Goblin War (27 page)

Gratz drew his sword. ‘‘Threatening an officer of Billa’s army is grounds for—’’

‘‘Shut up and come with me, Gratz. Relka, go fetch Braf and bring him to the grove.’’ Braf and Relka were the only two goblins in Avery who might be able to hear the truth without immediately killing him. Jig walked toward the trees. ‘‘Well? Are you coming or not?’’

 
As soon as Jig stepped past the first trees, the air grew warmer. Not warm enough to thaw his nose and fingers, but the snow underfoot changed to mud and earth, and the air was still.

‘‘Every one of these trees was planted in the body of a fallen elf,’’ Genevieve commented, grabbing a branch and swinging back and forth. ‘‘Some of them are centuries old.’’

‘‘The elves feed their dead to the trees?’’ Relka asked, staring up at the branches.

‘‘Oakbottom would love it,’’ said Gratz.

‘‘Who?’’ Braf stared, confused.

Jig sat down in the dirt, trying to find a spot where his legs didn’t touch the roots of the elf trees.

‘‘Would you like to be buried there?’’ Genevieve asked. ‘‘I’ll do it myself, once my father arrives.’’

‘‘Wait,’’ Jig said. ‘‘Your father’s army is coming here?’’

Genevieve rolled her eyes, triggering flashbacks to Jig’s time with her brother. ‘‘We know Billa’s army is headed this way. If not for this cursed weather, my father would have intercepted her already. But the passes are blocked. He won’t arrive for several days. But we will retake Avery, and when we do—’’

Jig lowered his voice. ‘‘Billa doesn’t
want
this town.’’

Whatever Genevieve had been expecting, that wasn’t it. She looked almost offended. ‘‘Why wouldn’t she want Avery?’’

That list could have kept Jig talking for the rest of the night. Instead Jig turned to Darnak. ‘‘If you don’t help me, everyone is going to die. Humans and goblins both.’’

‘‘What are you saying, lad?’’ Darnak asked.

Jig scooted to the left, trying to watch everyone at once. The goblins appeared puzzled. Genevieve looked annoyed.

‘‘So you captured Avery so that we could help you?’’ she asked.

Darnak shook his head. ‘‘Easy, Princess. Jig’s no fool. He saved our lives, mine and your brothers’, when we fell into a hobgoblin trap.’’

‘‘No doubt to save his own worthless skin,’’ Genevieve said.

‘‘No doubt,’’ Darnak agreed. ‘‘But that doesn’t make the saving any less real.’’ He glanced at the other goblins, then back at Jig. Clearly he had noticed Jig’s own wariness. ‘‘It’s not like we’ll be any worse off for listening to what he has to say.’’

‘‘Unless he plans to torture us for information,’’ Genevieve muttered.

Gratz brightened, and he reached into his cloak to grab his regulations. ‘‘I wrote down lots of different techniques. Um . . . we don’t have a catapult, so that one won’t work. We’d need Oakbottom’s help for this one.’’ He blinked and looked around. ‘‘Does anyone have a horseshoe?’’

Jig took a deep breath. He didn’t have time for this. ‘‘Captain Gratz, give me your sword.’’

‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Gratz grinned as he handed the weapon to Jig. Genevieve and Darnak tensed, like they were preparing to leap up and wrest the weapon away. Which was what usually happened when goblins took prisoners. Taking prisoners was the easy part. Keeping them was much trickier. Far better to toss them in the cookpot and be done with it. No prisoner had ever escaped after being eaten.

‘‘Your knife too.’’ Jig waited while Gratz obeyed. He took the knife and handed it off to Braf. ‘‘Now take off your shirt.’’

‘‘Huh?’’ Gratz blinked. ‘‘I mean, huh, sir?’’

‘‘Your shirt.’’ Jig glanced at the princess. She still reminded him of a tunnel cat about to pounce, but her curiosity had been piqued.

Gratz stripped off his armor, then pulled off his shirt. He shivered in the cold.

Genevieve made a face like she had eaten something sour. ‘‘So this is your plan? To overwhelm us with the horror of goblin nudity?’’ She touched her fingers to her forehead. ‘‘I salute you. A devious plan, and one which has certainly sapped my morale.’’

‘‘Darnak, look at the scar on Gratz’s arm,’’ Jig said.

Darnak glanced at Gratz. ‘‘If you’re asking me to heal him, those cuts are far too old to—’’

‘‘I could heal him,’’ Jig snapped. ‘‘Just look at the marks. They’re magic.’’

‘‘What do you mean, you could heal him?’’ Darnak asked.

‘‘Darnak, please.’’ Jig pointed to Gratz’s arm.

‘‘I don’t understand, sir.’’ Gratz turned around. ‘‘Silverfang marked me himself, when he promoted me.’’ He rubbed his arm.

With a shrug, Darnak grabbed Gratz. Caterpillar brows scrunched together. ‘‘These almost look like runes.’’ He yanked Gratz closer, nearly dislocating the goblin’s shoulder. ‘‘Come over here by the light so I can see better.’’

Jig followed, as did Genevieve.

‘‘The penmanship is pretty sloppy,’’ Darnak muttered. ‘‘Could be a coincidence, I suppose. People are always claiming to see mystic runes and holy images in everything from clouds to sticky buns. Now that I think on it, Princess, wasn’t it one of your brothers who came running out of the privy, screaming how Tallis Van’s visage had appeared in—’’

‘‘Is it magic or not?’’ Genevieve snapped.

‘‘Could be, though how a goblin wound up with magic runes on his arm is beyond me,’’ Darnak said. He pinched the outer edge of the scar, and Gratz yelped. ‘‘The skin is cold to the touch.’’

‘‘He’s half-naked in the middle of winter,’’ Genevieve pointed out. ‘‘What is this magic supposed to do, anyway?’’

‘‘I’m not sure,’’ Jig admitted. ‘‘Something bad. Something powerful enough to kill everyone in this grove, including Gratz.’’

‘‘Some sort of suicide spell?’’ Darnak asked. ‘‘To prevent a captured soldier from giving away vital information? There’s an assassin’s cult that does something similar, but I wouldn’t have thought goblins would have the courage to use such magic.’’

Gratz was looking more and more confused. He yanked free of Darnak’s grip and turned to Jig. ‘‘Why are you telling them this, sir? Silverfang was no wizard. This is my scar of rank. All the officers have them.’’

‘‘How many?’’ Jig asked.

Gratz tilted his head. ‘‘Well, you need at least two officers for every squadron. So at least fifty on the goblin side. Probably even more among the kobolds and orcs.’’

Jig turned his attention to Genevieve. ‘‘Imagine what will happen when your father’s army arrives. Billa’s forces will already be here, positioned in the valley. His men will drive through our lines, fighting deeper and deeper toward the heart of Billa’s army.’’

‘‘Hey now,’’ Gratz said. ‘‘Don’t underestimate Billa’s forces, sir. We can—’’

‘‘Shut up, Gratz,’’ Jig said. ‘‘Whatever magic Billa carved into her soldiers, I’m betting she can trigger it all at once. Hundreds of spells, killing men and monsters both.’’

‘‘Ridiculous,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘Such a strategy would still kill more of her own troops than her enemies. She might be victorious, but she’d find herself standing in a field of death.’’

‘‘That’s what she wants.’’ Jig glanced at the other goblins. Relka was rapt, drinking in Jig’s every word. Not that Relka’s attention meant much. Jig could have been discussing various colors of toe fungus, and she would have listened just as hard.

Braf was nodding to himself. Shadowstar was probably filling him in. Gratz looked angry. Jig took a cautious step away from him, then said, ‘‘That’s the only way Billa can summon Noc.’’

Silence. Eventually Darnak coughed and said, ‘‘The death god?’’

Jig nodded so hard his spectacles slipped down his nose. ‘‘Everything she’s done has been part of a plan to summon and kill Noc. The only reason she gathered her army is so she could sacrifice them to—’’

‘‘That’s a lie!’’ Gratz shouted. A flare of heat from Smudge gave Jig a moment’s warning as Gratz attacked.

He made it a single step before Darnak grabbed him by the back of the trousers, halting him in place. Gratz spun and struck Darnak in the chin.

Darnak frowned. Gratz clutched his fist. And then Darnak tossed Gratz headfirst into one of the trees, hard enough that snow drifted from the branches.

He rubbed his jaw. ‘‘Not bad, for a goblin. So what were you saying about Noc, then?’’

‘‘When Billa kills everyone, the death will summon Noc to the valley. She’s going to use Isa’s sword to—’’

‘‘Isa?’’ Genevieve interrupted.

‘‘Goddess of the Winter Winds,’’ Jig said.

‘‘Winter winds, eh?’’ Darnak twirled a finger through his beard. ‘‘That might account for the nasty weather we’ve had lately. And what would this goddess’ name be?’’

Jig stared. ‘‘Isa. She was one of the Forgotten Gods of the War of Shadows. Like Tymalous Shadowstar.’’

‘‘Like who?’’ Darnak asked.

Jig didn’t answer. Darnak was the one who had first told him about Shadowstar. What was wrong with him?

‘‘I’m more interested in this so-called goddess Billa means to free,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘What’s her name?’’

‘‘Isa!’’ Jig said.

The princess nodded. Darnak cocked his head. ‘‘I’m sorry, but I’m having a bit of trouble here. Could you say that name one more time?’’

Braf snickered. ‘‘I think you broke them.’’

You could stay here all day, and they’ll never remember,
Shadowstar said.
Our names slip from their minds the instant they’re spoken. You could carve my name into his skin and he’d still forget.

Jig shook his head.
Darnak was the one who told me about you, back in the tunnels. How could he—

I nudged his mind a bit.
Shadowstar gave Jig no time to process that revelation and its implications.
It’s the curse Noc laid upon us.

Shadowstar chuckled.
Nobody civilized.

Oh.
Civilized. Like humans and dwarves and elves. What a peculiar curse.

Noc was trying to sound haughty and profound,
Shadowstar said.
I didn’t discover the loophole in his phrasing for centuries. Apparently Isa found it sooner, since she’s had time to build up an entire army.

Jig turned his attention back to his captives. ‘‘Call her Winter.’’

‘‘Winter, eh?’’ Darnak frowned. ‘‘I thought you said her name was. . . . Well, smell my socks. It’s right on the tip of my tongue.’’

‘‘The gods have many names,’’ Jig said loftily. ‘‘As you of all people should know.’’

‘‘True enough,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘Why, Earthmaker alone has well over twenty names. To the dwarves up north, he’s known as Old Ironballs, from the time when he was bathing in—’’

‘‘There will be time for tales of Earthmaker later,’’ Genevieve said quickly. ‘‘Darnak, is the goblin telling the truth?’’

Darnak touched the silver hammer pendant hanging from his neck. ‘‘Truth magic is tricky stuff, but Jig believes what he’s saying.’’

‘‘Could it work?’’ she asked. ‘‘If Billa slaughtered her own army as well as ours, could she summon a death god?’’

‘‘Possibly.’’ Darnak clenched a fist around his hammer. ‘‘Noc is a cold, distant god, but the gods are bound by laws, just like us. More than us, really. Laws of men can be broken, but the laws of the universe. . . . If Billa the Bloody does this right, Noc will have no choice but to appear. I wouldn’t want to be standing nearby, but if Billa has some way to kill a god. . . .’’

Braf stopped in the middle of picking his nose. ‘‘If Noc is a death god, why doesn’t he stop Billa before she can summon him?’’

Relka reached over and gently plucked Braf’s hand away from his face.

Shadowstar’s laughter rang softly in Jig’s mind.
It turns out that Noc and his fellow gods consider themselves civilized.

Jig snorted as he realized what that meant.
Noc cursed himself into forgetting you?

Really poor phrasing on his part. Of course, it’s not like I could run into Ux’s fiery domain and kick him in one of his asses. They
can
remember us, but it’s a distant memory. For mortals, it would be like your very first memories: broken and vague.

Jig’s first memory was of one of the other toddlers sinking sharp baby fangs into his leg. There was nothing vague about that one. ‘‘Billa is . . . hidden,’’ he said. He wasn’t about to try to explain the curse of the Forgotten Gods to people who wouldn’t remember half of what he said.

‘‘Hidden,’’ Genevieve repeated. ‘‘From the gods.’’

‘‘That’s right.’’

‘‘So how exactly do you plan to stop her, goblin?’’

‘‘I hadn’t really planned that far ahead.’’ Jig plucked Smudge out of his hood and ran a fingertip over the spider’s fuzzy back. ‘‘Maybe your brother could use the Rod of Creation to transform her into a rock or something.’’

‘‘Or a fish,’’ Relka suggested.

Genevieve’s face had gone still. ‘‘Even if I believed you, my father would sooner die than accept the help of a goblin.’’

‘‘Aye, but your father’s not the one charged with protecting this town and these people,’’ Darnak said.

‘‘That’s true,’’ said Genevieve. ‘‘Which is why he’ll send Theodore, just as the goblin suggests. And then he’ll disown me.’’

Darnak chuckled. ‘‘Lass, if he didn’t disown you for setting his throne on fire, he’ll not disown you for this.’’

Angry shouts from outside the grove made the other goblins jump. Not Jig, though. To be honest, he was a bit surprised it had taken so long.

‘‘What’s going on?’’ Relka asked.

‘‘That would be the humans,’’ Jig said. ‘‘The soldiers are breaking out of their prison and wrestling weapons away from the goblin guards. The rest of the humans have probably joined them. They’ll be running about with their shovels and axes and pitchforks to overthrow their goblin oppressors.’’

‘‘We’ve only been oppressing them for an hour,’’ Braf protested.

Jig ignored him. Every monster knew better than to try to imprison surface-dwellers. They always escaped. That was simply the way these things worked. No sooner had you thrown them in a cave than they were bursting free, carrying dead goblins as shields and slaying everyone in their path with stolen weapons.