Blood in Snow: (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book Three)

by Robert Evert

  Sir Eden fumbled with his pockets, looking for paper. “Yes, sire.”

  “Sire!” several knights said at once.

  “This is foolhardy! Do you really want to trek all the way to the mountains in this weather to—?”

  The King sprang up and pounded his fist onto the map. “Enough planning! Let’s go kill something!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Is that it?” King Lionel peered between the pine trees. “I can’t see anything. Where is it? Let us get closer!”

  Edmund shushed him.

  “Do not dare to—!”

  “Sire, please,” Edmund whispered, trying to calm the King. “Trust me. The goblins are right up that hill, behind that door.”

  Several lords and knights with them scoffed.

  “I don’t see any such door,” Lord Willis grumbled. “All I see is snow and more damned snow.”

  “And it’s freezing!” Sir Regis said, tugging tight his cloak. “I hate these lands. I say let the accursed rebels have them.”

  “Be quiet!” the King roared. “Don’t you know there are goblins right up this hill?”

  Over a fortnight from Rood in the foothills of the northern Haegthorn Mountains, Edmund, the King, and seventy of his best knights and lords huddled at the edge of a forest covering the snowy hillside. In a deep fold of the rising hills lay the black iron door through which Edmund had once entered the mines to rescue Molly.

  Farther down the mountain slope, the rest of the King’s forces lay hidden. Pond, Abby, Becky, Hendrick, and twenty of Hendrick’s guards were with them, all armed with black-bladed weapons Edmund and Toby had reforged before the army had set out from Rood.

  The plan was that Edmund would lead the King and his band of knights into the mines, wreaking havoc, killing goblins, rescuing as many slaves as they could, and then flee back into the forest, where the rest of the army would ambush the pursuing goblins. When the lords and knights first heard this, they merely rolled their eyes and exhaled loudly. Now, after two weeks of marching in the snow and dragging sleds with extra supplies, they were starting to complain openly.

  “Your Highness,” Lord Archibald said, breath billowing in great indignant puffs. “This has gone on long enough! This stuttering moron has—”

  “Let’s go to the door,” Edmund said to the King, ignoring the lord and the others around him. “But only take a handful of m-m-men. We can’t all fit in the dell, or the room behind the door. Who do you want to bring?”

  “I will go with my guard,” the King said enthusiastically. “The rest of you cowards can stay here, holding hands!” Laughing, he donned his frost-covered helm. “Let’s go!”

  Edmund led the King and his personal guard up the slope. Their chainmail and shields clattered as they shuffled along on the snowshoes Cavin had made for them.

  They reached the dell in which the door was hidden.

  “By the gods!” the King exclaimed. “You weren’t lying! There it is, as black as night! Good work, Edwin! What now?”

  “Sire,” one knight said, just as surprised as the King to see the door. “If you’ll allow me … we don’t know what’s on the other side. It could be—”

  “Of course we do!” the King said. Edmund laid a finger to his own lips to get the King to speak more softly. “There are goblins on the other side!” he whispered. “Goblins ready to meet my blade! I can smell them, the filthy animals!”

  The knights peered at each other while Edmund listened at the door.

  There was laughing, then the sound of movement.

  King Lionel touched Edmund’s cheek. “What’s all this on your face?” He rubbed his fingers together. “This slimy stuff?”

  “It’s moose fat.”

  “Ew!” He wiped his fingers off on a knight’s coat. “Disgusting!”

  Edmund shushed him again.

  “So how will we get in?” the King whispered.

  Edmund was about to explain how he would simply knock and pretend to be a goblin party returning from a hunt when somebody unlocked the door from inside. Immediately the knights shoved Edmund out of the way, surrounding their King, shields and weapons at the ready.

  The black door swung inward to reveal three goblins wearing furs and carrying bows. Two others sat at a table, laughing, though their expressions of mirth suddenly changed to shock, then to horror, as knights surged forward, swinging their swords and bashing with their shields.

  “Wait!” the King shouted, pushing between two knights. “Wait for—”

  It was too late. By the time he’d managed to enter the guardroom, five goblins lay dead, scattered across the bloody floor.

  “Blast it!” the King swore. “Next time, save one for me! There’d better be more than this, Edwin!”

  “There are, sire.” Edmund wound past the burly knights filling the guardroom, stopped, and listened up the passage leading into the goblin city.

  “What now?” the King asked, like a disappointed child.

  “Well,” Edmund replied, “I suggest you gather the rest of your men and leave behind about ten to guard our rear.”

  “Yes! Guard our rear! Excellent plan. And I know exactly who’ll stay behind and miss all of the fun.”

  He ordered a knight to signal the rest of the company up from the forest.

  “Where does this tunnel lead?” The King inspected the archway’s stonework. “Did the goblins build this? I had no idea they were good for anything.”

  “I don’t know who built it, sire. But it leads to the goblin city.”

  “Goblin city!” the King cried. “By the gods! Let’s have at them!”

  “Sire.” Edmund put a finger to his lips again. “Might I suggest you send a handful of knights up the passageway to make sure nobody’s coming?”

  “Ah! Yes, splendid!” He pointed to several knights. “You! Go make sure nobody’s coming.” The knights cautiously advanced into the dark passageway, shields and swords before them.

  Lords and knights entered the guardroom. They peered around, amazed by what they saw.

  “Goblins!” one lord exclaimed, staring at the bodies by the hissing fire pit. “This far north?”

  “I can’t believe it,” said another. “The little stuttering moron was right.”

  “Yes, yes,” the King said. “Plenty of time later to point out what ninnies you all are. Ready your gear! Battle is at hand!”

  “Take off your snowshoes,” Edmund instructed, tossing his into the corner. “And your coats and heavy cloaks. You’ll need to be able to move and fight. Besides, it’s warmer in the mines, so you won’t need them anyway.”

  Knights heaped their coats and cloaks in the corner.

  “Men,” the King said to the growing crowd filling the guardroom, “today is going to be a glorious day! Fight while you still have blood within your body! Fight and kill the enemy, and make me proud to be your king!”

  Helms replaced fur-lined hats. Gauntlets replaced woolen gloves. Weapons were drawn.

  “I want the first two groups to advance down that passage after me,” King Lionel went on. “Do not get packed together; spread out, so you can swing your swords!”

  “And watch the side passages,” Edmund told them. “There are many fissures and holes and tunnels where goblins can hide; the enemy could be all around, even above us. Watch all shadows!”

  “Well said!” The King thumped Edmund again. “I will make a warrior out of you yet!”

  “Your Highness?” said a lord peeking into the already full guardroom. “What do you want us to do with the supplies on the sleds?”

  “Hide them in the woods down in the valley,” Edmund answered. “We don’t need them in here. We’ll need room to fight.”

  “What he said,” the King shouted. “Do it! Also, I have a special job for Lord Archibald and his men.”

  “Special job?” Lord Archibald stuck his helmeted head into the guardroom, now too packed for anybody else to fit in.

  “Yes! I want you and your
men to stay here and guard our rear. Can you handle that, Archie? Can you manage our rear?” The King chuckled.

  “Sire! I am more than capable of coming with you and—”

  “Good!” the King said. “Make sure nobody gets away from us!” He turned to Edmund. “What are we waiting for? Lead on, Lord Edwin! To the goblin city!”

  Grabbing a torch from the wall, Edmund led the King and his knights down the passageway, wielding before him the black blade of the new sword he and Toby had reforged.

  Chapter Thirty

  Cautiously, Edmund led King Lionel and twenty knights deeper under the mountain, red wavering torchlight glinting off of their shields, chainmail, and grim faces. Behind them, three additional groups of warriors slowly followed, casting wary glances at each dark shadow and intersecting tunnel. They inched along the passage, ears straining for sounds of any enemy who might be hiding in the blackness.

  “How far?” the King whispered. “To their city, I mean.”

  “We aren’t going to the city,” Edmund whispered back. “We’re going under it, to where the slaves are being held.”

  “Not going to their city?” the King said indignantly.

  “Sire, we talked about this before. You want to rescue the men who’ve been captured.”

  “Yes, yes. But rescuing people isn’t nearly as fun as killing them. Unless it’s a beautiful woman and she feels obligated afterward, I suppose. Still, I really want to kill the vermin!”

  “You will, sire. I prom—”

  Goblin voices echoed toward them from up ahead. Without a word, the knights expertly arrayed themselves into battle lines, weapons at the ready.

  “Now remember—” the King began.

  Six goblins turned the corner, literally bumping into the waiting knights.

  There was a rush of movement. Bright swords swung. A goblin yelped in surprise.

  “Wait a moment!” the King cried. “Wait a moment!”

  He pushed forward to find all six goblins lying headless in a growing pool of blood.

  “All right!” The King’s voice reverberated against the surrounding cold stone. He flipped up his visor. “That’s it! The next goblin is mine, do you all understand? Mine! Or I’ll have your heads! I have not killed a single damned thing since leaving Eryn Mas, and I swear by the gods, if any of you kill another goblin before I get to him, I’ll cut you off at your knees! Now out of my way and let me go first!”

  “What’s happening?” called somebody from one of the groups following the King’s guard.

  “Shut up!” the King shouted back. “We’re trying to sneak up on some blasted goblins!”

  Edmund leaned closer to the King and whispered, “In a little bit, we’ll come to an intersection of four passages—sharp left, left, straight, and sharp right.”

  “Which way to the goblins?”

  “They’ll be all around us soon.”

  “Splendid!” The King shook his sword. “Splendid!”

  “We’re going to take the right-hand passage, which’ll lead us to the prisoners. It’s a huge cavern, big enough to hold a thousand goblins or more. Do you want me to draw you a picture of it again?”

  “No, no! Don’t bore me with your details. Let’s go and hope it’s jam-packed with vermin!”

  “I suggest,” said Edmund, “you station some men at the crossroads, and then you can lead the rest into the cavern, killing every goblin we find.”

  “Exactly! My god, Edwin, you and I are cut from the same cloth!” Then the King added, “Of course, my share of the cloth is substantially more impressive than your share.”

  “Yes, sire. Also, I suggest we make an effort to not let any goblins escape from the cavern alive. We don’t want to raise the alarm until we absolutely have to.”

  “Oh, fine!” the King said, disappointed. “We’ll kill them quickly, but the fun had better last longer than it has. I want real battle! None of this ‘two or three goblins at a time’ crap. It’s frustrating as hell.”

  “There are five major exits from the cavern,” Edmund went on. “We’ll need to push in and quickly cut off any chance of escape.”

  “Yes, yes! I understand. Let’s go kill something!”

  Edmund checked with the King’s bodyguards to ensure they’d heard what he said. They all nodded, smoke from the torch lingering around them like a black fog.

  Waving for them to follow, Edmund crept down the passage, stepping over the goblins’ bodies. Minutes crawled by while whispers and clinking armor echoed in the darkness.

  When they’d reached the intersection, Edmund stopped to whisper to the King, but before he could, a goblin toting a bundle of mining picks rounded the corner. The King leapt at him, crying, “Mine! Mine! He’s mine!”

  The goblin screamed and tried to flee. But King Lionel was on him in a flash, impaling the shrieking creature through the back with one expert sword thrust.

  “Finally!” the King said, wiping the gore from his blade.

  Alerted by the cry, goblins trickled into the intersection, curious to see what had happened. Knights pounced on them, swords swinging with deadly precision.

  “Aha!” the King cried, stabbing a goblin through the chest while bashing another with his shield. “This is more like it!”

  He sliced off the arm of a goblin trying to run away.

  “What fun!” King Lionel shouted. “Edwin! Another hundred of these foul creatures and you shall have your crappy little kingdom!”

  A goblin blew a horn.

  The groups of additional knights ran up to join the fray but were blocked by the King’s guard, who were fighting the goblins pouring into the tunnel.

  “Spread out!” Edmund shouted. “Don’t get bunched up! Spread out!”

  “To the right!” The King hacked at goblins barring his way. “Come on, men! To the right! Follow me! Ha!”

  The King and his guards cleaved their way down the right-hand passage as the knights coming from behind surged forward. Goblins screeched and scattered before them or were hacked to pieces by swords flashing in the torchlight. The stench of blood filled the tunnel.

  “This way!” Edmund called to Lord Harris, who was leading his company up the passageway. “Keep moving! This way!”

  The King and his guards drove the goblins before them with ease, pushing them back as great waves fell dead. The stone floor became slippery with guts and blood. Edmund tripped over dismembered bodies, getting nearly trampled by Lionel’s men as they ran to keep up with their shouting King.

  From somewhere in front of the surging tide of knights, King Lionel laughed. “Aha! Take that! And that!”

  They entered a huge chamber reeking of human sweat and feces, walls lined with blazing torches. Goblins scattered this way and that, shouting and blowing horns. Following their King, the guards raced in, attacking wherever goblins stood their ground. Edmund hung back by the cavern’s entrance, directing the lords and knights streaming in.

  Goblins on high platforms sent arrows whistling down onto the King’s men. Edmund pointed to them and shouted to Lord Harris, “Get them! Pull them down! Get the archers!”

  Lord Harris, waving his sword, charged the nearest scaffold, his company swarming up the timbers as red-feathered arrows pelted their shields and armor.

  Two knights fell, one with an arrow in his visor, blood spurting through the eye slit.

  More knights stormed in, led by Lord Griffin.

  “There!” Edmund pointed to a tunnel across the cavern where heavily armed goblin soldiers raced in. “Stop them! Bottle up that passageway. Don’t let them come in uncontested.”

  Lord Griffin scanned the carnage and saw where Edmund meant; goblins gathered at the cavern’s far end, amassing their strength so that they could attack King Lionel’s flank. Hollering and waving his sword, Lord Griffin led his company into the melee.

  More knights in tightly packed formations surged into the cavern, attacking goblins wherever they gathered. Soon fighting raged everywhere, the ring
ing of swords and the clash of shields all but overpowering the screams of pain and battle cries.

  The pit dwellers!

  Seizing a ladder leaning against the cavern wall, Edmund ran to a pit and called to the startled inhabitants. “Hurry!” He slid the ladder into the darkness.

  One by one, haggard men climbed the rungs and stood blinking at the rampant bloodshed around them.

  “Grab a sword!” Edmund snatched a scimitar lying next to a dead goblin guard and pushed it into the hands of a bewildered pit dweller. “Grab a sword and fight! Kill something!”

  Some immediately grabbed weapons and fell upon the closest goblins with reckless abandon. Some, however, fled to the nearest undefended tunnel, while others simply stood by their pits, sobbing.

  Edmund dashed from pit to pit, hastening people up the ladder as the battle throbbed. He gathered weapons from the fallen—scimitars, knives, clubs, anything that could kill—and tossed them to the pit dwellers who gaped at the carnage. He slid the ladder into the hole and called for the pit dwellers to scrabble up.

  “Filth?” said familiar a voice.

  “Vomit?”

  Vomit climbed up the ladder. Behind him, ascending one rung at a time, followed Tiny Turd.

  Vomit still looked as old and as tired as before, but Turd was now nearly cadaverous, the bones of his broad frame poking out beneath tight, dirty skin.

  Edmund took a step back, unable to even gasp.

  “Filth!” Vomit reached the top of the pit. “It is you!”

  “V-V-V, Vomit!” Edmund cried. “Turd!”

  Turd emerged, hunched over as if carrying an unbearable weight. He glanced around.

  Knights had killed hundreds of goblins; as many as three hundred corpses had bloodied the ground, slashed to pieces. Not far away, King Lionel and his men had surrounded an ogre, dancing around it as though playing a game. When the ogre swung its club at one knight, three others would lunge in and attack it from behind, stabbing at its knees. But more goblins were pouring into the cavern from the far end, fresh and unfought.