Goblin Rogue

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Goldbug shifted in place as he searched for a target. From down the street came hoofbeats and a ringing bell, which grew louder.

  “Blades, listen. There’s people coming. There’ll be more guards. If they were after Alma and Blaylock, they’ll be after you too.”

  “I should kill you and be done with it.”

  “Look, the dragon wanted to know where the foreman went. I can tell him he’s been arrested. My job is done here. But right now, you’re in danger and so are we.”

  The knife lingered for a moment, Blades turning it by its handle. Then he slipped it into a sheath. Spicy yanked himself free of the man’s grip.

  A team of men drove a wagon their way with a large tank mounted on the back. More men on horses followed along with a few more running along behind them.

  Spicy and Goldbug hurried the opposite direction, with Blades limping after them. The mercenary paused a few times as if fighting a cramp. He quickly fell behind.

  “Gob, wait for me!”

  Goldbug hissed in Spicy’s ear. “We need to ditch him.”

  “I know. He’s dangerous. But he’s also drunk. He could know something and he might tell us.”

  Spicy waited until the staggering mercenary caught up.

  Blades clamped a hand on Spicy’s shoulder and leaned heavily. “I just figured it out. You called the guards on us.”

  “We didn’t. We were watching the place when they arrived. What would I get out of having the guards arrest you?”

  “Revenge. Why else does anyone do anything?”

  Spicy felt a growing anger building. “That doesn’t even make sense. You think I didn’t have opportunities to kill you? I could have convinced the dragon to eat you while we were on the boat together.”

  “He could have tried,” Blades said. “But as I recall, he was upset with you for not getting him to where he wanted to go. So you’re working for him? Goblins, trolls, dragons…like some kind of monster club.” He chuckled at his own joke.

  Goldbug kept his distance from him, rocks still in hand.

  Spicy walked slowly so Blades could keep up. “You came here with the foreman Blaylock. He also had a book. Did he keep that with him?”

  “And why would I tell you?”

  “Because if you do, I can help you free Alma.”

  Blades let out a laugh. “Seems you were never able to help yourself, or your people. Your sage jumped off that rock rather than fight. Unless you pushed him. Did you push him?”

  Spicy gritted his teeth and knocked Blades’s hand away. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me where the book is. I’ll find it myself.”

  Blades lunged for him and grabbed for Spicy’s hand. Without thinking, Spicy drew the small knife and slashed the top of Blades’s hand. Blades snatched his hand back and yelped. Spicy backed away. When Blades charged, Goldbug nailed him in the face with a rock. Blades screamed and raised a protective hand. Blood flowed from his cheek and from where Spicy had cut him.

  “You better hope I never catch you,” Blades said. “And you made it on my list, kid.”

  Spicy couldn’t think of a comeback. He let himself be led away as he and Goldbug ran.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Now we go back to the boat,” Goldbug said as if the matter was decided.

  “It would be best if you did go back. See if the captain’s okay. Let everyone know what’s happened. But I can’t, not without knowing where Alma and Blaylock were taken. Where would the guards go with special prisoners?”

  Goldbug hesitated. “If you don’t know, you’ll have to return to the Sin Nombre with me.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll do my best and ask every guard I meet.”

  “They’ll arrest you too. If they were looking for Alma, maybe they know about us. Like I said, the city’s changed. We don’t know who else is interested in the bombs. And we saw what the red capes were willing to do. They’re notorious for spreading money and hiring informants. They’ve overturned crews by paying off the weakest and greediest. Spicy, we have to go back.”

  Spicy shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve risked everything to get this far. If you won’t tell me where they’ll be taken, I’ll take the chance finding out for myself.”

  Goldbug nodded stiffly. “There’s a couple of jails for the riff-raff. But I don’t think they’ll be taken there, if the red capes want to interrogate them. Which means they’re for the keep. It’s the biggest hill south of the dock. They keep it well lit. You won’t miss it.”

  “You’re not going with me.”

  “I know the captain would want to know what’s happening. And if he’s gone, then Mister Wes. He’ll be the new captain, and he might say we’re done here. There’s nothing to be gained by us getting killed.”

  Was it fear he heard in the young man’s voice?

  The thought of going on alone to find the keep filled Spicy with dread. But he fought not to show his crumbling resolve.

  He offered Goldbug a hand. “Be safe.”

  He was surprised when the young man grabbed him in a hug. Spicy returned the embrace.

  “Don’t worry, friend,” Goldbug said. “I didn’t take anything. Walk softly. Keep those big ears open.”

  “I will. You too.”

  Goldbug vanished into the night. Spicy felt the urge to follow but forced himself to remain still. Then he made his own way across the city, alone.

  ***

  Spicy kept putting his hand on the knife he had used to cut Blades.

  He couldn’t believe he had actually done it. It had happened so quickly. It had been so easy. It frightened him, thinking that with a simple thrust, he could injure or even kill someone.

  Blades and Alma deserved death for their crimes. They hadn’t sought forgiveness. Yet the idea of taking revenge felt wrong. It wouldn’t bring his mother or any of the others back.

  His father had taught him it was a responsibility to take a life, whether it was a squirrel or bug. It should always serve a purpose. Blades was no longer a threat to him or anyone he cared for. The man was a pathetic drunk. But what about Alma? What would stop her from sharing the secret of the bombs with her captors?

  Even if the red capes killed her and Blaylock, the fact remained that the book with the recipe had fallen into human hands.

  It was dark as he once again passed through the poorer neighborhood. There were many shadows and few lights inside the homes. There were people still out, too: dark shadows that kept their distance and some that followed.

  He kept his hand on the knife and walked faster.

  At least one of the shadows was keeping pace. Gaining on him, even. Spicy began to trot, turning a corner and breaking into a sprint. His heart was pounding, and his legs and feet were sore from so much walking on the unyielding stone streets. He didn’t stop as he made another turn and then ducked around a loose board in a fence and ran down the side of a home to emerge out in a back alley.

  He paused to get his bearings. The fog was covering the moon and he didn’t see any landmarks. He was lost.

  Whenever he had gotten disoriented in the hills of Athra, he would climb a tree or a hill. Here in the city there were no trees worth climbing. He didn’t want to chance scaling a house. But Pinnacle featured many hills.

  He cut up one street and then turned on another, which took him higher in elevation. Shimmying up a fortuitous lamp pole, he saw an even greater hill beyond with larger homes. The wind was blowing, and if it was coming from the ocean, then he knew the opposite direction was east. He had his bearings again and felt confident he would find the piers and hopefully the hill with the keep.

  He was breathing hard when he made the top of a lane that crested the taller hill. He paused at the top of a stone banister which led to a mansion entrance. Down the hill the towers rose near the waterfront. The lights of the city flickered like stars.

  Pinnacle, for a moment, looked beautiful.

  The docks appeared to run the length of the city on the bay side. A promine
nt hill with a large, well-lit structure with high walls lay to the south past the spires of a church. The keep. No wonder the guards here rode, as the distances would be too great to cross on foot in a timely manner.

  From behind him, a dog inside a neighboring home began to bark. Then approaching footsteps echoed on the street.

  Spicy dropped down onto the sidewalk and ran downhill. He looked behind him and spotted a figure standing where he had just been. Was someone following him, or was it just a late-night stroller? But then the figure started running his direction.

  Spicy bolted.

  Arriving at an intersection, Spicy chose the steepest slope, which descended into an unlit street. Broken cobbles almost tripped him up. A long hedge ran along a short wall. Spicy dove through it and crunched on gravel. He hit the ground and waited.

  It didn’t take long for his pursuer to arrive. The figure’s boots clomped heavy down the street. Then he came to a stop just past the hedges.

  “Hard to hide when you smell like a bouquet of flowers,” Blades said.

  The front of the home had no side gate to escape through. Spicy got up. The hedge was between them. Blades was panting hard. His cut hand was wrapped in a dirty rag and his face appeared swollen even in the poor light.

  Spicy looked for a way past. “Leave me alone.”

  “Can’t do that. I just keep wondering what a goblin would be doing in the big city. And in such a hurry. Looks like your friend ditched you, and now I find you heading straight for the keep. Is it possible you need more from us? Spill it.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “I’m making it my business. This whole mess has been nothing but a headache. And if Alma actually has a big payday on her hands, then it’s worth protecting. The fact that you want it means you know something you’re not telling me. Maybe you’re worth something to the red capes. Let’s go and find out.”

  “I’m not going with you anywhere.”

  Blades stepped towards the hedges. “I wasn’t planning on asking.”

  Lights came on in the house.

  “They’ll call the guards on both of us,” Spicy said.

  Blades showed off his cut hand. “I’ll tell the city guards I was trying to stop a gob mugger.”

  A second-floor window opened. A woman stuck her head out. She looked down at Blades and Spicy. Then she produced a bell and began to ring it. Spicy plunged through the hedges and leapt down the wall. Blades hurried to catch him but wasn’t quick enough.

  “Send the watch!” the woman began crying.

  Blades was falling behind but matched Spicy turn for turn as they sprinted downhill. Spicy’s lungs were burning. Blades paused to pick up a rock and threw it but missed. His pronounced limp was in full force and he faltered.

  Spicy turned and walked backward. “They’re looking for you too, Blades.”

  Blades hobbled towards him. “I don’t know anything. But you do. They’ll want you.”

  “Who? Who here would want me?”

  “Does it matter? If they took Alma and the foreman, all I have to do is tell them that you know as much as they do.”

  “I’ll tell them the same about you.”

  Blades stopped in the middle of the street. “You’ll get yours, gob.”

  Spicy found the strength to keep running. Soon he was alone, the keep not far away. But Blades wouldn’t give up, Spicy was certain, and had guessed where he was heading. So he had to get to the keep first, find out where Alma and Blaylock were being held, and why, all without being caught.

  He almost laughed but didn’t want to waste his strength for what was to come.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The keep was a massive building of brick. A steel portcullis stood closed with a pair of guards out front, and high barred windows lit by candlelight looked down at the streets of Pinnacle like flickering eyes.

  The empty street ran up to the front of the keep.

  Spicy took refuge at the base of a tree, one of a line of them which had been planted down the middle of the broad avenue. The bell-ringing citizen who had raised the alarm had indeed summoned the watch. Four men on horseback had passed Spicy just minutes after he had evaded Blades. A few shouts broke the quiet air, but the night had again grown silent. He could hear his own breathing. His ears strained for signs that Blades or anyone else was following.

  The shadow of the tree was a good hiding place but he cursed the stench of the perfume that clung to him.

  Seeing the imposing keep made him wish he had gone with Goldbug back to the Sin Nombre. He also wished his sister Thistle was there and for a moment wondered where she was. Fath had been correct in warning him not to come to the city. He couldn’t protect the dragon from those who would profit from him and exploit him. This was too much responsibility. He didn’t have the skills of a studded hunter, nor the wisdom of a real sage’s apprentice.

  He forced himself to focus. While the guards weren’t particularly watchful, they also weren’t asleep. He wouldn’t be able to slip past them even if the portcullis was open. He needed to scout to find another entrance. But that meant breaking from his cover.

  A shadow approached from behind. It moved as quiet as an owl in flight as it closed in on him. Spicy found himself momentarily frozen in fear.

  “It’s okay, it’s me,” Goldbug whispered.

  Spicy let out a sharp exhale. “Goldbug? I thought you were going back to the boat.”

  “I was. Then a group of guards went past talking about an alarm. I thought it would be best if I came here to see if you were okay.”

  “You should have made it to the boat over an hour ago.”

  Goldbug crouched to survey the keep. “I stopped at a detour. So you going in there?”

  “It’s very tall. I’ve never climbed anything like that. I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “There’s guards up top too, no doubt. But we’re in luck. Only two out front. This place once had a score of guards on its night watch. Let’s take a closer look. Then you can finally decide it’s best to go back to the boat.”

  Spicy moved to the edge of the shadows. The guards at the keep’s entry were facing each other and speaking softly. Every so often, one or the other would pace and stretch or stomp about to keep warm. There was still no activity on the street. Keeping low, Spicy ran to the far side of the avenue and headed towards the keep with Goldbug right behind.

  When the guards turned towards each other again, he trotted the final distance across the cobblestones. They rounded the corner of the keep. Very little light shone down from the upper windows. The brick and mortar was rough but there were only the shallowest fingerholds, barely the width of a fingernail.

  “It’s no good,” Goldbug said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  But Spicy walked the length of the keep to the rear. He almost slid as the ground dropped off an embankment. The rear of the keep was backed up to a cliffside. Below was darkness. It looked like the hill itself was sliding, but the back wall appeared to be intact. Spicy sidled along to the corner, inching across the exposed footing of the wall’s foundation. But the rear of the keep remained as daunting as its side and front.

  He spotted something. Moving closer, he discovered a small section at the bottom of the wall that was cracked. It looked as if it had been patched, but some of the stone had crumbled away, exposing a grated drain.

  The grate shifted as he tugged on it. It wasn’t a large drain, not much bigger than the size of his head. The grate came loose. Spicy was careful to not scrape it on the mortar as he pulled it free. Goldbug held his hand out and Spicy passed it to him. Grate in hand, Goldbug retreated to the corner and set it down.

  Spicy looked up the drain.

  Only darkness waited.

  If he squeezed inside, he might become wedged. He hadn’t enjoyed the experience when escaping from Fath’s cave. Goldbug crouched and waited. Spicy knew it was the moment to either commit or turn back. He climbed in. He had to tilt his shoulders to fit
, but he managed to wiggle his way forward. The stone channel was slick with slime and smelled of dung.

  It felt as if it narrowed as he made it to the top. He forced himself to remain calm, to exhale to compact his chest even as his body craved air. Ahead of him just out of reach was another grating. He could just wriggle backwards if he needed to. The last few inches meant he might become stuck. Some guard or steward would find him there once the sun rose and he would be murdered.

  He strained to reach the grating. He was able to touch it, but it was rusty and didn’t budge. He squeezed as close as he could manage. With all his might he pushed but it still wouldn’t move. He tried again, and a third time, and almost let out a cry of frustration. Then, forcing himself to calm down, he tried twisting it.

  The grate shifted. He found himself struggling to keep it from slipping from his grip and clattering into the keep courtyard. He managed to lean it against the wall and then worked to worm himself out.

  He shivered as he extricated himself and surveyed the interior of the keep. The fog blew in above the walls. A few buildings occupied the massive courtyard, like a small town in miniature. Judging by the windows, the thick walls themselves held many rooms.

  He wiped his face clean and tried to focus on the sounds and smells around him. It was quite late. He heard no voices. The guards at the front might have been the only ones awake. But he didn’t dare assume anything. There were too many lights for everyone to have retired to bed.

  From one of the buildings, someone began barking orders.

  Spicy clung to a corner and watched as a pair of guards ran from a doorway. They were hurriedly pulling on cloaks and boots over what looked like underwear. A third man wearing a full guard’s uniform including a red cape followed. They ran across the courtyard to a smaller single-level structure where another guard waited holding a lantern. They all went inside. One emerged a moment later and ran to a stable. He came out with a horse and busied himself with the saddle before mounting the beast.

  “Open the gate!” he cried.

  A grinding metal noise began. He rode out of sight towards the front of the courtyard.