The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Spicy forced himself to meet the man’s stare. “What do you want?”

  “Last night, we lost our workshop here. Our arrangement with the dragon was tied into us making and selling bombs, matches, and a few other items no one else had. My accountant in Orchard called it pure profits. We humble men out here in the delta called it a golden goose. But someone blew it up.”

  “That wasn’t me. It was Alma and Blades.”

  Wes whispered into Middle Finger’s ear. The pirate leader nodded. “You don’t happen to know where they went, do you? I think we’d like to catch up with them. They had someone who belonged to us. My foreman.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. She’s been chasing me and Fath down the length of the sea. If she’s gone now, I’m glad. Me and my friends, we’re free. No one is taking us as slaves.”

  Spicy could only hope he sounded as brave as his words.

  “We don’t condone slavery,” Middle Finger said. “But we had a good thing going here. Will your dragon allow us to continue?”

  “I’ll ask him.”

  Middle Finger waited, as if Spicy were going to go seek an audience with the dragon that very moment.

  Spicy brushed crumbs from his shirt. “Okay. I’ll go see him now.”

  “Oh, and while you’re up there, can you ask him if he has any plans for the dead dragon? Because if not, we would like to make an offer to take it off his hands.”

  Epilogue

  Blades worked the oars but had slowed considerably. The lake had its current and they had to fight against it. Both Alma and the man named Blaylock sat on the forward bench. The tiny boat had a mast but there was no breeze.

  “Why am I rowing?” Blades asked. “I’ve been rowing all night.”

  Alma closed the book she had been attempting to read. “Because if we stop, the pirates we just bamboozled will catch us. That means a long, drawn-out death. You want details?”

  Blades pushed at the oars with renewed vigor.

  To Blaylock, Alma asked, “So these ingredients…how expensive are they?”

  “Not expensive at all,” Blaylock said. “The entire process is relatively simple as long as you don’t deviate from the recipes.”

  She closed the book and tucked it away. Picking up her bow, she placed it across her lap and scanned the water behind them. No one was following, but that would change soon. Middle Finger wouldn’t let her actions go without a response. That he hadn’t appeared behind them and forced them to take to land for flight was, well, lucky.

  “And who besides Middle Finger did you do business with?” Alma asked.

  “He was our primary distributor,” Blaylock said. “Actually, our only one. He paid us what he did, but I always supposed we might make more. Market’s tight, he told us.”

  “That, Mister Blaylock, was a bold-faced lie. I’m glad we found each other. Perhaps in the coming days you’ll forgive me for the circumstances of our meeting. But I would venture that the market is not only not tight, as Middle Finger would have you believe, but fairly unscratched. And I have a customer in mind who will pay us well beyond what a delta pirate can afford. Do I have your interest, Mister Blaylock?”

  Blaylock nodded.

  “Good.” She nudged the sack with the bombs and checked the rest of the supplies stored behind them as if they might have gotten up on their own and vanished. But her precious cargo was all accounted for. So much more valuable than a dragon’s head, for their journey would take them beyond Orchard City. The archduke had a brewing war to fight. And what better customer could she hope for than that?

  “You make me nervous when you’re smiling,” Blades said.

  “Deal with it, Martin. And you’re slowing down again.”

  “Why isn’t he rowing?”

  “Because, Martin, Mister Blaylock here is the new vice president of my company. And officers don’t row. Now if we catch the afternoon turn of the tide and the late winds, we might make Orchard City by tomorrow. And once there, we sail in style to Pinnacle.”

  Goblin Rogue

  by

  G. Gehrke

  Goblin Reign Book Three

  Prologue

  Rumors.

  The archduke of Pinnacle listened to them all.

  Over the past years, whispers had come down the volcanic slopes of the eastern mountains that a dragon roamed the land. The degenerate human tribes worshipped the monster and offered up sacrifices. The demi-menfolk commonly referred to as goblins served it and fed it knowledge of the greater world beyond the mountains.

  All rumors.

  These wouldn’t be the first dragon stories the archduke had uncovered. Pinnacle was home to a few curators of the exotic who featured the bones of several of the creatures, touting the displays as relics of monsters from the past. The archduke thought it amusing that such showmen were sometimes correct in their assessment of what the bones were. Even children knew that dragons had existed, once upon a time, always in distant lands off the edge of the map.

  The archduke knew they still lived, and tales of a live dragon were what interested him.

  When he heard the rumors of the dragon in the north, he sent his own agents to confirm the claim. Such efforts took time and resources, gold especially. Even as the city coffers ran dry, he persisted in his efforts.

  For the archduke, finding the dragon was of paramount importance. He was not interested in the creature for its magic or because it was a demon of destruction.

  He wanted it for what it knew.

  The archduke had once had his own dragon, under guard.

  He held it secure inside a mountain keep hidden to the east of the Bay Kingdom. There the creature lounged away, lethargic and obese yet compliant. How the archduke had raged at his attendants when the dragon named Mach had escaped! How such a fat wyrm could manage the feat was beyond the archduke’s understanding.

  The archduke had sent out spies with money to find it, but the dragon’s trail hit a dead end somewhere in the vast expanse of the delta. Some of his agents had been murdered. The pirates who infested the region were keen on infiltrators. Orchard City’s fiercely independent bureaucrats resented Pinnacle’s interference in a region that lay outside her territory.

  But all these tidbits of information sent a clear signal. The dragon Mach lived, and someone stood to profit from it.

  The archduke’s obvious response to Orchard City’s obstinacy was a show of force. The open trading city had long stood aloof from the Bay Kingdom. Never an enemy, yet also no ally, the delta town could be forced to cooperate in his search for his lost dragon.

  They would submit once a blockade was formed.

  Inconveniently, the zealot Pater had decided to attack several Pinnacle-friendly villages along the Inland Sea, declaring himself an emperor and the archduke a heretic.

  Such a mess, and a delay. Distractions like Pater had to be dealt with swiftly.

  Still, the archduke continued to put money into discovering Mach’s whereabouts within the mazelike waterways and muddy hamlets of the delta. Orchard City officials were predictable in their greed. It was the pirates who proved confounding.

  And if there was indeed another dragon up north, he would eventually find it. If it shared its secrets with goblins, then once Pater was dealt with, he would see what the goblins knew.

  How do you even send hunters to find a creature few men believe even exists?

  Mothers shared stories about such monsters to their children to keep them from wandering off. Men would take the coin and return with a murdered mountain lion or bear and boast of success, or vanish altogether to spend the bounty taken from a foolish noble.

  But cast a net of spies wide enough, and you will at least hear whispers.

  A few delta dwellers had laid eyes on something that wasn’t a lion or bear or sea creature. Such reports finally made their way to the archduke. His missing dragon had indeed traveled through the swamps.

  The nature of the archduke’s former prisoner allowed
for a safe assumption: it hadn’t escaped without human help. Someone had his dragon. Finding whom would only be a matter of time.

  Chapter One

  Domino and Flora ran around the hut, throwing globs of mud at one another in an evolving game of tag. Spicy had given up trying to understand the rules and had to shield himself to avoid getting spattered.

  Flora was faster than the younger Domino, and she caught her and shoved what looked like a square rock into Domino’s arms.

  “You’re it,” Flora said. She squealed as she charged away down the muddy path between hovels.

  Domino scowled and closed her eyes to count to ten.

  Spicy let himself smile.

  The day spent recuperating in the unnamed village had brought the children back from their despondent state. They had been through so much, having been taken captive from their home so many weeks ago by the humans, kept as animals, and sold as slaves. Now Spicy, Rime, Dill, Pix, Flora, Domino, and Eve had as safe a place as they could ever hope for outside of Athra. They had fallen in with the pirate crew of the Sin Nombre, who lingered and hadn’t declared their intentions, along with the dragon worshippers who had served Mach and who appeared willing to take Fath as their new master.

  But to go home again.

  Fath’s condition worried Spicy. Even now, the creature slumbered as he recovered from his injuries. His responsibility was to the dragon, as promised. But the dragon worshippers wanted access. Spicy was the only one who kept them away from him and out of Fath’s new home where their prior master had once lived.

  Spicy tried to enjoy the not-so-quiet moment while it lasted. But his thoughts kept returning to Alma, Blades, and Blaylock, the foreman the mercenaries had taken with them, a man who had in his head dragon secrets including the making of explosives. The three had escaped into the delta. He wanted to feel relief that they were gone but knew with each hour it would be harder to ever catch up with them. Alma needed to be caught. Spicy had even told Rime as much that morning, but his friend had yelled at him and they hadn’t spoken since.

  For the moment, he wanted to watch the children play.

  Then he noticed that the clump of muddy rock in Domino’s hands was a bomb.

  “Domino!” Spicy said, reaching for her.

  She screamed and jumped away from him as if evading a new player in their sport.

  “This isn’t a game! Give it here!”

  A look of terror crossed Domino’s face. Spicy realized he had shouted. Domino wasn’t the youngest or the oldest, but all of them were fragile after their ordeal.

  Spicy raised his palms and stopped chasing. “It’s okay. I’m not angry. But what you’re holding is dangerous. Stop running.”

  Domino hesitated, then looked at the muddy lump and sniffed it.

  Rime emerged from the hut. He had Pix in tow. The boy had been sick most of the night with his cough.

  “What’s going on?” Rime asked.

  “Tell Domino to put what she’s holding down.”

  Rime didn’t appear to understand. “Dom, honey,” he said, “do as Uncle Spicy says.”

  Domino started to sniffle and remained frozen in place.

  Flora came scampering around a corner. “Come on, slowpoke.” She marched towards her playmate.

  “Flora, be quiet,” Spicy said. “Domino, put that down. You’re not in trouble.”

  The girl set the bomb on the ground. Spicy stepped forward and snatched it up. As far as he knew, the gray mud blocks needed fire to explode. How this one had survived the workshop’s destruction, he didn’t know.

  “Go and play,” Spicy said.

  The girls just stood and stared.

  Rime wore an irritated expression. He went forward and kissed Domino on the head. “You’re okay, honey. Uncle Spicy just isn’t good with kids. He’s not mad. But you two go on down to the water, and I’ll be down there in a minute.”

  Spicy examined the bomb. “Where did they find this?”

  Rime shrugged. His eyes looked sunken. “No clue. You’d think we’d be safe being in the middle of a human village filled with weapons, pirates, and dragons.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic.”

  “No? They were playing with something that could blow us all up. And your new idea is to leave us here and go off to the moon-knows-where. And now you yell at Domino.”

  Spicy let out an exasperated sigh. “I wasn’t yelling.”

  “You weren’t whispering. Look, I have Pix and I’ll go down and watch Dom and Flora. But you have to go check on Eve and Dill.”

  “I’m supposed to be meeting Middle Finger. Are the girls in the hut?”

  “No. They’re up in the dragon cave.”

  Fath hadn’t woken since their last conversation. His wounds after his fight with his brother Mach were severe but at least he was breathing. Each time he exhaled, it came out as a shudder. He lay among the ruined furniture and bookcases, sprawled out where Mach had once lounged.

  Eve and Dill were leaning on Fath and giggling. It was too dark to read, but they had a book between them and were leafing through it. Dozens of volumes were scattered about. A few of the books in Mach’s library were filled with dictations of dragon knowledge, secrets Fath claimed shouldn’t be shared. Spicy had set these volumes aside on a top shelf of the highest bookcase. He expected that he would be adding more, if he ever returned to his role as the dragon’s apprentice.

  But the two girls had left one volume open. They had scribbled in the blank spaces of the pages with a charcoal pencil. He put the book into a bookcase and the pencil back on a desk.

  Spicy had agreed to help preserve what the dragon knew, but his assignment would have to wait. As he surveyed the ruined library, he wondered about the purpose of saving any of the dragon lore, as it appeared to always lead to destruction and misery.

  Bomb still in hand, he motioned for the girls to follow. “Eve, Dill, come on.”

  The two girls got up and brought the book with them.

  Spicy took it away. “That doesn’t belong to you.”

  “But he’s sleeping,” Eve said.

  “I know. But it’s not nice to take things without permission.”

  He set the book down on the closest desk and shepherded the girls out past the broken doors. The damage from the bomb blast that had devastated the dragon worshippers hadn’t been repaired. A low ringing still echoed in his ears from the explosion.

  He took a final look back at Fath before bringing the girls down to the water with the others. Then he went to find the pirates. Captain Middle Finger was going to go after the man who could make more bombs, and Spicy had to decide whether to help them.

  Chapter Two

  A group of dragon worshippers were huddled together and letting out a low wail. Just beyond them was a patch of blood-spattered ground where a team of pirates were finishing up sealing a number of crates. One pirate was cleaning a collection of large knives and saws in a bucket and laying the tools out on a drop cloth. He and the other men wore leather aprons. Their hands, arms, and faces were red with blood.

  “You sure that’s all the salt we got?” Wes, the first mate, asked.

  “We never thought we’d need this much,” said a pirate as he picked up a heavy crate. “Let’s hurry. Come on, lads, grab a load before this begins to rot.”

  The dragon worshipper Marta stood in their way. She was a small woman, thin as a sapling, but she managed to block the pirates in their attempts to step past.

  “You can’t do this,” she said.

  “We’ve been over this,” Wes said. “You people have your own dead to bury. Let me past.”

  “No!” She shoved him and he stumbled and dropped his crate. The lid popped off and a large claw with five talons packed with salt and sand spilled out. One of Mach’s claws.

  Wes drew his knife and stepped towards her. Marta drew her own thin blade from the sleeve of her robe.

  The larger man paused. “We have an agreement.”

  “Your ca
ptain never said our master would be butchered.”

  Spicy stepped between them. His heart hammering, he fought to sound calm. “Marta, there’s no other way. Fath gave permission.”

  Tears streamed down the young woman’s face. Her knife hand trembled. “They sawed his head off.”

  A couple of the pirates snickered. The other dragon worshippers had spread out as if to flank the group of pirates. Most of them had sheathed knives on their belts.

  If he didn’t say the right thing, there was going to be a fight. “I understand this is hard for you. We must be obedient. This is what your new master has ordered.”

  Marta shook her head. “For our master to be dismembered? For his body to be desecrated so? Please, Master Goblin, let us take his body from these thieves. Let us bring him to ground which we can hallow and set a place of remembrance.”

  “Not the deal,” Wes muttered.

  Spicy raised a hand for him to be quiet. “Marta, did your master allow such insolence?”

  She hesitated but a moment before shaking her head. There was something childlike about the young woman.

  “Neither does our new master. He gave instructions. They are to be followed. Let these men do their work.”

  Spicy watched as the crates were gathered. The dragon worshippers stood in silence.

  Wes repacked the spilled contents of his own crate. “Lot of trouble, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t,” Spicy said.

  “Watch your tone, gob. You may be a ‘master goblin’ to these simps, but to me you’re responsible for upsetting our business plan. You brought bad things down on our head with that second dragon. Your master better give us something to make up for what we lost. Good thing we might make a few gold off all this.”

  As soon as Wes said it, Spicy groaned.

  Marta set her jaw and moved towards Wes. “What do you mean, make gold? How are you going to make gold off our master?”