This is the third and final chapter of William Bradshaw and For a Song that I will be posting here. The full book is available on Amazon.

Chapter 3


The next day brought a major snowstorm that dropped visibility to fifty feet and stacked snow up an inch per hour. Will worried this might cause trouble for the smaller goblins, but his concern was baseless. Most of them went underground and traveled via tunnels, and those who stayed above ground put on snowshoes.

More enterprising goblins scooped up snow and made snowmen. In true goblin fashion, they proceeded to trap them so the snowmen would fall on anyone setting off trip lines. Vial and his lab rat goblins booby-trapped their snowman with explosives, which went off prematurely and splattered its makers with slush. Will had to free a small goblin who’d accidentally buried himself inside a snowman, but otherwise the event was peaceful.

That ended when London and Brooklyn ran screaming through the horde of snowmen and flattened them. Will fixed them with a stern glare, and the trolls looked down.

“It’s been hours since we hit anyone!” London protested. “Boss, you’ve got to start another war or we’ll get out of practice.”

“It has been a while since we were almost killed,” a feathered goblin said.

“No wars,” Will said firmly. “We’ve been having far too many of those.”

“Start a little war,” Brooklyn pleaded. He took a sheet of paper out of his trouser pocket and offered it to Will. “Here’s a couple guys we could pound on and nobody would mind.”

Will read the paper and handed it back. “I’ve never heard of any of these people.”

London grinned. “That way they won’t see it coming.”

Bored goblins gathered around Will and implored him to pick a fight. The fact that they could be killed for no reason didn’t deter them in the slightest, and Will knew from experience that logic and common sense were totally worthless in such a discussion. He was saved from a long and fruitless argument when Domo and Mr. Niff arrived with armfuls of mail.

“Neither snow nor rain nor enraged dragons with marital problems can stop the postman from his appointed rounds,” Domo declared. He stopped in front of Will and began going through the stacks of letters.

“I’m curious why the mailman hands my letters to you instead of me,” Will said. “Trusting goblins doesn’t come easy to outsiders.”

“It was hand it to us or go deeper into the kingdom to give it to you,” Mr. Niff explained. He smiled and added, “The guy has stepped into enough pit traps that he won’t test his luck anymore.”

“Most of this is hate mail and death threats,” Domo said as he sorted the mail. “Duke Thornwood wishes you a slow and painful death.”

“Yeah, season’s greetings to you too, pal,” Will snarled as he tore up the letter. Goblins scooted in and gobbled up the shreds of paper. He went through more of the mail, asking, “That one’s never written to me before. Is there a reason why he’s homicidal?”

“It’s nothing personal, boss,” Mr. Niff assured him. “Thornwood wants half the people on Other Place dead and the rest to suffer.”

Will shredded another letter. “There ought to be a law against someone that screwed up ruling anyone. The dwarf corporation Geo Speculations wants to dump their trash in our kingdom. The Esteemed King Landcrest wants to exile his political prisoners here. Someone named Pippiloo Pondscum wants my travel itinerary so she can have me beat up people for her. That’s three more for the shred pile.”

“Can we keep the last one?” Brooklyn asked.

Mr. Niff belched up a stamp. “Too late.”

Domo held up a smaller stack of letters. “Now here are the interesting ones. The law firm of Takeda Money & Runn is suing you for—”

Foom! The lawsuit burst into flames and was reduced to ashes. Not deterred, Domo reached for another letter. “This one—”

Foom! This time the entire stack went up together. Goblins clapped, and Mr. Niff said, “Wow, four lawsuits at once!”

“And that leaves us with the last one,” Domo said as he handed Will a letter.

This letter wasn’t cremated before it reached Will. Curious, he opened it and read it aloud.
“Let’s see, some kind soul wants my help transferring a million guilders out of his homeland. All he needs is my name, date of birth, signature, power of attorney and right leg.”

There was a snap like a whip crack as Will’s king contract shot out. It tore the letter apart while growling like an angry dog, even beating the offending letter against a tree stump for good measures. The contract rolled up again, briefly stopping to show Will a few lines near the end.

“Article 150, subsection 8, paragraph 4, line 2: The King of the Goblins can’t escape his contract through mail fraud, pyramid schemes, Ponzi schemes or Fonzi schemes.” Will frowned and asked, “Does anyone else think that crosses the line from thorough to paranoid?”

“Lawyers are involved, so no,” Domo told him. He looked a bit nervous and tugged at his robes before saying, “I understand you paid Gladys a visit after the harpy showed up.”

“Harpies, plural. We’ve got at least five of them in the kingdom, and one followed me home from the human town.” Will slid his king contract under his belt and searched the skies. Was the weather bad enough to ground the harpies? “Gladys sounded worried and suggested I keep you guys close.”

London frowned. “Not sure what good we can do, boss. The birdies fly high and we can’t fly at all. I guess we could throw stuff at them if they come close to the ground.”

“It’s not fair the way they stay too far away to rough up,” Brooklyn complained.

“There is something we can do,” Will said. “Spread the word to the goblins that harpies are in the kingdom. Ask them to look for a nest, roost, anything that looks like they’re moving into the neighborhood.”

“Can do, boss,” Mr. Niff said.

Will’s stomach grumbled. He’d had some luck growing food in the Kingdom of the Goblins, but he’d long ago eaten what little he’d produced. That meant he had no choice but to cross the border for all his meals, and if yesterday was any indication the harpies might be interested in that trip.

Pointing at the trolls, Will said, “London, Brooklyn, get the guys working on finding those harpies. If you see them, report back, and try to be friendly if they want to talk. Vial, Domo, talk to Gladys and let me know if she turned up anything new. Niff, if you’re free I could use some company on the way to lunch.”

Indignant, London demanded, “Why not us?”

“If the harpies show up, I want there to be at least a chance for a peaceful meeting, and you two might, no, scratch that, definitely would pick a fight with any man, monster or farm animal we might meet on the way.”

Brooklyn thumped his chest. “We don’t take guff from cattle!”

Will left with Mr. Niff following. They went through the gatehouse and headed south, pausing briefly by the site of last year’s battle with Sarcamusaad the Walking City. Will and the goblins had survived that fight through planning, goblin warp magic and blind luck, but signs of the conflict remained. There was a chasm hundreds of feet across and nearly as deep where Sarcamusaad had collapsed the caves and tunnels running under the Goblin City. Huge pieces of rusted iron, some weighing thousands of tons, littered the landscape, remnants of the German battleship Bismarck that had been warped in by the goblins and fell onto Sarcamusaad.

Pointing at the wreckage, Will said, “And that’s why we’re trying to solve this peacefully. We’ve had five major conflicts that could have killed us all. It’s pure luck that we’ve lasted so long without losing anyone. I have to find ways to deal with problems without them turning into win or die situations.”

“Speaking of that, maybe you can help me out a little.” Mr. Niff smiled and scooted in front of Will. “The guys have a betting pool on who’s going to try to kill you next, but we just started one on who you’re going to beat up.”

“You’re joking.”

“It’s true. The smart money is on you picking a fight with the wizards of the Inspired, but goblins have put bets on you going after Duke Thornwood, clearing the Ruined Lands, taking down Viliamorous the Elf King and rubbing out Plausible Deniability Jones.”

Will shook his head and continued on. “I hate to disappoint everyone, but I’m trying very hard to not get killed or kill anyone else.”

Mr. Niff hurried after him. “Nobody said kill, just kick them in the shins, ruin their plans and turn them over to the authorities. Now me, I like long shots and big payouts, so I bet a small green frog that you’d go to Battle Island and clean out the arenas and gladiator pits. So if you’re feeling generous and want to help out an old friend—”

“No!”

“I’ll split the winnings fifty-seventy.”

Will stopped and stared at the short goblin. “That’s one hundred twenty percent.”

“Don’t get all mathy on me.”

It kept snowing for the rest of their trip and slowed them down. Will didn’t see any harpies, but anything farther than fifty feet away was concealed by snowfall. They needed almost twice as long to reach the human town as they normally would. The residents stayed indoors with only a few hurrying between houses and barns. An alarming number of men were carrying weapons, mostly farming tools, but some had bows.

“Stay on the outskirts of town and keep your eyes peeled,” Will told Mr. Niff. “Come get me if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Will went into town and headed for the inn. He was nearly there when he spotted a hunched over woman at the mouth of an alley. She wore a heavy cloak, blouse, skirt, boots, gloves and leggings, all of it made of animal hides and leaving little skin exposed besides her face. He’d never seen her before, but according to the innkeeper there were refugees settling in town. Will was half convinced she was just another unfortunate person when she ducked back into the alley.

That wasn’t a good sign. Just to be sure, Will walked past the inn and turned off onto a side street. He stopped at the next corner, and moments later he saw her again. He took two more turns and found her hobbling after him wherever he went.

“Let’s see how far you’re going to take this,” Will said softly. This time he walked to the inn and went inside. The ground outside the door was wet from the heat melting snow, and his boots squelched in the mud. He found the building packed with people, most happy and laughing. Will took a table near the fireplace and sat down. Not a minute passed before the hobbling woman came in. She hesitated at the entrance, a worried look on her face.

“Hello there!” a rancher called to her. Her fear turned to shock as he waved for her to join him. “Don’t be shy. Strangers are welcome here.”

The woman lingered by the door but went inside when other guests echoed the rancher’s encouragements. She looked across the inn, her expression wary.

Oh, this could be bad. If these people realized she was a harpy, they’d attack her. Will stood up and waved to her, saying, “Come on over. Let me buy you something to eat.”

The inn’s other customers smiled and a few clapped at his generosity. One woman put her hands on her hips and looked at her husband. “See, that’s how a gentleman acts.”

“Thanks for ruining it for the rest of us,” a farmer said. Men across the inn laughed.
The harpy hobbled over and sat down awkwardly on a chair, nearly sliding off. Will headed to the bar and asked, “What’s on the menu?”

“Beef soup and fresh bread,” the innkeeper said. More softly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“So far nothing, but if things get bad, I’ll need help keeping everyone calm,” he whispered back.

Will returned to his table and new guest. He spoke softly so no one else could hear. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Will Bradshaw, King of the Goblins. It’s a rough job, but somebody’s got to get stuck with it. You’re brave to travel in a storm like this. What’s your name?”

The woman cast her eyes down. “Ann.”

The waitress hurried over and placed bowls of soup in front of them both. The woman stared at it like she’d never seen soup before. Maybe she hadn’t. She looked around the inn and saw people eating with spoons, and with an example of what was expected she took a spoon and tried to feed herself. It took her a few tries to get the soup to her lips without spilling it.

Will asked, “What brought you here on a night like this?”

“I, my family lost our home to the Eternal Army. I’ve been wandering ever since.”

That upset Will. There were tens of thousands left homeless and desperate because of the Eternal Army, something he blamed himself for. He’d done what little he could to help, and others like the Brotherhood of the Righteous were doing their part. For the harpy to falsely claim to be a victim was wrong.

Will ate some soup. “We both know that’s not true.”

The harpy dropped her spoon and gasped. Her mouth opened wide enough for Will to see her teeth, long and sharp.

“I’ve seen you and your friends following me for days.” He pointed his spoon at her and added, “I want to make it clear I’m not mad. Confused, but not mad. There are a lot of people here who don’t like harpies, so I understand your disguise. I have nothing against you. If you want to talk, we can talk. If you have a reasonable request, I’ll try to help, but I won’t see these men hurt or lose their livestock. So, let’s you and me talk.”

“Hold on,” a farmer said. He stood up from his chair and pointed at the harpy. “She’s been sitting next to the fire for a couple minutes, but she hasn’t taken off her hat or gloves.”

“Mind your own business,” the innkeeper said.

“He’s right!” a rancher yelled. He drew a knife. “She’s got to be baking under all those clothes. What are you trying to hide?”

The harpy stood up and hobbled toward the exit, but a crowd gathered to block her path. Will ran between them and the harpy. He held up his hands and gestured for the others to sit. “Everybody calm down! I don’t want anyone to—”

That’s when the harpy screamed, a horrific cry that dropped every man, woman and child to their knees. Will clasped both hands over his ears in a vain attempt to muffle the agony sweeping over him. Pain shot through him like a sword thrust, and his own scream was lost in the cries of terrified people.

Such a potent attack left the harpy gasping for breath. She hobbled out of the inn, leaving everyone doubled over in incredible pain. Will staggered to his feet. He heard people crying. The teenage waitress was on her knees, sobbing, her hands still pressed against her ears. Will gritted his teeth and headed for the door. He saw the harpy pull off her cloak and toss it aside before spreading her wings. Will bent down and scooped up handfuls of mud at the inn’s entrance. He jammed mud into his ears and went after the harpy.

“Wait!” he yelled. His voice sounded weird with his ears plugged up. He saw the harpy turn to face him, a startled expression on her face.

The harpy took a deep breath and let loose another scream. It was so strong it forced Will back a few inches and sent waves of pain through him, but with his ears plugged it was nowhere near as strong as the first attack. The harpy gasped for breath and backed away when she saw that Will didn’t falter. With her best weapon rendered ineffective, she grabbed a steel hatchet laced to her leg. Will unhooked his fire scepter from his belt and held it like a club. She lashed out at him with her hatchet, missing by a wide margin, then flapped her wings and tried to take to the air. As she rose higher, he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her back to the ground. He barely heard the harpy’s started cries through his clogged ears.

Back on the ground again, the harpy swung at Will with her hatchet and her free hand. He dodged the hatchet and blocked her hand with his fire scepter, but the blow was strong enough that her talons tore through her glove. Her hand looked like a blend between a human’s and a hawk’s clawed feet. The harpy screamed again, and Will winced in pain. He staggered and the harpy pushed her advantage with an overhead swing of her hatchet. Will only barely blocked it.

There was a red light to their left as Mr. Niff came to the rescue. He’d drawn his magic dagger, and one swing of the weapon whacked off the hatchet’s steel head. My Niff followed up by scooping up a handful of snow and throwing it into the harpy’s mouth. She gagged on it before spitting it out, silencing her terrible scream for a moment.

“I appreciate the help,” Will said. Mr. Niff said something in reply, but Will couldn’t hear it with his ears plugged.

The harpy recovered fast and bared her teeth at them, a frightening mouthful of fangs that looked like they could bite through bone. She scrambled toward them as Will pointed his fire scepter into the air and turned it on.

FOOM! The scepter belched out an overwhelming blast of white-hot flames. The sudden light and heat scared the harpy, and she fled the battle. It took her a few seconds flapping her huge wings to get airborne. This time Will made no effort to stop her. She’d fought so hard that he was sure the only way to keep her from leaving was by crippling or killing her, and he had no desire to do either.

Will tried to dig the mud out of his ears while people from the inn came outside. He managed to unclog his left ear and heard the innkeeper ask, “Where is she?”

He pointed in the general direction she’d gone, but with the falling snow there was no way to see her. “She went that way.”

A rancher patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get her next time.”

* * * * *

The trip home was depressing. Mr. Niff kept chatting away while he handled the steel hatchet head he’d taken as a trophy. When they got back to the Goblin City, the others panicked at the sight of Will looking dirty and angry. He could barely hear them and let Mr. Niff explain what had happened. While that was going on, he went to his room and spent thirty minutes washing mud out of his ears. His friends gathered around him as he dried off with a rag.

“What are we going to do about this?” Domo asked.

“Let’s pound on them!” Brooklyn roared.

Mr. Niff held up the hatchet head. “Look at my new toy!”

Everyone stared at Mr. Niff, blissfully ignorant of why they might be annoyed with him. Will cleared his voice to get their attention.

“You’re going to be reasonable, aren’t you?” London asked mournfully. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m angry,” Will said. “I think I have good reason to be, but I’m not going to do anything rash. It’s obvious the harpies aren’t going to get along with us, which is unfortunately not surprising given our luck, but we aren’t going to fly off the handle. We’re going to make a proportionate response to what happened.”

London’s shoulders slumped. “I knew it.”

“Spread the word to the goblins that I was attacked,” Will said. “Harpies are to be considered armed and dangerous from now on. Make every effort to find where they’re staying in our kingdom or Kervol’s. Don’t start fights and stay in groups in case they attack.”

Will tossed the dirty rag aside and frowned. “I was hoping we could be friends with them. We get along with the trolls and the purple puppet people. I thought we could reach some kind of understanding with harpies, too.”

“You can’t be friends with everyone, Will,” Domo said. “If it makes you feel better, this is one of those rare times when strangers might help us. They hate harpies way more than us, which I admit sounds weird.”

“If they’re public enemy number one then we’re going to have to improve our game,” Mr. Niff said. “Who’s up for sabotaging imperial bedchambers?”

* * * * *

“Sir William?”

Will grumbled and rolled over in bed. He’d dismissed his friends late last night and went to sleep hungry, sore and angry. It was impossible to tell what time it was since his bedroom was deep underground and he couldn’t see the sun. Nor did he have a clock.

“Sir William, it is I, Hugh Timbers.”

The lack of sun or alarm clock to wake him didn’t mean Will got to sleep as late as he wanted. His followers were only too happy to wake him up, and in the case of the goblins they’d do the honors any time they pleased and for any reason, or no reason at all, like to announce the winner of the Nauseous Gopher Giveaway contest. Hugh Timbers, on the other hand, had never been one to disturb Will’s sleep before now. That meant this was important.

“Good morning, Hugh,” Will muttered. He lifted his head from his pillow and squinted at the dwarf. Hugh stood holding a lit lantern in the doorway to Will’s room. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say something bad happened.”

“That would not necessarily be a correct assumption. Earlier this morning I was approached by a harpy while fishing. She seeks parley.”

Will sat up in bed and got dressed. “I could use a parfait right about now.”

“Parley. It means to seek a conference between enemies under a flag of truce. The harpy claimed last night’s attack was an unfortunate mistake that her flock didn’t order. She said her flock would like to speak with you regarding a serious matter.”

Will stood up and grabbed his fire scepter. “And this serious matter is…come on, help me out.”

“I asked and she would not say. She repeated that it was important, adding that it could only be discussed between leaders.”

“Why’d she say this to you and not directly to me?” Will answered his own question by saying, “Because after last night the harpies have to figure I’m mad and heavily armed, and that doesn’t make for a good combination.”

“There is more to it than that. According to the harpy, her flock has conducted business with dwarfs. These dealings went well enough to earn their trust. She was comfortable talking to me and felt certain I would pass along this message as requested. I hesitate to mention this, but she also felt your other followers were likely to misunderstand the message or possibly forget it entirely.”

Will frowned as he imagined what would happen if a goblin tried to carry an important message. The goblin would forget part or all of it, maybe add bits or deliver it to the wrong person, and that assumed the goblin was trying to do the job right. If the hypothetical goblin was feeling ambitious, he might deliberately change the message and giggle at the resulting chaos.

“Okay, you were the best person for the job,” Will admitted. “So where do they want to meet and when?”

“There is a small stream where I met the harpy. The harpies promise to wait there until noon.”

“I like this plan. Hugh, you don’t look very happy. Why is that?”

“I was intercepted by Domo before reaching you, and he insisted on hearing the news. He believed you would accept the offer.”

Will peeked out of his room and saw the tunnels filled with hundreds of armed goblins. London and Brooklyn led the horde, with Vial, Mr. Niff and Domo present as well. The assembled goblins and trolls had fought armies to a standstill, a force to be reckoned with.

“And I said that after last night there’s no way you’re going alone,” Domo told Will. He pointed his walking stick at the others. “Your honor guard awaits.”

It took some time to reach the meeting place, partly because while the storm had ended, it had left nearly a foot of snow behind. Hugh Timbers led the unruly horde, while the goblins were surprisingly quiet as they scanned the skies for harpies. London and Brooklyn borrowed small bombs from Vial to throw should they be attacked. Domo and Mr. Niff stayed by Will to coordinate the defense.

“When Will does something needlessly stupid, you have to stop him,” Domo told the other goblins.

“But he’s being stupid right now,” a bug-eyed goblin protested.

“This is just basic levels of stupid for him,” Domo said. “You have to watch out for epic, mind blowing kinds of stupidity. It could happen at any time.”

“I’m standing right here!” Will yelled.

“Would you rather we whispered?” Mr. Niff asked him.

“I’m curious what your goals are in this meeting, My Liege,” Vial asked.

Will took a deep breath before answering. “I want very much to end this peacefully. Doing that depends on exactly what the harpies want. There could be some big problems if they’re looking to settle here, but we might be able to make it work. We don’t have enough food for them, and I can’t let them steal food from farmers living to the south.”

He glanced at Domo and asked, “Could they use the goblin gate to reach new hunting grounds? That way they could live here and get food from far away.”

Domo tipped his head to one side. “Maybe, but there’s no way to tell where the gate could take them. They could end up in a tundra, or in a city where everyone’s going to try to kill them. That’s a huge risk to take for dinner.”

“Sir William, the meeting place is ahead,” Hugh said.

They saw a stream running out of a young forest, and as promised the harpies waited for them. There were five of them dressed like the one who’d attacked Will, different only in that they lacked gloves, boots or cloaks, and were armed with daggers, spears and hatchets. They weren’t ugly, but there was a feral look to them that made Will hesitate. The harpies spread their wings at the sight of the approaching horde, and one of them waved a spear at Will.

“What is this?” the gray haired harpy screeched. “We offer parley, and you bring an army?”

“You offer parley and I accept.” Will stepped away from the others and waved for them to stay back. “My friends are here in case things end as badly as the last time I spoke with one of your flock. I tried being peaceful then, too. I know what happened wasn’t entirely her fault, but good people were hurt.”

The gray haired harpy scowled but dropped her objections. “I am Maggie, and this is my sister, Gretchen. You met Ula last night. My flock and I have been watching you for some time. It was our intention to cause no harm. The battle between you and Ula should not have happened and was against my wishes. Ula wishes to apologize.”

Will had no trouble recognizing the harpy he’d fought last night, and she glared balefully at him. Maggie nudged Ula, but the harpy neither moved nor spoke. Maggie grabbed Ula by the arm and pulled her back, saying, “Excuse us for a moment.”

The discussion was quiet enough that Will missed most of it, but a few sharp words came through. “Had this discussion…observe only, not interact…boneheaded, half-witted, mindless…you volunteered…expect better from my niece…don’t give me that look.”

“Should we come back later?” Mr. Niff asked.

“This won’t take a minute,” Maggie promised before turning back to Ula. “Screwing up everything…you agreed to this…flock’s already left…you want attitude, I’ll show you attitude…act like a lady instead of an ogre.”

Maggie pulled Ula back. Ula stared at the ground and mumbled words too soft and garbled to understand. Maggie bared her teeth and would likely have laid into her fellow harpy had Will not intervened.

“Apology accepted,” he told her.

“That is generous of you,” Maggie told him. “You no doubt have questions, and I shall answer them. My flock needs aid. Normally we see to our own needs or call upon other flocks when trouble arises, but a rare and tragic situation has occurred that requires outside help.”

“Why didn’t you just come out and ask if you wanted help?” Will demanded. The harpies flinched at his angry tone. Will calmed down, barely, and asked, “What sort of problem is it?”

The harpy Gretchen hobbled forward, pushing between the other two. He voice was pained as she said, “My daughter Celeste was born…wrong. She is a good girl! Hard working! Honest! But she can’t fly.”

Maggie put a hand on Gretchen’s shoulder. “In rare instances a harpy is born without wings or talons. It hadn’t happened in our flock before and we thought it never would until Celeste was born. We’ve looked after her as best we could for years, but she is too big to carry and our journey too far for her to follow. We must leave her in the care of others.”

The color drained out of Will’s face. “Wait, you want to leave your daughter with me?”

“Yes.” Maggie hobbled closer. “Few deal fairly with harpies, but those who do speak well of you. We followed you this last week to see if the tales were true or lies. They say you are fierce in battle. I see proof of that before me, for goblins are ready to fight in your name. They say you are merciful. I see that is also true, for an outcast dwarf takes shelter in your lands. Can you be fierce and merciful, protecting a cripple from our flock?”

“We would come to visit her often,” Gretchen promised. She was fighting back tears. “She can provide for herself and would not burden you.”

“This isn’t a small thing you’re asking for,” Will said. “We’re talking a lifetime commitment to look after someone. And while I know this makes me sound like a jerk, you’re showing up out of the blue and making a huge request.”

Domo shrugged. “It sounds like you’re not giving us anything in return, either. I’m not a greedy sort, but if Will says yes then you fly away with everything you want and we get squat.”

“I gave sanctuary to Hugh Timbers,” Will conceded, “but those were extraordinary circumstances. And let’s be honest, this isn’t a nice place to live. There must be kingdoms better suited for your daughter.”

Maggie wasn’t giving up. “If so we have not heard of them, or they are too far away to reach. You live three days travel from the edge of our territory, a manageable distance. Few men live so far north and none of your reputation. The flock spent weeks searching for an acceptable home, no easy task when few love us. Your name was not at the top of the list. It was the list.”

Hobbling closer, she set down her spear and said, “Harpies born with Celeste’s condition are especially vulnerable. She can’t flee danger the way we can. If she doesn’t have the flock to protect her then she is at risk from predators, be they on four legs or two. In your care she has the protection of your forces and none would dare harm her. I know you have reason to be angry with us, and the lies told of us must be terrible. I ask you not to look at our failings but instead at the great need there is for your help. The flock has already migrated to our next nest. We’ve no time to find her another home, and leaving Celeste on her own is unthinkable.”

“Call a travel agent, because we’re going on a guilt trip,” Domo muttered.

Will frowned. “I’d like to talk with your daughter before making a decision. And I want to make it clear that this has to be a mutual agreement between her and I. I’m willing to offer her a home, but I’m not going to make it a prison if she wants to leave.”

Maggie held up her empty hands. “Where else could she go? Celeste, the man wishes to speak with you.”

A hooded figure walked out of the woods. She wore the same stitched together animal skins as the harpies, but she moved with a grace they didn’t. She stopped by Gretchen and exchanged a brief embrace before approaching Will. Celeste removed her hood, and Will gasped at the sight.

Celeste didn’t have wings or talons, just as Maggie had said. That was because Celeste was a young woman of roughly twenty years, and possessed the kind of unearthly beauty painters and sculptures tried to capture in their art. Her skin was pale and flawless, her figure astounding. There were only two traits that proved she wasn’t human, her long turquois blue hair, tangled and tied back around a rib bone, and her eyes, which were entirely blue without white or pupil.

“She’s a siren,” Domo whispered.

“Uh, hi,” Will stammered. Judging by how the harpies had been talking, he’d assumed Gretchen’s daughter was at most twelve years old. Why did they talk about Celeste like she was a child?

“Opening lines aren’t his strong point,” Mr. Niff said. The goblins nodded in agreement.

“I understand why I’m a burden to my flock,” Celeste said in a voice so melodious that it might be a song. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes were fixed on the ground. “I won’t get in your way or cause trouble. You won’t even know I’m here.”

* * * * *

Hundreds of miles away, the same storm that had blanketed the Kingdom of the Goblins in snow was now deep in the mountainous north. Winds howled and snow drifts formed quickly before crumbing under their own weight to fall down the mountains. This was a formidable deterrent and one of the reasons why the harpies had nested here not long ago.

Today the fierce storm and towering mountains offered no defense. Fifty attackers scaled vertical cliffs with a single-minded determination. Their heavy armor was wrapped in cloth both to warm them and muffle sound. The attackers found handholds in the thinnest of cracks in the cliff face, driving in steel spikes and attaching ropes to them as they moved ever higher.

It took hours climbing in conditions that could kill a man, but they never stopped until they neared the spot where Maggie’s flock had once nested. They slowed as they approached the nest and spread out to strike from all sides. The foul weather that had given them such trouble would be strong enough to ground the harpy flock. There was no way their prey could escape. As one the fifty attackers drew magic weapons and surged over the top into the nest, and found nothing.

The leader of the assault took a small magic mirror from his backpack and held it to his face. “They’re gone! The nest is empty!”

“Are they out foraging?” a voice in the mirror demanded.

The attackers searched the nest and came up with little. There were piles of ash, frozen droppings and broken twigs. The leader turned his attention back to the mirror. “There are no perches left. They’ve been broken up and burned for fuel. Harpies only do that when leaving a nest for good. They could be anywhere in their territory, and that covers five hundred square miles.”

The leader spat in disgust and looked at the mirror. “They were here only days ago! Orders, sir?”

“Find them at all costs.”