The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Gold Earring gave Spicy a small shove. “Go on. Tell him what you told me about Lord.”

  “I know some,” Spicy said. “But I want something for my information.”

  “Hey,” Gold Earring said. “Tell him everything or you’re going to get hurt.”

  Spicy shook his head. “My master told me to never give anything away when you can get paid for it.”

  “Paid for it? My men were about to stick you and dump your body. Be glad you’ve had a few extra moments of your life. How about that for payment? I’m sorry, Harold. This gob’s gone sun crazy. His master died out on the sea and we found him outside the harbor. He says Lord was killed up north along with most of his men.”

  Harold made a placating gesture to the soldier. When he spoke, it was with a calm and kind voice. “You’re in no position to bargain, my little friend. If you have information, it’s time to share it. I offer you your life. If you know something of use, I’ll even fill your belly.”

  “That’s not enough,” Spicy said. “I’m looking for some goblins who were brought here from Bliss. Sold as slaves. Get me this information, and I’ll tell you everything about Lord. Because he might be dead, but some of his men still live.”

  Harold arched an eyebrow. “Well, now I’m intrigued. Who was your master, exactly?”

  “Somni, a book and hide trader.”

  “And this master taught you to be a negotiator?”

  “The gob might have killed his master,” Gold Earring said.

  “Then more the fool him and bully for our little friend. So, murderer and silver-tongued broker of books and furs and news from behind the front lines.”

  “Hides, sir,” Spicy said.

  Harold laughed. “Chui, you’ve made my morning. Consider your debt halved. Now get out of here.”

  Gold Earring nodded but lingered.

  Harold cocked his head. “Is there anything else?”

  “What if the gob has real information? Like what the zealots are doing out there? The commander will want to know.”

  “Well, that’s my information now, once our goblin friend shares it with me. All things which will be traded for. But it’s no longer your concern. Our business is at an end.”

  Gold Earring bowed and backed out of the room.

  None of the other men appeared to even notice.

  “Okay, hide trader,” Harold said, “time for our negotiations. You have something you need to know first. How may I be of service, besides getting you something more dignified to wear?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Spicy gave Harold the slave buyer’s name.

  Meanwhile, one of his men handed Spicy a wool shirt and a pair of slacks that appeared to be made from a sack. But Spicy pulled the clothes on, happy to be free of the robe.

  Harold sent the pipe smoker off with instructions to find any records of August Dufresne’s arrival and any registered trades among the merchants.

  Spicy was offered a plate of sliced pears in some sort of syrup and a glass of beer. Spicy had sampled beer before and hated it, but he was hungry and thirsty and drank the brown, frothy liquid down. It was bready, bitter, and made him belch. The pears were too sweet. When the plate was finished, he wasn’t offered more.

  Harold once again returned to the couch and picked up his book. How he read in the dim light, Spicy didn’t know.

  He sat on the corner of a couch and waited. The beer made his head fuzzy. About an hour later, the pipe smoker returned and whispered to Harold.

  Harold sat up and set his book aside. “August is at his guild stock house, or at least his merchandise is. Six new goblins. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. One older boy my age and five children.”

  The pipe smoker sat back down on his own couch and nodded.

  “My man says yes,” Harold said. “That’s helpful to you, isn’t it? My information is reliable. I have, after all, a reputation to uphold.”

  “I need to know where this stock house is. I want to see them myself. Get them out.”

  Harold nodded. “All in good time. I’ll take you there myself. But first, share what you know about Lord.”

  Spicy started his tale with the raid on the goblin villages in Athra. He tried to include as many details as possible about who the raiders were who had traveled with Lord, how many of them there were, and what weapons and plunder they had, all while relating this as if the raiders and his book- and hide-trading master Somni had shared a night with them at a campfire some two weeks in the past.

  “They shared much with your master,” Harold said.

  “My master got them drunk on rice wine. He had secured a good bundle of deer hide they had stolen from the goblins.”

  “Did he now? Your master is quite the clever one and I’m sure the world is diminished with his loss. But tell me, how do you feel about these men having murdered so many goblins in the course of their raid?”

  “I…I…” He forced himself not to think about his mother or all the dead he had seen. Harold waited with keen interest. “I didn’t know any of the goblins up in the hills.”

  “That wasn’t the question. I asked how you feel. Surely hearing about a human killing your own kind must stir something within you.”

  Spicy found it impossible to keep his feelings from overwhelming him. He felt his eyes sting. “They’re monsters, the men who did that. The goblins have little to take. To murder them is…”

  “Inhuman?” Harold chuckled. “It’s imprecise language, I know. But then what did you learn about Lord and how he met his fate?”

  “We heard later from the survivors when we made it to Bliss. They said he was chasing a dragon treasure up in the mountains. And that the creature came out of its cave and killed him and most of his soldiers.”

  “And were any of the survivors firsthand witnesses?”

  “Yes. One. A woman named Alma.”

  Harold hid his reaction upon hearing the name, but not enough to keep Spicy from seeing the recognition on the man’s face. “Describe her,” Harold said.

  “White hair. Archer. She’s a hunter. I can tell by the fact she wears no jewelry besides rings and nothing that would make noise.” Spicy searched his memory for other details but didn’t want to embellish.

  “And what others can you remember among the soldiers? A man named Kel? Any other names?”

  “Blades, one of them was called. A nickname, perhaps?”

  “Figures he survived.” Harold sat back on his couch and steepled his fingers. “Two weeks ago, you say.”

  Spicy nodded.

  “And they had hides to trade with you. So they had money before journeying after their dragon. Any word on where the survivors were heading?”

  “None at all. I had chores so I missed some of the later conversations.”

  “Well, I must hand it to you. You are truly a gifted goblin. Letters, a sharp memory, useful information. On my end, I am satisfied. You’ve completed your obligation. Now let me show you to your friends.”

  Harold led Spicy out onto the streets of Eel Port.

  They passed women washing clothes in a concrete basin fed by a pipe that poured water. A group of soldiers hurried down the street, parting the crowds with barked orders. At least a few emaciated dogs prowled about underfoot, which made Spicy wary, but Harold and all the other humans ignored them.

  There were children, too. Their high shrieks surprised Spicy as a group of them ran past, filthy, barefoot, but obviously in play. A goblin child was with them.

  “This is your first time to Eel Port then,” Harold said.

  Spicy realized he was staring at everything. “Uh, no. We’ve passed through before but never stayed long.”

  Harold didn’t comment. A bakery had a line forming. The smell of bread filled the air. A few patrons were filtering out with pairs of loaves in their hands. He could overhear more comments about rationing, but the bread looked wonderful.

  “This is it,” Harold said.
>
  They had arrived at a large warehouse near one of the docks. Out by a loading bay were wagons and a group of young men tending to a pair of horses. Harold led Spicy through a side door. The dark interior smelled of animals and straw. The warehouse was divided into pens. Many were empty but a few had goats and pigs within. Mesh metal divided a few cages. Inside one large cage were six goblins.

  Rime was sitting with his head back against the metal, his eyes closed. The five children were huddled around him, dirty but alive.

  Spicy ran to the door of the cage and tugged at it, but it was held with a padlock.

  “Rime, it’s me!”

  Rime looked up with hazy eyes. “Spicy? What are you doing here?”

  Harold opened a cage door next to Rime’s. Before Spicy knew what was happening, Harold grabbed him and shoved him inside. The cage closed with a clang.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Spicy asked as he shook the unyielding door.

  “Oldest principle in trade, as your master taught you, yes? Never give anything away you don’t have to. I hope you find a kind master. I truly do.”

  With that Harold left, heading towards an open bay where a man with a clipboard waited. They shook hands. Money was exchanged. And Harold gave a final wave and departed.

  Spicy slumped against the side of the cage.

  “I’m starting to hate humans,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alma leaned forward on the bow as the boat slowly glided across the water. Both Blades and Vine worked an oar, neither daring to speak, but it would only be a matter of time before Blades distracted her. But if their quarry made any sound, she wanted to hear it.

  She detected a whiff of smoke. Their boat had burned. It had to be them. The charred smell of the blackened wood carried on the breeze. But the wind kept changing direction. Where were they?

  Her thumb absentmindedly ran across the carving on the bow.

  Blades’s oar had lifted from the water and didn’t drop back down. “You’re not actually buying that glyph nonsense, are you?”

  Her thumb stopped moving. “What are you talking about? Keep going.”

  “No. I’m tired. We’ve been at this all night. We might have shot straight past them, for all you know. My back is killing me. You and Vine can row for a while. I’m getting some sleep.”

  Vine looked at Blades, then Alma. He wore a hopeful expression.

  “All right,” Alma said irritably. “We take an hour break. But we don’t dare linger any longer.”

  She moved the burning lamp so it wouldn’t be knocked over. But she didn’t want to put it out for fear of the troll. Was Blades right? Could they have shot past the goblin vessel? With a final look out across the water, she hunkered down and let exhaustion take her.

  Something plopped in the water near their boat.

  Alma jerked awake and grabbed the bow. The new string she had found in one of the quivers hung off the top notch. Bending the bow around one leg, she pulled the loose end of the string down to the bottom notch. She grabbed an arrow and rose, looking for a target. It remained dark enough that a dozen trolls might be a stone’s throw away, but nothing was moving.

  Plop.

  The sound was close to the port side. She walked past the mast and adjusted her aim. The water rippled. Then she saw a fish jump and snap at some unseen insect.

  She exhaled sharply. Her mind was still fuzzy. How long had she been out?

  Their boat continued to drift on the current. They had been moving nonstop during the darkest part of the night, which meant if the goblin’s boat was still under troll power, their courses would have diverged.

  In the distance came the flickering lights of small fires. Land. People. The zealots couldn’t be this far south, could they?

  They must have been close to Eel Port. But it had been a bustling place the last time she had passed through, back when Lord and the rest of the mercenary company marched under the banner of the archduke. Why couldn’t she see the town?

  She extinguished the lamp.

  “Wake up,” she whispered as she gave both men a nudge.

  Both took in the sight of the campfires. “It could be our men,” Blades said.

  “Could be. But if word got back that we deserted, it’s not good no matter who they are. We’re close to Eel Port. The dock’s going to be guarded, so we can’t just row in.”

  “So what do we do?” Vine asked.

  “We can wait until morning. Approach town. See if we spot the goblin boat. But whether they’re there or not, we need supplies.”

  Blades scoffed. “Supplies cost money.”

  “We have a little. We also have this boat.”

  “I’m confused. If we give up the boat, it means we don’t have any way to chase down the dragon. I’m not saying that’s a bad plan. It’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in a month. But getting away from all the people trying to hang us might be our number one priority.”

  “I’m not saying we give up the boat. I’m saying we can use it to find out what’s going on here.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “I can’t, either. Not from here. So it means more rowing. You’re going to drop me off just north of here. And then I’m going to see what there is to see. And Blades, if you ditch me, trust that I will find you and put arrows into places you can’t even imagine.”

  As the sun rose, Alma realized the zealots prayed a lot. Before breakfast, after breakfast, whenever they received orders, and sometimes because they hadn’t talked to their Divine Mother in the last fifteen minutes. Alma watched as a large number of them gathered around one of their holy men. They had weapons in hand. As one, they took a knee.

  The priest wore a brown robe and had a staff with a shining pendant in the now familiar three-ring design. He intoned his blessing while Alma confirmed her head count. Others not involved in worship continued their duties around camp. Much of it involved taking down trees. A palisade was being erected between Eel Port and the camp. She could also see battering instruments of some sort, along with ladders.

  The zealots weren’t waiting for whatever troops were hiding within the town walls to come out. This was to be an assault on the town.

  The camp had at least double the soldiers gathered at the prayer. Alma was able to crawl through scrub to find an elevated vantage point. They had many horses corralled or tied near a stream where a watering trench had been dug. The horses were guarded. But a quick count confirmed that most of the soldiers must have walked. Many of the animals didn’t even appear to have saddles, judging by the general lack of equipment.

  She tried to find among their baggage any sign of organized feeding for the men. She saw none. Perhaps the Divine Mother was to provide. There were other oversights as well, such as no scouts near the water, allowing her to get so close.

  She had seen enough and it was time to leave.

  A gang of woodcutters paused just below the nearest trees. They had axes and only one long saw among them. She counted six men. She was certain she could down two or three of them before they even reacted. But there was enough cover that some of her shots might miss as the others fled.

  She waited. They busied themselves preparing their equipment and then began to clear scrub from around a cluster of pine trees. When they began chopping, she crept past.

  A few horsemen rode by. She froze, as she was out in the grass between good cover. But the riders didn’t stop and didn’t notice. Once she made cover beyond a high sandbar along the beach, she rose and ran north.

  Her boat waited in the shallows among the rushes and cattails. Vine watched her approach and helped her aboard. Blades was fast asleep. She kicked him.

  “Time to row.”

  He woke with a start and raised a defensive hand. “All right. I thought you’d be gone longer.”

  “I was gone long enough. See anything?”

  Vine shook his head. “They don’t seem to have any boats. Maybe the Divine Mother is afraid of
water.”

  “Well I found what we need. Time to go to Eel Port.”

  “You do remember they might hang us, right?” Blades asked.

  “I don’t think they will. We have information. And like good soldiers of Pinnacle, we’re coming back to share.”

  Blades said nothing else as he took an oar. They got the boat onto the water and headed out of sight of land before turning south towards Eel Port.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They had to slow as they came to the space between Eel Port’s harbor chains.

  Alma pointed at the goblin’s boat with its singed mast. It had been tied off at a pier and abandoned. Her first instinct was to check the harbor for signs of the troll. But the water was tranquil as their bow broke its surface.

  Shouts went up from guards on the walls.

  Alma offered a wave but it wasn’t returned by the guards, who had watched them during their approach to the harbor entrance. She and her boat were strangers, and Eel Port was under siege. A few crossbowmen appeared along a floating dock as their boat rowed closer. They were being waved in. She set her bow down and showed both hands.

  “We’re with the archduke’s army,” she called.

  The crossbows remained leveled. The soldiers holding them looked nervous. As soon as the boat bumped the dock, Vine tied them off. Alma was careful to make no unnecessary movement.

  “Identify yourself,” said a sergeant wearing chevrons on his right forearm sleeve.

  Blades and Alma climbed out of the boat.

  “Scouts with North Fort,” Alma said.

  “North Fort? What are you doing all the way down here?”

  “We were cut off. The fort was invested by the zealots. We’ve come for help.”

  The sergeant grunted. “Help from us? We’ve got our own problems.”

  “We were promised reinforcements months ago. We’ve had men fall sick from the cough, and supplies will be exhausted in a matter of weeks. The zealots have been sniping and raiding us nonstop.”