The Goblin Reign Boxed Set Read online

  Contents

  Goblin

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  Goblin Apprentice (Goblin Reign Book Two)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Epilogue

  Goblin Rogue (Goblin Reign Book 3)

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Epilogue

  Goblin War Chief Preview (Goblin Reign Book 4)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  The Goblin Reign Boxed Set Copyright © 2019 Gerhard Gehrke

  Goblin Reign, Goblin, Goblin Apprentice, Goblin Rogue, Goblin War Chief, Goblin Pariah Copyright © 2019 Gerhard Gehrke

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording, or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Published by Lucas Ross Publishing.

  Author website: gerhardgehrke.com

  Edited by Brittany Dory at Blue Minerva Copyediting

  Cover Design by Abbyanna.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

   Goblin

  by

  G. Gehrke

  Goblin Reign Book One

  goblin n: A wicked, backward species of humanoid.

  –The Book of Words

  goblin n: The people living in the hills, forests, and swamplands north of the Inland Sea.

  –The Sage’s Reference Dictionary of Things

  Chapter One

  The goblin hunter crept through the undergrowth beneath the pines, careful with each step. The tinder-dry needles and tiny branches formed a blanket of sound hazards which would alert the whitetail buck that chewed on the grasses of the nearby meadow. The hunter’s skin was brown and faded perfectly into the shadows. His stature was short enough that the curtain of weeds concealed him. The mugwort smeared on his skin covered his scent.

  He paused to catch his breath, as he had been holding it. With his sleeve he wiped sweat from his brow. He pushed strands of black hair away from his eyes.

  The hunter pulled one of five arrows from the hide quiver slung over an arm and placed it on the bowstring. He wasn’t close enough to shoot. The hand holding the bow was damp. The fingers pinching the nock of the arrow trembled.

  A few more steps. He parted the weeds.

  The animal’s attention was on the feast of wildflowers and milk thistle, its ears turned away.

  Two more steps. One.

  Snap.

  The whitetail looked up and straight at the hunter, a mouthful of yellow clover in its teeth. The hunter stood erect and drew back the bowstring. But he was moving too fast. The arrow slipped on the string. As he released the missile, the arrow shot far left into the meadow. The whitetail bolted and vanished into the distant tree line.

  More arrows flew, but not from him. From his rear a pair of goblins holding identical bows ran forward past him, both pulling fresh arrows from quivers. But there was no target.

  “Spicy, you stupe!” the larger goblin said. A pair of redtail hawk feathers were stuck in his knit cap.

  “I’m sorry, Rime,” Spicy said. “My foot slipped.”

  Rime walked out into the meadow to retrieve his arrow.


  “Clumsy,” the second goblin said. His green skin was smudged with dirt. Twigs and leaves were tucked into the straps of his quiver and into his headband. “You’re so clumsy. Why did we have to get teamed with you?”

  Spicy didn’t reply. His face darkened as he blushed.

  From the distance came a cheer.

  “Just great,” Rime said.

  The chorus of voices continued to carry across the meadow from the far trees, a boisterous whupping that finally died down.

  “Sounds like they got him, Preemie,” Spicy said to the goblin next to him.

  “We could have gotten him,” Preemie said. “But we had you with us.” He stomped through the weeds and kicked around the grass until he found his own arrow. He and Rime didn’t wait for Spicy as they followed down the path the whitetail had taken.

  The whitetail lay dead, with a blue-fletched arrow neatly sunk into its neck and another pair of shafts sticking in its side, piercing the animal’s ribcage. The creature’s throat had been cut. A second group of young goblins were smearing their faces with its blood. They wore grins and were laughing and punching each other on the arm. As Spicy caught up to Preemie and Rime, the victorious goblins fell silent.

  One Stone, the largest of this group, was a mustard-faced youth a head taller than the others. His blooded lips parted, revealing a row of sharpened front teeth, filed to points.

  “Hoy, One Stone,” Preemie called, raising his bow. “You made your first kill.”

  “Clean through the neck,” One Stone said with a lisp. “I’m going to be studded for this.”

  One Stone already had a single gold rivet in the lobe of his right ear. The other goblins’ ears remained unadorned.

  Spicy looked down at the glassy dead eyes of the whitetail. Its tongue dangled between its white teeth.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “An excellent shot.”

  “Wish we could say the same,” Preemie said. “Spicy spooked it and sent it running.”

  Spicy smiled. “Flushed it their direction, right?”

  Rime nudged him. “Their kill, their honors.”

  “That’s what you get being teamed up with a flat tooth,” One Stone said. He stooped over the dead animal and began gutting it with an obsidian blade taken from his belt. The hot guts steamed as they spilled to the dirt.

  The other goblins began to help butcher the animal. One Stone offered his own two fellow hunters a slice of its heart. They chewed noisily. One Stone eyed Spicy and grinned.

  Neither Preemie nor Rime was smiling as their knives separated the hide from the meat and bone. Spicy moved to pry off the antlers from the whitetail’s head. The women in the village would turn the four-tined treasure into medicine, food, and a variety of useful tools and clothing items.

  Preemie pushed Spicy away. “You’ll ruin it.”

  “I’ve done it before,” Spicy said.

  “And I’m sure it was wrong then too. You cost us this kill. I wanted it. I should never have let you take point. It’s the last time I ever do. Why don’t you go to the rice fields? You’re no hunter.”

  The others were all staring at Spicy, even Rime. Spicy’s cheeks darkened. He put his skinning knife back in its sheath.

  “Spend less time reading and more time practicing,” Preemie said.

  One Stone began to laugh. It was a throaty sound, and soon the others were laughing too.

  Spicy turned and left the scene of the kill. Their taunts pursued him through the forest.

  ***

  Rime found Spicy back in the village, sitting against the hewn stone wall next to the mill. He was in the shade of one of the giant oaks, a book in his hands.

  The noon sun hung high and was just starting to cut through the frigid mist above the rooftops of Boarhead. Wide tarps were laid out on which the rice from the week’s harvest was drying. A group of women worked at a line of pestles, a heap of brown acorns piled next to them. In front of each pestle was a bowl of fresh acorn meal. From a nearby pen, a goat watched with lazy curiosity as it munched on a bucket of scraps.

  “You shouldn’t have run off,” Rime said. “It only made you look weak.”

  “I didn’t run off. They didn’t want me there.”

  “You shouldn’t have missed.”

  “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

  Rime grabbed at the book but Spicy pulled it out of reach.

  “I’m guessing that’s not an instruction manual on improving your archery skills.”

  Spicy put the book back into his satchel. “It’s the advanced primer on letters.”

  “Advanced primer? Hoo-hoo! Look at you! Does your sister know you’ve stolen her book? Does Sage Somni know?”

  “Keep it down!” Spicy whispered. “I didn’t steal it. I’m borrowing it. I’m good at letters. And I’m only going to get better.”

  Rime nudged the satchel with his foot. “See? This is your problem. After running off, you should be taking a sack of arrows and plinking at a target. Instead you’re wasting your time with this. You’re no apprentice sage. Your sister is close to becoming one. But you’re not her.”

  A wicked grin crossed Spicy’s face. “Oh, you can tell, can’t you?”

  “You don’t have her eyes.”

  “It’s not her eyes you keep staring at.”

  “Don’t be crude.”

  From the village center came the tolling of a bell. The women at the pestles put their tools away and headed that direction.

  Rime hesitated when Spicy didn’t immediately follow him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “To see One Stone get his stud? I’ll pass.”

  Rime took Spicy by the hand and pulled him to his feet. “You’re coming. There might be news of our dads’ hunting party. And One Stone will get his praise, truly. You’ll stand and watch and act happy like everyone else. We’re eating deer meat tonight and you were one of the hunters.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “And this afternoon we’re going to practice shooting bows until your fingers bleed.”

  Chapter Two

  The willow-wood arrow had missed its mark by several inches and was hard to dig out of the dirt. But Spicy finally freed it, and he knocked the soil off and placed it into his quiver.

  “Five out of ten,” he said. “That’s not so bad.”

  Rime inspected the termite-hollowed stump Spicy had used as a target from ninety paces. “The deer is gone after your first miss. Each shot off its mark is a wasted opportunity to end the hunt. And your hits are all over the place.”

  “A hit’s a hit.”

  “Try telling Huntmaster Sorrel that. You’re holding the string back for too long. It makes your arms shake.”

  Spicy unstrung his bow. “It’s because I’m tired and hungry.”

  The fallow field where they stood grew tufts of waist-high grass, which had turned yellow with the turn of the season. Rough piles of dirt marked scores of gopher holes. A few tangled vines of wild squash bore unripe green fruit. Beyond the road marking the field’s border was a broad paddy flooded with water where sprouts of green rice stalks rose. A group of the village women were stooped there, plucking weeds and planting fresh seeds.

  “Learn to do better or that’s your fate,” Rime said.

  Everyone in Spicy’s village got a share of the meat. One Stone sat at the center, a fresh stud shining in his ear. All the young hunters received deferential nods from the older men and women. Once the elders had taken their portion, the other youths clustered close.

  Despite the whitetail roasting over the village firepit, the adults were all sullen. After the accolade was sung, their conversation died except for muted comments on the flavor (which was good) or the bounty of the fields and gatherings (which was abundant).

  Spicy noticed no one commented on either the changing weather or where the men’s hunting party might be. Delays weren’t unheard of, but a week without news was uncommon.

  The dour mood hadn’t spread to One St
one or the other boys. Children, both boys and girls, sat in rapt attention as he recounted his killing shot several times. His fellow hunters listened and nodded along.

  A few times Spicy caught a piercing glare from Preemie, but no one else paid him any mind. It was One Stone’s hour, and nothing was said of Spicy’s missed shot. As the sky darkened and wood was added to the fire, Spicy slipped away.

  His home lay just beyond the inner ring of dwellings, a three-room shack with a solid roof and wooden floor that his father had finished touching up just before his departure two weeks prior. The goblin hunting parties were in full swing, the hunters eager to fill the drying houses with meat for the winter. For elk and bear, they needed a full complement. No able-bodied male goblin had remained behind.

  Spicy’s mother’s shoes weren’t by the front step. His sister was also at the fire. Still, he walked softly as he entered the home as if someone might hear. He lit no candle. In the room he shared with his sister, he lifted his sleeping roll and grabbed a notebook and a few nibs of sharpened charcoal.

  As he sneaked out the front, he collided with his mother. She caught his arm and held a lit candle up so she could look him in the face. Her smock was soiled. Her callused fingers were brown from working the acorns. And she wasn’t smiling.

  “Where are you off to?”

  Spicy shook his head. “Nowhere. I was going back down to the fire.”

  “I told you you’re not to take books from the house.” When she snatched the notebook from Spicy’s hands, the charcoal fell to the ground. Her face tightened. Spicy couldn’t dodge the blow as his mother’s hand slapped him across the face. “Now pick it all up and put it back.”

  She waited as he collected the fallen nibs and followed as he put the notebook in its proper place on a shelf in the main room next to the family’s keepsakes. His cheek burned.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “You have your role. We all do. Your father has his. It’s how we survive. And with your father missing, you’d waste your time on such foolishness? You need to focus on learning the skills of a hunter. One Stone got his second stud.”

  “I noticed,” he said dryly.

  She raised her hand again, but the blow didn’t land. “Don’t be fresh. You can learn more from him if you only try. But if you spend your time and energy sneaking off to Sage Somni, you’ll be too tired and your eyes too strained to hunt the next morning.”