The carriage bounced and swayed as it tore through the woods, wheels skidding in the damp earth. Its excitement was palpable in the cool night air. Damacon perched at the front, one claw gripping the reins as it struggled to visualize the road ahead—Its thermal sight reduced the world to pale grays and smudges of warmth—beasts, trees, all the same flickering blurs. But the full moon cast just enough cold contrast for Damacon to follow the trail. Opportunities like this didn't come often, and when they did, Damacon made sure to seize them with both claws.
Excitement pulsed through its warty body, radiating heat into the cool night air.
"Strike while the iron is hot," Damacon rasped aloud, tasting the words. It had heard the phrase before, though it had no idea why iron needed striking. But it knew what it meant: act fast, profit faster. And when it came to 'turning a quick coin', Damacon was the first in line. That phrase it understood all too well.
From inside a barrel behind it, a voice piped up. "But Master! Why are we going away from the Shi' Rak? I saved you! You answer Ka'ak!"
Thin purple fingers poked out from under the barrel's lid. Beady eyes, full of sharp light, stared at the back of the conductor's cloak.
Damacon chuckled, irritated but indulgent. "You followed my orders well today," Damacon said. It was a relief, though it still wasn't sure why it kept them around. Too much trouble. Too much noise. But sometimes, they proved useful.
Today was a success—for once. They had managed to free Damacon from its captors after stealing the correct set of keys, and without being caught. Negotiations usually collapsed the moment No'ak caught wind of a Shi' Rak. Too many times before, they'd ruined deals with their curiosity and their teeth.
No'ak spilled out of another barrel, his matted hair dangling over his broad face as his nose twitched, scenting for something shiny. His thick arms were still lashed tight with rope—a precaution Damacon had learned to take after the third time No'ak wrecked a meeting by biting off someone's fingers.
Ka'ak skittered out of his barrel, thin and quick. He untied his brother's ropes, nimble fingers working fast. Ka'ak stuffed the rope away inside his barrel, wide mouth splitting in a grin.
"Today," Damacon said, "we take Shakti's Shi' Raks… and dispose of Shakti at the same time."
Ka'ak's ears twitched violently at the word Shi' Rak, a pulse of warmth surging through his narrow frame—excitement. He ducked his head, whispering something to himself as No'ak shuffled closer to Damacon's staff, nostrils flaring.
Ka'ak popped his head out again from the barrel.
"What about other Shi' Rak?" Ka'ak hissed, his eyes gleaming as he glanced at his brother, with a grin that spread from ear to ear.
"If Shakti is as strong as it thinks," Damacon said, "we'll get that one too." Damacon doubted it, though. The convoy guarding the Sol relic was too well fortified. Damacon didn't care. It wasn't after trinkets. It was after gold. Shakti's gold. The kind of gold a fool king hoards when it doesn't know how to spend it.
Gold was the only thing that mattered to the Trog.
Damacon's tail coiled tighter in anticipation. It could almost feel the coins slipping between its claws.
A wet sound, like something slimy chewing wood, snapped Damacon out of its daydream. It turned its head sharply.
No'ak gnawed on Damacon's staff, his few teeth scraping the wood, drool bubbling from his slack lips.
"You disgusting little imp!" Damacon snarled. In a flash, its tail whipped the staff forward, jabbing the tip into No'ak's mouth. Damacon lifted the goblin off the floor, then flung him backwards hitting the canvas with a smack before sliding down, landing in a heap. He didn't move. Just lay there, mouth open, legs to the sky, like a broken toy. No sign of pain or thought.
Ka'ak burst out laughing, his sharp cackles echoing through the trees as the carriage thundered on.
The forest swallowed the sound. Above, the moon gleamed pale and cold—watching.