Goblin Quest (10 page)

A Day at the Beach

Slender hands shook Jig awake. His vision was always worst when he woke up, and at first he could only stare dumbly at the red-haired blur above his face. Darnak had shuttered the lantern for the night, and the cracks of light that escaped were barely enough to let him make out slender, pointed ears and a narrow nose.

“You sleep
hard
,” Riana whispered when she saw he was awake. “Don’t speak.” She held a hand over his mouth, ignoring the fangs that could have torn through her palm.

“The others are asleep. If you go quietly, they won’t be able to catch you.”

Jig blinked, trying to clear his head of a dream in which he had been flung into a flaming pit while a huge, eight-eyed face watched from above. Who wouldn’t be able to catch him? Where was he supposed to go? How had Riana taken the place of the giant fire-spider of his dreams?

He looked at the others, but saw only three mounded bedrolls, like giant cocoons. The dwarf snored like an earthquake, but Jig could hear the others as well, both drawing the slow breaths of sleep. Riana wasn’t lying about that.

Could this be a trap? Maybe once he started to run, she planned to awaken the others and accuse him of trying to escape. That would give Barius all the excuse he needed to finish off the lowly goblin. But why would she go to such trouble to finish off a single goblin?

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. His mouth was dry, as it always was after sleeping. For a goblin, with teeth like miniature stalagmites, it was impossible to sleep with his mouth closed as the other party members did.

“They know I won’t run off,” she said bitterly. “I wouldn’t make it past the hobgoblins, let alone survive long enough to see the surface. But you could escape.”

“You’re a prisoner?” He stared stupidly, trying to understand. “But you’re an elf.”

She laughed at him. “So?”

Jig didn’t know how to explain. He only knew that elves were supposed to be graceful and powerful. Elven warriors slipped past their enemies like the wind, but when they fought, their slender arms lashed out with the strength of multitudes. Elven wizards were masters of the elements, forcing fire, lightning, water, and wind to obey their will with the flick of their fingers. He couldn’t reconcile those images with this helpless girl who claimed to be a prisoner.

“I thought all elves were strong and powerful,” he said at last.

“Yeah, and I thought all goblins were selfish, backstabbing cowards.”

“But we are.”

Riana rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Before they came here, they stopped at an inn to rest. Ryslind caught me trying to pick his pocket. I thought I could earn a coin or two off those pretty pouches he carries. Instead he dragged me to his room and offered me a choice. I could either come along and help them on their stupid quest, or he could kill me on the spot. He said he would prefer not to kill me, since a dead elf might cause diplomatic problems for his father.”

She turned away, hiding her face. “I didn’t believe him. I think he
wanted
to kill me. He’s as bad as his brother. Those eyes . . . I felt like I was staring into my own funeral fire.”

“Why would Ryslind want to kill you?” Barius was the bloodthirsty one. Ryslind was merely cold and distant. He didn’t take pleasure out of fighting the way his brother did. He was cold and efficient when he killed, and he didn’t strut about for hours afterward like a goblin fresh from the mating bed.

“He’s a wizard,” Riana whispered. “Remember that powder he used to enchant the rope? What do you think that was made from? I heard them talking earlier tonight. He got that powder by grinding up the skeletons of two unhatched griffons. What sort of ingredients do you think he’d get from an elf? We’re magical creatures too. Not as strongly magical as griffons, but I’m sure he could find uses for an elf girl.”

“Are goblins magical?” he asked. He didn’t want to end up in one of Ryslind’s pouches.

“Of course not.”

She needn’t have answered quite so quickly,
Jig thought. “Do all wizards use that sort of thing for their spells?”

“How should I know? Everyone does magic differently, I think. Even the dwarf can do a little when he prays hard enough. I saw him do it before we came here. He prayed over the two humans to make them stronger and faster. After that, they both looked larger, more dangerous.” She laughed again, and this time Jig heard the deep bitterness behind it. “They didn’t bother to give
me
Earthmaker’s blessing, of course.”

“I still don’t understand why they brought you along. Isn’t it dangerous for them to kidnap an elf? Won’t the other elves be angry?” Even as he asked, his thoughts wandered back to the goblin lair. Goblins vanished all the time, and nobody thought twice about it. To mount a rescue for a lost goblin would be ridiculous. But he had believed that elves and the other surface-dwellers were different. Maybe he was wrong.

Riana shook her head. “My parents died in a border war when I was a child. A human family brought me up and set me to work as a kitchen drudge. They had a large family: aunts, uncles, grandparents, and a herd of kids. I scrubbed pots and cooked for them for ten years before I ran away.

“I thought I could go back and be with my real family. Even if my parents were dead, at least I could live with other elves. But I couldn’t even speak the language. They were terribly kind, of course. They fed and sheltered me, all the while treating me like I was slow in the head. I was more of a pet than anything. So I ran away from them, too.”

She was crying, Jig realized. Her shoulders shook, but her voice remained steady. “They were so proud and confident and graceful. Even a crippled elf could make me feel like a clumsy fool. Their attitude didn’t help matters, either. They talked about me behind my back, called me a half-breed even though I was as elven as they were. But I wasn’t. I didn’t
feel
like an elf. I hadn’t grown up with elves. The simplest rituals of daily life left me confused and angry. Soon I was stealing from the other elves. I didn’t
need
to steal. I did it because I was so angry.

“I think everyone was happy when I left. Being on my own was no better, though. I robbed travelers so I would have enough money to eat. I slept in the streets. I thought about buying passage on a ship. Didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere had to be an improvement. Only it wouldn’t have been. I think that’s why I never really tried. I could have stowed away, but I knew there was no place I belonged.”

Her voice trailed into silence. Jig waited, confused. Why was she telling him all of this? He felt like he should say something.

“You don’t belong here, either.” He ignored her disgusted glare and went on to ask his real question. “What did Ryslind want you to do for them? Down here, I mean.”

She wiped her nose and eyes. “I’ve picked a lock or two in my time. They thought that might be useful. They wanted me to look for traps as well, but I’ve no more chance of spotting a trap than you would. Barius is furious that I didn’t warn him about the hobgoblins’ pit. They think that because I’m a thief, I’m a good hand at traps and knives and sneaking around in the darkness. Maybe some thieves do all of that, but I just cut purses and break into the occasional inn room. And it’s a rare merchant who plants a trap on his purse.”

Darnak’s steady snores broke suddenly as the dwarf rolled over. He mumbled, “Earthmaker take you all, villains,” kicked his leg twice, and began to snore again.

“Go,” Riana said. “You saved my life. I owe you. And it will be good to thwart them in this one small thing.”

Jig wondered if he was still dreaming. Before tonight, Riana had spoken only a handful of words. He understood how those elves in her homeland might have assumed something was wrong with her. He had begun to think the same thing. Could that quiet, withdrawn, angry girl be the same Riana who sat here telling him about her past and offering him his freedom all in the same sitting?

Freedom
. The word had a bittersweet taste as he thought about what his freedom could mean. Only hours before, he had wanted nothing but to return to his lair. Riana had handed him his chance. All he had to do was take it. Grab Smudge and run. His bare feet would make no noise to wake the others, and if he was careful, he could probably make it past the hobgoblins.

He could go home. But to what end? To live as a coward among cowards? To watch his people die time and again, and for nothing?

Worse, one goblin from Porak’s patrol had escaped. If he made it back to the lair, he would have spread the tale of Jig’s cowardice. He might even have blamed Jig for Porak’s death. If so, they would kill him as soon as he returned to goblin territory. Because killing Porak made Jig a goblin to be reckoned with. Others would want to prove themselves by killing Jig, preferably as painfully as they could.

A hollowness came over him as he realized he had no place to return to. His home was no longer safe. He was as lost as Riana.

“I can’t go back,” he whispered, more to himself than to the elf.

“You can.” She looked about frantically. “They only let me stand watch because elves need less sleep than dwarves or humans, and they were exhausted from all the fighting. You won’t have another chance to get away.”

Jig shook his head.

“You goblins are as stubborn as . . . as that dwarf.” With that pronouncement, she turned her back on him and stared into the tunnel.

Jig sat there confused, and eventually decided goblins simply weren’t meant to understand the minds of surface-dwellers. He had almost fallen back to sleep when he heard her ask, “Do you think we’ll make it?”

“Not really,” Jig mumbled, and then he was asleep.

 

When Jig next awoke, he found Darnak’s face hovering over him.

“Argh,” Jig muttered, trying not to cringe. Waking from a dream to see Riana had been startling. Darnak was a nightmare all by himself. The dwarf had pulled his hair and beard into numerous rope-like braids, and Jig felt like he was under attack by a floating monster with black tentacles and a crooked nose.

“Get up. You’ve had yourself a better night’s sleep than the rest of us, and it’s time we were moving.” He tossed a chunk of something round and brown onto Jig’s lap, followed by a few strips of dried meat. “You’re lucky to be getting any meat at all. His majesty wanted you to have nothing but bread. He said you’d be sharing Riana’s waterskin. Don’t get greedy—I don’t know when we’ll find fresh water, and Earthmaker’s a busy god who doesn’t like to waste time on water purification magic.”

Jig nodded. He tore the meat with his teeth, and his mouth watered instantly. How long had it been since he last ate? His stomach protested that it had been weeks. Could it have been only yesterday that he was back in the lair, suffering through muck duty?

A few seconds later, the meat was gone, and Jig stared warily at the bread. He had heard of this crusted stuff from Golaka, but had never encountered it himself. Golaka said adventurers often carried it as a part of their rations, but that it was unsuitable for goblin palates. Studying the bread, Jig was inclined to agree with her. A dark brown shell covered a lighter interior of dry foam, visible where Darnak had torn the chunk from a larger loaf. He touched it to the tip of his tongue, but the bread had no taste. Like licking a rock.

He tried a nibble. Like chewing a rock, too. But the others were eating it, and those two strips of meat weren’t going to keep his stomach happy. Jig shrugged to himself and smashed the crusted side of the bread onto one of his fangs. He swiftly tore it into manageable chunks, and soon the bread joined the meat in his belly.

Bread didn’t taste like rock after all, Jig decided. Didn’t taste like much of anything, really. He noticed that the humans had spread some sort of yellow grease over theirs. Though whether that was to improve the flavor or to make it easier to swallow, Jig didn’t know.

“Water?” Riana handed him a bloated skin, then walked away without ever meeting his eyes. Was she angry with him for not running away last night? Or had she simply reverted to her usual cold self?

Not that it mattered. Jig was more comfortable when they treated him like a prisoner, or at best an untrustworthy guide. He wasn’t used to kindness or consideration from anyone, let alone his captors.

So he didn’t know what to say when Riana returned a few minutes later and handed him a long sheathed dagger. Jig stared in disbelief. “Where did this come from?”

She pointed. Down the tunnel, two hobgoblins lay facing the ceiling, one atop the other. Each had a black-fletched arrow jutting from his neck. He looked at Ryslind. “Oh.”

He started to draw the knife. More of a short sword, really. The blade stretched the length of his elbow to fingertip, and it was heavy. The pommel and crossguard were simple brass, and the hilt was bare wood, but this was still the grandest weapon Jig had ever held. He shoved the blade back into its sheath, then drew it completely free.

“Are you mad?” Barius loomed over them both, his sword ready. “Let this creature have a blade of his own, and you’ll soon find that blade plunged into your back.”

“What if we’re attacked again?” Riana countered. “Where would we be if Jig hadn’t found that old sword when we were in the hobgoblin pit?”

“You’d trust a goblin to defend your person?” Barius shook his head in disbelief, but his sword remained level with Jig’s throat. “I could understand if you secured a knife for your own safety, but to hand it over to this blue-skinned monster is absurd.”

Riana spat on the floor by Barius’s feet. He looked down, momentarily speechless, and when he looked back up Riana had a knife in her hand. “What made you think I didn’t secure one for myself?”

“Enough,” Darnak snapped loudly. “Put them away before I crack all your skulls. Barius, let them have their pig-stickers. They know well enough what will happen if they cause trouble.”