Goblin Hero (26 page)

Slash mumbled something incomprehensible.

“And now she returns,” said the chief.

Jig’s ears perked up. “You have Veka?”

“Not exactly.” The chief took another bite of lizard-fish as he studied Jig. Pale strings of meat protruded from between his teeth. “Your goblin wizard killed nine of my men. She refuses to let anyone get to the lake. If we can’t get down to hunt in the caverns below, we’ll be reduced to scavenging for bugs and rats. Living like goblins, in other words.”

He stepped closer, until Jig could smell the meat on his breath. “She tells me she’ll let us through if we present her with Jig Dragonslayer.”

For once, Jig wasn’t afraid. He raised his chin and said, “You can’t. She’ll turn me over to the pixies, and they’ll kill me.”

The chief shrugged and spat a few bones onto the floor. Jig could hear the guards moving closer, and Smudge crouched down at the junction of Jig’s neck and shoulder to hide.

“If I die,” Jig went on, “the truce between goblins and hobgoblins ends today. The truce, and everything that came with it. The same goes if you kill my companions. Even him,” he added, nodding toward Slash. He tried to fold his arms defiantly, but he had forgotten about the sword. The sheath whacked him in the leg, to the amusement of the hobgoblins.

The chief stared at Jig for a long time. His wrinkled face gave no clue what was running through his mind. He was a crafty one, even for a hobgoblin, and Jig began to wonder if he had miscalculated.

“Veka told us she wanted Jig Dragonslayer,” the chief finally said. “She never specified how she wanted him delivered . . .”

 

The hobgoblins guarding the entrance to the lair appeared quite surprised to see Jig and the others alive.

“Give me that,” Braf said, reclaiming his weapon.

One of the guards stared at Slash. “What happened?”

“We’re going to kill Veka,” Slash said, grinning.

“I don’t suppose any of you mighty warriors know how we’re going to accomplish that?” Grell asked.

Nobody answered. Personally, Jig had been giving serious thought to running away and hiding back in the goblin lair. If Veka had slaughtered nine hobgoblin warriors, Jig and his companions weren’t going to last very long.

But retreating would only lead to other problems. Problems like angry hobgoblins butchering their way through the goblin lair, demanding Jig’s head.

Slash grabbed one of the muck lanterns, but Jig shook his head. “No light. We don’t want her to see us coming.”

Jig studied his companions as they left the hobgoblin lair. Grell’s canes made too much noise. They might be better off leaving her behind altogether, but she seemed to do a good job of keeping Braf in line. As for Braf, he was barely bright enough to know which end of a sword to grab, but Jig needed all the help he could get. Without the two goblins, his only backup would be a hobgoblin who fainted at the sight of blood.

“Wait,” Jig said, struggling to draw his sword. After the incident with Kralk, he had used a bit of cord to knot the sheath in place. Those knots had tightened, and he had to bite through them to free the blade. His shoulder burned with newly awakened pain as he used the sword to cut off the tails of his vest. “Grell, give me one of your canes.”

He wrapped the material around the end, then used a broken piece of twine to tie it into place. He did the same with the other cane. Hopefully that would muffle the noise a bit.

He shoved the sword back into the sheath and rested the whole thing over his shoulder. Smudge scurried to the top of Jig’s head for safety.

As the light dimmed toward blackness, Slash stepped closer. “Why didn’t he kill you?”

“Who?” Jig asked.

“The chief. You defied him, and he let you live.”

“A good thing, too,” said Braf. “You hobgoblins need to treat us with a bit more respect, or else—”

The thump of Grell smacking Braf was quieter than usual. The cloth Jig had tied around the ends of her canes appeared to be working.

“Because of the truce,” Jig said. That earned a disbelieving snort. “No, it’s true. He’s afraid that if I die, he’ll lose what he got out of the deal.”

“I’ve always wondered about that,” said Slash. “A lot of us have. What possible reason could you give us to leave you rat-eaters alone?”

Jig brushed the fingers of his free hand along the wall for guidance as blackness swallowed the last of the lantern light. “He was sitting on his cushion when we arrived, right?” Jig asked. “Before the truce, when was the last time you saw him sit?”

“He didn’t,” Slash said. “He was always up and moving. Training the warriors, inspecting traps, overseeing the cats’ handlers. He’s chief. He doesn’t have time to—”

“No, he
couldn’t
sit. He had . . . an injury. I healed it.” He grimaced at the memory. “Not an experience I’d choose to repeat.”

“What?” From the sound of things, Braf was barely holding back his laughter. “You mean this whole truce was nothing but a reward for you healing a hobgoblin’s ugly behind?”

Jig stopped. “What did you think, Braf? That I threatened them? That I stomped through the hobgoblin lair and told their chief I’d bring the full wrath of the goblins to bear if they didn’t stop killing us?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

Jig shook his head. How in the world had Braf survived to adulthood?

 

The smell of water told Jig they were close, as did the sudden flare of warmth from Smudge. Faint light shone from the beach ahead. Pixies? Jig hoped not. The hobgoblin chief hadn’t known about the pixies, which suggested Veka was alone.

“Hello, Jig.” Veka’s voice was as cheerful and grating as ever. “I know you’re there. You and your three companions. Why don’t you come out and meet my new friends?”

So much for Veka being alone. How could she know they were coming? Jig wrapped his free hand around his sword handle. With the muscles of his sword arm bound and numb, this was the only way he’d be able to use it.

Veka
couldn’t
know, not unless one of his group was possessed.

Then how? They had been as quiet as tunnel cats stalking their prey. Veka couldn’t have heard them. Jig backed away.

He had only gone a few steps when Smudge grew warmer. Had Smudge only now recognized the danger? Jig was moving away from Veka. That should be safer!

Jig ripped a handful of frayed threads from the bottom of his vest. Putting the threads in his mouth, he reached up to move Smudge to his shoulder. Much hotter, and Smudge would burn the rest of Jig’s hair . . . which would give him the light he wanted, but Jig preferred to keep what little hair remained. Once the fire-spider was crouched on his leather pad, Jig twisted the ends of the threads together and reached up to poke Smudge from behind.

The threads burst into flame. “Eight eyes, and I can still scare you,” Jig whispered. In the faint, dimming light, he could see Grell, Braf, and Slash standing behind him, weapons drawn.

“No light,” Slash said, mimicking Jig’s voice. “We don’t want her to see us coming.”

“Here,” said Grell, holding out a rag. She touched one corner to the dying flame, and the tunnel brightened.

“What is that?” Braf asked.

“Another diaper. Useful things, really.” She knotted the burning diaper around the end of Jig’s sword. “Don’t worry, it should be clean.”

Normally the odor would have bothered Jig, but the ogres’ torches seemed to have overloaded his sense of smell. And the diaper burned quite well, he had to admit.

Mold covered the tunnel walls, thriving in the damp lake air. Jig saw nothing out of the ordinary, aside from himself and his companions. Maybe Smudge was getting jumpy in his old age. Considering everything they had been through together, Jig could certainly understand that. He took another step back.

“What’s wrong, Jig?” Veka shouted. “Running away won’t save you.”

“It’s always worked before,” Jig muttered. She could see every move they made. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, turning toward the others.

As he did, a shadow overhead caught his attention. No, three shadows.

“Good fire-spider,” Jig whispered. Clinging to minuscule irregularities in the obsidian, three lizard-fish watched Jig from the ceiling. They were so still they could have been a part of the rock, save for a slight quiver in the closest lizard-fish’s tail. “First rule of traps,” Jig muttered, remembering what Slash had said before. “Nobody ever looks up.”

He tried to watch them without moving his head or giving Veka any indication that he had discovered her spies. He stepped toward Slash, a move that brought him almost directly underneath the lizard-fish. The tails of the other two began to twitch now. Jig recognized that motion. They tensed their muscles like that right before they lashed out with those poisonous spines.

Why hadn’t they struck when Jig and the others passed underneath the first time? Something must have held them back. The same power that had driven them from the comfort of their lake, pushing them beyond the damp sand and onto hated rock. Veka.

Jig locked eyes with Slash, hoping the hobgoblin would understand. Slowly and deliberately, Jig turned his eyes upward.

“Look out!” Braf shouted. “Lizard-fish!”

Even as Jig thrust his sword at the closest lizard-fish, a part of his mind hoped he would live long enough to hide a few lizard-fish in Braf’s undergarments.

His sword clanged into the ceiling, still sheathed, but the flaming diaper drove the lizard-fish back. They circled around, their tiny legs scrambling in unison. How could they cling upside down like that? Then he remembered Veka’s levitation spell, back at the bottomless pit. She must have been practicing.

A rock cracked off the ceiling, and one of the lizard-fish fell. It wasn’t dead, but its body bent sharply in the middle, and the tail was still.

Jig leaped back as the other two lizard-fish dropped to the ground to attack. One landed on its back, while the other scurried after Slash. Jig saw Grell crushing the inverted lizard-fish with her cane.

Slash was still unarmed, and he leaped out of the way as the lizard-fish charged. He grabbed Braf by one arm. As Braf squawked in protest, Slash kicked the back of the goblin’s knees and flung him to the ground. Braf landed on his back, directly on top of the attacking lizard-fish.

As Braf scrambled to his feet, cursing and spitting, Jig could see the squished lizard-fish still stuck to the wooden shield strapped to Braf’s back.

A crunching sound told him Grell had finished off the first lizard-fish, the one with the broken back. “Who threw that rock?” Jig asked, as much to distract Braf from going after Slash as anything else.

“Oh, that was me,” said Braf. “I’ve always been good with rocks.”

“You’ve always . . .” Jig’s voice trailed off. He stepped away, shaking his head in disbelief. He waved his light around the floor until he found the stone Braf had thrown. Tucking it into his shirt, he wandered farther down the tunnel, collecting a few more. He came back and dumped the rocks into Braf’s hands. Without a word, he snatched the hook-tooth away and handed it to Slash.

This time, there were no taunts from Veka as Jig approached the lake. He could hear the others following behind.

Jig peeked around the edge of the tunnel and nearly wet himself.

Hundreds of lizard-fish waited on the beach. Veka must have emptied the entire lake to amass so many. They stood facing the tunnel, each one about arm’s length from the next. Aside from the occasional flicking of a tongue, they were absolutely motionless.

Then they spotted Jig. Each and every head turned in unison.

Braf tugged Jig’s arm. “I think I’m going to need more rocks.”

Veka herself sat atop the tunnel that led into the lake. The edges of her cloak trailed along the surface of the water. Her eyes were closed, but she was smiling at Jig. “I knew those pixies wouldn’t capture you.” She patted a pocket in her cloak, doubtless one of those stupid books. “The end of the Path brings the Hero to her final, fateful trial. I should have known destiny’s decree would bring us together for this climactic confrontation. You’ve thwarted me at every pass, Jig Dragonslayer, mocking my efforts to master the mysteries of magic.”

Jig rolled his eyes. Veka’s “Heroic” dialog had grown even worse. Had she always used such clumsy alliteration?

He turned his attention back to the beach, particularly to the hobgoblin corpses scattered among the lizard-fish. He counted eight or nine, most of which had died within a few steps of leaving the tunnel. A few dead lizard-fish lay beside them.

“What we need is about a hundred more hobgoblins,” Grell said.

“Don’t worry, I can get her,” said Braf. Before Jig could react, Braf stepped into the open and flung one of his rocks. It arced through the air, directly toward Veka’s head. The rock slowed as it neared, coming to a halt just before it hit Veka’s forehead. Without opening her eyes, Veka reached out to tap the rock with her finger. It reversed direction, picking up every bit of speed it had lost and more.

Jig ducked, and the rock slammed into Braf’s stomach, knocking him onto his back.

“Nice try,” Veka called out.

“We should run,” said Jig, keeping his voice low. “Her magic is too strong.”

“Don’t you have magic of your own?” asked Slash.

Jig shook his head. “She’s using wizard magic. I only have priest magic.”

Jig jumped.
I can’t do wizardly things like Veka. I can only—

Wait, does that mean I’m a wizard?
Jig’s eyes widened.
But I have a sword! And I don’t have a staff or a beard or long robes or—