Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [29]
"Giznat could serve Great Mistress better with more treasure," he answered after a moment. "Tribe want more gold. If Giznat bring tribe more gold, then tribe know Giznat great leader. Listen to Giznat more. Serve Great Mistress better," he finished this last with a smile on his face, the wide mouth gaping open to reveal small, sharp fangs.
"Indeed," was all she answered, gazing down upon the goblin chief and his two hapless companions. She moved back to the throne and sat down, thinking. Behind her, she could sense the hulking forms of the broad-chested ogres that served as her own personal bodyguards. As always, they lurked in the shadows like statues. With one signal, the hag knew that she could put an end to the disgusting creatures before her. However, the goblins did have their uses, and she rarely enjoyed moving with undue haste.
Within the span of a few heartbeats, she had made her decision.
She stood once again.
"I have decided," she said as regally as she could muster, "to grant you your desire, Giznat."
The goblin chief looked at her with a gleam in its cold yellow eyes. She could sense the anticipation running through its tiny body.
"For your service," the hag continued, "you will receive exactly what you deserve."
She clapped her monstrous, blue-skinned hands together and spoke a single word into the vast chamber. Waves of amber energy emanated from the hag's clasped hands, surrounding the goblin chief. Giznat began to gibber mindlessly, shrieking out his fear. Behind him, his two companions watched as the amber energy passed through Giznat's skin, forming a hardened shell. The goblin chief stopped shrieking and turned to run. His lithe form seemed ungainly, however. He stumbled once then stopped, frozen in mid run. The amber shell faded completely, revealing smooth gray stone.
"You," the hag called out to one of the remaining goblins. "What is your name?"
The goblin stared at her for a moment, before answering. "Ha-Hazbik, Great Mistress," it stammered.
"Well, Hazbik," the hag said, approaching the still-prostrate goblin, "I suggest you run along to the tribe and tell the shaman he needs to pick a new chief."
Hazbik stumbled to his feet and bowed low, nearly tumbling back down to the ground. "Hazbik goes, Mistress," he replied then grabbed the remaining goblin. After a few moments of fumbling, the two creatures managed to make their way to the door.
"Oh and Hazbik," the hag called after them, "see to it that you remove this statue." She pointed to the transformed Giznat. "Please send it to your new chief as my way of… honoring him."
The hag didn't wait for Hazbik's reply but turned back to the throne and dismissed her ogre bodyguards with a wave of her hand. Killing the goblin chief had eased her tension somewhat, but she still wasn't satisfied. She was tired of lurking in shadows like the villain in a bad children's tale, tired of hiding in the ruins of an ancient keep, plotting and planning.
It was time to strike.
She sent a mental summons to the priestess who served as her lieutenant and walked toward the back of the vaulted chamber. There, hidden in the dirt and crumbling mortar, stood a simple circle scribed in dried blood. She stepped into the gruesome circle and spoke a single word before disappearing in a flare of purple light.
The wind's mournful wailing echoed in the vast, empty chamber.
* * * * *
Yulda sat in the confines of her spartan room, waiting for Durakh's arrival. She had removed the spell of seeming she had cast on herself moments after the teleportation circle delivered her here. Now she sat amidst the broken remains of once-fine furniture and the tatters of sumptuous bedding, grateful to be wearing her own skin once again. Though her spell had only been illusory, she felt far more comfortable without any such glamour. Illusion had its uses-after all, wearing the form of an annis hag made it far easier to command her growing