myself.”
Barius flushed so darkly that even Jig could see it. “May I remind you that this is my quest, and the two of you are here at my sufferance? I will be the one to decide our path, and I choose to explore a bit of this hobgoblin lair. Worry not. What is terrible to a goblin is hardly an annoyance to a true warrior.”
“You can’t,” Jig whispered. It was the wrong thing to say.
“Can’t, is it?” Barius tightened his grip on the rope and pulled Jig forward. “Come, and we shall teach this goblin what a prince can and cannot do.”
The others looked reluctant, but they followed. Darnak had just begun to draw the hobgoblin statue onto his map when a quiet click sounded beneath Barius’s boot.
Jig swore in Goblin as the floor fell away and they plummeted into darkness.
CHAPTER 4
Jig’s Bright Idea
The lantern died as it hit the ground, and Jig counted himself lucky to avoid the same fate. He couldn’t tell how far they dropped, but he landed on his heels with a jolt that threatened to crack everything from his ankles up to his shoulders and sent him tumbling onto the rock-littered ground. With his arms still tied, he kicked like an upended spider before getting back to his feet.
Still, he couldn’t complain. Darnak, yanked backward by the weight of his pack, had landed hard on his backside. If that weren’t enough, he wound up with Ryslind’s knee square in his gut. At least that was how Jig interpreted the grunting and swearing from that side of the pit.
“Where are we? What happened?” Barius sounded close to panic. So much for the fearless prince. Even children knew better than to openly barge into hobgoblin territory. Barius was beginning to remind Jig of a very young goblin he had once known. Upon being told not to touch the fire in the fire bowls, this goblin had not only raced to the nearest flame, she had attempted to taste it. She hadn’t survived childhood, and Jig wondered how Barius had managed to do so. Darnak probably had to follow him everywhere, telling him not to eat the pretty fire.
“What happened is we fell into a damned trap,” Darnak snapped.
“How was I to know?”
“The goblin tried to warn you,” Riana said angrily.
“The goblin wanted nothing more than to flee,” Barius argued. “He said nothing of any trap.”
I didn’t tell you not to hold your sword by the pointy end, either. Jig held his tongue and scooted away from the others. Barius had let go of Jig’s rope in the fall, and right now the last thing Jig wanted was to let the prince get his hands on Jig’s throat.
Ryslind ignored the others. “If this rock is magically strong, Ellnorein himself must have created this pit five thousand years ago,” he said reverently.
Riana spat. “Smells like piss and mud down here.”
Jig’s fingers touched metal, and he froze. Slowly he traced the outline of a pitted, broken sword. If it still had any edge to it, he might be able to free himself from this rope. A quick rub of the blade told Jig luck was with him. Ignoring his now-bleeding finger, he began to saw the knot against the sword’s edge.
The awkward angle sent new cramps through his arms, and twice the sword slipped away. The others were arguing too loudly to notice the noise. Another accidental cut told him the edge was sharper near the hilt. With that knowledge, Jig eventually managed to free himself.
He had to clamp both hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. Blood pounded into his limbs like hot acid. He gripped his fangs and rocked back and forth, trying not to cry. The pain was so great he didn’t immediately notice when Smudge found him and crawled up his leg. The fire-spider made it to Jig’s thigh before he felt the tiny, burning footsteps.
What was Smudge afraid of? He couldn’t see, but he looked in the direction of the broken sword. As the pain receded, his brain started to work again. What had happened to the owner of that sword? The fall wasn’t enough to kill. Even
Barius flushed so darkly that even Jig could see it. “May I remind you that this is my quest, and the two of you are here at my sufferance? I will be the one to decide our path, and I choose to explore a bit of this hobgoblin lair. Worry not. What is terrible to a goblin is hardly an annoyance to a true warrior.”
“You can’t,” Jig whispered. It was the wrong thing to say.
“Can’t, is it?” Barius tightened his grip on the rope and pulled Jig forward. “Come, and we shall teach this goblin what a prince can and cannot do.”
The others looked reluctant, but they followed. Darnak had just begun to draw the hobgoblin statue onto his map when a quiet click sounded beneath Barius’s boot.
Jig swore in Goblin as the floor fell away and they plummeted into darkness.
CHAPTER 4
Jig’s Bright Idea
The lantern died as it hit the ground, and Jig counted himself lucky to avoid the same fate. He couldn’t tell how far they dropped, but he landed on his heels with a jolt that threatened to crack everything from his ankles up to his shoulders and sent him tumbling onto the rock-littered ground. With his arms still tied, he kicked like an upended spider before getting back to his feet.
Still, he couldn’t complain. Darnak, yanked backward by the weight of his pack, had landed hard on his backside. If that weren’t enough, he wound up with Ryslind’s knee square in his gut. At least that was how Jig interpreted the grunting and swearing from that side of the pit.
“Where are we? What happened?” Barius sounded close to panic. So much for the fearless prince. Even children knew better than to openly barge into hobgoblin territory. Barius was beginning to remind Jig of a very young goblin he had once known. Upon being told not to touch the fire in the fire bowls, this goblin had not only raced to the nearest flame, she had attempted to taste it. She hadn’t survived childhood, and Jig wondered how Barius had managed to do so. Darnak probably had to follow him everywhere, telling him not to eat the pretty fire.
“What happened is we fell into a damned trap,” Darnak snapped.
“How was I to know?”
“The goblin tried to warn you,” Riana said angrily.
“The goblin wanted nothing more than to flee,” Barius argued. “He said nothing of any trap.”
I didn’t tell you not to hold your sword by the pointy end, either. Jig held his tongue and scooted away from the others. Barius had let go of Jig’s rope in the fall, and right now the last thing Jig wanted was to let the prince get his hands on Jig’s throat.
Ryslind ignored the others. “If this rock is magically strong, Ellnorein himself must have created this pit five thousand years ago,” he said reverently.
Riana spat. “Smells like piss and mud down here.”
Jig’s fingers touched metal, and he froze. Slowly he traced the outline of a pitted, broken sword. If it still had any edge to it, he might be able to free himself from this rope. A quick rub of the blade told Jig luck was with him. Ignoring his now-bleeding finger, he began to saw the knot against the sword’s edge.
The awkward angle sent new cramps through his arms, and twice the sword slipped away. The others were arguing too loudly to notice the noise. Another accidental cut told him the edge was sharper near the hilt. With that knowledge, Jig eventually managed to free himself.
He had to clamp both hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. Blood pounded into his limbs like hot acid. He gripped his fangs and rocked back and forth, trying not to cry. The pain was so great he didn’t immediately notice when Smudge found him and crawled up his leg. The fire-spider made it to Jig’s thigh before he felt the tiny, burning footsteps.
What was Smudge afraid of? He couldn’t see, but he looked in the direction of the broken sword. As the pain receded, his brain started to work again. What had happened to the owner of that sword? The fall wasn’t enough to kill. Even
Similar Books
