Goblin War (22 page)

He tugged the guard’s sword out of his hand, then rapped the flat of the blade against the second guard’s skull. ‘‘If you’re lucky, he’ll feed only one of you to the wolves. Knowing Silverfang, he’ll choose whoever is slowest to get back.’’

The goblins fled. Jig waited until they were gone from sight, then turned to Relka. He meant to pass her the extra sword, but he was shaking so hard he dropped it in the snow.

‘‘That was incredible,’’ Relka whispered.

‘‘Thanks,’’ said Jig. Then he threw up on her boots.

 
Jig finished shoving his armor beneath a bush, then stretched his arms overhead. Without the weight of all that leather, he felt as if he could leap as high as the treetops. Better still, he could walk without the armor rubbing his limbs to the bones.

He tightened his belt and repositioned the sword back over his hip. He had given Relka his own sword, keeping the one he had taken from the goblin guard for himself. It was still junk, but at least it was sharp junk.

‘‘Why didn’t you stay to fight Billa?’’ Relka asked as they resumed walking.

‘‘Because
my
god didn’t give me a magic sword,’’ Jig said. ‘‘The only weapon I had is that sword in your hand, and it’s not sharp enough to cut wind.’’

‘‘She was in your temple,’’ Relka said. She jogged alongside him, staying just out of sight of the road below. ‘‘You’re the high priest of Tymalous Shadowstar. You’re stronger than she is.’’

She made it sound like such a simple fact, like she was telling him snow was cold or dragons were dangerous or hobgoblin cooking tasted like rat droppings.

The howl of wolves interrupted them before Jig could tell her exactly what he thought of Tymalous Shadowstar. Jig slowed, wondering if he should go back for his armor. Not that the leather would do much against angry wolves.

‘‘Have faith.’’ Relka turned around and raised her sword. ‘‘We are servants of a great god.’’

‘‘So let him fight the wolves,’’ Jig muttered as he searched for shelter. A cave, a cliff they could climb, anyplace the wolves might not be able to follow. But this far down from the lair, the ground was disgustingly gentle. He glanced at a tree. He doubted wolves could climb, but they could surround the tree and wait for him to come down. More likely, the goblins would pelt him with rocks, or maybe just cut down the tree with Jig and Relka in it.

Jig pulled out his sword just as the first of the wolves came into view. Silverfang yanked the ropes, pulling Bastard to a halt as the rest of the wolf-riders joined him. It looked like Billa had sent all fourteen of Silverfang’s wolf-riders after Jig, including Trok, who struggled to keep Smelly under control.

‘‘I knew you were trouble,’’ Silverfang shouted.

His sword was much larger than Jig’s. When he charged, the wolf’s speed would probably give him the strength to cut clean through Jig and Relka both. At least it would be a quick death.

‘‘The runt is mine.’’ Silverfang grinned and kicked Bastard in the sides. The wolf began to trot toward Jig.

Jig backed away. He fumbled with his cloak. Which pocket had Smudge crawled into? Bad enough Jig was about to be wolf food. Smudge didn’t need to die too. He didn’t know how long Smudge would survive outside in the cold, but it had to be longer than he would with Jig. Where was the stupid spider hiding?

He plunged his hand into another pocket, and his breath caught.

‘‘What is it?’’ Relka asked.

Jig handed his sword to her.

He couldn’t tell who howled first, Silverfang or Bastard. The two of them harmonized quite well together, actually. The wolf’s huge paws flung dirt and snow into the air behind him. They ran like a single creature, half wolf, half angry goblin, and the only question was whether the wolf’s teeth or the goblin’s sword would kill Jig first.

Relka leaped in front of Jig, waving both swords in the air. It might have been an impressive sight, if she hadn’t managed to clank the blades together, knocking one of the swords from her hand. Undeterred, she gripped the other with both hands and shouted, ‘‘Prepare to face the wrath of Tymalous Shadowstar!’’

Jig kicked her in the back of the knees, knocking her down. Bastard and Silverfang were almost on top of him. He pulled the large troll toe from his pocket and waved it overhead. He saw Silverfang’s eyes widen as he realized what Jig held.

‘‘Bastard,’’ Jig shouted. ‘‘Sit!’’ He threw the toe at Bastard’s face.

The giant wolf tried to obey. He reared and twisted, snapping at the toe even as he tried to settle his hindquarters. He might have managed, if not for Silverfang roped to his back. Jig had seen tunnel cats manage similar midair twists to snatch a bat or bird from the air. But with an armed, armored goblin tied to his back, Bastard had no chance.

Jig pulled Relka out of the way as Silverfang’s weight dragged Bastard off-balance. The wolf twisted sideways in the air, his legs flailing and kicking. His jaws closed around the toe, and then Silverfang’s shoulder struck the ground. Bastard slammed down on his side, bounced, and barely missed sliding into a tree. The giant wolf staggered to his feet and shook, spraying snow and mud and goblin blood in all directions. He took a single step, then spun and tried to bite Silverfang’s leg.

‘‘Behold the fate of all who challenge Jig Dragonslayer,’’ Relka shouted.

The other goblins appeared unimpressed. They spread out in a formation Jig didn’t recognize. He decided to call it the ‘‘Make sure every wolf gets a bite of Jig’’ formation.

Slowly it dawned on Jig that Silverfang wasn’t moving. At least not under his own power. Bastard continued to snarl and snap at Silverfang’s left arm. Silverfang slumped more and more to the side. His right hand was tangled in the reins, and his weight caused them to dig cruelly into Bastard’s jaws, driving him in tighter and tighter circles.

One of the goblins laughed. Jig was fairly certain it was Trok.

Bastard appeared to have forgotten all about the troll toe. His eyes were wide, and foam sprayed from his jaws. Jig could see where the rope harness cut into his mouth and throat. His teeth clacked together, but he couldn’t quite reach Silverfang.

One of the goblins threw a chunk of ice at Bastard’s nose, spurring him into even faster circles.

‘‘None of that!’’ Gratz pointed his sword at the other goblin. ‘‘A named wolf is as much a soldier in Billa’s army as you. We came out here to do a job. Let’s kill these two and be done with it.’’

‘‘Wait!’’ Jig squeaked. ‘‘Silverfang ordered you to let
him
kill me!’’

‘‘Silverfang’s dead.’’

‘‘Are you sure?’’ Jig glanced behind. Bastard had planted his front paws together, swiveling the rest of his body around in circles. Silverfang’s arm dragged through the snow, his battered body showing no sign of life. ‘‘What if he’s just unconscious? If you kill me, you’re disobeying an order. What’s the penalty for that?’’

Pain seared Jig’s belly. Oh,
there
was Smudge. Jig tried to grab Smudge from his pocket, but he was too late. The terrified fire-spider burned completely through the fabric and dropped into the snow. He tunneled beneath the surface, leaving a line of melted snow to mark his progress toward a cluster of tree roots.

‘‘Fair enough,’’ Gratz said. He pointed his sword at Jig. ‘‘Close in. Drive him toward Bastard and Silverfang. They’ll finish him off one way or another.’’

The goblins spurred their wolves forward. Turning around, Jig shouted, ‘‘Bastard, sit!’’

Bastard ignored him, spraying snow and dirt in Jig’s face as he spun. The other goblins moved closer. Jig could see them fighting to keep their wolves under control. Several were actually drooling at the prospect of sinking their teeth into Jig. So were the wolves, for that matter.

Bastard’s tail flicked Jig’s leg in passing. Stupid wolf. Bastard’s tongue flopped from the side of his mouth, and his mouth sprayed spit and blood.

Relka waved her sword at the nearest goblins, who laughed. One wolf lunged at her. She backed away, bumping into Jig and knocking him off-balance, directly into Bastard’s path.

Jig plunged his hands into his pockets, searching for more troll toes, and then the full weight of Bastard’s rump collided with Jig’s hip. It wasn’t as bad as being hit by a dragon’s tail, but it was close. Huge paws trampled Jig’s side. Why had he thrown away his armor? He covered his head as Silverfang’s body bounced past.

Jig grabbed Silverfang’s arm with both hands and clung with all his strength. His added weight barely even slowed Bastard down.

The world spun past. If Jig hadn’t already thrown up once today, the whirling would have cost him the contents of his stomach for certain. He tried to pull himself up onto Bastard’s back, but it was all he could do to hang on. The goblins were laughing even louder, and Relka . . . was she
singing
again?

Jig slid one hand onto Silverfang’s belt, trying to get to the front of the wolf. Silverfang tilted even further, spurring Bastard to increase his speed. Jig braced his foot beneath Silverfang’s chin and tried to push himself up onto Bastard’s back. Something tugged him back. Turning his head, Jig saw his cloak caught on Silverfang’s steel tooth.

He pulled harder, and the cloth tore. Jig swung his other foot over Bastard’s back. His fingers twisted into the sweat-matted fur.

Help me heal Bastard’s mouth,
Jig said.
If I can calm him down, maybe he won’t eat me.

That might not be a good idea,
Shadowstar said.
We don’t know whether Isa can sense that kind of magic.

Jig’s fingers warmed. He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of Bastard’s jaws. Snapping teeth nearly took Jig’s fingers. He tried again, directing Shadowstar’s magic into Bastard’s torn skin.

Gradually the wolf slowed. His tongue lolled, and he stopped trying to eat Jig’s hand. Those huge ribs bellowed beneath Jig as Bastard gasped for breath. Jig reached down to draw his knife. He stretched forward, using the knife left-handed to saw Silverfang free of the harness. Both Jig and Silverfang slid to the ground.

Bastard moaned, a sound that reminded Jig of the wind back home as it passed over the entrance to the lair. He tried to walk, but his head kept twitching, and he staggered like a drunken goblin. He managed one sideways step before toppling over onto Jig and Silverfang.

Silverfang’s body protected Jig from the worst of Bastard’s weight. He continued to heal Bastard’s mouth and neck. The sooner Bastard recovered, the sooner he might get off of Jig. Bloody bristles of fur tickled his palm. Bastard panted, dripping warm drool over Jig’s wrist.

Eventually Bastard climbed to his feet, took a few tentative steps, then sneezed three times. Relka hurried over to grab Jig’s arm.

‘‘Good . . . wolf,’’ Jig gasped.

Relka hauled him upright, then turned to glare at the other goblins. ‘‘Who will be next to challenge the champion of Tymalous Shadowstar?’’

The so-called champion of Tymalous Shadowstar promptly fell down again, where he clutched his head with both hands and waited for the woods to stop spinning.

‘‘I told you he’d survive,’’ Trok said to another of the wolf-riders. ‘‘Come on, pay up.’’ Jig looked over to see Trok trading his old weapon for a gleaming two-handed broadsword.

‘‘He’ll be dead by sundown,’’ the other goblin muttered with a glare at Jig.

‘‘Want to wager on that, too?’’ Trok asked. ‘‘Those are some nice boots you’re wearing.’’

Bastard walked back to Jig. He still wobbled a bit, but he seemed to have recovered from the dizziness faster than Jig. Or maybe this was just an advantage to having four feet. Not that it made any difference. Even if Jig could have stood, he wasn’t fast enough to outrun a wolf.

Bastard shoved his head into Jig’s side and licked his hand.

Gratz cleared his throat. ‘‘With Silverfang dead, I hereby assume command of this unit. Seize the prisoners.’’

Several goblins hopped down from their wolves and advanced, weapons ready.

Gratz jabbed a finger at one goblin after another. ‘‘Trok, you and Dimak tie Silverfang’s body onto Bastard’s back. We’ll—’’

Bastard’s snarl cut off the rest of Gratz’s orders. The goblins who had moved toward Jig leaped away.

‘‘Even the wolves recognize the greatness of Jig Dragonslayer and Tymalous Shadowstar,’’ Relka said.

Gratz dug into a pouch and pulled out a wrinkled troll toe. He tossed it into the air.

Bastard bounded up to catch it, knocking Jig back into the snow.

‘‘Good wolf,’’ Gratz said. He pointed at Jig. ‘‘Kill!’’

Bastard lay down and crunched his toe. Gratz squirmed on his wolf. Trok chuckled.

‘‘Look out!’’ Relka pointed to Dimak, who was struggling to cock a small crossbow.

Jig put his hands on Bastard’s damp fur. Slowly he swung one leg over the wolf’s back. He lay down, flattening his body against Bastard’s, then looked over at Dimak. ‘‘Be careful. If you shoot Bastard by mistake, you might make him angry.’’

‘‘Shoot him,’’ Gratz shouted. ‘‘That’s an order!’’

Dimak stared at Bastard, then tossed his crossbow to Gratz. ‘‘You shoot him.’’

Gratz’s face turned a darker shade of blue. ‘‘This is mutiny! Billa the Bloody will crush your skull with her bare hands for this. It’s right here in the regulations.’’

Jig had no doubt that was true. But Billa the Bloody wasn’t here right now. Bastard was. And Bastard was bigger than any other wolf in the pack. Jig cleared his throat. ‘‘Billa the Bloody can only punish you for crimes she knows about.’’

Slowly, Dimak and the other goblins turned toward Gratz.

Gratz backed his wolf away. He pointed the crossbow at one goblin, then another. ‘‘Stay back. I’m a corporal in the army of Billa the Bloody, and acting commander of this unit!’’

‘‘And that’s a big, angry wolf,’’ Trok said, pointing at Bastard.