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Book One: Escape

Chapter I: A Princling On The Run

For the second time in as many days, Djar tasted blood in his mouth.

"Get up," snarled the thick green lump of a Goblin with a twisted grin.

Djar tried once more to make the Goblin Captain understand, "I tried to tell him you ordered it, but he simply wouldn't listen. He said he wouldn't ... couldn't give up any more of his stock. He said with summer waning, he had to prepare for winter and needed every animal left to trade for food, equipment and money to keep the farm going next season. With all due respect, Karn, you may be pushing them to the brink."

The Goblin rolled his eyes, which was an eerie sight. They were a shiny yellow, his iris and pupils both very cat-like. He sank back onto what used to be Djar's father's throne, which seemingly added more girth to his bulging belly. He wasn't very large for his kind, but still substantially heavier than all but the largest of Humans. "Princling, you are alive for one reason, and one reason only," he said, pausing to wave Daelwoo, the royal scepter used by Djar's family for generations, mockingly in front of Djar's nose. "You are instructed to have your people refrain from all forms of civil disobedience with no exceptions or excuses!"

"I will try again next week, Kar-uh, Sire"

He smiled, revealing a number of menacingly sharp, yellow stained teeth. "You will try immediately."

***

"Kara, get your stuff, we're getting out of here - now!"

"Oh, Djar," cried a lithe and pretty young woman, wildly springing up from her sitting position on the floor. "He hit you again? That Monster!"

"Yes," Djar answered, bringing his hand up to his lip to feel the now hardening blood and test the swelling. "But he won't get another chance. Just get some traveling things packed - and I mean only the bare essentials. I'll tell you what's going on after we get into the Durn.

Kara was off to her room in a blur, while Djar began stuffing his own essentials into a small red leather bag. Pausing, he ran his fingers over the griffin insignia on the brass buckle - that of the House of Lahroan. So much had happened so fast that it still made his head swim. It seemed like only a few days ago - though in fact it had been nearly six months - that Mahhrain had been overrun by Karn and the rest of his Goblin hoard.

He resumed his packing, violently cramming needed things into his bag. He knew he would be glad to be rid of the life that had been thrust upon him - no matter what the outcome. It was completely draining, always feeling like a gutless little traitor. Of course, his father may have been proud of him. He would have said that it was better that he served his people in any way he could, as lives would be spared and that was paramount. That was what mostly kept him going. That, and just a small measure of hope; hope that something would happen to drive the Goblins out of their great city.

Thinking of his father brought tears to his eyes, but this time he choked them back. He simply had no time for that now. He had to resign himself to the fact that his family was gone, murdered by the leathery green force that now patrolled their castle.

But, perhaps now he could do something about it. The ever-battling Goblins had spread their army just a bit too thin; increasingly, they had trouble keeping the provincial peoples in check. More and more landowners missed their tax deadlines, and Karn's division found itself busy with the sometimes petty and oftentimes boring administrative tasks of occupation - not something the violent Goblins relished. They were much better at ransacking than running a city. Also, vandalism, looting of the Goblin stores, and acts of 'treason' plagued the conquerors. They were finding that it was one matter to overrun a castle, quite another to run the entire duchy with any semblance of efficiency. And not only was controlling the city and surrounding countryside a problem for the aggressive Goblins, they were also expending a lot of bodies in their campaign to overtake Fort Durn. Djar's situation was bleak, but perhaps the Goblins were just a bit vulnerable for the first time.

His job - in the vast scheme of Goblin ideals - was to explain to the guilds, traders and landowners that the new administration deserved their tribute, and that he was there to collect it before the tax department was forced to pay a visit. Djar usually forgot explaining the deserved part, but he never forgot to tell of the risks of non-payment. If he didn't get what the Goblins were after, his visit was eventually followed by a visit from a Maa-Ruk, a Goblin undertaker.

Djar stopped packing and sat on the bed a moment. Though he felt like a coward and traitor sometimes, deep down he knew his calm reasoning had saved many lives. The majority of his people were farmers, not warriors. Many of the fighting men and women had been killed in the battle for the city, or had retreated and later headed north to regroup with the army at Fort Durn, where they now waged a desperate battle for their own lives.

He stood up. There was one more thing to do. He retrieved Dybol, the beautiful sword of his forefathers, from its hiding place underneath a loose floorboard where it had rested since the occupation began. He strapped it to his back under his woolen travel cloak, hiding it as best as he was able, then ran over to Kara's room, pausing just for a second in the dimly-lit hallway to make sure there were no Goblin sentries about. Though it wasn't likely that he would be searched, it was important that he be careful. If caught in the palace with the magic talisman, it would mean a quick end to his plans, and he would lose the priceless and essential sword.

For the past few months, Djar used his family name and diplomatic skills to help his people, basically keeping them from doing anything to get themselves killed. The Goblins, not quite understanding that Djar actually cared for his people, simply believed him to be scared into doing what they wanted. They usually let him go about his daily tasks in peace once they gave him their orders each morning. After the occupation of the city and murder of his parents, Djar tried to escape, and meet up with the soldiers at Fort Durn, but he was caught and quickly subdued. He was locked away in one of the castle's rooms near where Captain Karn set up his office. He wasn't sure why he was spared until days later when the Goblin captain gave him an ultimatum: Djar was to ensure that his people would not hinder the Goblins, or they would inflict as much suffering as possible.

Djar paused as he passed a polished silver platter hung in the hallway outside Kara's room. He stared at his reflection. Karn had also told him that his parents were killed because Karn's superiors felt they could not be controlled. Even though several months before, on his twentieth birthday, Djar had taken his rites of manhood, he was still seen as a boy - the Little Princling - and really nothing to be all that concerned with. So, was he doing the right thing? He had thought about leaving over and over and it could be maddening. If he did nothing, thousands could still die. If winter set in and the Goblins continued to take everything in the entire duchy for their own, the people could not prepare for the harsh season to come. He had to try something. But what if Karn set his hordes loose to kill as many as they could after Djar left - just as he said he would? No. Djar couldn't be sure, but somehow he didn't think Karn would do it. He had spent enough time over the past few months with the captain to see he was a bit different than some of the other Goblins. Karn was certainly aggressive by Human standards, but he seemed less bent on senseless violence than most of his underlings and more concerned with making his life as easy as possible. He was lazy.

Djar took one last look at his reflection before dashing into Kara's room. Hopefully, the Goblin's underestimation of him would come back to haunt the conquerors.

"Ready?" whispered the pretty brown-eyed nymph of a woman. She was suspended between the top of the doorway and the ceiling like some kind of spider. Among her many talents, she could climb nearly anything - and she regularly practiced though it was sometimes disconcerting to Djar. Or, maybe he was just a bit jealous. He could hold his own in virtually any athletic endeavor, but Kara's finesse was simply amazing.

"Yes, and get down from there. It's time to head out."

The young woman went limp for a split second, flipped over and sailed to the floor, landing on all fours. "I heard someone - you - coming so I wanted to be careful. I'm almost ready to go." She grabbed her hunting pack off the four-poster bed. It was bulging with a variety of little things that would make life on the trails mor...