Dream Magic by B. V. Larson

glimmer on my trail?”
    “No,” said Shadgol. “I will tell you nothing unless you allow me my blissful ending.”
    Trev laughed, shaking his head. This elicited another hopping attack from Shadgol, but now that Trev could see the assassin it was a simple matter to keep beyond the creature’s reach.
    “Let’s strike a bargain ,” Trev suggested. “What would you like in turn for answering my questions? Something less than a pound of my flesh.”
    A cunning look came over the assassin, who Trev thought had been looking a trifle frustrated.
    “Come closer to me,” Shadgol said.
    Trev took a definite pace forward. The two had stood no more than seven paces apart—now it was only six.
    “I do not know why you saw me,” Shadgol said. “ The enchantment was broken somehow.”
    Trev nodded thoughtfully. “You claim then that Old Hob used Osang to enchant your person, to make you invisible to me?”
    “Another step for another answer.”
    Trev licked his lips, and stepped closer.
    “Yes. My master did precisely that.”
    Shadgol was lo oking eager again—almost greedy. His breath came in shallow gasps and his excitement grew ever stronger as Trev came near.
    “One more thing,” said Trev softly.
    “Ask, and step.”
    “Where is your master now?”
    “He watches from above.”
    “Flying like an owl in the night sky? Why not come down to witness the glory of the kill?”
    Shadgol gestured impatiently. His hook-like fingers scratched at the air. “ You owe me twice over. Step and step again, and I will answer.”
    Trev did so , taking two swift steps, and they now stood only three short paces apart. At this range, the creature’s foulness filled the air and was unavoidable.
    “My master rarely endangers his own person.”
    Trev laughed. He had to admit, he could have guessed the answer to that one. He’d been told throughout his youth of the great wars of the recent past, where many folk had cast armies at one another near right here, on the shoulders of Snowdon. Old Hob had never been one to take chances with his own life—not even remote chances. When violence needed to be done, he preferred to observe from a safe distance while sending minions to die for him.
    “ Ask another question,” said Shadgol, his voice growing gutteral with dark anticipation.
    “Why didn’t your master send an army of goblins after me? Why has he gone to such efforts to breed an assassin such as yourself?”
    “I know not.”
    “That’s no answer.”
    “ And yet it is the truth. Step forward, or be known forever as a cheat without honor.”
    All beings of Fae blood, from the simple wisps to the dancing elves themselves understood the meaning of dishonor. They would rather wager their own heads and lose them than to live and be known as an honorless cur.
    Trev lifted his foot. The simulacrum coiled itself. There was no doubt as to its intentions. Once within two paces, Trev would be in range for a lethal thrust. Not even he could reverse himself and bound away in time to escape the other’s motion. Both beings knew it, and Shadgol drooled with anticipation.
    But before he took the last fateful step, Trev hurled his dagger at the other. The blade flipped once, and caught the assassin by surprise. It sunk fully into an eye socket, stabbing into the brain beyond.
    Trev stepped closer then, as he had promised. He looked down at the scrabbling monster, feeling slightly bad for it. That was his human side, he knew. A true elf would have felt nothing resembling mercy or kinship for such a foul beast.
    But Trev had never before killed a creature that could speak. He’d hunted rabbits and deer for his mother’s table, but that was a far cry from this experience. Equally disturbing was his impression that the beastly thing was still alive, and attempting to speak.
    “Foul play,” i t said from the ground at his feet.
    “ Never! I played you fair. I said I would step forward, and here I stand. Your safety was never guaranteed in