The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Promise me you won’t kill us,” Spicy said. “I can redraw all of these exactly as they were.”

  Lord gazed at him much like a snake would a mouse. Then he smiled. From his saddlebag he produced a book. Spicy’s heart sank when he saw it appeared to be identical to the one Somni had destroyed. Lord opened to a page.

  “Draw. And no mistakes. I’ll know.”

  Spicy nodded and adjusted the knife in his grip. It would be awkward working with his left hand. He began to scratch at the rock where the glyph had been drawn. First he etched two circles. Closed eyes, he decided. The circles had three lashes each on the bottom. He next took one of the pieces of charcoal and filled in the lines.

  Lord looked confused. He shifted his attention between the glyph and the book, flipped a few pages, and tapped his finger. “Very good.” He showed the book to Thistle. “Now what does it mean?”

  She studied the page. “It’s…difficult to tell. These old words are things I was never taught. It will take time.”

  “We’ve wasted more than enough.” He motioned to Blades.

  Blades yanked Spicy to him and touched Spicy’s cheek with the tip of his knife.

  “I’ll tell you,” Spicy said. “Somni taught me more than he ever did her. I’m his apprentice too. She’s a couple years behind me. She might be smarter, but I had more lessons.”

  “He’s lying,” Thistle said. “He doesn’t know anything. Let him go. I’ll decipher it, I promise.”

  “This is the symbol of the eyes of the sages,” Spicy said. “It represents all of them. Their collected wisdom as set before you.”

  The tip of the knife tapped his cheek as he spoke. The men surrounding him were silent. Thistle had tears streaming down her face.

  “Go on,” Lord said.

  “It’s in context with the rest of the rock. The whole rock face, all of it. It’s a book the sages kept. And it’s their greatest secret.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Draw the other ruined glyphs out,” Lord said.

  Blades released him and pushed him down. Spicy studied the other scratch marks. He fought to think as he tried to recall what the last one had been. A cloud or the sun?

  But then he remembered he had seen the shape of the glyph in the ruined book from Thurten’s library.

  Three pieces of snow falling from a cloud.

  Using the knife, he etched it in and darkened the lines with the charcoal. His wounded arm with the arrow made crouching down to the face of the stone difficult. He forced himself to ignore the pain. Thought of Thistle. Knew he had to get this right for either of them to survive, even as he cursed Sage Somni for his leaving them.

  “This one’s done,” he whispered. “It’s snow. But the symbol designates altitude, so never anyplace where snow doesn’t fall. It’s a modifier. Like an adjective.”

  “Continue,” Lord said.

  He nodded. He was feeling woozy.

  “He’s leaking on your goblin art,” Blades said.

  Lord ignored him.

  Spicy went on to the next glyph. Rocks or a pass between two peaks. The scratches Somni had made barely obscured the faded glyph. Spicy worked at deepening the original marks and filled it in until it was restored and perfect. He blew dust from the grooves and leaned back. Lord was paging through his book and studying the new mark.

  Without prompting, Spicy moved on to the first glyph that had been defaced.

  It had been a lizard with two eyes.

  Somni had been most thorough in obliterating the glyph. And Spicy hadn’t gotten a good look before the sage had gone to work.

  He hesitated.

  Then he realized the mark was familiar. It had been one of the features on the master map in Somni’s library. It had been right above Mother Mountain. Not a lizard, but a dragon. The glyph on the stone was a simplified version but the strongest lines were there. The dragon had been a stylized mark on the map, an artistic flourish by the mapmaker next to the compass rose, hadn’t it?

  Yet it featured on the stone face of Spirit Rock, as much a piece of the puzzle as the rest of the glyphs. Somni had deemed it important enough to destroy first. It wasn’t just a word or a letter in a greater message.

  It was the key to it all.

  “You hesitate,” Lord said. Book at the ready, he crouched down next to Spicy. “Perhaps I can help. Show me.”

  “This is the treasure,” Spicy said.

  He drew the dragon.

  He hadn’t realized he had fainted.

  Thistle knelt with him and held his head in her lap. A gnawing pain radiated up and down his right arm, running from his fingertips to his neck and through his body.

  She pressed a canteen to his lips. His throat was parched, but his sister only allowed him the smallest sip. He tried to speak. She shushed him.

  Blades stood nearby, watching. Lord was busy walking around the glyphs. A ring of lanterns were burning, but the dog and most of the other humans were gone.

  “Where’s Rime?” Spicy asked. “The children?”

  “Worry about them later.”

  “Thistle,” Lord called. “Put him down and finish your work. You have much to do here.”

  “Care for my brother first.”

  Lord walked over. Spicy thought he might strike her.

  “Medico is coming with the medical supplies,” Lord said. “He’ll care for him. Now to your task.”

  The raiders’ doctor finally arrived. His eyes were wide as he took in the glyphs. The man began to whisper under his breath. “We shouldn’t be up here,” he said.

  Lord sighed. “You’ve aired your complaints several times. Duly noted. Now keep that goblin from bleeding out.”

  Medico opened his bag and laid out his supplies next to Spicy. There were bundles of bandages, tools, a few small bottles, and wrapped packets of things that smelled rancid.

  “He’s awake,” Medico said. “Pity.”

  He first tried to snip the arrowhead off. The wriggling of the shaft in Spicy’s arm was almost more than he could endure. He began to thrash and cry. Thistle tried to hold him still.

  “Just yank it out,” Blades said.

  Medico stopped fiddling with the arrow. “Blades, the next time you have an arrow in you, I’m going to let it fester unless you get down here and help.”

  Blades had a disgusted look on his face as he crouched down. “He’s sticky.”

  “Blood does that. Now hold him. I’m going to have to use the saw.”

  “No…not my arm,” Spicy said weakly.

  “Shhh,” Thistle whispered. She had her hand on his head. She kissed him and continued to murmur soft words as Medico set to work. The pain only increased. Thistle gave him her leather belt to bite down on. Spicy tried to abstract the cutting noises and waited for darkness to envelop him. But he remained awake for the whole procedure, thrashing and kicking against the hands that held him down.

  Finally the sawing and tugging stopped.

  “Looks like one of Alma’s arrows,” Medico said, holding up the feathered half of a missile. He flung it away. The sharp tip came next and it too was tossed aside.

  Spicy could finally see his arm. It hadn’t been removed. It was soaked through with blood, but the wound was being packed with bandages.

  Blades wiped his hands on Spicy’s coat. Meanwhile Medico drizzled a few drops of liquid around the wound. An astringent smell stung Spicy’s nose and then a fresh burning sensation seized his arm.

  “Allow me to go gather moss for his wound,” Thistle said.

  “You’ll give him an infection,” Medico said. “We’ll put an iron in a campfire below. Then I can cauterize the bleeding.”

  “It won’t take but a minute.”

  “Time for that later,” Lord said. “Your brother will live. Now take the pencil and book and transcribe everything you see.”

  Spicy was left alone. The stone beneath him remained warm from the day’s sun, but he felt a chill as a cool breeze washed over him. He foug
ht the urge to pass out. He strained his ears as Lord asked about each symbol that Thistle drew in the notebook. But his words grew faint and distant.

  He was uncertain how much time had passed. It felt like both an instant and an eternity. His arm throbbed, the pain keeping him anchored to the now. One of the humans was helping him stand. Spicy’s legs couldn’t support him so the man scooped him into his arms.

  Spicy saw it was the bald human named Oren. He actually had a smile on his face that hinted at kindness.

  “Lucky,” Oren said. “Drowned. Shot. And now you’ve survived Medico. Let’s hope your luck holds out for all our sakes.”

  “Wait,” Spicy whispered.

  Oren paused. “What is it, little gob?”

  Spicy nodded vaguely at Thistle and Lord. The two had moved to the center of the circle. Thistle was busily drawing on one of the pages of the book.

  “Can you climb a little higher so I can see better?”

  “I’m supposed to take you down to our horses.”

  “Please. It will take just a minute.”

  There was a high granite cliff above the stone, but a few smaller rocks were easily climbed by the long-legged human. In moments Spicy could see the entirety of the rock floor and its drawings in the orange glow. Thistle was finishing one glyph and turning the page.

  “Context,” Spicy whispered.

  “What’s that?” Oren asked.

  “Context. Location. Like words in a sentence. Don’t you see?”

  It was clear the bald human had no idea what he was talking about. But Spicy had finally realized what all the markings were. Not only did the rock face bear similar and identical glyphs to the master map, but it was itself a map, and not a book as he had told Lord.

  Spicy found the strength to smile before collapsing into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Thistle was putting pressure on Spicy’s wound.

  The gnawing discomfort pushed away the blessed relief of hazy unconsciousness. Seeing her face above him kept him from crying out. For a moment he thought she might be his mother, that he was in his bed back home in Boarhead, that all of the past weeks were nothing but a nightmare.

  He’d be scolded for sleeping late and playing sick before being sent to do his chores.

  But then the other sounds of the camp began to register.

  The humans had bedded down on the rocky slope near Spirit Rock. It was late. A few fires still burned, although the moon had vanished as stars peered down through gaps between black clouds. But even in the faint light he could see that the camp was much smaller than what the raiders had previously set.

  Not all the humans had come up the mountain.

  Thistle got him to sit up. He probed his arm. The dressing Medico had applied was peeled away. Thistle held her hand over the wound and pressed a wad of tree moss against it.

  “Don’t move,” she said. “Let it crust.”

  Spicy knew the routine. He had received his share of cuts and scrapes as a child, but never anything so deep. The right type of moss could be used to aid the healing of the worst injuries, as hunters sometimes were gored by boars’ tusks, there were accidents with axes and cutting tools, and fishhooks pierced fingers and hands. Boys and girls were taught the basics of sutures and the treatment of simple wounds from the youngest ages.

  Spicy couldn’t see the stitchwork Medico had performed and decided for the moment he didn’t want to. His stomach grumbled.

  “Is there food?”

  “They gave us each a dried biscuit.”

  The thought of powering through another piece of desiccated bread made him gag.

  She picked up a handful of torn white plant matter. “Here. I found these when Lord let me pick moss. It’s conk. There are other things all around us we could boil if they’d let me have a pot. But they don’t want any of us near the fire while they’re cooking. They think I’ll poison them.”

  Spicy took a few pieces of the shredded conk and chewed. It tasted earthy and bitter and he wished it could be fried with onions and some deer fat. But Huntmaster Sorrel had taught them to eat what they could forage as they found it, as this would sustain them on even the longest hunts. So he ate.

  “How much does he know?” Spicy asked.

  “Not so loud. He’s nearby. You shouldn’t have shown him anything.”

  “I don’t care about Somni’s secrets or any of the other sages. Somni left just before the humans attacked. He knew. He had to. He could have warned us.”

  “I don’t believe it and you don’t know that. Of course he would have warned us.”

  “Okay. Let’s pretend he didn’t know. But with Father’s hunting party so late, there had to be something wrong. Yet he was preparing to leave. And for what? None of this is worth Mother and so many others dying. I won’t let that happen to you. So if Lord wants to know what the drawings on the rocks mean, then let’s show him.”

  Lord approached and set a lamp down in front of Spicy and Thistle. He sat on the ground and studied both goblins. “Your lorekeeper is dead. But here I have two apprentices.” He paged through his book. “Yet now we’re at the end of the thread and I wonder, what does it all mean?”

  “We’ve shown you all that we can,” Thistle said.

  “Have you now?”

  “All the writings have brought you this far. We’ve never set eyes on this place. It’s sacred. Only the sages come here. It will take time to understand it.”

  “Your brother here plies the glyphs with a practiced hand.”

  Thistle’s jaw tightened. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  Spicy cleared his throat. “It won’t take as long as she says. Our sage taught me things she doesn’t know.”

  “Apparently,” Lord said. “Which means one of the two of you is lying.” The implied threat in Lord’s tone hung heavy in the air.

  “We’re not lying. Sage Somni just didn’t share all his secrets with either of us. Thistle and I are cooperating. What else do you want?”

  “Watch your tone, goblin,” Lord said. “Even now your skin mends and your blood clots. A wound like that might have cost one of my men his arm.”

  Goblins bled and died like men. What was Lord raving about?

  Lord continued paging through the book. “Here are all the glyphs we recorded. Now you’re going to help me figure out what it all means. A treasure, you say. Please elaborate.”

  Spicy licked his lips. “I only know some. But your mistake is writing them down. They carry power. But all the power is lost when you put it on the page.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “Take me back up to the rock.”

  Lord only hesitated for a moment. Then he called Blades over. “Watch her close.”

  Blades was chewing the gristle off a rabbit leg. He tossed it away as he approached. “Aren’t you going to chain that one up? He’s slippery.”

  “He knows what we’ll do to his sister if he runs again.”

  Lord grabbed a lantern and guided him up the trail to Spirit Rock. With the single source of light, the stone face felt like another world. The big human moved around the circle, pausing at each glyph.

  “May I?” Spicy held his good hand out for the lantern. When Lord handed it over, he passed by the glyphs until he came to the eye and lowered the lamp so Lord could clearly see.

  “Our village.” He next moved across the rock to the symbol with the lips. There were other glyphs he had never seen before and he could only hope Lord wouldn’t ask about them. “This is the last village near here. That brought you here to this. The raised rock. This place.” He pointed down at the next glyph. “But then next comes these.” The rest of the glyphs in line were the two peaks, the snow, and then the dragon.

  “Oren told me what you told him,” Lord said. “A map. So it’s leading us further up.”

  “You know?”

  “Parsing truth takes time, little goblin. And I’ve dealt with liars all my life. You can drop the act. We bot
h know there is no goblin horde. What I seek is so much more valuable. So what distance are we talking about here? I don’t think there’s any indication of scale.”

  Spicy digested the words before answering. “Close. It could be as close as the last village is to this place.”

  “You’re guessing.” Lord took the lantern.

  “I have to. The best maps were in Sage Somni’s library.”

  The next morning they were woken early. Once again Spicy was climbing, this time along a stream bank and stony wash that led high above Spirit Rock and into the mountains beyond.

  Spicy counted a total of seventeen men and horses. Rime and the goblin children weren’t among them. When he tried to ask Black Tooth about them, he was cuffed and told to keep quiet.

  Thistle was again chained to Lord’s horse, but the leader of the raiders was on foot and leading his animal over the treacherous ground.

  A sharp whistle sounded up ahead. Alma appeared, waving them up along a narrow ledge. Lord returned the signal and the men moved on.

  A chilled mist was falling by midday when they reached a crest and were able to see the granite fields before them. The ground let up plumes of white. The air smelled of spoiled eggs. Jagged formations of rock rose everywhere around them like an army of stone sentinels. Only sparse vegetation grew, and there were no birds or signs of game.

  Spicy tried to make it to his sister but Black Tooth ordered him to sit. He plopped to the ground and waited. His arm was in a makeshift sling, but it continued to hurt terribly.

  Oren and a few of the other men were clustered around Medico. He was muttering in a low tone and moving his hands as if fidgeting.

  Lord was studying a glass-and-gold compass and looking at the land around them.

  “I’ll break them up,” Blades said.

  “Let them have their ritual today. Then we keep moving east.” He climbed up onto his saddle behind Thistle and eased his horse forward. The flat ground made riding once again possible. After a few minutes of surveying the nearby terrain, he barked for the men to mount up and continue.