by Jim C. Hines
‘‘Those are elfhawks,’’ Genevieve said softly. The hand holding the scope dropped to her side. ‘‘They carry men upon their backs.’’
‘‘Theodore.’’
Genevieve’s lips twisted into a sour expression. ‘‘He must have used the rod on those birds.’’
As bad as it had been riding Bastard, the mere idea of riding a giant elfhawk made Jig dizzy. He grabbed the railing for balance as he watched the birds approach. He could see the shapes of the riders, each one bent low against bird’s neck.
The first rider drew a sword that burned with orange fire. Why didn’t goblins ever get the magical weapons? The rider raised his weapon in salute as he circled toward the wall. Prince Theodore, Jig guessed. He couldn’t discern the rider’s features, but he doubted the prince’s pride would allow anyone else to lead.
‘‘ ’Ware the goblin!’’ Theodore shouted. His hawk swooped toward the wall.
No, not toward the wall. Toward Jig. Talons the size of Jig’s foot reached out.
Jig screamed and leaped away, barely avoiding the prince’s magical sword.
Unfortunately, Jig’s desperate leap took him to the gap in the railing. He tried to twist around, to catch the lichen ladder and stop his fall.
He missed.
CHAPTER 12
The priest in the middle of the temple missed a beat as Tymalous Autumnstar fell. He lay sprawled on the worn tile floor, waiting for Noc’s response. Would it be the lightning again, or had Noc developed new skills since their last battle? Autumnstar was betting on the lightning. Noc had never been the most creative of the gods. Hopefully Noc wouldn’t incinerate too many of his followers in the process.
‘‘Are you hurt?’’ The young priestess knelt beside him and touched his arm. She had stripped off her mask, and her brown face revealed both her youth and her terror. No doubt there were rules against assaulting the elderly. ‘‘Forgive me. I only wanted to help you face your fear.’’
Autumnstar peeked around the temple as the chanting resumed. Noc was present, as much as any god ever was in a temple. But Autumnstar couldn’t sense any change in the death god’s attention.
‘‘Isn’t that why you came?’’ the priestess asked. ‘‘To prepare yourself for death?’’
Autumnstar pushed himself to his feet. ‘‘I came because . . . because I’m tired.’’ Tired of being alone. Tired of living as a mortal. Tired of being afraid.
Giddiness knotted his chest. For him to step into this temple was like walking up to Noc and punching him in the nose. Yet Autumnstar sensed nothing. ‘‘Noc doesn’t see me.’’
‘‘All come to Noc’s domain,’’ the priestess said, her voice stern. ‘‘Your time is written on the scrolls.’’
‘‘Noc erased my name from the scrolls,’’ Autumnstar whispered, remembering what the priestess had said before. He started to laugh. ‘‘He cursed us, sentenced us to be forgotten . . . and now he doesn’t remember me.’’
People turned to stare. The priest in the center of the temple stopped again. The priestess tried to take Autumnstar’s arm and pull him back outside, but he tugged free.
‘‘I’m right here, Noc!’’ Centuries of hiding, all for nothing. He was invisible. Tears and laughter mixed, until he was gasping for breath.
The shadows shifted as the acolytes ran toward him. Autumnstar hadn’t even noticed them lurking in the dark corners. He raced down the aisle, past rows of stunned worshipers, until he reached the center of the temple. He dodged the high priest and climbed onto the edge of the fire pit. ‘‘Tymalous Autumnstar lives!’’
The fire flared higher, even as the air chilled.
‘‘Whoops.’’ Autumnstar bit his lip. Perhaps that last defiant shout had been a little too much. He gingerly lowered himself from the pit and allowed the acolytes to grab his arms.
Halfway out of the temple, he turned to the priestess. ‘‘This body has served me for more than a hundred years. Take care of it. The coins in my pouch should make up for any disturbance I’ve caused.’’
The acolytes caught his body as it fell, but Tymalous Autumnstar was already gone. He would have to remember not to flaunt his survival. Noc’s curse hadn’t blinded him completely. Like Noc’s own acolytes, Tymalous Autumnstar would have to keep to the shadows.
The sound of bells was muted as he stepped through the broken doorway of his ruined temple. Tymalous Autumnstar—Tymalous Shadowstar—was home!
Jig’s left nostril was on fire.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Smudge’s fuzzy backside. Four of the spider’s legs clung to the edges of Jig’s spectacles. Smudge reached out again, searing Jig’s nose with one of his forelegs.
‘‘Stop that,’’ Jig mumbled. Smudge backed away. Had he been trying to rouse Jig, or simply checking to see if he was safe to eat?
‘‘Jig!’’
He tilted his head to see Darnak and Genevieve climbing down the wall. Prince Theodore was already on the ground.
Why was it that every time Jig faced a prince, he ended up flat on his back? He started to sit up, then gasped. His knee felt like someone had smashed it with a rock.
‘‘Easy, lad,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘You’re lucky you didn’t land on your head! A fall like that can be fatal.’’
‘‘Goblins have thick skulls,’’ Jig said. He reached down to touch his knee. All he learned was that his shoulder was in equally bad shape. He lay back, grabbing his shoulder with his other hand and drawing on Shadowstar’s healing magic. His jaw clenched. The pain of rebuilding a joint was bad enough, but couldn’t Shadowstar do something about the popping sounds coming from his shoulder?
‘‘Stand aside, Darnak,’’ Theodore demanded, waving that burning sword in the air. He strode toward Jig, and his eyes widened. ‘‘By the First Oak, there are more!’’
Jig’s ear swiveled, tracking the footsteps of approaching goblins. ‘‘What did you do to Jig?’’ Relka yelled.
‘‘Everyone calm down,’’ Darnak shouted. His voice made Jig think of a mountain cracking. Darnak hurried to put himself between Jig and the prince. ‘‘They’re not your enemy, Theodore.’’
‘‘They’re goblins,’’ Theodore said.
‘‘They’re deserters from Billa’s army.’’ Genevieve moved to stand beside Darnak. ‘‘Jig risked his life to bring warning of Billa’s plans. Plans that your scouts failed to uncover.’’
‘‘And you believed them?’’
Genevieve hesitated only briefly. ‘‘Darnak’s magic showed him to be telling the truth. And Billa is coming to Avery. Really, Theodore. Haven’t you more important things to do than wag your elven blade at our allies?’’
Jig tested his arm, wondering when he had been promoted to ally.
‘‘But they’re goblins,’’ Theodore said again, as if Genevieve had somehow overlooked the blue skin and big ears and fangs.
‘‘Forgive the interruption, Prince, but you’re looking a bit changed from the last time we spoke,’’ said Darnak.
Jig blinked. He hadn’t noticed before. Atop the wall, he had been more concerned with avoiding the bird’s claws and the prince’s sword. He squinted through his snow-flecked spectacles.
‘‘The Rod of Creation is a gift,’’ Theodore said. He pointed to the top of the wall, where huge elfhawks perched. ‘‘How else could I have reached Avery in time to save you all from Billa’s wrath?’’
‘‘And the ears?’’ Darnak asked.
Theodore tossed his hair—which was far longer and lighter than before—back over his shoulder. He ran his fingertips over the sharp lines of his pointed ears and smiled. ‘‘The rod has helped me to become my true self.’’
‘‘Eighteen years I helped raise the whelp,’’ Darnak muttered. ‘‘Changed his diapers, forged his first sword, even called upon the power of Earthmaker to clear up those pimples. Four years of pimples. And he turns himself into an elf.’’
The prince ignored him and patted his belt. The tip of a woode
n stick protruded from a purple scabbard. He sheathed his sword on his opposite hip. ‘‘I strengthened our armor, our weapons, even the skin of our bodies.’’
Theodore combed his fingers through his flowing hair. ‘‘Even elven hair is superior to our own. I’ve flown nonstop since we received your message, and look! Nary a tangle!’’ He grimaced and said, ‘‘Though it does tend to flick in one’s eyes. I’ll have to braid it before we attack. So tell me, dear Sister, would you like me to do something about that nose of yours?’’
‘‘I have a better idea,’’ Genevieve said, perfectly calm. ‘‘Why don’t you take that rod and—’’
‘‘All that power, and you couldn’t even give yourself a decent beard,’’ Darnak snapped.
Before Theodore could respond, Genevieve asked, ‘‘What did the king say about all this? Our father isn’t terribly fond of magic these days. Or of elves, for that matter.’’
Theodore flushed. ‘‘I haven’t exactly told him. But, Sister, look at me! I’m stronger than before. Faster.’’ He drew the Rod of Creation and raised it overhead. Jig tried to scoot away, but the effort made his knee feel like tiny dwarves were pounding it with great big hammers. ‘‘The goblins had all this within their grasp. They too could have transformed themselves into something great, had they only known what it was they had.’’
‘‘But then we wouldn’t have been goblins,’’ Jig said.
Theodore turned and stared. Jig got the impression he had completely forgotten about the goblin’s presence. ‘‘Such shortsightedness will be the downfall of your race, goblin.’’
He whistled, and two of the giant elfhawks swooped down to land beside him. The rest of Theodore’s elves simply jumped from the wall. They landed easily in the snow, showing no sign of strain or worry about a drop that had nearly killed Jig. Stupid elves.
The two elfhawks were heavily laden with weapons and armor. One of the elves began distributing wooden shields and helmets to the rest.
‘‘Billa is a bloody fool.’’ Theodore grinned at his own wit. ‘‘My elves and I shall soar down and destroy her. When our father’s army arrives, they will find Billa’s forces in chaos.’’
‘‘There’s a mite bit more to this battle than meets the eye, lad,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘Billa has magic of her own, and—’’
‘‘Billa is an orc,’’ Theodore said. ‘‘Barely better than a goblin.’’
‘‘She’s an orc who has raised an army,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘An orc who has marched freely through our land, terrorizing our people and—’’
‘‘You worry too much, Sister.’’ Theodore grinned. ‘‘You did well to summon me, but now your worries are over. Run along and prepare a suitable meal for me and my friends. A victory breakfast, to celebrate our triumph. Something hot.’’ He slapped his stomach.
Genevieve’s fingers twitched over her sword, but she stopped herself. ‘‘Father charged me with the protection of Avery. I should—’’
‘‘And a marvelous job you’ve done,’’ Theodore said. ‘‘Your people are fled, and your town is infested with goblins. Father will be thrilled.’’
Genevieve’s face turned a deeper shade of red. Darnak placed a hand on her forearm.
‘‘Have your men gather food for our hawks as well,’’ Theodore said, turning away. ‘‘Perhaps you could feed the goblins to them and solve two problems at once.’’
Genevieve waited until they were out of earshot, then turned to Relka. ‘‘Someone said you were some sort of chef.’’
Relka nodded.
‘‘And what meal would you recommend for a prince, goblin?’’
Relka rubbed her chin. ‘‘My favorite is charred rat with klak sauce, garnished in black-edge mushrooms. The tails are especially good.’’
Genevieve’s lips tightened into a smile. ‘‘What are you waiting for? Prince Theodore has requested a meal. I imagine you’ll find plenty of rats raiding the granary.’’
Jig and the other goblins stood by the edge of the road, watching Theodore and his elves mount their hawks. Many of the hawks had perched on the rooftops, forcing their elves to scale the buildings. Not that this slowed the elves down at all.
‘‘If they fail, I’ve got dibs on the dark meat,’’ Trok said softly.
Jig ignored him. Theodore had the Rod of Creation. All he had to do was reach Billa and transform her into something harmless. Billa was the only one who could set off the spells carved into her goblin and kobold officers. With her dead. . . .
His shoulders slumped. With Billa dead, the humans would have an easy time of it. Wendel’s army would arrive in a day or so to drive the monsters back into the caves and tunnels. For those who survived, everything would return to the way it had been.
Billa had the support of a goddess, but she was no goddess herself. Jig had seen the power of that rod. Prince Theodore wouldn’t have to come within range of Billa’s magical sword. He could swoop down, transforming Billa and her friends at will, or at least until he got tired. The rod could take a lot out of whoever wielded it.
As far as Jig knew, Billa had no flying monsters. Arrows and stones would do little against Theodore’s magically hardened armor. Jig still remembered the way ordinary weapons had bounced away from that elf scout in the woods.
So why was Jig still here when he should be getting as far from Avery as he could?
He couldn’t concentrate. He flattened his ears against the sound of the wolves. Ever since the hawks had swooped in, the blasted things hadn’t stopped yowling. And then there was Billa’s army. Thousands of monsters, all shouting and jeering and beating their armor as they approached Avery.
It’s part of their strategy. They’re trying to unnerve you, Shadowstar said.
‘‘It’s working!’’ Jig pulled up the hood of his cloak. The wind promptly blew it from his head. Yanking it back, Jig turned to scowl at the hawks. Theodore had climbed onto his hawk, tucking his legs beneath the wings and waving to the human soldiers. He made an impressive figure, illuminated by the rising sun.
‘‘Circle a few times to gain some height,’’ Darnak was saying. ‘‘The higher you fly, the faster your dive. Don’t spend a lot of time hovering before you attack. Hovering takes too much energy, and you don’t want to tire the hawks. And—’’
The hawk spread its wings and shrieked loudly enough to overpower even the wolves. It took a few quick steps, then slammed its wings, launching itself into the air. The other hawks followed, hopping from the rooftops and causing goblins to scream and dive out of the way.
Darnak hurried after them, still shouting bird advice as he climbed the wall.
Jig continued to pace as he watched the hawks fly away. Something squished beneath his foot. His boot slid out from beneath him, and he waved his arms to keep from falling. His knee twinged with pain. Apparently he hadn’t done a perfect job of healing the joint.
He glanced down to see another of the ‘‘gifts’’ Theodore’s elfhawks had deposited throughout Avery. Giant birds meant giant droppings. Jig groaned and hobbled over to scrape the boot on a nearby house.
‘‘It could be worse,’’ said Relka as she hurried toward him. She pointed to one of the goblins who had thrown himself to the ground.
Jig grimaced. ‘‘Somebody get him a rag. And weren’t you supposed to be preparing a meal for Prince Theodore?’’
‘‘I was,’’ Relka said. ‘‘That’s why I came.’’ She held out a blackened rat. ‘‘I thought you might like a taste.’’
Jig snatched the rat from her hand. The meat was still warm, and he gobbled it down, surprised at how hungry he was. When had he last eaten? He forced himself to slow down, ripping off a bit of tail for Smudge.
Smudge flattened himself to Jig’s cloak, clinging with six legs while he reached for the meat with his forelegs. Jig turned his back to the wind, blocking the worst of it. Even with all those extra legs, the wind could still rip Smudge from his shoulder and fling the poor fire-spider—
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��‘Oh, no.’’ Jig’s stomach knotted. He shoved both Smudge and the rat into a pocket and spun toward the wall. The elfhawks were already gone. Humans cheered them on from atop the wall.
‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Relka asked.
Jig ran toward the wall. ‘‘Darnak! Genevieve! You have to stop the prince!’’ The wind swept his words away.
Cursing, Jig scrambled up the lichen shelves of the wall as fast as he could. The walkway was crowded with humans, all staring out at Billa’s army. Jig shoved past them until he spotted Darnak. The dwarf stood atop his backpack, still watching the hawks. Genevieve was with him, her face stone. She held one of those elven scopes to her eye, watching Theodore’s progress.
‘‘Darnak, you have to call them back!’’ Jig shouted.
Genevieve snorted. ‘‘Even if he were close enough to hear, my brothers have never been fond of others telling them what to do. And I certainly can’t imagine Theodore would take orders from a goblin.’’
Jig squeezed his way between them and stood up on his toes. The front edge of Billa’s army had reached the distant fields. Goblins and kobolds spread to either side. Some loosed arrows and threw spears, but their attacks had no effect on Theodore’s hawks. A few of the humans cheered as those same missiles fell back down upon the monsters’ heads.
Several of the elves drew swords that glowed like Theodore’s. Jig had half expected them to start firing arrows back at the monsters, but apparently not even an elf could aim a longbow and steer a giant hawk at the same time.
‘‘Billa’s going to kill your brother if he doesn’t turn back,’’ said Jig.
Suddenly Jig had everyone’s attention.
‘‘What did you say?’’ asked Genevieve.
‘‘It’s Isa,’’ Jig said.
Darnak frowned. ‘‘Who?’’
Jig wanted to punch him. ‘‘The goddess Billa worships. Goddess of the Winter Winds.’’
Darnak was the first to understand. He spun, nearly falling off his backpack. ‘‘Every last man into the field now! We have to—’’
‘‘Too late,’’ Genevieve said.