Goblins vs Dwarves by Philip Reeve

Author:Philip Reeve [Reeve, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

The three trolls, Torridge, Cribba and Kenn, had done their bit to win the battle, dragging huge bits of rubble to the bratapult, and they proved themselves just as useful in its aftermath. They worked tirelessly that day, clearing wreckage and gathering the dead bodies into one great big pile, which Princess Ned set a torch to.

The smoke of the pyre drifted across Clovenstone on the south-west wind, and Henwyn saw it blowing past as he and Zeewa started to pick their way along the foot of the Inner Wall, round on its marsh-bound northern side. They were looking for any sign that dwarves had been at work there. Above them, on the battlements, a gang of goblins led by Libnog kept pace with them, ready to throw ropes down and haul them up at the first sign of any dwarvish mischief.

In some places the bogs reached right up to the foot of the crag on which the Inner Wall stood, and Henwyn and Zeewa had to pick their way across the bleak, black pools on the lumps of fallen masonry which lay scattered in them like stepping stones. In others, they scrambled over stony ridges, or through abandoned, weed-grown buildings. Always they kept watch for any sign that dwarves had been there, but they saw none. Zeewa’s ghosts drifted and tangled with the mist.

Eventually they reached the foot of Growler Tower. A mass of rubble and roof slates lay there, which had been Growler’s top until one of the dwarven war machines lopped it off. Small, wet splay-toed footprints covered the fresh-fallen stones. Henwyn looked at them, and shuddered.

“What is it?” asked Zeewa. “Have dwarves been here?”

“Not dwarves,” said Henwyn, studying the froggly prints. “Boglins! They live out there in the swamp. They captured Princess Ned once, and me and Skarper had to rescue her. They are wicked creatures. They had a huge monster called the dampdrake living in one of the meres, and they planned to give Ned to it for its supper. . .” Then, fearing that he might be frightening Zeewa, he added, “Of course, they are more frightened of us than we are of them. We’ve had no trouble with them since the Keep came down.”

Zeewa wasn’t really listening. She was staring out across Natterdon Mire. Far away, beyond the mires and the rotten, subsiding buildings, the land rose again, climbing towards the northern circuit of the Outer Wall. A shaft of sunlight struck down through the mist there and lit up a scattering of square, pale buildings on a hill.

“What are those?” she asked. “Are they the tombs which Fentongoose spoke of?”

“Yes,” said Henwyn. “There are acres and acres of them. Big burial vaults where the Lych Lord’s captains and their families were buried.”

“Do ghosts walk there?”

“I’ve never seen any,” said Henwyn. “But I’ve only ever been near the tombs in daylight, and then only on the edges, not right in among them.”

“The Houses of the Dead,” said Zeewa.

“They are a bit like houses. Little windowless houses with the doors sealed up and nothing but bones inside.

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