As it was a Sunday and only minimal work was done (which did not include the Goblin Liaison Office), nobody would know of the alarm before Monday, the thirteenth of July.
No one was aware of the massacre happening in the entrails of Brise-Roc. No help would come. Not in time anyway.
The Exchequer had decided to eliminate the maximum of goblins possible to erase evidence of their activities, and so far the plan was working without a hitch.
12 July 1992, Brise-Roc Fortress, France
The noise of foot running on a stone surface awoke her from dark nightmares where she was pursued by the salamander.
Thankfully it was the noise of foots, not the small earthquakes preceding the monster she had truly feared.
Alexandra opened her eyes. Of course, as only a small ray of light came through the massive close doors allowing access to Brise-Roc, her vision took a long time to deal with the lack of light.
The moment of adaptation over, she could see shadows running between the pillars of the main hall. For the first time in several hours, Alexandra smiled. The infernal salamander had not managed to kill every member of the expeditionary force after all. With a bit of luck, some of the survivors might even be able to lift the nasty curse on the gates which barred them from outside.
Deciding it might be prudent to avoid a fight in the dark with potential allies, Alexandra shouted "Survivor over here!" and then shouted "Lumos!".
Alexandra had expected movements to seize the weapons, shouts of anger or surprise. She had not thought to hear several of the unknown sobbing in relief.
One look at the arriving group when they came into the range of her Lumos spell after a whole minute was enough to see why.
There were a dozen goblins in front of her, all looking like the salamander had used them as toys and then discarded when they were damaged enough. Behind them, came two makeshift stretchers improvised with goblin halberds, spears and canvas used on tents or elsewhere carried by four more goblins looking less crippled than the others. On the stretchers, were Warfist and another goblin Alexandra couldn't remember the name.
The latter had lost one arm, one leg and was burnt to a high degree over all his body. Warfist had not lost any limb, but the shape of his right leg suggested it was broken and there were severe marks of burnings on his head, arms and legs, giving him the appearance of a lobster more than a goblin. Both were unconscious.
Finally came behind them Louis De Male Foi, one of the French cursed-breakers. The wizard had two dirty scars on his face, his blond hair were a mess, he was walking with difficulty and one of his arm was immobilised with a sort of magical plaster. Moreover, his usual arrogance was completely absent and he was looking like a man who had been revealed all the nightmares under his bed were true.
That was all. She counted nineteen goblins and a single human facing her. A very small contingent, when hours before the expeditionary force had counted thousands of the former and several dozens of the latter.
"Where...where is the rest? Where is the army?" Asked Alexandra hesitantly.
"We are the army, human." Rasped one of the goblins. "We are all what is left of the expeditionary force." And to stress the point, he collapsed to the ground, having evidently no forces left.
"How did you manage to survive when so many of our best warriors perished?" Asked another goblin, looking at her in anger.
"I fled." She replied.
"Typical of your back-stabbing and cowardly race!" Sneered a goblin who had been carried the stretcher of his commander. "Our race doesn't flee! We fight! We..." This effort had been too much, and the goblin fell unconscious, only caught up in time by one of his nearby companions.
"I suppose the gates are closed?" Asked a goblin who was less wounded than the rest of the survivors.
"Locked and trapped." Confirmed Alexandra. " Does here anyone has a sort of pass or magical command to open the gates?"
"Warfist had one." Answered the goblin, clearly uncomfortable. "He left it with Burklurk when the fight began. And Burklurk is..." The goblin shivered and wasn't able to finish this sentence. Whatever had happened to Burklurk, it had not been a pleasant end.
After this, most goblins sat in a circle on the ground and engaged in a long conversation in their own language, Gobbledegook, that sounded like a lot of grunts, growls and rasps. The rest were already sleeping or unconscious. The salamander had really done a number on them.
Seeing her presence was not wanted, Alexandra returned to her former position against the pillar. She could have cancelled the Lumos spell but she had sufficiently slept in the last break, and the presence of these goblins a few meters away scared her. Not because she felt they were going to kill her. Given the injuries they had, it was likely she could take them single-handily without her wand or any magic. But if the goblin army was all dead, it meant the flame demon was free to pursue the survivors. And if it was...
"What exactly did you do to the doors, girl?"
Alexandra was brutally interrupted in her thoughts by the voice of someone. Looking up, she looked straight at the eyes of a furious French wizard.
"I shot a Bombardment Charm at the door, Sir." She replied in her best ironic tone and insisting mockingly on the "Sir". "Was there anything else?"
The shoulders of Louis De Male Foi went down at that declaration. "Ce n'est pas normal!" She heard him whisper. "Elle aurait du déclencher l'alarme..."
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