Kidnapping (4)
The cave the Goblin King had taken for his lair was enormous—so vast that one could almost believe a dragon had once kept its den there.
Into that cavernous space he had installed a splendid throne. If a goblin meant to lead a band, or better still a kingdom, he needed a certain majesty, and a throne was essential. Or so he told himself. In truth, it was nothing more than the Goblin King's private vanity. He could have led the goblins perfectly well without one.
A Goblin King was only another goblin: red-skinned, and a little larger than the rest. A mutant, born among them at an exceedingly rare rate. Humans called such creatures hobgoblins. From the moment of birth, a hobgoblin was hailed as king. Red skin, a bit of strength, a bigger frame—the others followed by instinct. Beyond that, he had no particular qualities befitting a king.
He wore a necklace strung from animal bones and gripped a staff that looked suitably impressive, but if four or five ordinary goblins rushed him at once, even a hobgoblin would not hold them off. Hence the need for a fine throne. To be acknowledged as king, one first had to look the part.
A Goblin King who had led his band for years might have grown into the role, but this one had only just formed his tribe. A novice king, in other words. He had gathered the goblins, yes, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Dozens of them stared at him alone with glittering eyes, and the pressure was considerable.
So the Goblin King arranged his face into a mask of majesty and issued his command.
"Go forth and plunder the other races!"
It was a brainless order with no plan behind it, but the goblins chittered with delight and poured out of the cave in a rush. They might well swagger up to some other race and get wiped out entirely, but that was simply how things went.
The Goblin King sat upon his throne and let out a long sigh. The weight of a crown is a heavy thing indeed...
He was still savoring the atmosphere alone when, not long after, the goblins returned. Astonishingly, they had actually plundered another race. They appeared to have raided humans.
The spoils were a crude iron sword, two horses, two human men, one human woman, and one young elf.
The Goblin King was thunderstruck. Loot of this caliber was magnificent. He had sent them out without a thought, and this was the result. Perhaps the day he founded a goblin kingdom and ruled the continent was not so far off. This, of course, was because the king was excellent. So thinking, he drew his shoulders up as high as they would go.
He locked the three humans and the elf in a cell, and gave the two horses to the goblins to eat. A reward, of sorts.
"Kreehk!"
In high spirits, the goblins lit a fire inside the cave—and very nearly filled the place with smoke and suffocated everyone. The Goblin King had the one who started the fire executed, then ordered the others to tear into the horses while they were still alive. A goblin, he reasoned, ought to possess at least enough viciousness to devour a beast alive. How else was one to conquer the continent?
He himself did not eat. Unless the meat was cooked, it disagreed with him.
"Kree-kree."
The goblins were small, but there were quite a lot of them, and the two horses vanished down to the bone in no time. Watching them smack their bellies in satisfaction, mouths smeared with blood, the Goblin King felt his stomach turn. Even so, a certain pride stirred in him.
He issued another command.
"Bring me the human woman!"
The reward had been given. Now it was time to display his charisma. He intended to execute her in splendid fashion before the eyes of the tribe. Do that, and his position would be secured all the more firmly.
A short while later, two goblins dragged the woman in. The Goblin King descended from his throne and looked her over closely.
"E-eek!"
Seeing her stare back at him, face rigid with terror, he felt, somehow, that he himself had become great. He raised the crude iron sword taken as spoils. It was heavier than he had expected, and his arms trembled, but he did his best not to show it.
One clean stroke through her neck, and the goblins would roar their cheers. Then he would throw both arms wide and cry something like, Goblins, may you endure forever! The mere thought was thrilling enough to loosen the corners of his mouth. And yet he lowered the sword.
Come to think of it, did he really need to do it himself? Kings did not handle such things personally. A king simply sat on his throne and gave orders.
He handed the iron sword to a goblin standing blankly beside him, returned to the throne, and put on his majestic expression once more. His heart was already pounding. The truth was, the Goblin King had never killed a living thing. He had let the goblins devour the horses, and he had ordered the execution of the one who tried to set the cave alight, but he had never stained his own hands with blood. He simply did not want to. It felt somehow unclean. Work like that was for the underlings.
He shouted at the goblin who had taken the sword.
"What are you doing?! Execute the human woman!"
"Kreek?!"
The goblin gripping the sword startled. You gave me the sword because you wanted me to execute her? That was the look on his face. A king's command was absolute. For some reason, the goblins believed this with unshakable conviction.
He raised the iron sword on shaking arms. It was heavy, as expected. His back felt ready to snap. What goblins usually wielded were light daggers, not brutishly huge iron swords like this. Still, he brought the blade down on the woman.
And the sword struck not the woman, but the floor.
Clang!
The blade had been too heavy, and he had missed.
Susan could not tell whether she ought to laugh or cry. A goblin who would not have reached her waist was flailing about with an iron sword as big as his own body, and it was all she could do not to burst out laughing. She did not laugh, because her life hung by a thread.
The goblins who had dragged her from the cell were, for some reason, trying to kill her. They seemed to mean to eat her. The two horses they had ridden from the village were already dead, nothing left but bone. I'll look like that soon enough. The thought set her trembling. The fear that had briefly subsided sank its teeth back into her mind.
If they could understand her, she would have begged for her life, but no matter what she said, these goblins only chittered among themselves.
"Kreek!"
The goblin raised the iron sword again. This time a grim resolve hung on his face, as if he had no intention of missing.
Susan had to choose: die like this at a goblin's hands, or put up even a little resistance. Goblins were cruel. Remembering how they had stabbed Jack without mercy with their daggers, she could hardly bring herself to fight back. But if she stayed still, she would die anyway. In the end, if she was going to die regardless, it seemed better to resist.
"Hah!"
Susan surged up and drove her forehead into the goblin's chin.
"Kraaagh!"
The goblin dropped the sword and toppled backward. Susan ran, straight for the cave's exit.
When she fled, the goblins turned blank looks on the Goblin King. The king wore a blank look of his own, but he barely managed to collect himself and shouted.
"Catch her!"
"Kreek!"
Only then did the goblins give chase. They were a little late, but it hardly mattered.
The cave was fitted with several barricade doors. The Goblin King had ordered them built. He was the sort who valued safety. With barricades in place, even if another race came charging in, he could buy time. He had firmly believed that someday those doors would save his life, and unexpectedly they proved useful in an entirely different way: they kept the fleeing Susan from getting out.
She could have left if she opened the bolt, but that took time—enough time for the goblins to catch up. She was working the bar with trembling hands when a sharp pain at her waist made her flinch.
"Agh!"
She touched her waist, and her hand came away wet with something warm. Blood. One of the goblins chasing her had driven a dagger in.
Susan despaired. She did not think she could escape. Before she ever got the barricade open, her body would be torn to shreds, just like Jack's. Even if she did open it and run, how far could she go with a wounded body? She had no confidence she could outrun goblins in the forest. If she could have, she would not have been caught when she fled the carriage in the first place.
The shadow of death drew near, and Susan felt, with painful clarity, the truth of what Tom had said. She never should have left the village. A glamorous life in the city? A romance with some nobleman? What good was any of that? Simply eating well and living in peace back home was not such a bad life. At least she would not have met a miserable death surrounded by goblins.
"Kree-kree."
Dozens of goblins gathered in front of her. Susan clenched her teeth. The moment she truly believed she was about to die, something like her life flashed through her mind: the days since her birth in Harrington Village, lived by causing one mishap after another; the moments she had seduced men for no good reason, just to fill up her self-esteem. All of it had been pathetic. If I were given another chance, I want to live properly. No vain thoughts. Just work hard, and...
"Kreek!"
Watching the goblins rush her all at once, Susan squeezed her eyes shut. It was too late for regret now. She had braced herself for death in that instant.
BOOM!
The barricade door exploded behind her, and Susan's body flew forward along with it.