like murder.
Goblins are nasty and smelly and grumpy and
have bad attitudes, but they’re not inherently bad . They’re
pretty much like anybody else. They don’t kill people for fun,
regardless of what the propaganda posters say. And this guy was a
wizard, and wizards were scary, but you had to feel a little sorry
for them, too. They probably hadn’t wanted to wake up one day with
the power to unmake the world.
Nessilka shook her head. “We’re not going to
kill him.”
Everybody relaxed imperceptibly.
“We can’t tie him up, though,” Murray pointed
out. “When he wakes up, if he gets his hands or his mouth free, he
could magic us.”
“So we’d better be a long way off when he
wakes up,” said Nessilka. “Everybody, get ready to move out.
Thumper, cut a crutch for Blanchett. Gloober, get your finger out
of there. Algol, do we have any blankets?”
“No, Sarge. We don’t have much. Nobody took
their full kit into the battle. Murray’s got some mechanical stuff
in his pack, and I’ve got a rope, but beyond that, it’s basically
whatever we’ve got on our backs, and our field kits.”
The standard issue goblin field kit is a
pocket knife, two bandages of dubious cleanliness, a rubber band, a
stump of candle, some dried fruit and a book of matches. It fits
into the standard issue tin cup, which then fits into a small
pouch. It was better than nothing, but not by much.
“If I cannibalize a coupla things—” Murray
patted his pack, which caused everyone to brace briefly for an
explosion, “—I can probably rig another travel stove. We’ll be able
to cook, anyway.”
“Does anybody have a bow and arrow?”
Nobody did. Archers were another unit
entirely. The Nineteenth was strictly hand-to-hand.
Weasel put up a hand shyly.
“Yes, private?”
“I c-c-c….” Weasel turned bright red.
Nessilka put an arm around the small goblin’s
shoulders and turned her around so that the eyes of the troop
weren’t on her. “In your own time, private.”
“I c-can use a s-s-sling, s-s-sarge.”
“Good. We might actually eat after all.”
“We’re almost ready, Sarge,” said Algol.
Blanchett was experimenting with his crutch, under the watchful eye
of the teddy-bear.
Nessilka looked down at the wizard. No
blankets. She sighed.
She was going to miss it tonight, but she
pulled her cloak off and laid it over the wizard. Poor sod was
probably in shock, and if he didn’t stay warm, it was as good as
having killed him. Besides, he was a wizard, and they had a hard
time fending for themselves. “Algol, see if you can get a little
water into him before we go. I’d rather not leave a trail of dead
bodies behind us.”
Algol nodded.
“Everybody else—I want to get at least five
miles away from here, and then we’re looking for a place to hole up
for a bit that’s hidden and defensible. Let’s try not to leave a
trail like a wounded moose, okay?”
NINE
It was a beautiful day in the forest. The
birds were calling. The birds were calling a lot.
Nessilka was getting a feeling that whatever
they were calling was probably the ornithological equivalent of
“Come get a load of this! ”
Travelling through thick woods with a troop
of goblins is not unlike a nature hike with a group of grumpy
toddlers with weapons.
They fell into things. They fell out of
things. They attacked bushes. The bushes frequently attacked back.
They startled small animals, who startled them badly in return,
causing them to fall over into more bushes. They stepped on things
that were not good to step on, and stepped in things that
squelched, or stank, or exploded with spores.
Sergeant Nessilka watched as her troop
discovered a patch of poison oak, and had to look away.
Blanchett stumped up beside her, leaned on
his crutch, and eyed the rest of the troop.
“He says that’s poison oak they’re rolling
in,” he informed her, pointing to the teddy-bear.
“I think he’s
Goblins are nasty and smelly and grumpy and
have bad attitudes, but they’re not inherently bad . They’re
pretty much like anybody else. They don’t kill people for fun,
regardless of what the propaganda posters say. And this guy was a
wizard, and wizards were scary, but you had to feel a little sorry
for them, too. They probably hadn’t wanted to wake up one day with
the power to unmake the world.
Nessilka shook her head. “We’re not going to
kill him.”
Everybody relaxed imperceptibly.
“We can’t tie him up, though,” Murray pointed
out. “When he wakes up, if he gets his hands or his mouth free, he
could magic us.”
“So we’d better be a long way off when he
wakes up,” said Nessilka. “Everybody, get ready to move out.
Thumper, cut a crutch for Blanchett. Gloober, get your finger out
of there. Algol, do we have any blankets?”
“No, Sarge. We don’t have much. Nobody took
their full kit into the battle. Murray’s got some mechanical stuff
in his pack, and I’ve got a rope, but beyond that, it’s basically
whatever we’ve got on our backs, and our field kits.”
The standard issue goblin field kit is a
pocket knife, two bandages of dubious cleanliness, a rubber band, a
stump of candle, some dried fruit and a book of matches. It fits
into the standard issue tin cup, which then fits into a small
pouch. It was better than nothing, but not by much.
“If I cannibalize a coupla things—” Murray
patted his pack, which caused everyone to brace briefly for an
explosion, “—I can probably rig another travel stove. We’ll be able
to cook, anyway.”
“Does anybody have a bow and arrow?”
Nobody did. Archers were another unit
entirely. The Nineteenth was strictly hand-to-hand.
Weasel put up a hand shyly.
“Yes, private?”
“I c-c-c….” Weasel turned bright red.
Nessilka put an arm around the small goblin’s
shoulders and turned her around so that the eyes of the troop
weren’t on her. “In your own time, private.”
“I c-can use a s-s-sling, s-s-sarge.”
“Good. We might actually eat after all.”
“We’re almost ready, Sarge,” said Algol.
Blanchett was experimenting with his crutch, under the watchful eye
of the teddy-bear.
Nessilka looked down at the wizard. No
blankets. She sighed.
She was going to miss it tonight, but she
pulled her cloak off and laid it over the wizard. Poor sod was
probably in shock, and if he didn’t stay warm, it was as good as
having killed him. Besides, he was a wizard, and they had a hard
time fending for themselves. “Algol, see if you can get a little
water into him before we go. I’d rather not leave a trail of dead
bodies behind us.”
Algol nodded.
“Everybody else—I want to get at least five
miles away from here, and then we’re looking for a place to hole up
for a bit that’s hidden and defensible. Let’s try not to leave a
trail like a wounded moose, okay?”
NINE
It was a beautiful day in the forest. The
birds were calling. The birds were calling a lot.
Nessilka was getting a feeling that whatever
they were calling was probably the ornithological equivalent of
“Come get a load of this! ”
Travelling through thick woods with a troop
of goblins is not unlike a nature hike with a group of grumpy
toddlers with weapons.
They fell into things. They fell out of
things. They attacked bushes. The bushes frequently attacked back.
They startled small animals, who startled them badly in return,
causing them to fall over into more bushes. They stepped on things
that were not good to step on, and stepped in things that
squelched, or stank, or exploded with spores.
Sergeant Nessilka watched as her troop
discovered a patch of poison oak, and had to look away.
Blanchett stumped up beside her, leaned on
his crutch, and eyed the rest of the troop.
“He says that’s poison oak they’re rolling
in,” he informed her, pointing to the teddy-bear.
“I think he’s
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