The golden buzzard left before the real flood of goblins tumbled into the cavern. The lumpy blighters looked a mess. Each time they got to their feet, more poured down from the hole above to knock them over again. Feidai stood back and watched it all happen, not that there was anything else to do.
The mound of goblins had flowed over Sally, and Alphonse had slithered in to look for Vrye. There must have been a good thousand of them by the time they had stopped dropping in, and by then the last fifty barely had a length of string worth of fall.
"I telt ye we should've turned left at that funny lookin' root yesterday, but ye did nay listen! Now look at this gherkin ye've got yerselves intae!" the last goblin called, his funny head peeking out from the hole in the ceiling.
"Aye, Knauker, but can ye no feel yer warts tellin' ye there's something mighty down 'ere? Me warts is trembling jus like they did when we found that funny wee lad up on our mountain." Another replied after popping out from the bottom of the pile.
Astonishingly none of the folk underneath had been squashed into jelly, but goblins were hardy little blighters. Whether the same could be said for Sally and Vrye, it remained to be seen.
"If 'e was snatched by the Tyvern, now does nay seem a good time tae be snatchin' 'im back!" Knauker said.
Feidai peered back at the less warty darklings to see how they were handling the situation. They were impatiently wiggling the unmended hand stumps that Sally had promised to fix and muttering about who had enough fingers to try to get him back from the goblin mound. Before they had time to count everyone's spare parts, Sally burst out from out the middle of the mountain and Vrye squirmed out from under it.
"Do not fret, my goblins! I was not stolen," he said with an excited grin, but the goblins seemed completely bewildered by him.
"Who's'at then?" grumbled a goblin, giving Sally a cautious prod. "Gringe, ye said the Mighty Spawn was a wee lad with white fluff and socks fer ears."
"Aye, me warts is tingling like 'e might be the Mighty one, but he does nay look like the sort ay Overlord ye'd take back tae Ma, if ye know what I mean," said a stockier goblin with more warts than sense.
"I dunnae, Elbow. I reckon 'e's more like the type Ma would like than some fluffy wee thing," argued yet another with a face as pointy as a gremlin's shoe.
It always amused Feidai how many shapes goblins could come in without losing their gobliny-ness. Those two looked about as similar as a cabbage and a squid.
"Nay, 'e's too pretty," argued the stocky goblin.
Sally looked none too impressed, himself. "This is your fault," he hissed in Vrye's ear. "If I looked like mum, they would have nothing to argue about."
"My Ma likes the pretty ones, 'cause she says a real Overlord ought to be that way. Says it's good for whiskin' away maidens and lonely, old goblin mums," another chimed in.
A fair group had formed a circle around Saloonka to debate whether their Mams would appreciate him.
"Why don't I get me Ma on the dinglecaller and 'ave 'er ask the other Mas what they think ay this pretty-faced overlord felly?" a blue-green goblin asked the horde.
He had a scratch around in his sporran once a round of Ayes had been spaken, then pulled out a funny block with nine square warts on it. He poked them, and right away Feidai understood why they called it a dinglecaller. It was definitely dingling.
The dingling stopped with a click, then the goblin held it against his big ear. "Ma, can ye hear me?" he shouted into the air. "Ma?"
"AYE, WEE SNOT, I CAN HEAR YE."
YOU ARE READING
Revolting Rose
Fantasy{Illustrated} Once upon a time Pagne planned parties in a palace of fungus, now he is planning a revolution. Success requires a cunning plan, hinging on the element of surprise, careful catering, and colourful costumes. However, an unfortunate ser...
