Jean Rabe - Goblin Nation

Grimstone used the obscene gesture again and again, directing it at only Direfang. “This is not Direfang’s city.” He insisted, waggling his fingers in the direction of Qel’s home. “This is not a city for a human or a …”-he searched for the word-“gnoll. Not a city for a Dark Knight wizard.” He pumped his fist in the air. “This is a city only for goblins. Direfang should leave. Skakee should come back.”

The thought teased the hobgoblin’s mind-leaving. It would be the easy thing to do. His stomach wouldn’t churn, and he could live without the constant chattering and squabbling of this or that clan. They could well build the city without him.

“Direfang must leave,” Grimstone continued, adopting a haughty pose.

Direfang recalled that the same pudgy goblin had caused a stir on a few occasions in the slave pens. Then, too, he had tried to pit one group of goblins against the other. An instigator, Grimstone was. Direfang stared at the instigator.

“Direfang must follow Skakee and never come back. This is not Direfang’s city.” Grimstone waved his arms, trying to get the goblins near him to agree.

Rustymane passed by Direfang and strode right up to Grimstone. The hobgoblin had a grin splayed wide on his face.

“It is not Grimstone’s city either,” Rustymane said. “I agree with Direfang. Time for Grimstone to follow Skakee.”

“Yeah, time for Grimstone to leave.” That came from Sully, who held Direfang’s axe over his shoulder. “Past time.”

“Past time!” hollered Keth from up in the oak tree. “Well past time!”

“Past time!” became a chant that swelled, drowning out all other sounds as more goblins came to investigate.

Grimstone’s face fell as the tide turned against him.

Flamegrass clan members grabbed at the large goblin, who managed to wrestle himself away from the first bunch. But more came at him, accompanied by Boarhunters and Rustymane. They jostled and pushed until Grimstone was overcome by the throng. Then they pushed him south toward the bluff and the river.

“Leave, Grimstone,” Rustymane said, grinning. “Find Skakee and start a city for two.”

Grallik stood just behind Direfang and tipped his chin up to speak into the hobgoblin’s ear. “In your effort to avoid chaos, Foreman, you could well have helped to nurture it. From here on, your goblins might decide on a whim to oust this or that troublesome character with little provocation.”

“Then hope that the goblins do not want to oust a wizard,” Direfang said grimly, flashing a look at the human. He retrieved his axe from Sully and headed north to cut down a tree.

Direfang slept on the bluff near his spire, or rather he tried to sleep. His thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. He was thinking too much, mostly about Skakee, a young goblin he’d been fond of once and who he had sent away. She’d been helpful on the journey to the woods and had never caused any real trouble before. But she’d seriously hurt Rockhide and really had shown no remorse for doing so.

Such behavior couldn’t be tolerated in his city. His city? He shook his head. No, Grimstone was right about that. The city belonged to all of them.

He hoped Skakee was faring well. He’d never cared for Grimstone and didn’t worry over what happened to the pudgy goblin. But Skakee … maybe he should have handled the matter differently.

Direfang had visited Qel late the previous night. Rockhide had still been with her, sleeping soundly as the two of them talked. She’d said a few of the old goblin’s ribs had been broken and that the tip of his nose had been bitten off; what was left of it looked infected. Another chunk of flesh was missing from his cheek. His legs were terribly bruised from being kicked, and both of his ankles were sprained. She’d spent quite some time pouring her magic into him.

“More than one little goblin caused all these injuries,” she’d said. “Had you stopped the fight any later, the old one would have died. Pity they would pick on one of so many years.”

Direfang saw that Rockhide was shivering under a blanket, and he remembered feeling cold when Qel had tended the wounds he’d received from a bloodrager. The healing was painful too, he knew.

“The old goblin will live,” she’d told him as he stared.

“Rockhide,” Direfang said, wanting her to speak his name.

“Rockhide will live,” she corrected herself. “I have trouble remembering faces and names. But I want him-Rockhide-to stay here the rest of this day and tomorrow. I worry about the infection. It may spread, and I may need to use more spells.”

Qel’s home would be shared with Orvago in the new city; Direfang thought it best that both of the mystics from Schallsea stay together. And the site was near the home of a few trusted hobgoblins who served as both protectors and spies. Her home would not be as small as the goblin houses when it was finished; it needed to be big enough for the two to sleep in and to accept a few patients. Too, Direfang wanted her and the gnoll to be reasonably happy there. The fight again illustrated the importance of having healers in the city.

Grimstone had been wrong about that, Direfang reflected. The mystics were useful to the goblin nation.

Posts had been driven into the ground to mark where the walls would go, and the skins of two bloodragers had been stretched across half of the space to serve as a roof until something better took its place. Lines dug into the ground showed where two interior walls would go; he doubted that the other homes would have the same luxury of divided space.

Direfang himself had not selected a spot to build a home, nor chosen goblins or hobgoblins to share it with. He didn’t know if he would ever. He’d had too many walls in his life-in the mines in Steel Town then being relegated to one of the pens where the knights had kept all the slaves. On one hand he thought it would feel good to have a building he could call home, a sense of ownership and a place of safety, where he could keep the chest filled with maps and books. But he also liked the idea of living out of doors, with nothing surrounding him. Some of the clansmen were digging burrows into the ground rather than building something they called a “too-human home.”

He rose and stretched, shaking off thoughts of Skakee, Rockhide, and Qel, and deciding he might sleep later-if sleep would come. It was the hazy time before dawn, and the wind was the strongest it had been since they settled there. It blew warmth across his face, with all the small branches clacking and making so much noise he couldn’t hear the lapping of the river. He headed east, along the edge of the bluff, staring at goblins upon goblins sleeping curled close to one another. He listened to their snores as he threaded his way through them-snores loud enough to be heard over the noise made by the wind. Only a few dozen goblins within his line of sight were up, either getting an early start on the day or not yet having gone to sleep. One waved to him. There was a sea of bodies, and more beyond the range of his vision.

All of it a dream and a nightmare, Direfang thought.

So many goblins in one place could never be captured like the small tribes and clans had been by the minotaurs and ogres in the Nerakan mountains. There were simply too many goblins for any force to capture, overcome, or enslave.

Safety and freedom in numbers, he’d preached to the horde when he first urged them to stay together. As he looked around, there were more than he’d ever anticipated. He hoped Mudwort was not calling more.

There would be room enough for them, certainly-Direfang had seen a map, and the forest looked as though it went on forever. But more goblins meant more chattering, more fights, more trouble finding food. He held his hand to his forehead.