“Hey, sis,” Max rasped, his rampant puking having wrecked his throat. Not to mention his breath.
“Yeah?”
“Next time you want to get it on with your boyfriend, get your own room.”
My mouth fell open, while my face went flaming hot. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m a Dreamwalker too, remember?”
I banged my forehead against the slimy stone wall; no, at the time I’d forgotten all about Max’s supernatural abilities. Sadie started pestering Max for information, wanting in on the torment of me, when thankfully Max puked again. Wow. I’m glad that Max puked. That smoke must have made me as nutty as Oriana.
Before Max could recover himself, Micah returned, wearing an interesting look on his face. When I asked why, he replied, “That guard happens to be the fellow who stole my belongings. I’d rather like them back.”
I peeked around the corner and looked at the goblin, who was standing guard about half the corridor’s length away, monitoring the final turn before Mom’s cell. Like the one who’d approached Max at the fountain, he was short and stout, with the same generous paunch and waxy yellow skin. He had crammed his bowed legs into Micah’s pants, the leather bunched up around his ankles, and Micah’s sword, the point of the scabbard scraping the floor, dangled from his belt. I saw a crumpled shirt and pair of boots behind the creature, as if he’d tried to wear them but had long since given up. Clearly, goblins and elves did not frequent the same tailors. I opened my mouth to question if, since Micah’s things were already ruined, this distraction was worth it, when I saw the token I’d made for Micah hooked onto the creature’s belt.
“Kill it,” I said. Micah grinned and pressed a kiss to my forehead before returning to the corridor.
“My friend,” Micah announced as he stepped into view. “Do you remember me?”
The goblin’s jaw went slack, his curved, cracked toenails scraping the floor as he backed away, trapping himself between Micah and the wall. Micah grabbed him by his loose, wrinkly throat and slammed him into the stone wall once, twice, thrice. As the goblin’s body slid downward into a pool of blood and filth, Micah retrieved his sword, his shirt, and, most importantly, his copper token.
“I did like those boots,” Micah said wistfully, toeing the heap of ruined leather.
“I’ll get you new boots,” I promised.
He smiled at that, then he turned and beckoned us to follow. We rounded that last turn, then we were outside Mom’s cell. Presumably, the guard who was supposed to be stationed by the door had heard the commotion down the hall and abandoned his post, probably to round up reinforcements, so we needed to make this rescue quick.
Things inside the cell were much the same as when Micah and I had dreamwalked in; Mom was still tied to her chair, and the orc in charge was still on the table, but now he was jumping up and down as he bellowed threats in Mom’s face, threatening her family’s lives as spittle sprayed everywhere. Not wise behavior on Mr. Orc’s part, not wise at all.
At our entry, the orc spun around, his spindly arms flailing as he called for his goblin guard to apprehend us. Little did he know his guards had either taken off or been more permanently relieved of their positions. And the rest of the orcs in the cell seemed content to let him handle us newcomers.
Mom leaned to the side, saw that the four of us were relatively unharmed, and stood as her rope bindings fell away. The head orc fell silent for a moment, but only one; then, he resumed screaming and hopping. Mom, who’d long since had enough of this nonsense, leaned forward and clapped a hand on the orc’s bald little head.
“Silence!” Mom commanded, and the orc’s mouth was instantly replaced by a smooth patch of skin. This only got the little critter even more worked up, so Mom yelled, “Cease, or I’ll do away with something far more dear!”
At that, the orc stilled himself. “I don’t know if this feeble, ill-advised plan was your doing, or if someone else has directed you,” Mom continued, “but risk coming after a Corbeau at your peril. We are not to be trifled with.” She glared in turn at each of the orcs, most of whom were now cowering against the back wall of the cell; I noticed that some were missing ears or noses. Mom’s curse had affected more than just the orc in charge, then. Good.
“You’re going to let them live?” Max asked, looking over at the furious, grunting creature. Despite his lack of an orifice, he still had a lot to say.
“It sends a message,” Mom replied. “Attack my family, be horribly maimed. Attack my family again, and you will perish.”