“That’s not what we’re here for,” Blades said.
Lord shot him a look before taking the book back. “Spirit Rock. Treasure Rock. It’s not just a figurative place, is it?”
When Thistle didn’t answer, Lord pushed Rime towards Blades. The other children were forced to stumble along, as they were all connected by their chain. Rime squealed and began to sob. Blades took him by the collar and waved the tip of his knife about.
“It doesn’t say,” Thistle said. “Not in this book anyway. Please.”
“But your sage knows. And maybe that’s where and the other sages fled to? This Spirit Rock? Which means a sage in training would eventually be shown where it is. Or if she was bright, might guess. I already know their meeting place lies to the east. Somewhere near your Mother Mountain. It’s a large area and difficult to navigate. You’ll tell me where we need to go.”
“But I’d only be guessing.”
“Then guess correctly.”
Thistle hesitated and then nodded.
Lord made a sweeping gesture and his men grabbed the goblin captives and brought them on board one of the boats. At least half the horses were already standing on the boats, with the rest ready to be loaded.
The sentry with the pipe walked past with the dog. It growled and tugged on its length of rope in Spicy’s direction. There was no clear path to the boats without being seen.
He needed the troll.
Spicy crept back to the road. With the dog no longer there, it was easy. Once he was past the meadow he ran as fast as he could. When the hill came in view, he began shouting Hog’s name.
Chapter Sixteen
He and Hog stood in the shadows of the abandoned camp and watched the boats heading out into the water. They all had masts and single sails, but men also stood to each side and poled the crafts along.
“We can go around the sea to the north,” Spicy said. “I’ve seen the maps. Maybe we can get there first if we hurry. Or we make a raft. There’s enough loose wood.” He looked at the few pieces of gathered firewood that lay unburned. It was nothing more than a collection of branches and sticks. He returned to the water’s edge.
In all the charts of the world he had pored over, the size of the sea was well marked, and he knew it would take many days on foot just to make the northernmost point. And then how far was it down the eastern shore before they would get to wherever the humans were going?
“Okay, scratch that. We go back to where the fishermen were at the last village. They have boats. I can row it.” But the troll was huge and none of the tiny goblin boats would hold her. And what did he know about moving across water? The tides gently lapped at the rocks of the shore. But there could be wind. Storms, even.
“Time to follow,” Hog said and she waded into the water.
“Wait. What about me? I can’t just stay here.”
He almost jumped when she scooped him up and deposited him on her shoulder. He clung to her head as she pushed forward, soon waist-deep and then submerged to her armpits. Then she was swimming. Her breaststroke and broad kicks caused her to bob almost completely under before she was once again pushing out of the rolling sea. But with each motion she propelled them towards the departing boats.
Spicy coughed and gasped. Cold water slapped at him from all sides. He raised his head as high as possible and held tight to her hair. Then suddenly Hog was once again wading as she rose onto what must have been a submerged sandbar.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t drown Meat. Much.”
She chortled as she once again plunged forward into deeper water.
They were swimming into a low mist. The land behind had vanished. Spicy shivered and looked around desperately for some sign of the shore in any direction. Panic set in when he couldn’t find the boats. It took all his strength to hang on. Soon Hog was swimming deeper under the water’s surface. He had to fight to catch mouthfuls of air.
The water stank and stung his eyes. But there were shapes up ahead. The boats. The rearmost vessel held the hulking figure of the male troll.
Then Hog dove and didn’t come up.
Spicy gripped her hair as long as he could but his lungs burned and he had to let go. For one panicked moment he couldn’t tell which way was up as he spun. Then he rose to the surface, spitting and coughing. A moan escaped his lips as he fought to stay afloat and struggled to breathe. Waves crashed against his face.
“H-H-Hog!” he croaked.
He was swallowing water. Hog was nowhere in sight. But the boats were. He clawed his way forward, desperate for anything to hold on to. His short legs kicked and it took all his effort to make any progress.
Then the boats vanished as a wave slapped his face. Darkness enveloped him. The was no more air.
Sinking.
Something metal and hard hooked him under one arm. He was drawn upward and could suddenly breathe again, even as a racking cough pushed water from his throat.
“What is it?” a voice asked. “Some kind of dog?”
“Yeah,” laughed the man holding the hook. “A gob dog. Alma! Alma! Did we lose one of the gobs?”
Alma’s voice was distant as she shouted from another boat. “They’re all here. He’s not one of ours.”
Hands grabbed him and he was pulled onto the hard deck of a boat. Never had wood beneath him felt so good.
“Hey, gob. Why you swimming out there?”
“Little runt was following us,” Blades said. “I remember this one. He slipped away when the troll attacked. Lord has his sister. Isn’t that touching?”
Spicy wiped the water from his eyes and tried to get his coughing and shivering under control, but it proved impossible.
Blades moved closer through the men and sat on a bench next to Spicy. “You’ve been chasing us all the way over the mountain? Impressive. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Spicy could only gasp as he greedily sucked in air.
“Throw him over. We don’t need him.”
“Wait,” Spicy panted. “I came to warn—” More coughs. One of them men grabbed him by the shoulders. “Warn you. There’s a troll.”
“Yeah, we know about the troll. Bad news all around. I’m sure there’s enough stray goblins in the woods to feed him.” Blades jerked a thumb towards the water.
“No, it’s coming. Here. It’s under the boats right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
The horses in the back of the boat started to shift and neigh, and their hard hooves clattered on the deck. One of the men moved to ease them. The water around the boats began to swirl. Suddenly the vessel ahead of theirs lifted and tipped precariously forward on its bow. Men, horses, and gear spilled into the waves as the boat dropped back down. A green fist rose from the foamy sea and smashed down on one flailing raider. A massive form rose and then sank and swam towards another boat, where the male troll was hunched in back.
“Archers!” Alma was shouting.
The men on Spicy’s boat were busy grabbing for bows. They had to take a moment to string them. Meanwhile the submerged troll was gaining speed. She struck the stern of the ship, causing the vessel to lift before slamming back into the water. Then Hog pulled herself onto the back of the ship. The vessel listed as the aft deck dipped. Two men slashed at her with swords. She swatted both into the sea.
“Get Lord to use the explosive clay!” Blades shouted.
“We’ve got this,” Alma answered.
She was on board the boat where Hog now clung. She drew back on the bowstring and fired. The arrow struck Hog in an arm.
Soon more arrows were flying from other archers.
A man next to Spicy nocked an arrow, pulled the string back, and aimed. Spicy wriggled from the man holding him and fell forward into the archer as he fired. The shot missed and struck water. But more of the raiders were now readying arrows. Missiles began to fly and many hit their mark even as Hog slammed another man into the water. Others on the boat under attack jumped away.
She fired an arrow that struck the troll and then burst into flame.
Hog shrieked. It was a deep keen that split the air like a whistle. Her skin was on fire, and she thrashed as more arrows thumped into her flesh. Finally she pitched backward into the sea. The water rippled all around them as horses and men flailed.
But the troll didn’t rise again.
“What the hell?” Blades said as he studied the water. “Where did she come from? How did she catch up to us all the way out here?”
Men and horses continued to thrash. All the raiders on Spicy’s boat remained on full alert, with bows at the ready. But as the churning water settled, they finally began to pull men from the water with their oars and poles. The horses kept trying to clamber on board but couldn’t make their way over the side. Shouts were exchanged between the boats. Men continued to watch the water. On her boat, Alma had lit a torch and remained at the aft deck with her bow in hand.
Soon the men who were in the water had either been saved or were no longer calling for aid. A few had vanished under the waves. The horses took many long minutes in drowning. Spicy held his hands to his ears to block out the animals’ final cries and sputters.
The archer next to Spicy grabbed him and hauled him to the side. “This one made me miss.”
Blades drew his knife. “Like I said, we don’t need him. Let’s see how he swims with his guts tangled around his legs.”
“Hold on,” another said. It was the man who had pulled Spicy from the water. He was bald but for a crown of gray hair around the sides of his head. “He warned us about the troll.”
“So?” Blades tried to move around the man but was blocked.
“It means he’s lucky,” the bald raider said. “We burned that exact glyph in front of the boat last night. You can’t ignore it.”
“Watch me. Remember your place.”
“Put the knife away, sir,” another raider said. “Oren’s right. The goblin’s lucky. And you don’t flick your chin at good luck.”
Blades looked from face to face. “Tell that to the men who drowned.” He put the knife away and retreated to the back deck.
A signal from the lead boat got the men to go to their poles and oars. The man named Oren threw Spicy down on top of some of the gear near the horses. The goblin slave Spicy had spoken to was nearby, chained to a bench with an oar in hand.
“Which boat were the others on?” Spicy asked.
The goblin just shook his head.
“Be quiet,” Oren ordered. He grabbed an oar and helped propel their boat along through the water.
Spicy rose and clung to the boat as if steadying himself. Oren kept watching him. Other men were looking too. The horses at the foredeck had calmed. Raiders spoke consolingly to them as if the beasts were children upset by a thunderstorm.
Past them Spicy saw three marks burned into the wood. Two were faded but the third looked fresh.
Glyphs.
While Spicy couldn’t make out the details, he knew what they were for. The men believed they gave protection. Lucky. That’s what the human had called him. So the last glyph added to the boat was one for luck.
He turned towards the water. Amid the frothy wake of the boats, there was no sign of Hog. She was gone and he had warned the humans just to save his own skin. The ruined book he had taken from Sage Thurten’s library had slipped out of his waistband somewhere during his swim. He still had the pliers, but that meant little to him at the moment.
Not lucky, he thought. Not lucky at all.
Chapter Seventeen
The raiders rowed the boats straight into the stony beach. The men on board hadn’t let their guard down. Weapons remained at the ready as the boats were hauled halfway on shore so that only their sterns remained afloat.
The dog bounded off the lead boat and began to explore the beach with her nose. The first men who followed surveyed the trees and rocks uphill before whistling a signal. Using wooden mallets, the men staked ropes into the rocky ground. The crews went into motion, hauling out planks that bounced and bowed as the boats began to be unloaded.
Blades pushed past the men burdened with provisions and hiked up the slope of the beach, where he paced as he watched the others work. Alma remained on the back of her boat and scanned the water. But the sea was quiet.
Spicy tried to catch a glimpse of his sister. Lord’s massive figure was visible as he guided his own horse down a plank. He then personally handled his own saddle and bags, which he placed on his horse with care.
Rime appeared. He carried a load on his shoulder and moved past the raider leader. Spicy watched for signs of Thistle or the children.
“Lucky doesn’t mean you get to be lazy,” Oren said.
He pulled Spicy up and shoved an oiled leather pack into his arms. The pack was heavy and Spicy nearly dropped it. The other goblin was already busy pitching the boat’s gear over the side and to the beach below.
Spicy followed suit and pushed his own load down to the beach. But the next bundle was almost impossible to lift. The other goblin was having less of a problem.
“Hey,” Spicy said, getting his attention. “You get one end, I’ll get the other.”
The other goblin appeared unconvinced but took one end of a pack. Together they swung it over the side before moving on to the next. Soon they were finished. Once the last of the horses was off, Spicy was led down the plank.
Solid ground never felt so good.
Lord was up the slope next to Blades. They studied a map. Next to Lord’s horse stood Thistle, a leash connecting her neck to the saddle’s pommel.
There was so much activity. No one seemed to be paying any attention to Spicy. He was starting up the beach when Alma blocked his way.
Bow around her shoulder, she still held an arrow in one hand and she pointed it at him. “You escaped us when we got ambushed by that troll. So how is it you found us out in the middle of the water?”
“I stole a skiff from the goblin fishing village,” Spicy said.
“Did you now?”
“Yes! It’s the truth. The troll came out of nowhere and sank my boat. I swam towards you as fast as I could.”
Some of the men unpacking the gear paused to listen, Oren among them.
“Then why didn’t we hear that?” Alma asked.
“I don’t know,” he stammered. “Your horses? The sound of the oars? The troll rose up and my boat went under. It happened so fast. That’s all I know.”
“You’re a brave one, aren’t you? Trying to save your little savage friends. But you led that troll straight to us. We lost five men in the water, and seven horses.”
“The little gob warned us,” Oren said. “He’s lucky. We burned a glyph and he shows up. If he hadn’t, it might have been much worse.”
Alma grabbed Spicy by the neck and dragged him up the shore to Lord and Blades.
“Why is he still alive, again?” Blades asked.
“Because the men think he saved us from the troll,” Alma said. “They think he’s lucky.”
“Perhaps he is,” Lord said in his deep voice. “Our fates are never entirely our own, are they? What do you have to say for yourself, little goblin? Are you lucky?”
Spicy didn’t know what to say. Thistle watched and shook her head ever so slowly. She put a finger to her lips.
“Yes, I am,” Spicy said, forcing himself to stand erect and look Lord in the eyes. “I’ve survived your raid on my village, the troll ambush, almost drowning, and now I’m here. If you want to find where the sage went, you’ll need my help as much as hers.”
A smile crept across Lord’s face that chilled Spicy. It was the grin of a rattlesnake about to strike. Then he let out a laugh.
“So be it,” Lord said. “If the men want a luck charm, then we’ll bring him along. But remember, goblin, we make our own luck here. Because you didn’t do much for your village, did you?”
Blades grabbed him and before he knew it, Spicy had a collar sl
ipped around his neck and attached to a new length of chain. He was unceremoniously hauled down to the growing collection of equipment.
One of the men started a fire on a stack of driftwood and began making a ring of rocks.
Lord and his two lieutenants continued to confer as they pored over the map. Rime was helping with the last of the gear from his own boat. The five goblin children appeared. They needed help moving down the gangplank. A raider secured them next to a log by the fire. The youngest, the boy Pix, was shivering uncontrollably.
The troll handler goaded Hog’s mate to a patch of sand. Once there, the giant creature was secured with two chains, which were nailed down to a nearby stump. It hunkered down, docile, and appeared to be unaffected by any of the events of the crossing.
Spicy couldn’t help but wonder if the creature was indeed dim, or merely so beaten down it had no more fight left in it.
“Luck,” Lord’s voice boomed.
The men working around the new camp grew silent.
“Luck is what you men believe has led us this far,” he continued. “Luck is perhaps what saved us, in the form of a goblin. I believe you’re free to believe as you wish, whether it’s in the Divine Mother, the Three-Who-Are-One, or in the glyphs which protect you. We’ve been attacked twice by a monstrous creature since coming here. It wasn’t luck which drove it back, but our mettle and our weapons. And it’s not bad luck that lured it to us. Quite simply, it’s a matter of kinship.”
He nodded to Alma. She had her bow at the ready and a loaded quiver around one arm.
“I’ve promised you wealth on top of payment for our raid,” Lord said. “That promise will still be realized.”
Alma pulled back on the bowstring and sent an arrow into the crouching troll’s head. The creature reeled and tried to rise but was held down by its chains.
Lord watched the creature with obvious fascination. “Selling this creature at the markets of Orchard City would have been a fat load of coin for all of us. But this is where we change our luck. How do we do that?”
She fired a second missile. It struck the troll in the chest. The thing howled. Spicy watched in horror, wanting to shut his ears to the awful sound.
The Goblin Reign Boxed Set Page 9