Goblin Rogue

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Alma tried to sidestep the guard she was fighting, but he caught her with a foot, tripping her. He closed on her, preparing to strike. Spicy drew his own knife and threw it. It was a clumsy throw, the blade tumbling, but it struck the man sidelong and caused him to turn. Alma stabbed the man in the foot. The guard howled and stumbled backward. She got up and pressed at him with a furious series of thrusts and a sweep of the cape. He managed to parry but was off-balance. Finally, she threw the cape and rushed him. He stumbled. She collided with him full force and pushed him over the side.

  She spun and pointed behind Spicy. “Get the trapdoor!”

  The hatch flipped open.

  Spicy moved to slam it shut again but was too late. The archduke climbed to the roof. Other guards could be heard below, one clambering up just behind the nobleman. Spicy began to back away.

  It was the first good look he’d had of the man. He was tall and thin, his naked face gaunt. His eyes were deep-set and intense. Even in the poor light, veins were visible through his pale skin. He was arrayed in dark leather armor studded with polished steel.

  “Enough of this foolishness,” the archduke said. “Drop the blade.”

  Alma nodded towards Spicy. “That’s the goblin. He can take you to the dragon.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Spicy said. “The dragons are both dead.”

  “One of you is lying. We’ll see which soon enough.”

  Alma flung her dagger. The archduke ducked easily and the heavy blade flew past. Alma turned and swung over the edge of the roof. Another guard was coming up through the hatchway.

  Spicy knew he wouldn’t be able to descend the building quickly or safely. So he rushed past the archduke and grabbed the new guard, knocking him off the ladder. They fell down the height of the ladder, landing on top of two more men who were waiting their turn to ascend. The landing knocked the wind from his lungs. He fought to rise as the men beneath him groaned. Spicy slapped a grabbing hand away and scrambled for the stairs. The guards were untangling themselves and trying to pursue even as the archduke shouted at them from above.

  “Stop that goblin!”

  Spicy fled down two flights of stairs and emerged into the courtyard. As he dashed around the closest corner, he realized he was running away from the drain and back towards the gatehouse. Once the chasing guards followed, he would be easily cornered and trapped.

  The gatehouse door opened. Spicy skidded to a stop. His knife was gone. From behind him he heard the guards storming after him.

  Goldbug stuck his head out the door. “Come on!”

  Spicy pushed past him, as the door was only partially opened. The inside of the guardhouse was crammed with furniture and junk. The door barely budged as they both worked to push it shut. It creaked on its rusty hinges.

  Not a moment later, a guard was pounding at the door. Goldbug grabbed a bench and propped it against the wood. Spicy began to pile more on. The door shuddered as the guard threw his weight against it. It began to buckle.

  A lantern rested on the bottom step of a stairwell leading up.

  “There were guards up there,” Spicy said.

  Goldbug led him upstairs. “Yeah. I locked two doors, which will keep them out of the gatehouse.”

  At the top, someone was banging on one of two doors on opposite sides of a spacious landing free of the clutter below. A wide window looked out at the street outside the keep.

  Spicy looked down. “That’s too far to drop.”

  “The only place I could climb was out on the wall using my knives.”

  A heavy crash came from beneath them. Goldbug began to push a table to the top of the stairs.

  “That’s not going to stop them,” Spicy said.

  He looked around. Besides shutters, the windows had thick curtains. Stepping up onto the window, he unhooked the metal curtain rod. It was just wide enough to catch on either side of the window’s opening. He removed one curtain and tied it to the other. The coarse fabric didn’t make a great knot, but he could only hope it would hold.

  Despite the men coming up the stairs and the ones shouting murder from the nearby door, Goldbug smiled when he saw what Spicy was doing.

  “That’s crazy. It might work.”

  Spicy stepped out onto the ledge of the window and tugged at the curtain rope. It gave a few inches before holding tight. He began to lower himself, fighting panic as his feet kicked out at the nothing beneath him. The wall below had no place to grip, and the ground seemed to recede as if the gatehouse were growing higher.

  Goldbug wasn’t waiting. He too came out and slid towards Spicy.

  “Wait! It won’t hold both of us!”

  Spicy hurried to descend but only made it to the bottom of the second curtain as Goldbug’s feet closed in on him. The sweat on Spicy’s hands made the fabric slick. But now he realized he was still too far up and the curtains weren’t long enough.

  “Drop!” Goldbug said.

  “They’re here!” a guard above them called. “They’re climbing outside!”

  Goldbug’s foot tapped Spicy’s head. “It’s now or never. They’ll be out the gate in seconds.”

  Spicy clutched the curtain, unable to let go. Goldbug slid down on top of him, sending them both falling.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Landing on the cobblestone street was jarring. Spicy tried to roll as he hit the ground, but Goldbug slammed on top of him, knocking him flat. A sharp pain radiated up through Spicy’s ankles, knees, and thighs. But as Goldbug climbed off him, Spicy found he was able to stand.

  The portcullis at the front of the keep began squeaking open.

  Goldbug pulled at Spicy, but the goblin hesitated.

  “She got away,” Spicy said.

  “We won’t, if you don’t follow me.”

  They ran. Both of Spicy’s hips ached and his entire back felt like it was cramping up. But fear was a good motivator as they trotted down along the green belt and made an alley off the avenue. Spicy paused to look back at the keep.

  A group of guards were milling about outside holding lanterns. But why weren’t they following? The archduke stood at their center. The calls of alarm had ceased.

  He felt anger begin to rise. Alma had saved him only to offer him up. Was she still inside the keep or had she found another way out? Now she was free and the archduke held Blaylock’s journal.

  Goldbug tugged his arm.

  “Why aren’t they chasing us?” Spicy asked.

  “What does it matter? The fact is they aren’t, at least not yet.”

  Spicy kept watching. A guard on horseback cantered up from a side street and headed to the keep. Soon another group of three followed.

  Goldbug shifted nervously behind him. “We did all we could here. Let’s go back to the boat.”

  Once the riders approached, the archduke began giving orders. One rider spurred his horse and rode off while the others dismounted.

  If Alma was such an important prisoner, why weren’t they searching for her? He was missing something.

  A few citizens of Pinnacle were out on the street watching. Spicy moved from the alley to get closer. Goldbug hissed at him to come back but didn’t follow. The pirate cursed and ran, his footsteps echoing down the alley.

  Spicy was alone. Pulling his hood up, he joined the group of spectators.

  Two women who reeked of wine and sweat were leaning on each other, neither appearing able to stand on their own. One man kept sniffling and dabbing his nose with a handkerchief, dutifully ignoring a scrawny waif in a dirty dress who kept tugging at his shirt. Three men wore stained aprons and smelled of fish. One of these held a hatchet.

  A tall child with a tangled mat of hair stood on her own and absentmindedly scratched at a scab on her arm.

  Spicy sidled up next to the child. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone broke out of the keep. Archduke is up there.”

  “Anything to worry about?”
<
br />   The child only half glanced at Spicy and kept picking at her arm.

  The guards filtered back in through the gate. Soon it was just the archduke and the three riders in front of the keep. A moment later a red cape appeared and brought him a horse. The archduke climbed into the saddle and the riders fell in behind him. They rode down the avenue in the crowd’s direction.

  Spicy shrank and inched back so the others would conceal him. The sniffling man and one of the fish butchers dropped to a knee. As the archduke galloped closer, the others shifted where they stood and lowered their heads. Spicy did likewise.

  Just as the archduke rode past, he drew up the reins and stopped his horse. The other riders trotted up behind him.

  “You citizens haven’t seen a goblin tonight, have you?” the archduke asked without looking directly at them.

  The people in front of Spicy shook their heads.

  The sniffling man murmured, “No, my duke.”

  The girl next to Spicy looked over at him. Spicy didn’t make eye contact, trying his best to remain stone-still even as he felt his heart race. She leaned forward, trying to peer under his hood. When she reached for it, he swatted her hand.

  The archduke sat motionless and inhaled slowly as if tasting the air. Then he clicked his mouth and the horse rode on. The other riders nudged their own mounts forward. In the poor light it was difficult to see the details, but all of them appeared nearly identical, tall, thin, young, with no facial hair and the lightest white skin. The hair on their heads was shaved down to the scalp.

  “Who are those men?” Spicy asked.

  One of the fish butchers grunted. “His sons. It’s like they all popped out of the same womb. But I don’t remember the archduke ever getting married or having children. They just showed up one day in court at his side. By the Mother, it’s not natural.”

  The sniffling man turned on him. “You’ll not speak ill of the archduke in my presence.”

  “You think your duke cares a piss about you, with his war and his letting Pinnacle fall into disgrace?”

  “You don’t look like you’ve missed too many meals, butcher. You’ll speak no more about the man.”

  The butcher spat and walked off, the other two joining him. The sniffling man grumbled and shuffled to a door and began fussing with a set of keys. The waif clinging to him trailed after.

  “You smell nice,” the young girl next to Spicy said.

  Spicy watched the horsemen ride away down the street. “Any idea where they’re going?”

  “Maybe they were chasing you.”

  The two drunk women hadn’t left. One of them said, “They’re heading for the docks, from what I’ve heard.”

  Did they know about the Sin Nombre?

  “They’ve been preparing the Cormorant, from what Roger told me,” the second drunk said.

  The first drunk scoffed. “Roger can’t see straight when he’s sober.”

  “That’s what he said, is all I’m saying.”

  “Ladies, what’s the Cormorant?” Spicy asked.

  “It’s the archduke’s own boat. He hasn’t used it in…I don’t know. Roger would know.”

  Spicy motioned for her to hurry up talking. “We can ask Roger later. Which dock would the archduke use?”

  The drunk made a face as if the question was ludicrous. “The one by his statue, of course. South side.” She pointed vaguely in the direction where the riders had gone.

  Spicy took a moment to search for Goldbug but couldn’t find him. Then he started to run.

  Even at night, the black statue was impossible to miss, as it was illuminated with a circle of hanging brass lanterns and stood in the center of the boulevard that ran along the docks. It was a giant figure carved of ebony stone holding a book and a sword. The statue’s face was pensive, but the thin face and hard eyes were those of the man Spicy had encountered on the roof of the keep.

  Burning lamps illuminated the street here.

  Spicy tried to dismiss the panic he was feeling and ignore the stitch in his side as he jogged past the statue.

  The city was large and strange, true, but the layout wasn’t without some logic. From the drunk’s comments, the archduke had his own dock nearby. Several merchants drove horse-drawn carts through the gloomy streets. The shadows held their own forms of traffic and Spicy decided it was better to stay in the light.

  Only one nearby dock was prominently lit. The boat tied sidelong to the pier was much larger than the Sin Nombre or any of the other vessels Spicy had encountered. Spicy crept closer to get a better look.

  At least a dozen sailors were loading the boat.

  A whistle sounded. A line of red capes came marching down the street, led by an officer. He blew his whistle a second time and the traffic ahead of them cleared the way. They filed to the dock, where one of the archduke’s sons met them. Soon they were all boarding. The boat had a tall mast and room for at least ten oars on either side.

  If the archduke was preparing to leave, it meant he had a destination in mind. He had been asking about the dragon. Without Alma to lead him, did he possess enough information to find the mud village? He claimed he knew Bird’s Landing. But finding the village would still require him to search the hills and swamp, unless the people of Bird’s Landing were interrogated.

  All of that would take time.

  Then he felt his stomach drop as he saw Blades. He wasn’t bound, but one of the sons had him by the arm and was leading him out onto the dock and then to the boat.

  With Blades in hand, the archduke wouldn’t need Alma to guide him to his dragon. Rime and the children would be captured or killed. The archduke’s obsession matched or exceeded Lord’s. The ruler of Pinnacle wasn’t content with any recipe for an explosive.

  Spicy retreated from the dock. He had to get back to the Sin Nombre. Coming to Pinnacle had been a giant mistake. Whatever dragon secrets had slipped through his fingers were nothing compared to what was about to happen.

  The archduke was heading for the delta and bringing enough men and weapons to take Fath and everything in his library away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Captain Middle Finger still lived. He adjusted a new pair of glasses on his nose. They were less fancy than his old ones, and they didn’t want to stay in place. Both his eyes were swollen and black, his cheeks were puffy, and there were multiple cuts on his face that were still seeping red. The man couldn’t sit up. He was lying on the hard bench in his cabin, a few pillows propping up his head. One of his arms was bound against his chest in a sling. Middle Finger winced and revealed a missing tooth as he handed the page he was trying to read back to Wes.

  When he spoke, his voice was thick and his jaw stiff. “Purchase the water and the cornmeal. The men will complain, but it will be enough to survive on for a few days.”

  Spicy fought to catch his breath as he stood waiting in the doorway. His sprint across the length of the Pinnacle waterfront had meant running for thirty minutes without stopping. Now he felt like he was going to throw up. He retched.

  Wes pushed past him.

  Middle Finger waved Spicy inside. The cabin was lit with candles.

  “Goldbug reported you found Alma. And that you freed her from the archduke.”

  “She was telling him everything,” Spicy said. “And once she was free, she told me she gave him the recipe book.”

  “And what about Mister Blaylock?”

  “He died while a prisoner.”

  Middle Finger nodded. He wheezed as he took a sharp breath and paused to blow bloody snot into a rag. “A pity. He was frail. But he would have returned with us. And Alma?”

  “She got away. The archduke killed everyone she talked to.”

  “The man understands the nature of competition; I’ll grant him that.”

  “Captain, he knows about Bird’s Landing. He doesn’t sound like he cares so much about making bombs, but he wants the dragon. Alma told him about Fath. He asked her about the other dragon, and now he’s getti
ng ready a boat.”

  This earned Spicy a hard stare. The captain tried to rise. Spicy had to help him.

  “Get Wes,” Middle Finger said. “Tell him there’s no time to supply. We leave now.”

  “He has a big boat with a large crew.”

  “The Cormorant. Every captain knows her. She’s fast. The archduke, it’s said, keeps his crew trained and they can row for days. Now summon Wes to me.”

  Wes and the crew were waiting just outside. They were huddled together and speaking softly. Goldbug stood with them and wore the guilty look of a thief who had just been caught filching something. Wes glared at Spicy.

  Spicy held the door to the cabin open. “The captain wants you, Wes.”

  “He can hear me, and his legs aren’t broken. Captain Middle Finger, the men and I require your presence.”

  Middle Finger groaned as he got up. He hobbled to the door, leaning on both sides of the frame. “What is this? We’re to be underway immediately.”

  Wes stepped forward as the other men looked on. “With no provisions? And to chase the archduke’s ship? Goldbug’s told us everything. We lost our chief form of income. With Blaylock dead, we’ve lost our prize. The goblin gave away our gold with our pay. Our hand is played out, and you want us to throw our lives away with your fool quest and go up against the archduke.”

  “We can salvage something if we keep that dragon alive.”

  “The beast is blind and only talks to the goblin. And we don’t know if it knows anything worth fighting for.”

  “And what of Bird’s Landing? Mr. Spicy reports the archduke is heading there.”

  “Not all of us are willing to die for our whoresons. But we do have the Sin Nombre. We can start fresh.”

  Middle Finger sighed. “So what is this, then? A challenge? Now? Your timing, Mr. Wes, is impeccably bad.”

  “Facing down Captain Breaker is one thing. But we don’t stand a chance against the Cormorant or Pinnacle red capes. And we’ve all heard stories of the archduke and his sons.”