Nine Goblins(35)

The skeletal stag landed in the path directly in front of them with a warning clatter of bone. It sounded like the mother of all rattlesnakes. Sings-to-Trees stopped, and Nessilka let out a cry of frustration. and Murray plowed into the back of her.

They sorted themselves out wordlessly, practically dancing in place. “We have to get past it,” said Murray.

“I know that,” said Sings-to-Trees, “but it doesn’t seem to want to let us!”

The stag lowered its magnificent white rack.

“We could backtrack,” said Nessilka wretchedly. Backtracking would take them away from the voice, and the conversation she was almost—almost—about to understand.

“No!” said Murray. He wiggled past Nessilka and made a short charge at the deer, perhaps hoping to bluff it.

The stag was apparently not inclined to bluff. It swung its head sideways and white bone cracked against Murray’s chest, knocking him down.

“Murray!”

Murray rolled over and began crawling determinedly forward. Could he get between the stag’s feet? Nessilka cursed the fact that there wasn’t room for two of them.

Sings-to-Trees’ face twisted. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he pleaded with the stag. “I really really don’t. I helped your mate! Please, just let us pass!”

Another rattlesnake clatter. The stag danced in place, feet falling perilously close to Murray’s head.

There was a second warning rattle. Nessilka looked over her shoulder and saw a bone doe standing there, watching them with empty eye sockets.

The voice continued to talk, a conversation that was probably about nothing, but it might be something fascinating and anyway, she’d know in a minute if she could just get a little bit closer—

And then it stopped.

Sings-to-Trees, who had been about to charge the deer, completely bare-handed, stopped with an expression of horror on his face and looked down at his hands. “Oh,” he said. “Oh. Oh, no…”

Murray said, “What in the name of the dead orc gods am I doing?”

Nessilka, seeing bone deer hooves like lances around the head of her second-in-command, reached down and grabbed him by the ankles. She hauled. Murray was very heavy but female goblins tended to be strong all out of proportion to their size. He left long furrows in the mud behind him.

The bone deer stamped a hoof and nodded to Sings-to-Trees. Then it turned and reached the top of the narrow defile in a single leap. There was a second clack of bone, and the skeletal doe followed.

“She’s still a bit short on the front foot,” said Sings-to-Trees vaguely. “I hope its healing. She shouldn’t be making jumps like that. Oh gods, I was going to attack that poor creature!” He put his face in his hands.

“I suspect that poor creature would have torn you to shreds,” said Nessilka drily. “Murray, how’s your ribs?”

“Sore,” said Murray. “It hit me, didn’t it? I don’t think it wanted to hurt me, though, whatever it was. No holes.” He slid a finger under his leather breastplate and winced. “Nothing broken. Gonna have some fantastic bruises to show the recruits.”

“It was a cervidian,” said Sings-to-Trees. “They’re attracted to magic. I saw it the other day—I can’t believe I wanted to hurt it—”

Nessilka thumped him on the shoulder, which was the highest point she could reach. “Get over it, soldier,” she snapped, forgetting he wasn’t one of her soldiers. “You didn’t, and that’s the important thing. The most important thing, though, is what the hell was wrong with us?”

They all stared at each other.

“I heard a voice,” said Murray uncertainly.

“So did I.”

“I couldn’t hear what it was saying,” said Nessilka. “I almost could, but I thought if I could just get closer—”

“It had to be right around here, didn’t it?” Sings-to-Trees peered around the woods, puzzled. “I mean, we were really close to it…weren’t we?”

“I don’t think we were,” said Murray slowly. “We’ve been running, haven’t we? Blanchett couldn’t keep up…”

“Oh gods, Blanchett!” Nessilka spun around. “We have to go get him!”

“He’ll be fine,” said Murray. “The bear’ll take care of him”

Sings-to-Trees looked at them as if they were insane, which they probably were, but Nessilka did feel a bit better. “How long were we running?”

None of them knew.

“At least a mile, I think,” said Murray. “It’s hard to tell, because it’s cold out and the terrain’s twisty, but I don’t think I usually get this sweaty over anything less.”