The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

The captain smiled and nodded. His writing didn’t slow. “Captain Hill. Choked on a chicken bone two years ago. Crew nominated me.”

  “That we did, sir,” Wes said.

  “Some said it was poison. I say you have to chew your food. Count to twenty before you swallow, every mouthful. Or ten twice, if it’s your preference. I remember you.”

  Alma nodded deferentially. “And I, you. Captain Hill liked that you knew your numbers.”

  “A prize vessel, then,” Middle Finger said. “And worth more than two hundred coin.”

  “The vessel alone, yes. It’s a solid merchant boat. It’s also filled with foodstuffs from Eel Port. A thousand coin for the lot of it including the boat is my price, and that’s a bargain. But that’s not the prize.”

  Middle Finger finally looked up at her.

  “I have a dragon in my hold. And he’s for sale.”

  The captain came up on deck and shuffled to the stern rail, where a pair of guards with bows kept watch on Alma’s boat.

  “He’s in there under the nets,” Alma said. “It’s not perfect and it won’t hold him. I’ve seen him kill a dozen men twice over. I’d recommend using a clay bomb or two and then killing it, as I have no idea how you’d get him out of the cage.”

  “You have goblins, I see.”

  Spicy had been brought on board the Sin Nombre. The others remained on her boat and had emerged from under the tarp. They huddled together in silence.

  “They’re for sale as well,” Alma said. “All young, in perfect health, taken from a small village in the Monster Lands.”

  Middle Finger continued to look down at her boat. “I don’t trade in slaves. I’ll want that boat up on a dock to inspect it. You’ve come all the way down from the Monster Lands? Boat spends too much time in that Inland Sea water, it eats the caulking. I’ll need to see the chines.”

  “The boat’s from Eel Port and it was the best vessel in the harbor.”

  He let out a laugh. “That’s not saying much.”

  “Don’t try to screw me. It’s a solid boat. But do your inspection. Let’s talk about the dragon.”

  “What goods are there?”

  She let out an exasperated breath. “Just about all the foodstuffs that you can imagine. Look, that’s the least of it. But the dragon—”

  “We’ll come to that. Whose boat was this?”

  Alma realized she hadn’t any papers on it. Not a problem in Orchard City or the surrounding area, but anyone using the boat to trade or even travel within the bay and heading to Pinnacle would have issues with the archduke’s authorities. Registration, trade permits, guild tags, and signed letters certifying the payment of harbor “fees” all meant a boat without papers would be of limited use.

  But Alma understood the game of haggling and had anticipated the incoming denigration of her boat’s worth. And a forger could be summoned faster than a priest in Orchard City.

  “It’s unregistered,” she said.

  “Stolen.”

  “I haven’t obtained any permits from the Old Bay Kingdom nor Pinnacle because I’ve never taken her there. So the buyer will have to take care of that. I’ll of course fill out a bill of sale on her. But you’re only the first potential buyer.”

  “If you were going to shop her around, I’d hazard you wouldn’t fly the black to find a purchaser.”

  “I consider that a professional courtesy to my colleagues.”

  He let out a dry laugh. “This is quite the haul for two mercenaries. That is your line of work now, isn’t it?”

  “Is that what you want to talk about? Me? And really, you’re going to quibble on the price of my boat or the goods on deck? It’s the creature inside the hold that’s the prize, and I need to know if I’m talking to the right captain.”

  Blades had come up behind them, but Wes blocked his path. Palms up, Blades backed away but didn’t go far.

  “Don’t worry, I was coming to that,” Middle Finger said. “I wanted to see if you were the woman I remembered, and you don’t disappoint. We can agree on the asking price of your boat and its cargo. Professional courtesy, yes? But a dragon…that intrigues me. How is it possible you apprehended such a creature?”

  “Blood and sweat, mostly. It killed many. We hurt it.” She didn’t want to say more.

  “And it obediently slunk into the hold.”

  “It’s in there now. Whether you believe me or not is on you. But ignore it at your peril.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I believe you. It’s the ones you’ve known to lie who tell the best truths. But as you can imagine, I must confirm it’s real. And alive. And then we’ll have to discuss what exactly to do about it.”

  She forced herself not to smile.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Two sails on a high mast. That was all Spicy could see as it swayed above him. He tried to rise but discovered he was trussed up with rope. A gag was fixed around his mouth and he was lying between several barrels. The boots of men stepped around him. He wormed his way backward until he could sit up.

  He was no longer on his boat. A rope tied to several cleats ran taut across the water, where the boat they had taken from Eel Port was being dragged.

  A man with a bandana shoved Spicy back down.

  “Where are—”

  He was kicked in the side. It knocked the wind from him.

  Blades patted the man on the shoulder. “I got this.” A wolfish grin crossed his face.

  The man with the bandana moved along. Blades drew his small knife and looked Spicy over. “Where to start. You’ve been nothing but trouble and I can’t wait to hear you make funny noises.”

  “Alma, control your man,” a gruff voice barked.

  “Martin,” Alma said.

  Blades hovered a moment longer before flipping the blade up into the air. It plunged towards Spicy’s face and stuck in the deck next to his ear. Blades retrieved it before moving off, laughing.

  Spicy took a moment to catch his breath. He wiggled back and again sat upright, ignoring the ache where he had been kicked. He counted ten men operating the boat. It was narrower than the one they had sailed on, but with its sails up it appeared to have no problem hauling a second vessel behind it.

  He looked around for Rime and the others. Didn’t see them.

  The man giving orders was brawny and bald, wearing a brown leather vest and hide pants. Spicy tugged and twisted but the bindings held him firm. He could do little but wait as they sailed all that afternoon.

  They pulled into a harbor of sorts. Spicy first noticed the smell of woodsmoke and then the aroma of roasting meat. Then the tops of homes became visible. The rooftops lacked the tiles and shingles he had seen in both Bliss and Eel Port. These buildings had rough-cut timber and even lashed branches as their roofs. Night had fallen, and the village glowed with lamps and torches. More torches were brought to the ship by men boarding to unload cargo.

  Spicy did his best to feel about for anything that might serve as a surface where he might work the ropes free. He found the corner of a crate. But even as he maneuvered to it, the man with the bandana hauled him up and lifted him off the boat. The man placed Spicy on his feet but he fell immediately, his legs numb.

  “Up,” the man ordered. He helped Spicy stand before shoving him along.

  He tried to take a final look back at their old boat. He saw no sign of Rime or the others.

  The village had many shadows. A few larger buildings looked like living things with glowing eyes and doorways for mouths. Smoke belched from metal pipes that served as chimneys. A collection of men and women sat on the outer porch of one establishment where music played. They held mugs and drank and one woman with a white feathered headband pointed at Spicy and laughed.

  “Where are my friends?” Spicy asked his captor.

  He received no answer and was herded along to an open-walled barn where the freight was being unloaded. Several goats in a pen moved skittishly away as Spicy was shoved into an adjacent cage. The wire to the enc
losure appeared flimsy, but Spicy was still tied up. He watched for any sign the human would free him. His arms and shoulders ached.

  The man slammed the cage door and left him. Spicy kicked the side of the cage. The weight of failure hung heavy. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rime and the others. Had they been cast over the side to drown? Why had Alma even bothered to save him? He stamped at the cage with both feet until the wire bent.

  “Knock it off or I thump you,” someone called.

  “I hate you all,” he said, gasping from exertion. And he did. Hot tears warmed his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than for every village of every human to catch fire and burn.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Bird’s Landing looked as it had the last time Alma had seen it.

  It had never been home, but home had no meaning to her anymore.

  The band had used the trading village, which occupied a deep corner in one of the delta’s lakes, as one of its bases of operation since Alma had first sailed with them. The main street was bathed in golden lamplight. The small harbor had a collection of fishing boats, all tied to mooring posts set into the bank. Several women stood waiting for the Sin Nombre to dock. Using a long sculling oar on the stern, the sailors brought the boat in its last few feet until it thunked against the wood. The tow line for Alma’s vessel was then hauled forward and tied off.

  Wes ordered the armed men to keep an eye on the other boat. Alma felt a growing apprehension as more lanterns were lit and several men approached from the village carrying torches and weapons. She counted eight archers besides herself. If the dragon had to be killed, there would be enough arrows put on the target, assuming the pirates knew how to shoot.

  The crew began to unload their own boat and took Spicy along without comment. Middle Finger hurried off, as did Blades, muttering something about getting a drink. But Alma stayed put, intent on watching her prize.

  She fought down the rising feeling of having succeeded where even Lord had failed. Cash wasn’t in hand yet. This last part had to be seen through with a clear head.

  One of the goblin girls was crying. Weakness with their kind started at a young age, Alma reasoned. According to rumor, only the fact that they could breed like rabbits without falling ill kept their species alive. She found herself fidgeting. Imagining what she might do once she didn’t have to work. Believing in her luck.

  Middle Finger returned with more men. A line of torchbearers now stood along the dock. Passing between them was a waif of a girl in a white gown and carrying a basket. She approached the boat where the dragon slept. She stepped on board.

  “I wouldn’t…” Alma began. “Hey! Get out of there!”

  “Be calm,” Middle Finger said as he came aboard the Sin Nombre. “And your bow—put it down.”

  Four of the sailors came up next to him and crowded around her. They held knives and clubs at their sides.

  “What is this?” Alma asked.

  One man grabbed her bow away, but she pushed a second sailor back into another and drew her short sword.

  Middle Finger raised placating hands. “I said be calm!”

  His men had backed away, but not far. They looked to the captain.

  She raised her sword, poised to strike. “We had a deal.”

  “And we do. None of what we agreed upon has changed. I just can’t have you indiscriminately putting an arrow into something so precious.”

  The sailors gave her space. None of them looked as if they would rush her, but she was ready. There was motion on the dock. More women came forward bearing baskets laden with coins, jewelry, and things that sparkled. One held an armload of shining fabric. They approached the boat and handed each offering to the waif, who laid the baskets out in front of the dragon’s hold. She arranged the fabric and placed rings, necklaces, and bracelets of gold on it as if preparing to sell them.

  “Get her away from there,” Alma said.

  Middle Finger just watched with his arms folded.

  The waif cut the net away with a pair of scissors. She then knelt down on the deck.

  The torchbearers and Middle Finger took a knee.

  And the dragon emerged.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Spicy’s cage unlocked.

  A large woman stood there, barefoot and dressed in a simple frock. Spicy glared at her, his anger still raging. She held a bowl and a cloth and she got Spicy sitting up. He flinched when she drew a knife, but she used it to cut the bindings around his wrists. She began working the other knots of the rope and soon his arms were free.

  The whole time she was speaking in short sentences, but he didn’t understand her words. Spicy knew the sounds of someone complaining, and for some reason he knew she wasn’t upset at him. She dipped the cloth into the water and began to wash him. He winced when she dabbed his cheek. She muttered a few words, but her expression was clear.

  Concern. For him, a goblin.

  She checked him over and washed his hands and feet as well before putting his shoes back on. Then she gestured for him to wait and went outside the cage. From a hanging basket in the barn, she grabbed what looked like apples. The door remained open. He got up to run, but his legs didn’t cooperate. He stumbled and fell. She rushed back to help him up and led him out of the cage to sit on a small upturned crate. More words poured from her mouth.

  Spicy shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  The woman sighed and handed him what turned out to be two pears. She made an eating motion, then said, “Eat. Good.”

  He pointed to himself and then back in the general direction of the boat. “Other goblins.” With his hands he indicated several shorter people. “Children. Goblin children. My friends. Where are they?”

  She smiled but it was obvious she didn’t understand.

  A man barked something in the same language and rushed over. He took Spicy by the elbow but the woman slapped him away. They were arguing and it was about him. Soon the man was backing off and making placating gestures.

  “You come,” the woman said and took Spicy by the hand.

  The man was clearly unhappy. He was one of the crew members of the boat that had taken them. There were other humans moving about the village but more were heading down towards the docks. Some of them Spicy could understand, while others spoke the new tongue the woman used.

  Harold had called the languages Northspeak, Southspeak, and Cityspeak.

  Spicy had never met a goblin he couldn’t understand, but this put a new wrinkle on the human world. There were no goblins here. A few of the people pointed and laughed at him, but he couldn’t understand why. One old man even got in the woman’s way and patted him on the head. The woman brushed the man aside and cursed at him.

  A roar shook the air. The woman stopped. The people in the street froze and looked around them.

  “Fath,” Spicy said.

  He pulled free of the woman and ran, cutting between the people on the street and racing down towards the dock.

  The boats were lit by lanterns. At least a dozen torches burned in the hands of men near his boat. And Fath was awake. His pale skin glowed in the light. He was coiled in the middle of the boat by the mast and appeared ready to attack. A girl was cowering near the front of the hold along with the goblins. But the humans along the dock were either on their knees or bowing.

  Fath was gazing from man to man and breathing quickly like a bellow. Foam dribbled from his mouth. He looked bewildered and in a state of panic. Spicy ran along the dock. A hand tried to stop him, but he slipped free.

  “Fath!” he cried.

  Spicy saw no recognition in the dragon’s face.

  The cowering girl on the boat rose and stepped forward. She held her hands up, a small knife in her grasp. Her wrists bled and blood trickled down along her pale skin. Strange words came from her mouth. Fath smacked her aside and slid past towards the mewling goblin children. Rime was standing between them, the boat hook in hand.

  “Stop!” Spicy cried as he
vaulted on deck. He kicked Fath in the side to get his attention. “It’s me. Your apprentice. You’ve been asleep for days.”

  Fath turned. Steam poured from his nose. The girl he had knocked down was trying to get up. She was chanting now and again her hands were raised.

  This caught Fath’s attention. “Stop. Stop speaking. You don’t know those words. Can’t know them. They’re not yours to speak!”

  But a few along the dock were muttering in the strange language as well, even as they kept their heads dipped low.

  Fath looked at them. “Silence!”

  The men on the dock fell silent. The girl continued her muttered supplication. Fath turned on her and pushed her down to the deck, clamping a talon on either side of her head. He leaned in and his mouth dropped open as if he were about to tear her throat open. The girl only spoke faster and faster and was panting hard.

  Spicy slapped the dragon’s back repeatedly. “Fath, I don’t think they mean any harm. They’re not attacking. Don’t hurt her.”

  “How do they speak my tongue?”

  “I don’t know. There’s so much here I don’t understand.”

  The dragon released the girl. She moved into a groveling posture with her bleeding wrists raised. Her imploring speech continued.

  “Silence,” Fath said.

  “Shh,” Spicy hissed at her. “Stop talking. He’ll kill you.”

  “Maybe that’s what she wants,” Rime said. He came closer, the boat hook still in his hands. “She was cutting herself before Fath woke up. Laid a bunch of treasure out like he was some revered elder.”

  “Name,” Fath said. “Stop saying my name. None of you but Spicy is allowed to say it.” He sounded exhausted. “And none of you should speak in my tongue. It’s obscene.”

  A hush fell over the dock. The water continued to lap at the boats.

  The girl in white was sobbing now. “Master, we have displeased you.”

  “Who are you, human?” Fath asked.

  “Nothing. A worm beneath your feet. A slave. Meat for your belly, if you wish.”