Goblin War (15 page)

He crunched the snow into a ball and ate it. ‘‘At least, that was the plan. Turns out this land is a bit bigger than anyone realized.’’

Jig studied the other goblins. Trok was in heaven, beaming as he jabbed his sword at imaginary humans. Relka was fingering her necklace—when had she found time to make a new one?—and smiling to herself. Even Jig had to admit Billa’s plan was appealing. Drive the surface dwellers back once and for all. No more adventurers sneaking in to the mountain to kill goblins and hunt treasure. No more humans and elves dragging goblins off as slaves. After all these years, they would be
safe
.

Was that why Shadowstar had sent him here? So Billa could protect them once and for all?

Not exactly,
Shadowstar said.
The danger isn’t from the humans and elves.

Billa and her orcs?
Jig guessed.

Jig tugged his ears, using the pain to distract him from his frustration.
Is it too late for me to start worshiping a different god? One who isn’t so vague with his warnings? Maybe one who will tell me to stay in the lair where it’s safe, and eat hot rat stew and drink warm klak beer all day?

You want Rionisus Yelloweyes, God of Revelry. But I don’t think he’d be interested in goblin worshipers.
Shadowstar paused.
Jig, you and the other goblins are my window to your world. In my prime, with worshipers throughout the world, I probably would have been strong enough to sense exactly what threat you faced. But now . . . I’m sorry.

‘‘How much farther?’’ Trok asked. ‘‘I want to kill an elf!’’

‘‘Quiet, smelly goblin.’’ Hessafa dropped to all fours, pressing her nose to the rock. They had finally left the swamps, climbing into a rocky, lightly wooded area. Now if they could only leave the stench of the swamp as well. Unfortunately, Jig and every other goblin was caked in the stuff.

‘‘It is elves?’’ Trok asked.

‘‘Quiet means no talking.’’ She crept forward, sniffing hard. A clump of snow balanced atop her nose when she next looked up. She sneezed and spat. ‘‘Elf scent. Smells like fruit and flowers. Better than goblin stink, though.’’

‘‘So what do your regulations say about stabbing our tracker in the back?’’ Relka asked.

‘‘They’re vague,’’ Gratz said.

Hessafa continued to mutter to herself as she scrambled up the rocky earth. ‘‘First goblins lie to kobolds, saying Hessafa stole metal. Then kobolds punish me by making me track for stupid goblins! Elf this way.’’

‘‘Where?’’ asked one of the other goblins. An instant later he lurched back, slamming into the goblin behind him. An elven arrow pinned the two goblins together.

‘‘There!’’ Hessafa dove to the ground. ‘‘Hessafa tracked elf. Goblins go kill it now!’’

Jig could see the elf standing halfway up a snow-covered tree. He balanced easily on a branch, not even disturbing the snow as he nocked another arrow.

‘‘Down!’’ Gratz shouted. He needn’t have bothered. The other goblins were already scrambling for cover, hiding behind trees and rocks and each other. There wasn’t much cover on the rough hillside. The trees were sparse and thin.

The elf’s second shot pinned a goblin’s exposed ear to the earth.

Gratz was actually smiling as he glanced at the other goblins. His voice was loud enough to carry over the frightened screams. ‘‘Regulations say the best attack formation for a small group like ours is the Grab-and-Squeeze. Spread out like a giant hand, then everyone closes in at once. As commander, I’m the middle finger, so I’ll charge up the center.’’

He jabbed his sword at the other goblins. ‘‘You three are the thumb and pointer. To my left. Jig, you and the kobold are the little finger. You head to the right. Now go!’’

The goblins spread apart, obeying without thinking. Had they been thinking, Jig was sure they would have run the other way. But even he had jolted into motion at Gratz’s sharp tone.

Hessafa threw her short spear as she ran. The elf twisted easily out of the way, but at least he couldn’t shoot anyone and dodge at the same time. Trok stooped to grab a rock, then threw it without breaking stride.

The elf caught it. With a crooked smile, he threw it back.

Trok ducked his head. The rock that would have crushed his face instead rang off of his helmet. Trok staggered and toppled into the snow. Even from here Jig could see the dent in the top of his helmet.

By now the remaining goblins had almost reached the elf. Still smiling, the elf stepped back from his branch, dropping lightly into the snow. He used his bow to parry the nearest goblin’s attack, then whirled, putting himself behind the goblin. A kick to the backside launched the goblin straight into the tree. The sound of skull hitting wood reminded Jig of the war drums back home.

Gratz and Relka reached the elf next, and both attacked at once. The elf tossed his bow into the air, where it hooked neatly over one of the branches. He caught Relka’s wrist and twisted her arm so her sword pressed her neck. Had the blade been sharper, it would have cut her throat. The elf pressed harder, then grimaced in disgust. He slammed his elbow into Relka’s temple, knocking her to the ground, and then Gratz swung his sword down onto the elf’s bare wrist.

Nothing happened. Gratz tried again, and this time the elf caught the blade and yanked it from his hand.

Jig stopped running. He looked at Hessafa, who had started to follow him up the hill. Both took a tentative step back.

Another goblin screamed as he charged the elf, sword swinging. Jig wasn’t sure if he was screaming to try to intimidate the elf, or because he still had an arrow dangling from his ear. Either way, the elf barely blinked as he parried the attack with his arm, then used Gratz’s sword to run the goblin through. The body tumbled down the hill toward Jig’s feet.

Dull or not, that blow should have shattered the elf’s arm. And Gratz’s weapon was certainly better than anything the others carried. Yet the elf hadn’t even flinched as he grabbed Gratz’s blade.

‘‘Elf magic?’’ Hessafa whispered.

‘‘No, this magic is worse.’’ He recognized this elf now. This was one of Theodore’s companions. Theodore must have used the Rod of Creation to strengthen the elf’s skin, turning it tough as armor. The elf flexed his arms, stretching as though he had just awakened from a pleasant nap, then retrieved his bow from the branches.

‘‘Run?’’ Hessafa asked.

Jig didn’t move. They couldn’t run fast enough to escape an elven archer.
Is this the part where we all die?

No,
said Shadowstar.
Well, it’s not the danger I’ve been sensing, at any rate. That danger is magical and widespread. This one should be quick and efficient.

Jig lay flat, hiding behind a tree and the dead goblin with the arrow in his ear. The upper edge of his armor pressed into his throat, cutting off his breath, but it didn’t matter. He was too scared to breathe anyway.

Hessafa crouched beside him. He could see the elf approaching.

Why didn’t goblins ever get the magical armor and the enchanted weapons and the—Wait. Jig reached out to yank the elf’s arrow from the dead goblin’s ear. If Theodore had used the rod to strengthen the elves, would he have done the same to their weapons? Jig brushed a finger over the arrowhead, grinning as a dot of blood appeared. The tip was so sharp he hadn’t even felt the cut.

I don’t suppose you could distract him for me?
Jig asked.

There’s one thing I could try,
said Shadowstar.
I haven’t done it in several thousand years, and it probably wouldn’t work, but—

Jig would have laughed if his throat hadn’t been so tight.
A magic elf is about to snap me in half. Try it!

Jig cradled the arrow in both hands.
What?

Warmth rushed through Jig’s body. The sensation was similar to what he experienced when he used his healing magic. But where the healing magic was concentrated in his hands, this bubbled up from his chest and spread outward. And while healing magic usually warmed his hands, this felt as though he had swallowed a fire-spider.

Shadowstar sighed.
Because if you don’t, the elf is going to kill you.

‘‘Cover your eyes, Hessafa,’’ Jig said. Hessafa buried her face in the snow. Jig wasn’t sure if she was obeying his instructions, or if she just didn’t want to see the elf kill her. Not that it mattered.

Smudge scurried out of Jig’s hood and leaped off of his shoulder, a single line of silk slowing his fall. Snow melted beneath the spider’s body, and he disappeared as he scrambled toward the shelter of the tree. Smart spider.

Jig stood. The elf was almost within reach. Would he shoot Jig with his bow and arrow? Break Jig’s neck with one hand? Use Jig as a club to beat Hessafa to death? There were so many possibilities.

The elf hesitated. His skin and armor had a reddish tinge. So did the snow. Jig glanced behind, but the sky had only begun to take on the orange hue of the sunset.

The red light grew brighter and brighter. Blinking didn’t help. In fact, it made the glare worse. The light was coming from Jig’s own skin, including the inside of his eyelids.

The light didn’t bother Jig too much, but the elf was squinting. Jig raised his arrow. If he could attack while the elf was distracted—

Jig stared at his hands. Red fire danced over his fingers. Curls of flame danced out from his skin, spitting wisps of fire into the air.
You’re turning me into a fire-spider?

The light brightened faster now, painting everything the color of human blood.

Hessafa whimpered. The elf moved quick as thought. An arrow buried itself in the tree in front of the kobold.

The elf had
missed
. The light must have blinded him. Already the elf had begun to retreat.

Jig stepped closer.

An arrow tore through Jig’s armor. And through Jig. He could see the hole where it had entered the armor. He could feel a matching hole in the back, though this one was wet with blood.

It cut your side and grazed a rib. You’ll live.
Shadowstar hesitated.
Unless he shoots you again, I mean.

Jig clamped his jaw, trying not to whimper. Even blind, elves were dangerous archers. There were no fancy throat shots here. The elf was shooting for Jig’s chest. A handspan to the left, and he would have taken Jig in the heart.

Stupid snow. Jig couldn’t move without his boot crunching loud enough for even a human to hear. Tears streamed down his cheek from the pain. He held his breath. The elf had to realize Jig hadn’t fallen. He should have fallen down and pretended to die. Then when the elf came closer, Jig could have stabbed him.

Either that, or the elf would have put a few more arrows into him to be safe.
I don’t suppose you can do anything about his hearing?

The creak of wood drew Jig’s attention back to the elf and his bow. He held the string steady at the side of his face, listening. Jig’s chest hurt from holding his breath, but he didn’t dare exhale. He could throw the arrow to distract the elf, but throwing away his only decent weapon wasn’t much of a plan.

Behind him Hessafa craned her head and howled. Jig flinched and flattened his ears against the sound. Another arrow buried itself in the tree, but Jig could barely hear the impact over the echo of Hessafa’s cry.

He stared at the arrow. If
he
couldn’t hear . . . Jig leaped forward and stabbed his own stolen arrow into the elf’s chest.

The elf dropped his bow. Both hands touched the arrow. He squinted at Jig, and his expression was one of mild puzzlement. Slowly he toppled back into the snow.

Jig’s whole body sagged with relief. Terror must have helped block the pain, but now that his terror was fading, the hole in his side felt as though it were on fire. Jig reacted by screaming and clutching the wound with both hands.

Hessafa scurried out from behind her tree. She retrieved her spear and prodded the elf. ‘‘Killed by noisy goblin. How?’’ Her fur bristled as she turned to point her spear at Jig. ‘‘More magic?’’

‘‘No, it—’’ Jig clenched his jaw. His breath hissed past his fangs.
Would you mind helping me?

Jig gasped with relief as the skin along his side began to heal. Eventually he managed to stand. He grabbed the hem of his cloak from beneath his armor and tried to wipe the snow from his spectacles, but between the snow, swamp muck, and various colors of blood, his cloak was a complete disaster. Albeit a colorful one. He ended up cleaning the lenses on the sleeve of the elf’s shirt instead.

He checked Relka next. She would have a nasty bruise on her head, but she should live. Trok was snoring, so Jig figured he was okay. So was Gratz. His arm was broken from when the elf had tossed him aside, but that could wait until Jig checked the others. Of the two goblins who had been pinned by the same arrow, the one in back still lived. Barely. Jig managed to keep him alive as he pulled the arrow free, then did his best to heal the wounds.

By the time he finished, Jig was exhausted and covered in goblin blood. But only two of his companions had died.

‘‘First you catch on fire, then you kill the magic elf. Now you heal stupid goblins.’’ Hessafa was still staring, her fur making her head appear comically large. Her teeth were bared, and her eyes wide. ‘‘What are you, goblin?’’