Older goblins had a saying: Go with the danger you know, for that’s easier to run away from.

“To the right,” Jig said, hoping he sounded confident. That tunnel wasn’t exactly safe, either. If the other survivor of Porak’s patrol had made it back, the goblins might have sent another patrol into the tunnels. That wouldn’t cause much trouble for the adventurers, since the second patrol would likely follow the same thick-headed tactics as Captain Porak. If Jig were lucky, he wouldn’t survive their suicidal attack. If not, the adventurers would probably believe that he had led them into a trap. Barius in particular would love an excuse to cut Jig’s throat.

But goblins were a practical bunch. If the adventurers had killed one patrol, they might decide not to waste a second. Let the hobgoblins finish ’em off.

Which led him to the other danger. Hobgoblins were an angry, vicious, territorial lot. They wouldn’t let anyone pass without a fight. Still better to go with the danger you know. . . .

Ahead, Darnak jumped. “By Earthmaker’s hammer, what manner of beast is that?”

Jig looked where Darnak was pointing. “Oh. Carrion-worm. Old one, from the looks of it.”

“You permit that to consume your dead?” Barius said.

Jig shrugged, not wanting to continue that discussion. Carrion-worms resembled oversize white caterpillars. This one was about five feet long, and most of its round segments were bloated, probably with the remains of Porak’s patrol. Each segment had a circular mouth on the underside and four black feet, two of which the worm used to shovel food into its mouth while keeping the other two on the floor for balance. When they grew too long, the worms would reproduce by breaking apart, sometimes into as many as six or seven shorter worms. At other times, when food was scarce, they turned on each other, and many starving worms became a single, well-fed carrion-worm. An elegant cycle, and one which kept the tunnels clean.

Carrion-worms were blind, but their senses of smell and hearing were uncanny. They could sense a battle from the other side of the mountain, and they never left so much as a drop of blood.

This one had been munching on a splinter of bone, probably a bit of goblin it had dragged here to enjoy. At the sound of the adventurers’ voices, it clutched the bone with the feet of its middle segments and ran into the darkness, moving like an overgrown inchworm.

“It eats even the weapons and clothing?” Barius asked.

“The clothing, yes,” Jig said. “Weapons they take back to their nests. They like the feel of metal.”

“What’s that?” Riana pointed to a thin trail of liquid on the floor.

“Worm piss,” Jig said. Her nose wrinkled. “They use it to mark their path. They can find their way back by following the smell, even in the dark.”