Piers Anthony - Unicorn Point

A goblin popped out of a hole in the top of the bank. .He drew back his arm, about to hurl a stone down into the gully. Terel fired her arrow. It struck through the goblin’s back.

The goblin collapsed.

Forel continued on down the length of the ravine without other event. It seemed that one goblin was all the enemy had been able to spare for this. Was he truly dead? Sirel wasn’t sure, but knew that they would not be returning this way, so it probably didn’t matter. She set off in wolf form, following Forel’s trail.

The goblin did not stir as she passed him. He was either dead or too canny to move while Terel covered him from behind. Sirel got through unscathed, and joined Forel in the cover of a tree. Forel had sniffed the vicinity and was assured that no goblins were near.

In a moment Terel arrived, having changed back to wolf form and followed their trail. “Dead,” she growled. “In hole.” Obviously she had verified it, and hauled the gob back into his hole so that the body was hidden. That was good, because it meant that there would be no report of their passage. Of course if another goblin came and found the dead one, there would be a suspicion, but by then it might well be too late.

One hurdle down. The next was a thickly forested section that was sure to be mined with goblins. Indeed the smell was there; goblins would be hiding in several trees, ready to at tack any wolf who tried to pass.

Now the three changed to their human forms. They looked exactly like three goblins. They had rehearsed for this too, but Sirel was weak-human-kneed about the ploy’s chance for success.

Terel set up in the bushes near the trees, her bow ready. Forel stood and walked boldly toward the trees, making no effort at all to hide. “Hey, any wolves in here?” he called. “I’ll bash ‘em!”

“Shut up, nut!” a goblin called from the foliage above.

“You’ll ruin the ambush!”

“Aw, they’ll ne’er get this far!” Forel asserted. Now Sirel walked up. Forel whirled on her. “Hey, that’s for me!” he cried, starting toward her. Sirel dodged behind a tree. “I be coming only to relieve the guards o’ the flag!” she protested. “Molest me not, oaf!”

“Ha-ha! What I plan be not molestation, just fun!” He pursued her around the tree.

Sirel fled through the forest, in the direction of the flag. There were assorted chortles from the trees; evidently the ambushers considered this mere good sport. Forel was gaining on her; by the time she reached the cover of the bushes of an overgrown glade, he was almost upon her. But as they dived into the bushes, they changed back to their wolf forms. They had made it! The ruse had worked! They were through without suspicion.

Could Terel make it also? They waited anxiously.

Soon they heard a commotion from the forest. “Mine!”

“Nay, mine!” Then a scream.

Sirel shuddered. Terel had not made it. The ambush goblins, perhaps excited by the notion of chasing females, had pounced on the next one that showed, and Terel had been unable to escape. She must have stabbed one—but there had been more than one, and no chance to play them off against each other. Was Terel dead or raped?

At any rate, their rear guard was gone. Terel had done well, but now they were two. They could not pause for regrets. The flag was not far ahead. They crept to cover near it and watched.

It was guarded by several goblin maidens. They chatted and tittered and tossed flowers at each other in the manner of maidens everywhere, seeming to have not a care in the frame. But each had a knife in her garter, and there were surely many males within hailing distance. One scream would bring a convergence. Sirel knew better than to try to pass for a gobliness among these; the males overlooked details be cause of their unbridled lust, but these girls would know. She had to wait for her opportunity.

Time passed. The distant clamor of battle came closer. The 1 goblin defense was understrength, because of the number be ing used in the tunneling, so it was hardly surprising that the wolves were making progress. But Kurrelgyre was not de pending on that to win the flag; he was depending on Sirel. She had to have the patience to do it correctly, and that meant waiting, no matter what else happened.

Suddenly three wolves burst into sight, running for the flag. They had won through! The goblin maidens saw them and screamed.

Then six turf-lids popped up, a goblin head showing in each hole. Six small spears flew at the wolves, who could not avoid them at such close range. All three were struck and wounded.

The goblins scrambled out of their holes, drawing their sharp little knives. The wounded wolves fought, snapping viciously, but each was beset by two goblins, and already bleeding. The action was fierce and brief. Then four goblins and all three wolves lay dead, and the remaining two goblins staggered away, injured.

The maidens went to the goblins, checking the dead and attending to the living.

Then a wolf in manform burst through, armed with a bow. He put an arrow through one goblin, and was aiming at the other when two of the girls leaped at him, their knives flashing. He got the arrow off, and the remaining male died, but then he went down under the stabs of the girls. He changed to wolf form and snapped at them, and both girls screamed as the sharp teeth tore their tender flesh. Then a third girl ran across with a club. She smashed it down on the wolf’s head with all her strength, and he went quiet.

Sirel knew that Forel could have taken out that third maiden with one of his arrows, and perhaps saved the wolf. But that would have revealed his presence, and that was forbidden. He had had to exercise the discipline of his mission, and watch one of his own Pack brothers be killed. Now only two gob girls remained to guard the flag. Sirel considered. Surely there would soon be replacements for the lost girls, because that flag was important. Now might be her best opportunity.

She assumed her gobliness form and walked toward the flag. “I be here to replace—“ She paused, as if just now spying the bodies. She screamed, emulating the manner of the others.

But one of the girls was not fooled. “How came thee from the other direction?” she demanded. “Give me the code word!”

Code word? Sirel had not anticipated this!

The girl drew her knife. “Say it now, or we skewer thee!”

These were not, Sirel now knew, quite as innocent or gentle as she had been led to expect. What was she to do?

She drew her own knife. “Say it thyself! I answer not to thee!”

But the second gobliness was approaching from the other side, her knife also drawn. “All answer to us, here. Methinks thou dost be a spy!”

Then the first girl leaped and fell, an arrow protruding from her back. Forel had struck.

Sirel whirled on the other, her own knife flashing. The gobliness, startled by the fall of her companion, was slow to counter, and Sirel’s knife plunged into her chest. She sighed and collapsed, looking so woebegone that Sirel felt horribly guilty. She wanted to stop and try to help the girl, but she remembered two things: her mission, and the warning about supposedly dead goblins. She turned away. An arrow swished by her. Was Forel firing at her? Then something touched her leg, behind. She jumped and turned—and found the stabbed gobliness, fallen on her face, her arm outstretched, knife still in hand. Forel had caught her with the arrow as she tried to stab Sirel in the back. She had indeed not been quite dead! She had pretended to be more grievously wounded than she was, so as to put Sirel off guard, and it had worked. Except for Forel’s alertness. Sirel went up to the flag. She climbed the tree and took it down. But as she touched the ground, another goblin appeared. His mouth opened—and Forel’s third arrow smashed into that open mouth and through the head. Sirel tucked the flag out of sight in her clothing. She walked by Forel’s bush. “We must go!” she whispered.