The Goblin Gate
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Jeriah’s brother, Tobin, is in terrible danger.
He’s willingly crossed over to the Otherworld with a hedgewitch named Makenna and her legion of goblins. What Tobin doesn’t know is that the Otherworld is a perilous dimension that will leech the magic from those who have it—and the life from those who don’t. Searching for the key to rescue Tobin, Jeriah is thrust into a tangled web of political intrigue as he uncovers a dangerous secret that could change the fate of an entire kingdom. In order to save both his brother and the kingdom, Jeriah must get help from the very beings he’s been taught to hate—the mischievous goblins. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking for Tobin. . . .
doing a fine job. I don’t want you stopping now. As for the rest of you”—she glared at all of them, impartially—“one reason we settled here was because we didn’t want a lot of marsh nearby. Food is a priority.” The Greeners smirked. “Food won’t do you much good,” one of the Makers snapped, “if you don’t have baskets to store it in. What are you going to do when all that grain you’re planting is ready to harvest? Put it in your pockets? We—” “We need baskets too,” Makenna agreed. “And willows
hand…“Let me get this straight. Cogswhallop is your father?” “Aye.” The boy perched cautiously on a fallen log. “And he gave you permission to come with me?” “Aye. He really likes you. I can tell.” “He likes…” Jeriah snorted. “If he likes me, then the Bright Gods help his enemies!” The boy grinned, and Jeriah regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re here to help me? Your father wasn’t interested in that, last time I talked to him.” “Aye, but this is between you and me. I told you, Tobin is my
said Jeriah. The Hierarch was gazing into space, over the heads of the crowd. “It soon won’t be. Oh dear, where’s my pen?” Master Zachiros looked at the floor around the desk. “It’s tucked behind your ear,” Jeriah informed him. Nevin came back up the steps and announced, “Goodman Adder of Grimble Mill petitions the Sunlord for the return of three fields, seized for nonpayment of taxes two seasons past. The goodman offers the taxes he failed to pay and taxes for the next season, in hopes that
in the library. Or not. Jeriah sighed. Without the goblins’ assistance, a thorough search of the book-, scroll-, and paper-filled room would be impossible—particularly under the observant eyes of Master Lazur’s own clerk! He would simply have to wait for the goblins’ arrival. He tried to be patient, but it was hard. More days went by, and the goblins didn’t come. Almost two months had passed since Tobin had gone into the Otherworld—he had roughly a week before the sickness began to affect his
of them, all men, with ragged clothes and dark hair. Bandits. Why didn’t I listen? He kicked Glory, shouting for help. She tried to rear, but two men were hanging on to her bridle, and they knew what they were doing. Jeriah struggled to free his sword arm, and almost succeeded when Fiddle snapped his halter rope and spun to kick. But one man clung to Glory’s saddle and grabbed Jeriah’s wrist just as he got his hand on the hilt. The bandits fought in silence. Jeriah would have shouted again if