Holsley was surprised at how deep the tunnels went.

Initially, he had imagined a small network of roughly dug-out tunnels leading to perhaps two or three rooms at the most. Inside those rooms, no doubt, he’d find dozens of goblins all huddled together around spitting fires and eating animals straight from the bone. What he found instead was quite the opposite.

The young bard was marched at knifepoint to the edge of a deep hole within the cave, barely lit by crudely built burning sconces dotted about the dry walls of worked mud. He peered over the side.

The dug-out space must have gone down for at least a mile and was overflowing with wooden walkways, scaffolds, and bridges that all seemed to move with a mind of their own—puppeteered by a sophisticated pulley system above his head.

‘Ouch!’ Holsley yelped. One of the goblins, Kevin, had rammed a sharp fingernail into his left butt cheek as an incentive to move. ‘Okay, I’m going.’

His goblin captors escorted him onto a rickety wooden scaffold, forcing Holsley to follow the steps to a bottom he couldn’t quite see. As he did so, he marvelled at what they had created here. Whatever books he had read concerning goblins had clearly been written by authors who had never ventured a single foot inside their dens.

First of all, whatever suspicions he and Merhim had about the number of goblins in here was woefully underestimated. This was an outright community with numbers, he suspected, similar to a small town. They flowed in and out of tunnel entrances, along the shaky bridges, busily coming to and fro.

Second, they were amazingly resourceful. Frying pans hung alongside tunnels that goblins would ring before entering. Clothes, clearly stolen from taller humanoids, were hung out on a washing line and stitched together to make sheets and blankets. Crates and barrels, the kind that would have once contained food and drink, had been repurposed into seats and tables.

It was all quite remarkable.

Of course, the goblins were fully aware of an intruder in their home. Suspicious eyes followed his every move as Wiggy’s sharp reminder at his back kept his legs in motion. Holsley only looked up when he heard the telltale sound of trickling water, and it was amazing to find half-cut pipes escorting fresh rainwater down into the deeps of the goblin home.

‘What yous looking so shocked for?’ Pot Gut rattled ahead of him. ‘Ain’t you ever seen a goblin home before?’

‘Uh,’ Holsley replied, remembering to press his fingers to his throat this time. ‘Yes, but mine isn’t this nice. Or big. Or…innovative.’

‘Where is it then?’ asked Kevin.

‘Oh, it’s in the–’ Holsley muffled his voice with his hand so they couldn’t hear his following words. ‘…towards the other side of the woods.’

‘Where?’ Wiggy raised an eyebrow, or the bit of skin above his eye where an eyebrow would usually sit.

‘It’s in the—’ Holsley did it again, but this time pointed towards a nondescript goblin across the way drinking what appeared to be sludge from a bowl. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Huh?’ They turned to look, and their question was momentarily forgotten.

Soon after, they reached the ground floor and headed towards a larger tunnel entrance on the other side. All around this entrance were wonky wooden plaques written in what looked like confusing chicken scratches. Holsley guessed it was a system of rules, judging by the pictures, with punishments that did not look pleasant.

‘We must always obey the guv’nor,’ Pot Gut said when he caught Holsley looking. ‘No stealing, and always do what he says.’

The others nodded in silent agreement.

Holsley shuddered. He wasn’t all too excited about meeting the leader of these goblins, but he had to admit to feeling curious. What kind of goblin could’ve built all of this? What goblin with a name like Stabby Toe could control this band of creatures?

His wayward thoughts caused him to suddenly stumble on an exposed root, prompting another prod in the backside.

Stabby Toe must be huge. The goblins in his stories only worshipped the biggest and strongest of their kind. The ones who could defend them the best. He imagined a beastly, gargantuan goblin that towered even over his human height. Hairy with obstructive fangs and toenails that had been trimmed into daggers.

Now, that would be a way to go. Stabbed to death by toenails. The bards didn’t sing songs about those sorts of deaths.

They moved through a system of tunnels that led away from the big-hole foyer. Holsley became instantly lost, like, at most, two minutes into the trek through them. These corridors were incredibly repetitive, with no real distinguishing features between them. The goblins seemed to navigate them just fine, however.

At just about the time when he felt like the dirt walls were closing in on him, the tunnels opened up into the next room. It was massive. At the very least, forty goblins sat at long tables illuminated by overhead lanterns and roaring fires. To the young bard’s disbelief, he saw that the tops of these tables were moving like a giant conveyor belt. Raw, uncooked pieces of meat slid in front of the goblins, who grabbed what they wanted and devoured it instantly.

It was a food hall. The goblins had constructed themselves an eatery.

‘Woah,’ was all he could mutter.

In the corner, he saw what was powering this strange machination. It was a goblin, huffing and puffing as he ran on a large wheel made of pilfered parts. Like a hamster, Holsley thought. Mostly, it was made from bits of an old wagon, some rope, wheels, and other things that he’d expect to find as part of a caravan.

The tension was thick as the trio led him through an aisle between the long tables.

Goblins hissed at him like stray alley cats and didn’t dare touch their bloody meals while he was around. They watched him carefully, no doubt wondering what a human was doing so deep in their home. Holsley was beginning to wonder that himself. All the young bard could do was smile weakly at them, almost apologetically.

Holsley aimed for an exit without glancing in any direction but the ground. If he kept his head down, he thought, perhaps his presence would be less intrusive. He felt a strange pang of guilt for encroaching upon the goblin’s homes. Even though they had stolen from him, he felt like he had overstepped a boundary by coming inside.

When the trio forced him into another corridor, away from the hall, he was thankful to hear the din spark back up. Goblins re-conversed in their incomprehensible sharp-tongued language while hungrily devouring their breakfast. He sighed, but his relief was short-lived. It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t seen Merhim.

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It wasn’t the best light in here, but surely, he would’ve noticed a gnome amongst this crowd.

He also realised that there was no turning back now. Escape would be more difficult than ever this deep. He should have run. There were now a hundred goblins between him and the outside world. Getting out of this alive would require some quick-thinking peppered with a decent amount of charm — two things that Holsley had never been very good at.

***

The sight of a door at the end of an especially long tunnel was unexpected and equally unwelcome.

It was the only door he had seen, which meant that whatever lay behind it must be something important. Like the guv’nor. The trio giggled, whispering to one another in goblinish while glancing up at Holsley. They reminded him of naughty children up to no good. It made Holsley’s stomach ache with unease.

Holsley blinked as the trio removed the door from its frame and placed it firmly on the ground. That was one way to open a door, he supposed. Holsley stepped over the plank of wood, following them in, and what he found on the other side was far worse than he had imagined. The room was dominated by a creature sitting on a crude throne of wooden chests.

It wasn’t a goblin. Or, at the very least, not like the other goblins.

The thing was huge, larger than Holsley even when sitting down. It was covered in orange and brown fur. An upturned piggy nose and gorilla-like maw made Holsley believe it was an animal for a moment, but there was intelligence in those eyes — a dominating intelligence that scrutinised the human that now stood before it.

‘What is this?’ Its voice rumbled like a falling boulder, and, like a boulder coming at him, made Holsley want to turn and run. ‘Why yous bring a hooman down here?’

‘He says he ain’t a hooman.’ Pot Gut rattled forward, shifting up his loosely tied frying pan belt. ‘He says the wizard turned him into a hooman from goblin and stuck him up a tree.’

Stabby Toe’s eyes glanced across the room at the mention of a wizard.

Taken in by the frankly horrifying vision of this creature, Holsley had briefly forgotten that the rest of the room existed. He cast his eyes over it now, taking the moment to observe his surroundings and hoping, in that moment, for some method of egress.

The room was large and strangely square. Like the others he’d seen, it had been dug out but with far more precision. The bard saw an impressive collection of treasures spilling out from each of the room’s corners and surrounding the goblin master. Crates of goods, sacks of spendable coins, swords, armour, and casks of ale. All of it was stolen from the road and covered in scorch marks.

There must be a year’s worth of pilfering here, perhaps even longer.

Holsley gasped.

He hadn’t noticed the stranger in the corner gagged and wrapped up in ropes at first glance — a tawny man, half-conscious, lying on a pile of rotting food. The stranger was human by appearance and much older than Holsley, perhaps seventy or eighty, as was evident from his overgrown beard and wild bushy eyebrows.

However, the cobbled-together patchwork robes and pointy hat revealed to the young bard what he really was. This was a wizard. There was no doubt about it. In all the books he’d read and stories he’d heard, wizards tended to favour a robe and a pointy hat.

‘What’s yer name,’ Stabby toe burped.

‘Lin.’ Holsley shifted awkwardly on his feet. ‘Gob Lin.’

‘He’s a liar,’ Stabby Toe roared, leaning forward. ‘He’s a stoopid hooman, playing stoopid tricks.’

‘No, I is a goblin. I is. I is.’ Holsley protested, keeping his fingers pressed to his throat. ‘I ain’t a stoopid human.’

For the first time, Holsley noticed the stick lying on the armrest of this creature’s throne. It was straight and ornately carved with whirling patterns. The guv’nor took a hold of it and stroked its length while he observed Holsley.

‘Prove it,’ he snarled.

This wasn’t going to end well.

‘H-how?’ Holsley asked. ‘I just want to turn back to normal and, uh, eat meat, sleep and, and wrestle?’

An unnerving smile crept across Stabby Toe’s features. ‘If you is a goblin, say something in goblin.’

‘Uh, g-gaggahas, gaggabrack, uh, oh, gaggaknack?’ Holsley wished he had said that a little more confidently, seeing as his life might depend on it.

Unimpressed, Stabby Toe stood to his full height. Holsley took a step back on pure instinct. How he wished he had his lute. Not that it would save him or anything, but it would be nice to die with a familiar friend in his arms.

‘You ain’t no goblin.’

It was then that Holsley noticed one of the goblins in the corner, desperately trying to get his attention. Except, they weren’t a goblin. No, they were a gnome in disguise. Holsley held back the smile as he glanced over. Merhim was positioned near the wizard, using the distraction Holsley was providing to undo the stranger’s restraints.

The young bard needed to keep up the diversion.

‘Say something else.’ Stabby Toe pointed the stick towards him, and Holsley suddenly realised what it was. He put two and two together. Dammit. A wizard in the corner meant that this blood thing was most likely a stolen wand. Oh!

Quickly, he recovered all the things he knew about magical wands. Some were dangerous, no, most were dangerous, while others were useful. Could anyone just pick them up, though, and start slinging spells? He couldn’t remember. He really couldn’t. Stabby Toe seemed pretty confident he could wield it, though.

The goblin leader said something to him in goblinish. Holsley had no idea what had been said, which was apparent on his face. He backed up a little more.

‘Ah, see, I’m an out-of-town goblin.’ Holsley gave Stabby Toe a nervous smile. ‘I speak a different kind of goblin. It’s the accent, you see.’

‘Your voice has changed.’

‘Oh.’ Yeah, Holsley had kind of forgot about that. He looked over; Merhim was still struggling with the restraints.

Holsley had never met a wizard before, but he did know they were quite powerful spellcasters that, like him, drew from the mysterious power of the arcane. Thanks to his elven education, he also knew that as long as their mouths and hands were free, they could perform spells. This wizard better be conscious enough to cast and quick enough to save him.

‘I don’t think you is a goblin.’ Stabby Toe forced him to back up against the wall. The trio that had led him here were snarling now, gooey saliva dripping out of the corners of their smiles. Stabby Toe thrust the wand right at Holsley’s neck. ‘I think you is an intruder and a thief, here to steal our wizard.’

Just a little more time.

‘Yeah, well…’ Holsley was thinking on his feet now. ‘I don’t think, uh, YOU is a goblin!’

Stabby Toe blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden outburst.

‘Y-yeah!’ Holsley stepped forward. ‘You don’t look like a goblin to me. You’re too tall, hairy, and uh, uh, ugly!’ Why did he say that? ‘No, not ugly, but, uh, different looking is all I meant. Like we’re all beautiful in our own way, right?’

The goblins looked at each other as if he had a good point. The sudden bout of inspiration seemed to work until Stabby Toe snarled, and everyone quickly realigned their allegiances again.

‘Do magic on him!’ exclaimed Kevin excitedly. ‘Do it!’

‘Okay, wait.’ Holsley put up his hands. ‘You got me. I’m not a goblin, but I am a bard. That’s way more useful. I, uh, could sing songs and tell you stories. I mean, not right not, I don’t have my lute, but as soon as I get it back. I’m sure goblins like stories, right? I know loads of—’

‘Shut up,’ Stabby Toe snarled. ‘We don’t like stories.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me one?’ Holsley asked. Merhim was sure taking his time. ‘Like, why didn’t the goblins just kill us at the campsite before taking our stuff?’

‘Death attracts guards,’ Stabby Toe sniffed, then he threw up the wand, clearly tired of this conversation. ‘Guards bring trouble.’

‘What about—’

‘No more questions!’ Stabby Toe flicked the wand as if to use it.

At the last possible moment, Holsley stupidly dove forward. The beast had got too close. The bard, acting on pure instinct, managed to wrap his hands around the stick and fought for it. They struggled, but it was clear who was stronger. Stabby Toe bound a furry arm into Holsley’s chest and sent him skittering into a wall on the other side of the room. Fortunately, a pile of old chests was there to break his fall.

Holsley hit them hard, shattering them under his weight, but he had managed to win the wand out of the goblin’s overgrown fingers.

‘Give me that!’ Stabby Toe roared from across the room.

Holsley had never held a wand before, much less used one — he didn’t even know what this wand was capable of.

Stabby Toe didn’t care about that. The brute came right for him, his unkempt toenails scraping the floor. Ah, so that’s why they called him Stabby Toe. What Holsley did next was more of a flinch than anything intentional.

He flicked the wand forward, and the end erupted in flames with a loud explosion. Not unlike the explosions he had heard in the woods. So, this is how the goblins were casting fire spells. The resulting fireball missed Stabby Toe by an ear, but it did strike his makeshift throne. Wooden Throne. The structure went up instantly in a ball of fire.

Chaos ensued. Stabby Toe boomed in anger and turned away from the young to attend to the blaze as the goblins scattered.

If Holsley had a copper peasant for every time he had set fire to a flammable space while a vicious brute was bearing down on him, he’d have two copper peasants. Which wasn’t much, but it’s weird that it had happened twice in as many days.

It didn’t matter much what followed after the spell had been cast, though, as Holsley couldn’t register it. All he could do was lay there, back against the wall, as he watched the inferno dance and grow to an overwhelming size.

‘Not again,’ he squeaked.