He expected his brother would emulate Doreye—arms spread wide in defiance of both the approaching Godman cavalry and his fate. Instead, Idaho surprised him by simply lying back, hands laced behind his head, legs crossed casually, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. This was his chosen way to meet death. The iron tide of cavalry thundered closer; at its vanguard, a fully armored knight gripped his lance with murderous intent, eager to punch a hundred holes through the Goldbrick Wall. Goblin Halleck's fingers clawed desperate furrows in the earth, his mouth working silently, grief robbing him of words. In his anguish, he missed the most dramatic moment unfolding before him.

  A knight rose from a heap of corpses beside the Goldbrick Wall and staggered toward Idaho on legs that could barely hold him. By the time Halleck wiped the tears from his eyes, the knight had already scooped up the goblin and was bounding away with the desperate speed of a cornered beast. "Helmos?!" Halleck could scarcely believe his tear-blurred eyes, convinced he must be witnessing an apparition. He scrambled forward for a clearer view—only to collide headfirst with the barrier and be violently hurled backward several yards, momentarily losing consciousness.

  Helmos Pafaheim, son of the Duke of Pafaheim, was now running on sheer will alone, burning his life's reserves as fuel. Initially, Idaho mistook the earth's trembling for the approach of a thousand hooves; only when strands of hair repeatedly lashed across his face did he realize he was cradled in a knight's arms. "By all gods! Who are you?!" he shrieked in alarm. "My lord?!" The knight, breath too precious to waste on words, merely nodded sharply, his chest heaving with exertion. The young lord raced eastward, desperate to escape the Godman charge's deadly path. "Why are you here, my lord?" Idaho asked, then immediately slapped his own forehead, cursing his foolishness. The answer was self-evident—Helmos's forces were either scattered or annihilated, even his mount lost in the chaos. "My lord," he tried again, "why are you carrying me?" A moment later, he realized the equal absurdity of this question.

  "Avoiding the Godmans," Lord Helmos answered with brutal brevity.

  Idaho twisted in the knight's grasp to observe the approaching enemy formation. "We can't outrun them, my lord! Their line stretches too wide!"

  Helmos Pafaheim mentally blocked out the thundering hooves, the battle cries, even the goblin's desperate warnings. His entire being focused solely on the act of running. For one breathless, soaring moment, the world fell still. It was as if he had outrun time itself, tearing through the very skin of the world to leave the Godman host behind like a dream on a forgotten shore. Once before, caught in a devastating pincer movement during a cavalry skirmish, he had attempted to breach the Goldbrick Wall at this same desperate velocity, but failed. Yet his determination remained unshaken. His survival instinct burned white-hot, driving his legs to impossible speeds that defied rational explanation. Finally, Idaho's insistent pounding on his breastplate penetrated his focused state. He reluctantly slowed his pace. "Put me down!" the goblin demanded. "Set me on the ground, my lord!"

  "You weigh no more than a scroll of parchment," he grunted, the words jostled from his lungs. "Carrying you doesn't slow me. Don't you dare give up, goblin. And don't be so quick to seek your own end. There's always a way."

  "Release me, you fool!" Idaho struggled frantically, pointing behind them. "They're about to overtake us—we cannot possibly outrun their formation!" The young lord remained unmoved by his protests. "Place your faith in me, goblin. I'm employing every resource at my disposal."

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  "I possess a method! I can evade these accursed knights!" At last, Helmos registered the urgency in the goblin's voice. "So release me! Return me to the earth immediately, my lord!"

  Without further argument, Helmos Pafaheim released his grip, allowing the goblin to drop unceremoniously to the ground. Idaho, trembling visibly, gathered a handful of soil in his palm and turned to face the young knight. "Promise me you won't let me die," he pleaded, his murky eyes swimming with fear and sorrow and the faintest flicker of hope. "I won't let you die," Helmos vowed, "but you have to promise me the same."

  Their gazes locked in silent understanding. Idaho turned away, the wind whipping his dark hair as the golden tide of enemies surged ever closer. "I pledge myself to your survival, goblin. I, Helmos, son of Duke Pafaheim, swear you shall not perish here."

  Idaho's cracked lips curved in a bittersweet smile as tears traced paths down his dusty face. He turned from the knight and began to chant—initially a whisper, gradually crescendoing into a powerful invocation, culminating in a raw, soul-wrenching cry that seemed torn from his very essence. His tears and gathered dust fell together onto the earth, absorbed without comment into the soil. The goblin's chant was a lament, a song so steeped in agony that the thunder of a thousand hooves could not drown its sorrow. It was a grief deeper than any Helmos had ever known. Pain visibly radiated from Idaho's palm, spreading like invasive vines throughout his small body, penetrating every cell and fiber. Blood began flowing freely from his eyes, nose, contorting mouth, and oversized ears, spattering onto the ground beneath him. The surrounding dust particles rose and fell in rhythmic patterns, the earth's response limited to this meager acknowledgment. Helmos could no longer bear the spectacle; he could not stand idly while this diminutive creature consumed the final embers of his life force to work some desperate magic. The young lord lunged forward to interrupt the spell—but at that precise instant, the ground beneath them simply ceased to exist. The earth vanished from under their feet, Helmos's desperate grab caught nothing but air, and both he and the goblin plummeted into impenetrable darkness.

  Above Helmos Pafaheim's head, loose soil cascaded downward until the final traces of light disappeared entirely. He struggled to his feet, hunching instinctively to avoid striking the newly sealed ceiling. Darkness robbed him completely of vision; momentarily, he felt utterly disoriented. But the confines of their earthen prison proved relatively small—extending his arm, his fingers encountered Idaho's alarmingly cold form.

  In that moment of contact, understanding dawned with devastating clarity. He suddenly comprehended why Idaho's tears had flowed so freely while gazing upon him. (He's afraid to die... but he was more afraid that I would die. So he cast his spell. He spent the last of his life to save mine.) His heart constricted painfully, as though physically wringing blood from its chambers. "I heard fragments of your conversation with Halleck, through the veil of semi-consciousness," he whispered into the darkness. "You spoke of fearing death, but more significantly, you dreaded dying in service to human causes." The young lord could not suppress a quiet, broken sob. "Why, then, would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

  In the profound silence of their underground sanctuary, Helmos Pafaheim fervently hoped his assessment was mistaken. Mercifully, his fears proved excessively pessimistic. As he gathered Idaho's seemingly lifeless form into his arms, he detected the faint, shallow rhythm of the goblin's breathing, felt the barely perceptible flutter of a pulse against his forearm. Relief washed over him, dissolving his tears as his lips curved into a foolish, grateful smile. "I shall honor my promise—you will not die here."

  So he cradled the small form against his chest, his back pressed against the earthen wall. And waited.

  Then came the thunderous passage of countless Godman warhorses overhead, followed by the heart-rending screams of the dying.