With his free hand, Jig reached up to touch Billa’s nose. Her skin was cool to the touch, especially the rough, pale scar. Old blood crusted the edges of her nostrils.
I’m willing to help you heal her,
Shadowstar said.
But I won’t join Isa. I can’t.
Shut up.
Shadowstar had taken Jig’s fear, but that only left more room for anger. Showdowstar wouldn’t allow them to kill Noc, but he was perfectly willing to let Jig risk his own life. After all, Jig was only a goblin.
That’s not—
I said shut up.
Jig shoved the flaming torch into Billa’s face.
Billa screamed and staggered back. She swung wildly with her sword, but Jig had already leaped away. As hard as he could, he hurled the torch down the right-hand tunnel.
The temple went dark.
Jig dropped to his hands and knees and grabbed Relka’s leg. He dragged her away from the altar, toward the central tunnel. ‘‘Come on,’’ Jig said, loud enough for Billa to hear. He tried to make himself sound afraid. All his life, he had fought to keep his voice from squeaking. Now thanks to Shadowstar, he had to force it. ‘‘If we can make it to the lake, we’ll be safe.’’
He took a few steps into the tunnel, then shoved Relka against the wall and pressed a hand over her mouth. One of her fangs dug into the fleshy part of his palm, but he barely felt it.
He twisted his good ear back toward the temple and Billa’s pained whimpering. Her footsteps crunched on stone and glass. Would she run after the torch? Or would she try to follow Jig and Relka into the darkness? If so, she had a one-in-three chance of bumping right into them.
The smart thing for her to do was to retreat. She could bring her kobolds to track Jig, and orcs to finish them off. But Billa was angry and hurting, and if Jig wasn’t mistaken, hitting her in the face had caused her nose to start bleeding. She wouldn’t be thinking clearly.
‘‘Run away, little goblin,’’ Billa whispered. She grunted as she tripped over the two dead goblins. She was going after the torch. ‘‘I’ll feed your eyes to the wolves when I find you.’’
Jig waited until her footsteps faded, then hurried back through the temple, pulling Relka along behind him. He hoped Billa did find her way to the lake. Maybe the poisonous lizard-fish would take care of things for him.
‘‘I knew you’d save me,’’ Relka whispered.
‘‘I didn’t have much of a choice.’’ Jig dragged her toward the entrance. He hoped Trok was still there. If the orcs had gone back to watching the cave, Jig was dead.
He squinted as they neared the light of the outside world. The crack of steel on stone made him jump. One of the orcs howled.
‘‘Ha!’’ Trok shouted. ‘‘A half-sever. I win again!’’
Jig peeked out to see orcs and goblins gathered in a circle. Trok picked up his sword. ‘‘I can beat that with my off-hand. Double or nothing.’’ His sword scraped the edge of his boot when it landed.
‘‘It’s not fair,’’ complained the orc who was sitting in the snow, clutching his bloody foot. ‘‘Goblins are closer to the ground than we are.’’
‘‘No welshing,’’ Trok shouted. ‘‘Play or forfeit.’’ The other goblins joined in, taunting and jeering.
‘‘Come on,’’ Jig whispered. He took Relka’s hand and led her out of the cave. One of the orcs glanced up and spotted them, but he didn’t say anything. He probably thought they were just another pair of goblin soldiers come to watch the game.
Jig and Relka had just reached the cover of the trees when another orc screamed. Jig glanced back to see him tugging his sword from his foot while the goblins laughed.
‘‘I win again,’’ Trok cried. ‘‘Pay up, orc.’’
‘‘I am
not
running naked to the river and back,’’ the wounded orc protested.
‘‘We went double or nothing,’’ Trok said. ‘‘You’re going twice!’’
‘‘Hurry,’’ Jig said. Before he had to add the sight of a naked orc to his list of nightmares.
‘‘I’m not afraid,’’ said Relka. ‘‘Shadowstar watches over us.’’
Jig’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
CHAPTER 8
Autumnstar traveled with no real destination. With his star gone and his temple destroyed, he was forced to hoard his power like a mortal wizard.
Everywhere he went, he felt people calling. The pain, the fear of death, they whispered to him, begging for comfort and solace. He couldn’t do much to help them, but neither could he ignore them. He wandered from a battlefield to the collapsed tunnels of a gnomish silver mine, from a village buried by early winter storms to a flooded town on the other side of the world. Always he watched for signs of Noc or the other gods. It would be safer to do nothing, but Autumnstar could no more turn his back on suffering than he could steal back his star.
One day he found himself drawn to an old man curled in a ball near a small pond, a day’s march from the nearest village. He had been cast forth to die. This time Autumnstar needed no magic. The man was not afraid, nor did he appear to be in excessive pain. The village had too little food, and this man had accepted death in order to ease his family’s burden.
Autumnstar folded his wings and rested his head on the man’s thigh. The rough scales startled the man at first, but slowly he relaxed. His fingers scratched Autumnstar’s neck, tentatively at first.
‘‘I hope you mean to wait until after I die to eat me,’’
he said, his voice hoarse. His smile revealed a few yellow teeth. ‘‘Sorry there’s not much meat on these old bones.’’
A black scavenger bird circled low, landing in the grass nearby. Autumnstar raised his head and spread his wings. With a screech, the bird flew away.
‘‘Thanks.’’
Autumnstar’s tail quivered. He hopped away from the old man and sniffed the air. He smelled pond scum and goose crap, a dead fish rotting in the mud . . . and another god.
Autumnstar hissed and turned to flee, but then his reason caught up with his instincts. If Noc had found him, he would already be dead.
He crept toward the water. Was this what had drawn him here? The power was familiar, though it had been ages since Autumnstar had encountered another god. Weak and frightened, the presence reminded Autumnstar a little of himself.
His wings fluttered with excitement. Could one of his companions have survived? Noc was powerful, but he was also arrogant and more than a little lazy. Autumnstar had escaped. Why not others?
Water lapped his toes. He stretched his neck, squinting to see past the reflected sunlight on the surface.
Black-shelled fingers clamped around his neck and dragged him down.
And that’s what he got for trusting reason over instinct.
Gut-twisting nausea combined with the damp sweat breaking out over Jig’s body told him Shadowstar’s magic had worn off.
‘‘Where are we going?’’ Relka asked once they were out of sight of the orcs.
‘‘I don’t know.’’ He hadn’t really planned that far ahead. Running was good, so he did that. He hadn’t figured out how to get past the rest of the goblins. Nor had he thought about how to avoid the rest of Billa’s army, waiting farther down the mountain.
But he had thought about what Billa would do if she caught up with him. Given the choice, Jig would rather face the army.
The sound of Billa’s voice helped him run even faster. ‘‘I ordered you to stand guard,’’ Billa yelled. ‘‘Not to play games with goblins.’’
A strangled scream made Jig whimper. He kind of hoped Trok wasn’t the one Billa had chosen to make an example of.
‘‘Did anyone else come out of this cave?’’ Billa yelled. Jig tensed, but whatever answer she received only added to her frustration. ‘‘Tell Silverfang to send these useless goblins out to form a perimeter around the lair. Don’t let anyone past. You, fetch a team of kobolds and send them in after me.’’
Kobolds tracked by scent. They would quickly realize Jig and Relka hadn’t gone down any of the tunnels.
Jig shoved through another pine tree and emerged onto a wide ledge of stone. This spot was a common meeting point for hunters. From here, he could see much of the land sloping out below. An animal trail led higher into the mountain, toward a pond which was probably frozen over by now.
He turned back as another thought struck. Widespread death . . . what if Billa simply slaughtered the rest of the goblins in the lair to summon Noc?
Not likely,
said Shadowstar.
The goblins know their lair. Most would escape into the lower tunnels. To summon Noc, she’ll need something much bigger.
Something like another army. King Wendel’s army. She didn’t want to defeat Wendel. She wanted to cause as much death to both sides as she possibly could.
‘‘Avery,’’ Jig whispered. ‘‘Darnak said Billa was too smart to lead her forces into such a slaughter.’’
Well, that settled that. Jig turned to climb higher into the mountain, as far from Avery as he could possibly get.
You have to warn them, Jig.
Jig’s fists tightened.
You mean I have to protect your son. Even if it kills me.
If you’re afraid, I could—
‘‘No!’’ Jig flushed.
‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Relka asked.
‘‘Shadowstar wants us to go back to Avery and stop Billa.’’
Relka touched her necklace. ‘‘I warned her that Shadowstar’s wrath would be terrible.’’ She grabbed Jig’s hand and tugged him toward the edge of the ledge. Her fingers were rough and callused from working in the kitchens. ‘‘We’ll get there faster if we go this way.’’
Jig peered at the slope of fallen stone, made all the more treacherous by the snow. ‘‘We’ll die faster, too.’’
‘‘You said Shadowstar wanted us to go to Avery.’’ Relka released Jig’s hand and stepped off of the ledge.
Jig watched her struggle to control her fall. For the most part, she kept herself in a sitting position, sliding down the rocks. ‘‘I’m not healing those scrapes,’’ he muttered.
‘‘Come on!’’ Relka said.
Jig shook his head. She didn’t even question why they had to go to Avery. Jig could have said Shadowstar wanted her to march back to the lair and kick Billa in the backside, and she would have done it.
Hm . . . it
would
slow Billa down.
‘‘Hey!’’
Jig spun to see a pair of goblins running up the trail, weapons drawn. Right. Jig sat on the edge, moved Smudge into one of the front cloak pockets, and hopped down after Relka.
He slid on his back, legs flailing in the air. His armor absorbed the worst of the damage, but his helmet clattered away after the second bounce.
His leg hit a pine sapling, spinning him around. He glimpsed the goblins standing at the ledge, laughing and pointing. Then Relka caught him by the wrist, presumably to slow him down.
Instead she overbalanced and fell across his legs. The goblins above laughed harder as Jig and Relka slid a short distance farther before thudding into a boulder. Then their laughter stopped. Presumably they had remembered they were supposed to chase after Jig and Relka.
Jig grinned and hauled Relka to her feet. ‘‘Come on.’’
‘‘What are we doing?’’ Relka asked.
‘‘Trust me.’’
The guards shouted a challenge, and then Jig heard curses and the clatter of stone. Jig kept fleeing, letting the downhill slope of the mountainside add speed to his steps, until he felt like he wasn’t running so much as falling.
His cloak snagged on a tree branch. The branch snapped, but the tug threw him off-balance. He twisted as he fell, hitting the snow hard with one shoulder and sliding a good distance. Relka skidded to a halt and grabbed his arm. She pulled him up and started to run.
‘‘Don’t bother,’’ Jig said. The delay had cost them their lead. The goblin guards waved their swords in the air as they charged.
Jig folded his arms and tried to catch his breath. This would never work if he was panting too hard to speak. He thought about Silverfang, remembering the loud, angry bark of his voice, like he was just dying for an excuse to eat you. Which was probably true.
The guards spread to either side. What had Gratz called it? Flanking. It was a good maneuver, making sure Jig couldn’t focus on one of the guards without exposing his back to the other.
‘‘Off for a romp in the snow?’’ asked the guard on the right.
‘‘This runt’s a bit small, girl,’’ said his partner. ‘‘How about I show you what a real goblin—’’
‘‘A real goblin?’’ Jig snapped. ‘‘You?’’ He straightened his back and brushed snow from his cloak, trying to remember what it had been like to feel no fear. ‘‘You’re a disgrace. What’s wrong with you two?’’
The goblins glanced at one another, clearly confused. Jig hadn’t drawn his sword, and he wasn’t trying to run away. ‘‘Us? What’s wrong with you?’’
‘‘What were your orders?’’ Jig raised his voice. ‘‘Your orders, goblins.’’
‘‘To guard the perimeter of the lair.’’
Jig pointed up the mountainside. ‘‘That lair? That perimeter? The one missing two of its guards, so that any elf who felt like assassinating Billa the Bloody could slip right through the gap you left when you came charging after us? Is
that
the perimeter you’re supposed to be guarding?’’
The goblins glanced at each other. ‘‘Well—’’
‘‘Well,
sir!
’’ Jig snapped. ‘‘What if I was a decoy for an ambush?’’ He stepped toward the closer of the two goblins, shoving the guard’s sword to one side with his bare hand. His gritted his teeth and clenched his hand. Just his luck, to run into one of the goblins who kept his blade sharp. ‘‘What if the humans had paid me to lead you here so that their archers could kill you?’’ He pointed to a random tree, and both goblins leaped back in alarm.
‘‘But you were running away, and—’’
‘‘And you followed,’’ said Jig. He lowered his voice. ‘‘Save your excuses for Silverfang. I’m sure he’ll be very interested to hear how you were busy propositioning this girl instead of obeying his orders.’’