The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The man he indicated was quite a bit older and somewhat fat. He and the others didn’t appear particularly pleased to be going out on the water in the middle of the night, but they didn’t complain. The hands who were readying the oars and carrying a few baskets of provisions seemed capable.

  “I’ll need a few special items, Captain. I trust you can get them for me.”

  “What else do you need?”

  When she told him he nodded and even smirked. He sent a runner off to find what she had asked for.

  “Are we going, or what?” Blades asked. He was waiting in the bow and scanning the water. “I don’t even see them.”

  “We’ll be rowing. We’ll catch them.”

  She went to the guards, who were watching them. The archers had full quivers of arrows. She relieved each man of his quiver. They only looked to the captain as they handed them over. Soon two men came and placed her special-request items into the bow.

  “It’s against my judgment to let you leave,” the captain said. “Just don’t forget we have hostages if you think about stealing this boat for your own and not coming back to pay what you owe.”

  “Captain, you’ll have your boat returned,” Alma said. “And take good care of my two men. Because if you don’t, I’ll be back, and it won’t be to return your boat. I’ll be coming for you.”

  ***

  Alma caught sight of the boat to the west of them. Its mast and profile were barely visible in the diffuse moonlight, a mere shadow in the fog. They had been rowing her own boat on the sea for hours in a zigzag search pattern. Blades had complained, saying the goblin and his boat would eventually turn north and return to land, but Alma had guessed otherwise.

  She tapped the compass that was fixed to a post near the rudder. The north-pointing arrow didn’t waver as she oriented herself.

  “Oars up,” she whispered.

  She had the six men from Bliss rowing, along with Blades and Vine. All lifted their oars except Blades.

  “They’re here,” he said. “What are we waiting for?”

  “One, keep your voice down. Two, we don’t want to attract the troll’s attention. We went through that once before.”

  He lifted his oar. Alma listened. The water lapped at the sides of their boat. The wall of mist between the boats thickened to the point where the other boat nearly vanished. But it appeared to be floating free and not under power. Blades stood and stretched. The others waited and stared into the haze.

  “A troll, you say?” one of the older rowers asked. He fingered a three-ring pendant. “We weren’t told of any troll.”

  “I’m telling you now. It’s out there. We’ve chased it and hurt it, and this time we’ll finish it. But right now, if they’re not moving we have no idea where it is. So we wait.”

  “We weren’t told we’d be fighting a troll.”

  “You won’t have to worry about fighting. I’ll be doing that. All you have to do is row fast and row well when I give the word.”

  Alma was good at waiting. At hunting. She worked best when alone. There were too many others nearby, breathing too loud, shifting on their benches, making mouth sounds, their clothes rustling, their eyes shining too bright.

  Relief washed over her when a hollow clatter came from the other boat. Voices. A deep grumble came next, the words indistinct, with no attempt by the speaker to keep himself muffled. This was followed by a hollow cough. Too loud for a goblin. The dragon? Or perhaps the troll? Those animals made word sounds to lure people into their caves to be eaten.

  Whichever monster had made the noise, her prey was careless. Unaware of her presence. Studying the fog, she once again caught sight of the high mast. The boat was turning. Again it was underway and heading west, its pace slow. She signaled four of the rowers to put their oars in the water.

  “Softly,” she said. “No noise.”

  They were moving with a current. Maintaining their speed allowed her to rest four rowers at a time. She kept Blades out of the rotation, as he was unable to keep pace.

  By the afternoon they were well into the middle of the sea. With no birds overhead, their exact location was impossible to know. There was barely a breeze, so the sail wouldn’t help. She would have to depend on the rowers.

  She moved to the front of the boat. The two barrels the Bliss guard captain had obtained for her took some effort to pry open. One held a thick pitch, the other a viscous black oil. She began to prepare arrows with swatches of rags speared on the tips.

  “I hope you’ve all gotten the rest you need,” she said. “Blades, I need you up here with weapons ready. Vine, take the rudder. Steer us and keep that boat to our starboard. The six of you to your oars and keep up our speed. If you falter, we get caught by a troll and go into the sea. Any questions?”

  There were none. She gave the signal and the men began rowing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The first arrow stuck into the side of the boat. It was burning. The fire didn’t spread, but the arrow didn’t go out. A wad of flaming goo was stuck to its tip.

  Spicy’s eyes went wide. “Fire! We’re being attacked!”

  The dragon didn’t respond. He was completely curled up and snoring where he had lain all evening and all day.

  Spicy began to slap Fath’s tail.

  An eye opened and glared at him. Then Fath’s eye tracked a second burning missile as it streaked past and landed in the water.

  “What have you done?” Fath asked.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything! There’s another boat and they’re shooting at us!”

  Fath raised his head and gazed into the fog. A third arrow struck the mast. This one caught. The flame began to climb upward.

  “Tell the troll to go faster,” Fath said.

  Keeping his head low, Spicy ran to the front of the boat. He almost tripped on his robe and hiked it up in his hands. The bow line was far ahead of them and the only sign of Hog was her wake. He called her name. She didn’t reply. He climbed up and leaned over the bow and tugged at the rope with all his might.

  Another arrow had set a bundle of sails on fire. Fath wasn’t moving and only stared at the flames.

  Spicy grabbed the burning bundle and pitched it over.

  A boat came across the surface of the sea straight at them. Its oars looked like the legs of some monstrous water bug as they slapped the waves in a smooth, rhythmic motion. At the front of the boat stood Alma, her white hair unmistakable. A lamp burned at her feet. She was readying another arrow. She dipped the tip of the missile in the flame and aimed straight at Spicy. He dove to the deck but the arrow didn’t come. Spicy peeked. The boat was sailing past them and the woman was scanning the water.

  There were bubbles coming from below. He saw Hog under the surface, swimming upward.

  “Stay down under the water!” Spicy yelled.

  He picked up the lid of the barrel. With all his might, he threw it. It sailed over the water and almost hit Alma. Her arrow misfired and hissed as it struck the waves, its flame extinguished. Without a word she rapidly reloaded. This time she pointed the bow in Spicy’s direction. He ducked down again. Her arrow pierced the side of the boat and its tip emerged near his face.

  Hog erupted up out of the water.

  Spicy dared look. “Go back down! She has fire!”

  Hog ejected water from her mouth. “Fire?” she asked. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

  The other boat was past them now and out of Hog’s reach. Alma was pointing and shouting at the men on board her boat. She was running to the stern, a burning arrow in her grip.

  “Dive down now!” Spicy cried.

  Fath raised his head to peer over the side. “Tell your monster to do something.”

  The troll sank into the water. Spicy got down as Alma drew back on her bow. He could only hope that Hog had submerged in time. But then he watched in horror as an arrow struck Fath in the eye. The dragon screamed. He thrashed and twisted. His tail knocked against the mast and almost snappe
d it in half.

  Spicy had to press himself against the deck to avoid getting crushed.

  Fath howled in agony. Dark blood dribbled from the wound. But as he swayed about and tried to dislodge the arrow, a second missile caught him in the chest.

  “Fath, get down!” Spicy called.

  Whether Fath heard him or not, he didn’t know. But the dragon dropped hard onto the deck and writhed.

  Where was the other boat?

  Spicy chanced a glance over the bow. Alma’s boat was still moving away from them but it was slowing. It was drifting into a turn and its rowers had raised their oars. In the haze Alma was only an outline, but Spicy didn’t dare expose himself further to the lethal woman.

  He crawled to Fath. The dragon had braced itself between either side of the boat and he finally pulled the arrow from his eye socket.

  “Fath? Tell me what to do.”

  The dragon trembled and was breathing in deep gasping breaths. He began mewling, a sound that reminded Spicy of a wounded wild pig. Fath’s claw then clutched the arrow in his chest.

  “You can’t just pull it out,” Spicy said. “You’ll bleed too much. I have no way to treat your wounds.”

  The arrow came free with a soft sucking sound. Fath flung it away. Blood flowed from the wound.

  Spicy tried to lean closer and put a hand on the dragon, but Fath knocked him away. He dragged his body to the back of the ship, tremors running through his long form. With great effort, he curled up and clamped a claw over his face and ruined eye.

  The other boat still wasn’t coming closer. He heard voices from the men on board. It sounded like they were arguing. But more fog obscured Spicy’s view. He could see their burning lamp and the vessel’s outline, but even Alma was out of sight. He wouldn’t risk showing himself, so he stayed low as he scanned the water for Hog.

  How had the humans even found them? How could anyone track them over water? And Alma had been prepared to take out both Fath and Hog with the fire arrows.

  The mast still burned. An arrow in the side of the boat had set a swatch of the boat aflame. Spicy grabbed a bucket and leaned over the side to fill it, careful to shield himself from the other boat. It took several bucketfuls to extinguish the fires he could reach, but the top of the mast was lost.

  From the back of the boat the dragon groaned.

  Spicy leaned over the water. “Hog, we have to leave now while we can.”

  But she didn’t answer. There were no bubbles, no ripples, and the bow line lay slack in the water. It was only a matter of moments before the humans realized their prey was helpless. So why were they waiting? His boat had no weapons and nothing that would forestall a full assault. If the other men on the boat had joined in Alma’s attack, they’d have surely succeeded in killing them all.

  Hog’s hair swirled about just under the surface. Her face appeared and her eyes were wide. “Fire,” she groaned. She sank out of sight. Spicy hissed for her but she was gone. A stirring eddy led away from the boat and off into the mist.

  Spicy looked at the wounded dragon. “Fath? I know you’re in a lot of pain. There’s nothing I can do to help. But the men are going to come back if we don’t do anything.”

  “Leave me alone,” Fath said miserably.

  “Hog isn’t pulling us anymore. They may have frightened her off. That means it’s just us. Can you move? If they attack, what will we do?”

  The dragon murmured something in a language Spicy didn’t understand. Spicy crawled to the dragon and put his hand on the creature’s warm body.

  Fath flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

  “They have more arrows. We won’t be able to stop them if we’re just waiting here.”

  “What would you have me do? Swim? I don’t swim.”

  “How about pushing the boat using your back legs?”

  The dragon kicked him away. “Curse you and your kind.”

  Spicy’s head struck the hard wood of the mast. It took a moment to recover. He sat up and fought off dizziness.

  “My kind?” Spicy asked.

  “Men. Goblins. You’re all the same. This is the result of trusting any of you. Oh, that your kind had all perished in the great darkness. Plagues take you all. Then my world would truly be at peace. Now be silent. Your voice hurts my ears. Let me rest.”

  Spicy almost said something but kept his mouth shut. He crawled forward to the barrel upon which he had practiced writing. Surely it would be buoyant enough to keep him afloat. He pulled it to the side and threw it over. But as he prepared to jump after it, he hesitated.

  The low waves of the gray sea waited to embrace him. Take him down under the water. It was an abyss with no bottom. He would vanish forever.

  The barrel drifted away.

  He dropped back to the deck and hunkered down. He didn’t cry, although he wanted to. Like the dragon, he waited for the humans to decide when their lives would be brought to a final bloody conclusion.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She had nailed the creature in the eye. She felt no joy and said nothing. It hadn’t been a killing shot.

  The dragon continued to moan like a bear caught in a leg trap. After ordering the rowers to arrest the boat’s movement, she searched the water for signs of the troll. There was plenty of oil in the small barrel to immolate the monster when it came for them.

  But the cursed goblin had warned it off.

  Impossible. The troll was just a stupid monster that would eat man and goblin alike. Yet somehow the little gob could order the beast around. She dismissed her thoughts. They were distracting. The first monster to show its face would get an arrow.

  “It’s still alive,” Blades said.

  “I know, I hear it. I hit its eye. It’s hurt and stuck on its boat. It’s the troll we have to watch out for. Keep alert.”

  The oarsmen were grumbling among themselves. She ignored them. When the troll had attacked their boat during her first crossing with Lord, it had been a surprise. But not this time.

  Her boat was turning. She would have to adjust her footing to keep her field of view on the enemy.

  “Turn us to starboard,” she ordered.

  Before she realized what was happening, the older sailor with the pendant grabbed her bow away and stepped back. As she moved to reach for it, he slugged her and knocked her to the deck. The arrow in her hand fell from her grip. The other oarsmen from the town were up and moving. Vine grabbed for his gear where his sword was sheathed but another man clubbed him down with an oar.

  “What are you doing?” Alma shouted. Blades stood behind her, his own short sword out and at the ready.

  The older sailor had a thin knife, which he waved in her direction. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Her bow remained in his other hand. He shook it at her, the luck glyph displayed for all to see. “Did you think you could mock us with your magic as you work your evil?”

  “What are you talking about? It’s just a glyph for luck.”

  “It’s forbidden magic which offends the Divine Mother.”

  Alma’s mind raced. She got up and ignored the pain in her jaw. With palms out she said, “Look, it’s not even my bow. We took it off a mountain tribesman when we were hunting the dragon.”

  “This is no tribesman bow. You’re a liar. This whole voyage is a lie. You intend to charm those monsters, not kill them. Or perhaps they were with you all the time and the goblin stole them from you with some spell. You’re a witch.”

  A couple of the other oarsmen nodded. The others showed no signs of disagreement. One man kissed his thumb and made a sign on his chest.

  Alma almost swore but thought better of it, considering her audience. “I’m not a witch. If I was, why would I try to kill the dragon?”

  “Punishing it for leaving you? It doesn’t matter.” The old sailor flung the bow over the side.

  “When the troll comes, it’s going to kill us.”

  “There’s no sign of it. It fled. Your spell is broken. The Divine Mother has protec
ted us.”

  As if on cue, a few of the sailors brought pendants out from under their shirts. She didn’t know how she could have missed it. All the talk of zealots was always focused on their leader, and no one had ever really thought the people of the empire actually believed.

  She took a knee.

  “What are you doing?” Blades hissed.

  “They’re right. I’m a witch. I fooled all of you in bringing us here. The goblin was my slave, and it stole my creatures away from me while I slept. I knew I’d be powerless in the light of the Divine Mother, but I thought as long as we got away from Bliss and your temple that we could once again recapture my thralls. I didn’t expect her true believers to be so powerful.”

  The old sailor continued to scowl. “You’ll burn. You and your men.”

  “Excuse me?” Blades asked.

  “Yes,” Alma said. “It’s okay, Martin. I’ve prayed for this day. It will free my soul. I beg for succor. My men were duped, and by prayer they will be free of my influence.”

  “You won’t trick us with words.”

  “No, of course not. Bind us. Bind me. Martin, put your weapon away. Now pray for me, you men of Bliss. Pray for me now. Let me hear your voice. Ask the Divine Mother that she exercise her mercy and anger, both for the sake of my soul and that of my men. Let me hear your words of faith to her. I beg you.”

  The old sailor lowered his knife a few inches.

  It was the opportunity she was waiting for. She snatched up the arrow that had fallen to her feet and drove it up into his belly. He bellowed in pain as she forced him back and flipped him over into the water. Another sailor swung his oar, but she stepped into the blow and drove her knee in below his belt. He grunted in pain. She pushed him into the closest man and ripped the oar from his grip.

  Blades vaulted over and slashed at one sailor who was backing away. But Vine had recovered. He drove his own sword into the man and shoved him aside.

  A sailor in front of Alma held two knives. She brought the oar down on top of his head. He crumpled to the deck. Three sailors remained standing. One held an oar, and two had knives.