Welcome to the Great Goblin Road Trip, in which traveling goblins Lurgis Forks, Khorlax the Florginator, and Charles are on the road in search of a ruby the size of a canary melon (not the other way ‘round, mind). Unfortunately, when last we saw them our heroes main charactershad just been ambushed by a Dark Elf and associates armed with modern high-powered weaponry! Now, taken captive, they await their impending demise…
“Ow,” Lurgis Forks hissed. “Which one of you-”
“Wasn’t us,” Khorlax the Florginator said, in such a subdued tone that he caught Lurgis Forks’ attention immediately. He didn’t even think Khorlax knew the meaning of the word subdued, much less knew how to be it. Now, as he opened his eyes and looked around, the goblin realized (with a sudden onset of nausea) that it wasn’t just Khorlax. All three of them lay tied up against a rock wall at one end of a dark underground cave, and they weren’t tied with plain old ropes either but with secure steel chains and cuffs that would take days to pick the locks and work out of. Somehow, Lurgis Forks didn’t think they had days. Also, the things stank of elven magic.
“Elves,” he snarled. “Hate ‘em.”
“Well, now, that seems like a bit of an unfortunate thing to say in your situation,” a smooth voice said.
“You,” Lurgis spat. A few jury-rugged lightbulbs on the ceiling had just buzzed on, which meant he could see the speaker now, halfway down the cave in which they were chained up. Past him were a small company of figures in heavy armor carrying equally heavy guns. In the flickering light Lurgis saw that the figure in the center of the cave was tall, dark-haired, and of course pointy-eared, it was definitely the elf he’d seen before. Dark or the other way, Lurgis Forks didn’t care. “What d’you want?”
The elf shrugged. “Obviously I want the ruby. You seem to have a fair idea where it is. I won’t even ask you to lead me to it; I doubt we’d enjoy the company anyway. Just tell me the location, and we’ll all go our separate ways.”
Khorlax roared out a particularly nasty curse in the old Goblin language. “You can’t blame him,” Lurgis Forks said. “You did burn up his favorite axe.”
“Yes, and I’ll do the same to you unless you tell me where the ruby is,” the elf said.
“You’ll do it anyway,” Charles gasped.
“True,” the elf admitted. “But whether I do so quickly or less so is your choice.”
Lurgis Forks actually laughed, in a wheezy sort of way. He wouldn’t have thought elves capable of such savagery. He might have admired it under different circumstances.
Small points of light danced across the three goblins’ heads. The elf, oddly enough, rolled his eyes. “Holster those weapons, gentlemen, I require a little more time for interrogation before we begin the executions, all right?”
The three points suddenly flicked away from the goblins and converged onto the elf. He turned, annoyed. “Now, honestly, this isn’t-”
There was a crack and a flash of fire, and the elf dropped. One of the figures in armor strode forward. “Yeah,” he growled in a voice impossible to mistake for anything but a goblin’s, “It is.”
He pulled out a knife and with a few deft blows, hacked off the chains that bounded Lurgis Forks and his companions a move that impressed even Khorlax. “Who’re you?” he said.
The goblin sheathed his knife and removed his helmet, showing a face even more battle-scarred than the usual amongst goblins. “Stumpkins,” he growled. “Bunker Stumpkins. We gotta move.”
Without another word he turned and blasted a large hole in the cave wall, which revealed a passageway beyond. He made straight for it, and Lurgis, Khorlax, and Charles quickly hurried after him. After all, as Lurgis reflected, it wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go.
This story inspired by
‘s Flash Fiction Friday prompt: