E.S. Raye

I am not a fantasy writer. I don’t generally read fantasy (outside the short stories submitted to Perseid Prophecies), and I don’t generally watch fantasy (outside the Peter Jackson films).

But, I am trying to expand my horizons a bit.

So, about eighteen months ago, I wrote a quick little flash-fiction fantasy story, drawing from my own love of history and world events.

It’s rough, and merely an exercise in writing outside my preferred genres, but I hope you enjoy “Goblin Steel.”

Goblin Steel

By E.S.Raye

Sleq and Clotizz stood in the bourg square among the throng of goblins, trolls, and orcs. Pale skinned and pointy-eared figures looked down on them from a haphazardly built dais. At last, one stepped forward. They spoke in a musical, flowing tongue that Sleq did not understand.

“What’s he saying?”

Clotizz grunted. “The same tired drivel they told them over in Phetis; that no harm will come to us if only we give in to their rule.”

Sleq was visibly relieved. “Well, that’s good.”

Clotizz gave her a side-eyed glare and growled. “Damn auf. Don’t you pay attention to the world around you? The knife ears started separating the races as soon as they took over in Phetis. Giants with giants, goblins with goblins, trolls with trolls. No mixing, no consorting.”

Sleq wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t like smelly trolls.”

The figure on the dias paced, his flowing hair wafting in the breeze. He spoke with a toothy smile that did not reach his eyes.

Clotizz scoffed at his younger kin. “Is that all you can think about? Who you don’t like?” He shook his head in dismay. “First it’s control. Then the separation. After, come the vanishings. Then the desecration of our—oh no…” He reached for Sleq, but she slipped away from his grasp.

“What is it?” she hopped on her little legs to see over the heads in front of her. “Is that—Father?” She lunged forward, trying to push through the bodies, but this time Clotizz was faster. He grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and held fast.

Up on the dais, Kriold, Clotizz’s brother and father to Sleq, was led out before the crowd and forced to his knees. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and green blood ran from his broken mouth.

The elf looked out at the mob and his smile turned to a sneer. He pointed at Kriold and his tone changed from musical to discordant.

“Father—” Sleq shouted again, but Clotizz pulled her close and held a hand over her mouth.

“Fool child, do you want to join him?” He spoke harshly, but his heart beat like a hammer in his chest.

“What do they want him for? He’s done nothing!” Sleq whispered when her uncle withdrew his hand.

“‘Murder.’ They say he—” But before he could finish, another of the pretty, pale faces stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. Clotizz barely had time to turn Sleq’s face into his chest before the blade came down and a gasp rose from the crowd.

The smile returned to the elf commander’s face. His point made, he dismissed the onlookers with a single, musical phrase.

Sobbing, Sleq struggled against Clotizz. “Let me see!” At last, he did, and she turned to face the body of her father. Through the tears, Clotizz saw a steel rise in his niece. “What do we do?” she asked. “What can we do?”

“Resist.”