The Prince and the Goblin

by Bryan Huff

  Out of necessity, Hob followed them more closely than ever. The brick-like goblins were soon forming their familiar barricade alongside him, and if they overtook him in those tight confines, he’d never get back through. Hob yielded most of the gorge to them, and took to scaling the massive snowdrifts and fallen boulders that lined its edges and ascended its walls.

  A fork appeared mid-way up the gorge, at the crux where all three mountain peaks met. Between the peaks, the main gorge veered east, while a much steeper, tighter channel continued almost straight north. The goblins turned east with the main gorge.

  Hob made the turn with them, and kept picking his way up over the snowdrifts and boulders, hoping that some brilliant plan to free Edric would spring to mind. But none did.

  Then time ran out.

  Without warning and with much clatter, the march drew to a halt again. Peering ahead, Hob saw the cause of the commotion. A narrow path split from the floor of the gorge and cut up through the rocks along the south wall. The line of goblins followed the path, vanishing not into the cloud, but into a towering crevice in the mountainside. They had reached the tunnel entrance.

  The mass of goblins began to squeeze in around the base of the narrow path. Soon, Hob would get cut off from Edric, and they’d both be forced underground. Hob became frantic. He had to do something—right away!

  “squeee!”

  At the first sight of dark tunnel, the war-hog resisted again. It twisted itself around at the start of the narrow path, and was soon taking up all the space between the rocks. Its keeper heaved on the reins, trying to get the beast back in line, while everyone behind it was forced to stand and wait.

  This was the opening Hob had been waiting for, and he knew it would last a matter of seconds at most.

  He glanced around in desperation, considering his options. He’d been hoping to find some way of delivering both himself and Edric to safety, but it was impossible. Finally, Hob understood. There was only one way to make things right. He could give Edric a chance to escape—but only by giving up his own.

  Hob edged closer to the struggling war-hog, squeezing through a narrow gap between the rock to his left and the brick-like goblins to his right. He was suddenly calm, entirely focused on what he had to do. He let his shield fall to the ground. He tightened his grip on his sword. And he gave his head a quick shake, to check that his helmet remained on snug. It was imperative that his face stay hidden. Timing would be everything, and if his identity caused the goblins to catch on a second too soon, or Edric to hesitate a second too long, all would be lost.

  Hob then crept up behind Snivel at the war-hog’s rear end. The beast had been subdued and straightened out again, and was about to be hauled up the path to the tunnel. This was as close as Hob would get. He crouched down low, took a deep breath, and lunged!

  It all happened in a matter of seconds. Hob shoved Snivel aside and leapt into the air. He landed on the rump of the war-hog, dug his fingers into its fur, and pulled himself into a standing position behind Edric. He raised his sword over the Prince’s head, and let out a loud war-cry.

  “die, human!” Hob screamed. He hadn’t planned on saying anything. It just came out. A last second stroke of genius, and luck.

  “squeee!” The war-hog panicked again, kicking and bucking once more.

  This surprised its keeper, who lost hold of the reins. The rest of the escort recoiled from the rampaging beast.

  Somehow, Hob managed to keep from falling just long enough to act. Swish! He brought down his blade. By design, it missed Edric’s body and found its true mark, the rope between his hands. The rope burst apart.

  At the same time, Brute’s spear swung in from the side, and its wooden shaft connected with Hob’s breastplate. crack! A shockwave rattled through steel, flesh, and bone. The war-hog kept running. And Hob dropped from its back.

  Hob hit the ground, winded and in pain. Only his big, folded-down ears kept the helmet from flying off his head. Still, he kept his wits. He gave his sword a quick flick, as though the impact had jarred it from his hand, and sent it skittering across the dirt.

  A second later, Edric landed crouched in the sword’s path. It slid to a stop before him, and he seized it—just as Hob knew he would. Sword in hand, the Prince exploded to his feet.

  The rest was up to him.

  Hob watched from the ground as Edric fought. Swish! Clank! Shwing! Goblins rushed in from all sides, and Edric skillfully parried their blows. But they didn’t back down, and he was soon surrounded. Even free of his bonds, escape would not be easy.

  “You idiot!” Brute hollered, not at Edric, but at Hob. Brute stomped toward him, casting aside his spear, and clenching and unclenching his fists. “Who do you think you are, takin’ a swing at the Sorcerer’s prize? I’ll wring your scrawny neck!”

  Hob crawled backward along the ground, but came up against a rock. He had nowhere to go. Brute reached down with a giant hand, jamming his meaty fingers into the visor of Hob’s helm. Hob was about to be unmasked!

  Then—whump!—Brute got shouldered aside.

  “Leave him alone!” growled Gnasher, taking Brute’s place above Hob. “He’s a hero!”

  A second later, Brute tackled Gnasher outright. They slammed into the ground in front of Hob, and began pounding each other.

  Hob was distracted from the fight by another loud, “squeee!” The frightened war-hog continued to buck, even as its keeper regained hold of its reins.

  Edric, who was caught in a constricting knot of goblins, heard the noise as well. Noticing his momentary distraction, two goblins attacked. Edric moved fast, ducking the club of the first, while batting away the sword of the second. Then he rolled free between them.

  Edric broke into a sprint, and launched himself at the war-hog. He caught hold, clambered quickly onto the saddle, and balanced there, standing, knees bent. With one swing of his sword, he cut the beast’s reins. It fled its keeper again, charging away from the tunnel and scattering Edric’s attackers.

  Unfortunately, the war-hog soon came up against the wall of brick-like goblins. The line did not break, forcing the animal to turn and run in circles. Edric was stuck. Goblins closed in from both sides—though, hesitantly now, for fear of catching one of the war-hog’s flailing hooves.

  Hob’s view of the scene was abruptly blocked. Brute had shaken off Gnasher, and now stood over Hob again. Once more, his meaty fingers reached for Hob’s helm. Once more, Hob thought he was doomed.

  “caw! caw!”

  Somewhere out of sight, the crow sounded the alarm.

  “Big guy!” said Snivel, tugging at Brute’s armor and distracting him. “He’s gettin’ away!”

  Brute turned to see Snivel pointing frantically at the Prince.

  Edric was just about to be pulled down off the war-hog, when he sprang from the beast’s back. He flew over the outstretched arms of the nearby goblins, and landed on one of the rocks at the base of the gorge’s north wall. He teetered there, toes on the edge.

  “caw!” The crow shot at him out of the mist, trying to knock him back into the arms of the goblins.

  Edric twisted to avoid it, and threw himself forward onto the rock. From his knees, he looked up.

  Beginning where he lay, a pile of massive boulders ascended the wall of the gorge in steep steps. They towered over him, disappearing into the haze. Edric turned, stood, and swung his sword to drive back the goblins. Then he climbed for higher ground.

  Brute growled. It took all the willpower he had, but he let go of Hob in order to chase Edric.

  “get him!” Brute roared, running, and launching himself up the boulder pile.

  “Yeah, get him!” yipped Snivel, who elected to stay put on the ground and send others up the rocks in his place. “Up there! That way!”

  More and more goblins began to climb.

  Hob jumped to his feet. Miraculously, he’d been given a chance to escape! He’d done all he could to free Edric. W
aiting for Brute to come back and pummel him would do no further good. He turned to run. But a hand quickly clamped down on his arm.

  “C’mon! Let’s finish the job!” Gnasher growled, hoisting Hob up onto his back. “Let’s kill the human!”

  Buffeted between massive armored bodies, Hob and Gnasher ascended the boulder pile. Hob could just make out Edric high above. The Prince hauled himself up rock after rock, with the crow diving and pecking at his back, and goblins surging after him.

  Edric crossed swords with one goblin, beating him back, and sent another crashing down the rocks with a well-placed kick to the head. He hurried on.

  The goblins pushed and shoved as they climbed, and one elbowed Gnasher right in the side. As Hob fought to keep his grasp on Gnasher’s swaying shoulders, he lost sight of Edric. By the time he looked up again, the Prince was gone.

  Edric reappeared moments later, rushing out on top of a tall turret of natural stone that crowned the boulder pile. Above this rocky crag, there stood only a shadowy cliff face, sheer and unscalable, where the boulders had fractured from the mountainside. It was a dead end.

  A great mound of melting snow twisted up around the crag, having gathered over the winter in a crevice between the back of the crag and the cliff face. Goblins crashed in around the snow mound and fought their way up it, vanishing into the crevice.

  “C’mon!” Gnasher cheered. “Now, we’ve got him!”

  He knocked aside everyone in his path as he climbed the last few boulders, sloshed up the snow mound, and tried to force his way into the goblin-filled crevice. However, in the push to get inside, someone shoved Gnasher back, and he lost his footing on the slippery slope.

  As Gnasher scrambled to recover, this time Hob chose to lose his grasp. He dropped, slid down the snow mound, rolled off a ledge, and landed on a boulder a few feet below. Suddenly, he was on his hands and knees, lost amid the legs of the many goblins now stuck at the base of the crag.

  It took Hob a moment to shake off the pain and dizziness that accompanied his fall. By the time he looked up again, Gnasher had gone on without him.

  Hob stood, and returned his attention to the crag. It was framed perfectly in the gap between the heads of the goblins towering around him. Its top was fractured into a series of ascending stone steps, and Hob could see Edric retreating toward its peak, the dark crow circling above. Brute emerged next, rushing out of the crevice and onto the rock, followed by many more goblins.

  Brute stalked straight toward Edric, sword drawn, while the other goblins encircled them. Soon, Edric was trapped at the peak of the crag. He brandished his sword to keep the goblins at bay, but it was no use.

  Brute swung his sword in a great vertical arc, forcing Edric to hurl up his own to meet it. crash! Their blades rattled and locked. With Edric’s weapon suddenly occupied, he was open to capture. The circle of goblins closed in on him like a noose.

  Hob felt sick. He wouldn’t be able to attempt another rescue; Brute and the others would be watching for him. This had been his one chance, and it had failed.

  Then a familiar voice cried out. “edric! look up!”

  It was Stella! Her voice carried on the wind, far too loudly and clearly to be natural. It sounded a little like the Sorcerer’s, except it wasn’t inside Hob’s head. Hob thought maybe she’d placed a spell on it.

  Everyone froze and looked toward the cry, including Brute and Edric. It had come from the west—back down the gorge.

  As Hob turned, he saw its source at once, high up between the mountain walls, taking shape in the mist as it approached. For a second, he thought it was just another trick of the clouds, the last and greatest of the night’s apparitions. Then, there it was, suddenly real, sweeping down over his place in the crowd—a great wooden airship!

  It looked much like a regular sailing ship, with a few key alterations. Extending from its sides were two bat-like wings fashioned of timber and canvas. Mounted at its stern were two massive air-propellers. And instead of sails over its deck, it had a great canvas balloon. Once it stabilized, the airship threw its propellers into reverse, and began to drift as slowly as possible right over the crag.

  Hob had read about airships before, but none had been seen for a hundred years! He wondered where this one had come from.

  A dark figure bailed over the railing of the ship’s deck. A gnome! The little fellow wore a leather harness attached to a long rope that unfurled from the ship. Beard wagging, he tucked himself into a tight dive. Then—crack!—his rope went taut, sending him swinging toward the spot where Edric stood cornered atop the crag.

  A collective gasp escaped the goblin onlookers, all still frozen in shock and amazement.

  Unfortunately, Edric couldn’t reach out for the gnome, because his sword remained locked with Brute’s.

  “caw!” The crow swooped toward the gnome, swiping at him with sharp claws. The gnome managed to swat the crow away, but, in doing so, he sent himself spinning on his rope. Whoosh! The gnome spun right past Edric.

  Seeing his chance, Brute threw his whole weight on his sword. Edric’s blade shook, and his arms began to buckle. He took a small step backward to brace himself, but Brute had claimed the advantage. Edric wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer.

  The ship continued its slow drift, now centered over the crag. On the far side, the gnome spiraled through the air, reached the apex of his swing, and fell pendulum-like back toward his target.

  “caw!” The crow streaked at him again. But this time the gnome was ready. At the last second, he threw up his boots and struck the crow with both heels. hoof! In a puff of black feathers, the bird was gone, spiraling limply down into the mist. Whoosh! The gnome was gone again too, sailing right past Edric.

  “Get him, you lugs!” Brute roared at the goblins around him.

  But they were still stupefied.

  The gnome swung out past the near side of the crag, and then fell back, while the airship drifted out past the far side.

  Brute bore down on his blade.

  Lacking the strength to drive him off, Edric trembled, about to break.

  Hob’s breath caught in his throat.

  Then, without warning, Edric pulled his own sword away, and lurched to the side. It worked! With nothing left resisting his weight, Brute crashed forward in heap on the crag’s top step.

  Seeing this, the other goblins finally shook off their stupor, and rushed at Edric. But before they could nab him, Edric sheathed his sword, hopped on Brute’s back, and launched himself into the air.

  Whoosh! Edric caught the flying gnome mid-swing, wrapping both arms around him and grasping his leather harness with both hands. Suddenly, he and the gnome were soaring away, leaving the goblins behind.

  The goblins all gaped, Hob included. He watched in awe as the airship retreated into the mist, Edric and the gnome still swaying beneath it. It kept its eastward course, rising and picking up speed as its propellers came out of reverse, churning the cloud. At once, it seemed unreal again, as if it had never been there at all, a mysterious phantasm, spiriting Edric off to another world.

  Then it was gone.

  Although Hob was sad at the loss of his friend, he smiled to himself. At least he had helped make things right.

  “Let me at him!” roared Gnasher, as he burst out of the crowd at the peak of the crag. He stopped. “Huh? Where is he? Where’s the human?”

  Instead of finding the Prince there, Gnasher found Brute. Brute got up and socked him right in the nose. Gnasher flopped backward into the goblins behind him, knocking several of them over, and setting off a chain reaction. A terrible brawl erupted atop the crag!

  Hob turned to go. Eventually all involved would remember the mysterious little goblin who was really to blame for Edric’s escape—and he didn’t want to be there when they did.

  Slipping quietly out of the distracted crowd, Hob dropped onto an unoccupied boulder. He took a deep breath, feeling like he was coming up for
air after a long dive.

  From there, he descended over rocks and snowdrifts, working his way westward down the steep wall of the gorge. It felt as if he were floating. With nowhere to go and no one to miss him, all he could do was keep moving. He would return to the mountain pass, and then head into the wilds alone.

  As Hob reached the floor of the gorge, he took cover behind a boulder, and peeked out. The last lines of the goblin army had already passed. They were mere shadows in the fog a good distance up the gorge. Hob could still hear them muttering, though.

  “They’re sayin’ the boy escaped!”

  “They’re sayin’ he was taken by a ghost ship!”

  “The humans tricked us!”

  “We should go back and flatten their city!”

  “That’d teach ’em for trickin’ us with their ghost ships!”

  “Sure would!”

  Hob had to move. If the goblins did try doubling back for revenge on Valley Top, the flooded ravine would stop them. But there was nothing to save him from their wrath. He had to get as far away as possible.

  Slipping out from behind the boulder, Hob took off. He bounded down the gorge as fast as his short legs and oversized armor would allow. But when he reached the midway point—the fork where the narrow northern channel branched off from the main gorge—a huge, dark shape leapt out of the rocks ahead of him.

  slam! Hob ran right into it. Massive hands lifted him off the ground, and multiple faces slid down into view.

  “We knew we smelled a little goblin …” whispered the heads of Carl the Troll.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Before the Dawn

  The cloud was thinning and the sky behind it growing lighter. A rising wind howled at their backs, sweeping waves of mist over them as they picked their way up the rocks—Carl the Troll carrying Hob under one massive arm.