Tragic Innocence

Chapter 15: Goblins!

            The throbbing pain was excruciating when consciousness finally called him forth.  Sinot groaned as he slowly scooted his weight, palm after palm, to an upright sitting position.  He could feel where he had been hit behind his head, and it still made him nauseous and light-headed.

            After gathering his wits about him, he rubbed a trembling hand upon the wound and gasped at its fierceness.  Then he remembered Pentulla.  His eyes shot up to where he had last seen her, thinking it could not have been her that had attacked him.

            “Pentulla?” he called out after the darkness left the dizzying effects of his vision.  “Pentulla, where are you?”

            Sinot slowly rose to unsteady legs, in search for the naughty nymph.  Just where could she have gone?  He smirked with annoyance, not wanting to deal with her at the moment since his head pounded worse than the storm he had left.

            A great while passed once he took care of the mysterious wound when he decided to retrieve his sword.  His eyes set upon its blade, only to find it missing!

            “Pentulla!  Where are you?  Where did you put my sword!”  Anger burned deeply behind his eyes, setting the ache anew.  He lost color to his vision as all seemed to turn black with too much exertion.

            Sinot scanned the area for her, “Pentulla!  This is not the time nor place!  Bring me back my sword and show yourself!”  The only response to his demands was that of his own echoing.

            He tapped his fingers against his hip, awaiting the wench to show up.  Finally, he huffed, grabbing for his cape.  Sinot marched over to the deep, dark tunnel where she had set fire to earlier and crunched on something beneath his heel.

            “What the--” he pinched his brows together with irritation as he kicked the object from beneath his foot.  A clattering sound rolled away from him, which startled the wood elf.  He jumped away from it as if it were some kind of dangerous creature.  But when he saw that the thing did not move, he lowered himself to his heels and poked at it with the point of his foot.

            It did not come alive as he had fully expected, but lay there inattentive to his action.  When his eyes finally adjusted to its outline, he reached out to it and ran his fingertip over it.  Once feeling its strange texture beneath his touch, Sinot gripped it and brought it for a closer examination.  Then, filled with utter repulsion, he hurled it against the wall with a growl.

            He swiped his hand over his hip.

            “Pentulla!” Sinot called out her name as his hand found new meaning to the deep gash on his head where a goblin had struck him.  “Pentulla!” he cried out, dashing madly into the darkness of the tunnel.

            They were goblins, alright!  Sinot could still see the heathen necklace of vermin bones and teeth in his grasp.  His heart crashed into his mouth.  Pentulla would not survive their insatiable lusts for flesh!  She would die--!

            “Pentulla!” he cried out once more before stumbling to the ground with a painful skidding to his flesh.

            A crude language erupted forth near Sinot, but he was much too late once he realized what it was.  A sharp explosion of pain, along with colorful stars, burst forth inside his head as he fell silent against the cold floor of the cave.

            Her eyes fluttered open, focusing upon a small ball of fire that danced overhead.  She could still feel harsh hands upon her body and the pain behind her head--!