John Coyne - Hobgoblin

Hobgoblinby John Coyne

Copyright1981

hob-gob-lin(hob/gob/lin), N. 1. anything causing superstitious fear; a bogy. 2.an evil spirit. 3. a fantasy war game based on Irish mythologyandfolklore, played with dice and a deck of cards.

One

Christmas,1980

BarbaraGardiner swung the family station wagon off the avenue and into thecul-de-sac. As always, she immediately felt safe. She was home.

Ithad snowed earlier in the day and a few inches of heavy wet snowclung to the bare branches and wooden fences. A perfect ConnecticutChristmas card, she thought, with the houses laced in Colored lightsand children building snowmen on their front lawns.

Barbaraslowed, drove carefully on the icy street. The children wereeverywhere, dark figures slipping out from behind parked cars,running from lot to lot. They were like characters from Scott'sfantasy game, she thought, all elves and goblins.

"Youfind yourself in an enchanted forest, Brian Boru, lost somewhere intime." The Dealer paused to shuffle the deck of blue Hobgoblincards. Scott glanced quickly at the other four players circled aroundthe dormitory rec-room table, and then down at the Battleboard wherethe miniature figure of Brian Boru waited for the next round.

Scotthad painted the one-inch-tall lead figure himself. Whenever he playedHobgoblin Brian Boru was his character, a twenty-fifth level paladinwhom Scott had kept alive through dozens of adventures in the ancientland of Erin.

"Picka card, Brian," the Dealer instructed, spreading the blue deckout on the table.

Scotttensed. The start of a new Hobgoblin game always made him nervous. Somuch depended on the card selected, so much of Brian Boru's fatedepended on chance.

"Hurryup, Gardiner, for chrissake," one of the other boys demanded."We have less than an hour to play."

Scottglanced up at the wall clock at the end of the lounge. Twenty tofive. At five-thirty they had PE and then dinner. They wouldn't beable to play again until eight o'clock, after study hall.

Therewere other activities in progress around the rec-room; studentsplaying Dungeons & Dragons, Traveller and Runequest fantasy wargames, but most of the boys had Hobgoblin cards on the table and wererunning an Adventure.

Scottsmiled. It made him feel good knowing that he had introducedHobgoblin to Spencertown Academy, knowing too that his classmates atthe prep school considered him the best player and his Brian Boruunbeatable.

Barbarahad a moment of concern thinking of Scott. He would be home withinthe week and she still hadn't found him the right Christmas present.Perhaps, she thought, she should go into the city on Friday and findhim something at the hobby shop. A new game perhaps. Something morerealistic than Hobgoblin, she thought, less megalomaniacal, lessdevoted to vicarious slaughter.

Thenshe saw her husband's MGB parked in their driveway and she swung inbehind it, wondering why he was home from work so early, and sheforgot about her son.

"Allright, Brian, draw the first card," Mr. Speier, the Dealer,instructed. Scott inhaled deeply. On the exhale, he reached out andimpulsively pulled a blue card from the deck.

Hedid not look down at the card. It was a superstition with Scott. Hethought it would bring bad luck to Brian Boru. He waited until Mr.Speier dealt the other players their game cards. McNulty'smonk/dwarf, Saint Finn, was entrapped in a "labyrinth in theland south of the mountains of Connaught." Rob Evans's banshee,Boobach, had been sent on a fool's errand to the Isle of Skye, andRick Wenzel's troll, Billy Blind, still guarded the pot of gold atthe bottom of the lake called Lough Neagh.

"Here,"explained Mr. Speier, reading from the Hobgoblin Dealer's Manual, "atLough Neagh can be seen-if you have the gift of fairy vision to seeunder water-columns and walls of a beautiful palace where onceinhabited a fairy race that some called the gods of earth.

"Nowbelow these waters when the full moon is shining, it is said thatboatmen, coming home late at night, can hear music rising frombeneath the waves, hear laughter, and see glimmering lights far downunder the sea.

"YourAdventure," the Dealer said, glancing at Scott, Evans andMcNulty, "is to find your own way out of your presentsituations, then rendezvous on the marshy shores of Lough Neagh andlocate Billy Blind in the underwater palace. If you can free him fromthis fairy race of gods, you may divide their gold among you."Mr. Speier closed the Hobgoblin guide and added carefully, "Shouldany of you happen to survive."

Scottedged forward in the chair, eager to begin. He loved the way Mr.Speier dealt the game, built up the story. Of all the teachers atSpencertown Academy who played Hobgoblin, Mr. Speier was the bestDealer. He was always able to create another world, to help Scott lethis imagination roam.

"Everyoneready?" Mr. Speier asked. He glanced at the four teenagerscircling the table. "All right, let's begin."

"Warren?"Barbara Gardiner unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer.In her arms she carried several Christmas packages which she droppedon the sofa as she quickly crossed the room. Where was he? What waswrong?

"Barbara...?"His loud voice carried clearly through the house. "I'm outhere."

Barbarasighed. "Thank God," she whispered, and followed his voiceinto the kitchen.

"Whyare you home, honey? It's not even five o'clock."

Hewas sitting at the breakfast table drinking coffee with the morningTimes spread before him. He seemed the same as when he had left forwork, except that he had taken off his jacket and tie and rolled uphis sleeves, but in the bright fluorescent light of the breakfastnook he looked grayish.

Heglanced up from the paper and smiled.

Shesaw the fatigue in his eyes, the sadness on his face. He was workingtoo hard, she had told him. If owning his own business was going todrive him into the ground, then the business wasn't worth it.

"Areyou ail right, Warren?"

"I'mfine." He pushed the sports page away and leaned back in thechair. "I just wasn't feeling so hot and decided not to go backto the office. Where have you been, shopping?" He kept smiling.

Shewent over and touched his forehead. "You have some fever,"she said, and her tension began to subside. "You may be comingdown with the flu. It's around. Do you want anything? An aspirin?"She wanted to do something for him, something to ease his discomfort.She hated it when he or Scotty was ill. She felt so helpless.

"No,I'm fine." He stood up, dismissing her concern, and went to thestove to pour another cup of coffee. She followed after him, as ifshe were afraid to let him get beyond her reach.

Forthe last few weeks he had not been sleeping well and several timesshe had awakened to find him reading downstairs, saying he was toouncomfortable to sleep.

"Warren,I think you should see a doctor about this. You haven't been gettingany rest. You're not eating at all, just look at yourself. You'relosing weight."

Shestopped to appraise her husband. He was a big man with the thick neckand forearms of someone who made his living from manual labor,although nowadays he did not. In college he had been a footballplayer and it was his brute strength that had first attracted her.

"Idid call the doctor. I'm seeing him tomorrow." Warren steppedaway from the stove and turned toward her.

Thecoffee cup was trembling in his hand. Oh, God, she thought, he reallywas sick.

"It'sall right, Ba. Everything is all right. I'm fine." He kepttalking, watching as her face filled with fear.

Scottflipped the blue card, laid it face down on the table. In capsuleform it described the giant which Brian Boru had to defeat in battlebefore he could reach Lough Neagh.

Type:Brobdingnagian

Frequency:Very rare

ArmourClass: 10

Moves:10 feet

Size:52 feet and staunch