All the hobgoblins wore armor they had cobbled together. Bits of plate mail strapped over leather and chain, and several had shields of varying designs as well. All used swords or axes. No kitchen knives here. This was a force that could overrun a goblin patrol in a matter of minutes.

Despite their strength and numbers, the hobgoblins didn’t stand a chance. Jig wouldn’t have recognized the adventurers as the same people who had, minutes before, shouted and snapped at one another like children. They were a team, working with one another, whereas the hobgoblins struggled as much among themselves as with the enemy.

That was the key, Jig realized. That ability to trust and work together in battle. Barius didn’t bother to protect his vulnerable left side, trusting Darnak to smash anyone who tried to attack him there. Neither faltered at all when Ryslind fired his arrows between them, and each of those arrows took a hobgoblin in the throat or chest. Were these goblins, they never would have trusted one of their number to stay behind with a bow. The temptation to “accidentally” shoot someone who might have stolen your rations, insulted your family, or stepped on your foot at last night’s dinner was too great.

The hobgoblins suffered from the same lack of trust. They tripped over one another, yelled and fought their way to the front, and seemed to have no plan beyond this straight charge. Jig watched as one hobgoblin pushed another out of the way. The one being pushed stumbled forward, and Darnak smashed his skull with a twirl of his club. The adventurers hardly needed to work at all. The hobgoblins were killing themselves.

And then it was over. Jig heard the survivors retreat back up the tunnel. Bodies covered the ground in front of the three adventurers. The carrion-worms would eat well tonight.

As he watched them clean their weapons and armor, Jig began to think he had been lucky when Porak sent him ahead as a scout. Had he remained with the patrol, he would have been cut down as easily as these hobgoblins. Easier, since he had been unarmored and practically unarmed. It made him embarrassed to be a goblin.

One unexpected blessing was that victory had improved Barius’s temper. He didn’t even insist on retying Jig’s bonds. Instead he seemed to glow with pride as he checked to be sure the others were uninjured.

“Three victories in a single night,” he gloated. “Surely the gods smile upon my quest. We shall find the rod, for nothing beneath this mountain has the strength to stop us.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Come, let us find the entrance to the lower tunnels. We will rest there before descending, to give my brother time to renew his strength. Lead on, goblin.”