Goblin Rogue

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The sight stole his strength away.

  Boarhead, Thousand Oaks, Eel Port, and now this. Was burning and murder all that humans knew?

  He strained his ears for any signs of life, but the village was silent. The oars chopped at the water as the rowboat approached the Cormorant. The boat blocked off the inlet. A sailor on board threw a rope down. One of the rowers tied them off and then pushed Spicy up a dangling rope ladder to the deck.

  The third of the archduke’s sons was waiting for him. The man was identical to the other two but for a smear of blood on one cheek. Behind him, sitting on a barrel, was Blades. The mercenary had his hands in irons. He glared at Spicy with unfiltered hatred.

  The son gestured for Spicy to be placed near Blades, where manacles replaced the bindings on his hands. These were fixed to a ring set into the deck.

  “Sit, gob,” a guard grunted.

  Spicy plopped down and studied his surroundings.

  The boat had a large hold in the center that lay open. But the boat felt empty, as most of the crew was gone. Those few who remained busied themselves erecting a hoist with a set of winches and chains. Men’s voices could be heard from the village. Spicy stood erect to see but was shoved back down by the guard. But soon the guard was distracted by whatever was happening. The voices beyond the boat grew louder. Spicy stood up again. Even Blades got on his feet to see.

  “Heave! Heave! Heave!”

  The crew was hauling Fath through the village and towards the Cormorant. The dragon lay on a large tarp. Ropes were tied to his limbs. He appeared unconscious or dead, his mouth agape, his tongue dangling. Next to him limped the archduke, who was clasping his stomach as if in pain. But his complete attention was on Fath.

  “Tell me you’re not bringing that thing on board,” Blades said.

  No one answered as the dragon was dragged inch by inch down the dock. The men had trouble keeping their footing as the floating platforms bobbed and shifted under the heavy load. Several tumbled into the water. But finally they managed to get Fath close enough. The dragon was fixed to a harness and a team of sailors worked the winch and hoisted him up and into the hold.

  The crew let out nervous laughter as their task neared completion, but the archduke’s son watched in stony silence. The dragon was breathing.

  “Fath, wake up!” Spicy said as his master was lowered past him.

  Men descended into the hold after the dragon. They secured the creature with chains.

  The archduke climbed aboard the ship, accompanied by the rest of the crew. He had to be assisted as his strength appeared to give out. But then he shoved the men aside and walked around the hold, his attention fixed on his prize.

  “You’re done, right?” Blades said. “I’ve brought you here. You have your dragon. Time to hold up your side of the bargain.”

  The archduke turned to him and spoke in barely a whisper. “The second dragon is gone.”

  “I told you already. Alma said they killed him. I thought this one would be dead too. We weren’t exactly welcome here when we left. But I got you here just as you wanted.” Blades presented his chained hands. “So get these things off me.”

  “The books. The dragons had a library and were putting their knowledge down in writing. But there’s books missing.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. We came down from Eel Port with one dragon. And you’ve caught it. I’d recommend ending the monster’s life before it wakes up. What else do you want from me?”

  “Where are the books and the second dragon? If it’s dead, where’s the body?”

  “Like I said, I was a prisoner here. I have no clue. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Blades nodded towards Spicy. Spicy’s stomach gave him a squeeze when the archduke finally seemed to notice he was there.

  “He was tight with our dragon,” Blades continued. “The people who lived here welcomed him with open arms. You want to know where the second dragon is and its library? The gob knows. He gets his fingers into everything. And I’m sure you can get him to talk.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A red cape shoved Spicy towards the forward cabin. He turned and tried to resist, but the man was too strong. He gave Spicy a firm push. There were three steps leading down past the doorway that he didn’t see. He fell. The guard grumbled and followed and hauled Spicy to his feet.

  The manacles attached to his wrists were heavy and cut into his skin.

  The archduke waited inside. “Leave us.”

  Once the guard left, the archduke closed the door. Light shone in from a pair of small windows, but otherwise the cabin was gloomy and Spicy’s eyes were slow to adjust. It smelled of burned lamp oil. But the archduke also had a distinct aroma. It was the same sickeningly sweet orange smell that permeated his sons.

  From the opposite side of the cabin, labored breathing came from a shape lying on a bench against the rear wall.

  When the archduke lit a lamp with a match, Spicy stared in shock.

  It was Rime on the bench. He was covered in blood. His eyes were closed and his body trembled.

  Spicy ran to him. “Rime! What happened?”

  The archduke brought the lamp over. His tone was soft, almost gentle. “His injuries were an unfortunate occurrence. He fought bravely and tried to stop my men from claiming what we came for. But alas, your kind doesn’t have the resilience of your troll brethren.”

  Bandages covered his neck and chest. They were soiled and soaked through. His hand was clamped to another wound in his belly. Rime’s skin glistened with sweat. When Spicy touched his face, his eyes fluttered.

  “You have the dragon,” Spicy said without looking at the archduke. “Let us go.”

  “It seems the dragon chose your people as his servants. The mercenary says it was you who accompanied the creature down here from its lair in the north. You claim to be the dragon’s apprentice. Is this true?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Then I urge you to reconsider. If not for your companion’s sake, then for yours. Your master is lost to you. You can live and serve me in some capacity or die with the other humans out in the village.”

  Other humans. Spicy tried not to react. Did that mean the goblin children were unaccounted for?

  Spicy met the archduke’s cold gaze. The man’s dark eyes were black mirrors. “You said you were after the books in the dragon cave. Those were already there when the dragon and I arrived. The other dragon, Mach, is responsible for whatever the humans were doing here.”

  “You’re being coy. I’ve interrogated both the mercenaries and learned enough from them to know you’re fully aware of what this village was making. You met the bloated creature Mach. Your dragon ended his life. Your name is Spicy and it was you who came to Pinnacle and freed one of my prisoners. I recovered the notebook from her possession, but it appears all the books of note have gone missing. I want to know where they are.”

  “I don’t know.”

  The archduke sighed. He sat on the bench next to Rime. “You care for your friend.”

  “Don’t hurt him.”

  “His wounds are grave. I take no pleasure in petty torments, unlike my predecessors. But my patience is limited, as is my time.”

  “And I’m telling you whatever books you’re looking for are here. The only one worth anything that I knew about was in Alma’s possession and now you have it. My master knows nothing of the library’s contents. You asked about his lair up north? Everything my master wrote down was on a wall in his cave, and that collapsed. Blades was there. He could tell you that it was blown up. You’ll have to ask the people here about what their dragon knew.”

  “I did. They couldn’t share anything of value. I can tell from their surroundings how little they benefited from serving him. Such loyalty these creatures foster. Dragons with men. And dragons with goblins. But something I noticed in the cave leads me to believe there’s more to be found. I discovered writing implements and paper. All of it had been used re
cently.”

  Eve and Dill had been doodling in the dragon cave just before he had left. Spicy tried to keep his face neutral as he kept quiet.

  The archduke paused as if smelling the air. “It’s the one flaw the dragons always have—vanity. When they realize they aren’t, in fact, immortal, they struggle in their twilight years to set down all their accumulated knowledge. Mach broke his shackles and sought comfort. Your master lost his cave. Rather than being keepers of secrets, these poor beasts fall into the same trap as mankind. They refuse to adequately pass along what they know. The wisdom of ages dies when there are no heirs.

  “Your people stood to benefit from Fath if he had only trusted you enough to teach what he knows. But did he share? Or was he content to dangle scraps of knowledge without ever showing what any of it meant? Look at what one dead dragon left behind here. A single recipe describing combustions and reactive chemistry. And he handed it down to simpletons who used it for simple profits. The receptacles of the ages pass away before our eyes, the poor sad beasts. This is your chance, Spicy. Tell me where the missing books are. Humans may not deserve this knowledge, but you and your people do. It must be documented and saved and given to those who will lead our race into the future.”

  Spicy shook his head. “Wait. You’re human. I don’t understand.”

  The archduke gave a cool smile. “I’m as human as you are. Those many men who fill the city are not of our sort. They may rise again from an age of cold, but death and hunger and disease will continue to be their masters. Yet again they will fall. They’re weak. Their only strength is the fact that they breed quickly. What little resilience they display is overwhelmed time and again by their own stupidity.

  “Their one act of brilliance is our creation, lost to memory. What were we to them but monsters? Wallies, howlers, creepers—they never knew what to call us. But we thrived while they perished. All we have to do is correct the blunder of hiding all that we know in the heads of failed caretakers.”

  “You’re talking about the dragons.”

  “Yes. You understand.”

  Spicy shook his head. “I don’t think I do. I’m just a goblin from a small village. My people were defenseless when they got attacked. Rime and I don’t know anything, and we don’t have any of your books. It all died when Fath killed the dragon that lived here.”

  “Your people won’t be weak for long. But for that to happen, you have to play your part.”

  “And give you these books. But it’s like I said, I don’t have them.”

  The archduke sighed and rose. “I can tell when someone is hiding something. You’re a poor liar. I thought you might be reasonable. Soon my agents will find your ship and search it. You’ll regret not helping, as will those you love. Ponder your mistakes over the next hour. Ponder them carefully. Because your time to help your people and your friend draws to an end.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “You’re getting better at lying,” Rime whispered as soon as the archduke exited the cabin. He winced as he adjusted how he lay. “You’ve been hanging around humans too long.”

  “And you were pretending to be dying,” Spicy said, keeping his voice low.

  Spicy tried to help him sit up, but Rime gasped.

  “Not pretending. It hurts so bad. What I wouldn’t give for some painleaf.”

  “They must have some. I’ll go get someone to help.”

  Rime laid a weak hand on Spicy’s wrist. “The only reason they’re keeping me alive is to get Mach’s missing books. You were right not to tell him.”

  “I can’t tell him what I don’t know. Where are the children?”

  “Safe. Marta helped stash them away in the swamp. She loaded us on a rowboat along with most of the library, out in the reeds.”

  Spicy found a cloth and dabbed Rime’s face of sweat. “Why did you fight? You’re not a warrior.”

  Rime offered a strained grin. “You’re not the only one who gets to be a hero.”

  “I’m no hero. I’m just trying to keep all of us alive.”

  “One of their soldiers was going to find us. I jumped out and stabbed him. It wasn’t enough. He had armor. But then Marta shot him with her crossbow. He died. When she ran back to the village, I followed.”

  Rime coughed. He turned to spit blood into the cloth Spicy was holding. When the fit subsided, his voice was scratchy and weak.

  “They had captured Fath,” Rime said. “At first, I thought he was dead. ‘Good,’ I even thought. ‘That ends this.’ The people of the village tried to free him. They killed a few of the soldiers. But then there was a man who wouldn’t die.”

  Spicy nodded. “The archduke’s sons. I don’t know how they do it, but they’re like trolls. They heal really fast.”

  “He killed Marta. They captured the others. I don’t even remember who hit me when I tried to free them. Then they dragged me here. I heard them screaming. They kept screaming, on and on. For hours.”

  “Just try to rest.”

  “But that man in the black uniform…when I saw how many times he had been stabbed and cut and yet he continued fighting, I understood. He’s everything the humans could be. What if they all become like him? Then they’d not only have bombs, but there would be no way we could ever stop…”

  Rime started coughing again, and this time it didn’t let up until he collapsed, utterly spent. His throat made a gagging sound. Spicy did what he could to comfort him but felt helpless. A wound under his friend’s arm glistened with fresh blood.

  “You can’t trust them, Spicy,” Rime gasped. “Not Middle Finger. None of them. Even the dragon worshippers wanted something. The archduke lies about why he wants Fath and the library. He’ll use it for himself.”

  “You said Marta saved you. They’re not all bad. They can’t be. I have a friend who’s part of Middle Finger’s crew. He’s risked himself for me more than once.”

  Rime put his head back and closed his eyes. His lips moved but no words came out. Spicy realized he didn’t know where in the swamp Rime had hidden the children. If the archduke’s sons were still out there searching, they would find them.

  “Where did you tell the children to hide, Rime?”

  The archduke came in through the cabin door. Even over the sharp smell of blood, his sickly orange-peel smell once again permeated the room. Spicy hadn’t realized he was squeezing Rime’s hand. But the hand had gone limp.

  Spicy felt a cold lump in the pit of his belly.

  “Time to share what you know,” the archduke said.

  Nodding, Spicy put Rime’s hand across his chest. His friend was no longer breathing.

  “He told me everything,” Spicy said numbly. “They hid the books just before you came to keep them out of Captain Breaker’s hands. I can take you to them. He told me where.”

  “Then you’ll show me. Now.”

  As the archduke moved to exit the boat, without warning, he collapsed. Two of his sons were there in an instant, helping him stand.

  “I’m fine,” the archduke muttered, but he couldn’t stand on his own. One of the sons helped him back to the cabin. The remaining son signaled the red cape commander, who became Spicy’s new escort.

  The commander checked the manacles. “All right, let’s go. The duke says you can find what we’re looking for. Any funny business, and you get weights on your feet and we throw you into the mud for the tide. Got it?”

  As Spicy struggled to climb over the side, Blades said, “Why does he get to leave? Hey!”

  The commander was climbing down right after Spicy, his boots threatening to step on Spicy’s fingers if he moved too slowly. One of the sons followed them down. Blades continued to protest even as they walked down the shifting planks to the muddy shore.

  Spicy was prodded forward into the village.

  It was a ruin. A pair of guards straightened to attention as Spicy was led past the smoldering heaps of what had once been huts. Near the center firepit, a row of men hung fixed to iron stakes hammered int
o the ground. They were the dragon worshippers. Two might have been members of the Sin Nombre crew, but it was difficult to tell. All their clothes had been cut away. Spicy felt his stomach turn. Their skin hung in ribbons, peeled from their bodies and faces.

  The commander nudged Spicy. “Some of that treatment for you if you don’t show me the books the duke is looking for. Just so we’re clear. Those boys of his sure love their work.”

  The son paused to sniff one of the hanging villagers. The wretch shuddered and groaned. The son looked him over, a smile crossing his face. It was the first expression Spicy had seen on any of the sons. The son squealed with a child’s delight.

  “Sir, can we focus here?” the commander said.

  But the son’s attention remained on the dying villager. He studied the helpless man’s ruined face. Then he began to prod and poke at the man’s body, each jab of his finger resulting in an exhausted whimper.

  The two guards appeared uncomfortable. “Commander…” one of them said in a low voice.

  “Buck up, soldier. This is the job. Besides, we’re almost done here. This gob’s taking us to what we’re looking for.”

  When Spicy hesitated, he was given a shove. Spicy led him through the village and back down to its muddy border. The son didn’t follow, still preoccupied with his victim. At the shore, the inlet led away from the wider waters through tall reeds.

  Spicy struggled to think clearly. He pushed thoughts of Rime and the horror of the village from his mind.

  This might be his only opportunity. If only he could elude the commander, he might escape. It would be the only hope the children had.

  “This way,” Spicy said.

  “Into the mud? This better pay out, or I’ll have a share in your execution.”

  Tadpoles scurried out of their way as Spicy trudged into the muddy water. He pushed vegetation aside. The commander muttered curses as he followed.

  Ahead lay drag marks where something had recently been hauled across the soft ground at the opposite edge of the water, maybe a boat. Had the children come this way? Before Spicy could change direction, the commander grunted and looked at the marks.