  And they could read.  They even had a book in their house. In the mountains.”

“To the point!”

“I’m coming to it.  Anyway, I don’t know how old they were, but they must have been well over sixty.  Way too old to have kids.  But they had two children, a boy and a girl, who were fifteen.”

Brian paused, letting the silence hang, watching Risoart's eyes. Risoart noticed the pause. “So?” he asked irritably.

“So?  Don’t you get it? They were both of them fifteen, the boy and the girl.  They were twins.  A twin boy and girl and fifteen years old exactly.”

Brian paused again, and Risoart continued to stare at him with an annoyed face.  But then, slowly, the gears turned. The captain's brow furrowed, the color shifting slightly in his cheeks.  “It’s a coincidence,” Risoart said.  “It’s a big world out there, and twins must be born all the time.”

“But who are they being born to?” Brian asked.  “The old couple who are raising them are too old to be their natural parents.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Risoart said.  

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.  Maybe their parents died.  Maybe they’re the grandparents. Or they simply aged poorly in the mountain wind.  But one thing I know for sure is that it’s not them.  I have it on good authority that--.”

Brian interrupted.  “From who?”

“What?”
“Have it on good authority from who?”

“What do you mean from who?  The whole court knows what happened.”

“But did you actually see the bodies?”

“Me, personally? No, of course not.  But I’m sure Ambrosia must have--”

“It’s them,” said Brian, leaning forward.  “And I’ll tell you why I’m so certain.  The girl has magical powers.”

“What kind of magical powers?”

“Well, she can’t control it yet. Not really.  She just has the energy.  She doesn’t know any spells or anything, but she can release the energy through her hands.  I saw her burn a man to death just by touching him.  I saw it with my own eyes.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Risoart stared at the table, his mind clearly racing, before he shook himself out of it. “Anyone can make up stories,” he said.  “Especially if he has something to gain.  You know that your life is forfeit now that my men have captured you, so you’re just making up fantasies to try to get out of it.”

“Maybe,” said Brian.  “But there’s a simple way you can check what I’m telling you.”

“And that is?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that old man and old woman weren’t simple woodcutters.  They’re too well educated, and the man’s sword was too expensive.  I reckon they must have been part of the Castle court.  I’m guessing the man was one of the castle guards.  The woman must have been one of the castle healers.  So, it’d be a simple matter to check--go back to the court, and ask them if an old guard, and an old healer disappeared together about fifteen years ago.  You’re the captain of the Queen’s guards.  Surely you must know if…”

Risoart’s face went entirely blank. He slowly sank back into his chair, the legs creaking under his weight.

“You don’t even need to check, do you?” Brian said.  “You can think of a couple like that right now.”

“Yes, I can,” admitted Risoart.  His face had changed.  He was no longer resistant to what Brian was saying.  “But why the mountains?” Risoart said.  “It doesn’t make any sense.  That’s the most dangerous place you could choose for raising two children.”

“It makes perfect sense,” said Brian.  “Think about it.  Where’s the one place that you and your men are afraid to go?  What better place to hide?”  

Risoart nodded slowly.  "Yes. I suppose so."

“So what about a cup of that Elvish wine, now?”

There was an arrogance in Brian’s tone that annoyed Risoart.  “You always did like to push things, didn’t you Brian?”

“Who’s pushing things?  I’ve brought you invaluable information.  I don’t think a cup of wine is asking too much!”

“Yes, well now that I’ve got your valuable information, what’s stopping me from just taking you outside and cutting your head off!”

Brian chuckled.  “Well, that wouldn’t be very grateful of you, would it?”

“It’d be the simplest way to get rid of you.”

“But you don’t want to get rid of me.  You want me to help guide you up into the mountains.  You remember the last time your people tried to go up into the mountains without any guides.”

Risoart's jaw tightened. "That wasn't my command.”

"But you remember the bodies. Or what was left of them after the mountain bears  had their fill. I should know—I was one of the local woodsmen paid to haul the bones down. Though, obviously, I wore a hood so you wouldn't recognize me."

Risoart passed his hand across his face slowly, and then stroked his chin.  “Well, that’s just the point, though.  We don’t want to go back up into those mountains, if we can avoid it.  And if those two kids aren’t causing any trouble up there, I’d say just let them be.  I was perfectly happy before I knew that they were up there, and I’d be perfectly happy forgetting that they were up there.”

“Ambrosia won’t agree.”

Risoart smiled grimly.  “No, Ambrosia wouldn’t agree.  So we’ve got to make sure that no one ever tells her.  Hence cutting off your head.”

“Ah, you’ve got it all planned out, don’t you.  And here was me, thinking that you had no foresight.”

Risoart nodded his head slightly, and smiled again.

“But just think about this a little bit further,” Brian said.  “Why do you think that old couple would leave their comfortable posts at the castle court to go and raise twin babies up in the mountains?  Do you think it’s because at their late age they suddenly started yearning for two crying babies to suckle?  Do you think it’s because they enjoyed the cold frigid air of the mountains?  No, they are loyalists to the old king.  It’s the only explanation that makes sense.  They are planning on waiting until those two children come of age, and then they are going to bring them back and restore the rightful heirs of Castle Tauna.  And then, you can be assured, Ambrosia will certainly find out about them.  And when that happens, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”  Brian smiled.  Risoart scowled.  

“Now,” said Brian, “let me paint a slightly different picture for you.  You capture the children and the old woman.  You bring them before Ambrosia.  Ambrosia examines them herself, and realizes that they really are the royal twins.  The old woman confesses to everything.  Ambrosia realizes that you saved her throne.  She is forever in your debt.  And then you’ve got it made for the rest of your life.” Brian stopped talking and leaned back in his chair.

Risoart breathed in, and looked at Brian closely.  But Brian could see the change in expression.  He knew he had won the argument. "You always did know how to paint a picture, Brian,” Risoart said at last.

“How about that cup of wine?”

“Mind you,” said Risoart, standing up.  “I’m not sure I trust you completely.  This may yet be some sort of trick.  But what you’ve told me so far does fit with the facts as I know them.”  Risoart took a sack of wine from the back of the room and poured it into a couple of clay cups.  He set one cup in front of Brian, and then sat down with the other cup.  “You don’t mind if I join you in your drink, do you?”

Brian lifted his cup up in a welcoming gesture. 

“There was indeed an old man who served in the castle guards with me several years ago.  His wife was one of the healers.  They disappeared about the same time that the twins were supposedly killed.  I didn’t see any connection between the two events at the time, but…” Risoart’s voice trailed, and he took a drink from his cup.  “They sound like the people you are describing.  The old man was really grizzled.  Old, but tough.  He could still hold his own in a fight.  The woman I didn’t know well.  I didn’t interact with the healers much.  But I’d recognize them both if I saw them again.” 

Brian took a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, before raising a finger.  “Ah, I forgot to mention.  The old man’s dead, unfortunately.  The mountain thieves killed him last week.”

“What?”

Brian shrugged.  “You know how it is.  It’s dangerous up in the mountains.  The old woman’s still alive though.”

“I see.”

“And I’d be willing to act as your guide to find her.  For a few conditions, of course.  I want a full amnesty.  I want to be able to come back to the forest.”

“Of course you do,” Risoart took another drink of the wine.  “But before I put my life at risk by making that journey up into the mountains, I’m going to make a few enquiries down here in the forest first.  There’s still one more piece of the puzzle.  Those babies were handed off to an executioner.  The executioner reported those babies to be dead.  I want to find out what he has to say for himself before I trust myself to your guidance in the mountains.”

Brian raised his eyebrows.  “You’re not going to travel for weeks just to ask one man a few questions, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”  Risoart looked down at his cup of wine for a bit, and then looked up at Brian.  Brian had the sense that his face was being studied.  “As it happens,” Risoart said slowly, “that executioner is one of my men now.”

“What?” Brian almost dropped his cup.

“I can see from your surprise that you didn’t know this before.”

“No.  How would I know?”

“I guess I wouldn’t expect that you would.  Except it does seem like a strange coincidence, doesn’t it?  I mean, in light of all that you told me.  The old couple is up in the mountains raising those babies, and the soldier who was supposed to execute those babies is part of the forest patrol at the bottom of those mountains.”

“Yes, it does seem strange,” Brian agreed.

“He requested a transfer out here about ten years ago.  He’s been in my patrol ever since. It could be just a coincidence.  Or it could be more than a coincidence.  And if it’s not a coincidence, then that would make me trust your story a little bit more. Especially since you didn’t even know about that piece of the puzzle.”

Brian slapped his forehead with his hand.

“Do you have something to add?” asked Risoart.

“Yes, yes,” said Brian.  “I’m just realizing it now.  The old man and I, we used to go down the mountain about twice a year.  We’d sell the wood to the forest people, and then we’d get various supplies in exchange.  It was risky, of course, coming down into the forest, but I kept my face covered and we made sure not to stay too long.”

“Yes, I had heard there was some trading going on between the mountain folk and the forest people,” said Risoart.  “I never officially approved of it, but I never tried to stop it either.  We found the wood very useful, after all.”

“And whenever we came down, the old man, he always had the same contact person.  There was always one member of the forest patrol who would meet us at the foot of the mountain, and buy our wood for us.  He never argued or haggled about the price.  He just paid us what we asked.  I think he must have been--.”

“Yes, I wonder,” said Risoart.  “Two old loyalists working together.  One keeps the children safe up at the top of the mountain.  The other keeps him supplied from the bottom of the mountain.  The executioner who never executed the children.  It’s all fitting together now, isn’t it?  Well, let’s have a talk with him, and see what he has to say for himself.”

“He’s going to deny it, of course,” said Brian. 

“Don’t be so naive.  I have ways of making him talk.” 

Chapter 21: The Children are Freed (Revised)

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[This is a revision of this earlier post and contains some revisions inspired by the Gemini Storybook version and this Gemini Chat.]

Chapter 21: The Children are Freed

Grinthal led them deep into the tunnels, into the suffocating belly of the mountains. The air grew thick with sulfur and stone dust, ringing with the rhythmic, exhausting clink... clink... clink of iron against rock. By the glittering light of the moonstones, Carlyle and Catherine saw them: dozens of children, small and hollow-cheeked, covered with dirt and dust, swinging pickaxes twice their size. Behind them stood the goblin overseers, their cruel whips snapping to keep the rhythm going.

“How terrible,” said Catherine.

“It is necessary,” Grinthal growled angrily.  “We goblins do not like to do the work of mining ourselves.  It is beneath our dignity, so we must find others to do it.”

“But it ends now,” insisted Catherine.

“Yes, yes! This is what you forced me to agree to,” Grinthal muttered. He stepped forward, raising his grating voice. “Stand down! All guards, lower your whips!”

The whips stopped snapping. The sudden silence in the cavern was deafening.

“You are all free now,” Catherine called out to the crowd of dirty, exhausted faces.“The goblins will not hurt you anymore. You may return to the surface with us.”

The children didn't move. They stood dazed, blinking through the dust, too conditioned by fear to believe her.

Suddenly, Alfred grabbed Carlyle’s arm, and pointed.  “There he is,” said Aflred.  “There’s Jack.”

“Who?” Carlyle asked, looking around the sea of grime-stained faces.

“Jack! You remember Jack.”

Because Carlyle was not expecting to hear that name, it took him a minute to register what Alfred was saying.  “But Jack’s dead,” Carlyle responded.

“That’s what we thought,” said Alfred.  “But Jack’s been a prisoner in the goblin mines this whole time.  Along with all the other children who were captured from the mountains.” Alfred called out to him.  “Hey Jack.  Over here.   It’s Alfred.  I’m with Catherine and Carlyle.”

Jack was still holding the pickaxe.  He looked cautiously at the goblin guards, afraid to move.  “It’s okay,” said Alfred.  “You can come over.  Griinthal has freed all the children.”  When Jack still hesitated, Alfred turned to Catherine. “Make the goblin say it again. They don't believe it.”

Catherine closed her eyes and began to hum a low, resonant note. Her fingertips started to glow.

Grinthal squealed.  “All the children are free!” he shrieked into the cavern.  “Put down your pickaxes.  Get out of my tunnels.”

Slowly, a heavy iron pickaxe clattered to the stone floor. Then another. Jack dropped his tool, his eyes wide as he finally locked gaze with Alfred and Carlyle.

“Come with us,” Catherine said gently to the crowd. “We will take you back to the light.”

As they began the long march upward, Jack walked between his old friends, still looking as though he might wake up from a dream at any moment. He explained about the other children. “A few of us are from the mountains,” Jack said, his voice raspy from the mine dust. “Although probably nobody you recognize except me. The others got captured when they were very young.  Like Anna over there. The rest are from the forest people. The goblins have tunnels that stretch all the way down to the forest.”

When they finally emerged from the tunnels into the robbers’ caves, the rest of the group was waiting. Lucas, Marcus, Paul, Stella, Gabriella, and Abby all crowded around. Gasps and cries of disbelief echoed through the cavern as they recognized Jack, with Alfred eagerly recounting how they had found him.

But the true shock came when they stepped out of the cave mouth. The children from the mines hadn't seen the sky in months—some for years. As the bright morning sun hit them, many shielded their eyes, weeping in a mixture of pain and awe. Carlyle and Catherine moved among them, gently guiding them into the grass of the clearing.

Once they had settled, Catherine stood before them. “I know you have been prisoners for a very long time,” she said, her voice carrying over the clearing. “The outside world might feel strange and overwhelming right now. But you don’t have to fear. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. In time, we will help you find your families. Until then, this is your home.”

Jack looked around the clearing, squinting against the bright daylight. “Where are we?”

“These are the robbers’ caves,” Alfred said proudly.

Jack’s eyes widened. “But... where are the robbers? Aren't they dangerous?”

“They’re still here, but they answer to us now,” Alfred explained with a grin.

Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “What has been happening while I’ve been gone?” he asked.

Alfred tried to explain it to him.  “We’ve been trying to make the mountains safe,” he said.  “Catherine has conquered the wolves, and made them her allies.  Then we conquered the robbers, and made them listen to us.  Now we have banished the goblins.”

“Wow,” Jack whispered, looking at Catherine and Carlyle with newfound reverence. He looked out over the vast, wild mountain range and frowned slightly. “But... the mountains are huge. And there are worse things out there than goblins.”

“We know,” Alfred admitted, his excitement tempering into a sober resolve. “There are still the ogres to deal with, and the witches in the crevices. We know Aefar the Vampire is still terrorizing the night, and monsters like Creseus the Minotaur, Garot the Bugbear, and the giant snake Serif are still out there terrorizing the peaks. We have a long way to go before the land is truly peaceful. But we aren't going to stop.”

“But why take on all of that?” Jack asked, looking tired but curious.

“Because the people here deserve to live without fear,” Alfred said. “That’s what Catherine and Carlyle taught us. We don’t have to let the monsters terrorize us. We can fight back, and we can build something safe.”

Chapter 20: Brian Returns to the Forest (Revised)

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[This is a revision of this earlier post and contains some revisions inspired by the Gemini Storybook version and this Gemini Chat.]

Chapter 20: Brian Returns to the Forest

Brian walked down the forest path.  

It felt good to be back under the green canopy.  Granted, he had just been in the forest last week with Finn, but when you lived your life exposed in the rugged mountains, the shelter of the woods was always a relief.  The lush, vibrant undergrowth soothed his eyes, and colorful wildflowers blanketed the earth, fighting for space with the thick green moss that claimed every rock and fallen log. Even the air smelled sweet—rich with damp earth and pine.

During their last visit, he and Finn had taken care to hide their faces, and they had deliberately stayed off of the main paths.  Now, Brian was walking confidently down the main path with his face unveiled.  He didn’t care if anyone found him.  In fact, he wanted to be found.

And it wasn’t long before they found him.  Brian heard them long before they dared to step out.  He could hear them moving up in the trees, and he could hear them rustling through the bushes.  “Bumblers, all of them,” Brian thought to himself.  “They think they’re being sneaky, but they’re making enough noise to alert even a child.”

But Brian didn’t give any indication that he knew they were following him.  He kept his pace steady, and he didn’t turn his head.  Finally, a man burst from the thicket, stepping onto the path just slightly behind him.  “Alright, that’s far enough,” the voice barked. “Stop walking, Brian.”

“I was wondering when you lads were going to finally step out,” Brian said, coming to a leisurely halt. “I’ve been listening to you stumble along for the past mile.”

“You stupid clod,” the man spat. “I thought you had enough sense left to stay out of these woods.”

As Brian began to turn, the tone behind him shifted to a sharp, nervous edge. “Don’t make any sudden moves now. We’ve got you covered.”

Three more men emerged from the shadows of the trees. Two held their bows drawn taut, arrows aimed squarely at Brian’s chest. The third stood with a broadsword already unsheathed.

Brian put his hands up, but he didn’t seem nervous.  “Easy, easy, lads. I’ve known you were there the whole time.  I’ve just been waiting for you to show yourselves.”

The men laughed.  “If you knew we were here, then why did you come this way?” asked one of them.  “You know that it’s death for you to be caught in this forest.”

“I’ve got some information for Risoart,” said Brian, smiling.  “Bring me to him.”

The men laughed again.  “Nice try.  Risoart’s not going to waste his time with you.”

“He will, once he hears what I’ve got to say,” Brian said.  “I’ve got information he will want to hear.  I’ve got some information that Ambrosia will want to hear.”

At the name of Ambrosia, the men stopped their laughing.  They looked at Brian with different eyes.  “What do you know?” one of them asked.

Brian chuckled.  “No luck, lads.  This information is too valuable to me.  It’s going to get me a full pardon, once Risoart hears it.  I’m not going to give it away to you, and then have you try to claim credit for it yourselves.”

“Well, then we’re at an impasse,” one of the men said.  “Because we’re not going to risk disturbing Risoart until we know for sure that your information is good.”

Another man spoke up.  “If we bring you to him, and you just start speaking nonsense, then we’ll take the blame.”

Brain rubbed his neck with his hand, and grinned.  “He’s got a fierce temper, I’ll grant you that.  If he doesn’t like what I have to say, he’ll probably cuss you out and box your ears.  But he won’t do any more than that.  You can stand being cussed out again, can’t you?  You lads haven’t grown that soft while I’ve been away, have you?  You lads haven’t grown that soft since I’ve been gone, have you? On the other hand, if he likes what I bring... you’re the brave scouts who captured the informant. And when Ambrosia hears of it, she’ll remember your names, too.”

The men hesitated, the tips of their arrows dipping slightly as they weighed the gamble.

“Come on,” Brian said.  “I wouldn’t have come all the way down from the mountains if the information wasn’t really good.”

The men looked at each other.  One of them said, “Well, he’s obviously come down to the forest of his own free will.  He could have just stayed up in the mountains.  He must have something.”

The leader let out a long, angry sigh, sheathing his weapon with a sharp snap. “Alright, alright. Move it, Brian. We’ll take you to Risoart.”

Chapter 19: Grinthal, King of the Goblins (Revised)

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[This is a revision of this earlier post and contains some revisions inspired by the Gemini Storybook version and this Gemini Chat.]

Chapter 19: Grinthal, King of the Goblins

Bound tightly in rough hemp ropes, they were dragged unceremoniously down the damp, echoing tunnels and shoved into the torch-lit throne room of King Grinthal.

Alfred was sitting at a low table, midway through chewing a mouthful of gruel, when the guards hauled them in. He bolted upright, nearly knocking his plate over. “Oh no!” he choked out. “Did they catch you guys too?”

“Ah, Alfred,” Shawn said wryly. He twisted against his bonds, managing to wiggle around enough to catch the boy's eye. “Don’t worry. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Are you okay, Alfred?” Catherine called out.

“I’m fine, just—”

“Silence!” King Grinthal bellowed from his dais. “You will not speak unless spoken to!”

Grinthal then turned to his goblin soldiers.  “Who are they?” he asked.

“Intruders, Your Majesty,” the lead guard squeaked. “We caught them lurking in the eastern tunnels.”

“What?” Grinthal squeaked.  “Intruders? So they are not escaped slaves?  But they’re humans.  How did humans manage to get into our tunnels?”

“We found the entrance to your tunnels,” said Carlyle.  “We’ve come to get our friend.”

“I’ve already told you,” Grinthal exclaimed.  “You are to keep silent.”

Grinthal turned to the goblin soldiers.  “Well?” he demanded.  “How did they get in?”

The goblin soldiers squeaked excitedly, and all began talking at once.  “Quiet! Quiet, you fools! One at a time!” Grinthal demanded.  A silence fell over the goblin soldiers, and in the silence, Grinthal thought he could hear something.  “What is that sound?” he demanded.  “Who is singing?  Is anyone humming?”

Carlyle spoke up quickly.  “I can tell you how we got here, your majesty, if you allow me to speak.”

Grinthal hopped up and down in fury.  “I’ve already told you not to speak,” he said.

“But do you give me permission to speak now?” Carlyle asked.

“You are not to speak unless I speak to you?” Grinthal demanded.

“But then, how would I ask permission to speak?” Carlyle asked again.

Grinthal’s face turned red with fury.  It actually turned red.  It was a brighter shade of red than Carlyle had ever seen on any human face, but goblin faces can sometimes be more expressive than humans.  “Bring me my whip!” Grinthal yelled.  “We shall teach these human children some manners.”

Several goblins scattered to find Grinthal’s whip.

“Now,” said Grinthal. “Who is humming?  That sound shall cease as well!”

While Carlyle had been distracting Grinthal, Catherine had been summoning the energy by softly humming.  Her hands were tied up behind her back, but she was slowly burning through the rope that held her hands together.  Once she had burned through the rope, she was able to free her hands.  Moving slowly to attract as little attention as possible, Catherine moved her hands out from behind her back, and then reached to her legs to burn through the ropes that held her legs.

The goblins didn’t notice.  They were too busy squawking about, and fetching whips for King Grinthal.

Finally a suitable whip was found for King Grinthal, and presented to him.  “Now,” Grinthal said menacingly, snapping the leather against the stone floor as he stepped toward Carlyle. “I will teach you the virtue of silence.”  

But just at that moment, Catherine was standing up.  . The severed ropes pooled at her feet. She didn't hesitate—she strode straight toward the dais.

King Grinthal was so surprised to see Catherine out of her ropes that for a couple of seconds he froze up and didn’t know what to do.  But then he lashed out with the only thing he had in hand--his whip.  Grinthal cracked the whip, and the lash shot out towards Catherine.

Catherine was still humming, and her hands were glowing.  She reached out and caught the flying leather lash in her bare palm. The raw magic shielded her flesh from the sting; instead, a massive jolt of arc-lightning traveled backward up the whip, arcing straight into Grinthal’s arm.  The king yelped, convulsing as the shock hit him, and dropped the handle as if it were a hot coal.

Catherine still kept walking towards Grinthal.  Grinthal, now thoroughly terrified, scrambled backward, trying to use his high-backed throne as a shield. “Don’t come near me!” he squealed.

At this point some of the other goblins ran forward to attack Catherine, but before they could get to her, she darted behind the throne and grabbed Grinthal by the back of the neck.  Lifting Grinthal into the air, Catherine said to him, “Tell the other goblins to stand back.”

The other goblins hesitated slightly, but then Grinthal yelled out, “What are you waiting for?  Get her!”

As the goblins rushed forward towards Catherine, she felt herself in danger, and energy flowed through her freely.  Now she didn’t even have to hum to try to summon it.  It just flowed out.  And poor Grinthal, who she was holding, got badly burned.

“Yeow!” he screamed out in pain.  “Stop it!  Stop it! Stop it!”  He then stopped forming recognizable words, and just squealed in pain.

“Tell the other goblins not to attack me,” Catherine demanded.

“Yes, yes!” Grinthal agreed.

“Tell them to untie my friends,” Catherine said.

“Yes, yes, anything,” Grinthal said.  “Anything, just please, stop it.  The pain!”

Because Catherine’s adrenaline was racing, she actually wasn’t able to stop the flow of energy.  The only way she could stop burning Grinthal was to remove him from her touch.  Which she did by simply dropping him.

The other goblins stood momentarily stunned, not daring to move.  “You heard your king,” Carlyle shouted.  “Untie us!”

The goblins looked from Carlyle to Grinthal, who was currently groaning and pushing himself up from the stone tiles. Seeing Catherine standing there, momentarily breathing heavily, the king’s fear turned to pure malice. “Don’t just stand there!” he croaked, pointing a trembling finger. “Kill her!”

Catherine lunged to grab him again, but Grinthal scrambled backward like a crab, evading her hand, and bolted across the room. He was so busy looking over his shoulder at Catherine that he failed to notice Alfred.

Alfred, who had been left unguarded by his breakfast table, grabbed a heavy wooden chair by the legs. As the king came sprinting past, Alfred swung it with all his might, catching Grinthal squarely in the face.

CRACK.

The king flipped backward and hit the floor flat on his back, his eyes rolling up into his head.

“Nice swing!” Shawn yelled, but the praise was cut short as the rest of the goblin guard swarmed Catherine, thrusting at her with short swords and jagged daggers.

Catherine was discovering that when the power was flowing through her body, the inside of her hands where the energy manifested itself seemed to be invulnerable.  If she could catch the point of their small swords on her palms, it did her no harm.  But when the swords cut anywhere else on her body, she was vulnerable.  And as the goblins continued to thrust, Catherine couldn’t block them all. A blade nicked her thigh; another grazed her arm, drawing bright red blood. She parried desperately, but there were simply too many of them.  Catherine was forced to slowly retreat, until she felt her back hit the golden throne.

Upon realizing what her back was against, Catherine scrambled around the throne, so that the heavy golden object was between her and the attacking .  At first, Catherine’s only idea was to use the throne as a temporary shelter to hide behind.  But then, in her desperation, she felt the energy surge again. She felt its power, and she suddenly knew she had the strength to take action.  Bracing her feet against the cave floor, Catherine pushed at the throne with all her might. With a deafening groan of scraping metal, the massive throne toppled forward. It crashed onto the front ranks of the attackers, crushing several beneath its immense weight and sending the rest scattering in terror.

In their terror, the goblins fled to the edges of the room.  But the shock was temporary.  The throne was now laying harmlessly on its side, and could not be toppled over a second time.  Once they realized that Catherine was again vulnerable, they started to regroup.

Before they could strike, Alfred rushed to Catherine's side, dragging the dazed, half-conscious body of King Grinthal by his ankles.

But as this was going on, Alfred rushed over to where Catherine was standing, carrying Grinthal’s body with him.

“Here,” Alfred panted, shoving the king toward her. “Take him.”

Grinthal was still stunned from the blow that Alfred had given him with the chair, and was only now slowly moving his head and refocusing his eyes.  Catherine realized that if she grabbed Grinthal now, she would just send electricity shooting through his body, and she didn’t want to do that.  “I don’t want to touch him now,” said Catherine.  “I would just shock him. When I’m scared, I can’t turn off the energy.”

“Could you calm yourself down then?” Alfred asked.

Catherine looked at him with disgust.

“Sorry,” Alfred said.  “Um… what about just touching his feet a little then?”

Alfred held Grinthal, and Catherine reached out her hand and gingerly poked his bare foot with the tip of her index finger.  Grinthal’s eyes immediately opened, and he squealed with pain.  “What’s happening?” he said.  Then his eyes focused, and he saw Catherine standing before him.  “No! No! Nooo!” he yelled out.

“Untie my friends,” Catherine said.

“Untie them!” Grinthal shrieked the order to his goblin soldiers.  And then he started sobbing.

The goblins dropped their weapons and rushed to cut the ropes binding Carlyle, Shawn, Lucinda, Molly, and Kevin.

Carlyle stood up, rubbing his wrists where the rope had rubbed against his skin.  “And give me back my father’s sword,” Carlyle demanded.

Catherine opened her mouth to repeat Carlyle’s demand, but before she could even say anything, Grinthal burst out, “Give them back their weapons.  Give them back all of their weapons.”

“Thank you,” said Catherine.

“What do you want?” Grinthal wailed.

“We want you to release our friend,” Catherine said, pointing to Alfred.

Grinthal twisted around to look at the boy who was holding him up. “He’s free! He’s yours!”

“Not just me,” said Alfred.  “Release all the children that you are holding prisoner in these tunnels.”

Grinthal blinked through his tears. “All of them?  Why do you want them all released?  You don’t know who they are.”

“Every single one,” said Catherine.

“You ask too much,” Grinthal said, a note of defiance creeping back into his voice. “Without slaves, the tunnels will—”

Catherine grabbed Grinthal’s leg, and the electricity flowed out through her again.  Grinthal shrieked and shrieked.  Catherine released his leg.  “We want them all released,” Catherine said.

“Fine,” sobbed Grinthal.  “I order them all released.”

“And one final thing,” said Catherine.  “You goblins are to leave these mountains.”

“What?” Grinthal was now more surprised than scared.  “But where will we go?”

“Anywhere you like.  You can go down to the forest.  But you must not stay in the mountains anymore.”

“But what kind of talk is this?” Grinthal was genuinely confused.  “The mountains have no laws.  That is why all the evil creatures make it their homes.  The ogres, the witches, the vampires, the goblins, we all live on the mountains.  Why would you tell us to leave the mountains, and go down to the forest?”

Carlyle stepped up beside Catherine, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of his recovered sword. “Because the mountains are no longer a lawless place. The mountains are now a safe place for the mountain folk to live in peace.”

“And we are banishing all the evil creatures from the mountains,” said Catherine.

“But where will we go?” wailed Grinthal.

“Jack told us your tunnels run deep,” Alfred said.  “They go all the way down the mountains and even under the forest lands. You can go down to your tunnels under the forest, but you must never return to the mountains.”

“I have many friends among the mountain animals,” Catherine said to Grinthal.  “My ravens see everything. My wolves hear everything.  If a single goblin is spotted on these ridges again, they will tell me.  And then, we will come back into these tunnels and find you.”

Grinthal looked back and forth from Carlyle to Catherine.  “Who are you?” he asked.  “The mountain folk have no kings or queens.  They have no rulers.”

“They do now,” Carlyle answered.