by Jim C. Hines
“My name is Jig,” he grumbled. Climbing out of the pit was difficult. Jig had never been strong, and his hands and arms weren’t used to this sort of work. But he eventually reached the top. Barius, who had reached down to help Riana out of the pit, didn’t even look at Jig as he struggled to hook his ankle over the edge. Darnak followed a minute later, and then Ryslind, pulling the rope up behind him.
Stone grated loudly as the trapdoor sealed itself. Jig sat on the floor, trying to catch his breath, when he noticed Smudge clinging to his leg.
“Decided to forgive me after all, then?” Or maybe the spider had simply decided that coming with Jig was better than being left alone in the pit. It didn’t matter. Jig felt better for Smudge’s company. At least, he felt better until he spotted the hobgoblins coming down the corridor.
This was the first time Jig had really seen the adventurers in battle. During that first attack, he had been too busy hiding to watch much of the fight. He only saw the end, when Darnak and Barius beat the last few goblins. And the fight in the pit would have been too chaotic to follow even if he hadn’t been elbow-deep in worm guts at the time.
But now, watching the others draw weapons and prepare for the hobgoblins’ attack, Jig began to understand why surface-dwellers slaughtered goblins time after time.
Ryslind slipped his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion. Barius and Darnak each took a step forward, leaving room for Ryslind to fire while at the same time shielding him from attack. Two hobgoblins fell before they even reached the adventurers. A third stumbled over the bodies of his fellows, and Barius’s sword licked out to slice deep into the side of his neck.
Three hobgoblins down before the fight had even begun. Jig stared in disbelief.
All the hobgoblins wore armor they had cobbled together. Bits of plate mail strapped over leather and chain, and several had shields of varying designs as well. All used swords or axes. No kitchen knives here. This was a force that could overrun a goblin patrol in a matter of minutes.
Despite their strength and numbers, the hobgoblins didn’t stand a chance. Jig wouldn’t have recognized the adventurers as the same people who had, minutes before, shouted and snapped at one another like children. They were a team, working with one another, whereas the hobgoblins struggled as much among themselves as with the enemy.
That was the key, Jig realized. That ability to trust and work together in battle. Barius didn’t bother to protect his vulnerable left side, trusting Darnak to smash anyone who tried to attack him there. Neither faltered at all when Ryslind fired his arrows between them, and each of those arrows took a hobgoblin in the throat or chest. Were these goblins, they never would have trusted one of their number to stay behind with a bow. The temptation to “accidentally” shoot someone who might have stolen your rations, insulted your family, or stepped on your foot at last night’s dinner was too great.
The hobgoblins suffered from the same lack of trust. They tripped over one another, yelled and fought their way to the front, and seemed to have no plan beyond this straight charge. Jig watched as one hobgoblin pushed another out of the way. The one being pushed stumbled forward, and Darnak smashed his skull with a twirl of his club. The adventurers hardly needed to work at all. The hobgoblins were killing themselves.
And then it was over. Jig heard the survivors retreat back up the tunnel. Bodies covered the ground in front of the three adventurers. The carrion-worms would eat well tonight.
As he watched them clean their weapons and armor, Jig began to think he had been lucky when Porak sent him ahead as a scout. Had he remained with the patrol, he would have been cut down as easily as these hobgoblins. Easier, since he had been unarmored and practically unarmed. It made him embarrassed to be a goblin.
One unexpected blessing was that victory had improved Barius’s temper. He didn’t even insist on retying Jig’s bonds. Instead he seemed to glow with pride as he checked to be sure the others were uninjured.
“Three victories in a single night,” he gloated. “Surely the gods smile upon my quest. We shall find the rod, for nothing beneath this mountain has the strength to stop us.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Come, let us find the entrance to the lower tunnels. We will rest there before descending, to give my brother time to renew his strength. Lead on, goblin.”
Lead he did, guiding them away from the hobgoblins and through the slowly descending tunnel that led to the lake. He didn’t even worry about what they faced there. Jig was too confused by what he had just seen and by what it meant.
All his life Jig had believed surface-dwellers killed goblins through trickery. They used enchanted weapons, spells to call fire and death, and fine armor the likes of which no goblin could make. Certainly some of that was true. That spell Ryslind had used to sneak up on their patrol, the one that made him appear to be a part of the rock, was magic no goblin could hope to fight. Nor was Jig’s knife a match for Barius’s sword or Darnak’s club.
But there was more. In their fight with the hobgoblins, the adventurers had used no magic. Their weapons, while of good quality, were no more magical than those of their foe. There had been no time for trickery or ruses. And still they had wiped out three times their number without losing a single one of their party. Barius struck like a serpent, fast and deadly. He knocked hobgoblin swords aside with ease, because he knew how to fight. His sword was a part of him, and it twisted and dodged past his enemy’s guard like a living thing. How many hours had he trained to be able to do that?
Jig flushed when he thought back to his poor kitchen knife, and how much he had secretly longed for a sword, thinking that all it took was a bit of steel to make him the equal of these adventurers.
The dwarven follower of Silas Earthmaker had stood like a god himself, unmovable and untouchable as his club lashed out to break swords and bones alike. He too must have worked hard to develop such strength of arm. Sure, dwarves were tougher than most races, but Darnak had taken that toughness and strengthened it further. Jig looked again at the dwarf’s pack, remembering how much equipment had been stuffed into that bulging leather pack. Jig would be hard-pressed just to lift what Darnak carried around as though it were nothing.
Ryslind was the worst of them all. As a wizard, he was the one enemy no goblin would expect to defeat. But he had used no magic just now. Instead, he had sent one arrow after another safely past his companions. Jig had watched him more closely than the others, and the wizard had not missed a single shot. That cold precision terrified Jig.
Could it be that what the surface-dwellers said about goblins was true? Could goblins be the clumsy, stupid creatures Barius and the others assumed them to be? If so, what did that mean for the fate of Jig’s people? They would never accomplish anything, not if the smallest group of surface-dwellers could slaughter them with such ease. It meant goblins were nothing but a nuisance, existing only to die at the hands of adventurers like this.
No, that wasn’t it. The problem wasn’t the adventurers, but the goblins themselves. They were incapable of working together, of planning or growing. All they could do was charge into battle and get themselves killed. Or in Jig’s case, they could hide and watch from the shadows while the others died.
His people, his entire race, were no more than a joke. Jig had betrayed his captain, letting Porak die for an insult Jig had committed. He was nothing but a worthless coward, the same as every other goblin.
Jig perked his left ear as he heard the faint sound of water lapping the stone shore. His right ear continued to listen for sounds of pursuit. Despite all he had seen, a part of him still couldn’t believe the dreaded hobgoblins wouldn’t come back to finish them off. Depressed or not, he had no desire to let the hobgoblins get their claws on him.
The air was cooler here. A thin green film of moss covered the walls and ceiling, even the edges of the floor. The air smelled like dead fish as they neared the lake.
“How far to this lake?” Barius asked. “I feel as though we’ve pa
ssed through half the mountain. ’Twouldn’t surprise me if we found ourselves emerging from the far side.”
“Up ahead,” Jig said, reminding himself that they couldn’t yet hear the water. “Not far.”
“Excellent. Then let us rest here for the night. Assuming it is still night, that is. Who can tell this far underground?”
“It’s nigh about an hour past midnight,” Darnak said without looking up from his map.
“Who but a dwarf, that is?” Barius said, still in high spirits. “We will take turns watching for danger. I shall watch first. Each man takes a shift of one hour. No longer, or you will begin to lose your focus. Darnak, I will awaken you when my shift is up.”
Jig knew without being told that he would not be asked to take a watch. Trust a goblin to protect them in their sleep? Ridiculous. Might as well ask a carrion-worm to stand guard.
He curled into a tight knot, back against the wall, and tried to pretend he was back in his lair. Safe and well-fed, with nothing more to worry about than the jibes of the other goblins. But the waves in the distance slipped into his weary thoughts. In his dreams he found himself in the water, trying to swim away but unable to move his arms while the lizard-fish surrounded him, coming closer and closer with those poisonous spines. . . .
CHAPTER 5
A Day at the Beach
Slender hands shook Jig awake. His vision was always worst when he woke up, and at first he could only stare dumbly at the red-haired blur above his face. Darnak had shuttered the lantern for the night, and the cracks of light that escaped were barely enough to let him make out slender, pointed ears and a narrow nose.
“You sleep hard,” Riana whispered when she saw he was awake. “Don’t speak.” She held a hand over his mouth, ignoring the fangs that could have torn through her palm.
“The others are asleep. If you go quietly, they won’t be able to catch you.”
Jig blinked, trying to clear his head of a dream in which he had been flung into a flaming pit while a huge, eight-eyed face watched from above. Who wouldn’t be able to catch him? Where was he supposed to go? How had Riana taken the place of the giant fire-spider of his dreams?
He looked at the others, but saw only three mounded bedrolls, like giant cocoons. The dwarf snored like an earthquake, but Jig could hear the others as well, both drawing the slow breaths of sleep. Riana wasn’t lying about that.
Could this be a trap? Maybe once he started to run, she planned to awaken the others and accuse him of trying to escape. That would give Barius all the excuse he needed to finish off the lowly goblin. But why would she go to such trouble to finish off a single goblin?
“Why?” he asked hoarsely. His mouth was dry, as it always was after sleeping. For a goblin, with teeth like miniature stalagmites, it was impossible to sleep with his mouth closed as the other party members did.
“They know I won’t run off,” she said bitterly. “I wouldn’t make it past the hobgoblins, let alone survive long enough to see the surface. But you could escape.”
“You’re a prisoner?” He stared stupidly, trying to understand. “But you’re an elf.”
She laughed at him. “So?”
Jig didn’t know how to explain. He only knew that elves were supposed to be graceful and powerful. Elven warriors slipped past their enemies like the wind, but when they fought, their slender arms lashed out with the strength of multitudes. Elven wizards were masters of the elements, forcing fire, lightning, water, and wind to obey their will with the flick of their fingers. He couldn’t reconcile those images with this helpless girl who claimed to be a prisoner.
“I thought all elves were strong and powerful,” he said at last.
“Yeah, and I thought all goblins were selfish, backstabbing cowards.”
“But we are.”
Riana rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Before they came here, they stopped at an inn to rest. Ryslind caught me trying to pick his pocket. I thought I could earn a coin or two off those pretty pouches he carries. Instead he dragged me to his room and offered me a choice. I could either come along and help them on their stupid quest, or he could kill me on the spot. He said he would prefer not to kill me, since a dead elf might cause diplomatic problems for his father.”
She turned away, hiding her face. “I didn’t believe him. I think he wanted to kill me. He’s as bad as his brother. Those eyes . . . I felt like I was staring into my own funeral fire.”
“Why would Ryslind want to kill you?” Barius was the bloodthirsty one. Ryslind was merely cold and distant. He didn’t take pleasure out of fighting the way his brother did. He was cold and efficient when he killed, and he didn’t strut about for hours afterward like a goblin fresh from the mating bed.
“He’s a wizard,” Riana whispered. “Remember that powder he used to enchant the rope? What do you think that was made from? I heard them talking earlier tonight. He got that powder by grinding up the skeletons of two unhatched griffons. What sort of ingredients do you think he’d get from an elf? We’re magical creatures too. Not as strongly magical as griffons, but I’m sure he could find uses for an elf girl.”
“Are goblins magical?” he asked. He didn’t want to end up in one of Ryslind’s pouches.
“Of course not.”
She needn’t have answered quite so quickly, Jig thought. “Do all wizards use that sort of thing for their spells?”
“How should I know? Everyone does magic differently, I think. Even the dwarf can do a little when he prays hard enough. I saw him do it before we came here. He prayed over the two humans to make them stronger and faster. After that, they both looked larger, more dangerous.” She laughed again, and this time Jig heard the deep bitterness behind it. “They didn’t bother to give me Earthmaker’s blessing, of course.”
“I still don’t understand why they brought you along. Isn’t it dangerous for them to kidnap an elf? Won’t the other elves be angry?” Even as he asked, his thoughts wandered back to the goblin lair. Goblins vanished all the time, and nobody thought twice about it. To mount a rescue for a lost goblin would be ridiculous. But he had believed that elves and the other surface-dwellers were different. Maybe he was wrong.
Riana shook her head. “My parents died in a border war when I was a child. A human family brought me up and set me to work as a kitchen drudge. They had a large family: aunts, uncles, grandparents, and a herd of kids. I scrubbed pots and cooked for them for ten years before I ran away.
“I thought I could go back and be with my real family. Even if my parents were dead, at least I could live with other elves. But I couldn’t even speak the language. They were terribly kind, of course. They fed and sheltered me, all the while treating me like I was slow in the head. I was more of a pet than anything. So I ran away from them, too.”
She was crying, Jig realized. Her shoulders shook, but her voice remained steady. “They were so proud and confident and graceful. Even a crippled elf could make me feel like a clumsy fool. Their attitude didn’t help matters, either. They talked about me behind my back, called me a half-breed even though I was as elven as they were. But I wasn’t. I didn’t feel like an elf. I hadn’t grown up with elves. The simplest rituals of daily life left me confused and angry. Soon I was stealing from the other elves. I didn’t need to steal. I did it because I was so angry.
“I think everyone was happy when I left. Being on my own was no better, though. I robbed travelers so I would have enough money to eat. I slept in the streets. I thought about buying passage on a ship. Didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere had to be an improvement. Only it wouldn’t have been. I think that’s why I never really tried. I could have stowed away, but I knew there was no place I belonged.”
Her voice trailed into silence. Jig waited, confused. Why was she telling him all of this? He felt like he should say something.
“You don’t belong here, either.” He ignored her disgusted glare and went on to ask his real question. “What did Ryslind want you to do for them? Down here, I mean.”
She wiped her nose and eyes. “I’ve picked a lock or two in my time. They thought that might be useful. They wanted me to look for traps as well, but I’ve no more chance of spotting a trap than you would. Barius is furious that I didn’t warn him about the hobgoblins’ pit. They think that because I’m a thief, I’m a good hand at traps and knives and sneaking around in the darkness. Maybe some thieves do all of that, but I just cut purses and break into the occasional inn room. And it’s a rare merchant who plants a trap on his purse.”
Darnak’s steady snores broke suddenly as the dwarf rolled over. He mumbled, “Earthmaker take you all, villains,” kicked his leg twice, and began to snore again.
“Go,” Riana said. “You saved my life. I owe you. And it will be good to thwart them in this one small thing.”
Jig wondered if he was still dreaming. Before tonight, Riana had spoken only a handful of words. He understood how those elves in her homeland might have assumed something was wrong with her. He had begun to think the same thing. Could that quiet, withdrawn, angry girl be the same Riana who sat here telling him about her past and offering him his freedom all in the same sitting?
Freedom. The word had a bittersweet taste as he thought about what his freedom could mean. Only hours before, he had wanted nothing but to return to his lair. Riana had handed him his chance. All he had to do was take it. Grab Smudge and run. His bare feet would make no noise to wake the others, and if he was careful, he could probably make it past the hobgoblins.
He could go home. But to what end? To live as a coward among cowards? To watch his people die time and again, and for nothing?
Worse, one goblin from Porak’s patrol had escaped. If he made it back to the lair, he would have spread the tale of Jig’s cowardice. He might even have blamed Jig for Porak’s death. If so, they would kill him as soon as he returned to goblin territory. Because killing Porak made Jig a goblin to be reckoned with. Others would want to prove themselves by killing Jig, preferably as painfully as they could.