Page 45 of Shadow Dreaming

“Penn, wake up! Penn?”

Her eyes fluttered and she slowly came to consciousness. “What?”

“Wake up. Get up! We need to get out of here.” I continued to shake her gently until she focused on me and gasped.

“You came!”

“Of course we did. Is there anything I should know before I release you from your bonds?” I asked.

“You need to get out of here, fast,” Penn said. “If you can, take me but for the sake of the gods, please, hurry!”

I frowned, wondering what was wrong. “What’s going on?”

“They—” she froze, as a click against the floor sounded. “Quick, cut me lose!”

My blade was razor sharp and I cut through the thick ropes without a problem, but I was worried. If Penn thought there was danger, there probably was. I reached out to cut her loose, but the next moment the clicking against the floor grew louder as the faint outline of a trapdoor appeared. The next moment, it flew open, and I froze as three scary-ass looking creatures emerged from beneath the floor, all armed with long, sharp daggers.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They looked a lot like goblins, only gnarlier and ready to rumble. Goblins were trouble, but they could be reasoned with at times. Whatever these creatures were, I didn’t anticipate any such luck. Their faces were warty, as though they had giant hard pimples all over them, fleshy nodules that looked inflamed. Their skin was oily and pig pink, with some dirt added into the mix. They were about five-five, and burly. They were wearing some sort of trousers, but nothing else.

They moved forward toward me, their eyes glowing, not saying a word.

“Orik!” I only had time to cut the bonds around Penn’s hands before the creatures were within attack range. I moved to the left, trying to draw them away from Penn while she untied the ropes around her feet.

A clattering on the stairs behind me told me that Orik and the others were on their way down, but I didn’t have the luxury to wait. The first creature came rushing at me. I dodged to the side, but he seemed to anticipate my move because he turned with me, reaching out to swipe my arm. I yelped as he clipped me with the tip of his short sword.

I returned the swing, landing a hit on his shoulder, but his skin was strong enough to deflect the blade.

At that moment, Orik was beside me, engaging the second guard, and Dante, the third. Carson hurried over to Penn’s side to help free her legs.

I dodged another hit—these suckers were fast—and spun, kicking at my opponent as he stumbled over a cord on the floor. I managed to connect with his shoulder, my heeled boot digging into him hard enough to break the skin. Sometimes stilettos had their use.

The force of my blow sent him reeling, and I charged, my blade out, while he struggled to retain his balance. Blade raised, I swiped at him again, missing as he ducked to the right. He let out growl and, head down, barreled my way.

I tried to dodge him but this time, I couldn’t move fast enough and he headbutted me in the stomach, sending me flying back to land against a wall of wine bottles. I hit hard, shaking the entire rack, and bottles began to fall off the shelves, shattering as they landed. The smell of wine filled the air, as shards of glass exploded out, littering the floor. Several splinters lodged in my skin—two in my hand, one in my cheek. I winced, but ignored them as I scrambled to my feet, regrouping to once again face my opponent.

By now, Dante and his adversary were into the thick of fighting, as were Orik and his. The basement echoed with grunts and shouts.

“What are these things?” I shouted. The creatures hadn’t attempted to talk to us at all and I didn’t even know if they could talk.

“Grotes—in the goblin family but worse. Sub-Fae,” Dante yelled back. “They’re born with swords in their hands,” he added.

Great. A race born to fight. And they had no intentions of making friends with us, or even discussing the matter.

The grote on me came racing forward once again, a fierce glint in his eye. He meant business. My dagger wasn’t a good match for his sword—short or not—but I managed to do a duck-and-roll as he swung at me. As I rolled past him, I managed to clip his right leg with my dagger. I lucked out, striking between the top of his ankle boot and his pant leg. My blade struck deep, leaving a bloody gash on his shin.

I rolled out of the way, coming up into a crouch, breathing hard. Dante had landed a strike on his grote. Orik was tall enough to aim for the top of the head. He brought his handaxe down, biting into the grote’s skull with his blade. The axe went in deep, so deep that Orik had to grab hold of the groat by the shoulder for leverage to retrieve the blade.

I shot a glance over toward Penn and Carson. They were headed out the door, toward the stairs. Relieved, I turned back to my opponent and feigned a step to the left. He began to follow and I reversed, jumping right of him. I swung around, my blade gliding through his side, stabbing deep into his flesh. He let out a shriek as blood sprayed from the wound.

Orik turned toward the grote fighting Dante, and the creature suddenly backed up, holding up his hands and dropping his blade. He turned tail, heading for the trap door. Orik followed, throwing his axe at the grote. The blade landed in his back, knocking him down.

I turned back to my opponent, who held up his hand, shuffling back toward the trap door. Not feeling generous—he had managed to clip me just enough to hurt—I charged him. He dropped his blade and dove for the staircase, but I jumped to land on his back, knocking him down. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I brought my dagger down through the nape of his neck and twisted. The body beneath me shuddered once, twice…then was still.

As I looked up, relieved, Orik shut the trap door, after peeking in.

“There’s a hole against one wall in there,” he said, his face pale.

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