Chapter 18: The Battle in the Tunnels
Alfred looked at Jack, his chest tightening. “Why would we go to the goblins? Shouldn’t we try to escape instead?”
“Oh there’s no escape,” Jack said. “Believe me, I’ve tried. The goblins keep all the tunnels guarded. We couldn’t get to one of the exits before they all swarmed all over us and dragged us back down to the caves.”
“I see,” said Alfred.
“We should get going now,” said Jack. “We need to hurry back to the others. The goblin king will be angry if we are late.”
“And what happens if he is angry?” asked Alfred.
“Lots of stomping and yelling,” answered Jack. “Sometimes he throws things. And then, they get out the whips.”
Jack led Alfred deeper into the subterranean maze, where the air grew thick with the smell of damp earth and sulfur. They finally halted at the entrance of a cavernous throne room.
To Alfred’s surprise, Jack immediately dropped to his knees, bowing low. Alfred remained standing, his jaw set.
“Your majesty,” Jack said to the figure on the throne. “I have brought my friend to you, as I have been ordered.”
“Excellent,” said King Grinthal barked. He was barely three feet tall, but he sneered with absolute authority. “Now, get down to the mines at once. You’re late.”
Jack hesitated, glancing back at Alfred. “Your majesty, he hasn’t eaten anything yet.”
“That is his fault,” Grinthal snapped. “The rest of the children have had time to eat.”
“But he was only just now captured by your soldiers,” Jack said. “He couldn’t possibly have had time to eat anything.”
Grinthal narrowed his bead-like eyes. “Oh, very well. He may stay and eat. You—go and start digging.”
Before scurrying off, Jack grabbed Alfred tightly by the elbow. “King Grinthal has a terrible temper,” Jack whispered quickly. “You mustn’t say anything that will contradict him. Just eat your gruel as quickly as you can, and then come down and join us.”
Grinthal jabbed a hairy, spindly finger toward a long wooden table. It was cluttered with the messy, abandoned bowls of the other children. Alfred sat down reluctantly. A moment later, a scurrying goblin servant slammed a fresh bowl of grey gruel in front of him.
Alfred stared down at the sludge. His stomach churned; he was far too overwhelmed trying to process his kidnapping to think about food. He looked back up at the throne. “So, where am I exactly?”
Grinthal flew into a sudden, shrieking rage. He jumped off his throne, his short legs hopping up and down on the stone floor. “Didn’t that boy Jack explain things to you? He was supposed to tell you everything so I wouldn’t be bothered by your stupid questions!”
“Well, yes, he did tell me some things,” Alfred began. “But I was wondering--”
Grinthal hurled his golden scepter straight at Alfred’s face. Alfred ducked just in time, and the heavy metal clattered loudly against the stone wall behind him.
“Then be quiet!” Grinthal roared, his entire body shaking, the short brown hair covering his arms bristling with rage. “Speak only when you are spoken to! Do not disturb the great king!”
Grinthal looked just like any other goblin, which is to say he was short. Goblins are about 3 feet high. They have short legs, and long spindly arms, and their whole bodies are covered with short brown hair. And they have short tempers. It’s very easy to upset them, and to get them hopping up and down in anger, just like Grinthal was doing now.
“Eat your gruel!” Grinthal commanded. “You have a long day of digging in the mines, and you must build up your strength.”
“But why must I dig--” Alfred began, but he was cut off when Grinthal threw the orb at him.
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Catherine, Carlyle, Shawn, Kevin, Molly and Lucinda stood at the mouth of the goblin tunnels, the damp, earthy stench of the underground washing over them.
“So what do we do now?” Molly whispered, staring into the black expanse. “Do we go in?”
“We do,” Catherine said, her voice steady. “We go in and we find Alfred.”
“But there are goblins inside,” said Shawn.
“No one is forced to come inside,” Catherine said. “You may come if you wish. Otherwise, you may stay behind.
Silence fell over the group as they all looked at each other. Shawn was the first to break it, gripping the hilt of his father’s sword. “I’m in. We aren't leaving him.””
Molly lifted her massive wooden staff, her knuckles white. “Me too.”
“Someone has to keep you boys alive,” Lucinda muttered, adjusting her grip on her spear. Kevin didn't speak, but he stepped up beside her, his huge club resting heavily on his shoulder.
“We should have someone stay back to communicate with the rest of the group,” Carlyle said, adjusting Finn’s old sword at his hip. “Just in case. If anything goes wrong, they need to know where we went.”
“I can help,” said Bettina the raven. “I’ll fly down and let them know where you are.”
“That would be a great help to us,” said Catherine.
Then, Carlyle, Catherine, Shawn, Lucinda, Molly and Kevin all stepped into the Goblin tunnels.
Darkness swallowed them instantly. (They didn’t know it yet, but the moonstones which Alfred had seen were only located in the parts of the tunnels where the goblins allowed their child slaves to go. The entrances and exits to the tunnels were kept in blackness.)
But then, Catherine closed her eyes and began to hum. Slowly, her hands began glowing with the yellow electricity.
The tunnel sloped sharply downward. They walked in single file, the air growing thick and hot. Suddenly, a screech echoed ahead.
A single goblin stood in the center of the path, its bulbous eyes blinking furiously in Catherine’s electric light. It let out a piercing, high-pitched squeal, turned on its heel, and scrambled into the darkness.
The goblin was evidently more scared of them than they were of him. But still, there was something about that little scream which shocked and unnerved them. They were all silent for a bit after the goblin had cried out. Shawn let out a nervous little chuckle, and tried to break the tension with a laugh. “I didn’t know that’s what they sounded like,” he said.
“If they all run away like that, then we shouldn’t have much to worry about,” said Molly, though she didn't lower her staff.
“Unless he’s going to sound the alarm, and come back with his friends,” said Lucinda.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” said Carlyle. “Keep your weapons ready just in case.”
Catherine didn’t join the conversation. She couldn't. She just kept humming, the yellow light casting long, dancing shadows against the stone.
They walked through the tunnel a little bit more. The path sloped steadily downward, and they walked with Catherine’s light leading the way.
But then, there was some light in the tunnel up ahead. These were the moonstones that Jack and Alfred had seen earlier. It was the start of a larger open tunnel.
They walked into the larger, more open tunnel, and there was a large group of about fifty goblins assembled. They all carried little knives, and some of them had pitchforks. And they looked ready for battle.
They didn’t get much of a chance to say anything to each other before the goblins rushed in and attacked.
The clash was a chaotic blur of noise and violence. Lucinda thrust her spear forward, keeping a cluster of the creatures at bay with precise, lethal stabs. To her right, Molly swung her giant staff in wide, brutal arcs, the heavy wood cracking against goblin ribs and sending them flying backwards. Kevin wielded his club like a blacksmith’s hammer, bringing it down in crushing overhead strikes onto the goblin’s skulls.
Shawn and Carlyle fought shoulder-to-shoulder, their swords flashing in the dim light, parrying low stabs and slashing back.
Through it all, Catherine never stopped humming. Her hands were always glowing with power, and whenever a goblin tried to touch her, she reached down and grabbed hold of him, and sent a surge of electricity surging through him, sending the goblin yelping away.
Against one man, fifty goblins was a death sentence. But against six armed, desperate warriors, the horde began to waver. Step by step, the group pressed forward, driving the diminutive warriors back.
“Where is Alfred?” Carlyle roared over the din, parrying a knife. “Where is our friend? What have you done with him?”
The goblins only gave excited squeaking sounds, and high pitched chittering in response. They jumped up and down, and generally made a lot of noise, but they made no sense. Clearly they were excited beyond the capability for coherent speech.
“Keep advancing,” Shawn called out. “Keep fighting. We’re beating the back slowly.”
But just as Shawn said that, there was a commotion behind them. They turned around, and saw a second group of goblins coming from the other direction. Now they were trapped between two groups--fifty goblins in front of them, fifty goblins behind them.
“Don’t panic!” Carlyle yelled, his voice cracking. “Split up! Shawn, Molly, with me on the rear! Catherine, Kevin, Lucinda, hold the front! If we stay organized, we can still fend them off.”
“For how long?” Kevin cried out, his club trembling in his hands.
Carlyle didn’t answer.
“This was a mistake!” Kevin yelled. ““We shouldn’t have come into the goblin caves. There’s nothing but goblins down here. Even if we can fight our way out from these groups of goblins, there will be just more and more groups of goblins further down the cave. We're never getting out!”
“Shut up, Kevin!” Shawn snarled, driving his blade forward. “Keep hitting them!”
Catherine, who had still not spoken because she was busy humming, started lashing out at the goblins more furiously. Her hands began swiping left and right, touching as many goblins as she could and sending charges of electricity into them.
And then, they saw more goblins rushing down to join the fray. They could see them run down from the far end of the tunnels to help their comrades.
Eventually, they began to get tired. Molly’s arms ached as she swung the huge staff back and forth; her swings grew slow and heavy. Kevin’s shoulder was tired from swinging the club. Lucinda could barely hold on to her spear anymore.
A goblin seized the end of Molly’s staff, then another, and another, their combined weight dragging the wood to the floor. Kevin screamed as a pitchfork caught his shoulder, his club slipping from his slick, sweaty fingers. Lucinda’s spear was yanked from her hands by a swarm of small, clawed hands.
Carlyle slashed furiously, but three goblins leaped onto him and started climbing all over him, their sharp little teeth sinking into his arms. He roared in pain, his fingers opening, and Finn's sword clattered against the stone.
“Don’t kill them,” came a sharp little voice from the back. “King Grinthal wants them alive.”
“But they cracked my skull!” one of the frontline goblins whined.
“You idiot! They are not yet full grown. We can use them. We need more slaves in our mines. Tie them up.”
Eventually they all were subdued, and goblins with heavy ropes soon came and climbed over them and tied them up.
Catherine was the last one to be subdued. Although she had electric power surging through her hands, the goblins had learned. They avoided her hands, diving instead for her ankles. She kicked and swiped downward, scattering a few, but three more took their place. As quickly as she fought back, they came on. A heavy rope wrapped around her shins, pulling taut. With a gasp, she lost her footing and crashed to the ground. The fall knocked the breath from her lungs. Her humming broke. Then the goblins swarmed over her, and tied up the rest of her.
And then they were, all of them, bound.
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