The Sword of Darrow (20 page)

At the fort, the goblins dragged poor Kilgo inside. Inside his shirt, they found the paper announcing Darrow’s great victories in the forest.

One goblin stood on a chair and read the words aloud.

“From the tiny village of Ael, a hero named Darrow has emerged. He is a mighty warrior . . .”

Howls of laughter exploded all around. These goblins had seen Darrow fight. “And has already defeated the goblins three times.”

“In his dreams!” shouted one goblin to the laughter and applause of the others. And when the goblins had finished reading the paper, they shoved Kilgo into his cell.

In a fort, deep in the forest, entertainments of any kind are treasured, so the goblins gathered round Kilgo’s cell. They mocked him with jokes about Darrow. They asked why the scorpion man did not come to save Kilgo as well. And to great laughter, they asked Kilgo when the day would come that Darrow would actually kill his first goblin.

Meanwhile, Kilgo was in a state of unrest. He had heard there were twenty soldiers at the fort. Instead, there were almost fifty packed tightly inside the walls. He knew Darrow would be attacking soon. Outnumbered and untrained, there was no way they could succeed. Somehow, some way, he must send a signal to delay the attack.

He eyes searched the cell. Its walls were wooden logs and the roof was made of straw. Perhaps that was a way out—through the roof. Still, the goblins crowded at his cell. He pretended to fall asleep. But even a sleeping prisoner proved great fun for the goblins, who shouted taunts and poked him with sticks.

While Kilgo agonized in jail, Darrow and his men were on the march. Shortly before sundown, they arrived at the fort. Behind trees and bushes, they took their places looking down on the wall.

In the dim light remaining, Darrow could see the entrance to the fort. There were comings and goings at the gate, but Darrow wasn’t worried. Night would arrive soon and the fort would grow quiet.

Kaylin and Timwee stepped through the forest to position themselves on the other side of the fort. When the moon rose above the tree line, they would move to the wall and set it aflame.

On the ground, Darrow’s men fidgeted and turned with restless movements. Few had held a sword and only a handful had tasted battle. As Darrow waited, he heard a rumble in the sky. He looked upward, noticing the clouds that had gathered. In an instant, rain burst forth, drenching the fort.

Darrow cursed to himself. There would be no fire tonight.

Inside the jail, Kilgo searched for a strategy to distract his captors. A goblin appeared with brown scales pasted across his face. “See,” one cried, “we have a scorpion man of our own! And we have the magic to make one hundred more!”

But Kilgo hardly noticed the laughter that followed. “Magic!” thought Kilgo. His mind went to work. Within seconds, he had a plan.

Slowly and with great drama, Kilgo stood up and turned to face the goblins. His face somber, impervious to their taunts, he gave a great bow. The goblins looked at one another, unsure what to think.

Kilgo held up one open hand so that the goblins could see his empty palm. Then he held up both open hands together. He lifted his right hand into the air a little above his head and paused for effect. Then he reached into his ear and pulled out a small coin. The goblins laughed. Kilgo gave another deep bow.

Kilgo removed his shirt, rolled it into a small ball, and put it in the pocket of his pants. Once again, he held open his hands for all eyes to inspect. Once again, he lifted his hands to the sky. Then he reached into his mouth and pulled from it the sleeve of his shirt, then the body of the shirt and, finally, the other sleeve. This time, the goblins laughed and gave Kilgo even louder applause.

Kilgo bowed again deeply, and when he was again erect, in perfect pantomime, he held up three fingers as if to say three minutes. He took a chair and moved it to the center of the cell. He gave the goblins a knowing smile. In anticipation, they responded with small applause. He threw the sleeve of his shirt over the rafter that crossed the roof of the cell. Standing on his tiptoes, he tied one sleeve of his shirt to the rafter and the other round his neck. Tugging tightly on the knot, he turned to face the goblins. With his feet, he teasingly wiggled the chair.

The goblins were awed. Was this man truly going to jump from the chair without hanging himself? Kilgo held up two fingers and turned his back. Frantically, his hands out of view, he removed flint, metal, and tinder from his pocket and began firmly striking flint against metal. Sparks flew, but nothing caught. More strikes, more sparks, and finally a spark took and an orange circle appeared in the tinder. Carefully, Kilgo exhaled against the orange. It grew. A flame appeared. He lifted the flame to his shirt and the shirt caught fire. The goblins stepped back in awe. Kilgo ripped the shirt from his neck and hurled it upward against the straw above. Before any goblin understood what was happening, the roof burst into flames.

The moon was already above the tree line. It was past time to move. But Darrow could not give the order. He wondered if this whole plan was a terrible mistake.

He eyed the dozen or so men looking at him from either side. He signaled Hugga Hugga to take his position by the tree. He lifted himself from the ground and gripped his weapon.

Then he saw it. From within the fort, a billow of smoke arose. The smoke was soon followed by a flame. Through cracks in between the timbers, he saw a flurry of bodies moving in every direction without order at all.

He signaled Hugga Hugga, who buried his axe in a towering tree. The crack of metal against wood sounded again and again. With a pop, a tremble, and a soft whistle, the tree fell through the air toward the fort. When it struck, it crashed through the wall and across the roof of the jail. The flames rose into the tree.

The twenty of Darrow’s men gave a mighty cry. At the opening, a few goblins met their advance. But soon another thirty joined their defense.

The goblin swords struck hard and men began to fall. Outnumbered and outskilled, some ran after seeing their brothers fall. And seeing their comrades in flight, others did the same. But just when the battle seemed lost, one volunteer turned back to look.

At the hole in the wall, Darrow stood alone. His bright sword glistened in the flames, flashing here, thrusting there, in a dazzling display of swordsmanship. One after another, the goblins fell. For each one fallen, another stepped to the fore, and the new ones fell as well. Silhouetted in the flames, Darrow appeared a supernatural force, unafraid, untiring, and unstoppable.

Hugga Hugga and Timwee looked up in awe. What had transformed their once-feeble leader? A cry rang out.

“Look to the wall, to the wall. The mighty Darrow is holding fast!”

Heads turned. Feet stilled. “All hail Darrow!” one recruit cried. “To his side,” cried another. A surge of emotion swept the men, who grabbed fleeing comrades and rushed back to attack.

Soon, the entire force stood at Darrow’s side, fighting with newfound courage and confidence they lacked before. The goblins fell back. Darrow’s men poured inside.

The gate burst open and goblins poured out into the forest. No soldiers blocked their path. In the excitement of the battle, these untrained recruits had rushed to the line of battle, leaving the gate unguarded.

Desperately, Darrow gave chase with a small band of soldiers. But the darkness shielded the goblins from sight. They listened for sounds, but the noise of the forest covered the goblins’ escape.

Meanwhile, the light from the fire guided volunteers through the forest. When the battle began, Darrow had just twenty men. Seven were lost. But by the end, another forty men and three women had joined his troops. Too excited to sleep, his army celebrated until daybreak. Cedrick, the bard, composed a song to celebrate their great victory.

Deep in the darkest forest,

He found the goblin lair

When smoke commenced the battle

They never had a prayer

His sword was quick and mighty

His bravery tried and true

He helped us find the courage

To see our victory through.

In Hexenwald the forest

The goblins are no more

The great and mighty Darrow

Has shown them all the door!

Again and again, the song rang out through the trees. When the first light of day appeared in the sky, they congratulated themselves once again and began the work of the day. They buried their dead beneath a tower erected with stones from the fort. Then they picked up the wounded and began a tired but triumphant march back to Quinderfill’s cabin.

At the cabin, thirty more had found his band. The new ones were hungry. Many had spent days in the forest, lost and frightened. Not all of their companions had made it to the camp.

Darrow had little to offer, but he ordered his men to give up their remaining pieces of boar. Despite their hardships, these new men were inspired by the news of the victory. And when they met Darrow, they marveled at how this small, youthful figure, walking with a limp, could have driven the mighty goblins from the forest of Hexenwald.

As Darrow was making his rounds, Timwee came with terrible news. Kilgo, the locksmith, had been badly burned when the tree fell upon the jail. The men had constructed a stretcher to carry him back to the cabin. They had wrapped his body and called him a hero. But his injuries were too great. By the time they reached the cabin, Kilgo was dead.

Darrow called together the men and gave a beautiful speech praising the locksmith. He ordered that Kilgo be buried beneath the apple tree behind the cabin. It was a place where Quinderfill surely spent his days enjoying the view of the forest. Three volunteers began digging the hole. An hour later, one of them ran to Darrow, urging him to the gravesite.

Resting five feet deep in the ground was an old chest, barely longer than a loaf of bread but deep and tall. It was made of wood with metal hinges, and the wood was beginning to rot. Darrow jumped into the hole to inspect the contents. There was no lock. With a knife, he pried open the lid and what he saw made him stand up in wonder.

A great pile of treasure spilled out onto the damp soil. Gold and silver coins, gems, and even a fine silver dagger. Quinderfill’s treasure had been found.