Goblin Hero (35 page)

Noroka looked equally battered, but she didn’t seem to care about her wounds. She didn’t seem to care about anything. The queen’s light turned Noroka’s skin to white gold. She lay on her back, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she stared up at the queen. Until now Jig had clung to the faint hope that goblins might somehow be immune to the queen’s charms. So much for that.

Could they still attack? Jig twisted his head, quickly losing count of the pixies buzzing around their heads. He could hear several ogres hovering outside as well. Attacking now would be suicidally stupid.

Grop attacked. He had managed to palm his little dart, and he flung it at the queen. Four pixies swooped down to intercept the missile. Grop swore as one of the pixies squeaked and fell. He drew a knife from inside his shirt.

Noroka kicked him in the knees, knocking him to the ground. Moving faster than any goblin had a right to move, she pounced and sank her fangs into his neck. Grop stabbed his knife into her arm, but she didn’t even notice.

The queen giggled. “Stupid goblins.”

Noroka rose and backed away. Grop whimpered on the floor, blood dripping from his throat. He would be dead soon, from the look of it.

The queen stepped closer. Through squinted lids, Jig saw a slender, pale hand grab Grop’s hair, wrenching his head back. Grop’s eyes widened, and his face relaxed into a slack, peaceful smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Grop.” His wound bubbled.

“What an ugly name.” She struggled to lift him up. Instantly four pixies flew down to help, hoisting Grop up until only his toes still brushed the ground. “Go away and leave me alone, Grop.”

Still smiling, Grop turned and began to jog away. He ran right out of the chamber, dropping into the pit without a sound.

Jig began to tremble. Given the arrow still sticking out of his back, he wasn’t terribly upset about Grop’s death. But Grop had acted so cheerful about it. Jig hadn’t seen the slightest trace of hesitation on that blissful face as he trotted to his death.

“Oh, yuck. This one’s bleeding all over my cave.”

Jig glanced down. His blood formed a small puddle on the floor. The pain had begun to recede a bit, but he was light-headed, and every movement made him dizzy. Was he dying?

“That’s Jig Dragonslayer,” said Noroka. She moved in front of Jig, positioning herself between him and the queen. “He’s the one who forced us to try to kill you.”

Jig groaned. He scooted back, toward the edge of the pit. If he was going to die, wouldn’t it be better to do so himself, while he was still his own goblin?

He stopped. Blood loss was starting to affect his mind. Death was death. Veka might opt to die heroically, but Jig planned to go out cowering and pleading for his life.

Smudge darted down Jig’s leg and scampered up the wall. Nobody appeared to notice. Their attention was on Jig. He hoped Smudge would be able to climb back out of the pit. Did he still remember how to find the fire-spider nest?

“Make him look at me!”

Two pixies seized him by the ears, yanking his head up.

“Want me to cut off his eyelids?” Noroka asked.

Jig’s eyes snapped open.

The queen stood before him. Her gown sparkled like platinum, though it was clearly too small for her. Several stitches had popped along the side, and the hem barely reached past her knees. Rows of black pearls highlighted the contours of her skinny body. A golden circlet was twined into her long black hair. Had she been a goblin, Jig would have guessed her to be no more than seven years of age.

Her ears were narrow and pointed, rising well past the top of her head. Her eyes were pure blackness, reminding him of the bottomless pit, save for the spot of white light at the center of each eye.

Her wings were small and shriveled. Jig wondered if that was a result of injury, or if queens simply didn’t get real wings. He saw no scars, nor did the wings appear deformed. They were simply too small, too flimsy. She had four wings, like the warrior pixies, but hers gave off no light. The queen’s light came from her skin, her eyes, even her nails.

“Stand up.”

Sweat poured down Jig’s face as he obeyed, despite the pain the movement caused. He stood hunched, one hand reaching around his back to hold the arrow still.

The queen was . . . beautiful. It was an alien beauty, but Jig couldn’t look away. The angular features of her face, the curves of her body, the gracefulness of her movements that made her every step look like she was flying. . . . Every being Jig had ever encountered seemed crude and ugly in comparison. Admittedly, Jig had spent most of his life with other goblins.

“Jig Dragonslayer,” the queen whispered. “I remember your name. They told me about you. You’re the one who opened the way so we could come here. Everyone was so excited when they found this place. I would be safe. We could start our own kingdom, away from my mother. I could raise my own army of warriors as soon as I was old enough to breed. All thanks to you.”

Jig shivered. What was he supposed to say? “You’re welcome.”

“I hate you!” the queen said. She stomped around Jig, her withered wings rustling with her despair. “Why couldn’t
I
stay behind, and my mother come through?”

“You know your mother’s followers were too great in number for—” one pixie said.

“Shut up! How many more of these horrible goblins are going to come crawling into my cave?” She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her gown. “I hate them,” she said again.

She wrapped both hands around the arrow in Jig’s side and prodded him toward the edge. Tears streamed down his face, and he was gasping so hard he nearly passed out. Pixies and ogres flew back, clearing space for him to fall.

Jig turned around. Everyone was watching, waiting for that last order that would send him to his death. The queen wrenched the arrow from his back. Jig gasped, and tears filled his eyes.

“I wish you’d never opened that stupid cave for us,” she whispered, too low for the others to hear. Even her tears glowed. “I wish you’d just left me there to die.”

The poor queen was scared and miserable. Jig sympathized. He had felt the same way ever since that ogre first came to the goblin lair.

A small, dark shape dropped down to land on the queen’s withered wing. She didn’t appear to notice. Nor did she notice when smoke began to rise from that same wing. “Go on,” she said. “Follow your friend into the pit.”

Noroka acted first, leaping toward the queen and screaming, “Jig’s fire-spider!”

That was too much for the young queen. She whirled around and flailed her arms in panic, knocking Smudge to the ground. “Somebody kill it!” she screamed.

Jig leaped. Agony tore his wound as he grabbed the arrow in the queen’s hand and ripped it from her grasp. Before the queen could react, he plunged the arrow into the her back, directly between the wings.

She screamed. Jig flattened his ears against the terrible, high-pitched shriek. Pixies swarmed around the cave. Others fought their way through the opening at the back, bloodying one another in their desperation.

Before anyone could reach the queen, Jig yanked hard, pulling her toward the edge, then let go. The queen staggered, her arms waving madly. Jig saw her wings shiver once as she teetered on the edge, and then she was falling.

Every single pixie and ogre dove to follow, trying to save her. Jig scrambled out of the way and pressed himself to the floor.

When Noroka tried to follow the queen, Jig reached out with one hand and snagged her ankle. She flopped face first onto the rock and didn’t move. Only then, with Noroka unconscious and the rest of the pixies and ogres gone, did Jig drag himself back to peer into the pit. A tiny spark of white was quickly fading into darkness, pursued by swirls of color.

Everything felt fuzzy. He thought something in his back had torn when the queen yanked the arrow free, and his blood was flowing faster than before. His head slumped to the ground, just past the edge. He watched a bit of his own drool fall into the pit. Why wasn’t he dead? He had looked upon the queen, just like Grop and Noroka. Not that it mattered. He would be dead soon enough.

His ears and nose hurt. He pushed himself back and reached up to adjust his spectacles. The frames were so hot they burned his fingers.

The
steel
frames.

Jig started to giggle. Every time he had looked at the queen, he had seen her through circles of steel.

Shadowstar?
There was no answer. He was alone.

Hot footprints made their way up his arm. Not alone after all. Jig smiled and rested his head on the stone. At least he would die with the one creature in this world he had always been able to trust.

CHAPTER 16

—Chandra Widowmaker, Proprietress of
The Dancing Zombie Tavern
From
The Path of the Hero (Wizard’s ed.)

 

 

 

“So what’s this plan of yours?” Slash asked. He lay on his stomach, burning designs in the ice with one of his goblin prickers. Veka frowned and looked more closely. He had drawn a fat goblin cowering behind a tree. Now he sketched a pixie circling the tree, with bolts of lightning shooting from his hands. Slash appeared to be a fairly skilled artist. He held the pricker by the wood, pressing two points into the ice as he drew the parallel lines of the giant serpent’s body.

By the cave, the flaming serpent undulated through the air, almost as if it were swimming.

Veka’s fists clenched. “Can I borrow that?”

Slash sat up and handed her the goblin pricker. Veka jabbed one of the points into her forearm, then pinched the skin around the wound. Blood dripped down her forearm.

“What are you doing?” Slash asked.

She squeezed harder, and a tiny spray of blood misted Slash’s drawing.

“Stop that.” He turned away, his face pale.

Veka grabbed his shoulder. Blood dripped down her arm. The pain was annoying, but the discomfort on his face more than made up for it. “I need a distraction,” she said. “The only way one of us is getting through is if the other gets the guards out of the way.”

“I’m not going out there.”

“If you say so.” She squeezed again, spraying a bit of blood onto his chest.

That was too much for the poor hobgoblin. Slash groaned and fell face first onto the ice. Veka pressed the goblin pricker into his hand and closed his fingers.

Almost instantly Slash was up again, suspended by Veka’s magic. She could see the giant serpent stiffen and turn, tasting her spell. She maneuvered the unconscious hobgoblin like a puppet, marching him toward the pixies. One of the pixies flew out to meet him, shouting a challenge. The pixie didn’t appear worried. A lone hobgoblin shouldn’t be much of a threat.

That was what he thought. Splitting her concentration, she cast a second spell that tore the goblin pricker from Slash’s hand and propelled it upward. The point drove through the pixie’s wing.

The pixie fell, screaming with pain and fury. Veka turned her full attention to Slash, levitating him over the pixie and dropping him several times. She didn’t know if it would be enough to kill the pixie, but it should keep him from getting up any time soon. One pixie down. Five more to go, along with the flying fire snake.

“Sorry, Slash,” she whispered. To her surprise, she realized she meant it.

Already the other guards were rushing to attack, the serpent in the lead. Veka sent Slash running as fast as she could, guiding him away from herself and the pixies. No hobgoblin could move so quickly, but the pixies probably didn’t know that. Sure his movements were stiff and awkward, but so were most hobgoblins. And if his feet didn’t quite touch the ground with each step . . . well, hopefully the pixies would be too intent on catching him to notice such details.

Veka edged out from behind the tree and began to run toward the cave. Slash’s movements grew even clumsier. She couldn’t watch where she was going and control him at the same time. Maybe she would have been better off trying to take over his mind, but that was a more complicated spell. Dominating lizard-fish was one thing, but Snixle had told her that intelligent creatures fought much harder. Grudgingly, she admitted that Slash would probably qualify as intelligent.

She glanced back in time to see Slash run right through the tip of a pine tree. He stumbled and slid along the ice. Veka tried to yank him back to his feet, but before she could, he simply dropped out of sight. He must have fallen into another crevasse.

Good enough. She was almost to the cave. The ice near the entrance was melted smooth and slick, probably from that oversize snake. She saw no sign of the tiny worms and their ice spike traps. In a way, the flaming serpent had done her a favor, driving off the smaller predators.

A few more splashing steps brought her to the darkness of the tunnel and relative safety. Thankfully the ice was high enough she didn’t have to climb up to the entrance.