Goblin Hero (29 page)

Nobody had ever questioned Kralk’s orders. Then again, Kralk had never given such bizarre orders.

Veka waited to see what Jig would do. How would he prove himself, bringing the goblins into agreement and obedience?

But Jig simply stood there, looking more and more nervous. If he rubbed that fang anymore, he was going to twist it right out of his jaw. The goblins were starting to whisper among themselves again.

Veka couldn’t believe it. Jig didn’t know what to do.

Grell’s canes rapped the floor as she stepped forward. Her dry fingers dug into Jig’s shoulder, pushing him aside. “You idiots couldn’t stop one lone ogre from marching through this place before, and he wasn’t even trying to kill you. What are you going to do against an army of ’em? Hobgoblins too, most likely. Every hobgoblin who falls could be enchanted, sent out to fight the goblins. If we help the hobgoblins fight, we might be able to do some damage, but only if you stop asking stupid questions and start listening to what the chief has to say!”

“There’s an even better reason,” said Braf, coming around on Jig’s other side. “If we help the hobgoblins, then every time you see one of those yellow-skinned freaks, you can gloat about how we had to save their worthless hides from the ogres!”

That earned a rousing cheer. Several goblins pointed at Slash, snickering. Others were grinning and nodding to one another.

Slash, on the other hand, was staring at Braf and clenching his fists.

“You should do it because it’s Jig’s idea.” The words slipped out before Veka even realized she had spoken. She almost thought Snixle had taken control of her again, but no . . . the words had come from her. She saw Jig’s mouth open in disbelief.

She couldn’t even look at him as she stepped forward to address the goblins. “Jig fought an ogre and won, down in Straum’s cavern. He killed two pixies. He killed the Necromancer. He killed Straum himself. Not only did he win every one of those battles, he kept his companions alive as well.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. “If Jig says we have to help the hobgoblins, you can bet it’s the only way we’re going to survive.”

“Actually we’re probably going to die,” Jig whispered. He was still staring at Veka.

“I’m thinking you shouldn’t mention that,” Grell answered just as softly.

Many of the goblins were already swinging their weapons in anticipation. Veka saw one warrior nearly slice the ear from his neighbor with a crude hand ax. Others had begun to sing “The Song of Jig.”

“The strongest warriors will go to the hobgoblins to help fight,” Jig shouted. “The rest stay here. Some of you will barricade the lair, and a handful will come with me.”

Only Veka was close enough to hear him mutter, “And you’re not going to like where we’re going.”

CHAPTER 13

—Farnok Daggerhand, Goblin Warleader

 

 

 

Twenty-three goblins waited outside the doorway as Jig and Slash searched through Kralk’s armory, collecting every knife, sword, mace, morningstar, and ax they could find. Anything would do, so long as it was steel.

“Any reason you didn’t share these toys with the goblins heading out to the hobgoblin lair?” Slash asked.

“I’m betting they won’t be fighting pixies,” Jig said. “Not many, at any rate. The pixies will stay in their own world as much as possible. That’s where they’re strongest. And if I’m right, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

He picked up a quiver of steel-tipped arrows. He had also spotted an enormous bow, but he hadn’t been able to find a bowstring. Not that he or any other goblin knew how to shoot a bow. And the only crossbow had been disassembled so Slash could use the string in one of his traps. But the arrows were long and heavy enough he might be able to use them as spears, which could be useful against an airborne enemy.

He had to make several attempts to get the leather strap over his pixie-cursed arm, but once he managed, the quiver fit fairly well. Jig turned his head to search for more weapons, and the end of an arrow poked him in the ear.

Slash laughed as he stooped to pick up a nasty-looking barbed trident.

“Leave that,” said Jig. “Leave everything longer than your arm.”

“Why?” Slash asked. “You goblins not strong enough for real weapons?” He hefted a thick quarter-staff with iron bands around either end. “This could do some serious damage without drawing much blood, don’t you think?”

Jig ignored him. Carrying weapons under his arm, he stepped through the doorway, being careful not to trigger Slash’s traps. Several knives clanged onto the ground. Jig dumped the rest in a pile.

“Take whatever you can carry, but don’t overload yourself,” Jig said. He studied the goblins closely as they scrambled to arm themselves. He hadn’t tried to pick and choose who would accompany him. Instead he had let the goblins choose for him when he ordered the strongest warriors to help the hobgoblins.

As a result, Jig had been left with the weakest goblins in the lair: the scrawny, thin-limbed goblins who slunk into the shadows and hid from danger. The ones who survived through thievery and betrayal rather than facing their enemies head-on. The ones who had to be twice as cunning as the rest of the lair just to survive. These were the goblins Jig wanted.

Braf and Slash towered over the others. Even Jig didn’t feel like such a runt among this crowd. Most of the weapons had disappeared, and the goblins eyed one another warily as they waited for Jig to speak. However, the bulk of their suspicion was reserved for Jig himself.

Jig kept his back to the wall. They weren’t going to like this. He thought about Farnax and Pynne, remembering their reactions to the cramped tunnels of the mountain. If the other pixies felt the same way, they wouldn’t stay in Straum’s cave. No, if Jig was right, there was only one place they would go.

“The pixie queen sent a handful of pixies into our world to prepare the way,” he said. “They killed or enslaved most of the ogres, but instead of moving up into the Necromancer’s tunnels, they burrowed through the rock until they reached the bottomless pit, where they’ve been hunting and destroying the giant bats.”

To a goblin, a cave was the safest place to hide, with solid stone protecting you on all sides. For pixies, safety lay in the open. They would choose a place where they could fly, where they could ride the wind, and where any attacker would face an enormous disadvantage.

“They’re building their lair in the bottomless pit,” Jig said. “That’s where they’ll bring the queen. If we can get there before they do, we might be able to ambush them.”

As he had expected, his own companions were first to understand the implications. Unless they wanted to make their way through the Necromancer’s maze and a possible ogre attack, there was only one way to get back to the bottomless pit.

“I still smell like goblin filth,” Slash shouted. “Now you expect me to climb back down through—”

“No, I don’t,” Jig said. He had counted on Slash being the first one to complain. “This is a goblin mission. I’ll understand if you prefer to stay behind, where it’s safer.”

“I’ll go!” Braf yelled. “The hobgoblin might be a coward, but I’m—”

“Who are you calling coward, rat-eater?” Slash demanded, shoving goblins aside as he advanced on Braf.

Jig’s plan had worked. Now all he had to do was keep them from killing one another.

“I’ll go too.” Veka’s flat voice momentarily drew the attention away from Slash and Braf.

“Why, so you can get yourself pixie-charmed again?” Slash asked.

“You were enchanted too,” Braf pointed out.

Grell hit them both, one with each cane. Braf took it on the shoulder, and Slash received a sharp smack on the knee. Grell staggered forward a few steps before recovering her balance. Then, to Jig’s surprise, she whacked him on the arm as well. It was his sword arm, and the flesh was so numb he barely felt it.

“Stop standing there with your mouth hanging open,” Grell snapped. “You’re chief, remember? Try to act like it.”

Jig nodded. “We’re going to climb down through the garbage, to a tunnel that will take us to the bottomless pit.” He glanced at Braf and Slash. “You two stay in the back. Make sure nobody tries to sneak away. You too,” he added, nodding at Grell.

Grell raised both eyebrows but said nothing as Jig turned to lead the goblins toward the waste pit. More than pixies or the bottomless pit, this was the part of his plan he had been dreading. But it had to be done.

He stroked Smudge, perched comfortably on his left shoulder. Climbing down the pit was too dangerous . . . too vulnerable. It wasn’t a question of whether one of the goblins would try to kill him. It was simply a matter of when.

He strained to keep his sword from dragging along the ground. His good ear twisted back as he listened for every whisper, every footstep. What was taking them so long? They didn’t actually believe everything Veka had said about Jig being so dangerous and heroic, did they?

There it was. A slight change in footfalls. One set drawing nearer, while the others pulled back, giving the chosen goblin room to make his or her move. Smudge crept closer to Jig’s neck, warmer, but not yet hot enough to burn.

Jig kept walking. His timing would have to be perfect. What were they waiting for? Working up the nerve to attack? His back was turned. How hard could it be?

There, a quick indrawn breath. At the same time, Smudge’s feet seared Jig’s skin. Jig lunged forward, hunching his head and shoulders as he grabbed his sword arm with his free hand and spun, hoisting the blade into the path of his would-be killer.

His attacker slammed onto the broken sword, knocking them both down. Jig found himself staring into the face of Relka, one of Golaka’s kitchen assistants. The knife in her hand clattered to the ground.

Jig kicked her off of his sword. His shoulder felt as though someone had ground metal shavings into the socket.

Relka wasn’t dead. She clutched her bleeding stomach and scooted back, her huge eyes never leaving Jig’s sword.

“Stay here,” Jig said. “Have Golaka bandage you up. If you’re still alive when we get back, I’ll heal you then. Assuming we get back.”

He turned his back on Relka, trying not to feel too bad as she crawled away. He hoped she would survive. She made the best snake egg omelettes. But her attack had done what Jig hoped. The other goblins looked terrified.

Jig shook his head.
It wasn’t hard to guess one of them would try to kill me.

Maybe,
said Shadowstar.
But think about what they saw. You just took out a potential assassin without even looking. They won’t try to stab you in the back again any time soon.

No,
Jig agreed glumly. He had never imagined he would feel sympathy for Kralk.
Next time, they’ll try something sneakier.

 

Climbing up through the waste pit had been bad enough. Climbing down, leading a group of twenty-plus goblins and one grumbling hobgoblin was far worse. Only the cramped confines of the pit, which kept them all moving one at a time, prevented blood-shed. Even so, goblins were constantly stepping on one another’s hands, or dislodging dirt and worse onto the ones below.

Jig had ordered several goblins to carry muck lanterns. As an unexpected bonus, the light and heat seemed to frighten off the tendriled slugs that had stung Jig before. Unfortunately, the goblins kept accidentally igniting the waste that clung to the sides of the pit.

Even with several ropes anchored in the goblin lair, it was a miracle nobody had fallen.

Jig relaxed his grip and let himself drop a bit, away from the bulk of the group. His sword tip caught a rock, jamming his arm and nearly breaking his elbow before he managed to stop. To make things worse, his spectacles kept sliding down his nose. He tried to use his shoulder to scoot them into position, but they immediately slid back down his sweaty face.

“How many ogres and pixies do you think we’ll get to kill?” Braf asked, nearly falling as he shoved past another goblin to catch up with Jig.

“None if you keep talking so loudly,” Jig said. The noise shouldn’t give them away, not this far from the pit, but better to silence Braf now. They should be about halfway down by now, roughly level with the Necromancer’s maze.

Braf bit his lip and nodded.

Jig frowned as he studied the other goblin. “You didn’t get a weapon?”

Braf tried to shrug, and ended up hoisting his body higher on the rope. “I stocked up on rocks instead. If we’re going to fight pixies at the pit, I thought we’d want some kind of ranged weapon.”

Jig hesitated. “You thought of that yourself?”

“No,” Braf said quickly. A strange, frightened expression flashed across his face, then disappeared again. “Grell did. She told me I’d better stick to rocks, or else I’d hurt myself.” He scrunched up his forehead. “Or did she say
she’d
hurt me?”