by Bryan Huff
Waeward wandered the wilds for many months, following the traveler’s cryptic directions as closely as he could, so that he might locate the Lost City, where it lay hidden in the mountains. This took him on a winding route, stretching as far west as the sea, before leading him back to the lands north of the valley. And he had many thrilling adventures along the way.
Finally, Waeward reached the Lost City. He searched the ruins for the Fountain of Youth. But before he could find it, something found him. A dragon! To Waeward’s horror, the city and its treasures were being guarded by a terrible fire-breathing serpent.
Hob rubbed his tired eyes. He’d now read late into the morning. His hardtack crumbs were all gone. And he couldn’t help but struggle to stay awake. Still, he had to know how the story ended!
Waeward gathered his courage. He was about to face his greatest challenge yet. He had to find the Fountain of Youth to save Princess Parabelle, even if it meant slaying the dragon. Soon, one way or another, his wanderings would be over. Slowly, cautiously, he crept through the city streets, sword drawn, muscles tensed. And then … And then …
Hob awoke with a start. Where was he? What was happening? He’d fallen asleep in the middle of reading!
He peeked out from under his blanket.
“Oh no!” he cried.
It was dark out—too dark. He threw off his blanket, and ran to the edge of the cave.
“Oh no!”
The moon and stars shone down on him. It was the middle of the night. Hob was late for the Clobbering!
How had it happened? Where had a whole day gone? Hob hurtled down the tunnels in a state of distraction, willing his feet to carry him as fast as they could toward the Great Cave. Maybe it wasn’t too late? Maybe the others hadn’t noticed he was missing? Maybe, maybe, maybe …
slam!
Hob ran into someone, and stumbled backward. There was Grunt, staring down at him, looking distraught.
“Grunt!” Hob cried. “Thank goodness it’s you!”
“Where’ve ya been?” asked Grunt. “Yer in big trouble …”
“So, I’m too late, then? I missed the Clobbering?”
“Not exactly …”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when ya didn’t show, Brute got pretty mad, and demanded the whole thing be called off till he could find ya. He’s takin’ a search party to yer nook, right now.”
Hob’s stomach sank so violently that he thought it might fall out. “My books!” he cried. He tore off, leaving Grunt behind.
Hob sprinted straight for his nook. But by the time he got there, Brute, Snivel, and a bunch of other angry goblins were already gathered outside.
A few of the smaller ones were going in and out, ransacking the place. Almost everything Hob owned now lay in a pile on the tunnel floor, which Brute was sifting through for clues. Atop the pile, stacked on the faded goat tapestry, were Hob’s books!
Hob gasped audibly, and the whole search party turned to see him. He whirled around, and shot back up the tunnel.
Brute gave chase.
slam!
Hob ran into Grunt again. Grunt must have been following him down from the upper levels.
“Lemme go, Grunt!” Hob cried.
But before Grunt could get out of the way, Brute seized Hob from behind, and lifted him right off his feet. Holding Hob up by the scruff of his furry collar, Brute turned him around so they were face to face.
“Tried to skip out on The Clobbering, eh, pipsqueak?” Brute said, grinning nastily as he savored this new excuse to torture Hob. “Bet ya wish ya’d taken yer licks, now, huh? ’Cause we found some pretty interestin’ stuff in yer nook there … I wonder if ya got any more on ya!”
Brute then flipped Hob over, held him by one foot, and shook him up and down. Hob closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Blood rushed to his head. He thought he might faint. Finally, The Ballad of Waeward the Wanderer tumbled out of his satchel, and landed with a thud on the tunnel floor.
Chapter Five
Deep Down and Out
Water oozed out of the rocks above Hob’s head, coating them in a layer of slime before trickling to the floor with a steady drip, drip, drip. The sound drummed at Hob’s ears as he sat in a hard, lonely corner of his hard, lonely cell. If pressed, he would have said that a couple hours had passed since he’d been thrown into the dungeon. But counting drips wasn’t a reliable way to tell time, so he couldn’t be sure.
Located on the deepest, most miserable level of the Gobble Downs, the dungeon was little more than a dead-end hallway lined with cells—simple holes in the rock, barricaded by doors of rusty iron bars—and lit by a single sputtering torch bolted to the wall beside a single snoozing guard.
The grim place had only one redeeming feature. Hob’s cell happened to be directly across from that of the captives. This allowed Hob to satisfy his curiosity about the mysterious boy and the dwarf. Even in the meager light, he had a better view of them than at any time during the ambush.
Hob sat in his corner watching them. The boy was young—maybe fourteen years old—and had a charming face, with green eyes half-hidden under a mop of shaggy golden hair. The dwarf was much older, and had a bushy white beard, rosy cheeks, and dark, mischievous eyes. Both wore simple traveling clothes, filthy from days on the road.
They spent most of their time huddled together, whispering. And, every once and a while, the boy would peer around and add to some sort of drawing he was scratching on the floor with a stone chip. It was clear to Hob they were planning to escape.
Then it dawned on him. They were planning to escape! And he was there to help them! In the most unexpected fashion, fate had given Hob the chance he’d always wanted. The chance he’d never thought possible. If he could prove his worth to the boy and dwarf right then, they might just take him with them!
What Hob had in mind would be risky, but there was nothing left for him in the Gobble Downs anyway. Even if he managed to survive his imprisonment and the Clobbering, the Sorcerer’s war was still coming. And Hob wanted no part in that. He had to try.
He scrambled up to his cell door and knelt there, clinging to the bars. “Psst! Psst!” he whispered across the hall to the captives.
They glanced back at him, looking annoyed.
Hob didn’t let that stop him. “I can help you,” he whispered.
“What?” hissed the dwarf.
“You’re planning an escape, right?” Hob went on. “You’re going on an adventure, right? I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure. Take me with you, and I can show you a way out of here!”
The boy and dwarf exchanged incredulous glances. Then they glared back at Hob.
“We’re not escapin’!” snapped the dwarf. “Who said we were escapin’?”
“Don’t worry!” Hob pleaded with him, trying to calm him down before he woke the snoozing guard. “I’m on your side.”
“On our side?” the dwarf blustered. “We’re tryin’ to save the valley from the likes of you!”
“Shh!” hissed the boy. “You’re saying too much.”
“No, that’s perfect!” Hob cut in. “I wanna save the valley from the likes of me too!”
The boy chuckled in spite of himself.
Meanwhile, the dwarf only got more upset. “Take the hint, goblin. I meant, ‘no!’”
“Aw, ease up,” said the boy, flashing Hob a charming half-smile. “The goblin’s got a dream.”
“Well, he can dream on,” said the dwarf. “He’s not comin’ with us!”
The boy elbowed the dwarf in the shoulder.
“And we’re not escapin’!” the dwarf added, for good measure. “So, go away! Shoo!”
“But, but—”
Hob was just about to keep pleading his case, when—bang!—the door at the end of the hall burst open, waking the snoozing guard beside it, and nearly putting out the single sputtering torch. Chief Gobblestomp squeezed into the dungeon.
> Hob’s one big chance had evaporated. Crushed, he sank back into his cell, and stood there waiting for the Chief.
The Chief stopped outside seconds later, holding a rusty key. “Let’s get this over with, Hobblestraug,” he said, unlocking the cell door, and drawing it open, causing it to whine ominously. “I was really lookin’ forward to the Clobbering, and it’s been put off till after yer trial.”
“My trial?” Hob squeaked, sensing things were about to turn from bad to worse.
The Chief nodded. “Yer to stand trial before the Queen.”
“Here we are,” said Chief Gobblestomp. He halted in a narrow tunnel outside the Queen’s residence—the Deep Cave—which was also on the lowest, most miserable level of the Gobble Downs. He filled the whole passage with his bulk, blocking the cave’s entrance from view.
Hob stopped behind him, feeling doomed already.
“Oh, and just to warn ya,” the Chief added, “there are a few others in there too.”
“Huh? How many?” asked Hob.
“Well, all of ’em, really,” said the Chief. And with that, he ducked in through the entrance, and stepped aside to reveal the Deep Cave.
The cave opened up beyond the tunnel mouth, a bowl-shaped cavern of black rock filled with goblin spectators. They covered the upper ledges of the steep, craggy walls, holding fiery torches, and staring down with wild, gleaming eyes.
More frightening than the sight of the crowd, however, was the sight of the figure seated directly across from the entrance. The Queen Goblin on her throne!
The Queen was the mother of every young goblin in the horde, but none of them ever thought of her that way—perhaps because of how terrifying and un-motherly she was. She was nearly twice as tall as Chief Gobblestomp, more than twice as wide, and easily three times as ugly, with a toad-like face and a giant mouth packed with short, pointed teeth.
Her throne was carved out of the cave wall atop a wide stepped platform, and was flanked by two back exits, one to either side. Perched on the back of the throne was the Sorcerer’s crow, only adding to the nightmarish quality of the scene.
“Yer Mightiness,” Chief Gobblestomp called out from beside the entranceway. “I bring you Hobblestraug, the accused.” He paused. “C’mon now,” he whispered to Hob, peering back into the tunnel.
Heart pounding, Hob stepped forward past Chief Gobblestomp and into the Deep Cave.
Jeers and insults rained down on Hob from the crowd above. He knew Brute would be up there somewhere, enjoying the show. Grunt would be there too, ashamed and worried. But Hob didn’t look for either of them. He kept his eyes fixed ahead and his feet shuffling forward. When he got as close to the Queen as he dared—which wasn’t very close—he stood to face her judgment.
“Hobblestraug!” the Queen bellowed, her deep, gurgley voice echoing through the cave and turning Hob’s insides to jelly. “Do you know why you stand before me?”
“squawk! Why?” croaked the Sorcerer’s crow, from atop the throne.
Hob tried to stop shaking long enough to answer. “Umm … Because I missed the Clobbering?”
“No,” gurgled the Queen.
“Because I missed the Clobbering to read a book?”
“No!” gurgled the Queen. “Though you are a truly miserable excuse for a goblin …”
“squawk! Miserable!” croaked the crow.
“… you’re guilty of something far worse!”
“I am?” Hob gulped.
“yes!” bellowed the Queen.
The crowd cheered wildly at the verdict. But the Queen raised a stubby hand to silence them. She wasn’t done.
“The books discovered in your nook,” she continued, speaking as sweetly as a giant monster with a deep, gurgley voice could speak. “Where did you get them?”
Hob was sure from the pointy-toothed grin twisting across her face that she already knew.
“The treasure pile,” he admitted. It hardly seemed worth lying. She was going to punish him no matter what.
“I know,” gurgled the Queen. “The treasure pile’s the only place to find books in the Gobble Downs. And as Treasure Keeper, you had plenty of chances to steal from it.”
The cave filled with the sound of a hundred goblins all gasping at once.
“I always thought of it more like borrowing,” Hob mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Enough!” shouted the Queen. “Do you know who that pile belongs to?”
“To the horde?” Hob ventured.
“To me!” bellowed the Queen. “No one steals from my pile and gets away with it! guilty! Off with his head!”
“squawk! Off with his head!” croaked the crow.
The crowd cheered again. And this time the Queen let them.
“carl!” she bellowed.
On her command, a figure entered through the back passage to the right of the throne. It was a gigantic, three-headed, three-hooded, executioner troll! Goblins kept trolls around to do the jobs even they found unpleasant, and judging by the enormous axe it carried, Hob knew what this one’s next job was going to be.
As the troll lumbered forward, its three heads bickered amongst themselves.
“She’s talking to me,” said the left head.
“She’s talking to me,” said the right head.
“She’s talking to all of us,” said the middle head.
“But, I’m Carl,” said the left head.
“No, I’m Carl,” said the right head.
“We’re all Carl,” said the middle head. “We’ve been over this.”
“But that’s just confusing,” said the left head.
“Yeah,” said the right head. “Are we one Carl with three heads, or three Carls with one body? Because, if we’re one Carl, then she’s clearly talking to all of us. But if we’re three Carls, then she could be talking to any of us.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” roared the Queen. “I’m talking to all of you. All of you, chop off that little goblin’s head!”
“Yes, Your Mightiness!” the troll’s three heads replied. “Right away!”
Hob tried to run. But the next thing he knew, he’d been seized by the troll, dragged forward, and made to lie with his neck on the steps of the throne platform.
“Off with his head!” the Queen shouted again, just for the fun of it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hob watched as the troll raised its axe, the blade glinting in the torchlight. Everything was happening so fast! Hob couldn’t think! He didn’t know what to do!
Then a jumble of voices and heavy footsteps rang out in the cave, and the troll froze.
“In here!”
“Whoops!”
“Now we’ve got ’em!”
The troll lowered its axe as its heads looked toward the cave’s front entrance. Hob looked too.
Just inside the entrance, the boy and the dwarf stood frozen in their tracks. Each carried a stolen goblin saber in one hand, while the boy carried the sputtering dungeon torch in his other. They turned to flee, but ten armed guards—led by the sleepy fellow from the dungeon—followed them into the cave, blocking their exit.
I knew they were escaping! Hob thought, in spite of himself. Though, he had to admit, it didn’t look like they were going to get very far.
“Any other options?” shouted the dwarf, swinging his saber to keep the ten armed guards at bay.
The boy scanned the cave. His gaze swept quickly over the crowd above, all the goblins paralyzed with shock and confusion. Then it landed on Hob, the troll, and the Queen on her throne.
In that instant, Hob could have sworn the boy made eye contact with him—recognized him even! But the boy’s expression quickly changed to one of pure relief.
“There!” he exclaimed, pointing past Hob toward the back exit to the left of the throne. “Run!”
The boy and dwarf took off across the cave, making straight for the back exit. And the guards tore after them, joined by Chief Gobblestom
p, who’d been standing by the front entrance the whole time.
The guards immediately threatened to overtake the fleeing captives, particularly the short-legged old dwarf. But, while the dwarf kept hustling for the passage to the left of the throne, the boy suddenly veered toward the throne itself—and Carl the Troll!—which surprised the guards, jamming them up for a second as they decided whom to follow. The six leaders and Chief Gobblestomp went after the boy, while the four slowest carried on after the dwarf.
“What are you doin’?” the dwarf shouted.
The boy had no time to answer. He charged in at the troll—just wide of the spot where Hob lay—brandishing his sword and letting out a wild war cry. Provoked, the troll swung its axe at him in a violent, horizontal arc. The boy ducked the axe, and rolled right through the troll’s legs, jabbing the creature’s oily loincloth with his torch.
“yeow!” the troll screeched, dropping its axe and grabbing its smoking backside.
crash! The pack of goblin guards promptly slammed into the troll, having failed to anticipate the boy’s evasive maneuver.
Hob scrambled out of the way, as the whole lot of them fell over in a heap, big Chief Gobblestomp on top.
Peeking around the pile, Hob saw the boy pop up out of his roll. The boy glanced back, flashed Hob a daring smile, and hurried on. Had he planned the whole thing?
Hob didn’t have time to think about it. The goblin spectators on the ledges above had now recovered from their initial shock, and they began streaming down the walls of the cave, pushing and shoving as they rushed to chase the captives.
Having arrived at the back exit, the dwarf dueled with the four goblin guards who’d pursued him there. He was clearing the way in hopes that the boy would reach him before the oncoming swarm. Two of the four guards already lay unconscious on the floor. Shwing! The dwarf disarmed the other two with a flourish of his stolen saber, and—clonk!—he jumped up and banged their helmets together, sending them to join their friends. He looked for the boy.