Goblin Slayer - Volume 2 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Riddles

“Just how long do you plan to sleep, dunderhead?” 

The voice that thundered through his brain conspired with the piercing pain to wake him. 

He leaped up, took a stance, looked around. Freezing cold bit into his skin. 

White. 

Everything was white. 

It was the white darkness, the same as always. He was more familiar with this world than with the light of the sun. 

He was in a cave—probably deep in it—surrounded by water and ice. 

No sooner had he gathered where he was than another resounding smack landed on the side of his head. The blow was hot and painful, as if he’d been hit with tongs, and its contrast with the cold confused him completely. 

“What are you starin’ for? If you’re up, then greet me!” 

The nasal, haranguing voice echoed through the cave, but he could not see its source. 

He didn’t dare try to discover where the voice was coming from. If he peered around the cave, he would only invite another blow. 

And it wasn’t possible to see through Burglar’s invisibility in the first place. 

In these months—or years?—of training, he had come to understand that very well. In this dimness, his sense of time was fuzzy at best. It was like the flakes of snow that blew by and refused to be caught. 

The old man was known by many names, including the Traveler, but he preferred to be called Burglar or Master. 

“Of course, master. Thank you for being here.” 

He bowed his head, though he didn’t know where he should bow it to. 

He heard a quiet snort and felt a momentary thrill of nervousness. If he had angered the master, he wouldn’t get off with a simple rebuke. The master might even stop training him. 

And that was a matter of life and death. 

“Hrm. Good enough.” 

His master seemed satisfied for now. 

He remained prostrate, careful not to breathe a sigh of relief. He allowed some snow to settle in his mouth, then closed his lips. The breath he had let out so carelessly was warm, and the mist it created in the air would give him away. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been scolded for this lapse. 

“Master, what should I do today?” 

“What should you do?” Burglar gave a mocking little huff. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard! What kind of idiot are you?” 

Suddenly, something flew at him from the darkness. 

He was caught completely unawares, and the snowball hit him full in the face. The wet sensation quickly turned into a chattering discomfort. 

Burglar had deliberately packed the projectile lightly, so that it would spread cold snow all over him. How viciously clever. 

“I got you! So now go get them! The goblins!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He stared straight ahead, not even bothering to wipe the ice off his face. The thought that it might give him frostbite didn’t even cross his mind. The pain, the bitterness, the goblins. They were all just part of his daily life. Barely even worth mentioning. 

But he heard Burglar murmur, “How about it? They’re smart, they’re cruel, and they are many. They are vile. Can you kill the goblins?” 

“I will kill them.” 

“Even though when they were making sport of your sister, you only watched?” 

Burglar gave a weird, grating laugh. 

He felt the fire vanish from his belly, along with the heated emotion that weighed in his mind like a stone. 

“I know what you’re going to say. You didn’t have the strength then, did you?” 

He bit his lip. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Wrong! That is wrong!” 

This time, the wet sensation was mixed with a dull pain. Burglar was clever and cruel. He had added pebbles to the loosely packed snow. 

His forehead hurt; he felt like it was swelling with every beat of his heart. He felt blood dribbling from the wound, melting the snow stuck to his face as it went. 

It wasn’t serious. 

The skull was one of the hardest bones in the body, not so easily broken. Another lesson he had learned well. He made no move to wipe away the blood, only looked in the direction where he thought Burglar was. 

“It’s because you chose to do nothing!” 

It seared him. 

His fist already felt more like a rock than a hand, but he clenched it still tighter. 

“What’s that? Why didn’t you fight those goblins? Why didn’t you escape with your sister?” 

The air moved slightly. Burglar had probably come close enough to stare him in the face, just to make the point. He could smell the stink of wine on Burglar’s breath, but he still couldn’t see him, not even his shadow. 

“It’s because you refused to save her. Questions of success or failure, life or death, those come later!” 

“I have nooo power! I can’t do aaaanything! 

“Oh! The gods granted me strength! Now I can kill allll the goblins! 

“Oh! A legendary hero mentored me! Now I can kill allll the goblins! 

“Oh! Look at this holy sword I found! Look out, goblins! 

“Now I have the power to do aaaanything!” 

Burglar’s sneering singsong echoed around the icy chamber. 

“You think a boy who did nothing when he had no power will do anything once he gains it?” 

“…” 

“Even if he did, it would just be a show! And every show ends sooner or later.” 

Foosh. The air rippled again. He didn’t move his eyes, but tried to follow the feel of it. 

“Listen up,” Burglar said. “You have no genius. You have no talent. You’re one more nameless vagabond with nothing to distinguish you.” 

Thump. Something bit gently into his chest. 

He looked up in a rush to see an eye staring back at him. The small, glittering orb was a strange yellow color, like a burning torch. 

“But you’re the one who gets to choose.” 

He swallowed heavily. 

“When you’ve decided to act, that is your victory. Not that you won’t be a laughingstock if you try and fail.” 

Burglar’s voice suddenly grew quiet. He snapped his fingers, and a bonfire he must have prepared at some point flared to life. 

The white walls of the cave took on the color of the flames. 

This was indeed a snowy fissure, surrounding him with ice, snow, and chill air. 

But the instant that thought distracted him, Burglar vanished, leaving not so much as a shadow. 

“You need luck, wits—and guts!” Burglar bellowed in a voice that echoed unsettlingly. 

He tried to steady his breathing and stood slowly. 

He took his stance: arms up, feet slightly apart, hips lowered. 

“First, decide if you’re going to do it—then do it!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

When he nodded, a few drops of blood went flying, stippling red across his feet. He paid it no mind. Focus on not slipping on the snow. 

“If you get that right, you can turn giants to stone, crush spiders bigger than you are, kill dragons, even defeat the king of hell!” 

“Yes, master.” 

“You have bad luck, and you’re not very smart. But do you have willpower? I’m going to train them all at once—look up!” 

He obediently looked up. A dazzling, dangerously bright light met his eyes. 

It was the field of icicles that grew from the ceiling of the snow cave. With their piercing points aimed straight down at him, they appeared like an army of knights. 

The heat of the fire had begun to have its effect: A single droplet spattered down on him. 

“Time for a guessing game. I have a riddle for you! If you want to live, you’d best answer quickly!” 

“Yes, master.” 

“Good, good!” 

He heard a smacking sound of Burglar licking his lips. Riddles were a form of battle as old as the gods—sacred, inviolable, absolute. It was said they went back to even before the gods began rolling dice. 

Of course, none of that mattered to him. He would answer. That was all. 

“I crisscross the sky. 

“Cruel beak tears flesh. 

“Your nightmare! Your sworn enemy! 

“But kill me, and it is your blood that will flow. 

“What am I?” 

The very first thing he thought of was a goblin. 

But goblins didn’t fly, and they didn’t have beaks. 

Just as he was about to cross his arms to think, another snowball came flying at him. 

He slid sideways across the ice to avoid it. A few drops of blood flew from his face and landed on the ice, mingling with the melted water and turning it pink. 

The answer came to him in a flash. 

“A mosquito.” 

“Correct!” Burglar gave a snort that suggested he was not amused. “But that was just a warm-up. Next!” 

“The seas stand dry. 

“The rivers do not run. 

“The trees stand bare. 

“The towns have no buildings. 

“The castles no men! 

“Where are we?” 

He didn’t have the slightest idea. 

The names of ravaged kingdoms both historical and mythical floated into his mind, then drifted away. All were places he’d heard of in the stories his sister told him. Had none of them met a fate as terrible as the riddle described? 

“Baaah, what’s wrong?” Burglar demanded. “Don’t just daydream! Move! Or it’ll be the end of you!” 

Before he could even think about it, he reflexively rolled to the side. 

An icicle struck the floor and shattered. 

He didn’t have his helmet on. He had to focus on protecting his head. 

Then, suddenly, he was reminded of the answer in a riddle game he and his sister had played long ago. Although at the time, he hadn’t been able to outsmart her. 

“We must be on a map.” 

“Ha-ha! Exactly! But what took you so long?” 

He heard mocking applause. It echoed off the walls until he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. 

He blocked out the noise in his ears, instead looking near and far, side to side, then up to the ceiling. He couldn’t let down his guard. His thinking had to be clear. Control your breath. 

The room was so cold, yet at some point he had started to sweat. He tried to wipe away the blood and sweat with one arm to keep it from getting into his eyes, but doing so brought an unpleasant sting to his injuries. 

“Come on now, keep going!” 

“More just than the gods. 

“More evil than the Dark Gods. 

“The rich need me. 

“But for me the poor find no use. 

“What am I?” 

For him, this was an especially hard one. And Burglar was not about to let him stand and think calmly. The snowballs came flying from every direction; he rolled across the ice to avoid them. 

He was losing feeling in his limbs; they had passed blue and were turning purple. 

But there was no time to worry about it. A creak sounded from above him. 

“Careful now! Here comes another one!” 

Another icicle melted away from the ceiling and drove down at him. 

“…!” 

Burglar would not even let him dodge safely. Yet another snowball came and struck him in the shoulder; snow sprayed everywhere and pebbles bit into his flesh. He struggled to suppress a groan of pain. 

There was no time. He couldn’t think. He had no answer. He had nothing. That made him angry—and then it came to him. 

He looked up and shouted: 

“Nothing!” He stomped the earth with both feet, regaining his stance, and added, “The answer is nothing!” 

“Yes! But there is something more evil than the Dark Gods and possessed of more cruel wit!” 

Burglar had no intention of letting him rest, but flung riddles at him as quickly as he could answer. 

In the white darkness, blood flowing from his shoulder and his forehead, he stood and faced the questions. 

“Black 

“Within black 

“Within black 

“Within black.” 

He shouted back immediately: 

“A goblin—in the womb of the captured woman in a goblin cage in a goblin cave!” 

He never forgot about the goblins, not even for a second. The answer required no thought at all. He smirked at his invisible teacher and said, “Simple.” 

“Oh, is it? Then, try this!” 

“At any time, at any moment, 

“You might encounter him, 

“Him there is no escaping! 

“You cannot speak to him! 

“There, he is beside you! 

“Too bad for you! Game over!” 

The last riddle must have been just a way of buying enough time to come up with this one. Burglar was full of cheap tricks. They taught him a great deal. 

But the answer to this riddle completely escaped him. 

Breathing raggedly, he slipped past snowballs and dodged icicles. The snow tore at his skin and the ice pounded it, until his entire body was raw and bleeding. The blood and sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes, obscuring his vision, while the wound on his shoulder throbbed. 

Through it all, he thought furiously. The gears in his mind turned; he blinked several times, marshaling all his intelligence, searching for an answer. 

It didn’t take long to discover what was right near him. 

He licked his lips lightly and spoke the answer as clearly as he could. 

“He is death.” 

“Ha-haaa! A fine answer!” 

Burglar’s peals of laughter bounced throughout the cavern. A spray of water droplets came down, shaken free by the echo. 

“You have no luck. You have no wits. The only thing you have is guts. So think! Think with all the guts you have!” 

“Yes, master.” 

He nodded obediently. He had no idea why Burglar looked after him, but he was alone, his village gone, and he had only one goal left to him. The old man was giving him the teachings and the strategies he would need to reach it. He would never consider questioning the words of his master. 

“And be forthright—yes, you’ve become good at that. Good for a boy like you, anyway. Last one!” 

Burglar appeared before him as if out of thin air. He was a small man, less than half his height, and dark as a shadow. 

The old rhea man held a shimmering short sword and wore platinum mail. He gazed at him with two shining eyes and smiled, revealing his uneven teeth. 

“What have I got in my pocket?” 

It was a cruel trick, technically against the rules of the riddle game. 

He struggled to answer but could think of nothing. 

He opened his mouth to beg for at least three guesses, but in the next instant, a dull pain ran through his head once more, and he felt his consciousness melting away. 

To this day, he didn’t know the answer to that riddle.