Gordan of Riss and the Malformed Sprite (A Madcap Fantasy Adventure Book 1)

by Ryan Drake

  I grinned at him. “Wouldn’t you accompanying me inspire them to do just that?”

  “Huh?”

  “Stands to reason,” I said. “You want to cause me some trouble, as payback for certain events last night. You stick around, and all of a sudden I’m surrounded by more goblins than I care to face.” Still grinning, I added, “You wouldn’t have thought of that, now would you?”

  “No!” He sounded so shocked I almost believed him. “No, really I wouldn’t. Listen. If they were gonna do that, wouldn’t they have done it already?”

  He had a point, but I was more than willing to use it against him. “You’re saying that as long you stick with me, we’re both safe?” He nodded. “So there’s really no need to head back to Ulm. You’d be just as safe if we continued on.”

  Max glared at me again. He knew he had no choice. “Yeh’re a right mean one, yeh know that?” he said.

  I kept grinning, pleased to have him along. Already, this trip had become much more interesting.

  After a while I relented somewhat. “If you still want to get back to Ulm by the time we hit the next town, we’ll find someone heading your way. Maybe they’ll let you tag along.”

  He seemed to accept that. I gave the pony a nudge in the ribs and we continued on our way. I deliberately didn’t mention the pointy, warty little face I caught drooling at us from under a thorn bush.

  8

  Goblin Attack

  “Can’t this mobile flea-bag go any faster?” cried Max.

  “Probably not,” I replied. The little pony had been plodding virtually non-stop since I’d stolen it. I was fairly impressed that it had done so without complaint and equally sure a normal horse would already have stopped or dropped dead from exhaustion. And now we were asking for its best efforts, which appeared to be a sort of shambling stumble not much quicker than its plod.

  Still, we had plenty of motivation. I gave it another sharp kick and it responded with a lurch and a few quicker steps, but it was still a long way short of a gallop. Perhaps if I got off and gave it a push, I thought. Or maybe we’d go a bit faster if I picked it up and carried it for a while.

  A goblin darted in from the side and cast its arrow-spear before running away. The pony veered left, gave a small neigh as it crashed over a shrub, and actually increased its pace a bit more. But it needn’t have worried. The spear, aimed for its flank, struck true, but it didn’t carry enough weight to do damage. It bounced harmlessly away.

  I laughed. Had the goblin been closer it would have tasted my boot. Nor would it have been the first. Over the past quarter hour, more than a handful of the vicious little brutes had been kicked. Some had rebounded to rejoin the thirty or so others behind us. A smaller number I’d connected with solidly. These had gone flying, and one or two had left spatters of green blood behind.

  “I told you not to worry,” I said.

  Max wasn’t convinced. He sat perched on the pony’s head, facing towards me but looking everywhere at once and holding his sword raised in defense, even though he must have known how useless it was. His eyes were large and he looked pale. For him, this must have been a nightmare come true.

  “Laff all yeh want, jus’ keep ’em away from me while yeh’re doin’ it!” he said. Then, “I need a drink.”

  I was happy to oblige. With keeping them away, I mean. Because while I didn’t rate the danger the goblins posed overmuch, I still didn’t want them to come any closer. But if they did, I figured that I could probably handle thirty or so if they didn’t get on top of me. Even though I still felt done-in from yesterday’s beating.

  “No problem,” I said. “They’re pretty dumb. If they had any brains they wouldn’t have chased us like this, but would have set an ambush instead. They would have….”

  The words died in my throat.

  The goblins weren’t as dumb as I thought. We’d just reached the top of a small hill where there were fewer shrubs and no tussock at all. Except for a few lichen-covered rocks, the hilltop was bald.

  It was apparently the goblin’s idea of a really good ambush spot.

  “Verna’s tits,” I said, my grin long forgotten. Verna was the goddess of thieves. I seldom used her name, but for once it seemed appropriate to do so.

  There were hundreds of goblins all around us. Thin ones, fat ones, taller ones and tiny ones. Some had skin light enough to be gray while others were so dark they were black, with every shade of green in between. Most wore little more than raggedy loin-cloths, but here and there one or other would have a gold ring in its ear or a silver chain around its neck.

  All of them carried weapons and looked eager to use them. Many were howling or jabbering incoherent war cries.

  I thought quickly and decided that charging right through them might be the best option.

  Unfortunately, the pony decided to stop and offer an uncertain neigh.

  “Bleurk!” said Max.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I wholeheartedly agreed.

  I kicked the pony’s flanks. It just stood there, stomping its hooves and shaking its head. “Coward,” I muttered to it. I jumped off to free up my hands and my feet.

  As if that was a signal, the goblins charged.

  “Don’t let them get me!” shrieked Max as he curled himself into a ball.

  “I won’t,” I replied. But then I had an idea. A fast as thought, I picked him up by the scruff of the neck.

  “Hey! Whaddaya doin’?”

  “Let me go and you can have this pixie!” I shouted.

  It had no effect. Did goblins eat humans too? Probably, I thought, but we’re a little harder to catch.

  I shrugged. It’d been worth a try. “Fly, Max,” I said, and threw him as hard as I could, aiming for height as well as distance.

  Then I drew a couple of knives and waited the second or two it took for the goblins to arrive.

  Remember what I said about fighting? That I’d do so only when the odds were balanced towards me? Well, in this instance they most certainly weren’t. I mean, I could have handled ten without breathing hard. Twenty would have taken a bit of effort. Thirty would be getting a bit iffy, and I’d be sweating by the time I was done.

  Three hundred? Maybe four?

  Nope. Not for me. Especially as most of my muscles felt mushy, and to survive more than a couple of minutes in such a fight I would’ve had to be at the top of my game.

  So instead of laying about me with my knives and hoping for the best, I batted a couple of arrow-spears out of my way, gathered myself and leaped as high and hard as I could.

  I sailed clean over the first few rows and crashed feet-first into those bringing up the rear, crunching a couple of goblins good. The goblins were quick to react, stabbing at me with knives and their spears, but my armor protected me and I hadn’t stopped. As the poor pony started to scream behind me, I kicked and battered my way through, pausing only when the weight of the goblins grew too great. Then I slashed left and right, punched a fat one, and spun about to shake off a couple that clung to my arms.

  Two more kicks and I saw empty scrubland beyond. Sensing freedom, I surged towards it and burst my way through.

  I ran, as fast as I could.

  Something landed on my shoulder and I instinctively shook it off.

  “It’s me, yeh daft bugger!” said Max, now flying full-speed beside me and struggling to keep up. “Slow down, will yeh?” he yelled.

  I barked a laugh that I barely had breath for. “Not with this lot behind me!” I yelled back. I was trying to speed up!

  He didn’t waste any more effort on talking. Instead, he just strove as hard as he could to keep pace. I eased off half a stride despite what I’d said. It was just enough for him to grab hold of my tunic and pull himself, puffing loudly in my ear, back onto my shoulder.

  “Now run, yeh fool!”

  “What do you think I’m doing?!” I gasped, already short of breath.

  Even so, I did
all I could to comply, dodging thorn bushes, small trees and anything too substantial to run through, and hoping the tussock hid no stones big enough to cause me to stumble.

  It was never going to be enough. I learned that goblins could move really quickly when sufficiently motivated, and they didn’t seem to mind the uneven terrain. Arrow-spears already sailed past me to the left and right, and the disconcerting jabbering had increased in volume and pitch.

  They were getting excited, I thought. And if I kept going as I was, I’d just tire myself out.

  “Look for….” I gasped, but didn’t need to continue. I’d already seen what I wanted: a boulder, bigger than most, taller and wider than me by some margin. I changed direction slightly and kept running.

  By almost superhuman effort I arrived at the boulder before the goblins could reach me. Then I turned to face them, my back safely guarded, and tried to catch my breath.

  Max didn’t understand. “What in all the land do yeh think yeh’re doin’?” he demanded.

  “The only thing I can,” I said.

  “Well, yeh can do it by yehrself!” he said, and took off over the boulder.

  I had time to reflect that I would’ve done exactly the same if I were him. Even so, it made me feel sad.

  Then I was fighting for my life.

  9

  To the Rescue?

  When attacking in numbers, goblins have an unusual but surprisingly effective fighting technique. Sure, they use their knives and arrow-spears as well as they’re able, but as I’ve hinted before they’re not hugely strong and any half-decent armor ought to repel all but the most unfortunate of attacks. But they also cling on to anything they can reach.

  Wishing for a broadsword, I slashed with my less-useful knives and kicked as often and as hard as I could, at the same time as avoiding their knives and spear-thrusts as much as possible. Goblins lost limbs, collapsed bleeding or went flying, and I punctuated each success with a bellowed “Ha!” or “Take that!” or a curse. That part was quite gratifying. But some of their attacks also got through. I picked up cuts on my hands and legs, one of the arrow-spears nicked my ear (and that really stung!) and I don’t know how many knives were turned by my armor.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst. In moments, goblins started grabbing hold of my legs with their hands, feet, teeth and anything else, and I could no longer effectively kick. Others climbed up and latched onto my back and my arms. Not fun, I thought, as it became increasingly difficult to move.

  But I wasn’t done yet. “Get off!” I bellowed through gritted teeth, and crushed those I could crush against the boulder behind me. Sheathing my knives in two goblins (they shrieked pleasingly as I did), I let go of the hilts and used my hands.

  I fought like I’d seldom had to fight before, plucking goblins from me, hurling them into their brothers, punching sharp, pointy faces when I could and slamming them bodily into the boulder whenever I was able, all the while shouting, “Ha!” “And you!” “See what I did to your friend?” and “You’re next!”

  At some point I remembered my tail (I spend so much of my time pretending it doesn’t exist that I sometimes forget about it), and started using it as a club, smashing as many goblins with it as I could.

  They kept coming, jabbering viciously, yelling their goblin war-cries and squealing in pain. I started laughing, knowing I couldn’t survive without some sort of miracle, but determined to last as long as I could and to take as many of them with me as possible.

  When this was over, they would know that they’d been in a fight.

  The boulder behind me turned green with their blood. A pile of mangled bodies grew all around me. My arms, as well as turning the same green as the boulder, grew heavy and slippery with goblin intestines in a way that would have been disgusting if I had a moment to consider it.

  And still they kept coming! I don’t know how many I killed or disabled. Maybe forty or more? But they didn’t seem to care. They seemed interested only in continuing the fight until either they were all dead or I was. And despite my success, their numbers appeared undiminished. Could I keep this up? I wondered. Was it possible?

  Then, without understanding how I got there, I was lying on the ground with goblins jumping on top of me. It was a dangerous place to be, because from that vantage the goblins would be able to use their arrow-spears more effectively. I didn’t want to give them that chance. My curses turned into an inarticulate growl and I rolled left and right, unbalancing those on top of me and squashing several.

  More climbed on top. I felt my armor absorbing blow after blow from both knife and arrow-spear. I tried rolling again, but there were too many for that so I resorted to punching and kicking, flinging those I could grab into others and using my tail wherever possible.

  Oddly, as a goblin stood on my chest and aimed its arrow-spear at my face, I thought of Max and hoped he’d made good his escape. Then I wondered if that miracle I needed would ever happen….

  Right on cue, I heard a muffled explosion. I didn’t know what it meant and it didn’t have any direct impact on my situation, but at least it motivated me to survive a little longer. I twitched my head to the side as the arrow-spear dug into the dirt by my ear. I wrenched myself about as hard as I could, managing to shake a few off, and felt a surprising pain as one of them bit me hard near the tip of my tail.

  “Ow!” I shouted.

  The disrespect made me angry. Imagine biting somebody’s tail! That’s just rude. So I head-butted a goblin that had gotten too close, got my hand around the throat of another and squeezed, and flailed about a bit with my legs and tail.

  Another explosion, this one not so muffled.

  This time, it was enough to make the goblins pause. I surged up to a sitting position, sending several of them flying. That got their attention and they turned back to me. But before they could do anything more, a third explosion shattered the air, this one much closer.

  It took the fight out of them. They scattered, leaving only their dead and dying behind.

  Amazingly, I was alive. But I wasn’t altogether healthy. I hurt even more than I had before and I wasn’t thinking entirely straight, although that might have been no more than a reaction to the surprise of still being alive. I started to check myself over, then realized a better idea might be to figure out who had saved me.

  I looked around and received another major shock. A horse stood not far away. A proper-sized one too, not like the poor pony that I’d abandoned to the goblins.

  A woman sat on the horse’s back. She was tall, very well put together and dressed like a harlot. Her hair was bright red and I instantly knew who she was.

  Gabriella.

  She slid gracefully from the saddle and headed my way. Despite my injuries, I felt my grin return.

  “That was quite an entrance,” I started to say, but the expression on her face wasn’t friendly.

  “Nobody gets to kill you but me!” she said. She swung a cosh I hadn’t noticed her carrying, and all of a sudden there were stars everywhere.

  10

  Recriminations

  I woke up in stages. My bruises were first. All of them, all over my body, including my head. For some time I lay where I was, experiencing nothing but pain.

  Next came my sense of touch, and with it taste. I understood from the taste of dirt in my mouth that I was lying on my face. My hands were tied behind my back. I would have tested those bonds if the desire to do so hadn’t been one of those things (like my ability to move) that still remained unconscious.

  So, face down, tied up, and in pain. Not a good list, but at least I was alive.

  Then my hearing kicked in.

  “But he’s not even human! You saw the tail. He’s some sort of demon or something.” It was Gabby’s voice, smooth and warm and undeniably angry.

  “I ain’t human neither.” It sounded like Max. Good, I thought. He was still alive. Then I realized my ability to think was returning. “An�
� you ain’t entirely either. What difference do it make?”

  “Enough of this. Get out of my way. I’m going to stick this in his gizzard. It’s what he deserves!”

  “Now, hold on a minute. I ain’t sayin’ he ain’t rotten an’ rude an’ just plain bad news to be around. But he saved me from bein’ a snack for them goblins, an’ that’s gotta count fer somethin’.”

  “You also said he tried to bargain your life for his.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t say fer sure that weren’t just some ploy. Savin’ me life now, that’s undeniable.”

  “And so is breaking my crystal ball!”

  I suddenly found I could see. Unfortunately, the only thing in front of my eyes was dirt and goblin innards. Without consciously deciding to do so, I groaned.

  “He’s waking up!” hissed Gabriella. “I’m going to kill him!”

  “Yeh’ll haff to go through me first!” Max replied.

  With a herculean effort, I managed to roll myself over so I could see them. Max was hovering almost above me, sword drawn. This time it wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed at Gabby, who held not a cosh, but a dagger in her hand. Her expression was murderous.

  Perhaps my sight hadn’t returned properly. I could have sworn her skin looked slightly blue, like that of an orc but paler.

  “I didn’t break your crystal ball,” I managed, trying to speak clearly through a mouthful of dirt. “You did.”

  “It was your fault!” she returned.

  Even though it set the blood rushing in my ears, I shook my head and struggled to a sitting position. “I didn’t make you knock the table. And anyway, you don’t really want to kill me.”

  Her top lip, beautifully formed, curled into a snarl.

  “If you did, I’d be dead already. Not tied up.”

  “A moment of weakness only,” she hissed, glancing at Max. “Soon to be remedied.”

  I’d had, I decided, just about enough. “Fine. Go ahead, then. Max, thank you for your protection, but please let her do as she wishes.” I figured if she did stick that dagger into my gizzard, at least I wouldn’t hurt so much. And really, I didn’t expect her to do it.