Goblin Nation

THREE HUNDRED FEWER MOUTHS TO FEED

Amid the flurry of drilling and weapons-making, more than three hundred goblins gathered up their meager possessions and struck out to the east, intending to find caves in the distant mountains to live in. From various clans, they had grumbled about the threats in the forest, about Direfang’s being a lure for monstrous creatures, about the threat of Dark Knights.

“Dragons, bloodragers, beasts come here,” said Geben, a yellow-skinned goblin who had insinuated himself with the Fishgatherers. “So it is good to leave here and go somewhere else. The dragons can eat those who stay in the city.”

“There is no city,” said Worlee. He had been one of the hardest workers when the goblins had first chopped down trees. “There will be no city. There will only be more death.”

Direfang had tried to stop the defectors. There were too many to lose. “Safety in numbers,” he’d warned. “Strong in numbers.” His words had kept most of the Fishgatherer clan from leaving and had boosted the morale of a few hobgoblins.

“Bad enough there are dragons and bloodragers,” Graytoes said, waving to the departing goblins. “Worse now that there are Dark Knights.” She held Umay up so the baby could watch the departing throng, helping her wave bye-bye. “Direfang, harder to fight the things in the forest now. Fewer goblins to fight.”

Keth pointed out the breakaway group was taking some of the weapons with them.

“Did not take food, though,” Graytoes said cheerfully. “Three hundred fewer mouths to feed now. Time to feed Umay.” She retreated to a group of goblins who were putting fletching on arrows. A goat was staked near them, and she started to milk it.

“They took weapons,” Keth repeated. “Should not have let them take the weapons, Direfang. That was a bad thing.”

“Then it is time to make more weapons,” Direfang said testily. “More and more and more weapons.”

The noise was loud in the ruined city: knives and swords clanking against each other, goblins calling out as they continued to craft spears and clubs, and more goblins drilling with the finished ones.

“Too loud, all of this,” Direfang said.

“Yes,” Keth said. He looked up and saw the wizard approach, shook his head, and hobbled away to help a goblin named Badger cut logs for clubs.

“Yes, it is too loud,” Grallik agreed. “No doubt this ruckus carries for quite some distance, Foreman.” He tipped his head back. “But a storm is coming, and that will help cover a little of this noise, I think. And the noise is good if it means more weapons.”

The wind had picked up in the brief time since the three hundred goblins left. “Not a storm as strong as the one the other day,” Direfang said, adding, “I hope.”

“No. Not from the looks of it. But a far greater storm is coming, Foreman.” Grallik continued to peer at the sky. “If the Dark Knights are able to find us despite that magic in your old stone, a lot of goblins will die. You have numbers, I’ll grant you that. But they have far more skills. And their weapons are far superior.”

“Worried?” Direfang poked a taunting finger into Grallik’s shoulder, the force nearly toppling the wizard. “If the Gray Robe is so worried, better follow those goblins.” He gestured in the direction of the mountains. “Free to go.”

Grallik raised an eyebrow. At one point Direfang had called him a slave, and the hobgoblin had been ordering him around since the exodus from Steel Town. He had never felt free to do anything.

“Grallik is free to go,” Direfang repeated.

“They’ll kill me as fast as they’d kill any of you, the Dark Knights,” Grallik said. He stared past Direfang, eyes following a young goblin dragging a half dozen heavy clubs. The sky rumbled, and the goblin stopped and looked up. “I prefer my chances here. I’m a traitor as far as they’re concerned.”

“Worse than a traitor,” Direfang observed.

“Yes, I suppose I am. And I suspect they will kill me slowly. So I’ll stay, Foreman. I’ll cast my lot with you and-”

“Because of the magic Mudwort teaches.”

Grallik stared, not replying immediately. “Because there is some safety in your greater numbers. Better than if I was on my own.” The wizard looked away from the young goblin and instead stared up the bluff at Direfang’s spire. “I hope you have a plan,” he added, “beyond simply and foolishly waiting here to fight hundreds of trained, dedicated Dark Knights.”

“I have a plan for you,” the hobgoblin shot back. He pointed to where the ruined homes stretched, the wood all taken for weapons. All that remained were earth bowls. “Mudwort is gone, and much spell work needs to be done, Gray Robe. Who knows when Mudwort will come back? Meanwhile, your job is waiting.”

Grallik looked around. “Mudwort, gone?”

“Thya saw Mudwort leave.” Again Direfang pointed to the ruined homes. “No one saw Mudwort return. She comes and goes. But she’ll be back. You can go but not come back. If you stay, then there is spell work to be done. Understand?”

Grallik rubbed his chin. “Yes, I understand.”

Direfang left the wizard to find Draath and Olag and any other goblins known to have a spark of magic.

Direfang met with Orvago next. The hobgoblin thought the gnoll looked rather glum, probably because Qel had gone; she was his only link to his former home of Schallsea Island.

“Qel is safe away from here,” the hobgoblin said reassuringly.

The gnoll nodded. “But this place would have been good for her. And she would have been good for it. If there is a war coming …”

“No good can come of Dark Knights and goblins fighting. And no good can come of any war.”

“I could well imagine that you’re tired of all the bloodshed.” The gnoll shrugged. “There may be another outcome this time. If the spire hides us from magical prying, we-”

“How much magic is in here?” Direfang gently jabbed the gnoll’s chest. “Talking to trees, healing. How much is hidden?”

The gnoll stepped away and planted his hand against an oak. “My rapport with nature is considerable, Foreman Direfang.”

“Then there is much work to be done. Stop talking. Go to work.”

The goblins and hobgoblins worked through the night, only Grallik taking a rest, and that was because his eyes were not so keen in the darkness. The storm had held off until the evening, but it came with lots of thunder and gusts of wind. It wasn’t severe, but it drenched everyone and made some of the work difficult.

More goblins threatened to leave, tired of the endless work, ever hungry, and finding little to like about the forest.

“Let the elves take it back, this forest,” Neacha griped. The hobgoblin towered above Keth and shivered as a loud boom of thunder sounded. “The mountain caves are for hobgoblins and goblins. The trees are for elves. Caves would-”

Direfang shook a finger at him. “Gnasher is very smart. Gnasher will help save this city. Talk of leaving must stop.”

Keth stared up at Gnasher, waiting for him to speak; he stood silent, glowering. “No one place is safer than another. I will stay with Direfang and Graytoes and the Boarhunters.”

Direfang’s breath whistled out from between his teeth. “All right, caves were once for goblins and hobgoblins, true. But now the woods belong to the clans. What’s left of this blasted city, that will be for the hated Dark Knights.”

They all looked at him, astonished.

“So if the city is for the Dark Knights, all the clans are leaving?” Keth said. He looked in the direction of the mountains. He couldn’t see the peaks, the foliage thick and the overcast sky making everything dark. “Everyone is leaving?”

“Very soon.” Direfang nodded. “That is my plan. The Dark Knights can have what is left of this damnable city.”

Keth and Gnasher nodded. Even Neacha looked pleased.

Direfang looked around for Mudwort. He had made another decision he almost instantly regretted. He desperately needed her now.