Goblins by Philip Reeve Page A

Inner Wall, she quickly learned that they did not stray far outside it, and that they were far too scared of Fraddon to come anywhere near Westerly Gate.
    She missed people a little at first, but she soon learned to do without them; if she wanted conversation she could always seek out some of the other strange creatures who made their homes in Clovenstone. It was far more interesting than being queen of Choon.
    For a while there had been the annoyance of heroes coming to try and rescue her. Quite a few had ridden up the shattered road to Westerly Gate, tooting their war horns and waving swords about. Most had wisely turned and fled as soon as they saw Fraddon; a few had insisted on fighting, and he had been forced to sit on them. Eluned had strung their shields and weapons from the trees outside the gate as a warning to the others. But the shields were rotted now; the weapons rusty; nobody had tried to rescue her for ages.
    That was the other thing about the song Henwyn had heard. It was a great deal older than he had thought. That bright day when Fraddon plucked Princess Eluned’s ship out of the waves and brought her to live at Clovenstone had been nearly thirty years ago.
    She could see the shock of it in the young man’s face as soon as Fraddon set him down on the grass beside her pond. The poor lad had expected to find a beautiful young princess, not a lady of forty-something, with laughter lines around her eyes and her hair more grey than not. He would not want to win her hand in marriage! But, to his credit, he did his best to hide it, and he bowed and said, “Princess Eluned, I am Henwyn of Adherak, and I came here to rescue you.”
    Eluned laughed and said, “But I don’t want to be rescued!” And then, because he looked so very disappointed, she added kindly, “But thank you anyway. And you may call me Ned.”

As soon as the Sable Conclave left Southerly Gate and began their journey to the Inner Wall, Skarper started looking for a way to escape. He was sure there would be some gap among the ruins which he could slip away down, and plenty of nice dark holes where he could hide. Unfortunately they had not gone ten yards before Carnglaze called a halt, pulled a length of rope from his pack, and used it to make a halter for him.
    “Oi!” Skarper protested, struggling as the sorcerer drew the rope tight around his neck.
    “Come, Brother Carnglaze,” grumbled Fentongoose, “that seems hardly friendly!”
    “You may trust him, Fentongoose, but I do not,” replied Carnglaze. “I have read much about goblinkind, and all of it was bad. This one has a shifty look. We do not want him to abandon us somewhere in this maze of ruins, do we? We can let him go once we reach the Inner Wall.”
    “Very well,” agreed Fentongoose reluctantly, and they went on their way with Skarper trotting ahead of them like a dog on a leash.
    “This way,” said Carnglaze, “if your goblin friends attack, you’ll be the first to feel the bite of their blades.”
    He seemed to think that Skarper might not already have thought of that.
    They went past ruins full of lovely shadows, but there was no way now that Skarper could slip away. He began hopefully scanning the sky, for even another attack by cloud maidens would have been a welcome diversion; but the air above the ruined roofs was clear, and all the clouds were far away, clustered about the snowy summits of the Bonehills. Soon the trees closed over the road and it began its long descent towards the Oeth.
    The three self-styled sorcerers looked about them warily. It was one thing to dream of reclaiming the Lych Lord’s kingdom; one thing to read about it in secret books and scraps of age-old documents; it was quite another to actually be here.
    Down secret centuries in the lands of men the Sable Conclave had kept the stories of Clovenstone alive. A time will come when magic returns to the world , each generation of the Conclave’s elders told the next. We shall return to