Goblins in the Castle

by Bruce Coville

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You have no way of knowing what things were like before the goblins disappeared, William, so you can’t know what we’ve lost. But things were different then. The world around here was more joyous, the people happier, the land more bountiful. When the goblins were locked away, when their wild energy was imprisoned, much of that went with them.”

  I was so intent on what she was saying that it wasn’t until sometime later that I realized she had called me by my name, even though I had never mentioned it to her.

  “But if they were good for things, why were they locked away?”

  “Come closer.”

  I was only a few feet away as it was. When I hesitated Granny Pinchbottom didn’t say anything, just stared at me.

  After a moment I stepped forward.

  She still didn’t say anything.

  I knelt down. Now my face was just slightly below hers. Reaching out, she took my cheeks between her hands and stared straight into my eyes.

  “That which is joyous, that which is lively, that which is free of fear is often most feared. The goblins had their kingdom underground, but most of them lived out here, among the people. When a goblin attached itself to a house it would care for it. Though it would often work minor mischief, it always did more good than harm—which is more than many humans can say. If the goblins occasionally led a child to play in the mud—and they did—they more often saved that child from genuine danger.”

  “What about the people they stole away to Goblin Land?”

  The old woman snorted. “Some people chose to go to Goblin Land—which is properly called Nilbog, by the way. Other people, who couldn’t understand such a choice, decided it wasn’t a choice at all and spread rumors that their neighbors had been stolen. Fear began to grow. People began to resent the goblins.”

  She made a spitting noise, a sound of disgust. “The Baron at the time, who was the grandfather of the Baron you know, had a blind heart. He didn’t understand play, didn’t believe in mischief, didn’t know how to laugh. The goblins’ pranks annoyed him beyond endurance, and he never realized that they were the ones who kept his castle spotless, the ones who polished his wood and shined his windows and tended his gardens with secret tricks that made them grow in a way his own gardener never could. After a great deal of study, and with the help of a powerful wizard, he managed to lock them away.”

  She shook her head, and her eyes looked pained. “A great gloom fell over the land. At first no one realized what had happened, for much of the good the goblins did was done in secret—usually at night, which was the time they liked best. But somehow the houses were never as neat, the gardens never as productive, the children never as safe as they had been. This was once a land of plenty. Now the village limps along, growing smaller every year, because fewer children are born. That’s why I have been working toward the goblins’ release. But there was one thing I didn’t count on, one thing I hadn’t anticipated.”

  The tone in her voice made my stomach tighten. “What was that?”

  She grimaced. “Their rage. I should have expected it: When you imprison something, you change it. And the goblins have been changed.”

  “Are they evil now?”

  Granny Pinchbottom shook her head. “I don’t think they’re evil. But they’re so angry you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Trouble is coming—big trouble. Unless . . .”

  She trailed off and stared at me. I could feel her examining me, assessing me.

  “Unless what?” I asked, unable to keep the words inside, though I had a feeling that silence might have been smarter.

  “The goblins follow the example of their King. It’s more than that; they are connected to him in a way that can only be called magical. The problem is that the King has gone quite mad as a result of what happened, lost his head altogether. I think if he can be cured, the others will follow.”

  “How can that be done?”

  “I have three things to give you,” she replied, which wasn’t quite an answer but seemed to be leading in that direction. “The first was the amulet, which will provide you with light in the darkest places. Here is the second.”

  Reaching into the bag next to her, she withdrew a piece of cloth. When she shook it out I could see that it was a cloak. “Put it on,” she whispered.

  I took it from her hands and stood. The cloak fit my shoulders as if it had been made for me. A golden clasp shaped like an oak leaf held it fast about my neck.

  “Raise the hood.”

  I did as she directed. To my astonishment, I disappeared!

  “Hey!” I cried. “What happened?”

  “The cloak is working,” she chuckled, rubbing her bony hands together.

  “But I can’t see myself!”

  “Of course not. You’re wearing a cloak of invisibility.”

  “This is wonderful,” I said, thinking of all the ways in which I could use such a thing.

  “It’s yours—if you agree to take on my mission.”

  I knew there had to be a catch. “What’s the mission?”

  Again she reached into the bag. This time she drew forth a band of gold about the length of my arm and an inch wide. It had a buckle on one end and three green stones in the center. Looking directly into my eyes, she whispered, “I want you to fasten this around the neck of the Goblin King.”

  Fingers trembling, I reached for the golden collar. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” I asked. “You know more about this kind of thing than I do.”

  She smiled, showing a few yellowed teeth. “I’m just an old woman,” she said, sounding pitiful.

  “But not always . . .”

  She shrugged. “The truth is, I’m too powerful. The goblins would know I was coming before I got anywhere near the King. They have ways of sensing people like me.”

  I sighed. “What do I have to do?”

  “First you should rest. Then have something to eat. After that I’ll give you a map to Nilbog, and you can be on your way.”

  That sounded good—I was terribly tired. But I couldn’t rest if Igor was in danger. When I said something about that Granny Pinchbottom replied, “I don’t believe the goblins will hurt him. At least not yet. Far more likely they will imprison him. Possibly mock him. As for you—you’ll be little help to anyone if you don’t get some rest.”

  Suddenly I felt a great weariness creeping over me. Was Granny Pinchbottom casting a spell on me? Considering how little sleep—and how much trouble—I had had in the last few days, it didn’t take magic to explain my exhaustion. The mere mention of sleep might have been enough to remind my body and brain how tired they were.

  “That way,” she whispered, pointing to a cot near the fireplace.

  I stumbled in the direction she pointed. Clutching Igor’s bear, I fell onto the cot and slept like the dead.

  • • •

  When I woke I found myself lying facedown in a pile of leaves. I sat up, confused and frightened. What had happened? Where was Granny Pinchbottom?

  I looked around. As near as I could tell, I was in the clearing Fauna had led me to the night before. The only thing missing was the cottage.

  Beside me lay Igor’s bear and the drawstring bag from which Granny Pinchbottom had taken the amulet, cloak, and collar.

  “Granny Pinchbottom?” I called. “Are you here?”

  No answer, save the wind moving through the leaves.

  Suddenly the clearing grew dark. Looking up, I saw thick clouds massing in the west. From the look of them, a big storm was coming.

  I opened the bag and peeked inside. The three items Granny Pinchbottom had given me were there, as well as some paper packets that turned out to contain food—bread, cheese, and even a sweet.

  Well, she was as good as her word; she had said that after I slept she would feed me.

  She had also promised a map, which I found at the bottom of the bag. It was drawn in green ink on yellowed paper. The clearing where I now stood was m
arked in the lower left-hand corner. (I knew it was the clearing where I stood because it was labeled “You are here.”)

  According to the arrows, I had to walk back the way Fauna had brought me the night before. At the next-to-the-last stream we had passed I was to turn and head for the waterfall.

  Thunder rumbled overhead. I glanced up. It wouldn’t be long before the whole sky was a waterfall. Folding the map, I tucked it into my shirt, picked up the bear and the bag, and started to walk.

  As I stepped from the clearing something ran out of the bushes and grabbed me by the leg.

  “Gotcha!” it cried in a squeaky voice. “Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha!”

  I screamed and shook my leg, trying to dislodge my attacker. It was no use; the little thing was fastened to me tighter than a fresh scab. I jumped around in terror for a minute, then realized two things. One, I wasn’t going to get it off of me. Two, it didn’t seem to be hurting me. It was holding on, but not biting or scratching. My heart still pounding, I stopped yelling and looked down.

  The creature clinging to my leg was about a foot and a half tall. It had big yellow eyes and a big nose. A tail stuck out of its ragged little britches, which were held up by a single suspender hooked over its left shoulder. Its large, pointed ears flapped when I shook my leg.

  “Gotcha!” it cried, looking up at me.

  “What are you?”

  “Herky!”

  “You’re a herky?”

  “No, no, no! Herky my name. Am goblin, I am! Fierce and bad, bad and fierce!”

  “Why are you holding on to me?”

  “Herky gotcha!”

  “Yes, you’ve got me. But why do you want me?”

  “Herky bad!” it cried, as if that answered everything.

  Cautiously I reached my hands toward the creature, ready to draw them back if it made any sign of trying to bite me. It didn’t. Grasping it around the middle, I pulled it away from my leg, then lifted it to the level of my face.

  “How bad are you?” I asked.

  “Very bad, very most bad,” it cried in a high-pitched voice. “Herky fierce bad goblin. Fierce sad—bad !”

  Aha! “Why are you sad?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to correct himself.

  “Herky lost,” he sighed. “Other goblins all gone back to Nilbog. Herky can’t find it. Herky mad! Herky sad! Herky bad, bad, bad!”

  “Herky hungry?”

  The little goblin clacked its teeth together, which I took to mean yes. Setting him down, I took out one of the packets Granny Pinchbottom had left me and handed him some bread.

  “Yum!” he said eagerly, opening his mouth to take a huge bite. No sooner had he closed his mouth on the loaf than a look of dismay widened his yellow eyes and he spit the wad of bread to the ground. “Ptooie!” he cried. “Bad food. Food bad!”

  “What kind of food do you like?” I asked, feeling rather annoyed at the loss of some good bread.

  Herky scrambled up my leg and peered into the bag. “Got lizards?”

  “No, I don’t have any lizards! And get your face out of there,” I added, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him away from the bag. I didn’t know if he could tell what I had in the bag just by looking at it, but I didn’t particularly want to have a goblin learn I was carrying a cloak of invisibility.

  “Yow!” cried Herky as I pulled him away from the bag. “Yow, yow, yow! Boy mean! Mean boy!”

  “Goblin rude,” I replied, setting him on the ground. I was about to squat so I could talk to him face-to-face when it occurred to me that doing so would make it very easy for him to bite me on the nose. I stared at him for a moment. Was he an enemy or not?

  “Gotcha!” cried Herky, grabbing something from the leaves and popping it into his mouth.

  I squatted, but not too close. “My name is—”

  Before I could finish Herky looked past my shoulder. “Yow!” he shouted. Then he disappeared into the bushes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “THIS WAY TO NILBOG”

  “What was that ?” asked a familiar voice.

  “Fauna!” I cried, turning around. “What did you do that for?”

  “Do what for?” she asked, sounding hurt, and a little angry.

  “Scare him away!”

  “I didn’t do anything to scare anyone. I walked up, and that thing shouted and ran off. What was it? And don’t forget to apologize for yelling at me for nothing.”

  I didn’t want to apologize. But Fauna was right; she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Have you got something caught in your throat?”

  “I’m sorry !” I shouted, wondering if all girls were this difficult to deal with.

  “You’re forgiven. Now what was that thing?”

  “A goblin,” I replied, enjoying the look of shock the word created on her face.

  “The goblins are gone,” she said. “They’ve been gone for over a hundred years!”

  “Well, they’re back now.”

  “How could that be?” she asked, her hand dropping to the knife she wore at her side.

  Despite what Granny Pinchbottom had told me, how the goblins had returned wasn’t something I particularly wanted to discuss. Actually, I didn’t want to discuss anything. I just wanted to get rid of Fauna so I could get on with my mission.

  “It doesn’t matter how it happened. What matters is what happens next. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

  “It has to do with the goblins, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then I’ll help. I don’t want them around here again.”

  I started to say that I didn’t want help. But that wasn’t true. I needed all the help I could get. I just didn’t like having it shoved down my throat.

  “Look, I don’t think you understand about the goblins,” I said. “They’re not as bad as you think—at least, they didn’t used to be. There’s no telling what they’re like now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My answer was lost in a sizzle of lightning that was followed by a roll of thunder so loud it made both of us jump.

  “I don’t have time to stand here and talk,” I said. “I have to go to Nilbog.”

  Her look of surprise reminded me of the morning Hulda had accidentally swallowed a fly. “You’re going to Nilbog?” she whispered. “What for ?”

  “My friend has been stolen by the goblins.”

  “I thought you said they weren’t so bad.”

  “I was just telling you what Granny Pinchbottom told me!” I said in exasperation. “Listen, I have to get moving. It’s going to rain soon, and I don’t want to be standing here when it happens.” (Though I thought it would be fun to stand in the rain sometime; I had never done it before.)

  “Well, let’s go,” she said, taking a deep breath and pushing her hair back over her shoulders.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to Nilbog!”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m coming with you.”

  “Don’t you have to go home or something? Won’t your parents be upset?”

  Her laugh was like falling water. “I don’t have any parents. I live alone.”

  I thought about trying to outrun her. I didn’t think I could manage it while trying to read a map.

  Another roll of thunder shook the darkening sky.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “We can discuss this while we walk.”

  She nodded, and I started off. After a moment I said, “Since we’re going back the way you brought me last night, it might be faster if you lead the way.”

  She nodded again and took the lead. For the first few minutes we walked without talking. I waited for her to start asking questions again. She didn’t. I was just opening my mouth to speak when I heard a rustling in the branches above me. Something dropped from the tree and landed on my head.


  “Gotcha!” it cried, grabbing me by the hair and bracing one foot against my right ear. “Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha!”

  “Herky!” I shouted. “Don’t do that!”

  “Boy mad?” he asked, sounding genuinely astonished.

  “Yes, I’m mad,” I said, reaching up to pluck the little creature from my head. “Ouch! Let go of my hair!”

  “Yellow hair nice,” said Herky, as I pried his long fingers out of my scalp. “Herky ba-ack!” he cried when I had lowered him so that he was in front of my face again. “Don’t let funny person hurt him!”

  “What funny person?” I started to ask. Then I realized he was talking about Fauna.

  “You’d better behave, goblin, or I’ll do more than hurt you,” she said fiercely.

  “Fauna, leave him alone. He may be able to help us.”

  “Hunh! I don’t think much of goblin help. What’s he going to do when we get to Nilbog?”

  “Hooray for Nilbog!” cried Herky, squirming out of my grasp and dropping to the ground. “Nilbog good!”

  I wanted to tell Fauna what Granny Pinchbottom had told me about the goblins, but I wasn’t sure how much of it I should say in front of Herky. I wasn’t sure what to do about Herky, though it did seem safer to have him with us than have him following us. “Do you want to come with us?” I asked.

  “Yep, yep, yep! Herky go with butterhead boy and nighthair girl. Don’t make Herky mad! Herky fierce!”

  He clacked his teeth to demonstrate his ferocity, and I began to question the wisdom of my decision. Small though he was, those teeth could do a lot of damage.

  “Brilliant,” said Fauna, ignoring Herky and looking at me.

  “Oh, be quiet,” I said irritably. “Let’s get going.”

  I loved walking through the woods, despite the dark sky, the rumble of thunder, the threat of pouring rain. I loved the sound of rushing water that was almost always with us, sometimes in the distance, sometimes close at hand, and the softness of the leaf-covered ground, and most of all the mysterious oldness of it all.

  Herky kept running off to examine things, scrambling up trees to chase squirrels, even disappearing into small holes in the ground. But he always came loping back sooner or later, panting and snarling and announcing, “Herky bad! Bad Herky! Better be afraid, butterhead boy!”