Avalon - Chapter 87 - Taken in the Night

Taken in the Night

It was rather wondrous to see how the magicals operated, and just how different yet similar they were to his own people. Arthur watched them in a mixture of fascination and curiosity as they went about the task of setting up their various camps and marvelled at almost everything he saw.

To them, it was likely mundane to set up tents, but as Arthur saw no less than twenty men enter one small dent designed to sleep two, he shook his head.

“How do they do that?” Tristan asked.

“Magic,” Arthur answered with a shrug. “It is something I suppose we will never understand.”

“Do they?”

Arthur frowned at the question.

“Perhaps not, but they certainly understand it better than us.”

Tristan merely nodded.

For Arthur, the presence of so many magicals served to offer him some relief when he considered the battles ahead, but equally as a stark reminder of just how easily his own kind could be subjugated to the whims of such people.

As fascinating and brilliant as they were, he could not forget just how much a threat they posed.

Now more than ever, he was pleased he had Harry Potter and his own group of men to ensure that didn’t happen, though he was acutely aware of the tensions between the man, and several members of the Wizard’s Council, who objected to what he was doing.

Even so, they seemed to have managed to put their differences aside for the time being, a brief that may prove to only be temporary, but one that was undoubtedly needed to quash the rebelling goblins.

“How many?” Gawain questioned gruffly.

Arthur released a deep breath as he shook his head.

“Including Harry’s men, just over two thousand.”

“And how many goblins?”

Arthur shrugged.

“More than we have and likely more creatures too.”

Gawain hummed.

“Well, that’s more of them for us to kill, isn’t it?”

Arthur chuckled as he squeezed the man’s shoulder.

“If every man we have is as brave and confident as you, the war is already won.”

“They’d better have some balls between them. Not even Potter, Peverell, and Myrddin can fight off so many. Speaking of which.”

He nodded towards where a concerned Myrddin was approaching them, his expression grim.

“What is it?” Arthur asked.

“I’ve just received a report from one of my scouts that the goblins have taken Winchester. They’ve not destroyed it, so it seems as though they intend on using it as a stronghold. It’s symbolic, Arthur. Winchester is important to your people.”

“Aren’t we going to take it back?”

“I expect so,” Myrddin assured him, “but I have heard nothing from Potter. If I know of it, he certainly does too.”

“So, we wait?”

Myrddin nodded, though he seemed uneasy.

“For now, I think it is for the best. It could prove to be foolish to attempt to take it back so soon and so brazenly. We must know what protections they have around the place before we act. That could take time, and there is no promise that we can even remove them from it without the casualties being too high. I don’t think any of us expected this, and I am wondering just what they’re playing at.”

“It’s like you said, it’s symbolic,” Arthur snorted humourlessly. “It’s a show of strength and our lack of preparedness. That must change, Myrddin. We cannot allow them to take the country keep by keep.”

“We won’t,” Myrddin assured him. “I will discuss it with Potter as soon as he returns and hear his thoughts on the matter.

With that, he took his leave, and Arthur cursed under his breath.

It was indeed an unexpected move, but one that could not be ignored indefinitely.

Winchester was still sacred ground, even if Alfred was no longer here.

It represented the power the crown once held, and without it, Arthur would appear weak to both the goblins and the muggles that looked to him to lead them.

No, it was unacceptable for it to be left in the hands of their enemies, and Arthur wanted it back, if only to show the goblins their trespasses would not be tolerated.

(Break)

Helga was frowning as he gently pressed on Morgana’s tummy, nodding as she felt the hardness and slight swelling. She continued her ministrations for a few moments before stepping back and offering her a smile.

“All seems well,” she declared with certainty.

“It feels different this time.”

“In what way?”

“The sickness is worse, and I can feel it already. When I sleep, it’s almost as though it is just as much a part of my dreams as me.”

“That is quite normal,” Helga assured her. “The babe is healthy. I would say you’re around two moons along, maybe a little further.”

“It’s a girl,” Morgana said confidently. “It’s like she’s telling me that she is a girl in her own strange way.”

“Now, that is odd, but it just means you already have a strong bond with her.”

“Why wasn’t it the same with Taran?”

“Because as much of you as there is in him, that boy is just like his father,” Helga said amusedly. “It’s in his mannerisms, the way he looks, and even his proclivity for using unpleasant language,” she finished in a mixture of frustration and laughter. “Taran is very much his father’s son, and this girl seems to be very much her mother’s daughter.”

Morgana nodded as her hand came to rest on her stomach.

“Poor Harry,” she sighed.

Helga chuckled before handing her a familiar collection of potions.

“I do not need to explain these, you already know what to do, but I will be checking on your regularly. Where is your idiot husband anyway?”

Morgana shrugged.

“Who knows,” she answered fondly. “He could be just in the grounds of the school, or in another country.”

“He’s an adventurer.”

“He’s a warrior, and a pain in the arse,” Morgana pointed out.

“There’s none that would deny that,” Helga snorted, “but he’s one of the good ones, as are you.”

“You never thought I was.”

“I did not,” Helga replied unashamedly. “I thought you were a lost child that was setting yourself on an unforgiveable path, and I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have been proven wrong. Even us that those hail as the greatest of our time make mistakes. I was wrong about you. Perhaps it is you and Harry that keep one another from falling victim to your own hubris’s, but whatever it is, it works for you both. You are wonderful parents, and wonderful people that the world would be much worse off without. I do not say that lightly.”

“I know,” Morgana replied, “and thank you for this and for when I was pregnant with Taran.”

Helga smiled brightly as she waved her off.

“It truly is my pleasure. I only wish Rowena had been alive long enough to meet them. She would’ve adored your children.”

“Well, I expect you’ll get sick of them in the years to come. You’ll have to teach them when they attend Hogwarts.”

“And I will have exceptionally high expectations of both. Given who their parents are, I will expect nothing less than absolute brilliance, whatever it is they choose to study.”

Morgana smiled at the thought of her own children attending the school.

At almost a year old, Taran was already growing up quickly, and as she’d mentioned already, he was becoming more and more like his father with each passing day.

Soon enough, he too would have a sword in hand, but Morgana took comfort knowing that by the time he was old enough to go to war, that the country would be in a state of peace.

Well, it would be if her husband proved to be as successful as ever when it came to matters of war.

Soon enough, the goblins would realise they had made quite the mistake in rebelling, and it would be Harry to put an end to whatever ambitions they harboured.

He would do so decisively, and ruthlessly, leaving the nasty creatures with less than they’d ever had since arriving in Britain.

Whether or not it would happen before the new babe came along remained to be seen. But Morgana was hopeful it would be, and that once more, there would be a semblance of peace for her to enjoy with her husband before something else inevitably emerged on the horizon for him to be involved in.

(Break)

He and Owain had watched the city closely for several hours, skirting around the edge of the outer wall carefully whilst they looked for any vulnerabilities.

With the goblins only having just begun occupying Winchester, it was all but impossible for them to have secured it completely.

“What do you think?” Owain asked.

Harry frowned at the questioned, the magic in the air much more powerful than it should be for it being so recent. It had a feeling of old magic, much older than something only in place for a short while.

“They’re using something,” he murmured. “This isn’t magic they’ve just conjured. This is magic that has been stored and released here.”

“Is that possible?”

Harry nodded and remembered the crystals the goblins had taken to using in their search for Malfoy Manor.

They had kept them hidden from Draco, but Morgana had laid eyes on them herself.

“It is, for us and for goblins, but they seem to have already developed a much better way than us to do it.”

“So, we should just abandon our plan?”

Harry snorted at the thought.

“Just because they think it is impossible for us to get in undetected, that doesn’t make it so. Follow my lead but stay close. I can’t imagine they would treat you so kindly if we were caught here. An axe to the spine would be preferable to having your arse pulled up over your head.”

Owain grimaced at the unpleasant image.

“It would,” he agreed, following Harry as he carefully navigated his way around the city wall, looking for anywhere they might be able to create an opening.

He found it in a section south of the church and remembered his first visit here where he and Godric had met the Fat Friar. At the very least, he and Owain might have the room below the church to flee to if all went wrong, if the goblins hadn’t yet discovered it.

“Are you sure about this?” Owain asked.

“We won’t get a better opportunity than now,” Harry pointed out. “If anything, they will be expecting a full-frontal attack to displace them from here. As you can see, they’re prepared for that. They have eyes atop the walls in all directions. They will not be expecting something so clandestine.”

Owain snorted.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mad bastard?”

“I think even you have mentioned it a few times,” Harry mused aloud. “You know, you don’t have to come.”

“Bugger that,” Owain muttered. “I’m with you, Harry, but if you get me killed, I’ll bloody well kill you.”

“I have no idea how that would even work,” Harry replied amusedly. “Come on, you git. Let’s get them whilst they think they’ve had a great victory.”

“How many shall we take?”

“Five will do. Use your cloak and meet me back here in fifteen minutes. If things go tits up, there’s a hidden room beneath the podium in the church. Get there and I’ll find you.”

“Or maybe it will be you that needs me to find you,” returned, vanishing entirely within the folds of his cloak before entering the city.

Harry followed only a moment later, his wand already drawn as he began navigating his way around, careful not to draw any unwanted attention to himself.

Despite the jubilant mood amongst the goblins, they remained vigilant, though perhaps not quite vigilant enough; something Harry proved by being able to quietly stun one that wandered off from his peers to fetch a cup of something from a large communal barrel.

Whatever the goblins were drinking was likely not fit for human consumption.

It reminded Harry of the smell of petrol, and he idly wondered if it would prove to be just as flammable.

For now, however, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and as he spotted another goblin heading in his direction, he remained in the shadows, like a serpent waiting to strike.

The goblin managed only the slightest gasp of surprise before he was rendered unconscious, leaving Harry to search for another to add to his duo.

So far, the little venture was going as well as he could’ve hoped for, but as he moved his way through the narrow alleys of Winchester, Harry stilled, a sudden influx of unpleasant magic giving him pause.

What it was, he didn’t know, but he remained where he was, daring not to even breathe as the shrill alarm of something akin to the Caterwauling Charm sounded throughout the city.

In only a matter of seconds, swathes of goblins spilled out of every building, growling and shouting in their own tongue as they answered the call, and all Harry could do was press himself tightly against the wall and hope that none bumped into him.

Much to his relief, they did not, and it seemed that the goblins were gathering in the main square, the very same place the bodies of those that had once lived here had been piled high during his first visit.

Following them carefully, he skirted around the edge of the square whilst the shouting and discomfort of the creatures continued, though the rabble quietened as four goblins stepped onto what had once been a set of gallows in the centre of the enormous group.

Harry swallowed deeply at the sheer amount of them here.

In Winchester alone, there could be no less than five thousand, and he did not believe the goblins to be so foolish to gather all of their warriors in one place.

The number they faced, even if it such a thing was true, had been grossly miscalculated.

He understood nothing of what was said, but the goblin addressing his brethren did so with authority, he larger build, deep scars, and mismatched eyes making him stand out amongst the others.

His voice was harsh, and Harry could feel a power radiating off him that the others lacked.

Not that any goblin he’d met was weak, but this one was undeniably different, and as he raised his arms in triumph, the power he exuded only became stronger until it saturated the air.

His hand twitched towards his sword, the thought that he could perhaps kill the goblin where he stood a difficult one to ignore, but it would undoubtedly mean certain death.

The protections around the city were not negligible, and though he and Owain could perhaps navigate their way out of them, it would be foolish to put them in such a position with so many things that could go wrong.

Shaking his head, he knew he was already late returning to where he and Owain had agreed to meet, and with his two goblins secured, he carefully made his way back through the alleyways of Winchester, troubled by what it was he had experienced and witnessed.

Not only was there more of the goblins than he could’ve anticipated, but they were also being led by one they all followed cohesively, meaning that it was indeed a united force the humans would face.

Nonetheless, Harry would not be deterred. If anything, it only emboldened him further to ensure that he and his men would be ready for the continuation of the war they found themselves embroiled in.

“Did you see that?” Owain whispered as he arrived where they’d begun their foray into the city.

“I did,” Harry confirmed. “It’s worse than we thought.”

“Much worse,” Owain sighed. “Well, I managed to get five of them.”

“I have two,” Harry confirmed. “Come, let us leave them a message before we take them to Azkaban to let them know that they are not safe inside the walls.”

“Do you think it is wise?”

“I think it is necessary. They need to feel unsettled, uncomfortable whilst they are out in the open. I don’t expect it will come to much, but it will give them something else to think about, at the very least.”

Owain nodded, and Harry grouped together the goblins they captured, relieving them of their weapons before setting to work, he himself feeling quite unsettled by what they had come upon this evening.

Perhaps the prisoners would be able to shed some light on what they faced, but Harry did not hold much hope that they would talk willingly.

Still, he had his ways of ensuring they did, and if it proved to be necessary to delve into them, then so be it.

Now was not a time for reticence.

No, he needed to be decisive, thorough, and as ruthless as the enemy they found themselves faced with if the goblins were to be defeated.

(Break)

“How is it of any importance to us that the goblins have taken a muggle city?” Flint huffed.

Myrddin had explained to them what had happened, and though they were unmoved by the development, they would soon realise the significance of it.

“Because they are showing that they neither fear or respect us,” Myrddin sighed tiredly. “If you wish for me to put it into a context you may understand, it is the same as them walking into your family home and spitting in you’re the face of your sainted mother. Winchester was once the seat of Britain. It was revered by the Saxons and Danes, and even the Romans when they were here.”

Flint scowled unhappily, and the others murmured amongst themselves.

“We have sent our fighting men,” Rookwood pointed out. “What more can we do? Why isn’t Potter doing something about it?”

“I suspect he is,” Myrddin assured them. “I have no doubt that he is aware of the situation, but I have yet to receive word from him. I expect he is likely in Winchester now.”

“With the goblins?”

Myrddin nodded darkly.

“Potter is a man of action,” he declared. “I have come to somewhat know how he operates, and the first thing he will do is verify the rumours before taking appropriate action, whatever that may be. What he will not do is march are entire force to Winchester to take it. That is exactly what the goblins will want and expect. Potter is too clever for that.”

“So, he will just confirm what we already know?”

“No,” Myrddin denied. “He will strike back against them, even if to demonstrate that he simply can at his whim. The goblins have only seen him in battle. They have yet to experience the cunning man that Harry Potter is, but they will soon enough, and it will give them just another thing to be concerned with. Potter is as ruthless as they come, and the goblins will learn that soon enough, if they already haven’t.”

“If they already haven’t?” Gaunt asked.

Myrddin nodded.

“When we encountered them for the first time, he took all of the dead and left them in a pile on the white cliffs, somewhere he knew the goblins would find them.”

“Like he did with the Irish.”

“Indeed,” Myrddin said grimly. “He is not a man to take lightly, but it appears that the goblins are particularly stubborn and steadfast in their belief that they hold an advantage over us. Perhaps they do given the numbers we face, but where Harry potter is concerned, you can never assume you hold anything over him. With an army at his back, there is no telling what he will be capable of, when they are trained to his standards.”

The others fell silent as they pondered what he said, but before any could speak further on the matter, an ethereal crow appeared in the room and spoke in the voice of the very man they were discussing.

“I will meet with you all shortly. You will need to gather the rest of the council at Camelot.”

His tone was grave, and Myrddin felt himself deflate as he gestured for Flint to once more send for the others.

It would indeed be a long night, but one he hoped would prove to be fruitful towards their efforts in defeating the rebelling goblins.

(Break)

Although he did not take to drink, he saw no harm in the others celebrating their victory tonight. Although no blood was shed, they had made quite the advance in their war against the humans, taking something they held quite dear from them.

Winchester had once been the richest city in the entirety of Briatin.

Alfred himself had sat upon the throne Dark-Eye now occupied, had ruled the lands and waged war against the Danes that plagued the lands.

His reign had largely been a successful one, especially for a man of weak health. He’d known how to use the resources at his disposal, known how to outwit his enemies, and often allowed them to destroy one another.

Dark-Eye did not have such fortune.

No, the humans, according to the reports of his scouts, were coming together to face him and his horde, much to his consternation. Not that it would be enough.

Dark-Eye had spent decades gaining support, building his army, and preparing for just this moment, and there was nothing that could stop him achieving what it was he been dreaming of all these years.

Freedom.

Above all else, he fought for freedom of the shackles placed upon him and his kind by the humans.

“What is it?” he snapped as a frantic knocking sounded at the door.

It was flung open, and the silencing charms he’d cast over it collapsed, allowing the sound of an unhappy gathering to reach him.

“You will want to see this,” Blackfang said grimly, turning immediately away to lead him to whatever it was that irked him so.

Dark-Eye followed with a deep frown marring his features, the expression shifting to one of curiosity and then anger as he spotted the seven swords resting outside the gates to Winchester.

“What is that symbol?” he demanded to know.

He’d never seen such a thing before, but the triangle with the circle within it and line running down the middle was rather ominous. He immediately recognised the familiar magic left behind, and though the symbol was rather ominous, it was the white-eyed raven preening itself he watched closely.

“I don’t know,” Blackfang murmured, shaking his head.

“DEATH!” the raven squawked before taking to the sky.

Dark-Eye growled at the creature before lowering himself to the ground to get a closer look at the blades.

They were goblin-made, familiar enough to him that he knew they belonged to some of his own men, but if their blades were here…

“Who is missing?” he asked.

“Galgun, Long-Ear, and the Blood-Soaked brothers,” Blackfang answered.

Dark-Eye’s lips retreat of his teeth in anger.

“Why leave their blades and not them?” he murmured.

“Because he has taken them, Dark-Eye,” Blackfang said grimly.

His nostrils flared as he stepped forward, pausing as voice sounded loud enough that all the gathered goblins within Winchester could here.

“These are the first of many I will take from you. For every human you harm, your own will suffer, but I will not grant them an honourable death. Whilst you continue on the path you have set yourself upon, they will remain my prisoners until their minds or bodies break. They will not live well, but their experiences will pale in comparison to what I will do to you. Come Death, come…”

It was an undeniably eerie and ominous warning, and Dark-Eye felt the unease settle in amongst his own warriors.

He growled in displeasure as he clicked his fingers, summoning his personal elf.

“Where is Harry Potter?” he asked.

The elf swallowed deeply, trembling as it shook its head.

“I-I cannot tell you,” it answered fearfully. “H-Harry P-Potter hides from us, b-but you should not be looking for him. Harry P-Potter is not like other humans.”

“Not like other humans?”

The elf’s eyes were wide in horror as it nodded frantically.

“Harry P-Potter is different, master. He is him and him is he.”

“Him?”

“The t-taker of souls,” the elf whispered, looking around, fearful that Death itself would appear to take her.

Dark-Eye frowned, the coldness of the magic that washed over him as unsettling as it was unpleasant, and the silence that reigned did not help.

Still, he chuckled to himself before it became an almost delighted guffaw.

Steadily, the others joined in, but they did not do so in the same spirit as him.

“Harry Potter is just a man like all others,” Dark-Eye declared. “He breathes and he bleeds, which means he can die. I will personally rip out his heart and feast upon it for all of you to see. For now, remain vigilant, and stay together. I will not see any more of you taken.”

With his final words given, he returned to the city and to the house he had taken for himself, still confident of his victory, but discomforted by what had happened.

Despite everything, Harry Potter still did not fear him and the army he had amassed, nor was he reluctant to do to Dark-Eye what had been done to the humans.

Still, taking prisoners was rather unsettling, and the very thought of some of his ow kind being held captive in such a way by a human sickened him to the very core.

Nonetheless, he would get them back.

No goblin would suffer such indignity at the hands of a human, and Dark-Eye was already pondering the suffering he would inflict upon Harry Potter for the temerity he’d shown in kidnapping his kin.

The man would die of course, but not until his screams and pleading could be heard by all across Britain before he would be granted such a mercy.

(Break)

Even without the presence of the Dementors, Azkaban was a place so few would wish to find themselves. For Harry, it was something he was becoming accustomed to, but the prisoners were shuddering within their cells.

Already, he’d spoken with the five siblings Owain had captured. Each of them had spoken of the admiration of the goblin that led them, had told the story of his rise to the very top of their civilisation, and how he’d slaughtered those who’d opposed him and his ambitions.

“Dark-Eye,” he murmured.

The name made sense given the mismatched orbs of the creature he’d seen giving what appeared to be quite the speech.

Even so, he’d been able to glean little else from those who referred to themselves as the Blood-Soaked brothers, who seemed to be little more than enforcers in Dark-Eye’s army.

Still, there was two others to speak with, and perhaps they would have more they could share with him, whether they wished to or not.

“What is your name?” Harry asked the next.

The goblin bared its teeth at him in response, spitting on the floor in disgust at the position he found himself in.

“Long-Ear,” he answered.

Once more, Harry found the name to be apt.

One of the goblin’s ears was indeed much longer than the other, so much so that it flopped over in what would be a comical fashion were it not for the malevolent glare aimed towards Harry.

“Well, Long-Ear, you are to be my prisoner until your rebellion is quelled,” he explained. “How it ends depends on you and any other I will inevitably capture. You see, I’m going to kill any of your kind I meet on the battlefield. I will cut them down with my blade, and I will…”

“That blade belongs to my kind!” Long-Ear spat. “Bolga had no right to hand it over to a human!”

Harry eyed the goblin before drawing the sword he’d been gifted.

It was a fine blade, finer than any a human could make, and it spoke to him, just as his own and the Elder Wand did.

“I think you’ll find the sword will tell you differently,” he murmured. “Now, I will kill every last one of you if I must, but I would sooner reach a peaceful conclusion.”

Long-Ear laughed as he shook his head.

“There will be no peace until the humans are gone, or you bow to us. Dark-Eye will never negotiate. He will see you all dead!”

Harry nodded as he leaned in closer.

“Then we truly do have quite the problem on our hands,” he replied. “Do you have a family, Long-Ear? A wife, or children, perhaps?”

The goblin grinned in response.

“You will never find them.”

Harry hummed as he stood.

“You see, that is where you are wrong. If they are not within Winchester, that means those that are not warriors have been left somewhere else, somewhere they are vulnerable to me. Now, what do you think would happen if I was to find them and bring them all here? Would all of your kind still support Dark-Eye?”

Long-Ear struggled against his bonds as he spoke in his mother tongue, undoubtedly making threats he could not hope to follow through with whilst he was on the island.

After several moments, he fell silent and continued to glare at Harry.

“Maybe Dark-Eye has underestimated you humans,” he mused aloud, “but that doesn’t matter. You will not be able to defeat us. We number on the thousands, and we have things at our disposal that you cannot comprehend. Dragons may fall to you, but there are other things waiting to be unleashed upon your kind, things that cannot be stopped with your magic, your mind tricks, or even your blade. There are monsters in this world, Harry Potter, monsters never seen on these shores, but it is Dark-Eye you should fear. He wields the true power of our kind, nd he will not be overcome.”

Long-Ear was grinning by the time he finished speaking, and Harry merely offered him a nod.

He did not expect the little creature to speak to him willingly, but already, he’d said much more than he’d anticipated gaining, and a quick look into his mind had been sufficient in gaining much more than his words had told him.

“Perhaps,” he conceded, “but I would not be so certain. I have advantages that you cannot comprehend, knowledge that Dark-Eye could not hope to fathom until it is too late. If he is so intent on dying and taking the rest of you with him, so be it, but in my experience, when a leader falls victim to Death, the followers fall to their knees and beg for mercy. Whether that is for them or those they cherish, it doesn’t matter. They all beg for it in the end.”

Long-Ear said nothing, choosing only to continue to glare at Harry, who paused as he reached the door to the cell.

“I would make myself as comfortable as I can if I were you. You will be here for some time, but don’t worry, more of your own kind will join you soon enough. I expect you will hear their screams.”

The goblin once more struggled against the chains biding him, to no avail.

For now, until the war was over, any that found themselves imprisoned hre would remain for the duration.

“Anything of use?” Owain asked.

Harry nodded.

“Maybe, but it remains to be seen. Regardless, this war will not be easily ended. There will be much blood spilled before that, and we must be ready. I want you to focus on training our forces. From morning until night if you have to. We cannot face them when it matters without a competent fighting force to back us up.”

“Of course,” Owain complied, frowning as Harry rummaged through a trunk he removed from his pocket before handing him a thick book.

“Read this,” he urged. “Learn everything you can about each creature within and develop strategies to combat them based on their weaknesses. I expect we will need this knowledge and ability to defeat them.”

“The Monster book of Monsters,” Owain murmured. “Why is it…”

He dropped the thick tome as it began growling and shuddering in his hand.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, picking it back up, scowling at the laughing Harry.

“You just need to tickle its spine to open it.”

Owain shook his head.

“And if it bites me?”

Harry shrugged.

“You might be a missing a finger or two. Anyway, we should get back to Camelot. I need to speak with Emrys and the others to explain what has happened and what we know. This Dark-Eye isn’t like any other goblin I’ve seen. I don’t know what it is, but he is a dangerous creature and will not relent in his efforts until he is forced to.”

Owain nodded, and the two of them vanished from the island prison they’d created but would undoubtedly return soon with more goblins to add to the several hundred empty cells awaiting them.

(Break)

Although he was becoming accustomed to being in the presence of magicals, Arthur could not say the same for the poorly veiled looks of disdain he received from some within his own home.

Oddly, it was those that Myrddin associated with closely that gazed upon him in such a way, but the king chose to ignore it, putting the needs of his people over the slight of his counterparts.

“Is there still no word from Potter?” Marcus Flint asked irritably. “We put him in charge of our men, and he is silent the moment the goblins come out of their damned holes!”

“Calm yourself, Marcus,” Myrddin urged. “Potter will be here.”

“He already is,” Harry declared as he and Owain entered the room, both appearing to be tired. But unharmed.

“What news?” Myrddin asked.

“Nothing good,” Harry sighed. “The goblins have taken Winchester, around five thousand of them.”

“Christ, you don’t even have half of that number,” Arthur pointed out.

“We don’t, and from what I have managed to gather, it is not only the goblins we need to concern ourselves with. The trolls, dragons and ogres were just a sample of what we may have, but me and Owain will ensure we are ready for whatever comes.”

Arthur nodded appreciatively, but the others present did not seem convinced.

“Surely they can be negotiated with?” Lord Danvers spoke.

Harry shook his head.

“No, their only goal is to either kill us or have us become enslaved by them. That means giving up your wealth, your wands, and use of magic. They will accept nothing less, which means we must fight.”

Those within the room fell silent for a moment, the confidence or perhaps arrogance they’d felt at learning of their foes having all but evaporated.

For Arthur, it was about time.

No enemy should ever be underestimated; something the magicals were finally learning for themselves.

“So, what next?” Rookwood asked.

“We take the fight to them in our own way,” Harry answered. “We will be cautious, but no less ruthless when it counts, and we will dictate where the fighting will take place. For now, we train, whilst I look for another advantage. I will immediately begin searching for where the goblins live away from Winchester. When their own home is threatened, they will see that victory is impossible for them.”

“How?” Myrddin asked. “The goblins live underground, so far that it is unlikely we will ever be able to find them.”

Harry shook his head, and Arthur would swear that he saw his eyes flash an eerie white.

“I will dig the bastards out with a shovel if I must,” he declared. “Not even the goblins can escape from Death.”

With that, he vanished in a plume of dark smoke.

“Come Death, come,” Owain Peverell murmured before following suit, leaving behind a group of perturbed magicals in their wake.