The Syntax Sorcerer

12: Rognak's Gambit: The Price of Power

Rognak crept through the underbrush, his keen eyes scanning the forest for any sign of the human intruder. The weight of the Whispering Locket of Rak'Thal hung heavily around his neck, a constant reminder of the grave responsibility he bore.

As the leader of the Claw of Vengeance, Rognak had been entrusted with the sacred artifact, a decision that had not been made lightly. The locket's power was immense, but it came at a great cost. To use it meant sacrificing a century of its potential, a price that could only be justified in the most dire of circumstances.

And yet, as Rognak considered the threat posed by the human sorcerer, he knew that the time had come to unleash the locket's magic. John's power was growing with each passing day, and if left unchecked, he could bring ruin to the goblin village and all who dwelled within it.

Rognak's hand closed around the locket, feeling the ancient metal warm to his touch. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts on the young human boy, Barim. The locket's whispers began to fill his mind, guiding him towards his target.

Through the ethereal connection forged by the artifact, Rognak could sense Barim's presence within the city. The boy was alone, vulnerable, and unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond the city walls.

Rognak knew that he had to act quickly. He gathered his team, his voice low and urgent as he outlined his plan. "The locket will draw the boy to us," he explained, his eyes glinting with determination. "Once he is within our grasp, we will use him to lure the sorcerer out of hiding."

The other goblins nodded, their faces grim with understanding. They knew the risks involved in using the artifact, but they also knew that the stakes were too high to hesitate.

As Rognak began the ancient ritual to activate the locket's power, he could feel the weight of his ancestors' gaze upon him. He knew that he was not just fighting for the safety of his village, but for the honor and legacy of all those who had come before him.

The locket began to glow, its whispers growing louder and more insistent. Rognak focused his mind on Barim, willing the boy to heed the call of the artifact. He could feel the magic taking hold, reaching out across the distance to ensnare the young human's mind.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the ritual was complete. The locket fell silent, its power now fully unleashed. Rognak opened his eyes, a grim smile playing across his face.

The trap had been set. Now, all that remained was to wait for their prey to come to them.

Barim felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to venture into the forest. It was as if an unseen force was guiding his steps, drawing him away from the safety of the city and into the wild. Despite the nagging sense of unease in the back of his mind, he found himself unable to resist the compulsion.

As he walked deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around him, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. The air grew thick and heavy, and a strange, whispering sound filled his ears.

Suddenly, he found himself face to face with a group of goblins. But these were no ordinary goblins. Barim recognized them immediately as the Claw of Vengeance, a notorious band of warriors known throughout the continent for their brutality and ruthlessness.

The goblins smirked at him, their eyes glinting with malice. Barim felt a surge of fear, but he stood his ground, refusing to let them see his terror.

"Where is the sorcerer?" one of the goblins demanded, his voice harsh and guttural.

Barim shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. He would not betray John, no matter what they did to him.

The goblins exchanged glances, their expressions turning cruel. "Very well," the leader said, his tone dripping with menace. "If you will not tell us willingly, we have ways of making you talk."

They seized Barim, their rough hands digging into his flesh. He struggled against their grip, but it was no use. They were too strong, too many.

They dragged him to a nearby tree and bound him to the trunk with thick, coarse ropes. Barim could feel the rough bark digging into his back, scraping his skin raw.

The goblins circled around him, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. One of them drew a wicked-looking knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the dappled moonlight that filtered through the trees.

"Last chance, boy," the goblin growled, pressing the knife against Barim's cheek. "Tell us where the sorcerer is, or we'll make you scream."

Barim closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming. He thought of John, of the kind, brave man who had saved his life. He would not betray him, no matter what the cost.

The goblin's knife bit into his flesh, and Barim screamed.