listen to him. My uncle had been absorbed in his business
lately, locking himself in his study with his ledgers and cursing the hobgoblins' effect
on trade, and now this. He seemed like a destroyed man.
I left town at dawn, taking food, my sword, and little else. I knew where part of the
hobgoblins' old trails usually went, so I followed that course until a regular path
appeared, six miles outside of town. The tracks stood out as if they had been laid down by
a small army instead of a few raiders loaded down with loot. Two days later, I was here.
One of the hobgoblins above me belched like a giant frog croaking, then dropped a metallic
cup and cursed. “S'my damn drink!” he moaned. “S'all spilled!”
The other sentry cleared his throat and spat. “There's yer drink,” he said, sniggering.
“Put it in yer cup.”
“I'll give ya somethin' for YER cup,” muttered the first, and a rock sailed off the top of
the hill, over my head and about sixty feet past me. I kept quiet in case one went to look
off the cliff. Hobgoblins are a fun-loving race when it comes to humans. They would have
lots of fun with me, good hobgoblin fun, with whips, knives, hot irons - the works.
Another rock flew overhead, landing in the grass beyond.
"Throw one more, and ol' Garith'll set yer dumb ass on
fire,“ said a hobgoblin testily. ”Ya godda find 'im, firs',“ retorted the other. ”S'nod
comin' back. Gonna live like a huuu-man now. Thinks 'e's so good."
“He's comin' back,” snapped the first. “Didn't I tell him we wouldn't wait long 'fore we
began to tear things up? He knows we'll cause trouble. Little toad-belly knows we want
action. We got to keep movin', not sittin' on ass- bruises. And you put that rock down or
I'll give you a face that would scare a blind dwarf.”
After several more minutes of arguing, the hobgoblins settled down in wine-sodden silence.
I decided to move out again in a bit when the sentries were either dozing or too groggy
from drink and lack of sleep to notice. Then I'd take them, one by one, the way I'd
learned to during the war. Only the crickets could be heard in the darkness. I sighed,
waiting, fingers on my sword hilt.
Something punched my chest. Pain shot through my left lung, hurting far worse than
anything that had ever happened to me at Neraka. I looked down, my hands involuntarily
going for the source of the pain, and saw a short, feathered shaft sticking out of my
leather surcoat, next to my heart. I could tell the arrow had gone right through me. I was
never more surprised to see anything in my life.
Son of a bitch, I thought, desperately trying not to breathe or scream. They'd found me;
the hobgoblins had found me. But how in the Abyss did they do that? I never heard them
coming. I stood there like an idiot, looking down at the arrow shaft and wondering why the
hobgoblins weren't now calling out in alarm. The shock and pain of being hit was too much
to take. I couldn't think.
Something prickly and cold spread through my bloodstream from the wound. The pain ceased
and became a cloud of nothingness, as if my chest had disappeared. My will broke then and
I tried to scream, but I couldn't inhale. It seemed like a huge weight pressed against my
rib cage, keeping out the air. I slumped back against the rock face, my vision swimming,
my hands clutching the wound.
It came to me then that I was going to die. There was nothing I could do. I didn't want to
die, not then, not ever.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to live. For a moment I thought of
Garayn and Klart. I could al most see their faces before me.
The numbness reached my head. Everything became very light and airy. I felt a rushing
sensation, as if I were falling.
This wasn't right, came a mad thought. The hobgoblins killed me. They'd killed my cousins,
and now they'd killed me. It wasn't right, and I wanted them to
lately, locking himself in his study with his ledgers and cursing the hobgoblins' effect
on trade, and now this. He seemed like a destroyed man.
I left town at dawn, taking food, my sword, and little else. I knew where part of the
hobgoblins' old trails usually went, so I followed that course until a regular path
appeared, six miles outside of town. The tracks stood out as if they had been laid down by
a small army instead of a few raiders loaded down with loot. Two days later, I was here.
One of the hobgoblins above me belched like a giant frog croaking, then dropped a metallic
cup and cursed. “S'my damn drink!” he moaned. “S'all spilled!”
The other sentry cleared his throat and spat. “There's yer drink,” he said, sniggering.
“Put it in yer cup.”
“I'll give ya somethin' for YER cup,” muttered the first, and a rock sailed off the top of
the hill, over my head and about sixty feet past me. I kept quiet in case one went to look
off the cliff. Hobgoblins are a fun-loving race when it comes to humans. They would have
lots of fun with me, good hobgoblin fun, with whips, knives, hot irons - the works.
Another rock flew overhead, landing in the grass beyond.
"Throw one more, and ol' Garith'll set yer dumb ass on
fire,“ said a hobgoblin testily. ”Ya godda find 'im, firs',“ retorted the other. ”S'nod
comin' back. Gonna live like a huuu-man now. Thinks 'e's so good."
“He's comin' back,” snapped the first. “Didn't I tell him we wouldn't wait long 'fore we
began to tear things up? He knows we'll cause trouble. Little toad-belly knows we want
action. We got to keep movin', not sittin' on ass- bruises. And you put that rock down or
I'll give you a face that would scare a blind dwarf.”
After several more minutes of arguing, the hobgoblins settled down in wine-sodden silence.
I decided to move out again in a bit when the sentries were either dozing or too groggy
from drink and lack of sleep to notice. Then I'd take them, one by one, the way I'd
learned to during the war. Only the crickets could be heard in the darkness. I sighed,
waiting, fingers on my sword hilt.
Something punched my chest. Pain shot through my left lung, hurting far worse than
anything that had ever happened to me at Neraka. I looked down, my hands involuntarily
going for the source of the pain, and saw a short, feathered shaft sticking out of my
leather surcoat, next to my heart. I could tell the arrow had gone right through me. I was
never more surprised to see anything in my life.
Son of a bitch, I thought, desperately trying not to breathe or scream. They'd found me;
the hobgoblins had found me. But how in the Abyss did they do that? I never heard them
coming. I stood there like an idiot, looking down at the arrow shaft and wondering why the
hobgoblins weren't now calling out in alarm. The shock and pain of being hit was too much
to take. I couldn't think.
Something prickly and cold spread through my bloodstream from the wound. The pain ceased
and became a cloud of nothingness, as if my chest had disappeared. My will broke then and
I tried to scream, but I couldn't inhale. It seemed like a huge weight pressed against my
rib cage, keeping out the air. I slumped back against the rock face, my vision swimming,
my hands clutching the wound.
It came to me then that I was going to die. There was nothing I could do. I didn't want to
die, not then, not ever.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to live. For a moment I thought of
Garayn and Klart. I could al most see their faces before me.
The numbness reached my head. Everything became very light and airy. I felt a rushing
sensation, as if I were falling.
This wasn't right, came a mad thought. The hobgoblins killed me. They'd killed my cousins,
and now they'd killed me. It wasn't right, and I wanted them to
Similar Books
