It had to be someone. It just happened to be Lathaniel who interrupted their passion-filled idyll a mere handful of days later.
Lathaniel possessed a magic sword, Sworntrue, which glowed in hot blue light when goblins were near. Lathaniel marched on Laya’s grotto with his sword unsheathed and shimmering furious blue.
Laya and Akraz were splashing together, only half dressed, in the pool in the grotto. She had unleashed him from the tree after the first day. True to his word, Akraz had shown not the slightest inclination to escape her company.
“Stand aside and be warned, Laya!” Lathaniel bellowed in righteous anger. He pointed an accusing finger. “That thing is no elf, despite his false face. He is a goblin!”
Without another word, Lathaniel flew at Akraz with sword swinging. Akraz, unarmed and unarmored, ducked out of the way of the first blow. Akraz rolled on the ground and came back up holding a random stick from the ground as if it were a fighting staff. With this, Akraz parried Lathaniel’s shower of blows.
“Stop, Lathaniel!” cried Laya. “Stop! I know he is a goblin!”
Lathaniel paused long enough to regard Laya as if she had lost her mind. But the elf lord did not lower his sword or relax his stance. Akraz also stopped fighting and stood watching both of them warily.
“He is my prisoner,” Laya concluded lamely.
“Your prisoner?” Lathaniel compared their state of undress. “He looks more like your lover.”
Akraz’s lip curled up in amusement.
“You think that is funny, you lowly cur?” shouted Lathaniel. “That you have seduced and ensorcelled an elf maiden?”
“He did not ensorcell me,” Laya said in exasperation. She could hardly claim that he had not seduced her. But that was really none of Lathaniel’s business. Whatever the elf lord had hoped, she had never accepted his pledge of betrothal. She was free to dally with whomever she pleased, be her choice prince or troll.
“Prove it,” challenged Lathaniel. “Let me bring the Spellsbane Stone to this grotto, to disperse whatever foul magic he has used on you.”
“Bring it, then,” said Laya. “After we have that nonsense about spells out of the way, perhaps you will listen to reason.”
“Come with me while I fetch it. I do not want to leave you alone with this monster.”
“I am staying right here. I do not come and go at your beck and call, Lathaniel.”
With a snort, Lathaniel stomped away.
“Perhaps you should return me to the tree,” Akraz said once Lathaniel had departed.
“I won’t hear of it. I won’t let Lathaniel enchain you either.”
Akraz paced in the grotto. He slapped his hand with the stick he had picked up to defend himself. “Your people will never accept me.”
That was true, but Laya did not want to say so.
“They are right not to do so,” Akraz said seriously. “I have been their bitter enemy. The blood of many an elf lord such as your friend there is on my hands. Many things I was forced to do during my servitude to Zathstragomal, but the joy I took in battle was my own. The darkness in me is real, Laya. You still will not see that.”
“You have been nothing but light to me,” she said stubbornly.
He shook his head in a frustration strangely akin to Lathaniel’s.
Lathaniel returned all too soon. By then, Laya and Akraz had both dried off and put on a few more layers of clothing. Akraz had set his face in a stone-hard expression. Lathaniel’s visage was no less grim.
The elf lord held a dull gray stone. “This is the Spellsbane. When I invoke it, all spells cast within the last fortnight will be dissolved.” He lifted the stone aloft. “Spellsbane! I invoke thee!”
Akraz gasped and dropped to his knees. A golden arrow fell from his chest, leaving no wound. At the same time, his palm began to glow ugly red. The worst change, though, affected his face, which appeared to warp and melt and bulge. Fangs sprouted from his mouth, which in turn thinned and widened. His nose expanded into a wart-covered lump. His eyes sank into beady violet pinpricks beneath lowering brows. His jowls puffed out, then sank into unsightly loops of hanging flesh on either side of his cheeks.
“You see!” Lathaniel cried in triumph. “You see him as he really is! A hideous fiend!”
“You fool!” Laya said. “All you have done is undo the spell I cast upon him, hiding him from the dark wizard’s enslavement!”
Akraz did not have time to mourn the passing of his briefly handsome face. He had never believed it truly belonged to him anyway. He had more pressing problems. The burning in his palm told him that his Master had found him again, and his Master wanted him now. Akraz had no choice, he could not resist the command. He had to lift his palm and allow the face of Zathstragomal to appear there.
“You traitorous dog!” shouted Zathstragomal. “Where have you been? How dare you lead me to believe you were dead if you had the audacity to remain alive! You can be sure that I will remedy that oversight!”
Please, Akraz begged the gods silently. Do not let him see Laya.
But the gods of Light did not heed the prayers of goblins, and the Dark God delighted in pain. The wizard looked out of Akraz’s palm and spotted the elves.
“Elves!” spat Zathstragomal. “They captured you, is that it? Never mind what I said before, pet. You will be greatly rewarded for showing me the secret location of one of their settlements. My army is nearby!”
The wizard’s face disappeared, but he could still track Akraz. In black despair, Akraz looked up to meet the scornful gaze of Lathaniel, the elf lord.
“Run,” said Akraz.
Lathaniel grabbed Laya by the hand. “Come—”
As soon as the blond elf lord’s back was turned, Akraz hit him on the head with the wooden stick.
“What have you done?” cried Laya. The stick and the back of Lathaniel’s head were sticky with blood.
“Hopefully, killed him,” said Akraz flatly. He advanced on her, wrestled her into his arms, ripped off the hem from her tunic and bound her hands and mouth.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said while she tried ineffectively to twist away from him. “You are my slave now.”
He slung her over his shoulder just as the goblin army of Zathstragomal began to pour over the hills and into the grotto.
Chapter Four
Gagged and bound and carried like a sack of potatoes, Laya cursed Akraz and all his kind.
He strode with her like a prize down the center of the goblin camp. His monstrous troops lined up to cheer and salute him on either side of an impromptu aisle. The goblins also laughed and jeered at Laya. Her tunic had been short but decent before Akraz had ripped off the bottom hem to make bindings. Now the ragged edge of the pale green tunic fluttered halfway up her buttocks, exposing them to all the rabble.
The dark wizard Zathstragomal himself stood waiting at the far end of the camp. Akraz somehow knew this; he walked straight for the wizard. Zathstragomal the Malicious wore trailing black robes embroidered in silver runes, but on his head he wore a horned iron helmet, much as Akraz had once worn. Unlike Akraz’s helm, however, the ostentatious horns on this helmet—they had a spread of over two feet—rendered it unsuitable for real battle. Zathstragomal obviously preferred show to substance.
Akraz tossed Laya at the wizard’s feet. With her hands bound, she could not catch her balance, and she fell to her knees before the wizard. The wizard smiled like a snake and reached out with his staff to force up Laya’s chin. Her emerald eyes flashed at him, but the gag prevented her from cursing him aloud.
“Perfect,” leered the wizard. “You have managed to capture one of the elves who captured you. I am pleased with you, Akraz. I will be even more pleased when you tell me that you have already broken her and forced her to tell us where the hidden forest citadel of her people lies.”