The Goblin's Heir

Chapter Twenty: Death Shroud

The shroud that covered Knut's body was pure white. Unblemished and unsoiled even though it hid such gruesome wounds from our sight. The blood was dry now, the wounds ceasing their flow of blood now that his heart no longer beat. He was laid out on our dining table as everyone dear to him gathered around it. I couldn't stand to leave him as I'd found him, laying on that cold floor in a pool of his own blood. I sat in my usual chair, my bloody hands numb and ice-cold spun an empty vial of tonic in my lap. I could smell it already. The reek of death permeated the room and clung to us like smoke. 

"Does anyone want tea?" Cerise asked timidly, fidgeting with the shroud, smoothing it out on the table. No one answered her.

Floki stood in a corner, pressing the palm of his hand over his mouth as if to silence himself or hold in vomit. Frit sat with his head bowed. It might've hidden the tears he shed, but did nothing to hide how badly his shoulders shook. Odd leaned over his father, bracing his hands on the edge of the table. He stared at Knut's body as if he could still see him as plainly as he had on the study floor, the horror of his death lain bare. He bore his teeth in a silent snarl, hatred boiling beneath his skin. I recognized the look. I felt it within myself. Cat stood by the fire, hurriedly so no one would see. Ib and Cerise paced around the room, both weeping softly. Cerise kept her head bowed, while Ib let his grief show. 

We all showed our heartache in different ways. Some quietly, some loudly. Others, violently. I didn't know what expression I was making. If I was baring my teeth in anger or if tears slicked my cheeks. I could feel very little like I was as dead as Knut was now.

Bran flew into the room and folded his wings in as he landed. I finally looked away from where Knut's grey hair stuck out from beneath the sheet. His hair was windblown and his loose shirt was stained with sweat from his quick and frantic flight. 

Cat rushed to him. "Well?" She asked with a strained hoarse voice. Her long black hair stuck to her damp cheeks as she looked up hopefully at him.

Bran shook his head somberly. "No luck. I can't find a single goblin. They're all gone." 

I felt my insides cringe at that. It wasn't enough that Knut was dead. After Magni left and my other sons found me, they'd called to the goblins for help and had gotten no response. No servants came to my aid. None swarmed in frightful anger at the death of their master and creator. Ask didn't come to soothe me. It soon became obvious that they were gone, disappeared in the same moments it took Knut to die and Magni to flee. Bran's search had only served to confirm what we already knew. Somehow, Magni must've managed to destroy the seed. 

All that remained of the goblin people now stood in this room. 

Cat let out a shaky breath. She turned from her husband to the rest of the family gathered around the table, looking at no one in particular. "What are we going to do?" She asked as if any of us knew.

The very idea that all the goblins could be gone was a hard thing to believe. I'd lived so long with them, with the halls choked by their shier numbers...even now the palace still felt full to me, like if I opened the door, I'd see them milling about, fulfilling their tasks as usual. They were as much a part of The Underground itself as Knut was. They couldn't be gone. They couldn't.

"Isn't that obvious?" Frit lifted his head and stared at where the shroud clung to Knut's nose and mouth. His eyes, usually full of humor and wit, were cold lifeless things. He'd dried his fallen tears and swallowed the rest. "We're going after him." 

"Good old fashioned revenge." Odd snarled, his lips pulling back from his teeth so far you could see his gums. "We're going to hunt that traitor down and skin him alive for this."