The Changeling by Juniper Butterworth

Author:Juniper Butterworth [Butterworth, Juniper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-02T22:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

They were met by a contingent of the queen's soldiers where the road to Joring met the main road into the capital city. The sun had only just set; the goblin king had insisted they leave early enough to be in a full gallop south by the time darkness fell.

The soldiers, all mounted, had strung their horses across the road to make a loose blockade. The animals were uneasy, tossing their heads and stamping their feet. Taryn, who had taken it for granted that aside from Lilith, the goblin king's horses were more or less ordinary beasts, was shocked to see how small and drab these creatures were. Even in the dim twilight, Nel shone gold and red in comparison.

Lilith simply disappeared. A moment earlier Taryn and the king had both been mounted; now they were walking alongside Nel and Ash as though they'd come all the way from Joring that way. The king looked—well, he didn't look particularly human, but he didn't have his tusks or his crest, and his hands were jammed firmly into pockets that his coat hadn't had a few minutes ago.

Ash sighed and pressed a knee against Nel, who stepped forward. His ears were rigidly upright, and his skin quivered. The look in his usually-gentle eyes was positively murderous.

“What can we do for you, my good sirs?” they called.

The captain of the unit, to guess by the slightly finer cut of his jacket and the slightly taller horse he rode on, exchanged looks with the soldiers on his left and his right before kneeing his horse forward to meet them. He wore a black helmet with a visor that blocked most of his face from sight, and something about the dark eyes visible above the metal made Taryn's stomach churn.

His voice was clear and sonorous, perhaps to compensate for the visor. “I have a warrant for the arrest of the witch Ashmallen and all those who accompany the witch, for illegal and immoral use of magic.”

“By whose authority is it granted?”

“Her Royal Majesty, the Queen Taryn Ardloch; Guardian of the Holy Cattle; Honorer of the Gods—”

“And what are the terms of the arrest?”

“To be carried out immediately,” the captain said, and too late Taryn realized that six of the horsemen behind him carried short-bows that they had kept low at their sides. He gestured them forward with an impatient hand, and the soldiers drew up their bows, a pair of them taking aim at each of them—

“No,” said the king. “I think not.”

Everything went slow and sticky, as if the entire scene had been dumped into a bowl of jelly. The captain started to open his mouth, clearly meaning to shout, but got caught halfway, unable to move his jaw any further. The arrows that the bowmen had nocked to their strings slowed their flight and then fell to the ground.

The king crouched and then sprang up, landing on the great granite stone that marked the crossing.

“Know ye of goblins?” he asked in a strange voice, which sounded as though thousands of other voices spoke with him.

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