We walk along the edge of a chasm. The area is mammoth down here and makes even the widest tunnels above seem narrow by comparison. The goblins have constructed some kind of wall along its edge. Archers stand atop with drawn bows looking down and across to the other side, where I can only assume orcs must roam.

Kabaret follows my eyes. “They’ve been testing the barrier, systematically, for weakness in our defense.”

“How far, Kabaret?” The princess asks our goblin guide.

“Just a little ways, Highness. Not too bad.”

We follow a wide curve and that’s when the smell hits me. The goblins have collected their dead and wounded into one place. It’s a central processing facility that looks like a cross between a clinic and a morgue.

Maybe all field hospitals are like this. How the hell would I know?

This is so big though, and so open. Not tucked away in some remote area of the mountain, but here, right here, mere yards away from the wall. Kabaret and Vestra are focused, eyes forward, but I can’t help myself.

I stop and watch as the goblin healers rush among the crowd purveying their wares. They offer some herbs but mostly knives and bandages to writhing patients, some of whom bleed out before any help can arrive. There are clerics too, men who never stop mumbling prayers for the living, the dying, and the dead.

Vestra grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”

“This is awful,” I say, still staring at the bodies.

“No shit.”

I turn suddenly, the curse jolting me back to reality.

“We tried to hold the tunnels beyond the valley. Father refused to withdraw the army. Said there had been too many retreats already. General Zargog agreed. So we were routed instead.”

The girl sounds honest, earnest, and a little desperate.

“The edge of this chasm is where we should have been all along, the only place where we’ve managed to contain them. Though, like I said earlier, I don’t know for how long.”

“Ok,” I say, feeling the currency again. “Let’s go.”

We push through the crowd until Kabaret turns right, leading us through a narrow tunnel that feels like little more than a crack in the wall. At the end is a door.

“Through here,” says the goblin as he opens the door for us. The princess enters first and I follow with Kabaret coming in last. Before us is a stubby round table with a few goblins around it. They stand immediately upon seeing the princess. All the goblins are young. There is no wizened general, no seasoned leader here.

Cause they all support the king, I bet.

“Princess Vestra, thank you for coming. I did not know there would be…company.” A stout goblin says. He motions for chairs to be added to the table and beckons us to sit. The princess does first and I follow suit. Kabaret stands along the wall.

“This is Sir Ethan Gambrils,” Vestra says. “You’ve heard of him I assume.”

“We’ve heard the rumors,” the goblin says cautiously.

“They’re not rumors. This is the man who defeated the dryad. He comes with the blessing of the humans and the elves. And even the Maker apparently, for whatever that’s worth.”

A couple chuckles around the table.

These goblins do not seem the temple going type.

“Have you told him everything, Highness?” Asks a goblin. “Will Sir Ethan support us with the king?”

Princess Vestra glances quickly at me and then looks back to the table. “Sir Ethan still needs some convincing.”

Another goblin scoffs and I look his way. His eyes are black. Defiant even. It’s a far cry from the king’s deference and I don’t like the look of them.

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“Do you have a problem?” I ask.

The goblin meets my eyes and grunts. “No problem here, Ethan.”

I could give a damn about titles but he avoids the honorific on purpose. I can tell.

“Good,” I reply coolly, “I might have to leave if there was a problem.”

The princess grasps my hand. Hers is hot.

Goblin blood I guess.

The princess nods at the defiant goblin. “Iagz lost his whole company to the orcs,” she says. Her eyes swivel around the room. “All of these soldiers have seen great loss. They are already convinced of our dire situation. They are very convinced.”

I remove her hand. “I understand Princess Vestra and I respect that. But you are asking me to intervene in your affairs and go against the wishes of your king who has been nothing but kind and helpful to me.”

“All I’m asking for is your help,” the Princess says. “That’s all any of us are asking for.”

“So what’s your plan then?” I ask.” “Your plan that is so much better than the king’s?”

“It’s not some suicidal attack,” Iagz says. “If that’s what you want to hear.”

“Fine, then what is it?” I ask again.

“It’s a trap,” Iagz says. “We want you to draw the orcs out with a raid. If you could lead it, all the better.”

“A raid? I thought you said an attack was suicide.”

“It is. It’s just a feint. We need to draw them out. We need to get their full force engaged without engaging ours.”

“So you want me to fight them without help.”

“No,” says the goblin. “You will have assistance, as well as your companions I imagine, but we can’t send the entire army. A full engagement will just become another route. We need you to draw the orcs army into the valley. Then you’ll retreat behind the safety of the wall.”

“Why would I retreat?”

“Because we’re going to drop the ceiling on them,” Iagz says dryly.

I look at Vestra. “The ceiling?”

“With as many orcs as possible buried under the rubble,” says the Princess. “I’ve had conversations with some select tunnelers. Trustworthy goblins. They can do it. It will take some time but we can do it. We can bring the whole ceiling down on their heads.”

It’s a daring plan. “You won’t get all of them. I can’t promise all the orcs.”

“As many as you can,” says Iagz. “Enough to turn the tide. Enough that we can hopefully mop up the rest.”

I nod thoughtfully. It’s not a bad plan really. And I wouldn’t mind executing it. It even sounds a lot easier than fighting a dryad. I’m basically glorified bait or maybe just a pirate of sorts. Daring in and out before I can be killed. Then I’ll be hunted like Captain Jack Sparrow and the goblins will just drop a ceiling on the British.

Everyone is looking at me. Waiting.

“It seems like a good plan. And even if the king is right, that an all-out attack would secure victory, ours doesn’t endanger as many goblins.”

Iagz bangs the table. “Exactly! That’s exactly right. We don’t have to get into some grand argument with his majesty about the goblin army. We just present this as a safer alternative that accomplishes the same goal.”

“What do your generals say?” I ask.

There is an awkward silence with a good bit of scuffling and clearing of throats. Eventually a lanky goblin starts to talk. “They follow the king’s words of course. But I also think they are just prideful. They do not wish to ask for help. And there’s a shame in there too. Like something is wrong with their faith if they don’t attack.”

“Faith,” Iagz snorts. “Faith is what got us into this mess to begin with.”

“You don’t have faith in the Maker?”

The goblin says nothing.

“Do any of you have faith?” I ask.

“We have faith in each other,” the princess says finally. “We don’t all agree…about the Maker.”

“I see,” I say thoughtfully. “Yet you trust me.”

“We’ve heard what you’ve done,” says the princess, “I for one am agnostic about where your power comes from. Nor do I care. The point is that you have it and can help us. If you are the Maker’s chosen then prove it. Just as you asked us for proof so I say the same of you.”

I sit at the table thoughtfully. Looking around the room and mulling over my options. I can decline or accept, or try to negotiate a compromise position. Maybe some kind of meeting with the generals? Something that is less likely to lead to blowback in my direction if the king declines. And that is a good question, what if the king doesn’t agree? Will he change his mind on giving me access to the tower?

“If I do this,” I start. “If I go to the king and he doesn’t agree with me. If he insists that I sit on my hands and do nothing. If he insists that his plan that will be executed, what will you do then?”

The question is like a frosty wind in the room and all the soldiers stiffen. Maybe they find the question offensive, I don’t know. But I do want to make sure that this isn’t just a matter of hubris. That these men aren’t in it for themselves and will still follow orders. That they aren’t planning some kind of coup.

Iagz stands slowly and looks me right in the eye. “Sir Ethan, we are goblins.” And that’s all he says, clearly indicating that’s enough, and anymore insinuations could be met with more than just words. “Will you help us or not?”

I stand as well, matching his gaze. “I will.”