Goblin War Read Online Free

Grell’s elbow to hurry her along, but a rheumy glare made him back down.
    ‘‘Maybe they’re hunting,’’ Relka suggested. ‘‘For food, I mean. There hasn’t been as much to eat since the snow came. Humans have to eat too.’’
    ‘‘Humans don’t eat goblins,’’ Jig said. His stomach clenched at the thought of the things they did eat. Dried fruit and porridge and bread. What little meat they ate had all the flavor cooked out of it. Jig had been a prisoner of human adventurers for only a few days, but it had taken close to a month for his stomach to recover.
    The last drum fell silent. After a lingering scream, so did the drummer. Shouts echoed up and down the mountain as the goblins began to retreat.
    Jig squeezed through a clump of pine trees and waited, holding the branches out of Grell’s way. He could see the lair from here. How bad would it be to let the branches slap Grell to the ground so he could scamper to safety? Smudge was already getting restless in his hood. The cloak was relatively fireproof, but the wisps of Jig’s hair weren’t.
    A trio of limping goblins scurried into the lair up ahead. A fourth followed, hopping on one foot. His other leg bled from the thigh, leaving a bright blue path in the muddy snow.
    The cave was partially hidden by a fallen pine. A heavy gate had once blocked the way, but that gate had disappeared a few months back. The hobgoblins had stolen it to build a bigger cage for their trained tunnel cats.
    The pine tree didn’t block anyone out, but it did hide the lair from casual view. The only drawbacks were the brown needles that tangled into your hair, and the sticky sap that covered your clothes, not to mention the overpowering pine smell. The smell had faded with time, but the tree seemed to have an endless supply of brittle needles with which to torment innocent goblins.
    Two more warriors disappeared into the lair before Jig and his companions reached the tree. Jig played with one fang and tried not to let his impatience show as Grell hunched to step inside. Her joints popped, and she wheezed with every step.
    Jig could hear the humans shouting as they closed in. Grell was right. There were an awful lot of humans out there.
    Trok ran past, knocking Jig into the snow as he tried to get into the lair. He didn’t make it. As he squeezed past Grell, she dropped her cane and twisted her claws into Trok’s ear. With her other hand, she shook her borrowed sword until the scabbard fell free. ‘‘Relka, do you know any good recipes for goblin ear?’’
    ‘‘Four,’’ Relka said. ‘‘Do you want something spicy?’’
    ‘‘Spicy food puts me in the privy all night.’’ Grell gave up trying to draw the sword. She clubbed Trok’s foot with the partly sheathed weapon. ‘‘Of course, I could put him on privy duty as part of his punishment.’’
    Trok was a big goblin. He wore several layers of fur to make himself look even bigger, despite the fact that all of those furs made him sweat something awful. Trok’s glistening face twisted into a sneer.
    Grell pinched her claws deeper into his ear, drawing spots of blood. Trok yelped and backed down. He rubbed his ear as he waited for Grell to pass beneath the pine tree.
    Neither Jig nor Relka received the same courtesy.
    The obsidian walls of the tunnel muted the sounds of battle somewhat as Jig finally scurried into the darkness of the mountain. His eyes struggled to adjust. The warmer air had already painted a film of mist onto his spectacles. But no goblin who survived through childhood relied on vision alone. Jig could hear Grell grumbling and stomping her feet for warmth up ahead. A quick sniff assured him that Trok wasn’t waiting nearby to take his annoyance out on Jig.
    Grell’s cane and sword tapped the rock as she moved on. From the sound of it, she was limping even worse than usual. The cold had been hard on her, and she had asked Jig and Braf for healing almost every night for the past month. Jig and