Even so, as much as she wanted to leave this plane immediately, she knew-particularly after her recent experience-that she needed to recoup some of her strength before trying to re-enter the Blind Eternities. She had to search for some water, then get some rest. The syrupy darkness of the night sky and the full brilliance of the moon suggested that morning was still a long way off. By then, Chandra should be ready to planeswalk back to Regatha.
“All right,” she said, looking around at the eerie landscape. “Water.”
Despite her driving thirst, her surroundings were so creepy that it was with some reluctance that she set out in any direction. Although it was unquestionably better than being chained to a wall with her power being sucked away by seven giant snakes as a prelude to death by torture, wandering alone through the darkness was still a less-than-enjoyable endeavor.
She had not gone far when she heard noise coming from a cluster of bushes that she was passing, the rustle of dead vegetation under stomping footsteps, some faint, high-pitched squealing, some growling.
Chandra crouched down and crept closer to the commotion. The intensity of the squealing increased sharply, scraping at her senses. The growling was replaced by satisfied grunting and the noisy smacking of… robust chewing?
Chandra pushed further into the thicket, taking care to move silently. Peering between leafless branches, she spotted her quarry.
She found herself looking at some sort of goblin. It was squat and ungainly, with lumpy gray skin, hairy legs, and arms so long they would surely drag along the ground when it stood up and walked. Its bald head was immense, and its long, pointy ears flopped sideways in a ridiculous manner. It was hunched over and grunting, while something in its grasp squealed. Chandra saw a tail and flailing little paws…
When she realized the beast was eating a small animal alive, she gasped aloud in revulsion.
The goblin heard her and whirled around to face her. Its fangs dripped with blood and entrails as it growled at her. The little animal in its grasp continued squealing in agony. Chandra’s appalled gaze flashed to the animal’s eviscerated torso and wiggling paws.
“Ugh! What are you doing?” she demanded. “Even for a goblin, this is unbelievable!”
The goblin stared at her for a moment, crouching frozen while its agonized prey flailed and squealed. Then, as if afraid Chandra would try to steal its treat, the creature stuffed the entire mole into its mouth and crunched down hard. Chandra winced at the mole’s final, shrill scream, followed closely by the sound of its splintering bones. The goblin’s cheeks bulged as it chewed, still staring at Chandra.
Then the creature swallowed its meal in one huge gulp and went completely still. The goblin and Chandra stared at each other in silence.
“Well,” she said at last. “That may not be the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely on the list.”
“List?” The goblin’s voice was deep and husky.
“Never mind.”
“Don’t kill,” it said.
“Agreed. You don’t kill me, and I won’t kill you.”
It nodded. Its ears flopped a little.
“Where are we?” Chandra asked.
The goblin looked around for a moment, then returned its gaze to Chandra. “Bushes.”
“I meant, what’s the name of this realm?”
“Diraden.”
“Never heard of it.”
The goblin pointed at her. “What name?”
“Chandra. And you?”
“Jurl.”
“Jurl, show me where there’s water.” When the goblin didn’t move, just continued to stare at her, she added, “I don’t like to brag, Jurl, but I’m a powerful fire mage. If you take me to water, I’ll be nice. If you don’t, I’ll be mean.”
“Water.” The goblin looked over its shoulder. “Maybe not safe.”
“Not safe? Is the water bad?” That might explain why everything around here was dying.
Jurl shook his head. “Water good.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Maybe guarded.”
“By who?”
“Prince Velrav. Sometimes.”
“A prince guards the water?” Chandra said skeptically.
“Servants.”
“Oh, servants of the prince guard the water.” That made a little more sense. But not much. “Why guard water in a place as wet as Diraden?”
“See who come. Maybe take.”
“Take? You mean, the prince’s servants capture those who come to the water?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do they take everyone? Or just goblins?” “Everyone.”
“So far, you’re the only, er, person that I’ve met. Who else lives on Diraden?”
“Some like me. Some like…” Jurl shrugged. “Others. Many others. And some like you.”
“And Prince Velrav’s servants take them all?”
“Take some of all.”
“Why?” Chandra asked.
“Hunger.”
That was disconcerting. “They’re taken when they’re near the water?”
The goblin shrugged. “Near water. Near wood. Near ruins. Near hill. Near village. Near castle. Near-”
“So you’re saying that the prince’s servants have taken individuals from everywhere?” What a lovely plane she had stumbled onto.
“Yes.”
“In that case, I might as well get water.” And then maybe she’d try leaving Diraden straight away, without bothering to pause for rest. The situation here sounded deranged and deadly-and perfectly in keeping with the atmosphere she had sensed. If she felt better after drinking her fill, then perhaps leaving while she was still fatigued-but with proper preparation this time-would be better than sticking around here until she felt stronger. “Jurl, I’ll bet you know this place well. Do you know how to get water without being bothered by Prince Velrav’s servants?”
The goblin stared at her silently. Although its grotesque face showed no expression, she sensed it was suspicious of her request.
“If you take me there,” Chandra said, “I won’t tell anyone. I won’t betray you. I’m thirsty. I just want to get water, and then go away.”
“Go away?”
“Yes. You’ll never see me again.” It was a promise she intended to keep.
Jurl studied her. “Go away soon?”
“Very soon.”
“How soon?”
“By morning.”
“No.” The goblin shook its head.
Chandra frowned. “Why not?”
“No morning.”
“What?”
“Morning never come,” Jurl said. “Not here.”
After some discussion, Chandra guessed that Prince Velrav was some sort of necromancer who had pulled a veil of eternal night across this plane. There was presumably a good reason for this, but Jurl didn’t know what it was. Nor did Jurl remember an era when things had been different, so this had apparently been going on for quite some time.
When Chandra asked how long the trees had been naked and dying, he said, “Always.”
She supposed perpetual darkness explained why they were dying. And black magic probably explained why they were dying so slowly that, as far back as Jurl could remember, they had looked exactly the way they looked right now.
But it was possible that this was just what normal trees looked like on the dark plane of Diraden, swamped in black magic and ruled by a demented mage who occasionally had his subjects captured and brought back to his castle to satisfy “hunger.” Jurl seemed to know no more than that about the “taking” of various individuals over the years; nor did he seem to think anything more needed to be known about it.
A goblin’s life revolved around pretty simple interests, after alclass="underline" hunt, eat, drink, reproduce, make merry, fight, kill, be killed. It seldom got more complicated than that.
It was a welcome relief that the water that Jurl led her to wasn’t far away. They passed through a moonlit copse of tall, thin, trees with thick, spidery roots that had snaked across the surface of ground, covering the path in long, lumpy twists of rotting wood and thick, sickly vines. Beyond the wood, they came to a lagoon. Silvery light from the moon glinted off the still surface of the water, which was rimmed by a dense thicket of vegetation.