Once Alma slipped outside, Blades closed the door to the hut. She crept through the village with Blades right behind, a long spike of a knife in his hand. She didn’t ask where he got it.
Many of the shacks they passed looked like simple hovels. Downhill they came to a long structure with stucco walls and a solid roof. There were carts parked outside and a stable nearby. Judging by the tracks, the carts ran from here down to the water. The village had to have a dock. The building would hold some clue as to what this village was, but she had a growing suspicion she already knew.
The dragon was the key. Lord’s obsession with what the goblins had learned all led to a monster that was much more than a creature lurking in a cave. The dragon held its own secrets that tied back to the place where her adventures had begun. And if Middle Finger was involved, there was profit to be had.
She went to the door and found it was locked.
“Let’s get out of here,” Blades whispered.
The space between the door and frame was sufficiently wide enough that she managed to work the bolt open with the tiny knife. A pungent chemical odor stung her nose as the door swung open. It was too dark to see inside. She went to one of the carts and found a lantern. A satchel held a bundle of matches—a luxury item for a bunch of mud dwellers.
She lit the lantern and went through the doorway.
A long table was set up with trays holding what looked like soil, clay, and a mixture of straw. A side table had lengths of string, a selection of hand tools, and a set of scales. Stacked along a bench were bundles prepared for shipping. She opened one. It held six clay bombs like the ones Lord had.
“They make this stuff here,” Blades said.
She nodded. Lord had never purchased the bombs but had received them from whoever had hired him. If not Middle Finger, then who was in charge?
Alma found a wheelbarrow and loaded the bombs.
A man entered and froze when he saw them. “What are you people doing in here with fire?”
Blades rushed the man and slammed him against the doorframe. He began to cry out but Blades punched him in the kidney.
“Bring him over here,” Alma said as she closed the door.
Blades yanked the struggling man and hauled him over to a table. He was dressed in a loose shirt with the sleeves pinned back and a leather apron. His face and hands were dirty. Around his neck was a pair of glasses.
“You work here?” she asked.
The man nodded. His eyes were wide as he looked at the knife in her hands.
“Who do you sell these to?” she asked, gesturing to the bombs.
“Middle Finger moves them. We sell to whoever buys.”
“Are you the master here?”
The man looked confused. “N-no. I just oversee production. We mix it according to the recipe.”
“Show me. Show me the recipe book.”
“It’s forbidden.”
Blades began to press his own knife to the man’s throat. The man nodded and indicated the back of the workshop where a rolltop desk held a collection of ledgers.
“The brown book with the ribbon. That’s the one.”
Alma retrieved it and paged through the contents. None of it made much sense. She didn’t know her letters well enough. Even with her lantern it was difficult to see, but she could make out measurements and lists of ingredients.
As she tucked it into her belt, the man said, “You can’t take that.”
“You have family here?”
He shook his head. “It’s just me. Please…”
She shushed him. “Are you one of them? A dragon worshipper?”
“No.”
“How many pirates live here?”
“None do. They’re forbidden from staying. They only come when there’s a shipment to move.”
Alma nodded. Then she studied the man. “What are they paying you?”
The man’s jaw trembled. “Copper a day plus room and board.”
“I’m offering you ten times that. You’re coming with me. If you decide to decline, you can come back here tomorrow and live in filth. But for now, you’re going to be quiet. Do I need to gag and restrain you?”
He shook his head.
Blades mouthed, “What are you doing?”
Alma ignored him. She extinguished the lamp and escorted Blades and her new employee outside. She followed them with the wheelbarrow, stopping to fill a sack with three bombs.
“The two of you go down to the water. There’s a boat down there, right?”
The man nodded. “Yes, there’s a dinghy.”
“We’ve done enough to attract attention,” Blades said. “Forget your bow. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking how much more profit there is to make when you eliminate the competition. Oh, and Blades, if I’m not back in fifteen minutes…”
“I know, leave.”
“No. If you leave without me, I’m going to find you and flay you alive from the feet up. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, I want to you start blowing things up.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Spicy slammed the double doors. Even as he slid the metal bolt shut, he heard pounding as the dragon worshippers outside shouted to be let in.
In the chamber behind him, the dragons continued to tear at each other. Fath was on top of his brother, one foot on Mach’s face and the other slashing with talons and sending blood splattering across the room. Mach was on his back, all four feet madly scratching at Fath.
But Mach was moving slower and slower. Fath now had a foot on Mach’s throat. The obese creature kicked futilely as Fath leaned down with all his might. Then Mach belched a jet of steam into Fath’s face. Fath recoiled, releasing his brother and backing away. Mach rolled over and backed against the wall. He was panting hard, his mouth hanging open, spit and blood drizzling down his face.
Fath snarled and swiped at the air while clenching both eyes shut. He was completely blind. He backed away to the opposite side of the chamber, knocking coffers and displays over as he went.
Behind Spicy, the door shuddered as the men on the other side began to strike at it with something heavy.
“Open the door, goblin,” Mach said. He was panting and struggling to catch his breath.
Spicy shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I’m ordering you. Open it!”
“I won’t let you kill my master.”
Mach let out a weak laugh. “Your master was already dead. You think hiding in his hole was any kind of life? The door, please.”
Spicy waited, his back to the bar where the wood was now buckling and creaking with each blow from the other side.
“Such loyalty, brother,” Mach said. “Amazing, really. Perhaps you’re correct in allowing these creatures access to what you know. This is your last chance. You’ll submit. I promise to make you as comfortable as possible. Perhaps over time, you’ll regain your liberty and we can enjoy our twilight years together. But I do need you to lie down and surrender.”
Fath was breathing heavy. “How many others of us have you slain?”
“You mean murdered? Let’s not mince words. You would have been the third. I was hoping you’d be the one who broke the pattern. You’d have all that you know die with you rather than set it down for the ages. You’ve forgotten the spirit of the pact. It’s to preserve knowledge. Your way only postponed its loss.”
Fath bowed his head. His entire body trembled. Scores of wounds bled dark.
“Now on the floor with you. And don’t try to breathe your hot air at me or I’ll be forced to put a hole in your throat. Trust me when I tell you it will be painful and not at all fatal. You’ll still be able to share what you know, but your singing voice will be spoiled, to be certain. Now tell your slave to open the door.”
Spicy grabbed a decorative sword that had been knocked to the floor. The flimsy weapon was gilded and set with shining stones along its guard and handle. The thin metal of the blade looked like it would bend or break the f
irst time it struck anything.
“Open it, goblin,” Mach said.
“I won’t. If you want to get this door open, you’ll have to come through me.”
Mach heaved a sigh and began to lurch towards him. As he moved, his body crushed a small chair. Coins and baubles clattered and jingled as he moved across them.
“Troublesome creature.”
Without warning, Fath sprang at him and landed on Mach’s back. Both sets of front claws dug into Mach’s throat and neck. Fath bit down, sinking his teeth into his brother’s flesh. Mach let out a horrible scream and began to spin about, trying to dislodge Fath. But the harder Mach thrashed about, the tighter Fath clung to him. Mach continued to howl until Fath buried his face and tore away a mouthful of gore.
Mach collapsed. White steam rose from the gaping wound in his neck. His body shuddered and grew still.
Fath spat a wad of meat onto the floor. His mouth and face were covered with red. Both eyes remained shut. He was quivering and he stumbled to one side before falling with a crash.
Spicy dropped the sword and ran to his side. Fath groaned as he breathed. Too many wounds covered his body.
The assault on the door continued until the wood splintered. Half of one door was now cracked. A man wearing a white robe and holding one of the massive crossbows pushed his way in.
“Master!” he cried.
Then he looked at Fath and Spicy. He raised his weapon. Spicy moved to block Fath’s body with his own. The weapon would fire and would drive its bolt straight through him and it would still hit Fath. But Spicy didn’t move.
“What have you done?” the man asked.
“I’m his apprentice,” he began to say. But before he could speak, an explosion ripped through the outer chamber and all the lights were knocked out, sinking the chamber into blackness.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Alma knew going back through the village was stupid. It would be tricky enough stealing a boat without being caught. The dragon worshippers must guard their dock, and splitting up when it was just her and Blades was pure foolishness, not to mention they had a prisoner who might still cause trouble.
But she wouldn’t have ever left Lamb and the orphanage if she had been risk-averse. Everyone who lived there deserved their fate as victims and targets of bandits. Because that was what everyone in the world was who didn’t rise to seize what they wanted.
And she wanted so much.
The cooking fire in the village center had died down and no one was around. She waited and listened but the only sounds and light came from up the hill. Then a roar echoed from what appeared to be the opening to a mine. A cluster of white-robed men and women stood around outside with torches. Alma got within earshot.
The girl in white was shouting orders. The ferocious cries of the dragon continued to explode from the cave. It sounded like it was either killing someone or being killed.
She couldn’t help but smile.
Two men ran past, both carrying giant crossbows, the kind she had seen mounted on tripods and never fired by hand. A hard banging commenced from inside. They were shouting at someone to open a door.
“Break the door down!” the girl cried. She stood at the back of the group, holding Alma’s bow. Everyone’s full attention was on what was going on inside the cave.
Alma rose and walked slowly towards the girl. Except for torches and the two crossbows, it didn’t seem like any of the dragon worshippers carried weapons. The girl turned as Alma came near. She was about to cry out when Alma socked her in the face. She fell back, but Alma caught her just long enough to yank the bow from her grip before shoving her to the ground.
The quiver and her arrows were nowhere in sight.
Inside, ten men were working with a beam of wood to smash in a set of doors. The two men with crossbows held their weapons raised. The monster continued to bellow. But then Alma realized it sounded like two monsters.
These people had another dragon.
She found herself cursing Lord anew as the doors broke open.
Alma only hesitated for a moment, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Then, using a lantern hanging on a peg at the entrance, she lit a clay bomb and chucked it into the cave entrance.
Chapter Fifty
A few candles at the edges of the room guttered and resumed burning. But deep shadows now filled the chamber. Dust and smoke clogged the air. A man outside the broken doors was screaming in pain.
Spicy’s ears rang.
Fath lay before him alongside his brother. Spicy placed his hands on the dragon. The skin was very warm. He pushed hard at the creature’s side for any sign of life.
“Master Fath,” he said, but the dragon didn’t stir.
Spicy made his way to Mach. The second dragon’s eyes were half-open and dull. His tongue dangled from his mouth. The floor was sticky under Spicy’s feet.
The entrance beyond the blown-open doors was pitch-black. Except for the screaming man, who was now reduced to groaning, no one else made a sound. As Spicy began to make his way forward, the man let out a sharp cry before falling silent.
Crunching footsteps came through the doorway.
Spicy ducked down. The chamber in its disarray offered a dozen places to hide. But instead he moved to where the man in white had dropped the giant crossbow.
It was heavy. The long bolt still rested in the groove along the top of the weapon’s frame. The string remained taut. Spicy struggled to lift it as he found the trigger and pointed the weapon at the open doors.
The candlelight illuminated a head of white hair. Alma peered inside.
“That looks too big for you,” she said.
Spicy fought to keep his hands steady. “Stay back.”
“Or what? You’re going to shoot me with that thing?”
“Just leave us alone.”
She smirked. Then she nodded at the dragons. “What happened here? Are they dead?”
“One is. My master isn’t. And he won’t be happy to see you.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to do much about it if he does.”
Sweat stung his eyes. He wanted to wipe his face but needed both hands on the crossbow. “What do you want?”
“A dragon’s head. At least that’s what I was planning on settling for.”
“What happened out there?” Spicy asked.
Alma clicked her tongue. “Their luck changed. So are you going to put that ridiculous thing down?”
“I’m going to shoot you if you take one step further.”
“Just one shot with a crossbow. That’s all you get. You know that, right? And if you miss, well, trust me when I say I won’t when it’s my turn.”
He licked his lips. “I won’t miss.”
“I have two bombs in my sack. I’ll need one to clear any of the riff-raff from the village that might be waiting for me outside. Which means I still have one to take you out with. So what do you say you spare us both the grief and let me take my heads? I’ll leave you the bodies. I’m sure they’re worth something. Might be a lot of money for a little goblin like you.”
“You’re not coming in here,” Spicy said.
Alma sighed. “Have it your way.”
A second explosion shook the chamber. The ground and hill above shuddered. Dust trickled down from the ceiling. The explosion sounded much larger than the one that had blasted the entryway.
Alma ducked away from the doorway for a moment. “Damn it, Martin.” She returned to the doorway. “All right, goblin. The dragons are all yours. You survive another day. Maybe luck’s really with you. We’re never going to meet again. But if we do, you better be smart enough to run before I notice you underfoot.”
His arms were trembling so hard, the front of the crossbow wavered up and down. At that moment, if he fired, he was just as likely to strike the ceiling or the floor.
But Alma vanished. He waited for a minute, then two, then he finally set the crossbow down and had to fight not to throw up.
>
Spicy had erected a makeshift barrier on which he could rest the crossbow. Then he settled in. When the humans came, he’d at least hit the first one who stepped through the doorway.
A few minutes later, another distant explosion shook the chamber. He waited. No one came.
When Fath’s side puffed up, he nearly jumped. Then the dragon let out a slow exhale before beginning to breathe.
“Master Fath?”
Fath smacked his mouth and raised his head. His remaining eye was closed tight, the skin around the socket blistered. “I can’t see. My brother?”
“To your right. Will he also wake up?”
The dragon crawled across the floor to Mach’s body. He pressed an ear to the enormous dragon’s chest before lying down next to him.
“He has perished,” Fath said.
“What do we do now? Master Fath?”
Fath didn’t answer. Soon Spicy heard the steady sounds of slumber.
Torchlight became visible in the entry hall. Spicy readied himself behind the crossbow. The girl in white appeared in the doorway, torch in hand. She was alone.
Her eyes went wide when she took in the carnage.
“Stay back,” Spicy said.
She ignored him and rushed to Mach. Her hands ran along the body until finally she came to his blood-crusted nose and mouth. She collapsed to her knees, weeping.
The crossbow slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor. Spicy tried to pick it up.
“Your master yet lives?” the girl asked, as if finally aware he was even there.
The bolt had rolled off the top of the weapon. As Spicy struggled with it, his forearm touched the trigger and the weapon snapped and dry fired. He almost dropped it again. With the weapon aimed down, he tried to draw the string back but couldn’t budge it.
Fath let out a long sigh. The girl jumped up, a hand to her mouth. She then bowed before him.
Spicy set the crossbow aside. “You people serve your dragon?”
“We are devoted. We recognize their superiority. Their all.”
“But you were willing to kill my master.”
Goblin Apprentice Page 22