Goblin War Read Online Free Page A

Braf were the only two goblins ‘‘gifted’’ with Shadowstar’s healing magic. That gift meant they both spent much of their time healing everything from cold-dead toes to rock serpent bites to that nasty case of ear-mold Trok had gotten a few months back.
    The last glimmers of sunlight faded behind them, replaced by the comforting yellow-green glow of muck lanterns burning in the distance. Jig splashed through puddles of half-melted snow as he followed Relka and Grell through the main tunnel toward the rounded entryway into the temple of Tymalous Shadowstar.
    Glass tiles on the ceiling portrayed the pale god looking down at the goblins. As always, Jig’s gaze went to the eyes. Sparkling light burned in the center of those black sockets. No matter where you stood, those eyes always seemed to be watching you.
    Once, Jig had painted a blindfold over Shadowstar’s face. The god had not been pleased.
    The temple was the first cave anyone saw after entering the mountainside. Looking back, Jig probably should have put it somewhere a bit more out of the way. Mud and slush covered the floor where goblin warriors had stomped their boots and brushed themselves off as they passed through. Other warriors stood dripping by the small altar in the corner, where poor Braf struggled to heal them as quickly as he could.
    Relka touched her necklace. ‘‘Make way for Jig Dragonslayer!’’
    Grell coughed.
    ‘‘And Grell,’’ Relka added hastily.
    The announcement of Jig’s arrival didn’t have the effect Relka was hoping for. Instead of spreading out to make room for Jig, the goblins split into two smaller swarms, one of which immediately surrounded Jig, the same as they had done with Braf.
    ‘‘Why should Jig Dragonslayer provide the healing power of Shadowstar to nonbelievers?’’ Relka demanded. She wrapped both hands around her bone-and-knife pendant. ‘‘How many of you have donned the symbol of—Ouch.’’ She stuck her finger in her mouth. Apparently the knife blades on her necklace were still sharp.
    ‘‘Everyone back to the lair,’’ Grell snapped. ‘‘You think those humans are going to stop once they reach the entrance? Go on.’’
    Slowly the crowd dispersed through the three tunnels on the far side of the temple. All three merged a bit farther on. No doubt there would be further injuries to heal once the goblins reached that junction and fought to go first.
    Grell grabbed one goblin as he turned to leave. A bloody gash crossed his scalp. ‘‘You don’t have pine needles in your hair. How did you manage to get yourself injured without leaving the tunnels?’’
    ‘‘Bat.’’
    ‘‘A bat did that to you?’’
    ‘‘No.’’ He pointed to another goblin. ‘‘Ruk was trying to hit the bat with his sword, and—’’
    ‘‘I would have got him, too,’’ interrupted Ruk. ‘‘But then he flew away.’’
    Grell rubbed her forehead. ‘‘Ruk, go up the tunnel and wait by the entrance. Humans don’t see well in the dark. They’ll be disoriented. Stay there and kill anything that comes in. Anything that’s not a goblin, that is.’’
    She smacked him with a cane for good measure.
    Ruk left, grinning and jabbing imaginary humans with his sword. Jig watched him go. ‘‘Do you really think he’ll be able to slow down the humans?’’
    ‘‘Nope,’’ said Grell. ‘‘But any idiot who’d slice his own partner is one I won’t miss. When he screams, we’ll know they’ve entered the mountain.’’
     
Despite the imminent attack from the humans, Jig found himself relaxing as he followed Grell deeper into the dark tunnels. The closer he got to home, the more the smell of muck smoke and Golaka’s fried honey-mushrooms overpowered the scent of pine. His boots clopped against the hard stone. He ran one hand over the reddish brown wall, smiling at the familiar rippled feel of the obsidian. The warm air drifting from deep within the mountain helped drive the worst of the numbness from