Faery Island

Being Cooked, Almost Alive

Chapter VI - Being Cooked, Almost Alive

"To Far Gone" by American Rejects

Anthony

Being Anthony's second trip in to the Faery World he wasn't much better off than Dian dealing with Goblins and neither was Gyrin a faery himself, and he lived here.

All three of them were tied and gagged. The cloth tasted like dirt and other things that he didn't want to think about, he was sure it was never washed after the past couple of kidnappers.

"Anthony Fleece is it?" Dahlar said well knowing who he was, "what brings you back to this side of the island?"

Anthony tried to not pay attention to the Dahlar's saliva falling on his cheek, it burned like acid and smelled rioten. Dahlar's voice also sounded like broken grass and gravel being crunched underneath a truck.

Dahlar pulls the gag out of his mouth and Anthony coughs. Now wanting to vomit even more than he did with it in his mouth. He took a few shaky breath and straightenecd himself out. "Zelroth is lose again."

"Oh came to be a hero now?" Dahlar smiled and pressed the tip of his knife to Anthony's throat. "You do realize your sacrifice was leaving, and if you ever came back death would take you."

Dian screamed behind Anthony, though it was muffled. Anthony just faced Dahlar head on, his eyes cold and unwilling. He knew well what the Goddess had told him.

But this was his home too.

"I am aware."

"Then this blade will not be what kills you!" Dahlar booms proudly. Goblins laugh around them, a herd of them trops over, hands in the air. They lower down bronze sword to Dahlar.

Anthony reconized it as his sword. The one the Captain had loaned him. Killed by his own blade, bojured and cooked to be Goblin food. It sounded like a horrible way to go.

"Do you remember this?" Dahlar teases turning the to heavy blade around in his hands.

Anthony didn't speek, Dian kept screaming and struggling and as did Gyrin.

The last time he saw the blade was when he fought on that sandy beach with Zelroth, Leenah's dead body at his feet and Gyrin yelling. He had been a wreck, after he had stained the blade with Zelroth's black blood he had thrown it in to the ocean, along with Zelroth's prison.

It still had the blackness harden on it despite the salty ocean. He remembered it well.

Dahlar seemed to have known this, how could he have forgotten it? "But first! The feast!"

Goblins cheered and screeched with violent delight. They hauled Dian and Gyrin forward. The air smelled like smoke. Out of the corner of Anthony's eyes he could make out the orange and red glow of fire through the trees.

But he wasn't moving, just them. With realization, he struggled against his ropes. The goblins holding him grunt and chitter in their own language of insults.

Dahlar growled. "Hold him!"

But Anthony wasn't easing up, if anything he fought holder as some goblins piled on top of him. Trying to pin him to the ground with their round and heavy bodies.

They clawed and bit at Anthony's flesh, the rioten trash and acid burned seared his skin. The pain making him cry out.

They still hung on him, now on his feet but still in his ropes. Though they had lossened.

Dahlar, furious came charging with the bronze sword. It was to heavy for him, though as sharp as it was Anthony threw himself across the blade, ripping at his legs. Blood seeped through the cut. The rope cut through, as the flesh was fell around him to the floor.