When Goblins Rage (Book 3) by Lucas Thorn

“Which one's Pink?”

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    This time she woke with a roar, sparked into consciousness by dreams of an arm tearing up from the ground. Reaching for the stars.
    An arm of pale white flesh cracked open like broken tiles to let something dark and milky bleed out.
    Her violet eyes snapped open as she flailed against dream-conjured ghosts, snatching at whatever was closest.
    A chair.
    And promptly fell out of the one she'd been propped in.
    Landed on her hip and rolled over onto her side, fighting the need to vomit.
    “Hey, hey!” The voice was gritty. Deep-bellied. And sounded far away, even though she could see his legs through a forest of chairs and small tables. “Not in here! If you're gonna puke, you take it outside. Grim's teeth, if it weren't for Pad, you wouldn't be here. You're lucky, you are, to have him speaking up for you. I'd have just dumped you out back for the rats to eat. Not that they'd get much from a scrawny thing like you.”
    She lifted herself up onto her elbow and scowled at his feet, feeling the nausea drain away. Couldn't see him through the table above her head. But she knew what he looked like. Could remember him clearly.
    An old Fnord with pale grey hair and enough scars down the left side of his face to make him look hideous. His beard grew in patches because of those scars, and his upper lip had been torn open and never healed right.
    Three teeth missing, which left him with an easy lisp.
    Once muscular, but now inclined more to fat. Squeezed into clothes which didn't quite fit. A greasy apron he used more to wipe the filth from his hands than anything else.
    She couldn't see his hands, but knew there'd be a wine bottle in them. Uncorked.
    Probably almost empty.
    She closed her eyes and pressed her palm to her forehead. The pain was almost intolerable. A hammering pain which felt like a giant knocking on the inside of her skull as though it were a door he wanted to break down.
    Again, vertigo assaulted her mind. But this time it didn't have the same effect on her guts, so she didn't retch.
    Was able to squeeze her eyes shut to watch the glittering lights glimmer and fade before reaching up to grab the table for balance as she hauled herself to her feet.
    Leaned heavily on it before sliding back onto the old chair.
    “Food,” she growled. “I'm hungry.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me, feller.”
    “I ain't feeding you,” he snorted. “Didn't you get the fucking hint? I don't want you in here. I let you sit there until you woke up. Now you're awake, you can fuck off to the inn next door. They ain't so picky about their customers. Took two days to clean up the blood from the last time you were in here. I'm not putting up with that shit again.”
    “Beans will be fine,” she said as evenly as she could. Used her foot to pull another chair close enough for her to put her feet up. “On account of how the way my stomach's acting up by the stink in here, you obviously still ain't got the hang of cooking meat.”
    He blinked, suddenly realising the meat was burning on the spit behind him. He scowled. “Fuck you, Long-ear. You want better? Piss off back to Lostlight. For that matter, what the fuck do you think you're doing still staying here? I told you to fuck off. Get out. You ain't wanted here, and I ain't serving you no matter what the fuck you say! You hear me? I ain't scared of you.”
    She dug into a pouch. Dropped a few copper coins on the table and let them roll to a stop. Said; “And I ain't listening to you, feller. I'm hungry. In fact, I could be hungry enough to eat the flesh off a cook who pisses me off. Raw. Get me?”
    “Alright, alright.” He scratched at his armpit and spat on the floor. “No need to be so fucking unfriendly.”
    He turned toward a large pot bubbling on the wide stove, and the elf pressed her fingers against her temples. Rubbed hard.
    Thought something walked over her other hand resting on the table. Looked down but saw nothing. Grunting, she