“Disgusting,” Fath said.
Spicy shrugged. “She grows on you.”
The dragon began etching a new word into the granite.
The foraging was meager as they continued to travel southward. Spicy kept the map he had found out of sight. He hadn’t had time to properly examine it in daytime but couldn’t chance Fath seeing it. If Rime and the children were in Bliss, he had to go there and find them.
The first sign of human civilization was a clearing of cut trees near a dry stream. A pitted dirt lane ran out to the coast road. Woodsmoke hung in the air. Spicy told Hog and Fath to wait while he went on ahead alone.
On the other side of the road were several fields. Beyond the cut earth and managed hedges was a town lined with a wall. The rooftops of several buildings were visible. Smoke rose from chimneys. The smells of the forest were mixed with a smell he couldn’t place. The town was set partially on the water of the Inland Sea and a dock stretched out beyond the reach of the wall.
The thought of a human town was both marvelous and frightening. They built structures so much larger than in any goblin village. For a species spoken of as being in its twilight, sustaining a town of this size meant they had to be prospering.
Spicy cut through the brush as he descended towards one of the fields.
He couldn’t tell what was growing in the dirt. A small waterwheel was set up at the head of a network of irrigation channels that lined each field. There were people working, three human women along with a pair of goblins. Spicy paused to watch. The wall of the town featured an open gate under an archway. Beneath it, a chained dog and a single sentry stood guard. But the dog appeared to be asleep, and the sentry had his back turned and was speaking with someone just out of sight.
One goblin was planting seeds along a nearby furrow. Spicy moved to get closer, keeping low and sticking to the edge of one of the muddy irrigation channels. He got closer to the worker, but the goblin didn’t notice.
The goblin worked mechanically, plucking seeds from a pouch on an apron and pressing them into the soil. He was barefoot and wore a tattered shirt and pants that had been mended with multiple patches. Fitted around his throat was a collar.
A slave, Spicy decided.
Spicy hissed. “Hey. Hello?”
The slave looked up. Spicy smiled. The slave screamed. The other field workers were staring now, and one of the human women began to shout.
“Help! Help!”
Spicy looked around, confused, thinking perhaps the dragon or Hog had come up behind him, but there was no one else.
“It’s okay, I’m not here to hurt anyone!”
The goblin slave ran away towards the gate, seeds spilling from his apron. The others followed. The dog was barking now, straining at its tether. A second guard emerged. They looked in Spicy’s direction as the goblin slave fell at their feet, pointing back.
Spicy sprinted away.
It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t armed. There was no troll or dragon. What was wrong with these people?
A bell at the gate was ringing. Spicy expected at any moment that the dog would be let loose, but it didn’t come. And Spicy didn’t take the time to look behind him until he was across the road and running through the cut trees back to where Hog and Fath waited.
“Haven’t tasted dog meat,” Hog said casually.
“Well, with the dog comes men with weapons,” Spicy said. “Be glad it didn’t chase me. We shouldn’t wait around for them to decide to come find me.”
They were at the top of a short waterfall where only the tiniest trickle of water cut its way downstream. Judging by the banks, the stream would grow when it rained and when the snow in the higher elevations melted. Their location was a perfect vantage point of the forest below them.
Fath curled himself up on the rocks along the bank and set his head down. “I don’t smell anyone coming.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not looking,” Spicy said. The humans could be stealthy. They had taken his village by surprise and had tracked him all the way from the sea to Spirit Rock. Plus the dogs could move so quickly and had excellent noses.
“Human towns stink worse than the water,” Hog said, her green nose wrinkling.
Spicy felt himself calming down. There didn’t appear to be anyone coming. He didn’t understand why the goblin had cried out. It was a slave. It hadn’t been chained up. Why hadn’t it run with him? His worry for Rime and the others only grew. He thought of the hobbled goblin girl he had come upon at the first goblin village near the sea.
What abuses were Rime and the children suffering that would likewise break their spirit?
Hog nudged Spicy. “We go back? Kill the men? Eat the dog?”
“No, we can’t go straight in. They have a wall. And we don’t know how many there are. Your spear wound is still healing. And they will also have fire. Let’s wait until tonight. Go in quiet. But it should be just me.”
“Dragon stinks too. I’ll go with you.”
Spicy cringed and waited for Fath to take offense, but the dragon was asleep.
“Okay. We’ll scout together. The town is built over the water. There might be a way in there. But you can’t come with me inside. Understand?”
Hog finally gave a nod. Spicy patted her on the arm. Then he got out the ledger and puzzled at the mysterious words he had written that morning.
Chapter Six
Alma and Blades waited at the top of the ridge until first light. Descending in the dark would have been too dangerous.
The tribesmen had little in the way of salvageable clothes to help fend off the biting cold. Blades’s teeth chattered and he shivered audibly. Alma caught a few fitful moments of rest while crouched against a rock and hugging her knees. She had to rise several times to move and regain circulation.
If she huddled with Blades, she knew they could stay a little warmer, but the thought disgusted her.
The only man who had ever interested her beyond a quick fling was Lord. She had invited him to share her bedroll on more than one occasion, but he had refused. His fascination with his ledger and books had been an obsession. His behavior should have been a warning flag a hundred times over. Yet like the rest of the platoon who had followed him into the archduke’s service and then into the Monster Lands, Alma had joined Lord in his quest.
All it had taken was the promise of wealth. Lord hadn’t offered anything else, had given no proof, and the promises had all been lies. Yet she had believed every one of them. The man knew how to make a sales pitch.
“Wake up,” Alma said.
Blades was curled on a patch of dry weeds. “It’s still too dark.”
“It’s light enough to see.” She collected what little gear she thought would be useful. One tribal had a bundle of dried meats, mushrooms, and seeds, which she ate. She could only hope the mushrooms didn’t have any hallucinatory effects.
Even as Blades struggled to rise, she began to hike down the trail. He caught up in a stumbling hobble, using the tribal’s spear as his walking stick.
If what Redruth had said was true, their horses were gone. It meant they had days to hike before reaching their boats. Last she had heard, the untamed mountain tribes were all loosely united against the Inland Empire and all the towns and villages loyal to Pater the Zealot. But she held no illusions that mercenaries who had once served the archduke of Pinnacle, or even anyone ostensibly unaffiliated, would receive any better treatment from the tribals than they already had.
Their escape had been a near thing. Getting out of the cursed mountains quickly was now her only goal.
“Come on, let me rest,” Blades said as they slid down a gravel slope.
“Keep quiet. Your whining, grating voice carries.”
“Where are we even going? Lord and everyone are dead. The dragon even dragged his satchel of books away out of the fire. Whatever big score we were banking on has evaporated. And now with our horses gone, we need to figure this out.”
She turned. �
��What do you mean, he took his bag? The dragon took it?”
“Yeah. I thought I told you.”
“Well, you didn’t. Think carefully. You saw that monster—that animal—with Lord’s bag?”
“It held it in its tail when it finally left. It didn’t make sense then and it makes no sense now.”
She raised a hand for him to stop talking.
As tired as she was, an insane possibility stirred in her mind. Was it possible? Was the creature inside the cave somehow intelligent? Lord hadn’t brought them there for any treasure stash. That had all been a lie told to the grunts. But she knew he was seeking something that was going to pay out handsomely, something that involved a secret held by the goblin sages.
If Lord knew about the monster, he had grossly underestimated it. His quest had ended at the creature’s lair and it had killed him. He had been so certain. So convincing. Had it all been for nothing?
But if Blades was correct and the dragon had left with the satchel, did it mean there still might be something to be salvaged from the disaster?
She stored the thought away. No use in wasting time when all the facts weren’t present. She assisted Blades as they traversed a fallen log. The wood was free of all its bark. The blackened interior indicated it had probably been struck by lightning.
“Can we go a little slower?” Blades asked.
She let go of his hand as he hurried to keep up. “We killed tribals. That means their tribemates will come looking for us. We can countertrack, but there’s not many alternate routes for us if we’re heading west to lower elevation. And I don’t think going any other direction is an option. We have no supplies. So our only choice is to make the best time possible.”
“You think there’s more of them?” Blades asked.
“Yes. So if you have to stop to rest, that’s fine. But from here on out, I’m not waiting. Just remember that the mountain tribes can do much worse than throw you off a cliff to their dragon god.”
One horse lay dead and showed signs of having been torn at by some kind of scavenger.
Alma recovered two of the smaller goblin arrows from the rocks as she made a quick survey of the ground. Both arrows went into a makeshift quiver she made from a sack tied to a saddlebag. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. She hated ignoring her instincts.
“We could build a fire and roast some of the horsemeat,” Blades said.
“The only thing worse than the smell of smoke for attracting unwanted attention is the aroma of cooking meat. Let’s go.”
Whatever goblins had attacked the mercenaries guarding the horses were good at covering their tracks. But Alma spotted several traces of shoe prints.
Goblins.
The thieves who stole unguarded children. Poisoners of wells. Burners of barns. Anything that vanished without an explanation was always taken by goblins, although few in the delta had ever seen one of the creatures.
They were held as slaves by some, mainly by people living around the Inland Sea.
It seemed a matter of course that Lord’s raid would eventually stir up a response. That goblins had followed them so far and even across the sea was noteworthy. The closest thing to a fight they’d had with the creatures was an encounter with a large hunting band that had tried to block their way when the raiders had first entered the Monster Lands via a river valley from the south. But the hunters had been easily killed or scattered.
She planted her foot next to a smaller footprint. “Pathetic.”
“What?” Blades said as he struggled to climb down her way.
“I said keep up. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Seven
At night the humans of Bliss set lanterns on the wall by the gate. It was hard to tell how many guards they had, but the barking dog reminded Spicy that they wouldn’t need many watchmen to sound an alarm if he made a sound while sneaking in.
He hadn’t been able to wake Fath up before he left. Spicy hated to leave the dragon sleeping there, but the chance to find Rime and the others couldn’t wait.
Hog followed as he headed around the fields to the water. No one was out working now that the sun had set. The moon wasn’t visible. He sniffed the ground. The off-putting smell he had detected earlier was everywhere. Fertilizer, he guessed. He dug around where the seeds had been placed.
The dog’s sharp barks continued unabated. The animal was clearly upset by something, but surely it couldn’t hear him and Hog. He wanted nothing more than to get away from the jarring sound. They went down to where the shallow water lapped at the muddy shore. A few birds stirred and flew away as Hog marched noisily behind him, each step making a loud sucking sound.
He could see two docks in the harbor. The wall featured a single dark guardhouse at its end, but it had no lit lanterns.
Spicy licked his lips. “It’s the only way in.”
“Meat swims now?” Hog asked.
“Yeah, no. I was hoping you could carry me through the water to one of the docks.”
Hog sniffled and then strode out into the mud, where she sank to her calves. She held a hand out and Spicy waded forward. The mud tugged at his shoes. He was almost to his thighs before he reached her. She unceremoniously hauled him up and clutched him to her chest like he was a doll.
She waded through the water. Rather than walking upright, she crouched and began to swim.
Spicy found himself once again clinging to her and fighting to keep his head above water.
The rising terror momentarily paralyzed him. He wasn’t normally afraid of water, but he had almost drowned the last time he had gone swimming with the troll while trying to catch up with Lord and his boats.
He pulled himself up to her head, gripping her hair as the icy water swirled around them. It took his breath away. But they were quickly coming up to the first pier. When Hog stood upright she was chin-deep in the water. Spicy pointed to the second pier, which had ropes dangling from it. Hog strode forward until he caught the ropes and hauled himself to the wood planks of the pier. Shivers racked his body.
“Hide here,” he said. “I’ll come back soon.”
He wasn’t certain she had heard him. She made bubbles, followed by a low grunting sound. The fertilizer smell persisted, worse than before. How did humans manage to live in such a stench?
The buildings past the harbor were much larger than anything he had ever seen. Several were placed right along the water’s edge and set upon piers. Stacked crates and cut lumber provided good cover from the faint light that filtered from the shutters of the houses. Boardwalks lined the streets running away from the harbor. Mud filled the center of each lane. Rats scurried away from him as he made his way to a corner and scanned the streets.
It was overwhelming.
There were hundreds of buildings. Each might hold dozens of humans. He almost retreated to the dock. But then he thought of how frightened he’d be if he were trapped in the town. The children needed him and he couldn’t turn back.
Spicy squished across a muddy lane and moved along the front of a dark store. He ran his fingers along a pane of glass. There was so much of it. Boarhead didn’t even have its own glass worker, but had to trade for one to come down from Turtle Rock or Thousand Groves. Truly the humans had the gift of building. But the stench forced him to cover his mouth and nose.
The next house over had lights on. He pressed his face to the hazy glass. A man sat at a table writing. Rolls of papers were stacked on the table. The rest of the house was dark. The man dipped his pen in an inkwell and kept scribbling. Was this the town scribe? Spicy had been staring for a moment when a shape rose from the opposite side of the window. It was a dog with pointy ears. Without warning it barked. Spicy drew back and almost tripped as he stepped off the sidewalk. The dog continued to make an awful racket. The man rose from the table and walked towards the window. Spicy turned and ran.
Soon more dogs were barking. It was as if they were everywhere and in every house.
He slogged
through the ankle-deep mud, heading up the avenue. But ahead of him came trudging a pair of men holding brilliant lanterns. They had a dog on a leash that was pulling them along.
“Ho, there!” one of the men shouted.
Spicy ducked down an alleyway between two houses. Barking and shouts echoed around him. Heaps of garbage were stacked up along the sides of both homes. Spicy stumbled over some of the rubbish and landed in a pile of stinking trash. The alley got brighter as the men turned the corner.
“Stop!”
Spicy slipped as he scrambled but got his footing. The dog with the men began to make a baying sound. He raced around a corner and ran through a back garden partitioned off with a short wire fence. He vaulted into another rear lot. Lights shone down from the nearest homes.
A back door was thrown open and a human stared at him.
Spicy climbed the next fence and landed on the sidewalk of a street. Around him were more alleys and more homes. The town felt like a maze. It sounded like packs of dogs were closing in on him from all sides. Soon he would be surrounded and torn to shreds.
There was a dark space beneath the boardwalk across from him. He dove forward and elbow crawled through the mud. He could hear the men running, first in the dirt, then their footsteps pounding on the planks above him. Their dog was grunting and making a choked bark.
“Did you actually see someone?” a man asked.
“Yeah. Looked like a gob,” the other answered.
“Probably headed for the wall, then.”
The footsteps moved down the boardwalk. Spicy was holding his breath. Their indistinct voices fell away. Other dogs in the neighborhood continued to bark, but none of them seemed to be outside. There was no one else around. For now. But at any moment the men might return.
He extracted himself from his hiding place.
The mud covered him head to toe. His skin was itching and his eyes burned. He headed the opposite direction of the guards and kept off the sidewalk. The cold mud seeped in through his shoes as he trotted along. Fewer dogs were barking in his immediate vicinity, then none at all.
Goblin Apprentice Page 3