Jim Baen's Universe

Introducing: Stories by new authors

The Goblin Hunter

Written by Jeff Stehman

Illustrated by Mike Rooth

After much consideration, Adham decided greed was not responsible for his current situation. True, the job had promised more pay than any he had ever taken. Even now, lashed off the ground and spread-eagled between two trees as he was, it still seemed like a reasonable proposition.

No, the problem was not greed. The problem was that he had failed to follow his own rule: work alone. Adham had tried to explain that to the merchant, but he had insisted on sending his own people along. Even the one that Adham had talked the merchant down to had been one too many.

In truth, the merchant's demand hadn't been unreasonable. He didn't know Adham or if he could be trusted. Reason and goblins, however, had little to do with each other, and the merchant's soldier now lay dead beneath three toppled trees. Adham didn't know how the goblins had managed that, but to an experienced goblin hunter, not knowing made sense.

He could see the horses, his mule, and a pile of gear in a patch of moonlight a short distance away. Adham suppressed a strong urge to sigh. He had already discovered that, in his current position, a proper sigh sent spasms through his shoulders and chest. He guessed there were as many as a half-dozen goblins there, in the brush below his feet, and he saw no reason to excite them by adding to his own discomfort.

After what seemed an eternity, the apparent leader of this band of goblins marched along a tree branch in front of Adham. Drawing itself up to its full, inconsiderable height, it confronted him. Even in the filtered moonlight, Adham could see its determined expression.

"Out of respect for your past dealings with goblinkind, I've decided to do this right and proper. So, any last words?"

Adham thought for a moment. "All things considered, I should have gone for the beer instead."

****

Adham left the stable and headed for the nearest public house. He flapped his coat, leaving behind a cloud of road dust. The work had been hard, but the job was done, and now he wanted nothing more than to elevate his feet and lubricate his throat. With that goal in mind, he tried to ignore the commotion caused by a man running up the street. Panting, the fellow stopped in front of a group of men loitering outside the public house. He spoke excitedly to them and pointed back the way he had come. Adham couldn't help but overhear one word in particular.

"Goblins!"

Adham stopped and looked down the street where the man pointed. He looked at the public house door, then looked down the street again and scratched his bristly chin, imagining the taste of the beer that awaited him inside. Heaving a great sigh, he turned back toward the stable.

"Best to look for silver when it can be found," he grumbled.

Several men stood in the middle of the street, their attention fixed on a warehouse. Adham judged all but one of them to be laborers, and that one had the look of money about him.

"Come along, Maible." Adham tugged on the lead to his pack mule. He approached the gentleman. "You the owner?"

The man gave him the briefest of glances. "I'm busy, and there's no work for you today." The workers behind the gentleman spared him even less attention. They were tense and stared at the warehouse as if they expected it to come to life and attack them.

"Oh, I think there's work for me." Adham chuckled. "I'm a goblin hunter."

That gave the owner pause. He looked Adham up and down but didn't seem impressed. "I've already sent a man inside. He seemed quite capable and has a reputation for getting things done."

"Is he a goblin hunter?"

"Thief-taker." The gentleman turned his attention back to the warehouse.

Adham stepped to the pack on his mule, unhooked a lantern, and dug out his firepot. He blew enough life into the coals to light a taper and the lantern. By then a few of the workers were keeping an eye on him as well as the warehouse, for the sun was high and the sky clear.

"Let me show you your man," Adham said, taking the owner by an arm and leading him to a door leading into the warehouse. "It'll be dark inside, so close your eyes for a moment." The gentleman was confused enough to oblige, and Adham put a hand over his own eyes. After several slow breaths, he opened the door.

"All right, lean in behind me and take a look."

The warehouse was dimly lit by the lantern he held high and the sunlight trickling past them in the doorway. Adham could see bales of wool stacked to the roof on one side and crates stacked man-high on the other. In the open space between hung the thief-taker.

"He must have killed one." Adham shook his head. He heard the owner of the warehouse swallow nervously beside him.

The thief-taker dangled from a rafter, cocooned like a spider's meal. More of him was covered in rope than not. He was blindfolded and had something stuffed into his mouth. He responded to their entrance with a brief struggle, so there was some life left in him.

Adham listened for a few moments before stepping back outside and closing the door. "He seemed quite capable, did he?"

The owner, staring at the closed door, responded only with a faint whimper. Adham took him by the arm again and led him back to his men.

"How many goblins are there?" Adham addressed all of them. Their answers tripped over each other, but consensus seemed to be a dozen. "I see. That would make it . . . three to four goblins."

"What?" The owner had started to gather his wits. "You saw what they did to that man. How could four goblins do that?"

"Not four. Three, at most. He'd have to kill one before they'd do that to him."

"How could you possibly know that? And how could three knee-high goblins hoist a full-grown man into the air?"

"I doubt that would take more than two of them. It's difficult to explain." Adham scratched his chin. "But there's little goblins can't do when you're not looking. Look, you need a professional, which I happen to be. Eight silver marks and I'll make your problem go away. Deal or no?"

The gentleman opened his mouth to speak, closed it, gave his warehouse a very puzzled look, and opened his mouth again. This time he managed to say, "Okay."

Adham collected a few things off his mule, the last of which was a wooden chest that he tucked under one arm. He picked up the lantern, entered the warehouse, and closed both the door and his eyes. While waiting for his eyes to adjust, he listened for the scrabble of small, taloned feet around him. He heard nothing, but he could feel them watching him.

He opened his eyes, stepped over a crossbow and some bolts scattered on the floor, and walked toward the thief-taker. The man tried to say something, but the gag in his mouth turned it into a moan. The coils of rope were bound so tightly that his face was a deep red and he struggled to breathe. When Adham pulled the large wad of wool from the thief-taker's mouth, he gagged and coughed.

"Help me." The words rasped through a swollen throat.

Adham shook his head. "Next time, stick to thieves."

He set the chest down and cut the rope above the man's head. The thief-taker hit the floor with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Still encased in rope, he could do little more than groan. Adham set about cutting him loose and heard whispering in the shadows to his left.

"Can you stand?" Adham asked, helping the man to his feet. The thief-taker swayed on his feet but nodded. "Good. Now get out of here, and take your crossbow with you."

The thief-taker didn't need to be told twice.

"And close the door behind you!" Adham called after him, an instruction the thief-taker carried out with enthusiasm.

"Amateurs." Adham kicked aside the pieces of rope with disgust and set the lantern on the floor by the chest. He pulled a heavy sack out of a large coat pocket, turned the sack inside-out to show his audience it was empty, and tossed it to the floor. The stage set, he sat down cross-legged with his back to the chest.

The goblins were also behind him.

Patience is a goblin hunter's friend, but not the kind of patience used for waiting. The ability of goblins to frustrate all those they come in contact with requires great perseverance, like a mother with a houseful of children on a rainy day. Waiting, however, is rarely necessary.

"What's this?" asked a small, squeaky voice.

Adham glanced over his shoulder, as if to see what the goblin was talking about.

"That's an empty chest. Here, let me show you." He turned at the waist, flipped open the clasp, lifted the lid, and held up the lantern so the goblin could peer inside. And peer the little creature did, standing on its tiptoes so it could lean way over the lip of the chest.

Goblins come in a variety of colors, shapes, and assorted ugly attributes. This one had mottled green skin and tiny, human-like ears that were set too high on its head. Finding nothing in the chest, it looked up at Adham with bulging eyes and blinked in confusion.

"See? Empty."

"I don't get it," the goblin said, obviously disappointed. "Why'd you lug it in here?"

"It's a goblin trap."

"A what?"

"A goblin trap. Look, it says so right here." Adham pointed to the letters he had carved into the front of the chest years ago. "G-o-b-l-i-n t-r-a-p. Goblin trap. It's a goblin trap."

The goblin's eyes narrowed in suspicion. It walked around the chest, inspecting it, and shook its head. "You're talking nonsense," it said, setting its little hands on its hips. "If it's a trap, how's it work? It's got no spring or snare or anything. It's just a box with a lid. Is it magical or somet'ing?"

"Nope, no magic, but it's not set yet." Adham dug into a coat pocket and pulled out a large padlock. He threaded the arm of the padlock through the clasp on the chest and clicked it shut.

"There." He yanked on the lock. "Now it's set and ready to go." He sat forward, making a show of ignoring both the chest and goblin behind him.

"What? What do you mean it's ready to go. You think a locked chest is going to catch a goblin? That'll never work. It's insulting. I mean, look at this . . ."

While metal rattled, Adham silently counted, "Three, two, one . . ."

Click.

No matter how many times he heard that sound, it saddened him. Only goblins were cunning enough to do something so impossibly moronic. Still, he waited to make sure.

"Okay . . ." The tiny voice was muffled. "Okay, that . . . that was funny. Joke's on me. Ha, ha. Now, let me out'a here!"

The chest started shaking. "Come on! Let me out! If you don't let me out I'll . . . I'll . . . I'll spit!"

Adham stood and strolled away from the chest with an air of indifference, pulling a fist-sized bag