Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6)

by K. M. Shea

“It’s not in the duck pond. Ugh—I hope Michi and Dano’s granddaughters didn’t get stuck to it again.”

  “We had better check. It wouldn’t be very kind to leave them strung in a line.”

  “I know, I know,” Gabrielle sighed before she headed for the stable. Today it’s that blasted goose, but tomorrow? We face goblins! I can only hope Steffen will be himself instead…whatever this is.

  Chapter 10

  Goblins

  The goblin outpost was an unusual structure, thrown together in a slapdash style with boards nailed on top of each other. There wasn’t a straight line or piece of symmetry in the place, and the few guard towers they’d managed to construct were uneven and creaked ominously. In spots, the walls were low enough for a cat to jump, and they were sprayed the rust-brown-red of dried blood—which made Gabrielle’s stomach heave—and splattered with savage shields and menacing symbols.

  Gabrielle was heartened by the architecture, even with the gruesome decorating. If the goblins were too stupid to construct half-decent walls, they couldn’t be terribly intelligent creatures.

  “We should have been the scouts,” she whispered to Puss.

  “Now, now, Mistress. If Prince Steffen wishes to send his men in, we cannot stop him. Our joining them would only increase their chances of getting caught.” Puss shifted in his perch on Gabrielle’s shoulders so he could look at Steffen.

  The crown prince was still formal and closed-mouthed, refusing to look at them, even though he could probably hear their conversation. He leaned out from behind a tree, his blue eyes scanning the fortress.

  “We can turn invisible,” Gabrielle argued.

  “Yes, but it is only half as helpful as it is against humans,” Puss said. “Goblins rely heavily on their hearing, and something tells me a few of the prince’s soldiers are more skilled at sneaking than you.”

  “At least it wasn’t smell this time,” Gabrielle grumbled.

  Puss chuckled and pressed his silken head against her cheek. “Chin up. We’ll move in soon,” he said.

  “Kronprinz,” Moritz said, stepping out of a tree’s shadow.

  His sudden appearance made Gabrielle jump, but Steffen briskly nodded. “Report in,” he said.

  “I compared notes with Dominik and Peter. Combining our findings, we believe there are approximately fifty goblins living in the outpost based on the size and present supplies. Approximately ten of them are out in the woods, if our guess is correct.”

  Steffen’s lips creased in a sharp frown. “That’s too many to make up a single goblin pack.”

  “Yes,” Moritz said.

  “We’ll have to send word to Nick that we need a garrison out here. Hopefully Rune will soon arrive.” Steffen turned away from his guard to speak to Gabrielle and Puss. “We can’t do anything today. Fifty goblins is too many for my guards to attack.”

  Gabrielle and Puss exchanged looks. “We don’t have to attack. We could just terrify them a bit,” she suggested.

  “Absolutely not,” Steffen said.

  Gabrielle sighed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “I don’t care. It’s too dangerous,” Steffen said. “Even if the fortification were destroyed, there’s a good chance something just as evil would spring up in its absence. Killing the ogre would probably stop this spreading evil, but it’s not my call to make.”

  “You think all of Arcainia’s problems with darkness will cease when the ogre is defeated?” Puss asked.

  “Of course,” Steffen said.

  Puss leaned back on his haunches, stretching his front legs. “I agree cleaning out Carabas will purify the border and get rid of the worst of the ruckus, but I can’t help but wonder if we are being played.”

  Steffen frowned. “How?”

  “While everyone is concerned with Carabas and the northern border, aren’t evil creatures popping up occasionally—just a little more often—in the central and southern parts of Arcainia?”

  “You think there is a leader? Someone pulling strings behind the cover of the ogre?” Steffen asked.

  “I don’t find it likely,” Puss admitted. “But I would rather be cautious in this matter than die a fool.”

  Gabrielle snorted. “You can say that after all the trouble we’ve gotten ourselves into?”

  Steffen’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth—most likely to criticize.

  “Your Highness,” Moritz said.

  “Yes?” Steffen asked, swinging his attention back to his guard.

  “The goblins have captives.”

  Steffen stilled. “What?”

  “The other scouts reckon they’re refugees from Carabas,” Moritz said.

  “There are people still living in Carabas?” Puss hissed. “Are they addled? The ogre has occupied Carabas for decades!”

  Gabrielle was shocked there was something her magic cat didn’t know, but Steffen didn’t seem to hear who posed the question. He rubbed his eyes and his shoulders stiffened. “The ogre has been holding humans hostage to keep the district alive. They’re mostly farmers and a few castle servants. When it first arrived, we evacuated as many people as possible. Some lived too close to the ogre, and we couldn’t get them out. Others were too stubborn to leave, and by the time they realized their folly, it was too late. We haven’t been able to move more than a few miles into Carabas lands since.”

  “Fools,” Puss spat.

  Thinking of her family, Gabrielle spoke. “It’s hard for people to leave their land. It’s their life and everything they’ve worked for. We can’t just leave them, Steffen. What do we do?”

  Steffen rested one of his hands on the pommel of his sword. “We have to rescue them, or the goblins will kill some every few days to eat. What kind of timeline do we have, Moritz?”

  At the thought of villagers being eaten, Gabrielle’s stomach roiled.

  “Some of the goblins are gathering various tools and implements for…cooking,” Moritz said.

  Gabrielle placed a hand on her rebelling stomach and shut her mind against the horrible implication. “We can’t leave them.”

  “I know,” Steffen said, his posture rigid. “I was hoping to return to Jagst and bring more of father’s guards.”

  “Unless you mean to let some of the refugees die, I do not think you have that luxury,” Puss said.

  “I know,” Steffen repeated. “Just let me think. Where in the fortress are the refugees, Moritz?”

  “On the east side, near the main gate. They are positioned next to one of the low spots in the walls.”

  “Thank heaven goblins are stupid,” Steffen said.

  “A stealth operation is the best strategy,” Puss said. “Go directly over the walls; free the refugees, and pop them back over.”

  “Won’t there be goblins guarding them?” Gabrielle asked.

  Puss moved to her other shoulder, his tail brushing the back of her head. “Goblins are not known for their teamwork or intelligence. If you can attack them swiftly and silently, they will not think to call for their kin. The greater difficulty rests in being quiet. Although goblins don’t often call for help, loud or strange noises will bring the whole pack down on your head.”

  “I see,” Gabrielle said.

  “The cat is right,” Steffen said.

  “My name is Roland or, if you must, Puss.”

  Gabrielle smiled brightly at Puss, delighted by his acceptance of his nickname. Puss went so far as to nudge her temple with his pink and black nose.

  “Whatever.” Disgust wrinkled Steffen’s face as he watched the friendly exchange. “Could you take us to the refugees, Moritz?”

  Moritz nodded.

  “Let’s move. And keep to the trees,” Steffen said.

  The quiet guard bowed and started off—his black uniform blending in with the forest shadows.

  “How many men did you bring?” Puss asked as Gabrielle plucked him from her shoulder and held him in her arms to make the walk easier.

  “Ten, not including myself.”


  “I’ve heard of worse odds,” Puss said. “Besides, I am worth ten soldiers on my own.”

  “If you say so, cat,” Steffen said. “We’ll have to organize a rear guard.”

  “Oh, no,” Puss said. “You’ll all be the rear guard. Gabrielle and I will slip in alone.”

  Steffen scowled. “That’s an asinine idea.”

  “No, it’s not. You haven’t seen Puss and me work together,” Gabrielle said. “We’ll go in invisible and knock out the goblin guards. Puss can charm them to sleep.”

  “I don’t care if the cat can summon fire from the heavens and ride war elephants, you are not going into that outpost alone,” Steffen said.

  Gabrielle ducked under a tree branch. “You could watch over the fence.”

  Steffen looked murderous.

  “It is only chest height,” Moritz said.

  Steffen stared at his guard with clenched fists.

  Moritz didn’t respond, but he pointed to a wall. “It’s the section there, by the cluster of shields.”

  The group was quiet as they hiked the remaining distance, sticking to the trees.

  “Gather the rest of the men, Moritz. We need to regroup before we make any arrangements for a rescue.” Steffen crouched on the ground. The guard bowed and disappeared into the shadows, as silent as Puss. “We’ll see who will enter the outpost,” the prince added, staring down the structure.

  “Yes,” Gabrielle said. “We shall.”

  An hour later, Gabrielle slipped over the poor excuse of a wall, scrambling to keep hold of Puss.

  “That was graceless,” Puss said.

  “You try climbing over a wall and holding a cat that weighs as much as a small goat,” Gabrielle snorted.

  “Are you calling me fat?”

  “You’ve been well fed at every inn we have visited.”

  “You churlish troll! I was busy keeping us invisible while you smacked into this so-called wall like a chicken that has had its wings clipped.”

  “Quiet,” Steffen barked.

  Gabrielle glanced back at the wall—where Steffen and five of his men were camped on the other side. “Let’s go,” she muttered.

  “I can’t believe I was corrected by the bumpkin-head,” Puss whispered.

  Gabrielle hefted the cat onto her shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

  The inside of the outpost was as badly constructed as the outside. The goblins had thrown supplies into hasty stacks, picketed their ratty tents on the far side of the structure, and cluttered the north wall with racks of weapons.

  The refugees sat in wooden cages like fowl awaiting slaughter. There were eleven of them. The youngest was a toddler, but the next youngest was perhaps eight or nine. Three burly men were counted in their ranks, and the rest were women or children. All of them looked gaunt and underfed and wore tattered rags for clothes. One of the women was injured and had a dirty bandage wrapped around her head and arm. Gabrielle wondered how long they’d been held captive. And how many of them had already been…lost. She forced her mind toward strategy.

  “Only four guards, not bad,” Gabrielle whispered, studying the green-skinned goblins. She knew very little about goblins, except that they were carnivorous, would devour anything with a heartbeat, and that you could tell what kind of goblins they were based on their skin tone. Ashen skin meant you were dealing with cave goblins, the most mindless and stupid of goblins; a gray, dappled skin pattern belonged to mountain goblins, who were tall; and green-skinned goblins, who mostly dwelled in forests, tended to be the best equipped. “Are forest goblins easy to charm?”

  “Incredibly so. They haven’t an ounce of self-control—the guards were most likely posted to make sure no one tried to sneak a taste,” Puss whispered. “Be quiet, and approach the goblin that’s staring at the child.”

  The goblin Puss had selected was rail thin and quite tall for a forest goblin. He wore a leather war skirt of sorts, matched with leather shoulder-pads and a wooden helm that was covered with patches of moss and had a mushroom growing off the top like bug antenna. He held a spear, but his grip was lax, and his beady eyes were focused on the snuffling toddler. A glop of drool hung from his mouth, and his ears didn’t even twitch as Gabrielle crept across the bare ground.

  When they reached the goblin’s side, Puss said, “Sleep.”

  The goblin perked up for a moment, swiveling its melon-shaped head, before it sprawled head-first into the ground, sound asleep.

  The woman who was crammed into the wooden cage with all of the children jumped. Thankfully, she didn’t seem like she was going to say anything as she stared at the suddenly-sleeping goblin with wide eyes.

  “Next one,” Puss whispered, speaking into Gabrielle’s ear so his whiskers brushed her.

  She snuck up on the next goblin, who sat on a stool, destroying a child’s doll with a black-metal dagger.

  “Sleep,” Puss said.

  This goblin didn’t even react. He slumped forward immediately. He almost toppled off his stool—which would have made a racket—but Gabrielle caught him by pressing her foot to his chest. “I’ll have to burn these boots now,” she muttered as she lowered the goblin so he was folded over his own lap.

  She unfolded the handkerchief—gold with a black border and the white Arcainian swan stitched into the center—that Steffen had given her when they’d decided on the plan. She grimaced and muttered about diseases before she picked up the goblin’s dagger and approached the hutch that held two of the able men. She used the dagger to pin the handkerchief on the wooden bars of the cage and then backed up. As soon as she stopped touching the dagger and fabric, Puss’s invisibility slid off it, garnering a shocked intake of breath.

  Gabrielle moved on to the next goblin—who was already half-asleep—and Puss dispatched him similarly. She scanned the area and was relieved to see that none of the other goblins were looking in their direction. Some were sleeping, but most were involved in a big fight that occupied the northern part of the outpost.

  The last goblin guard was watching the fight, so he didn’t hear Gabrielle creep up on him.

  “Sleep,” Puss said.

  Nothing happened. The guard didn’t look in their direction, but he didn’t fall asleep either.

  “Sleep,” Puss repeated.

  The goblin started picking his nose.

  “It’s the helm. You’ll have to take it off,” Puss said.

  This goblin wore a wooden helm like the first goblin, but this style of helm covered the goblin’s pointy ears, and it looked like the inside was padded with moss.

  “And how do you propose I do that?” Gabrielle said, her voice a whisper.

  “Rip it off his head—like you’re removing the green part of a carrot,” Puss suggested.

  “You are ridiculous.” She glanced at the wall, where she could see Steffen and Dominik peering over the rickety structure. “Fine,” she hissed. Her heart squeezed in her chest, but she grabbed the rim of the helm and pulled, yanking the goblin up on the tips of his feet.

  Instead of peeling the helm off, Gabrielle—having failed to see the chin strap—choked the goblin. The goblin gagged and scrabbled with the strap, unbuckling it himself. When he was free of his helm, Puss said, “Sleep.” The goblin fell as if he had been turned into stone.

  “A safety-conscious goblin. I’ve seen everything now,” Gabrielle muttered, setting down the helm with great caution. It wouldn’t do to make a racket now that the guards were taken care of. She approached the nearest cage, and Puss leaped from her shoulder, shattering the invisibility spell and drawing startled gasps.

  “Shh, we’re here to rescue you.” Gabrielle worked on the crude wire latch as a woman started to tear up and covered her face with her hands, muffling her sob. “You must be silent,” Gabrielle said, wrenching the door open—it was only a little bigger than a rabbit hutch. The refugees had to crawl out on their hands and knees.

  “This way,” Steffen called quietly as he eased over the wall. When the first refugee—a stick
of a girl—approached him, Steffen boosted her up over the wall, into the waiting arms of his soldiers.

  Gabrielle unlocked the cage occupied by the woman, her toddler, and two other children. She pushed the door open and glanced over her shoulder. The goblins still hadn’t noticed, and the fight in the north area had grown bigger.

  Next, Gabrielle unlatched the cage that held two men, cutting her fingers on the sharp wires. The men helped boost the children over the fence, and Gabrielle raced to the last cage, which held a man and a woman. Puss was trying to paw it open, unsuccessfully. She easily maneuvered it.

  The woman scrambled out first, and the man—her husband, judging by the way she clutched his hand—crawled free from the cage just when a goblin caught sight of them.

  The goblin shrieked and jumped up and down, babbling in its language. It grabbed a spear and ran at them, snagging the attention of a few other goblins.

  “Move! Quickly, now. We don’t care how much more noise we make,” Steffen said, boosting a woman over the fence.

  The male refugee helped his wife over the wall before making an attempt himself. He was so weak, his arms buckled, and he fell back.

  “We’ll do it together. Jump,” Steffen ordered, boosting the man up. He hefted him over the wall just in time to throw a dagger, hitting an incoming goblin in the throat as it tried to scramble around the cages. “Gabi,” he said, his voice tense as the goblin fell with a gurgle.

  “Coming,” Gabrielle said, standing just in front of the line of hutches. She bashed a goblin in the skull with her sword.

  “Now is not the time to fight, Gabrielle,” Puss said, his voice sharp as he jumped the wall.

  “I know,” Gabrielle said, running for the barrier. She jumped it with the grace of a deer, Steffen right behind her.

  They sprinted to the forest, catching up with the soldiers and refugees. Behind them, twelve goblins popped over the wall, chasing them.

  “Twelve goblins; I can handle those odds,” Gabrielle said.

  “You forget, there’s another group of ten wandering in the forest, and we’re moving slow,” Steffen warned.

  “The refugees can’t move any faster, Your Highness,” Dominik said, the eight-year-old on his back. The boy was barely more than a skeleton. His shoulders were thin and bony, and his eyes—which were anchored on Puss—seemed too large for his head.