He had no idea how many miles of identical paved, surprisingly well-swept tunnel he’d walked down, how many side turnings and cul-de-sacs he’d explored, all to no result. His feet were hurting, he was starving hungry and he needed a pee, and the thought of Perseus and Captain Kirk choking on his dust was no longer quite enough to keep him motivated. The afterburn from the adrenalin rush he’d got from escaping from the Chairman was about all that was keeping him going, though he wasn’t entirely sure that what he was feeling was that and not heartburn. All he needed was toothache, and his wretchedness loyalty card would be all filled up. Toothache or goblins; but he still hadn’t seen one, which was very strange. The deeper into the mountain he went, the more evidence he’d encountered that goblins had been here once, from half-gnawed bones on the floor to goblin graffiti on the walls (rather an anti-climax; mostly it was stuff like Victory to King Mordak and the seven-year plan!
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