Skye is the Limit by Phenomenal Pen (best ebook reader ubuntu .TXT) 📖

“G-g-goblins!” Warrior stuttered.   

<What did you say?> the radio crackled with Ranger’s voice. As a result, both Blacksmith’s and Warrior’s Anima transformed into the shape of his face.

<What sorcery is this?!> Swetelove exclaimed, both frightened and exhilarated, certainly yanked out of boredom.

“Ranger, stop talking on the radio,” Warrior hissed.

<What is that? What did you say?> Swetelove asked.   

<Er, nothing, Your Ladyship,> Warrior said. <Just that we have never gazed upon such radiant beauty as yours.>

<I know,> Swetelove said haughtily. <Do not speak in your native tongue again unless I give you my express permission. Understood?>

<Yes, Your Ladyship.>

Turning back to Blacksmith, Swetelove said: <I asked you a question, blacksmith.>

<Er, this?> Blacksmith raised his Anima bracelet, which was back to being a dolphin and spinning lazily above his arm. <It is my familiar spirit, Your Ladyship. It also takes the form of whichever Dreamwalker speaks to it.>

<Is that so?> the chancellor asked, emerging from behind the other half of the curtain.

He wore a false wig that was bushy and blonde and extended down his back and also down his chest. To mask his paleness, he had used vegetable dyes to add a rosy glow to his cheeks and lips and, because he was portly, he looked like a toad with makeup. His eyes were half-closed and gave him a look of perpetual boredom.

<Show me,> the chancellor demanded.  

<It requires that we speak in our native tongue, Your Lordship,> Blacksmith said.

<Very well. You may.>

“Everybody stay calm,” Blacksmith cleverly slipped in. “These are goblins and not orcs. They’re different character classes, which means they’ll be competing with each other.”

<Witchcraft!> the chancellor muttered, turning paler and a bit more wide-eyed than usual.

“We cannot be certain, Blacksmith,” Mage jumped in, making the Anima switch from Blacksmith’s face to his. The chancellor, Swetelove, and the few nearby knights were spellbound. “Depending on the juncture in history, secondary NPC classes may have created unforeseeable alliances.”

<Dada!> Swetelove shrieked. <I want one! I want one!>

<You heard her, blacksmith,> the chancellor said. <Where do we get such a talisman?>

<I regret to say, Your Lordship, that this familiar spirit will only answer to a Dreamwalker like me. It cannot work with your daughter.>

<SHE IS NOT MY DAUGHTER!> the chancellor thundered and the Dreamwalkers nearly jumped out of their skins. 

<Forgive us, Your Lordship,> Mage interceded. <This is but an unfortunate misunderstanding.>

<Harump! My Swetelove always gets what she wants because I give it to her.>

<Tell them, my best beloved,> Swetelove said.

<I suggest that you give your magic pet to her, blacksmith.>

<As much as I want to do that, Your Lordship,> Blacksmith said, <I am afraid it is physically impossible because the familiar spirit is attached to my arm.>

<Well then, I guess… you will just have to do without your arm.>

Blacksmith raised his eyes to check the chancellor’s expression. Unfortunately, he was dead serious. The chancellor had broken into a malicious grin and revealed two rows of pointy piranha-like teeth. Swetelove, meanwhile, was licking her chops.

“This is not happening,” Blacksmith said out loud.

“All right, everybody just stay calm,” Mage said. “Do not give in to your fears.”

The chancellor signaled his knights and, from between them but also seemingly from out of nowhere, an executioner emerged. He was attired in the cinematic archetype of a black hood and, in his muscular arms, he cradled a huge double-bladed axe. Interestingly, the executioner’s bare arms and chest were moss-green. He was an orc.

Blacksmith attempted to stand up but his shoulders were pushed down by the knights.

<I wonder what Dreamwalkers taste like,> Swetelove said. Her flicking tongue was long, tapered and black. 

On the chancellor’s command, Blacksmith was dragged towards the edge of the forest clearing in front of a clump of hollies. He was still in denial of what was about to happen and let both his legs drag limply along the ground as two goblin knights carried him by the arms. He saw Mage and Warrior also being restrained and he supposed Elf and Ranger were receiving the same treatment. Only Fairy was free to fly high above them.

He did not expect things to escalate this quickly. The NPCs were very independent and unpredictable.

They dragged him to a tree stump which provided the perfect stand to lay down and stretch his arm. His mind was in a sort of fog and it wasn’t until, with one last look at the chancellor’s carriage for the signal and the executioner raising his axe; it wasn’t until then that Blacksmith’s situation fully dawned on him. He closed his eyes and wished that, if this was indeed a dream, he would wake up.