Goblin War (31 page)

‘‘Stand aside, Darnak,’’ Theodore demanded, waving that burning sword in the air. He strode toward Jig, and his eyes widened. ‘‘By the First Oak, there are more!’’

Jig’s ear swiveled, tracking the footsteps of approaching goblins. ‘‘What did you do to Jig?’’ Relka yelled.

‘‘Everyone calm down,’’ Darnak shouted. His voice made Jig think of a mountain cracking. Darnak hurried to put himself between Jig and the prince. ‘‘They’re not your enemy, Theodore.’’

‘‘They’re goblins,’’ Theodore said.

‘‘They’re deserters from Billa’s army.’’ Genevieve moved to stand beside Darnak. ‘‘Jig risked his life to bring warning of Billa’s plans. Plans that your scouts failed to uncover.’’

‘‘And you believed them?’’

Genevieve hesitated only briefly. ‘‘Darnak’s magic showed him to be telling the truth. And Billa
is
coming to Avery. Really, Theodore. Haven’t you more important things to do than wag your elven blade at our allies?’’

Jig tested his arm, wondering when he had been promoted to
ally
.

‘‘But they’re goblins,’’ Theodore said again, as if Genevieve had somehow overlooked the blue skin and big ears and fangs.

‘‘Forgive the interruption, Prince, but you’re looking a bit changed from the last time we spoke,’’ said Darnak.

Jig blinked. He hadn’t noticed before. Atop the wall, he had been more concerned with avoiding the bird’s claws and the prince’s sword. He squinted through his snow-flecked spectacles.

‘‘The Rod of Creation is a gift,’’ Theodore said. He pointed to the top of the wall, where huge elfhawks perched. ‘‘How else could I have reached Avery in time to save you all from Billa’s wrath?’’

‘‘And the ears?’’ Darnak asked.

Theodore tossed his hair—which was far longer and lighter than before—back over his shoulder. He ran his fingertips over the sharp lines of his pointed ears and smiled. ‘‘The rod has helped me to become my true self.’’

‘‘Eighteen years I helped raise the whelp,’’ Darnak muttered. ‘‘Changed his diapers, forged his first sword, even called upon the power of Earthmaker to clear up those pimples.
Four years
of pimples. And he turns himself into an
elf
.’’

The prince ignored him and patted his belt. The tip of a wooden stick protruded from a purple scabbard. He sheathed his sword on his opposite hip. ‘‘I strengthened our armor, our weapons, even the skin of our bodies.’’

Theodore combed his fingers through his flowing hair. ‘‘Even elven hair is superior to our own. I’ve flown nonstop since we received your message, and look! Nary a tangle!’’ He grimaced and said, ‘‘Though it does tend to flick in one’s eyes. I’ll have to braid it before we attack. So tell me, dear Sister, would you like me to do something about that nose of yours?’’

‘‘I have a better idea,’’ Genevieve said, perfectly calm. ‘‘Why don’t you take that rod and—’’

‘‘All that power, and you couldn’t even give yourself a decent beard,’’ Darnak snapped.

Before Theodore could respond, Genevieve asked, ‘‘What did the king say about all this? Our father isn’t terribly fond of magic these days. Or of elves, for that matter.’’

Theodore flushed. ‘‘I haven’t exactly told him. But, Sister, look at me! I’m stronger than before. Faster.’’ He drew the Rod of Creation and raised it overhead. Jig tried to scoot away, but the effort made his knee feel like tiny dwarves were pounding it with great big hammers. ‘‘The goblins had all this within their grasp. They too could have transformed themselves into something great, had they only known what it was they had.’’

‘‘But then we wouldn’t have been goblins,’’ Jig said.

Theodore turned and stared. Jig got the impression he had completely forgotten about the goblin’s presence. ‘‘Such shortsightedness will be the downfall of your race, goblin.’’

He whistled, and two of the giant elfhawks swooped down to land beside him. The rest of Theodore’s elves simply jumped from the wall. They landed easily in the snow, showing no sign of strain or worry about a drop that had nearly killed Jig. Stupid elves.

The two elfhawks were heavily laden with weapons and armor. One of the elves began distributing wooden shields and helmets to the rest.

‘‘Billa is a bloody fool.’’ Theodore grinned at his own wit. ‘‘My elves and I shall soar down and destroy her. When our father’s army arrives, they will find Billa’s forces in chaos.’’

‘‘There’s a mite bit more to this battle than meets the eye, lad,’’ said Darnak. ‘‘Billa has magic of her own, and—’’

‘‘Billa is an orc,’’ Theodore said. ‘‘Barely better than a goblin.’’

‘‘She’s an orc who has raised an army,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘An orc who has marched freely through our land, terrorizing our people and—’’

‘‘You worry too much, Sister.’’ Theodore grinned. ‘‘You did well to summon me, but now your worries are over. Run along and prepare a suitable meal for me and my friends. A victory breakfast, to celebrate our triumph. Something hot.’’ He slapped his stomach.

Genevieve’s fingers twitched over her sword, but she stopped herself. ‘‘Father charged me with the protection of Avery. I should—’’

‘‘And a marvelous job you’ve done,’’ Theodore said. ‘‘Your people are fled, and your town is infested with goblins. Father will be thrilled.’’

Genevieve’s face turned a deeper shade of red. Darnak placed a hand on her forearm.

‘‘Have your men gather food for our hawks as well,’’ Theodore said, turning away. ‘‘Perhaps you could feed the goblins to them and solve two problems at once.’’

Genevieve waited until they were out of earshot, then turned to Relka. ‘‘Someone said you were some sort of chef.’’

Relka nodded.

‘‘And what meal would you recommend for a prince, goblin?’’

Relka rubbed her chin. ‘‘My favorite is charred rat with klak sauce, garnished in black-edge mushrooms. The tails are especially good.’’

Genevieve’s lips tightened into a smile. ‘‘What are you waiting for? Prince Theodore has requested a meal. I imagine you’ll find plenty of rats raiding the granary.’’

Jig and the other goblins stood by the edge of the road, watching Theodore and his elves mount their hawks. Many of the hawks had perched on the rooftops, forcing their elves to scale the buildings. Not that this slowed the elves down at all.

‘‘If they fail, I’ve got dibs on the dark meat,’’ Trok said softly.

Jig ignored him. Theodore had the Rod of Creation. All he had to do was reach Billa and transform her into something harmless. Billa was the only one who could set off the spells carved into her goblin and kobold officers. With her dead. . . .

His shoulders slumped. With Billa dead, the humans would have an easy time of it. Wendel’s army would arrive in a day or so to drive the monsters back into the caves and tunnels. For those who survived, everything would return to the way it had been.

Billa had the support of a goddess, but she was no goddess herself. Jig had seen the power of that rod. Prince Theodore wouldn’t have to come within range of Billa’s magical sword. He could swoop down, transforming Billa and her friends at will, or at least until he got tired. The rod could take a lot out of whoever wielded it.

As far as Jig knew, Billa had no flying monsters. Arrows and stones would do little against Theodore’s magically hardened armor. Jig still remembered the way ordinary weapons had bounced away from that elf scout in the woods.

So why was Jig still here when he should be getting as far from Avery as he could?

He couldn’t concentrate. He flattened his ears against the sound of the wolves. Ever since the hawks had swooped in, the blasted things hadn’t stopped yowling. And then there was Billa’s army. Thousands of monsters, all shouting and jeering and beating their armor as they approached Avery.

It’s part of their strategy. They’re trying to unnerve you,
Shadowstar said.

‘‘It’s working!’’ Jig pulled up the hood of his cloak. The wind promptly blew it from his head. Yanking it back, Jig turned to scowl at the hawks. Theodore had climbed onto his hawk, tucking his legs beneath the wings and waving to the human soldiers. He made an impressive figure, illuminated by the rising sun.

‘‘Circle a few times to gain some height,’’ Darnak was saying. ‘‘The higher you fly, the faster your dive. Don’t spend a lot of time hovering before you attack. Hovering takes too much energy, and you don’t want to tire the hawks. And—’’

The hawk spread its wings and shrieked loudly enough to overpower even the wolves. It took a few quick steps, then slammed its wings, launching itself into the air. The other hawks followed, hopping from the rooftops and causing goblins to scream and dive out of the way.

Darnak hurried after them, still shouting bird advice as he climbed the wall.

Jig continued to pace as he watched the hawks fly away. Something squished beneath his foot. His boot slid out from beneath him, and he waved his arms to keep from falling. His knee twinged with pain. Apparently he hadn’t done a perfect job of healing the joint.

He glanced down to see another of the ‘‘gifts’’ Theodore’s elfhawks had deposited throughout Avery. Giant birds meant giant droppings. Jig groaned and hobbled over to scrape the boot on a nearby house.

‘‘It could be worse,’’ said Relka as she hurried toward him. She pointed to one of the goblins who had thrown himself to the ground.

Jig grimaced. ‘‘Somebody get him a rag. And weren’t you supposed to be preparing a meal for Prince Theodore?’’

‘‘I was,’’ Relka said. ‘‘That’s why I came.’’ She held out a blackened rat. ‘‘I thought you might like a taste.’’

Jig snatched the rat from her hand. The meat was still warm, and he gobbled it down, surprised at how hungry he was. When had he last eaten? He forced himself to slow down, ripping off a bit of tail for Smudge.

Smudge flattened himself to Jig’s cloak, clinging with six legs while he reached for the meat with his forelegs. Jig turned his back to the wind, blocking the worst of it. Even with all those extra legs, the wind could still rip Smudge from his shoulder and fling the poor fire-spider—

‘‘Oh, no.’’ Jig’s stomach knotted. He shoved both Smudge and the rat into a pocket and spun toward the wall. The elfhawks were already gone. Humans cheered them on from atop the wall.

‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Relka asked.

Jig ran toward the wall. ‘‘Darnak! Genevieve! You have to stop the prince!’’ The wind swept his words away.

Cursing, Jig scrambled up the lichen shelves of the wall as fast as he could. The walkway was crowded with humans, all staring out at Billa’s army. Jig shoved past them until he spotted Darnak. The dwarf stood atop his backpack, still watching the hawks. Genevieve was with him, her face stone. She held one of those elven scopes to her eye, watching Theodore’s progress.

‘‘Darnak, you have to call them back!’’ Jig shouted.

Genevieve snorted. ‘‘Even if he were close enough to hear, my brothers have never been fond of others telling them what to do. And I certainly can’t imagine Theodore would take orders from a goblin.’’

Jig squeezed his way between them and stood up on his toes. The front edge of Billa’s army had reached the distant fields. Goblins and kobolds spread to either side. Some loosed arrows and threw spears, but their attacks had no effect on Theodore’s hawks. A few of the humans cheered as those same missiles fell back down upon the monsters’ heads.

Several of the elves drew swords that glowed like Theodore’s. Jig had half expected them to start firing arrows back at the monsters, but apparently not even an elf could aim a longbow and steer a giant hawk at the same time.

‘‘Billa’s going to kill your brother if he doesn’t turn back,’’ said Jig.

Suddenly Jig had everyone’s attention.

‘‘What did you say?’’ asked Genevieve.

‘‘It’s Isa,’’ Jig said.

Darnak frowned. ‘‘Who?’’

Jig wanted to punch him. ‘‘The goddess Billa worships.
Goddess of the Winter Winds.
’’

Darnak was the first to understand. He spun, nearly falling off his backpack. ‘‘Every last man into the field
now
! We have to—’’

‘‘Too late,’’ Genevieve said.

Jig clung to the railing with both hands as a burst of frigid air fought to throw him down. In the valley, the elfhawks were flung to the ground as if they had been struck by a giant. They landed near the front of the orc lines. Some of the elves leaped down to fight. Others tried to urge their hawks into the air.

Beside Jig, Darnak leaned into the wind, his arms quivering as though he too were fighting to fly. Jig squatted to retrieve Genevieve’s scope.

‘‘It doesn’t work,’’ he complained.

Darnak reached over, swapped ends, and pressed the scope back into Jig’s hand, all without looking away from the hawks.

This time when Jig looked through the scope, it was as if he stood on one of the farmhouse roofs, close enough to reach over and touch Theodore and his battered elves. That they had survived the crash at all was amazing, but none looked ready for battle.

The orcs cleared a circle as Billa strode toward them. The closest elves drew their glowing swords. The hammering of the wind robbed the elves of their usual grace. Billa, on the other hand, seemed untouched by the wind, which was completely unfair. And her sword had no trouble cutting through the elves’ magical armor.

‘‘Use the rod, you daft boy,’’ Darnak shouted. ‘‘Use the bloody rod, damn you!’’

As if he could hear Darnak’s voice, Theodore pulled the Rod of Creation from its sheath and pointed it at Billa.

Billa swung her sword.

‘‘Earthmaker preserve us,’’ Darnak whispered.

The Rod of Creation was the most powerful magical artifact Jig had ever seen. Which admittedly wasn’t saying a lot. But Jig had seen what the rod could do. Created by Ellnorein, one of the greatest wizards in history, the rod had the power to create dragons and destroy mountains. For thousands of years, songs had praised its godlike magic.