The Goblin Reign Boxed Set

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Wes grinned. “What did you think we were packing him up for? Just his head alone will fetch a pretty penny. Seems fair, seeing as how our bomb maker has run off. You have a problem? Take it up with the captain.”

  Marta shrieked and charged the man. The worshippers followed. Spicy dove out of the way as the worshippers threw themselves at the crew, throwing down crates and pushing at the men. Marta had her knife out and was slashing at the air as Wes evaded her. He flung the crate at her. She dodged it and pressed her attack, the tip of her knife catching his hand.

  Wes pulled his own knife and struck a fighter’s stance, the blade held out to his side and ready to strike.

  Spicy was shouting at everyone but no one paid attention.

  Middle Finger appeared and strolled between the combatants. “That’s enough. Wes, put your knife away.”

  “I’m not letting you sell our master,” Marta said through clenched teeth.

  Middle Finger took a moment to clean his bifocals on his shirt before surveying the strewn crates. “What a mess. It appears we were insensitive in our attempt to follow our instructions from the dragon Fath. If we place the crates down on the dock, will you see they are properly buried so as to not upset our new dragon master?”

  “Sir…” Wes said but Middle Finger shushed him.

  Marta lowered her knife. “I’ll see him buried, if you order your men to let us take him.”

  “The order is given,” Middle Finger said. “Wes, take yourself down to the Sin Nombre and cool your heels.”

  Wes’s face flushed a shade of red, but he stomped off towards the dock. Spicy watched with amazement as the worshippers backed off. The pirate crew went to work collecting the crates.

  Middle Finger placed a hand on Spicy’s shoulder. “Now that that little mess has been dealt with, we need to speak.”

  They walked down to where they could see the small dock of the mud village. The Sin Nombre hadn’t been able to pull all the way into the overgrown inlet, but a series of planks mounted on pontoons allowed access to the boat. From the water, the village was invisible, served better by the snaking hillside trail from Bird’s Landing, the pirates’ home base.

  The crew brought the crates to the dock. None were being loaded onto the boat. Marta crouched by one stack and began whispering softly to the containers. Middle Finger led Spicy past them all towards his boat.

  “What about your profit?” Spicy asked.

  Middle Finger took out a small stack of papers from his shirt and flipped through the pages. “A short-term loss. Better to insure a good relationship. But the true prize is eluding us.”

  Spicy showed the pirate captain the bomb.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “One of the children found it this morning. It was lying in the mud.”

  “It might be the last one unless we can reclaim the foreman.”

  Spicy met the man’s gaze. “I don’t think I can help with that. My work is here with the dragon. I have to keep my friends safe.”

  “Indeed. But what do you think will happen when Alma shows Mr. Blaylock and his recipe book to those who will realize what a prize he is? There’s a reason we do business so far from spying eyes. We were content with a moderate production schedule. Less temperate souls will want to know where she found him and what other secrets they might find. Our secure place here will be measured in days, unless we catch her.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “You traveled with her. You know her perhaps better than anyone on my crew. And with your knowledge of the dragon, you may also have some special insights. I want you to come with us.”

  Chapter Three

  “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Rime asked.

  One of the women from Bird’s Landing placed a tray of vegetables, fruit, and rolls down for the children.

  Spicy waited for her to leave, but she lingered, a broad smile on her face as she watched the children eat.

  “Yes,” Spicy said. “Maybe. What if he’s right? Alma makes it to Orchard City, and other men like Lord hear about Fath. What’s to stop them from coming here?”

  The smiling woman pointed to the tray and said something in Cityspeak. She patted Spicy on the head.

  Rime frowned and looked at the woman with obvious displeasure. “It’s not your job, Spicy. Let the humans do it. They have a boat, weapons, they know the world of men. They don’t need you.”

  Spicy felt a rising irritation. “Not my job? Neither was becoming an apprentice sage for a dragon. Or saving you. I could be hiding up in the hills with Preemie and One Stone.”

  “Don’t be a jerk. You know what I mean. If you think we’re in danger here, then we leave.”

  “And the dragon?”

  The woman standing above him said something. Spicy got another pat on the head.

  “Why does she keep doing that?” Rime asked.

  “I don’t know. Alma got away with a rowboat. Middle Finger might be able to catch her before she gets anywhere if we leave soon.”

  “And how will you going with them make their boat go any faster? What do you want? Revenge? And how will helping the pirates do anything for us?”

  “Come on, Rime. Are we in chains? We have food. This as safe as we’re going to be for now. Middle Finger worked with Fath’s brother and is our best bet. And the people of the village, at least they don’t want to hurt us.”

  “The pirates did business with Lord and his gang. That doesn’t make me feel good.”

  The woman almost patted Spicy’s head again but Spicy pushed her away. She laughed and knelt to help one of the children peel an orange.

  “Does she understand what we’re saying?” Rime asked quietly.

  “No clue. But Middle Finger is right. I do know Alma, at least a little. She wanted the dragon head to sell. She wants the foreman Blaylock to make money. And what’s more, if there’s a way that no one gets the bomb formula ever again…”

  “It sounded to me like the foreman has it memorized.”

  “I know. Rime, I have to go with them. There are no more sages. I’m not saying I’m one, but they were responsible for keeping all this secret. There’s a chance we can take it back.”

  Rime stared blankly at the tray of food.

  “It’s another risk, I know,” Spicy said. “It means you’ll have to watch the kids. And the dragon. And if anyone tries to steal any books, you’ll have to stop them.”

  He wanted to face Fath alone.

  Even if his master was asleep, somehow Spicy felt obliged to speak with him. He navigated between the debris of broken furniture, then crouched and began to gather some of the spilled books. One armload at a time, he placed them back on the nearest shelves.

  Fath lay sprawled where he was before.

  “Your secrets are in danger,” Spicy said. “You lived your entire life to protect them, and I think I understand why now. If a human in this village could manage to build bombs, what could others do with the recipe? What other things might they make? Did they steal any other books belonging to your brother?”

  Spicy wiped a line of soot from the edge of a shelf.

  “So I have to go after them. Lord was only the beginning. With your secrets out, they’ll only grow stronger. Sage Somni told us that men were in their twilight, but that’s not true. They’re multiplying and all they seem to know is killing. I saw one of their armies. We goblins have nothing like that. More men will come to Athra and maybe they’ll wipe us all out. If I take the secret of the bombs back, maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll stay away.”

  Fath continued to slumber.

  “Rime will look after you and do his best to keep you safe. I know he didn’t promise you like I did, but I trust him. You can trust him too.”

  He straightened the row of books and then placed a hand on the dragon’s warm skin. A rumble escaped from the dragon’s mouth.

  Fath didn’t move when he murmured, “Don’t go to Pinnacle.”

  “Y
ou’re awake.” Spicy moved to where he could see the dragon’s face. He had heard Pinnacle mentioned before. “Pinnacle’s their largest city, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” the dragon said with a sigh. “Never go there. Ever. Promise me.”

  The dragon’s breath eased and again it sounded like he was sleeping.

  “Promise,” came the dragon’s last whisper.

  Spicy nodded, even though both the dragon’s eyes were ruined. Never go to Pinnacle. Spicy understood the request and had no reason to disobey.

  Spicy went to the dock to find Middle Finger. He felt his own resolve ebb as he considered leaving the safety of the mud village and the protection of the remaining dragon worshippers. But in truth, he and the others were as secure as a child with a blanket thrown over their head.

  He focused on the voyage and what he might need to bring. Food? Weapons? And what to do with the final bomb? For now, he put it in his bag next to a book taken from Fath’s library, an advanced primer similar to one that had been in Sage Somni’s library.

  The dragon worshippers were placing the crates into a rowboat with peeling white paint. A group of pirates watched as they waited by the planks leading to their ship.

  Pix came running up behind him. “Uncle Spicy!”

  “What are you doing here? Go back to Rime.”

  The young boy’s eyes brimmed with tears. “He said you were leaving.”

  “It’s just a quick trip. You’re safe here.”

  But Spicy saw his words had no effect. He clutched the boy and waited as Pix sobbed.

  Middle Finger approached, his boots clomping on the dock. “Have you reached your decision?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “The tide is right. Waiting any longer will only make it harder for us to catch them.”

  “Can’t you give us a moment?”

  Crouching, Middle Finger pulled a match from a pocket. “This will cheer him up. Look at this, boy.”

  He scratched the match on the wood of the dock and it ignited. Pix watched the flame flare orange and blue, his eyes wide. But once it went out, he buried his head under Spicy’s arm.

  “I don’t think I can go with you,” Spicy said. “There’s too much here I have to care for.”

  Middle Finger rose and nodded. “I understand. A man must care for his own.”

  A shout rose from the Sin Nombre. “A boat! A boat!”

  Other voices called out in alarm. The sailors on the dock were pointing up the inlet. A large boat was rowing their way, loaded with men. It had a large mast with a furled sail. On top of the mast flapped a black flag similar to Middle Finger’s, but this one bore a white-lined drawing of a woman’s face wearing a headscarf.

  “Captain, are they with you?” Spicy asked.

  Middle Finger’s jaw tightened. “No. That ship is the Wind Bonnet. Those are the people the last batch of bombs were meant for. And they might be a tad miffed we misplaced their order.”

  Chapter Four

  Spicy counted fifteen armed men on the rail of the Wind Bonnet. The new boat blocked the Sin Nombre in as it glided down the shallow inlet. Their gangplank crashed down on top of the plank bridge as a team of men stopped their boat with long poles pushing down into the water.

  First off was a small man with an unlit pipe in his mouth. His crew followed.

  Middle Finger’s own crew fell in behind the captain as he strode down to meet them. They waited in a bunch along the planks. A few of the men repositioned their knives, freeing the handles from any clothing that might impede the weapons being drawn.

  Marta ordered the dragon worshippers back into the village.

  Spicy walked Pix over to her. “Take him to the others.”

  Once the boy was led away, Spicy hurried down to where he could hear.

  “That’s unacceptable,” the captain of the Wind Bonnet was saying. “We paid a small fortune for our product. At such a high price, I expect you to follow through on your promises.”

  “We’ve never missed a shipment before,” Middle Finger said. “But circumstances beyond our control descended upon us just last night. You might be able to smell it in the air. That’s your shipment that got vaporized, so it’s been permanently delayed.”

  “‘Permanently delayed?’ What a wild set of words. And tell me, why didn’t you have a man down at Bird’s Landing to tell us? Why did I have to search all morning for this corner of the delta to find out where you were hiding?”

  “We’ve been busy, Captain Breaker, and you have a bad habit of being extremely punctual. I would have been at Bird’s Landing this evening to meet you properly.”

  Captain Breaker paused to look at the Sin Nombre’s crew. He had a few more men than Middle Finger. They too were armed. At the bow of the Wind Bonnet, another man stood at the ready with a heavy crossbow set on a pivoting turret. The weapon was aimed above their heads but could be brought to bear and fired in an instant.

  Middle Finger placed a hand on Breaker’s shoulder. “Come on board the Sin Nombre and have a drink.”

  Breaker’s jaw clenched but then he nodded. The two men headed for Middle Finger’s boat. Both crews visibly relaxed.

  One of Breaker’s men was following the captains, but he paused when he saw Spicy. “Captain Breaker, sir! Look!”

  A smile broke across Captain Breaker’s face. “Bring it here, Jimmy. Why Captain Finger, you didn’t say you had a mascot.”

  A pirate took Spicy by the arm and marched him up the gangplank. He was pushed towards the diminutive captain, who patted Spicy’s head and continued to grin. Spicy knocked the hand away.

  “Oh, ho! A spirited gob. You haven’t housebroken your pet.”

  Middle Finger appeared distracted and gave Spicy an annoyed look. “Uh, yeah, he’s a work in progress. Never mind the goblin, captain. Wes, bring us the cognac and glasses. We have a thirsty group of guests.”

  Wes retreated to the rear cabin and returned carrying a tray with glasses and a decanter of amber liquid. He set the tray down on a barrel, then turned up a line of glasses and began to fill them.

  Middle Finger took a glass by the stem and raised it. “You’ll enjoy this. The best the Dons have to offer.”

  Breaker accepted the drink but didn’t toast. His earlier mirth had evaporated. “Tell me about my order and what you’re going to do to make it right.”

  “Like I said, we experienced a delay. The village was attacked, but we have everything back under control. You’ll have your bombs. It might just take a few more weeks.”

  “Time we don’t have. The half payment alone was enough to hire another crew for the job at hand.”

  Middle Finger drained his glass. “Ah. Fermentation of good wine takes time. So does the distillation of a fine product such as this. A good cognac sits in a barrel for over a year. If you’d just taste it, you’d see it’s worth the wait.”

  Breaker sniffed it and took a small sip. Made a face. “How can you drink this piss?”

  “What I’m getting at is making bombs is an art. And as you can see, sometimes there’s spillage. Whereas wine and cognac when spilled need but a mop, we here in our rarified bomb production need time to rebuild. You’ll have your bombs. But it will take time.”

  Breaker splashed the rest of his cognac to the deck. Tossing his glass overboard, he grabbed Spicy and yanked him over to him. As Spicy struggled to break free, Breaker rested a calloused hand on the goblin’s head.

  “These creatures are supposed to be lucky,” Breaker said. “Didn’t work out for you, did it, Captain Finger?”

  Middle Finger pulled Spicy away and shoved him in the direction of the rear cabin. “Why don’t you take yourself out of sight for now?”

  Spicy walked quickly to the cabin and stopped in the doorway.

  “Setting your slave aside for later?” Breaker said with a laugh. “Do you at least share with the rest of your crew?”

  Spicy felt his face grow hot.

  “Let’s return to the business at hand,�
� Middle Finger said, his tone even.

  “Okay, let’s. You have no product. That means I need to be compensated.”

  “You’ll get a refund if we don’t deliver.”

  Breaker wagged a finger. “Not that easy for you, I’m afraid. You see, with this delay it means we lose out on a job worth at least twice what we paid for the bombs. Now you owe us our down payment plus our lost wages.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You either get your product or I return your deposit. And that will take some time. The gold was used to purchase ingredients. And as you might smell, it went up in smoke.”

  “Then we have a problem.” Breaker paced about and looked at the two crews around him, then at the Sin Nombre. “I see an obvious means of recompense right below our feet. Throw in the goblin, and we can part ways as friends.”

  Wes was the first to draw his weapon. Everyone else followed suit. Knives slipped from their sheaths as the men, who had been intermingled moments before, began to push at one another.

  “Lower your weapons,” Middle Finger ordered.

  No one was listening.

  Spicy backed up into the hold. As if there hadn’t been enough bloodshed in the mud village. The men outside were shouting at each other now. But escape meant getting off the boat.

  The cabin had a small window Spicy was sure he could squeeze through. He moved to open it. At his feet was a small coffer that would serve as a decent step. He kicked it over and heard the jingle of coins. Scooping the coffer up, he realized it was quite heavy.

  Outside, the uproar was reaching a crescendo. Middle Finger couldn’t get his men to back down. One of the Wind Bonnet men clutched a bleeding arm. Breaker held a thin sword pointed at Middle Finger. The sailor manning the giant crossbow was now searching for a target.

  Coffer in his arms, Spicy grunted as he struggled out onto the deck. “Captain Breaker, I have your refund.”

  He dropped the coffer before the squabbling pirates.

  Middle Finger and Wes both had murder in their eyes as they glared at Spicy.