by Jim C. Hines
Probably not, he decided. He drew his sword and attacked. The guard snarled and tried to swing his spear, but Jig was too close. The shaft bounced off his shoulder, hard enough to hurt, but nothing more.
Remembering one of Barius’s moves, Jig took a quick half-step and lunged. He overbalanced and almost fell, but his sword bit into the guard’s stomach. Jig caught himself, pulled the sword free, and spun around before the other guard had figured out what was happening.
Jig pointed his sword at the other guard, ignoring the groaning goblin on the floor. Doing his best to mimic Barius in voice and posture, he said, “I told you we need to see the chief.”
“But . . .” The guard glanced at his bleeding companion. He stared at the sword in Jig’s hand, his eyes focusing on the blue smear of blood. He took a step back, and the tip of Jig’s sword followed him.
“Right,” he said meekly. “Sorry about that.”
Jig nodded. He lowered his sword, hoping the guard hadn’t noticed how his arm shook. Dramatic poses were hard! Even a short sword got heavy if you held it outstretched for very long.
“Come on,” he said to Riana. He led them down the tunnel toward the main cavern. He hoped he hadn’t killed the guard. He had come here to help the goblins. Though eliminating some of the stupider guards might be construed as helping. He would have to think about that later. For now, getting past the guards had been the easy part. Getting past the hundreds of goblins they were sure to encounter next would be a much larger challenge.
Apparently Riana was having similar thoughts. As they neared the jagged entrance, she whispered, “Do you have a plan, or was this just another way to commit suicide?”
“Suicide,” Jig answered. Plans were for adventurers. He preferred the goblin approach. Blind panic might not work all the time, but at least it saved you the stress of planning.
He blinked. Panic might be exactly what he needed. His jaw jutted into a wide grin. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Riana’s arm.
“If this doesn’t work, I’m going to make sure you die with me.” But she sounded resigned, not angry.
“If this doesn’t work, I’m sure I will.”
A hundred goblin voices washed together in a low roar as they walked into the room. The noise died within seconds as the goblins stared at Jig and Riana, trying to understand what they were doing here, so obviously out of place. At any moment, someone would cry out and send the cavern into total chaos. Jig wanted to make sure that someone was him.
“Adventurers!” he screamed at top volume. He waved his bloody sword in the air, hoping nobody would remember that adventurers tended to bleed red, not blue. “They’re attacking the guards! Where’s the chief? I have a deserter from their party who can help.”
Whispers spread like lice, and Jig heard his name mentioned a number of times. Nobody moved. Didn’t they believe him? He waved his sword again. Riana swore at him and wiped off the dots of blood which had sprayed from his sword onto her sleeve.
“What did you say?” she asked.
He had forgotten she didn’t speak Goblin. “I told them the adventurers were coming, and you were going to help us.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip for a second, then shouted, “They’ve rallied the hobgoblins and their tunnel cats. They’re coming to steal your women and children.”
“And our food!” Jig added.
That earned a much stronger response, at least from those who understood Human. Goblins everywhere scrambled for weapons or ran deeper into the warrens to hide. More the latter than the former, but at least they were moving. More importantly, nobody had tried to kill him.
The chief had a large room behind the kitchen, so that he could eat whenever he felt like it. Jig’s stomach grumbled at the thought.
“Come on.” He struggled through the crowd of goblins, toward the far side of the cavern. Riana followed close behind.
Strong fingers grabbed Jig’s wrist. The goblin’s grip was weak compared to the dragonchild’s, but it was still too powerful for Jig to break. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?” the goblin demanded.
Jig felt a moment of bizarre relief. At least we aren’t all gullible. The fact that it could cost him his life took some of the satisfaction away, though. The other goblin had Jig’s sword arm, and his fangs were almost an inch longer than Jig’s.
The goblin’s eyes widened. He looked down. Following his gaze, Jig saw a dagger sticking out of his side. Silently the goblin fell.
“You blindsided him,” Jig said, impressed.
“I’m a thief. We’re sneaky that way.”
A few other goblins had seen what happened, and Jig’s stomach tightened as a crowd began to form around him and Riana. They were close to the kitchen. All he needed was a few minutes with the chief. After that Jig would probably die, and Riana would go into the pot, but at least he would have warned them about Barius and the others.
He pulled out his sword and screamed. Compared to Darnak’s battle cry, Jig sounded more like a frightened rat than a warrior, but it worked. Goblins fell back, startled and uncertain. Jig dashed through the gap and into the kitchen, Riana stepping on his heels as she ran.
Golaka scowled at him as he entered. “What are you doing, barging in like that? It’s another hour before dinner.”
The noise dropped as he entered the kitchen. Nobody followed. Few goblins dared intrude when Golaka was cooking, which was most of the time.
Golaka the chef was the largest goblin Jig had ever known. While not quite as tall as the average hobgoblin, she easily surpassed them in terms of bulk. The goblins liked to joke that you wouldn’t be able to tell Golaka from her cauldron if it weren’t for the fact that she never stopped complaining.
Jig figured her size was an occupational hazard. How could you spend day after day manning the kitchen without snacking a bit? But Golaka was as much muscle as fat, and she pulled out her stirring spoon and shook it at Jig like a broadsword. “Jig, isn’t it? Are you the one causing all that commotion? And what’s this morsel here? She’s a skinny one, isn’t she? Couldn’t find anyone with more meat on her bones, I suppose.”
Jig gave quick thanks to Tymalous Shadowstar that Riana couldn’t understand Goblin. “Golaka, where’s the chief?”
“Dead. He went looking for those adventurers and ran into a hobgoblin ambush. Seems there’s been all sorts of excitement these past few days. Means everyone will be all stirred up, no doubt. Fighting over who gets to be the new chief and all that nonsense.”
Jig’s body went numb. He dropped his sword. Dead? He had fought through the entire goblin lair, only to learn that the chief was dead?
“Long as I can remember, it’s always the same. Adventurers come in and cause trouble. Bunch of young goblins run out and get themselves killed. Another patrol goes out and ambushes the adventurers. I end up with a few more bodies for the pot and a dozen less mouths to feed.
“At least they’ll bring in some wood for the fire. A few arrows, maybe an axe handle or something. Haven’t had any new wood in almost a month, since that hobgoblin trader slipped and fell on my carving knife.”
Jig ignored her. The shock was so great that his entire body tingled. He stared at the scraps of wood burning merrily beneath her pot. If Golaka was telling the truth, they had continued to burn for an entire month without any new fuel.
She snorted. “That’ll teach those hobgoblins to get fresh with me. Of all the raw nerve. He’s lucky I didn’t make sausages out of his worthless guts. All for the best, though. Hobgoblin causes indigestion something fierce.”
The emanations of the rod would appear natural, shaped by the wills of those around it. “Golaka,” he said, voice hoarse. “Have you ever run out of wood for the fire or food for the cauldron?”
“Course not,” she snapped. “Though why you young know-it-alls can’t bring me a fresh human from time to time is beyond me.”
Golaka had run the kitchen for as long as Jig could remember. Older goblins would sometimes tell
stories about meals she had made when they were children. How long had she been alive? Could anyone remember a time when someone else cooked here?
Goblins rarely died of old age, a sad fact Jig had never before stopped to consider. So nobody really knew how long a goblin could expect to live. But surely Golaka had long ago exceeded her life span.
Jig stared at her with such intensity that she actually stopped in midrant, an occurrence unheard of in goblin history.
“What’s the matter? I suddenly turn beautiful or something?” She laughed loudly. “Not nice to stare, Jig. And I’m afraid you’re a bit too young for me.” She took her stirring spoon and smacked him on the arm, splashing broth onto his stomach.
Jig ignored the burning broth as he stared at the spoon. The brass head topped a wooden handle. A simple, unadorned wooden handle, about a yard long.
“What is it, Jig?” Riana followed his stare, and her sudden gasp told him that she had reached the same conclusion.
They had found the Rod of Creation.
CHAPTER 16
Fetching the Rod
Jig snatched for the rod. Golaka stepped back, and the heavy spoon crashed onto Jig’s head as he stumbled past. He staggered, white spots floating across his vision.
“Stupid kid,” Golaka said. “Get out of here and let me work. Nobody samples the food before mealtime, not even the chief.”
“You said the chief was dead.”
“That’s right, and unless you want to join him, you’ll keep your grimy claws to yourself.”
Jig leaned against a wall. Maybe he didn’t have to do anything more. Darnak had thought a dragon made a fearsome guardian. That was because he had never encountered an angry goblin cook.
Jig could leave Golaka and the rod in peace. When Barius and the others got here, she would pummel them with the rod, throw in a tongue-lashing to make them sorry they ever saw a goblin, and send them on their way. If they protested, well, Golaka could always use more meat for the pot. Yes, that would be much easier.
Riana slipped close to his side and whispered, “Jig, are you okay?”
What a stupid question. But he nodded anyway.
“Good.” In a louder voice, she added, “Then let’s kill her and get out of here.” She leaped toward Golaka, sword flashing in the torchlight.
Jig slapped at his waist. That was his sword! Riana had stolen it.
His annoyance was nothing next to Golaka’s reaction. Her eyes bulged like a lizard-fish’s. Her ears flattened, and her broken fangs scraped against her upper teeth. “Pull a knife on me? Not in my kitchen, little elfling. You won’t kill Golaka that easily.”
She dodged backward and rushed for her butchering table. For all her bulk, she moved as fast as any adventurer. Grabbing a knife in each hand, she spun to face Riana. “You’re too small for a meal, but I can make a mean dessert with elf liver and Sweetroot.”
Dried blood and other things crusted the blades of her knives. Golaka didn’t believe in cleaning her tools, claiming that the remnants of previous meals added flavor. They were still sharp enough to slice Riana into bite-size chunks, though. As a child, Jig used to come watch Golaka cook, so he knew those knives were a far cry from the discarded blades he and the others took to carry on patrol. These could fillet a dwarf in minutes, armor and all.
He didn’t know what to do. For the first time, he understood Darnak’s struggle when he watched Barius and Ryslind try to kill one another. Like Darnak, Jig didn’t want either one of the combatants to die. He could probably grab another weapon and join the fight, but on which side? Stabbing Riana in the back didn’t feel right somehow. Even if she had swiped his sword. And he certainly couldn’t kill Golaka. Who would run the kitchen?
Riana scurried away from a vicious combination of thrusts and swipes. Having watched the others fight, Jig realized she wasn’t a much better warrior than he was.
“Hurry, Jig.”
Huh? She pointed past him, at the cauldron. That almost cost her a hand as Golaka chopped at her sword wrist. But Jig understood.
Sticking out at an angle from the top of the pot, the Rod of Creation was unguarded. Jig grabbed the rod and pulled it out of the cauldron. The metal bowl on the end was heavier than he expected, but the rod itself felt like any other stick. Years of handling had smoothed and darkened the wood, turning it deep brown.
“Got it,” he shouted. While Riana tried to retreat without taking a knife in the back, he traced a finger through the residue on the bowl and stuck it in his mouth. Delicious. After days of bread, cheese, and smoked meat, Jig was in heaven.
“My spoon!”
Seeing Golaka’s rage, Jig changed his mind. He wasn’t in heaven after all. Though if Golaka got her hands on him, she would no doubt send him there.
He ran back into the main cave, hoping Riana was behind him but not stopping to check. Not with Golaka swinging knives as if she were the goddess of cutlery. His panicked retreat took him halfway through the cavern before he noticed he was in more trouble than he thought.
“Oops.” He should have expected this. He should have wondered why none of the other goblins had followed him into the kitchen. Thinking back, he had heard the tone of the cavern change from confusion and anger to pain and fear. He had simply been too busy to understand what that change meant. “Hello, Barius.”
They stood at the entrance of the cavern, looking as though they had come straight out of a goblin’s nightmares. Jig remembered the first time he had seen the adventurers and compared their appearance then to the worn, dirty apparitions who now blocked his escape.
Darnak’s hair and beard were brown with dirt, and the tangles made him look like a walking nest for mice and other rodents. The fighting had cost him several scales from his armor, leaving bare patches of leather on his stomach, chest, and shoulder.
Prince Barius was even worse. His torn, blood-stained shirt, once immaculate, was little more than a rag. Black stubble covered his face, almost invisible under a layer of sweat-streaked dust. His boots were scuffed, his tights torn and dark with his own blood, and he favored his left leg when he moved. One of his eyes had puffed up with the beginning of a dark bruise.
The wizard showed the least wear. His robes were dirty but otherwise unscathed. His pouches were all in order, and his quiver, now almost empty of arrows, still hung at his side. Where the others looked worn and tired, Ryslind had only grown more dangerous. The emberlike glow of his eyes had intensified until they burned like angry flames, leaving Jig to wonder why the party bothered with the lantern anymore. They could send Ryslind ahead and light up entire tunnels. When Ryslind spoke, Jig could hear the overtones of Straum in his words.
“You found it.”
Before Jig could answer, an enraged voice behind him called out, “No, it’s mine!”
Golaka managed three steps before a wave of Ryslind’s hand flattened her against the wall. Pinned like a child, she could still rail against Jig and Riana and everyone else who had conspired to steal her spoon.
“Wizard, is it? Golaka’s not afraid of magic. Haven’t seen a wizard yet who could cast a spell with a knife in his gullet. Soon as I get down from here, I’ll give you a whipping to make you wish you died before you met me. As for you, little Jig, how funny do you think your little prank is now? You’d better hope the wizard and his friends kill you before I can get my hands on you. I’ll twist those ears right off your head and feed them to you.”
Darnak gave Jig a strange look that mixed weariness and sadness. “Ryslind saw you run off with the girl. He was thinking you had betrayed us. I told him, goblin or no, you wouldn’t do such a thing. But perhaps I was mistaken.”
Four dead goblins lay at their feet. The rest stood at a distance, weapons ready. Clearly nobody knew what to do. No, that wasn’t right. Like Jig, everyone knew what they should do. But without someone to bully them, they simply couldn’t work up the courage to do it. Nobody wanted to fling themselves onto Barius’s sword or face Ryslind’s magic. Who sai
d goblins were entirely stupid?
“I didn’t know for sure,” Jig said quietly. In the large, silent cavern, his voice sounded tiny. Hearing Darnak’s disappointment hurt more than he wanted to admit.
“It matters not.” Barius sheathed his sword and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Give me the rod, goblin.”
Jig hesitated. “Will you leave once you have it?”
“Naturally,” Barius said. “What more could we possibly desire from goblins?”
“Don’t trust him.” Riana spoke so softly that only Jig heard.
He glanced back, saw her young, thin face wrinkle with anger. She’s probably right, but what else can I do? His gaze lowered, and he saw that the spoon had come loose. Probably when Golaka whacked me on the head.
Instead of a rivet to hold the spoon in place, a hammered cuff covered the last few inches of the rod. This had been pinched inward, with wire lashed around the upper part of the cuff for additional security. Placing the end on the ground, Jig stepped on the spoon and tugged the rod free.
Barius took another step. He moved like a hunter trying to close in on his prey without frightening it off. What would he do once he had the rod? Would he really depart in peace, leaving hundreds of angry goblins at his back? His honor might require him to wait until the first goblin came after him. But he would use that first attack as an excuse to kill every goblin without a second thought, since after all, the goblins would have been the ones who broke the peace.
Jig was starting to understand how this honor stuff worked. If the prince was allowed to leave in peace, his honor would force him to respect that peace. The problem was that goblins had no use for honor. Turning your back on an enemy was both an insult and an invitation for that enemy to stab you in the back. As soon as Barius appeared to retreat, the goblins would rediscover their courage and attack.
As far as he could see, there was only one way out. Jig would have to do something dumb again.
“Wait,” Jig said. Barius hesitated. Speaking Goblin as fast as he could, Jig shouted, “Why are you all wasting your time with these so-called adventurers? They’re nothing!”