Even Tymalous Shadowstar didn’t know how to fight an army of pixies. What was Jig supposed to do?
One step at a time, Jig. First you need to beat the pixies who are hunting you. Then you worry about the rest.
If Tymalous Shadowstar had been a physical being, Jig would have punched him in the face.
This is your fault! You’re the one who told me to go with Walland. You—
The pixies were here whether you went or not, Jig. Sure, you could have hidden in your temple like you always do, but in the long run you’re better off facing them now.
How does that help me if I die in the very short run?
Jig asked.
The god didn’t answer. Jig sat down, sucking hard on his sugar-knot. Fine. So he was supposed to fight the pixies. No, wait. Shadowstar said he had to beat them. That didn’t mean he had to fight them himself. He could order Slash or Braf to do it.
One look at them did away with that idea. Slash had no weapon, and as for Braf, the pixies would fly circles around him until he killed himself with his own hook-tooth.
Smudge twitched, growing a bit warmer. The pixies were coming. What Jig needed was a giant fire-spider. With smaller prey, Smudge could be as vicious as any goblin, catching and cooking his food in a single jump.
Slowly, Jig climbed to his feet. On the way in, they had passed an opening that smelled of soot and ash. He hadn’t recognized it then, being a bit distracted by his ogre captors, but the air had smelled a lot like one of Smudge’s abandoned webs. Only stronger.
“What is it?” asked Braf.
“The pixies are coming,” Jig said. He stepped away from the others, who made no move to follow. Good.
Grell coughed and spat. “You’ve got a plan, then?”
“I’m a goblin, remember?” Jig said, fighting a completely inappropriate giggle. Was giggling in death’s face a sign of hysteria? “We don’t make plans.”
Jig hadn’t gone far when he spotted the pixies approaching in the distance. Purple light slowly resolved into sparkling pink and blue orbs. The pink one flew ahead of the blue, wings humming. She folded her arms as she drew to a halt, hovering in front of Jig. He could feel the wind from her wings.
“You’re Jig Dragonslayer.” It wasn’t a question.
Jig nodded. “Who are you?” To his surprise, he got the words out with barely a tremor.
“Pynne.” She landed on her toes. Her wings continued to buzz, supporting most of her weight as she stared up at him. Her small face was overly round, almost swollen, with puffy cheeks and a wide forehead. White hair surrounded her head like a cloud. Yellow beads decorated her white wrap. Her nose wrinkled as she studied his torch, but she didn’t say anything.
Jig had grown up a runt, always looking up at the other goblins. Dodging the larger goblins’ fists, to be precise. Now he found himself staring down at his enemy. Pynne was so small. She looked like one good kick would break her against a wall.
“Try it,” Pynne said softly.
Jig didn’t move. Despite their difference in size, those two whispered words were enough to make him feel as though Pynne were the one looking down at him.
“
You’re
the one who killed the dragon?” Pynne asked.
Annoyance momentarily overpowered his fear. Hadn’t he been through this once before with Walland? “Yes, that was me.”
“There were others with you when you escaped the bottomless pit,” she said. “What happened to them?”
Jig hesitated. Where was Veka, and how much did the pixies already know? “The ogres killed them.”
Pynne frowned. “What ogres?”
Whoops. Trockle wouldn’t be happy. But how could they not know about the ogres?
Are you sure Veka was being controlled?
I’m sure,
said Shadowstar.
Pynne sighed, a whistling, chittering sound. “I told the others some ogres had escaped, but did they believe me?”
Behind her the blue pixie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re always right and everyone else is wrong. You want me to fly along to deal with them?”
“No, Farnax” said Pynne. Her light had brightened as Farnax spoke, and even Jig could hear the annoyance in her voice. “We’ve found Jig Dragonslayer. Our duty is to bring him to the queen.”
Farnax drifted higher, and sparks exploded from his wings as he brushed the ceiling. He dropped to the ground, cursing and flexing his wings. “How do you creatures survive in these horrible, hot, filthy tombs? You’ve barely room to breathe without hitting stone.”
“Enough,” snapped Pynne. Farnax shrank back, then nodded. No question who was in charge here.
“Why does the queen want me?” asked Jig.
Pynne’s wings stilled. “You are Jig Dragonslayer. When you killed the dragon, you opened the way for us. You served the queen once, and you will serve her again by helping us master the magic of your world.”
“What about—?” Jig clamped his jaw before Veka’s name slipped out. Somehow Pynne didn’t know about Veka. If she did, would she still see any reason to keep Jig alive?
Jig stared at her as the rest of her comment sank in.
He
had opened the way? The pixies had to be mistaken. Jig was certain he would have remembered opening a portal to another world.
“What about what?” asked the Farnax.
“The other goblins,” Jig said. “The ones up above in the lair. What are you going to do to them?”
Pynne shrugged and hopped into the air. “The same as we would do to any pest who infested our home.”
She turned, gesturing at a smaller rock serpent who had been creeping up the tunnel toward them. At first nothing appeared to happen. Then the snake hissed and began to bite at its own scales. The snake’s struggles grew more frantic, dissolving into spasms and convulsions that flung it right off the ground. The snake made one last, frantic attack, sinking its fangs deep into its body, and then it was still.
Only when the rock serpent was dead did Jig see clearly enough to understand. Blood seeped from the edges of the scales. Pynne’s magic had caused the scales to grow inward, digging through the skin until they killed the snake.
“Do we understand one another, goblin?” Pynne asked, smiling.
Jig thought he might throw up. It wasn’t fair. Goblins worked so hard to be loud and ferocious and intimidating. Pynne had them all beat with a smile and a wave of her hand.
Jig stared at the snake. They intended to kill or enslave every last goblin in the mountain, and they thought Jig would help them do it, just to save his own life.
They knew goblins pretty well. Jig took a step back. “You said you wanted to control the magic of our world?”
“That’s right,” said Pynne, moving so close Jig could feel the warmth emanating from her wings. Smudge was still hotter, and growing more so the closer Pynne came, but the pixie generated a respectable warmth.
“When I ran away from the ogres, I was coming to get the power to fight them,” Jig said. He was a horrible liar, but hopefully Pynne would have as much trouble reading his expressions as he did with the pixies. “After I fought Straum, I found a wand, one with more magic than I could ever hope to keep for myself. Enough to reshape this entire mountain.”
The pixies glanced at one another. “Where is this wand, goblin?” asked the blue one.
Jig stared at the snake. He had never imagined he could feel sorry for a rock serpent. “I’ll take you to it.”
There were advantages to traveling with pixies. For one thing Jig could do away with that awful torch. Almost as good, the insects that had been harassing Jig now turned their attention to the pixies, drawn to their bright lights. Jig smothered a grin as he watched Pynne swing her hand at a particularly amorous moth.
Another advantage was that Jig no longer needed to worry about the rock serpents. Twice more the snakes slithered toward them. Pynne didn’t bother with such dramatic magic this time. She simply used her power to make the snakes bite themselves to death.
“I thought you didn’t know how to use our magic,” Jig said as he watched the second snake die, fangs still sunk into its own back.
“We don’t,” said Pynne. “The strongest among us learn to store magic within ourselves, but if we’re away from our world for too long, our power will fade. Even the enchantment we use to speak your language would dissipate.”
Farnax scowled. “Don’t misunderstand her, goblin. We’re still strong enough to destroy you if you betray us.”
“Oh, Jig wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” Pynne said, smiling. It was the same smile she had worn after murdering the first rock serpent. Her light turned a brighter pink as she circled Jig’s head. “Tell us more of this wand.”
Jig tugged his ear as he tried to remember the stories. “A wizard used it to create these tunnels and caves. It has the power to transform people, things, just about anything.”
“A perfect tool,” said Pynne.
“If you know about this wand,” said Farnax, “why haven’t you used it against us?”
“I didn’t have it with me.” Even if he had, he wasn’t sure the Rod of Creation would work inside the pixies’ world-bubble. “I have a hard time just keeping the other goblins from taking my boots.”
Jig held up one foot. All his climbing and running away had scuffed the blue leather, and the white-furred fringe at the top was tangled and matted. “Goblins have a different view of property and ownership than most races.”
“A communal relationship?” asked Farnax. “Things are shared and passed along to those who need them?”
Jig shook his head. “No, things are taken by those who are bigger and stronger than the ones who had them.”
“With the power you describe, you could destroy anyone who tried to take the wand from you,” Pynne said.
“I’d have to kill the whole lair,” Jig muttered. Not to mention he would never again be able to sleep. How many times had he woken up to find goblins tugging at his boots?
The wind had begun to increase as they moved toward the pit, and the air was drier. Both pixies were having a bit of trouble flying. Farnax in particular kept bumping into the rock and swearing.
Jig coughed, trying to clear his parched throat. His nose wrinkled. The pixies certainly smelled better than the ogres’ torch, but in some ways, their scent was equally disturbing. They smelled of burning metal mixed with something sweet, like the flowers that used to grow by Straum’s cave.
“Why did you leave your world?” Jig asked.
“We had no choice, once the queen was born,” Pynne said.
“She ordered you to leave?” Jig didn’t know much about kings and queens, but that made no sense.
“Her birth was an accident,” Pynne explained. “The current queen almost never gives birth to a successor until she nears the end of her life, but occasionally it happens. Once the new queen was born, exile was the only option. Otherwise war would have devastated our people.”
So it was a power struggle, and the pixies in this world had been the losers. Given what Jig had already seen them do, that wasn’t as reassuring as it might have been. “Why didn’t the other queen just kill the new one when she was born?”
Both pixies froze. Was it his imagination, or had their lights grown brighter?
“Nobody can kill a queen,” whispered Pynne.
Alien though the pixies might be, Jig could still read them enough to know this was a good time to stop asking questions. All his instincts screamed at him to change the subject. Of course, if he had listened to his instincts, he never would have left the goblin lair to begin with.
“Even if she’s too powerful, wouldn’t another queen be equally powerful?” he asked, cringing in anticipation. “She has to sleep sometimes, doesn’t she?”
Pynne actually shivered, a strange sight, since she was still hovering in the air. Her whole body vibrated, and it hurt Jig’s eyes to look at her. “You couldn’t understand. None can look upon a pixie queen without loving her. That’s her power. That love is even stronger when the queen is young. When she is asleep or vulnerable. A newborn queen will even steal the loyalty of her mother’s followers. She was raised in isolation until she was old enough to travel to your world. The most black-hearted villain would die to protect her, once he laid eyes upon her.”
“As will you, goblin,” added Farnax.
Jig struggled to comprehend that kind of loyalty. Goblin politics were swift, decisive, and deadly. Goblins followed their chief because they would be killed if they didn’t. The trouble was, the chief couldn’t be everywhere at once. In the midst of battle, the immediate threat of an enemy with a big sword took precedence over a chief who might or might not survive long enough to punish you. If Farnax and Pynne were telling the truth, the pixies would never flee from battle. They would never stop fighting, and they would use every bit of their strength to destroy their enemies. Enemies like Jig and the other goblins.
He was so absorbed in the ramifications, he nearly missed his destination. Only Smudge’s sudden excitement made him stop and look around.
“There,” he said. A flat opening near the top of the tunnel, to his right. That was the origin of the ashen odor he had smelled before. If he was wrong, the pixies would probably kill him. But if he was right . . .
Who was he fooling? The pixies would probably kill him either way.
“The wand is in there?” asked Farnax, flying closer to the entrance.
Jig jumped and grabbed the lower edge of the hole, then struggled to pull himself up. His boots scraped uselessly against the moss-slick rock. Finally, muttering under her breath, Pynne grabbed the bottom of one pantleg and flew up. Farnax did the same with the other leg. With the pixies’ help, Jig managed to pull himself into the cramped tunnel.
There was barely room to crawl, and Jig tried not to imagine what would happen if the tunnel grew any narrower.
“This had better be worth it,” Farnax said from behind Jig. “I can’t stand much more of these tunnels. I feel like I’ve been buried alive.” He had landed on the ground, and he glared distastefully at the rock with each step. There was no room for them to fly. They probably couldn’t even see anything but Jig’s backside. No wonder they were so grouchy.