Chapter 3

Will and his friends studied the remains of the bronze monster that had tried to kill them. The troll brothers and Hugh Timbers pulled it apart to reveal bewildering mechanical and magical bits inside its bronze shell. Will sorted through the wreckage and picked up a clear, slender crystal with a crack running through it.

“Is any of this dangerous?” Will asked Percy. “We can throw it down a bottomless pit if it’s poisonous or going to explode.”

“It’s harmless now,” Percy said sadly. He picked up a hollow sphere from the wreckage and tossed it aside. “That battle was a bad sign. Sarcamusaad didn’t even try to communicate with us. I wonder if his time alone in the ocean drove him mad.”

“It doesn’t sound like he was too stable to begin with,” Domo replied as he dug through the metal remains.

Will glanced at Percy. “What I want to know is how Sarcamusaad found you. You’re a long way from your people, and the Kingdom of the Goblins didn’t exist when Sarcamusaad went underwater. How’d he know
you were here?”

“Sarcamusaad is a puppet person, as I am,” Percy replied. “While he is much larger and vastly more powerful, he has many of the same abilities. One of those is the ability to sense magic, especially other puppet people.”

“How does that work?” Will asked.

“It’s difficult to describe to someone who can’t do it,”
Percy said. “It’s a scent we get when we’re close to magic, or a feeling. The stronger the magic the more it tastes, if that’s the right word. I can feel your magic scepter from thirty paces away, and a more powerful item from sixty or seventy paces. I can sense other puppet people at ten times that distance.”

Will twirled his scepter. “So you figure the scout was getting the lay of the land and just happened to be close enough to sniff you out.”

“I believe so,” Percy replied. “We shouldn’t linger by the remains. Sarcamusaad may send more scouts to see what happened.”

“Can he fix this one?” Will asked.

Percy looked at the wreckage. “I don’t know.”

Will led his friends back to the ruins of the Goblin City, stopping only long enough to take the table and chairs before going into the tunnels below. Along the way they attracted a fair number of goblins that had heard of the attack and decided it was more important than their civil war. Will took the growing crowd to the throne room to plan their next move.

The room’s name was misleading. While Will now had a bedroom overflowing with furniture thanks to a king he’d once helped, the king hadn’t sent a throne. The only furniture here consisted of a few old crates and an empty barrel. But the room was large enough to accommodate everyone, and seeing as he was dealing with a fellow leader it was probably the best place to use.

“London, if you could bring Gladys?” Will asked.

“No sweat,” London said. He nudged his brother and told him, “Keep him out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“How could I get in trouble in my throne room?” Will protested.

London left the room, saying, “You always get in trouble. That’s why it’s fun working for you.”

“Never a dull moment around here, just the way we like it,” Brooklyn agreed cheerfully.

Mr. Niff smiled. “You’ve come close to getting your ticket punched so often that the guys started a betting pool on who might try to kill you next. My money is on ‘attacked by enraged woodchucks’, but there are good odds on ‘chased off cliff by moose’ and ‘sat on by yeti’.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking bets on how I’ll die?”

“Almost die,” Mr. Niff corrected him.

Will shook his head. “Okay, getting back on topic. I’m a little short on details here. I get that this is bad, but not how bad. And I’m trying really hard not to sound like a jerk, but exactly why is this our problem and not someone else’s?”

“Technically Sarcamusaad is everyone’s problem,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad has been called one of the fifty most powerful magic items in existence, which is a tad insulting as he is an intelligent being, not an item. He is among the most dangerous beings alive. No known person or beast could fight him and hope to win. The largest of armies would face ruinous losses against him, and their victory would be far from assured. Even his mere passing through a nation would be devastating.”

London came back with Gladys and set her down in front of Will. Gladys was a magic mirror, six feet tall with a bronze frame covered in eagle motifs and standing on two bronze eagle feet. The mirror’s surface showed Gladys as an overweight middle-aged woman with blond hair. She wore too much makeup and a garish pink and yellow dress.

“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” Will said.

“So, we’re screwed,” Gladys said.

“Inelegant, but correct,” Percy replied.

Gladys pouted. “I saw the fight through a scarecrow. If it takes that much to bring down a little one, I don’t want to know what it takes to stop the big one.”
Will pulled up a crate and sat down in front of Gladys. “I need whatever you have on Sarcamusaad.”

Gladys frowned as a bookcase appeared behind her inside the mirror. Taking a book out, she said, “There’s not much I can tell you. Sarcamusaad was built long ago by a group of humans called the Crafters. The Crafters lived in a small kingdom north of here that included parts of our kingdom. They stole dwarf magic secrets on building golems, but that wasn’t as useful as they’d hoped. Golems need constant supervision, break down a lot and are expensive. Crafters spent years researching better forms of golems until they made the purple puppet people.”

“We are indebted to them,” Percy said solemnly.

Gladys stared at Percy in disbelief. “They made you for slave labor.”

“I said we are indebted to them. I didn’t say we liked them.”

“I wouldn’t, either,” she said. “Crafters built thousands of purple puppet people to be their workers and soldiers. Puppet people built the cities, grew the food and protected them from their enemies. The bums didn’t do anything for themselves. You’d think that would be enough, but it wasn’t. Some of the Crafters decided to stage a coup and take over the kingdom. They lost and were driven out, swearing eternal vengeance.”

“I’m suddenly happy I never met these people,” Will said.

“Oh yeah, they were scum,” Gladys replied. “Roughly half the Crafters fled the kingdom and headed south with the other half hot on their heels. The renegade Crafters stole boats and escaped by sea. They settled on the island of Muramal, a tropical paradise where they should have lived happily ever after if they weren’t such jerks.”

Gladys pressed a book up against the mirror’s surface. The pages showed people building a large city by the sea. There were huge buildings, tall towers, imposing walls, and what looked suspiciously like cannons.

“Cannons?” Will asked. “These guys had cannons?”

“Magic cannons,” Percy replied. “They use four magic wands or scepters bundled together inside each barrel. The wands fire as one, meaning the cannons are capable of inflicting tremendous damage at incredible range. The design went out of production long ago because they were expensive and hard to make. If the cannons weren’t built exactly right they exploded when first used.”

Vial perked up and scurried over to Percy. “Really? How would one go about making one of these wonders?”

“Don’t answer that,” Will told Percy. “Go on, Gladys.”

“The renegade Crafters made Sarcamusaad to get their revenge,” Gladys continued. “Instead of making an army of man-sized puppets they made one as big as a city. The project took years and the renegade Crafters shot at anyone who came close to their island. One of the few ship captains who survived their attacks made these drawings.”

“Percy said the men who made Sarcamusaad all died,” Will said. “With guns like that, who could kill them?”

Gladys pulled her book back and turned a page. “Nobody knows. Ships steered clear of Muramal for years after the first few were fired on. One day a merchant ship saw a small boat leave Muramal and head their way. The captain thought they were going to attack and made a run for it, but the boat came close enough to hail them. Renegade Crafters on board said they needed medicine and doctors. They promised a fortune in gold if the captain could get them help within a month. The captain agreed and came back with a couple doctors and all the medicine he could buy. This is what he saw.”

Gladys placed the book against the surface of the mirror again. The drawing lacked detail, but what they saw was bad enough. Will and the others leaned in close to the picture of a towering, man-shaped thing standing where the city had been. It had a sloping head, no neck, broad flat shoulders, short legs and long arms that ended in huge armored fists. There were strange features to the giant, towers and gates that looked like they had come straight off the city. It took Will a second to realize this titanic creation was the city, folded up and twisted around until it resembled a man.

“Sarcamusaad roared that its makers had been murdered, and he fired lightning and fire into the sky,” Gladys told them. “Then he waded into the ocean toward the ship. The captain got away, but he thought that was because Sarcamusaad wasn’t going after him. He went home and never returned to Muramal. Years later a few idiots decided to explore the island and found thousands of graves with no markers. They swore it looked like giant fingers had dug the graves from volcanic rock.”

Will stared at the drawing. “And that’s coming our way.”

“Yes,” Percy replied. “I believe Sarcamusaad blames the Crafters for this crime. He has to travel through many kingdoms to reach his goal, and I fear for the people living there. Worse, the Crafters are no more, scattered to the wind like dandelion seeds. What happens when he finds no one to vent his rage on? I have come up with many possible outcomes, none of them pleasant.”

“And we’re supposed to stop that?” Domo sputtered.

Will kept staring at the picture. “Percy, this is out of our league. We’ve fought armies before, under protest, and we’ve taken down some big game in the last year or so, but this thing looks like it could grind us into paste without noticing. How could we fight a threat that big?”

Percy fidgeted. “That would be difficult bordering on impossible, but I believe we can stop Sarcamusaad without violence.”

“That ruins my day,” Brooklyn said.

“It’s true Sarcamusaad is a terrible danger,” Percy continued, “but in his own way he’s also a victim. He didn’t choose to be an engine of war. Others made that decision for him.”

Will rubbed his chin. “He’s got a right to be angry. I mean, the people who built him were kind of like his family, and they were taken from him. If I were in his place I’d be mad enough to bite through a crowbar.”

Percy nodded. “A valid point. Sarcamusaad is dangerous and we may have no choice but to fight him, but my greatest hope is that we can save him. Decades ago the purple puppet people successfully broke free from the Crafters’ rule. I would like for Sarcamusaad to do the same, help him become an independent person with goals and dreams beyond war or servitude.”

Domo waved his walking stick. “I’m sorry, but there was a little episode not too far back where he tried to kill us, and you in particular. Did you somehow miss that?”

“Yeah, he seemed kind of grumpy,” Mr. Niff added.

Percy fidgeted some more. “That is an issue. If Sarcamusaad is still intent on destroying the Crafters then he likely thinks the puppet people serve them, myself included. That’s where you have the best chance to help! Sarcamusaad has no quarrel with goblins and might listen to you.”

“That’s a stretch,” Will said. “On a good day people ignore us. On a bad day they try to kill us. We have lots of bad days. Why would a giant walking city care what we have to say?”

Percy looked down. “I realize how much I’m asking. Sarcamusaad is an incredible threat to anyone in his path, and trying to talk to him could be as dangerous as fighting him. But doing nothing can only have bad results.”

“Especially for us,” Gladys said.

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

Gladys opened another book and pressed it against the mirror’s surface. “This is a map of Other Place. The island shaped like a kidney at the bottom of the map is Muramal. The old homeland of the Crafters is north of here between the Raushtad Mountains and Elf’s Pride Lake. The wastelands of our kingdom used to be in the Crafter’s kingdom. Draw a straight line from Muramal to Crafter lands and what do you see?”

Will ran his finger across the mirror, following the points on the map. “Oh come on!”

The others huddled around Will. Mr. Niff asked, “What is it?”

“Us,” Will said. “If Sarcamusaad follows a straight line to his enemies then he’s going to march right through the Kingdom of the Goblins to get there. He might even hit the Goblin City, or what’s left of it.”

Alarmed, Mr. Niff declared, “There’d be ruin, untold devastation…oh, wait, too late.”

“He’ll go through a lot of other kingdoms first,” Domo pointed out. “Any chance one of them can stop him?”

Will shrugged. “It’s doubtful. Even if one of them destroys Sarcamusaad, he’ll still do lots of damage and kill people, and him dying isn’t necessarily a good thing. Someone that strong could do a lot of good if we calm him down.”

“How do we stop him, or slow him down enough to talk to us?” Domo demanded. “The guy is as big as a mountain! A small mountain, maybe, but that’s still really big. He’ll step on us and keep walking.”

Will tapped his scepter on his palm. “If Sarcamusaad is as dangerous as the books say then we’re going to need serious firepower. Vial, I want you to build one of your big bombs, the sooner the better.”

Vial clapped his hands together. “Rapturous joy!”

“Hugh, could you help him make the bomb casing?” Will asked.

Hugh nodded. “It is a fair request.”

Will addressed the others. “Domo, Niff, round up some goblins. I need them to go through the goblin gate and ask the trolls for help. I hate dragging them into this, but they’re one of the few people on speaking terms with us.”

“Can do, boss,” Mr. Niff said.

“We’ll also need to ask around the neighboring human kingdoms,” Will continued. “They don’t like us, so we might not do any better at finding help than Percy did, but there’s a chance. After all, they can’t want Sarcamusaad marching through their kingdoms, and the best chance to stop him is by working together.”

“That could be a problem,” Domo said. “We know Sarcamusaad is coming because Percy told us and one of his scouts tried to kill us. The neighbors don’t know he’s coming, and they’re not going to take our word for it.”

Vial added “Especially not after we spread rumors that tar is a cure for baldness.”

“Yeah, we got in a lot of trouble for that one,” Mr. Niff agreed. “Kind of strange how many men believed us.”

Surprised, Will asked, “When did this happen?”

“Last week,” Mr. Niff replied. “I was meaning to tell you about it, but, well, mistakes were made.”

Will shook his head. “Impossible. Okay, dealing with this is going to be as much fun as dental work without anesthetic, but it’s not going away on its own. I’d like to stop Sarcamusaad as far away from here as possible. Where is he going to come ashore?”

Percy pointed to a spot on the map far south of the Kingdom of the Goblins. “My people have teams along the coast where Sarcamusaad is most likely to reach land. They sensed him the strongest here. Expect him to reach land within five miles of this location.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Will said. “Once we’re there we try to talk to him and calm him down. If that doesn’t work—”

“If?” Domo asked.

Mr. Niff twiddled his thumbs. “We haven’t done so good at talking our way out of problems.”

“I know, but we’re going to try talking to him,” Will said.
“We owe Sarcamusaad a chance to settle down before we attack. Assuming that doesn’t work, Vial and Hugh are making a bomb to stop him. I’m not sure it can kill him, but at least it should hurt him enough that we’ll have an easier time stopping him afterwards.”

“We’re not taking Vial on our trip?” Domo asked.

“I need him here working on the bomb,” Will explained. “And no slight to Vial, but do you think his regular bombs would even scratch Sarcamusaad?”

“Can’t argue with that,” Domo admitted. “How do we get there?”

“That’s not a problem,” Will said. “I can trade places with goblin scarecrows, and there doesn’t seem to be a limit on the range. Plus I can take a lot of people with me. Getting there should be quick and easy.”

“Should be easy, but it’s not,” Gladys said. “Will, I just checked for goblin scarecrows near the site, and there aren’t any. There’s a gap of at least a hundred miles between the closest scarecrow and where Sarcamusaad is going to hit land.”

“Just great,” Will griped. He thought hard before looking at Percy. “Wait a minute. You said your people were on the lookout for Sarcamusaad. How did they get word to you from so far away?”

“They used a goblin gate,” Percy explained. “There is a gate located twenty miles from shore. When they sensed Sarcamusaad approaching, they sent four messengers through the gate along with goblins to power it. It took a few days, but one of them reached my people.”

Will snapped his fingers. “Then we can get there in time with the goblin gates. We’ll grab food and whatever else we need and leave right away. Niff, show Percy to an empty room where he can rest and drop off his things until we leave.”

“Gotcha, boss,” Mr. Niff replied. He took Percy by the hand and left the throne room, saying, “I know a place you can stay that wasn’t trapped this morning. Keep an eye out all the same.”

Will’s friends separated to collect food and supplies for the journey, with London carrying Gladys out on his back. Will sank down onto the empty crate he used for a throne. It took him a moment to notice Domo hadn’t left.

“Is there a target on my back?” Will asked.

Domo peered at Will’s back. “Not today. Why?”

“Because it’s starting to feel like the world’s got it in for me.” Will threw up his hands and cried out, “Why does this stuff keep happening to me? I’m a nice guy. I’ve never done anything to deserve this. But I’ve been hit by one thing after another ever since I came to this world. Idiot kings, insane super weapons, immortal lunatics, a sociopath billionaire, it just doesn’t stop!”

Domo tapped his walking stick on the floor. “It’s not just you, you know.”

“I’m sorry, that must have sounded really selfish. You and the rest of the guys are getting caught by this craziness, too.”

“True, but that’s not what I meant,” Domo said. “I have done a few things to earn this kind of bad luck, but there are lots of people hurting besides us. Our old friend and enemy King Kervol just survived an assassination attempt.”

Will sat up straight as a ramrod. “He what? Who did it?”

Domo shrugged. “Nobody knows. It looked like a professional hit with two killers using poisoned daggers. Thing is, Kervol drew his sword in time.”

“Yeah, Kervol is an idiot, but he’s a good swordsman,”
Will admitted. “Did the killers say anything?”

“Not after Kervol was done with them. Nobody knows who hired them or why they wanted him dead. A rival king could have sent them. Kervol is also worried that someone inside his kingdom did it so they could take his throne. His wife is the odds on favorite. Either way, he’s got to be worried there could be more killers coming. He’s trying to keep it quiet while he figures out who’s responsible, but that could take a while since his IQ and shoe size are the same number.”

“I didn’t hear about this,” Will said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were already dealing with a goblin civil war,” Domo replied. “Besides, how could you help? You can’t investigate Kervol’s enemies. He has too many. You can’t interrogate Kervol’s people to see if they’re responsible. That would make him look weak. He’d never allow it.”

Will nodded. “Fair point.”

“Then there’s King Ethan,” Domo began.

It took Will a moment to remember who Domo was referring to. “Wait, isn’t he Prince Alexander’s sick father? I thought he’d be okay after we gave the prince water from the Bottle of Hope to heal him.”

“That’s him. It turns out not everyone was happy to see him recover. A couple noblemen even tried to make sure the prince never reached him. But the prince made it and King Ethan survived, only to learn a lot of his followers wanted him dead. He got rid of a few traitors before the rest holed up in their castles and declared themselves independent kingdoms. He’s taking them down one at a time with forces loyal to him, but it’s going to be a while before his kingdom is at peace, and a lot longer than that to fix the damage.”

“Why don’t you tell me these things?” Will asked. “I could have…ah nuts.” Will slumped back down on the crate. “I can’t help him. My king contract only lets me leave here if the kingdom or my life is in danger. I can’t leave when someone else’s life is on the line. And if I sent goblins to help without being there to keep them on task, I can’t imagine how many ways that could go wrong.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Domo said. “The resident goblins are helping Kervol and Ethan when they can, for whatever that’s worth. It’s kind of funny when you think about it. Even with the power of a king, there’s a lot you can’t do.”

Domo walked up to Will and said, “Look on the bright side. You saved tens of thousands of lives in the last year or so, maybe hundreds of thousands. There aren’t many people who can say that, and it’s way more than anyone expected from you. And yes, there are big problems out there and good people getting hurt, but you’re not alone. The Fairy Godmothers, the Guild of Heroes, the Brotherhood of the Righteous, they handle a lot of problems you can’t be there for.”

“I’m guessing they can’t handle a homicidal city,” Will said.

“That’s a bit beyond them.”


Will went to his bedroom while the others prepared for the journey. The room was filled with furniture donated by Prince Alexander and King Ethan after he’d helped them last year. The gifts were of the highest quality, masterfully carved and stained wood in excellent condition. There wasn’t much here he needed, but there was one thing he had to take.

Will lifted his mattress and removed three letters he’d hidden there. The paper had a strong scent of roses when he’d first received them, but the perfume had faded with time, or perhaps gave up to despair amid the constant stink of the Goblin City. He held the letters for a moment, tempted to read them again.

These three letters were his only contact with Lydia. She’d written them months ago to thank him for his help and tell him how well things were going. Will had donated Quentin Peck’s vast wealth to the Fairy Godmothers to help them rescue children in distress. According to her letters the money was already working wonders and had saved hundreds of youngsters in terrible circumstances.

But communicating by letters was a one-way path. Each letter was sent from a different kingdom as Lydia moved about on her duties. He’d written letters and sent them to all three locations, but there was no sign any had reached her. Maybe she’d moved on before they’d arrived. Maybe the goblins he’d entrusted to deliver the letters had lost or eaten them.

That last possibility was why he was here. Goblins could eat almost anything, and they considered paper a good source of fiber. Worse, they thought nothing of coming into his room and rummaging around. While Will was fairly certain none of them would make a meal of Lydia’s letters, he wasn’t going to take the chance.

“Hey, boss!” It was Mr. Niff, running down the hall to Will’s room. Will quickly slipped the letters into his shirt pocket before he put on his black vest to cover them. Mr. Niff scurried into the room and announced, “Percy says the sooner we leave the better.”

“I’ll be ready once I pack some food and refill the gourd,” Will said. He paused for a moment and studied the furniture again. He rapped his knuckles on the bed post and said, “You know, now that I think about it, it’s strange I haven’t picked up goblin graffiti in here. You guys scrawl nonsense on everything else, and the wood isn’t that hard.”

Appalled, Mr. Niff said, “We wouldn’t damage that!”

“That’s good to hear, but I’m curious why.”

“It’s a gift,” Mr. Niff explained. “If you’d bought this stuff or made it yourself, then yeah, sure, we’d write on it, chew on it, set it on fire or launch it out of a catapult at passing insurance salesmen. But these are gifts. Gifts are special. If you get a gift that means someone cares about you, and that doesn’t happen a lot.”

Will couldn’t fault Mr. Niff’s reasoning, and he made more sense than most of the things goblins said or did.

“Let’s finish packing.”

Will loaded up two bags of fresh vegetables, which was the only food he had on hand. He could always get more supplies if he came across an inn or restaurant, but this would hold him for a while if he ended up in the wilderness. He refilled the gourd at a stream far enough outside the Goblin City that it should be drinkable.

The others joined him with all the supplies they could carry. London came with more gourds and packages of dried food while Brooklyn carried Gladys on his back. Domo and Mr. Niff brought nothing of importance, confident they could eat whatever garbage they’d come across. Percy came last with his bulging packs, while Vial and Hugh Timbers arrived to see them off.

“We shall begin work on the bomb after you leave,” Vial assured them.

“Thanks, Vial,” Will said. “Hopefully we won’t need it.”

“We always need pointlessly large explosives,” Vial countered. “If by some chance we don’t use it on Sarcamusaad, we can use it to keep the neighbors on their toes. I find the occasional random detonation does wonders to keep rival kings respectful.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “My preference is for using meaningful dialogue to deal with misunderstandings, but your way has merit.”

Will led the group to the goblin gate. Fighting had ceased once news got out that there was a threat to deal with, and goblins abandoned their trenches, forts and tank traps. Will wondered what those were for, seeing as Other Place had no tanks or monsters similar to one. He was about to ask when he saw two goblins arguing on the topic.

A green skinned goblin pointed to a tank trap and said, “Why do we even make these things? You can just walk around them!”

A goblin with ram horns waved an old US army field guide in the other goblin’s face. “It’s in the book, right after the part about not fragging your officers!”

They soon reached a small cave containing the goblin gate, a circle of bricks each carved with a different symbol connecting the gate to twenty more gates. Each of those gates was connected to twenty more, and those to another twenty, forming a network that stretched across the planet. It was possible to go nearly anywhere on Other Place in seconds and was a near perfect method of travel, save for the minor problem that there was no way to control which gate you ended up at. Using the gate was a gamble, made worse by the fact that not all destinations were safe.

A mob of goblins were already gathered around the gate and going in one at a time. Each goblin disappeared with a whoosh when they set foot inside the gate, to be followed by the next goblin.

“The guys are sending word to King Gate of the trolls about what’s happening, just like you asked,” Domo explained. “One of them should reach the trolls sooner or later.”

The remaining goblins shouted their message together, saying, “King Will says we’re screwed!”

“You need to tell him why!” Will shouted back.

A small goblin looked puzzled. “This time or overall?”
Will grumbled before turning to Vial. “Tell the other goblins to spread the word to surrounding kingdoms. Have them bring pieces of that bronze monster with them as proof.”

“Neighboring kings never trusted us before, with good reason,” Vial told Will.

“I know, but we have to try. And tell the guys to get ready for a fight. I may have to send for them if things go wrong, and I’ll need them to come as soon as they can with all the weapons they’ve got.”

The last goblin messenger went through the gate, leaving Will and his friends to go next. Will took a deep breath and said, “Gentlemen, this is going to be hard to the point of being impossible.”

“Since when has that stopped us?” Domo asked.

“I know, we’re kind of stupid that way,” Will admitted. “We’ve got help from Percy and the purple puppet people, and I think we can scare up support once more people learn that Sarcamusaad is coming. Just as important, for once we’re forewarned. We know he’s on his way and we have some idea what to expect.”

Percy interrupted Will to ask, “Is this a morale building speech?”

“Um, sort of.”

“Fascinating! Does it work?”

Will scratched his head. “It seems to.”

Just then they heard talking in the distance. Will walked away from the group and saw the cause of the commotion. It was True Eyes, battered and bruised, his fancy clothes torn, but still standing after the battle with his elf rival. Goblins surrounded the elf, and he was too busy dealing with them to notice Will. That was good. Will didn’t need distractions when there was already so much on his plate.

“It’s imperative I speak with King Bradshaw!” True Eyes told the goblins. “I’m an ambassador on an important matter of state.”

A pudgy goblin snorted derisively. “An ambassador, dressed like that?”

True Eyes looked nervous. “There were problems getting here.”

“Yeah, right,” a furry goblin said. “Let’s see some ID.”

Percy walked up to Will and watched the exchange. “Shouldn’t you intervene?”

“Normally yes, but I’m trying to avoid this guy.” Will led his followers back to the goblin gate. “Everyone go through together so we don’t leave someone behind.”

They saw a small goblin armed with a rolling pin ask True Eyes, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” the elf conceded.

The goblin tapped the rolling pin on his hand. “Then we have a problem.”

“I didn’t have an appointment, either,” Percy said as they stepped onto the gate. The air around them grew dark and musty, and they disappeared with a whoosh.
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