Goblin War

by Jim C. Hines

  Jig crept through the darkness with one hand on the tunnel wall. Frost coated the obsidian, numbing his fingers. Up ahead, he heard a sound like smashing glass, followed by another angry shout.

  ‘‘I’ll kill you!’’ Relka’s voice was hoarse. ‘‘I’ll puree your ears for the toddlers. I’ll use your bones to make soup! I’ll—’’

  ‘‘Will you please shut up?’’ Billa snapped. ‘‘How does your god put up with all of this babbling?’’

  Orange light told Jig he was close, as did the steadily increasing warmth coming from Smudge. Jig reached back to rub Smudge’s thorax. Smudge clung to Jig’s finger with his forelegs until Jig tugged free. Jig might not be able to feel fear, but his fire-spider certainly could.

  He stepped to the end of the tunnel and peered into the temple. What was left of it. The little stone altar had been shattered. Of the glass mosaic on the ceiling, only a few tiles still clung to the rock. The rest lay scattered on the floor.

  Relka sat amid the remains of the altar, her knees hugged to her chest. Billa stood beside her, a lit torch in her left hand. In her right she clutched Isa’s sword.

  Was it Jig’s imagination, or did the torch’s flames actually bend away from the sword? Even fire feared the touch of that blade.

  ‘‘Shadowstar will crush you for this.’’ Relka spat at Billa’s feet. ‘‘He’ll destroy you. You think he fears your little army?’’

  From Jig’s angle, he could see Billa roll her eyes. ‘‘Please can I kill her?’’ Jig didn’t hear an answer, but he saw Billa’s shoulders slump. ‘‘What if I just cut out her tongue?’’

  Relka laughed. ‘‘Go ahead and kill me. I would be honored to die a martyr for Tymalous Shadowstar.’’

  Go now, Jig.

  Jig didn’t move. He wasn’t afraid, but he saw no need to charge out and die on that sword, either. I don’t want to be a martyr.

  Isa will sense your presence soon anyway.

  Jig gritted his teeth and stepped into the temple. He didn’t bother to draw his sword. What good would it do? He cleared his throat and said, ‘‘Shadowstar says if you kill her—or me!—he’ll collapse the entire temple and crush us all.’’ Actually that wasn’t a bad plan.

  ‘‘What are you doing here, goblin?’’ Billa snapped.

  Relka’s grin shone with triumph. ‘‘That’s Jig Dragonslayer, high priest of Tymalous Shadowstar. He’s here to kill you, orc.’’

  ‘‘You? You’re the priest?’’ Billa stared. ‘‘Seriously?’’

  ‘‘We can’t all have magic swords and armies.’’ Jig glanced around. Three other tunnels led away from the far side of the temple. A pair of goblins lay dead in the rightmost tunnel. They appeared to be two of Golaka’s kitchen workers. They must have been sent to investigate all the shouting and destruction. Each one had been stabbed through the torso, but there was hardly any blood.

  Jig crept closer, keeping Billa in his sight as he knelt to study the bodies. Blue ice crusted the wounds on the two goblins. Billa’s blade had frozen their blood. It made for a much cleaner corpse than Jig was used to. Most nights he had to wipe up the blood of the wounded before heading back to the lair. If all goblins would do him the courtesy of getting stabbed with magically cold weapons, he could cut his cleaning time in half.

  ‘‘Does your god speak to you?’’ Billa asked.

  Jig groaned. ‘‘Usually at the worst times.’’

  ‘‘Isa was so excited when she first realized Autumnstar—I mean, Shadowstar—was still alive.’’ Billa sat down and jabbed her sword at Relka. ‘‘She was as bad as this one. Gave me a headache like you wouldn’t believe. Whenever she’s riled, it’s like my whole skull freezes.’’

  Jig nodded in sympathy. ‘‘Shadowstar wears tiny bells all over his clothes. Sometimes it takes days for my ears to stop ringing.’’

  Billa chuckled. ‘‘After we first conquered the trolls, the orcs held a feast to celebrate. I overindulged on the wine, and had to retreat into the snow. There I am, in the middle of spewing an entire bottle back to the earth, and Isa pipes up to talk about tactics for the next battle.’’

  ‘‘Shadowstar once made me heal a hobgoblin’s backside,’’ Jig said, his voice mild.

  Billa shuddered. ‘‘You win.’’

  ‘‘Do the other orcs sing hymns about you?’’ Jig asked, glancing at Relka. He knew he was supposed to be saving Relka, and maybe killing Billa too, but this was the first time he had ever found someone who understood what it was like having a god in your head. There was Braf, of course, but Braf wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

  ‘‘They used to,’’ said Billa. ‘‘Growing up, I had horribly dry skin, and my nose was always bleeding. That’s where they came up with the name Billa the Bloody.’’ She glanced around, then sang,

  ‘‘Billa the bloody-nosed orc,

  armed with Isa’s magic blade,

  led her people to battle.

  Soon the trolls were sore afraid.

  Billa the bloody-nosed orc

  triumphed over every foe.

  None may stand against her.

  Forever shall her nostrils flow!’’

  Billa coughed to clear her throat. She actually appeared to be blushing. ‘‘I cut out the tongue of the first orc to sing that song within earshot. They don’t sing it anymore.’’ She rubbed a finger beneath her nose. ‘‘This cold weather makes it even worse.’’

  ‘‘My hymns are better,’’ Relka muttered.

  Billa straightened. ‘‘So has Tymalous Shadowstar agreed to help us? Imagine their power—our power—once they’re free of Noc’s curse. With Shadowstar and Isa working together, we can summon Noc and destroy him.’’ She jabbed her sword into the air, then cocked her head. ‘‘I wonder what god tastes like.’’

  ‘‘Noc’s a god of death. He’s probably poisonous.’’ Jig stepped away from the bodies. They were beyond his help anyway. ‘‘How will you summon him?’’

  ‘‘Death,’’ Billa said simply. ‘‘The gods aren’t like us, Jig.’’ Strange to hear Billa the Bloody addressing him as an equal. ‘‘They can’t act against their natures. Isa summons the winds because she must. Just like Noc must attend when the death is widespread enough to warrant his attention.’’

  Jig glanced at the entrance. ‘‘I don’t see why you need me or Shadowstar.’’

  ‘‘Even gods can grow lonely,’’ Billa said. ‘‘I think Isa misses him. And Autumnstar—sorry. Shadowstar has the power to calm and comfort. He can lull Noc’s suspicions, dulling his reflexes and giving me the chance to strike. He can do the same with the rest of the gods, easing their wrath. It’s one of his gifts, to calm people’s passions.’’

  Or their fear. ‘‘He wants you to free Relka first.’’

  Billa turned around. A touch of her blade severed Relka’s bonds.

  ‘‘Let me have your torch,’’ Jig said. ‘‘Shadowstar’s magic should be able to heal your nose so it doesn’t bleed anymore.’’

  The orc’s eyes widened. ‘‘You can do that?’’

  ‘‘It wouldn’t be the first nose I’ve healed.’’ Jig took the torch and circled Billa, studying her nose and positioning himself closer to Relka. He smelled burning cloth—right, that would be Smudge searing the hood of Jig’s cloak. If Shadowstar hadn’t worked his magic on Jig, he would probably be just as terrified as the spider.

  With his free hand, Jig reached up to touch Billa’s nose. Her skin was cool to the touch, especially the rough, pale scar. Old blood crusted the edges of her nostrils.

  I’m willing to help you heal her, Shadowstar said. But I won’t join Isa. I can’t.

  Shut up. Shadowstar had taken Jig’s fear, but that only left more room for anger. Showdowstar wouldn’t allow them to kill Noc, but he was perfectly willing to let Jig risk his own life. After all, Jig was only a goblin.

  That’s not—

  I said shut up. Jig shoved the flaming torch into Billa’s face.

  Billa screamed and staggered ba
ck. She swung wildly with her sword, but Jig had already leaped away. As hard as he could, he hurled the torch down the right-hand tunnel.

  The temple went dark.

  Jig dropped to his hands and knees and grabbed Relka’s leg. He dragged her away from the altar, toward the central tunnel. ‘‘Come on,’’ Jig said, loud enough for Billa to hear. He tried to make himself sound afraid. All his life, he had fought to keep his voice from squeaking. Now thanks to Shadowstar, he had to force it. ‘‘If we can make it to the lake, we’ll be safe.’’

  He took a few steps into the tunnel, then shoved Relka against the wall and pressed a hand over her mouth. One of her fangs dug into the fleshy part of his palm, but he barely felt it.

  He twisted his good ear back toward the temple and Billa’s pained whimpering. Her footsteps crunched on stone and glass. Would she run after the torch? Or would she try to follow Jig and Relka into the darkness? If so, she had a one-in-three chance of bumping right into them.

  The smart thing for her to do was to retreat. She could bring her kobolds to track Jig, and orcs to finish them off. But Billa was angry and hurting, and if Jig wasn’t mistaken, hitting her in the face had caused her nose to start bleeding. She wouldn’t be thinking clearly.

  ‘‘Run away, little goblin,’’ Billa whispered. She grunted as she tripped over the two dead goblins. She was going after the torch. ‘‘I’ll feed your eyes to the wolves when I find you.’’

  Jig waited until her footsteps faded, then hurried back through the temple, pulling Relka along behind him. He hoped Billa did find her way to the lake. Maybe the poisonous lizard-fish would take care of things for him.

  ‘‘I knew you’d save me,’’ Relka whispered.

  ‘‘I didn’t have much of a choice.’’ Jig dragged her toward the entrance. He hoped Trok was still there. If the orcs had gone back to watching the cave, Jig was dead.

  He squinted as they neared the light of the outside world. The crack of steel on stone made him jump. One of the orcs howled.

  ‘‘Ha!’’ Trok shouted. ‘‘A half-sever. I win again!’’

  Jig peeked out to see orcs and goblins gathered in a circle. Trok picked up his sword. ‘‘I can beat that with my off-hand. Double or nothing.’’ His sword scraped the edge of his boot when it landed.

  ‘‘It’s not fair,’’ complained the orc who was sitting in the snow, clutching his bloody foot. ‘‘Goblins are closer to the ground than we are.’’

  ‘‘No welshing,’’ Trok shouted. ‘‘Play or forfeit.’’ The other goblins joined in, taunting and jeering.

  ‘‘Come on,’’ Jig whispered. He took Relka’s hand and led her out of the cave. One of the orcs glanced up and spotted them, but he didn’t say anything. He probably thought they were just another pair of goblin soldiers come to watch the game.

  Jig and Relka had just reached the cover of the trees when another orc screamed. Jig glanced back to see him tugging his sword from his foot while the goblins laughed.

  ‘‘I win again,’’ Trok cried. ‘‘Pay up, orc.’’

  ‘‘I am not running naked to the river and back,’’ the wounded orc protested.

  ‘‘We went double or nothing,’’ Trok said. ‘‘You’re going twice!’’

  ‘‘Hurry,’’ Jig said. Before he had to add the sight of a naked orc to his list of nightmares.

  ‘‘I’m not afraid,’’ said Relka. ‘‘Shadowstar watches over us.’’

  Jig’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  CHAPTER 8

  Autumnstar traveled with no real destination. With his star gone and his temple destroyed, he was forced to hoard his power like a mortal wizard.

  Everywhere he went, he felt people calling. The pain, the fear of death, they whispered to him, begging for comfort and solace. He couldn’t do much to help them, but neither could he ignore them. He wandered from a battlefield to the collapsed tunnels of a gnomish silver mine, from a village buried by early winter storms to a flooded town on the other side of the world. Always he watched for signs of Noc or the other gods. It would be safer to do nothing, but Autumnstar could no more turn his back on suffering than he could steal back his star.

  One day he found himself drawn to an old man curled in a ball near a small pond, a day’s march from the nearest village. He had been cast forth to die. This time Autumnstar needed no magic. The man was not afraid, nor did he appear to be in excessive pain. The village had too little food, and this man had accepted death in order to ease his family’s burden.

  Autumnstar folded his wings and rested his head on the man’s thigh. The rough scales startled the man at first, but slowly he relaxed. His fingers scratched Autumnstar’s neck, tentatively at first.

  ‘‘I hope you mean to wait until after I die to eat me,’’ he said, his voice hoarse. His smile revealed a few yellow teeth. ‘‘Sorry there’s not much meat on these old bones.’’

  A black scavenger bird circled low, landing in the grass nearby. Autumnstar raised his head and spread his wings. With a screech, the bird flew away.

  ‘‘Thanks.’’

  Autumnstar’s tail quivered. He hopped away from the old man and sniffed the air. He smelled pond scum and goose crap, a dead fish rotting in the mud . . . and another god.

  Autumnstar hissed and turned to flee, but then his reason caught up with his instincts. If Noc had found him, he would already be dead.

  He crept toward the water. Was this what had drawn him here? The power was familiar, though it had been ages since Autumnstar had encountered another god. Weak and frightened, the presence reminded Autumnstar a little of himself.

  His wings fluttered with excitement. Could one of his companions have survived? Noc was powerful, but he was also arrogant and more than a little lazy. Autumnstar had escaped. Why not others?

  Water lapped his toes. He stretched his neck, squinting to see past the reflected sunlight on the surface.

  Black-shelled fingers clamped around his neck and dragged him down.

  And that’s what he got for trusting reason over instinct.

  Gut-twisting nausea combined with the damp sweat breaking out over Jig’s body told him Shadowstar’s magic had worn off.

  ‘‘Where are we going?’’ Relka asked once they were out of sight of the orcs.

  ‘‘I don’t know.’’ He hadn’t really planned that far ahead. Running was good, so he did that. He hadn’t figured out how to get past the rest of the goblins. Nor had he thought about how to avoid the rest of Billa’s army, waiting farther down the mountain.

  But he had thought about what Billa would do if she caught up with him. Given the choice, Jig would rather face the army.

  The sound of Billa’s voice helped him run even faster. ‘‘I ordered you to stand guard,’’ Billa yelled. ‘‘Not to play games with goblins.’’

  A strangled scream made Jig whimper. He kind of hoped Trok wasn’t the one Billa had chosen to make an example of.

  ‘‘Did anyone else come out of this cave?’’ Billa yelled. Jig tensed, but whatever answer she received only added to her frustration. ‘‘Tell Silverfang to send these useless goblins out to form a perimeter around the lair. Don’t let anyone past. You, fetch a team of kobolds and send them in after me.’’

  Kobolds tracked by scent. They would quickly realize Jig and Relka hadn’t gone down any of the tunnels.

  Jig shoved through another pine tree and emerged onto a wide ledge of stone. This spot was a common meeting point for hunters. From here, he could see much of the land sloping out below. An animal trail led higher into the mountain, toward a pond which was probably frozen over by now.

  He turned back as another thought struck. Widespread death . . . what if Billa simply slaughtered the rest of the goblins in the lair to summon Noc?

  Not likely, said Shadowstar. The goblins know their lair. Most would escape into the lower tunnels. To summon Noc, she’ll need something much bigger.

  Something like another army. King Wendel’s army. She didn�
��t want to defeat Wendel. She wanted to cause as much death to both sides as she possibly could.

  ‘‘Avery,’’ Jig whispered. ‘‘Darnak said Billa was too smart to lead her forces into such a slaughter.’’

  Well, that settled that. Jig turned to climb higher into the mountain, as far from Avery as he could possibly get.

  You have to warn them, Jig.

  Jig’s fists tightened. You mean I have to protect your son. Even if it kills me.

  If you’re afraid, I could—

  ‘‘No!’’ Jig flushed.

  ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Relka asked.

  ‘‘Shadowstar wants us to go back to Avery and stop Billa.’’

  Relka touched her necklace. ‘‘I warned her that Shadowstar’s wrath would be terrible.’’ She grabbed Jig’s hand and tugged him toward the edge of the ledge. Her fingers were rough and callused from working in the kitchens. ‘‘We’ll get there faster if we go this way.’’

  Jig peered at the slope of fallen stone, made all the more treacherous by the snow. ‘‘We’ll die faster, too.’’

  ‘‘You said Shadowstar wanted us to go to Avery.’’ Relka released Jig’s hand and stepped off of the ledge.

  Jig watched her struggle to control her fall. For the most part, she kept herself in a sitting position, sliding down the rocks. ‘‘I’m not healing those scrapes,’’ he muttered.

  ‘‘Come on!’’ Relka said.

  Jig shook his head. She didn’t even question why they had to go to Avery. Jig could have said Shadowstar wanted her to march back to the lair and kick Billa in the backside, and she would have done it.

  Hm . . . it would slow Billa down.

  ‘‘Hey!’’

  Jig spun to see a pair of goblins running up the trail, weapons drawn. Right. Jig sat on the edge, moved Smudge into one of the front cloak pockets, and hopped down after Relka.

  He slid on his back, legs flailing in the air. His armor absorbed the worst of the damage, but his helmet clattered away after the second bounce.