Goblin War (37 page)

‘‘You’re awake.’’ Gratz sounded surprised.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ The idea of Gratz out and moving around on his own made Jig nervous.

‘‘Checking on the wolves, sir. I thought it best to make sure they were fed before we attack. Not too much, of course. Hunger gives a wolf his edge, right?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Jig staggered toward the door. He stopped long enough to nudge Trok awake. ‘‘Get the wolf-riders ready,’’ Jig said, fighting a yawn.

‘‘Get them yourself, you scrawny little—’’ Trok rubbed his eyes. ‘‘Er. Sorry.’’ He leaned over and punched the closest goblin in the gut. ‘‘Get everyone awake, and be quick about it.’’

That wasn’t exactly what Jig had intended, but it worked. Soon his entire command was gathered outside the stables, shivering in the wind. The sky overhead was a dark blue color. Most of the stars had faded, and the moon was gone from sight. Over the far wall, Jig could see a faint trace of red.

‘‘Beautiful morning, eh?’’ Darnak shouted as he jogged toward them, followed by Genevieve and several other humans. ‘‘Nothing like the chill of the pre-dawn air to get the blood pumping.’’

Darnak was the closest thing Jig had to a friend here, but if the dwarf kept grinning like that, Jig was going to stab him.

Dark smudges beneath Genevieve’s eyes made her look a bit like a raccoon. Her expression was one of complete understanding. ‘‘It could be worse,’’ she muttered. ‘‘When he woke me up, he was
singing
.’’

Jig grinned and checked his sword. Orange light spilled from the end of the scabbard. Jig hurried back into the stable and grabbed a blanket. He pulled it over himself, wrapping one corner around the sword to hide it. ‘‘Gratz, Trok, take some of the goblins and go get the wolves.’’

‘‘What about food?’’ Relka asked.

‘‘Billa’s troops will be breaking their fast soon,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘Attack now, and we catch them in the middle of their meal. They’ll be reluctant to abandon their food, and that gives you the advantage.’’

‘‘Here,’’ said Relka. She handed Jig a strip of meat so dry it crunched. ‘‘I swiped it from the humans last night.’’

‘‘What is it?’’ Jig asked warily.

‘‘They called it bacon.’’ Relka glared at Darnak. ‘‘It’s quick, and we can eat it while we prepare. No goblin should die hungry.’’

Jig took a bite, and the smoky, spicy taste caused his mouth to fill with drool. He stuffed the rest into his mouth and grinned. ‘‘You’re sure this is human food? It’s
good
!’’

Relka handed him another greasy strip of bacon, then turned to the other goblins. Soon all of Jig’s troops were wiping greasy fingers on their clothes, their hair, and each other.

Snarls and growls signaled the arrival of the wolves. Gratz, Trok, and a few other goblins strained at the ropes. The wolves tugged and fought, but Gratz and Trok had tied them well. The ropes circling the wolves’ necks were knotted in front of the throat. The more the wolves pulled, the deeper that knot pressed into their windpipes.

Of course, if you were Bastard, you could simply double back and bite the arm of the goblin holding your leash. With blue blood dripping from his jaws, Bastard bounded down the road toward Jig, his rope bouncing along the road behind him.

Darnak drew his club and stepped in front of Genevieve, shoving her out of Bastard’s path. Several of the humans fumbled with their weapons. The goblins, being smarter, fought to get out of the way. Jig grabbed the sack Trok had given him. By the time his cold fingers closed around a toe, Bastard was almost on top of him.

‘‘Bastard, down!’’ Jig squealed, throwing the toe.

Bastard twisted, snapped the toe out of the air, and crashed into Jig. Still chewing, Bastard bent down to sniff Jig’s face.

‘‘Argh,’’ Jig gasped. ‘‘Toe breath!’’

Relka grabbed Bastard’s leash and tugged. Bastard barely noticed, but then Darnak added his weight to Relka’s, dragging the wolf back enough for Jig to wiggle free.

Thirteen wolves in total, including Bastard. Fourteen if you counted Fungus, who was still limping from an arrow wound. Jig had already tried to get close enough to heal Fungus’ wound. The attempt had almost cost him a hand.

He stood and brushed wolf fur from his cloak. Amazing how much these animals could shed.

‘‘Do you have riders picked out?’’ Genevieve asked.

Jig nodded. Keeping his voice low, he said, ‘‘A mix of our goblins and the ones from Billa’s army. Mostly goblins who are too dumb to realize what’s going to happen to them. Gratz and I will be on Bastard.’’

It was a good thing Shadowstar was still muffling Jig’s fear. Bad enough he would be riding with the goblin who had tried to kill him yesterday. Without Shadowstar’s help, the idea of riding Bastard again would have sent Jig running from town.

Jig handed out the toes Trok had collected and watched as his goblins climbed onto the wolves. Seeing them knot themselves into place made him think about the way Silverfang had died. ‘‘Everyone make sure you have a knife as well as a sword. If something happens, you’ll want to cut yourselves free before your wolf falls on you.’’

Darnak cleared his throat. ‘‘Not that I’m one to tell goblins how to ride a wolf, but I’m thinking you might want to use a slipknot for those harnesses.’’

‘‘A what?’’ Gratz asked.

Darnak walked up to one of the wolves, apparently unworried by the huge, growling jaws. Maybe his god took away his fear, too. Or maybe dwarves just didn’t know how to be afraid. He twisted and tugged the rope, forming a small loop. A few more twists gave him a second, larger loop.

‘‘This will hold you tight as a babe,’’ Darnak said, tugging the loop. He switched his grip and grabbed one of the ends. ‘‘Something goes wrong, pull here.’’ A swift jerk, and the loop fell apart.

Jig waited while the other goblins climbed onto their wolves. Trok was riding Smelly again, and looked as happy as Jig had ever seen him. Relka was on Ugly, and Braf was feeding Fungus a few extra toes, distracting the wolf long enough to heal his leg.

‘‘Sir?’’ Gratz said. ‘‘I . . . I don’t think Bastard will let me ride him without you.’’

Jig nodded and stepped past Gratz. Bastard licked his face, nearly knocking him into the snow. Jig shoved the wolf’s muzzle aside and climbed onto his back. His legs and groin were already aching from the memory of his last ride.

He raised his hands while Darnak tied him into place. A second slipknot secured Jig’s wrists. Anyone looking would assume he was a helpless prisoner. He pulled his cloak and blanket so they covered his sword.

Gratz climbed up behind him and reached around to grab Bastard’s reins.

‘‘Wait!’’ Jig shouted suddenly. He yanked the release ropes and hopped down.

‘‘What is it, sir?’’ Gratz asked. ‘‘What’s wrong?’’

Relka leaped from her own wolf. ‘‘Is it an omen from Shadowstar?’’

‘‘Not exactly.’’ Jig’s face was burning. ‘‘I just . . . if I’m going to ride Bastard, I really need to use the privy first.’’

CHAPTER 15

 
Jig kept one hand on his rope, ready to loosen his bonds at the first hint of trouble. The fingers of his other hand twisted into his cloak, holding it shut to hide his sword. He grimaced and hunched his head. He wished he could have put up his hood, but they needed his face to be visible so everyone would see he was a prisoner. But that meant Gratz’s breath kept tickling his neck as they rode.

The gates of Avery swung shut behind them. Given the size of the gates, he expected a loud clang, or at least a heavy thud. Anything to mark the drama of the moment as the small goblin force set out to get themselves killed. The only sound the elf-grown doors made was an annoying squeak.

Jig wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Billa’s army appeared even bigger from the ground. Goblins and kobolds huddled around feebly burning campfires. The monsters had camped on the road as well as in the fields, so there was no clear path to Billa.

Gratz guided Bastard toward the goblin ranks, avoiding the kobolds. Hopefully the goblins would be less suspicious of their own kind. Even so, goblins everywhere stopped what they were doing to stare.

Gratz tugged the reins as they passed the first few goblins, trying to keep the wolf from investigating the rabbit turning over a fire, or the particularly smelly goblin who scampered past.

Familiar odors surrounded them. Smoke from the damp wood of the campfires. Burning meat. Filthy soldiers. Sheep droppings. Jig hadn’t realized how accustomed he had grown to the smells in his short time with Billa. Then the wind shifted, and the stench of Smelly the wolf overpowered it all.

An armored goblin approached, a spear clutched in his hands. ‘‘Gratz, is that you? What happened to Silverfang?’’

Jig held his breath. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Gratz’s response. Fear had nothing to do with it. The simple fact was that Gratz was a goblin, and this was the best chance he would have to betray Jig.

‘‘The runt killed him.’’ Gratz slapped the back of Jig’s head. ‘‘Billa has plans for this one.’’ He leaned his head down and whispered, ‘‘Sorry, sir. I know regulations say I’m not allowed to hit a superior officer, but if I act like you’re my superior officer, nobody’s going to believe—’’

‘‘Shut up,’’ Jig said.

The guard grinned at Jig. ‘‘Try not to scream too loudly when she kills you. Some of the troops are still sleeping.’’

Jig did his best to look afraid. Strange, to have to force his features into an expression of terror. He hoped it wasn’t too fake.

Goblins whispered and pointed as they rode, but none moved to stop them. Word spread quickly in the army. Jig could hear Gratz muttering, sounding more and more annoyed with every step.

‘‘Regulations require them to challenge everyone who passes. They should have stopped us before we ever reached the perimeter.’’ He glared back at the goblin with the spear. ‘‘He doesn’t even have his spear in a proper grip. With thirteen wolves, he should have brought reinforcements. He should have insisted on searching the prisoner, to make sure you’re not smuggling anything in.’’

‘‘I am,’’ Jig said. ‘‘I’m smuggling a sword, remember?’’

‘‘I know. That doesn’t make it any less shameful. Silverfang would have—’’

The creaking of branches interrupted whatever Gratz was saying. Snow shivered from Oakbottom’s branches as he waded through the goblin camp, moving to intercept the wolf-riders. Several of the drowsy goblins were too slow to move out of his way. Their screams made Jig wince.