Goblin War (6 page)

The elf took her knife, then grabbed the pendant.

‘‘No!’’ Relka clawed the elf’s wrists, to no avail. A sharp tug to the side choked off Relka’s protests, and a quick flick of the knife severed the leather thong.

‘‘You’re an idiot,’’ Jig whispered.

‘‘Be not afraid,’’ Relka said. She raised her voice. ‘‘Fellow goblins, this is but a trial of our strength. Believe in Shadowstar, and he shall set us free!’’

Trok snarled and tugged the rope with both hands, pulling Jig off-balance. Jig lurched into Trok’s furs, and then Relka crashed into Jig. Trok reached over Jig’s head to punch Relka in the middle of her forehead. ‘‘Last I checked, both of Shadowstar’s mighty priests were right here tied up with the rest of us.’’

Jig squirmed out from between them and spat in the snow. Trok’s furs were shedding.

‘‘They’re going to eat us,’’ Trok muttered. ‘‘That’s why they wanted the meatiest goblins.’’

Jig shook his head. ‘‘Humans don’t eat goblins.’’

Whatever they were going to do, Jig hoped it happened soon. Anything had to be better than Trok’s smell and Relka’s babbling.

As if to prove him wrong, Relka began to sing.

 
With a snarl, Trok shoved past Jig, looped the rope around Relka’s throat, and hauled her off the ground. Relka kicked and squirmed, then slammed her head back into Trok’s chin.

There was little slack in the rope between goblins to begin with, which meant Jig found himself pulled tight against Relka and Trok as they struggled. Relka’s heel kept hitting Jig’s gut, and every time Trok shifted his weight, his elbow smashed Jig’s spectacles against his face.

Where were the guards? Several of the humans were watching, hands on their weapons, but they made no move to intervene. The elves were looking up and down the line, bows ready. As for the other goblins, they mostly appeared relieved. Not that Jig could blame them. Relka’s hymns were, in a word, awful. Jig had heard this one several times, and it only got worse, comparing goblins to rotting meat, vomit, and in the penultimate verse, hobgoblins.

Still, she was one of Shadowstar’s worshipers, and the god had funny ideas about protecting Jig’s fellow goblins. ‘‘Trok, put her down.’’

‘‘You think just because these idiots worship you, that means you can run around giving me orders?’’ Watery blue blood trickled down Trok’s chin when he spoke.

‘‘No.’’ Jig swallowed and pulled back as far as his bonds would allow. He managed to twist far enough that Trok’s elbow hit him in the ear instead of the eye. ‘‘You think they’re going to cut her body free after you kill her? They think this is a trick, a distraction so the others can escape. Look at the way they’re watching the rest of the goblins. Most likely, they’ll leave Relka tied up, and we’ll have to drag her body along to wherever it is we’re going. You might not mind hauling her weight, but I doubt the other goblins will appreciate it.’’

Low mutters spread through the line, but Trok didn’t let go. Relka had turned a deep shade of blue, almost purple, and her kicks were weaker.

‘‘Besides, what do you think Golaka will do when we get back and she finds out you murdered one of her kitchen drudges?’’ Jig added.

That did it. Trok dropped Relka as if she had sprouted lizard-fish spines.

‘‘Shadowstar’s wrath—’’ Relka coughed and clutched her throat, then tried again. ‘‘His wrath will smite you like—’’

‘‘Shut up, Relka,’’ said Jig. The wind picked up, spitting snow at the goblins, and Jig shivered. He could feel Smudge burrowing in his pocket.

What did the humans want? Darnak had said they were supposed to make sure the goblins weren’t a threat. But if that was all they wanted, why drag the strongest warriors—and Jig—away before sealing the lair?

Whatever it was, Jig was certain he wouldn’t like it.

 
They marched throughout the day, until the sun was little more than a scattering of red-orange light through the trees. At first they had made their way through the trees, crossing back and forth down the rocky, uneven ground of the mountain until the muscles in Jig’s legs felt as though they were on fire.

The most tortuous spot so far was a steep slide of loose stone, conveniently hidden by a blanket of snow. Braf had been the first to stumble, but his weight pulled the next goblin off-balance, and soon the entire line was tumbling down the hillside.

Hobgoblins could learn a few things about traps from this place.

Jig had taken some satisfaction in knocking the legs from beneath a few humans as he fell. Unfortunately, they hadn’t stopped long enough for him to heal his scrapes. The blood seeping from his elbow kept sticking to his sleeve.

The goblins stayed close to one another as they walked, in part to keep from choking, but also for warmth and reassurance. Jig had never explored more than an hour beyond the lair, and that had been years ago, when he was fleeing from a bully named Porak. Most goblins spent as little time as possible on the surface.

‘‘I hate the outdoors,’’ Jig muttered, shoving his hands into his sleeves for warmth. The sound of the branches humming in the wind conjured images of dragons and worse. The trees here were skeletal, their dead leaves covering the ground to turn it even more treacherous. The clouds drifting overhead made him feel as though the ground were shifting beneath his feet.

The world was simply too
big
. Back home in the lair, there were only so many caves and tunnels to explore. Out here, they could be going anywhere.

Eventually they left the tree-covered stone of the mountainside for a road of frozen mud. Even more armed humans waited here. Most were tending to their horses.

Jig stared at the closest horse. He had never actually seen one before. Oh, adventurers would occasionally have an image of a horse painted on their shield or armor, and once the hunters had brought back most of a horse for dinner. But living, breathing horses were very different.

For one thing, they were a lot bigger. And scarier. The closest had gray fur with white spots. Its eyes were huge, and it bared a row of enormous flat teeth as the goblins limped forth from the trees. It pawed the road, and Jig realized it wore a heavy piece of curved iron on its feet. No doubt to help it crush goblin skulls.

Most of the humans were already climbing onto the horses. Theodore jabbed his heels into his horse’s sides, and the horse trotted to the front of the line. The elves followed. They remained on foot, but seemed to have no problem keeping up with the horse.

The goblins were dragged into the middle of the road. Soldiers rode on either side, tugging the reins to keep their horses under control. Those horses were even bigger than tunnel cats! A single one could probably kill and eat half the goblins here.

Now, instead of tripping over tree roots and icy rock, Jig found himself tripping over ruts in the road and frozen horse tracks. The horses also left other less savory signs of their passage. Some of those piles must have been from the journey here, as they were frozen hard as rocks.

Trok had already thrown one at Relka’s head.

Jig twitched his ears, trying to restore feeling to the tips. He could hear Theodore joking with one of the elves up ahead, though the wind kept him from making out their words. Genevieve rode behind, along with another group of humans.

A low hooting sound made Jig jump.

‘‘They’re going to feed us to the monsters,’’ said one of the goblins.

‘‘I’m doubting the owl would be interested in making a meal of you.’’ Darnak chuckled as he jogged to catch up with the goblins. Thankfully, he had managed to find clothes. His trousers bagged out of the tops of his boots, and his shirttails hung down to his knees. He had twisted his beard into a rope and tied a knot in the end to keep it out of the way. Staring at Jig, he said, ‘‘Keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told, and you’ll be all right.’’

Jig nodded. ‘‘But why did you tell them—’’

‘‘Mouth shut I said.’’ Darnak shook his head and stopped walking, allowing the goblins to draw away. ‘‘Ears the size of saucers, and they still don’t listen.’’

 
The sky was dark by the time Prince Theodore ordered a halt. A yank on the rope punctuated his cry. ‘‘We’re here!’’

By now Jig had lost any sense of distance or direction. Even if he were to escape, he would never be able to find his way back to the lair. Jig pulled to one side, trying to see past the other goblins, but it was no use.

Genevieve rode to join her brother. Her horse was black, naturally, all except a spot of white above its front foot. Its tail flicked like a whip as she passed.

Jig cringed away from that tail, then turned around, trying to get a sense of their surroundings.

Black shadows rose in the distance to either side. The road appeared to run through a wide valley. Jig sniffed, hoping the smell of the air would tell him more. All it told him was that Trok had worked up a good, sour sweat over the course of the day.

The land immediately to either side of the road was flat and clear of trees. Jig squinted at a bulky shape to the left. Could that be a building of some sort? Tall, bulky animals stood in a tight group to one side of the building, letting out an occasional moaning cry.

‘‘Get those goblins out of here,’’ someone yelled. ‘‘They’re scaring the cows!’’

‘‘Welcome to Avery,’’ Darnak said as the line of goblins began to move again. He had made the entire journey on foot, and he kept muttering about how it would have been so much faster with wings.

Up ahead, flickering torches illuminated a wooden wall that rose four times as high as a goblin. There had to be some sort of platform near the top, supporting the soldiers who stood with spears and crossbows. The light of the torches turned them into flickering, ghostly figures. The platform was low enough that only the soldiers’ upper torsos could be seen. It was a bit disconcerting, watching all those half-soldiers moving around to point their weapons down at the goblins.

Guards on the ground dragged open a door that was nearly as tall as the entire wall. Theodore and Genevieve were the first through. From where Jig stood, it looked as though they were steering their horses into one another, each one trying to shove the other aside so they could be first into the city.

‘‘What’s going to happen to us, Darnak?’’ Jig asked, wiping his eyes. His vision kept blurring, and his nose wouldn’t stop running. The cold had been making his face leak all day, but the problem was even worse here.

‘‘Genevieve means to put you to work,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘You’ll be helping fortify the town. Be careful. Folks around these parts aren’t too fond of goblins.’’

‘‘Nobody’s fond of goblins,’’ Jig said.

‘‘True enough.’’ Darnak’s arms twitched as he walked, and he kept shaking his backside. Was he sick? It was only when he shook his head, fluffing out his black hair, that Jig recognized the movements. He had seen birds do the same thing, twitching their wings and shaking their tailfeathers when they were nervous. Darnak had spent far too long as a bird.

But why would he be nervous? Darnak wasn’t afraid of anything!

‘‘What about food?’’ Relka asked.

Farther up the line, Braf twisted around to add, ‘‘And a privy?’’

‘‘Some blankets would be nice,’’ said another goblin.

‘‘What about a nice hot cup of lichen tea?’’

‘‘And maybe some wood for a fire?’’

‘‘I’ll need a new pair of trousers if you don’t give us that privy soon!’’

‘‘That’s enough,’’ bellowed one of the humans. He pointed his crossbow at the line, and the goblins fell silent.

Jig blinked, trying to focus on the wall. Rather than the logs or planks Jig had expected, the wall appeared to be made of individual trees, growing so closely together that there was hardly a finger-width of light between them. The branches had been cut away, except for the very top, where they grew together into the bushy platform where the guards watched. And the bark appeared to be
moving
, rustling like a swarm of rats.

Jig sneezed, spraying the back of Trok’s furs in the process. Not that anyone would notice.

As they walked closer, Jig realized it wasn’t the tree bark that was moving. The trees were covered in drooping yellow flowers. Even the smallest was as large as Jig’s hand. He sneezed again as the sickly sweet scent of the flowers overpowered even Trok.

‘‘What is this place?’’ Relka whispered.

‘‘Used to be an elf town,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘There was a bit of a disagreement between the elves and the humans about sixteen or so years back. They eventually hammered out a treaty that gave this valley to King Wendel. It’s not all that comfortable for humans, but the land is great for farming. Unnatural, the way elves and plants get along. One of them pisses on a rock, and the next day you’ve got a sapling. Avery produces twice as many crops as any other town its size. Of course, if you wander into the poison ivy on the south side, you’ll pray for a quick death. Vines as thick as your finger. I suspect the elves planted it deliberately, as a going-away present.

‘‘For the most part, the elves stay on their side of the border. But every once in a while, they try to ‘recruit’ a human to their way of thinking.’’ Darnak scowled at Theodore as he spoke. ‘‘Humans are suckers for all that grace and so-called wisdom. Not to mention the hair. As if one of those pointy-eared tree-lovers could grow a proper beard.’’

Darnak stepped aside as the goblins passed through the opening. The ground was softer here, covered in rotting flower petals. The walls were two trees deep. Thick branches grew together overhead, and a nest of birds squawked angrily from behind the flowers.

Inside, a wide path of snow-crusted wood chips led through more living buildings. Everywhere Jig looked, he saw vines and leaves and flowers of all colors and shapes. He wiped his nose again and blinked to clear his vision.