by Jim C. Hines
“Barius!”
Ryslind’s voice, angry and panicked. He was trying to cast a spell of his own. Jig turned and pointed the rod at the wizard. Again the magic poured through him, halting Ryslind in midstride. White ice pierced Jig’s brain as the rod’s power broke through Ryslind’s hastily erected shields. Backlash, he thought, remembering what had happened when Barius used the rod.
But even as Jig fell, he saw that it had worked.
He had just enough strength left to point the rod at Darnak. He didn’t think he had enough strength left to use it, but Darnak wouldn’t know that. So the dwarf stood helpless, watching the two enormous trout that had been Ryslind and Barius flop about on the floor as they suffocated.
“Go away,” Jig croaked at Darnak.
The dwarf shook his head. Tears dripped into his beard. “I’ll not leave them.”
“I don’t want to kill you, too,” Jig said. I don’t think I can, for that matter. If the other goblins heard him now, they’d think his mind had slipped. How could he not want to kill a perfectly good dwarf?
“They are family to me,” Darnak said. “How can I go back to Wendel and Jeneve and tell them I watched their sons die?”
“Their sons were greedy fools,” Riana said. She didn’t bother to hide her satisfaction as she watched the gills of the Barius-fish stop moving.
“Aye,” Darnak agreed. “But they were still family.” With that he drew his club and walked toward Jig. He moved slowly, deliberately giving Jig time to use the rod.
Those few minutes had been enough for Jig to catch his breath. Was he strong enough to use the rod again? He didn’t think so. But was he ready to die and rejoin Shadowstar?
Jig sighed and grabbed the rod with both hands. Once again magic ripped through his body. He struggled to control it. He didn’t want to kill Darnak, and that made things harder. He figured out what he wanted to do and concentrated on a different shape.
Darnak fell. His body twisted and bulged. The walls spun, and Jig blacked out.
CHAPTER 19
Parting Gifts
Jig woke up to find Riana’s green eyes staring down at him. “My head hurts.”
He still had the rod in his hands. She hadn’t taken it from him. He wondered why. “What happened to Darnak?”
“You turned him into a bird,” she said. For once no trace of sarcasm tainted her voice. She sounded impressed. “He flew away a few minutes ago.”
“Good.” He grimaced. The room had begun to stink of fish. He glanced down the tunnel, wishing he could have seen what Darnak had looked like. “Was it a good bird?” he asked.
She giggled. “Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Brown, with a dirty black crest and sunken eyes. He could talk, too. Said to warn you there’d still be people coming after this place. Barius and Ryslind had other brothers, and they’ll want revenge.”
“I know.” He managed to sit up. “What will you do?”
Her eyes darkened. “What can I do?”
There was the bitterness Jig was used to.
“Go back to being a thief?” She gestured at the treasure scattered around the room. “If I take any of this, someone will only kill me to get it.”
“You could always be an adventurer.”
She snorted. “I never want to go on another ‘adventure’ as long as I live. I hate the dark, I hate the cold, I hate all the monsters from those ugly worms to that great hulk of a dragon. No treasure is worth this. If that’s all I have to look forward to, you might as well kill me here and now. It would be a kindness.”
Jig grinned. Only when she cringed away did he remember that his fangs were probably still covered in Barius’s blood. Nor was his a reassuring face to begin with, even for a goblin. He looked around for something he could use to clean his teeth, and his searching eyes fell on the ashen remains of Smudge’s web. His eyes stung.
“Oh Smudge,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t have let Barius get that close. An entire room, and he had led the prince straight to Smudge’s hiding spot.
He crawled over and picked up the crushed spider. He stroked the furry head, then tucked Smudge into his pouch. He would take care of the body later.
Using the Rod of Creation as a simple cane, Jig pushed himself up. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to go home.
“Wait,” Riana said. She bit her lip, then said, “What about me?”
Jig shrugged. Why should he care? He wondered if she had meant it, when she said it would be kinder to kill her.
“I don’t want to go back to that life.” She grabbed the lantern Darnak had dropped and hurried after Jig.
“You’ve changed. You’re not like the other goblins. Otherwise you would have killed Darnak. Well, I’ve changed too. I don’t want to be a thief anymore, but I don’t know how to be anything else. At least you can go back to your people. I’ve got nothing. I’m scared, Jig.”
He stopped. He knew how hard it must have been for Riana to say that. “I can give you all the gold in the world, but you said you don’t want it. What do you want?”
She began to cry. Why was everyone crying so much all of the sudden? First Jig, when Barius killed Smudge. Then Darnak, and now Riana. If this continued, they’d soon flood the whole mountain.
“I want to stop being afraid,” she said.
“Fine.” Jig grabbed the rod and used it before Riana could protest. A minute later, he was gasping for breath while Riana stared in amazement at her hands.
He had used Straum’s children as a model, but made a few changes. Where the dragonchildren had been a dusky bronze, Riana’s scales were pearly white. Her body was smaller, retaining her elven slenderness, but the muscles beneath those scales were as powerful as any dragonchild’s. Anyone who tried to hurt her would be lucky to walk away with their limbs attached. The scales should turn most blades. Only her eyes remained the same. Jig hadn’t wanted to change those wide green eyes. She glanced at her hands and laughed when she saw that Jig had restored her missing finger.
She craned her neck to see Jig’s other addition. Two wide, white wings spread across the tunnel.
“Can I fly?” she asked. She spoke with the same lisp as the other dragonchildren.
“I think so. You’ll probably want to practice, though.” He took a deep breath. “If you want, I can change you back. But you have to decide now. You won’t have another chance.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re going to seal the entrance?”
“Yes.”
Riana studied the sleek lines of her arms. Faster than Jig could follow, she punched a fist into the wall. Her delighted laugh echoed up the hall. “It didn’t even hurt. Jig, this is beautiful.”
He felt himself blushing. “Better than the bird?”
“Much better. I can go anywhere I want.” Her voice rose with excitement. “I can fly through the clouds, I could cross the oceans, and nobody can stop me.”
“You’ll be lonely,” Jig warned her. How could she not be? She was a monster now, and Jig had firsthand experience of how surface-dwellers treated monsters.
“I’m used to being lonely,” she said. “Besides, if a goblin and an elf can be friends, what’s to stop me from finding someone else out there?”
Jig had no answer to that, and he didn’t know how to respond to her claim of friendship. He couldn’t argue, either. Who ever heard of a goblin being friends with an elf? Who ever heard of a goblin being friends with anyone? But they had saved each other’s lives several times, which was also unheard of. He blushed. If he tried to say anything, he’d probably make a fool of himself. Still, it felt surprisingly good to have a friend.
“I, um, I should go,” he said. He blushed harder. “I have things I need to do.”
“I understand.” She rushed forward and pulled him into a hug he couldn’t have broken out of if his life depended on it. “Thanks, Jig.”
Then she was gone.
Feeling a strange mix of happiness and loss, Jig headed down the tunnel t
o close the entrance for good.
He took care of a few other tasks before heading back to the lair. He had a promise to keep to Tymalous Shadowstar. He took some time to redesign the shiny room. First, he shifted the glass tiles to form a clear image of the Autumn Star shining down on the best likeness Jig could manage of the god himself.
My nose isn’t that big, Shadowstar protested.
I did the best I could. You’re lucky I didn’t stick with my first try.
That would have been even better. “Tymalous Shadowstar, the Cross-Eyed God.”
The room itself remained empty, save for a small altar against the wall. For a while, Jig would likely be the only one to leave tokens of respect and thanks on that altar for the god. But he hoped to convince other goblins to do the same. If he could tell them of the things he had seen and learned, who knew what might happen? Shadowstar hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of a whole horde of goblin followers, but it was, in his words, A hell of a lot better than nothing.
At the base of the altar, an eight-pointed star marked the spot where Smudge had died. The fire-spider’s body was buried inside the floor. A fine web traced the outline of the star. Jig didn’t think the god would mind, and he wanted Smudge to have some sort of marker.
He left the gold and treasure where it was. What good would it do to bring it along? You couldn’t eat treasure.
But you could eat trout. Jig had to stop several times as he lugged the huge fish along behind him. He had strung a rope through their gills to make them easier to drag, but they still weighed the same as full-grown humans. By the time Jig reached the edge of goblin territory, his hands were sore and rope-burned.
“Who’s there?” challenged one of the guards.
Jig’s ears picked up the other one’s whispered, “It’s him.”
He grinned. They were afraid of him. What a nice change. “I’ve got food,” he shouted.
Not two, but four guards ran down the corridor. Stupid move. I could have been the point man for an ambush. He would have to see about improving the quality of the guards.
“What’s that thing on your face?” one guard asked warily.
His grin widened. That thing was another of the rod’s gifts. He had used the blade of Barius’s sword for the frames, since the steel was harder than any other metal he could find. The lenses were made of amethyst. Jig had needed a long time to get the shapes right, but finally he had a set of elven lenses that worked. The bubblelike lenses covered his large eyes, the frames hooked lightly around his pointed ears, and for the first time in his life, he could see.
“Forget it,” Jig said. “Someone help me with these fish.”
Seeing the trout, the guards began to drool. Forgetting whatever their orders might have been concerning Jig, they ran forward and helped him carry the fish into the cavern.
“Golaka’s gonna be happy to see this,” one said.
“Yes.” Jig bit his lip. Hopefully she wouldn’t throw Jig into the pot along with the fish. He gave the rod a spin, admiring the way its gleaming new steel bowl caught the torchlight. After all, when he finished with his lenses, most of Barius’s blade had remained. What better use than to repair Golaka’s spoon? Maybe this would help calm some of her rage.
“Pickings have been pretty lean this past day or two,” another guard grumbled.
“Don’t worry,” Jig said. “I have some ideas about that.” He would have to talk to other goblins, but he thought everyone would agree with his plan. Especially if it meant finding more food.
Straum’s forest had continued to exist after the dragon died. According to Ryslind, the trees, the animals, and most of what lived down there were real. Poor imitations of the genuine articles, perhaps, but still real. That meant they could be eaten! All Jig had to do was convince a group to go hunting with him. Once they brought back their first deer, there should be no more arguments. He looked forward to finding out if venison tasted as good as Riana had promised.
Something brushed against Jig’s foot, and he stopped.
“What is it?” one of the guards said. Jig waved them away as he stooped over to investigate. A tiny spider, black with red spots, waved its front legs in the air at him.
“Smudge?” Jig said in disbelief. The spots were the same, though the spider itself was much smaller. This was Smudge as he had been two years ago, newly hatched. But it couldn’t be Smudge. He had buried Smudge only a few hours ago.
Goblins . . . no faith whatsoever.
Jig glanced upward. If he took the rod back and opened up the stone in front of Shadowstar’s altar, would he find Smudge’s body gone? The god didn’t give an answer, and Jig didn’t really want one. He placed his hand on the floor and waited while the spider crawled onto his palm.
When the fire-spider went straight to the leather pad on Jig’s shoulder, he began to giggle with delight. He scratched the spider’s head, feeling that things were finally right with the world.
A shriek stabbed his ears. “What? He’s here? Where is he? I’ll teach him to mess with his betters. Boil him until his skin peels off, I will.”
Jig sighed. “Come on, Smudge. Let’s go give Golaka’s spoon back.” Together they walked down the tunnel toward home.