Before I could argue how unlikely that was, especially considering we were surrounded by more than fifty chanting maniacs, a roaring voice boomed across the forest. The explosion of sound sent a dozen birds fleeing from their trees, and all the goblins’ tiny green mouths clamped shut.
“ORDA GOBLINS!”
All heads collectively snapped up towards the voice.
Across the camp, a broad, ominous figure loomed behind the cooking pot. While he was taller than the rest of the goblins, his head would still barely reach my shoulders. A thick, black fur-lined cape hung from his shoulders, while a long, crooked nose dominated his muddy green face. Lying across his chest was a necklace of miniature skills – no, not miniature skulls. Goblinskulls.
“Grimlurd!” the goblins yelped, all doubling over to plant their faces into the ground. Even the ones who were balanced on the tent poles leapt down to throw themselves against the forest floor, mimicking the others. Some form of bow, perhaps?
“Rise, gobbas,” the figure instructed with a proud wave of his hand. The goblins quickly obeyed, scrabbling to their feet. I didn’t speak a word of goblintongue, but judging by their respect for the figure, it was clear that ‘Grimlurd’ was some kind of king.
“Well, well, well…” His yellow irises homed in on Lukas and me, sending a chill down my spine. “What have my gobbas found for me today?”
The goblins jumped ecstatically and pointed their stubby fingers towards us. A few barked out some phrases in goblintongue, while others just cackled with glee.
As he listened to their squawks, Grimlurd’s lips stretched into a hideous smile. “O’omans, you say?” Then he stalked towards us, skulls jangling with each step. When his boots were mere inches from our feet, he lowered himself to a squat, the hideous grin still plastered on his face. “Tell me… What’s a couple of o’omans doing out at this time, wandering in the woods?”
Even from a metre away, I could still smell his putrid breath.
Lukas scowled. “Go on, tell him, Naria. You are the reason we are out here, after all.”
Seriously?
“We… Um…” My tongue felt heavy, as if it was covered in sticky honey. “We were just—” A breath caught in my throat as Grimlurd swooped his head in closer.
“Scared, o’oman?”
“No.” But my voice was trembling. And so were my knees.
Grimlurd laughed in a horrible, scratchy way. “Scared ones are the tastiest. I will enjoy eating you first.” He then jabbed his finger towards a nearby goblin. “You! Untie her. Get her readyfor cooking. Tomorrow, we feast!”
Without waiting a second, the goblin he’d pointed to grabbed a sharp, curved blade and leapt towards me. I whimpered, but the sound was immediately drowned out by at least fifty goblin cheers. Clumsily, the beast with the blade sliced through the ropes that bound my chest – almost severing an artery or two in the process. Eventually, my restraints fell away, but before I could stand, a dozen tiny clawed hands grabbed each of my limbs as I was hauled away from the tree.
“Stop, please!” I squealed, struggling desperately to wriggle out of their grasp. While one goblin might not be a threat, a dozen had the strength of at least two large humans.
After leaving it for far too long, Lukas finally piped up, his strong voice cutting through my screams. “Enough of this,” he said in a tone that was still much too calm for my liking. “Don’t you know who we are? My father will have you executed if he hears how you’re treating royalty.”
Grimlurd tensed. “What was that, o’oman?” He lifted a hand, signalling the goblins around me to stop. They obeyed quickly, letting my limbs drop to the forest floor.
“I said, don’t you know who we are?” Lukas repeated as though he was growing bored. “I am Prince Lukas of Drothmore, and that—” he jerked his chin towards my limp body – “is my fiancée. So unless you want to meet an army of soldiers this time tomorrow, I suggest you let us go.”
Grimlurd howled with laughter, the rest of the goblins joining in with their own cackling hysterics. “You think I care about that, o’oman? You are wumbah!”
So ‘wumbah’ meant fool? Noted.
Ignoring their laughter, Lukas persisted, “Surely you know who my father is? He’s the King. He owns all the mines in Drothmore. That’s more gold than you could possibly ever comprehend.” At the mention of gold, the goblins immediatelyceased their laughter and twisted their little bodies towards Lukas, all their beady eyes fixing onto him. “If you let us go, he will make sure that you are rewarded handsomely for your kindness.”
The goblin leader seemed to consider the offer for a moment. He tilted his head, hummed softly, and brought a clawed hand up to scratch his chin.
After some contemplation, Grimlurd answered in a gruff voice, “I no longer have any need for gold… but! Because I am an honourable goblin, I will spare you.” He jabbed a green finger towards Lukas. “But not you.” He then swung his finger towards me.
“No,” Lukas barked. “The King will be furious if you hurt her. She’s a princess. She’s royalty too.”
Grimlurd shook with laughter again. “If she is a princess, then I am a pretty, pretty mermaid!” The other goblins cackled while jumping up and down with vicious glee. “Look at her.” He stomped over and grabbed my arm, plucking me off the floor like I weighed nothing at all. “Look at what she wears.” My muddy cheeks reddened. In the panic, I’d completely forgotten about my revealing faery gown. “She is no princess… You bought her off the streets. That is why you were in the woods, eh?”
I’ll admit the dress was scandalous, but to assumethatwas a bit of a stretch.
Still gripping my arm, Grimlurd sneered, “A prince sneaking off to have his way with a street lady. Too embarrassed to take her to the palace, hmm?”
