Table of Contents
PRAISE FOR THE JIG THE GOBLIN NOVELS:
‘‘In
Goblin Hero
, as in
Goblin Quest
, Hines recognizes that wisdom is most often common sense and that mouthing off to the big guy with the sword is a very bad idea.’’—Tanya Huff, author of the
Blood
books
‘‘
Goblin Quest
is a fun enjoyable read. Role reversal and gibes at the genre make Jig not only a sympathetic character, but seemingly the only sane one there for the reader to identify with. Of course, if you read this book and drive your spouse into fits of annoyance listening to you snort and giggle at the absurdity the author continually throws at poor Jig, don’t blame me. I merely said it was a great book.’’
—SFRevu
‘‘
Goblin Quest
is hilarious. It has a wonderful angle on some classic material that’s in the DNA of many of my generation and younger. . . . Jim Hines’ Jig is a clever character, in several senses of that term. He’s got the RPG warrior mentality nailed to the wall. He’s got a lovely sense of plot and pacing. Most of all, he has an excellent sense of fun.’’
—Jay Lake, author of
Trial of Flowers
‘‘Once again, Jim C. Hines turns the fantasy world on its ear with this insightfully hilarious look at the traditional cannon fodder of the genre.’’—
greenmanreview.com
‘‘[A] Clever satire . . . Reminiscent of Terry Pratchett and Robert Asprin at their best. An over-the-top tale that still manages to be genuinely touching.’’
—Romantic Times
‘‘Jim C. Hines has an uncanny ability to make his magical species co-existing inside a mountain seem plausible including residing there. With no human in sight, his characters are unique with none more inimitable than Jig.
Goblin Hero
is a wonderful fantasy quest tale with humor and wit normally missing with the sub-genre’s normal Tolkien grave save the universe quests.’’
—Harriet Klausner
‘‘Jim C. Hines crams the narrative with great visual and verbal jokes. You’ll be laughing out loud as frequently as I did. Hines skillfully makes these characters sympathetic . . . [and] makes us like the characters. Hines manages this with skill and panache. I closed this book hoping for more visits from Jig and his world.’’
—Sherwood Smith, author of
Inda
and
The Fox
JIM C. HINES’
Jig the Goblin
Series:
GOBLIN QUEST (Book One)
GOBLIN HERO (Book Two)
GOBLIN WAR (Book Three)
Copyright © 2008 by Jim C. Hines.
eISBN : 978-0-756-40493-2
All Rights Reserved.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1434.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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First Printing, March 2008
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To Jamie
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Ask any writer what would happen if they ever got the opportunity to meet one of their characters in real life. Most of the time, the results would be . . . unpleasant. As authors, we aren’t very nice to our heroes.
If Jig were given the chance, I’m quite sure he would hide fire-spider eggs in my socks, stick a lizard-fish in my bed, and then feed my remains to the tunnel cats.
He has good reason for hating me, though. I’ve dragged him through not one, not two, but three different adventures, not to mention a handful of short stories. Jig and I have been through a lot together, and I don’t blame him for wanting a bit of payback.
Of course, I wouldn’t be the only target of Jig’s rage. Oh, no. Once he finished with me, he would probably go after my agent, Steve Mancino. Steve was instrumental in bringing these books to the world, so it’s perfectly understandable that Jig would want to slice him up and snack on Steve-topped pizza.
Next I imagine Jig would head to the DAW offices in New York. There he would find targets aplenty, from Sheila Gilbert to Debra Euler to the rest of the DAW family who have helped so much with the goblin books. But given what editors have to deal with on any given day, I imagine they would be more than tough enough to handle a goblin and his fire-spider.
Mel Grant, my cover artist, should also be fine. How could Jig possibly hold a grudge against someone who paints such marvelous goblins?
So Jig would instead go after my beta readers, whose feedback and suggestions for all three books have been invaluable. To Teddi Baer, Catherine Shaffer, Bill Rowland, Heather Poppink, Mike Jasper, Nicole Montgomery, and Anthony Hays, all I can say is I’m sorry.
Lastly, Jig would return for my family. I can’t imagine how I would have written these books without the love, encouragement, support, and patience of my wife Amy and my two wonderful children. Here at last Jig’s rampage would come to an end, since my daughter would insist on trying to catch Smudge in an old peanut butter jar, and my little boy would steal poor Jig’s spectacles, then tackle him.
I love that little goblin, though he would never believe it. It has been a wonderful experience to share that love with all of my readers. Thank you all. I hope you enjoy this third volume in the adventures of Jig Dragonslayer.
Recitation of the Deeds of Jig Dragonslayer (written by the goblin Relka, Founder of the Children of Shadowstar)
Relka: In the beginning, there was a muckworking runt called Jig.
Goblins: We stole his food and threw rats at him.
Relka: But destiny brought adventurers into our mountain haven. And lo, Jig set forth to combat these so-called heroes.
Goblins: Better him than us.
Relka: It was a battle of great chaos and bloodshed, and Jig did kicketh the human prince right in the rocks.
Goblins: Such should be the fate of all nonbelievers.
Relka: Though he was captured again, Jig was not afraid.
Goblins: Long may his loincloth remain unsoiled.
Relka: Jig led them into darkness, where he slew hobgoblins, the Necromancer, and even the dragon Straum with no more than a broken kitchen knife.
Goblins: Hail the miracle of the wobbly blade.
Relka: Jig returned triumphant, blessed by Tymalous Shadowstar with the gift to heal our wounds, though they be many and often self-inflicted. But lo, some were displeased with Jig’s triumphs. The treacherous goblin chief Kralk sent Jig away, and none dared challenge her.
Goblins: For she was big and scary, and carried many weapons.
Relka: Guided by the light of Shadowstar, Jig descended into the mountain. There did he discover a great threat.
Goblins: Stupid pixies!
Relka: Jig and his companions returned to leadeth his fellow goblins in battle, but Kralk refused to believe. She fought, and she fell.
Goblins: Thus did Jig teach a great lesson: Never turn your back on a hobgoblin.
Relka: Jig set out to destroyeth the pixies, but still there were some who did not believe. A single kitchen drudge attempted to steal his glory for herself.
Goblins: And lo, Jig stabbethed you in the gut.
Relka: But Jig Dragonslayer was merciful. Upon his triumphant return from battle, and after drinking too much klak beer, he did heal my wounds, pouring the light and life of the Shadowstar into my very blood.
Goblins: Praise be unto Jig Dragonslayer, high priest of Tymalous Shadowstar. Long may he heal our wounds and fight our foes.
CHAPTER 1
Starlight sparkled in silver mortar as Tymalous Autumnstar ran his fingers over the wall of his temple. The black stone was warm to the touch, constantly changing to record the prayers and gifts of his followers.
Every image and tribute ever created in his honor was here, preserved in the rock. To his right, the blood paintings of the Xantock Warrior Elves shone in the light, still wet after thousands of years. Overhead, the intricate carvings of the Undermountain Dwarf Clan spelled out their long-winded prayers.
The temple had gotten uncomfortably large over the years.
Tiny bells jingled on Autumnstar’s sleeve as he touched a starburst a child had drawn in the mud. The ebony stone mimicked her painting so perfectly he could even discern the tiny whorls and loops where her fingertips had pressed the mud. Clumsy hieroglyphs below the picture read
Tell gramma I miss her and please send me a puppy.
The painting was two centuries old, and the girl had long since followed her gramma. Autumnstar’s forehead wrinkled. He had forgotten to take care of the puppy. That had been right around the start of the war, so he could probably be forgiven an oversight or two, but it still bothered him.
The temple shuddered, as if someone had taken the moon itself and smashed it against Autumnstar’s roof.
Autumnstar’s movements were slow, almost absent-minded as he raised a silver shield overhead. The second blow crumbled the ceiling to reveal the deeper darkness beyond. Mortar fell in glittering clouds as cracks spread through the walls. Stones shattered against Autumnstar’s shield, centuries of worship and idolatry reduced to rubble.
Overhead, the Autumn Star burned red, casting a bloody glow over the remains of the temple. By the time the attack slowed and the dust began to clear, the remnants of the walls came no higher than Autumnstar’s knees. He lowered his shield and used one foot to sweep some of the debris to one side. He preferred his home tidy.