The Goblin Corps Read Online Free PDF Page A

reluctantly shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my lord. DuMark’s spells have always been particularly potent.”
    Without further comment, Morthûl once more rested his chin on his fist and resumed the all-consuming task of staring into space.
    Havarren imperceptibly shook his head a second time. Morthûl had most certainly taken his vengeance against Dororam, the monarch who had aided duMark and his allies numerous times in thwarting the forces of Kirol Syrreth. But a month and more, now, the Dark Lord’s efforts had been spent in seeking the interlopers who had invaded the Iron Keep itself, the scum who had interfered with the Charnel King’s ancient spell.
    And for a month and more, those efforts had proved futile. Clearly, duMark had realized that his companions were in peril, had woven spells of cloaking and protection so tightly about them that even the combined efforts of Morthûl and Havarren had been unable to locate them, the many spies of Kirol Syrreth unable to unearth them.
    It was all finally taking its toll. The collapse of his great spell, at what was supposed to be the culmination of all his work—combined, now, with his failure even to fully punish those responsible—had apparently sucked the heart from the Dark Lord. Morthûl had withdrawn ever further from the day-to-day aspects of ruling a land as large and strife-ridden as Kirol Syrreth. The various goblin races—unsteady allies at the best of times—were reverting to their natural rivalries. The human officers had kept the peace so far, but it was only a matter of time before their efforts must prove inadequate.
    Worse still, word had just recently reached Havarren that King Dororam, enraged by the death of Princess Amalia, was assembling the armies of the Allied Kingdoms. Elf prepared to march alongside dwarf, halfling beside pixie, giloral beside human. Come the spring thaw…
    Havarren, in the process of turning to beat a hasty retreat from the chamber, abruptly stopped short. So deeply had Morthûl withdrawn, the mage realized suddenly, that there was a better than even chance he’d not yet heard of Dororam’s mobilization!
    Nervously clearing his throat, Havarren turned back. “Umm—my lord, there is one other matter…”
    Once more the half-naked skull tilted upward. “And that would be?”
    The ancient evil listened, expressionless, as Havarren explained current events beyond the Brimstone Mountains. Even after the lanky wizard finished speaking, the Charnel King of Kirol Syrreth stared, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he’d been told.
    And then, slowly, Morthûl rose from his throne. The ancient garments draping his body fell in folds around him, delighted to be free from the confines of the marble corners. Even the profane glow seemed, ever so perceptibly, to brighten.
    “Dororam seeks to challenge
me
? Here, in Kirol Syrreth?” A spasm of laughter racked the Charnel King’s frame; dust and handfuls of squirming insects spattered across the floor, shaken from the folds of his clothes. Beneath that mocking laugh, Havarren heard clearly an undertone of fury at the hubris of a mortal who would dare stand against the Dark Lord himself.
    “Come, Havarren,” Morthûl commanded, already moving toward the door. “Let us see what my dear queen wants of me. And then, we have arrangements to make. I intend for Dororam to learn the folly of his actions.”
    Havarren nodded, falling into step behind his master. “You have a plan, my lord?”
    “When do I not? But it requires careful timing. Havarren, summon my messengers. I want you to assemble a Demon Squad.”
    The mage nodded. “Any racial preferences?”
    “No. Just make certain they’re the best. I’ll be asking quite a bit of them.”
    “Of course. And then?”
    “Then? Then we see to the end of King Dororam and everyone fool enough to follow him.”
    Havarren grinned, a wide expression of sheer malevolence. There were certain aspects about his