Goblin War (39 page)

What’s introspection? Oh—right.
Jig leaped forward, thrusting the tip of his sword at Billa’s stomach.

Billa’s sword was in the wrong position to parry, but she managed to twist out of the way. Jig’s sword grazed a line on her nightgown, but nothing more. Off balance, Jig had to jump aside as Billa spun around and tried to decapitate him.

Jig tumbled into the snow. He glanced down to see a long section of cloak hanging down around his feet. Any closer, and she would have taken his leg as well.

Billa stepped back. She scowled as she studied Jig. ‘‘Isa wants you dead, goblin. I’ve never heard her so angry. What did you do?’’

‘‘I melted her head with my fire-spider,’’ Jig said.

Billa snorted. For a heartbeat, genuine mirth peeked through Billa’s anger. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown, then raised her sword so the blade angled up across her body.

Jig stepped sideways, searching for an opening. Billa’s sword was longer than his. So were her arms, for that matter. By the time he got close enough to strike, Billa could run him through.

He would have to be quick. A feint to distract her, causing her to overextend in one direction, and then he could dash around and stab her in the belly. Once he was close, Billa’s larger weapon could be a disadvantage. She wouldn’t have room for a great, sweeping blow. Though with that sword, even a tiny cut might be enough to kill.

Jig cocked his head. ‘‘Your nose is bleeding again.’’

Billa reached up to touch her nostrils. As she did, her sword dipped lower. Jig screamed, doing his best to mimic the panicked fury of a goblin war cry, and stabbed at her foot.

Even as Billa lurched to parry, Jig pushed off hard, bringing his sword up to her stomach and—

Billa jumped back, sucking in her gut. Once again Jig scored a small cut, and then Billa’s fist caught him in the side of the head.

His sword flew away. Jig hit the ground, then rolled away from Billa’s huge feet as she tried to stomp on his face. He spat snow and blood.
You should have given me a helmet too.

The light from his sword made it easy to spot. Unfortunately, Billa spotted it too. She kicked it out of Jig’s reach.

Jig glanced around. The surviving goblins and wolves were ringed by orcs. And Oakbottom. The orcs appeared to be waiting for Billa to finish him off. Letting her prove how tough and scary she was, no doubt.

Jig started to grab his dagger, then remembered he had thrown it away to protect Relka. Relka, who had once again begun to sing.

 
Billa shook her head. ‘‘Is she always like this?’’

‘‘Pretty much,’’ said Jig as he struggled to stand.

‘‘Sorry.’’ He knew it couldn’t be fear making his legs tremble. Therefore it must be an aftereffect of Billa’s punch.

I’m sorry,
he said silently.
Did you really believe I could beat Billa?

Would he feel the blow that killed him? Billa was fast, and her sword was magically sharp. Any pain would be over in the blink of an eye. Unless she deliberately tried to prolong his suffering.

Billa thrust the point of her sword straight at Jig’s throat.

The impact was lower than he expected, like a punch to the chest. He flew back, hitting the ground hard enough to make his ears ring.

The wind died. Nobody spoke. Unnerved by the silence, Jig reached down to touch his stomach.

The shirt was whole. But Shadowstar’s cloak wasn’t strong enough to block Isa’s weapon. And why could he still hear ringing?

Jig jumped to his feet and stared.

Tymalous Shadowstar stood facing him, his hands still extended. He must have pushed Jig out of the way. The bells on Shadowstar’s sleeves shivered as he reached down to touch the icy blade protruding from his stomach.

‘‘Doesn’t that hurt?’’ Jig asked.

Shadowstar nodded. ‘‘Very much, yes.’’ He tightened his fingers around the blade and grunted as Billa tried to pull it free.

‘‘You saved me.’’

‘‘It’s what I am.’’ He winced. ‘‘I kind of hoped it wouldn’t come to this, though.’’

There was no blood. Did gods even have blood? But as Jig watched, water began to drip from between Shadowstar’s fingers where he held the sword.

‘‘No!’’ Billa shouted. She grabbed the hilt with both hands, but it wouldn’t budge. Rivulets of water dripped down to the tip to splash into the snow.

‘‘Would you mind?’’ Shadowstar asked. He turned his head, and the starbursts in his eyes flitted toward Billa.

Jig moved toward his sword. Two orcs stepped in front of him, brandishing a club and an ax. Before Jig could react, they raised their own weapons . . . and then toppled over, asleep.

Jig glanced back at Shadowstar, who winked. ‘‘I am a god of protection, of peace and rest,’’ he said. His voice was tight with pain. ‘‘They looked like they could use a nap.’’

‘‘Stop him!’’ Billa shrieked. With a grunt, she stumbled back, nearly falling. She still held Isa’s sword, but the blade was broken a short distance from the hilt. Shadowstar’s grip had melted right through it. The broken blade continued to shrink away, dripping water over her hands. She flung it away and ran toward Jig’s sword.

Jig didn’t bother. He bent down, picked up a club one of the orcs had dropped, and slammed it into Billa’s leg. She dropped and clutched her knee.

As Jig struggled to get the oversize weapon into position for a second blow, another goblin shoved him aside.

Gratz’s clothes were a bloody mess. Shallow wolf bites covered his forearms. He clutched his sword with both hands. The blade trembled as he pointed it at Billa.

He and Billa stared at one another for several breaths, and then Gratz said, ‘‘The penalty for treason is death.’’ He rammed his sword into her chest, and added, ‘‘Sir.’’

Nobody spoke as Billa toppled backward, Gratz’s sword still protruding from her chest. Only the heavy snores of two sleeping orcs disturbed the silence.

‘‘Is Isa’s sword destroyed?’’ Shadowstar asked.

Jig picked up the hilt. It was cold to the touch, but not unbearably so. The blade was completely gone. He brought it over to Shadowstar, who turned it over in his hands. A few drops of water fell to the ground.

Shadowstar smiled and sat down in the snow, one hand holding the hilt, the other clutching his stomach. There was no visible wound, but Shadowstar was clearly in pain. Without thinking, Jig reached out and put his hand over Shadowstar’s, trying to heal the damage, but nothing happened.

‘‘You’re drawing—’’ Shadowstar coughed.
You’re drawing on my power to heal me. It doesn’t work that way.

The monsters crowded around had begun to whisper. Very soon now the shock would pass, and then things would get messy indeed. Already the goblins were backing away from the orcs. The orcs were eyeing the goblins. The few kobolds who had come were still jumping up and down to try to see what was going on.

The only one who didn’t appear to notice the tension was Relka. She seemed to see nothing but Shadowstar as she limped closer.

‘‘Who is that?’’ she whispered. Her voice shook. She clutched her amulet so tightly her hands bled.

‘‘He’s the one who got me into this mess,’’ Jig said.

Shadowstar chuckled. ‘‘It’s one of my gifts.’’

Relka stopped just beyond arm’s reach. For the first time that Jig could remember, she appeared unsure. She glanced at Jig, then back at Shadowstar, like a rat trying to decide which way to flee. ‘‘You’re him, aren’t you? Tymalous Shadowstar.’’

Shadowstar bowed his head.

‘‘Billa was going to kill me,’’ Jig said. ‘‘You pushed me out of the way. Why?’’

Because you didn’t think to duck. And because it was the only way to get my hands on Isa’s sword long enough to destroy it.
His bells rang as he coughed again, an odd combination of sounds.
I did say I’d try to protect you.

‘‘The runt killed Billa!’’ shouted one of the orcs.

Good job,
said Jig. He drew a deep breath, pointed at Gratz, and said, ‘‘He did the actual killing.’’

Braf frowned. ‘‘Does that mean he’s in charge of Billa’s army now?’’

Before Jig could answer, another orc snarled and raised an ax. ‘‘I’m not taking orders from some scrawny goblin.’’

The goblins began readying their own weapons. ‘‘Better than following another stinking orc!’’ someone shouted.

One of the kobolds chimed in, saying, ‘‘Orcs and goblins both stink.’’

Jig guessed it would be the orcs who killed him. They were closest, and they had the best weapons and armor. But instead of sheer, skin-chilling terror, Jig mostly felt sad. All of Billa’s work was melting away with her death. The monsters would turn on one another, decimating their own ranks. The survivors would scatter, to be hunted by humans and other adventurers.

Jig turned to look at Shadowstar, who pointed to the northern side of the valley.

Maybe Shadowstar’s wounds had sapped too much of his strength for him to continue stealing Jig’s fear. Or maybe there was only so much terror a god could take away.

Regardless, the cloud of arrows arching from the upper edge of the valley was enough to shatter Jig’s divine courage.

‘‘Oh, dung.’’ His voice was little more than a whisper.

‘‘What is it?’’ Relka asked.

‘‘Wendel’s army.’’

CHAPTER 16

 
The arrows fell like rain, landing mostly among the kobolds—either deliberately or because that was the limit of their range. The attack sent the kobolds into a panic. The injured howled and yipped. The healthy trampled the injured.

‘‘I thought the humans weren’t supposed to arrive for another day or so,’’ Trok said.

‘‘Brilliant tactical move on their part,’’ said Gratz. ‘‘Using Jig to take out Billa the Bloody, throwing our forces into chaos.’’

Except that if Jig had failed, Wendel’s strategy would have gotten his entire army killed when Billa triggered her spell.