The Goblin Wood (14 page)

Soon the ground began to rise and Tobin climbed rapidly, exalting in his freedom after days in the cramped hut. At the top of the small hill, the trail ended in a cleared space where an ancient pine had fallen. Then the woods began.

Tobin plunged thankfully into the trees. Soon he’d be far from the goblin’s base—but wait! He’d almost forgotten the Otherworld stone.

Tobin looked back. The rain fell in torrents. He could only see about ten feet, but considering the rise he’d climbed he guessed the small clearing would give a good overview of the goblin camp. It might not be out of range of any spells she’d placed, but if he left the stone among the trees, whoever found it wouldn’t know what direction to go next. If he left it here, when they found the stone they’d find the goblin base without fail.

The great fallen pine lay across the back of the clearing, near the forest. Tobin darted into the rain and tucked the stone out of sight beneath the huge tree. Done! He’d accomplished his mission. Now all he had to do was warn Master Lazur that the sorceress knew about him, and he’d be free to go home.

He climbed to his feet, hindered a little by the weight of his wet cloak, and entered the woods again, heading south.

Tobin tramped wearily through the darkness, wishing he still had his boots, for his soaked slippers offered little protection from the stones and branches that littered the forest floor. He stepped on the sharp end of a branch and hopped, cursing.

Then the ground disappeared and he was falling, striking things. He flung out his hands, shouting, then hit the bottom, his left ankle twisting beneath him. Pain shot through his leg.

Tobin blinked, but he couldn’t see anything but darkness until he thought to look up. There was a lighter patch in the blackness above him. He’d fallen into some kind of pit.

He thought about moving around, exploring the area by touch, but he didn’t have the nerve. Suppose this was just a ledge and another, deeper, pit lay right at his feet—he’d heard of such things. No, no exploring. He’d told Jeriah he was no hero, and it was true. He would stay right here until daylight.

His first awareness was that every muscle in his body was clenched and shivering. He then realized that this was because he was wrapped in something cold and heavy—it was his struggle to throw it off that woke him.

He opened his eyes and for an instant thought he was back in the hut, for the wall before him was also of earth. But there were stones embedded in this wall, and higher up, roots poked out of it. At the top he saw, not planks and beams, but green boughs and a snatch of sky. Of course, he had fallen into a pit.

Groaning, for his bruises had stiffened during the night, Tobin unwrapped his wet cloak. The chain rattled as it slid off his shoulders. The pit was roughly circular, about eight feet across and twelve feet deep. The floor was littered with fallen debris.

The air, heavy with the scent of fresh rain and damp earth, woke a raging thirst. Several nearby rocks had puddles in the hollows. Tobin rose to go to the closest, but as soon as he stood waves of pain shot from his left ankle, and his vision darkened.

When it cleared, he saw his ankle was mottled with bruises and swollen to twice its normal size. Tobin couldn’t tell if it was broken or only sprained. Either way, he couldn’t walk let alone climb out. Would it be worse to be recaptured by the goblins, or to die of starvation? Tobin surveyed his dripping surroundings. At least he wouldn’t die of thirst. He crawled painfully to the nearest puddle and drank.

Tobin sat and gazed at the top of the pit. He’d tried to climb out several times, and failed. Now the sun was getting lower, not setting yet, but casting a tint of gold across the sky. It was pleasing, and he gazed at it for several minutes before he became aware that a familiar pair of hazel eyes was gazing back.

“Onny?” The eyes jerked away, and he heard a muffled yelp.

“See,” said a piercing whisper. “I said he’d see you if you stared like that!”

“So?” said the girl, defiantly loud. “He can’t do anything. I think he’s stuck down there.”

Five pairs of eyes popped over the edge and looked down.

“I dunno,” said a doubtful voice, also familiar though he couldn’t place it. “He could be faking, or something.”

“Don’t be silly, Miggy.” Onny’s whole face came into view as she leaned forward. “Are you stuck down there?”

“Yes, I am,” said Tobin. “And if you want to recapture me, I’d like that very much. Have you got a rope?”

“No.” Five faces peered down at him now. Besides Onny, there were two goblin boys, another girl, quite small, and an adult Tobin vaguely recognized from when they’d captured him. Miggy, yes, that was the name. “We didn’t know we’d need one when we found your tracks. You can’t get out without one?”

“If I could,” said Tobin reasonably, “I wouldn’t be here. I fell in last night and hurt my ankle.” He held it out so they could see the swelling. They gazed down at it for a moment, then the heads vanished. Most of their discussion was muffled, but he could hear mournful protests from Miggy, and a very young voice piping “Me, too!”

After several minutes Onny’s face returned. “We’re sending Miggy back for help, while we stay here and watch you. As long as you’re down there and we’re up here, it’ll be perfectly safe.”

“You shouldn’t tell him that, you nit,” said one of the boys. “You might give him ideas!”

“What ideas? He can’t do anything to us from down there.” She turned back to Tobin. “But Miggy won’t be back till morning. You came an awfully long way,” she added accusingly.

Soon they all joined the conversation. The boys were Daroo and Regg, and the baby was Nuffet. Daroo was Cogswhallop and Natter’s son and had “his father’s gift,” whatever that was—it seemed very impressive to them. Regg was a Charmer, which sounded odd to Tobin since he hardly said anything, charming or otherwise. Onny was a Finder, which meant she could sense the direction of something she wanted.

“It works best with plants, but I’d watched you enough that I knew you a bit, and I touched you, when I won the dare.” She grinned at Daroo, who frowned back. “So when I thought about it, I was pretty sure you’d gone south.”

Miggy was a Tracker, and since he was supposed to be watching out for them it had been easy to get him to follow Tobin’s tracks, though they’d all get into lots of trouble for it. They didn’t seem much alarmed by the prospect.

The sun was setting, and a biting chill began to creep into the pit. “Did you say Miggy wouldn’t get back until morning?”

“Yes, why?” Onny frowned at him.

“It’s a little cold down here, but I’ll be all right. I’ll move around and keep warm.” And he would, in a minute, but he was too tired now.

“Your cloak’s hanging on that rock,” said Daroo suspiciously.

“Yes, but it’s wet.”

He closed his eyes and heard them arguing. Then Onny’s angry voice. “—any good to capture him if he’s dead. You’re just a coward!”

“I am not. It’s foolish to—”

“Coward.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Am not!”

“Then prove it. I’m going down.”

Tobin looked up in time to see her climb over the edge. He crawled over hastily, to catch her if she fell, but she scrambled down easily as a squirrel and then stood, regarding him warily.

“Are you going to be able to climb out?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said loftily. “It’s not hard. You could probably do it if your ankle was whole. Even a boy could do it.”

That fetched them. There was a furious scrabbling above, and within moments Daroo and Regg stood beside her.

“Me, too!” But Nuffet was too small. With a muffled squeak, she fell, and Tobin barely managed to catch her, colliding with the others as he lunged. When they straightened themselves out, the two boys stood at a safe distance. But Nuffet looked at the damp ground and settled herself in his lap with the confidence of a child who has never been unwelcome. She was no bigger than one of his sisters’ dolls, and he stared at her with fascination.

“You’re cold,” she said accusingly, and snuggled closer.

Onny stepped forward and touched his hand. “He’s freezing,” she announced. “Just like I said.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I can’t die. I promised my brother I wouldn’t.”

Onny and Daroo exchanged dismayed glances. Regg felt Tobin’s cloak. “Wet through. We need a fire.”

They all gazed at Tobin expectantly.

“A fire would be nice,” he agreed uncertainly.

“What’ll you give for it?” Onny demanded.

“Oh, you mean a trade?” Tobin remembered what Master Lazur had said about the goblins’ mercenary nature. “But I don’t have anything.” He looked around at the empty pit.

Daroo sighed. “We’ll trade you for buttons, like the mistress does,” he announced.

“He’s a prisoner,” said Regg. “Not a friend.”

“Do you want him to die?” Onny demanded. “Go with Daroo and find some wood. I’ll help him get some buttons off his shirt. He’s going to need them.”

By the middle of the night he’d traded all his buttons, the laces from his slippers, and his belt, for they were small creatures, and could only carry small loads. He was wondering how he’d pay for the next bundle of wood when Regg silently reached down and handed him a smooth stone. They tried to explain their theory of debts and equality, but he’d had trouble understanding it because about that time feeling began to return to his numb hands and feet, and pain came with it. At least the buttons on the sorceress’ vest were now explained. Had she really traded for their services, instead of enslaving them? Yet another thing Master Lazur had been wrong about? Apples and grapevines.

He smiled down at Nuffet. His cloak had finally dried and she snuggled beneath it, sound asleep on his lap. They’d brought him water as well as wood, and he was sleepily content. The pit was almost warm with the fire blazing in it, and the three older children made surprisingly little noise as they climbed in and out. He yawned and was hoping they wouldn’t get into too much trouble as he fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes, the rim of the pit was surrounded by a ring of goblin faces. He’d never seen so many at once. He moved abruptly and discovered four small, warm bodies pressed against him, under his cloak.

The fire had died, but warmth still radiated from the embers. He gazed at the goblin children, who were stirring and rubbing their eyes, and wondered how long they’d worked to keep that fire going before they finally rested.

And he knew, beyond any doubt, that if he was able to keep his promise to Jeriah, it would be their doing. They had saved his life. That was a debt that couldn’t be repaid in buttons and stones, whatever the goblins might think.

“I
don’t like it,” said Cogswhallop. “I don’t like not setting any fire around the doors, and I especially don’t like you going alone to lead off the soldiers.”

“But they’ll follow me,” Makenna explained again. “I’m the one they want. Once they’re gone, there’ll be no one but the settlers to defend the gear and seed grain. And as soon as they see fire at the church, they’ll go to put it out, and the Spoilers will have a free hand.”

“They’d go to put it out quicker and stay there longer if there was fire around the doors and windows,” said Cogswhallop shrewdly. “Getting soft, gen’ral?” A rumble of agreement came from the troop leaders.

Makenna leaned against the base of the fallen log and gazed out over the goblin village. It was so well camouflaged that most humans wouldn’t even have seen it, at least at a casual glance. But “Makenna knew the look of every house, field, and craft yard. This clearing, backed by the old fallen pine, was one of her favorite places, both to come alone and for briefings—it reminded them, and her, of what they were fighting for.

She sighed and turned to face the troubled frowns of her troop leaders—old friends, tried in combat after combat, every one of them. Could she tell them she was being haunted by the ghost of her mother’s disapproval? “Aye, maybe I am soft. But there’s no need to kill these folk. If their seed is spoiled and their tools start to rot, they’ll have to go home—and the priests and soldiers will follow. If they don’t go with the settlers, at least we can fight them without hurting other folk.” She put a note of finality into her tone and they nodded reluctantly.

“All right,” Cogswhallop conceded. “But what about you leading off the soldiers, all by yourself?”

“Demon’s teeth, Cogswhallop, let it go! Do you think I’m such a bungler I can’t lose a troop of mounted men in a dense forest? They’re all wearing pounds of steel! Off their horses, they’ll be wheezing before they’ve run half a mile. I told you about the course I scouted. Do you really think they could follow me through that?”

A reluctant grin crossed his face. “Well, likely not. But you haven’t said where we’ll regroup.”

“That’s because I don’t know where you’ll end up. I’ll show some Flichters a place to meet me when it’s over and they can guide me back. Have I answered all your doubts?”

“Almost.”

Makenna groaned.

“There’s that knight fellow. We told you he almost escaped while you were gone. His ankle’s sprained and Natter says he’s got a fever coming on, so he’ll keep for a few days—but you’re going to have to do something about him, gen’ral, once those others are gone.”

“If he’d had the sense to stay healthy, we could have sent him off with them,” Makenna grumbled. “We can’t turn him loose till we’ve beaten them. He’s learned too much about us.”

“Might be he’s learned too much to ever go free.”

Makenna suddenly felt cold. She rubbed her arms to warm herself and shook her head. “I don’t think so. You’re certain he doesn’t know how to find this village?”

“Aye. He went a fair way, but he was good and lost.”

“Well, that’s what matters. For now, we’ll keep him here.”

“I don’t like it, gen’ral. I think he’s a danger to us.”

“You never like anything.” Cogswhallop’s level gaze never wavered, and she sighed. “All right, I’ll talk to him and see what I can learn.”

As she went down the hill to the hut where they kept the prisoner, Makenna found she was looking forward to seeing him. At first, the presence of a human in the goblin village had disturbed her, but now it seemed…pleasant? Surely not. It was just the challenge of playing her wits against his that she looked forward to, for she’d enjoyed their last conversation more than she wanted to admit. It was fun trying to trick him out of his secrets. But no lying bell this time. That spell had cut both ways.

She pushed open the door, and he sat up, staring at her. They’d dispensed with the chain, since Natter swore he wouldn’t be able to walk on that ankle for at least a week. Makenna could have healed it, but given his knack for uprooting chains she’d decided it was safer not to. Her lips twitched as she remembered Bocami’s dismay as he apologized for his “shoddy craftsmanship” driving in the spike. Bocami’s work was never shoddy; he’d simply underestimated human weight and strength. And determination. The knight had told the children it took him three nights to work that spike out. There was more character behind that ordinary face than she had thought.

“I hear you’ve been spying on the settlers.” He was trying to sound casual, but he didn’t succeed. “Learn anything?”

“Oh, this and that.” She leaned back against the wall. She did casual much better than he did. “Who told you what I was doing?”

Two spots of color flamed in his cheeks. “I’m not saying.” The color didn’t fade as fast as it should. Natter was right; he was starting a fever. Would it make him loose tongued? Possibly. “Onny, was it?”

The deepening flush on his face was answer enough. “Aye, she’s a good girl,” Makenna went on. “But she keeps trying to top Daroo. He’s the eldest, mind, and it leads her to do silly things. A dare, likely?”

“She won’t get in trouble, will she?”

“Not from me, but I’m not her mother. And I won’t answer for her hide if Natter finds out she was talking to you. Speaking of hides, I didn’t think they flogged lordlings.”

He said nothing, but more betraying color flamed in his face. Keep pushing. “You’ve got nerve, calling me a killer. I can’t imagine what you did to get those stripes.”

“I didn’t do it,” he burst out. “I have never been less than honorable!”

Yes, the fever was weakening him. Good. Keep him talking, keep him off balance. “I met your friend, Master Lazur.” She hoped the name would startle him, but he only nodded.

“I thought you might.”

“And Jeriah, too. He was younger than—”

“Jeriah’s there? But he…Of course. I should have guessed. What are you going to do?” he demanded.

Now why would Jeriah’s name provoke such a violent response?

“What are you planning to do about the settlement?” He looked utterly alarmed.

“Suppose I said I planned to kill them all?” she probed. “What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” he shot back. “We’ve never known you to commit wholesale slaughters.”

“Aye, but I’ve killed before, and you know it. The only reason I let you live is that Natter’s taken a liking to you.”

Now why should that make him laugh? It was a pity, for laughter calmed him.

“Please tell me,” he said. “What do you intend to do?”

She thought about lying, but the memory of the blond girl weeping in the church filled her mind. He was sick, helpless. Why not give him the truth? “Lead off the soldiers, cause a distraction to get the farm folk away from their seeds and gear, and let the Spoilers in to rot it. With no tools or seed, they’ll have to go back.”

“They won’t.” He met her eyes steadily. “Master Lazur means to drive you out, whatever the cost.”

“Whatever the cost? Pigdung. Nobody trades a good sow for skin and bones. If I make the cost too high, he’ll back off.”

“He won’t. He believes the good of all the people of the realm outweighs the good of individuals—and that includes both the settlers and himself. He won’t back off.”

Makenna laughed. “And I thought the farmer who cut down his grapes was a fool. That’s like saying the good of the apple crop outweighs the good of the apples! Who does he think the people of the realm are, if not folk like those settlers? But I can hear him saying it. A dangerous man, that.”

“Then don’t fight him.” He leaned forward, putting force behind his words. “Give up now. There’s no honor in leading these goblins to die for your vengeance. In spying and lying and trickery. Please, give it up and go, before more are hurt or killed!”

“Before more humans are killed, you mean? Goblins have been dying for six years now, but there’s no dishonor in that, is there?” She was standing now, stiff with anger. “Aye, your conduct has always been honorable—I believe it! No mud on your shining armor—no blood, either. You think I lead these people for my own whim? I lead these people, honorable knight, because they have no one but me. Because they came to me when the humans slaughtered their families and drove them out. And I’ll keep this place safe for them no matter how much spying and lying and killing it takes. You’ve never been a commander, lordling, or you’d know that it’s easy to prate about honor when you’re not responsible for others’ lives. But let me tell you a bit of truth—sometimes honor doesn’t get it done.”

She turned and went out, slamming the door in his astonished face. She stalked through the village, searching for calm. Why let that ignorant lordling anger her so? He knew nothing of her or her goblins. And she couldn’t afford her anger any more than she could afford his honor. She had a job to do.

Makenna watched as Oddi and Tama crept forward. It made her nervous, having the Flamers go into the settlement before she led the soldiers off, but Cogswhallop was right—the timing was crucial. They’d have only a few minutes before the settlers got the women and children out of the burning church and returned to defend their gear.

Tama leaned forward, staring intently at a young woman carrying a bucket back from the stream. Makenna recognized her face, but she hadn’t learned her name. She didn’t know which of the guards had the spell-resistance charms, so they’d decided to take no chances.

The girl shrieked and dropped the bucket. Water poured over the ground. She leapt back, staring at the bushes by her feet.

The guard frowned. “What is it?”

“There’s something in that bush.” She backed away from it with short, nervous steps. “Something grabbed me.”

The guard picked up his spear (a decidedly unfarmerlike tool, Makenna noted critically) and went to investigate the bushes. As soon as his back was turned, Oddi scampered silently past him, into concealment behind a pile of lumber.

“I don’t see anything,” said the guard, poking his spear into the empty bush.

“But I know it’s there! Something pulled on my, ah…” The girl blushed.

The guard grinned. Makenna glanced down and saw his humor echoed on Tama’s face. She was a skilled Charmer, able to create almost any illusion, but she had a wicked sense of humor.

In less than a minute the guard was back at his post, but now his back was to Oddi. The little Flamer made two more quick dashes before Makenna lost sight of him. She sat watching the bustling settlement. They’d thought about doing this at night, but Makenna knew the guards were more cautious after dark. “And besides,” she’d told her troop leaders, “they’ve got to chase me a fair way. If it’s dark, I might lose them before I’m ready to.” So they’d chosen daytime, in spite of the risks, for she knew her goblins could remain unseen even in the sunlight.

She waited, fretting, for almost half an hour, giving them plenty of time to get into position. It worried her not to be there to supervise the attack, but she was the only one who could draw off the soldiers.

The inner stillness that always filled her when the waiting ended crept in, and she realized it was time to make an entrance. No spells of look-away now. She waited until the guard glanced aside, then simply stood up and waited for him to notice her. It took several minutes, for her rough clothes blended with the woods.

When he finally saw her standing there, his eyes widened and he blinked rapidly, obviously wondering if she was real. What would he say later? That she appeared out of thin air? That she’d formed out of the shadows before his eyes? Who needed magic anyway? Makenna smiled.

That broke the moment. The guard shouted, inarticulate at first, then finding words. “It’s her! The sorceress! Arms! She’s here!”

Not very military. Makenna turned and ran lightly away from the camp. Looking back, she saw that the guard waited until several of his fellows had joined him before coming in pursuit. She knew most of them would go for their horses while a few followed her on foot to guide the mounted ones.

She was far swifter than the armored guards and had to slow down several times to keep from losing them. She laughed aloud when she heard the hoofbeats pounding closer, drawn by the shouts of her pursuers. Let them come—she was ready!

Her chosen entrance to the dense patch of woods was a fallen tree, almost three feet thick. Makenna dropped and rolled under it, losing no more than a second. It would take the mounted men far longer to find a way around, and if some decided to leave their horses and try to scramble over it…

Only a moment later she heard a startled shout and the crash of a fall. The moss on top of that log was very slippery.

The dense woods slowed her, but she still had to wait for them as they thrashed through the branches.

One of the smarter ones realized the horses couldn’t make it through and abandoned his animal, running after her on foot. It took a bit longer for the stubborn ones to follow suit, but Makenna couldn’t wait for them. She had to keep ahead of the leaders, so she ran swiftly now.

A bruising scramble through a shallow ravine, under another log, up a small rock face—easy for an unencumbered girl, far harder for men wearing steel plates beneath their clothes. Makenna laughed when she heard them cursing, and her laughter made them curse again. She felt light with the exhilaration of the chase. When she worked magic, botching some spell her mother had cast with ease, she felt incompetent. But she never botched a fight, or a chase, or a battle plan. She was born for this.

She broke out of the dense forest and started the sprint through the lighter woods that bordered this part of the deep ravine. She was hundreds of yards ahead of them now.

She had to wait again at the top of the cliff. It was almost a hundred feet down to the river, but only the first twenty feet were sheer. The wait gave her time to recheck the knots that held the rope she’d tied there last night.

They shouted again when they saw her, and an arrow whistled past as she grabbed the rope to climb down. Arrows might be a problem—she’d hoped they’d abandon the bows with their horses, but she’d long since learned that nothing went exactly as planned.