Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) Read Free Page B

surreptitiously backing away down the trail.
    “Will you stop messing about and kill that bloody traveller!” roared the voice from the shadows.
    “You want him dead so badly, you kill him!” snapped the smallest goblin, looking busily around for the nearest escape route. “This is all your fault anyway. We should have ambushed him while he was distracted, like we usually do.”
    “You needed the combat experience.”
    “Stuff combat experience! We should stick to what we’re good at; sneak attacks with overwhelming odds.”
    There was a deep sigh, and then the goblin leader stepped majestically out of the shadows. Broad-shouldered, impressively muscled, and very nearly five feet tall, he was the biggest goblin Rupert had ever seen. The goblin leader stubbed out a vile-looking cigar on his verdigrised bronze chestplate, and glared at the tightly packed goblins huddled together in the middle of the trail. He sighed again, and shook his head disgustedly.
    “Look at you. How am I supposed to make fighters out of you if you won’t fight? I mean, what’s the problem? He’s only one man!”
    “And a unicorn,” pointed out the smallest goblin.
    “All right, one man
and
a unicorn. So what? We’re foot-pads now, remember? It’s our job to waylay defenseless travellers and take their valuables.”
    “He doesn’t look defenseless to me,” muttered the smallest goblin. “Look at that dirty big sword he’s carrying.”
    The goblins stared at it in morbid fascination as Rupert tried a few practice cuts and lunges. The unicorn trotted back and forth behind him, sighting his horn at various goblins, which did absolutely nothing to improve their confidence.
    “Come on, lads,” said the goblin leader desperately. “How can you be frightened of someone who rides a unicorn?”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?” asked the smallest goblin. The leader murmured something of which only the word “virgin” was clearly audible. All the goblins peered at Rupert, and a few sniggered meaningfully.
    “It’s not easy being a Prince,” said Rupert, blushing fiercely despite himself. “You want to make something of it?”
    He took a firm grip on his sword and sheared clean through an overhanging branch. The severed end hit the ground with an ominous-sounding thud.
    “Great,” muttered the smallest goblin. “Now we’ve really got him angry.”
    “Will you shut up!” snarled the goblin leader. “Look; there’s thirteen of us and only one of him. If we all rush him at once, we’re bound to get him.”
    “Want to bet?” said an anonymous voice from the back.
    “Shut up! When I give the word, charge. Charge!”
    He started forward, brandishing his sword, and the other goblins reluctantly followed him. Rupert stepped forward, took careful aim, and punched the goblin leader out. The other goblins skidded to a halt, took one look at their fallen leader, and promptly threw down their weapons. Rupert herded the goblins together, backed them off a way, well out of range of their discarded weapons, and then leaned against a convenient tree while he tried to figure out what to do next. They were such incompetent villains he really didn’t have the heart to kill them. The goblin leader sat up, shook his aching head to clear it, and then clearly wished he hadn’t. He glared up at Rupert, and tried to look defiant. He wasn’t particularly successful.
    “I told you thirteen was unlucky,” said the smallest goblin.
    “All right,” said Rupert. “Everyone pay attention, and I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You agree to get the hell out of here and stop bothering me, and I’ll agree not to turn you over to the unicorn in small, meaty chunks. How does that sound?”
    “Fair,” said the smallest goblin quickly. “Very fair.”
    There was a lot of nodding from the other goblins.
    “Do we get our weapons back first?” asked the goblin leader.
    Rupert smiled. “Do I look crazy?”
    The goblin leader shrugged. “Worth