The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Save your tale of woe for the commander. I’ll have your weapons.”

  Alma collected her bow and arrows and handed them over. Blades and Vine reluctantly surrendered their swords. Only then were the crossbows lowered.

  The soldiers led them up onto the pier and into town. They attracted attention. It seemed as if everyone was interested in the new arrivals.

  “What news?” someone called, but the sergeant barked for the man to shut up or get thumped.

  “I have news, sergeant,” Alma said. “We’ve seen the rear lines. I have numbers. But there’s a boat with a burned mast tied at the harbor. I need to know more about it. It might be important.”

  “I said save it. I’m not the man to hear your report, and you know it. Talk to the commander. Tell him everything. But keep it brief. His attention span isn’t what it used to be.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t know him.”

  The sergeant chuckled. “You’ll see.”

  She could smell the wine before she spotted the bottle on the cluttered table inside Eel Port’s central guardhouse. The cramped office had a pair of candles burning but the shutters were closed. A ruddy-faced man wearing a cape draped over a knitted sweater sat behind the table. He was scratching away at a paper with a pen.

  The sergeant offered a lax salute. “Visitors with news, Commander Zane.” He stepped out of the way so Alma and the others could enter.

  Commander Zane looked them over. “Do I know you?”

  Alma wished she had covered her hair. The archduke had few women serving under arms, either in his own army or among the mercenaries hired to boost his numbers.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met, sir,” Alma said. “We passed through here before going up to North Fort in early spring.”

  “Which company?”

  “Mangonel’s company, sir. Out of Orchard City.”

  “Commanding officer?”

  “Lord Root.”

  “Oh, him. Mercenaries fleeing a sinking ship, I see. More deserters. And you dare come here?”

  “We’re not deserters. We’ve served the archduke faithfully. We’ve come down to beg for reinforcements for North Fort. It’s surrounded and just holding on. The men are sick and possibly starving by now.”

  The commander raised a hand. “I don’t care. My duty is to Eel Port, and the garrison here doesn’t fall into your chain of command. There’s no help to give. As far as your desertion, I’m not a provost. I don’t have the energy to round up every mercenary here fleeing from what they thought would be an easy payday. I have my own problems.”

  “I saw. But again, we’re not deserters. We came ashore and took the opportunity to scout out the zealots. Looks like five hundred men under arms. Their cavalry is limited, but they’re building battering rams and perhaps other siege equipment to breach the walls.”

  “I have my own reports. My crossbows will keep them at bay. The zealots will get their nose bloodied and will filter back to Midsea.”

  “I hope you’re taking them more seriously than that. It won’t be that easy. They’re determined. They’ve got enough men to get in here. And how many do you have on your walls? Any more than when we were last here?”

  “I’m not sharing that information with you. Mind your place.”

  She scanned the desk. A map of the town was laid out, with red pencil lines drawn through the main market and a multitude of illegible notes.

  “What’s all this?”

  Commander Zane’s face brightened. “I’m putting down zoning for the new center market. This way fish sellers are next to the other fish sellers, fruits and vegetables will have their stalls here, and sundry artisans will be here. Here’s a spot for candlemakers, and repairs and services, and this corner will be dedicated to musicians and artists. On weekends, we can have a schedule of bands and talents to play. I believe the festival-like atmosphere will bring the town out. It should be a good opportunity for folks to spend their money. I’m also increasing the space fees for each stall.”

  “You think the zealots will allow you music on Saturdays or any other day?”

  Zane slapped a hand on the map. “They’re not getting in here. Now get out of my sight.”

  “What of North Fort?”

  “They fall under the jurisdiction of the region’s military commander in Pinnacle. Not me. My garrison is in no position to lead a rescue mission even if we didn’t have the zealots here.”

  “Pinnacle’s a long way away.”

  “Yes, it is. That’s why I like it here.”

  Blades cleared his throat but Alma ignored him. “Commander,” she said. “Surely you’ve sent message to Pinnacle to let the archduke know what’s happening here. You can send more messengers. Tell them about North Fort. I fear our messengers never made it this far.”

  “I’m sure the archduke already knows.”

  “When did you send out your last one? Include my report—”

  Commander Zane slammed the table again. “This conversation is over. Sergeant?”

  The sergeant pulled Alma’s arm.

  “Give me my weapons back,” Alma said. “Appoint me with rank. I can help. My two men are worth ten of yours. Let us go out the riverside gate and we can make a raid on the zealots while they’re organizing. With thirty men striking at their flank, we could cripple them.”

  “Out of the question. Our walls will hold. We don’t need you.”

  The commander pointed towards the door. Alma turned and left. The sergeant led them to the guardhouse entrance.

  “Our weapons, sergeant?” Alma asked.

  The sergeant hesitated before waving for one of his soldiers, who brought them their weapons.

  “You trying to get us killed, suggesting we go out and fight?” the sergeant asked.

  “I don’t care what happens to you,” Alma said. “But if you’re waiting on the zealots to make a mistake by just walking into crossbow range and letting you shoot their men down, Eel Port might be in trouble.”

  The sergeant spat. “Well, that’s the commander for you. But he’s right. Our walls here are solid. And our boys have sharp eyes.”

  “Not so sharp that they missed a troll getting into your harbor.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It came in last night with a goblin and maybe another passenger, on the boat with the burned mast.”

  Recognition flashed on the man’s face. “We captured a goblin. But didn’t see no troll. What are you talking about? There are no trolls in the Inland Sea. They’re all out in the ocean.”

  “Not this one. It follows that goblin like a trained dog.”

  “She’s not lying,” Blades said. “We faced that thing twice.”

  “We have men watching the dock,” the sergeant said.

  Alma shouldered her quivers and bow. “I saw your men. They’re not enough. Double them and get some barrels of lamp oil down there. If it surfaces, you have to burn it.”

  She was surprised when the sergeant nodded. She opened her money pouch and took out a coin.

  “Now what can you tell me about the goblin?”

  The sergeant took the coin. “Not much. But I can take you to someone who can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Spicy paced the five steps from one wall of the cage to the other. The bars were solid. The door wouldn’t even rattle. The spaces between the metal barely allowed his fingers to reach through. He peered at the children in the neighboring cage. There was something in their eyes that frightened him. A hollow look. There was little in the way of recognition and no hope.

  “This is your idea of a rescue?” Rime asked.

  “I said I’d be back for you,” Spicy said. “Are you guys all right?”

  “We’re alive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Rime tried to help one of the girls get more comfortable. They had a few small blankets and there were bowls in the cage. One had water in it. In the corner was a bucket.

  Spicy grunted as
he pushed and pulled at the door to his cage.

  “The humans know how to build metal doors,” Rime said. “Stop making noise. I finally got Flora to sleep.”

  “I almost caught up with you before you crossed the sea. The troll brought us over. It’s going to sound crazy, but there’s a dragon with us. Rime, I have so much to tell you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what’s the point of you getting captured? They’re going to sell us. They’re going to make us slaves.”

  Spicy let go of the door. “Not if we get out of here first.”

  “That’s not going to happen. They said what they’d do if we try to escape. We’re in the middle of a human city.”

  “Eel Port is just a town. There’s much bigger cities to the south.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Flora stirred. Rime stroked her head and shushed her. The other children were awake and looking at Spicy with wary eyes.

  “Did your sister make it?” Rime asked.

  “Thistle’s safe. I freed her. She’s with a group of goblin hunters who were tracking the humans.”

  Rime nodded. “At least that’s one of us.”

  “There’s other survivors from Boarhead. One Stone made it. If we get out of here—”

  “We can’t. There’s no way. I’m not leaving the children. If you see a chance, take it, but if they catch you, they’ll cut you so you won’t be able to run ever again.”

  “We can’t give up.”

  “I’m not giving up. I just don’t want to die.”

  Spicy sat with his back to a cage wall. He couldn’t stop weighing all his decisions. What mistakes had he made coming here? What could he have done differently? Were all his efforts and pain for nothing?

  For some reason, he thought about Daphne, the slave in her master’s library back in Bliss. She considered herself fortunate. But she was still a prisoner, her life belonging to another, a human free to abuse her as he pleased.

  The man with the clipboard opened a shutter that let light in. He came to the cage doors and looked inside both without comment. From a nearby desk, he removed a ledger and made an entry. Then he came to Spicy’s cage and unlocked it.

  Spicy backed away from the door.

  “Hold still,” the slaver said. He grabbed Spicy and began a rough examination. “Harold said you speak well. Can write. Know numbers and have a good memory. Is this correct?”

  “Look, there’s been a mistake,” Spicy said. “My master—”

  “Is dead, according to what Harold said. Are you marked?” The man checked Spicy’s cheeks, chin, and neck, and then began to pull his clothing off, examining his legs and arms. “No tattoo? No brand? Who was your master, and where did he purchase you?”

  “Uh, Orchard City.”

  The slaver let Spicy go. He pulled his clothing back on and was placed back in his cage.

  “Orchard City, you say?” the slaver asked. “Very unlikely. Not many goblins there. Don’t see many of your kind further south than Midsea.”

  The slaver shut the cage door and scribbled notes in the ledger. “Barely a mark on you except for that scratch on your arm. That’s impressive. Might be worth more because of your good condition. I’ll be testing your numbers later. But not that many buyers need that sort of thing these days.”

  “Because of the war?”

  The slaver snorted. “Because of the glut in the market. Now be quiet.” He sat at the desk.

  Another young man came in, delivering paperwork. Then the two men left the warehouse together.

  Spicy tried to get comfortable. Eventually he curled up on the floor and tried not to think. Tried to tune out all the sounds of the animals in the warehouse and the noise of the town around them. He thought of Thistle. Surely she had made it home. Boarhead could be rebuilt. They could start again, recover, and live life in peace. But somehow, something had changed. The world of man wouldn’t leave them be. Men like Lord and Harold were the norm.

  He tried to dismiss the rage. He was helpless, and his anger was a waste of energy. The children had stirred. Dill and Eve sniffled, and it sounded like the boy, Pix, had a cough. The youngest, Domino, had wandered to the back of their cage and had her arms wrapped around herself. Even if one of them could be freed, it would be worth all the effort.

  The pigs on the far side of the warehouse started to shuffle about in their stalls. The goats began bleating.

  The beams above Spicy’s cage creaked. There was little light. At first, Spicy believed the place had rats. Perhaps it did. But then the wood in the rafters groaned louder as something large moved above the cages.

  “Fath, are you up there?” Spicy said.

  There came a low grunt. The dragon’s long shape lowered slowly down from the rafters and thumped on the wood floor in front of the cages. Eve and Flora began screaming.

  “Silence them,” Fath said.

  “Rime, Dill, get your sisters quiet. The guards will come.”

  Dill hushed the two girls as Rime pressed his face to the cage. “That’s a dragon. A real dragon.”

  “I told you,” Spicy said. “Or close enough to one, anyway. Nothing like in the picture books. Kids, Fath isn’t going to hurt us, is he?”

  Fath looked down at the goblins with his one remaining eye. “That remains to be seen. I’m very upset.”

  “I thought you couldn’t swim,” Spicy said.

  “I said I don’t swim, not that I can’t. The troll is right. The water is filthy.”

  “Did you see Hog?”

  Fath pulled at the steel door to Spicy’s cage. “Off chasing fish, I suppose.”

  “You’ll need a key,” Spicy said. “The man with the clipboard has it.”

  Fath raised his head and surveyed the warehouse. It grew darker as the doors to the loading bays were slammed shut. The side door where Spicy had entered closed too. Next came the sound of hammering.

  “What’s going on?” Rime asked.

  “The humans are closing up the warehouse. But it’s still daylight. Why would they lock it up at this hour?”

  Fath let out a low hiss and crawled back up into the rafters. As long as he wasn’t moving, the dragon was invisible. The animals in the pens continued to panic. Spicy didn’t understand why the slavers weren’t coming in to quiet their stock. From outside it sounded like more men had gathered in front of the warehouse.

  In the cage next to him, Domino was staring up at the shadows where Fath had hidden himself. Her vacant eyes were brimming with tears.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Spicy said as his heart squeezed tight. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The goblin had been handed over to an information broker named Harold, who then in turn had sold him to a slave trader back at the waterfront.

  The information had cost Alma little. After all, the whereabouts of a goblin was hardly interesting to most, even though the broker had haggled with her for more than a few pennies of compensation for the last tidbit of intel.

  Blades had stopped at a vendor and purchased a bundle of fried fish and rice balls wrapped in a large leaf. He hurried to catch up as Alma marched back towards the harbor.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked. “And what’s the deal in volunteering us to go out and fight? Did I miss the part where we’re no longer enlisted? We broke contract, and I’m in no hurry to jump back in during this siege. We need to get out of here.”

  Alma stopped to face him. She plucked a rice ball from his bundle of food and handed it to Vine. Then she took a second one and ate it.

  “You may not remember Commander Zane from when we came through, but I do. Lord and I talked to him when we arrived. He runs as thin of a garrison as possible, all while skimming the difference from his budget. He’s a bureaucrat who’d never do anything that didn’t line his pocket. He’d never accept my offer because he knows I’d charge him.”

  “But what if he said yes?”

  “He didn’t.”


  Blades shoved the fish in his mouth before she could take it. “You didn’t mention the dragon.”

  “I know. We don’t know where the creature went. That’s why we need to find the goblin. I believe he’s the key to this.”

  “So we talk to the goblin, we have him show us where the dragon is hiding. Somehow, we kill the thing before we get killed, and then we profit. Am I missing something?”

  She nodded. “That’s about it.”

  Blades picked a bone from his teeth. “We’ve got a boat. We can buy a little food with the money we have. If everything else you’ve seen is true, we need to get out of here.”

  “The zealots have more work to do before they’re ready. We might have today before they attack. Knowing them and their schedule of prayers, they won’t come at dusk or at night, either. I’m guessing dawn tomorrow, after the prayer of first light.”

  “Is that what you did when you were one of them?”

  Alma’s face grew warm with anger but fought to not let Blades know he had struck a nerve. “Let’s find our goblin.”

  “Fine,” Blades said. “But give me a minute while I buy some more fish.”

  Vine nudged Alma and gave a surreptitious nod towards a corner. “That kid in the fancy coat. He’s been following us since we left the information broker.”

  Alma didn’t turn her head. “This Harold probably wants to know what we’re up to. No reason for us to care. Yet. Keep an eye out in case it looks like he has friends.”

  At the slaver’s warehouse, the information broker named Harold was waiting for them, along with another man carrying a clipboard. Two burly guards with metal-banded clubs were in the shadows of the loading bay. The smell of animals hung heavy in the air. The harbor wasn’t far away. No soldiers or city guards were in sight.

  Harold offered a nod and his whiskered face broke into a grin. The lanky old man looked like a scarecrow.

  “Did we have further business?” Alma asked.

  “No, my dear, we did not. But your inquiry intrigued me. So I thought I would head over and see if there was some new venture we might find in common.”