Goblin War

by Jim C. Hines

  Each map was a work of art. Darnak’s own art, judging from the way he puffed up as he unrolled each one. It was a miracle he didn’t burst his shirt.

  ‘‘Hey, that looks like a goblin,’’ Jig said, pointing to a tiny blue figure painted among the mountains. Jig squinted through his spectacles, trying to comprehend the mess of colors and lines and tiny notes, all written in Darnak’s painstakingly perfect handwriting.

  ‘‘Your lair,’’ Genevieve said.

  Once the map was secure, Darnak pulled a wooden box from his pack. He opened it to reveal a collection of tiny metal figures. He plucked out a blue-painted goblin, which he set down by a star marked AVERY. He set two armored soldiers beside the blue goblin. The three figures completely blocked out Avery. ‘‘Call it about a hundred or so fighters, all told.’’

  ‘‘Is this really the best time to be playing with toys?’’ Jig asked.

  Genevieve smirked. Darnak looked indignant. ‘‘They’re not toys. They’re tools. Markers. Very valuable for visualizing tactics and strategy.’’

  Jig picked up the goblin figurine. ‘‘Why did you paint blood on his fangs?’’

  ‘‘Give me that.’’ Darnak snatched the goblin back and slammed it into place. ‘‘Now the rest of Billa’s army followed you up to the lair, right?’’ He pulled out several thin stone blocks, each with the number 1,000 carved into the top. The sides were painted with various monsters. Darnak stacked four of them by the lair.

  ‘‘King Wendel and Theodore will be coming from the capital.’’ More blocks went down on the other side of the mountains, along with two more tiny metal figures. One wore a gold-painted crown, the other a silver crown. ‘‘He should be about here when he receives our message.’’

  To Jig’s eye, the armies looked equally matched, and equally distant from the tiny force at Avery.

  ‘‘Even in good weather, it would take an extra day for Theodore’s men to get through the pass,’’ Darnak said, pointing to the mountains.

  ‘‘Assuming he believes me.’’ Genevieve stared at the map. ‘‘Knowing my father, he’ll toss my warning aside as the frightened nonsense of a naive child.’’

  ‘‘We’ll mine that vein when we come to it,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘Jig, do you have any guess when Billa would have left the lair?’’

  Jig shook his head. ‘‘She might not even know I escaped yet.’’

  She knows, said Shadowstar. Isa knows. They’re hunting us even now, Jig. I’ve done my best to protect you, but she’s stronger than I am.

  Jig swallowed and said, ‘‘But she’s probably on her way.

  Darnak tugged his beard. ‘‘She’ll have an easy march up the road.’’ He moved Billa’s blocks toward Avery. His jostling knocked the goblin figurine onto its back. Jig hoped that wasn’t an omen. ‘‘Billa could be here as soon as tonight.’’

  Darnak moved the silver-crowned figure through the mountains, muttering to himself. ‘‘Teddy’s fast, no question. And his elves can run over the snow like it’s good, solid earth, even if they look like fancy-prance twits when they do it.’’

  ‘‘We can hold Avery,’’ Genevieve whispered. ‘‘Billa has no heavy siege equipment, from our last reports. Avery’s walls are strong. The gates are reinforced with elf magic. We only need to stop her for a day, maybe two.’’

  ‘‘You couldn’t even stop me.’’ Jig glanced at Genevieve’s face, then scooted out of reach of her sword. ‘‘What about the southern side of the valley? Won’t the elves—’’

  Genevieve shook her head. ‘‘The elves will do nothing unless Billa violates their borders. My mother negotiated a treaty with them years ago. No elf can set foot in human lands without permission.’’

  Jig stared at the map. ‘‘So give them permission!’’

  ‘‘First you’d have to convince my father,’’ said Genevieve. ‘‘He already thinks they’re trying to steal his son.’’

  She set the two human figurines in front of Avery. ‘‘We’ll post our men on the walls.’’ She reached for the goblin. ‘‘Your goblins will need to work on the walls, cutting the last of the steelthorn. We should be able to finish—What is it now?’’

  ‘‘I don’t understand.’’ Jig studied the map more closely. ‘‘What goblins?’’

  ‘‘Your goblins,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘They’re not much, but they’ve done a nice job preparing the wall. We won’t be tying them up this time, of course.’’

  ‘‘Wait, you think they’re still here?’’ Darnak and Genevieve had been standing right there when Jig told the goblins about Billa’s betrayal. They heard him tell everyone what was coming, but they still expected the goblins to be here? ‘‘They’re probably in the woods by now, running away as fast as they can.’’

  Genevieve frowned at Jig. ‘‘You’re still here.’’

  Jig said nothing. Where could he go to hide from a goddess?

  ‘‘What about that one?’’ Darnak asked, pointing up the road. ‘‘She didn’t flee either.’’

  Jig didn’t even bother to look. He knew who it had to be. The one goblin he would prefer had abandoned him.

  ‘‘I brought this for you,’’ Relka said, handing him a hard, brown roll with bits of burned leaves on top. ‘‘They say it’s an elf biscuit. I’d have made you a real elf biscuit, but they wouldn’t let me near their stoves. Also, we don’t have any fresh elf.’’

  Jig took a quick bite of the biscuit, which tasted about how he would have expected. If this was what elves ate, no wonder they were so skinny.

  Darnak sighed. ‘‘Without the rest of those blue-skinned nuisances, we’ll need to spread our men even thinner to watch the walls.’’

  ‘‘Where are the goblins going to go?’’ asked Relka, staring at the map.

  Jig, Darnak, and Genevieve all turned to stare.

  ‘‘They haven’t run away yet?’’ Jig asked.

  ‘‘Most of them are resting in the stables.’’ Relka shrugged. ‘‘I guess they got used to it. The straw is warmer than the caves back home, and—’’

  ‘‘They’re resting?’’

  ‘‘Well, you didn’t order them to do anything else,’’ Relka pointed out.

  Jig searched for something to say, but the words wouldn’t come. The wolf-riders had spent enough time in Billa’s army that they might have lost their sense of self-preservation, but why would the goblins from the lair still be here? Unless their minds had been dulled by eating too many pickles.

  ‘‘Come on,’’ said Darnak, rolling up his maps. ‘‘We’d best be getting back. Leaving your soldiers with nothing to do is a recipe for bloodshed, as any commander should know.’’

  As if goblins ever needed an excuse for more bloodshed.

  Genevieve was the first to spot the smoke. She broke into a run, leaving the others struggling to catch up.

  They arrived to find the goblins gathered around a small fire in the middle of the road. Several humans stood nearby, looking . . . nauseated.

  Trok turned around when he heard them approaching. ‘‘General Jig!’’

  The other goblins cheered. The humans tensed and reached for their weapons. In the distance, the wolves broke into howls.

  ‘‘Dimak,’’ Trok snapped. ‘‘I thought I ordered you to feed those beasts.’’

  Dimak hunched his shoulders. ‘‘Sorry, sir.’’ He grabbed something from the fire, then turned and fled toward the source of the howling.

  ‘‘What’s he going to feed them?’’ Jig asked. He glanced at the uneaten elf biscuit in his hand, but trying to feed such a thing to wolves would only enrage them further.

  ‘‘Grappok and I had a bit of trouble deciding who should be in charge, with you and Relka both gone.’’ Trok flexed his arm, and Jig saw two bloody fang marks at the shoulder. ‘‘I won.’’

  ‘‘I don’t understand,’’ Jig said. Despite his nervousness, he found himself edging closer to the cook fire. The air had grown colder, until his fingers seemed to burn from the wind. ‘‘Wait, w
hy did you call me general? And what are you still doing here? I thought you’d have left the city by now.’’

  ‘‘It seemed only right to promote you,’’ said Trok. ‘‘Seeing how this is officially your army, not Billa’s.’’

  ‘‘We’re going to teach Billa the Bloody a lesson about goblins,’’ somebody said. The others cheered.

  ‘‘But she has thousands of monsters,’’ Jig said. ‘‘She’ll slaughter every one of you.’’

  ‘‘See?’’ said the same goblin. ‘‘General Jig, he tells it like it is! No lies from this one.’’

  They cheered yet again, idiots to the last.

  Jig grabbed Trok’s arm and dragged him away from the others. ‘‘This is madness.’’ Jig kept his voice low, pitched so nobody else would overhear. ‘‘You’ve seen Billa’s army. I can understand humans making a suicidal stand. They’re stupid that way. But we’re goblins. We survive by running away when we’re outnumbered. Or when we’re evenly matched. Or anytime we don’t have a twenty-to-one advantage, really.’’

  ‘‘You stayed,’’ Trok said.

  ‘‘I’m stupid too. And I can’t run away, because Isa would—’’

  ‘‘You’re not stupid,’’ Trok said, shaking his head. ‘‘You’re a whiny, puny, irritating little runt. But you’re not stupid.’’

  ‘‘Oh, no?’’ Jig pointed in the general direction of the gate. ‘‘Weren’t you there when I led everyone against Genevieve’s soldiers? A handful of wolf-riders against an entire city?’’

  ‘‘Shut up, sir.’’ Trok glanced at the other goblins. ‘‘You think we haven’t been talking about you? How any one of us could break you with our bare hands? How Porak used to dangle you over the garbage crack by your legs, or slip bat guano into your drink when you weren’t looking?’’

  ‘‘Wait. Porak did what?’’ And here Jig hadn’t thought anything could ruin his appetite more than that elf biscuit.

  ‘‘I was there the day you came back from slaying Straum,’’ said Trok. ‘‘I remember how those adventurers followed you. You led them away from the lair and beat them all by yourself. I remember how you helped everyone fight off those pixies and their ogre slaves, too. I was one of the goblins you sent to help the hobgoblins fight the ogres. I figured we were all dead, and I’d rather die quickly, smashed by an ogre’s club, than face the nastiness those pixies were dealing out. Blasted bugs and their magic. But you, you went down there and killed every last one of them.’’

  He grabbed the biscuit from Jig’s hand and tossed it into the snow. ‘‘You’re the one who helped me and Relka escape from this lot,’’ he said, pointing toward Genevieve. ‘‘You got us away and found Billa. Then, when she turned out to be a conniving, backstabbing orc, you escaped again. You killed Silverfang, and then you came back here and took an entire town away from the humans.’’

  ‘‘They took it back,’’ Jig said.

  ‘‘Doesn’t matter.’’ Trok spat. ‘‘I’m not as smart as you, and I know it. But I like to fight. We all do. We’re warriors, Jig. It’s what we do. And we like to win. That doesn’t happen too often when you’re a goblin.’’

  That was true enough.

  ‘‘You’re a pathetic excuse for a warrior, hardly worth killing, even for the food. But you’re clever. If you’re staying, so are we. Even if we lose, it should be a great fight.’’ Trok grinned. ‘‘Besides, if you stay here all alone and get yourself killed, who’s going to make me chief when Grell dies?’’

  He dug his claws into Jig’s arm and dragged him back toward the fire. ‘‘Now hurry up and get your share of Grappok.’’

  Jig shivered in the darkness of the stables. He pulled his blanket tighter over his head, tucking his ears in for warmth. Even if he hadn’t been too scared to sleep, the snoring of the other goblins would have kept him awake. How many hours had he lain here staring into the darkness and trying not to think about what was to come? He was almost grateful when Darnak opened the door and whispered, ‘‘Jig? Genevieve’s wanting to see you.’’

  Jig’s teeth chattered. ‘‘It’s about Billa, isn’t it? She’s coming.’’

  Darnak was little more than a silhouette, but Jig could see him tilting his head to one side like a bird. ‘‘Now, how would you be knowing that?’’

  ‘‘The cold. It’s getting worse.’’

  ‘‘Aye. Something unnatural in that wind.’’ Darnak waited while Jig gathered his blanket and retrieved Smudge from the tiny web he had woven at the base of the wall.

  Outside, lanterns flickered by the gate. Even as Jig watched, one of the lanterns died, extinguished by the wind. ‘‘Where are we going?’’

  Darnak pointed.

  ‘‘Oh, no.’’ Whereas the outer wall was covered in thorns and a few scattered flowers, the interior was formed of a different kind of tree, covered in smooth, slippery bark. But the tree Darnak indicated was wider than the rest, with some sort of lichen growing on it. The brown disks were spaced evenly to the ground, each one large enough for a man’s foot.

  ‘‘Don’t worry about it,’’ Darnak said. He planted a boot on the lowest shelf of lichen, grabbed a higher one, and pulled himself up. ‘‘Took me weeks to get used to this place.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Sticking a dwarf up a tree is a violation of nature, like expecting fish to fly and build nests.’’

  Fear dried Jig’s mouth and throat. Though that was better than his nose, which was frozen on the inside from the cold. If the lichen could support Darnak’s weight, with all his armor and everything he carried in that pack, surely it would hold Jig.

  Unless Darnak’s weight weakened it. Jig looked back at the stables. ‘‘Are you sure Genevieve doesn’t want to come down here instead?’’

  ‘‘Don’t make me carry you,’’ said Darnak.

  Gritting his teeth, Jig grabbed the lowest lichen and hauled himself after the dwarf.

  The wind was even stronger atop the wall than it was below. Jig would have been blown clear off if Darnak hadn’t seized his wrist.

  Genevieve stood nearby, blankets and furs protecting her from the cold. There were no lights.

  ‘‘Did you enjoy your rest, goblin?’’ Genevieve asked.

  ‘‘No.’’ Jig clung to Darnak’s hand as he took his first step. The platform was nothing but sticks and leaves, woven tightly together. There were enough gaps to allow the snow to slip through, but the branches were still wet and slippery. They creaked and moved under his weight. ‘‘I miss my lair.’’

  Darnak chuckled.

  The top of the wall was wide enough for two people to stand side by side, though it required both people to stand closer to the edges than Jig liked. Waist-high railings ran along either side of the platform. Jig crouched against the inner railing. The branches and leaves were woven tightly enough to block the worst of the wind. A thick vine ran horizontally along the top, a railing of sorts. Jig gripped it with both hands and tried not to move.

  His ears perked. He could just make out the sound of drums in the distance.

  ‘‘Are the gates sealed?’’ Genevieve asked.

  Darnak nodded. ‘‘We didn’t have time to finish preparing the steelthorn, but the lower portion is clear. Nobody’s going to be after climbing these walls. The trees might not be as strong as dwarf stone, but they’ll do.’’

  Genevieve glanced back at Jig. ‘‘Billa’s army is coming.’’

  ‘‘He knows,’’ said Darnak.

  Jig took a deep breath, then lurched across the platform to the outer railing. Staring out at Billa’s army, he wondered if it would be better to simply fling himself off the wall and be done with it.

  Torches and lanterns burned like tiny fireflies, stretching back along the road as far as Jig could see. Was it his imagination, or had Billa’s army grown since Jig fled? Maybe it just seemed larger compared to the paltry numbers here inside the town walls. His ears twitched with each beat of the war drums.

  Genevieve pressed a wooden tube to her eye. ‘‘Goblins march in
the front of the column. She has kobolds scouting ahead and to either side.’’

  ‘‘What is that?’’ Jig asked, pointing to the tube.

  ‘‘The lenses provide a closer view of our foe,’’ said Genevieve. She barely even blinked as she stared out at the approaching army. ‘‘Goblin, how will your men react in the face of this threat? Do you trust them to obey orders and do their duty?’’

  Jig stared at her. ‘‘They’re goblins, remember?’’

  Genevieve sighed. ‘‘Billa seems to have no problem controlling her troops. Perhaps the goblins need a stronger leader.’’

  Jig agreed completely, but the disdain in her voice made his hands clench. ‘‘Do you know how Billa raised such a large army, Princess?’’ Jig asked. ‘‘She told them . . . she told us that if we joined her, we’d never have to worry about people like you or your brothers again.’’

  Genevieve started to say something, then bit her lip and turned back toward the approaching monsters. ‘‘We’ll have to hold them for at least a day. Darnak, get every available archer to the walls. Nobody attacks until I give the order. Our arrows and quarrels are too limited. Goblin, rouse your men. Position them along the wall in pairs.’’

  Jig didn’t move. ‘‘And what will you do with us when this is over?’’

  ‘‘I’ll figure it out then. Assuming any of us survive.’’ She raised the scope to her eye again. ‘‘None of the reports said anything about winged creatures in Billa’s army.’’

  Jig rubbed his spectacles on his cloak. Given the condition of his cloak, that wasn’t much of an improvement. But by the time he hooked the frames back over his ears, he could make out dark shapes against the moonlit clouds.

  ‘‘Dragons?’’ Darnak guessed. Jig edged closer to the ladder.

  ‘‘The wings are the wrong shape,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘And the tails are more birdlike than serpentine.’’

  ‘‘They’re coming from the north,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘If Billa sent a force through the mountains, our scouts would have known.’’