He couldn’t tell how far they dropped, but he landed on his heels with a jolt that threatened to crack everything from his ankles up to his shoulders and sent him tumbling onto the rock-littered ground. With his arms still tied, he kicked like an upended spider before getting back to his feet. Still, he couldn’t complain. Darnak, yanked backward by the weight of his pack, had landed hard on his backside. If that weren’t enough, he wound up with Ryslind’s knee square in his gut. At least that was how Jig interpreted the grunting and swearing from that side of the pit. “Where are we? What happened?” Barius sounded close to panic. So much for the fearless prince. Even children knew better than to openly barge into hobgoblin territory. Barius was beginning to remind Jig of a very young goblin he had once known. Upon being told not to touch the fire in the fire bowls, this goblin had not only raced to the nearest flame, she had attempted to taste it. She hadn’t survived childhood, and Jig wondered how Barius had managed to do so.
