Goblin War by Jim C. Hines

amusement as they watched Trok dragged through the snow, flopping about like a broken toy.
    Trok tried to pull himself up and punch Windstorm in the head. But he had to release the reins to swing. In the time it took to recover his balance, Windstorm trotted easily out of reach.
    ‘‘Stupid horse,’’ Trok shouted.
    Relka glanced at Jig. ‘‘I’m starting to see why the princess let us take him.’’
    This time, Trok threw himself onto the saddle before Windstorm could move away. Trok scrambled to hold on, kicking his leg around and gripping the saddle with both hands. He straightened, and his triumphant grin faded. In his haste, he had managed to seat himself backward.
    ‘‘Aw, pixie farts,’’ Trok said.
    Before he could straighten himself out, Windstorm reared back on his hind legs. Trok tumbled into the snow and dirt.
    Windstorm’s whinny sounded a lot like laughter.
    Goblins like Trok lived by making sure everyone else was afraid of them. When that fear faded, he did whatever it took to restore it. Apparently that went for horses too. Trok snarled and grabbed the front of Windstorm’s saddle. With his other hand, he stretched up to grab the horse’s ear.
    ‘‘Wait,’’ said Jig. ‘‘I don’t know if you should—’’
    Windstorm squealed.
    ‘‘Ha! Think you can best a goblin warrior, do you?’’
    The horse slammed his head into Trok’s chest. Given the size of Windstorm’s head, Trok flew back as if he had been punched by an ogre. Windstorm snorted, then reached down to nip Trok’s ear.
    ‘‘Make him let go!’’ Trok screamed, but Windstorm had already released him. Jig didn’t blame him. If Trok tasted as foul as he smelled, Jig would have rather eaten plants too.
    Trok grabbed his bloody ear with one hand. His other clenched into a fist.
    ‘‘Trok, wait.’’
    ‘‘What is it, runt?’’ Trok pulled out his broken arrow. ‘‘You think you get to give the orders, just because you got lucky with those pixies?’’
    ‘‘And the dragon,’’ Relka said. ‘‘And the Necromancer. Don’t forget the old chief, Kralk. And the hobgoblins. Also, he’s the one who saved you from taking Genevieve’s sword through the belly. Personally, if Jig Dragonslayer told me to wait, I’d listen.’’
    Jig stepped back. From the look on Trok’s face, the only thing stopping Trok from killing them all was that he couldn’t make up his mind who to kill first.
    ‘‘There are probably still some humans out looking for us,’’ Jig said. He was tempted to let Trok and Windstorm work things out. But Trok would be more useful as an angry goblin warrior than as a blue smear of slush in some farmer’s field. ‘‘We’ll need your help if we’re going to make it to Billa’s army.’’
    ‘‘Why?’’ asked Relka.
    ‘‘Because there are a lot more humans out there.’’ Jig took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of Trok’s weapon. ‘‘Look, even if you do manage to ride him, we—’’
    Trok snarled.
    ‘‘I mean when ! When you ride him. Well, it’s still going to take a few days to get to Billa’s army, right?’’
    ‘‘I suppose,’’ said Trok. ‘‘What does that have to do with anything?’’
    ‘‘Well, none of us brought any food.’’
    Slowly both Trok and Relka turned toward Windstorm....

CHAPTER 4
    Autumnstar stretched his wings on the broad stone, basking in the sun’s warmth. It had taken a few years to adjust to his new body, but all in all, being a sand lizard wasn’t too bad. Though he doubted he’d ever get used to eating bugs.
     
After seven days of smoked horse meat, Relka and Trok were beginning to look tasty. Jig was certain they were having similar thoughts about him.
    He was almost sure Relka wouldn’t murder him in his sleep, and Trok seemed more annoyed by Relka than Jig, so he would probably kill her first. That would give Jig time to flee. And Relka was the only one who knew how to cook, which was likely the reason Trok hadn’t