The Goblin's Heir

Chapter Fifty Eight: Tip of the Spear

I have never truly understood why I cared so much about Neasa. She wasn't my child. She was that of my enemy. She was a child I was made to look after during my year of enslavement, one I should deeply despise, or at least be indifferent to. And yet...I couldn't help but be stupidly attached to her. She had struggled in her life and endured a great amount of pain. She still very much did. Perhaps it was simply pity...but the longer I lived in the world and came to understand myself more...the more it started to look like something else. I recognized my own suffering in her and some part of me wanted to see her overcome it.

She had and I wanted to see her continue. No matter what. 

I hadn't a moment to fully think over the situation. With that spear in her, Neasa's magic was dangerously slow to heal her. The spear's shaft was a simple wooden one, but there was a pointed bit of metal at the end as well. The best course of action would be to break it at one end to slide it free. It seemed easy enough.

"Neasa," I said, bending down to gently stroke her hair back from her forehead. "We have to remove the spear. This is going to hurt, so brace yourself. You mustn't scream. We can't risk luring the horde here." 

She looked up at me with dull eyes, her pale skin beaded with sweat and pupils blown wide with pain. She nodded weakly.

I glanced toward Jane and Frit beside her. "Make sure she stays quiet. Knock her out if you have to." Then I turned to Hughes. "Give me a hand?"

With a grunt, he stepped into place and the two of us took hold of the spear, his hands below my own. "You push up and I'll push down."

"On the count of three," I said, tightening my grip.

"Wait," Frit said, halting our count. He dragged himself closer to Neasa, resting his head near her own. "I'm here with you, Dovey." He whispered to her, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes. "Don't be afraid. Be brave. As you always are." He grasped her hand between them, their blood-covered fingers interlocking, blending red and silver. "I love you. I love you so much." He brought their linked hand to his lips and kissed it. She turned her head towards him, her eyes meeting his. Tears slipped down her own cheeks.  

Hughes began to count, snapping me out of my stare. "One. Two. Three." With one swift jerk from Hughes and I working against each other and the spear snapped. 

She tried to stop it, bless her, but she couldn't help it. A scream began to force its way up her throat as her back bent and her twisted legs kicked. As the sound came up, Frit pressed his lips against her own, swallowing her scream with a kiss. As the scream faded, he parted from her, letting her breathe. He kissed away the murmurs of pain that followed after, whispering those words of love and sweetness. "You did so well," Frit said, blinking away tears from silvery lashes as he smiled at her. "It's over now. You're going to be fine." He kissed her lips again, then her cheek, her brow, maneuvering himself so she was now cradled against his chest. 

I turned my gaze from the pair of them, that odd sense of envy rising once again as it had when I'd seen Floki and Cerise together. That longing to have something with someone that I'd lost forever was a fearful thing. I turned my attention to the broken spear point in my hand. A spear tipped in iron flung from a goblin's hand? The rest of the spear was wooden and the length might've given the she-goblins some protection. My guess was that it had come from our own armory, a weapon made for my sons' use in the arena, forged by Floki and his teacher Serafini. Worry fell heavily on my chest as I admired the weapon, the metal once beaten and heated by my middle son's own hands. The strength of his arm formed it. His sweat and blood were apart of it.  I wondered where he was if he was safe...if his body was somewhere out there in the street torn apart and trampled.