“Oh shit! Oh shit!”
Tygron tumbled through the tiny doorway onto his hands and knees. He spun around to search frantically for some way to close it, but the doorway was gone.
“Wait, what..? Where did..?” Ramshackle walls of a dead-end alley surrounded Tygron on three sides. In the dim light of dusk, the rough wood showed no signs of ever having a door. His mind reeled in confusion.
He was panting, his pulse pounding in his ears. Chumper’s crew of street beggars had almost caught him again. They could still catch him, he thought fearfully. He scrambled backwards until he was on his feet again, all the while watching the blank wall nervously.
He made an effort to catch his breath, and considered his next steps to find safety. The clatter of the nearby slums market echoed into the alleyway as he poked his nose around the corner oh-so-timidly. The hubbub was familiar, yet somehow discordant. He cocked his head slightly, and sniffed. The rank hot air of home billowed past, smelling just like the slums had always smelled. No… not just like home, only almost. A slow prickling washed across Tygron’s skin. “Where am I?”
“Help!” Rasped a high reedy voice from across the narrow street, startling Tygron out of his thoughts.
A blob of shadows thrashed wildly in the alleyway directly opposite Tygron.
“Sweet Mother of Memories, thank you! You’ve sent help. Over here! Hurry boy, before I’m eaten!”
Caught up by the voice’s urgency, Tygron darted across the muddy lane, but pulled up short as caution suddenly returned.
“I… I think you might already be eaten.” He squeaked in surprise. In front of him, one leg, two scraggly arms and a goblin head poked out of the wide leathery mouth of an enormous toad. Tiny useless wings flapped atop the back of the monster as it pawed its front feet against its attempted meal.
“Nonsense! I’ll not be… urk… swallowed by such a mundane… ack… brainless beast!” The goblin squealed. Tygron realized the only thing keeping the goblin from being gobbled up was the tiny dagger it clung desperately to, stabbed deep into the rubbery upper lip of the toad. “Please! Do you have a blade? Iron? Anything?My mistress will reward you greatly!”
Though it spoke and acted like no goblin he had ever imagined, Tygron’s conscience wouldn’t let him ignore its pleas. He rushed to aid the strange creature. Pulling a rusty iron knife from his belt sheath, he dashed around the side of the giant winged toad, and leapt atop it. The beast smelled of the muck and swamp-moss. He stabbed with his blade, using it for purchase as he clambered up the rear legs and onto the monster’s back.
“Yes, boy! Brilliant! Go for it’s eyes!”
The toad bucked. Tygron perched precariously, grasping at the toad’s lumpy skin with one hand and bracing his feet against the fluttering stubby wings. With a grunt, he plunged his iron blade into one huge slitted eyeball. Once, twice, and then again. The toad convulsed, croaked a deep rumbling screech of a croak, and leapt.
Tygron’s heart surged into his throat as he hurtled through the air.
The toad, the goblin, and Tygron all crashed violently into a building across the way. Pain exploded within his skill, and Tygron’s consciousness blinked out.
Tygron awoke with a headache. The small goblin was helping him to his feet.
“Merciful Mistress, great work elfling! She sent you just in time!”
“She did? Who did? Where am I?” Tygron stuttered over the words. His stood on wobbly feet. The giant winged toad lay in a massive heap, dead and buried within a pile of rubble.
“Why, my mistress, of course.” The goblin spoke, wiping off grime and sticky slime from its clothing with a tattered rag. “The Night Collector, some call her. The Mother of Memories, others say, or the Lady of Dreams. She goes by many names. As for where? Well you’ve come into the Feywild, lad. We’re at the edge of a goblin market. And that wandering fey toad would have ate me if it weren’t for you!”
“You think your mistress brought me here to save you from… from that?” Tygron waved at the hulking reeking corpse. “All I did was duck through a doorway to get away from…” The frightful memory of being chased down by Chumper and his gang of bullies washed through him once more, and he shivered. Somehow, the giant toad he’d just slain seemed less terrifying than those hateful kids who were trying to catch and torment him.
“A portal she opened just for you! Haha! And for me, of course, of course. The Archfey have powers well beyond us mere mortal creatures. Ahhhh, I can see it in your eyes, elfling. You were running for your life, weren’t you?”
Tygron nodded with a frown.
“Yes! So our lady has saved us both! Well, before we send you back, then, how about that reward? Can’t send you home just to be killed by those chasing you, eh? Where’s the justice in that?” The goblin began to rummage around in its rucksack while muttering to himself.
“I don’t think I want to go back, mister… ?”
“The name’s Tigsley. Ah, here we are.” The goblin Tiglsey produced a small and tattered tome from its sack with a flourish. “This here, lad, is a powerful tome! Once claimed, by placing your mark in blood just so,” the goblin opened the rough leather cover and gestured with its thumb to a fat line at the bottom of a lengthy text on its first page, “you will become imbued with the magics of the Night Collector herself! Just a tiny sliver of her powers, mind you, but never again will you need to fear for your own life. Whatever wickedness was chasing you on the other side of that door will be a threat to you no more!”
“Truly? How is that possible?” Tygron gaped.
“This is a gift of magical weapons and protection, boy. Blast your enemies! Charm the ladies! Whatever you desire! All you need do is to make your mark, and it’s yours. You’ve earned it. Saved my life you did, and the Mistress is eternally grateful to those who help her servants. She protected me, and now she’ll protect you!”
Tygron grimaced. And frowned. And he pondered how much he hated Chumper and his gang. He could finally fight them off. Or even get revenge, maybe, for the months of torment they’d put him through? Or not, the thought of revenge sat thick and heavy in his gut. He didn’t like the feeling of it.
“Chumper couldn’t hurt me anymore?” Tygron asked.
“Not at all! You could blast him to bits! Or just scare him away once and for all…” Tiglsey corrected itself as it noticed Tygron’s frown of dislike at the suggestion of murder. It waggled the tome under Tygron’s nose. “C’mon boy, just a mark. Your life can change forever,” it whispered.
Tygron hesitated for quiet seconds. Then pulled his rusty knife and nicked his arm. He stared at the bleeding wound briefly, then bloodied his thumb and pressed his it into the fat black line on the tome.
In ways he never anticipated… Tygron’s life did, indeed, change forever.
