Ambushes and Interlopers
Hob didn’t like ambushes. But he’d never had the heart to tell Grunt the truth about that. The goblins of Yore got almost everything they had from either raiding human villages, or, ambushing any humans unfortunate enough to wander into goblin lands. And although Hob felt this was no way to live, it was the goblin way. So he just had to go along with it.
He was certainly going along this time. The pack marched on and on toward the site of the impending ambush, through tunnel after twisty tunnel, around gardens of moss and mushrooms, up dizzying ladders, and over rickety rope bridges that crossed deep chasms and underground streams.
The tunnels grew fewer and farther between as they reached the edge of the horde’s domain, but they never stopped entirely. Hob knew of a few that carried on right out of the Gobble Downs. A vast network of these nearly endless tunnels connected all the goblin hordes in the great valley of Yore, so the goblins could travel between them without ever venturing above ground. This was important because all goblins shared a natural aversion to sunlight. It made them weak and dizzy, forcing them underground during the day. And, at one time, it had even been used by human magicians to keep them underground at night.
“Here we are,” Brute announced, at last. “Find a hidey-hole, and wait for my signal.”
The ambush party rattled to a stop in a cavern just below the earth’s surface. Five short tunnels branched up from there, all leading to hidey-holes, tight chambers topped with trapdoors made to blend in with their surroundings above ground.
Hob followed Grunt up the nearest tunnel. They climbed slippery stone steps to the top, trailed by three of Grunt’s friends: Ick, who was tall and lanky with a chimp-like grin; Uck, who was short and stocky with a bullfrog’s jaw; and Skulldug, who was small and shifty with a wolfish snout.
The hidey-hole Grunt led them to was concealed by an old stump with a top that lifted up on a hinge. A steady trickle of water seeped in around the seam.
Once the group had squeezed in below the trapdoor, Grunt lifted it up a crack so they could peek outside. The night was dark and stormy. But the goblins’ keen eyes could see in low light, so only the rain hampered their vision.
They found themselves perched on one of several hillsides surrounding a small hollow. The steep hills were strewn with rocks, bushes, and dead trees, a few of which were sure to be concealing the other four hidey-holes.
Minutes passed in cramped silence. Then two travelers, cloaked and hooded, wandered into the hollow. The goblins had created many trick paths in those hills, and the travelers were following one. It was a dead end—a trap—but they couldn’t see it, lost in the darkness and the storm.
Hob looked down at them, picking out as much detail as he could. He was always eager to see humans in real life. Though, he liked it much better when they weren’t about to be ambushed.
One of the travelers was a tall boy, the other a short, little man. They had come to the spot where the path ended, and the boy seemed to be searching for a way forward. The man just stood there with his arms crossed, looking frustrated.
It occurred to Hob that the man might have been a dwarf! Hob had read about dwarves before, and this fellow fit the description perfectly. He was no more than five feet tall, built like a pot-bellied brick, and even had a bushy white beard sticking out from under his dark-brown hood.
Hob could hear both travelers arguing over the wind.
“Why did I ever let you talk me into this?” asked the boy. “You said this was a shortcut.”
“It looked like a shortcut,” replied the dwarf.
“It looked dangerous!”
“That’s what shortcuts look like. They look dangerous!”
Hob turned to Grunt and the others. “Awfully loud for interlopers, aren’t they?” he whispered, trying to make friendly conversation.
“Loud for whats?” asked Grunt.
“Interlopers,” said Hob. “People who’re somewhere they’re not supposed to be.”
“Why didn’t ya say that then?” asked Ick.
“It feels different,” said Hob. “And it takes longer.”
“Longer than this?” said Ick.
“Yeah, ya talk funny,” said Skulldug.
Uck, who never talked much at all, simply nodded.
“Ya do talk kinda funny, Hob,” said Grunt, with a shrug.
“I guess so,” Hob sighed. “Still, I wonder what they’re doing here …”
He returned his attention to the interlopers.
“You know whose fault this really is?” the dwarf was saying. “That dotty old wizard’s, that’s whose. If he’d met us when he was supposed to, we wouldn’t be in this mess. He always does this.”
They know a wizard! Hob marveled. He was becoming more curious about them by the second.
“I wish he were here too,” muttered the boy. “But we’re on this quest now, with or without him.”
They’re going on a quest! Hob marveled again. He was suddenly transfixed. He’d never seen real adventurers before! Unfortunately, his opportunity didn’t last long.
“Attack!” cried Brute, from the far side of the hollow.
And with that, Grunt and the others exploded from the trapdoor with such force that Hob—who was smaller and positioned in front—got ejected ahead of them. This sent him careening down the hill, leading the charge, until he slipped on a patch of loose stones and went tumbling head over heels the rest of the way.
Seconds later, as the other goblins came charging out of the darkness from every angle to surround the travelers, Hob landed face-first at the bottom of the hollow.
By the time he lifted his head out of the mud, the ambush was underway all around him. The boy rushed past, chased by a swarm of goblins. The dwarf rushed past, chased by another swarm of goblins. And a bunch of stray goblins just rushed about all over the place.
stomp! stomp! stomp! Hob tossed and turned to avoid getting trampled by their feet. Then, his hand fell on something unexpected. A book.
Worried it was The Big Book of Derring-Do, Hob instinctively clutched his satchel. He felt his book still inside. The one on the ground was new! Although its cover was wet and mud-spattered, it might have been the finest book he’d ever seen.
Without pausing to wonder where it had come from, Hob checked to make sure no one was watching, and stuffed the new book into his satchel. The next instant, a foot slammed down right where it had been. Sensing a second one about to slam down on his head, Hob threw himself aside. thump! It was a narrow miss—one which put him in the path of another charging goblin. thump-thump! Two feet caught Hob in the chest and sent him rolling across the ground.
Everything was a blur. Then he was free. He’d rolled right out of the fray, onto an empty patch of grass at the bottom of a hill.
Hob pulled himself a short way up the slope to catch his breath. A few bruises were all he had to show for his struggle—and a new book! He squeezed his satchel to make sure it was safe inside with the first.
Then he returned his attention to the ambush. If only through sheer numbers, the goblins had already captured the boy and dwarf. The pair didn’t appear afraid, as Hob would have been in their place. They were defiant, kicking and squirming even as the goblins fought to tie them up.
For a split second, Hob felt an unexpected urge to help them—to try to escape with them on their adventure! But it passed as quickly as it came. The next thing Hob knew, the captives had been bound and gagged for their trip underground.
“Take ’em to the dungeon. And take their loot to the pile!” shouted Brute. “Then get yourselves to the Great Cave for a feast!”
