Free Goblin Quest by Jim C. Hines

advice of a goblin on matters of battle.”
    Jig didn’t bother to answer. Already the split worm was beginning to heal. Each piece ended with an oozing half-segment where Barius’s sword had struck. As Jig watched, those damaged segments dropped off, leaving two healthy, hungry carrion-worms. Each was half the size of the original, but that just made them faster. And hungrier. Carrion-worms were always hungry after they reproduced.
    Jig needed a distraction. Something to keep the worms busy while Darnak revived the wizard. His eyes lingered wistfully on Barius. No, the others probably wouldn’t like it if Jig fed their prince to the carrion-worms. He snatched up the broken sword he had used to cut his ropes and tried to think.
    “To me,” Darnak shouted. Riana and Barius raced toward the dwarf. Jig started to follow. He didn’t know if Darnak’s rallying cry had been intended to include him, but he wasn’t about to face those monsters alone. Halfway there, he stopped.
    Carrion-worms preferred dead flesh. At least, normal ones did. He stared at the dying worm, now almost completely charred. That definitely qualified as dead, and the worms had no qualms about cannibalism. The only question was whether or not they would eat their meat cooked.
    He used his rusty blade to hack and tear a chunk of the worm free. The meat was tough, and Jig had to cut through several stubborn, stringlike bits before he had a piece he could throw. He flung the meat at the nearest of the two living worms, which reared to catch it in midair. Meat clutched in its teeth, the worm dropped to the ground to feed.
    “This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done,” Jig muttered as he renewed his attack on the dead worm. Something wet splashed onto his forearms. “Even worse than privy duty after one of Porak’s drinking binges.”
    A second chunk of flesh distracted the other worm.
    As it turned out, the giant carrion-worms were not only large and deadly, they were also stupid. Fatally so. As long as Jig kept them fed, they were perfectly content to sit and eat. Even as Darnak ran around smashing one worm-segment after another with his war club, the worms continued to feed on bits of their fellow. At last the dwarf called out, “S’okay, you can stop. The beasts are dead.”
    The blood-slick blade fell from Jig’s numb fingers, and he tried very hard not to look at the carnage in front of him. “This is not the kind of battle they sing songs about,” he grumbled. He hadn’t expected anyone to hear, but Darnak laughed.
    “I don’t know. I could imagine a nice little ditty about it.” He raised his voice. “First verse should explain how we got stuck down here. Help me out, your highness. What rhymes with ‘mule-headed stubbornness’?”
    Barius scowled. “The goblin probably did this deliberately, hoping the worms would finish us off.”
    “Right,” Riana said. “Except that the worms would have eaten him as fast as the rest of us.”
    “Silence.” Barius’s hand went to his sword. “He hasn’t the foresight to consider such an end. And I warn you to keep that tone from your voice when addressing your betters.”
    Riana started to reply, but Darnak interrupted, which was probably all that saved the girl from a beating. Barius looked angry enough to loose his temper on anyone who got in his way.
    “So how are we to be getting out of this little hole?” Darnak asked. He took the lantern and un-shuttered all four sides. He couldn’t aim the light upward without spilling the oil, but this was enough for them to see the dark shadow of the ceiling. “Looks a good fifteen feet to me. Lucky the ground is softer here.”
    “Lucky I landed on your belly and not your hard head, Darnak.” Ryslind grimaced. “I’d have broken bones for certain.”
    Darnak grinned. “Aye. Though there’s something to be said for the thickness of human skulls as well. They say it’s the only substance harder than diamond.”
    “Enough of