Free When Goblins Rage (Book 3) by Lucas Thorn Page B

you? Well.” He sounded impressed. “That explains what happened to your face. Reckon it was mighty lucky of you to get away. Now, I'm taking you to old Ffloyd's. Not too sure I'm doing you a favour, mind. But the food's better than the swill you'd get at the poxy excuse we've got for an inn. There many of them? The bastards, I mean.”
    He was fishing for information, she knew. Trying to be gentle about it. And she couldn't see the point of not telling him anything. All the same, her head was spinning. The past day was quickly becoming a blur of flashing moments. So she kept her answer curt. A little more abrupt than she meant. “Fifty.”
    “Only fifty?”
    “Could be more. Only saw fifty, I think.” She couldn't get the strength to shake her head. A feverish shudder ran down her body. “I'm not sure.”
    “Don't push yourself, lass,” he said kindly. “You've had a long walk by looks of you. Though, if you could tell if they're on their way here or not, it'd be doing us all a big favour. Can you say which way they were headed?”
    “Camped south. Half a day, maybe.”
    “Then they'll be here tomorrow. I should tell his lordship. Some of the fellows were hoping they'd not pass this way, but it looks like we'll get our scrap after all.” His big hands held her fast as she stumbled again in the street. He didn't seem to notice her weight. “Not that I'm looking forward to it, mind. But it does help to ease the uncertainty, if you take my meaning?”
    “Prefer to ease my hunger right now, Padric.”
    “Padric, is it? Right you are then, Nysta. We're nearly there. As I warned you, though, in the state you're in it's highly probable that Ffloyd's food will kill you.”
    “I've been here before,” she said, fighting a surge of nausea.
    “Is that right?” He made a sound of mock surprise. “And you're still breathing? Why, you're full of surprises, my young elf.”
    She thought of the curse which might be running through her veins and shivered again, though not from the cold. “Full of something,” she muttered, trying to get control of her legs which felt like rubber beneath her hips.
    He led her into the cantina with a grin.
    It was small and cramped. Hardly enough room to swing a goblin in.
    The stink of burnt meat and stale sweat in a humid grip.
    A sullen room. A few small tables and a smattering of mismatched stools and low-backed chairs.
    She caught sight of the splotchy- faced old man behind the counter. He held a rag of indeterminate colour in one hand, which he'd been using to smudge the grease from a plate.
    He hadn't looked up as they entered.
    Had no reason to, because the place was empty of other customers. He kept his face aimed at the counter, eyes fuzzy as his mind drifted through the sewer of his life. Slowly, he reached out to a bottle of wine.
    Hands shaking as they gripped the bottle. Pulled the cork with his teeth. Spat it out. The cork bounced off the counter and was lost among the small tables.
    He took a long suck, pulling the wine like he was dying of thirst.
    Wiped his mouth with a rag.
    Upended the bottle and watched with a forlorn expression as the last drops fell loose to splash onto his counter.
    Then realised they were there. His dull eyes first looked at Pad, then drifted to the elf he was struggling to keep on her feet.
    “Oh no,” he moaned, a look of horror crawling up over his face. “Not you again.”
    “Well, lass,” Pad said with a cheerful slap on her back. “Here we are, then. Welcome to Ffloyd's.”
    Her head spun wildly and she grabbed hold of the large man to keep balance. Suddenly she wanted to throw up. Wanted to sit down.
    Wanted to close her eyes.
    She blinked, seeing double. A multitude of Ffloyds.
    Spots glittered in front of her eyes. Little stars blossoming swiftly. Too swiftly. Like galaxies exploding. Her stomach lurched wildly as waves of vertigo erupted beneath her feet and dragged her down.
    And, as she crashed, thought she managed to mutter;