Chapter 1

Will walked down a muddy road running through fields and light forests, and for the millionth time he wished that someone on the world of Other Place had invented antiperspirant. Deodorant would be nice, too. He’d come up with a long list of things someone should have been clever enough to come up with, and antiperspirant was on the top.

Will was a young man with brown hair and gray eyes, and reasonably fit. His clothes included black pants, a green shirt, a cape that was black on the outside and green on the inside, a black hat with a green ribbon in the brim, and black boots. Normally his outfit included a black vest and black gloves with green fingers, but he’d left these at home because of the heat. In addition to a bronze fire scepter and bag of vegetables he’d grown in a small garden, he carried a hollow gourd filled with water. The gourd held almost a gallon, and although it was still morning, Will could drink it by afternoon.

In theory it was October, although you’d never guess it. There were no cool days and chilly nights in a gentle lead in to winter. Summer was being a very poor sport about the whole ‘changing of the seasons’ business, and August’s heat had never left. Mornings started warm and muggy, with afternoons hot enough to fry an egg and so humid it felt like he was swimming instead of walking. Sweat plastered Will’s clothes to his body.

Will left the Kingdom of the Goblins and headed for the nearest human town. Partly that was to get food, but there was another reason. He needed time away from his friends and followers, and this was the only way to get it.

His goblin followers were short, stupid and a bit crazy, and no two looked alike. Their skin color, height and weight varied astonishingly. Many had exaggerated features, such as large eyes or ears, big feet or arms longer than normal. Some even had stunted wings or an extra arm. Goblins were one of the most despised creatures on Other Place. They weren’t violent, but they were rude, dirty and troublesome. Setting bizarre traps was their favorite past time, with this year’s Most Convoluted Trap Award going to a design that catapulted victims into a pile of cow manure.

Will’s thoughts were drawn off his problems when he heard rustling in a patch of bushes. His usual goblin bodyguards that followed him when he went for meals were busy, leaving him on his own. Will froze and reached for his scepter, but his concern was unnecessary. It was just an older man driving an oxcart. The oxcart was loaded with sheaves of wheat, and the ox pulled it slower than Will could walk.

The farmer tipped his hat and smiled. “Morning.”

“Hi,” Will said. The locals were a friendly bunch that sympathized with Will’s predicament. They only dealt with goblins on rare occasions, whereas his hands were constantly full. The men also knew the good things Will had done since coming to Other Place and appreciated his efforts.

The farmer saw Will’s water gourd and smiled. “Say, you mind lending a drink to someone in need?”

“Sure.” Will tried to hand him the gourd, but the farmer shook his head and pointed at the ox.

“Not me! He’s the one doing all the work.”

Will reluctantly put the gourd in front of the ox. The animal lowered its head into the gourd and slurped up the water, even licking out the inside. The farmer said, “Thanks. We’ve had plenty of rain, but it’s still hard keeping the old boy watered. He loses a gallon an hour when it’s this hot.”

“Him and me both,” Will replied. The farmer laughed and left Will to continue to town. It wasn’t far and he should make it before it got much hotter. He could also refill the gourd before heading back to his kingdom.
His kingdom. It sounded impressive, but it wasn’t. Will was originally from Earth before the law firm of Cickam, Wender and Downe tricked him into become King of the Goblins. The only city in the kingdom had been a wreck when Will first saw it, and now was almost entirely destroyed by the goblins themselves. There was no farming or ranching. Once the land had thriving iron mines operated by dwarfs, but that ended ninety years ago when the last speck of ore was dug out. Waste from those mines had devastated the kingdom. And tourism? Ha! Only the desperate came, and they didn’t stay long if they could help it. The Kingdom of the Goblins was dirt poor and would remain so for generations to come.

In spite of this Will had come to see value in the goblins, if not their kingdom. They were stupid and a bit crazy, but he’d seen lots of stupidity on Earth and among the races of Other Place. And goblins had virtues if you looked hard enough. They weren’t cruel, and he’d even seen them take in orphaned children in a city far away. They weren’t greedy, with most showing no interest in money. They weren’t ambitious and didn’t aspire to rule empires and subjugate others. As far as Will was concerned, that put them ahead of a lot of people.

Will saw the town up ahead on the road. It was a pleasant place with a hundred buildings clustered around an inn and blacksmith shop. Will came here for his meals and to spend time with other humans. The town had no name, and for tax reasons pretended it was located in Will’s kingdom. Residents were kind and he returned the favor.

“We meet at last,” a melodious male voice said. Startled, he spun around and grabbed his fire scepter, only to find himself facing a male elf. Will didn’t see any cover the elf could have been hiding behind, and he was sure he hadn’t heard anyone approach. The elf smiled and raised his hands. “I assure you there’s no need for that. I’m quite tame.”

Will lowered his scepter but held onto it. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being jumpy, but lots of people have tried to kill me. Sneaking up on me isn’t nice.”

The elf bowed his head. “My apologies. I should have realized a man with as many enemies as you have wouldn’t like unannounced visitors.”

Will took a moment to study the elf. He was as tall as Will but thinner, and had pointed ears common to the race. His hair was turquoise blue and arranged in an elegant style. The elf’s clothes drew his notice the most, for the stylish silk garments were dyed blue and studded with sapphires easily worth hundreds of gold coins. Tasteful silver rings and a jade and silver armband finished the display.

The elf said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am known as True Eyes, as my full name would take too long to recite. I am an ambassador of King Viliamorous Trathanic, ruler of the elves, the one true heir to the ancient Elf Empire, he whose ancestors defeated the Etherium Empire, he whom all call wise and just, he who—”. The elf noticed Will’s disbelieving expression and stopped. “His full title goes on like that for ten minutes, but you’re a busy man.”

“Okay,” Will began, “I’m assuming you’re here on business, even if I can’t figure out for the life of me what you want.”

“You do yourself a disservice! Few of the lesser races have accomplished what you have. You nearly approach an elf in competence and ability. Winning your war with the human king Kervol Ket was almost enough to draw my King’s attention.”

Will had experience with elves and their overwhelming egos. Elves had near superhuman dexterity and were dangerous in a fight, but their sense of superiority made it hard to deal with them. In ancient days elves had ruled almost all of Other Place, and they believed it should be that way again.

“Indeed, His Majesty was impressed with how you dealt with the Staff of Skulls,” True Eyes continued. “Your defeat of the Eternal Army was equally astounding, although I must say my King felt slighted that you didn’t include him in your endeavor.”

Will had stopped the Eternal Army the previous winter, burying those immortal psychopaths under thousands of tons of rock and dirt. But the job had been too big for him and the goblins, and he’d needed help from Kervol Ket (who’d sort of forgiven him) and King Gate of the trolls.

Not wanting to offend, Will explained, “We were on a tight schedule.”

True Eyes smiled, but there was a hint of insincerity when he spoke. “Yes, there is rarely time to do things properly in emergencies. Moving on, your offensive against the human billionaire Quentin Peck particularly interested my King. That rascal was deeply involved with the Yelinid Banking Cartel, renegade elves who don’t recognize his authority and supremacy. It saddened the King to learn that their poor judgment allowed Peck to discomfort you.”

“Discomfort me?” Will asked. “He tried to kill me!”
“Yet you stand before me looking quite healthy,” True Eyes noted. “Your accomplishments are all the greater considering the limited resources and low quality manpower you had. Few have matched your deeds, and none using goblins.”

While Will recognized his friends’ limitations, he didn’t like people disrespecting them. Gritting his teeth, he said, “They can do a lot when you give them a chance.”
True Eyes took a silver tube from his belt and removed a scroll from it. “So it seems. My King sees it as his duty to support the few leaders among the lesser races who prove themselves worthy. He sent me to arrange a formal declaration of friendship between our kingdoms. Such an offer would include financial assistance, diplomatic support, land development and the services of elf wizards, widely held to be the greatest of all races in their mastery of magic.”

Will took the scroll from True Eyes and unrolled it. On the face of it the offer was tempting. Will had been in trouble often since becoming King of the Goblins, and the list of people he could count on for help was a short one. Still, he was suspicious and wanted to read the declaration in detail. The long vellum scroll was covered in fanciful decorations and gold leaf along the borders, but what concerned him most was that it was written entirely in elven.

“We have a slight problem here,” Will told the elf. He pointed at writing that was both beautiful and incomprehensible. “I can’t read a word of this.”

“I see your concern,” True Eyes said. “I beg your forgiveness. Human kings of this world learn written and spoken elven at an early age, a sign of respect for our culture. But you are no more from this world than the kings who ruled here before you. My humblest apologies, but this is not the impediment you think.”

Will handed the scroll back. “I’m kind of wary about legally binding papers, especially ones I can’t read.”

True Eyes put an arm around Will’s shoulders and smiled like a used car salesman trying to reel in a customer. “Allow me to correct this oversight. I would be only too happy to translate the declaration for you.”

That didn’t sound much better. Will didn’t trust the elf to give an honest translation, but if he signed it he’d be trapped into following the contract whether he understood it or not. Thinking fast, he said, “That won’t be necessary. I have a magic mirror that reads elven just fine. Her name is Gladys, and I’m sure she’d be tickled pink to help.”

True Eyes tried to steer Will off the road and into town. “Ah, but could she understand the intricacies of diplomatic terminology, and the subtitles of courtly language? I take it from the early hour that you are on your way to breakfast? I would be delighted to translate the declaration while you dine. You would have a complete understanding of it within the hour regardless of the language barrier.”

“You swine!” someone behind them screamed. Will and True Eyes turned to see another elf marching down the road toward them. This elf, another male, was as well dressed as True Eyes, but the fashion was different. His clothes were dyed royal purple, and he favored gold and ruby jewelry. His expression set him apart as well, for his face was beet red and he wore a look of outrage. “You gutter filth, conniving, treacherous oaf!”

Will rubbed his eyes. “I hate starting the day like this.”

“Sir, my insults were not meant for you,” the new elf declared. He bowed and said, “My name is Perfect Strike when I don’t have five minutes for the full and correct version, but the elf beside you should be called mud!”

True Eyes scowled. “I fail to see what business a lesser elf like you has here.”

“Lesser?” Perfect Strike bellowed.

“Pay him no mind,” True Eyes told Will. “He is descended from traitors who deserted the Elf King. They are little more than bandits.”

“Lies!” Perfect Strike yelled. He was drawing attention from farmers, but he ignored them. Pointing an accusing finger at True Eyes, he replied. “The so called ‘Elf King’ is a tyrant sprung from a line of tyrants, and has no right to his throne. His poor rule drove off my ancestors and hundreds of others to start anew in distant lands. We formed the Versile Consortium, and are respected merchants and makers of fine goods.”

“Go count your money, peddler,” True Eyes retorted.
Will tried to slip away. “You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll leave you to it.”

Perfect Strike marched up to Will and said, “Listen to him not! He seeks to draw you in with lies and trick you into becoming his King’s slave.”

“Partner!” True Eyes retorted. “He would be a partner and trusted ally.”

“I just want some breakfast,” Will said.

“You lie, ‘Cross Eyed’!” Perfect Strike retorted. He took Will’s arm and said, “You can’t trust him. He knew I was coming with a proposed alliance between you and the Versile Consortium, and he sabotaged my mission! I intended to bring a trusted human servant of my family and assign her to your service as proof of our good intent. Instead he forced her onto a ship going out to sea! We’ve no idea where she is.”

“You mean the floozy you sent to seduce him?” True Eyes replied. “Yes, I put a stop to that!”

More farmers gathered to watch, but the elves seemed blind to it. Perfect Strike snapped, “She’s not a floozy! She’s a beloved family retainer.”

True Eyes leaned in close to Will. “That means she tied his shoes.”

“That does it!” Perfect Strike lived up to his name with a punch that knocked True Eyes to the ground. He jumped and tried to land on his prone enemy, but True Eyes rolled out of the way and shot to his feet. He kicked Perfect Strike hard enough to spin the purple clad elf in a circle. Perfect Strike recovered quickly and landed two lightning fast punches into True Eyes’ stomach, doubling him over.

Will shook his head and walked to the town’s inn. With any luck he could eat breakfast and get out of here while those two were clowning around. Chances were both of them wanted to involve him into some kind of scheme.

The inn was a pleasant place to visit in cold weather since the kitchen generated a lot of heat along with good food. That heat plus the unseasonable weather made conditions inside uncomfortable. The innkeeper had opened all the windows and propped open the door, which helped a little, but the inn’s large common room was still hot.

Will sat down at a table near the door and was soon visited by the innkeeper, a bear of a man with brown grizzled hair and bulging muscles like a weightlifter. The innkeeper nodded to Will and said, “It’s oatmeal and hardboiled eggs today.”

“Thanks.” Will handed the bag of vegetables to the innkeeper. “Here.”

The innkeeper accepted the bag, but said, “I don’t mind the food, but your king contract allows you to eat for free.”

“I know, but it’s not fair that I always come to the same place for the free food. I ought to give something in return, even if it’s turnips.”

The innkeeper left while Will studied his king contract. Will had gotten the infernal document when he was tricked into being King of the Goblins, binding him to both the job and kingdom. The contract was tens of thousands of lines long and written in words so small it was hard to read. He could go home if he found a loophole not covered in its countless lines of fine print.
The problem was there had been 47 other Kings of the Goblins who had escaped their contracts. Every time one got away, Cickam, Wender and Downe made the next contract harder to escape. It didn’t help that the cursed thing was actually growing and adding new clauses to keep him on the job. This included such bizarre terms as Article 105, subsection 2, paragraph 11, line 4: The King of the Goblins can’t escape his job by destroying the kingdom with a giant radioactive monster. We paid him off and he won’t help you.

The innkeeper brought Will his breakfast, a simple but filling meal. Will ate slowly and looked out the windows from time to time to see how the fight was progressing. The two elves were gracefully beating each other senseless. True Eyes leaped over a farmer and tried to kick Perfect Strike, but Perfect Strike grabbed him by the ankles and swung him into a ditch. Between attacks the two shouts at one another in elven. While Will couldn’t speak the language, judging by their tone he was pretty sure they were swearing.

A rancher watching the fight nudged a farmer and said, “A copper piece on the one in blue?”

The farmer grinned. “You’re on.”

Two farmers joined Will at the inn. The first said, “Someone said those two yahoos were fighting over you.”

“Yeah, that’s diplomacy for you,” Will said as he ate.

“We heard there were floozies involved,” the second farmer said.

“Just one, and she couldn’t make it.”

The first farmer patted Will on the shoulder. “Tough break, pal.”

The farmers left to watch the fight, leaving Will alone with his food. He finished the meal and leaned back in his chair.

The innkeeper stayed by the bar and watched Will. “Most times you hurry back after eating. This week you’ve stayed here as long as you can. Pretty sure you’re not here for the ambiance.”

“You have a nice place,” Will told him, then looked down. “I’m not in a rush to get back. You see the goblins are having a civil war.”

“It’s over cheese, right?”

Surprised, Will sat up straight. “How did you know?”

“It’s happened before,” the innkeeper replied. “I’ve seen it two, three times. Can’t blame you for wanting to stay out of it.”

“I can’t get them to stop,” Will said. “Most of the time they at least try to follow orders, but they’ve broken into factions and are pounding away at each other with sofa cushions and pillows. I’d be appalled if they were actually hurting each other.”

The conversation ended when True Eyes flew screaming through an open window to land on Will’s table. He unrolled the scroll and said, “If I could just point out the benefits detailed on line eight.”

Perfect Strike reached through the window, grabbed True Eyes by the heels and dragged him outside to continue their fight. The innkeeper stomped over and shouted, “I’m trying to run a business here!”

“Many apologies,” True Eyes replied before tossing a gold coin through the window. The innkeeper plucked it out of the air and stuffed it in his pocket before turning his attention back to Will.

“It doesn’t look it, but things are getting better. Goblins haven’t been much trouble since you took over, and most of their mischief is done on people who deserve it. You’ve got a tough row to hoe, no question, but you’ve done well so far and I think you can manage this.”

“Thanks,” Will told him. He left the inn and refilled his gourd at a well before heading back to his kingdom. The elves were still pounding each other, and he’d just as soon be gone before either of them won. The winner might follow him, but probably not into a war zone.
The walk back was uneventful. A tiny white skinned pixie threw pebbles at him, but it left after he swatted it with his hat. The real problems started once he crossed the border.

The kingdom had healed from the damage done so long ago. Intensive mining had once reduced the land to rocks and weeds, but now there were young trees, lush grasses and shrubs growing alongside dirt trails. In some places there were canyons, streams, pools and other attractive features.

There were new additions to the landscape, including muddy trenches, poorly built wood barricades and makeshift wood forts, all built to goblin proportions. Goblins had thrown up these flimsy defenses when the fighting first started, building more each day. Will could step over most of the obstacles, but he had to keep an eye out for traps his followers doubtlessly had set. The sounds of battle weren’t far off.

“Cheddar!” a horde of goblins screamed as they ran out of the woods and headed for the trenches. This bunch wore miniature versions of WW I German infantry uniforms complete with spiked helmet, and they were armed with pillows.

“Gouda!” the defending goblins screamed. They poured out of the forts and manned the trenches. These goblins wore rags and cast off human garments, with throw pillows as their weapon of choice. They included warrior and digger goblins, but since the fighting started they’d shown little interest in their chosen profession and were dedicated to this idiotic conflict. The two factions plowed into one another in a vicious no holds barred pillow war.

Knowing he was going to fail, Will tried for the third time that day to end the war. “Guys, cut it out! Stop fighting!”

The goblins ignored him in their unrelenting desire to defeat their accursed enemies. The fact that they hadn’t been enemies last week was unimportant, or that they weren’t actually doing damage. Goblin fought goblin, and feathers flew as pillows split open.

Will got down in the trenches and pulled two goblins apart. “I’m serious, stop it!”

This time his words had some effect. The goblins separated and looked at him curiously. A cross-eyed goblin with the Gouda faction asked, “Boss, you’re not with these cheddar heads, are you? You said you weren’t taking sides.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Listen, guys, this is pointless.”

“Most of what we do is pointless,” a red skinned goblin replied.

“That’s true,” Will admitted. “But this is really pointless. You guys fought side by side against some the worst threats on Other Place. You should be working together. Think of the amazing things you could be doing instead of fighting.”

A goblin scratched his head and asked, “Did you drink expired milk again?”

“I’m serious! You guys built the biggest maze on the planet. But as long as you’re fighting each other you can’t make it bigger.”

That did it. The goblins loved their maze, a three-story nightmare of blind corners, hidden rooms and traps so devious that the bravest men dared not enter. Invoking it made the goblins look on another with sympathy. They shook hands, and some hugged.

“The King is right,” the cross-eyed goblin said. “We’ve been so busy fighting there’s been no work done of the maze all week. What were we thinking?”

“Gouda and Cheddar should be allies,” the red skinned goblin announced to cheers. “Together we can make the maze even greater than before, once we’ve taken out the Parmesan faction!”

Goblins shouted, “Hurray!”

“No!” Will shouted back, but it was too late. The two hordes of goblins ran off in giddy anticipation of another fight. Will shook his head and headed for the Goblin City.

The name was a lie. There had been a poorly built dwarf city there at one point, and the city walls and tall gatehouse were still standing, but the insides of the city were gone, razed to make room for expanding the maze. A brick strewn wasteland had replaced the ramshackle buildings, and it would stay that way until the goblins ended their idiotic conflict and got back to work.

Once Will entered through the gatehouse, he heard a squeaky voice ask, “Hey, Will, what’s the score?”

“I’m zero for four at stopping the war today, Domo,” Will replied.

Domo was a short goblin with gray skin and ratty black hair. He wore yellow robes and carried a red walking stick made from an enemy flagpole. Domo was a good friend of Will’s and the closest the goblins had ever come to producing their own leader. Normally they wouldn’t follow him, but in emergencies they’d consider it. Domo was smarter than most goblins and could see how stupid their civil war was, and he was content to wait it out on a pile of rubble that used to be a tollbooth.

But he wasn’t alone in the ruined city. Not far away was Vial, leader of the lab rat guild. Vial had short red hair over his entire body and wore a lab coat, pants, shoes and glasses. He looked harmless enough, like a warped version of a university professor, but he was potentially the most dangerous goblin alive.

Vial and his followers were alchemists, which was as close to chemists as the people of Other Place had ever come. His specialty was explosives, although he also made glue, cement, instant webbing and chemically generated light. Like Domo, he was smarter than most goblins, but he was no less crazy. He considered alchemy a sport that required audience participation, and if the audience was accidentally blown up, well, they knew the risks. Vial was getting the hang of alchemy, but on a bad day he was still a threat to everyone around him.

“Ah, My Liege, so good to see you,” Vial said. He waddled over to Will and handed him a paper. “I wish to discuss a matter with you. We both have considerable free time due to this war. Namely, you have no interest in joining and all the factions have refused my help.”

“There’s a first: goblins making an intelligent decision,” Domo quipped.

“I find the choice baffling,” Vial replied. “I could settle this dispute within hours. But their loss is our gain. I have developed plans for a new and most impressive explosive I call Bitter Betty. I’ve worked out most of the design problems—”

Worried, Will asked, “Most?”

“And with just a few ingredients I can produce a working copy,” Vial continued. “The destructive potential is astounding, and should be highly entertaining.”

“I don’t want explosions,” Will replied. “Things are bad enough as it is.”

“This is nothing,” Domo replied. “We’ve had plenty of civil wars before. The guys get to talking about which cheese is best, angry words fly and they break up into factions. It usually lasts a week or so before they lose interest.”

Smiling, Will asked, “So this is going to get better on its own?”

Domo picked dirt from between his toes. “It’s true. The last civil war happened during the rein of King Gideon the Blackmailer and ended in ten days.”

“Do I want to know how he got that nickname?” Will asked.

“He turned back an invading human army by threatening to read out loud love letters from the human king to his mistress,” Vial replied.

“Before that there was a five day civil war during the rein of King Valerie the Irate,” Domo added.

Will turned slowly to look at Domo. “King? Valerie is a girl’s name.”

Domo shrugged. “She made the same point quite often, but she had a king contract, Will, same as you. Her title wasn’t going to change for something as unimportant as gender.”

“Those were confusing times,” Vial admitted.

“We’ll be safe this close to the maze,” Domo told Will. “The guys won’t risk damaging it. The fight should be over across the kingdom in another day or two. The Swiss and Blue Cheese factions defeated the Limburger faction this morning, and the Cheddar faction should beat the Parmesan faction by tonight. Mind you, the Brie faction retreated into the hills and vowed to make revolution, but I figure they’ll forget what they were doing and wander off in a few hours.”

A horde of goblins ran screaming by the city gate on their way to a battle. Will recognized the goblin leading them and called out, “Niff!”

Mr. Niff screeched to a halt and the other goblins piled into him. Once they sorted themselves out, Mr. Niff ran over and smiled at Will. He had blue skin and beady eyes, and he dressed in black. His trademark knife was tucked in his belt in favor of a long cushion. Mr. Niff was a brave goblin ever ready to jump into battle whether or not it was smart (or even necessary) to do so. “Hey, boss. We’re on our way to take on those Colby lovers.”

“I haven’t seen you since this mess started,” Will said. “Which side are you on?”

“You know, we’ve changed sides so many times I’m not sure.” Mr. Niff scratched his head and looked at the goblins following him. “Who are we with today?”

The goblins shouted every possible answer, no two of them the same.

“Gouda!”

“Brie!”

“The King of Spain!”

None of that bothered Mr. Niff in the least. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Just then ten goblins ran out of the nearby woods. They flung something circular, white and lacy at Mr. Niff and his followers, and the goblins screamed and ran for cover. One goblin was hit and went down, but Mr. Niff pulled off the lacy projectile and dragged the goblin to safety. He shook his fist at the attacking goblins and shouted, “There are rules! No throwing doilies!”

Will watched the goblins run off. Dispirited and more than a little confused, he sat down on the rock pile next to Domo. “This is impossible! The guys have made big improvements and done amazing things, but they go back to being stupid at the drop of a hat. Every time I think I’ve helped them improve they slide back into bad habits.”

“He works a dozen miracles and wants more,” Domo said to Vial.

Vial walked over and patted Will on the hand. “Have no fear. The situation isn’t that bad, and should recover without your intervention. Please note the goblins can’t bother you much while they are involved in this foolishness. If it helps, try to think of this as a vacation.”
Will waved his hands over the brick piles that had once been homes. “It’s not just that. We don’t even have a city anymore! It wasn’t much to begin with and now it’s gone. The tunnels and caves under the city are intact, but the guys didn’t leave one building standing so they could expand the maze. Now they aren’t even doing that.”

“Yes,” Domo said dryly, “all those dirty, ugly, poorly made buildings that haven’t been repaired in decades are gone. Whatever shall we do without them?”

Will opened his mouth for an angry response, but he paused and raised one eyebrow. “When you put it like that I’m not so mad.”

Domo leaned over to Vial and whispered, “He’s just sore because he misses his fairy godmother.”

Vial smiled and nodded. “Ah yes, Miss Lydia Lajcek, our favorite fairy godmother, who Our Liege gave a fortune to and now doesn’t know where to find her. He really should have gotten a receipt for the cash.”

“Don’t go there!” Will warned them. The money didn’t bother him, but he’d been getting along well with Lydia before his contract forcibly separated them. Losing his best chance at love made this situation harder to deal with. Feeling a bit silly, he asked, “Did she, uh—”

“You didn’t get any mail from Lydia today, or this week or this month,” Domo responded. “It’s just the usual death threats, hate mail and catalogs for things you don’t need and can’t afford.”

“I feel the home Spam making kit had potential,” Vial said.

Looking more sympathetic than usual, Domo told him, “I know things are a mess, Will, and your love life being dead on arrival can’t help. I don’t like it any more than you do, and it’s going to stay bad for a long time. Look on the bright side, it can’t get worse.”

“Don’t say that!” Will shouted. “It can always get worse. My life is proof of that. Back home my biggest problem was finding a job. Now half the kingdoms on Other Place want me dead and two groups of elves are fighting over which one gets to manipulate me.”

Both goblins’ mouths dropped in surprise. Domo found his voice first. “Elves want you?”

“Two of them were waiting for me when I went for breakfast,” Will replied.

“It makes sense, in a highly suspect way,” Vial replied. “You won several wars, making you a valuable tool in their court intrigues. The elf faction that makes you their pawn would have significant advantages over their rivals.”

Domo grabbed Will’s hand and cried out, “Tell me you didn’t sign anything!”

“Oh come on! I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.” Will arranged the debris under him into a more comfortable pile. “I left them going at each other’s throats, but that’s temporary. I figure we should expect more visits in the future. What worries me is what they’ll do when I say no. If they think I’m a useful pawn, they might see me as a threat if I’m not on their side.”

“Sort of yes and sort of no,” Domo replied. “Elves don’t see anyone from other races as a threat no matter how powerful or successful they are, but they do see you as a useful tool. If they can’t have you they might kill you so other elf factions can’t have you.”

“There’s another problem to worry about,” Will said. “Some days it’s two steps forward and one step back. It doesn’t help that I don’t know about a lot of these problems until they come up, like that business with the elves or this civil war. I can only guess what’s next.”
**********
A thousand miles away, Thaddeus Macmillan sailed the open ocean in his boat, joined by his three grown sons, his cousin and nephew. They gathered around their nets in dismay. It was hot and they were tired from hours of work, but that’s not what bothered them. They’d been fishing for days in what should have been rich waters. The pickings were slim, and the things they caught barely qualified as fish. Every catch had been miserable, and today’s haul was the worst yet.

Thaddeus bent down and plucked a fish from the net. Holding it up, he stared at its large white eyes and gapping mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Brushing gray hair from his brow, Thaddeus declared, “That’s a new one on me.”

His nephew sniffed the fish and wrinkled his nose. “Smells awful. Uncle, I don’t think we can eat it.”

“We can’t,” Thaddeus said, and he looked behind his boat. The wood boat was thirty feet long, half as long as the sea serpents in its wake. A pod of ten of the beasts was following him like a shadow, as they always did when he put out to sea. There was an age-old rule that fishing boats throw overboard any part of their catch they didn’t want. Sea serpents ate the waste, and in return protected the boats from other predators. This trip they’d gotten more than half the catch.

“We can’t go home with so little,” one of his sons said.

“I know,” Thaddeus replied. “You boys put out the net. Maybe we’ll have better luck this time.”

Thaddeus was about to toss the disgusting fish overboard when he saw two smaller sea serpents swimming up to the boat. They were only six feet long, but in their own way were more dangerous than their parents. He grimaced and said, “Brace yourselves, boys. Their young ones are coming.”

Thaddeus’ cousin rolled his eyes. “I can deal with them trying to steal the catch, but I can’t take the puns!”

The two sea serpents came up to the boat and lifted up their heads. They had large eyes and pale blue scales, with short fins on the tops of their heads. One said in a child-like voice, “Whatcha doing?”

“Fishing,” Thaddeus told the young sea serpent. “You two go back to your pa.”

The second sea serpent tried to grab one of the few cod they’d caught. Thaddeus’ nephew pushed it back gently with an oar. “That’ll be enough of that.”

“I like cod,” the second one said innocently.

“So do we,” Thaddeus retorted.

The first sea serpent smiled and asked, “Hey, what do you call paint made from the hooves of a boar that liked candy?”

Thaddeus resigned himself to the inevitably bad punch line. “I don’t know.”

“Pig-mint.”

The entire crew groaned in agony. Thaddeus turned to the youngster and asked, “What does your pa do when you tell him puns like that?”

“He tells me to talk to you,” the sea serpent said cheerfully.

Thaddeus bit back a sharp reply and tossed the ugly fish to the sea serpent. “Make yourself useful and ask your pa if he’s ever seen a fish like this.”

The youngster took the fish in his mouth and they both left. They swam back to the pod and passed the fish to a sea serpent sixty feet long and five feet wide. The adult spoke and gulped the fish down before sending the young ones back.

“Pa said you only find fish like that very deep,” the first youngster reported. “He doesn’t know how it got in your net.”

“And he told you to give me a cod,” the second added.
Indigent, the first sea serpent said, “He did not, you big liar!”

“I want a cod!”

There was a splash behind them. Thaddeus saw the entire pod of sea serpents slap their tails on the water, a distress call among their kind. They looked scared, but that was impossible. There were five adults in the pod, any one of them a threat to the largest shark. Even a kraken wouldn’t attack a pod that big! The adults slapped the water again and scattered. The largest adult looked at the boat and bellowed, “Flee!”

The two youngsters swam off in a panic, leaving Thaddeus wondering what was going on. He saw no danger in the sky or the water, but anything that scared an entire pod of sea serpents was a threat whether he could see it or not.

“Take in the net!” he ordered. “Once it’s in we’re off at full sail.”

His sons went for the net while Thaddeus took the wheel. He watched the water for this unseen threat. The waves grew in height, but nothing worse.

“Pa!” his oldest son shouted. “The net won’t budge. Something’s caught in it.”

That was all the warning they got. The net went taut and the boat was dragged forward so hard everyone was thrown to the deck. In seconds the boat was pulled eighty feet. Water splashed over the railing and the few fish they had slid across the deck. For a moment the boat stopped moving, but then it shot forward another eighty feet.

“Cut the net loose!” Thaddeus shouted. “For the love of God, cut the net!”

His youngest son pulled himself along the railing until he reached the spot where the net was tied to the boat. He grabbed an ax off the deck, nearly missing it as it slid by. The boat came to another stop, giving him a chance to stand up and swing the ax with all his might.
Thunk! The ax cut through the thick net and into the deck. The boat came to a halt while the net was dragged beneath the waves. Thaddeus struggled to his feet and helped up his nephew.

“Pa, what happened?” his eldest son asked. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said numbly. He rubbed his head where he’d hit the deck, trying hard to think. It took him a moment to realize what it was, what it had to be, and terror shook him to his core. “Get us to full sail! We have to get home fast, while there’s still a home to go back to!”