Free The Goblin War by Hilari Bell Page B

fact, the only hint she’d found that might be useful was something one of the hedgewitches Master Lazur had abandoned here to die had told him: that spells worked best against the spirits “when I put myself into them.”
    To Master Lazur, that had meant a rune that represented you worked into the casting. But Makenna knew more about hedgewitches than he had.
    He’d been a cold man, all in all. Reading his books and notes had given her more insight into him than fighting against him for her life. She’d once told Tobin’s brother that she pitied the man, so lost in his obsession that he’d lost his humanity. Reading about some of the things he’d done had shrunk that pity to the vanishing point—but his mind had been keen.
    Makenna felt as if this trap—using her own interpretation of a clue he’d missed—was a way of fighting against him as well as the spirits.
    “It looks complicated enough,” said Cogswhallop, eyeing the mass of chalked runes and the fragile cat’s cradle of silver and copper chains. Every goblin woman in the camp had sacrificed bits of jewelry for this. Makenna hoped she’d be able to return it.
    “I’ll admit,” the goblin went on, “if we were still fighting settlers in the wood, and they set up something like this, I’d make it a target.”
    “The more reason for us to be watching it, then,” said Makenna with a confidence that was only half feigned.
    Her magic had been so much weaker than her mother’s, weaker than the magic of the goblins she lived with, that Makenna hadn’t realized how much a part of her it was till the Otherworld had drained it to the dregs. Those amulets were all that prevented their power from being leached away right now. But they were preventing it, and Makenna felt like her power had come back even stronger, in this magic-rich world. Her will to fight had returned with it.
    It made the first stage, which was to go quietly off to bed, harder than anything she’d done for a long time. At least she didn’t have to sleep. Makenna lay awake, her clothing concealed under a blanket, tossing through the passing hours. She heard the first shift of goblin guards trade off with the younger, less reliable-looking shift that Miggy led. His confidence had grown since he’d left the wood, and she had no doubts about putting him in charge of this second, vital step. The departing shift warned the youngsters not to forget to wet down all the chains when the moon was high. It was nonsense, of course, but it looked like magic, and that was all she needed. It also gave her helpers a chance to mingle and chat for a bit before they separated to their stations and drifted into feigned sleep. If it wasn’t feigned, she’d have their hides off!
    The first sign that the trap had been sprung was a crash that shook the earth beneath her. Makenna had bounded out of her blankets, then out of her tent, before the guards began to shout.
    The moon was half full, enough light for her to see the goblins converging on the fragile web of chains. Chains that had been sundered like cobwebs by the strange being who crouched in the middle of the circle, trying to shake off the snare ropes that Miggy’s brigade had snubbed around nearby trees. It growled, its voice echoing even through the wind.
    Makenna decided there was no need to run and strolled over to the shattered spellworks. They had looked so magical and fragile, and had taken so many hours for her to set up and inscribe, that she knew some spirit was bound to try to smash them.
    The creature straightened at her approach, glaring. She thought this one was male, though it was hard to be sure. It was clearly a tree spirit, with a sturdy trunklike torso, gnarled features, and rough, barklike skin. It had far too many limbs to call them arms, and they moved stiffly and seemed to be jointed in the wrong places.
    “What is this rope?” it said, in a voice that held the hollow boom of wood striking wood. “It burns .”
    “Burns”