Journey of the Half-Elf - Book 1

Chapter XXIII - The Lightless Streets

Gastan and Guinevere had just crossed the bridge, returning to the dingy outskirts of Shir Shikrog. Unlike Alfrindon — and even the other two Cities for that matter — where committed men would go after sunset to light the towering street-lamps, none of the pathetic Goblins dwelling in these parts could ever be bothered to ascend the wood posts; if they did not feel like audibly humping them, the poor street-lamps would instead be putridly splattered with the other unsightly expulsions.

Though no flame from above would illuminate their dark path, Guinevere and Gastan were thankful at least that no one else walked around them.

"As dark and filthy as this neighbourhood is, I can't deny that it's... peaceful right now. Wouldn't you agree?" The young woman asked her father, the cricket-chirps and wordless air almost tempting her to undo her bandana and long braid.

"Yeah." He smiled, looking up with her at the pale summer moon that hid beneath a passing gray veil. "Sky's pretty nice."

"Indeed, Father." She replied. "So, how was your first day here? I mean, first day back."

"Not too bad. What about you, kid? When we got here, you said you hated it. You still feel the same or...?"

"Hm..." She thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't mind this place now. Don't get me wrong, the very sights of waste and dirt still singe my eyelashes, and they may always will. But... it's not too bad. Besides, we have no choice in staying here. Until we get enough money, until a better house is vacated in a better location, this is the best that we've got. This is our new life now.

Beggars cannot be choosers..." She sighed. "This, I must remember first."

"One day, kid." He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder. "This won't be forever. I promise."

Suddenly, a pair of sweaty Goblins came from around the corner, muttering aloud as they passed a near-empty bottle to each other. Upon seeing the two dimly lit humans before them, they slowed their drunken gait.

"Nah wawi got here?" One of them asked in a slurred voice, eyeing up Guinevere's body, prompting her and Gastan to stop walking. "Ta Chorik," He called to his friend in their tongue. "Ne poot pron ri shookree!"

"Back off." She declared, backing away from the perverted Goblin to stand closer to her father, who pressed his fingers on the knife-handle at his hip.

"Oohh Ragee, she hot like that hair! And that ass be fat like your belly!" The other one cackled as he circled her like a starving vulture, digging his jagged talons into the back of his tiny trousers, clawing at his dirty skin rather than itching it.

"Fuck, off." She snarled, painfully clenching her fists. "Let us pass."

"Gwinna." Gastan put his hand in front of her, believing she intended to use magic.
He returned his glare to the two Goblins before him. "We don't want no trouble. Leave us alone."

"Hehehe. You no want trouble, give ta girl. I got ta gold right here." Ragee patted his bulging trouser pocket. "One night is all, neen pacha."

"I want the leg!" Chorik squealed as he sunk his crooked teeth into her upper thigh, wrapping his dirty straw arms around her knee to bind himself to her.

Before Gastan could draw his blade, Ragee slammed his bottle on the stone floor and slashed it across Gastan's shin, causing him to groan as he fell backwards onto the ground.

"No! You stay down! You get ta gold when we done!" He yelled as the wounded man clutched his bloody trouser leg, squeezing it as hard as he could.

"Grrr... you fucking animals!!" Guinevere roared as she tore Chorik off of her paining thigh, hurling his balding head down to the stone, thrusting her boot into his long nose as a jet of blood splattered the dirty ground.