Goblin Gigs - Dungeon Dasher Book 1 Preview Chapters

Chapter

Honestly, this town had the nicest jail I’d ever been in.

My sample size was, admittedly, small, with just two other data points — both, curiously, also bar fights over a woman.

The first in Tijuana, Spring Break, and the lady in question had an entertaining act involving ping-pong balls. Alcohol may have been a factor.

The second in a college bar back at home and involved a guy who slapped his girlfriend. Objecting to that got the crap kicked out of me. Not by the guy, but by the girlfriend, who jumped on my back and tried to claw my eyes out while I was discussing things with her boyfriend — all the while screaming at me to “leave my boo-boo alone!”

Of the three arrests, this was the only one I wasn’t embarrassed about.

The guardroom here had two cells and they’d had the sense to put Grimelia and me in one and the rest of the fight in the other, so the goblin and I had quite a bit of room. Two walls of the cell were barred — one with a door and the other shared with the other cell — and the other two walls were stone with no windows or breaks of any kind. The floor was also stone and the ceiling was made of thick planks of wood resting on solid beams.

It was clean — much cleaner than I’d expected and definitely cleaner than Tijuana — with a bucket of water hanging from the bars and another bucket in a corner. There were two cots with straw mattresses along each of the stone walls and a bench in the cell’s center, as well.

I wasn’t as clean as the cell.

I was sticky and smelled like ale — old ale that had sat on a bar’s floor for a very long time — a result of being knocked down a few times. And landed on. And dragged.

But nothing was broken and what bruises and cuts I’d received were quickly disappearing — I figured that was the Enhanced Regeneration thing, but what was it enhanced from? The guys in the other cell didn’t look like they were healing at all, so what was the baseline.

Thinking about my injuries made me think about the fight itself, and it had gone far better than I had any right to expect.

Big Boy — I took a quick glance at him where he stood at his cell’s bars glaring at me — was fucking huge. He had to be at least three hundred pounds — and, after hitting him a few times, I knew most of that was muscle under a bit of fat. Sure, he was probably drunk — or at least had a few ales in him, since that was a lot of mass to inebriate — but, still, I’d taken him down a lot easier than I had any right to expect.

That ulnar-strike, particularly — it wasn’t a move I trained on much, even for one arm, and I’d hit both of his, in nearly the exact spot, with a speed and force that seemed unnatural to me.

Then there was the rest of the fight — sure, some of the bar’s patrons were fighting each other, all with grins I recognized from the brawls I’d been in before, but most of them had targeted me. Even with Grimelia assisting by tripping, kicking balls, and generally making a nuisance of herself, I should be in the fucking hospital.

So, whatever skills and shit I’d gotten coming to Arctara, I had to be a lot better than some first-level character.

The bar fight and how easily Grimelia and I had taken out the other goblins were giving me some things to think about with regard to what to do after I solved the immediate problem of getting back to the manor and making sure Heather was okay.

We weren’t going anywhere until we went through whatever the process was here, though. I hoped it was similar to other places, where the authorities were mostly interested in getting the combatants to settle the hell down and promise they’d be good for a week or two. I was also hoping, since this fight had happened in early afternoon, that they’d want us processed and out of here before the evening rush.

If not, I didn’t know when I might be able to get back to the manor house and return to Earth — to Earth and Heather.

Would a forty in Fortitude let me bend cell bars?

It was worth a try if we didn’t get released soon. Maybe, if I really was stronger than most of the natives, I could just start running and fight my way out of town.

I sat back on the cell’s bench and thought about how long I was willing to wait before trying to break out. Maybe I should try — subtly — to bend the cell bars now, just to get an idea of whether it would be possible. That would be good info for planning.

It wasn’t long.

Turns out I was right about them wanting to clear the cells — either that or the new guy and goblin in town were getting special attention — because we hadn’t even been locked up for an hour before the guard captain from the gate, Jeffault, showed up at the cell door. I stood and approached the bars as he came closer.

“It’s not generally a good sign for the future that a newcomer sees the captain of the guard twice in one day,” Jeffault said, expression stern.

I nodded. “I agree, sir. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Are you now?” Jeffault pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a midday drunken brawl.”

“In my defense, sir, I wasn’t drunk.”

“That’s a defense?”

I shrugged, then nodded my head to the other cell. “Big Boy over there started it.”

“Indeed,” Jeffault said. He narrowed his eyes at the guy, who didn’t even flinch. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time, would it, Hogdar?” He looked at me again. “Let’s get your fine settled and I’ll hope to not see you again today. What’s your name again?”

“Alexander Thomas Mercer,” I said, figuring being in a cell warranted the full name.

Jeffault froze in place, staring at me.

In fact, everyone within earshot seemed to freeze in place, including my brawling associates in the next cell.

“Say again?” Jeffault asked.

“Ah, my name? Alexander Thomas Mercer, sir.”

The big guy, Hogdar, who’d started the fight, and was at the shared bars of our cells glaring at me, went dead white and slowly backed away until he reached the opposite wall of his cell, looking like he wanted to melt right through it, while I looked around at the otherwise frozen tableau and wondered what the hell was going on.

Jeffault slowly turned his head to the side, but his eyes never left me.

“Guardsman Caner,” he said, “would you be so good as to fetch the mayor?”

“What is it?” I asked, a little more worried than I had been — and confused, because everyone seemed to be taking my name and a bar fight a lot more seriously than me bringing a dead guy and a few goblin corpses into town.

“I trust you understand why I must wait for the mayor, sir,” Jeffault said.

I didn’t, but whatever it was had him calling me “sir,” so I wasn’t going to argue with him.

Only a few minutes later, the guardsman returned with another man.

He was somewhat short — maybe five-three — balding on top, with what hair he had mostly gray, and only a few bits of black left. He was fat, too — maybe “portly” would be the term used when you were talking about the mayor of some fantasy world town. Much better dressed than most of the people I’d seen since arriving, with a long, white shirt that hung to his knees, and a red vest, almost as long, trimmed with gold.

He walked right up to the bars of the cell and looked at me, then nodded.

“Your name?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Alexander Thomas Mercer, sir.”

Another nod. “May I see your right forearm, please?”

That was odd — but you didn’t get out of a cell by arguing with the mayor. I extended my right arm and even spread my fingers wide in case he wanted to examine them, too. I worried, rather belatedly, that I might have committed some crime for which they wanted to chop off my hand, but it was too late now.

“Ah, the other side?” the mayor asked. “If you please?”

I sighed and rolled my arm over.

The mayor’s face went white, and he had to work his mouth a lot before speaking.

“Jeffault, would you be so good as to release Lord Mercer?”

*

Mayor Cartnal led us out of the guard house to the building next door.

I had a temptation to just run, head straight out of town and get back to the manor as fast as I could, but I still didn’t have a fucking ax and I didn’t think the goblin’s short sword would get me through the door, even if it wasn’t locked up by the guards with our other stuff.

The mayor’s office was cozy and cluttered, with shelves covered in stacks of paper, books, and some odd-looking knick-knacks. His desk was equally cluttered and the glimpse I got of his chair before he sat down showed cushions defeated by many years of hefty ass cheeks.

“Have a seat, please, Lord Mercer,” Mayor Cartnal said, gesturing to a pair of far less impressive chairs in front of his desk.

I decided if I was being called Lord Mercer, I should act like him. I figured Uncle Jack had left some sort of word with the mayor that I might be by and the whole forearm thing was for identification.

I had a rather significant scar there from when I was ten and tried to jump a picket fence on my bike.

I would have made it, too, if Tommy Feltsner hadn’t hit me in the face with a Super Soaker just as I reached the ramp. The bike’s front wheel went off the side of the ramp, I did a complete flip over the handlebars, and the only reason the picket didn’t go through my throat was me throwing my forearm in front of me.

After the stitches came out, I held Tommy’s face down in a pile of dog shit until he apologized enough, then I hosed him off and we went to the store for pop rocks and grape soda.

Good times.

“Mayor Cartnal,” I said, deciding to play the Lord Mercer card for all it might be worth, “I would love to stay and make your acquaintance, but I have some pressing, urgent business — what I need from you, immediately, sir, is a fast horse and a really big ax.”

I crossed mental fingers as the mayor opened his mouth, then closed it and took a deep breath. “Of course, Lord Mercer — woodsman or battle?”

*

“You are lord, Master?”

“Looks that way,” I said, wincing as the horse’s gait bounced the little goblin’s tight ass against me again.

I’d first suggested Grimelia ride behind me, but she said she was afraid of horses and worried she’d fall off, so she’d feel safer if she sat in front of me where I could catch her if she started slipping.

She was a liar.

What she really had in mind, I decided, was exactly what was happening now — rubbing her ass against the inevitable erection that caused and probably rubbing her own bits against the saddle’s front ridge. It didn’t have a saddle horn like I was used to — in fact, it was different than either a western or English saddle, being more oval-shaped with high, leather ridges and a more pronounced hump formed at the front and back.

We were on our way back to Mercer Manor, this world’s version, with a horse hurriedly provided by Mayor Cartnal and four axes strapped to some kind of carrying platform attached to the back of the saddle. It wasn’t saddlebags, just a flat platform made of leather-wrapped wood.

I suppose I might have expected that Uncle Jack was a bigshot around here, — probably would have saved me some time and trouble — but I hadn’t really been thinking in “little fantasy world town with the big fucking Mercer Manor way up on a hill looking down on it” — I was used to Earth-side towns and cities. If I moved out of my apartment, the only one who’d care would be my landlord, not the fucking mayor. No, my landlord wouldn’t care either.

“Should call you Lord or Master, Master?”

“You should call me Alex, please,” I tried for, like, the thousandth time with the damn goblin.

“Ah-lek. Ah-lek-sa. Ah … fuck. Too hard. You Master, Master.”

I sighed. She did seem to have trouble transitioning from the Ah to El and even more from Eh to Ex. Maybe it was the teeth.

Or she was lying about that, too. Who the fuck knew with a goblin?

We were on a fairly good stretch of the road, so I urged the horse into a faster gait, ignoring what that made the goblin’s ass do so we could reach the manor and Heather faster.

Thoughts of Heather made me wonder how she’d reacted when she woke up and found me gone. Probably scared, worried, and angry all at once, so I mentally prepared myself for hugging, crying, and being slapped in the face — maybe I should get her over here to this world before she got to the slapping-stage so my jaw would heal faster.

We reached the turn off — the path to the manor was overgrown, but still visible — and eventually the gate. I hadn’t noticed on my way out, but the wall here was stone instead of brick. The gate was half off its hinges and those were rusted, so there was only a small gap between the gates. It looked like it would take a lot of effort to clear the debris on the ground and get them to swing freely again.

“We’ll have to leave the horse here and walk the rest of the way,” I said, helping Grimelia down off the horse, then grabbing the axes and draping the horse’s reins over a nearby branch. I wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to go down — if Heather was safe over on the Earth-side I’d have to give some thought to whether I was coming back to Arctara or not. Yeah, there was gold here, but there were also the assholes — with swords.

I tried to stop thinking of the other possible outcomes.

I slid through the gap in the gate and Grimelia started to follow but stopped and frowned.

“Something wrong?”

“No pass,” the goblin said.

“What? Why not?”

She raised a green hand and held it in front of her as though pressing against an invisible barrier.

“Is that some kind of … magic?”

The goblin shrugged. “Master’s house — you not know?”

“Yeah … I kind of just got here.”

I hadn’t really considered the implications of this world — getting here through a portal in my basement and goblins — but I guess all signs pointed to magic being a thing too.

This situation sucked — I needed to get back to Heather, but I didn’t want to leave Grimelia on her own. The little goblin put on a tough show, but I was literally all she had right now, and I thought a lot of her bravado and calling me master might be trying to hide some fear over that.

And what am I going to do about her if I decide not to come back?

That was a troubling question. It’s not like she could come over to the Earth-side … could she? I didn’t know — there were a lot of extreme body-modders on the internet, so maybe?

I pushed that thought down, too, and considered how to get Grimelia past some kind of magic barrier around the house … yeah, I could see Uncle Jack using something like that to keep out strangers. The thought that the barrier might be to keep out those with evil intent crossed my mind, but if Grimelia wanted to hurt me she could have sat behind me on the horse and stuck a dagger in my kidney any time over the last hour or so. Probably strangers were kept out, then, but the house would have to have staff when it was up and running, right? So there had to be some way to tag people as being allowed to come and go — and as the new Lord of Mercer Manor, I should have the ability to grant that, right?

I suppose there could have been some sort of key that let people through — but I’d passed through it, and I wasn’t carrying anything special. Was it my blood, maybe? The fact that I was related to Uncle Jack? Was there some kind of ceremony where I had to paint Grimelia’s forehead with my blood or something?

Whatever — thinking about it wasn’t getting me home to Heather and wasn’t solving how to do that without abandoning Grimelia. Maybe it was something I could just grant, rather than trying to search the house for a stash of magical key fobs or performing some kind of blood magic.

“All right, house magic, or whatever,” I said, spreading my arms wide, palms down to the earth. “As Lord of Mercer Manor, I grant the goblin, Grimelia, access to the house and grounds!”

Nothing happened. Grimelia cocked her head to one side, brow furrowed, but then the hand she was pressing against the invisible barrier moved forward and her eyebrows raised. She stepped through the gate and stared at me.

“Master has magic?”

I shrugged. “No idea — I just figured it was either a physical token or some kind of order from the owner. If I’m Lord Mercer now…” I shrugged.

“Master not so dumb.”

I was beginning to think “Master” might have a different meaning in goblin than English.

“Come on,” I said, starting for the house.

Grimelia followed me there and through the gap of the broken front door, then down the stairs to the basement, which was different than I’d left it.

A half dozen oil lamps burned on the walls, dispelling the darkness I’d been expecting with a warm light, clearly showing the rough walls and cobbled floor that led to the doorway back to Earth.

Which was wide open.

Chapter

Alex,

You’re a fucking asshole.

At least, that’s the only reason I can think of for you running off to whatever the fuck that place is without at least waking me up.

I can’t believe you left me alone in a haunted house with an inter-dimensional portal in the basement without even a fucking note.

Or something took you there and didn’t give you the chance.

So what am I supposed to think and do?

Either way, I’m coming after you and you’re either getting rescued or ass-kicked when I find you.

Anyway, it’s 9am and I’m going to head for that weird town first. I’ll try to get back by noon and leave an update here.

Please be okay so I can kick your ass.

Heather

That was an email both sent to me and left open on Heather’s phone which was sitting, unlocked, on the concrete floor of the manor’s Earth-side basement, just inside the open portal-door.

It was well past noon and Heather wasn’t here — on the other hand, she’d left at nine, on foot, and there was no way she could have made it to town and back by noon. She was apparently much more optimistic about how far away the town was than I had been.

“What?” Grimelia asked, still cowering on the other side of the doorway and peeking around its frame. Something about the steady, electric light on the Earth-side seemed to freak her out. I wasn’t even sure she could pass over to the Earth-side — and if she could, would she stay a goblin or change in some way?

“It’s a message from my friend,” I told her, then read it to her.

The goblin grunted. “Friend right. Go danger without tribe, get ass-kick.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” I muttered, trying to figure out what to do.

Heather’s original message was the only one, so obviously she hadn’t made it back to leave an update, but for all I knew, she’d made it to town, heard about me by now — the return of “Lord Mercer’s heir” was probably big gossip — and was even now stomping up the manor’s drive to smack me.

I could hope.

Hope, but not take any chances, which meant I had to go back out there after her.

“I need to change clothes and get some gear, then we’re going after her,” I said, setting Heather’s phone back down where I found it.

“Is magic?” Grimelia asked, looking first at the phone, then at the Earth-side basement lights.

“Not really, but you can think of it that way,” I said. “You don’t have to come through the doorway if you don’t want to — I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Grimelia nodded and I stood to go upstairs and change into something other than pajamas, including my boots.

“Have smell?” the goblin asked before I reached the stairs.

I stopped and turned back, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Tribe-girl,” she said, nodding at the phone. “Have smell?”

“You mean does she stink?” I thought that was a pretty rude question about someone you’d never met.

Grimelia rolled her eyes. “Smell-like! Have clothes? Bed? I track.”

“You can track by scent?”

Another eyeroll. “Humans. How survive nose-blind?” She nodded. “Track good.”

“That’s fantastic! Yeah, I’m sure she left something like that. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

The goblin nodded and I rushed upstairs to the bedroom Heather and I were using.

I changed into more appropriate clothes for trudging around a fantasy world — jeans, my boots, and a layered upper look of t-shirt, flannel shirt, and leather jacket. The weather wasn’t cold yet, in either world, but there’d been a definite chill when I set out that morning and the evening was likely to bring it back. I didn’t know how long we’d be looking for Heather, but I didn’t want to take chances if the search ran overnight.

Heather’s pajamas were balled up by a pile of her things where her backpack had been, so I grabbed those. Grimelia’s offer, and ability to track, was a definite plus.

Then I went out to my car and dug through the trunk. One of Heather’s bows was missing, so she must have taken it with her. I took the other case and pulled my own gear bag from where I kept it wedged against the back seats. Having my MMA and kendo gear with me cut down on my luggage space when driving for rideshares, but I almost always had it with me in case business got slow and I decided to stop by the gym or dojo.

I slung the duffel containing my gear over a shoulder, then also stopped at the kitchen to grab several bottles of water and a few sodas, as well as the rest of the food we’d brought — a lot of that was missing, so Heather must have taken supplies with her.

I half expected the portal door to be closed and locked again when I returned to the basement, but it was still open, still had the orange glow of oil lamps lighting it, and still had an adorable goblin peeking around the jam, eyes widening with relief at my return.

My phone was working on this side of the portal, too, so I did the same as Heather and sent her an email saying I was going to look for her and if she saw the message she should stay put and wait for me to return — or, if she wouldn’t do that, because she wouldn’t, to go into town and tell the guards or the mayor she was waiting for Lord Mercer’s return. I set my phone next to hers, then frowned at the door.

It was open, but just swinging freely on its hinges, and the sound of it closing and its locks clicking into place still rang in my ears from earlier this morning. Whatever had shut me on the other side and locked the door — then unlocked it again for Heather — was still around someplace and I didn’t want to risk us getting locked on the other side again.

Taking the thing completely off the hinges occurred to me, but I still wanted the option of keeping things out of the Earth-side, so I settled for wedging one of the axes between the bottom of one side and the smooth concrete of the Earth-side basement, and then jamming it in good and tight by hitting it with the flat side of one of the other axes a few times. It was something that could be undone, but not accidentally or even easily.

I cracked open one of the sodas and drained half of it, sighing with satisfaction — the ale we’d had with lunch in the inn had been completely flat. It had flavor, but its texture had been more like gritty water than the beers I was used to. Something cold and sugary made me ready to face Arctara again and I had a feeling I was going to want the extra energy.

“Do you want one?” I asked Grimelia as she eyed me and the can I held warily.

“What?”

“It’s a drink from my world,” I said. “It’s cold and sweet and tastes like…” I checked the can, as this was one of the ones Heather had picked out. “Well, it’s supposed to taste like strawberries, but basically it’s just sweet and tastes like … something.”

The goblin cocked her head to one side. “I try.”

I opened the second soda, handed it to her as I drained the rest of mine, and then jerked away as strawberry soda went spraying everywhere. Grimelia staggered away from the doorway spitting and hacking. At first, I thought maybe there was something in the soda goblins were allergic to or something, but it became clear that wasn’t what was bothering her.

“Argh! Ugh! It moves in mouth! What this? Is alive?” She staggered around, continuing to complain while I tried hard not to laugh.

“Not funny!” She put her hands on her stomach and her eyes went wide. “It tries to escape!” The pretty little goblin then twisted her mouth and let out a raucous burp. “Master play trick?”

“It’s not a trick, I promise,” I assured her, still trying not to laugh. “It’s carbonation — air that’s trapped in the drink and gets released when we drink it. I should have warned you, I’m sorry.”

Grimelia snorted and shook her head. “No good.”

“I guess it’s an acquired taste,” I said, opening my gear bag, but as I pulled out the first piece, I frowned. My bogu, or armor, was really made for sparring with the shinai, a training sword made of four slats of bamboo bound together. It wasn’t really armor so much as padding, and I was starting to wonder if it would even be worth it to put on.

Any real blade would go right through it, and it didn’t even offer much protection from a blunt blow, as it was meant only for the comparatively light hits of the training sword — just a few bamboo slats bound together.

I shrugged and set it aside — while it would have been nice to have armor, I’d rather have the freedom of movement without it, since it probably wouldn’t block much of anything that new world was likely to throw at me. Even the goblin’s crappy short sword would penetrate, and since Kendo was scored on points, not injury, all my training had been in deflecting or dodging blows instead of relying on armor.

My sword, on the other hand, would come in pretty useful.

I opened the long, cloth bag strapped to the main duffel and pulled out the swords. I had the bamboo shinai, a wooden bokken, and, last, my shinken, or live blade — a traditional katana made of high-carbon steel I used for cutting practice. The first two wouldn’t be very useful in a fight, but the third would.

I pulled it a few inches from the scabbard and looked at the steel while I contemplated actually using it to fight something. Maybe kill.

The goblins earlier had come as a surprise and I hadn’t really had time to process that we’d killed them — still didn’t have time, so I shoved that thought down and concentrated on finding Heather.

The katana was a legit weapon, though, and, at over two grand, probably the most expensive thing I owned after my car. Even the armor cost less.

I slid the scabbard between my belt and my jeans and hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward as we walked.

I dumped everything out of my backpack and stuffed it with the food and water, wondering if I should load up some tools, as well, then decided I wanted to be as light as possible.

I got Heather’s bow out of the case. This was a more traditional longbow, so she’d taken her composite with her, and there were two hip quivers with a dozen arrows each in the case as well. — one of real arrows and one of the foam-tipped ones Heather used for LARPs I strapped the real ones on my right side, opposite the katana on my left, and slipped my backpack on.

“Okay,” I said, offering Heather’s pajamas to the little goblin, “do you think this is enough for you to track her?”

Grimelia took the pajamas from me warily, as if thinking there might be a possibility they were carbonated, too, then held them to her face and inhaled deeply — which actually looked a little creepy, when you got right down to it. She lowered the pajamas and raised her face, sniffing at the air and nodding. After a few seconds of that, she frowned, then walked back and forth in front of the door, sniffing more, even going so far as to sniff at the edges of the open door itself.

Her lips curled back to show her sharp, pointy teeth.

“Fairy,” she almost growled.

“What?”

“Fairy here — you know fairy?”

“I don’t know fairy and I don’t think Heather does either.”

The goblin shook her head. “Not tribe-girl, other.” She sniffed again. “Fairy here. Less than day ago.”

Great — on top of everything there was some magical fairy creature in my basement? Maybe that was what had led me downstairs and locked me on the other side of the portal door?

“Are fairies bad?”

“Depend,” the goblin said, still sniffing at the air. “This flowers … maybe pixie? Pixie not good, not bad, just stupid.”

“Yeah, great,” I muttered. “The house is infested with stupid pixies, too? Is it something we should worry about now or can we go find Heather?”

If the goblin said the pixies were something I should be worried about it might make sense to delay things and deal with them rather than have them at my back. On the other hand, what’s the worst they could do? If they closed and locked the portal door again, I wouldn’t really be any worse off than when I thought I’d have to chop through it — and even if they stole the axes, I could just go back to town and get more. Sure the mayor might wonder why the new Lord Mercer needed more axes after just taking four of them, but lords were supposed to be weird and flaky, right?

Grimelia shrugged. “Pixie be here later, tribe-girl not.”

That didn’t help, but I decided finding Heather had to take priority — if some fucking pixie locked us out again, I’d just chop through the door like I planned to in the first place.

Chapter

The horse was right where we left it, placidly chewing on some tall grass near the gate.

I walked him, rather than riding, since Grimelia was walking ahead of us, pausing occasionally to sniff the air and ground. She led us back to the main road and then toward town, but paused near the area where the goblins had attacked the merchant wagon earlier in the day.

“Goblin,” she said, sniffing.

I nodded. “This is where the attack was earlier.”

Grimelia shook her head. “This later. With tribe-girl.” She pointed off the road. “Take.”

“Goblins took Heather?” My blood was chilling as I contemplated that. Every goblin I’d encountered so far, except for Grimelia, was an asshole, and I was terrified of what they might do to her. “What would goblins want with her?”

“Goblin. One. Take for…” She glanced at me. “Take.”

“One goblin? Fuck — was it the one who got away this morning?”

Grimelia nodded.

“Fuck,” I muttered again. I should have gone after the little fucker and ended him. “How long ago?”

“Half half-sun?”

I was glad she said it as a question, because I didn’t know what she meant either.

“What?”

Grimelia rolled her eyes and pointed up. “Half-sun.” She moved her arm to point up at a about a forty-five degree angle. “Half half-sun.”

“About three or four hours?”

Grimelia shrugged.

Wonderful. Heather must have arrived here and been captured by the goblin about the time Grimelia and I were arriving at Dunbarrow — we were hours behind them and anything could be happening to Heather.

“Let’s get going,” I said, and the little goblin led the way off the road into the trees.

We walked for several hours, pausing occasionally for Grimelia to cast back and forth, sniffing to keep us on the trail, until the shadows started lengthening and it became hard to see under the tree canopy.

“How close?” I asked. “Are we gaining on them?”

“Some — tribe-girl slow. Fall and fall again.” The goblin pointed out some disturbed leaves.

I’d been paying so much attention to Grimelia that I hadn’t been watching the trail closely myself, relying on the goblin’s superior nose to lead us, but even with that I’d noticed several similarly disturbed areas. At first, I worried that Heather was injured and unable to walk, but then I thought it was usually in the more open spaces where the trace was more evident and easier to see.

“She’s leaving a trail,” I said.

Grimelia nodded. “Unless have one leg, no eyes — nothing fall that much.”

Even in the brief pause, the forest had grown darker and then, as though someone flipped a switch, the sun entirely disappeared behind the mountains and we were left in a dim moonlight that barely penetrated the leaves overhead.

“Go? Stay?” Grimelia asked.

In the dark, the little goblin’s red eyes glowed and cast an eerie light over her features that seemed to be reflected by the pink inside her ears, creating a really terrifying sight if you didn’t know how cute she actually was.

“What will he do?” I asked. “The other goblin, I mean — will he keep going with Heather?”

“Goblin walk good at night — tribe-girl walk bad. Maybe go, maybe stay.”

“We keep going,” I said, deciding.

If Heather and her goblin captor kept moving, then I didn’t want them to get farther away, and if they stopped for the night, maybe we could catch up.

“This way,” Grimelia said.

We kept going and after another hour or so Grimelia came to a stop and looked around, sniffing.

“What is it?” I whispered, staying quiet because she’d already mentioned a couple times that Heather’s scent was getting stronger, meaning we were gaining on them even more. The signs of falls had increased, too.

“Close.”

“Have they stopped for the night?”

“Think so.” Grimelia nodded. “Here … not long.” She looked away from the direction we’d been going. “Go there.” She sniffed again. “Water there. Smoke.”

“Like a stream or something?”

Another nod.

They were either stopping for the night or just stopping for water, but the smoke might be a campfire — either way, I wanted to end it here and free Heather.

I tied the horse’s reins to a nearby branch, more securely than I had at the gate, because this time I knew I’d be back, and crouched down to discuss a plan with Grimelia — which, after a few minutes, became the brilliant idea of sneaking closer to see what was what before trying to come up with a real plan.

We did that, slowing our pace and walking in a crouch as we went along. I tried to step where the little goblin did, since she could see better than me. She was also more experienced with creeping around the forest at night — I’d done some hunting, but none at night and very little where it involved sneaking up on something.

I readied Heather’s longbow and nocked an arrow as well as checking that my katana could still be drawn quickly.

After some creeping along, we could hear water running in a stream ahead and a little after that a flickering orange light made its way through the trees to us, telling me they’d stopped for the night and made a fire.

We crept closer, circling the fire until we could see better.

Fucking goblins apparently had a thing about tying people up, because Heather was in much the same position I’d found Grimelia in — just at the edge of the fire’s light, which was set up on a kind of sandbar at the edge of the creek. Or maybe river, I couldn’t really tell how wide it was in the dark with the light in my eyes.

The water had undercut the bank to leave the sandbar and there was a drop of about five feet from the forest floor, where Grimelia and I were, to the sand. Heather had a rope around her neck with the other end tossed over a tree branch that extended out over the sandbar and was tied off to another tree nearby. Her hands were tied behind her and she was gagged.

The fire was small, but bright, located about ten feet from where Heather stood, and the goblin was there, adjusting some sticks that jutted over the flames with two fish skewered on them.

I started to draw my katana and jump down to the sand, but then I saw the goblin was carrying a loaded crossbow and kept it pointed at Heather as he paced around the fire, muttering. In fact, it looked like Seraphines’, the merchant’s, crossbow and I didn’t remember us loading that back onto the wagon this morning.

I hesitated.

Yeah, Grimelia and I had taken out three of the things earlier, but the crossbow worried me. I didn’t want to take a chance on him clutching it hard enough to shoot Heather, so I eased my tensed muscles and continued to watch — if he had her tied up, he wasn’t likely to hurt her soon.

The goblin checked the fish, then swung both sticks off the fire and picked one up, walking toward Heather — he still had the crossbow, though, and kept it trained on her as though he was afraid she might burst free of the ropes and attack him.

“Eat?” the creature asked in a raspy voice. “Want eat?”

I took a quick glance at Grimelia, realizing I thought of the goblin menacing Heather as a creature, but looked at Grimelia as a person. Her lecture about thinking her dumb because of her language skills hit me again and I vowed to try and avoid that type of misconception in the future. The goblin that held Heather captive wasn’t a creature, he was a person — with all the clever, conniving, and evil plans any other person might come up with. Underestimating him could wind up with one of us dead.

The goblin stuck the stick into the ground so the fish wouldn’t get dirty and reached up toward Heather’s mouth.

“Let eat,” he said, seeming to jerk his fingers back an inch for every two he made toward Heather’s gag. “No words! Eat, no words! Too many words. Words. Words. All day words.”

His fingertips curled under the gag, ready to pull it down.

“Eat, yes? No words, yes?” His head bobbed up and down in a nod. “Agree, yes?”

Heather nodded.

The goblin narrowed his eyes but pulled the gag from Heather’s mouth — then immediately jerked his hand back as she snapped at him, teeth coming together with an audible clack.

“I’m going to rip your fucking heart out, you little booger-colored turd!” Heather yelled.

The goblin staggered back, almost falling on his ass, but keeping the crossbow trained on her.

“No more words!”

“Fuck you, you little shit! I’m going to rip those fucking donkey ears off your head, wipe my ass with them, then roll them up and feed you a shit-stromboli! Do you hear me? And that’s nothing compared to what Alex is going to do to you! You’re going to wish I was still peeling your skin off when he gets here!”

“Shut mouth!” the goblin screamed at her, stomping around the fire. “Whole walk — words words words — stupid human cow won’t shut mouth!”

I could have warned the goblin not to fuck with Heather, but he hadn’t bothered to ask me.

“You want more words, shitnozzle? I’m gonna shove one of these branches so far up your ass it comes out your mouth, then I’m gonna slow-roast your ass over that fire! Rotisserie-freak is on the fucking menu tonight!”

“Aargh!” The goblin raised his crossbow, and I readied myself to leap at him, but Heather just laughed.

“Bitch,” Heather yelled, “if you wanted me to be afraid, you’d hurt me, then you shouldn’t have been mumbling about how valuable I’d be in your stupid fucking slave market, dickdrip! You’re not gonna kill me, you’re not even gonna hurt me, because I’m the only thing worth money that you have left!” She laughed again. “You’re not even a good monster! Raiding for months and all you have to show for it is me? How worthless are you?”

“Grimelia,” I whispered, getting a little worried that Heather might piss the goblin off enough to actually shoot her. “Can you circle around and make a noise over there?” I nodded across the fire. “Just enough to distract him and make him point the crossbow?”

My little goblin nodded. “Yes, Master.”

I grabbed her arm as she started away. “Be careful — I don’t want you getting shot either.”

She grinned at me, showing white pointed teeth, then seemed to merge with the shadows as she left.

“I shut you up!” Heather’s captor yelled back at her, stalking toward her and thrusting his hips forward as he lifted his loincloth with one hand. “Buyer no care I fuck!”

I tensed as Heather went silent, staring at the goblin. If he actually followed through, then I was moving, regardless of the crossbow.

“Ha!” the goblin yelled. “No words!”

“I’m just astounded,” Heather finally said in an entirely normal tone of voice.

“Ha!”

“I mean, how does your species even procreate if that’s what you have to work with?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, dude, it looks like someone glued a gangrenous pinkie-toe to your crotch.” She laughed again. “I think my nipples are bigger than that thing.”

“Aargh!”

The goblin raised the crossbow again, just as there was a sharp crack of a branch snapping on the other side of the fire — he spun that way, and I sprang from cover, drawing my katana and leaping off the lip of the stream bank toward him.

The goblin spun back toward me but only made it halfway before I brought the katana down on his forearms with all my strength paired with the momentum of a five-foot drop.

The crossbow and two hands clutching it fell to the ground.

I wasn’t expecting that, since the katana’s more of a slice and draw weapon, designed to cut deeply, not chop, but I’d take it. My next stroke, traveling upward and to the side, sliced through the goblin’s throat, leaving him to topple over, clutching with stumps at the blood spurting out onto the sand.

*

“Alex,” Heather whispered, and as if someone had thrown a switch, her eyes suddenly welled with tears that overflowed down her cheeks.

She started to sag as her knees went out and I rushed to catch her before the rope around her neck went taut. A quick slice with my blade parted the rope and I eased her to the ground.

“You came,” she whispered again, while I reached for her arms to untie the rope there.

I left my arms around her as she brought hers from behind her back and wrapped them around me, pulling herself tightly against my chest. She drew in breath after shuddering breath, hot against my chest, until she calmed.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ve got you now and we’ll be home safe soon.”

I gave her a few more seconds, glancing around the sandbar for Grimelia, but my little goblin hadn’t reappeared yet.

“Better?” I asked, wanting to get up and make sure Grimelia was safe. The other goblin hadn’t gotten a shot off, but anything could happen in the dark — she might have tripped or fallen somewhere.

Heather nodded and took a deep breath.

“I need to be angry for a minute,” she said.

I chuckled and released my hold on her so she could pull back.

“You asshole!” she shouted, pounding her fists on my chest. It didn’t hurt at all, and I knew she was just venting her frustration and anger. “How could you do that? You just left me there in a fucking haunted house while you went gallivanting around an alternate dimension?”

“I wouldn’t really say I was ‘gallivanting,’” I protested.

“What would you call it then? Please tell me what was so urgent you couldn’t wake me up and show me the coolest thing in the entire fucking universe?!”

I blinked. “What?”

“This!” she said, waving her arms around. “Is this not the coolest thing you’ve ever seen? It’s literally another world. This is fantastic!” She waved a hand at the goblin’s corpse. “Even if it does have weird green gremlins or some shit!”

I heard a snort and saw that Grimelia had come out of the bushes into the firelight.

“Is goblin, not gremlin. What gremlin?”

“Aaaaaahhhhhggghh!” Heather yelled leaping out of my arms and scrambling for the dead goblin’s crossbow. “Another one! Kill it! Kill it! Kill it with fire!”

I managed to snag one of her ankles and drag her back before she got to the weapon.

“Heather! She’s with me!”

Heather’s eyes were wide as she kept looking back and forth between me and Grimelia.

“What!?”

“She’s with me — she helped me find you.” I was trying to keep it simple until Heather settled down and could listen to the details.

“What?” Heather asked again, now staring at Grimelia as the little goblin came closer to us.

“Yes,” Grimelia said. “Help find tribe-girl. Master save me, too, so I help.” She looked at me. “Master fuck now?”

The sandbar went dead silent.

I couldn’t hear the water running past. I couldn’t hear the fire crackling. I think even the flames froze in place as Heather slowly turned her head toward me. If I’d been behind her, I’m pretty sure there’d be some exorcist-shit happening.

“You left me alone in a haunted house to go get monster-poon?”