A Goblin's Tale
Date: 2017-05-16T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Humour; Adventure
Description: A new, darker age is dawning. The greed of kings has ignited a seemingly endless war. As men fight, the monsters of the untamed wilds are devouring the frontier. Villages are abandoned as fields go fallow. Murderous bandits roam the desolation. None of that matters to a nameless goblin slave. He just wants to eat as much food as he can shove into his mouth when no one is looking, but fate runs a twisted course, so instead he is whisked away to the far off Iron Teeth Mountains. To stay alive, he will have to evolve into something more than a simple goblin, and carve a bloody path through the fo

A Goblin’s Tale

Scott Straughan

Copyright © 2017 Scott Straughan

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-7750029-0-1

I dedicate this book to myself, because I’m awesome, no matter what I think.

Contents

Title Page

Foreward

Part 1: The Road North

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part 2: Honor Among Thieves

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part 3: Written in Blood

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Part 4: Playing With Fire

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue: Rumors on the Wind

Afterward

Part 1: The Road North

Chapter 1

The small captive awoke to the rattling of his cage. The sudden noise banished all memory of any dreams he may have been having. Sometime during his sleep, the ropes tying down his cage had become loose and the cage had started bouncing around in the wagon.

The noise hurt his ears. They twitched as he brought up his fingers to try to plug them. It didn't help much. He wasn't used to such sounds, especially enduring them constantly for days.

He really wished he had never awoken. He wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now.

A hiss of annoyance slipped past his lips as he peered out from under the ragged tarp that failed to properly cover his wooden cage. The tarp was brown and worm-eaten, so it didn't shield him from the harsh light outside. It also smelled terrible, but he was used to worse.

He blinked to try to see past the bright light blinding him and get a look at the scenery. There were lots of trees. More trees than he had thought could possibly exist in all the world. He hadn't seen a lot of trees when he lived in the city—only a few when he left the shelter of the tunnels and headed out under the night sky.

His earliest memories were of being taught obedience by his masters and of them sending him down into the dark below places. There, he and his tribe had hunted the depths for rats and been sent to unclog tunnels and pipes. He had gone into tight places too small for men, then come back out for the promise of tasty rewards. Rat meat got old after a while.

Under the cover of darkness, while the masters slept, his tribe squeezed through old broken bricks and rusted grates to creep around the city. There they scrounged for food among the refuse, only to slink back as dawn turned night to day.

Excitement came from fighting his tribesmen, dogs, or the occasional unusually large rat. The bigger the rat, the better it tasted, but the largest ones were mean fighters with nasty teeth.

Sometimes the rats even formed packs, so his tribe had to form a war party! He still remembered the Great War of the One-Eyed Rat and the feast that had followed his tribe’s victory! He’d been young then but had played a crucial part; he’d distracted several particularly dangerous rats by running away.

However, one day everything had changed. The masters had summoned his tribe, and once he arrived, they singled him out. Then he had been placed into a cage and given water that made him drowsy. A second later, he’d fallen on his face and everything went black.

A great fiery hand had pulled him from darkness. Shadows danced around him as he burned, and they promised him new treats and pleasures beyond anything he had ever known. He hadn't had a dream like that since he’d eaten that one purple mushroom.

As he slept, he was hauled into a cage on a wagon. Much to his dismay, he groggily woke up just as the cart rolled through the streets and out the city gates.Still drowsy from his dream, he whimpered in fright. He blinked and tried to shield his stinging eyes from the light as he cowered in the corner of his cage.

He had remained quiet and obedient though. He knew better than to complain or draw attention to himself, for the masters would silence him swiftly.

Soon, his wagon had joined many others and a horde of men. Together, they set out from the city and into the never-ending green sea of trees. Were the men moving to a different city, or perhaps they were starting a new one? Would they need him to hunt and clean the dark places below? He didn't know; he could only sit in his cage and wait.

He’d been waiting for a really long time! The wagons had rolled over the dirt road, sending dusty clouds into the air, for what seemed like days beyond count. Not that he could count very high, of course. Still, it was more days than he had fingers and toes. He supposed he could have simply started the count over again, but he had forgotten the number anyway. The point was that he was bored.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the wagons weren’t pulled by horses. Their smell and the smell of their shit, which they simply dropped on the road as they walked, was foul and annoying. His crap smelled much better.

Anyway, he hated horses, and from his brief experience with them, he was pretty sure they hated him right back. They probably tasted horrible as well, so what good were they? He cursed them under his breath when he grew particularly bored, which was practically all the time.

“Ugly horses. Stupid horses. Smelly horses,” he muttered.

For so many days, he simply sat in his cage, slept, and gazed out at the never-ending stands of green trees. For a while, he pretended the tarp was a solid stone roof that protected him from the bright emptiness above. His retreat into denial was only broken when he was fed or when he excreted over the side of the wagon and was forced to take in the blinding light of the sun. Well, sometimes he excreted with his eyes closed, but most of the time, he was blinded by the sun.

He wanted to go home; he yearned for the freedom of the dark sewers and tunnels! His sore body needed to move and stretch more than his small cage allowed. He itched from inactivity. Well, he itched almost constantly, but he was pretty sure it was worse now. He blamed the horses.

“Ugly horses. Stupid horses. Smelly horses,” he muttered.

The sound of footsteps approaching reached his ear, and he instinctively withdrew into what little shadows his wooden cage contained. However, much to his relief, the man walked by without stopping. Still huddled in his corner, he tried once again to get back to sleep.

Occasionally he heard the low, deep voices of the men as they spoke, but try as he might, he couldn't really understand them. He knew more than a few of their words because the trainers had taught him some of their language, but the men spoke quickly and used many words he didn't know.

His people's language was much simpler. The tongue of these men seemed to contain endless sounds that were pointlessly complex to him. The men must spend much of their lives naming things, and that seemed like a weird way to spend time. They would be much happier if they spent more of their time hunting for tasty things, and happier men would probably hit him less. That would be better for everyone, so it was too bad they were too stupid to think of it. Not everyone could be as smart as him.

As he tried to relax and ignore the cage’s irritating moving and creaking, he heard two men talking. Their tone of voice piqued his interest, so he peered out and tried to spot them.

One of the men was tall and thin while the other was fat. As they argued, they grew louder and the agitation in their voices that had snagged his attention grew more pronounced. They seemed worried. Their voices were unnecessarily loud for two people so close together, and they held themselves stiffly, like prey ready to flee at any moment. Also, they kept looking over their shoulders off into the distance as though they expected something to appear. It was quite prey-like indeed.

He wondered what they were so worried about. Not that it really mattered to him; he was stuck in this cage until they let him out. Like everything else in the wagons, they were taking him somewhere and he was unlikely to get out until they got there. He had no idea where they were going, but it would undoubtedly have fewer trees, or so he hoped anyway. It would also hopefully have fewer horses, as in none whatsoever.

“Ugly horses. Stupid horses. Smelly horses,” he muttered.

Maybe the thing the men were so worried about would be exciting! Anything would be better than endless days of sitting in this cage. Except beatings, or no tasty things, or being bitten by dogs, being bitten by horses, or… lots of stuff. Still the cage was very, very bad.

Suddenly the wagon jolted to a stop. At first he thought nothing of it; the wagons stopped every night and several other times as well. However, now he heard many more agitated human voices and the sound of people rushing around. That wasn’t normal.

A large man in the bulky shiny clothing that marked him as a warrior ran by while frantically pulling on his shiny hat. Oh, the warriors among the men were getting ready for a fight! He wished he had a metal hat like that. It was so shiny!

He wondered what the men were going to fight. What sort of beasts preyed on humans out here among the endless trees and dusty roads? He hoped whatever it was would be too busy chasing down all the men to get to him. Maybe it would even eat the horses!

Suddenly, his train of thought was broken by a loud buzzing. It was swiftly followed by a chorus of human screams and war cries, then loud thumping noises exploded all around him. Startled, he jumped into the air and promptly smashed his head against the top of the cage. He yelped in pain, fell over, and curled up into a defensive ball.

Another wave of sound washed over him, and he tensed in surprise. He got up and strained to see what was going on, but he couldn't get a good view. He shook and rocked the cage, but that didn’t help him get the right angle. Either the other cargo in the wagon or the horse pulling it always blocked his view. Stupid horse. It was probably doing it on purpose.

Several minutes went by as he listened to the crash of struggling and the roar of human screaming. Metal met metal, and metal met flesh. Soon, he realized that some of the noises were cries of triumph and others were cries of pain and despair. That confused him for a moment before he realized the obvious conclusion. The men were fighting other men.

He was more than a little disappointed he wouldn't get to see a giant man-eating green cat or something. The animals of the forest were all green, right? Anyway, it would have been exciting to see it chase all the men like mice.

An explosion ripped through the besieged caravan, quickly followed by a gust of hot wind. The wagon shuddered, and the tarp on his cage whipped around wildly. He flinched in shock. He had no idea what had just happened, but whatever it was seemed super important and exciting. He smiled happily; maybe it would happen again!

That was when he noticed he could now see what was happening. The shaking of the cart had cleared his field of view.

Just as he had guessed, men were fighting each other up ahead. Small groups of warriors from the caravan, wearing their shiny mail, were fighting men in mismatched, rough-looking clothes. The guards fought back to back as they tried to protect themselves from the swarms of men attacking.

In the middle of the fighting, the burning bodies of several of the attackers were littered around a crater. In front of the crater stood a tall man in purple robes who held a long staff. As the captive watched, a flight of arrows shot toward the purple man from across the battlefield.

Calmly, the man raised a jeweled amulet, and a wave of rippling air sprang into existence. The invisible force knocked the arrows harmlessly aside. The unharmed man then let the amulet fall back against his chest and aimed the end of his staff toward the nearest clump of attackers.

“Somebody kill that mage now!” a furious voice yelled as several men tried to rush the man in purple.

As several of the men closed on him, the mage raised another amulet. This time there was no flashy display. All the men around the mage simply collapsed and lay unmoving on the ground. Then the mage aimed his staff again, and an arrow took him in the back. Now it was the mage’s turn to stagger and fall. As he struggled to pull himself back to his feet, one of the attackers ran up and bashed him in the back of the head with a heavy club.

Another cheer broke out across the battlefield, but this time it was the attackers who were rejoicing. The clumps of caravan guards began to be overwhelmed by their more numerous opponents.

Then, with the sound of pounding hooves on hard packed dirt, the fat man from earlier rode by the captive's cage. The watcher only got a brief look at him, but the man was trembling and red-faced as he yelled and kicked his horse in order to urge it to ever faster speeds.

The watcher greatly approved of kicking horses. His estimate of the fat man's intelligence went up slightly.

The horse carried its rider down the road at a mad speed, kicking up a dust cloud as it went. Soon they disappeared from sight.

Briefly, the observer wondered if the man would get away. However, it seemed somehow wrong to him that the only one to escape would be fat. Shouldn't he be the slowest? Well, maybe the horse would get tired of the man's fat ass and throw him to his death. You couldn't trust horses after all. Yes, that was what would probably happen.

With the sound of heavy footsteps, two more humans from the wagons ran by. There was a tall one and a shorter one with long hair. He thought the shorter one was a woman.

As he watched, several lightning-fast objects buzzed by and slammed into them. They collapsed and cried out in pain as a dirty-looking human in rough clothes ran over to them.

“Mercy, please, I beg you,” the taller one implored the new arrival.

The shorter human just cried and cradled her shoulder where she had been shot with an arrow. The dirty man just laughed as he stabbed the tall one in the back with his sword. The swordsman twisted the blade, and his victim gasped before going limp. A pool of blood expanded around the downed man.

The watcher sniffed and smelled the fear and blood in the air. It was such delicious blood and delightful fear. It was so weird that it came from men who had been his masters. He had considered them invincible.

Without warning, the horse pulling his cart whinnied in fright and shook the wagon, sending the captive bowling over into the side of the cage, where he smacked his nose against the bars. He hissed in pain and his eyes watered.

From where he had been thrown, he saw the dirty man quickly going through his victim's clothing. He seemed to be looking for things to take as trophies. The caged watcher wished he could do the same. He would never harm a master, that was unthinkable, but now that they were dead, they wouldn’t be needing their stuff! They probably had many shiny and tasty things on them. Maybe he could get a shiny hat. That would make this the best day ever!

The short woman gave a cry of despair and sobbed. The swordsman turned to her, then grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. She screamed in pain but managed to stand. Blood from her wound dripped down her long plain dress.

“Stop your moaning, woman. A little wound like that won't kill you any time soon. Now come with me. The boss may want all the women and children rounded up, but it's up to me what happens to you in the meantime,” he told her as he dragged her back the way he had come.

The woman sobbed in pain but stopped when the dirty man slapped her face. The woman then cringed and trembled but stopped screaming. Soon, the swordsman had marched her out of sight.

The watcher had never seen men act so much like his people. It surprised him a little. They usually behaved so differently from his tribe. They were much more cooperative and controlled, with far less random outbreaks of violence. Also, they had a lot more clothes.Maybe they weren't so different after all though. That thought intrigued the watcher.

By this time, the screams and sounds of battle had mostly ended. He had grown bored again, but he couldn't help but be worried about what was going to happen to him now. The combination of boredom and anxiety was uncomfortable, and the smell of blood didn't help. He began to sweat and itch, so he scratched himself. After a few moments of pointless self-harm, he stopped as he heard more footsteps and voices.

He peeked out, but they were approaching from an angle he couldn't see. Stupid horse. Why couldn't the dirty man have killed the horse? The world was greatly improved by every dead horse.

Suddenly, the tarp was ripped off his cage. The wide-eyed watcher looked up to see two rough-looking men staring at him in surprise.

One was tall and older looking with grey hair and a long green cloak. His brown eyes had more than a few lines under them. The second man was shorter, had no hair on his head, and wore a dirty brown shirt.

“Shit, it's a goblin,” the bald man said as his pale human face scrunched up into a look of disbelief. “Why the fuck did they have a goblin?”

Chapter 2

“That's a good question,” the older one replied.

“Ah, who cares? Let's just kill it,” the shorter one said as he drew his dagger.

The goblin felt a flash of panic, and his small eyes went wide in fear. Immediately he whimpered and groveled to show his submission to the giants before him. This always worked on humans—well, almost always…

“Wait a second. This is interesting,” the other said with a raised hand. He peered into the cage and looked the goblin over. “I wonder…” Looking it directly in the eyes, he commanded, “Sit.”

The goblin sat down instantly, then smiled at the men hopefully. Orders were good; they meant the men might consider sparing him. He really didn't want to be stabbed by the ugly one. The taller man looked friendlier, but the hairless one was still giving him an evil look. Clearly, he had to put more effort into his groveling.

“Yes, master, I obey,” he exclaimed in his best “weak and harmless” voice. From experience, he knew it was impossible to suck up to his masters too much.

“What the hells, it talks?” the bald man responded.

The taller grey-haired one shook his head. He obviously wasn't impressed by the other man's intelligence. “It's not wild, Buck. It's trained, like a dog. They use them in some places to do dirty work in mines and workshops,” the older man explained condescendingly.

“Well, we don't have any use for it and there are more than enough goblins around here. We don't need freakish talking ones too. So let's just kill it already, Saeter,” the shorter one suggested.

The goblin felt a stab of fear. He didn't want to die! There were so many tasty things he hadn't had a chance to try yet.

Luckily, the taller man, named Saeter, frowned at Buck in disagreement. “No, I might have a use for it. These things are supposed to have a good sense of smell, and good dogs are hard to keep out here. They get eaten.”

“Me good smeller! Me no be eaten!” the goblin interjected helpfully. He could do anything better than a stupid dog, and he had a lifetime of experience in not being eaten. He had gotten pretty good at it.

Buck gave the goblin a doubtful look, but the goblin thought he saw Saeter smile slightly. The older man was obviously the one he needed to suck up to.

“What if the little freak runs off?” Buck asked skeptically.

“Then like you just said, this area has more than enough goblins already. One more won't make any difference. Unless you think it's going to talk us to death,” Saeter answered with a hint of authority in his voice and body language.

Buck frowned a bit, but much to the goblin's relief, he was clearly backing down. Obviously Saeter was the more dominant male, and much smarter as well since he saw the goblin's worth.

“Whatever, if you want the bloody little thing, I doubt anyone will care. Just keep it out of my way. I'll fill the boss in on the actual useful stuff we found.” Buck huffed before walking away.

When he was gone, Saeter turned to the goblin and got a large toothy smile of gratitude from the green midget.

“So do you have a name then, goblin?” Saeter asked.

It took the creature a few seconds to figure out what the man's words meant, and then the question itself surprised him. Among the sewer goblins, he was addressed by his position in the pack, and the humans hadn't ever felt the need to name their slaves.

After a second of hesitation, he answered, “No, master.” He didn't know where this was going.

Saeter looked thoughtful for a second. “All right, from now on your name is… Blacknail, because your one toenail is darker than the rest. Do you understand?”

“Me Blacknail,” the goblin replied excitedly. Having a name, something to call himself that was his own, felt weird. He liked the feeling though. He also liked that his new name described something that set him apart from other goblins—his dark nail. Not just any goblin could have his name. They couldn't even beat him up and steal it!

“Now if I let you out, are you going to stay close to me and do as I say?” Saeter asked the goblin sternly.

Blacknail once again detected a hint of threat in his voice. Well, that was normal in the masters. They were always angry at goblins for something. They should really stop leaving all their shiny and tasty things lying around if they didn't want goblins to rescue them.

“You master,” Blacknail gravely replied. He didn't understand everything Saeter had just said, but he understood enough. Besides, calling humans master was always the right answer.

Saeter grinned gruffly and with a bit of humor. “You certainly get right to the point. All right then.” He moved over and unlatched the cage.

When it was open, Blacknail took a few careful steps out before slowly stretching, then turning back to face his new master expectantly. Getting out of the cage felt so good. He just wished he was home and not in this strange place.

His first instinct was to make a run for it as soon as the man’s back was turned. However, Blacknail was stuck out here among all the unsettling trees and nasty-looking men. Home was very far away, and the goblin had no idea what sorts of dangers lay in wait for him among the trees, but he was sure there were lots!

Thus, he planned on staying close to this new non-hostile human named Saeter. He was big even for a human, so being close to him should be fairly safe, and that was worth a few beatings.

The top of the goblin's head reached only slightly more than halfway up Saeter's body. His green-skinned body was shaped like a small stumpy person’s. He also had a bald head, two long pointy ears, and sharp nails on his hands and feet. His nose was large, long, and beak-like. His eyes were small and squinty while his teeth were sharp and needle-like.

Blacknail thought of himself as quite the handsome creature, but he was pretty sure his masters thought otherwise. Saeter, however, did not seem surprised nor repulsed by Blacknail’s appearance.

“All right, let's see how well trained you are. Go, Blacknail,” Saeter said forcefully while pointing at a spot on the ground a dozen feet from him.

The goblin rushed over to stand on that spot, then turned to smile proudly at his master. Too easy! This was a command he had mastered long ago!

“Stay,” Saeter commanded as he placed a piece of dried meat on the ground in front of himself.

The scent of the meat reminded Blacknail that he hadn't eaten since that morning and that the men of the wagons hadn't been feeding him much anyway. He liked gruel as much as the next goblin, but it got old after a few weeks. Now he wanted something different.

However, he ignored the rumble in his tummy and didn't move. He was far too clever for that. He knew this was a trick. He had figured it out in the city after only five beatings! Truly, he was a genius among goblins.

“Good goblin. Now come,” Saeter told him next.

Blacknail moved to stand in front of Saeter. He had been called a good goblin! His old masters had never done that.

Saeter picked up the meat and, to Blacknail's surprise, handed it to him. The goblin shoved the delicious-smelling meat into his mouth before his master could change his mind. He managed to get it down with only a tiny bit of choking and gagging. The men of the city had never given him anything so tasty.

“Hungry, were you?” Saeter asked while giving Blacknail an odd look. “Well, good. You've got discipline. I can work with that.” Saeter’s rough voice held just a bit of satisfaction.

Blacknail belched loudly as the food he had eaten too quickly tried to come up again.

His new master's smile faded a little, and he hesitated for a second before pressing on. “Anyway, follow me. Back at camp, we'll see what you can really do.”

Saeter began to walk off. The goblin knew the follow command, but he mostly knew he didn't want to be left alone without his nice new safe master. He was unused to being above ground in the day, and the bright blinding sunlight and strange fresh air unnerved him. Bleh, he dearly wished for the safe darkness and comforting smells of the sewers.

Blacknail followed Saeter through the remains of the caravan. It was much more interesting looking and smelling, with all the bandits scattered around, looting corpses and wagons. Blacknail stuck close to his new master for safety as the men around them looked huge and dangerous. They were all obviously armed; some of their weapons were still slick with red human blood.

A few of the attackers stared at Blacknail as he passed, and they called out to Saeter. Blacknail was relieved that after a brief response from Saeter, all of the men quickly lost interest in him and went back to looting and carrying stuff.

After walking down the road a bit, Saeter led the goblin over to the woods. After so many days of seeing the trees from a distance, Blacknail was surprised at how intimidating they looked close up. In front of him, a wall of greenery stretched. Trees many times his height towered overhead, and their long branches stretched out in every direction. Thick bushes sat underneath them and blocked most of the ways forward. Only a few areas were thin enough for people to pass through.

Blacknail gulped nervously as he approached the twisted mass of twigs and leaves. He much preferred trees when they weren't all so close together and hard to see through. However, the goblin’s new master calmly strode through a gap in the bushes and into the strange overgrown domain beyond. Blacknail hesitated a second before following. Briefly, he considered trying to find another master who was still out on the road, but then he gathered up his courage and stepped into the woods.

Branches cloaked in greenery towered above him as he passed over the threshold. The canopy wasn’t thick enough to block most of the sunlight, but it still concealed way too much from the goblin's sight for him to be comfortable.

His earlier thoughts of human-eating forest monsters didn't seem so exciting now. They were actually quite terrifying. As he nervously followed the man named Saeter under the tree branches, Blacknail couldn't help but imagine legions of fearful beasts with bad intentions laying in wait above him.

With a start, Blacknail realized his new master was beginning to pull ahead. That would be bad! He really didn't want to be left alone without a huge tough human to scare away everything hungry for goblin. All the trees and bushes looked exactly the same to Blacknail, so if he lost sight of his master, he would quickly become hopelessly lost.

The goblin plunged through the bushes in pursuit of his new master. He immediately regretted his actions though. The branches poked and scratched him painfully, so he had to slow down.

Ack, why were the bushes so pointy? He hissed in frustration and annoyance. Moving more slowly, he carefully skulked after Saeter while trying to make as little noise as possible and keep an eye on everything around him.

A few minutes later, he heard what he thought was his master's voice, but Blacknail couldn't see him or make out his words. The concerned goblin quickly pushed through the bushes again, and after a brief prickly resistance, he found himself stepping through the last barrier at the edge of a small clearing.

Blacknail shuddered. There were also so many new, confusing smells, and he itched terribly now from the poking bushes. As he scratched himself vigorously, he heard a sound off to his side. He turned to look and jumped in alarm at what he saw there. Only a few feet away, a strange tall human with a drawn sword was scowling at him.

“Now what do we have here? Looks like a scrawny little goblin,” the big ugly pink human drawled as Blacknail took a frightened step back. “Maybe I should save us all some trouble and kill you. I doubt Saeter would really care too much.” The dirty, rough-shaven man sneered as he towered over the goblin.

The human's foul breath washed over the goblin as he talked, and Blacknail froze in terror. The huge human man was so close!

“Enough, Ferret. Stop scaring my goblin,” Saeter shouted irritably. Blacknail’s new master had stopped walking away and turned back toward them. There was a dangerous look in his eye as he stared at the other man.

“I’m just having a little fun. Don't you worry,” the foul-smelling man said with a laugh. His eyes, however, were still hostile when he turned away from the goblin.

Sighing in relief, the goblin scurried after his master. Blacknail was pretty sure Saeter didn't want to kill him, but he wasn't so sure about this new human. Obviously he feared challenging Blacknail and his new master though, because he didn’t pursue them.

The meadow the goblin found himself scrambling through seemed to have been filled with long grass in the recent past, but most of the plants had been trampled down. Only a few patches of standing plants remained. Several crude tents of various sizes were scattered around, along with the remains of a fair number of burnt-out fire pits. Heaps of various types of equipment were piled in seemingly random places, making the camp seem haphazard.

Saeter was headed toward one of the fire pits off to the side of the clearing, and Blacknail trailed him. His master reached the campsite and rummaged through a bag. After taking out a few items, Saeter straightened up and turned to the goblin.

“All right, time for some real tests,” he told Blacknail sternly.

The goblin felt a hint of alarm, but only a hint. Surely he was a clever goblin who wouldn't fail any tests. He grinned eagerly at the thought of showing off his intelligence. The more his new master trusted him, the safer he would be. It would also make it easier for him to eventually escape back to his old home.

Saeter drilled Blacknail through various commands. They worked through some very simple ones to some more complex ones. If Blacknail didn't know a command, then Saeter showed him, which was a system the goblin liked much more than being smacked with a stick every time he did something wrong. That was what his old masters had done.

Blacknail learned every new command after seeing it once, and in the process, he learned quite a few new human words as well. Saeter was pleased at his quick progress and showed it with comments such as “Good,” and “Well done.”

Saeter was constantly giving him new things to do. Blacknail was careful to try to remember all the new commands so that he would not be punished when his master demanded he perform them. He was really not sure why Saeter had taught him to shake his hand or play dead though. Maybe it was to lure prey closer? He hoped he wouldn't be used as bait…

“Hmm, that will do. You learn quickly enough. Now for a real test. You can't run around bare-assed every day, so let's see if you can make your own clothes,” Saeter announced.

The grey-haired man headed over to the side of the clearing that the bandits hadn't trampled, where some tall plants were still growing. After a quick inspection, he chose one and pulled it out of the ground.

“Here, see, this is Wolf’s Mane,” he told Blacknail slowly and clearly as he held up the dead plant for him to see. “I want you to pull up these plants like I just did. Get to it.”

“Yes, master,” Blacknail said and nodded vigorously.

He scanned the vegetation in front of him until he found a dead plant like the one his master had pulled out, then he moved to stand beside it. He grabbed it low, close to the ground, and pulled. It didn't budge.

Afraid of taking too long and incurring a punishment, he tried again. This time, he put all his strength into it. The plant came loose with a sudden jerk, and Blacknail was sent spiralling over backward. His momentum carried him until a rough impact with Saeter's boots stopped his roll.

Blacknail cringed in horror. He hadn't meant to touch his master and incur his terrible wrath. He shielded his face with his hands and peeked up. Much to the goblin's confusion, Saeter was just scowling at him and made no move to hit him. The edges of his mouth were twitching upward for some reason though.

“Try again,” Saeter told the goblin.

Blacknail rushed to his feet and found another stalk. This time he pulled it out correctly. After a few minutes, he had pulled out several more with no further problems.

“That should be enough. Follow me,” Saeter said before he gathered all the plants and carried them back to his camp. Once there, he sat down and began to pull the plants apart. “Watch and do this. You need the fibers, the stringy bits.” He held them up for Blacknail to look at.

Saeter pulled another stalk apart and extracted the long, stringy fibers. Then he rubbed them gently between his fingers till they came loose. When he was done, he handed Blacknail a plant.

The goblin took it and gave it a doubtful look. This was nothing like anything his old masters had made him do. With a shrug, the goblin copied Saeter’s actions and stripped out the fibers and cleaned them by rubbing them.

“Good, now the hard part,” Saeter continued. He straightened the fibers out and began to weave them together carefully with his fingers. “Watch carefully.”

The goblin peered at the cord forming in Saeter's hand as he twisted the fibers together. It seemed sort of complicated, but how hard could twisting pieces of plant be for a genius goblin like him? He eagerly went to work.

Chapter 3

Blacknail spent almost the next hour working on twisting plant fibers into rope, and he rapidly came to the conclusion that it was hopeless and he was a stupid, stupid goblin. Much to his despair, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make a single piece of cord.

Saeter had made it look so easy, but every time Blacknail tried, he ruined the fibers or tied them into a useless knot. One time he had even somehow managed to get his hand entangled in the fibers and had been forced to chew himself free. Everything he touched was destroyed!

After instructing him, his master had moved over to the other side of his camp and, for some reason, was repeatedly stabbing and slicing a small block of wood with a knife. Clearly he was furious. Saeter would look up every once in a while to check on the goblin, and every time he did, Blacknail cringed in shame. He whimpered in self-pity and fear of punishment.

He had been doing so well earlier! He had completed every task his new master had given him, but now all that was ruined because he couldn't twist a bunch of plants together. His new master would surely throw him out into the forest or kill him himself!

“That's enough,” Saeter said suddenly as he put down the piece of wood. He walked over to the goblin with an exasperated expression.

Blacknail looked up from the rope he was desperately trying to weave and cringed at his master's approach.

“You'll have plenty of time to practice later. Eventually you'll get it. Right now you're trying too hard,” Saeter told Blacknail.

The goblin was overcome by surprise and relief. He wasn't going to be punished? But he had failed his master…

Saeter strode over to his campsite and rummaged through a bag. This left Blacknail confused as to what was going on, but he approached and stood beside Saeter. After a few seconds, Saeter pulled out some cord and leather. He took out a needle and pulled the cord through the two leather pieces several times to create a crude loincloth, which he tied around Blacknail's waist. Blacknail was now quite confused and gave his master an uncomprehending look. What was going on? Saeter was a strange master.

“You'll wear this at all times or you’ll be punished. You'd better learn to make these yourself or you'll be punished. If you want warmer or better clothes, then you will have to make them yourself,” Saeter told Blacknail sternly as the perplexed goblin adjusted the loincloth around his waist.

“Yes, master. I wear this always. I learn to work so I not be punished,” he replied submissively. For good effect, he also fell to his knees and groveled a bit. Well, a lot more than a bit actually. Grovelling was his go-to response in almost every situation. That and running away as fast as his little legs would carry him.

The loincloth was useless and annoying to wear, but it was obviously a sign of his master's ownership and protection. Hopefully once the other humans saw he belonged to Saeter, it would prevent them from hitting or killing him.

The tall human nodded in satisfaction at Blacknail's response. The goblin took this as a sign to climb back to his feet.

Just then, a deep female voice rang out through the clearing. “Saeter, you old recluse, I can't imagine what's going through your head. To just skip out on helping load up all the loot, without so much as a word, and to do what? Muck around with a bloody goblin!”

Blacknail looked over to see a tall muscular woman with short brown hair approaching. She was taller than most of the men in the camp, except for Saeter, but she looked stronger than him. However, her body was obviously that of a female and she still had a feminine figure, just a large one.

The woman wore a heavy cloth shirt that was partly unlaced at the top to reveal her ample cleavage. She wore practical leather pants and carried a rather large sword at her hip. Most importantly, she didn’t look like a threat. The big grin on her face, her cheerful green eyes, and the relaxed way she held herself made Blacknail think she wasn't dangerous to him.

“Hello, Vorscha. I'm busy,” Saeter responded with barely a glance her way.

Following Vorscha was a male bandit. He was shorter and thinner than the woman, and his long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. Saeter was a somewhat skinny man, but he made up for it by being tall. This man was just of average height. His clothing looked to be of good quality, but it had plainly seen better days and was somewhat worn. His eyes, however, were intelligent and energetic.

The woman beside him, who had yelled earlier, ignored Saeter's rude reply to her and continued speaking as if he hadn't said anything. “If I was gonna take something from the wagons and run off with it, I wouldn't pick a frigging goblin, that's for sure. Only you could ever be that weird. In this entire pack of violent outcasts, you are the weirdest by far, and Aerac makes little dolls out of radishes. That's the kind of people you're competing against.”

“I'm the band's best tracker and hunter. I'm busy here doing my job, and it's not to load wagons,” he replied calmly.

Vorscha snorted, but her eyes were shining. She didn’t seem angry. “Arrogant prick, aren't you? Well, you're by far the most experienced tracker around anyway. How does playing around with a bloody goblin have anything to do with anything though? You should just get rid of it. We have enough problems with goblins stealing stuff without actually inviting them into camp.”

Blacknail's opinion of the woman dropped as she spoke. He’d never stolen anything from anybody! People just left stuff lying around everywhere for some reason. How was he supposed to know it was theirs?

“In about an hour, I've gotten this little fellow to do more work and show more smarts than most of the people around here. Once I get him properly trained up, he's going to be a valuable tool. Unlike that skinny boy toy you've got following you around,” Saeter replied as he threw a disdainful look at Vorscha and the man behind her.

Vorscha laughed, but the man behind her scowled at Saeter. Blacknail smiled in pride at his master's compliment. He was useful!

“Oh, Geralhd isn't so bad. He's just a helpless city boy and new to the glamorous outlaw lifestyle. We were all stupid little shits once. I'll have him broken in soon enough,” she said with a laugh.

Geralhd winced. He was clearly embarrassed but decided to speak up anyway. “Thank you, Vorscha, but I am more than capable of speaking for myself. I may not have been born out in the woods with a sword in my hand, Saeter, but I plan on surviving, so I'm learning to do what I must.”

Saeter eyed him and grunted doubtfully. “Why do you keep taking fools like this under your wing, Vorscha? He's gonna get himself killed one way or another, just like the last one.”

Geralhd looked startled for a second before giving Saeter a dark glare.

Vorscha shrugged her muscular shoulders. “Why are you still out here, Saeter? You've been roaming the North longer than most of the men here have been alive. Anyone else would have retired long ago. This isn't a place or a profession for men who have seen as many winters as you. You know better than anyone that sooner or later, something will kill you out here. Hells, even the bounty on your head expired years ago.”

Saeter didn't answer right away. Instead he sighed and turned away from them, looking out into the green expanse of forest off to his side for a second. Then his gaze swept back over the camp. Blacknail didn't know exactly what he was looking at, but he seemed to be deep in thought.

“There ain't no fool like an old fool,” Saeter finally responded with a tired sigh.

Vorscha nodded and sighed as well. “It's just who we are.”

Geralhd looked a little taken aback by the unexpected serious turn in the conversation. Blacknail was having a lot of problems understanding what the humans were saying. They were using a lot of words and concepts he didn't know. They suddenly seemed kind of sad though. It made him uncomfortable for some reason.

“Well, let's see this goblin of yours then,” Vorscha said with sudden cheer in an obvious attempt to lighten the conversation.

She moved to stand over Blacknail. The goblin smiled at her. He tried to look harmless and to absolutely not think about picking up things that didn't belong to him. Geralhd hesitantly moved up beside her to look over the goblin as well.

“Doesn't seem like much to me. Looks pretty much the same as every other goblin around these parts,” Vorscha said casually.

Blacknail felt deeply insulted, which was weird because he had no idea what goblins around here were like at all. They could be purple and twice the size of humans for all he knew, but if they went around stealing things, they were nothing like him.

“It's a little bigger and darker though, murkier. A lot of goblins here have some hair on their heads, and this one doesn't. Huh, I've never been this close to live goblin before,” Geralhd observed with interest.

Blacknail found the man's intense scrutiny uncomfortable. He also thought he sensed fear from the thin man. That made no sense to the goblin. He was the one at the mercy of a group of gigantic killers! Humans were weird.

“You can move closer. He's not gonna bite you, Geralhd. Are you, Blacknail?” Saeter asked Blacknail snidely.

“No, master. I never bite humans, never,” Blacknail replied vigorously with a look of affronted horror. Goblins who bit or hit humans didn't last long in the sewers.

“By the gods, it talks. That's unnatural,” Vorscha exclaimed and took a surprised step back.

This time it was Geralhd who chuckled. “All goblins can talk. Most just don't speak Elorian. They have their own primitive languages. Goblins can develop fairly sophisticated societies, after all. Or at least they did before the ancient Goblin Wars. I've never heard of a goblin who could speak Elorian this well though. How interesting.”

Saeter rolled his eyes in annoyance at the other man's tone.

“Hey, pretty boy! Don't you know you're always supposed to agree with me? You're just lucky you're cute or you never would have lasted this long out here,” Vorscha said with fake outrage as she punched Geralhd lightly in the arm.

The smaller man blushed a little and turned away with a cough to hide his embarrassment, which only made Vorscha laugh.

“If you two are done inspecting my goblin, why don't you get back to work? I'm sure you have very important things to do. I know I do,” Saeter told them dismissively.

Vorscha met his rudeness with a smile though. She seemed to be immune to Saeter's grumpiness. “I'm one of the band's best fighters and thieves. I'm busy doing my job, and it's not to load wagons,” she replied snidely with laughing eyes.

Geralhd chuckled, and Saeter gave them both an annoyed frown. The goblin had to stifle a smile of his own. The woman’s grin and mood were infectious.

“Very funny, but I'm actually training Blacknail to help me hunt. You're just standing around being as useful as tits on a boar,” Saeter countered.

“Master is, yes,” Blacknail added with a serious nod in order to back up Saeter.

Geralhd and Vorscha threw him amused looks.

“Well, if the young goblin here says it’s so, then it must be true,” Geralhd commented sarcastically.

Blacknail didn't like his tone of voice. He suspected he was being made fun of.

“Anyway, sorry to disappoint you, Saeter, but Geralhd and I finished our jobs a while ago. Relaxing here in camp is where we're supposed to be,” Vorscha explained.

“Then why don't you go tell Herad that I'll be out hunting for a bit? Tell her I'll bring back something for the victory celebration tonight,” Saeter told them sternly.

He clearly wasn't looking for any more conversation, which was fine with Blacknail. He didn't want to be around the offensive lady named Vorscha either. He was so not a thief.

“Ah, avoiding Herad, are you? Good idea, she's still fuming. This was supposed to be an easy, bloodless job but that thrice-damned mage killed several of our guys before a lucky arrow took him out,” Vorscha replied.

“I thought the entire point of coming down South was to avoid fighting,” Geralhd added in a skeptical tone. “The local lords were supposed to have grown too weak to defend the merchants.”

Saeter huffed dismissively. “Those weren’t knights or lord’s men, just merchants’ guards. I’m guessing we just got unlucky in our choice of targets.”

“We must have. Mages with crystals like his should have better things to do than guard caravans out in the middle of nowhere. He might have simply been traveling with the merchants,” Vorscha remarked.

“Who knows why mages do bloody anything? The guilds seem to spend more time being mysterious than they do doing anything useful,” Saeter replied with a disdainful sneer.

“You're wrong about that. The illustrious mage guilds spend most of their valuable time fighting and killing each other over secrets and politics,” Geralhd joked. “Every once in a while, they also manage to actually get some research on magic crystals or Elixirs done.”

“Well, whatever he was doing here, it certainly cost us some comrades,” Vorscha added soberly.

Blacknail grew tired of standing around listening to the humans talk about things he didn't understand. He sat back down and absently scratched an itch on his neck.

“Just means more loot for us,” Saeter commented with ill-humor.

“Ha, you mean more loot for our fearsome leader, Herad. I doubt any of us will see much in the way of extra coin,” Geralhd replied.

“Both of you should be more respectful to the fallen. Next time it could be one of us who dies with some caravan guard's blade through our guts,” Vorscha told them.

“Or set aflame and burned alive by a combat mage like poor Guts. I can still smell bacon,” Geralhd said with a shudder.

“Poor Guts? The man was a wanted murderer, deserter, and a rapist,” Saeter remarked.

“Aren't we all? I assume that's why we're all out here in the freezing North, hiding in these accursed woods and robbing passing travelers,” Geralhd countered.

“Some crimes are worse than others, and your reasons for doing them matter. Even Herad had the women and children from the caravan released with a horse and wagon,” Saeter muttered darkly.

“Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm not a rapist. Although I do have the occasional dark fantasy,” Vorscha joked cheerfully as she threw Geralhd a meaningful glance.

The thin man looked uncomfortable and turned away. He coughed lightly, then tried to divert the conversation. “Speaking of Herad, did you see her fight that Elixir user? He came out of nowhere and almost pushed us back on the left flank. Herad had to go out and fight him herself. That was quite the show. I've seen Vessels duel before, but this was quite different. It was brutal, bloody, and lightning fast. Almost makes me want to try to get my hands on some Elixir.”

“Not me. I've seen what Elixir does to people who take it and aren't lucky enough to become Vessels. Sometimes even proper Vessels get addicted to the stuff. Neither of those is an easy way to die. Herad's welcome to it, but I'm sticking to good old-fashioned muscle power,” Vorscha told him as she flexed her arms.

“Also, Elixir is a little expensive and hard to get if you're an outlaw on the frontier,” Saeter added sarcastically. “The lords tend to discourage the guilds from selling it to the likes of us.”

By this point, Blacknail had completely lost interest in the conversation and was barely paying attention. He gave a quiet yawn and rested his head on his knees.

“Herad must have used up a fair bit of her Elixir in that fight then,” Geralhd mused aloud.

Saeter gave him a disproving look. “Word of warning, boy. It's not a good idea to go around talking about how much Elixir Herad has left. She might believe you're thinking of challenging her, and she can be touchy about that.”

Vorscha nodded, and Geralhd looked chastened.

“Anyway, I need to be on my way. I can't waste all morning talking to you two,” Saeter abruptly announced. He turned away from them without saying another word and grabbed a bag from his camp before walking off toward the woods. “Come on, Blacknail,” he called without turning around or even slowing.

Instantly the goblin got up from where he had been slowly drifting to sleep in the grass and sauntered after his master, leaving the two bandits standing by themselves. Finally something to do other than sit around and listen to humans blab on and on about stupid things, Blacknail thought as he walked.

“He's a miserable old bastard, isn’t he?” Geralhd said to Vorscha.

“You should see him around people he actually doesn't like. I'm practically his best friend around here,” Vorscha responded cheerfully.

As Blacknail approached the woods, he regretted his earlier enthusiasm for doing something more exciting. The trees loomed before him as Saeter waited for him at their edge. He had really been hoping that since he had reached the camp, his master wouldn’t make him go into the forest anymore.

Saeter gave the goblin an impatient look and took an angry step toward him. Blacknail swallowed nervously but scurried into the shadows of the trees. He didn’t want to make his master angry and get a beating.

As he moved through the bushes at the edge of the clearing, the goblin’s heart pounded and he felt the blood drain from his face. Blacknail didn’t know what was waiting for him in the forest, but his every instinct screamed that he was about to enter somewhere dangerous.

Chapter 4

After a few minutes of walking through the woods, Saeter turned to Blacknail and gave him an appraising look. The goblin was nervously scanning the trees around him for threats. He couldn’t see any, but that didn't mean they weren't there…

“Well, it's obvious you're no forest creature; you're shaking like a leaf. I’ll have to start your training out slow then. Just follow me and be quiet unless you want a smack. You'll get used to being out in the deep green. You're a goblin, after all,” Saeter explained to Blacknail.

“I follow master quiet-like,” whispered the goblin. He could do that. He sneaked around places all the time.

Saeter grunted in affirmation before moving out. His long strides quickly carried him deeper into the emerald forest. Blacknail hurried after him. He made his best effort to keep up and make as little noise as possible. He stepped gently, avoided twigs and leaves, crept over logs, and kept low to the ground. Just as he was about to congratulate himself on being so quiet, he realized he had a problem. His legs were too small and short!

His master’s long strides were leaving him behind, and while Saeter could walk casually, Blacknail had to jog. Where Saeter stepped over logs and mud, Blacknail had to jump. He couldn't do that and be sneaky at the same time! There was no way he was going to be left behind though, so he pushed his pace.

Blacknail managed to keep up, but as they moved deeper into the woods, a cloud of insects gathered. Soon a black buzzing swarm had formed around them. Well, mostly around Blacknail. His master was protected by his thick long clothes. Meanwhile, Blacknail's loincloth did pretty much nothing to help him. The flies and mosquitoes seemed to prefer the goblin for some reason, as well. Probably because Saeter was old and skinny, so he probably didn't taste good.

Blacknail tried to swat the flying pests, but there were far too many of them. As a goblin, he had thick skin, but the bites were still painful and annoying. His frantic motions failed to deter the swarm, but they slowed him down and made him fall behind again. He had never seen, or felt, so many mosquitoes. He hissed angrily at the swarm, but apparently it wasn't impressed because they just continued biting him.

“My blood, go away!” Blacknail barked at them.

Luckily, he knew a way to protect himself. After looking around, he spotted a muddy puddle. The goblin gleefully jumped in and rolled around. The wet sludge was so cool and soothing as it enveloped his skin that he squealed in happiness. The stupid bugs wouldn't be able to bite him through all the mud! After coating himself, he got to his feet… and found his master staring at him.

“By all the hells, what are you doing?” Saeter asked, sounding dumbfounded. A look of surprise and disgust was plastered on his face.

Blacknail was pretty sure he was in trouble. He gave his master a begging look and his best puppy eyes. “There were biting bugs…” he said in his most pitiful sounding voice.

Saeter gave him a light smack on his head and pulled him out of the mud by his ear. Blacknail had to lean into his master and hop rapidly to lessen the pain as Saeter pulled. When Blacknail had been dragged well out of the mud, Saeter looked him over angrily but then sighed in resignation and let him go.

The goblin winced at the pain in his ear and rubbed it carefully. It hadn't really hurt him that much though, so he expected further punishment. However, his master didn't seem so angry anymore. Instead of hitting him again, Saeter reached into a pouch at his side and withdrew some plant leaves.

“This is Flybane,” he told Blacknail as he handed several leaves to the goblin.

Blacknail sniffed them and sneezed as their strong, bitter smell invaded his nostrils. He managed to turn away so he didn’t cover his master in green goblin snot, and it shot out onto the ground instead. He had once seen a goblin beaten to death for doing that to a master. He wouldn’t make that mistake!

“The smell chases bugs away. Get some of that mud off and rub this on yourself instead,” Seter continued to explain.

Immediately, Blacknail dropped to the ground and rolled on a patch of grass to remove the mud. As Saeter watched, the edges of his mouth twitched again. Why did his new master’s face keep doing that?

When the goblin had removed most of the mud, he sat up and wiped the leaves against his skin. Soon he smelled like the plant and the swarm of bugs around him thinned out. The scent almost made him sneeze again, but he stifled it and gave Saeter a big, toothy smile.

“Thank you, master,” he said gratefully in his high voice.

Saeter just shook his head in vexation as he regarded the grinning but still dirty goblin. “I'd throw you in a bath, but I expect you'd just get dirty again right after.” He started to walk away.

Blacknail didn't know what a bath was, but he hoped it was a treat for being so smart. Maybe he could earn one later.

As they trudged on, the unfamiliar environment continued to make Blacknail anxious that something would sneak up or drop down on him from an overhead branch. He could just picture some monstrosity, like a giant cat, sitting up there hidden among the leaves and ready to pounce. He didn't think such a thing would be repelled by Flybane no matter how bad he smelled.

Peering up, he almost ran into Saeter before he realized his master had stopped moving. Saeter had crouched low and was examining something.

“Come here, Blacknail, and look,” Saeter called quietly.

The goblin scampered over a fallen log and moved up beside his master to see what he was looking at. Several animal tracks decorated the bare ground in front of them. They looked somewhat familiar to Blacknail, and they smelled familiar as well.

“Wolves. Avoid them, they're dangerous. These tracks are old though,” Saeter told Blacknail.

“Smells like doggies, master,” Blacknail replied.

“Yes, good goblin. Almost the same. Good nose,” Saeter said with a pleased tone.

He smiled at Blacknail before getting back up and continuing on. Blacknail felt a flash of happiness at the praise. He had been called good again! He followed Saeter and felt a little less afraid of the forest.

If dog-like things lived here, then it couldn't be so different from the sewers and alleys. Blacknail could deal with doggies. They couldn't climb or squeeze into tight places like goblins could. His tribe had had many good times luring doggies next to high places, then throwing stuff at them. Vicious biting doggies didn't like bricks to their faces much.

They walked on for a while when suddenly a whiff of scent drew Blacknail's attention. It was a familiar smell—the scent of a goblin. He took a deeper breath and realized it was a young male, a strange young male. Blacknail felt the urge to track it down and show it who was dominant. This was his territory now! Then just like that the scent vanished.

Saeter must have noticed something because he turned and regarded the goblin. “What is it?”

“Smell goblin, young,” Blacknail responded with a growl.

“Just one youngling? Then it's nothing to worry about. Come on,” Saeter said as he started walking again.

Blacknail waited a second and took another deep breath, but he could smell only leaves, dirt, and his master. With a touch of regret, he took off after Saeter.

After a while, Saetar stopped moving and moved into the bushes. There, he pulled a dead rabbit from where it was hanging from a sapling by something wrapped around its neck. Blacknail eyed the small tree suspiciously. He didn't know the forest well, but he was pretty sure rabbits didn't grow on trees.

“After you learn rope making, I will teach you how to set and check these snares. It's a lot easier to catch rabbits this way than by hand like feral goblins do,” Saeter explained as he hung the rabbit over his shoulder.

Oh, it was a trap set by his master. Blacknail felt a little dumb.

Saeter disassembled the trap and packed it into his bag. After he finished, he turned and headed off in a new direction. After a brief walk, he stopped to check another trap, but it was empty. He dissembled it as well before moving on to the next. This one had a rabbit caught in it. Saeter handed it to Blacknail to carry.

“No eating,” he warned the goblin.

Blacknail felt disappointment. For a second, he had thought his master was giving him a treat. Maybe if he was very good, he could taste the rabbit later, or maybe he could take some when Saeter was done with it.

All in all, they checked over a dozen traps, and got seven rabbits, before heading back to camp. Blacknail ended up carrying four. Being given so many meant that his master thought he was strong! He hoped he could earn a treat this way; he was getting kind of hungry.

As they were on their way, Saeter froze and drew his bow. Blacknail froze as well and scanned the woods for what his master had sensed. He had a sinking feeling that it would be dangerous. Pretty much everything was to a goblin.

The trees around them were a little thicker and let less light through than in the area they had just left. There were also fewer bushes, and instead of grass, short leafy plants grew. Blacknail nervously looked into the dense tree branches overhead, since there was little cover on the ground to hide anything approaching. Suddenly, a flash of movement drew his attention to a spot in the canopy.

His eyes widened in fright. Perched on a branch ahead of them was a… something. Blacknail had never seen anything like it. It was hard to tell at this distance, but it seemed to be slightly larger than a goblin but smaller than a human. It was more than big enough to be dangerous to both goblins and humans though, as it had knife-sized talons jutting from the ends of its feet.

Large brown and tan feathers covered its body and the long wings that jutted from its shoulders. However, unlike a bird, another set of dangerous-looking claws grew from the tips of its wings. Its head was crowned by a black feathery crest that stretched down its back and almost looked like a woman's long hair.

The creature’s chilling visage was completed by intense, intelligent eyes that stared at them from a disturbingly human-like face. It noticed Blacknail's attention and smiled at him, revealing a mouth stuffed full of long, sharp teeth obviously designed for tearing through flesh.

Blacknail shivered violently as fear overcame him. He instinctively looked around for a nice big bush or deep hole to hide in. Much to his dismay, the area around him was mostly full of tree trunks, roots, and tiny plants that only came up to his knees. There was no nearby shelter, so the goblin nervously glanced back at the grinning creature.

The thing had obviously seen them and knew that they could see it. That was way more intelligence than the goblin was comfortable seeing in something that clearly wanted to eat him. Their eyes met, and the creature locked gazes with him. It tilted its head with an almost delicate motion and made soft cooing noises, as if it was inviting him closer.

Blacknail felt a horrible urge to run away screaming. Before his fear overwhelmed him completely, Saeter drew his attention.

“Come, Blacknail. Come close to me,” Saeter commanded steadily and calmly as he stepped forward, between the goblin and the creature.

Blacknail thought that was a great idea! With a flash of panic, the goblin ducked down and scrambled up to his master's feet, barely remembering to pull the rabbits he had been carrying. Once he reached safety behind his master, the goblin's heartbeat settled a bit. True, the terrible winged creature was terrifying, but his master's calm voice reassured him somewhat. After all, Saeter was a giant and mighty warrior, even among humans!

Blacknail peeked out from behind his master's rough dark brown cloak. The winged thing's eyes narrowed in annoyance as it regarded the now sheltered goblin. Blacknail stuck his tongue out at it and made a face. Ha, it was obviously too weak and afraid to come anywhere near Saeter!

Suddenly, the thing tilted its head up and whistled sharply. The sound echoed around them as it bounced through the forest.

Saeter went still. “Look around, Blacknail. Do you see any more?”

The goblin's heartbeat sped up again and pounded painfully. There was more than one of those freaks? He turned and furtively scanned the branches behind them for signs of another beast.

“You see any more? See any more?” cried the creature in a shrill, mocking version of Saeter's voice.

Blacknail shuddered at the creepy mimicry. Could the thing actually talk? “Nothing, master.” Fear made his voice unsteady, but Saeter nodded calmly.

“Off you go, harpy. You'll get no meat here, only arrows,” Saeter yelled in a roar-like tone that echoed through the forest.

The creature tilted its head as if in contemplation and regarded him for a few moments. Then it hissed angrily as it puffed up by fluffing its feathers and spreading its wings wide. It looked much bigger than a goblin now.

Saeter responded to the challenge quickly. He drew his bowstring back and let loose an arrow. But the creature was ready for it and hopped sideways along the branch to dodge the arrow. The harpy was too far away for a good shot. After missing, the arrow flew off into the woods.

Unexpectedly, from behind, the goblin heard a fluttering noise and the cracking of twigs. Blacknail twisted around just in time to see another harpy land on a branch behind them. Saeter swore colourfully. The goblin gulped in fear, and his stomach twisted. He definitely didn’t feel safe now.

“Only arrows. Only arrows.” The first harpy laughed in apparent amusement as it watched them with new anger in its eyes. It seemed quite happy to have reinforcements, and that made Blacknail unhappy.

“Another harpy,” the goblin whispered to his master.

Saeter grunted. He had already cast a quick glance over his shoulder and seen it.

The second harpy's long claws dug into the branch it had landed on and shredded the bark. It eyed them, then hissed hatefully as its feathers puffed up.

Both harpies moved with coordinated predatory grace. The first hopped along its branch then, with a quick flap of its wings, flew to another tree. The second dove to a lower branch on a tree in the opposite direction. Its flight brought it slightly closer to Saeter and Blacknail. The two predators circled the goblin and his master by hopping and gliding from branch to branch. Both of the harpies' eyes never left Saeter's bow.

Blacknail knew what they were doing, and he really didn’t like it. No matter how he turned his head or shifted his body, he couldn’t keep an eye on both harpies at the same time. One of them was always lurking out of sight behind him. The goblin shook uncontrollably. Not knowing what the beast behind him was doing filled him with a suffocating cold dread. Meanwhile, the harpies slowly circled ever closer.

“Fuck this!” Saeter exclaimed loudly. He spun around and shot an arrow toward the harpy behind him just as it rose into the air to move again.

The harpy twisted in the air but shrieked in pain as the arrow grazed it anyway. Wounded, it careened off into the woods.

The first harpy instantly took flight and dove at Blacknail, who was now cowering at his master's feet. Saeter was ready for it and spun around even as he drew another arrow. Seeing this, the harpy quickly aborted its attack, shifted its flight, and glided down behind a tree and out of sight.

From its cover behind the tree, the harpy let loose another shrill bird-like cry that echoed through the woods. The wounded harpy quickly joined in from wherever it was hiding in the bush.

Blacknail and his master winced at the loud, grating sound. The goblin's large ears twitched as the sound wore on them. Everything about harpies was unpleasant!

“Damn.” Saeter nocked another arrow and got ready to shoot again.

An answering harpy call echoed from off to the side. It sounded fairly far away, but it was hard to tell through the thick bush. Upon hearing the reply, the first harpy peeked out from behind the tree and gave Saeter and Blacknail a hateful look. It looked as though it was preparing to attack them again. Saeter grimaced and lined up another shot with his bow.

With an angry-sounding cry, the winged beast hopped onto the tree trunk, using both sets of claws to climb, then scrambled up the tree and out of sight.

Blacknail gazed into the dark green foliage above them but couldn't see anything. Saeter sighed in frustrated relief and let his bow go loose.

“If it was going to attack again, it would have called more of its ilk. It was just looking to snatch a rabbit or two from us when its friend showed up and they decided to mess with our heads. Bloody harpies,” Saeter explained half to himself and half to Blacknail.

Blacknail stared at his master. He was still more than a little stunned, but he was glad his master had prevented the harpies from “messing with his head.” That sounded bad. He needed his head.

Saeter met Blacknail's trembling gaze. “Harpies rarely attack men or even goblins, but sometimes they will if a flock gets hungry enough. They can be dangerous though. The clever ones use their voices to lure prey into traps or falls. Don't believe everything you hear out in the forest.” He gave the still-shaking Blacknail an appraising look. “Calm down. Fear will only get you killed out here.”

Blacknail blinked in confusion and concern. His master obviously wasn't good at calming people down. Saeter shrugged and resumed walking while keeping an eye on the trees above them. Blacknail shadowed him closely.

The green maze of the forest seemed far more sinister after their encounter with the harpies. Even the joyful birdsong sounded hollow and malevolent to the goblin. Maybe what he thought was birdsong was actually harpies calling to each other as they gathered. Blacknail could imagine their vicious toothy smiles as they took dark joy in fooling his master and him with such a simple trick.

“We need to get going before something actually dangerous decides to investigate all the noise,” Saeter said casually as they moved.

Blacknail’s eyes widened in alarm. There were things more dangerous than harpies and wolf dogs? Blacknail didn't even want to think about it.

Why did the humans live out here if the forest was stuffed full of murder beasts? More importantly, why did he have to serve humans who lived in a forest stuffed full of murder beasts? Blacknail really wanted to go home.

As they made the journey back to camp, Blacknail's imagination ran wild and filled his head with an endless stream of images of menacing creatures. Every shadow cast by every bush or tree they passed contained a worse monster than the last.

What was worse than giant clawed birds and dogs? Was he right about the giant tree cats? No, that was stupid; cats wouldn't be more dangerous than dogs.

“Doggies chase cats who eat birdies,” mumbled Blacknail before he gave a nervous giggle.

Saeter turned around for a second and gave him an odd look before raising his finger to his mouth and hushing him. Blacknail shut up. He wasn't sure what the finger gesture meant, but it seemed like a painful threat.

They soon arrived in an area that Blacknail remembered passing through on their way out. That meant they were close to the camp, and Blacknail had come to the conclusion that he was far less likely to die in the camp than in the forest.

A few minutes later, Blacknail followed Saeter as through the bushes at the forest's edge and stepped into the clearing they had started from. With a squeal of joy, Blacknail dashed into the camp and ecstatically ran a few circles around an amused-looking Saeter before collapsing onto the grass.

Safety at last! He had never been so happy to see so many hostile-looking, heavily armed human giants! He almost felt like hugging some of them, but he was sure they wouldn't like it and might even kill him for it.

With a content sigh, the goblin relaxed in the tall trampled grass and let the warm sun shine down on him. He was happy to be back.

Chapter 5

“Up, Blacknail, come on,” Saeter called as he made his way back to his tent.

Blacknail climbed to his feet with a sigh and followed his master. He wanted to enjoy lying on the soft grass under the sun some more.

As they crossed the bandit camp, Blacknail felt his earlier fear and joy fade as he calmed down. The sky was clear and blue, so there was no place for those dreadful harpies or the worse things that filled his imagination to perch. However, he soon noticed that the camp had changed. While the camp had been almost empty when he left earlier, it now contained over two dozen loitering bandits.

Several of them looked over as Saeter and Blacknail approached. Some of them immediately lost interest and looked away, but others threw Blacknail disbelieving or even outright hostile looks.

This made Blacknail uncomfortable. He remembered the things some of the meaner men had said about how they had wanted to kill him. Did a lot of these humans feel the same way?

He was almost sure that his master would protect him until he figured out how to get home, but just to be sure, he would have to try extra hard to be a good helper. He just hoped he could work in the camp instead of out in the woods. He would rather deal with the glares and rope weaving than the ravening beasts.

“Is that a goblin?” one disbelieving voice said.

“I think it is. Look at it. It must be some sort of pet,” another human replied.

Other voices murmured and debated amongst themselves, but Saeter completely ignored the voices as he walked over to his tent. Off to the side of his fire pit was a simple three- or four-foot high rack made of sticks tied together with twine. After Saeter had put down his bag, he pulled out a knife and slit the rabbits' throats. He then looped a piece of cord around their feet so he could hang them on the rack.

Blood dripped from the rabbits' open wounds onto the trampled grass. It smelled so delicious that Blacknail licked his lips. However, he knew better than to eat something without his master's permission, especially while he was still looking. He couldn't prevent his stomach from growling though. It had been a while since he had last been fed. His last full meal had been early that morning, when he was still caged on the wagon. That seemed like so long ago, much longer than a day.

Saeter noticed the rumbling sounds and turned to the goblin. “I suppose you've earned a bite to eat.” He rummaged through his bag, pulled out a small piece of dried meat, and tossed it to Blacknail. He also fetched a small wooden bowl and filled it with water from his water pouch.

The goblin hurriedly ate the meat. It tasted salty but good, much better than what he had been fed on the wagon, but not as nice as a freshly caught rat. He washed it down with water from the bowl. After he had finished eating, Blacknail turned to his master and assumed a sad, begging expression. He wanted more food, like one of the juicy rabbits. Surely his master didn't need all of them!

“No begging. If you're still hungry you're gonna need to find your own food. There's plenty of wild carrots and other stuff around,” Saeter told him with a scowl.

Saeter looked around and pointed out a tall white flower. Blacknail sighed and reluctantly trudged over to the plants. He sniffed them carefully and looked them over. How was he supposed to eat those? Before he could figure out what to do, his thoughts were interrupted by unexpected voices. The goblin looked up to see a human female with short black hair approach his master.

“Saeter, what in all the hells are you up to now?” she said with a feminine but hard, commanding voice.

This new woman was athletic-looking without being muscled like a man or Vorscha. Various dangerous-looking blades were strapped to her dark leather armor. The armor itself seemed more complete and better maintained than that of most of the other humans around. Yet it was her glacial blue eyes that stood out the most. They were as hard and cold as ice and seemed to pierce through whoever she was looking at.

Blacknail involuntarily ducked into the grass as her eyes passed him over, but Saeter casually looked up from what he was doing and met her stare.

“Ah, what can I do for you, Herad?” the old scout replied nonchalantly.

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly in annoyance. “Vorscha told me you found yourself a goblin pet. I don’t want vermin like that wandering the camp.” She threw Blacknail a hostile look.

“Really? I think he’ll be very useful,” Saeter replied.

“I don’t care what you think. Get rid of it or I will,” Herad told him coldly.

Blacknail froze and felt goose bumps rise on his skin. The woman seemed to be the chief of this tribe, and she didn’t appear to like him much! He didn’t think any simple tricks would win her over either.

However, Saeter seemed to be calmly thinking it over. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll do, but I was just thinking about how useful he would be in helping me hunt. Not to mention if we have a tame goblin around, it will drive the wild ones away; they’re quite territorial.”

“How exactly will that thing be of any use?” Herad asked scornfully.

“Many ways. It can track like a hound, but it’s stealthier and smarter,” Saeter explained. “With him, I’ll be able sniff out creatures’ trails, such as whatever was picking us off up North. The frontier is getting more dangerous as the forest consumes the land people once worked.”

It was subtle, but Blacknail thought he saw Herad stiffen and clench her fists in response to the old scout’s words.

She scowled and eyed Saeter suspiciously. “We came South because the nobles here have grown weak and there are easy pickings.”

Blacknail could see that she had begun to think things over though. He felt a speck of hope that he would survive this.

“Of course,” Saeter conceded neutrally.

Herad was quiet for a few seconds before answering. “Fine, since you seem to believe it will be useful, you can keep it, but it had better not cause any trouble or inconvenience me.”

“Don't worry, he's well trained, and I'm planning on keeping him too busy to get into any trouble,” Saeter replied.

“See that you do, old man,” she responded as she threw another look toward Blacknail.

The goblin crouched down again and tried to disappear into the grass as she looked his way. He knew she could still see him and that all he was doing was making himself look silly, but he couldn't help himself. That woman's eyes were really scary. She looked as though she would kill him as soon as look at him.

Blacknail was glad that the chieftain Herad had decided not to kill him and allowed him to join her tribe. He just wished he hadn’t been volunteered into hunting in the forest. That sounded dangerous! When he lived in the sewer, he had never had to deal with things like this. He needed to find a way back there soon.

Much to the goblin's relief, Herad soon turned back to Saeter. She scowled at the rabbits hanging on the rack beside him, and that upset Backnail. He had almost died getting those rabbits!

“I do hope you're planning on bringing more than a few scrawny rabbits to tonight's celebration. We need to celebrate today's victory. It's not every day that a fat caravan of goods falls into our laps. Those pathetic excuses for rabbits in front of you will hardly make up for skipping out on helping reload the wagons,” Herad told him coldly.

“I plan on going back out in a minute,” Saeter replied without any apparent concern.

“Good, but don't stay out too late. The band will be heading out early tomorrow morning after the men have had a chance to rest and patch their wounds. I want you scouting a path first thing tomorrow. We’ll be heading north to escape any unwanted attention we’ve brought down on ourselves, just in case one of what passes for the local lords around here decides to actually care… for once. We'll use the roads for the first few days but head off track when it turns eastward. I don't want to run into any surprises,” Herad explained.

“A good plan,” Saeter replied with a nod.

For some reason, his response annoyed Herad. “I wasn't asking your opinion. Just do your job with your usual competence, and we won't have a problem.” She threw Blacknail a disgusted look before turning around and walking off.

Saeter turned to the cowering goblin when she was gone. “She has that effect on a lot of people.” Sighing, he got up and stretched before picking up his pack and bow again. Then he turned back to Blacknail. “Well, it seems like I’m going to have to get you trained quickly now, so there's no point in waiting around. Come here.”

Blacknail shoved a still dirty wild carrot he had managed to dig up into his mouth and headed back over to his master. He was glad the scary lady had left. Saeter started walking across the camp toward another group of bandits, and Blacknail followed him. As the goblin moved, he glanced past his master at the humans they were heading toward. A group of five was talking and sitting in the shade cast by a tall pile of crates. Blacknail recognized two of them: the muscular woman Vorscha and the thin, weak-looking man named Geralhd.

“Geralhd, I have a job for you!” Saeter yelled as he approached.

With an annoyed grimace, Geralhd turned to look at Saeter. “Since I don't actually work for you, I think I’ll have to pass on whatever it is you're talking about.”

Saeter ignored his response. “I got some rabbits I don't have time to skin and cut up since Herad wants me out hunting. Seems like a job for you, unless you don't know how?” Saeter said with a hint of taunting in his voice.

“I know how to skin a rabbit, and no, I'm not going to try to prove it to you. It's going to take quite a bit more than a simple taunt to get me to do your work for you,” Geralhd said with an annoyed tone.

The three bandits Blacknail didn’t know shuffled away, talking amongst themselves.

“I'm thinking my idea of skinning a rabbit right is different than yours. Besides, didn't you say you wanted to learn how to survive out here? Well here's an opportunity to learn, boy. I'm sure Vorscha can help you figure out the hard parts,” Saeter told him.

As Saeter talked, Geralhd seemed to grow angrier, until it looked as if he was either going to yell at the other man or punch him. However, before he could do anything, Vorscha extended a hand and cut him off. She gave both the men disapproving looks and shook her head.

“Calm down, both of you. That's no way to ask a favor, Saeter, and you know it. We'll help you out, old man, but only if you ask nicely,” Vorscha interjected as Saeter gave her an annoyed glare.

“Fine, please help with the work,” Saeter asked grumpily. “For once.”

Geralhd gave Saeter a triumphant smile. Blacknail was sure Geralhd hadn't heard his master grumble the last part, which didn't surprise the goblin. The man had tiny pink human ears.

“I graciously accept your request for help. Think nothing of it,” Geralhd replied smugly.

“Oh, I do. Don't worry,” Saeter grumbled.

There was no way the other man hadn't heard that; however, he apparently chose to ignore it since his only reaction was to keep smiling smugly at Saeter.

“Good, then that's settled. Honestly, I don't know how two men can act so childishly sometimes. To think you're both supposed to be bloodthirsty northern bandits,” Vorscha said with a chuckle.

Blacknail also found himself smiling at the funny faces both men were making. Geralhd noticed Blacknail smiling at him and turned toward the goblin. He returned the goblin's grin and gave a friendly wave. Blacknail thought he was an idiot and planned to avoid him as much as possible in the future.

“Hey there, Blacknail, it's nice to see you again, little fellow. I hope Saeter's not treating you too badly,” he cheerfully told the goblin.

The goblin gave Geralhd a suspicious glance. No one had ever talked to Blacknail like that before. Ever. What was with the super-friendly voice? It was weird and unnerving.

“Master good. He feed me and he scare bad harpies away,” Blacknail replied. He knew which human he needed to stay on the good side of, and it wasn't the skinny weak one. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Saeter smile approvingly at him.

“Harpies, eh? That sounds like a tale,” Vorscha said.

Saeter turned to her. “We ran into two of them on our way back from the snares. They thought they could steal some of our rabbits. One of them dove at Blacknail, but I scared them off.” Saeter shrugged.

Blacknail remembered it slightly differently. There were a lot more screams, cowering, and near-death experiences in his version.

Surprisingly, Gerald's eyes widened in excitement. “Oh, harpies! I've always wanted to see a harpy. I've heard they're quite exotic and beautiful creatures. I wish I could have been there.” Geralhd heaved a regretful sigh.

Saeter looked at Geralhd as though he was an idiot. Well, more of an idiot than usual anyway. Blacknail agreed wholeheartedly. He copied his master's facial expression exactly. Anyone who wanted to run into harpies deserved their fate. He remembered their terrible claws and horrible voices. Vorscha saw him mimic his master and chuckled at them.

“Next time I think I'm going to run into harpies, I'll be sure to bring you,” Saeter told Geralhd sarcastically.

Blacknail thought that was a great idea. The fool would make a great human shield, the goblin thought with a smile.

“Harpies are dangerous, Geralhd. They're likely to attack you if they think they can get away with it. You don't want to run into them without someone at your back. I'm surprised Saeter and his goblin got away as easily as they did,” Vorscha explained.

“I know what I'm doing,” Saeter said with a shrug.

Vorscha gave him a skeptical look. “I don't doubt you know the forest better than anyone, but there's a good reason most scouts travel in pairs. It's important to have someone at your back, and before you say anything, that goblin of yours doesn’t count.”

“I don't have time to retrain one of the other scouts to get rid of their bad habits, and if I don't, they're more likely to draw a drake down on me than be any real help.” Saeter huffed as Vorscha eyed him critically.

“You could always take Geralhd with you,” Vorscha joked.

Both Saeter and Geralhd blanched at that idea.

“I'll have to humbly decline that suggestion,” Geralhd interjected. “When I said I wanted to learn to survive, I didn't mean to suggest I wanted to become a scout and go out into the forest. I like it fine here in camp, thank you.”

Blacknail thought that was the first smart thing Geralhd had ever said. Blacknail frowned and wished he had that option.

Geralhd saw the goblin's frown and misinterpreted it. “You’re such a good goblin, sitting there so patiently. You must be getting bored. I think you deserve a treat for putting up with your master.” Geralhd reached into his pocket, pulled out a bit of dried meat, and threw it to Blacknail.

The goblin snatched it from the air and scarfed it down. His opinion of Geralhd changed completely. He was no longer just an idiot. He was an idiotic food source.

“Blacknail thanks Geralhd,” Blacknail said as he chewed and smacked.

Vorscha gave him a disgusted look, but Blacknail ignored her as he was deep in thought. Geralhd seemed pleased at the goblin's response. The man Geralhd had revealed himself to not only have tasty treats but also to be willing to give them to Blacknail. If he sucked up to Geralhd, he should be able to get even more treats, and the weak man seemed to be the type of human who could be easily impressed. The trick would be not angering Saeter while doing it.

“Don't spoil him. He needs to learn to fend for himself,” Saeter told Geralhd with a scowl.

Geralhd just rolled his eyes.

“How about you train him not to eat and speak at the same time, or at least chew quieter?” Vorscha interjected dryly.

“Maybe when I have time,” Saeter replied in the same dry tone.

“Speaking of time, don't let us keep you from your hunting. Since you’re so busy and all,” Geralhd said with a wave in the direction of the forest.

“Indeed,” Saeter replied with a nod to Vorscha.

He abruptly walked off with Blacknail in tow. Geralhd gave Blacknail a wave good-bye, and the goblin happily waved back. He was already planning how to get another treat out of the thin man.

Without stopping, Saeter headed straight into the forest again. Blacknail followed reluctantly. They left the bandit camp behind them as they exited the sunny clearing and stepped under the shadowy forest canopy again. Blacknail sighed in resignation. He really didn't want to go back out there. He wanted to go home! He hoped they didn't see any more harpies…

Chapter 6

Soon, they were walking through the trees again. It wasn’t Blacknail's favorite place to be. It also quickly became obvious that Saeter was headed in a different direction than they had gone during their last trip. The types of trees and bushes were the same, but none of them looked or smelled familiar. That probably meant less chance of running into harpies, but on the other hand, it probably increased their chances of running into something worse.

Saeter trampled a path through the tall plants that grew under the trees, and Blacknail followed in his wake. The sun shone practically all around them through the sparse canopy. After a few minutes, Saeter found an animal trail where the dirt and plants had been beaten down, and he began to follow it.

Every once in a while, Blacknail heard rustling noises off in the bush. Most of the time he saw nothing, but sometimes it would turn out to be birds taking flight or a small furry-tailed rat-like animal scurrying up a tree.

As they progressed through the woods, the brown and grey trunks of the trees grew closer together and the overhead canopy grew thicker. The grass and tall plants gave way to shorter, broad-leaved plants, and more bare ground became visible. Sometimes Saeter would stop and examine tracks or droppings on the ground, then he would have Blacknail examine them as he explained what they were.

“Blacknail, these are bear tracks. They’re large and dangerous but not usually aggressive unless they smell a free meal or are surprised. Avoid them,” he explained to the goblin as he pointed at the animal signs.

Blacknail's eyes widened in surprise as he examined the tracks. They were huge! Absently, Blacknail wondered what his master thought was truly dangerous if these bear creatures were still considered only a minor threat.

They headed deeper into the woods than they had before. The atmosphere slowly changed, growing darker as the air became moister. The scent of earth that filled the forest gained an undertone of rot.

Blacknail noticed that the trees growing here were different from the ones he had seen earlier. Most of them had smooth bark that was pale grey and sickly looking. They also had wider leaves that blocked out more of the sun and cast the forest into deep shadow. The trees here had no lower branches, and the ones that were lower were dead and leafless. It gave everything a dark, stagnant feeling.

Even the broad-leafed plants grew sparse and disappeared until most of the ground became dark, naked soil with a scattering of old decayed leaves and the occasional fern. The lack of obstacles meant Blacknail could see rows and rows of tall, leafless trunks stretch out before him.

As they moved forward, Saeter took a second to pull up his hood. He then pulled a torch from his backpack and lit it with some flint and steel. The flame lit the dark woods and scattered tall, shifting shadows all around them as Saeter lifted the torch high. It momentarily hurt Blacknail's eyes, and he covered them with his hands as they adjusted. He didn't know why his master needed the torch. True, it was dark here, but he had seen humans walk through darker places without light.

“Come take the torch, Blacknail,” Saeter commanded.

Obediently, the goblin took the torch from his master. With his hands now free, Saeter pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow.

“Now walk ahead of me,” he told Blacknail.

The goblin gave his master a wary look but tentatively walked forward as he had been commanded. Saeter trailed him from a dozen feet back. Why did Saeter need his bow? Blacknail didn't like where this was going.

Blacknail shuddered and brushed his face as he walked through a spider web. He spat in disgust; the web tasted horrible. Looking around, he noticed quite a few webs, even high up in the trees. In fact, some of the threads were weirdly thick and stretched from tree to tree. As they walked, the webs became thicker and thicker.

Blacknail glanced backward toward his master and saw Saeter scanning the branches above them as he moved carefully forward. He seemed to be moving cautiously and looking for something, or looking out for something. In this part of the woods, there were no bushes or leaves near the ground to hide behind though, so surely nothing here could be large enough to challenge his mighty master. He was a stupid goblin for being so afraid.

Blacknail noticed a large lump a ways off to his right. He eyed it suspiciously, but it seemed to be nothing more than a pile of pale bones, dirty webs, and brown dried-up leaves.

“There,” Saeter suddenly mumbled.

The old scout drew his nocked arrow. He swiftly loosed the arrow at the trunk of a tree ahead of them. However, instead of embedding itself into the trunk, there was a shrill hiss and the arrow fell to the ground with something stuck to the end of it.

To Blacknail's surprise, whatever the arrow had hit squirmed and hissed as it lay on the ground. To his horror, he realized that it was a spider, a huge brown spider with a body larger than a rat's. It was cat-sized almost and had long legs that thrashed and clawed the air as it died. Its eight bright red eyes seemed to stare hungrily at Blacknail even as it stiffened in death.

Saeter gave Blacknail a serious look. “We're lucky I saw the light in the timber spider's eyes before it jumped. Otherwise, I would have had to shoot it out of the air.” Saeter added, seemingly as an afterthought, “Or shot it off of you once it had bitten you.”

Blacknail's eyes widened as he realized that he had been bait for the spider.

Saeter saw the goblin's look and chuckled grimly. “You would have been fine. Their venom just paralyzes. Then they wrap you up for later. I would have killed it before anything lasting happened.”

“Thank you, master, for saving me,” Blacknail whimpered.

Saeter looked off into the distance. “Don't thank me yet, goblin. This is the wild North; no one here is safe. Not you and certainly not me.”

“Let's leave this dark place, master. Blacknail no want to die!” the goblin whined.

Surely his master could see that it was too dangerous to stay here. Blacknail would rather be chased by a whole pack of hungry dogs than go near a spider like that. Blacknail was never entering these dark woods ever again! No giant spider thing was going to bite him.

Master had a thick hooded cloak to protect him, but what did Blacknail have? Nothing! The goblin realized that the pile of bones he had seen was the remains of some large animal that had been paralyzed and wrapped up by a spider. He shuddered again and squeaked in alarm.

He could almost feel the touch of spider legs against his back and the ghost of its fangs against his neck. One bite, then he would be wrapped up in silk to join the bones here forever.

“Only fools are done in by timber spiders. There are much more dangerous places to be, but we’ll be gone soon, so no worries,” Saeter told Blacknail.

Saeter retrieved his arrow and cleaned it, first with dirt, then a rag. Then he took out a knife and cut open the spider. He reached in and carefully removed a small sac from the incision. He placed the sac on the ground and pierced it with three of his arrows. Blacknail saw something stain the arrows as Saeter removed them from the gland. That done, Saeter wrapped the arrows in the rag and tucked them away.

“We're done. Let's get out of here.” Saeter grunted as he stood up.

Blacknail thought that was a great idea. “Okay, we go.” He nodded enthusiastically, making the torch he was still carrying bob about and cast a swarm of shadows around them. He stood and waited for his master to start moving.

Saeter gave him an annoyed look as he nocked another arrow. “You're still going first. Head back the way we came. It should be safe.”

Blacknail gave his master a pitiful look, but Saeter ignored it and pointed the way with an outstretched hand. With a bitter sigh, Blacknail nervously walked back the way they had come. He hugged the torch tightly as he scanned the dark trees around him for glimpses of long legs or red eyes. He saw nothing though. Giant spiders were now Blacknail's least favorite animal, even worse than horses or harpies.

Blacknail trudged on through the dark woods. Several times he circled around areas with lots of cobwebs or where he thought he saw something above. He really didn't want to be bitten by a spider, fatal or not.

At one point, Blacknail saw what he was fairly sure was a goblin skull resting against a tree. Its empty eye sockets stared at him. Now he knew where goblins sat in the local food chain. He heard Saeter's footsteps behind him, but he glanced backward to make sure he was there anyway. Surely he was safe so close to his master.

While it was true that Saeter was much nicer and beat him much less than his old masters, Blacknail was disturbed by the seemingly endless amount of things that ate goblins in the forest. It wasn’t as though goblins had never been killed in sewers, but at least he knew the dangers there. In the forest, he had no idea what would come after him next. Anything could happen, and that terrified him.

Much to Blacknail's relief, the spider webs soon grew thinner and disappeared. The woods grew brighter and the underbrush thicker as well. Blacknail felt relief wash over him when they were obviously out of spider territory. He hoped his master would never make him go back to that dark terrible place ever again.

“Stop, Blacknail,” Saeter called as soon as they were completely out of the darkest part of the woods.

Blacknail stopped walking and turned back to his master. Saeter took the torch from the goblin, then snuffed it out. After letting it cool for a while, he placed it back in his sack.

“Follow,” he commanded as he once again took the lead.

Blacknail thought they might be headed back to camp, but Saeter veered off in a new direction. Soon their way was blocked by a wide creek that meandered through the woods. Tall reeds and other aquatic plants grew alongside it. Birds called to each other joyfully from the nearby treetops. Blacknail had never seen or smelled such clean water. He wanted to run over and get himself a drink.

He approached the creek to get a better look but was stopped by a sudden, painful tug on one of his ears. The goblin jumped back and yelped in surprise. Saeter had grabbed the point of his ear and was scowling at him.

“Stop,” Saeter commanded quietly but sternly.

Blacknail instantly froze.

“Bad goblin. I told you to follow, not lead. Don't wander off and get yourself killed,” Saeter said.

He turned away from the goblin and eyed the creek suspiciously. Then he picked a stone off the ground and threw it at the water. It bounced off of a rock larger than Blacknail in the water near the bank. Much to Blacknail's surprise, the rock sank below the water with a splash and disappeared.

“Tyrant snapping turtle,” Saeter whispered menacingly into Blacknail’s ear. “Go near that thing, little goblin, and it will drag you under the water and chew you up.”

The goblin's eyes widened in horror. He hated deep water, and he definitely hated being chewed on. “Blacknail is sorry, master. He stupid goblin, but he thanks you for saving him.”

Saeter gave him an irritated look and pulled the goblin by the ear again. Blacknail stumbled and stifled another yelp as he was pulled behind Saeter. His poor ear hurt so much! Why did his master keep pulling on it?

“Follow,” Saeter commanded sternly before heading downstream. He stayed a fair distance from the water.

Blacknail followed him while rubbing his sore ear. Soon they came across a part of the creek where the water became shallow and bubbled over a rocky bed. Saeter jumped down to the water and crossed the creek without a problem. The water barely submerged the toe of his boots.

Blacknail also jumped down to the water. He cupped the water in his hands and brought it to his mouth. The stream was cool and tasted refreshing. It also felt nice and relaxing as it flowed between his bare toes.

After crossing the stream and moving through the brush for a while, Saeter stopped and examined the ground. Blacknail smelled some type of scat. He didn't know the animal, but it seemed fresh. Saeter got up and inspected some small branches on a bush. He then moved forward slower and more cautiously.

As soon as they moved through the brush, a green wall of branches and bushes rose up in front of them. They approached the bushes and broke through them into the edge of a clearing. Short grass and sun-loving flowers filled the meadow. The occasional small tree or bush grew, creating small blind spots. Most of the area was open grass and plainly visible though.

A large pond sat in the middle of it. Reeds and lily pads grew around the pond. The sound of frogs croaking could be heard. Blacknail licked his lips. Frogs were a tasty treat. He had caught a few back in his old home. You simply had to sit next to the water and wait long enough for one to come close enough to grab. They were slimy, soft, and sweet. The best part was the legs. He loved to chew them.

Without a word, Saeter scanned the clearing, then cautiously moved over to a cluster of green bushes surrounding a large stone on a hill at the edge of the woods. Once there, Saeter set down his bag. He crouched, unwrapped the arrows he had covered in the rag, and placed them on ground. Then he sat and made himself comfortable with his bow in his lap. Blacknail sat down beside him.

Saeter didn’t move for several minutes, and nothing happened. The frogs continued to croak, and the occasional bird swooped down to grab an insect.

They waited for several more minutes. Saeter barely moved beyond the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. He silently watched the clearing from his concealed spot. The wind blew through the long grass, making it wave and rustle.

They waited for what seemed like an hour. Blacknail began to lose patience. His instincts wanted to find a scent trail and follow it back to a burrow. He didn't want to sit around all day and wait for nothing to happen! What kind of hunting was this?

Then he saw movement in the grass. After a moment, the brown head of a rabbit peeked through the grass as it stood up on its hind legs. Surely they hadn't come here for a rabbit, had they?

Blacknail threw a look Saeter's way, but his master hadn't reacted. The rabbit soon disappeared back into the grass. Blacknail sighed with disappointment and shifted into a more comfortable position. He grew dozy as the afternoon sun warmed his skin. After several more minutes of staring at the grass sway in the wind, Blacknail wondered if there was a way to get back to sleep without his master catching on. He wasn't doing anything but sitting there anyway, and it was boring.

Then the bushes across the clearing shook. Instantly, they became the focus of Blacknail's undivided attention. Was it just the wind? The bushes moved again, and a tall animal moved slowly into the clearing.

It was shaped like a horse but smaller and much thinner, with white spots on its brown fur. It trotted over to the pond, and after a brief look around, it began to drink. Blacknail half expected one of the massive turtles he had seen earlier to burst from the water and drag the beast under, but that didn't happen.

In one fluid motion, Saeter rose to his feet, nocked an arrow to his bow, pulled the bow back, and let the arrow loose. It flashed toward the animal and struck it in the side of its chest under its neck. The beast cried out in surprise and pain and turned to flee, but it lost its footing in the wet mud and stumbled. Blood dribbled from its wound as it staggered away. It only managed to go several dozen feet before it collapsed onto the grass. It twitched feebly a few times and lay still.

After another quick look around the clearing, Saeter ran over to the animal and pulled out a knife, which he used to slash its throat. Dark red blood pooled onto the ground beneath the deer, and the light faded from its frightened eyes, leaving only emptiness. The blood smelled delicious. The goblin licked his lips as he looked at the beast.

Saeter walked to the edge of the forest. Once there, he selected four long, sturdy sticks and tied them together with rope to create a crude sled. He lifted the deer and tied it to the sled. Next he took out his long knife and cut a hole through the deer's muzzle, right behind the nose. He took one of the short sticks he had collected, shoved it through the hole, and tied the rope to it.

“Time to head back,” he told Blacknail as he loaded the rope over his shoulder and began to drag the sled and deer back toward the camp.

Around halfway back, they heard a rustling in some bushes a few dozen feet from them. Saeter readied an arrow. With his eyes locked on the source of the sound, he handed the sled's rope to Blacknail.

“Pull it. Go,” he commanded the goblin.

Blacknail eyed the sled doubtfully. His master did realize how large the beast was, right? Blacknail was only a normal-sized goblin, not a giant human. Saeter threw Blacknail an impatient look, and the goblin hurriedly pulled.

With a grunt of effort, Blacknail copied his master and tugged the rope. At first he couldn't manage it and the sled refused to move, then he felt something give way in his chest. A cool energy rushed through his body, and the sled slid forward.

It was tiring, but he managed to drag the sled. Luckily for him goblins were stronger than their small size made them appear. Every time he thought he had reached his limit, he felt another rush and managed to keep going.

After a while, when he didn't hear any more noises, Saeter relaxed. Much to Blacknail's disappointment, Saeter didn't ask for the sled's rope back. His master seemed content to let the goblin drag the sled. Blacknail wanted to ask Saeter to take the rope back but didn't dare.

So instead, he threw his master a pitiful, begging expression. Saeter ignored him and Blacknail had to keep pulling. All right then, how about this? Blacknail shook and slowed down as he pretended to be more tired than he was. Something hard impacted his behind, and Blacknail surged forward again with a small yelp. Saeter had kicked him in the butt! Ow, that had hurt.

Blacknail reluctantly kept pulling, but now he was annoyed. It was unfair of the large human to make him do all the work. Not to mention he had been used as spider bait!

“Ugly Saeter. Stupid Saeter. Smelly Saeter,” Blacknail muttered quietly enough that he knew his master couldn’t possibly hear it.

“You're kind of strong for something your size,” Saeter remarked a few minutes later.

The unexpected compliment caught the goblin off guard, and he felt a flush of pride at his master's words. This newfound pride warred with the annoyance within him and won. He had started to slow again, but with a surge of energy, he put a little more effort into pulling and sped back up. He would show his master how strong a goblin he really was!

As they walked through the forest, it grew darker as the sun began to set. Blacknail had grown tired and his legs burned painfully. He huffed and puffed as he strained to drag the sled. He really hoped master would give him a treat for this.

Thankfully, they saw no spiders or other creatures, except a startled rabbit and the occasional bird, before they neared the camp. As they got close to it, Saeter finally took the sled back. Blacknail suspected he was trying to hog all the credit for the work. That seemed unfair, but the goblin didn’t really care; he was just excited to be so close to safety.

In his eagerness, Blacknail ran ahead of his master. A big grin was plastered across his face as the camp came into sight beyond the last stretch of trees. The joy was lost, however, when something hard and heavy smashed into his skull and sent him sprawling across the ground and into the dirt. As he blinked in hazy confusion and lay on the ground with a painful headache, a large shadow fell over him.

Chapter 7

What had just happened? Had he been attacked by something? Ow, it hurt to think. Instinctively, Blacknail tried to get to his feet, but he was far too unsteady and quickly fell over again. That was when he heard laughter.

“Ha, that’s what green shits like you get! That’ll teach you to walk around like a man,” a deep male voice said.

Blacknail had been attacked by a human. Apparently the camp wasn’t so safe after all. He felt his insides twist with regret, but he didn’t quite know why. Things like this hadn’t been uncommon in the sewers; Blacknail just hadn’t thought it would happen here for some reason. How stupid of him.

Blacknail painfully turned his head to get a look at his assailant. It was an average-sized man with brown hair and ugly red spots all over his face—where they weren’t hidden by a ratty beard. His clothes were even dirtier and rougher-looking than most of the other bandits, and that was saying something. Blacknail could practically smell rotten food and vomit from where he lay.

With a vicious smile, the man walked toward the goblin and raised a foot as if to stomp on him. Blacknail feebly curled up in an attempt to shield himself. This was going to hurt.

The man stopped suddenly as someone spoke up.

“You, what do you think you’re doing? No matter how fucking stupid you are, you must know who that goblin belongs to,” Saeter said as he stepped out of the bushes and dropped the sled’s rope. His voice’s freezing cold tone seethed with anger and startled Blacknail’s assailant. Saeter’s eyes were narrowed with barely contained rage.

The other man backed away a bit and paled. “I ah… was just foolin round. No harm done now.”

“You must know what happens to people who touch what’s mine,” the old scout growled.

“Er, no, I’m a new man. I just joined up, see?” the other man explained fearfully as he continued to back away.

“Then let me tell you. They go out into the forest and never come out. The deep green is always looking to claim a few more souls. No one questions it, and no one cares about human refuse like you. Look around, where are you right now?” Saeter explained coldly as he stared the other man down.

Blacknail’s attacker paled until he was ghost white. He seemed to try to speak, but he choked and the words wouldn’t come out. Then with a whimper, he turned and fled toward the camp. There were only a few feet of bush in his way, but he didn’t make it.

With a practiced motion, Saeter drew his bow and shot the other man in the back. With nothing but a gurgle and a few quick twitches, the man collapsed onto the exposed roots of a tree and lay still.

Blacknail found the strength to slowly get to his feet. He pushed himself up and hesitantly felt his head. His probing fingers found a small bleeding gash, but he seemed otherwise fine. Goblins had thick skulls. They got hit in the head all the time.

“Good, you seem all right. Take a seat while I dispose of this trash,” Saeter told him with a motion toward the corpse of the man he had just killed.

Blacknail stared at Saeter uncomprehendingly for a second before collapsing into a sitting position. As the goblin watched, Saeter dragged the corpse off into the trees. By the time his master got back, Blacknail felt a bit better. His headache had faded, and the bleeding had stopped.

As they broke out of the border of the forest and into the sun, they were met by a multitude of stares. That was, of course, because Blacknail was dragging a sled with a deer larger than himself on it. When they had reached the very edge of the forest, Saeter had given him the sled back for some reason.

Some of the people seemed impressed by the goblin’s strength. Most of them just looked hungry. They looked at the deer carcass with obvious anticipation and barely noticed the goblin pulling it. Only a very few gave him hostile looks.

Blacknail was in no mood for cowering; it hadn’t done him any good earlier. He returned the dirty looks he got. He stuck out his tongue or gave them the evil eye. Stupid humans, what did they have against him? He was a strong and cunning goblin!

He hated that they would probably get to eat the deer he’d helped catch. He wasn't even sure if he would be getting any, even after he had dragged it through the dangerous woods and almost been eaten by spiders. Scary, dreadful spiders with long poisonous fangs that dropped down on you from places you couldn't see! Blacknail shivered at the memory, then sighed.

He had the lowest position in the entire tribe. As the newcomer, it was only natural he got the least and worst food. That was just the way tribes worked. How though was he supposed to work his way up to a higher position when everyone else was human, and thus huge? He didn’t want to be the weakest in the tribe and be picked on anymore.

He knew hurting humans was a bad idea, but fights were how goblins usually rose in rank. Maybe he could use some sort of large snare tied to an even larger tree, or maybe he could dig a big hole and…

Wait, if no one knew he was the one who made the trap, then he wouldn't get in trouble but he wouldn't rise higher in the tribe either. Blacknail sighed and kept walking. He wished he was back home in the sewers. Things were so much simpler there.

By the time they returned to camp, the sun was setting behind the trees. Its red light shone out from gaps in the foliage and dyed the clouds crimson. The camp was now full of dozens of bandits. They lounged in various-sized groups and around newly lit campfires.

At the edge of the clearing, all the horses from the caravan were tied up. Blacknail gave them a dirty look when he saw them. The smelly things should have just been killed.

“Stupid horses,” he muttered.

One of the horses returned his gaze and gave an aggressive snort. Blacknail stuck his tongue out at it. The stupid thing was tied up and couldn't do anything to him. At least his position in this tribe was higher than the horses’. It hadn't been in the caravan.

After they had walked away from the edge of the clearing, Saeter turned to Blacknail. “Leave the deer carcass here.” He sighed in fatigue and stretched.

Blacknail had dropped the sled almost before his master finished speaking. He immediately plopped down onto the ground and massaged his aching feet. Ouch, they hurt. He had surprised even himself by dragging that deer. Back in his old life, he had never had many chances to test out his strength, but obviously he was an even stronger and smarter goblin than he had thought! Truly, his master was lucky to have him as a servant.

“Must really be getting old. I never used to get this tired after being out in the bush for a few hours,” Saeter mused to himself. He sighed and did a few more stretches.

Blacknail gave him an unamused look out of the corner of his eye. He was the one who had done the hard work! He couldn’t complain though, as Saeter had saved his life several times today. Of course, he was also the person who had put him into danger in the first place.

“You're finally back, Saeter. About time,” a familiar harsh voice said.

It was the dangerous-looking chieftain named Herad. She detached herself from a group of her rough-looking minions and strolled over to them. She gave their catch an appraising glance but didn't seem impressed at all.

“A deer, eh? It looks a bit skinny, but I suppose it’ll have to do. I'll have some of the lazy bastards behind me skin it up since you went and fetched it for me. You and your pet seem a little roughed up. I wouldn’t want to overwork an old man,” she remarked with her usual crooked smile.

“Then I’m no longer needed here,” Saeter replied with a nod.

“I guess not,” she agreed before calling several other bandits over to take the deer.

Saeter walked over to his camp, and after a quick nervous glance at Herad, the goblin followed him.

“Oh and, Saeter, I'm glad you're getting some use out of that goblin. You know the rules. Everyone pulls their own weight or they’re gone,” Herad said coldly to their backs.

Blacknail shivered from a chill that hadn't been caused by the cooling afternoon air. He was fairly certain he knew what gone meant, and it wasn't to be let loose in the forest. Praise his master for giving him so much hard work and making him useful. To think that he had thought his master was mean and unfair because he was working him too hard!

Once they reached Saeter's campsite, his master took a few minutes to unpack and put his stuff away. Blacknail watched for a while but then curled up and lay down to rest.

After only a few minutes, he was nudged awake by a familiar light kick, and he opened his eyes to see his master standing over him. Maybe his master would give him some food now, he thought as he yawned.

Instead, Saeter had a cup of hot water and a rag in his hand. He motioned for Blacknail to stand, then he cleaned the goblin’s head wound. He finished up by tying the long rag around Blacknail’s forehead and telling him to leave it there.

“Stay here and practice,” Saeter said and dropped the cord he had been making earlier at his feet.

Blacknail eyed it wearily but got up. “Food time?” Blacknail asked his master hopefully.

“Not yet. Time to practice.”

Blacknail sighed in irritation. He really didn't want to try making rope again. It was hard and tricky and he just couldn't get it right. He frowned in displeasure. He remembered Herad's threat though and sighed. He picked up the cord, walked over to a large rock, sat down, and got back to work. Saeter gave him an approving look. then turned and walked off. Blacknail was thus left alone to work. Well, alone if you didn't count all the other humans wandering around.

Blacknail worked for a while, but his heart wasn't in it. Wrapping and twisting the plant fibers soon grew unbearably dull. As he worked, it began to get dark, and the goblin nodded off.

The sound of a large group of humans yelling in unison roared through the clearing and echoed off the surrounding trees. It was followed by the sounds of birds taking flight and horses' startled whinnying.

Blacknail shot to his feet and was instantly awake. Was the tribe under attack? The goblin quickly scanned his surroundings. In the center of the clearing, a giant pile of wood burned. Waves of red flame rose from it and crackled as they leapt high into the cloudy evening sky. Dozens of humans cast a multitude of long, shifting shadows over the grass and onto the trees as they moved around the fire.

The voices were now almost deafening. They laughed, yelled, and hooted as they celebrated. It was very goblin-like. Blacknail almost felt like joining in, but suspected he wouldn't be completely welcome.

The smell of roast deer blanketed the clearing. There was next to no wind to clear the air, so the smell simply built up and filled the area. The meat's delicious and smoky scent made Blacknail drool. He licked his lips clean.

“To victory and plunder. Are we not the greatest thieves and cutthroats in all the world? Drink to that,” Herad yelled in a voice that was unusually cheerful for her, and that sounded a little forced to the goblin.

Her voice easily drowned out all the others, and a ragged cheer followed her words as most of the bandits raised their cups high into the air. Blacknail thought he saw the chieftain’s figure posing right beside the fire where the gathered bandits were thickest.

The goblin looked away from the spectacle and saw that he was alone. Not even Saeter was around. He knew there was some food tucked away in his master's bags. For a second, he was tempted, but he knew taking it would be a bad idea. Saeter would know if something went missing, and he didn't want to steal from his master anyway.

There were other options though, options more suited to a goblin as cunning as Blacknail. Saeter had shown him how to find various edible plants, such as wild carrot, but what he really wanted was meat. He deserved delicious deer meat.

The goblin smirked gleefully as he watched the bandits. A plan soon formed in his head. He turned and closed his eyes, letting his night vision come back, then he examined the edges of the clearing. He quickly spotted the guards posted for the celebration. He smiled and giggled to himself. It was time for him to be a sneaky cunning goblin.

Blacknail moved away from Saeter’s campfire and slipped into the shadows. He crouched and began prowling about on his hands and feet. As a goblin, this type of movement was natural to him. Low to the ground, he moved slowly over and around the trampled grass. On the way to the bonfire, he crawled over to a pile of wooden crates and disappeared out of sight behind them.

After a few seconds, he peeked around the crates and glanced at his target. None of the bandits were looking his way. He quickly broke from his cover and scurried forward until he stopped behind a patch of grass and weeds that was still standing tall. He was close enough now that the shadows the bandits cast shifted around him.

After another look to make sure no one could see him lurking in the dark, he crept slowly to a tent and hid behind it. A quick sniff and a rummage through an open sack revealed a small bit of cheese. He took a second to scoff it down before continuing on. He wanted more than a bit of cheese.

Most of the humans were milling about as they talked to each other, ate, and did some weird ritual that involved hitting their cups together. Blacknail didn't see his master anywhere, but he saw Vorscha and Herad. They were standing next to the fire and talking to each other.

Then an opportunity presented itself. A man at the edge of the group placed his plate of food and cup on a crate, then walked off into the dark. He was probably going to mark his territory.

Blacknail waited until no one was looking in that direction, then he dashed forward. By exploiting the nearby humans' blind spots, he reached the target unseen. He quickly grabbed the meat on the plate and the cup beside it. Then as fast as his little legs would take him, he dashed away from the fire and into the safety of the concealing darkness.

Blacknail hurried back to the pile of crates he had passed earlier, and he glanced back to make sure no one had noticed him. To his relief, no one had. He was such a sneaky cunning goblin, so much more cunning than all the ugly giant humans!

The goblin giggled in delight. He was breathing heavily and nervous but also exhilarated. Safely hidden among the crates, Blacknail licked his prize meat. It was so tasty! He chewed and gnawed it as the delicious fat melted in his mouth. Much to his disappointment, he was soon finished.

Thus, he examined the cup of liquid he had stolen. He had assumed it would be water, but it wasn't. He didn't know what it was. He hadn't had time to smell it before he grabbed it, and Blacknail had never really had anything but water to drink. He wondered what this would taste like. Well, it wasn't urine. He knew what that smelled like.

He took a sip and stifled a choking gasp. Ugh, it burned all the way down! Why did humans drink this? He was about to throw it away when a nice complex aftertaste developed.

He took another sip, then another. He smiled to himself. It wasn't so bad once you got used to it. Nice really, he felt nice. He felt really nice. He drank the rest of the liquid. Actually, this stuff was amazing. He wanted some more.

He was such an amazing goblin, and he had such a great master. “Hiccup.” Why, even Herad wasn’t that bad. She was just fond of knives and dressed all dark and stared at you like she wanted to kill you and all your littermates… okay, Herad was pretty bad.

“Hiccup.” Everyone else was great though… except everyone who wasn't! Also, this drink was great. What was it? He tried to get to his feet to find someone to ask but stumbled and couldn't quite get up for some reason. Never mind then, he would just stay here for now. “Hiccup.”

He licked his fingers to get another taste of deer meat. Then he giggled uncontrollably. All those stupid humans prancing around that fire hadn't seen him steal their meat and drink. They were so blind and stupid. It was funny. It was hilarious. He was the sneakiest goblin ever!

His laughter apparently attracted someone's attention, because through a break in his sniggering, he heard footsteps approaching. Uh oh! He tried to stop giggling, but he found his situation too hilarious.

“Blacknail?” a deep voice asked. The crate he was behind was suddenly moved, revealing a concerned Saeter.

Blacknail smiled up at his great master. “Master, hello.” He giggled.

Saeter examined him for a second before taking in the empty cup in his hand. He sniffed the air. Saeter sighed and roughly massaged his temples with his fingers. Intense exasperation was plainly written in his body language. Blacknail thought it was hilarious.

“This is just what I need—a drunk goblin. I didn't even know goblins could get drunk,” Saeter remarked with another sigh.

“Me drink stuff every day,” Blacknail responded groggily as he raised his cup unsteadily. Why was he doing that? Things were getting kind of blurry.

“How in all the hells did you even get that?” Saeter remarked with disbelief.

“You great!” Blacknail replied cheerfully.

“Well, at least you're a happy drunk.” Saeter sighed. He grabbed the goblin by the scruff of his neck and dragged him over to his campsite, which didn’t hurt much for some reason.

Once they reached Saeter's fire, the man sat Blacknail down. He pulled out a flask of water and refilled the cup Blacknail was still holding.

“Drink,” he commanded.

Blacknail did and managed to only spill a little on himself. He was disappointed it was just water, but he was still thirsty, so it was fine.

Saeter gave Blacknail a troubled expression. “I was going to feed you, but you were gone. I was afraid you had run off, but I see you decided to get your own supper somehow.”

“I hungry. So I sneak, no one see,” Blacknail whispered to Saeter as he wiggled his fingers in front of his face.

Saeter gave him an amused look. “I guess that's a type of foraging, and I did tell you to find your own food. Maybe I should watch my tongue.” Saeter chuckled.

“Yes, master,” Blacknail responded enthusiastically and totally without any sort of understanding. He tried to raise his hands above his head, but he wobbled and had to stop.

“I should knock some sense into that skull of yours, but you’re drunk and already have a head wound,” Saeter told the goblin. “Come morning though, you'll have a serious hangover coming down on you, goblin. That ought to be punishment enough.” Saeter gave Blacknail a deeper, less sympathetic smile.

“Nap time,” mumbled a suddenly tired goblin as he let out a deep yawn.

Saeter threw a ragged piece of cloth over the drowsy goblin and entered his tent for the night. The goblin curled up around his makeshift blanket and fell asleep under the open sky, feeling the most comfortable he had ever been. Maybe, it wasn’t so bad here after all…

Part 2: Honor Among Thieves

Chapter 8

Blacknail woke up the next morning to the feeling of someone beating him savagely. He twitched and gasped as waves of pain exploded through his head and stomach. The stabbing agony in his skull hurt so much, he could barely think, and his stomach felt as if it was trying to explode messily out of both ends of his body at the same time. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve this torture.

The goblin tried to remember if he had done anything wrong before he’d gone to sleep, but he couldn't recall anything bad. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything. He fought through the pain and slowly opened his eyes.

At first the light blinded him and it took a while for his eyes to adjust. Why was it so bright out? Was he outside the sewer? He never left the sewer during the day!

He hoped he hadn’t been attacked by a goblin, or a group of goblins, looking to take his position in the tribe again. He was one of the older goblins and had managed to fight his way up to a fairly high rank, although he was too lazy to go all the way to the top and become the tribe chief. Blacknail knew he was much tougher than the big nasty goblin who was the current chieftain. He just didn’t want to fight him…

Some of the younger goblins had been getting uppity lately though, and food had been running a bit low. The sewer could only support so many goblins. Through the fingers shielding his face, Blacknail took a quick look around for his assailants.

He was outside, and there was nobody around! Had his attackers left? Just then, he doubled over and gagged as his guts writhed as though they were full of snakes.

Oh, there they were! His assailants were apparently inside him and beating him from the inside out. The goblin groaned and tried desperately to fade back into unconsciousness, where the pain couldn't follow.

His futile attempt at slumber was interrupted when a hand grabbed his neck and pulled him into the air. He was too weak to try to fight it. All he could do was moan and flail weakly before going limp. What the heck was going on? He couldn't remember where he was. He hoped his death would at least be quick.

The hand let go of him, and Blacknail landed painfully on something flat and solid and made of rough wood. The impact shook him and cleared his head for a second. His name was Blacknail; he had a name. He remembered where he was.

Surely, the forest had to have been a bad dream. The part with the spiders was just too horrible to have been real!

Blacknail sat up unsteadily and looked around. He was sitting on the edge of one of the wagons the bandits had taken from the caravan. His master, Saeter, towered over him, casting his shadow over the goblin.

“Good morning, Blacknail!” Saeter smugly greeted him.

“Ow.” Blacknail moaned as he tried to curl up into a ball again.

Saeter chuckled and pulled him back into a sitting position. Once he knew he had the goblin's attention, he said, “That should teach you that alcohol isn't for goblins.”

“Ow,” Blacknail grunted.

“Stay here in the wagon. I left some food and water out for you. I'll be back in a while to see if you're feeling better,” Saeter told the disoriented goblin.

His master went through his bags before leaving the goblin. With a groan, Blacknail collapsed back onto the wagon's deck. After a few minutes of suffering, he heard the whinny of horses, then the cart shook and started moving. So Blacknail once again found himself riding in a bumpy wagon along the forest road. At least this time he wasn't stuck in a cage.

It was still the worst day in his entire life though. He felt sicker and more uncomfortable than he had ever been before, which was saying something considering he used to live in a sewer and eat garbage.

He lay beside Saeter's possessions, feeling as if his stomach was full of live rats and someone was pounding on his head with a club. The wagon creaked and bumped beneath him, and every once in a while, he would groan in pain. Actually, he had much preferred it when he’d been in the cage.

Why did humans drink something so obviously poisonous? He had eaten rotten fish heads that agreed with him more, and they had tasted better as well! Maybe it was some sort of weird human test of toughness? He guessed that meant he’d passed? Well, if it was a test of intelligence, he’d definitely failed.

At least his master had left him plenty of water and food. Not that he felt like eating. All he could do was lay there moaning and hoping he would recover before he died, or before death started to look good compared to this endless suffering.

Most of the humans walked beside the wagons, which had been piled high with boxes and supplies. All the wagons had drivers, and several humans rode in the backs, like Blacknail. Most of the passengers seemed to be wounded, because they wore bandages or were missing some of their less important human bits. Humans probably didn’t need all their fingers, and it wasn’t as if their tiny ears did much anyway.

It took several hours of rough traveling for Blacknail to finally start feeling better. He managed to sit up and eat some of the gruel his master had left him. It felt good to put something in his stomach, and he soon regained some energy. After that, the goblin actually enjoyed sitting on the back of the wagon with his feet dangling off the edge as he watched all the trees go by.

Being on the road was certainly a lot better than being in the forest. Now that his head was clear, he definitely remembered that the harpies and timber spiders were real. He hoped he was leaving them behind forever, but he kind of doubted it. Life didn’t work that way, in his experience.

Blacknail managed to find another way to spend his time. He enjoyed standing at the side of the wagon and looking down, barely, on all the foolish humans walking behind the wagons. He bet they all wished they could ride the wagon like him! He giggled in amusement. Look, there was Geralhd! He already looked exhausted, sweaty, and miserable. He waved to the man cheerfully, but Geralhd didn't see him.

Blacknail's fun was interrupted when Saeter returned. The goblin didn't hear his master approach—he was too preoccupied hanging off the side of the wagon and snickering at people—but he heard a loud cough behind him. The goblin turned around to see an amused Saeter looking back. Blacknail froze in surprise. He tried to remember if he had done anything wrong lately. Nope, he was pretty sure he had always done exactly as his master commanded. He was a good goblin, after all.

“Well, you're looking much better. Right full of energy too. That's good, you're gonna need it,” Saeter told the goblin.

Uh oh, Blacknail didn't like the sound of that.

“Since you’re feeling better now, you can continue practicing your rope-making. You'll find the stuff in that bag there,” Saeter explained as he pointed at a canvas bag.

Blacknail gave the bag a wary look. That sounded boring, but at least he didn’t have to go out into the forest.

“I expect to see some results when I get back,” Saeter told him. He jumped onto the wagon beside the goblin and rummaged through the bags for some things before jumping down and wandering off again.

Blacknail watched him go with a sigh of resignation. Ughhh, rope-making! He didn’t even want to hear about something so boring, let alone actually do it. But after pulling the necessary materials from the bag his master had pointed out, the goblin got to work. Blacknail cast a gloomy gaze over the humans walking behind the wagon. He wished he was free to just walk around like them and not have to work!

After an hour or so, he grew weary of the incredibly repetitive task. With a snort of disgust, Blacknail dropped the cord he was working on onto the deck of the wagon. He was so bored! It was time to take a break. There had to be something around that would amuse him, at least for a little bit.

He got to his feet and looked around, while being careful that the shaking of the wagon didn't trip him up. Blacknail was surrounded by bags and crates. With a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, the goblin scooted over and examined them. He opened one canvas bag and riffled through it but found nothing but human-sized clothes inside. Why did humans need so many clothes? What possible use could they have for more than one or two sets each?

He closed that bag and moved on to the next. He found nothing but some sweet-smelling, ground-up plant leaves in it. Blacknail was beginning to think that the bandits had to be a little off in the head to have attacked a caravan for this crap. None of it was even shiny!

With a sigh, Blacknail got back to work on making cord until the wagons stopped and the bandits made camp for the night.

It was then that he finally managed to weave a thin cord together! The goblin amused himself by tying it to various things and pulling on it. It didn't even break! He felt so proud!

Saeter reappeared, and Blacknail excitedly helped him set up his tent. The goblin just had to untangle himself from all the rope he’d tied to the wagon first. Not his best idea… but at least the cord worked! Saeter was unamused by the wasted time, but he didn’t scold the goblin. He just sighed and shook his head.

After they had a fire going and supper was cooking, Saeter presented Blacknail with several rabbits he had caught earlier. Disappointingly, Blacknail didn't get to eat them. His master had him learn to skin and prepare them. He was taught how to drain the blood by cutting their throats, peel off the skin, cut out the groin area, and slice open the belly to remove the organs.

The goblin picked up this skill quickly, and he soon ran out of carcasses to work on. He enjoyed the work, but it seemed like a lot of effort when you could just eat the rabbit raw.

As the evening gave way to night, he slept beside his master’s tent again, his dirty blanket wrapped around himself and the stars shining in the dark sky. Owls and other creatures he couldn't identify called to each other throughout the night. The sounds scared Blacknail, but eventually he managed to slip asleep despite his nervousness.

The next morning, Saeter took Blacknail with him when he was sent out to prepare a forward base well ahead of the main group. Saeter, Blacknail, and several other bandits who were familiar with the forest had to quickly get ahead of the rest of the band.

They walked almost constantly during the day, taking only a few stops to collect water or eat. They didn't have time to hunt, so they had to make do with the rations they carried. At night, they set up camp in the middle of the road and took turns keeping watch. Blacknail was not given a shift.

The sound of howling woke Blacknail on the second day. It echoed loudly through the trees around him and down the road and reverberated through the forest. It would come from one direction only for the noise to die down, then pick up from another direction. Blacknail was just glad that the howlers sounded too far away to be a real threat.

Soon the noise drew Saeter from his tent. After a second of listening, the old scout turned to the goblin with an uncharacteristic peaceful smile. “Wolves. I showed you their tracks earlier. Don't worry, they're just gossiping.” He stretched, closed his eyes, and took a few more seconds to listen. “Beautiful, the sound of the North.”

The goblin didn't understand. Wolves were the dog things, right? He closed his eyes and listened as well, focusing on the sound of wolves over the forest. All the noise did was fill him with wariness. Soon it faded away, and Blacknail felt an unexpected twinge of regret. For a quick second, the howling had seemed oddly familiar. It made no sense, but for some reason, it had reminded him of home…

After a quick and tasty breakfast, the bandits hit the road again. They turned off the main road and moved on to what could charitably be called a forest route. It was really a dirt path barely wide enough for a single wagon, and it was very bumpy. Blacknail didn't like this new path much; the trees loomed much closer along its narrower confines.

As usual, that night they set up camp and posted a watch. Feeling somewhat excluded since he wasn't given a turn, Blacknail decided to stay up and help his master during his turn.

Supper was passed around as everyone gathered around the fire. The flickering flames illuminated the bandits’ faces as they talked and ate.

“I bloody miss the South,” a short brown-haired bandit complained. “I was born in a small farming village there. In summer, you could climb a hill and see nothing but endless golden fields of wheat. There were no man-eating beasts or creepy forests.”

“If I ever strike it rich, I’m getting off this stinking continent,” a bald bandit interjected. “My family’s been Elorian for generations, but I want to move to the Homelands. There are no dark forests full of monsters there.”

“Ugh, not me. People from Capitas are a bunch of arrogant swine. They’d all look down on you just for coming from a former colony. They think their shit is made of gold and that everyone should bow down to them,” the other man replied.

“There are other countries there; the empire fell over a hundred years ago,” the bald man countered.

“None of them are as safe or rich as Capitas though. Even the Homelands has wars, and half the smaller countries there spend all their time settling ancient grudges from before the empire,” the brown-haired bandit replied dismissively.

“There’s always the Northern Continent. It’s huge, so there’s got to be a nice place to retire there,” a third bandit, who sat off to one side, added.

“Ha, the countries there are little more than outposts. The beasts there are supposed to be even worse than here! I’ll stick with Capitas. It’s the center of the world.” The bald man laughed.

Saeter kept to himself as the others finished talking. After the brief meal and conversation was over, everyone turned in for bed. This time, however, Blacknail forced himself to stay awake.

It was a dark, moonless night. Clouds covered most of the sky. Outside the light of the fire, everything was pitch black. Only the dark outlines of trees could be seen shifting at the farthest reaches of the firelight.

By the time it was Saeter's watch, the fire was dying down. Blacknail amused himself for a few minutes by throwing more wood on it and watching the sparks fly up into the dark sky. The heat from the fire soon made him drowsy though, so he curled up beside it. The last thing he saw before nodding off was Saeter's back as his master stood at the edge of the light and gazed calmly out into the darkness.

He tried again each night, but Blacknail never managed to stay awake for any of Saeter's watches. The closest the goblin came was when he awoke suddenly, several days later, with an uneasy feeling eating at his guts. One second he had been asleep and the next he was awake and on guard. He didn't know why, but he knew something had disturbed him, something dangerous.

The goblin’s ears twitched as he listened, and he automatically sniffed the air quietly. He sensed nothing. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. Somehow he knew something was there, even if he couldn't see or smell it.

The fire was low, only a few slow-burning coals were left smoldering. Most of the humans were asleep around it, their bags and equipment beside them. Only one of the bandits was on watch, and he was seated on a rock beside the fire, drinking a cup of tea. He was obviously only barely paying attention to the area around himself.

There was only a small sliver of moon, but no clouds concealed it. Thus, there was enough light for Blacknail to see his surroundings fairly well. His amazing goblin night vision was much better than that of a mere human.

The pale moonlit road stretched off into the shadowy trees to one side of him. Their group was camped on a hill beside it, where the wind helped keep the mosquitoes away. To Blacknail's eyes, the hill floated like an island atop a dark pool of trees that shook and creaked in the wind like waves on black water. He knew something lurked down there in the depths of the forest, watching them.

Other than the wind and the rustling of leaves, it was a quiet night though, too quiet. Alarmed, Blacknail realized he didn't hear the usual sounds of night birds and prowling animals. That was a bad sign, very bad. The goblin peered into the darkness-drenched forest for the danger he could somehow sense but not identify.

He heard leaves crunch off to one side, and he whirled around. However, the noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Blacknail froze and eyed the trees and bushes in that direction, but the forest concealed too well what lay within it.

The sound of the goblin's heartbeat grew louder in his ears. He knew something terrible was about to happen, but all he could do was stare into the impenetrable shadows. His anxiety began to wear him down as he grew twitchier, and he started to get a pounding headache.

Nearby leaves shook as something large moved within them. The shadows convulsed around it, and Blacknail hissed in alarm. From out of the darkness, an answering predatory growl erupted. Its force sent leaves and other debris fluttering into the camp from the forest. Blacknail's hackles rose and his body tensed as the smell of the creature's breath washed over him. He had never smelled anything like it.

With an alarmed look, the man by the fire shot to his feet and drew his sword. He hurried to Blacknail's side and scanned the edge of the firelight. “Do you see anything, goblin?” The man's voice quivered with unease, and his face looked white in the moonlight.

Clearly, he had been spooked by the noise, and Blacknail didn't blame him. The goblin shook his head in answer to the man's question.

The commotion woke some of the other men, including Saeter, who sat up and automatically reached for his bow and quiver. Slowly, Blacknail's master got to his feet and drew his bow.

Nothing happened for a few stagnant seconds. Blacknail heard more of the men get to their feet and arm themselves. He really wished they would hurry up.

Blacknail twitched again as the sound of leaves and twigs being crunched by something heavy reached his ears. Whatever the thing in the woods was, it had started moving again. Blacknail's skin crawled, and he felt a spike of terror tear through his heart. He heard the sounds of blades being drawn and deep steady breaths as the men behind him readied for combat with whatever horror was about to burst upon them. The goblin got ready to run and hide behind them.

Then he realized the sound wasn't moving closer. It was moving farther away. Slowly, the rhythmic noise got quieter until it was completely muffled by the forest. Only then did Blacknail relax and let out a deep breath.

No one spoke for a few seconds. Most of the bandits had been awakened by the commotion. They threw each other nervous looks and held their weapons close.

Saeter broke the silence as he relaxed his bow. “It's gone. Make sure the man on watch stays alert and keeps the fire high. Scream loudly if something attacks you.” With a yawn, he settled back down to sleep.

The man on watch gave Saeter an annoyed look, and Blacknail gave his master a disbelieving one. How could he just go back to sleep?

“What was it?” one of the bandits asked Saeter.

Blacknail's master turned to them from where he lay on his blanket. “Dunno. Could have been an ogre taking a night stroll or a hungry drake that decided we weren't worth the trouble. Let's hope we never find out.” Saeter turned away and went back to sleep.

Several of the other bandits whispered fearfully to each other for a few minutes before settling back down themselves. Blacknail lay down by the remains of the fire but was too nervous to sleep. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature was still out there and just waiting for them all to relax their guard. If it attacked them while they were asleep, they wouldn’t stand a chance. The terrible hungry beast would rip them apart and chew on their bones…

Chapter 9

Blacknail didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Instead, he anxiously gazed into the woods for any sign of the creature’s return. Eventually though, exhaustion overcame his fear and he lost his hold on consciousness.

He dreamed of dark waters and pale worms with toothy maws swimming beneath him in strange patterns. It was far from the best dream he’d ever had.

The following morning, he woke with a start but had only the faintest recollection of the visions that had disturbed his sleep. Blacknail was more than happy to let the memories slip from his mind as the group once again got up and began walking.

The group of bandits reached their destination around noon that day. The goblin was more than a little disappointed when he saw it. It was just a clearing along the abandoned road they’d been traveling on. Why had they walked so far just to move from one empty spot to another? Humans were stupid!

This meadow was much larger than the one they had been camped in before, and it contained a small derelict building. Those were the only real differences Blacknail could see.

It was a solid-looking wooden building, but it had clearly degraded over the years since it had been abandoned. The wooden door had fallen off, and the thatch roof had long since rotted away. Blacknail stood off to the side of Saeter and listened as he spoke to the other bandits.

“This used to be a farmhouse, and this overgrown meadow used to be farmland. When I was young, homesteads like this dotted these lands. Now look at it,” Saeter mused sorrowfully.

“Times are tough everywhere. All the bloody kings and nobles have been at their damned pointless wars for decades now. At least up here in the North, there are no press gangs and taxmen,” one of the other scouts replied before spitting onto the ground.

Saeter snorted disdainfully. “No, there are only monsters, mutants, and a thousand other ways to die out here. Let's also not forget about all the merciless bandits and depraved outlaws,” he countered with dark humor.

“Like I said, times are tough everywhere,” the other replied with a shrug. “Years of war will do that.”

“The North would have toughed it out if not for the thrice-damned City Killer. We would have united if that gods damned drake hadn’t destroyed Coroulis,” Saeter said with sudden heat that made his face flush with barely contained hatred.

Blacknail almost stepped back from him in alarm. His master never showed his anger like that! He was usually so in control. It scared the goblin more than a little. He could too easily imagine that wild rage being turned against him.

“Well, I wasn't there so I wouldn't know, but I suspect you're wrong about that. Things would have been better here were Coroulis still standing, but the rest of the continent would have still dragged the North down with it,” the other bandit replied carefully as he watched Saeter out of the corner of his eye.

“We would have had a chance though,” Saeter said as his anger gave way to resignation. “Ha, I really must be becoming an old man, because I'm starting to rant and grumble just like one.”

The other man grunted in response, and they both stared at the ruins in front of them for a while. Blacknail joined them, but he didn’t see anything interesting. Were they looking for something?

After a few minutes, they had to help the other scouts work. Their group had a lot of work to do to get the new campsite ready for everyone else’s arrival.

First, they had to fix up the building and clear the land. The tall grass and plants that grew in the clearing had to be cut and set out to dry in order to make thatch for the building's roof and to clear an area for camping. They also cut down some of the nearby trees and stockpiled the wood and branches for fuel and construction materials.

As they worked, one of the scouts stumbled upon an old well by the house. So they added repairing that to the list of things they needed to do. Luckily, they had over a dozen good workers and one over-enthusiastic goblin.

As they worked and waited for Herad and the wagons, Saeter sent scouts out to watch the road. He wanted to make sure no one could sneak up on them unaware.

Even once they had finished most of the original jobs, Blacknail was still kept busy helping his master with his usual duties. He ran about helping with hunting in the morning and chores in the afternoon.

After several days of exploring the woods with Saeter, the goblin felt more comfortable out there. Being under the forest canopy wasn’t so bad, as long as he stayed within three feet of his master and didn’t go anywhere too dark. The spiders lived in the gloom.

He quickly picked up a lot of useful skills from doing so many chores every day. He was even rewarded with a small knife of his own. That was great, because it showed that his master trusted him to be loyal, useful, and not to stab people.

The first thing the goblin learned that day was how to set fires. Saeter showed him how to arrange the wood and tinder and set it alight with steel and flint, or by rubbing two pieces of wood together. A few impromptu fire-starting practice sessions later, Saeter snatched the flint and steel back. He then ordered the disappointed goblin not to practice anymore without permission. Blacknail didn’t know what the big deal was. It was only a small section of grass that had caught fire, and together, the scouts had managed to stamp it out easily enough.

Next he was put to work skinning rabbits again. When he ran out of carcasses to practice on, Saeter took him out into the woods and showed him how to set the snares himself.

He did this by bending a sapling and tying it to a piece of cord with a noose on the end. A twig was tied to the cord right before the noose and was held against the ground by a stake or another sapling. When the rabbit hit the noose, it tightened and the movement caused the twig to come loose and the sapling to snap up. The rabbit was then pulled into the air and ended up hanging from the sapling.

Blacknail learned exactly how the trap worked when he stepped on it and the noose snagged his foot. He was almost instantly sent sprawling as the trap yanked his feet out from under him. Luckily, he was too heavy to be pulled into the air, so he just ended up falling on his ass. At least now he knew it worked.

The hardest part of snaring rabbits was finding a rabbit trail or hole to place the snare on. Saeter had to look for signs, such as droppings, but Blacknail could simply smell rabbit trails and follow them. That made it easy for the goblin.

“Rabbits can’t hide from me. Me too great!” Blacknail bragged as he set up a trap.

“Good job, you’ve got the hang of this. Now you can empty and set the traps yourself each morning,” Saeter replied as he watched the goblin work.

Wow, he’d just been given a job all of his own! The goblin couldn’t believe his master trusted him to go out into the forest alone…

“It danger. Me die,” Blacknail replied in wide-eyed shock.

There was no way he could go into the forest by himself! He was just a tiny goblin. There were harpies, wolves, spiders, and other more dangerous things out there. Blacknail was fairly sure the forest existed solely to give all the things that ate goblins a place to live.

“You know enough to keep yourself out of trouble, goblin,” Saeter said sternly with a hardened look in his eyes that showed he wasn't asking; he was commanding.

Seeing that look, Blacknail cringed, but he didn’t move from where he was standing. Saeter stepped toward the goblin and raised a hand as if to strike him. Blacknail's eyes went wide in alarm. Yet after only a few steps, Saeter stopped and scowled at the goblin.

“Herad isn’t going to believe you’re useful enough to keep around if you can’t even walk into the woods by yourself,” Saeter explained.

The goblin groaned. Ugh, he had been trying to forget about the dark-eyed, glowering chieftain. He didn’t really have a choice, so he gave his master a reluctant nod of acceptance. That appeased Saeter somewhat, and he began preparing Blacknail for his first solo excursion.

First, Saeter taught Blacknail how to use his knife against various other animals. The goblin was told to stab them in the eye or under their ribs and into their heart or lungs. He was also told to watch out for teeth and claws. Blacknail didn't really need to be told that last part; he had already figured that out.

Saeter then taught him how to throw a rock faster and more accurately by using a strip of cloth called a sling. This amazing invention deeply impressed the goblin. He’d always wanted to be able to throw rocks harder; it was the answer to almost every problem he’d ever faced!

On the third day, Blacknail was given a belt and some leather pouches to put things like ammo stones or food in. Thus armed and equipped, Blacknail was ready to make trips out into the woods alone. He was very proud of himself. Proud, but overcome by terrified panic.

Under his master's watchful eye, the goblin walked over to the edge of the woods and hesitantly took the first step through the bushes and into the forest. He cast a look over his shoulder to see Saeter walking back to camp. Blacknail gulped, and his eyes widened in fear. He was all alone! Any second now, a hideous monster was going to show up and eat him.

For weeks, he had either been right beside his master or surrounded by at least a dozen somewhat friendly humans. Now he was all alone out in the woods, or a few feet from the edge of it anyway.

The snap of a twig somewhere in the distance broke his concentration and made him twitch in fear. Something was coming! He yelped and scrambled to the large exposed roots of a nearby tree. Quickly digging, the goblin widened the gap beneath some of the roots and dove down there to hide. From his vantage point at the entrance of his impromptu burrow, the goblin warily eyed the green foliage and tree trunks around him.

Nothing moved or made any more noise. Blacknail waited in his hiding spot for several minutes, overcome by terror. He wanted to dash back to the safety of the camp. The only thing stopping him was fear of what his master would do if he returned without the rabbits from the snares.

Several more minutes passed as the goblin tried to think of some way to escape his current predicament. If he tried to get the rabbits, he would most likely be torn apart and eaten. If he stayed here under the roots, he would slowly starve to death. If he returned to camp, his master would punish him. He didn’t like any of those options.

Blacknail had never directly disobeyed his master and didn't know what Saeter would do if he did. It would probably be terrible, but would it be worse than being eaten by harpies? He could always say the snares had been empty. Saeter might even believe that.

Having made up his mind and decided that cowardice and begging for mercy were his best options, the goblin slowly rose out from under the roots. He scanned his surroundings for any threats, but the bushes around him and the branches overhead seemed empty. The clearing was only a little more than a dozen feet away. Then he heard another crackling sound from somewhere behind him. Blacknail dashed frantically toward the clearing and safety. He didn't want to be eaten!

With an imaginary host of monsters chasing him, the goblin burst from the shrubs into the clearing as fast as his little legs would carry him, and he almost ran right into Saeter. Much to Blacknail's surprise, his master stood only a few feet away and was calmly watching the goblin. Blacknail froze, or at least he tried to. He was moving so fast that he tripped over his own feet and went cartwheeling painfully across the ground. His head bounced off a rock, but luckily he didn’t get hurt anywhere important.

Saeter stood there silently as Blacknail tentatively got to his feet. The goblin brushed himself off and threw his master a nervous glance. All thoughts of lying to his master were banished by a wave of shame and fear—plus Saeter had probably been watching from there the entire time.

“There was noise!” Blacknail whined piteously as he gave his master a pleading look.

Saeter frowned and shook his head disdainfully. Blacknail cringed again. Why had he used such a stupid excuse? He could have come up with a much better one.

“Take all the time you want, but you won't be getting any food until you bring back the rabbits, and I wouldn't be going out there after dark if I were you,” Saeter told Blacknail calmly but harshly.

The goblin shivered at the thought of being out in the forest at night. Everything was worse at night! Blacknail stood there for a few seconds and gathered his thoughts. Saeter just observed the goblin.

With a sigh of resignation, Blacknail realized he had no choice but to go out and empty the snares, unless several rabbits suddenly decided to run up and let him choke them to death one at a time. That seemed unlikely though.

Trying to banish his fear, Blacknail stood tall, turned around, and walked back over to the edge of the trees and out into the forest again.

This time he forced himself forward more successfully. When he next heard a noise, he merely threw himself to the ground and froze for a few frantic heartbeats instead of running back. He was making progress!

When nothing happened, he rose to his feet and continued on. Every time he heard a noise, he twitched in panic but didn’t run.

Blacknail crept toward the snares by moving slowly from hiding spot to hiding spot. He concealed himself against tree trunks, under fallen logs, in thick bushes, and behind tall grass. Eventually, he made his way to all of the snares and got the rabbits. Then after looking around to make sure nothing dangerous was about to eat him, he threw caution to the wind and dashed back to Saeter as fast as he could.

When he returned, the sun had moved a fair distance in the sky, but Saeter made no comment. He simply took the rabbits from the goblin and set him to work on another chore. However, much to Blacknail's surprise, he was fed an extra large meal that night.

He was also forced out into the bush the next morning, and every day after that as well. Obviously Blacknail’s master didn’t really understand how rewards were supposed to work. But soon the goblin got used to being out in the forest alone, even if he really didn't like it.

Then one day it occurred to Blacknail only he knew how many rabbits he actually caught every day. The goblin tried to fight the temptation, briefly, but he began to eat the occasional rabbit out in the bush. He just couldn't help himself! Saeter never let him eat the rabbits raw, and Blacknail loved them that way. They were so juicy and yummy, even if the fur was icky and sometimes got caught in his throat.

Why did humans feel the need to burn everything? Anyway, it wasn’t like he was doing anyone any harm. He caught so many rabbits every day that Saeter was giving them away!

Of course, he wasn't always doing chores. Every night, Saeter threw some of the rabbits into a pot of boiling water. Then he added a bunch of plants to create something called stew. The other bandits, who were out scouting or doing other work during the day, would then come over and feast.

The stew was an all right mix of tastes, but Blacknail loved it because it was the only meal he was allowed to eat as much of as he wanted. His master usually only gave him small meals, so he was almost always hungry. He had to forage for the rest when he had time, and Saeter kept him constantly busy.

The other humans who joined them for supper tended to be the quiet sort, like Blacknail's master. That was probably because they all had spent a lot of time in the forest, where making too much noise was dangerous. None of them talked to him nearly as much as Vorscha or Geralhd, but they weren’t hostile either. They mostly ignored him, although one or two would throw him scraps when Saeter wasn't looking, mostly to annoy his master. Nonetheless, it was the first time Blacknail felt he really belonged with a group of humans and not just his master.

After he had begun bringing back more rabbits than they could reasonably use, Saeter had Blacknail dig smoking pits. First he dug a hole up to his waist, a little bit more than two feet deep. Saeter had wanted him to use a shovel, but he found it faster to just use his hands. He was a great digger!

A fire was then lit at the bottom of the pit and allowed to burn down to coals, then it was fed green hardwood to produce smoke. A grill of small crisscrossing branches was placed three fourths of the way up the pit. Meat was cut into small thin strips and placed on the grill. Finally, the pit was covered with branches and leaves to keep the smoke in. When the meat became brittle and dry, it was done.

Apparently, this made the meat last longer and easier to carry around, but Blacknail mostly liked the meat’s smoky taste. It also gave him a chance to set fires. He liked fire.

Of course, all these activities required constant use of his knife, so Saeter had to show him how to sharpen it using a whetstone and care for it using oil. It also resulted in a lot of bloody rabbit pelts lying around, so next Saeter showed him how to tan them.

To tan an animal skin, it was scraped to remove the flesh, washed thoroughly, then stretched out to dry for several days. To Blacknail's delight, next he was told to break open the rabbits’ skulls, boil their brains in a bucket of water, then smear the gunk onto the hide by hand. It was so much fun! Saeter smacked Blacknail several times to stop him from licking his fingers while he worked, but he still enjoyed himself.

The hide was left overnight where it wouldn't dry out. Next, the pelt was repetitively stretched and softened until dry, which was fun for the first while but got old fast. Finally, it was placed over a smoky fire for several hours to dry.

Saeter gave several of the finished pelts to Blacknail, since he had no real use for them. The goblin used them to make pants! Pants were apparently essential, and they certainly made sitting down more comfortable. No more accidently sitting on pine cones for him! He also managed to stitch together a mismatched rabbit skin cape. Saeter had been the one to teach him how.

Saeter wasn’t happy with Blacknail having only one pair of shorts, and he made the goblin make a second one. The goblin was supposed to wear one and wash the other. How stupid was that? Stinky clothes just made it harder for animals to smell you! Why else would you roll in the dirt? Saeter, of course, disagreed and made him change into clean, or at least cleanish, clothes every few days.

“Well, I’ve certainly turned you into a productive little helper,” Saeter said proudly one afternoon, after the goblin had finished his chores.

Blacknail smiled and nodded cheerfully. He was happy to be useful, but he thought maybe he deserved more of the credit for his own work.

“You’ll sure startle everyone,” Saeter mused as he smiled wickedly.

As they waited for the wagons to catch up, Blacknail was kept busy. It seemed like forever ago that he’d first arrived at this new camp with his master, but it had actually only been six days. He was perhaps a little too useful for his own good. It got to the point where every time Blacknail saw a rabbit in a snare, the first thing that came to mind was how much work preparing it would be.

So of course, he started eating more of them raw and throwing away the remains. He thought it was the perfect plan, but Saeter wasn’t fooled. After a painful whack on his behind, the goblin’s meals were reduced for a few days as punishment. In hindsight, he really should have spent a little more time wiping all the blood from his mouth before making his way back to camp.

Chapter 10

The week of waiting at the camp went by in a blur of chores but ended in a bang when the wagons and Herad finally arrived. It was a cool overcast day, and it had rained lightly on and off that morning. Blacknail was glad he had his cape. He didn't mind being cold or wet, but he hated being cold and wet at the same time. He shivered and snuggled into the thick fur on the inside of his clothes for warmth. Several of the camp's occupants, including Saeter and Blacknail, had come out to see the wagons arrive.

“Finally! They sure are late,” one of the men who had stayed at the camp with Saeter and Blacknail said. “I'm not surprised they’re behind schedule. It's still too early in the year for the road to be completely dry. Getting those wagons along must have been tough. We're lucky it just started raining this morning,” another replied.

“Maybe we’ll get paid before winter now,” the first one joked, which made a few of the other men chuckle.

After a few minutes, when nothing more exciting than a bunch of wet and dirty men trudging across a muddy road with some rickety wagons appeared, the watchers started wandering off. Saeter, however, headed over to the wagons. As usual, Blacknail followed him.

They passed dozens of miserable-looking outlaws in soaked leather and furs. A few of them gave Saeter and his goblin hostile or curious glances, but most of them seemed far too tired to care about what was going on around them.

Saeter headed for the back of the train of wagons. There, Herad was supervising the removal of goods from a broken wagon. The wagon lay on an angle at the side of the road. One of the front wheels had popped completely off, leaving a broken wooden axle exposed. Under their leader’s watchful eyes, several men were removing goods from the damaged wagon and either tying them to the horse that had been untied from the wagon or carrying them down the road by hand.

Herad looked furious and only a few moments away from violence, but then again, she almost always did. Saeter stopped several feet from Herad but within her sight and waited patiently. Blacknail hid behind him, trying not to attract Herad's attention. After a few moments, Herad turned her scowl their way. She was dressed in her usual dark leather armor, which was decorated with an assortment of blades. Her cloak's hood was pulled up to protect her from the rain, and water dripped down it.

“You’d better have a nice bonfire going and my shelter ready when I get to camp. I didn't send you ahead so you could slack off,” she told Saeter.

“I do, as well as some hot deer stew,” Saeter replied, seemingly unconcerned.

“You'll make someone a wonderful wife someday,” Herad said bitingly.

“I fear I'm well past the marriageable age,” he deadpanned.

Herad smiled darkly in response. She was clearly amused. “That's what I like about you, Saeter. You walk the fine line between never arguing with me and not always agreeing with me either. How's our status?”

“Camp is set up. We have food, fire, and some lean-tos set up for the men. The old farmhouse has been patched up for you,” Saeter reported.

“The roads?”

“Scouts haven't seen anything on the road ahead. I've had riders down onto the main road to Riverdown, and they haven't seen anything unusual either. No sign of any patrols or traps. Not that the patrols ever leave the main roads anyway. I'm more worried about some other band of brigands getting wind of our haul. I haven't seen any sign of that though. The messengers you sent to the city to meet your contacts are away and have probably gotten there by now,” he reported.

“Good,” Herad grunted.

“We haven't even lost anyone in the forest yet. Bad luck that,” Saeter added after a second of thought.

Herad gave him a skeptical look. “It’s bad luck that we haven't lost anyone to the woods?”

“The forest always gets someone eventually. That it hasn't yet only means it could still be me this time,” he replied.She huffed in annoyance. “Bushman superstition.If you're that worried about it, then you could always throw your little pet goblin there to the wolves.”

The goblin shied away from her. He wasn't sure how seriously to take any of her comments. She didn’t seem to like him much.

“He's still pretty scrawny. They'd probably come back for seconds,” Saeter told her with a brief glance at the goblin and the barest hint of humor in his voice.

“Well, since you've lasted this long without being eaten by something, I think you'll be fine for a while yet. That said, I want you and the other scouts out there, making sure nothing dangerous from the deep woods surprises us. If you see signs of something, I want to know right away. Also, the more food you can scrounge up, the less we have to buy. We're going to be here a while as we wait for the buyers from Riverdown to get here and take this stuff off our hands. I don't want any nasty surprises while we wait.”

“You know that neither I nor anyone else can make any promises when it comes to the forest, but I will do my job,” he said gravely.

“How professional. Your best had just better be good enough. I'll talk with you later when I get things in order here. Find something useful to do with yourself in the meantime,” she said dismissively.

Saeter nodded, and she turned away. Blacknail and his master headed back down the road to camp, and the goblin threw one last nervous look backward at Herad.

Saeter apparently noticed his nervous demeanor. “You don’t need to be so scared of her.”

“She's mean and scary, master,” he whimpered.

“Dangerous too, or she wouldn't still be the boss. There isn't any such thing as a nice bandit, but Herad has her own twisted sense of fairness and she sticks to it. Which is more than most of the scum out here have,” Saeter said as they walked down the muddy forest road.

Blacknail nodded when his master stopped talking. Not in agreement, but because he should always be seen to agree with his master. He was still going to avoid Herad as much as possible. She looked at him as if he was a bug and she was still deciding whether or not to squish him.

As they approached the encampment, Geralhd called out to them. “Well, if it isn't old man Saeter and his ever faithful companion, Blacknail the goblin. I haven't had the pleasure of your company in a while. I guess it's because you've been here living it up, sleeping in one place, resting all day, and eating all the good food while I've been out on the road, walking endlessly and staring at the back of a bloody wagon.”

Geralhd spoke with decidedly fake cheer. The skinny man was seated on the ground, underneath a canvas that had been set up to block the rain, and was massaging one of his feet with both hands. He had unstrapped and taken off his socks and boots, and they were sitting on the ground beside him.

“Yes, that’s exactly how we spent our time,” Saeter responded sarcastically.

“Ah, Saeter, never lose that sunny disposition and glib tongue of yours. The world would be a darker place without it, and then I would have no one to engage in philosophical discourse with,” Garalhd said with his own sarcasm. A second later, he winced as he touched a sore spot on his foot.

“What are you doing here?” Saeter asked him pointedly.

“Well, if you mean why am I here on this lovely earth and for what purpose do I exist, then I guess we will be having that philosophical debate after all,” Geralhd responded as he smiled. “However, if you are asking how it is I found myself wanted by the crown and squatting in a mud pit among such illustrious company, then I shall have to respond that it is because I killed the right person.”

“Why are you bothering me?” Saeter clarified.

Geralhd shrugged. “A man must amuse himself somehow if he is to stay sane, and just between us, I have to admit that somehow against all odds, you're actually one of the more pleasant people to be around in our little pack of villains.” He gave a theatrical sigh.

“Go bug Vorscha,” Saeter suggested.

“Alas, the lady is busy with a task from our inexorable commander—”

Saeter cut him off with a loud snort.

“Ah, yes well, since we're being so discerning here, I must admit that while she is a wonderful woman, Vorscha is alas not very ladylike. I have certainly never seen a lady eat a meat pie quite like Vorscha does,” Geralhd admitted with wide eyes and a fake shudder.

Blacknail thought he saw the faint trace of a smile appear on Saeter's lips.

The younger man then turned to the goblin and gave him an appraising look. “Hello, Blacknail. I must apologize for ignoring you while Saeter and I engaged in our usual longwinded banter. You seem taller. Oh, and I must compliment you on your new clothes! Your own work, I presume?”

“Yes, I made,” Blacknail answered proudly as he looked down at his rabbit skin pants and cape. Their ragged patchwork surfaces were soaked by the rain.

“So I had guessed. They are certainly… unique,” Geralhd remarked.

Before he could say any more, Saeter huffed. “If you're done insulting Blacknail's clothes, I'll be leaving. Also, I notice you're not wearing those fancy clothes you first showed up in. Perhaps, unlike the goblin, you're incapable of making or even repairing your own clothes.”

Geralhd had been insulting his clothes? Blacknail felt his pride wilt. He thought his cape was nice and cozy.

Geralhd saw the goblin's face fall. “Tsk, your master is being dramatic. I was just having fun. I like your clothes. They're very… practical.” Geralhd got up and patted Blacknail on the head.

Saeter scowled at them and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Blacknail. We have work to do.” He stomped off to his campsite.

Blacknail turned to follow, but Geralhd called out to him. “Come see me at suppertime tonight, Blacknail, and I'll have a treat for you.” Geralhd gave him a friendly good-bye wave. The man then sat back down and massaged his now-dirty feet.

After Blacknail caught up to his master, they grabbed their gear and headed out into the woods for a rather unproductive slog through the rain-drenched forest. The only animals they ran into were spine toads, and you couldn’t eat those. The large green frogs came out in the rain and camouflaged in with the grass and leafy plants littering the ground. Their backs were covered in poisonous spines, so the goblin and his master had to watch where they stepped.

Eventually, Saeter was forced to admit defeat and return to the encampment empty-handed and soaked. It had stopped raining, but everything was still covered in water and muddy. If he had been miserable before, then Saeter was truly and deeply unhappy now. Blacknail heard him muttering to himself as they headed over to their campfire to dry.

After a few minutes of work, they got the campfire going, and its crackling flames started to warm them up. Saeter hung up his clothes to dry, and Blacknail cheerfully added his cape to the drying rack as well. They were both briefly naked as they put on new clothes.

The old scout turned to the goblin. “I'm going to take a break. You can practice something or other.” The old scout then ducked into his tent and closed the flap.

Blacknail heard him lay down and his breathing deepen as he fell asleep. As his master had instructed, Blacknail started practicing. The first thing he practiced was how to curl up next to the fire and take a nap. You could never be good enough at that.

Blacknail awoke with a tired yawn. As he sleepily opened his eyes, he noticed it was quite a bit darker out. The sun had begun to set and the shadows had lengthened. Most of the campfires around him had been lit and had people sitting around them.

Saeters's fire was running low, so the goblin threw some more wood on it. He liked watching things burn; it was pretty. As he worked, a cool breeze blew through the trees and into the camp. The hungry flames flared up, and Blacknail nervously jumped backward for a moment.

The scents of various cooking foods reached Blacknail’s nose. Most of the bandits seemed to be settling down to eat. Blacknail’s stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten supper yet. He threw a glance at Saeter's tent and listened. He heard the deep breathing of sleep from within the tent and sighed. He wouldn’t be getting any food from there.

Then with a flash of excitement, the goblin remembered Geralhd's promise. It was suppertime! If he found Geralhd, then the man would have a treat for him. Where was he though?

Blacknail wandered around until he found himself at the southern edge of the camp. Several men were seated at a campfire off to his right, one of whom was glaring at him. Blacknail ignored him and looked around for Geralhd or Vorscha. They would probably be together. The skinny man was obviously the woman’s subordinate.

After a quick scan, he saw Geralhd up ahead at another campfire. Blacknail smiled in glee and sprang excitedly toward him. It was time for a snack! He hoped it would be a tasty one.

Suddenly, he heard a loud twang followed by the sound of something impacting the ground behind him. The goblin yelped in surprise and jumped off to the side, landing on all fours. His heart was beating loudly.

An arrow quivered in the ground right beside where he had just been standing. Blacknail nervously looked up to see that the glaring man was standing and had an empty bow in his hands. The man's thick face was contorted by an expression of anger and sadistic glee. He was a large human with broad shoulders, short and greasy black hair, and a grin that revealed a few missing teeth. His chin was covered in dark stubble, and as he looked at the goblin, he burst out laughing.

“Look at that ugly critter jump! You go back to your senile keeper now and don't wander around stinking up the place, or next time I'm gonna put an arrow through your eye,” the man viciously told the goblin.

The other two men at the campfire grinned and laughed as well. Blacknail felt a wave of panic and got ready to flee. He hissed in alarm and started to back away. Apparently that offended the big man, because he scowled and stepped toward the goblin. As he moved, he drew a large knife and an angry grimace appeared on his face.

“I'm gonna cut your little green ears off and make myself a necklace,” the man said, his eyes narrowed in anger as he advanced upon the small goblin.

There was no way Blacknail could fight such a huge human, so he was going to have to run away. The trick would be to make it back to Saeter’s camp alive…

“What in all the hells are you doing?” an angry voice interjected all of a sudden.

Everyone glanced toward the voice and saw Geralhd approaching with a furious scowl. Seeing him approach, the other two men got up and stood behind their big friend. Clearly they were his lackeys.

“None of your damn business, pansy,” the big man growled at Geralhd.

“I think it is, Dafur,” Geralhd responded. “See, I was the one who invited that goblin over, and here you are getting in his way. I have a problem with that. Not to mention Saeter is going to be furious when he hears about your latest bit of stupidity here.”

The big man named Dafur narrowed his eyes. He looked to be almost twice Geralhd's size. “I ain't afraid of that old fool Saeter, and I ain't afraid of your bitch, Vorscha. She's not here to protect you anyways, pansy. So you scuttle along, because for damn sure I ain't afraid of a skinny wimp like you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Geralhd responded heatedly as his hand moved to the dagger at his hip.

Dafur must have sensed fear though, because he smiled at the smaller man and stalked toward him. Geralhd held his ground and drew his dagger. Dafur lunged, moving faster than his large size suggested he could. His dagger arced around and slashed at Geralhd's face. The smaller man's eyes widened in surprise, but he managed to tuck his chin and dodge below the attack. However, the dagger grazed his shoulder and bit deep enough to draw blood.

Instead of retreating, Geralhd leaned under Dafur's extended arm and stabbed toward his chest. Dafur twisted out of the way but received a shallow cut of his own. However, Geralhd’s attack left him overextended. He stumbled, and Dafur's big meaty fist swung around and impacted his face. With a loud smacking sound, Geralhd was sent spinning onto the ground.

He quickly tried to stand but couldn’t quite manage it. The blow had left him stunned. All he could do was hold his nose as blood leaked from it and groan as Dafur moved closer. The larger man towered over him with a cruel smile. He held the cut on his chest with one hand and his dagger in the other.

“I'm going to kill you now, you damned pansy,” Dafur growled.

Blacknail froze in panic. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way to save Gerahld, but he couldn’t think of anything. Fighting wouldn’t work. A goblin would be killed if he hurt a human, and death was even worse than losing a good source of treats. Besides, how could a little goblin fight such a giant man?

A new voice spoke up. “How about me, Dafur? Are you afraid of me?” Herad detached herself from the shadows and strode over.

Dafur's lackeys jumped in surprise, but the man himself just scowled. He threw Geralhd an angry look and fingered the knife in his hand before turning back to Herad.

“This goblin attacked me, and when I tried to catch it, Geralhd here tried to stab me while I was distracted. I was just defending myself. These two saw it,” he told her as he indicated his lackeys.

Herad tilted her head slightly to show her skepticism. Her eyes grew colder, and her smile tighter as she looked the big man over. “I have only a few simple rules, as you should all know well. First, you do as I say. Second, you don't lie to me. The third and last is you don't fight or run without permission. You have now broken two of those rules.”

Dafur hesitated, then a defiant look appeared on his face. He gazed down at Herad as if comparing their sizes. The large man was many times Herad's weight. He raised his knife. “Now look here, b—”

However, his speech stopped as Herad pushed the tip of one of her daggers up through the bottom of his jaw and into his brain. He hadn't even seen the blade coming. He just blinked in pained confusion as she pulled it out of his skull.

Herad had moved almost too quickly for Blacknail to see. Her hand and the dagger seemed to just instantly move from one point to another without going through the space between.

Dafur's eyes rolled up into his head, and he made several choking noises as he collapsed into a pool of rapidly spreading blood. Herad calmly wiped her blade clean with a rag and sheathed it.

“So very stupid,” she said to no one in particular as she turned to the lackeys. “Dispose of the body. Now.”

With terrified expressions, they nodded and jumped to obey.

After throwing Dafur's corpse one disgusted look, Herad walked alone toward the center of the camp. The dark aura she exuded discouraged anyone from following her, not that anyone wanted to.

Geralhd got unsteadily to his feet while still holding his bloody nose. He looked worse for wear. His clothes were dirty and ruffled. “I think I could have won that fight myself, but a gentleman never turns down timely aid.” He stared off into the direction Herad had gone.Blacknail gave him a dubious look. He had a very different opinion on the man’s chances of victory. The small man had been seconds away from death.

“I really need another drink. You still want that treat?” Geralhd asked the goblin as he wiped some of the blood from his face.

Chapter 11

After an otherwise uneventful night, Blacknail was woken up early and sent out to check the rabbit snares. He had done it plenty of times now and was no longer afraid of going into the woods alone. His fear had been replaced by familiarity—at least as long as he was only making the short trip to the snares and back.

Blacknail yawned as he wandered through the bushes at the edge of the forest. His memories of his old life in the sewers had begun to fade. As dangerous as it was here, the camp had become his new home. It wasn’t like he had any way to get back there anyway. The sewers were many days away through the forest, and that wasn’t a journey he ever planned on making.

His new life did have perks. For one thing, the forest smelled much better than the sewers. He missed being around other goblins sometimes, especially the females, but in the sewers, he’d mostly just fought the other goblins. They’d fought over hierarchy, food, shiny things, mates, and of course just because they were bored.

Besides, even though humans were so big and scary, they sometimes gave him treats and praised him. No goblin had ever given Blacknail tasty things, unless he’d beaten them up first.

The morning sun shone sedately through the loose roof of leaves. It was a warm clear day without a single cloud in the sky. The morning birds sang joyfully in the trees, either ignoring or ignorant of the goblin strolling beneath them.

Blacknail stopped for a second to listen to the birdsong and scan the grass and tall plants around him. As he stood motionless, his green skin and hide clothes blended into the surrounding, camouflaging him. After listening attentively for a while, Blacknail noticed nothing unusual, so he continued his stroll. There didn’t seem to be anything dangerous around.

He moved casually but kept an eye and ear open for anything out of place. If there was one lesson Saeter had made sure he never forgot, it was that no one was ever truly safe in the forest. He would hate to let his master down by dying some horrific death.

The wary goblin soon reached the snares, but just as he was about to get to work, he heard an unexpected noise. What was that? Blacknail twitched in surprise and spun around. Was it a terrible monster about to leap out and eat him?

It probably wasn’t; the grass under one of the triggered snares was rustling. The goblin didn’t think anything really dangerous could hide in so small a patch of grass. It was probably a bird or something.

Blacknail narrowed his eyes and quietly drew his sling anyway. Something might be trying to steal his rabbit! He couldn't see what was making the noise, so he circled around a tree to get a better angle. As Blacknail watched, something started to try to climb the sapling a rabbit hung from. The goblin’s eyes widened as he looked on in surprise. He had no idea what the freakish thing was.

How could it even move? It was just a blob of liquidy stuff! It was like a see-though pile of snot with a bunch of weird shapes floating in it. Yet it was moving and actually managing to slowly work its way up the sapling. It looked really wrong, like water flowing uphill but uglier.

Blacknail hit it with a stone from his sling on general principle. The blob of slime quivered and froze for a second before falling to the ground with a weird muted splashing noise. Had he killed it? He hoped so.

Well, apparently he hadn’t, because as the goblin watched, it reformed itself into a round blob and oozed toward him with surprising speed. Uh oh, it was headed his way! How could such a weird thing move? He hit it with another stone in the hopes that would stop it.

The slime quivered on impact and the stone sank into the blob, but a second later, the stone popped out with a wet slurping noise and fell to the ground. The slime also kept closing the distance between them, so Blacknail swiftly took a nervous step back. He didn't know how dangerous the freaky booger ball was. He was pretty sure Saeter had never mentioned anything like it to him, or at least not when he’d been paying attention.

Blacknail circled his mysterious opponent warily. Every once in a while it would put on a burst of speed and ooze toward him, but the goblin deftly dodged it every time. Ha, he was faster than the stupid thing! Now he just had to find a way to hurt it before it found a way to hurt him.

The blob burst toward him again and he moved to dodge. Or at least he tried. As he went to jump away, something tugged on his neck sharply and choked him. His inconvenient momentum made his feet fly out from under him, and he landed hard on his tailbone. Ow, his poor ass!

He watched in wide-eyed horror as the large blob of slime descended on him. With a wet smack, it enveloped his arm.

“Eeek, off, off,” Blacknail yelled as he flailed and tried to get free, but the transparent blob was stuck fast.

The terrified goblin tried to climb to his feet, but the slime had a grip on his arm and wouldn't let go, no matter how hard he pulled. He yelped in fear as the thing climbed up his arm toward his head. This was not good! Desperately, Blacknail tried to claw at it with his free hand, but it just reformed around the cuts. No, that wasn't fair! He kicked at it but stopped when one foot sank into the thing and became stuck as well. Not his best plan ever… at least that seemed to confuse the thing, because it stopped climbing his arm—for the moment anyway.

Blacknail whimpered and tried to think. He wasn't just any stupid goblin. He was Blacknail! What would Saeter or another human do? Come on, think! A human would… use a tool. Blacknail felt a flash of hope. That's right! He had a tool.

With his free hand, the goblin drew the knife Saeter had given him. He stabbed the slime several times, but it didn't do any permanent damage. The ooze just flowed back after he cut it.

What next? He looked his opponent over as the slime sucked him in again, this time on both of his caught limbs. With a chill, Blacknail realized he was going to die unless he thought of something. Think! Maybe he should attack the weird things floating in the slime. Frantically, he tried to stab the ones closest to him, but they were too deep and the knife couldn't reach them.

To his horror, he felt the wet edge of the slime climb his neck. He shivered with dread as he squirmed, trapped upon the ground by the slime's weight and sticky hold.

He had an idea, but it was desperate and stupid. He didn't want to do it, but he was running out of time. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to breathe through whatever this thing was made of. The thought of the slime encasing his head and flowing down his nose and mouth was horrible.

Taking a deep breath, Blacknail steeled his resolve and pulled back his free arm back. He then stabbed the thing as hard as he could. His arm sank deep into the slime and was caught. He wouldn't be able to get it out or attack the slime again and now he only had a single foot left free, which didn't do him a lot of good.

However, much to his relief, he saw that the blade of the knife had managed to reach its target. The blackish sac-like thing floating in the slime was impaled on the knife, and dark fluid spilled out of it and mixed with the transparent slime. Blacknail watched wide-eyed and desperately hoped that he had actually done something to keep himself from being eaten alive.

The blob rippled with small waves, then convulsed crazily. To his horror, Blacknail was sucked farther in and his face was enveloped. Then just as suddenly, the goblin was spat out in a splash of slime. He gasped for breath and sucked down air joyously. He was free, and not dead!

As the black liquid spread throughout the rest of the blob, it started to dissolve. Blacknail lay on the ground, covered in icky weird-smelling ooze, and watched as the creature expired with a loud gurgling noise. Eventually, only a smelly stain and several weird, twisted organs remained.

Blacknail picked himself off the ground and tried to wipe the slime off his skin and clothes. He grinned in excitement. Wow, was he ever glad to be alive. That had been extremely close!

After the goblin gave up cleaning himself off, he looked at the remains of the creature. It was mostly just smelly gunk, which he’d had more than enough of, but he spotted something shiny among the remains. It was a small crystal!

Blacknail stashed the crystal in one of his pouches and headed back to camp. A few minutes later, he remembered he was supposed to be checking the snares and swiftly turned around again. He collected the rabbit carcasses and hurried back to Saeter. He was already late. His master would be wondering where he’d gone. He scurried down the path as fast as he could while still maintaining a bit of stealth and awareness.

He made it close to the camp without any more trouble, although he startled one of the bandit scouts as he ran past him on the trail. The man gave him a surprised look as he passed. Blacknail ignored him and hurried home. He exited the forest and immediately headed toward Saeter's tent. He really wanted to brag about his victory!

Several people gave him odd glances, probably because he was still covered in quite a bit of slime. It dribbled down him as he ran. They didn’t stop him however, and he soon arrived at the tent.

Luckily for him, Saeter was seated out front on a stump, oiling some of his tools. As Blacknail ran over and threw the rabbit carcasses unceremoniously on the ground, Saeter looked up. He examined the goblin with an exasperated expression. “In the name of all that is holy, what have you been up to now?”

Blacknail was excited to show off, so he pulled the orb from the pouch at his belt and shoved it into Saeter's face. “I take from bad puddle!”

Saeter leaned back, away from the orb that had been shoved in his face, and eyed it carefully. A confused look came over his features. “A bad puddle?” The old scout gave Blacknail a questioning look and took the crystal. He rotated in his hands as he examined it.

“Slimy smelly thing,” Blacknail explained excitedly. He wanted his master to realize how great a hunter and fighter he was.

“Slimy… a slime? You fought a slime, and this is its crystal,” Saeter said with surprise as his brow tightened with concern. “Where exactly did you fight the slime?”

Blacknail was more than happy to answer. “At rabbit traps. Tried to steal, but I stop. It grab, but I stab good.” Blacknail’s back straightened with pride.

While the goblin talked, his master looked vaguely impressed, making Blacknail even happier with himself. Truly, he was a great and mighty goblin.

“You beat a slime yourself, eh? Must have been a small dud, but good work,” Saeter replied as he stood.

“Not small. Huge. Bigger than me,” Blacknail exaggerated as he extended his arms to show how big it had been. He wanted more praise, but Saeter gave him an amused but doubtful look before examining the crystal again. “What's that?”

“It's the slime's crystal. They all have one. Slimes only grow in crystal caves. Let's hope there isn't one nearby. They're dangerous, the only place more dangerous than the forest in the Iron Teeth,” he explained.

“Badder than spiders?” Blacknail asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Saeter replied with a grumble of irritation. “I'm going to have to inform Herad.”

With a command to Blacknail to follow, Saeter marched off toward the old farmhouse that Herad had taken over as her command post. Blacknail usually avoided it because Herad was a scary lady.

The thatch on the roof had been replaced and the door had been reattached. The repairs were crude but serviceable. Of course, the crudest thing about the house was the pair of thugs standing guard out front. They were big ugly human brutes who really seemed to be not so much standing guard as hanging out there with bored expressions because they had nowhere better to be. Neither guard bothered to block them as they approached.

Saeter addressed one of them. “Is Herad in?”

“Ya, she's in there,” the guard answered casually.

“I'd like to talk to her,” Saeter told them.

The two guards looked at each other, and with a sigh, the farther one turned to the door of the house and knocked.

“Boss, Saeter's here to see you,” he announced to the closed door.

After a minute, he stepped out of the way and the door opened to reveal Herad glaring at them. She wore her usual leather, but her cloak and most her knives were missing. Candlelight flickered behind her, illuminating the interior of the dark house. At his master's side, Blacknail instinctively slouched to make himself less noticeable.

“Normally I'd ask if this was important, but since it's you, I know you wouldn't show your face without a good reason,” she commented irritably as she stepped out to talk with him.

Saeter watched her descend the short steps in front of the door. She met his eyes and gave him an amused smile.

“My goblin, Blacknail, was out checking the snares this morning,” he told her with a gesture in the goblin’s direction.

“Fascinating, but as much as I love hearing a man brag about his pet, please get to the point,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“When he came back, he was covered in slime and had a crystal core. He told me he fought a small slime that was trying to get at the snares. I thought you would want to know,” Saeter told her.

Blacknail huffed in displeasure. It had been a giant monster slime, not a small one! Saeter hadn't even seen it.

Herad frowned and scowled in annoyance. However, Saeter was clearly not the target of her displeasure. “You think it's a sign there might be a crystal cave around?”

“Yes, there has to be one around somewhere. The question is how close. The slime could have wandered a fair distance. It probably did, since we haven't already seen more crystal beasts or mutants.”

“So then you don't think we have a problem?”

Saeter shook his head and brandished the crystal core he had gotten from Blacknail. “We could just have gotten lucky. The cave could also be mostly sealed so only things like slimes can slip through. Larger slimes can be very dangerous though. Some even have active cores and magical abilities like mutants. Those can rival Drakes in strength.”

Herad gave him a frustrated look. “This is obviously your area of expertise. Why don't you just explain what you want done so I can approve it?”

“It's too dangerous to ignore. Tomorrow, I'd like to send all the scouts to search the perimeter. Then I'd like for as many men as possible to go after them, once it's safer, and do a more thorough search. A small crevice will be hard to find but easy enough to seal.”

“Well, at least you don't want to abandon the camp,” Herad mused aloud as she took a second to think over his request. “Very well. It's not like most of the men are doing anything more than lazing around. This will help keep them out of trouble. I'll inform them tonight.”

Saeter nodded in acceptance. “Then I'll take my leave.”

Herad eyed him as she leisurely drew a dagger and lightly pressed her finger against the tip as if testing the sharpness. She continued stroking it for a few seconds before replying. “What if it's more than a crevice? New types of mana crystals are worth a fortune to the mage guilds, enough to set someone up for life.”

“Dangerous. You could stir up a monster capable of killing half the band. Maybe even something on the level of the City Killer, and then Riverdown would join Coroulis in ruin,” he answered with concern.

Herad gave him a doubtful look. “To the first, I can always get more men, and as for the second, it's not only horribly unlikely but also simply not my problem.”

“It is if the beast kills us all first, which is pretty damn likely. You also need somewhere to trade your stolen goods.”

“We can move,” Herad said as she shrugged. “Besides, you're the one who’s constantly reminding everyone that no one is ever safe out here. A mutant could attack at any time and it wouldn't be a surprise to either of us. This is the Iron Teeth, and we're bloody bandits. Every day we survive is a lucky one. A large payoff is worth a large risk.”

“As you wish,” Saeter replied with a sigh. “I guess we'll see what we find tomorrow.”

“Indeed we will, and if we find the cave, I will be the one making the call. You can go now,” she told him dismissively in a cold, commanding tone.Saeter nodded and quickly withdrew. Blacknail followed his master and thought over what he had just heard. It sounded like tomorrow would be exciting.

Chapter 12

Herad had done as she said and organized the search that evening. By early the next morning, practically everyone in the band was up and about, looking for the cave where the slime that had attacked Blacknail had come from. Only a few of the bandits were left to guard the camp and watch the roads.

The entire operation was well planned and organized by both Saeter and Herad. The scouts went out first to make sure the area was safe. They knew the forest and its many dangers, so they could locate them before the less-skilled bandits stumbled into them unaware. They were also much less likely to get lost among the green maze of trees.

The rest of the men followed behind the scouts and made up for their lack of skill with numbers. They worked together to thoroughly search the bush for caves. They had been carefully instructed to move in small groups and not wander around alone. They had also been warned to look out for danger signs, because it was more than likely that the scouts would miss something. It was a deep forest, and Herad’s rangers were skilled but still far from perfect.

After a few hours of searching, the scouts were ordered to double back to make sure the less-skilled woodsmen hadn't got themselves stuck in mud or fallen down a hole. It was also the scouts' job to collect the lost and the bodies. Some casualties were to be expected.

Saeter served as a scout, and Blacknail went with his master. This was no trip to empty the snares; they would be ranging far outside the somewhat safe areas they normally frequented. The old ranger had been assigned the area north of where Blacknail had fought the slime. It was not a direction Blacknail, or many other people, had traveled. As they walked north, the terrain became rough. Hills and ravines sprung up out of nowhere to block their view.

Blacknail found the constant changes in elevation exhausting. Now he knew why humans stuck so close to their roads all the time. Having to scramble up muddy hills and rocky inclines was a lot of work for a goblin with stubby little legs!

“Don't worry about being too quiet,” Saeter told Blacknail as they searched. “Since we're not hunting game today, I'm more worried about running into a bear or something than attracting predators.”

“Yes, master,” the goblin replied automatically. He knew what his master meant. Certain dangerous animals were likely to attack if you surprised them but would normally avoid people if they heard them coming. Thus, moving stealthily wasn't always the best idea.

The forest canopy that Blacknail was walking below blocked out most of the sun, but it wasn’t nearly as dark as in the spider-infested woods. Blacknail was glad they weren't headed in that direction. He shuddered at the memory of the creepy webs that blanketed those shadowy woods and their nasty residents.

The trees here were tall and thick. The ground was covered by short leafy plants where it wasn't blanketed in dead leaves. Here and there, small white and blue flowers peeked out from behind other plants. Blacknail actually found it calm and nice-looking. The goblin had tried to eat a few of the flowers earlier, but Saeter had pulled them out of his hand before he could taste them. Apparently they were poisonous. Oh well, they had smelled a little off anyway.

As Blacknail followed his master, he sniffed and examined the ground for signs of the slime's trail. He hadn’t found anything yet though. He darted around to check under bushes and around rocks for crevices or hollows. He wanted to be the one to find the cave and its treasures! He was sure that would earn him a reward. Plus, he wanted to see where the cave slimes came from. It sounded interesting. He was a very brave and loyal goblin when Saeter was standing right behind him.

The path they were following veered upward and grew rocky. As they climbed, the tree branches overhead thinned out and disappeared. When the goblin and the scout reached the top of the hill, the sky was completely clear. The forest canopy lay below them, and here was nothing to block their sight.

A green expanse of forest stretched out in every direction. It was unbroken by any signs of civilization. Even the road was hidden by the maze of trees below them. Off in the distance, a range of dark grey peaks towered over the forest.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Saeter announced keenly as he took in the landscape.

Blacknail stared at the mountains. His mouth hung open as he watched clouds float beneath their peaks. He had never seen anything like them. The world was so huge!

“Those are the Iron Teeth. They mark the farthest point North any human has ever traveled on this continent,” Saeter explained as he noticed the goblin’s fascination.

“No humans there? What is it like?” Blacknail mumbled. He was still stunned by what he was seeing.

“Who knows?” Saeter replied. “Humans have discovered three continents, but most of the world remains uncharted. Monsters such as sea serpents and drakes make exploring dangerous.” The old scout stared at the far-off mountains. His usually tense demeanor relaxed for a second as he took in the stark but beautiful landscape. “It’s probably bone-chillingly cold and I imagine there are more than a few goblins, since they get everywhere. However, I doubt you’ll find golden cities there, as some of the old frontiersmen used to whisper.”

His last few words didn’t make much sense to Blacknail, but he was barely paying attention anyway. Was that a flock of birds off in the distance? How many days would it take to reach the mountains?

“We can’t stand here all day, so let’s get going,” the old scout suddenly announced as he started down the other side of the hill.

Blacknail tore his gaze from the view and followed his master. Together, they headed back down into the forest. Soon, the ground became muddy and they had to watch where they stepped. Blacknail's short legs meant he had to hop from dry spot to dry spot to keep up with Saeter, who could simply step over the muddy areas. The goblin almost fell into the mud several times but managed to catch himself after some skillful wild flailing.

After a bit more walking, the pair stepped through a gap in the foliage and into a wide open area. There was a large break in the canopy above that let in light. The leafy shrubs on the ground grew thick under the open sky. The few trees Blacknail saw were thin and seemed quite young. The drone of insects and cries of birds were louder here as well.

Saeter stepped forward into the sun but stopped to survey the clearing before going any farther. Blacknail stepped up behind his master and looked around as well. The goblin couldn't see much though. He was too short to see over a lot of the plants and bushes. He tried hopping as high as he could, but that didn't really help. He did, however, manage to spot several patches of tasty dew berries. Blacknail licked his lips. Dew berries were so tasty! He was tempted to go grab some, but his master would smack him if he ran ahead like that. Also, something might kill him.

“Hmm, something feels off,” the old grey-haired scout muttered as he looked around.

He apparently didn't see anything though, because he tentatively walked forward again into the clearing. Saeter trampled the long grass and shoved bushes aside as he moved inward. Saeter’s careful stride carried him toward a group of small trees surrounded by a large berry patch. He stared at it for a few seconds before turning and glowering at the rest of the clearing suspiciously.

The scout took another step forward. Suddenly, a sharp cracking sound assaulted Blacknail’s ears. The goblin whipped around in time to see a large branch break loose from a tree and slam into Saeter. Saeter raised his arms in an attempt to shield himself. The branch knocked them aside as it smacked into him with a loud thud. Blood spattered across the ground as Saeter was battered.

Blacknail gasped in shock but was relieved to see that his master had managed to stay on his feet. He was just tangled up in the fallen tree limb. The goblin rushed forward to help his master disentangle himself. He really hoped his wonderful master wasn’t injured. He wouldn’t be able to get back to camp without him!

As he ran, Blacknail was abruptly struck by a strong sense of wrongness. Something wasn't right here; something was bad. The goblin scrutinized the scene in front of himself carefully.

The branch was wrong, he realized. It hadn't come loose from the tree at all—it was still attached to it. In fact, it had stopped falling and had even risen a bit as Saeter struggled to free himself from its clutches. Much to the goblin’s confusion, Saeter seemed to be having a lot of trouble untangling himself. His eyes were wide and showed a hint of fear. That was wrong. His master shouldn't be afraid of a tree branch.

Blacknail had a sudden, unwelcome thought. Was this a trap? Had someone or something made the branch break on purpose? Blacknail had no clue what was going on, but he knew what he was going to do. He drew his knife. It was time to find something to stab, until it was time to start running away.

Saeter flailed and yelled in earnest as he tried to pull himself free from the tree branch. The old scout pulled out his own knife and stabbed at the branch with his free hand. The entire tree quivered as Saeter was abruptly yanked toward it by something unseen.

Blacknail had used this time to reach his master. Sprinting, he scurried around to get at the branch, then sprang atop it with a quick leap. The goblin had thought he would find rope or something to cut, but he didn't see anything like that. So as soon as he landed, he stabbed the branch wildly with his knife. The blade hit the bark and skidded across it without penetrating. What, that wasn’t right! This was weird wood…

Saeter was also hacking at the branch with his knife. However, his longer blade didn't seem to penetrate the wood any better than Blacknail’s did. In fact, the wood seemed strange in general to Blacknail. It was warm and weirdly segmented. Looking at where his master was stuck to the branch, it almost seemed as if it had grabbed him, as if it had claws. Trees didn't have claws. Blacknail was pretty sure Saeter would have mentioned it if they did.

“Behind you, Blacknail. Down!” Saeter yelled.

Instantly, Blacknail obeyed and rolled off the branch. He was just in time. With a loud whooshing sound like leaves in the wind, another branch swept through the space he had been occupying a moment ago. The tree quivered again, then tilted wildly toward them, knocking leaves free and sending them spiraling to earth in a green storm.

Blacknail yelped in surprise as the tree-like creature rose up and twisted around to rearrange itself into a horrible new shape. Uh oh, it was time to run!

As the alarmed goblin watched, the tough-looking tree trunk cracked and split to become two long segmented legs. Branches shifted to become a pair of armored arms. The top of the tree also divided to reveal two more long twisted arms and a monstrous insect-like head that was crowned by two short stalks that ended in small black eyes. The twisted thing's vicious mandible-adorned maw opened as it screeched at them. Blacknail winced as the disturbingly high sound drilled painfully into his ears.

As the terrible, armored monstrosity rose, it pulled the struggling Saeter under itself and pinned him against the ground with one long arm. The strange creature was taller than a man, even though it was hunched over and balancing on four long legs. One free claw had Saeter firmly in its grasp, and the other was swinging around again to grab at Blacknail. It most resembled a giant predatory stick insect or some sort of horribly stretched out leafy crab.

What the goblin had taken to be bark was actually camouflaged carapace with lichen and moss growing on it. The weirdest part however was the smaller branches and leaves. They poked out randomly from its back and limbs, and as far as Blacknail could tell, they seemed to be real plants that had sprouted from the creature's carapace.

The terrified goblin rolled out of the way again as one of the creature’s limbs descended toward him. The claw missed him, hitting the ground instead and scarring the forest floor.

“Eep, run away! We’ve angered the trees!” Blacknail shrieked as sprang back to his feet and ran around in little circles through the grass. The goblin didn’t know where to go and wailed fearfully. There were trees in every direction. He was doomed!

Just then, Saeter stabbed the arm holding him again. This time he seemed to have found a weak spot, because the creature hissed and shook in pain. The leafy claw that had been going after Blacknail pinned Saeter's other arm instead.

“Damnation and misery, that wasn’t the plan,” Saeter screamed in anger and pain. He struggled to escape from beneath the claws that held him firm against the ground.

Blacknail knew he needed to come up with a plan of his own quickly or his master was going to die, leaving him all alone and very far from camp. There was no way he was heading back by himself now that he knew the trees would try to eat him! He wouldn’t last a second.

He had to think! He had somehow beaten the slime. With the right plan, he could beat this thing too. So again, what tools did he have? Right!

Blacknail drew his sling and slipped a stone into it. He twirled it to build momentum and sighted on the target his master had told him to aim for first—the eyes.

He flung the stone toward one of the small black targets, but the projectile missed and whooshed past the creature. The creature flinched and hissed in alarm though. It apparently didn't like having rocks thrown at it, which meant Blacknail should do it again.

Blacknail launched another stone. This time it hit the creature on the head, just under the eye stalk. The tree thing didn't seem hurt, but it flinched again and brought an arm up to protect its fragile-looking eye stalks. However, in order to do that, it had to let go of Saeter with one hand.

“Let go, you bloody overgrown bush bug!” Saeter shouted as he wasted no time in stabbing again with his newly freed hand.

Blacknail continued to throw stones at the twisted creature until it turned away from him in an attempt to shield its head from the small projectiles. Ha, his plan was working! He was a genius.

With a cry of victory, Saeter rolled free from under his captor. He had managed to stab the knife almost all the way into the limb holding him by aiming for a joint. The pain had caused the creature to hiss and let go of its prey for a second. However, it quickly recovered and tried to grab Saeter again.

Saeter obviously had other ideas. He sprang onto his feet with a grunt of pain and dashed toward the goblin as Blacknail covered him by slinging more stones at the now advancing monstrosity. The thing skittered toward its escaping prey on all six of its legs. Its body and leaves shook as it gave chase through the long grass of the clearing.

“Run,” yelled Saeter as he grimaced and dashed past the goblin.

Blacknail did. As fast as he could, he spun around and scrambled away from the thing trying to eat him. His master sure liked stating the obvious sometimes.

They ran through the woods at full sprint, fear and pure survival instinct driving them forward. Blacknail had no illusions about what would happen if the creature managed to get a hold of him with its long branch-like claws.

Soon the sound of pursuit and shaking leaves stopped. Blacknail risked a glance backward and saw the creature turn and wander back to the clearing it had come from. Thankfully, it hadn’t been a very fast runner.

Ahead of him, Saeter came to a stop and leaned against a tree. He was clearly in pain and exhausted. Blood leaked from gashes on both his arms where the creature had grabbed him.

In their haste to escape, the man and the goblin had run into the deeper part of the bush, away from the sunlight.

“Unbegotten mimics,” Saeter growled between two heavy breaths as he rested.

Blacknail remembered his master mentioning forest mimics once. He had told the goblin that they hid among trees and grabbed prey that wandered too close. He had also said to run from them if he saw one, because they were slow. Blacknail was pretty sure his master had left out some important information in there somewhere. He had certainly not been expecting something like the thing that had attacked them!

“Are we safe now? There are trees everywhere!” The goblin sobbed in terror as he spun in circles. No matter how fast he turned, he couldn’t look in every direction at once.

“We’re good. I should have seen it. I knew something was off. That was a perfect mimic hunting ground. They can only mimic smaller trees, and they like lots of sun.” Saeter groaned regretfully. He turned to the goblin beside him, who was swaying unsteadily from too much spinning. “I'm getting you a bigger and sharper knife.”

“Yes, please,” Blacknail replied with an exuberant nod. He liked that idea. This was the second time his knife had failed him. Just think of all the things he could stab with a bigger knife!

After taking a few minutes to suck down air and recover as much as possible, Saeter pushed himself off the tree with a wince and turned to the goblin. “We need to head back. I'm wounded, and the blood will attract predators.” The old scout hesitated for a second before grumbling and adding, “Thanks, Blacknail. You’re a good goblin.”

Caught by surprise, Blacknail broke into a huge smile. His master had never complimented him other than the occasional “good job” before. He felt fierce pride rise in his chest. He had been very brave!

“Thank you, master. I so happy you no dead,” he gushed as he hugged his master around the waist.

This caused Saeter to blanch, look uncomfortable, then try to squirm away. “We need to head back. Let go and help me with my arms, Blacknail.”

He clearly wanted to push the goblin away but couldn't manage it with his wounds. Blacknail waited a few second before letting go. He enjoyed the hug and had to put back the pouch his naughty fingers had instinctively borrowed by mistake at first.

“Yes, master,” he acknowledged when he was done and had let go.

Saeter crouched and had Blacknail go through his pouches until he found one that contained some strong herbal-smelling paste and another that contained some clean rags. Saeter then had him apply the paste to his wounds using the cloth. Finally he had the goblin tie one rag tightly around the largest cut to stop the bleeding, then use another one to tie his arm up to his chest to support it and prevent it from moving.

Saeter grunted as Blacknail finished. “That will do. Let's go.”

The goblin stepped away, and Saeter rose to his feet. The two of them began the long walk back to the camp. Saeter was wounded but could still walk without too much difficulty. Much to Blacknail's surprise, Saeter signaled that he should take the lead.

Excitedly, the goblin took point and led his master home. If they both survived, he was sure to have earned a huge treat! Hopefully, it would be better than the berries the stupid mimic had chased them away from.

Chapter 13

Blacknail traced their path back to the bandit camp by following their old scent trail. It was easy because he had an amazing nose and was the greatest goblin tracker ever! He kept a sharp lookout for signs of danger and unknown smells as he trudged through the forest. His master was depending on him to get them home safely.

A breeze blew through the trees, making some of them sway and creak ominously. Blacknail froze in alarm. He stopped and stared at a tree up ahead of him. Had its movement just been the wind, or had it been something more sinister? The tree definitely didn't seem to look right to Blacknail. Not nearly tree-like enough. Was it another mimic?

He got out his sling and spun it. He unleashed the stone, and it whistled through the air and bounced off the tree with a dull thud, falling onto the dirt. Blacknail held his breath. Nothing else happened. The tree didn't split open, move around, try to eat him, or anything else threatening. He was still suspicious.

“It's not a mimic,” Saeter remarked dryly from behind him. “Just like the last three trees you checked.”

Blacknail sighed and walked under the tree. It didn't move or transform into a horrible abomination. Sometimes his master was just no fun. They continued on.

The sunlight moved westward through the branches overhead as they reached the halfway point back. Blacknail was climbing over a large fallen tree trunk that was starting to rot into mulch when the barest traces of a scent caught his attention. He titled his head back and sniffed the air. At first he smelled nothing out of the ordinary, but after a moment, a scent he knew well filled his nose.

Excitedly, he stopped atop the log and stood up to get a good view of the woods. He scanned the ground and brush around him for the source of the smell. His heart pounded as he searched. He saw a lot of roots, fallen logs, and small bushes, but no obvious threats.

“What is it?” Saeter asked with alarm. He was in no shape for another fight, and he knew it. Both his arms were heavily bandaged, and he was walking with a limp.

“Goblins, many,” Blacknail answered quietly.

Several complex emotions rose within him and mixed together chaotically. Part of him wanted to challenge the goblins for the territory. Another part of him knew that was dumb. He was outnumbered with only a wounded Saeter for backup and they needed to get to camp. He hesitated.

“Do you smell a hobgoblin, Blacknail?” Saeter asked nervously.

What? Blacknail turned to his master and gave him a questioning look. “Dunno. What’s a hobgoblin?”

The old grey-haired scout gave him a surprised look back. “You don't know what a hobgoblin is?”

Blacknail nodded in confirmation. He did not know this thing.

After a second of thought, Saeter asked carefully, “Huh, do you smell a large strange goblin?”

Blacknail frowned. How was he supposed smell how large a goblin was? Sometimes his master said some stupid things. Blacknail took another sniff. All the goblins he could smell seemed normal enough. “No, master. None like that.”

His master looked relieved. Now Blacknail really wanted to know what a hobgoblin was. It sounded interesting.

“Keep moving, but be ready for a fight. We should be able to scare them away though. They're just… um, goblins,” Saeter said with an awkward finish.

Blacknail ignored the unplanned insult. He nodded and jumped down from the log to forge ahead through the woods. With an expectant smile, he drew his knife and held it ready in front of himself. Back in the humid darkness of the sewers, he had never had a weapon like this when he had fought other goblins. It was so sharp, shiny, and dangerous! Saeter had drawn his knife with his unbound arm as well.

Blacknail could smell the goblins better now. There seemed to be at least four of them, and they were definitely moving closer. They were probably investigating his scent and looking to kill the strange trespasser. The smell of his master's blood could also have convinced them an easy meal was nearby.

They would get no easy meal from him. Blacknail closed his eyes and concentrated on his hearing. From within the darkness behind his eyelids, he heard the scrunch of dead leaves being crushed and the sound of soft footsteps on dry dirt. He spun around and opened his eyes but didn’t see anything.

Blacknail narrowed his eyes warily as he scanned the surrounding bushes and trees for any signs of the goblins stalking them. He could feel them watching him. Every instinct he had told him there were hostile goblins around.

Out the corner of his eye, a green blur shot out from below some tangled roots and raced toward him. Blacknail reacted quickly and jumped away just as the attacking goblin smashed its large wooden club onto the ground by his feet. The club was made from a large twisted branch and looked as though it would have really hurt had it hit.

The feral goblin’s long green ears went flat, and it snarled at Blacknail. He was unfazed though and hissed a challenge right back. It was time to show this ugly wimp who was the toughest goblin around. Blacknail eagerly launched himself at his opponent. He intended to counterattack before the other goblin could recover from missing with his club.

As he charged, Blacknail got a good look at his first forest goblin. The goblin was a slightly greener shade than him, completely naked, and ugly as mashed worms. Blacknail’s face had the same long nose, thick brow, and squinty eyes, but they looked much better on him.

Blacknail’s smile grew wider, and he bared his teeth as he took in his opponent. He was bigger than this naked runt. It should be an easy fight, and that was his favorite kind. As Blacknail moved to complete his counterattack and stab his attacker, something hit him from behind. He snarled and turned to see that another goblin had tackled him from behind. Hey, that was cheating!

“Cowards!” Blacknail hissed as he and the new goblin tangled together and went flying off to the side.

They rolled across the ground. His new opponent tried to smash his head in with a sharp pointy rock, but Blacknail grabbed his arm and stopped the blow. This fight was his! He and his opponent fought and clawed as their momentum carried them through a prickly bush. The feral was too wary of Blacknail’s blade to let himself get stabbed. Together, they tumbled and smashed into the bottom of a thick tree.

Blacknail was stunned and lost his grip on the other goblin for a second. Luckily, his opponent wasn’t any better off. The two goblins fell apart, took a few seconds to recover, and got to their feet again. The feral goblin still had his pointy rock clenched tightly in one of his fists, and Blacknail had his knife.

“Raargh!” the naked green pipsqueak yelled as he raised it above his head and charged.

“No quarter!” Blacknail shouted back as he ducked under the rock. It was something he had heard the bandits yell during fights.

He tackled his opponent to the ground and bit him. His teeth sank into the flesh under the other goblin’s arm, where he couldn't be hit by his opponent’s rock. The taste of iron filled Blacknail's mouth as he drew blood. It excited him. He was winning!

The other goblin yelped loudly and tried to pull away. Without mercy, Blacknail withdrew his teeth and stabbed his opponent in the shoulder with his blade. He had been aiming for the other goblin’s neck.

Regardless, the rock-wielding goblin fell wailing to the ground. Blood dribbled from his side where he’d been bitten and the shoulder where he’d been stabbed. Blacknail spat blood onto the ground and wiped his mouth as he looked triumphantly down on his defeated opponent. Victory was his!

Blacknail was now breathing hard and had several new scratches that burned painfully. The other goblin's nails were sharp. As he sucked down air, he was alarmed to hear the crackle of leaves behind him.

He spun around just in time to duck out of the way of a surprise attack. The branch-wielding goblin had rejoined the fight. Blacknail felt the club whoosh by his head as he ducked under it. Right, he had almost forgotten about that guy. How silly of him.

As he scrambled away from the club, he saw his master attempting to fight three other goblins. They circled around the man, wielding long wooden spears.

“Damnation, you bloody little bastards,” Saeter swore in frustration. He was obviously having trouble defending himself from all three of them. The old scout only had one useable arm, which held a long dagger. He looked exhausted as he hopped around. avoiding the goblins’ clumsy spear thrusts.

Blacknail had to focus on his own fight though. The club-wielder rushed him again. Instead of dodging, Blacknail leaped forward before the other goblin was ready and tackled him. They both fell over, but Blacknail landed on top. He easily managed to block the other goblin’s clumsy swings, as they were too close together for the club to be swung properly.

Blacknail put all his weight on the other goblin's chest. Spittle flew from the feral’s mouth as he screeched and tried to bite Blacknail with his broken yellow teeth, but Blacknail held him down. He had a strong one-handed grip around the feral goblin’s throat. The fight ended when Blacknail stabbed his opponent savagely up and under the ribs, as Saeter had taught him. Then he did it again several times just to be sure.

Blood poured from the wound onto the ground. The club-wielder twitched and choked before going still and limp. Blacknail chuckled happily. Truly, he was a strong goblin. He’d defeated two other goblins by himself!

As Blacknail rose to his feet, he turned to face the three goblins attacking his master. However, they took one look at him standing over their two defeated packmates and fled. They scampered into the woods with a quick series of fearful yelps.

The wounded goblin also managed to get to his feet and dive under the roots the first goblin had hidden in. Blacknail watched him go and saw that there was a burrow under there. He felt no desire whatsoever to try to chase the wounded goblin underground. That would be too much work.

“Well, this hasn't been a good day for me,” Saeter remarked tiredly. The old scout was swaying unsteadily, but he was still standing. The goblins' crude spears hadn't pierced his leather armor, but they had to have hurt when they had jabbed him, and they had jabbed him a lot.

Blacknail smiled at his master as excitement overcame him. “We win. I win! I stab, bite, and stab, and win.” Blacknail joyfully hopped a little. He had shown those other goblins who owned this territory. Him, he did!

Saeter just gave Blacknail a tired look. “Well, we're still alive anyway. Let's hurry back. I need a drink… and medical attention.”

With a shrug, Blacknail did as he was told and headed toward the camp. He had his own cuts and scrapes, but none of them were too serious. They were just proof of his strength and toughness!

Saeter moved even slower now as he hobbled after Blacknail. Both exhaustion and pain from his new wounds slowed him, minor though they seemed. The old scout muttered and grumbled as he walked. Blacknail thought his master should be happier that they had won, but he had come to realize his master was kind of grumpy for a human.

Blacknail strutted confidently through the woods now. His victory had intoxicated him. He was the strongest goblin around! The toughest in the entire forest! He still kept his eyes open, but his usual fear of the forest had subsided for now.

An unexpected glimmer of color among the green to his left caught his eye. Shiny! He wandered over to get a better look. The thing was small, about the size of his fist, and many different sparkling colors. It seemed to reflect the light in a rainbow hue. As he moved, Blacknail heard a grunt behind him.

“Bad, Blacknail. Come back. Stay on the trail,” Saeter shouted before a fit of coughing overtook him.

Blacknail looked back with concern. He really should turn around. With regret, he turned away from the shiny thing. Knowing this forest, it was probably some sort of horrific murder trap anyway. As he walked back to Saeter, he heard a whirring sound from behind him. With a panicked twitch, Blacknail threw himself off to the side. He rolled and scrambled through the dirt before getting to his feet and turning to see what was attacking him.

The shiny object he had seen flew past him. As he watched, the small colorful thing buzzed over to a tree and landed on it. It was a bug. Oh, he recognized it now. Blacknail felt really embarrassed. He threw a quick glance back toward his master. Saeter was glowering impatiently at him.

The bug on the tree was large, and its wings shone with different colors as the light hit it. It looked like a cross between a beetle and an ant, and it had huge sharp-looking mandibles. Blacknail had seen plenty of them in the sewers. One of his main jobs had been to exterminate them. They tended to build large nests that blocked pipes, and drill holes through other pipes. His old masters hadn't liked them much. They were also poisonous, so you couldn't even eat them. Out of habit, the goblin drew his sling to kill it.

“Stop, Blacknail!” Saeter shouted as Blacknail was in mid-swing.

The goblin stopped and looked at his master with a confused expression.

“It's bad luck to kill a harvester. They're sacred to the gods,” Saeter explained.

Blacknail considered that. If killing bugs made spirits angry, it would explain all his bad luck and how he had ended up in the forest. That made sense. No more shiny bug smashing for him. He lowered his sling.

Meanwhile, the harvester crawled up the tree bark until it reached a small green shoot. Using its pincers, it snipped off the shoot, then took flight with it. Blacknail watched it zoom off into the bushes with the bit of plant in its mouth.

“It will be taking that to its underground hive where it will rot and be used to grow mushrooms. That's why it’s sacred to both Tera-Nan of growing things and Cor-Dius of darkness,” Saeter explained reverently.

Blacknail gave Saeter a confused look. So this Tera-Nan and Cor-Dius were spirits? It figured that humans named spirits. They certainly named everything else.

Saeter met his gaze and gave a pained chuckle. “I'm not going to try to explain the gods to a goblin. No offense, Blacknail. Now let's get going.”

With a shrug, Blacknail moved back onto the path and began to guide Saeter back to camp. He didn't really feel the need to learn the names of spirits anyway. It seemed kind of pointless. Spirits watched you and did what they wanted whether you knew their names or not.

As they moved, Saeter limped more and more. He was also noticeably slowing down. Blacknail began to grow concerned that his master wouldn’t make it back to camp. Dragging him would be a lot of work.

Luckily, Blacknail soon heard human voices through the underbrush. His long pointy ears detected the noise before Saeter did. He scampered off into the bushes to check it out.

“Hey, where are you going? Come back,” Saeter shouted.

“Hear voices. Be right back,” Blacknail responded.

He peered out from behind a tree and saw a group of rough-looking humans moving around the forest. It took him a second, but he recognized several of them, mostly by their strong smell. Smiling in relief, Blacknail turned and ran back to his master.

“This way! Band this way,” Blacknail told Saeter happily as he ran up to him.

Saeter gave him an annoyed look but walked in the direction Blacknail indicated. They soon ran into the other bandits, who were obviously searchers looking for the cave. There were a dozen of them spread over a small area, checking under bushes and behind rocks for crevices or caves. As Saeter and Blacknail approached, one of them looked up and gave them an amused look.

“What in all creation happened to you, and should I be worried? There isn't a pissed off drake chasing you, I hope?” the man asked Saeter as he took in their exhausted and ragged state.

Saeter's clothes were cut and covered in blood. His one arm was still in a sling. Blacknail had his own share of bloodstains and scratches as well.

Saeter scowled at the man. “We'll be fine, thanks for asking, and there is no drake. We just walked into a mimic, and then a bunch of feral goblins decided we looked like a free meal.”

Blacknail nodded as his master spoke. He would have noticed a drake. He had heard they were pretty big.

“Well, I hope that mimic isn't around here. Also, don't look now, but I think one of those goblins is still following you,” the man told Saeter with a smile as he pointed at Blacknail.

Saeter gave the man an entirely unamused look. “I'm not in the mood for jokes. The mimic is two hours’ walk away, so don’t worry. This area should be fairly clear for several miles, but I'm heading back to camp to get myself fixed up. You're on your own out here. I would appreciate you sending someone back with us just in case though.”

The other man shrugged and agreed to send someone with them. He called a lanky bandit over, and the three of them headed back to camp together.

“Try not to trip into any more monsters, Saeter,” the bandit joked as they walked away.

Saeter turned and scowled at the man. “Good luck out here without a guide. I have some advice for you. When you inevitably find a troll in the next bush you search, you should scream really loudly. Then everyone will know what direction to run away from.”

They soon made it back to camp without any more surprises or encounters. Once there, Saeter had his wounds cleaned and stitched up by a concerned Vorscha. After that, he and Blacknail had dinner and took the rest of the day off.

It eventually grew dark, and Saeter fell asleep beside the remains of their fire. He had been too tired to even make it into his tent. Blacknail grinned as he curled up beside his master. This had been one of his favorite days ever. He was Blacknail, the strongest goblin of them all!

Chapter 14

Over the next few days, Herad was in an even worse mood than usual, which was truly frightening. Bandits who hadn’t left the camp for weeks began volunteering for watch or scouting duty. The base became noticeably emptier. Blacknail spent a great deal of time checking the snares out in the woods during this time. Sometimes Saeter joined him.

The bandit chieftain had really wanted to raid the crystal cave for treasures to sell. No one had managed to find it though. She had glared at Saeter when the last group of searchers reported back. She was either furious with him for wasting her time or suspected that he’d somehow concealed the cave. It didn't help that the old scout had made plain his relief that no one had found the cave.

Her bad mood continued for days, until the merchants from Riverdown finally arrived. Scouts posted to the road sent word of their approach, and Herad immediately had the camp upended and reorganized for their arrival. She wanted to impress her guests.

Extra guards were stationed at the road barricades that had been built earlier. The camp, and even the bandits themselves, were cleaned up as much as possible. Not that the bandits cleaned up particularly well, but at least most of the smell of piss and vomit was removed.

During the time the bandits had occupied their current camp, they hadn’t been completely unproductive. Herad’s base had been improved and built up a fair bit. It wasn’t as though they had much else to do with their time, so they’d put some effort into making themselves more comfortable. The primitive lean-tos the forward party had constructed had been patched up and improved. Many had been divided into personal rooms with hanging hide or canvas doors. More of them had been built as well, so that every bandit had somewhere to sleep out of the wind and rain.

Trees had been cleared and piled up for firewood as well. Several crude pavilions made from wagon tarps and long posts had been put up for storage or gatherings. Now the camp looked much more permanent and less like an overnight campsite.

Blacknail was there when the merchants arrived. He was doing one of the many chores Saeter had him constantly performing. Behind him, Saeter was sitting in front of his tent and idly whittling a piece of wood. Most of the outlaws in the band were around, except for those on watch. Herad wanted a show of force, so every bandit not on watch or scouting was in camp.

The convoy arrived around midday, when the sun was almost straight up in the sky. Half a dozen wagons rolled down the dusty road and stopped in front of the old farmhouse. Most of the wagons were only lightly loaded—the merchants were here to buy, not sell. What they lacked in goods though, they made up for in bodies. Dozens of people accompanied the wagons, and a lot of them were shiny. Sunlight flashed off their armor as they moved. After a closer look, Blacknail realized that almost every human in the merchant's caravan was heavily armed.

All in all, the bandits outnumbered the black market traders more than two to one, but the guards had far better equipment, including chain mail and steel breastplates. They also looked more professional and disciplined. The guards stood tall and regarded the brigands expressionlessly, without showing a hint of concern at being so outnumbered.

A small skinny man with a goatee stepped down from the lead cart. With a gesture, he summoned a dozen guards to him and made his way forward. Herad frowned when she saw him, but she stepped forward to meet him. A dozen of her larger and better armed thugs followed her.

When the merchant and Herad met, they exchanged a polite handshake. The guards and bandits glared at each other from behind their masters’ backs, but Herad and the small man ignored them completely.

Blacknail had a sudden urge to run up and join the thugs in giving the guards evil looks. Maybe he could climb onto one of the bandit’s shoulders for a better view while he was at it. It seemed like a fun idea, but he resisted the urge.

“Persus, I'm glad to see you,” Herad told the man whose hand she was shaking.

“I always enjoy laying eyes on you as well, Herad,” the man replied with a slight leer.

Herad smiled at him, but one of her hands moved subtly closer to her knives. “It's good of you to come all this way. You won't be disappointed with what we have for you.”

“Ah well, I'm afraid I'm usually disappointed when it comes to that. I always want more than others are willing to let me have,” he said with a theatrical sigh. “That may be why I find myself dealing in black market goods.” He chuckled.

“Well, be that as it may, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what we have for you here. You should be able to sell it for quite the profit.”

“Ah, that's wonderful to hear, but you know, sometimes life is about more than just profit. Don't you think?” he responded with another smirk.

Herad's smile froze. “An odd thing for a merchant to say. I'm not sure your company would approve.” She couldn't quite keep the hostility out of her voice.

“Tsk. Well, they're not here, are they? Anyway, they don't need to worry, since I always earn them a tidy sum.”

“I'm sure that's true. Let's get out of the sun, shall we? I have a list of goods inside. We can go over it, then inspect the physical items after.”

She clearly wanted to get down to business, but Persus didn't seem to be in a hurry. The usually in-control-and-violent Herad seemed to be acting cautiously around this small man. Blacknail couldn't really understand why. As far as he could figure it, the merchant was only the leader of a tribe they were trading with. He also seemed to have fewer men than Herad, even if they were much shinier. So why was Herad acting so… un-Herad-like?

Blacknail heard Saeter mutter something and turned to see his master glowering at the small merchant. Was Persus his master's enemy? Blacknail turned back to Persus when the man started talking again.

“I hope you have some refreshments. It's been a terribly long and odious ride here. I would greatly enjoy a drink and some company before getting down to business,” Persus replied while feigning a haggard tone.

“Of course. We liberated a few good bottles on our last expedition. Just this way,” Herad answered with a wave toward the farmhouse.

The merchant sniffed disdainfully when he saw it. “A barbaric piece of shelter if I ever saw one, but I suppose it will have to do. Some allowances must be made since we are so far from real civilization out here, after all.”

Herad led him to the door, and they entered together. The thugs took up position outside. The guards, however, attempted to enter after their master, but Persus waved them off.

“I'll be fine. Stay out here and wait for me,” he commanded with a snap of his fingers before disappearing inside.

Herad had commanded that all the bandits should watch the merchant's guards while looking busy and professional. Thus, more bandits were on watch than usual. Many of them were standing or sitting around the camp in small but not so casual groups that just happened to be facing the caravan most of the time.

The guards themselves seemed to sense the hostility, because they didn't even bother to pretend to relax. They stood strategically around the caravan at attention with their hands on their weapons. They were ready for any trouble, and the bandits looked like they wanted to cause it.

Since everyone seemed to be just hanging around, Blacknail took the time to relax as well. He yawned and walked over to a pile of firewood. There between the logs, he cleared a patch of earth and gathered dry grass for a bed. Then he curled up and swiftly fell asleep with the pleasant earthy smell of drying wood filling his nostrils.

He was awoken from pleasant dreams by the noise of the wagons being loaded. Looking up, Blacknail noticed that the sun had moved a fair bit through the clear blue sky, meaning two or three hours had passed. He got up, stretched, and looked around. Hopefully he hadn't missed anything exciting. Blacknail saw that Herad and Persus were out inspecting the goods. They also seemed to be arguing about prices. Ugh, boring.

By this point, Heard looked tired of dealing with Persus. She was openly glaring at him, and her voice seemed strained. Blacknail was surprised she hadn't stabbed the small man. That was how she usually dealt with people who annoyed her. She was very efficient for a human.

Members of Herad's bandit troupe were loading the stolen goods onto Persus's wagon while his guards looked on. The bandits didn't seem happy about doing the work alone. This went on for a while as Persus's wagons were piled high with more and more cargo. Eventually, the last piece of stolen goods he wanted to purchase was loaded up and secured. Several crates and items he didn't want, or didn't want to pay enough for, were left lying around.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mistress Herad,” Persus told her as they were finishing up.

“You can be a vexing bargainer, but I look forward to dealing with you again,” Herad replied politely. Her voice still contained a hint of hostility though.

Persus extended a hand, and they shook again. As Herad tried to withdraw her arm, the merchant pulled it up and kissed the back of her hand. She gave him a cold look, but he smirked at her before letting go.

“Then as we agreed, 167 gold Elorians, of which half are payable now and half will be deposited at the Riverdown bank for you upon my safe arrival,” he told her.

Persus then signaled to a pair of guards, and they brought forth a large chest. He pulled a large key from a cord around his neck and unlocked it. From inside, he took out several bags and counted out a few coins. He handed the coins to Herad and left the heavier bags on the ground before locking the chest up again and slipping the key into his pocket. The chest was largely empty when he closed it.

Herad went through the bags and gave them a brief inspection. She appeared satisfied with the results. “I wish you a safe journey home then, Persus.”

Persus rolled his eyes in response. “Of course you do, Herad. That's the entire point.”

The small neatly dressed man walked back to his wagon. On his way, he strode past Blacknail's hiding spot in the woodpile. The goblin hid as the man approached. He was pretty sure that his master, and everyone else, didn't like the tiny outsider. In Blacknail's mind, that made him practically an enemy and thus fair game.

As Persus passed his hiding spot, Blacknail darted out and swiftly liberated the contents of the merchant's pockets. The man didn't notice and continued walking, unaware that he was suddenly ever so slightly lighter. The goblin sniggered as he retreated with his prizes.

After Persus spent a few minutes yelling orders at his underlings, his caravan got itself organized and started back down the road they had come from. Blacknail watched the merchant carefully until they were gone, but the stupid man never checked his pockets. The goblin broke out into a grin. The prizes were all his! Excitedly, Blacknail opened his hand and examined his new property.

He’d gotten the shiny yellow key! He also had a bunch of mixed coins of various sizes and colors. That was a lot of shinnies! Grinning in joy, the goblin stuffed his new possessions into one of his pouches for safekeeping.

Now that the merchant was gone, Saeter walked over to Herad. She gave him an irritated look as he approached, but her earlier bad mood seemed somewhat mollified by the large pile of gold in front of her. Apparently she liked shinnies as well.

“I hate that money-grabbing little rat. Why couldn't the company have sent someone else?” Saeter remarked coldly.

“He's a pig, but played right, he pays more than some of their other representatives, and that's what matters,” Herad replied scornfully.

“Well, one day I hope to meet him out in the woods where there are no witnesses or guards. So I can shoot him.”

Herad turned away and began giving orders, but Blacknail could see she was smiling slightly. Or at least he thought it was a smile. He couldn't be sure, since it was the first time he had seen anything like it on her face. Under Herad's directions, the gold was soon packed away and the camp reorganized. Most of the men looked excited and expectant.

Saeter and Herad were joined by another outlaw who Blacknail knew had somehow earned the name Red Dog. Of course Red Dog wasn't red and didn't have a dog. Humans were weird. Red Dog was a tall man, but shorter than Saeter, with unruly brown hair. He also somehow managed to be one of the few bandits in camp with pudgy cheeks. Living in the wild tended to strip the fat from most men, but apparently not from him.

“What's the plan now, boss? The men are going to want their share of the gold and a chance to spend it,” Red Dog asked her cheerfully.

“And they'll get it. When I say they can,” Herad told him sternly.

Red Dog fidgeted uncomfortably. “What's the problem? We're only a day away from Riverdown, and they're a typical frontier city. If we keep our heads low, then we shouldn't have problems with the law. We've been there before.”

“We can't all go at once. We'll be staying out here until winter starts to set in, then we'll head north to Daggerpoint. Until then, I'll pay and detach a few men at a time to the city for leave. If I pay them all now, they'll just start fighting over it.”

Red Dog nodded in acceptance. He clearly had been expecting something like that.

Saeter, however, apparently had a question or two. “We're staying here? That seems a bit risky. What about our next score?”

“I had a talk with Persus while I was entertaining him,” Herad explained. “On top of getting an interesting letter from him, I also managed to get quite a bit of useful info out of the worm… like the routes and times for several caravans over the next month.”

“Nice,” Red Dog remarked.

“Yes, it seems the Palinthiens are pressing the Elorians hard right now,” the bandit chieftain remarked with a fierce smile. “Most of their troops have been pulled out of the North to reinforce the border, and they already barely have enough for patrols. The local lords, such that they are, have enough problems of their own as well.”

“Leaving us free to run wild,” Red Dog added with a predatory smile.

“Trade will probably dry up once the merchants realize how unsafe it is,” Saeter observed coolly.

“We’ll split the band and send out some smaller groups to hit smaller targets if it comes to that,” Herad answered with a shrug.

Saeter frowned but nodded.

“I don’t think we need to be worry about that. Merchants are a bunch of greedy bastards who aren't nearly as smart as they like to think they are,” Red Dog interjected cheerfully.

Blacknail got bored and wandered off after that.

Several days passed with nothing exciting happening, just a lot of chores. Saeter kept the goblin busy and didn’t seem interested in going into town.

Things finally picked up when a group of scouts rode into camp with word of a potential target. Herad summoned several of her lieutenants to a meeting. Saeter was among them and, as usual, Blacknail was his shadow. Also, Red Dog and Vorscha attended.

“Clevan's group was set to watch the road south from Brackenmount,” Herad told everyone. “Persus said that they would soon be sending a big shipment of weapons south. Brackenmount doesn't produce nearly as many weapons as it did before Coroulis was destroyed, but the haul should still be considerable.”

“We could always use more weapons. Tools of our trade, they are,” Red Dog commented.

“We would be better served by blankets and boots,” Saeter pointed out dryly.

“True enough, but robbing a blanket caravan wouldn't be nearly as profitable,” Red Dog replied with a chuckle.

Vorscha laughed with him until Herad gave them both a dark look and they quickly quieted down.

“A shipment like this will be meant for the front line, and that means it will be heavily guarded. Maybe even an army escort, including combat mages and Sloshers,” Saeter warned the others.

Red Dog frowned in concern, but Herad nodded.

“Possibly. There are troops in town, but no one seems to know how many will go with the caravan, if any,” she said, apparently unconcerned.

“What's the most the army boys could bring to the table?” Vorscha asked.

“At most they could spare a full platoon, so less than fifty men. As for mages and Vessels, who knows?” Herad answered with emphasis on the proper name of Elixir users. She didn't seem to approve of the slang word for them, most likely because she thought it disrespectful to herself since she was one.

“Probably not many,” Red Dog commented.

“We could take a platoon, but it would bleed us, and I'm not sure about any mages. Those guys can do a lot of bloody damage and it would already be a close thing,” Vorscha mused aloud.

“So we don't attack if they're too strong. We can always check them out and retreat if they're too much trouble, or attack from ambush,” Red Dog suggested.

“I was already talking about an ambush,” Vorscha replied with a roll of her eyes.

“We could put men in a town on the way and get them to ply the guards with drink when they stop for the night,” Saeter suggested. “We then mark the mages and Slosh—Vessels and take them out first when the fight starts or before it.”

Herad scowled as the old scout talked but apparently didn’t find any fault with what he said. “Yes, cunning and ruthless is the way to do it. Fair fights are for knights and nobles in stories. We could also use poison. If the town they stop at is small enough, we could pillage it as a bonus.”

“That could get messy,” Saeter said critically as he frowned.

“As long as we get the shipment, I couldn't care less. If you don't have the stomach for it, then you can stay here,” Herad told him with a cold look.

The others looked away from Saeter and stayed silent. No one backed him up against their boss.

“We'll get ready to head out immediately,” Herad ordered. “We need to be well ahead of them for this to work out correctly. Saeter, you'll take charge of the camp when I'm gone. Vorscha and Red, you're both with me.”

Saeter looked dissatisfied but could do nothing but agree. Behind him, Blacknail tried to keep out of Herad’s sight. She looked even meaner than usual.

At daybreak the next day, most of the bandits marched out of camp. It was an overcast morning and the birds were singing loudly in the trees. Very few people were left in the camp with Saeter and Blacknail, making the bandit base feel empty. Hopefully nothing would go wrong while most of the tribe was away.

Chapter 15

The next few days were boring. Herad was gone, and she had taken most of the bandits with her. Blacknail spent his time doing chores and, when boredom caused his curiosity to overcome his self-preservation, a little exploring.

One afternoon, Blacknail was walking to his master’s tent. He had been out in the forest gathering plants for Saeter. He didn’t know why his master wanted them. They certainly didn’t taste good—he had checked.

Suddenly, the loud crack of wood splintering startled the goblin and made him flinch. The first noise was soon followed by the sound of panicked human yelling. That was almost never good. Blacknail grew concerned. Then he realized the noise was coming from the nearby forest, and it was getting closer. He immediately ran away. Just to be safe.

He made straight for his master, but the noise steadily grew closer. The nervous goblin risked a glance backward and saw a scout burst from the edge of the forest and run frantically into the clearing. The man's face was pale with terror, and he was gasping for breath. Not good! Something bad was about to happen, and he wanted as far away from it as possible. Blacknail tried to run faster. His little legs pumped frantically.

“Help,” the scout yelled between gasping breaths.

The goblin was pretty sure the man wasn't talking to him, so he just kept running away.

The camp came alive with movement and shouting as others noticed the commotion. Blacknail heard several bandits swear or shout in surprise. He couldn't help but shoot another panicked look over his shoulder to find out what the men had seen. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

He was not disappointed. The forest exploded as a massive creature barreled out of the bushes. It was headed straight for the running scout. The beast snorted and squealed in rage as it tried to run down the fleeing man. The scout was, of course, leading it straight toward Blacknail.

The creature was as tall as a man and heavy with both muscle and fat. It easily weighed more than a horse. Its body was covered in dark brown spiky hair that was especially long and bristly on its back. It also had a flat snout protruding from its face—because it was a giant pig.

Even with its unbelievable mass, the boar moved frighteningly quickly. Blacknail had no doubt that anyone hit by it would be smashed into paste, then crushed under its hooves. That was, of course, if they weren't first impaled on the long yellow tusks that jutted out of its mouth.

Blacknail was running on all fours now as panic and adrenaline set in. Both the scout and the huge pig were gaining on him. Saeter had risen to his feet and was quickly going through his things. Blacknail raced past an empty tent. He really hoped his master would do something soon—as in really soon! He didn’t want to be trampled to death by a giant pig!

From just behind him, the running goblin heard a horrible scream, which was quickly followed by a wet crunching sound and a triumphant squeal. Ouch! Hopefully the beast would leave now that it had caught its target.

Nope. The sound of heavy hooves pounding the earth continued toward Blacknail. Why did these things always happen to him!

“Bad piggy, don’t chase me,” the terrified goblin wailed as he ran.

Suddenly, he heard the crack of a sling and a surprised squeal from the boar. Blacknail looked back to see what had happened. One of the nearby bandits had hit the pig with a rock. With a furious grunt, the boar shifted its beady-eyed gaze to the woman who had hit him. The woman's eyes widened as they met the small black eyes of the boar. Blacknail could practically see anger and hatred rise like steam off the boar’s back. It looked pissed.

With a dreadful squeal that tore through the air, the beast switched targets and made for his assailant. After a second of looking regretful of her recent life choices, the woman turned and fled. Her sudden departure surprised several bandits who had been standing right next to her.

“Hey, wait!” one of them squeaked.

The entire group of bandits turned and dashed in every direction like a swarm of insects someone had just waved their hand through. None of them tried to stand their ground.

Blacknail slowed to a jog. Whew, he needed catch his breath. The boar was no longer chasing him, thank the spirits. He should be safe for now.

As the boar closed in on her, the woman dove behind a stack of solid wooden crates. That didn’t stop the boar. It hit the boxes at full speed with a thunderous cracking noise. The beast’s long tusks scooped under the crates and, with a jerk of its wide head, launched them into the air. Its bulky body smashed right through the remaining boxes and crushed them under its hooves. An explosion of splinters was soon all that was left of them.

The noise was deafening. Even from far away, Blacknail winced in pain as the sound assaulted his ears. The goblin couldn't see where the woman had ended up among all the debris. He didn't even know if she was alive or not. If she was dead, he would remember her fondly. She had probably saved his life after all.

The boar apparently couldn't find her either. It snorted and stomped around the ruins of the crates for a few seconds before focusing his attention on the nearest visible bandit. A startlingly angry squeal escaped the beast’s lips, then it charged after him.

“Oh hells,” the man yelled as he looked around for somewhere to hide.Much to Blacknail's alarm, the man started running in his direction.

“Eek, not again!” The goblin cursed as he picked up speed.

All the nearby bandits were either running away or hiding behind tents and equipment. Several had made for the old farm house, and one was climbing a tree. It wasn’t even a large tree. After seeing the boar go through the pile of crates, Blacknail was pretty sure those were all terrible ideas. He just wished he had a better one.

The man and the beast were quickly closing in on the goblin, so Blacknail took off toward Saeter. Bad things from the forest were kind of his thing. The heavy beat of hooves closed in on Blacknail. He wasn’t going to make it to safety!

“No, no, what to do?” the goblin squeaked as he panicked.

Blacknail turned and dashed toward a nearby line of wooden lean-tos. They wouldn't stop the charging boar, but maybe he could hide there. As the goblin dove into the nearest lean-to, the man running behind him leapt to the side. The bandit barely managed to avoid being impaled on the beast’s tusks, but he landed safely.

The boar didn't try to chase him. Instead, it hit the lean-tos full force. The crude wooden structures exploded as the beast smashed through them. Blacknail watched the small building come apart around him. Splinters and broken pieces of wood flew everywhere as the boar narrowly missed the goblin. Blacknail's eyes widened and he turned pale as a descending hoof narrowly missed his head.

He stiffened in terror as the powerful musky smell of the boar and a deafening chorus of squeals washed over him. The terrified goblin shut his eyes and curled up into a ball, wishing he was somewhere safe. There were no boars in his old lovely sewer home.

Then the noise stopped and the beast was gone. It had passed through the shattered lean-tos and continued on. Blacknail's heartbeat was out of control, and he started twitching uncontrollably. Was he still alive? He couldn't believe it. The goblin patted himself down and was surprised to find his body intact. Still somewhat stunned, he sat up and looked out from the ruins of the lean-to.

The wide-eyed goblin watched as the beast rampaged through the bandits’ camp. Blacknail noticed several arrows sticking out from the creature’s hide. Those were new. Apparently some of the humans were actually doing something other than running away in terror—what idiots. The goblin was going to run the second the beast turned back in his direction.

As he watched, several more arrows hit the boar. It grunted in pain and squealed angrily. The arrows were coming from almost every direction now as the bandits got organized. The constant pricks were confusing the beast; it couldn’t focus on a single target. The squealing giant stomped and spun around in circles as more and more arrows descended upon it.

Before long, it slowed and stumbled as it bled out from an ever-increasing number of wounds. Then an arrow took it in the throat, and the boar collapsed. It gave one last gasping wheeze before shuddering and going still. Its gigantic fallen body was pierced by too many arrows to count.

Saeter approached the fallen giant with sword in hand. He quickly stepped in and stabbed it under the ribs. The sword sank over halfway into the beast’s side, but the boar didn't so much as twitch.

“Well, it's dead now,” Saeter announced as he withdrew the blade. He scowled sourly as looked around the now-ravaged camp.

Other outlaws cautiously approached the beast. Some of them had bows, but others had just popped out of hiding and were unarmed.

“At least we'll eat well tonight,” one of the bandits remarked, which earned him a few chuckles.

“True, but we're going to have a lot of cleaning up to do,” Saeter replied.

Blacknail shakily got up and wandered over as well. The goblin plopped down at his master’s feet and leaned his head against Saeter’s leg for support. He felt like sitting there for a while; it felt nice and safe.

“We have at least one grave to dig,” another bandit added with a look toward the remains of the boar's first victim.

Blacknail looked over as well. He had realized an important truth today—never hit a boar with a sling.

With one of his usual annoyed grunts, Saeter took charge and got everyone started on cleaning up. There was a lot to do. The titanic boar had done a huge amount of damage. Saeter put himself in charge of cooking the boar. He had a giant spit roast made, and the boar was cut up and put on it. The sky soon grew dark, and when the meat was done, Saeter allowed everyone to stop for supper.

Blacknail joined his master at their campfire. The smell of roasting meat was making the goblin drool all over himself. It smelled so nice! He wanted to bite into it so badly.

Saeter saw the goblin and threw him a small piece of greasy meat. Blacknail caught it right out of the air with his mouth and instantly chewed. The goblin shivered happily as he smacked loudly. His mouth tingled with glorious deliciousness. Unfortunately, he soon swallowed the last bit of meat. His stomach wasn’t full. The goblin opened his eyes wide and gave his master a pleading expression, but the man ignored him.

Blacknail cried a little as he sat next to the fire. Why did his master never give him enough food? It wasn’t like Saeter was a cruel master—far from it. Oh well, it was fine. Blacknail had a cunning plot to secure more food. He was going to go beg from Geralhd. It worked every time.

After a brief walk around the now dark and campfire-lit camp, Blacknail found the man at his usual eating place. He was seated around a fire with several other men. They were all listening to a skinny bandit with a long bread.

“They say it came in the middle of blizzard. When the wind was roaring so loudly that no one could hear the screams at first,” the bearded bandit announced dramatically.

The fire crackled in front of him, and in its light, his eyes were obscured by shadow. Behind him, the night was dark and intimidating.

“It was a drake unlike any other, a mutant whose breath could freeze men’s hearts,” the man continued. “It crushed buildings beneath its feet as it fed upon the citizens of Coroulis. Nothing could stop it from feasting on man, woman, and child. Nothing.”

Geralhd leaned forward with obvious interest as the man spoke, but his face had a pale cast. He looked frightened. Several other listeners had similar expressions.

“As it glutted itself on human flesh, the people tried to flee, but there was nowhere to go. The roads were long and under the winter’s snow. They say a million people died when the City Killer, Myagnoir the Great Drake, destroyed Coroulis and took up residence in its ruins,” the speaker said in low voice that was almost a whisper. He paused dramatically for a few seconds.

A few of the listeners leaned in closer to hear him clearer.

“The greatest city in the North was destroyed by a monster that no one had seen coming. A mutant twisted by magic and unleashed by chaos against humanity. An unstoppable beast that simply walked out of an untamed forest, like that which surrounds us all right now,” the man finished in a sinister tone as he leaned back away from the fire.

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone mulled that over. Subtly, several people glanced nervously at the trees that lay out of sight in the darkness.

“And that’s why sensible people live down South, where all the forests have been cut down,” someone muttered darkly.

“Enough horror stories. Being around you all is scary enough,” a female bandit commented.

“How about a hearty campfire song to raise our spirits?” a pot-bellied man suggested hopefully.

“I’ll stab the first person who starts singing,” the woman replied coldly.

Before anyone else spoke up, Blacknail wandered over to Geralhd. Normally he would be wary of approaching most of the bandits, but the ones who had stayed behind with Saeter left him alone. Geralhd was also easy to get food out of, and not very threatening.

Geralhd noticed the goblin approach and smiled at him. He picked up a piece of meat that had been set aside. “Sit, Blacknail. Who’s a good boy?”

One of the other men groaned, and another chuckled as Geralhd spoke.

“Me, I'm a good boy,” Blacknail answered happily as he sat at Geralhd's feet.

Geralhd smiled again and tossed him the treat. As he chewed and slurped down the meat, Blacknail smirked. He clearly had Geralhd well trained.

“It's not a bloody dog, Geralhd. It's a goblin. They're very different,” one of the bandits remarked in an irritated voice.

“He's a good little boy nonetheless,” Geralhd answered as he shrugged and petted Blacknail's head. It actually felt pretty good.

Blacknail smiled toothily at the other man, which made him look exasperated and sigh loudly.

“I still don't understand why Saeter decided to get a goblin, or why Herad let him. It’s not like every scout in the band wouldn't give their last prayer to be his partner. I would have thought the boss would have said no just to spite him,” one man told the others.

Geralhd gave him a confused look. “Why do Saeter and Herad have such a problem with each other anyway? Also, why in all the gods’ names would every scout want to partner with a grumpy old man like Saeter? I mean, sure, he's the most experienced of our ever-so-hard-working scouts, but he's also more than a bit of an ass as well.”

Most the men chuckled, but one gave a nervous glance at the darkness over his shoulder before replying. It was almost like he wanted to be sure no one unexpected was listening.

“Well, the answer to both those questions is sort of the same. You obviously don't know who Saeter is, or at least who he used to be,” the man said quietly.

Blacknail's ears twitched as he grew interested and started paying attention. He was almost done eating anyway.

Geralhd leaned in closer and raised an eyebrow, an invitation for the man to keep speaking. “Oh, who did our resident old-timer used to be then?”

“Saeter used to run his own gang of thieves, years ago. They were one of the first successful bands, and they built quite a name for themselves. That was way back, of course, when things were very different. Eventually, they all retired or died until only Saeter was left,” was the other man’s reply.

“You must be joking. Who would follow Saeter, and why would Herad have a problem with that?” Geralhd asked with disbelief.

“Think about it for a second. Every bandit chief’s worst fear is being killed and replaced by one of their subordinates. Who could possibly feel secure knowing someone in their band used to be a successful leader?” the other bandit pointed out.

“That’s a good point. Herad has always struck me as more than a little paranoid. However, if Saeter used to be so famous, why is he serving under Herad instead of leading his own band? Geralhd asked.

It was different man who answered this time. He had remained quiet until now but Blacknail recognized him as one of the older scouts. “Saeter is an odd sort of bandit. He didn't become an outlaw because he was wanted or for the money, although he certainly got both. No, he chose to become an outlaw because he was a Northern patriot. He was fighting the control of the North by Eloria and Deveshur. I'd guess he's serving under Herad because he has nowhere else to go. He’s more at home out here in the wilds than in any city, and he won't surrender and live under the Southern boot.” He stopped and took a quick drink from the cup in his hand.

Everyone waited expectantly for him to finish.

“As for why he's not the band's leader, well, that's simple. The age of rebellion and causes is pretty much dead. We're fighting for money and power, and no one is more dedicated to that than Herad. Of course, that means that under her, we do a lot of things Saeter doesn't approve of,” the scout told them.

Geralhd leaned back with a contemplative look on his face. Everyone around the fire was silent. Only the crackle of the fire and the chirp of insects could be heard.

“That's quite the story indeed. I really can’t picture Saeter as any type of leader, but I don't think you're all lying to me. It would certainly explain a lot,” Gerald responded after a minute or so.

“Well, whether you believe it or not, it's all true. Just don't go mentioning any of this where Saeter or Herad could hear you. If you enjoy living that is,” the first speaker replied with shrug.

“I'm not a complete and utter moron,” Geralhd said with a roll of his eyes.

Blacknail was curled up close to the fire and deep in thought about what he had just heard. So his master had been a chieftain until he lost some sort of fight and ended up alone. Herad had let him in her tribe, but she didn’t completely trust him not to challenge her. That made sense to Blacknail. It was sort of goblin-like.

“Fine, if you can keep it to yourself, then I’ll tell you the best part,” one of the men told an intrigued-looking Geralhd. “You see Saeter’s band wasn’t just a—”

Suddenly, a cloaked figure swept out from the shadows. Everyone around the fire jerked in surprise or sprung to their feet with looks of alarm. Saeter glared at them as he surveyed the group. Most of the bandits wilted guiltily under his gaze.

Geralhd gave him a weak smile. “Oh, hey, Saeter. We were just, ah, talking about some things that had noth—”

“I don't care,” Saeter said as he glowered at them. His brows were scrunched together angrily, but his voice seemed to contain a hint of worry. “Two of the men are missing. They were seen after the attack and weren't together. Something entered the camp and dragged them away.”

Chapter 16

No one got a lot of sleep that night, and not just because the watch was doubled. Everyone was too on edge to relax.

The only exception to this was Blacknail. He was reasonably certain that with all the big pink humans running around, nothing would bother going after a skinny little goblin. Also, if anything really dangerous attacked the camp, then all the human screams would wake him up.

When dawn finally brightened the camp, Saeter led a search party out to look for traces of the missing men. After an extensive search, they found nothing, not even the smallest signs of a struggle. As was usual, Blacknail followed his master quietly and listened in. Everyone ignored him unless he spoke up.

"I really don't like this," one of the scouts told Saeter.

"Who would?" Saeter replied with a grunt.

"True, but what I meant is that it's one thing for something to kill two men, but it’s another thing entirely for something to do it while leaving absolutely no tracks. Your goblin couldn’t even smell anything!" the scout said excitedly.

“Maybe they walked off together. Could’ve been bedmates or something,” someone else guessed.

“That’s bloody disgusting. Jon was my friend, and he was no bugger. He also sure as all hells wouldn’t have gone walking out into the forest in the middle of the night without telling anyone!” another bandit answered angrily.

“There ain’t anything wrong with two men sharing a bed out here. The god Slyph-Usra himself smiles upon it. It’s just like sailors when they’re out at sea—” the first man argued defensively.

“You’re like the only follower of that god in the entire camp,” the other bandit said angrily. “Most of us are soldiers. We follow the Azur-Waj, the war god, and he doesn’t look so kindly upon such things. It’s undisciplined and plain unhealthy.”

“Ha, we’re thieves now, even if we used to be soldiers. Most of the band worships Cor-Dius, and he doesn’t care what people do in darkness,” a third bandit added.

“This isn’t relevant,” Saeter said sternly as he cut off any further argument.

A few hostile looks were exchanged, but the other bandits stopped arguing. Saeter was in charge, and they had a job to do.

“I hate to be the one to say it, but this is looking more and more like the work of someone in the band,” a mustached man said, which made several others give him annoyed looks.

“So someone just decided to murder two men who barely knew each other and were on opposite ends of the camp?” a short bandit countered.

“It does seem unlikely, but they must have been in on something together. Murder would explain the lack of anything but human tracks, and nothing else will,” the mustached bandit responded with a suspicious glance at the man arguing with him.

“Not necessarily,” Saeter mused.

Everyone else grew quiet. Most of the bandits looked confused, but a few of the more experienced scouts looked grim or upset instead.

“Well, feel free to enlighten us,” someone eventually said to break the silence.

“I can think of a few things it could have been. It could’ve been some sort of crystal host with a weird power,” Saeter explained.

The outlaws threw each other questioning looks and spoke among themselves for a few seconds. They didn’t seem convinced.

“That’s only one thing. What are the others?” someone asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come upon it,” Saeter said grimly.

“A crystal mutant can’t be our best option.”

“Leave it alone. You don’t want to know,” an older voice responded.

Just then, the sound of hooves echoed down the road to the camp. Everyone looked up in time to see a horsewoman ride into the clearing. Several of the outlaws reached for weapons, but they relaxed a bit when they recognized her as one of the women who had gone with Herad. After spotting Saeter and the group around him, the rider headed their way. She smiled at Saeter as she approached. Blacknail scowled at the horse. He didn’t want the stinky thing to come any closer.

“Herad sent me ahead. She’s on her way back with the goods. The raid was a success,” the rider told them.

“How long?” Saeter asked her.

“They’ll be a few hours if they keep up the pace they were holding when I left,” the woman replied.

Saeter didn’t look any happier to know the rest of the band would be back soon. He scowled as he looked down the empty road. “We should get ready for them then.”

He waved off the other bandits after reminding them to never go anywhere alone and to always have a weapon on hand. Saeter then headed back to his campsite and sent Blacknail out to check some meat he was smoking.

The goblin headed over to where a thick pillar of grey smoke was rising from a small heap of evergreen branches. Excitedly, he pushed the branches away to reveal the pit and flame beneath them, but the meat hanging inside didn’t look quite done. It also didn’t taste fully cooked. With a disappointed grunt, the goblin returned the now nibbled meat and headed back to his master’s campsite.

Once there, he took a brief nap, and woke up in time to see the return of the raiding party. The first of the victorious bandits came down the road and immediately found places to collapse and rest. Most of them looked exhausted and were dripping with sweat. Many of them also had some sort of injury.

The smell of sweat, blood, and pus was everywhere and filled the goblin’s nose. He hadn’t thought the humans could smell any worse. Blacknail pinched his long green nose shut. Eew, had he ever been wrong.

Saeter scowled as he took in the scene. He seemed to disapprove of the ragged state of the men and women. The last few bandits came down the road with a pair of wagons covered in tarps.

“Quite a few of them are missing,” the old scout muttered with a hint of concern.

Herad was at the back of the returning bandits. The first thing the black-haired woman did when she came into sight was head Saeter’s way. Vorscha and Red Dog followed closely behind her. Blacknail was shocked by Herad’s bloodthirsty grin. For a second, he was afraid she was going to take a bite out of his master’s face, but then he realized she was just in a good mood. He had never seen her smile before, and he didn’t like it.

“The raid was a success! The weapons are all mine,” she gloated triumphantly as she marched toward the old scout and Blacknail.

“Good, we need them. I see you lost more than a few men,” Saeter observed.

Herad shrugged as she uncharacteristically ignored any criticism that could have been implied by the words. “With two recent and profitable raids under our belts, recruiting to fill the holes in our ranks won’t be a problem. It’s not like there is a shortage of scum and thugs around here,” she replied with a hint of condescension.

Saeter frowned, and Blacknail noticed Vorscha react with a scowl as well. Red Dog seemed to agree with Herad though.

“All we need to do is recruit some more in Riverdown and the surrounding countryside. It’s one of the main reasons we built this camp in the first place, so that we would have a place to lay low close to a city,” Red Dog said.

“True, but it’s always better to keep the men we’ve got than to have to replace them with unknown—” Vorscha said before Herad cut her off.

“Enough. Don’t question my decisions. I promised every man and woman who joined my band a chance at plunder. The gods know I sure didn’t offer them safety.” Herad she gave everyone a cold stare.

The others around her lowered their eyes in submission, and even Saeter nodded his grudging acceptance.

“So what now then?” Saeter asked her.

Herad smiled fiercely. Behind her, Red Dog and Vorscha gave each other uneasy glances. It was clear they were both apprehensive about something.

“Like Red Dog said, now we start recruiting heavily. I want to do more than just replace our losses. It’s time to build the band up into a real force to be reckoned with,” she said eagerly.

Red Dog lips twisted into a concerned frown as he listened to Herad. He seemed hesitant to speak up, but his concern overcame his reluctance to question Herad. “Begging your pardon, boss… but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to put more silver in our pockets. Having more men isn't really going to help us pull off more raids, but it will mean less loot for the rest of us.”

“The times are changing, so it's time to change with them,” Herad replied cryptically.

“Werick,” Saeter said grimly as his eyes narrowed.

Herad nodded. “Yes, Werick. The man may be an idiot, but he’s right about at least one thing. More and more deserters and criminals are headed north, but there’s not enough room for them. All the bands are beginning to turn on each other as they fight for plunder. Even worse, all the good targets are disappearing. It’s like what Saeter keeps bitching about—too much bloody banditry will just cause everyone to stop trading and leave. It’s already happening, that’s why we had to come so far south.”

“So you want to buildup our ranks so you can strike even farther south?” Saeter asked.

“No, it’s no longer about raiding caravans and quick gold; it’s about territory. Out east, Werick is setting himself up like some sort of lord. Either we do the same or someone else will, and then we’ll end up working for them or more likely dead.”

“So what does that mean exactly? If we’re not going to keep raiding caravans and villages, then what are we supposed to do?” Red Dog asked.

Herad gave him a patronizing look. “Like I said, we hold territory and we make people pay for safe passage through it. That way we make a profit without driving all the merchants away. We’ll make less from each caravan, but there will be more of them. I’ve already got a message from one merchant asking to pay protection fees.”

Vorscha looked skeptical. Saeter had gone totally quiet. Blacknail gave him a closer look and was surprised to see that the old scout seemed shocked. His weathered face had gone pale and slack.

“If we’re promising safe passage, then we’ll have to enforce it. That means recruiting, driving away, or killing every other bandit group for leagues,” Vorscha mused.

“So that’s exactly what we’ll do. We recruit more men and kill everyone who challenges us,” Herad replied matter-of-factly.

“Well, the weapons we just stole and the gold we’ll get for selling them will sure come in handy now. You do realize this will eventually bring us into conflict with every other band of outlaws trying to the same thing, including Werick, until there is only one bandit left on top?” Vorscha said with an amused snort.

“Oh I know that. If someone is going to be bandit lord of the North, then it’s going to be me,” Herad purred wickedly. She practically oozed bloodlust as she smiled.

“You’re the boss. I’ll follow where you lead,” Red Dog told Herad quickly and nervously.

Herad turned to look at Saeter. He was still deep in thought and was looking at the ground with one hand on his forehead.

She frowned at him. “You usually have something to say, Saeter, so say it.”

Blacknail’s master looked up. “You’re the boss…” He seemed troubled, and his eyes looked unfocused.

Herad was a little taken aback by his response and gave him an odd look. “You finally going senile?”

His only reply was a grunt as he kept staring at the ground. An irritated look appeared on Herad’s face, and a concerned one appeared on Vorcha’s.

“Go take a nap, Saeter, if you’re so tired. Would you mind updating me on how things went while I was gone first though?” she asked impatiently.

Saeter finally looked up and seemed to think her words over for second. “It was pretty quiet. Not much important happened. Last night though, two men went missing. I had a look around with some of the other scouts, but we couldn’t find any traces of whatever grabbed them. It’s probably still out there.”

“That seems bloody important to me,” Red Dog exclaimed anxiously. He cast a look around the clearing as if he was expecting something to attack them then and there.

Vorscha also looked taken aback, and she frowned in concern.

Herad cast an annoyed look at both Red Dog and Saeter. She drew one of her knives and casually flipped it a few times. “What do you think it is?”

Blacknail thought he detected more than a little repressed hostility in her stance and voice.

Saeter hesitated before answering. “I don’t want to guess, but since you’re the one asking, I don’t have much choice. It’s bloody unlikely, but it could be a mutant of some sort. It could also be one of the Flore Kurava, although again it’s unlikely…”

“Wait, are you serious?” a startled Vorscha exclaimed.

“What’s a Florakevera?” asked Red Dog as his tongue tripped over the word.

“One of the forest people,” Herad answered. She looked thoughtful.

“Those are real?” Red Dog asked in surprise.

“Real as diamonds and death. Just because people don’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. One of them could have walked into camp and killed those men without leaving a trace,” Saeter explained.

“But you don’t think one did, do you?” Herad asked Saeter suspiciously.

The old scout shook his head. “No, they haven’t come this far south in over a century, and it doesn’t seem like something they would do. It’s too petty. They would have killed more people and wouldn’t have taken the bodies away. Unfortunately, the most likely option by far is that it’s—”

“Ghouls,” Herad hissed.

Red Dog went pale and stepped back. Vorscha started swearing and cursing nonstop, but Saeter just nodded grimly. The humans’ reactions intrigued Blacknail. What were ghouls? Maybe something exciting was about to happen!

“I take it you didn’t share these concerns with anyone?” Herad asked sharply, and Saeter shook his head. “Well, at least you did that right. How sure are you?”

“If it’s ghouls, then they’ll strike again tonight,” he replied emotionlessly.

Herad nodded. Her short black hair fell in front of her eyes, and she brushed it aside. “Then we have a lot to do before nightfall.”

Herad took charge and laid out a plan. Before she let them go, Herad swore them all to secrecy. She forgot about Blacknail, but he had no idea what they had been talking about, so it didn’t matter. Also, he wasn’t going to talk about something that would make Herad mad anyway. He liked living too much.

The goblin followed Saeter back to their campsite. His master didn’t go back to their normal routine of chores though. He didn’t even start doing something exciting for Herad. He just collapsed onto one of the cut-up logs they used as chairs beside the fire pit, his head in his hands again. That was no fun.

Blacknail stood there for a few minutes as he waited for his master to do something, but Saeter didn’t move. The goblin didn’t know what was going on. He tilted his head as he examined his master and tried to figure it out. Maybe his master was afraid of the ghouls? Blacknail gave his master a closer look. No, that didn’t seem right. Saeter looked almost sad…

Had someone stolen his food? That was what made Blacknail sad, but that didn’t seem right either. Saeter had plenty of food stored away.

Well, Blacknail had no intention of just standing around forever. The goblin walked over and sat beside his master. Blacknail leaned against his master’s leg as he relaxed and got comfortable. Several seconds later, the goblin felt a hand lightly pat his head. It felt nice. He glanced up to see master looking down at him with a resigned expression.

Blacknail’s master had never patted him on the head before. That was more Geralhd’s thing. Blacknail really wished he knew what was going on. He was starting to grow concerned.

“She might just do it,” Saeter said unhappily as he stared off into space.

Blacknail gave him a blank look. He wasn’t sure who they were even talking about. Was Saeter talking to him? He was definitely looking right at him, and there was no one else here…

“Wouldn’t that be a great joke,” his master added bitterly. “After all I’ve been through and everything that’s been lost, Herad might succeed where I’ve failed.”

Blacknail thought Herad was probably better than Saeter at a lot of things. His master was obviously better at stuff like hunting though, so it wasn’t a big deal. Why was his master so upset?

Saeter sighed deeply as he petted Blacknail again. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you, goblin?”

“No ideas,” Blacknail replied as he shook his head with a confused expression.

Saeter smiled sadly at the goblin. There seemed to be more wrinkles around his eyes than normal. “My entire life, I had one dream. It was the thing I really wanted in life. It’s why I became a rebel and an outlaw. Everything I did was to unite the North and free it from the stranglehold of the South. Now here I am, an old washed-up failure, and Herad tells us that she plans to set herself up as bandit queen of what’s left of the North! After all these years and so many lives lost, its Herad who might do it. Herad the Black Snake, a murderous bitch with no allegiance to anyone but herself.” Saeter began to laugh wildly.

Blacknail grew alarmed and his eyes widened as he heard Saeter’s uncontrolled laughter. His master was acting strangely! The goblin looked around for someone or something to calm Saeter down, but he didn’t see anything. Desperately, the goblin thought.

His master was upset because he had failed to get something and Herad might get it instead. It was a dream, but not like what you saw when you slept. Saeter had said it was something he’d really wanted to do and failed. Blacknail didn’t have a dream like that. The closest he had to a dream was the stuff in his…

The goblin got up and searched through his pouches. He found the one where he stored the things other people had forgotten about or left lying around for other people who wanted them more. He reached into it and pulled out the shiniest bits. Blacknail then extended his hands and offered them to Saeter.

His master stopped laughing and looked down at him. The old scout slowly picked up the items to examine them. “Some coins, glass beads, paper, and a golden key. Are you trying to cheer me up, Blacknail?”

Blacknail nodded.

Saeter smiled at him. “Where did you get the key from, though? I hope you didn’t take it from Herad.”

“No, master’s enemy with the wagons,” Blacknail answered with a sly smile.

Saeter looked confused for a minute, then he smiled broadly. “You mean Persus, don’t you? You actually stole Persus’s chest key. Good boy! Serves that bastard right.” Saeter cheerfully laughed as he patted the goblin on the head again. “Thank you, Blacknail. I’ll take the key, but you can keep the rest. Now that I’m done feeling sorry for myself, we’d better deal with this ghoul problem.”

Blacknail smiled at his master. He had no idea what his master was trying to say, but he was happy Saeter was no longer upset.

Saeter got to his feet and began to get ready. He went into his tent and came out carrying a sheathed sword Blacknail had never seen before. His master usually used a bow or long knife, not a sword. Saeter drew the sword and held it before himself. Sunlight glinted off the blade as Saeter looked at it with a peaceful but resolved expression.

“Come, Blacknail. Herad might not be anyone’s choice for queen of the North, but that’s fine, because I doubt she cares. So let’s deal with this ghoul infestation and everyone else who gets in our way,” he announced with determination.

The old scout sheathed the blade at his waist and walked forward. His steps were heavy with newfound purpose as he once again went forth to fight for his dream. Blacknail sauntered after him; he hoped there would be treats.

Chapter 17

Darkness descended upon Herad’s base, and it began to reek of fear—as long as you were a goblin and could actually smell fear. Even the most oblivious humans eventually noticed the dark atmosphere building up. Everyone looked nervous, and they instinctively joined together into small familiar groups for protection.

Herad didn’t like it. She wasn’t sure if the situation had somehow leaked or if everyone just sensed something was wrong. Whatever the reason, everyone was clearly not acting normally. Her mood got fouler, and she scowled at everyone as she waited for nightfall.

She had ordered the watch tripled and had her most trusted men making other preparations as well. Those included another huge bonfire in the middle of the camp and a large pit she had some of the bandits digging. The fire was supposedly for a celebration and the pit was officially for storage, but even Blacknail could tell that most of the bandits sensed something was off about that explanation.

Blacknail also noticed that an unusually high amount of bandits were armed with new-looking spears, and the men who had them were standing around together. That was more than a little suspicious. The weapons must have come from the hoard that Herad had stolen. Spears were not normally a popular weapon with the outlaws. They were awkward to carry around.

Blacknail observed all this with interest from where he was helping dig the pit. He liked digging, but this hole was getting sort of large. It was already deeper than he was tall. As he dug into the earth with his claws and dodged wayward shovel blades, he wondered what they were going to bury in it.

Every once in a while, the goblin climbed up and peeked out of the pit to make sure he wasn’t missing anything exciting. Nothing had happened yet, but everyone seemed to be holding their breath nervously and jumping at shadows.

Soon it grew dark enough that it was hard to see, so fires were lit to brighten the clearing. The big bonfire was set aflame, as were several smaller fires around the clearing.

Finally, the pit was finished. It was as deep as a man was tall and wide enough for a dozen men to squeeze into. After they were done, Saeter and Blacknail wandered over to Herad. The bandit chieftain was standing at one corner of the camp and gazing out into the woods. Around her, the sick and wounded were gathered beside a small fire. There were always a few of them around. Some of them recovered, and others didn’t. Blacknail could smell the stench of rotting flesh under the sharp, tangy smell of various herbs.

“So what do you think?” Herad asked Saeter. She didn’t turn to look at them but kept scrutinizing the woods at the edge of the clearing. The light from the fires pushed the shadows back all the way to the trees but didn’t penetrate them.

“It’s a half-decent plan, as long as you don’t mind risking yourself and the wounded,” he replied doubtfully.

“Ah well, I have less to worry about from ghouls than most. The magic that runs through my veins will make sure of that.” She turned and grinned arrogantly.

“Don’t be overconfident. Even Vessels can fall prey to a ghoul’s more mundane weapons.”

Blacknail thought he sensed a tremor of concern in Saeter’s voice.

“Just take your position and wait, old man. If you’re worried about me, then make sure you don’t shoot me in the back,” she replied scornfully as she turned back toward the woods.

Saeter then did something unexpected. Instead of his usual farewell grunt, he quickly gave Herad a slight bow and a grin flashed across his face. “As you wish.”

He spun around and walked off. Confusion was plain on Herad’s face as she gazed after Saeter. When her eyes fell on the sword at his hip, they widened in surprise, if only for a brief second before she recovered.

Blacknail followed his master to a pile of nearby crates that had been placed under a tarp strung up between several poles. Once there, Saeter took a seat in a shadowed corner, where he could see most of the camp but was hidden from sight. He placed his bow in his lap and went still.

Blacknail groaned. He had a pretty good idea where this was going—nowhere. Saeter was obviously laying in wait for something, and it sometimes took hours for his prey to show up. With a sigh, Blacknail sat next to his master. His mind wandered. They were hunting something—probably those ghoul things. Did that mean the ghouls would be coming right into camp? That seemed very stupid unless ghouls were ridiculously tough, and if that were the case, then what good would a bow do?

The camp slowly ground to a halt around them. As nervous and afraid as most of the bandits were, the majority of them still weren’t going to stay up the entire night. Eventually, the ground was littered with sleeping bodies. Most of them were huddled around brightly lit fires.

Herad’s extra guards patrolled the border of the camp in large groups. As he sat there, bored out of his mind, Blacknail noticed that they seemed to be avoiding the part of the camp where Herad and the wounded were. Herad herself seemed to be just sitting by the fire and resting.

His master had mentioned something about bait. Blacknail sniggered quietly. Were they using Herad as part of the bait? That was ridiculous. No beast could possibly be stupid enough to go after Herad. That would be suicide, but if they did try it, then it would certainly be amusing!

Blacknail yawned and thought about trying to sleep, but he decided against it. He wanted to stay up and see these ghoul things, and Saeter would probably wake him up anyway. That was what he usually did when they went hunting.

As the campfires died down, Blacknail watched without much interest as a group of bandits emerged from the dark woods and strolled over to the wounded area. He was beginning to think nothing exciting would ever happen, until the sound of cloth shifting startled him.

Saeter had leaned forward and was watching the new group of bandits carefully. He slowly prepped his bow. Blacknail’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he threw another look at the group of approaching men.

They seemed normal and were probably just coming back from relieving themselves in the forest or something. At least that was what he thought at first. As they moved closer to the dimming light of the fires, Blacknail noticed several oddities. Their clothes were similar to the rough and dirty outfits most of the bandits wore, but they were in even worse shape. It was hard to notice in the darkness, but these men were wrapped in little more than rags.

Maybe these bandits had been attacked and that was why they were headed to the wounded area. That might explain Saeter’s interest in them.

The next odd thing the goblin noticed was how the men were weirdly in synch. It was subtle, but they moved as though they were aware of each other at all times, like a pack of predators or even one single being. Humans didn’t move like that, Blacknail realized with a shock.

The things that looked like men were almost upon the wounded now. A small gust of wind blew past Blacknail and brought a new scent with it. It smelled human but also of sickness. That the scent had been around for a while, but he hadn’t recognized it before now. It had been too slight.

“Not men!” Blacknail whispered nervously to Saeter.

His master apparently believed him, because he nodded and strung an arrow to his bow. Then he rose to his feet and sighted on one of the things. The call of a night bird issued from Saeter’s lips mere moments before the arrow flew from his bow. The arrow hissed through the air and impaled itself in the chest of one of the man things, knocking it to the ground with a hollow slapping sound.

Soon another dozen arrows leapt out of the darkness toward their targets. Saeter’s bird call had been the signal to attack. The sudden shower of arrows fell upon the things Blacknail assumed to be ghouls. Arrows slammed into the ghouls’ bodies and heads. Most of them fell to the ground and twitched.

Blacknail was actually sort of disappointed. He had been expecting something much more exciting. This was too easy.

Then the ghouls pulled themselves back up onto their feet. The arrows sticking out from their bodies didn’t stop them or even slow them down. One after another, the thin, ragged figures rose. A cacophony of inhuman hisses filled the air as the now obviously inhuman creatures burst toward their targets with unnatural speed. The nearby bandits and wounded shouted fearfully in alarm.

Herad rose to meet them from where she had been hidden among the injured. Her sword leapt into her right hand as a long dagger appeared in the left. Her black cloak flapped behind her and her blades flashed through the air as she lunged forward to intercept the ghouls.

Beside Blacknail, Saeter cursed and leapt to his feet as he drew his own blade. The goblin heard other outlaws react behind him.

“There are more of the bloody damned things than we thought,” Saeter spat as he rushed toward the ghouls.

Blacknail tentatively followed his master from a few paces back. It wasn’t that he was scared obviously; he just didn’t want to get in the way.

Ahead of them, Herad engaged the ghouls in a lightning-fast melee. She danced around them and their wild attacks. Her blades sliced into them and sent spurts of unsettling black blood into the air, but she didn’t seem to be doing any real damage to the creatures. They just kept coming.

There were seven ghouls, and only four of them were armed with any sort of weapon. Two had swords, one wielded a long dagger, and one clumsily swung a lumber axe. The unarmed ones seemed perfectly happy to attack with their bare hands, and they made up for their lack of skill with pure speed and inhuman ferocity.

As Blacknail followed Saeter, he got a better look at Herad’s assailants. Every one of them was skinny, and their exposed skin was a pale wormy-white that reminded him of maggot flesh. The hoods and scarves that had been covering their faces had fallen from several of them as they fought, revealing hairless heads and horribly gaunt faces with black eyes empty of everything but mad hunger.

The ghouls kept throwing themselves forward in a ravenous berserk rage while ignoring any damage they took in the progress. Herad ducked under an axe’s swing to counter with a knife stab to her opponent’s chest. She had to quickly withdraw though, as another ghoul came up from her other side and slashed at her with its rusty dagger.

She threw herself back to avoid the blow but ended up off balance and too close to another ghoul. Its jaws stretched wide as it screamed and swung a clawed hand at her face. The blow connected and sent her spiraling across the earth.

While the creatures appeared to be unthinking berserkers, they fought so well together they almost seemed to be in formation. The pack of ghouls split in two as three of them circled Herad and the other four made a dash for the injured and sick. Those of the wounded who could move were running, but not all of them were so lucky. Screams of terror and pain filled the night as the ghouls tore through the wounded bandits.

Herad pulled herself to her feet as she eyed the ghouls circling her. She raised her dagger hand to wipe her face and scowled when it came away covered in blood. She had a bloody gash down the side of her face. The bandit chieftain spat toward the closest ghoul, raised her weapons, and threw herself back into the fight.

By this time, Saeter had reached the ghouls feasting upon the still-twitching corpses of the injured. They were between him and Herad. He launched a series of slashes at a ghoul bent over and stuffing its mouth full of bloody human flesh. His attack only gave the pale monstrosity a few superficial cuts and forced it to step back. Then all together, the nearby ghouls hissed and rose from their grisly meals to face him.

Luckily for him, the closest patrol and Vorscha were right behind him. The spearmen drove the ghouls back as the creatures tried to rush the old scout. The bandits thrust their spears forward all together, and a wall of iron blade tips pushed the outnumbered creatures back. Half the ghouls almost immediately ended up impaled on several long spears that held them in place. The other two made it through.

The first ghoul knocked a spear aside and leaped over the rest in a frightening lunge attack, but Vorscha was ready. Her spear punched right through its chest before it could land. She then swung the stunned airborne ghoul around and slammed her spear’s tip into a nearby barrel. The ghoul flailed and spat, but it was stuck and couldn’t move.

As the second ghoul attacked, a bandit shoved his spear tip through its guts. It kept coming; the creature pulled itself up the now black and bloody spear shaft to get at the weapon’s wielder. The seemingly unstoppable ghoul was finished off when Saeter brought his blade down in a two-handed swing that cleaved into its neck. The creature shuddered violently and vomited black blood that smelled like putrid meat. Then it went limp.

Meanwhile, Herad was desperately trying to keep the other three ghouls at bay. She had broken out of their encirclement but had to keep moving and attacking to prevent them from regaining it. The bandit chieftain had also managed to disable the arm of one ghoul with a heavy strike, and it hung uselessly at the ghoul’s side. Another limped as it chased her and black blood oozed from a deep cut on its thigh. However, it was clear that she was getting slower while the ghouls appeared incapable of feeling pain or exhaustion. They just kept coming and would eventually drag her down.

Saeter looked up from where he was fighting and saw that Herad was in trouble. He stepped back from the spearmen and moved over to get a clearer view. He then sheathed his sword and took up the bow across his back. Carefully he set up a shot.

As the uninjured ghoul fighting Herad stopped to screech, Saeter’s arrow took it through the side of the head. It fell over and flopped around on the ground like a huge desiccated maggot. That left Herad fighting only the two injured ghouls.

She whirled to attack the ghoul with only one working arm from its vulnerable side before the limping ghoul could catch up. Her sword bit into its undefended neck, and black blood sprayed out as it collapsed. The limping ghoul then lunged at her in an attempt to catch her off balance.

Herad saw it coming and whipped her dagger through the air and into the ghoul’s eye socket. It screamed and shuddered for a few seconds before stepping forward to resume its attack.

That was all the time Herad needed. She turned, drew another dagger, and unleashed a whirlwind of slashes at the last ghoul. It tried to ignore them and charge her, but Herad slid easily out of its way. The mass of little cuts all over its body and the knife embedded in its eye began to wear the ghoul down. It faltered, and Herad’s sword tore out its throat.

The pale creature twitched but remained upright as it gazed malevolently at Herad. Blood gushed from its torn throat as it launched itself at Herad yet again. She dodged to the side as the ghoul collapsed mid-leap. Now, none of the creatures were left standing.

Herad slowed and stopped moving. She was breathing heavily, and the gash down her cheek was bleeding steadily. She stared at the three disabled ghouls in front of her for a few seconds to make sure they weren’t going to get back up. She then groaned and dropped her weapons.

“Well, that’s the easy part out of the way,” she told Saeter as he ran up and tossed her a bag of medical supplies. The scout grunted, and she wiped herself off and applied a salve to her face.

Once she was done, Herad ordered the spearmen to keep everyone away from what was left of the ghouls. Blacknail tried to get a closer look at the remains, but the spearmen shooed him away. The goblin wasn’t too upset. The creatures’ mangled bodies smelled really bad anyway.

Herad then had some of her men use their spears to push the ghouls onto a tarp and had the tarp dumped into the pit Blacknail had helped dig. Everything touched by the ghouls or their blood was thrown in the pit. That included clothes, even Herad’s. She stripped off her leathers and threw them in. Blacknail got a brief glimpse of a thin muscular and scarred body before Vorscha draped a clean cloak over her boss’s shoulders and handed her some new clothes.

Herad cursed. “Damned ghouls! I liked that armor. At least we shouldn’t have to worry about further infection now.”

“True, but we still have to worry about those already infected. Those ghouls probably already infiltrated the camp several times before they got hungry enough to start abducting people,” Saeter responded. He cast a disturbed look toward the remains of the wounded who had been used to lure the ghouls out. He clearly didn’t like that they had been used as bait.

“What about you? How do I know you’re not infected?” Herad asked him with an upraised eyebrow.

“I always carry a flask of powdered silver and garlic extract on me for occasions like this,” Saeter replied.

“Expensive and paranoid—I approve. If I wasn’t already immune, I would have to steal it from you,” Herad said as she flashed him a quick grin.

“That’s the only reason I told you. Just don’t ask me to share. I barely have enough for myself.”

“That’s too bad. Here I was hoping to skip this next part,” she responded as she began walking toward the center of the camp.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” Saeter said. “We’re still going to have to lock the camp down and isolate everyone as much as possible. You won’t know who’s infected until the disease progresses enough that silver and garlic start burning them, and even then, you have to worry about the turned breaking out and spreading the disease further.”

“How many ghoul attacks have you seen?” Herad asked with sudden curiosity.

“Three now, and that’s far too many,” he answered with a scowl.

Blacknail was trailing his master. They walked by a group of shocked-looking bandits seated around a fire. The goblin was glad to be away from the creepy ghoul things. They didn’t act like animals at all. Blacknail took a deep breath of clean air to calm himself, but he sneezed violently when an unwelcome scent tickled his nose. Instinctively, he turned to look at one of the nearby bandits and sniffed him. Curious, he moved closer to get a better scent.

Saeter stopped and gave the goblin an inquiring look. “What are you doing, Blacknail?”

“Smell ghouls,” Blacknail replied as he gazed intently at one man sitting nearby.

The bandit was staring back at Blacknail with a concerned expression. Before the man could say anything though, Herad walked over and gave him a look. The man wilted under her attention. It was impressive how without even speaking, she could give orders like “shut up or I’ll stab you.”

“You can smell infection?” she asked the goblin.

It was the first time she had ever addressed Blacknail directly. The goblin froze as he suddenly became the center of everyone’s undivided attention. The bandit chieftain’s dark stare was making him uncomfortable and upsetting his stomach.

“He smell little like ghoul,” the startled goblin replied.

Herad smiled viciously. “Well now, I guess you’ve finally made yourself useful.”

A pleased Herad quickly had Blacknail tour the camp and sniff everyone. If someone smelled wrong, or if Blacknail just didn’t like them, several of Herad’s goons dragged them away.

The infected were isolated, even from each other, until they could be tested. Archers were put into position around the infected zone to kill them from a distance if they tried anything. None of them did. Herad made it plain what would happen to people who tried to run, and no one wanted to test her.

Eventually, the disease progressed enough that the bandits could be tested. Blacknail watched with interest as a small silver knife was applied to each one’s skin. The flesh of the infected burned and rose into red welts at its touch. Then came the killing. The burned couldn’t be saved. Herad either decapitated them, or they were brought down by archers as they tried to flee.

Their corpses were thrown into the pit, along with stacks of firewood. The remains already in there had been covered lightly by dirt to dampen the smell and risk of exposure but had otherwise been left alone. As everyone watched in silence, a stone-faced Herad dropped a torch in the hole. Roaring flames burst out and consumed all trace of the dead.

The camp was quiet and morose for several days after that. Between the raid on the weapon caravan and the ghoul attack, the population of the camp had been drastically reduced. Many of the bandits had lost friends or comrades. Some of them had even taken a hand in their friends’ deaths.

There were exceptions to this though. As usual, Herad revealed no attachment to anyone but herself, and Saeter thought most of the bandits were scum anyway.

Oddly enough, these events caused Blacknail to make some new friends. A few of the sick had been identified early enough that they were able to cure themselves with powdered silver and garlic. Like Saeter, a few other bandits had their own stashes and were willing to trade it once they were sure they themselves weren’t infected. Without the goblin’s warning most of the infected would have died.

Blacknail thus became popular with several bandits. They even began sneaking him treats, and he started putting on weight. Not only was he getting yummy food, but he also felt like a real member of the tribe! Herad herself had told him he was useful. She never told anyone that!

Then one night, Blacknail the goblin curled up and went to sleep next to his master’s tent for the last time.

Part 3: Written in Blood

Chapter 18

Saeter woke feeling tired and sore, which he supposed just meant he hadn’t grown any younger overnight. The ground was hard beneath him, even with a blanket between him and it, but he had become used to the feeling over the years. He had spent so many nights sleeping on the earth that the softness of a bed now seemed alien and uncomfortable to him.

He opened his eyes to see the morning light slipping through the cloth walls of his small, cozy tent. With a grunt and a not-inconsiderable act of will, he tossed off his blankets and quickly got dressed. With that done, he took a small sip of water from the canteen beside his bed. His mouth was always dry in the morning.

“Well, another day dawns. It’s time to go out and see what Tera-Nan plans for me today,” he said with an air of practiced ritual.

Saeter flipped open the flap of his tent and stepped out into the crisp morning air. As was usual lately, the sight of the outlaw camp greeted him as he looked around. Once he was sure no one was close, he let out a small sigh of fatigue before forcing himself to get his gear together for the morning’s hunt. He just didn’t have the energy he used to have. A lot of people called Saeter an old man, but he really wasn’t one. He was just barely the oldest person in the camp.

But his lifestyle had aged him and kept demanding more when he had little left to give. He had seen somewhere around forty winters but had forgotten the exact amount. In his youth, he had known many men and women over that age and well beyond it, but they were rare out in the wilds.

He refused to let himself give in to misery though. Out here in the green was exactly where he wanted to be. He looked past the nearby tents and people to the forest beyond them. A slight wind caught the trees, and their branches shifted like the waters of a calm sea. In his youth, he had loved the forest, and that feeling had never left him. He could not think of a better place to live and die than the wilds of the North.

Saeter’s heart fluttered slightly and his soul stirred as he remembered recent events. The dream he had thought long dead had shown the tiniest bit of life again after all these years. Hope, it seemed, could do what all else couldn’t—make him feel young again.

As Saeter looked around he spotted Blacknail sleeping in his usual spot, and a small smile crept onto his face. The goblin had dug himself a shallow dirt bed and was hidden under his blanket.

Blacknail had sure been a great find. When he had first seen the little beast, he’d just thought the goblin might be useful for carrying things and such. Saeter was past the point in his life where he wanted to drag carcasses through the woods for half a day. He wasn’t about to ask one of the other scouts for aid though; he could still keep up just fine by himself. He didn’t need other people’s help just because he was getting older.

But after Saeter had taken him in, Blacknail had quickly proven to be so much more than a porter. His ability to learn so swiftly was impressive. He had shown he could do almost any simple task that Saeter took the time to teach him. The goblin had also shown far more loyalty and discipline than Saeter had thought his kind were capable of. He had thought the goblin would try to run before a few days were up. That hadn’t happened; instead the goblin had clearly become attached to him.

Sure, Blacknail might be kind of ugly and cowardly, but he had also shown his loyalty beyond a doubt. Saeter didn’t know what he would do if the little guy wasn’t around anymore.

The old man walked over and gave Blacknail a kick to wake him up. The goblin didn’t stir. Saeter frowned. That was unusual. Blacknail always at least turned to look at Saeter when his master woke him each morning.

Saeter gave him a harder kick. The goblin still didn’t move.

With concern, Saeter pulled the blanket free from the goblin’s form. It snagged on something and wouldn’t come free though. Saeter gave it a twist, and it came off. The blanket had gotten stuck on Blacknail’s little horns, was all. It was nothing to worry about. His horns…

“Misery and bloody damnation. Corodus drown you in vile darkness, you miserable bastards!” Saeter swore vehemently as he punched the air and shook with rage.

Swearing was hardly unusual in the bandit camp, but Saeter’s tirade drew the attention of everyone within earshot. He got quite a few concerned looks and several laughs. Saeter didn’t give a damn what the people around him thought, but he forced himself to calm down and chided himself for using a god’s name in a curse. That was terribly bad luck and would only make things worse.

Suppressing his rage, and his unacknowledged fear, Saeter threw the blanket back down over the goblin and stomped off to find Herad. He really didn’t want to speak to her. She had always… no, this wasn’t the time for that. Saeter focused and pressed onward.

He made his way to Herad’s commandeered farmhouse and marched up to the door. The usual two guards were there. Saeter didn’t have the patience to deal with them.

“Move or I’ll shoot you,” he growled as he stomped toward them.

The two men’s eyes went wide in surprise, and they hurriedly stepped out of his way. Saeter wondered why Herad even bothered with them. They were obviously useless as guards. Knowing Herad, she probably just wanted to keep them away from anything important.

One of them spoke up as he moved out of the scout’s way. “She’s not actually in there, Saeter. She went to find Red Dog.”

Saeter glowered at him from where he stood in front of the door with one hand ready to knock. He huffed and turned back the way he had come. The stupid ruffians should have immediately mentioned that Herad was out, instead of wasting his time.

Saeter started walking again. He thought Red Dog’s lean-to was over by the south end of the camp, so he headed that way.

“He didn’t even have a bow,” one of the bandits remarked as Saeter stomped off.

The old scout realized they were right. He could have sworn he had strapped it to his back earlier. Well, it wasn’t like he needed a bow to show those brutes who was boss anyway.

He passed several groups of early risers cooking or sitting around their campfires. When he got close to his destination, he saw Herad talking to Red Dog and Vorscha. Geralhd was standing in the background, being a useless lump and following Vorscha around as usual. That stupid young man didn’t realize what it took to survive in the North.

Red Dog saw him coming and said something to Herad. She turned to look at Saeter as he approached. She mustn’t have liked the look on his face because she grimaced at him. Vorscha also gave Saeter a confused look. Bah, what did he care what they thought! Saeter walked over to them without saying anything. Now that he was here, he was a little lost for words. He wasn’t quite sure what would be the best way to say what he wanted.

As he thought it over, Herad gave him an exasperated look. “What’s got up your backend, Saeter?”Saeter glowered at her. He was having trouble controlling his emotions. “It’s about Blacknail.”

Herad waved him off. “Yes, yes, he’s made himself quite useful. You can keep the goblin.”

“No, that’s not what I was saying. I can’t keep the goblin because—”

Herad interrupted him with an annoyed look. “You can’t seriously be telling me that now you want to get rid of him?”

Everyone around them looked confused or surprised. Geralhd in particular seemed startled.

“No! I can’t keep the goblin because I no longer have one,” Saeter explained.

This just earned him more confused looks.

“He ran off?” Vorscha asked at the same time Geralhd yelled, “You killed him?”

Saeter scowled at them. These people were idiots.

“Listen, Saeter, just come out and say it. Oh, and if you’re playing some sort of stupid game where you’re trying to make me ask you to keep the goblin, then I will stab you. Are we clear?” Herad said with an annoyed tone.

Saeter took a second to gather his thoughts. He decided to be thorough in his answer so there would be no more stupid questions, or stabbings. He was too useful for Herad to kill, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hurt him. She would undoubtedly enjoy it too.

“Blacknail wouldn’t wake up this morning, plus he’s growing horns. That means he’s gone into the sort of hibernation that goblins go into when they’re transforming into hobgoblins,” he explained carefully.

Everyone’s reaction to the news was different. Herad’s face instantly went blank, so Saeter had no idea what she was thinking. Vorscha looked confused, while Geralhd looked excited, and Red Dog had a horrified expression. Saeter scowled and waited for them to start asking him dumb questions.

“I thought goblins and hobgoblins were two different things,” Vorscha said first.

It was Geralhd who answered her. “No, hobgoblins are a rare and usually latent adult form of goblins. No one is quite sure what causes the transformation to occur when it’s obviously not needed for breeding, but it’s a fascinating question. Some salamanders do something similar.”

His enthusiasm made Vorscha throw him an amused look.

“He’s changing because you kept sneaking him treats! I had him on a diet for this very reason, you idiot,” Saeter told the now flushing young man. Saeter knew he was partly to blame, because he had stopped enforcing that rule lately, but he would never admit it. He had even noticed Blacknail putting on weight and hadn’t done anything about it because he had gotten too attached to the goblin. That had been stupid of him. He was too nice for his own good.

“Huh, I guess that means little Blacknail is growing up,” Vorscha said.

“What it means is that you need to kill him,” Red Dog interjected angrily.

Geralhd looked shocked, but Saeter had known that was coming. Even if Red Dog didn’t say it, over half the camp was still sure to. Hobgoblins were far from popular.

“I need? Watch your language,” Herad told Red Dog with a raised eyebrow.

The bandit lieutenant hastily rephrased himself. “We should kill him. Hobgoblins are bloody dangerous. They’re killers that would rather slit a man’s throat than look at them. There’s a reason most countries have a bounty on their ugly green heads. Evil and ruin follow them. Taking one for a pet would be like taking a sea serpent for a mount. It can only end one way.”

Herad’s face was still blank and unrevealing. She seemed content to let the others speak, and Saeter wanted to see what the others thought before saying anything himself.

Geralhd huffed condescendingly at Red Dog. “That’s nothing but myth and superstition. It’s leftover nonsense from the Goblin Wars, which weren’t even real wars. They just involved the early colonists killing a whole lot of goblin tribes as they cleared the land. As for the bounty, well, there’s a bigger bounty on your head. Also, you kill people all the time and you don’t see me being all terrified of you.”

“I can take a hobgoblin easily,” Vorscha added as she stood tall and crossed her arms.

Red Dog ignored her and turned to Geralhd. “Don’t give me that scholar crap, city boy. I’ve actually fought a hobgoblin, and it killed a good friend of mine. If you had actually ever been anywhere near one before, then you would be dead! No one here should even be considering letting one into camp. They’re accursed savage fiends. That’s what hob means, it means demon!” Red Dog’s face grew red with anger.

“That shows the worth of your so called knowledge, Red Dog. Hob comes from an old imperial word for home,” Geralhd said. “The original settlers called them hobgoblins because they were more tribal than normal goblins and would occasionally build their own shelter. It was only after the Goblin Wars that ignorant people, like you, began to associate them with demons.”

This didn’t seem to reassure Red Dog. He looked as though he was about to explode and take Geralhd out with him, but Herad intervened.

“What do you want to do, Saeter?” she asked.

Saeter wished he had some idea of what she was thinking, but she had always been a mystery to him in every situation that didn’t immediately lead to violence. He sighed. The easiest thing to do would be to get rid of Blacknail. Maybe they could leave him out in the woods somewhere instead of killing him. There were a bunch of problems with that though—like what would stop him from coming right back. Saeter knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill Blacknail either. The ugly little runt had grown on him…

“I can control him. It won’t be a problem,” he heard himself say, much to his own surprise.

Red Dog scowled at him, but Saeter just scowled back, and he had far more experience at it.

“This is a terrible idea. They eat people!” Red Dog yelled.

“It’s just one hobgoblin, Red. Do you really think something even smaller than you is so scary?” Vorscha asked him teasingly.

“As if Blacknail would hurt us!” Geralhd added.

Saeter tried not to wince at the young man’s naivete. Hobgoblins were dangerous, but then again, everyone in this camp was. When Geralhd finally got himself killed, it was much more likely to be another bandit that did it rather than anything else.

“Why is he even involved in this conversation? He’s a rookie, and a stupid one,” Red Dog asked as he pointed at Geralhd.

Saeter thought he actually had a good point but kept his mouth shut. Geralhd was being a useful idiot this time around.

“Fine, I’ve decided,” Herad announced before anyone else could say something. “Saeter can keep Blacknail as long as he manages to keep him under control. That nose of his is useful enough to be worth a little risk, but one incident and he’s gone.”

Saeter felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he let out a deep breath. He had been unsure of what Herad would decide. When he saw Blacknail’s horns that morning, he’d known right away that he had a very good chance of losing his pet.

With the discussion over, Red Dog and Geralhd started arguing, and Herad stepped away and spoke with Vorscha. Having accomplished his goal, Saeter headed back to his campsite to check on Blacknail. He really didn’t feel like having more conversation, and he had lots to do, especially now that Blacknail wouldn’t be around to help out for a while.

Of course, now that he had gotten Herad’s permission to keep Blacknail, he had to actually come up with some way to do what no one had ever accomplished before—tame a hobgoblin. Saeter sighed. He had a feeling it would be a long and dangerous job. No matter what Geralhd naively believed, hobgoblins had a bad reputation for good reason. They were cunning and bloodthirsty, and that combination of traits had been the end of many men.

A hobgoblin might not be quite as strong as a man and far weaker than a troll or ogre, but neither of those would track a man unseen through the woods for miles and cut his throat when his guard was down. They also wouldn’t lure someone into a well-prepared ambush. Cunning could be far more dangerous than brute strength.

Taming one would not be easy, even if it was Blacknail. When he woke up, the former goblin would have a lot of new instincts clamoring around in his head that would make him hard to keep under control. Hobgoblins were aggressive and territorial, so getting one to obey orders would be tricky.

It would definitely be a challenge, but Saeter intended to meet it. The price of failure wasn’t acceptable, and besides, he had never accomplished anything like it before. No one had, and that made it interesting.

Saeter reached his campsite and looked down at Blacknail. The little green goblin was still lying there without moving, but his chest was definitely rising and falling as he breathed. The wind had blown off his blanket, so Saeter got a good look at him.

As he had noticed before, two tiny horns were growing from Blacknail’s skull, and the recent weight he had put on was disappearing as the goblin consumed it to feed his growth. He already seemed noticeably taller, and Saeter knew he would be growing quite a bit more over the next few days.

Saeter sighed in exasperation. Blacknail was certainly causing him a lot of trouble. Having a hobgoblin around would piss off quite a few people. The goblin was supposed to make his life easier, not harder. He was definitely going to have to work Blacknail even more than normal, once he woke up, to make up for it.

“All right then, Blacknail, you stupid little beast, if you’re going to be of any use to me at all later, I can’t just leave you outside in the weather,” Saeter mumbled as he gently picked up the goblin.

The goblin curled up and snuggled into his master’s chest. The air outside was cold and crisp. Saeter smiled and carried Blacknail into his tent, where it would be warmer and he could sleep undisturbed. It would do for now, until he could arrange for the goblin to have his own shelter.

Chapter 19

Blacknail was just hanging around. Since he had nothing better to do, he was also reexamining some of the choices he had made recently. He wasn’t quite sure why things had gone so badly, but it didn’t help that he was new at all this. He was new at reexamining things, that was. Although, this was also the first time he had been hung from a tree by his ankle.

The hobgoblin jerked around as he tried to pull himself up and reach the rope noose around his ankle, so he could cut it with his claws. Unfortunately, he couldn’t muster the strength, and all his effort did was send him swaying back and forth. The swirling greenery around him almost immediately made him more than a little nauseated.

With a hiss of frustration, Blacknail gave up and decided to wait for Saeter to come out of his tent. The upside-down forest spun and swayed around him as he waited. He should have known better than to try to go against his master.

Blacknail had thought for sure that he had come up with a good way to show Saeter that he couldn’t just boss him around. Apparently, he had been wrong.

It had all started several days ago. Blacknail had awoken to find himself in a strange lean-to in the middle of the woods. That had confused him, because he was fairly sure he had gone to sleep in a completely different place. Where were all the human bandits?

Still sleepy but alarmed, he’d gotten up and looked around. To his relief, he spotted the familiar outline of Saeter’s tent off to one side, and another tent alongside it. Blacknail had been pretty sure that meant he hadn’t been abandoned. It must have been Saeter who had brought him here while he’d slept.

Curious as to why he had been moved, he’d decided to find his master and ask. So he tried to walk over to the tents, only to immediately trip over his own feet and find out what the nearby dirt tasted like. Bleh, too salty!

It was then he had looked down and discovered that his body had changed. Blacknail had gasped in surprise and felt his stomach twist up in fear. His limbs were all thin and weak-looking! What had happened to him? No, wait. He was thinner, but that wasn’t the biggest change. Blacknail wiggled his toes as he stared at them. His legs were definitely much longer now!

That was when he’d heard a snigger of laughter, and he had looked over to see one of the scouts from the camp grinning at him. Blacknail growled at the man in annoyance. Who was he to laugh at Blacknail?

“Saeter, your hobgoblin is finally awake, and he’s grumpy as a hungry bear,” the man, who Blacknail had later found out was named Varhs, yelled. The scout grinned with infuriating smugness and looked Blacknail over.

He hadn’t seemed impressed. The hobgoblin had wanted to poke out the man’s eyes. Luckily for him, Blacknail’s master arrived and immediately ordered Blacknail to do all his usual chores. For some reason, that made Blacknail angry and resentful, but he had stifled his emotions and done as he was told.

He was rewarded with a large slab of meat that he had hungrily scoffed down before getting back to work. It tasted like tasty fresh deer! Saeter should have given him more though. Not getting enough food made him so mad!

“Why I bigger?” he had asked Saeter as he gutted and skinned a rabbit with his new longer and more dexterous fingers.

“You’ve turned into a hobgoblin. It happens to some goblins. They get taller and meaner,” his master had explained in his usual gruff voice.

Blacknail had remembered his master mentioning hobgoblins before. He was pretty sure there had been more to it… he hated when his master gave him such short explanations. It made him angry. Blacknail’s thoughts strayed while he worked. Why should everyone keep telling him what to do? He had gotten smarter and larger, so why shouldn’t he be in charge? Obviously they were all out to get him!

As Saeter reached over to hand the hobgoblin a rabbit hide, Blacknail had felt a stab of unease at the man’s closeness and pulled away. Saeter frowned at the hobgoblin’s reaction and scrutinized him for a second before tossing him the pelt and turning away. Blacknail had taken that as more evidence that his master was lying to him or tricking him somehow. You couldn’t trust pink people.

Saeter had kept Blacknail busy doing chores all that day, but Blacknail had quickly figured out that they were busy work. That really annoyed the hobgoblin. Why was his master doing that to him? Didn’t he deserve better? Why should Saeter boss him around anyway?

The new hobgoblin had started to let a bit of hostility slip into his gaze. His master had noticed Blacknail’s angry glare but hadn’t said anything. Instead, he simply beat Blacknail repetitively with a stick.

Of course, Saeter had claimed it was some sort of training, but Blacknail hadn’t really believed him. After the chores were done to Saeter’s satisfaction, he had thrown Blacknail a wooden sword and begun to teach him swordsmanship.

“This is how every hot-blooded youngster learns respect and discipline. It worked on me, so it should work on you. Now I know you don’t like hitting people, but from now on you’re going to have to,” he told Blacknail.

He had then shown the hobgoblin how to hold the mock weapon, while the other man, Varhs, silently watched them. Blacknail noticed that Varhs had a real sword at his side, not a mock blade. It had struck him as suspicious, but he was soon distracted from his musings.

The next part of sword training had involved Saeter yelling at Blacknail about how he was doing everything wrong and the hobgoblin being smacked with the wooden blade over and over again. That had infuriated Blacknail, and really hurt. Uncontrollable rage had poured out from some new depth within him, and Blacknail hissed and snarled as he tried to block the blows. His mouth watered at the thought of biting into Saeter’s flesh, but even with a sword of his own, he couldn’t defend himself against Saeter’s skillful attacks and longer reach.

At first he had simply tried to defend himself, but Saeter had yelled and hit him over and over until Blacknail had grown so angry, he lost all control. He had forgotten his usual rule against harming humans and swung at Saeter’s head. His master had given him permission anyway.

When Saeter easily dodged that blow, Blacknail had launched himself at Saeter, dropped his wooden practice sword, and reached to tear the man apart with his bare claws. Yep, that had been a very bad idea.

As Blacknail sprang toward him, Saeter slipped to the side and brought his blunt blade down in a two-handed swing against Blacknail’s head. The resulting blow had hurt a lot, stunned the hobgoblin, and given him his second taste of dirt that day. It hadn’t tasted good.

Then Saeter had yelled at Blacknail until he got to his feet and continued. He hadn’t even been angry about being attacked, but he was angry about how bad the attack had been.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours of futile attack attempts, an exhausted and sore Blacknail simply collapsed. Only then had Saeter called it a day.

Saeter had thrown the prone hobgoblin his dinner and instructed him to go to bed, and Blacknail had. He had been too tired to even think of arguing. Shame had burned deep within him.

The next few days had been more of the same: chores in the morning and beatings at night. Blacknail grew frustrated, and a hatred of Saeter developed deep within him. His head felt so strange and weird. Strange new thoughts kept popping up. He was sure everything would feel better when he was in charge though. He would pay everyone back for all the things they had done to him!

As soon as they started sparring again, Blacknail had tried to hit his master but could never quite manage it. So he had grown even more spiteful and hostile. He began to growl and hiss every time he saw Saeter or Varhs. They were both obviously out to get him and prevent him from taking his rightful place as the alpha. They weren’t even hobgoblins!

Then that morning, he had awoken early, and in fit of anger, he’d sneaked up on the tent where his master was sleeping. He hadn’t known what he would do when he got there, only that it would involve sweet revenge. Maybe he would have stolen some things or broken Saeter’s stuff.

He’d never had a chance to find out. It had been a trap.

As he had crept silently along the path to Saeter’s tent, something snagged the hobgoblin’s foot and violently flung him into the air. After a surprised shriek, he quickly realized that he had stepped in something like a giant rabbit trap that had been hidden under some leaves. He had flushed in embarrassment at the thought of being as stupid as a rabbit.

The noise caused by a startled hobgoblin being pulled into the air by a small unfurling tree had brought Saeter out to investigate. He walked out of his tent, saw Blacknail, grunted, and went back inside to sleep. Blacknail had been too ashamed to say anything, so he had just hung there quietly for a few hours.

At least it had given him a lot of time to think. His anger had long since faded away. Maybe it was just because hanging upside down made his head feel weird in a completely different way, but looking back, he really didn’t understand what he had been thinking. Over the past few days, he had not been acting like himself at all.

Even now, some part of Blacknail wanted to wrap his hands around Saeter’s neck and choke him for tricking him like this. He would never have thought of doing that before. Was he so angry all the time because he was a hobgoblin now? Could he somehow go back to how he had been before?

Wait a second… why was he asking himself all these weird questions? He had never done that before. In fact, he was still doing it; he was thinking about everything, even other things he was thinking about. What if he couldn’t stop! That would be horrible. All right, stop thinking right now!

…was it working?

Luckily for Blacknail, his train of thought was interrupted as Saeter emerged from his tent again. The old scout looked at the hobgoblin expectantly.

“Um, sorry, master,” Blacknail said as he grinned nervously. He thought his master looked doubtful of his apology. One of Saeter’s eyebrows was raised skeptically.

“For what?” Saeter asked.

Blacknail thought about it for a minute as he hung there. “Being angry, trying to hit master, and being sneaky. I been-ss very bad.”

“You’re supposed to hit me during sword practice, but only during sword practice. As for being angry, can you tell me why you were acting like that?” Saeter asked.

“I angry because I grow? You say so earlier,” he replied uncertainly.

“And how do I know you will stop?”

Blacknail took another few minutes to consider the question. It was kind of a tricky question, but at least all the thinking his mind kept doing lately was proving useful. “Because you teach me how?” “That’s right. So let’s get back to sword practice. There’s nothing like it for teaching the undisciplined control,” Saeter explained as he moved to cut the hobgoblin down.

Blacknail groaned. Hanging upside down from a tree hadn’t been all that bad. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.

Now that he was thinking somewhat straight, the first thing the new hobgoblin did when he got down was to look himself over in a nearby bucket of water. Two short black horns rose from his bald head. His previous short and somewhat pudgy body had been stretched out until he was almost as tall as a human. He was skinnier than any human, but his wiry green body was still muscled.

The features of his face that used to be round, like his nose and chin, had become sharper. He looked sleeker, more like a predator. He smiled, and larger teeth were revealed in the watery reflection before him. His thin tongue was also noticeably longer and could be extended quite far out from his mouth.

The routine they had established earlier with chores in the morning and sword practice in the evening continued, only this time Blacknail was aware of his new anger and tried to suppress it. He had limited success.

“No, control your rage. Don’t overextend. It leaves you open,” Saeter yelled sternly as his wooden blade slid by Blacknail’s own and impacted painfully against the hobgoblin’s shoulder.

Blacknail hissed but tried to do as his master commanded. Control is the key. I shouldn’t do what the anger tells me. He barely managed to block one of Saeter’s blows as he fought to remember to keep his stance solid and light. Ugh, he just wanted to forget everything Saeter was trying to teach him and rip out some people’s throats! Was that too much to ask for?

“Good, now attack,” Saeter yelled.

At his command, Blacknail swung his blade, but the human easily parried the attack. The hobgoblin winced; even he realized that he wasn’t doing his best. This was hard! Every time he attacked, he had to fight his old training to never attack humans and his new hostile instincts that wanted him to leap forward and claw out Saeter’s eyes.

“No, too much hesitation. Keep attacking,” Saeter said.

“I know!” the hobgoblin hissed under his breath.

Blacknail obeyed his master and launched a rapid series of attacks, none of which hit. Saeter countered, and his wooden blade smacked Blacknail across the head. That was getting old fast.

The hobgoblin felt himself grimace as rage built up inside him. He wanted to leap at Saeter, to strike out at him, to feel his claws rend Saeter’s pinky flesh. He didn’t do it though. He had lost control and given into rage a few times, and Saeter had simply smacked Blacknail down when his wild attack inevitably left him open.

No, the only way for him to strike Saeter was to control his rage and learn to use the sword. Wait, so the only way to hit his master was to not want to hit him? Ugh, now he had a headache.

“Relax. Keep loose and flow through the forms while keeping proper technique,” Saeter explained to Blacknail for about the hundredth time over the past few days.

Blacknail hissed again but tried to as he was told. He desperately wanted to give in and go wild with rage.

Days passed this way. Varhs began to take over the sword lessons when Saeter grew too tired. Slowly, Blacknail progressed and learned. Then one morning, the hobgoblin woke to find Saeter dissembling his tent.

“It’s time to head back. You’re still a crappy swordsman, but I can’t stay out here and train you forever. You’ve managed to learn some discipline though, and hopefully that will be enough to keep you out of trouble. Just remember what happens if you screw up,” Saeter told him.

“I get hung from tree?” Blacknail guessed.

“No, Herad will kill you,” Saeter replied dryly.

‘Oh…” Blacknail exclaimed in surprise. He had almost forgotten about her.

Briefly, he mentally compared her fight against the ghouls with his own sessions with Saeter. The anger that had taken root deep within Blacknail as his new hobgoblin instincts pushed him to fight and dominate everyone around him suddenly shriveled up and died. He was not going to try to fight Herad. Nope, that would never happen.

Control was his new best friend. Once again, Blacknail felt gratitude toward his wise master for working him so hard. Without his lessons, he could easily imagine himself losing control only to be mercilessly killed by Herad seconds later.

“Come here, Blacknail. I have a sort of graduation gift for you,” Saeter told him.

“What’s a graduation?” He liked the gift part though.

“It’s what happens when you learn something or pass a test. This one is for learning basic swordsmanship and control. Every time you feel angry, remember this training. Rage will only lead to self-destruction,” Saeter explained.

“Yes, master,” Blacknail replied gratefully and waited expectantly to receive his present.

Saeter handed Blacknail a backpack. Compelled by curiosity, the hobgoblin opened the pack and pulled out the contents. It was several sets of clothes and a long hooded cloak.

“Luckily, when we were leaving camp, there were a whole bunch of clothes lying around that no one needed anymore. I picked out some of the smaller ones for you. There’s also some other stuff, like a flint and steel, in there too,” Saeter explained.

“Thank you, master,” Blacknail said with real gratitude. For some reason, being given human clothes made him happy. They kind of smelled, but he was sure some rolling around in dirt would freshen them up.

“Put some on. We can’t have you returning to camp dressed like a savage.”

Blacknail chose a rough pair of black pants and a brown shirt and pulled them on after taking off his own self-made shorts. They had been getting kind of tight anyway.

“Much better. You don’t look like a feral hobgoblin that just crawled out of the woods anymore,” Blacknail’s master said with a self-satisfied smile.

“Ya, I don’t know what he looks like now,” Varhs added.

Blacknail resisted the urge to claw out the man’s eyes.

“And here’s the real prize. Just remember your training or I’ll kill you myself,” Saeter told Blacknail as he pulled out a simple sheathed short sword and presented it hilt first to Blacknail.

“Oddly enough, that’s almost exactly what my drill instructor told me the day I graduated from basic,” Varhs said quietly off to the side.

Blacknail took the blade and purred in pleasure. Now he had a sword all of his own. His master trusted him with one and had even shown him how to use it.

Blacknail unsheathed the blade and smiled at its shiny and ever-so-sharp edges. He ran his finger along the blade so he could feel it cut into his skin. As a tiny drop of blood formed on his finger, Blacknail chuckled gleefully.

Varhs suddenly looked as though he doubted this was a good idea. His eyes were slightly wide with concern, as if he expected Blacknail to go on a killing spree any second now. The hobgoblin decided to disappoint him. He felt humbled by his master’s loyalty and promised himself he would return it. He would practice every day so that he would never give into his anger and disappoint his master.

“Thank-ss you, master. Blacknail your loyal servant,” he said as he knelt and lowered his eyes submissively.

“Get up, Blacknail, you earned that blade. Now let’s get back to camp. It’s been over a week and everyone probably thinks we’re dead,” Saeter said.

With a nod of acceptance, Blacknail attached his new sword and sheathe to his waist. That done, he put on the dark grey cloak and looked around to admire himself in it. It reminded him of Saeter and Herad’s cloaks and made him feel important. He liked it. He flipped the hood up and over his face.

“Ugh, you can hardly tell he’s a hobgoblin. That’s more than a little scary,” Varhs said uneasily.

From within the depths of his cloak, Blacknail smiled gleefully, and his long tongue flicked out to taste the cool air. A whole new world lay on the path before him, if he simply had the will and discipline to walk it.

Chapter 20

Getting back to camp only took them a few hours. Saeter had had no real reason to travel farther than that. He’d simply wanted some space and isolation while he trained Blacknail, so that no one got accidently murdered.

“Well, I’m glad this little adventure is over with,” Varhs told Saeter as they approached the camp.

“Consider your debt paid,” Saeter replied as he walked.

“Oh, I do. I’m just glad this crazy hobgoblin idea of yours hasn’t gotten us killed. Yet,” Varhs said.

“You volunteered.”

“I wasn’t going to let you wander off into the deep green alone for days on end, with no company but a hobgoblin. Besides, I was curious to see if you could pull it off.”

“I did,” Saeter answered gruffly.

“Probably,” Varhs added with a backward glance at Blacknail.

The hobgoblin was walking behind them with his hood still up. He liked how the hood concealed him, even if it was a little hot. The way it hid his form was an advantage he could use. He had been thinking a lot about how to act and what to do when he got back to the rest of the tribe.

Blacknail had been following Saeter and Varhs’s conversation with great interest. Over the past few days, he had noticed that it was much easier for him to understand the human language. He had learned quite a bit simply from listening to Varhs and Saeter speak, but he wanted to learn even more.

He returned Varhs’s gaze. “I thank-ss you for the training. I owe you-ss a debt,” Blacknail said in his hiss-like voice.

“Um sure, no problem,” Varhs replied as he blinked in surprise.

Blacknail smiled. He planned on trying to fit in so he could eventually take a higher position within the tribe. Blacknail had absolutely no intention of staying at the bottom of the hierarchy anymore. Just because he couldn’t climb it by challenging the other members of the tribe didn’t mean he couldn’t do it at all. First, he would try making alliances, and if that didn’t work, he would find another way. Obstacles could be removed.

As they walked, they came across a sentry who looked up but made no comment. He apparently saw nothing odd about the two scouts returning to camp with a cloaked person in tow. Varhs looked as though he really wanted to say something to the man but stopped himself. Blacknail smirked to himself. He could have walked right up to that sentry and bitten him before the man even realized anything was odd.

As they entered the camp proper, Varhs said a brief good-bye, and they split up to go to their respective campsites. The camp itself had changed a fair bit since Blacknail had seen it last. The timbers that had been lying around had been put to use. Lean-tos were steadily being replaced by crude log buildings.

Saeter and Blacknail passed quite a few people on their way through the camp. Few of the camp’s residents gave the pair a second glance. In fact, a lot of them were unfamiliar to Blacknail.

“Herad must have really been pushing for recruitment while we were away,” Saeter commented as he observed the people around them.

“Yes, I see and smell-ss many strangers,” Blacknail said. He had decided to work on his human by talking as much as possible.

“What in all the hells? Someone is camping in our spot!” Saeter exclaimed angrily.

Blacknail looked up to see that his master was right. Where Saeter’s tent used to stand, and some of their gear still did, another group of humans had set up their own stuff. Blacknail’s eyes narrowed as he inspected the humans who had entered his territory. That was a challenge.

There were three of them: one woman and two men. They were lounging and seemed to be relaxing. Blacknail thought they looked rather young for humans. They didn’t have a tent, but they had some sleeping rolls set up under a crude shelter made of branches and a tarp. Saeter stomped over to them, and Blacknail followed.

“This is my spot, and that’s my stuff,” Saeter barked at them.

The two men got up and turned toward Saeter as he spoke, but the woman remained where she was, lying against some bags. She frowned at Saeter and Blacknail before apparently disregarding them and turning away.

“We’ve been here for days,” one of the men told Saeter dismissively.

“I’ve been away on a mission for Herad, boy,” Saeter replied with hostility plain in his voice and manner.

Blacknail felt his own anger rise and his heartbeat pick up in response to his master’s tone.

“She didn’t say nothing when we set up here,” the young man replied with a shrug.

Saeter frowned, and his hand moved closer to his dagger. The one young man noticed and his expression became more belligerent. The other man smelled nervous to Blacknail, like stale sweat.

“Come on, Danivh, we just got here. We don’t need to turn this into a fight. Remember Herad’s rules!” he whispered to his companion.

Blacknail’s large ears heard him though, and he remembered Herad’s rules. One of them was not fighting without her permission. That would make this tricky.

“It’s not our problem if he starts something. Besides, we need to show everyone here that they can’t boss us around just because we’re new. Especially when it’s just an old man and some cloaked pipsqueak,” the first man replied without taking his eyes from Saeter.

“I’m trying to nap here, boys. Can’t you just get these guys to leave?” the girl asked as she sat up.

“Just a second,” Danivh replied as he tried to stare down Saeter.

The younger man’s gaze shifted to Blacknail as the hobgoblin moved forward and out from behind Saeter. Their eyes met for a moment, and something stirred in Blacknail. He wanted to put this man in his place.

Without warning, Blacknail growled and pounced forward as instinct took over. His target froze in shock at what he saw under the hobgoblin’s hood, and before he could recover, Blacknail had closed the distance between them. The hobgoblin grabbed his opponent’s knife hand with enough force that his claws pierced the man’s skin and drew blood.

A quick kick to the back of his leg sent the man to his knees, and before he could regain his balance, Blacknail was behind him with a firm grasp on his neck. As the man struggled, Blacknail leaned down and smiled at him. Then he opened his mouth wide and growled. Everyone froze.

Danivh’s visage was white as snow and his eyes were wide with terror as the hobgoblin’s toothy maw opened mere inches from his face. Blacknail smelled the scent of human urine fill the air.

“Our spot. Leave,” he said slowly as he pushed Danivh away. His rage burned like fire within him, but Blacknail held it in check. Mentally, he worked through a sword form.

“What the fuck?” the woman screeched as Blacknail’s inhuman visage was revealed.

As the man called Danivh scrambled across the ground away from him, Blacknail turned toward her and leered. With a scream of terror, the woman fled, and Danivh was right behind her. The third member of their group was already long gone. He had run and abandoned his friends the second Blacknail attacked.

Blacknail chuckled as he watched the humans flee. Their cowardice reminded him of goblins. His smile grew even wider as the humans reached the edge of the clearing and kept going into the forest. That was really funny. They had to be stupid to think they were safer out in the woods. Surprise really was a powerful weapon. It hadn’t been a fight really; he had barely touched even one of them. No one had gotten hurt—much—so no one could complain to Herad.

The dozens of bandits and ruffians nearby had all stopped and were staring at either the fleeing humans or Blacknail. Most of them were too far away to get a good look at Blacknail and simply looked confused by what had happened.

Even Saeter was looking at Blacknail with a startled expression, but he quickly recovered. “Uh, good job, Blacknail. Just remember to keep yourself under control, and don’t eat anyone.”

“Yes, master,” the hobgoblin replied happily.

Saeter then noticed all the people staring, dismissed them, and walked over to where his stuff was stored. He grumbled and went through it to make sure everything was still there.

Blacknail could hear everyone around him muttering, but when all he did was stand there and wait for his master, most of the people went back to their own business. As he was waiting, his ears twitched as he picked up the sound of someone approaching.

“Ah, Saeter, I knew you must have come back. The screams and people madly dashing everywhere were rather conclusive signs,” announced a voice Blacknail recognized as Geralhd’s. “I saw those fresh-faced recruits fleeing into the woods and I thought to myself, what could be so horrible that someone would run toward the forest? And that’s when it hit me—Saeter must be back!”

Saeter looked up and scowled at him. Blacknail watched Geralhd approach from off to the side.

“What do you want?” Saeter asked.

Geralhd smiled before replying. “Why wouldn’t I come over and make sure one of my closest friends in the entire band made it back all right after such a long absence? So where is Blacknail anyway?” Geralhd looked around.

Saeter rolled his eyes disdainfully and pointed toward the hobgoblin before turning back to sorting out all his stuff.

Blacknail flipped down his hood to reveal his thin green face and the two small horns that rose from his skull. “Yes-ss, I’m here. Hello, Geralhd.”

Geralhd now looked thoroughly shocked. The man’s smile was crooked as he stared dumbly at Blacknail.

“About time something shut that boy up,” Saeter mumbled.

“By the gods, it is you!” Geralhd blurted.

“Yes, I’m Blacknail,” Blacknail told him again. Geralhd had never been the smartest human around, but Blacknail doubted even he could mistake the hobgoblin for anyone else in camp.

“You’re, um, so much taller!” Geralhd remarked.

“Yes,” Blacknail replied dryly. How long was Geralhd going to keep stating the obvious? He was beginning to question the man’s value as a possible ally.

“It’s just amazing how much you’ve changed in such a short time,” Geralhd exclaimed as he approached the hobgoblin curiously.

Blacknail didn’t know how to respond, so he shrugged casually. Looking back, it was obvious the man was right. Blacknail felt like an entirely different person than he had been mere weeks ago. It was strange and somewhat uncomfortable to think about. So he didn’t.

Geralhd walked up and peered closely at the hobgoblin. Blacknail had to resist the urge to growl and push him away. The human was uncomfortably close. Only Blacknail’s familiarity with the thin man prevented him from at least backing away. Was there something he should say now?

“Huh, I’ll have to start bringing you bigger treats. I hope you still like jerky,” Geralhd told the hobgoblin as he handed him a piece of meat with a somewhat embarrassed look on his face.

This time, Blacknail’s smile wasn’t forced. “Yes, I-ss do.”

He took the meat and stuffed it in his mouth. His almost insatiable hunger was one of the few things that hadn’t changed since his metamorphosis. He had been eating quite a bit since he’d awoken as a hobgoblin, but he still was never quite satisfied.

After he’d chewed the morsel down to nothing, he said, “Thank you, my friend Geralhd.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re still mostly the same on the inside. Your impressive new grasp of Elorian excluded, of course. I knew Red Dog was being an idiot when he told everyone you would turn into some sort of ravenous beast when you changed. I’m glad you’re back, my not-so-little friend,” Geralhd said happily.

Blacknail heard a groan full of disbelief and annoyance from Saeter, but the hobgoblin pretended he hadn’t heard anything and nodded happily at Geralhd. That was when he noticed the sword at Gerahld’s hip. He had seen the sword there before, of course, but never really noticed it. An idea then popped into the hobgoblin’s head.

He raised a green clawed hand and pointed at the blade. “Want to practice?”

At first Geralhd seemed confused, but then he followed Blacknail’s gaze and noticed the sword at the hobgoblin’s own hip. “Saeter’s been teaching you swordsmanship?”

Blacknail was fairly sure that Geralhd had meant that as a statement, not a question. Sometimes he had trouble figuring that out.

“Yes, for discipline,” Blacknail replied.

“Um, I’d like to but…”

“Let me stop you there,” Saeter interjected as he got up and walked over. “We should go report to Herad. But don’t worry, Blacknail. I’ll get Vorscha to practice with you later. She loves that kind of thing.”

Blacknail felt his heart sink. He had come to like practicing with swords, and he suspected sparring with Geralhd wouldn’t be as one-sided as he was used to. However, Geralhd threw Saeter a grateful smile. He apparently hadn’t been looking forward to sparring with a hobgoblin.

“I’ll see you two around,” he told them before he walked off.

“Let’s go,” Saeter said when Geralhd was gone.

He immediately walked toward the farmhouse where Herad had set up camp. Blacknail pulled his hood back up and followed, but he had to drag himself as reluctance made his feet feel heavy. Sparring with Geralhd, or even Vorscha, sounded like a lot more fun than going to see Herad. Blacknail wasn’t looking forward to seeing Herad again at all. He half believed she would kill him on the spot for being a threat to her. Given a choice, he would have avoided the bloodthirsty chieftain for as long as possible.

Before they reached the old home, Saeter unexpectedly veered off track. Blacknail looked over toward where his master was heading and saw Herad taking a walk through the camp. He froze in fright for a second, then forced himself to head her way.

At first it didn’t seem like Herad saw them, but then she turned their way. Blacknail felt himself grow a little sweatier under his cloak. He wanted to pull the hood down even more but didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

As they got closer, Blacknail was struck by how much shorter Herad seemed now that he was a hobgoblin. In fact, she wasn’t really larger than him. That seemed weird to him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that made her weak. He’d seen one very large human make that mistake.

“Ah, Saeter, I had heard you were b…” Herad stopped and stared at the cloaked Blacknail. At first she looked suspicious, then she snarled in anger. “Please tell me a hobgoblin, in a hood, didn’t walk right by my sentries. Heads are going to roll if it’s been strolling freely through my camp for the last few hours and no one thought to inform me or even knew.”

Saeter and Blacknail went completely still. Slowly and carefully, Blacknail slouched to make himself a smaller target and less threatening. Maybe if he was lucky enough to survive her first blow, he could play dead, then find a hole to hide in.

“I’m informing you right now,” Saeter responded quickly but calmly. “We briefly stopped to unpack, then we came straight to look for you.”

Blacknail could smell his nervousness though. He was simply good at hiding it.

Herad eyed them hostilely but seemed to calm down a little—but only a little. She raised a finger on her gloved hand at Blacknail, and he had to fight the urge to join the bandits making a break for the woods.

“Lose the hood,” she said with an edge to her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

The hobgoblin pulled his hood down as quickly as he could. He lowered his eyes submissively and stared at her boots. Herad observed him silently for a few seconds.

“Are you a hobgoblin or an oversized lizard? Look at me,” she ordered.

Reluctantly, Blacknail raised his head and met her eyes. They were dark and hostile. Did she want to fight him? Hopefully she just wanted to make him submit. Submitting would be fine with him. In fact, he would do it right now.

“Your servant Blacknail greets you, chieftain.” He gave her his best impression of a friendly human smile. It wasn’t a good impression, but it did give her a nice view of his teeth.

Herad looked at him blankly for a second, then she chuckled. Saeter and Blacknail were taken aback.

“This is what Red Dog was so afraid of? It’s just a slightly bigger goblin. Still small and cowardly.” She laughed coldly.

Saeter turned and frowned at Blacknail, then he looked at Herad. Blacknail’s pride was somewhat hurt by Herad’s remark.

“He’s only been a hob for a few days. He’ll grow some more, and he’s not cowardly. He’s just perceptive and has a beast’s instincts. Hobgoblins are clever. Blacknail knows an opponent he can’t beat when he sees one, so he’s acting accordingly,” Saeter explained defensively.

Herad threw him a doubtful look. Blacknail usually liked being complimented, but now he really wished Saeter would stop talking.

“Just ask around if you don’t believe me. He took down one of your new recruits before the fool and his two friends even knew what was happening. They were so scared they hightailed it off into the woods, screaming all the way. You’re going to have to send scouts out to find them if you want them back,” he added.

“So that was your pet, was it? I was just about to investigate that disturbance,” she mused.

“He seems weak to you because that’s what he wants you to think. He’s being submissive toward a strong pack leader. Don’t underestimate hobgoblins. Hood or no hood, a few sentries wouldn’t stop Blacknail from slipping into camp and slitting some throats come nightfall,” Saeter continued to explain.

“But I’m-ss your servant and friend and won’t ever cut-ss your band,” Blacknail interjected nervously as he gave Herad another smile. What was his master trying to do?

“If it’s so clever, why are you so sure you have it under control?” Herad asked Saeter, ignoring Blacknail.

“He’s too smart to pick fights he can’t win. I just had to train him to control himself and make sure he knew who the boss was,” Saeter replied with a shrug.

“That would be me, but now I’m curious. How exactly did the great ranger Saeter manage to be the first to train a hobgoblin?” she asked with a smirk.

“Sword drills and sparring are the best thing for teaching discipline,” Saeter deadpanned.

Herad gave Saeter a look that clearly indicated he was either an idiot or insane and possibly both. Then she burst out laughing. Blacknail actually flinched away from her at the unexpected outburst, but Saeter took it in stride.

“By the gods, you amuse me sometimes, Saeter! No wonder no one has done it before. Who would be stupid or mad enough to teach a hobgoblin how to use a sword? It’s brilliant in its pure bloody insanity!” She cackled. Her laughter faded after a while, and she actually wiped a tear from her eye.

Saeter looked a little spooked at her reaction.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Red Dog’s face when he learns about this. You just keep teaching your hobgoblin how to kill people. I think I’m going to enjoy having him around. Oh, and when he’s gotten proficient enough, I want you to send him my way for a few rounds. That ought to be interesting,” Herad told Saeter as amusement oozed from her voice. Without waiting for an answer, the bandit leader walked away, still chuckling to herself. Her black cloak trailed behind her as she went.

When she was gone, Blacknail turned to his master and couldn’t help but give him a dirty look. Why had he told Herad all that? Blacknail could think of nothing he would like to do less than fight Herad.

“Don’t give me that look, you jumped up goblin,” Saeter said. “Bah, you were acting all pathetic. It was shameful. You should be thanking me; now she likes you!”

That didn’t make Blacknail feel any better. He had much preferred his own plan. Blacknail felt it would have involved a much smaller chance of dying. He had a feeling that when he fought Herad, they wouldn’t be using wooden blades.

Chapter 21

The man known as Ferret strolled into the woods toward the camp latrines. The large rough-shaven bandit had been lounging around the bandit camp for a while, but now nature’s call had lured him into the forest.

From where he was sitting and watching from another corner of the camp, Blacknail smiled. It was not a friendly smile, but one that displayed both teeth and menace. After a quick look around to make sure no one was paying attention, he slowly got up and slipped off into the trees.

Most of the bandits in the camp simply avoided the hobgoblin, but several were more hostile. Among the most vocal about their distrust of Blacknail was Ferret. He had made his hatred for Blacknail plain at every opportunity. He spent a great deal of time trying to turn the other humans against the hobgoblin and had even threatened to kill the hobgoblin. Worse, he had threatened Saeter. That had to stop.

Blacknail stalked through the woods silently. He had removed the boots Saeter had given him because he found it easier to move undetected without them. He had also removed his cloak; his green skin was harder to see in the forest, and the cloak tended to get caught on things.

Nearly invisible, the hobgoblin circled the camp toward the latrines and his prey. He slipped noiselessly between the trees and bushes. Anticipation for the hunt gleamed in his eyes. Soon, the cracking of breaking twigs and the whooshing sound of human breath reached his ears. With his prey located, he stopped to observe and plan from behind a nearby tree.

Ferret’s back was to the goblin, and his pants were down around his ankles. He was busy emptying his bladder. Blacknail took advantage of the man’s distraction and stalked toward him. The sound of bird calls and Ferret’s messy noises masked Blacknail’s quiet approach.

Ferret continued to urinate unaware as Blacknail closed the distance between them. When he stood directly behind his target, Blacknail drew his dagger. Then the hobgoblin hesitated.

He had never actually assaulted a human without his rage driving him. Part of him doubted he could pull it off. Ferret was not a small man. However, another part of Blacknail urged him forward. He had seen humans fight and die many times. A good blade could end them easily enough, and Ferret was a threat to him and his master. The hobgoblin made up his mind.

Blacknail kicked the man’s feet out from under him. With a startled oomph, Ferret fell forward over the latrine pit. He flailed as he tipped forward and desperately tried to find some way to steady himself. Before he could fall into the latrine, Blacknail wrenched him backward. The hobgoblin’s long thin fingers entwined through the man’s hair as he pulled up the man. Before the man could yell and draw attention, Blacknail rested his blade against Ferret’s throat.

The rough bandit stiffened and froze in alarm as he hung unsteadily over the pit. From this close, Blacknail could hear Ferret’s heart pounding. The edge of his knife put pressure on the man’s skin but didn’t draw blood yet.

“Hello-ss, Ferret,” Blacknail whispered before he licked the side of the man’s face. The bandit’s skin was salty with sweat.

Ferret shuddered in horror. “What do you want?”

“Silence. Yours. I have-ss heard you try to turn the band against me. You challenge me,” Blacknail answered.

“You’re not part of the band. You’re just a stupid beast. Kill me if you want, but then everyone will know you for the vicious animal you are, and they will hunt you down,” Ferret replied angrily.

Blacknail let his dagger drop, then he stabbed Ferret in the leg. The bandit hissed in pain and flinched, but Blacknail held him tightly. A few seconds later, the large man went limp and loose in the hobgoblin’s grip. Blacknail sheathed his poisoned dagger and drew a rock from one of his pouches.

“I thank you for permission to end your life,” Blacknail told the man he had paralyzed with spider poison taken from Saeter’s bags.

Emotionlessly, he smashed the man in the head with the rock, creating a small gash that bled freely, then he let the body and the rock fall into the latrine. The bandit landed headfirst with a loud, wet splat. Much to Blacknail’s satisfaction, his face was submerged in the collected human excrement, where the paralyzed and most likely unconscious bandit would drown.

His chore complete, Blacknail got up from where he was crouched beside the latrine pit and headed back to the camp. He circled the camp instead of heading straight back to the clearing, so as not to draw suspicion upon himself. Hopefully he would be back to where he had been sitting before anyone even noticed he had left.

He hadn’t actually followed Ferret planning to kill him. He had been planning to simply scare him into submission. However, the unthinking hatred in the man’s eyes had convinced Blacknail that wouldn’t work. Ferret had been a danger and would have never accepted Blacknail into the band.

Everything had worked out though. Anyone who found the body would probably think Ferret had fallen in, hit his head, and drowned in the latrine. With all the footprints from the heavy traffic to and from the latrine, no one would notice the hobgoblin’s prints. Blacknail smiled at his own cleverness. Saeter would probably even approve, not that Blacknail was ever going to tell him.

He emerged from the bushes at the border of the clearing and crept into the bandits’ camp. No one even looked his way. Once he reached the pile of firewood he had been sitting on earlier, he picked up his discarded cloak and boots and put them back on. That done, the hobgoblin headed back to Saeter’s campsite. His master probably had tasks for him to complete. As he moved through the camp, most of the humans moved out of his way and threw him wary glances.

Word had spread about who and what was under his cloak. Blacknail found it amusing. He didn’t wear the cloak to make people less uneasy around him; he wore it because it made them more afraid. Not really knowing what he looked like was what upset them the most.

He suspected the larger and heavier humans would grow accustomed to his presence quickly if he took off his cloak and simply spent time around them. For now, he wanted to make sure they didn’t disregard him. Fear would help make him equal in their eyes and secure him a higher position within the band without the need for violence, or at least less of it.

Blacknail arrived at the campsite he shared with Saeter. Beside Saeter’s tent, the hobgoblin had dug a shallow hole and built a small lean-to over it with twine, branches, and grass. It was little more than a dry place to sleep and store a few things, but that was all he needed.

Saeter wasn’t around, so Blacknail strolled off to find him. Eventually he found his master by the road, watching a group of people approach the camp. Blacknail walked over to join him. He was curious what was going on. He hadn’t heard about anything important happening today.

“There you are, Blacknail. Decided to stop lazing about, did ya?” Saeter remarked as he looked at the approaching people with obvious disapproval.

“Yes, master. What-ss is this?” Blacknail asked.

“The last of Herad’s new recruits. She must have hired every petty thief and thug in Riverdown to get as many as she has. Most of them won’t last long. She’s probably planning on simply letting most of them die and keeping the survivors.”

Blacknail studied the group coming down the road. He recognized Red Dog leading them. Behind him were around two dozen men and women. Only three or four seemed familiar to Blacknail. Red Dog recognized the hobgoblin and gave him a nasty look. Blacknail smiled back and made sure to flash as many teeth as possible. He knew the man wasn’t a real threat to him. He would never dare go against Herad’s wishes.

Red Dog chose to ignore Blacknail and turned to Saeter instead. “I see your pet hasn’t managed to kill you yet, Saeter.”

“I’m not the one who needs to be afraid,” Sater responded cryptically.

“Did I miss anything important while I was gone?” Red Dog asked as he frowned at Saeter’s response.

“Yes, they passed out the good manners. Too bad you weren’t here,” Saeter replied with an amused tone.

“Very funny, old man. Why don’t you use some of that matchless experience of yours and show some of these baby-faced recruits around while I go talk to Herad?” Red Dog said with a roll of his eyes.

Before Saeter could answer, someone Blacknail had never seen before walked up behind Red Dog and spoke.

“Who is this old man, Dog?” the young human female asked.

Red Dog cringed slightly. The girl had short red hair and was about average size for a human female. She smiled excitedly at Saeter.

“You’re recruiting children, now?” Saeter asked Red Dog disdainfully.

“I’m over sixteen winters,” the girl interjected. She seemed annoyed at being called a child.

Red Dog just shrugged. “I told her to screw off the first time she showed up, but then several of the other people I tried to recruit dropped out with mysterious knife wounds. Seemed like a good idea to just let her come at that point.”

The redhead smiled again, and she winked at Saeter conspiratorially.

The old scout looked the girl over carefully. “Who are you running from, girl?”

“Name’s Khita, and I dunno what you’re talking about. Maybe I just wanted to serve under a famous swordswoman like Herad,” she replied.

Saeter grunted and gave her a skeptical look. He didn’t seem convinced. “Those are gang colors you’re wearing. The gangs look down on bandits, and they don’t take kindly to their members quitting either. That tells me you were looking for a quick exit from Riverbend when you joined up with us. So tell me, who are you running from?”

Khita narrowed her eyes and gave Saeter a hostile stare, but she relented under the pressure of his steady gaze. Few people could outstare Blacknail’s master. He had a lot of practice at it.

“Ugh, fine! Maybe I kinda stabbed someone I shouldn’t have,” she explained.

“Who and why?” an unsurprised Saeter asked.

The girl’s mouth twisted into a frown as she considered whether to answer him. “My boss’s girl. Bitch thought she could take my stuff just because she was shacking up with Klavik, our leader.”

Saeter turned to Red Dog. The other man just shrugged indifferently.

“This is a wonderful new recruit you’ve gotten for us,” Saeter told him sarcastically.

“She’s here now, so she’s not my problem anymore. Thank the gods,” Red Dog replied with an amused grin. He then turned and walked back toward the other people he had recruited, leaving Khita with Blacknail and Saeter.

As Red Dog left, Khita seemed to notice Blacknail for the first time. She looked over the cloaked figure suspiciously. “What’s with the cloaked freak? She just gonna stand there all day?”

Blacknail twitched. She had confused his gender? Oh right, human females were smaller than males, so she thought he was one of them. It was still kind of insulting. He decided he didn’t like her. Blacknail took a long step toward the girl, removing most of the distance between them, and straightened to look her directly in the eye. Then he swept his cloak back behind him and flipped his hood down dramatically to fully reveal his inhuman visage.

The girl’s eyes went wide and she stepped… forward? Blacknail froze in confusion and the grin slipped from his face as he took in Khita’s delighted smile.

“A hobgoblin! I can’t believe this gang has a hobgoblin in it. That’s the sharpest thing I’ve ever heard.” She squealed in delight.

Blacknail stepped back from her nervously. Her unusual lack of fear unnerved him. What was wrong with this human? Saeter looked more than a little taken aback as well.

“What’s your name? How many people have you killed? Do you know any secret hobgoblin stuff?” she asked Blacknail excitedly as she took another step toward him.

Blacknail growled menacingly, but that failed to deter her approach. He threw Saeter a panicked look. He didn’t know how to get the female away from him without drawing a blade, and he had a feeling that would be frowned upon.

Saeter rolled his eyes but stepped forward and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Stop harassing my hobgoblin.”

“Who were you again?” Khita asked as she turned and pushed his hand off her shoulder.

“I’m Saeter, a scout. Now come with me.”

“Why should I go anywhere with you, creep?” she asked hostilely.

Saeter scowled at her. “Because the hobgoblin goes where I go.” He turned to walk away. “Come on, Blacknail. Let’s go see Vorscha.”

Blacknail was more than eager to obey and put some distance between him and the human female. She was weird. Saeter walked toward the camp and Blacknail shadowed his master closely, just in case Saeter needed to put himself between him and the girl again.

Khita watched them walk off for a few seconds before sighing and running after them. “Fine, where are we going? If you’re trying to get into my pants, I’ll bite your bits off.”

Blacknail’s master grimaced and gave her an insulted look as he continued walking. People gave them odd glances as they made their way through the bandit camp.

“I’m taking you to Vorscha,” Saeter explained.

“Why?” Khita asked.

“Because she loves dealing with hopeless cases like you,” Saeter told her gruffly.

Khita gave him a mean look but continued following them. “Does the hobgoblin talk?”

“Yes,” Saeter replied without looking at her. He seemed very annoyed.

“Why isn’t it talking now?” she asked.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Saeter answered in an exasperated tone as he turned to the hobgoblin. “Answer her questions, Blacknail, so she’ll leave me alone.”

Blacknail grimaced. He didn’t want to have to deal with this clearly insane youngling, but he had to do as his master ordered. “Yes, master.” His frustration was clear in his voice.

“He does talk! Why are you wearing that cloak? Is it magic?” she asked excitedly.

“No, I just like it,” Blacknail answered. Clearly she was both stupid and insane. Blacknail didn’t know a lot about magic, but even he knew it was rare and had absolutely nothing to do with goblins.

Blacknail sighed in relief when he spotted Vorscha and Geralhd up ahead at their campsite. They were seated right outside the large tent they shared.

“Vorscha!” Saeter yelled. “I got something here for you.”

The muscular woman stood and looked their way. Blacknail thought giving the girl to Vorscha was a great idea. He wasn’t quite sure what the warrior would do with her, but he didn’t really care as long as she was kept far away from him.

“Why do you have a little girl, Saeter? She’s not yours, I hope,” Vorscha asked with amused concern.

Saeter shuddered in revulsion at the idea of Khita being his daughter. “No, or at least I pray to the gods she isn’t. Red Dog recruited her. Apparently she insisted. I thought I should introduce you two, since I know how you like to pick up strays.”

Vorscha looked Khita over and frowned. “I might have to have a talk with Red Dog about this,” she said with more than a hint of threat in her voice.

“You do that,” Saeter responded indifferently.

As the two bandits had been talking, Khita had been staring at Vorscha with an impressed expression. “Gods, you’re big.”

“And you’re tiny,” Vorscha responded with an amused smile.

“I’m not tiny. I’m over seventeen winters old. You’re just huge,” the affronted Khita replied.

Vorscha looked Saeter’s way. “Well, thanks, I guess. I wasn’t looking for a new project right now, but I’m sure as death not going to let her wander around by herself either.”

“I don’t need any help. I can take care of myself!” Khita said as if she had been insulted.

“That might have been true in the city, but out here, things are a bit different.” Vorscha looked the girl over carefully. “Have you ever used a sword?”

“How could I? They’re kinda hard to hide, and the city guards don’t like people other than blue bloods having them. Besides, knives work just fine,” Khita said in a tone that suggested only idiots wouldn’t already know all this.

Blacknail smirked at the girl. He knew how to use a sword… sort of.

“There aren’t any guards out here, so everyone has swords or worse. If you’re going to survive a week out here, you’re going to need to learn to use one too,” Vorscha said.

“That reminds me, I wanted to pass off some of Blacknail’s sword training to you as well,” Saeter interjected.

Khita’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “If the hobgoblin’s going to be there, then I’m in!”

Vorscha threw the girl a confused look, and Blacknail felt a sudden spike of concern at the unexpected direction the conversation had abruptly taken.

“You want to practice sword fighting with a hobgoblin?” Vorscha asked Khita in disbelief.

“Ya, he’s so sharp and scary looking,” she said enthusiastically.

“And this makes you want to train with him?” Vorscha asked again uncertainly.

“Yep,” Khita said.

Vorscha sighed deeply. The movement made her bosom heave impressively. Off to the side, the still-silent Geralhd smiled appreciatively.

“Well, whatever works, I guess. What do you think, Saeter?” Vorscha asked.

“Blacknail should be fine. It might even help with his control. It’s not like they’ll be sparring against each other right off the bat anyway,” Saeter said.

“Looks like I’ll be training these two together then.” She eyed Blacknail and the grinning Khita. “This is certainly not how I expected to be spending the next little while.”

“Me too,” the hobgoblin muttered as he looked at the young woman grinning at him. His life had just gotten a little more complicated and a lot more annoying.

Chapter 22

Training with Vorscha was much more enjoyable than with Saeter. It was actually kind of fun, and he learned quite a bit faster from her. That was most likely because he took fewer blows to the head.

“Good, keep your weight mostly on your back foot,” Vorscha told him as he blocked one of her thrusts.

The tall, chesty brunette was obviously not putting all of her considerable strength behind the blow. Blacknail appreciated the consideration since she probably weighed twice as much as him.

“Now attack,” she said.

The hobgoblin eagerly did as she asked. He stepped forward and launched a horizontal slash, which Vorscha easily blocked. Not that he had been expecting to land the blow.

“No, that was all wrong. You were off balance. Stop,” Vorscha said with a frown.

“I’m sorry,” Blacknail replied submissively as he lowered his blade. The large woman was clearly a much more skilled fighter than him. Blacknail mentally added her to the list of people he didn’t want to challenge to a real fight.

“See, do it like this,” Vorscha explained.

The large brunette’s blade sliced through the air as she demonstrated the proper technique. Blacknail watched carefully. She was startlingly graceful when she had a sword in hand. As she flowed between different stances and attacks, her brown curls barely moved. Blacknail tried to copy her movements, but his weren’t nearly as smooth. He certainly had a long way to go in order to become any good at swordsmanship. He would just have to cheat in the meantime.

“Good, now practice that by yourself for a while while I go check on Khita,” Vorscha said as she watched him practice.

Blacknail continued repeatedly slicing the air as he practiced the move over and over. Vorscha gave an approving nod, then headed over to where Khita was practicing, or where she was supposed to be practicing anyway. Khita had stopped practicing quite a while ago and was now just standing around. The young woman was red-faced with exhaustion, and the sword she was supposed to be swinging hung loosely from her hand with its tip resting on the ground. She scowled at Vorscha as the older woman approached.

“Why have you stopped?” Vorscha asked in disapproval.

“Ugh, I can barely move my arms anymore. Can’t I take a break?” Khita whined.

“Ha, and you thought you didn’t need anyone’s help. It hasn’t even been half an hour yet. Real fighting takes a little more muscle than that back alley scuffling you’re used to, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe…” Khita muttered resentfully.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll have you in fighting form before too long. It will just take a few hours of practice every day,” Vorscha said with a gleeful smile.

Khita winced as if someone had just slapped her across the face. She didn’t seem to like Vorscha’s plan very much. “I don’t suppose I have a choice?”

“Nope, I already got permission from Herad to make you my subordinate. You have to do what I say, or its back to the city with you,” Vorscha said with a smile as Khita groaned.

While they were talking, Blacknail had grown bored of repeating the same technique, so he threw in a few other ones.

“Blacknail, come here,” Saeter called to him.

The hobgoblin flinched in surprise at the unexpected voice. He had been so engrossed in the feel and sound of the blade as it sliced through the air that he didn’t notice Saeter and Red Dog arrive. He recovered quickly though and walked over to his master. He dropped his blunt practice blade on the way over.

“Hello-ss, master and Red Dog,” Blacknail said.

Red Dog’s expression was unusually neutral. He didn’t scowl at the hobgoblin. Instead, he regarded him without judgment. “We have a job for you, hobgoblin.”

“Oh, what-ss is it?” Blacknail asked with obvious interest. Red Dog wouldn’t be here talking to him unless it was something out of the ordinary.

“There’s a small group of army deserters who have set up camp to the south. They’re robbing, and usually killing, travelers. Herad wants them dealt with and made an example of,” Red Dog explained.

“Men hunt in our territory, so we-ss kill them,” Blacknail summarized.

“Basically, yes. Herad does want some of them alive though. They’ll make better recruits than most of the riffraff we’ve been getting from Riverbend,” the bandit replied as he threw a disdainful look at Khita.

Blacknail agreed with Red Dog about the uselessness of the one named Khita, but he had to suppress the urge to remind Red Dog that he was the idiot who had recruited her.

“They’re hiding in the forest somewhere, so you’ll be helping me track them down. It’ll be good experience for you,” Saeter said.

Blacknail nodded. “I understand-ss, master.”

“How many men are you taking?” Vorscha asked. She had dismissed Khita and joined them as well.

“Just a dozen or so, and I see you’ve joined Saeter in this insanity,” Red Dog replied with a nod in Blacknail’s direction. “I mean fine, so he’s useful to have around. That doesn’t mean you should be training the hobgoblin to kill people better. Can no one else seriously see why that’s obviously such a bad idea?”

“He’s actually a very well-behaved student and learns fairly quickly,” Vorscha replied with a shrug.

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Red Dog said.

“You can whine all you want on the way there. Let’s get going,” Saeter interjected impatiently.

Red Dog’s lips curled up in displeasure. “Fine, whatever. We’ve got the goblin, so let’s head out.” He seemed eager to get the job over with.

After a stop to grab some stuff from his shelter, Blacknail and the bandits were on their way down the road. Just as Red Dog had told Vorscha, their group was comprised of about two dozen people, with an about even mix of new and experienced bandits.

“Couldn’t we have used some of the horses?” one of the recruits complained as she walked beside Red Dog.

They had been walking down the old dirt road that cut through the forest for several hours now.

“There are too many of us for that. Besides, we aren’t going all that far and we’ll be moving through a lot of bush. You’ll just have to get used to walking distances farther than down the street,” Red Dog told her disdainfully.

“And riding can be even more painful and exhausting than walking if you’re not used to it,” Saeter added.

Blacknail heard something from up ahead. He froze, pulled his hood down, and listened. Everyone noticed his actions and stopped as well. Most of them had curious looks on their faces. A few had apparently managed to somehow forget he was a hobgoblin and looked shocked at his appearance.

“Horses, many of them, up ahead,” Blacknail announced as he stared into the trees that concealed the twist in the road ahead.

“Shit, could be a patrol or something. Everyone off the road and out of sight. Now,” Red Dog commanded as he moved toward the forest that ran along the road.

The rest of the bandits rushed after him, and they were soon all concealed along the tree line.

“I don’t hear anything. How do we know the hobgoblin isn’t making this up?” someone asked from where he was crouched behind a bush.

To Blacknail’s surprise, it was Red Dog who answered. “Because I’m smarter than you. Now shut up.”

Almost immediately, the sound of hooves reached the humans’ ears. The bandits were all crouched in bushes or leaning against trees, but as soon as they heard the noise, they turned to look at the road. They didn’t have to wait long for the horsemen to appear. They rode into view at a canter. There were slightly fewer of them than there were bandits, but every one of them was mounted and heavily armored.

The soldiers, and that was what they had to be, were even more heavily armed and shinier than Persus’s guards had been. On top of their padded clothing, they wore long chain mail shirts. Their legs were covered by steel greaves, and their lower arms by banded bracers. Their heads were protected by steel helmets that hid everything but their eyes and mouths, which could be seen though a large Y-shaped hole in the front of the helmets.

Blacknail was glad he was no longer out on the road. He could imagine the horsemen simply riding right over him and the other bandits. Most of them would have been trampled to death without much of a fight. It was just another reason why Blacknail really hated horses.

Most of the riders not only had swords at their waists but held long spears as well. One of the riders out front had a large blue piece of cloth tied to the end of his spear. It waved in the wind and snapped loudly behind him as he rode, showing flashes of a golden stag’s head insignia. As Blacknail watched the soldiers pass, he had to admit they looked dangerous. The humans in his tribe never looked quite so impressive.

When the riders were out of sight down the road, Red Dog spoke up. “That’s Lord Strachan’s banner. He’s the highest noble around these parts, but what are so many of his armsmen doing out here? He can’t have a lot of men to throw around these days.”

“It’s not likely that he’s looking for us or our camp,” Saeter replied. “He would be making less of a ruckus if he was after bandits.”

“Then what are they doing?” Red Dog asked.

“Could be anything. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been out of touch with noble politics lately,” Saeter answered with obvious sarcasm.

Red Dog grunted in agreement before ordering everyone back onto the road. Then they were on their way again.

As the hours went by, many of the bandits tired out, including Blacknail. The hobgoblin had never walked so far before. The bottom of his feet ached and his boots were rubbing his skin raw. He had tried removing the boots, but Saeter had stopped him and told him that it would only make things worse. Blacknail wasn’t sure if he believed his master, but he did as he was told.

Eventually, Red Dog stopped the party with an upraised hand. Blacknail looked around and listened carefully, but he didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. It seemed like any other spot on the forest-enclosed road.

“There’s nothing here,” Blacknail muttered crankily to himself.

“We’ll stop here for the night and start tracking our targets in the morning. We’re too close to them to be using the road anymore. If they have the sense the gods gave goblins, then they’ll have someone watching the road,” Red Dog explained.

Blacknail gave Red Dog an annoyed glare at the obviously intentional insult, but most of the other members of the group seemed glad to be able to finally stop walking. Blacknail empathized with them. He couldn’t wait to get off his feet either.

The bandits split up for a few minutes to find a good place to set up for the night. Soon a spot was chosen. It was a small cluster of grey boulders large enough to shield them from sight and be somewhat defensible. There were nine stones, and each of them was taller than a human. Together, they were arranged in a loose circle. No trees grew within a few dozen feet of the stones, and the ground around them was hard with only a sparse covering of plants. Blacknail thought it was beautiful.

The hobgoblin ran his hand along the surface of the closest stone. It was smooth to the touch and warmer than he’d thought it would be. The sun must have heated it. From this close, Blacknail could almost make out faded patterns on the rocks, as though someone had carved pictures into them once upon a time. However, if the stones had once born images or words of some sort, the wind and rain had long since worn them away.

Saeter noticed Blacknail examining the stones and walked up behind him. “These stones were put here. They’re too old for men, and they’re not the Flore Kurava’s style. The forest people don’t work stone. That means this circle was put here by goblins. Maybe even ancestors of yours.”

Blacknail removed his hand from the stone. The idea that this… special place had been made by goblins felt right. The stones, and the way they were arranged, spoke to him. It had meaning, even if Blacknail couldn't tell what the meaning was supposed to be.

He looked into the clear blue sky. The thought that goblins had created something that had lasted so long resonated with the hobgoblin. The idea of making things such as this had never even occurred to him.

He turned to his master. “Thank you, master.”

Saeter eyed him curiously, and a corner of his mouth rose to form a smirk. “For what?”

“Everything.” Blacknail turned back to the stone and touched it again.

Red Dog stomped over and interrupted them. He looked annoyed, and there was a frustrated scowl on his face. “Great, so not only do we have to sleep beside a bloody hobgoblin, but we're also setting up camp in some sort of creepy goblin shrine thing, It's probably where they buried all the people they killed."

“We could try to find a different spot if you want—you’re the boss—but this one seems better than most. That is, of course, unless on top of your fear of hobgoblins, you’re also afraid of ghosts?” Saeter joked.

“It sure doesn’t sound like I’m the boss,” Red Dog grumbled as he walked past them and began helping set up.

It didn’t take them a lot of time to set up for the night. They had been traveling light. Beyond the basic gear and weapons, all they had brought were blankets and a large tarp in case it rained.

Red Dog didn’t allow anyone to light a fire until it got dark. He wanted no chance of them being detected, and a fire during the day would be too much of a risk. The smoke would be visible for miles.

As night fell, Blacknail could smell some of the new recruits grow nervous. It wasn’t a great smell. For many of them, it was their first time out in the woods at night in such a small group. The fact that they didn’t have a fire, but did have bad human night vision, probably didn’t help either.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice coming North, especially after days like today. Sure, it was the easiest place to escape the draft to, but maybe I should have tried to go West,” a bandit mused. “They don’t give a fuck about what the King of Eloria says out there.”

“I’d say you’re lucky you didn’t. The western border is well watched, because the people out that way are insane. The forest is just as dangerous, but the peasants are superstitious and worship demons. They say that some villages eat strangers and that their nobles bathe in human blood,” another bandit replied with a shiver.

“What do you expect from inbred bastards who isolate themselves from the rest of civilization?” a third man added.

“You’re getting too loud! Keep it down,” Red Dog ordered everyone, and that ended the conversation.

When the night sky had blackened enough to completely mask any smoke, Red Dog lit a fire in the center of the boulders. He kept it small enough that it was unlikely anyone would see it through the trees.

The fire helped a little, but a lot of the men still seemed nervous. Blacknail didn’t blame them. He didn’t like camping in the forest much either. The shadowy forest and reaching tree branches might be concealing any number of threats, and unlike most of the men here, he knew exactly what to be afraid of. As a hobgoblin, he might be larger than before, but most of the hungry beasts that lived in the woods would barely notice the difference. He would simply be a slightly more filling snack.

Between the aura of fear and the heavy watch Red Dog insisted on, few people got much rest that night. Many of the bandits slept fretfully and were awake much of the night.

Blacknail slept more than he had planned. He found the presence of the ancient stones encircling their camp soothing for some reason. They loomed over him reassuringly when he settled down to rest. As he closed his eyes, he could still sense them standing guard.

Eventually, the long night ended and dusk broke across the sky. Those few who were still sleeping were awakened, and the group packed up and headed out to complete their mission. They followed the road but stuck to the edges of the bush so that anyone watching would have a hard time seeing them. The party was split in two, with one group on each side of the road, so that they wouldn’t miss anything. Saeter led one group, and Red Dog the other.

“What’s that?” one of the new recruits asked as he pointed at a spot beside the road.

Everyone immediately looked in the direction he indicated, including Blacknail.

“Looks like a trashed wagon. Let’s check it out,” another bandit replied.

“Wait a second. First we’ll search the area to see if anyone is watching,” Saeter told them.

At the old scout’s command, the bandits continued on past the wagon, through the woods. When they didn’t find anyone or anything, Saeter stepped out onto the road and looked around.

“I don’t see any good vantage points nearby, so we should be unobserved,” he told everyone.

He ordered several men to cross the road and fetch Red Dog while he and the others headed back to check out the wagon. Its remains were partly concealed from the road by a small overgrown hill, which they had to go around. When they got to the wagon, Blacknail immediately smelled blood—human blood. The wagon itself was badly damaged, nothing but a pile of broken wood that had been stripped of everything useful.

Red Dog and his group arrived and joined them around the wreck.

“Well, this was sure a waste of time,” one of the bandits commented.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m willing to bet this is the work of our highwaymen. This looks like a farmer or small merchant’s wagon. That would be an inviting target for them,” Saeter replied.

“How does that help us?” someone asked.

“We know they were here not too long ago, so now we need to track them back to their lair,” Saeter explained as he examined the wagon and the ground around it. After a minute, the old scout straightened up and turned to Blacknail. “Do you have a scent?”

“Yes, one of them bleeds,” Blacknail replied. He smiled eagerly as the scent of blood and his master’s attention excited him. It was time for him to be useful and hunt!

“That makes this almost too easy,” Saeter said as he smiled back.

“Bloody creepy is what it is,” another bandit muttered.

“Just be glad he’s on our side,” someone else whispered, but not so softly that Blacknail couldn’t hear them.

The hobgoblin’s smile widened. That was what he wanted the humans to think—that they were better off with him on their side. Soon he would have them all well-trained.

“So you can track them?” Red Dog asked.

Saeter huffed indignantly. “I can track practically anyone or anything. They left plenty of signs, and with Blacknail’s nose, this will be as easy as falling off a log.”

“Good, then you and your pet can lead the way,” Red Dog told him.

Blacknail hissed softly at the disrespect in the man’s voice, but he suppressed the sudden flare of rage and didn’t act on it further. That didn’t stop the two men closest to him from backing away a few steps though.

Red Dog was apparently unconcerned about the hobgoblin, but Saeter gave Blacknail a disapproving look. The hobgoblin looked to the side and felt his cheeks burn slightly with shame. He had let his emotions get the better of him for a second. Why was controlling them so hard?

“Let’s get going,” Red Dog told everyone.

Saeter led them across the road and into the forest once again. The rest of the bandits followed him and Blacknail. As they moved, the old scout pointed out signs to the hobgoblin, like broken twigs and partial boot prints. Blacknail found it interesting but almost unnecessary, since he could simply follow their prey’s scent. Saeter had to stop and look around for tracks every once in a while, but Blacknail never lost the trail. His master seemed to want to track the highwaymen himself though, because he only asked for Blacknail’s help once.

The iron-like scent of blood grew stronger as they walked deeper into the woods, until Blacknail felt a twinge of concern grow in his gut.

“More blood,” he whispered to Saeter.

His master frowned in concern as well, but they continued moving forward. The forest here was mostly clear of bushes and tall plants, but it was hilly and large twisted roots jutted out from the bottoms of nearby tree trunks. There were plenty of places for something to lurk outside Blacknail’s vision.

They soon found the source of the smell. Up ahead, lying on the forest floor, was a shredded human corpse. It took a few seconds to identify it as the remains of a man. It was little more than a pile of bloody flesh and broken bones.

One of the bandits gasped as he went white and began to panic. “Shit. This wasn’t done by no man.”

Behind Blacknail, Red Dog calmly drew his sword and leveled it at the panicked speaker’s throat. “If you can’t keep your shit together, then just shut up and stay fucking still, or you’ll regret it.” Then he turned to Saeter, who had crouched to examine the body. “What are we dealing with?”

“Hopefully nothing because it filled its stomach and left. This mess is definitely the work of a troll though,” Saeter answered.

“Damnation,” Red Dog said. “I fucking hate trolls. Every time I run into one, someone dies.”

Chapter 23

“Could be worse. It could have been a drake,” Saeter told Red Dog. “Trolls are smaller and will rarely attack a group of armed men this big, especially if they’ve just eaten. As long as we don’t trip over the damned thing, we should be fine. This one must have followed the same blood trail as Blacknail and picked off the bleeder.”

Looks of terror appeared on some of the bandits’ faces, and several of them threw nervous glances at the surrounding woods. The thick tree trunks and uneven ground of the forest could easily have been concealing an approaching threat.

“What’s a troll? I mean, I’ve heard of them, but I never actually expected to see one, or have one see me,” one of the new recruits asked nervously.

Saeter gave the man a disdainful look but answered him. “Trolls have twin fangs the size of long knives and thick skin that doesn’t bleed unless you pretty much decapitate them. Except for that, they’re basically what you would get if you took a goblin and made it twice the size of a man and a hundred times as angry.”

“Bloody lovely…” one of the other bandits muttered sarcastically.

Saeter got up and examined the ground all around the corpse. He called Blacknail over and showed the hobgoblin various signs within the disturbed area. The hobgoblin found this much more interesting than his earlier tracking lessons. His sense of smell didn’t help him nearly as much here.

“It looks like there were three men here. The troll came down on them fast. It killed the wounded one, and his friends made a run for it. It doesn’t look like the troll followed them. Instead it ate its fill, then headed off back into the woods,” Saeter told Red Dog.

The leader looked thoughtful as he considered their options. He didn’t seem concerned about the troll and, in fact, seemed quite calm. “We should be good to just follow them back to their camp then. Will they still be on alert?”

“Hard to say. I’m guessing the troll attack happened last night, which is enough time that I would feel safe. I doubt these guys are used to the forest though, so I'd bet they didn't get much sleep last night,” Saeter answered.

“And we did?” someone muttered doubtfully behind Blacknail.

“We’ll go carefully then, and when we find the camp, we’ll circle around. They’ll undoubtedly be watching the direct way—for trolls, if nothing else,” Red Dog said as Saeter nodded.

“I’ll take Blacknail and scout the path ahead then. We’ll take out or mark any sentries so you and the others can approach unseen,” Saeter suggested.

“Sounds good,” Red Dog replied.

“Come, Blacknail. It’s time for me to teach you the more violent parts of the ranger’s trade. I have a feeling you’ll pick it up quickly,” Saeter said as he shrugged off his backpack and handed it to another bandit.

Blacknail chuckled and licked his lips. This sounded like so much fun! He could think of nothing he would rather do than stalk unsuspecting prey through the woods with the scent of blood in the air. His heart pounded in excitement just thinking about it.

“Thank you-ss so much, master,” he replied eagerly as a wicked grin stretched across his face.

A few seconds later, the hunt was on. Saeter slipped through the trees so quietly that even Blacknail had difficulty hearing him. The hobgoblin followed in his master’s wake and tried to be just as silent. To his own ears, he wasn’t quite successful, but with his boots removed, he moved quietly enough that Saeter didn’t complain.

The hobgoblin instinctively knew how to balance himself and where to place his bare feet to avoid breaking twigs and other obstacles. After so long of walking in boots, the cool earth and wet grass felt soothing beneath his feet. The thrill of the hunt he was feeling was more than worth the long walk it had taken to get here.

As Saeter and Blackail moved through the forest, it changed. The canopy overhead grew thinner until light leaked through. Thick clusters of green bushes sprouted up in the abundant sunlight, which helped hide the pair from prying eyes. Ahead of Blacknail, Saeter moved out from behind a mossy boulder to peer at a trampled plant. Having confirmed that he was still on the right track, the scout moved again. He stalked through the bush from cover to cover, checking for signs of their targets.

An impressed Blacknail observed and tried to copy his master’s movements. How could Saeter move so quietly and track without using his nose? It almost seemed like magic. The hobgoblin watched his master examine the surrounding forest while crouched behind a bush. After a minute, Saeter raised a hand and signaled Blacknail.

Before they had headed out to track down the deserters, Saeter had made him memorize several different hand signals. Blacknail had instantly realized how useful they would be for communicating without making any noise. His master was surely a genius for coming up with such a great idea! Blacknail was sure nothing like it would ever have occurred to him.

Saeter had three raised fingers, which meant someone might be around. Slowly and carefully, so as not to attract attention, the hobgoblin bent and took cover at the base of the tree beside him. A flash of excitement burned through Blacknail at the thought of finally cornering their quarry. His mouth moistened with saliva in anticipation, but he obeyed his master and remained where he was.

However, he couldn’t resist the urge to peek out and look for whatever Saeter had seen. Blacknail eagerly scanned the forest for signs but was disappointed when he didn’t see anything or anyone among the leafy branches or rough-barked tree trunks around him. He wanted to hunt! His teeth ached, and his tongue flicked out and over his teeth to clean them in preparation.

He shivered as he felt a seductive feeling similar to rage burn within him. It filled him with a hunger for action and blood. Blacknail had to close his eyes and focus on mentally picturing sword exercises to suppress the urges. He knew discipline would make him stronger than rage or hunger ever could, but why did it have to be so hard?

A few seconds later, after Blacknail had managed to get his urges under control, he opened his eyes to see Saeter flashing more signals his way. The first signal told Blacknail to look to his left, and the next meant he wanted Blacknail to wait and watch. With a regretful sigh, the hobgoblin resigned himself to spending the next little while waiting and not hunting. His master could be so cruel!

As Saeter stealthily moved, Blacknail looked in the direction his master had indicated. He still didn’t see anything. Saeter stopped beside a large smooth tree trunk and signaled Blacknail again. He wanted the hobgoblin to carefully circle the target from the opposite direction.

Blacknail smiled as he got up and obeyed. Finally, a chance to act! Excitedly, he crept forward while looking for his prey. As he was walking to a large jagged rock, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye up on a nearby hill. Instantly, the cloaked hobgoblin went totally still and his eyes focused on that spot. He watched and noticed something brown and human-sized move ever so slightly. It was mostly hidden behind a tree, so he slipped around the boulder to get a better view.

It was a man! The human was scanning the forest from a high viewpoint while leaning against a tree. He had on a large brown cloak, and under that, he was wearing a bright blue shirt and black pants. The clothes confused Blacknail. He couldn’t think of a good reason for wearing the blue shirt. Did the man want to be seen? Was it some sort of trap?

Blacknail threw a look at his master. Saeter noticed the glance and raised two fingers in another sign. Two fingers meant… there was another man nearby. Blacknail hastily flashed the “where?” sign.

His master pointed up at another spot on the hill, then gestured to himself to show ownership. He pointed at the man Blacknail could see, then back at the hobgoblin. Blacknail grinned and licked his lips. His master was going to take one of the men, and he wanted Blacknail to take the other. What a wonderful present his master had just given him!

The hobgoblin watched the sentry on the hill until the man looked away. Then unseen, Blacknail slipped out from behind the rock and crept forward along a path up the hill that was mostly concealed from the man’s view. He was practically purring with joy.

Soon, the hobgoblin was close enough he could smell the human, and he shivered in anticipation. He circled around the hill and climbed it from the side. It was steep, but there were plenty of exposed roots to use as footholds. This would be so much fun!

As he climbed, Blacknail’s long ears detected sounds that were out of place in the forest. Carefully, he paused to listen. It sounded like several humans talking and moving, which meant the human camp wasn’t too far away. He examined the forest in that direction but didn’t see anything that would indicate anyone was close enough to see him. Reassured, the hobgoblin crept across the final stretch of bush between him and the human scout.

His target was an average-sized man with black hair. He was still leaning against the tree while lazily scanning the forest below him for threats. However, Blacknail had already sneaked right under the man's nose and was now safely behind him. The sentry would never see the hobgoblin coming, which was just how Blacknail liked it.

“See anything yet, Kratz?” the man suddenly yelled.

Blacknail dropped to the ground in alarm.

“Ha, I would have said something if I did,” come an answering shout from out of sight.

“Ya, but the boss wanted us to check in with each other every once in a while. I guess you’re still alive since you’re still talking and all,” the first man replied in jest.

The only answer the other man gave was a brief chuckle. Blacknail rose a bit and tried to find the second speaker, but much to his frustration, he couldn’t see him. Then there was the sound of a scuffle and a gasp.

Blacknail’s target looked over and frowned with concern. “You okay, Kratz? I thought I heard something.”

The only sound from where the other man had been was a distinct cheery birdcall. The sentry’s frown deepened as his concern turned to suspicion. He stepped toward the camp and opened his mouth as if to shout.

But Blacknail had already launched himself toward the man. The birdcall had been a signal. Blacknail was sure it meant Saeter had just taken out the second sentry, and that meant Blacknail needed to act.

The hobgoblin covered the ground lightning fast. His long muscular body carried his light frame forward with startling speed, and the wind whipped his cloak behind him as he shot out of the bushes. Before the man could even turn or yell, Blacknail was upon him.

The hobgoblin hit the unprepared man with a flying tackle that ended with his arms wrapped around his opponent’s waist. Surprise and momentum allowed the lighter hobgoblin to knock the man off balance. It also knocked the air from his opponent’s lungs and prevented him from yelling out a warning.

They careened off to the side together,and the sentry flailed uselessly. Meanwhile, Blacknail used his hold on the man’s waist to pull himself up and twist one of his legs so he could hook it under the man’s knee. Using the leverage that gave him, Blacknail flipped himself around so that he was clinging to the man’s back.

They hit the ground with a loud thud. The man landed facefirst with the weight of the hobgoblin on his back. The breath was knocked out of the sentry for a second time by the impact, and all he could do was wheeze in pain. The fallen man tried to draw in a breath to yell, presumably, but Blacknail grabbed his hair and yanked the man’s head up. This made the man croak in pain and allowed Blacknail to wrap his other claws around the man’s neck.

The sentry went still as he felt the hobgoblin’s sharp nails dig into the flesh around his throat. He whimpered in fright, and Blacknail smiled in satisfaction. The hobgoblin adjusted his weight so he could lean forward into the man’s line of sight. The man must have suspected something was strange about his assailant, but when he got a close look at Blacknail’s face, his eyes widened and he went white as snow.

“Be very quiet,” Blacknail half whispered and half growled.

The man’s head bobbed up and down. At first Blacknail thought the sentry was trying to nod, but then his eyes rolled up into his head until only the whites were visible and he went as limp as a dead fish. Blacknail released his grip on the man’s throat and slapped him across the face. The blow made a loud smacking noise and left a red handprint on the man’s face, but the sentry didn’t react. With a hiss of disappointment, the hobgoblin studied his prey. He had wanted to have more fun! With a sigh, Blacknail got to his feet and stared with dissatisfaction at the unconscious sentry.

There was the sound of someone approaching, and Saeter pushed out from the bushes. The old scout frowned as he saw the corpse-white and unmoving man at Blacknail’s feet. “I thought I told you to try to capture them alive!”

“He’s not dead, just stupid. Stupid-ss man went to sleep, so he’s no fun.” Blacknail hissed in annoyance.

"I see,” Saeter replied in a confused tone that meant he didn’t really understand at all. Frowning, he walked over to the unconscious man and kicked him a few times. He seemed satisfied when the man flinched and moaned ever so slightly.

“Prey’s camp is that way,” Blacknail impatiently told his master as he pointed toward the source of the noise he had heard earlier.

The hobgoblin wanted to continue the hunt. There were more humans to catch and he had never had so much fun before. He was lightheaded with giddiness and anticipation, even if he was also a little disappointed he couldn’t eat any of the prey he caught.

After throwing a look in the direction Blacknail had indicated, Saeter addressed the hobgoblin. “Good to know, but that’s not our job right now. Grab that fellow and hide him in the bushes along with the one I knocked out. Then sit on them until I get back with Red Dog. Er, you don’t actually have to sit on them. Just guard them.”

“Yes, master,” Blacknail said with a disappointed sigh. Why couldn’t his master ever let him have fun? The humans were so close. He wanted to at least stalk them a little. No one would ever even know.

Saeter turned away and walked back through the trees toward where Red Dog was waiting for them. When he was gone, the hobgoblin grabbed the man’s feet and dragged him into the bushes. He easily found the man Saeter had knocked out by smell and dumped the other sentry on top of him.

He was almost disappointed that Saeter didn’t actually want him to sit on them. Piled up as they were, the unconscious men looked sort of comfy, and Blacknail liked the idea of resting atop the bodies of his defeated prey. Blacknail’s mind wandered as he waited for Saeter to return. He was getting kind of hungry. He wasn’t allowed to eat the humans, but maybe he could lick them. Or maybe he could maim a few and eat the bits that came loose. They would survive that… probably.

After thinking it over for a while, Blacknail decided to take some jerky out of his pouch and eat that instead. He was in the middle of chewing it when he heard someone yell in his direction.

“Kratz! Teriol! I’ve got your supper!”

Blacknail calmly swallowed the last of the jerky and tried to come up with a plan. Obviously, this human was calling for the two who had been knocked out. If he didn’t get an answer, then he would probably raise the alarm, which would be bad. Should Blacknail try to mimic a human and reply himself? No, that wouldn’t work. He didn’t have a human-sounding voice. Human voices were all deep and dumb sounding.

The hobgoblin licked his fingers clean. Should he wake a human up and force them to answer? No, not enough time. Blacknail’s eyes swept over the unconscious men he was supposed to be guarding, and they lingered on the smaller man’s cloak and gloves. He grinned as an idea occurred to him.

“Guys, you there?” the voice called again. The speaker sounded a little nervous now.

Blacknail saw that he had stopped walking and glanced warily at the bush in front of him for signs of his friends. He was balancing two plates of steaming food in his hands. The human’s nervousness disappeared, however, when a small man stepped out from behind a tree. His hood was up for some reason, but the man recognized the sentry’s cloak.

He smiled as he realized his friend was in the middle of a coughing fit, which was probably why he hadn’t answered earlier. The sentry did wave cheerfully, however, as he strode forward and extended a gloved hand to take a plate of food.

“Behind you,” the sentry said between coughs as he raised his other hand to point behind the man. His voice was unusually raspy, probably from the coughing.

“What is it?” the deserter asked as he turned to look.

That was when Blacknail, who was dressed in the sentry’s clothes, smashed him in the back of the head with the wooden plate.

“Wha?” The man groaned as he staggered.

Blacknail hit him again and kept hitting him until he went down. Then the hobgoblin flipped his hood back to reveal his green grinning face and dragged the third man into the bushes to join the others. This was just too much fun!

Chapter 24

Blacknail was quite happy with himself. Not only had he tricked the stupid human, but he had managed to get some free food out of it as well. After hiding the human, Blacknail walked back and picked up all the food that had been dropped in the earlier scuffle.

The hobgoblin spent the next few minutes watching the forest from the top of the hill and eating the red meat and hard bread that he had picked up. From his vantage point at the sentry’s post, he saw Saeter and the other bandits arrive and climb the hill below him.

“Er, you changed your clothes?” Saeter asked Blacknail when he reached the top and saw him.

The other bandits were right behind the scout. One of them gave Blacknail a horrified glance.

“Forget about that. What in all the hells is he eating?” the other bandit asked in alarm.

The hobgoblin sniggered at the man’s concern. He was sitting on the piled bodies of the unconscious men he’d knocked out, while casually chewing a piece of meat. He’d tried looking for something else, like a log, to sit on but hadn’t ended up finding anything. Besides, the pile of humans was actually comfy.

“It smells, and looks, like boiled beef,” someone else answered condescendingly.

The first speaker flushed slightly. Blacknail ignored the other bandits and focused on Saeter. As amusing as they were, only his master was important.

“I had to be sneaky,” Blacknail explained to Saeter as he pointed at the third unconscious man.

“Huh, well, I guess it worked,” Saeter replied. He looked as though he wanted to ask some more questions, but instead he turned to Red Dog. “We should get going. They’ll soon notice these men are missing.”

Red Dog nodded, turned to Blacknail, and gave him a disapproving look. “Are those men still alive?”

“Probably,” Blacknail replied with an indifferent shrug.

Red Dog appeared unsatisfied by Blacknail’s answer, but he only scowled and turned back to Saeter. “Fine, let’s go. The hobgoblin stays here and guards these men though.”

“I have no problem with that,” Saeter replied without concern.

Red Dog gave orders to the other bandits. He got them organized and told them the plan of attack. Blacknail listened and was disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t be joining in the rest of the fun. Red Dog’s plan did seem like it might involve a lot of face-to-face fighting though, and Blacknail was fine with missing out on that. He much preferred attacking people from behind. It was safer.

Besides, Blacknail knew he wasn’t a very good swordsman yet. So he had no problem with staying there while continuing to eat his food and sit on his trophies. Maybe one of them would even wake up. Then Blacknail could have some more fun.

As the hobgoblin watched, the bandits finished their planning and drew their weapons. Most of them had swords, but others had bows or more exotic things like hand axes. Red Dog led the group toward the deserters’ camp. With their dirty unshaven faces and their worn-down and mismatched leather armor, the bandits looked savage and dangerous. They didn’t display the discipline and competence of the horsemen from earlier or even Persus’s guards, however.

Blacknail watched them go, and he decided he wasn’t going to listen to Red Dog after all. When the other bandits were out of sight, the hobgoblin got up and followed them. He wanted to see what happened next.

Saeter led Red Dog and the rest of their group of outlaws through the woods toward their target. They moved slowly in order to sneak up on the group of deserters who had set up camp ahead. The thick trees and hilly terrain concealed their approach.

It didn’t take long for Saeter’s group to get within sight of the deserters’ camp. The old scout stopped at the edge of the forest where it ended in a cliff. He crouched low to the ground to help conceal himself and looked down. Below them and down a rocky incline lay a small recessed valley.

The sound of rushing water could be heard from a small waterfall that rushed down the steep cliff across the valley. The creek it fed then wandered along one side of the valley and marked its boundary. The thick forest and sharp hills continued on the other side of the stream.

A bunch of uniform blue tents had been set up within the gorge. Under an overhang on one section of the cliff, the deserters had also constructed a large crude wooden structure. A number of men moved about or lounged around the area. In the center of the tents, someone was cooking on a large fire.

“Well, those are definitely standard Elorian infantry tents. That means these are our deserters,” Red Dog whispered.

“It could be an entirely different group of deserters who just happen to be highwaymen as well,” one of the new recruits whispered back.

Red Dog was not amused by the comment, and it showed on his face. One of the other bandits took that as permission to cuff the speaker. The man took the blow and shut up.

“Look at the tents and that shelter over there. There are more of them than we thought,” Saeter told Red Dog.

“How many do you think there are exactly?” Red Dog asked.

“At least as many as us, even without counting the scouts we took out on the way in,” Saeter answered.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to go back and ask Herad for reinforcements,” Red Dog muttered sarcastically as he scowled at the camp below them.

No one laughed.

“You’re in charge,” Saeter said indifferently.

Red Dog gave him a dirty look. The bandit lieutenant clearly didn’t like any of the options available to him. “We have the advantage of surprise.”

“Until we lose it,” Saeter added.

“If you have nothing constructive to add, then shut up.”

Saeter didn’t bother to respond or even turn around. He kept looking over the cliff at the deserters’ camp.

“Fine, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go down the hill that way, then we’ll sneak around to those tents over there,” Red Dog explained as he gestured to various spots below. “They’re close to the edge of the woods, and there are quite a few men lounging about around them. We’ll rush out and capture them before they know what’s happening. That’ll give us the advantage in numbers and some prisoners to bargain with.”

“With odds this close, I’ve always preferred less direct attacks. We could scout around a bit more,” Saeter recommended.

“That could take hours. They could stumble onto our trail or notice their missing sentries at any time. No, we have to go in now,” Red Dog replied.

“Fine, I’ll stay here as a lookout. That way I can guard the rear and cover you with my bow,” Saeter suggested.

Red Dog appeared to think it over for a few seconds. The other bandits all around him waited for his response.

“No, you can cover us better from farther down the hill, closer to the action. Besides, you just unpacked that sword of yours, so let’s give you a real opportunity to use it,” Red Dog said with a smirk.

Saeter didn’t look happy with the other bandit’s decision, but when Red Dog led the rest of the outlaws down the slope, he followed them. Blacknail waited until they were gone before takeing up position atop the hill they had just vacated. It was a perfect spot to watch and listen from.

Red Dog slowly and carefully led his group of twenty-four bandits down the slope and through the woods around the camp. The slope was rocky and cover was limited to the occasional large rock or bush so they had to move carefully, but they made it safely to the bottom and back into the forest without being seen.

As they moved through the trees, there were several times when a new recruit messed up or slipped and accidently made a loud noise. When that happened, everyone froze and listened nervously for any reaction from the men ahead of them. When they were sure that no one had noticed them, they continued warily on.

Once they were only a few dozen feet from the tents and the deserters, they stopped to observe their targets. Eight enemies were seated or standing around their target area. Only a few of them had any visible weapons. An about equal number of men were visible in more distant areas of the camp.

Silently, Red Dog signaled his men forward. Ever so slowly, they crawled through the last stretch of thick brush and toward the backs of the tents at edge of the woods. Saeter was with them but was lagging behind and holding up the rear.

When Red Dog reached the edge of the forest, he burst out into a run.The large man raced around the tents and announced himself by punching out the closest deserter. There was a loud crack as his fist impacted the other man’s chin. As the now-unconscious deserter fell, his startled companions sprang to their feet.

“What the hells, an attack?” someone shouted in surprise.

The rest of Red Dog’s rugged outlaws were right behind him. They crashed into the unsuspecting opponents with a series of vicious yells. There were sounds of shock and alarm as they swept out of the woods and tried to encircle the nearby deserters. Saeter remained at the edge of the woods and drew his bow.

In front of the tents, a melee had started, even if it was a one-sided one. Red Dog’s men not only outnumbered their opponents, but the enemy was mostly unarmed. Red Dog managed to lay another deserter low with a second solid punch before even having to draw his blade.

However, it didn’t take long for the rest of the deserters to realize something was happening. From his lookout spot back in forest, Blacknail the camp came alive like an anthill that had just been kicked. Shouts of panic and alarm filled the air as they tried to figure out what was going on. The closest group of deserters began falling one after another. Some of the bandits used clubs, or were just strong enough, to disable their opponents with painful blunt strikes. Other deserters surrendered when swords and daggers were shoved in their faces, and they were then forced to the ground.

Those who tried to run or draw their own blades were put down hard, usually in a bloody and fatal manner. As they were cut down, brief screams of pain joined the panicked yelling that filled the camp. Only one man managed to flee across the camp to regroup with his fellows.

By this time, the deserters in the rest of the camp were getting organized. One man emerged from a tent across the camp with a bow and shot an arrow at Red Dog. The bandit lieutenant didn’t see the projectile coming; he was busy watching over his men. Fortunately for him, the shot missed and ripped through the tent behind him.

The noise alerted Red Dog to the threat, and he spun around to find the shooter. Before the archer could try for another shot, one of Saeter’s arrows took him in the chest. Red Dog gave Saeter a brief nod of thanks as the old scout drew another arrow.

An organized group of defenders appeared across the camp. A large group of the deserters had banded together and armed themselves, but they were holding back for now. Saeter sent a few arrows their way to distract them. The deserters scattered and took cover among the nearby tents, rocks, and equipment. Shouting could be heard as someone attempted to get the former soldiers organized and come up with a plan.

Their strategy became obvious when reinforcements arrived carrying round wooden shields. Saeter took a few more shots at the men, but the shield carriers intercepted every one. With an annoyed grunt, Saeter stopped shooting to preserve arrows, and the fighting ground to a halt.

On one side of the camp were Red Dog and the rough-looking bandits. They numbered two dozen but were busy regrouping and securing their captives. Almost a dozen men lay on the ground at their feet.

On the other side, a dozen armed and organized deserters were glaring at their attackers but weren’t moving to engage them. Most of them still wore their blue military uniforms. Every once in a while, they would be reinforced by a straggler or two.

“Well, that’s inconvenient. Who would have thought they would have carried those heavy things all the way here? No one in the band bothers with shields,” Red Dog remarked as he examined their next group of opponents.

“Bah, who cares? A few shields aren’t going to help them,” one of the bandits said.

“True, we have them outnumbered now. So let’s see if they want to negotiate,” Red Dog announced.

However, before he could do anything, the situation changed.

“What the fuck is all this now?” a deep booming voice yelled.

The group of deserters grew agitated, then split apart to let a large man walk to the front of them. He towered over the nearby men and was heavily muscled. Even from a distance, it was obvious he was far bigger and more muscled than anyone else there. The new arrival had a huge two-handed sword over his shoulder, and he wore a chain mail shirt. As the bandits watched, he pulled a metal helmet over his head. A few more deserters arrived alongside him, which meant the bandits only had a slight advantage in numbers now.

“Well, balls,” Red Dog swore as he eyed this new opponent. He didn’t seem happy.

“Our superior numbers won’t mean much if we have to worry about prisoners,” Saeter remarked.

“I don’t suppose you could just shoot him?” Red Dog asked. They both knew who he meant.

“With that armor and those shields nearby? It’s not bloody likely!” Saeter replied.

“Damn, that would have made this a lot easier,” Red Dog muttered half-heartedly.

Their discussion was interrupted by a yell from the deserter leader. “Who in all the hells are you lot?”

Instantly, both sides went still. The air was thick with tension. Saeter gave Red Dog a look that clearly indicated that it was up to him to answer and that he had better make it good.

“We’re bandits in service to Herad the Black Snake. You’ve been poaching in her territory, so she sent us to put a stop to it,” Red Dog yelled back.

“What, she was too afraid to come herself?” the giant asked arrogantly.

“More like you aren’t worth her time. Why would she bother herself with a few deserters? She runs this entire territory, and she has hundreds of men under her command,” Red Dog replied.

Saeter gave a quiet snort of amusement at the exaggeration. Red Dog ignored him.

“So then why did she send so few of her men to kill us?” was the unconvinced reply.

“We’re not here to kill you. We’re also here to offer you a chance to join us. You’d be stupid not to take it,” Red Dog told them.

“Why in all the hells would we want to join up with a bitch like the Black Snake?” The man laughed.

“So that you don’t all die. You may think you’re tough ex-army shit, but so are half the outlaws in the North. We saw what was left of one of your men when that troll got through with him. You’ve no idea how to survive out here. Even if we don’t kill you, something else will soon enough,” Red Dog said.

“Ha, if that troll comes back, I’ll kill it myself. We don’t need you or your bitch. I’ll kill her soon enough anyway, then this territory will be mine. I’ll give you one chance to save yourselves. Join me,” the man bragged as he pulled a vial from a pouch and held it up for them to see.

“Fuck me, he’s a Slosher,” Red Dog moaned.

As a ripple of fear spread through Herad’s minions, another figure stepped forward from among the deserters. He was a plain-looking man whose chin was covered in stubble and whose brown hair was unkempt. The only reason he stood out was that he was holding a long staff that ended in a clawed orb.

“A combat mage too? They have a thrice-damned combat mage! I strongly suggest we run now,” Saeter urged Red Dog.

“We don’t know what crystals he has or what magic he can do,” Red Dog replied.

“Does it matter? I doubt he would be lugging that staff around if all it could do was light his way to the privy,” Saeter said harshly.

“If we run, that Slosher will chase us down quickly enough.”

“If he hasn’t taken any Elixir yet, then he won’t unless he has to. He must know how hard that stuff is to get out here.”

“I suppose you can’t just shoot the mage either?” Red Dog asked darkly.

“Even if I could, who’s going to fight that huge armored Slosher? You?” was Saeter’s sarcastic reply.

Red Dog sighed. He seemed to deflate as he slouched in despair. “You know what really bothers me about all this? That bloody goblin of yours is the only one who’s going to survive this.”

“Give me your answer, or I’ll cut you to pieces!” the giant roared.

“We’re discussing your offer. Give us a second,” Red Dog yelled back with an annoyed tone.

“Don’t piss him off!” Saeter hissed.

“Or what, he’ll kill us?” Red Dog hissed back.

Blacknail watched Saeter and Red Dog argue from atop the hill that looked down on the camp. It definitely seemed like his master was in trouble. Things had been going well until that big male human arrived. For some reason, everyone was afraid of him. Well, he did have a very impressive sword and shiny hat.

The men behind Red Dog seemed on the edge of panic. Even his master looked out of sorts. Blacknail blamed the fat-faced man, Red Dog. His plan had obviously been stupid and had put Blacknail’s master in danger. The hobgoblin didn’t want his master to get hurt or die, and it was looking increasingly likely that he would. He owed the man too much to let that happen.

He also really didn’t want to have to walk back to camp alone and try to explain everything that had happened to Herad. He doubted she would be understanding or that he would survive.

What could he do though? The problem was the big man, so Blacknail had to do something about him, but what? He was definitely huge, and Blacknail was rather small. It would be satisfying to defeat such a man… to kill him.

Blacknail shivered as the cruel hunger from before surged through him again. Feeling giddy and lightheaded, the hobgoblin smiled viciously in anticipation as he considered various schemes. Yes, he would show these enemy humans why they should have never entered his territory!

Having made up his mind, Blacknail launched himself down the hill and scrambled through the woods. On all four limbs, he navigated through the tangle of bushes and avoided the rocks at high speed. His light, agile body allowed the hobgoblin to move in ways humans couldn’t. Once he reached the edge of the woods that lay below the hill, the hobgoblin forced himself to stop. That done, he brushed himself off and threw up his hood. Then with false calm, he strolled out of the woods and into the deserters’ camp.

Immediately, several of the deserters looked his way. Blacknail felt their gazes on him as he approached, and he nervously noted that they were all armed and rather angry looking. He doubted he could fight off a single one of the large humans, let alone the whole group.

Blacknail really hoped his plan would work. He probably should have spent a little more time thinking it through. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time though, when he had been far away and safe. If this plan failed, not only was he going to die painfully, but most likely, so would his master.

Up ahead, the large human leader raised his huge sword into the air and roared. “You cowardly dogs have had all the time I’m willing to give you! No more stalling. It’s time to fight. When I cut you fuckers down, I’m going to make sure your deaths are slow and bloody, as a warning to others!”

Chapter 25

None of the deserters did more than glance Blacknail’s way as he walked up behind them. They were preoccupied by the bandits in front of them, and the hobgoblin was still wearing the cloak he had won from the sentry. Winning something from a fight was very different from stealing it.

No one found anything odd about another straggler joining the group now, and that was exactly what Blacknail looked like. Most of the deserters wore the same cloak as him, and he wasn’t even the only one in the group with his hood up.

The hobgoblin stretched himself as tall as possible and walked on his toes as he entered the crowd of deserters. He hoped his somewhat awkward gait wouldn’t attract attention, but he was short for a human, so he had to do something. He avoided directly looking at anyone and tilted his head down so that his green skin was hidden within the shadows of his cloak.

Blacknail saw his target; he was rather hard to miss. The man loomed over the other deserters like a solitary mountain over the forest. Quickly, but without seeming hurried, the hobgoblin walked up behind the large man. Luckily for him, the rest of the men had taken a few steps back from their leader and given him space.

“You’ve had all the time you need. If you don’t surrender right this second, I’m going to kill every last one of you!” the enemy leader yelled.

“Hmmm,” Blacknail muttered.

He wasn’t sure what his next move should be. Things seemed more complicated now that he was actually in the middle of the enemy tribe. His target was definitely huge! Even from the back, he towered over the hobgoblin. Blacknail would have trouble just reaching his throat, and that shiny shirt protected his chest. The hobgoblin needed to adjust his plan and quickly, or it wouldn’t work.

A tall man with a sword in his hand turned toward Blacknail and looked him over. He was standing only a few feet away. “Ha, I’ll bet you two silver those spineless dogs are going to surrender any second now. No one sane would pick a fight with Basghus.”

The hobgoblin gave a vague grunt of acknowledgement and ignored the man. He still needed to come up with a better plan. The disguised hobgoblin perked up as an idea occurred to him. He sure hoped he could pull it off. Stupid Red Dog—his insane plan had put Blacknail’s master in danger. Blacknail idly wondered how the man had survived so long without someone around to clean up his messes.

The hobgoblin drew his dagger as he stood in the middle of his tribe’s enemies. He sighed in relief when his action failed to raise anyone’s suspicion. Everyone around him was still focused on Red Dog’s group.

Then with a vicious snarl, Blacknail pounced on the back of the enemy tribe’s leader. As everyone around him reacted in shock, Blacknail got a firm grip on the neck of big man’s chain shirt and pulled himself higher.

“What the holy fucks?” the giant yelled as he jumped in surprise. He dropped his sword and the vial he held, spun around, and reached back to try to grab the freaky thing climbing his back.

Blacknail wasted no time. As the man flinched and tried to grab him, the hobgoblin cut the man’s exposed throat. The dagger dug deep as Blacknail put as much force as possible into it. He wouldn’t get a second chance at this. He felt warm blood wash over his hand, and the scent of wet iron filled the air.

As the man choked and toppled forward like a felled tree, Blacknail flipped himself over the man’s shoulders. He landed on the ground and rolled straight toward the bandits and safety. His hood slipped off as he moved. Blacknail didn’t even notice; he was completely focused on sprinting like mad toward his master. He had a feeling there was about to be a whole bunch of furious humans behind him.

He tore up the dirt behind him. He pushed himself faster and faster, and he didn’t even think of stopping until he had hurtled past the bandits. He was going so fast, he had to drop and roll wildly to reduce his momentum so he could stop. Once safe behind Red Dog and the others, he climbed back to his feet.

As Blacknail brushed some of the dirt from the roll off of himself, he noticed that everyone was staring at him. The bandits had all turned away from their opponents and were looking at him. Their mouths were open and eyes wide with shock.

“What?” Blacknail threw a nervous glance behind himself, just in case. There was nothing there, but you could never be sure in this accursed forest.

“Messa-Mien’s mercy! Where did you come from?” Red Dog exclaimed.

Blacknail considered the question for a second. “From the sewers?”

Saeter broke out laughing so loudly and joyfully that it echoed through the camp. “So much for the Slosher.”

“We still have to worry about that combat mage,” Red Dog reminded him, but a big half-crazy smile was plastered across his face as he said it.

Saeter gave the other man an even bigger grin, which almost didn’t seem possible. His normally lined face looked practically cragged as he beamed.

Then Blacknail’s master turned and faced the deserters. They were still recovering from the shock of seeing the hobgoblin murder their supposedly invincible leader right in front of them. Not a single one of them had even started after Blacknail. They were still staring wide-eyed at each other and the corpse on the ground in front of them.

“Surrender now, or we’ll send more hobgoblins after you!” Saeter yelled.

No one answered for a few seconds.

“We surrender, as long as your offer to join Herad is still good” the staff-carrying mage eventually called. He was still staring in shock at the corpse of the Vessel.

No one among the deserters challenged his decision.

“It is,” Red Dog yelled back.

“I guess we won then,” Saeter announced with satisfaction.

Red Dog blinked blankly at him.

“Good Blacknail. I’m feeding you as much as you can eat when we get back,” Saeter told the hobgoblin.

“And I’m buying you a beer,” another bandit added with a faraway look in his eyes.

A chorus of agreements and offers of treats flowed from the rest of the bandits. Blacknail smiled at them. Even Red Dog gave him an approving nod.

“I protect my band-ss. It’s what warriors do,” the hobgoblin lied through his sharp pointy teeth. He had only really cared about saving Saeter, but he was more than happy to take the opportunity to suck up and make some new allies.

It took a few seconds for everyone to remember that they were still in hostile territory and sober up. When they did, Red Dog straightened and walked a few steps toward the defeated deserters. They were just standing there looking unsure of what to do, or even of what had just happened.

“Hey! You guys drop your weapons, and that goes double for the mage. You’re our captives until you officially join up with the Black Snake,” he yelled.

Blacknail walked up beside the bandit lieutenant and gave him another toothy smile.

“I get the big one’s shiny hat,” he told Red Dog.

Red Dog let him take the helmet.

As Saeter and other bandits organized the aftermath of the fight, Blacknail wandered around the camp and explored. Since everyone else in his band was busy rounding up the deserters, he had the camp almost to himself.

The clearing the deserters had made their home in was filled with the army equipment they had taken with them and the goods they had stolen. The far end of the camp was marked by a small muddy stream.

As Blacknail wandered about, he tried on his new helmet. It didn’t fit. It was far too large and rattled as he walked. His large green nose poked out, and the helmet pinched it painfully. With a sad sigh, Blacknail packed it away for later, then continued riffling through the nearby tents and supplies. Everything he found that piqued his interest, like random pieces of clothes and shiny things, ended up shoved into his pouches or pack. Everything that smelled tasty ended up shoved into his mouth.

As Blacknail was chewing a piece of cheese, which he had recently acquired a taste for, he heard an unexpected rustling from a nearby tent. Curious but wary, he crept over to check it out.

Something was definitely moving within the blue tent ahead! The sounds were quiet, as if someone or something was trying to make as little noise as possible. The idea of something hiding from Blacknail triggered his predator instincts. Surely it wouldn’t be hiding if it didn’t have something to hide? Something Blacknail wanted…

Silently, the hobgoblin approached the entrance to the tent. He carefully grabbed the entrance flap, then he ripped it open so he could peer inside. He had a brief glimpse of a naked woman huddled among a pile of blankets and holding one to her chest before the tin plate she threw smashed into his face. Blacknail hissed in pain and staggered back from the tent.

The woman screamed fearfully. Outside the tent, Blacknail hopped around in pain. Blacknail’s nose had taken the brunt of the hit, and it throbbed painfully. He rubbed his nose, then pinched the end, neither of which really helped at all. The woman continued screaming shrilly, which, on top of everything else, hurt his ears.

The commotion attracted Saeter and several other bandits. His master calmly took in the sight of the obviously pained hobgoblin and the screams from the tent.

“Well, what do we have here?” Saeter asked.

“Sounds like a woman to me,” one of the other bandits replied eagerly.

“She hit me!” Blacknail whined pitifully to his master.

“Some man-slaying monster you are. I’m glad none of our prisoners are here to see this. They’re terrified of our killer hobgoblin,” Saeter remarked as he smirked.

A few of the other bandits chuckled as well. Blacknail gave them a hostile glare, but that only made them chuckle more.

Saeter turned to the tent and addressed the occupant. “Come out now and you won’t be harmed. Stay in there and you won’t like what happens next.”

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then there was a brief ruffling noise, and the woman who had assaulted Blacknail stepped out of the tent. Her hair was long and blond, and her eyes were light blue. Her thin figure and large breasts were covered only by the blanket she had wrapped around herself. One of the bandits whistled appreciatively.

Blacknail rubbed his sore nose and glared at her. He thought she was ugly, smelly and, stupid.

The woman was pale and shivering ever so slightly with fear. With wet and glossy eyes, she met the stares of the bandits. She only flinched when she noticed Blacknail glaring at her hatefully. She seemed determined not to let her fear show.

“And who might you be?” Saeter asked politely. There was a silly smile on his face that Blacknail didn’t recognize.

“My name is Erissa, sir. I was traveling to Riverdown with some merchants when they were killed by Basghus. He took me prisoner and used me to warm his bed,” she answered with a slight tremor in her voice. “May I ask who you are?”

She appeared afraid and smelled of fear as well, but Blacknail noticed her give every bandit a brief appraising look. This woman wasn’t helpless.

“Ah, we’re bandits as well, but of a less crude sort. Who’s this Basghus you speak of?” Saeter replied carefully.

“He’s the hulking man who leads the bandits here.” The blonde looked weary. She seemed to have disregarded the other bandits and was focusing on Saeter. She stepped toward him until she was within an easy arm’s reach. Then she looked up and met his gaze.

“Ah, him. He’s dead, so you don’t need to worry,” Saeter told her as he fidgeted and looked uncomfortable.

“Wha… what are you going to do to me?” Erissa asked.

“Nothing you haven’t been through before, I’m sure,” one bandit joked.

Saeter tore his gaze from Erissa and gave the bandit a brief disapproving look. “You’re our prisoner for now, but behave yourself and we’ll drop you off at Riverdown.”

Erissa looked somewhat, but far from completely, relieved by the older man’s words. “Thank you.” She simpered gratefully as she held the blanket to her chest. “You’re almost one of those noble bandits out of the tales, like the White Raven.”

“Ah, someone like that, yes,” Saeter replied reluctantly.

There was an odd pensive tone to the old scout’s voice, but Erissa either didn’t notice or care. His words seemed to calm her, and she smiled at him.

“Wait a second, I just realized something,” a shorter bandit suddenly blurted.

“What?” Saeter asked impatiently.

“According to Herad’s rules, she goes to whoever found her, but that wasn’t you. Blacknail was the one who found her…”

Everyone, including the woman, turned to look at the hobgoblin. Startled at all the unexpected attention, Blacknail gave them a flat, uncomprehending look back.

“Then she’s mine until we find somewhere to get rid of her,” Saeter told everyone.

“Um, how do you know Blacknail doesn’t want her? I mean, there are stories about hobgoblins and women who get lost in the woods,” another bandit asked.

Erissa suddenly looked terrified. She took another step toward Saeter until she was practically pressed against him. Blacknail’s master smacked the bandit who had just spoken across the side of the head.

“You’re definitely not a farm boy, or you’d know why those are tall tales. I’m not going to explain the birds and the bees to you, but you should know it doesn’t work that way. If it did, we would be up to our eyeballs in forest nymphs and frog knights,” Saeter answered him scathingly.

“I was just saying,” the red-faced bandit muttered as he massaged the side of his head.

Several of his fellows were smiling or chuckling at his expense. Erissa just looked really relieved, and Blacknail didn’t quite understand what was going on. Did they expect him to eat her?

“She smells bad,” Blacknail said.

Several bandits broke out into laughter. Even Saeter looked amused. The blond woman’s one eye twitched, and she scowled at Blacknail. The hobgoblin was now even more confused. Did the stupid woman want to be eaten? He scowled back at her.

“I’m leaving,” Blacknail muttered as he began to walk away. There were still places in the camp he hadn’t explored yet, and his master was acting all weird. Being alone right now sounded like a great idea.

Eventually, after the hobgoblin had claimed a few more trophies, the deserters were released. After all their weapons had been collected, they were allowed to start packing up. Red Dog planned to sleep over at the camp, then head back with the new recruits in the morning.

They set up all their own gear in one corner of the camp and put several men on watch. Red Dog and Saeter thought the deserters were sincere in their surrender and desire to join Herad, but neither was willing to put themselves at risk to test it either.

As night fell, everyone began to lie down for the night. Several of Red Dog’s men were seated around a fire in the center of their encampment. A pale waxing moon had risen, and every once in a while, a cloud floated past and hid it from view.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had army rations,” one of the men around the fire told his companions.

“Me too. I didn’t miss them,” another replied with a scowl.

Blacknail was sitting in the shadows, observing them. He could have joined them but didn’t feel like it. He was in a foul mood. His master had retired to his tent with the stupid blond woman.

At first they had talked for a while and Saeter had acted all weird. Now Blacknail could hear them mating, and it was disgusting. Mating among goblins was simple. A female went into heat and the last male standing got to claim her. All the weird talking they had done was disturbing. What was there to talk about?

“Forget about the food. What I want is a chance with that bountiful blonde we picked up today!” a taller black-haired bandit interjected.

“Ha, good luck with that. By Herad’s rules, she belongs to Saeter. He was the one to find her, even if you don’t count Blacknail as the first. No way is he going to give her up now. She’s got her hooks into him good,” the sole female bandit in the group responded.

“Grr, why him? He’s a crusty old bastard,” the taller bandit asked.

“Ha, he may not seem like it these days, but Saeter used to be a famous lady-killer. He was a regular master of seduction,” a shorter bandit told him.

“Besides, he was clearly in charge and Blondie could see it. She’s not stupid and obviously knows what’s what,” the outlaw woman added.

“Ya, I have a hard time seeing Saeter as a lady-killer,” someone else replied.

“I don’t know. If he were a dozen years younger and didn’t scowl so much, I think he would be fairly handsome. He’s certainly got the tall, dark, and handsome thing down,” the woman mused.

“Well, damn that bastard anyway, and his stupid pet too. We’re supposed to be bandits, not gentlemen bloody thieves. He could at least share!” the taller bandit exclaimed. He stopped ranting when he noticed everyone else at the fire was staring slightly behind him. He froze, then grimaced regretfully. “Saeter’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“It’s worse than that,” the man to his left told him.

As if on cue, Blacknail leaned down over the short man’s shoulder and glared at him. The bandit froze. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds, then Blacknail reached down and took the man’s plate of food from his hand.

He stared hard into the other man’s eyes as if challenging him to say something about it. The man didn’t so much as breathe. Smugly, the hobgoblin walked back over to the shadows and started eating. A chorus of quiet chuckles broke out behind him. Blacknail felt a little better now.

As he was eating, he saw Red Dog emerge from his tent. He walked over to the fire and spoke quietly to one of the men. The man responded, then got up and walked away from the fire and out into the darkness. He was headed across the camp to where the deserters were.

Blacknail watched with interest. What was Red Dog doing? The bandit lieutenant was just standing beside the fire and waiting. The hobgoblin stared into the darkness that encircled them for any sign of activity. A few minutes later, a sudden clanging noise drew his attention.

Then without warning, Blacknail was blinded by a searing white light. It flashed into existence across the camp and illuminated the entire area. Its radiance poured over Blacknail, and he hissed in distress as he tried to shield his eyes. What was this unnatural light? It was unlike anything he had ever seen! Sounds of surprise and confusion rang out from the bandit camp. Alarmed, the hobgoblin rolled behind the crate he was sitting on and sheltered in the shadows behind it.

From his hiding spot, he heard approaching footsteps. Still somewhat blinded by the white afterimages that filled his eyesight, a nervous Blacknail drew his dagger. Just what was going on?

Chapter 26

Only the fact that no one was yelling or screaming stopped Blacknail from panicking. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he peeked out from his hiding spot so that only his eyes and long green nose were visible.

Within the light, he saw two men walking toward Red Dog. One was the man Red Dog had sent out a few minutes ago, and the other was the plain-looking deserter with the staff. The bright white light that was stinging Blacknail's eyes poured forth from the end of the man’s weapon.

The staff didn't look like a torch. The light it cast was a different color from torchlight and much stronger. The hobgoblin had never seen a staff like that before either. Dimly, he remembered some fragments of conversation he had overheard. The light must be magic, which made the man a mage. The idea of real magic intrigued Blacknail. From what he had heard, it was dangerous and exciting stuff.

When the two men arrived, the mage’s staff slowly dimmed until it went completely dark and only the light from the campfire was left. There was a ruffling noise from Saeter’s tent as the older man stepped out, then he walked over to the mage and Red Dog. The light must have grabbed his attention. It had certainly grabbed everyone else’s.

Blacknail climbed out of hiding and back onto the crate. There didn’t seem to be any immediate danger. From his perch, the hobgoblin stared intently at the staff-wielder. He wanted to see some more magic. He didn’t know much about it, but he was pretty sure it could make things explode and catch fire, which he really wanted to see.

Meanwhile, Red Dog was giving the mage an indifferent look. “If you were trying to impress me with that light show, then you’ve failed. Even I know light crystals are the one type every single guild has. They’re the magical equivalent of dirt. It also seems like a bloody pointless waste of a crystal you’ll probably never be able to replace.”

Saeter walked up beside him and grunted in agreement. The mage was an average-sized man with short brown hair and brown eyes. Like all the other deserters, he was unshaven and dressed in worn-out Elorian military garb. As he listened to Red Dog, an amused smile appeared on his face.

“Greetings. Now that things have… settled down for a little bit, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Mahedium, former combat mage for the Royal Elorian 2nd Infantry Brigade. I’m glad you called for me. As you can probably imagine, I’ve some questions I wouldn’t mind asking you,” he said.

“We have some questions of our own for you first,” Red Dog replied sternly.

“Ask away then.” Mahedium turned his palms up in a gesture of openness.

“How and why exactly did a Vessel and a mage end up deserting together? Life in the Elorian infantry isn’t fun for anyone these days, but mages and Vessels are the elite. They’re treated much better than most. Few of them ever end up deserting,” Red Dog asked.

“Ah, that is a perceptive question. Basghus, our former leader, was an arrogant man. He may have been a Vessel, but he was still commonborn. He felt he deserved promotion, but with no noble blood, it was unlikely to ever happen. That didn’t stop him from trying though, and his persistence earned him many enemies. Eventually, he decided he would be better off striking out on his own.”

“What about you?” Saeter asked.

“My story is somewhat similar. I made some enemies among my… superiors. So when I learned of Basghus’s plans, I offered him my services,” Mahedium replied.

Saeter eyed the man and scowled. He seemed skeptical. “Your guild suspected you were doing experiments on your own, and they were right, so you ran.”

Surprise flashed across the mage’s face, and he twitched slightly. He quickly stifled it and forced a smile though. “Ah, yes. You two are unexpectedly insightful for um… outlaws. May I ask how you figured it out?”

“It wasn’t hard. Combat mages aren’t taught how to make crystals. They’re only taught how to use them in combat. Yet you were willing to burn a crystal to produce that light. A mage with limited magic wouldn’t do that, unless they were an idiot.” Saeter shrugged.

“Surely there must be more to it than that?” Mahedium asked skeptically.

“Having problems with your superiors? Asking the wrong type of questions, were you? I’ve known a few combat mages, and none of them liked being dependent on the guilds for their magic. Plus, you just seem like the sort who would try to pry into the secrets of the guilds even if it meant putting your own life at risk,” Saeter added.

Mahedium gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I see. You’re completely right. I used to be an apothecary, until I was drafted. During training, I was tested for the mage gift and accepted into the Fiery Eye guild. Then they shipped me off to the front, and I realized I was nothing but a disposable tool to them. Without connections or moneym I would never be taught the real secrets of magic, and my ignorance would make me dependent on them for my power.”

“So you asked questions and experimented,” Red Dog remarked.

“Yes, and I got results! The formulas and processes involved in the creation of mana crystals are complex and tightly held secrets. Every guild has different ones it knows how to make. But you were right when you said that the light crystal was the exception! The Fiery Eye wasn’t too concerned about information on light crystals leaking. So with luck and a little experimentation, I was able to learn to create them!” Mahedium declared victoriously.

“And now you’re on the run, but at least you can make magical torches,” Saeter replied sarcastically.

“That’s true for now… but not forever. With my knowledge of how to create light crystals, I can experiment and discover other formulas,” Mahedium declared.

“And blow yourself up,” Red Dog said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m aware of the dangers involved, but I have some clues and ideas that should reduce the risk,” he replied defensively.

“Sure, as long as you do it well away from me,” Red Dog told him dismissively.

“Hmm, I hope I’ve answered all your questions. Now if you don’t mind, I have some of my own?” the mage asked.

“Knock yourself out,” Red Dog said.

Mahedium threw an inquisitive glance Blacknail’s way. The hobgoblin met his gaze even though it made him nervous. He was fairly sure the mage couldn’t set him on fire with his mind, or at least wouldn’t. Saeter wouldn’t like it.

“I must admit that I’m extremely interested in your hobgoblin. As unusual as it is for mages and Vessels to desert, I have never heard of a trained hobgoblin. He was rather… effective earlier,” he remarked.

Saeter smirked with obvious pride. Red Dog rolled his eyes at Saeter’s behavior.

“Not much to say. I found a goblin, then trained it. I just had to beat some sense into it when it became a hob,” Saeter replied.

“If only,” Red Dog muttered.

The mage gave them both uncomprehending looks. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” the old scout answered.

Blacknail scowled at his master’s words. He remembered things quite differently. For one thing, he thought he deserved at least some of the credit.

“I see. Well, now that we have gotten to know each other, I would like to ask for our weapons to be returned to us,” Mahedium told them.

“And why should we do that?” Red Dog asked with a skeptical frown.

“It was only Basghus who didn’t want to join up with Herad. He dragged the rest of us along with him. We have no reason to turn on you. Just as you said earlier, the wilds are a dangerous place and…”

Blacknail yawned. He had grown bored with all the talk, and he didn’t think the mage was going to be doing any more magic. The hobgoblin stood and decided to get some sleep. He wanted to use the tent he had taken as a trophy as well. It would probably be much nicer than sleeping on the ground.

As the night progressed, everyone eventually drifted off to sleep. When dawn came, the deserters’ camp was busy with activity. Everything that could possibly be moved was being packed away so it could be transported to Herad’s base. Soon, Red Dog, Saeter, and the rest of the bandits were on their way back with almost double the amount of men they had started with.

“Herad should be happy when we get back! Or at least as close as she gets,” Red Dog proudly told the others. The bandit lieutenant was standing tall with his chest puffed out. Blacknail thought it made him look fat.

They were making their way through the woods and back to the road. The tall shady trees around them were alive with morning birdsong. Every member of their group had a backpack stuffed full of supplies and loot, even Blacknail.

When Blacknail stopped for a second to look over a small patch of red mushrooms that had caught his eye, a group of deserters passed him. Most of them ignored him or shied away and tried not to catch his eye.

One bandit wearing a brown feathered cap gave him a disdainful look. “Look, it’s got a sword. Ha, I’ll eat my hat if the critter can actually use it,” he muttered to the man beside him.

The other man’s eyebrows rose, and he gave the speaker a disbelieving look. “Don’t tempt fate, fool.”

Blacknail ignored them. He was more interested in whether the mushrooms he was looking at were edible. The red color probably meant they were poisonous, but it also made them look very tasty. With a sigh, he decided against eating them. He picked one to show Saeter so he would know for later though.

The wind shifted, and a breeze blew through the trees. Leaves rustled, and the smell of healthy growing things surrounded the hobgoblin. However, under the more powerful scents, something else lurked and drew Blacknail's attention. Instinct took over. The hobgoblin froze, and his heart sped up. The sound of its pounding filled his ears. He twitched as he fought the sudden urge to run. Instead, he took a quick look around and forced himself to relax. He saw nothing lurking nearby. With no signs of immediate danger, he walked up the line and passed the other men to find Saeter.

Saeter was talking to Red Dog at the front of the group. Mahedium and some of Red Dog's men were walking right behind them. After another quick nervous look around just to be sure, Blacknail moved up beside Saeter. He was trying to act calm, but his movements were jerky and stiff. He didn't want to alert anything that was watching that he had detected them.

Saeter broke off his conversation with Red Dog as the hobgoblin approached. He looked over and gave Blacknail a puzzled glance. Blacknail was fidgeting and clearly nervous.

“I smell the troll. It's downwind, being sneaky,” Blacknail whispered to his master. Almost immediately, he felt kind of stupid. He was fairly sure trolls couldn't understand human speech, so there had been no real reason to whisper.

“Shit.” Saeter grimaced and closed his eyes for a second as he thought things through.

“What is it?” Red Dog asked.

“That troll's back, and it's stalking us,” Saeter replied darkly.

Red Dog added a long string of his own curses to Saeter's. Blacknail didn't understand most of them but made a mental note to look into them later.

“We'll need to prepare and make sure everyone's ready,” Red Dog said when he had finally stopped swearing.

“If we can make ourselves look like more trouble than we're worth, it might back off without a fight. The trick will be getting ready without tipping it off,” Saeter added.

Red Dog nodded. He then turned around and spoke to the group behind him. “Mahedium, come here for a second.”

The mage gave them a curious look as he picked up his pace and walked over to them. “What do you need?”

“That troll friend of yours is back. I want to know if you've got any tricks that might be useful, and don't think of holding anything back just because you can't replace it,” Red Dog said.

The mage flinched fearfully before responding. “For use against a troll? I have no idea what would work. They’re hardly my area of expertise. I mean, I have um… a few heat crystals, and obviously I have light crystals I can use to blind it. I also have a force crystal I've been saving, but that's it.”

“That's all you got? You’re of the Fiery Eye, and they’re one of the most hardcore combat guilds around,” Red Dog said with an eyebrow raised doubtfully.

“I wasn't actually at the front when I took my leave of the army. The Guilds only give combat mages the crystals they think we need, so most of what I have are support spells,” Mahedium explained.

“Fine, go for the heat then. Just be damn sure you have a clear shot before you fire. I've seen what those things can do to a man, and I don't want to see it again,” Red Dog told him.

“Probably your best bet,” Saeter added in agreement.

Red Dog carefully gave out other orders. As the line of bandits hiked through the woods, he called several to him, one at a time. When the men returned to their place in the line, they whispered to their nearby companions.

While this was happening, Mahedium went to work as well. The mage quickly dissembled his staff in a practiced manner. He replaced the white crystal within the staff's mechanism with a red one, then he made some adjustments that narrowed the staff's metal head.

Slowly, the bandit group began to split until it had divided itself into small units. The transformation was gradual, but soon every unit had someone watching each direction, and every bandit had a hand ready to draw their weapon.

As the group farthest from the front was forming up, there was a scream. Blacknail whipped around in time to see something explode from the bushes. At first it was nothing but a green blur, but then it smashed through a group of men in the middle of the line and slowed almost to a stop. Men screamed in pain and surprise as the green behemoth roared and sent clumps of earth, broken branches, and bloodied men flying.

Even while stooped over, the troll towered over the few men still standing around it. It had bizarrely elongated arms that reached all the way from its broad hunched shoulders to the ground. Heavy muscles rippled under its greenish-grey skin as it spun furiously and whipped its heavy clawed fists around to batter and break anyone unlucky enough to get too close to it.

The troll’s head was similar to a hobgoblin's but with a thick, extended lizard-like snout. A dirty mane of brown hair grew from the top of its head and down its back. As it attacked, it opened its mouth to let out a savage roar, which revealed countless jagged yellow teeth and two massive blade-like fangs that descended down past its jaw.

It wasn’t the troll’s strength or size that alarmed Blacknail though. No, what truly frightened him was the beast’s speed. It seemed to jerk and twist as it moved, but it did it so quickly that it was almost impossible to keep track of. There was no way he could run from such a beast!

“Rally!” Red Dog shouted as he drew his sword.

In a violent frenzy of motion, the troll ripped into the men surrounding it. Its fists smashed them aside like paper dolls and sent them flying. They barely had time to react or even draw their weapons. Then the beast screamed in elated rage as it snatched up a shocked bandit. It brought the shrieking man to its mouth and bit down on him. Its huge fangs sank into its prey with a wet cracking noise, and the man's chest seemed to collapse in on itself.

With a mocking satisfied hiss and a powerful lunge, the troll broke through the scattered and bloodied men and charged off into the woods. It used its long arms and knuckles like a second pair of legs as it ripped through the underbrush.

Suddenly, just as the troll was about to disappear, there was a hissing noise off to one side of Blacknail and the air rippled. A wave of heat washed over him, and the hobgoblin cringed away. There was a sharp crack as the base of a tree near where the troll had been seconds ago exploded into flames.

Startled, Blacknail looked over his shoulder to see Mahedium standing frozen in place. Heat radiated from the metal head of his staff. Was this magic?

The mage wore a shocked expression, and his knuckles were pale and white from gripping his staff so tightly, but he was pointing his weapon in the general direction the troll had gone. Apparently, magic could do much more than create light, but you still had to aim it properly.

All in all, the savage onslaught had lasted seconds. All the dozens of bandits could do was gape in stunned horror and take in the destruction the troll had wrought around them. For a moment, the forest was quiet except for the moans of the wounded. Then as the shock dissipated, shrill screams of pain and panicked cursing filled the air. Half a dozen men the troll had passed by lay strewn across the ground or had been dashed against trees. The air was thick with the mingled scent of blood and the putrid stench of the troll.

“Fire and damnation! Fucking trolls. Drakes are worse, my ass!” Red Dog stomped off, shouting orders. He had to yell at the top of his lungs to be heard over everyone else.

Nervously, Blacknail stood up from where he had instinctively crouched behind Saeter. His master gave him a hard, unamused stare, and the hobgoblin gave him an apologetic smile back.

Erissa had fallen backward in shock and landed butt first on the ground, where she was shivering in terror. Saeter crouched beside her and whispered reassuringly in her ear.

Red Dog was still shouting, and he was even waving his sword around to get attention. Slowly, he managed to get people calmed down and somewhat organized.

Saeter got up from where he was tending to Erissa and made his way over to Red Dog. The other man was yelling at a small group of bandits. He pointed off in one direction and they jogged over to help the wounded. That left Red Dog standing by himself and glowering darkly at nothing.

“We have a problem,” Saeter told Red Dog.

Very slowly, the bandit lieutenant looked over. Red Dog’s face twitched as a mix of emotions warred within him. Finally, he settled on an incredibly dark and hostile glare which he aimed directly at Saeter. “I know we have a fucking problem! We have more problems than there are hells right now!”

“But you don’t know the real problem,” Saeter replied calmly.

“Oh, and what might that be?” Red Dog asked with a snarl.

“That wasn’t normal troll behavior, not even close. That thing was an experienced man-eater with a taste for human flesh. It will be back. Repeatedly. Even if we head home, it will just follow us,” the grey-haired older man explained.

“Of course it fucking is! Go slay the deserters, she says. It’ll be easy, she says. She just forgot to mention the bloody huge Slosher, the combat mage, and the man-eating troll! I've had enough of this. We're making a break for the base. Then the troll will be Herad's problem.” Red Dog swore.

Blacknail liked that plan. He was sure he could outrun most of the humans without a problem, and it was a man-eating troll anyway, not a goblin-eating troll. Yep, his survival was practically guaranteed.

“If we do that, we'll lose a lot of men. The troll might even get you or me, since we can't predict where it will strike,” Saeter told him.

Blacknail frowned. He didn't like where this was going.

“You have a better idea, old man?” Red Dog asked.

“Yes. I'll take a seven or eight of our more experienced men and trail the troll back to its lair. We'll corner it there and finish it off. That’ll give you and the wounded time to get going,” Saeter suggested.

“Dangerous. You would be putting experienced men at risk to save the wounded and rookies. Do you really think you can do it?” Red Dog replied skeptically.

“This is what I do.”

“Very well. Good luck then, and may all the gods bless your path, old man.”

Saeter nodded, then turned to Blacknail. “Come on, we have a lot of hard, dangerous work ahead of us.”

Blacknail sighed. Of course his master didn't like Red Dog’s plan, and of course his idea put them right in the most dangerous place possible. The hobgoblin was beginning to wonder if his master was trying to get himself killed—and take Blacknail with him.

Chapter 27

It only took Saeter a few minutes to round up his pick of the men. None of them looked thrilled at being selected, although one or two agreed that it was necessary. All the men Saeter picked were among the most experienced of the bandits and were familiar with the forest, except for Mahedium. The mage made his objections to joining the hunt clear, but in the end, he had no choice. Mage or not, he was still not even a proper member of the band.

Before Red Dog’s group had gotten moving again, Saeter led his party after the troll. It wasn’t difficult to spot its trail. The troll had simply torn through the forest at full speed while carrying a human body. Branches had been snapped, the earth was torn up, and blood littered the ground. Saeter didn't even have to stop and look for signs as he led the way. It was obvious to everyone which way to go—they just had to follow the trail of destruction.

Blacknail followed his master and scanned the surroundings for danger. Saeter seemed sure that the troll was long gone, but that didn’t mean the forest was safe. Blacknail thought chasing a troll through the woods was an incredibly stupid idea, even without considering what would happen when they actually caught it.

The easy-to-follow path ended when the party came across a wide creek that meandered through the woods. Cold water raced and bubbled over a stone-filled streambed that was wider than a man was tall. Its banks were rocky and mostly clear of plants except for the occasional scraggly sapling or patch of grass. The beast's trail stopped abruptly at the water's edge.

Blacknail walked across the creek and sniffed the ground. He felt a nervous shiver work its way up his spine when he failed to pick up the troll's trail on the other side. The idea that the troll was both smart enough to lose him and could be anywhere made him nervous. He looked up and scanned the forest for any signs of it.

The trees here were mostly tall evergreens with long needles instead of leaves. Close to the ground, their smooth white trunks were bereft of anything but the remains of broken dead branches. Higher up, the tops of the trees were green and healthy-looking though. The ground was rocky enough that in some areas, the trees were forced to grow fairly far apart. These spaces were filled by sparse stretches of moss and a layer of brown pine needles. There was no sign of the troll, and not a lot of places for something so big to hide.

Saeter's boots got wet as he splashed across the creek after Blacknail. He examined the forest for a few seconds. “Let me guess, you've lost the trail?”

“Yes-ss, it's gone,” Blacknail answered with a frown.

Saeter didn't seem surprised. “It used the water to hide its scent, and it will be moving more carefully now. It's probably more worried about another predator stealing its meal than us catching up with it, but the result's the same.”

“What do we do now?” Blacknail hoped this meant they would turn around and go home, but deep down, he knew better.

“We split into two groups. One goes upstream and the other down. It can't have gone too far. A whistle should do as signal.” Saeter turned and cast a skeptical gaze over the other bandits loitering at the stream’s far bank. “I'll take upstream. Georgius, take some men downstream. Blacknail will go with you.”

Georgius gave Saeter a mildly annoyed look. He was an average-sized bandit with short blond hair and a jagged scar that stretched back from one corner of his mouth. It looked as if someone had shoved a knife in his mouth and tried to slice his cheek in half. The long scar made it seem as though one side of his face was always frowning. It was clear he was insulted by Saeter's obvious lack of faith in his tracking ability. “All right, whatever, Saeter.”

Saeter split the group, and Blacknail followed Georgius downstream, in the opposite direction as Saeter. Mahedium stuck with the old scout. The mage was clearly nervous to be out in the forest, and he kept throwing anxious glances at the forest around him.

Most the bandits walked on one side of the creek or the other. However, Blacknail had taken off his boots and kept walking through the water barefoot so that he could sniff both sides. The cool water felt refreshing on the hobgoblin's feet as it flowed over his skin. The stones and pebbles at the bottom of the creek were smooth enough that they didn’t poke his soles when he stepped on them. Even though the water was shallow except for the occasional eddy-dug pool, Blacknail kept an eye out for snapping turtles. He hadn’t forgotten that lesson.

As long as he kept an eye out for the snappers, Blacknail thought the creek was probably a safer place to be than walking along the bank. If someone was going to stumble into a mimic or spider, it wouldn’t be him. Of course, it was always possible that Saeter had simply forgotten to tell him about some sort of terrifying beast that lived in streams. That would be just like him.

Georgius seemed to be doing a good job searching for signs of the troll. Blacknail didn't know why Saeter had doubted the man's ability to track. Then again, Blacknail knew he was far from an expert on tracking by sight.

The hobgoblin hadn't caught the scent of the troll or human blood yet. However, he had come across quite a few other interesting scents. He had smelled deer, rabbits, harpies, and some other things he couldn't identify. They must have all come to the creek to get a drink.

Blacknail was just about to cross the stream again when he heard a whistle. He looked up, but none of the humans seemed to have heard anything. They continued to follow the creek downstream while checking the bush for signs of the troll.

“Georgius, I heard-ss the whistle,” Blacknail yelled.

Georgius turned to look at Blacknail, then back up the stream. He frowned and seemed to think things over for a second. “Right, you have those long pointy goblin ears. Let's get back then. It seems like we've gone the wrong way.”

He called the other men over, and they headed back. After a brief trek upstream, they found Saeter standing in the forest a few feet from the water. The rest of the bandits were resting around him.

“Took you long enough. While you were off taking a stroll, I found the troll's trail,” Saeter remarked.

“I figured that,” Georgius replied dryly.

“Come on, let's get going. I don't want to be hunting this thing in the dark,” Saeter said.

“I don’t want to hunt-ss it at all,” Blacknail muttered to himself.

But he walked up to where his master was standing and sniffed the ground. Sure enough, he could smell the troll. This was definitely where it had left the water. The hobgoblin didn't see a single visual sign though. He had no idea how Saeter had found it, and before he could ask, the grey-haired man was forging ahead.

The troll had headed through the trees and uphill. Pines and a scattering of other scraggly trees grew from a rocky upward slope. Large stones jutted out from the sides of the nearby hills, like cold grey bones from torn flesh.

The way was steep and difficult because the rocky ground made for treacherous footing. It came loose and crumbled under the bandits’ feet as they tried to make their way up. Soon, the climb took a toll on everyone, and they grew tired. Blacknail was the best off. His light, lanky build made the journey easier for him.

Saeter called for a stop when everyone started to show signs of exhaustion. Heavy wheezing filled the air as all the nearby bandits tried to suck down as much air as possible. As they had made their way up the hill, the trees had grown thinner and thinner, until mostly only bushes remained.

From where he had stopped to rest and sit on a rock, Blacknail heard movement from up above. He hissed in alarm and leapt to his feet. An image of a ferocious, bloody, clawed troll jumping on him from above popped into the hobgoblin’s mind. It would massacre them all in seconds!

A small shower of rocks rained down on Blacknail from the ledge above. They banged loudly against each other and threw up dust as they fell. As Blacknail jumped aside to avoid them, he got a better look at the ledge they had fallen from.

He felt a stab of fear in his chest when he noticed a creature staring at him. Two large, dangerous-looking horns rose from its head and curled back behind its ears. Its body was covered in grey hair, and it gazed at the bandits with narrowed, malevolent eyes. It even had a beardlike tuft of hair growing from its chin.

“Baaaah,” it growled angrily at the hobgoblin as it reared onto its back legs in challenge. Clearly the savage beast was hungry for human, and goblin, flesh.

It had four hooves like a horse but didn’t look quite as stupid, evil, and twisted. Blacknail slowly reached for his blade and began to slide it from its sheath. He intended to strike first and kill it before it could attack them, but Saeter walked up and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“It's a wild goat, Blacknail. Relax. If you leave it alone, it’ll leave you alone,” Saeter said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Blacknail let his sword slide back into its sheath, but he kept his eyes on the beast. It stared back, and their gazes met. Blacknail hissed, and the goat let out another challenging growl. Then, with what Blacknail would swear was a condescending look, the goat turned and bounded higher up the hill. Its hooves kicked up more rocks and sent them raining down over the bandits. Two smaller goats burst from the bushes nearby and joined the larger one, then they all disappeared up the hill together.

“That's good luck,” one of the bandits commented. “Rock goats and trolls are supposed to be enemies. Seeing them on a troll hunt is a sign of a god's blessing."

There were nods of agreement from most of the other men. Personally, Blacknail doubted any god or spirit would bless someone by sending them an angry goat.

“All right, enough lazing about. Time to get back to it,” Saeter called a few minutes later.

There were quite a few grunts and sighs as the bandits got back to their feet and continued on up the hill. As the ground began to level out, a few more evergreen trees appeared. Saeter held up a hand to signal a stop. Up ahead, past a grove of trees, a large pile of boulders and rocks rose from the ground. Blacknail noticed a large dark crevice on one side of it. Behind the rocks, the forest continued.

“I'm willing to bet good gold that's where our troll's lair is. The question is whether it’s in there right now,” Saeter whispered.

“There’s only one real way to find out, but before we go in there, I’d like to at least have a plan with a half-decent chance of working,” Georgius remarked.

“Fair enough.” Saeter put his knapsack down on a log and removed several long lengths of cord from it. Then he reached back into the bag and pulled out a bunch of wicked-looking barbed steel arrows. “We’ll go in all together. Mage boy here will be in the back. He’ll be lighting our way, and when we see the troll, he’ll turn the light up as high as possible and blind it. With our backs to him and with our eyes more used to the light, we should be able to see fine. While the beast’s blinded, our best archers will shoot it with these arrows.”

Georgius have him a skeptical look. He didn’t seem impressed by the plan, and Blacknail agreed with him. This strategy didn’t seem troll-proof enough.

“Trolls have hides tougher than good leather and their wounds don’t bleed properly, so they’re hard to put down. Arrows, even barbed ones, won’t do much,” Georgius said.

“True, but they don’t have to. The arrows will be tied by long ropes to climbing hooks. While the troll’s still distracted, another few men will find places in the cave to attach the hooks. That’ll lock it down and prevent it from attacking us. Then when it’s all tied up, we’ll go in for the kill,” Saeter explained.

“That sounds complicated and dangerous to me. What if the troll doesn’t do what you think it will?” someone replied uncertainly.

“Do you have a better plan?” Saeter asked harshly. “No? Then let’s get going.”

Saeter handed out the equipment, and once they had it all prepared, they headed over to the cave.

“Remind me to train you with a bow sometime,” Saeter told Blacknail as they moved.

All the bandits, except for Saeter, looked nervous. Their skin had gone pale, and Blacknail could tell they were sweating more by their scent. Every one of them had also drawn their weapons.

As they approached the dark mouth of the cave, Blacknail’s sense of smell was overwhelmed by the foul stench of rotten meat and troll body odor. It seeped from the cave so thickly, Blacknail almost thought he could taste it with his skin. He gagged, and he was quickly joined by several humans. One of them even vomited as he approached the cave mouth, and that did nothing to improve the smell.

Suddenly, the area grew brighter and the first few steps of the cave were stripped of shadows. Mahedium had activated his staff, and it blazed bright with pure white light.

No one entered the cave. Blacknail threw a questioning look at the man next to him.

“You first,” the man whispered.

“No, you,” Blacknail hissed back.

One of his companions pushed the man forward. He took a stumbling step but then turned and glared at the other man without going farther. Georgius sighed and stepped forward.

“Let’s get going,” he told the reluctant man in front as he poked him with his blade.

Together, the two of them took the first few steps into the cave mouth. A few seconds later, when neither of them was ripped apart, the other bandits and Blacknail followed. A long rough grey rock corridor extended before them and curved out of sight a few dozen feet away. Rows of short stalactites hung from the ceiling. The dirt floor was littered with bones and jagged rocks, but none of the rocks were nearly big enough for a troll to hide behind. It wasn’t there. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

“It must be deeper in. Let’s go,” Saeter whispered.

The bandits slowly and reluctantly moved forward. Maybe it was just the heat and vile stench, but the cave felt humid and wet to Blacknail. He grew itchy, but he didn’t dare scratch himself. That would require use of one of his hands, and for him to lower his guard.

As they moved deeper underground, the air grew warmer and the troll’s kills fresher. Blood and gobs of flesh still littered the remains scattered all over the floor. Blacknail and the others had to go out of their way not to step on them. It was an unpleasant distraction from the hobgoblin’s focus on not getting killed and eaten.

Up ahead, on a small ledge against one wall, a large mound of dark wet earth was piled. A small forest of mushrooms grew atop it. Crawling between the stems and colorful mushroom caps were the shiny forms of harvesters. They were apparently more common out here in the wild than in the sewers, where men trained goblins to remove them.

The mage’s radiant staff almost made the bugs glow as their carapaces split the light and reflected it back in a rainbow of colors. The mouse-sized bugs were busy carrying around dirt and other less pleasant things. Every once in a while, one would appear from, or disappear into, small holes in the wall.

As the bandits advanced through the twisted rock tunnel, the hobgoblin saw several other harvester farms where the bugs were growing their mushrooms. They seemed to be thriving in the troll’s lair, where there was abundant food and the beast scared away other animals.

Blacknail’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud, sinister growl that echoed through the cave. The walls of the cavern almost seemed to vibrate as the sound washed over them. The man beside Blacknail stiffened in fear. The hobgoblin jumped as he felt a hand against his back. He risked a quick look back to see that it was Saeter’s. His master was giving him a disapproving look, and Blacknail realized he had been unconsciously backing up. The hobgoblin gave his master a nervous smile, then sighed and took a few, very small, steps forward.

The previous growl from deeper in the cave was joined by a deep, thundering roar. Blacknail hissed in pain as the loud noise stung his ears. Then an explosion of footsteps was heard from around the corner before the troll charged into view—headed right toward the bandits.

The charging massive beast’s eyes blazed with hate and mindless hunger as it regarded the small, weak creatures that had dared intrude upon its home. It opened its mouth to reveal jagged yellow teeth and the full length of its humongous fangs. Its dripping jaws seemed to grow ever larger and fill Blacknail’s vision as the green juggernaut descended upon them.

Chapter 28

“Oh shit,” someone mumbled in horror.

Before anyone could react, the troll had already closed over half the distance between itself and the bandits. Any second now, it would tear through them like a sharp knife through cloth, but with a lot more blood flying everywhere.

Then the cavern was drowned in light as Mahedium unleashed his magic. It was so bright, the edges of Blacknail’s vision whitened until they seemed foggy.

The effect on the troll was impressive. It screamed horribly as it brought its claws up to shield its face. It tried to continue its charge, but it tripped over a large rock, then smashed into one of the cavern walls. Rocks were sent flying, and the entire cave seemed to shudder from the impact. Most of the bandits were still too terrified or stunned to move, but not Saeter.

“Attack now, and stick to the plan!” he yelled as he shot an arrow into one of the troll’s legs.

At his master’s command, Blacknail burst into a sprint past the fallen troll and deeper into the cave. The arrow Saeter had shot was tied to a climbing hook in Blacknail’s hand. By this point, it was clear to the hobgoblin that his survival depended on the plan working.

The troll didn’t stay down long. Hissing and growling, it pulled itself to its feet. The green hairy behemoth seemed to fill the cave and tower over the humans as it rose.

Off to one side, Blacknail spotted a solid-looking rock protruding from the floor. He grabbed it and slid to a stop. Working quickly, he pulled the rope tight, wrapped it around the rock a few times, then attached the hook.

By this time, Saeter’s men had sprung into action. The other archers were loosing their arrows, and Saeter was lining up his second shot. Other bandits were busy finding places to hook lines. Several ropes already led from the troll to the floor or walls.

To keep the beast distracted, three bandits moved in with swords and threatened it, but they kept well out of reach of the troll’s deadly claws. The blinded and enraged troll swiped at them as it stumbled forward, but they managed to avoid its distracted strikes.

As new arrows hit their marks, the troll slowed and began to thrash and pull on the lines entrapping it. More arrows sank into its hide, but it would take far more than a few hooks and ropes to hold its massive bulk.

Blacknail was the only individual who had managed to make it past the troll. The other bandits who were supposed to have joined him had all frozen in fear until it was too late. That meant most of the lines only stopped the troll from moving backward toward the hobgoblin. Blacknail was glad to see that this didn’t seem to be a priority for the troll; it seemed determined to reach the humans in front of it. To prevent that from happening, several of the bandits tossed lines past the troll and over to the hobgoblin. Blacknail rushed around to find solid places to attach them.

Saeter and the others had to retreat several times in order to keep the troll from reaching them. Several lines broke or were ripped free by the beast as it pressed its furious assault forward. Eventually though, the troll ground to a halt as the lines Blacknail was securing arrested its movement. Blinded and confused, it roared in pained frustration. The archers weren’t taking any chances though, and they didn’t let up their barrage until they had used up every arrow.

“I wish we had some proper spears. Swords are really not the tool for this.” Saeter swore as he discarded his bow and drew his blade.

The other bandits did the same and began to encircle the troll. Blacknail unsheathed his own sword but decided to stay back and out of the way, lest he get in the way. The beast growled and stared menacingly at its assailants, but it didn’t make any large movements. Every time it did more than sway slightly, several lines would go tight and pull painfully on the steel arrows embedded in its flesh.

“Don’t try to get too close. Start on its arms and work your way in,” Saeter warned everyone.

With that said, the men slipped around the ropes crisscrossing the cave and descended on the trapped troll. The beast screamed and shuddered as they began to hack at it from every direction at once. It couldn’t even move enough to avoid most of the attacks they rained down on it. Blacknail was surprised at how little blood was visible, even as the troll was cut again and again. Its wounds seemed to fill with some sort of thick yellowish-green fluid as soon as they were made.

The bandits continued their attack relentlessly. First, the screaming beast’s arms went limp and useless, then it sagged and dropped to its knees. Georgius moved in to deliver a powerful two-handed swing to the troll’s exposed neck. The troll saw him coming and hissed defiantly.

Blacknail didn’t like the look of the raw hatred in its eyes; it reminded him of the depths of his own berserk rage. Before he could yell a warning, the crippled troll lurched, then launched itself forward.

Arrows were ripped out of the green giant’s hide and lines snapped as the troll’s head shot forward and smashed into the unprepared Georgius. The impact of the headbutt sent him flying across the cave until he crashed into the wall. There was a loud smacking sound, then Georgius fell limply to the ground, revealing a bloody stain on the cavern wall. He didn’t get back up.

With one last half-hearted growl, the troll staggered and collapsed onto the ground. Its fall caused a loud thud and sent a wave of dust and grime through the cave. Blacknail and several other bandits had to shield their eyes for a second until the dust had blown past.

After examining the troll for a few moments, Saeter said, “It’s dead. Someone check on Georgius.”

“What if it’s faking it?” someone asked nervously.

“Trolls don’t play dead,” Saeter replied with a condescending sneer.

With that said, there was a collective sigh of relief, and the cave darkened as Mahedium dimmed the light of his staff.

Blacknail cautiously walked up to the dead troll. He nervously poked one of its big green feet a few times, then relaxed when nothing happened. Moving closer, he examined the beast. It really was somewhat similar to a hobgoblin, but it was bigger and much uglier. It obviously had none of the charm and intelligence he had. With a smug smirk, Blacknail scrambled onto the huge corpse and managed to stand tall on top of it. How many hobgoblins had ever slain trolls? Probably none! That would make him the first ever!

“The greatest hobgoblin-ss ever!” he bragged to himself triumphantly from his perch.

The hobgoblin heard a quiet chuckle and turned around to see Saeter smiling at him. His sudden movement made the corpse shift under him, and Blacknail was sent sprawling to the ground.

The cave was filled with chuckles as some of the other bandits couldn’t help but laugh. The thrill of victory had made Blacknail too giddy and lightheaded to be insulted. He just smiled back and took note of who was chuckling the hardest for later.

Things quickly sobered up though. The bandit that checked on Georgius pronounced him dead. His skull had been cracked open and his back was broken. The somber-faced bandits built the fallen outlaw a rock cairn outside, using loose rocks from the cave. Then after a quick moment of silence, they left him there and moved on. Theirs was a profession where death was commonplace.

A quick exploration of the cave revealed nothing but some trinkets and a few coins found on some of the troll’s victims. Blacknail claimed these; no one else wanted to dig through the grisly remains to get them.

The cave also went deeper than anyone was willing to explore. The troll’s lair ended, but there was a small lightless side passage. The passage started with a steep drop so deep, even Mahedium’s staff couldn’t pierce the darkness of its depths. All his white light revealed was the sharp rocks that made up the sides of the shaft itself. When a cautious Blacknail started sniffing around it, his master stopped him.

“Careful, Blacknail, don’t get too close,” Saeter warned him while he warily observed the opening. “Unless I’m very mistaken, that leads down into the dark roads, and you really don’t want to go down there. It’s a strange place full of stranger beasts, and it’s very easy to get trapped down there.”

“It’s a doorway to the endless hells,” one bandit muttered.

Carefully, the hobgoblin backed away from the passage’s mouth. Saeter’s words had struck a chord with him. He still hadn’t gotten used to being trapped in the forest with all the terrible things that lived there, and those dark roads didn’t sound any better.

Saeterhad everyone pull out of the cavern. They were all exhausted, but no one wanted to spend another night out in the forest. So after a brief discussion, they decided to try to meet up with Red Dog. Since they had no wounded, Saeter thought they would be able to catch up.

Between the fast pace they set and the fact that it was faster moving downhill, they managed to rejoin the rest of the bandits halfway down the road back to Herad’s base. Red Dog was glad to see them return and to hear news of the troll’s death. If Saeter had failed, not only would he have an angry troll to deal with but an angry Herad as well. In the North, more numbers were always welcome; the roads were far from safe. It was entirely possible another troll could show up or even something worse, like bandits.

All together, the old hands, new recruits, and former deserters arrived at the camp before dusk. Nothing of note happened on the rest of the journey, and no one else got themselves killed. Some of the deserters seemed unsure of the reception they would receive, but everyone was glad to have reached safety.

Saeter looked a little hesitant to enter the camp though. He kept throwing looks back at Erissa, who had been staying close to him ever since he returned. When everyone else entered the camp, Saeter held himself and Erissa back and stayed on the road. He was scanning the entrance to the camp as if looking for something.

“What are you doing, Saeter?” Red Dog yelled.

“Nothing, be there in a second,” Saeter replied. He then whispered something to Erissa and pulled her over to a group of bandits loitering down the road. He called out to one of them. “Efra, you owe me a favor.”

A bald woman with squinty eyes looked up. She frowned at Saeter as he walked over. “What’s this about? You may have pulled me out of the way of that mimic, but that don’t mean you own me.”

“You’re heading to town, right?” he asked her.

“Yep, in a bit anyway. Why?”

“I want you to take this woman with you. She’s my spoils, and I want to make sure she gets to Riverdown unmolested,” he told her.

“Why can’t you take her?”

“I just got back, and I have to report to Herad,” he explained.

“Wait a second, Saeter. I’ve been walking all day. Why can’t I rest here overnight, then you can take me back yourself?” Erissa asked the old scout as she moved closer and hugged his arm.

Saeter threw Erissa a distracted look before turning back to the other woman. Efra looked confused. She obviously didn’t understand what he was thinking, and Blacknail didn’t either.

“If that’s what you want, then I guess I owe you that much,” Efra told him.

“It is. Just make sure she gets there safely,” Saeter replied.

“She’ll get there if I do. I can’t do more than that,” Efra said with shrug.

“Why are you trying to get rid of me so suddenly?” Erissa asked with a bewildered expression.

“Now, this is for your own good. Do you really want to stay out here when you could be getting back to safety?” he asked her.

“Well no—”

Blacknail’s master cut her off. “Good, stay here and stick close to Efra. She’ll get you there in one piece. I have to go report in now, but it was a pleasure.” Saeter spun around and walked swiftly away.

The attractive woman could only gape in astonishment as her lover left her so suddenly. Blacknail didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t really care. He just followed Saeter like always.

When they caught up to Red Dog and the rest of the party, they were standing before Herad. She must have had word of their coming and wanted to show off, because the bandit chieftain was at her most intimidating. Saeter and Blacknail quietly stepped up beside Red Dog.

Herad’s cold dark eyes malevolently swept over the deserters. They cringed under her attention, except for Mahedium, who seemed relaxed and unworried. Herad’s eyes lingered on the mage and his staff for a few seconds before she moved on. She looked as though she was trying to choose which one of them to make an example of, or someone to make a meal of. She was dressed in her usual dark leathers, and a black cloak was draped over her shoulders. Even more knives than usual were holstered about her person, and her long sword was sheathed at her hip. She sneered at them.

“These are the fools who thought they could set themselves up in my territory?” she asked Red Dog.

“Yes, this is them, boss. There used to be a few more of them though,” he answered.

“If they were anything like these scum, they weren’t much of a loss anyway.”

“Well, their boss was a Vessel, but also an arrogant prick. With you around, he would have just been a waste of Elixir anyway,” Red Dog replied.

“I see.” Herad turned away from the deserters. The bandit chieftain gave Red Dog a curious look before facing the deserters again. The mention of a Vessel had surprised her. “It seems you scum are in luck. We’re currently in need of some new grunts. Otherwise, I would just have useless shits like you killed. Instead, you’re now the lowest of my lackeys. Now swear obedience to me and we’ll see if you survive the month.”

Herad had each of them take a simple oath of obedience. When that was done, one of her men took the recruits away for inspection and billeting. Her eyes flickered over Mahedium again as she watched them leave.

When they were out of sight, she turned back to Red Dog and Saeter. “Report now. How did you two manage to run into both a Vessel and a combat mage?”

Saeter scowled at her tone, and Red Dog winced.

“They were both just part of the deserters you sent us after,” Red Dog explained.

“What happened to the Vessel?” she asked.

That was when Blacknail saw his chance. He stood tall and pointed at himself. He was so excited he was almost bouncing. Now, it was finally his chance to impress Herad! “I did it! I killed-ss the big leader man. I scared the other men so badly they gave up! Was all me.” As an afterthought, the hobgoblin added, “Helped kill the troll too, by doing what master told me.”

Herad frowned at him, then turned to Saeter and gave him a questioning look. She clearly didn’t believe the hobgoblin.

It was Red Dog who answered though. “It’s sorta true, boss.” Red Dog then gave a detailed report of their mission.

When he had finished, Herad looked somewhat impressed despite herself. “Well you two certainly earned your pay this time. Especially that hobgoblin of yours, Saeter.”

The hobgoblin was confused by her choice of words and frowned. Pay was those shiny things a lot of the tribe had, right? “I don’t get paid.”

His reaction made Herad laugh at him. That didn’t make the hobgoblin feel any better.

“I suppose you don’t, but that’s fixed easily enough. From now on, you’ll get paid a grunt’s share of the profits. Oh, and Blacknail, since you call Saeter master, you can call me mistress,” she told him with an arrogant smile.

“Yes, mistress,” Blacknail replied as he lowered his eyes and assumed a submissive posture.

Saeter looked surprised. It was unlike Herad to voluntarily part with money. Red Dog sighed, but it was a resigned sound instead of an argumentative one.

Blacknail was happy at the praise but still more than a little confused. He liked coins but wasn’t sure what he would do with more of them. He already had borrowed or picked up quite a few of them, and squirreled them away in various hiding spots with the rest of his shiny things.

Herad dismissed them, and they headed off to their respective campsites.

Saeter had a thoughtful look on his face. “I suppose if you’re drawing pay now, then you’re a full member of the band and not my servant anymore, Blacknail.”

“He is at that,” Red Dog muttered.

Blacknail felt a mix of emotions rise up into his chest. It felt a bit like gas. He had done it! Herad had accepted him as a member of her tribe. Apparently that was what getting paid meant. Coins were obviously some sort of measure of status among humans. Blacknail was going to have to make sure he hid his away carefully, somewhere no one would ever find them.

On the other hand, his rise in the tribe seemed as if it was going to change his relationship with his master. That thought made him uncomfortable.

The nervous hobgoblin turned to his master. “I am always-ss your servant.”

“Not anymore. Now you’re my subordinate. Don’t worry, it’s much the same, just more work,” Saeter told Blacknail.

Blacknail blinked. He wasn’t sure if his master was being serious. Before he could ask his master anything though, Red Dog interrupted their conversation.

“I’ll see you two around. No offense, Blacknail, but I’ve had enough of trolls, hobgoblins, and whatever for quite a while. Yep, I’m looking forward to some uneventful rest away from every sort of forest critter imaginable,” he said as he walked away from them and toward his tent.

Before he got more than a few feet, there was a rustling sound from a nearby tent. As everyone looked at it, a goblin burst out with dagger in his hand. It ran out in front of them, stopping only for a second when it saw Blacknail. Its eyes went wide and it dropped the dagger. It then scampered off behind another tent. No one said anything.

Seconds later, a worried-looking Varhs ran up to them. The young scout who had helped Saeter with Blacknail's training was about to say something when he saw the dagger on the ground. After picking it up, he turned to them. “Did you see which way my goblin, Scamp, went?”

Red Dog was twitching. He stared at Varhs with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. His face was growing redder by the second. Before Red Dog could say anything, Saeter turned stiffly and immediately walked away. He clearly had decided he had somewhere else to be. After a few seconds, Blacknail followed him.

There was another goblin running around his camp! This was his territory. Varhs should have asked him before bringing in a goblin. He would have to show both the goblin and Varhs who was in charge! Right now though, sleeping sounded like a good plan. He had been walking a lot lately.

Tired, Saeter and Blacknail headed back to their campsite. Blacknail was already scheming about how to capture the other goblin and make sure it knew whose territory this was. When they got to their campsite, they were surprised to see a second tent set up beside Saeter’s. Blacknail had yet to unpack the one he had won from the deserters.

“Oh hey, you’re back,” a cheerful voice called to them.

The old scout and the hobgoblin looked over to see Khita approaching them.

“Whose tent is that?’ Saeter asked her suspiciously.

“It’s mine. Vorscha said she wanted some privacy with Geralhd, so she got me a tent of my own and told me to set it up here,” Khita replied happily.

Saeter groaned, and Blacknail hissed. Yes, when he woke tomorrow, he would definitely have to do something about all the annoying little things running around the camp.

Part 4: Playing With Fire

Chapter 29

Blacknail was walking through the woods at the edge of Herad’s camp. He had gone out to empty the rabbit snares and reset them, as he did almost every day. Today though, he felt a cold shiver run up his spine a few minutes after entering the forest. The days had grown shorter and colder recently, but that wasn’t what had made him shiver.

Blacknail felt eyes on his back. Something was stalking him. His ears twitched ever so slightly as they detected the faintest hint of noise in the trees behind him. Make that at least two things that were stalking him. He was careful to act normal, and not reveal his awareness of the watchers, as he continued to the traps. As he walked, Blacknail subtly scanned the forest around him.

The plants had grown throughout the year and reached their full height now, and most of the flowers had disappeared as well. Here, in the sunnier part of the woods, the taller plants reached up to his chest. Their once-colorful summer blooms had withered and been replaced by hard black seeds, or white fluff that took flight when the wind blew through the trees. Autumn had crept up and stealthily disposed of summer when no one was looking.

Of course, not all the changes were bad. The trees had begun to bear fruit and nuts. Those new treasures were hidden among the green branches of the forest canopy.

The hobgoblin had been completely unaware that food even grew on trees. The idea sounded silly to him. Wasn’t food supposed to be harder to get? Now all he had to do was climb a tree, which was something he had recently gotten good at.

When Saeter took Blacknail out to hunt or track, he would show him which fruits and nuts were edible and how to harvest them. Being a hobgoblin, there were many things that Saeter wouldn’t touch that smelled delicious to Blacknail. Unfortunately, just because something smelled delicious didn’t mean it wasn’t poisonous. Blacknail had learned that the hard way, after a night of fever and vomiting.

Blacknail approached the snares carefully. He was listening for any hint of movement behind him that would reveal the positions of his stalkers. He frowned in concern when he didn’t hear anything. He knew they were there… somewhere.

Quickly, Blacknail gathered up the carcasses and started heading back. Around halfway there, he entered an area of the forest where the canopy was especially thin and the forest floor was bathed in sunlight. The animal trail Blacknail was following wound forward through a small field of tall weeds. As soon as he entered it, the hobgoblin purposely slowed his pace. When he was sure he was out of sight of any watchers, he ducked into a small depression where the weeds concealed him. It was time to turn the tables on his pursuers.

A few minutes passed as he waited. The only noise was that of morning birds singing, then the shrubs rustled ever so slightly in the direction Blacknail had just come from. He tensed as he heard footsteps. His stalker was approaching!

Eager energy burned through him, but he patiently waited until the source of the noise had moved past him. Then he burst out of concealment and sprang toward his pursuer’s exposed back. As he leapt, his jagged claws closed around the back of Khita’s shirt collar, and she let out a high-pitched screech as she jumped into the air.

She squirmed and struggled to escape his grip for a few seconds. Blacknail had to brace himself to keep his hold. He was stronger than her, but their weight was almost the same. She calmed down after a moment when she threw a look over her shoulder and realized it was him. The young redhead flushed in embarrassment as she turned around and gave Blacknail a nervous look.

The hobgoblin frowned in disapproval as he held her. “Master Saeter told-ss you not to go into the forest alone.”

Most people found his hissing scary, but this insufferable female just found it “sharp.” She gave him a guilty smile and shrugged in a way that suggested she was trying to act composed.

“I wasn’t alone. I was with you… sorta,” she replied dismissively. “Besides, I was bored and thought a walk sounded like fun.”

“You’re stupid. You know the forest is dangerous—master Saeter has shown you. Still-ss you try to sneak around by yourself. You are not very good at it, and will die,” he replied accusingly as he continued to listen carefully to his surroundings.

“I’m used to danger, and I’ve got my sword here anyway,” she told him as she pointed at the blade at her waist.

Blacknail released her collar and continued to frown at her. Stealthily, he drew a stone from one of his pouches. “A sword won’t keep you safe here.”

He withdrew his sling and placed the stone in it. Blacknail then took the rabbits he had tied together and thrown over his shoulder and dropped them on the ground at the edge of weeds. Khita frowned as she finally noticed his odd actions and distracted manner. Before she could say anything, Blacknail spun and whirled the sling in his hand. A whistling sound filled the air as he sent a stone flying into the leaves of a nearby tree.

Twigs splintered and cracked as the projectile tore through the branches, and a high-pitched squawk quickly followed. As Blacknail and Khita watched, a small cloud of feathers and leaves fluttered from the tree, and a large harpy took flight from where it had been hiding.

The grey-feathered creature was almost the size of Blacknail or Khita and had a truly impressive wingspan. It screeched and gazed at them with its hate-filled black eyes. The flapping sound of its wings filled the air as it fought to gain height. A surprised Khita took a step backward and then another one behind Blacknail.

As the harpy screeched again, it’s eerily human-like mouth revealed its long needle-like teeth and the black feather crest on its head straightened to its full dramatic height. The enraged raptor hovered in the air. It seemed to be preparing to dive bomb them.

Blacknail let out a deep menacing growl and stretched himself to his full height. He opened his mouth and flashed his own impressive teeth at the harpy. The stupid ugly bird-thing didn’t scare him. He was no longer a small, weaponless goblin.

The harpy eyed him carefully, then apparently decided this was a fight it didn’t want to pursue. With one last squawk, it took off and vanished into the forest canopy. Khita let out a relieved sigh.

When he was sure the harpy had disappeared, Blacknail turned toward her. “You’re not a sneaky human. Ugly harpy followed you and wanted to eat-ss you. It knew you were a stupid brat and was waiting for you-ss to make a mistake.”

Khita grimaced as she looked at the ground. She avoided his eyes out of embarrassment. “Creepy bloody things with their damned human faces. I could have taken it though.” She looked up and scanned the canopy.

“You see those claws? They’re like-ss knives and very sharp, no?” Blacknail asked her condescendingly.

The hobgoblin then drew another stone. This time he whipped it by hand into the bushes beside where he had dropped the rabbits. There was a yelp of pain, and Blacknail pounced toward its source. Khita flinched and gasped at the unexpected, quick movement. She was still high-strung from the last surprise.

Landing in the tall weeds, Blacknail felt his claws grasp something soft and pudgy. Immediately, he yanked his prey from its hiding spot and up into the air. Scamp hung limply in his hand. The goblin’s large eyes were wide, and he had a nervous smirk. It reminded Blacknail of Khita’s expression when he had caught her.

“’Ello, boss. I gonna carry rabbits for ya,” Scamp told Blacknail hopefully.

The hobgoblin glowered at the little liar. He wanted to tell the goblin that Varhs was his master, not him, but he couldn’t. Varhs was a terrible master. Blacknail was pretty sure he never beat Scamp at all! How was that supposed to work? Blacknail shuddered to think about what would happen if he wasn’t around to keep Scamp under control. Why couldn’t Scamp be as well-behaved as he had been as a goblin?

Unlike Khita, the goblin hadn’t actually been forbidden to enter the woods. He was just annoying, and Blacknail didn’t want him around. The stupid little runt had no fear of the forest since he had been born there. He was also borderline suicidal, especially since he kept trying to steal Blacknail’s rabbits. No matter how many times Blacknail caught and punished him, he didn’t stop.

Unfortunately, the young goblin was also sneaky and thus unlikely to actually get himself killed. The same couldn’t be said for Khita. Blacknail had to watch her like a hawk.

A while back, Khita had gotten bored and decided she wanted to be a scout. So she had bugged Saeter until he reluctantly let her join them on a few trips out into forest. Blacknail had been secretly hoping that she had finally annoyed Saeter enough that they were taking her out into the woods to be disposed of.

He hadn’t been so lucky. Now Khita considered herself an expert at navigating the forest, which she wasn’t. To make matters even worse, Vorscha had made it plain to Blacknail that she was holding him responsible for Khita’s safety. How was that fair?

“You gonna drop me, boss?” Scamp asked as the hobgoblin held him up.

Blacknail’s arm was getting tired, so he gave the goblin a quick growl and dropped him. Then he gave him a hard kick. Scamp grunted as he was sent sprawling over to rest at Khita’s feet, but he quickly pulled himself back up. Goblins were hard to hurt.

“Stay with her,” he ordered Scamp before he stomped back toward camp.

“Okay, boss,” the goblin replied cheerfully.

“Hey, why did you do that?” Khita asked in disapproval.

Blacknail ignored her; he didn’t care what she thought. She was stupid.

When he didn’t respond, Khita and the goblin immediately followed him. It wasn’t as if they had anywhere else to go.

It took more than a few minutes to hike through the woods and get back to the camp. Khita was huffing in exhaustion when they arrived, because Blacknail had set a quick pace. After a brief nod to the sentry on duty, who was no one important, they stepped out of the forest and Herad’s base came into sight.

The seasons weren’t the only things that had been changing. Herad had her ambitions, and she was working hard toward achieving them. The camp was slowly but surely transforming. The small log buildings that the bandits had originally built had been expanded, and several more of them had been constructed. Almost all the lean-tos had been torn down and replaced. Even the forest had been pushed back, both for lumber and safety.

Wooden watchtowers had been set up along the road at the edge of the woods, where they could be concealed by the trees. A small haphazard wall of wooden stakes was being constructed along one side of the perimeter as well. All in all, the base was beginning to look more like a small woodland village than a bandit camp.

After a quick look back to make sure Scamp and Khita were still following him, Blacknail headed for his campsite. He had to prepare the rabbits right away or they would go bad. Actually, he would probably make Khita do it. He would have made Scamp help, but the goblin would just eat half of them.

Blacknail didn’t have time to waste preparing rabbits. The larger base also contained more outlaws, and all those outlaws needed to be fed. Thus, Herad kept her scouts busy hunting for food. Buying supplies from town was expensive and cut into her profits, after all.

The bandit chieftain had continued to send out parties to recruit or wipe out anyone who dared operate in the territory she claimed as her own. Since her territory was a rather large and poorly defined area, she never ran out of targets. The base contained over two hundred bandits now, or it would have if men weren’t constantly being sent out and coming back.

As she had planned, Herad had stopped raiding caravans and was instead charging tolls. Bandits were still sent out to intercept travelers on the road, but now they were under strict orders not to kill anyone who didn’t resist. They also weren’t allowed to rob anyone who paid Herad’s fee. Word of these changes and what was happening was spreading rapidly through the region.

However, Herad didn’t send Saeter and Blacknail out to collect tolls. For some reason, she thought they wouldn’t be very good at it. Blacknail was pretty sure it was because Saeter was so grumpy. They had more important things to do anyway. On top of being her best pair of hunters, Herad also used them for less dangerous jobs, like tracking down other bandits that encroached on her territory. Compared to some of the things that lurked out in the deep green, killing a few humans and scaring the rest into submission was no big deal.

His first trip out to fight men who had tried to encroach on their territory had been the most eventful by far. Blacknail was just glad they hadn’t run into any more trolls.

They reached the camp Saeter, Khita, and Blacknail shared. The hobgoblin turned and addressed the young woman behind him. “Prepare the rabbits.” Blacknail held them out to her.

“Why should I?” she asked defiantly.

“So I don’t kill you and hide-ss your corpse in the mud-ss,” he replied with an annoyed hiss.

Khita laughed and gave him a cheerful smile. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re all nasty on the outside, but inside, you’re soft as cloth.”

Blacknail snarled at her. He would totally do that! Well, he would if he thought he could get away with it. Unfortunately, if Khita went missing, he would be among the first suspects. Then he would have to flee into the woods before Vorscha could smash him flat.

Sometimes he still almost considered doing it though. At least it would be quiet out in the deep green.

“Do it, or I’ll tell-ss Vorscha you haven’t been practicing,” Blacknail told her.

“Hey, I have too been practicing everything she told me to,” she said excitedly as she glared at him.

“I will lie-ss. She will believe me.” The hobgoblin gave Khita a smug smile.

“I take it back. You are nasty and evil on the inside.”

Blacknail shrugged and held out the rabbits again. Khita threw him a glare, but she grabbed them.

“Fine, come on, Scamp, let’s…” She stopped when she looked down and noticed the goblin was gone. He had been there a second ago.

Khita gave a defeated sigh, walked over to the fire pit between their tents, and got to work. Most the bandits were moving into cabins but Saeter preferred having a tent to himself. Blacknail heard her muttering angrily to herself and saying rude things about goblins as she worked. He ignored her and set off to find Scamp. He had a feeling the goblin was going to get into trouble unless he stopped him. Mostly because that was all the little pest ever did. For what was far from the first time, Blacknail cursed Varhs for picking up the goblin. Why couldn’t he have found a smarter goblin at least, or an attractive female?

Apparently the scout had been out hunting when he had stumbled upon the young injured goblin and decided to tame it. Blacknail found this story suspicious. He suspected Varhs had been out looking for a goblin to tame.

That would have been fine if Varhs had properly trained Scamp, but he hadn’t. The man was far too lax and undisciplined. That meant that if Blacknail didn’t want people getting a bad impression of goblins, he had to discipline Scamp himself.

Blacknail scowled as he looked around and sniffed the air. Scamp’s trail wasn’t easy to follow. The odor of many strong scents, such as blood and garbage, lay thickly upon the camp, and it was sometimes hard to distinguish the goblin’s latest trail from his older ones. Luckily, the goblin had picked up some fairly pungent plant smells while he was out in the woods.

After several false leads and dead ends, the hobgoblin found himself standing outside Mahedium’s cabin. That made him more than a little nervous. He wasn’t sure exactly what the mage did in there, but he was sure it was a bad place for a goblin to be running loose. Things might explode—more than they normally did.

“Hells-ss.” Blacknail had been working on learning and using swear words lately.

After he had sworn to obey Herad and officially joined the band, Mahedium had quickly commandeered one of the cabins. The former occupants had complained, but the mage managed to convince Herad he needed it for a lab. The mage rarely left the building except for one trip he had made to Riverdown for supplies. Apparently he was scared to go into cities because he had powerful enemies. Blacknail had heard him argue with Herad over the cost of the equipment he needed, and arguing meant Mahedium begged and pleaded until he got what he wanted.

Blacknail stepped up to the door of the building and opened it enough for him to slip inside. The interior was dark, but there was enough light to see, even for a human. The cabin was a fairly large building because it had been designed to bunk a dozen men. The inside was split into two rooms: a smaller front room and a larger one in the back.

The floor of first room was packed dirt with a thin straw covering, and two small windows on each side of the room let in light. A small bed was tucked up against one wall, and there was a wooden table and chair against another. A few items and books were scattered around, but no one was in sight.

Idly, Blacknail examined some of the things. He was surprised to find the weird rectangular things were full of word-covered paper. What could humans possibly write about that would require so many words? He certainly couldn’t think of anything. With a sigh, Blacknail put the book down and fought the urge to pocket some of the things lying around. Mahedium seemed like the type of person who would notice if things went missing, and Blacknail wasn’t a thief anyway.

Since it was clear no one else was there, Blacknail moved to the door on the far wall that led to the next room. Carefully, he opened it and went through.

The room on the other side was very different from the one he’d just left. A large table dominated the center of the room. The floor around it was straw free but looked as if it had been mixed with clay or something before it had been flattened. It was much cleaner but also colder than the other room. A few smaller tables, a small desk, and some mostly empty bookshelves lined the walls.

The windows here were all shuttered up, and the only light came from a pair of obviously magical lamps that flooded the room with a pure white glow. They looked like simple metal oil lamps, except the wicks and oil had been replaced by brightly glowing crystals. One of them hung from the ceiling while the other had been placed on the desk.

Seated in front of the desk was Mahedium. He didn’t look up when Blacknail entered. In fact, he seemed completely ignorant that anyone else was in the room with him. Blacknail cast a look around the room for signs of Scamp but didn’t see any.

Scattered across the tables and shelves were glass beakers and cups of different sizes. Various fluids, most of which were clear or muddy brown, filled the containers. Blacknail saw a few crystals that he was pretty sure were magical lying around as well.

The hobgoblin walked up behind Mahedium and coughed to get his attention. The mage quickly spun toward the unexpected noise. When he saw Blacknail, he gasped and flinched, which made his chair rock, then tip over. The surprised mage flailed and tried to catch his balance, but failed and hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Blacknail frowned at the man. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. “Sorry.”

As the mage picked himself up, Mahedium scowled at him and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Blacknail didn’t notice a difference; the man’s clothes had been pretty dirty to begin with.

“Ah, Blacknail, you shouldn’t surprise people like that. Now what do you want? Normally I wouldn’t mind talking with you—you’re a rather fascinating creature—but I’m very busy right now.”

Blacknail decided to take that as a compliment. “I followed Scamp here, and this is a bad-ss place for him.”

Mahedium blinked in confusion. “The little goblin? Well, he can’t be in here. I would have noticed.”

Blacknail gave him a dubious look. He hadn’t noticed a hobgoblin walk right up behind him, so he stood no chance whatsoever of noticing Scamp. Before he could say anything though, there was a flash of light and both Blacknail and Mahedium looked over to see Scamp reaching onto a table to grab some crystals. One of the crystals in his hand had flared to life and was the source of the bright glow. The goblin gave them both a startled look as he unexpectedly found himself the center of attention. Blacknail growled menacingly.

“Bye bye,” Scamp blurted and dashed for the door Blacknail had left open.

Before anyone could react, he had disappeared through it. Mahedium’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and he looked stunned.

“He shouldn’t be able to do that. It’s impossible,” the mage exclaimed. Then he froze and clenched his jaw tight. “Oh, if we don’t get those crystals back right now, this could be very bad.”

"How bad?" the hobgoblin asked suspiciously. He was beginning to suspect magic was more trouble than it was worth.

"They might explode and take out half the base… or worse," Mahedium replied.

Blacknail eyed the mage warily. Of course they would. As if explosions weren't bad enough. The hobgoblin clenched his teeth and let out a low, angry growl. When he caught Scamp, the little goblin was going to get such a kicking.

Chapter 30

With an impatient growl, Blacknail took off after Scamp. He ran through Mahedium’s lab and out through his living chamber. The hobgoblin burst outside and landed on the ground in a crouch as he looked around for the goblin. There was no sign of him, so Blacknail hurriedly sniffed the ground for his scent.

Mahedium stepped out behind him. He looked flustered and annoyed, but there was also a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “Where did he go?”

Blacknail didn’t bother to respond. He took off after Scamp as soon as he caught his scent. He moved at a brisk walk, and Mahedium followed him.

Why was Scamp allowed to run around like this? It was stupid. When Saeter had taken him in, Blacknail hadn’t been allowed to leave his master’s side without permission.

Scamp's trail led to a group of tents that encircled a fire pit off to one corner of the camp. The four tents were made from animal hides stretched over wooden poles. A large pot of something was hanging over the unlit campfire. Blacknail scanned the area but didn’t see any obvious signs of Scamp.

Then he heard a faint sound from one of the tents. As silently as possible, the hobgoblin crept over to it and slid the entrance flap open so he could look inside. Blacknail didn’t see the goblin, but there was a man sleeping under some blankets in the tent. Blacknail frowned; he had been sure Scamp would be in there.

The unconscious bandit within the tent stirred as cool air blew in through the open flap. Then he blinked and opened his eyes to find Blacknail’s green face staring at him.

“What in all the hells?” he yelled as he jerked away from the hobgoblin.

As he moved, he pulled his coverings with him, and the hide blankets slid away to reveal a green lump. Tentatively, a small hand rose from the green mass and patted the area around itself as if searching for something. After it apparently failed to find what it was looking for, Scamp’s head rose and looked around. The goblin cringed and grimaced when he saw the hobgoblin staring at him. Blacknail growled triumphantly. He’d found his prey.

Mahedium stepped up beside the hobgoblin and stuck his head in the tent as well. “Ah ha!”

“Wha? What the fuck are all you bastards doing in my tent?” the man yelled as his fear and surprise turned to anger.

“Sorry, it’s important,” Blacknail replied politely. At least the man hadn’t thrown anything at him.

“Don’t let that goblin get away. It’s stolen some dangerous magical items!” Mahedium said at almost the same time.

The tent’s owner stared at Mahedium for a second, then what the mage had said sank in and an alarmed expression appeared on his face. He responded by diving as far away from the goblin as he could get while Blacknail was blocking the tent’s entrance.

“Return my mana crystals!” Mahedium commanded as he scowled disdainfully at the goblin.

Blacknail didn’t bother with words; he just leapt at Scamp. The useless little thief was really getting on his nerves.

“No, my bright pretties!” the goblin troublemaker yelled as he rolled under one of the tent walls to the outside.

Blacknail hissed as he landed on empty ground. Infuriated, he spun around and pushed past Mahedium to continue the chase. Once outside, he whirled around until he saw Scamp’s fleeing form. The goblin was making for a group of bandits standing around and talking to each other beside a pile of crates. Blacknail sprinted after him. When he got his hands on Scamp, the little idiot would never dare cross him ever again!

Blacknail’s target ran through the legs of the humans in his path as he frantically tried to keep his lead on the angry hobgoblin. Several of the bandits swore and flinched as he hit their legs on his way past. Blacknail didn’t slow down as he approached the group of men. He was going to catch that stupid runt no matter what! How dare the little goblin challenge him. This was Blacknail’s camp, and as a goblin, Scamp should do what he told him to, or else!

“Oh shit. Move!” one of the men yelled as he saw the hobgoblin speeding toward them.

Several of the bandits turned, then tried to move out of the way when they saw Blacknail speeding toward them. Most of them were too slow. Blacknail pushed and twisted through them. The men swore angrily as he shoved them aside or knocked them over.

Scamp was now running toward three men seated around a campfire. The bandits appeared to be eating stew from a pot. Blacknail continued chasing the goblin, and with his longer legs, he was steadily closing the distance between them.

Once again, Scamp maneuvered through the clump of men. Blacknail was only a few feet away though, and he pounced at the goblin. Unfortunately for Blacknail, he missed as Scamp threw himself to the side. The hobgoblin landed on all fours in the middle of the men and startled them. There were surprised shouts as they all shot to their feet.

As Blacknail scrambled to get back to his feet and continue the chase, something landed on his back, then he felt hot liquid splash all over him. One of the bandits had accidentally knocked over the stew pot, and it had spilled onto Blacknail.

Instinctively, the hobgoblin tried to shake himself dry, sending droplets of wasted stew flying everywhere. Most of the goop was too sticky to be so easily removed, but the bandits gave several more alarmed shouts and tried to back away as the slimy droplets flew everywhere.

Blacknail gave an enraged scream and bounded after Scamp. Forget teaching him a lesson—he was going to rip the goblin apart with his bare hands and enjoy every last hour of it! How dare the useless goblin not obey him!

At the sound of Blacknail’s scream, the fleeing goblin cast a nervous glance back. When he saw Blacknail chasing him, he yelped and raced toward a nearby pile of firewood. The hobgoblin was hissing with rage and practically frothing at the mouth as he bore down on the smaller goblin.

Scamp dove into the woodpile and disappeared. Blacknail was right behind him. He jumped onto the woodpile and began tearing it apart. Pieces of firewood flew in every direction as the hobgoblin madly dug into the center of the wood stack.

Soon, a small crowd had gathered to see what was going on. Mahedium had followed Blacknail and was standing to one side of the commotion. As he looked on, the mage was biting his thumb and clearly nervous.

“What in all the bloody hells is going on here?” Red Dog exclaimed as he walked over.

“Ah… the other goblin—Scamp, I believe his name is—stole some of my mana stones. The hobgoblin, Blacknail, chased him down to get them back. Now though, I fear circumstances have caused him to become more than a little enraged. He’s trying to dig Scamp out,” Mahedium explained fretfully.

“He’s making a damned mess is what he’s doing. Where in all the hells are Saeter and Varhs? This is their responsibility,” a scowling Red Dog asked.

“Well… there’s another problem,” Mahedium told him.

Red Dog sighed. “Story of my life it seems. Go on, tell me.”

“The goblin may somehow have the ability to trigger the flawed mana stones in its possession,” Mahedium explained reluctantly.

One eyebrow rose on Red Dog’s thick face as he gave the mage a look full of disbelief. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Well, since the crystals are flawed, the effect of the goblin activating them is unpredictable.”

“Guess,” Red Dog replied dryly.

Mahedium hesitated. He clearly didn’t want to answer this question. “Most likely they will explode, but really, anything could happen. They might do nothing, emit harmless light, disintegrate the user, or produce a sound that kills everyone who hears it… but he probably won’t actually trigger the crystal. He would need a good reason to do that.”

“Like, say, fear for instance?” Red Dog asked sarcastically.

“Um, yes…”

Red Dog turned back to the woodpile that Blacknail was ripping apart. He stared at the hissing, enraged hobgoblin for a few seconds before turning back to Mahedium. “I would be very afraid if I were him.”

Mahedium stood there looking worried for a few seconds. “What are you going to do?”

“Me? I’m going to back the fuck up ‘til I’m outside the range of an explosion, then I’m going to plug my ears,” Red Dog replied.

Mahedium didn’t seem reassured. He turned back toward Blacknail and started biting his thumb again.

Several minutes passed as Blacknail dug. He was trying to budge a particularly large and stuck piece of lumber when he heard something that broke through his rage.

“Blacknail, you filthy beast, stop that now!” an angry-sounding voice yelled.

The hobgoblin instantly stopped. By this time, he had cut his way fairly deep into the timber pile, so he had to straighten up and turn to glimpse the source of the voice. The other option was to dive deeper and join Scamp in hiding.

Herad was standing a few feet from the edge of the wood heap, and she was glaring at him. The rage that had built up inside Blacknail quickly withered as it was smothered by cold fear. Frantically, Blacknail thought back to the last few minutes and tried to remember if he had done anything to piss her off. He winced slightly as he remembered running through the group of bandits. That wasn’t so bad though. Blacknail was almost certain Herad wouldn’t feel the need to kill him over it, but then again, with Herad, you never knew.

“Come down here,” Herad commanded.

Blacknail warily did as he was told and hopped off the stacks of wood. As he moved, he noticed that Herad wasn’t alone. A very worried-looking Varhs stood beside her. The younger scout looked rough as usual—all the bandits did—but he looked slightly pale underneath the dirt and fuzz on his face.

As the cowering hobgoblin approached, Herad turned to Varhs. “Varhs, I’m told your pet goblin started this mess. When you asked to keep the goblin, you were warned what would happen if you didn’t keep it out of trouble. I don’t like wasting my time on crap like this, so what do you have to say for yourself?” She sounded more disappointed than angry, but her voice was still cold and unyielding.

Varhs gulped before answering her. “I’m sorry, boss. Scamp’s a good boy; I don’t know what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. I’m sure that if everyone were to just calm down, I could call him out and get the stuff back. Everyone’s just making mountains out of molehills here.” He shot an accusatory glance at Blacknail.

That infuriated the hobgoblin. He wasn’t to blame at all! All he had done was try to catch the little thief. It was too much for Blacknail, and he spoke up. “Scamp’s mess is all your fault. You don’t train him-ss right. No beatings or orders, just treats! You’re a terrible master. He is still wild and needs hard-ss training.”

Varhs and Blacknail stared at each other angrily for a few seconds before Herad bothered to respond.

“What do you think, Saeter? You usually have an opinion on everything,” Herad asked snidely.

Blacknail blinked in confusion for a few seconds, then followed her gaze to his left, where his master now stood. The hobgoblin hadn’t noticed his approach.

“This isn’t my business, but Blacknail’s right. Varhs’s goblin isn’t trained properly,” Saeter responded calmly.

“Hmmm, we agree for once. The goblin goes and Varhs pays the price then,” Herad mused aloud.

Varhs looked as if someone had just kicked him in the balls. His faced was twisted up with pain and regret. “I’m sorry, boss. It’s only been one time though. Give me another chance. I’ll make sure Scamp behaves. I beg you!”

“I don’t give second chances, and I hate begging. You’ve wasted my time enough, and it won’t happen again,” she replied with a cold, judging tone. Her eyes were dark and contained not even the slimmest glimmer of mercy.

Varhs cringed, and a desperate look appeared on his face as he turned to Saeter and Blacknail. “Come on, Blacknail, I know you’re mad, but Scamp’s a goblin like you! You can’t want to see him disposed of. I’ll take the punishment, but please, why don’t you take Scamp?”

Blacknail gave Varhs a befuddled look. Scamp was nothing like him, and why should he care about other goblins? He would be happy to see the wretched thief gone.

“I don’t want a badly trained goblin,” Saeter said.

“Fine, Blacknail, I’ll give you treats if you train Scamp. You’ve been criticizing me and how I do it. Let’s see you do better!” Varhs offered.

“What kind-ss of treats? I have all the meat-ss I need,” Blacknail asked.

“Stuff from town. Types of meat and tasty human food you’ve never had before,” Varhs said.

Blacknail considered it. He would get to try new delicious foods and beat sense into Scamp as much as he wanted. He threw a questioning glance at Herad. The chief had to give her permission.

“I’ll allow it. You can keep the critter, Varhs. However, Blacknail will be responsible for training him every day. He knows how to train a goblin, and he’s ruthless enough to correct any problems that crop up,” Herad told them as she stood with her arms crossed.

“Fine-ss, but I train him how I want,” Blacknail answered.

Varhs looked relieved and seemed as though he was going to thank Blacknail, but Herad cut him off. “This debate has already taken up too much of my time. If you know what’s good for you, then you’ll call your goblin out right now and pray he listens.”

Varhs jumped to obey. He ran up to the woodpile, calling for Scamp and reassuring the goblin that he would be safe. A few minutes later, a very scared goblin emerged from the woodpile. He was shivering, and his eyes were huge. The crystals were still in his hands, and he flinched as he noticed Blacknail staring at him. The hobgoblin was actually smiling, but for some reason Scamp didn’t seem to find that comforting.

Varhs held out his hand, and Scamp placed the crystals in them. Even after all the trouble they had caused him, the goblin seemed hesitant to give them up. Once he had the mana stones, Varhs returned them to Mahedium, who looked relieved to have them back.

Much to everyone’s surprise, the mage handed one of the stones back to the goblin. “I’ll let you keep it if you can make it glow again.”

Scamp gave the mage a bewildered look, then he stared at the stone in his hands. When nothing happened, he gripped it tighter until he almost seemed to be trying to crush it.

“Nothing is happening. You must have imagined it. There’s no way goblins can do magic,” Red Dog remarked with a snort of disbelief.

Mahedium threw him an annoyed glance. By this time, most of the camp seemed to have gathered to see what had been going on. Even Vorscha and Geralhd had wandered over.

“It takes training to burn a crystal—on purpose anyway. I don’t tell you how to stick a sword in someone's face and make off with their coin pouch, so don’t attempt to lecture me about the nature of magic and mages,” Mahedium replied condescendingly.

Before Red Dog could reply, there was a flash of light as Scamp’s crystal came to life in his hands. White light blazed from between his fingers. It was bright enough to reveal the shadows of his bones, but after a few seconds, it winked out.

“Ha! As a first major discovery, this is undoubtedly an odd one, but it is one nonetheless. The guilds believe that humans are the only species able to burn and utilize mana stones, but obviously I have proved them wrong! Clearly those inbred thugs aren’t as good at magic as they believe.” The mage had a smug smile as he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out another light stone. He tossed it to an off-guard Blacknail, who fumbled and almost dropped it. “Try to light it up.”

With an indifferent shrug, Blacknail looked at the crystal in his hands. He stared at it and concentrated. What had Scamp done to make his light up? The hobgoblin squeezed the stone as hard as he could. Several minutes went by, but nothing happened. Feeling frustrated and annoyed, Blacknail tossed the useless rock back to Mahedium.

“Hmm, it seems like goblins are similar to humans in that only part of the population is mage-born. I would need much more comprehensive testing to be sure though,” Mahedium mused aloud.

Red Dog rolled his eyes and snorted in annoyance. He was glaring at the mage. “This just means you’re going to have to lock up your crystals. Other than that, it’s a pretty bloody useless discovery.”

“I can think of several uses for this. For instance, I could use the goblin’s blood instead of my own as a catalyst to start crystal formation, and it would be interesting to test if the ability is exactly the same in both species,” Mahedium responded dismissively.

“Vorscha, come here, and you two be quiet. Everyone else, get your useless asses out of here,” Herad suddenly announced as she walked over to Red Dog and Mahedium.

She threw a glare at the nearby crowds, and they quickly dispersed. Soon, only Red Dog, Saeter, Geralhd, Vorscha, Mahedium, Varhs, and Blacknail were left. They stood in a loose half circle facing Herad.

“Since you’re all here and I’ve already wasted too much of my time, I’m going to go over our future plans right now,” Herad told them. “I told you earlier this year that I would probably be heading north to Daggerpoint before winter set in, and that’s still the plan.”

“Why? I thought we were claiming this territory as our own,” Vorscha asked.

“That’s what we’re doing—”

Blacknail was distracted by a grumble from his stomach. As the humans discussed the nitty-gritty details of something he didn’t really care about, the hobgoblin thought about food. He had a bunch of dried meat in one of his pouches, but he sort of felt like something sweet instead.

Oh, there was that clump of berry bushes out in the woods. Hmmm, berries, that would really hit the spot. The hobgoblin glanced around. It didn’t look as though anyone here would miss him, or had even noticed him, so he could step out and grab a snack. He would probably get back before the humans got to anything important anyway. They really did love to hear themselves talk.

Chapter 31

While Herad and Saeter were exchanging particularly deep scowls and arguing about something unimportant, Blacknail tiptoed away. There was a nearby berry bush he wanted to pluck clean, and all the pointless talking the humans were doing was annoying.

It didn’t take him long to slip away to the edge of the forest. Everyone in camp had grown used to him by now, and he had quickly learned how to move without drawing attention anyway. As a rule, humans weren’t observant unless you gave them a good reason to get excited.

Once there, the hobgoblin trekked through the woods toward his destination. Blacknail hopped excitedly over a fallen tree as the green canopy grew thicker overhead. He was really going to enjoy munching down on those berries. Just thinking about their sweet tangy taste was making his mouth water. He had to lick his lips to prevent drool from getting all over his shirt.

Soon, Blacknail reached a spot in the woods where the trees grew thinner and eventually gave way to a small clearing. There, where the sunlight mixed with the shade cast at the edge of the trees, was where the juiciest berries grew. The hobgoblin bounced over and carefully reached into the thorny plants to pluck his favorite fruits. As the succulent flavor hit his tongue, he groaned. Then he picked the berries as fast as he could and shoved them into his mouth.

Eventually, when he’d filled himself and his lips had turned purple, Blacknail belched and swaggered back to camp. He figured the humans were done with all the useless talking by now, and if not, they were easier to ignore on a full stomach.

On his way back to the camp, a whiff of something unexpected filled his nostrils. He stiffened and cast a nervous glance at his surroundings, but all he saw was the normal mix of trees and bushes. The scent was strange and he couldn’t quite identify it, but it did smell somewhat familiar. Maybe it smelled sort of like that huge monstrous slime he’d defeated? It was more like an animal though, and to be giving off so much scent, it had to be a large one.

Curiously but with a fair bit of caution—this was the forest, after all—Blacknail sniffed around to find the source of the smell. It didn’t take him long to discover a trail that something had torn through the underbrush. He bent to examine it as he ran his fingernails through the dirt. It was interesting. Whatever had made the scent had come this way, then retreated in the same direction. Judging by the lack of footprints and the drag marks, it was probably another slime.

Now that Blacknail was a hobgoblin, he wasn’t afraid of running into a slime. He had defeated a huge one when he’d been a mere little goblin. Now no slime could possibly be a match for his deadly warrior skills!

His memory of things so long ago was kind of fuzzy, but he was pretty sure Herad had really wanted to find out where the slime had come from. If Blacknail traced the thing back to its lair, then his chieftain was sure to reward him! The forest might be a dangerous place to explore, but the thing that had made this trail had a sort of pleasant floral scent, so how dangerous could it be?

The hobgoblin gave one last look around at the trees and bushes before heading deeper into the forest in pursuit of his reward. He was headed in a direction that the bandits in Herad’s band usually avoided. The ground here was muddy and practically swamp-like. As he walked, a fair number of the nearby trees were replaced by bleached white husks leaning at odd angles. The constant floods here brought on by the rain had obviously killed a lot of trees. The healthier ones were thick and lush though, if kind of short.

As he scampered across a tree trunk that had fallen over a small stream, something caught Blacknail’s eye. There was a dried up pond to his left with only a bit of water left in the center of it. The wet season was over, and there had been very little rain lately. Along the muddy banks of the pool was a large rocky crevice, and the trail Blacknail was following led right to it. The hobgoblin cautiously made his way closer and examined the entrance to the cave.

The water left in the pond lapped against the bottom of the crevice, and it looked as though the entire thing would most likely be underwater during the wet season. That would definitely explain why no one had found it before. Most of his tribe bathed only slightly more than he did, which was almost never.

The cave was easily large enough for the hobgoblin to enter, but it looked muddy and dark inside. He leaned into it but couldn’t get a good glimpse of what lay within. Well, the trail of the creature led directly here, so this was probably the place Herad was looking for. Blacknail decided that entering the cave to check it out would be icky and too much work, so he decided to head back. After making sure he remembered how to come back here, the hobgoblin hopped up, recrossed the stream, and started back toward camp.

As he walked, something bothered him. What was it?

The answer came to him as he ducked under a low tree branch. It was too quiet. The birds were still singing up in the tops of the trees, but the forest seemed muted and on edge. It was probably nothing though.

Once or twice, he thought he heard a subtle rustling noise from behind him. When that happened, he quickly turned his head to look back, but he never saw anything. He was probably imagining the noise, but just in case, he walked a bit faster. Better safe than lunch.

Soon he was out of the swampy area and back into the forest proper, where the trees grew tall and straight. Not long after that, he made it back to camp. The hobgoblin slipped past the sentries set to watch the forest border and strolled leisurely into the bandits’ base. It wasn’t like the guards would have stopped him or anything, but there was no point in letting them see him. They probably had better things to do than watch him.

Unsurprisingly, Herad and the others were still talking. Blacknail sighed and crept up behind Saeter to listen in. He was already kind of hungry again. All that walking had been hard work.

“To enforce my claim, I have to get the other bands to accept it,” Herad was explaining. “To offer safe passage, I have to make sure no one dares poach my targets. The only way to make sure that doesn’t happen is to make sure the other bands know exactly how bad of an idea it would be to mess around here…”

Boring! This was the same stuff they had been talking about when he left. He really wanted to tell Herad about how amazing of a tracker he was and how he’d found the cave she’d been looking for. That would be a much more interesting conversation, and he would probably even get a treat out of it. He didn’t want to interrupt her though. She wouldn’t like that, and when she didn’t like things, people tended to get stabbed.

“Boss, there’s a bunch of riders approaching!” a familiar-sounding bandit yelled urgently. “They’re coming down the road fast, and they look like knights.”

The conversation instantly stopped as everyone whirled around to look toward the speaker. Blacknail perked up and glanced that way as well. This sounded much more interesting!

Red Dog swore as he flinched in surprise. Herad didn’t waste any time; within seconds, she had dashed toward both the shouter and the road that bordered the camp. Everyone else, including Blacknail, followed her. The hobgoblin wanted to see what all the excitement was about.

The chieftain had reached the bandit who had yelled and was now jogging alongside her. As they moved, the camp came alive around them. The bandits weren’t always the most motivated people, but a possible enemy attack got their attention.

Blacknail scampered up behind Herad. The dark-eyed bandit chieftain was now standing along the road and staring down it. The hobgoblin quickly spotted what she was looking at. A large group of mounted human warriors was headed their way. He counted around three dozen knights, and they looked familiar. It took the hobgoblin a few seconds of head scratching before he remembered where he’d seen them. They were the riders he’d seen out on the road when he and Saeter had been sent out to find the deserters. Red Dog had been there too.

The knights weren’t flying a flag this time, but they were still armed and armored better than any humans Blacknail had ever seen. They held long spears, had swords at their waists, and wore a mix of chain mail and steel plate. If it came to a fight, Blacknail planned on staying as far away from them as possible and attacking from a distance.

As the bandits watched, the riders trotted warily up the road and approached the camp. Under the vigilant eyes of the lead knight, the quickest of the bandits had already formed a loose line and were getting ready to meet them.

In the crude wooden tower set up beside the road, men already had their bows drawn and ready. A simple barricade of sharpened stakes also blocked the road. That was good, because Blacknail was pretty sure that without it, the bandits on the ground would last just long enough to be trampled to death if the knights charged. That would be amusing to see, but it probably wouldn’t be in Blacknail’s best interest. The horses the knights were riding looked like vicious bastards. He didn’t really want to see, or smell, them from closer up.

“Those are definitely Lord Strachan’s men,” Red Dog said in a hostile tone. “They look like the same group I reported seeing on the road southeast of here a few weeks back.”

“The question is, what in all the hells are they doing out here?” Vorscha replied. “I’ve heard the old lord keeps mostly to himself these days, since his son died in the battle at Larceon, and I doubt they’ve been roaming the countryside for weeks looking for us. Not even nobles are that stupid.”

Saeter grunted.“Well, whatever his reasons, they’re here now, and I would bet against them being friendly to outlaws. I’m damned sure knights are supposed to stomp out bands like ours with extreme prejudice, by royal decree.”

“Damn right,” Red Dog said.

Herad’s bodyguards were never too far away, and with all the sudden commotion, it didn’t take long for several of them to appear at her side. The menacing thugs gathered up behind their mistress and joined her in glaring at the approaching riders.

“It looks like we are going to finally see exactly how weak and impotent the local lords are,” Herad remarked with dark amusement. “I said coming South would fill our pockets with gold, and it has. Now all we have to do is teach these fops that their fancy breeding means nothing.”

Her words didn’t seem to make anyone feel better. There was a smirk on the bandit chieftain’s lips, but everyone else looked nervous.

“We outnumber them almost ten to one,” Vorscha observed.

“That will hardly matter if they hit us like the Hammer of Azur-Wa. You know better than most what happens when heavy cavalry hits irregulars like us. I left the army to avoid ending up like that,” Red Dog countered.

“They don’t seem properly equipped to function as heavy stompers,” Vorscha replied. “They look more like they’ve been doing a lot of riding lately and just stumbled upon us, and they definitely don’t look eager to charge.”

“Good,” Saeter said as he made his way over to Herad.

As the riders got closer, their horses slowed to a steady trot. Dozens of armed bandits watched nervously as two of the horses broke away from the rest and approached the barricade.

“Hail the camp!” the first rider yelled as he came to stop several dozen feet from the entrance to the base.

“Identify yourselves!” Herad shouted in a commanding tone.

There was what looked to be a brief argument between the two riders. After a few moments, the same man answered.

“I am Sir Masnin, a paladin in service to the Order of Helio-Lustria. The man behind me is Sir Devus, the leader of a detachment of knights Lord Strachan sent to aid me in my quest,” the rider explained politely but with a steely edge to his voice.

Herad wasn’t impressed. Her scowl deepened as she regarded the holy knight. “A paladin, eh? What brings such illustrious company such as yourself to my edge of my woods, pray tell?”

As Blacknail listened, he tilted his head. What was a paladin? It sounded sort of like a type of dessert, but not a particularly tasty one. Maybe like one of those really fancy-looking ones that you got all excited about having but ended up tasting worse than the cheap stuff.

“I’m here fulfilling the holy work of my order; I’m tracking an infection,” Sir Masnin told the bandit chieftain. “There was an outbreak of the dark plague in a village to the south a while back. The plague was stopped and burnt out before it could spread, but several infected escaped into the woods. I’ve tracked them north to here, and by now, they are without doubt fully fledged ghouls.”

“We encountered those ghouls of yours and dealt with them ourselves. They were purged with holy silver and cleansing fire, so there’s no need for you to worry yourself about them any longer,” Herad replied as she stared down the mounted paladin.

“Then you have done the Sun God’s will, and I thank you. I will, of course, need to enter your camp, question your men, and see that all is right for myself,” Sir Masnin said in a polite tone.

Herad eyed the paladin and the knights behind him before bursting into dark laughter. Most of the riders flinched and reached for their weapons, but Sir Masnin remained calm. His gaze never wavered from Herad’s.

"You’re going to have to take my word for it because that’s not going to happen, pretty boy. Why don’t you ride off before you get yourself hurt?” she told him.

The paladin opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted when the rider next to him spoke up. “We can’t trust these villains, Sir Masnin; they’re fucking bandits and honorless deserters! If we go in there, they’ll fall on us from every side while we’re distracted. There’s no reason to talk to the likes of them. Let’s just charge in there and put these mad dogs down, or turn around and come back with reinforcements. We’ll be doing the country a great boon by eliminating these scum.”

“As long as you are seconded to my service, I expect you to follow my lead,” Sir Masnin replied coolly before turning back to Herad.

The knight captain looked insulted but didn’t speak back up. Instead, he glowered at the bandit chieftain.

“If you do not let me in, then I promise you will have far more to worry about than a few dozen knights and a provincial noble,” the paladin told Herad in a steely tone.

“I’ve heard much better threats than that from much more dangerous men,” she replied dismissively.

Neither she nor the paladin looked away. Instead, they stared at each other for what seemed like hours but was probably more like a minute.

Eventually, Sir Masnin broke the silence. “Worldly affairs are not my concern. I am concerned only with the struggle of light against darkness and civilization versus ruination.”

“Those men behind you seem to think otherwise,” Herad pointed out.

“They have their responsibilities, and I have mine. Though we all struggle to perform our duties, they do not always lead us in the same direction. I beg permission to enter your camp alone as an honored guest,” the paladin responded.

“You can’t be serious!” Sir Davus hissed in alarm, but everyone ignored him.

Herad laughed again and smiled with obvious amusement. “Why not? I’ve never had an honored guest before.”

She waved to the archers up in the tower, and they lowered their weapons. Sir Masnin took the opportunity to dismount and pass his reins to his companion. A few seconds later, he was walking past the barricade and the bandits behind it without apparent fear. He might as well have been taking a stroll through a garden for all the concern that showed on his face. Blacknail kind of wanted to poke him and see what happened.

As the paladin approached Herad, he drew his blade. Her bodyguards tensed, but Sir Masnin flipped it around and carefully presented the hilt to her.

“Keep it,” Herad said as she motioned him forward and smiled viciously. “Everyone else here is armed to the teeth anyway.”

Chapter 32

The paladin, Sir Masnin, cautiously followed Herad deeper into her camp. He got a few hostile glares, but most of the bandits seemed more concerned about the squad of angry-looking riders parked in front of the entrance to their base than the single man following their leader on foot. Few, if any, of them thought of him as a threat to their chief. She had a certain reputation after all.

Like most of the bandits, Red Dog and the other lieutenants seemed focused on watching the knights at their gate. They were arguing about how best to fight the riders, but Blacknail didn’t care about that. The knights were just sitting on their horses and glowering at everything and everyone nearby. That was really boring to watch, and Blacknail didn’t want to look at their ugly, smelly horses anyway.

Somehow, these horses looked even more arrogant and mean than most. The hobgoblin wanted to throw a rock at the one in the lead to show it who was boss. He held back though, because that would probably lead to a misunderstanding and get him in trouble.

No, it was the paladin who interested Blacknail. The riders were standing still, but he was moving around and stuff. He was sure Herad and her guest would soon do something exciting, and he planned to be there when it happened. Blacknail heard snippets of their conversations as he stalked them through the camp. The hobgoblin kept his distance though; he wanted to keep out of sight. If Herad noticed him, then she might send him away, and that would be no fun.

The paladin threw a quick look over his shoulder, and Blacknail ducked out of sight behind a tent. After a few seconds of looking around, Sir Masnin apparently didn’t see anything suspicious because he frowned and turned back to Herad.

The bandit chieftain led the paladin around the camp for a few more minutes. The only place Herad didn’t take him was inside Mahedium’s workshop. After the tour was complete, she showed him the scarred circle of earth where the burnt remains of the ghouls and everything they had touched were buried. Of course, they didn’t find anything of interest. If any ghoul bits or infection was still present, the hobgoblin would have smelled it long ago. He was the best, and only, ghoul sniffer around.

Blacknail slipped up beside a small group of bandits so he wouldn’t stand out. From there, he could get a good view of what was going on.

Masnin was standing on the filled-in pit. The dirt below his feet was dry and grey, and nothing had started to grow there yet. “Hmmm, I’m quite surprised your… group handled this as well as you did.” The paladin examined the large circle of broken earth. “You don’t seem well equipped to deal with an outbreak like this. Much smaller packs of the accursed things have been the bane of cities.”

“Those cities didn’t have my leadership. I kept order here, and we have a few old hands who have dealt with the dark plague before. They knew a few useful tricks,” Herad explained as she drew a dagger and nimbly twirled it through her fingers.

Hey, what was this now? Blacknail scowled. Why hadn’t she mentioned him? He had done more than anyone else to get rid of all the ghoul gunk and find the stupid humans who had gotten it all over themselves!

“Still, it is very impressive,” Sir Masnin replied as he glanced around the camp.

“Then you’re easily impressed, because this is nothing compared to what I’m really capable of,” Herad remarked smugly.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Herad the Black Snake. Unfortunately, most of it was far from complimentary.” The paladin frowned in disapproval.

Herad gave him an amused smile. “Nobody’s perfect, and you know how inaccurate the rumor mill gets.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, it certainly seems like everyone here is healthy. I’m a little concerned about that man over there though. He has had his hood up and a scarf across face the entire time I’ve been here,” Sir Masnin said as he pointed Blacknail's way.

The hobgoblin went stiff as a board as the paladin singled him out. How had the man seen him? He’d been at his sneakiest! Maybe he needed to dirty up his clothes some more so they didn’t stand out. Most of the nearby humans’ clothes were grimier than his.

Herad didn’t bother to turn and look toward where the paladin was pointing; she knew who it was. “Oh him, he’s just butt ugly. He hates showing people his face, and trust me, you don’t want to see it. You don’t have to worry about him being sick.”

Blacknail scowled. That was totally not the reason he wore his hood up most of the time! There was nothing wrong with his handsome green face. Surely, she could have come up with a better excuse…

“I see. I guess I’ll take your word for it,” the man remarked doubtfully.

“Indeed, you’re going to have to.” There was a cold edge under her pleasant tone.

Judging by the doubtful look on his face, Sir Masnin was clearly unconvinced by her explanation and more than a little suspicious of the cloaked figure. He didn’t appear ready to press the issue though. Either Herad’s behavior or the fact that he was completely surrounded by violent, armed bandits had him worried.

“Everything appears to be in order then. Thank you for permitting me entry and destroying the ghouls I was tracking. Your efforts have helped spread the light of Helio-Lustria,” Sir Masnin told Herad as he gave her a slight polite bow.

The bandit chieftain smiled in amusement. She brushed a few strands of dark hair out from in front of her eyes. “That’s me, I’m a bloody saint.”

“One does not need to be perfect to walk in the god of light’s illumination, and it’s never too late to devote your life to him,” Sir Masnin explained reverently.

“Trying to tempt me away from a life of crime, eh? I think I’d rather just stay here and rob people for a living. It pays better and it seems like a lot more fun,” Herad countered.

“As you wish. I have seen everything I need to see, and with your permission, I shall take my leave,” the paladin told her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to leave. I think I like having a handsome young knight such as you in my power. What do you think about that?” Herad asked Sir Masnin as she leaned closer to him and smiled.

“Um…” the red-faced paladin stuttered as her words threw him off balance.

“I could definitely find a use for you and that sword of yours. Perhaps you’d like to stay a little longer?” Herad licked her lips.

The paladin’s eyes widened. Blacknail could hear the rapid pounding of the man’s heartbeat from where he stood.

“Pardon me, but I should really go. I have to report back to my order,” Sir Masnin answered with obvious reluctance.

“That will be difficult since your escort just rode off without you,” Red Dog interjected as he walked over to his boss.

Saeter was right beside the other man, and both looked annoyed. Vorscha appeared to have stayed behind though. Herad instantly turned to look at her lieutenant. The paladin remained perfectly still except for his brow, which tightened in concern.

“Explain,” Herad commanded Red Dog.

“This guy’s escort started arguing amongst themselves a few minutes back. It got kind of heated, then they just turned around and rode off down the road and out of sight. From the looks they were giving the men, I’m sure they don’t plan on coming back any time soon unless it’s to attack us,” her lieutenant replied.

One of Herad’s eyebrows rose as she turned and gave the paladin a suspicious stare. “Can you explain this?”

The holy warrior sighed deeply. “This was due to no action on my part. Sir Devus must have decided that I wasn’t coming back and decided to leave. He must have thought you’d acted against me and that he would be next. I obviously underestimated that man’s paranoia and impatience.” Sir Masnin asked Red Dog hopefully, “I don’t suppose they left me my horse?”

“No.”

The paladin sighed again.

“It seems you’ll be staying here a little longer after all, while we figure out what to do with you. I’m going to have to ask for that weapon of yours now,” Herad told the paladin.

“As you wish.” The troubled-looking paladin drew his sword and handed it over.

“Hmm, I’m going to have to put you somewhere now,” Herad mused playfully, like a cat with a mouse. “My house would be the most secure place. Of course, since it’s full of my valuables, I’d have to watch over you if I put you there. It’s out of sun though, and nice and private.”

“Alas, I’d hate to intrude upon you. Anywhere out here is fine,” Sir Masnin replied.

Blacknail scratched his head as he listened. Why would anyone take Herad’s offer? Sure, her house was nice and cool, but if Herad was there, no one would be able to relax. Humans were weird.

“That’s too bad. I do like to please my guests,” Herad told the now nervous-looking paladin with a smirk. “Red Dog, make our guest comfortable and assign him a pair of guards. I need to go check on our defenses in case those knights show up again. I have a feeling they will.”

“Yes, boss,” the bandit replied as his chieftain turned and walked away.

Blacknail’s master stepped forward and glared suspiciously at the paladin. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone,” Red Dog replied dryly.

“I like plenty of people,” the old scout countered in an offended tone.

“Such as?” the other man asked doubtfully.

Now that Herad was gone, Blacknail decided to stop skulking around. He walked over to Saeter and the others, and his master noticed the hobgoblin’s approach.

“Blacknail, for one,” Saeter answered triumphantly.

“Right, is there anyone human on that no doubt gigantic list?” Red Dog asked.

Saeter froze for a second, and a look of concentration came over his face. “Bah, I don’t have to answer your stupid questions.” He stomped off.

The other bandit snorted. “I rest my case.”

As Blackanil watched, Red Dog led the frustrated-looking paladin over to an empty tent. Well, if his master didn’t like the man, then Blacknail was going to keep an eye on him. The hobgoblin didn’t know why Herad hadn’t just had the man killed, but he was clearly suspicious. Who knew what he could be up to?

“I don’t suppose you have any black tea?” the holy warrior asked as he sat down in front of the tent and pulled off his helmet.

“Nothing you want to drink.” Red Dog looked around and called two nearby men over. He told them to keep an eye on Sir Masnin. Red Dog grunted at the paladin. “Stay here and keep out of trouble. You’re lucky the boss likes you and that most of the men have nothing against the holy orders or you’d already be dead.”

The other man didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he knelt in front of the tent, closed his eyes, and prayed. The two men Red Dog had selected took up position on either side of Sir Masnin. Neither of them seemed too worried about the enemy in their midst. In fact, they looked more bored than anything.

Really, they were so bad at being guards that they should never have been chosen in the first place. Blacknail was going to do everyone a favor and take their place. Even the guards probably had better places to be.

A few minutes later sir, Masnin got up and crawled into the tent. One of the guards stepped around the tent to make sure nothing suspicious was going on behind it, and Blacknail made his move. The hobgoblin calmly and silently walked up behind the man, while he was out of sight of his partner, and smacked him across the back of his head with a small club. With a muffled grunt of pain, the man collapsed, but Blacknail caught him before he hit the ground.

With that done, Blacknail slipped around the tent and into the other guard’s blindspot. The man was still staring in the same direction with a slack look on his stupid face, so Blacknail knocked him unconscious with smack from his club as well.

Wow, these two bandits had been really bad at their jobs. What had they even been on guard against—working too hard? Blacknail sighed in exasperation as he dragged the unconscious idiots out of sight behind a pile of wood, where it was nice and shady. He was considerate like that.

Then he riffled through the men’s pockets for anything interesting. He wasn’t planning on keeping the stuff he found though. If he left them there, a thief might come along and take their stuff while they were sleeping. As their loyal tribemate, Blacknail wasn’t about to let that happen. He would hold on to their stuff for them until later…

“What are you doing?” a youthful, curious voice asked from behind the hobgoblin as he was looking through a small coin purse.

Shit, there was only one person in camp who sounded like that. As Blacknail turned toward the source of the voice, a shiver of frustration and annoyance worked its way up his spine and made him twitch. Behind him stood Khita, and she was giving him a curious yet smug look.

Blacknail looked at the knocked out men at his feet and grimaced. “Umm, they-ss looked like they could use a nap-ss, so I helped them. I’m going-ss to take their-ss place and guard the prisoner.”

“Sharp, let me join you,” Khita told him.

Desperately, Blacknail tried to think up a reason for her to leave. He didn’t want the annoying girl around, but if he told her to go away, it might bring him unwanted attention. Oh well. If something went wrong he could always blame it on Khita.

“Fine-ss, let’s go.” Blacknail turned to walk back toward the entrance to the tent Sir Masnin was using.

“Just a second,” Khita replied as she pulled up her own hood.

Together, the pair took up position in front of the paladin’s tent. A few seconds later, there was a rustling from within and Sir Masnin emerged.

“It’s not the cleanest tent I’ve ever had, but I’ve seen worse. Hopefully I won’t be here all that long anyway.” The paladin froze and blinked a few times after looking up and seeing Blacknail and Khita standing there. “You’re not the same guards from before.”

“Maybe we are…” Khita replied vaguely in as deep as a voice as she could.

“They-ss fell,” Blacknail explained truthfully at the same time.

“Right…” the befuddled paladin replied as he stared at his new guards.

Blacknail stared intently right back. His loose-fitting clothes, scarf, and cloak concealed his inhuman form. Now that he was on guard, there was no way this man would get away with anything bad. Sir Masnin kept glancing back between his two new guards, as if he couldn’t decide which one was weirder. Blacknail and Khita were noticeably shorter than the men they’d replaced, and Khita had a clearly feminine voice.

“You’re the… man from earlier, and I’m fairly sure you’re not a man at all,” the paladin remarked hesitantly as he looked at Khita.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Khita snapped while Blacknail remained silent.

“Nothing. I just meant it’s unusual to see someone your age in such a place,” he explained politely.

“I’m unusually dangerous.” The young woman huffed as she pulled off her hood and stared at the paladin.

“I believe you,” the paladin muttered as he sat down and shook his head. Sir Masnin closed his eyes and prayed again.

It only took a few minutes for Khita to grow bored and wander off, but Blacknail kept up his watch. He was sure the paladin was up to something and just waiting for him to lose focus. After a few more minutes of intense staring, Blacknail decided that the man wasn’t going to do anything as long as it looked as if he was paying attention. Thus, the hobgoblin yawned and pretended to sit back against a log and relax.

Almost immediately, the hobgoblin saw Sir Masnin open his eyes and turn to look his way. He clearly found Blacknail both unsettling and interesting. The man studied the hobgoblin for several minutes but appeared to grow more confused as time went on.

"I have to admit I haven't visited many bandit camps, but this one seems odd to me," Sir Masnin commented. "You're all very different from what I expected, and I have absolutely no idea what to make of you personally. I don't suppose you want to tell me who you are?"

"I'm watching-ss you," a slightly insulted Blacknail hissed as he sat back up and glared at the paladin.

He was going to say more but stopped when he heard footsteps approaching. A few seconds later, his master appeared and gave the hobgoblin a surprised look. He clearly hadn’t expected to see him guarding the prisoner, but it was the paladin he turned toward.

“Your friends are back, and they’ve brought reinforcements. It’s looking like there is going to be a fight, so we have to decide what to do with you,” the old scout said coldly.

Sir Masnin rose and stared back at Saeter. As they glared at each other, the paladin’s left hand inched toward his empty scabbard but then stopped and disappeared into a pocket at his waist.

Chapter 33

Blacknail reacted quickly to the fight brewing between the two men in front of him. He growled menacingly as he pulled himself to his feet and reached for the pommel of his blade. The hobgoblin’s cloaked body was tense and hunched over as he readied himself to spring forward.

Sir Masnin threw a startled look the hobgoblin’s way and hesitated. He tried to peer past Blacknail’s heavy clothes without success. Unnerved, the paladin hesitated and then turned back to the old scout as he reluctantly let his hands drop to his sides. “Sir Devos is a young fool. If he is truly attacking you and your compatriots, then it’s his own folly, although I fear I have been caught up in it.”

Blacknail smiled proudly. Obviously he’d terrified the man into submission without even needing to fight. He sure was a scary warrior!

“He’s got us all involved in this mess,” Saeter huffed back. “Now come with me. Herad wants to see you.”

As Blacknail watched, the paladin nodded and followed the older man. The hostility from moments before had yet to completely fade though. Saeter kept one wary eye on the paladin while Blacknail glared at the man’s back as he followed.

Saeter led Sir Masnin back through the camp and toward the entrance. There, Herad and her lieutenants were yelling orders at dozens of bandits running around. One of the outlaws near the chieftain had a trumpet and was signaling the call to arms. The annoyingly loud tones of the instrument filled the clearing and echoed off into the trees.

Almost everyone seemed focused on the eastern entrance to the camp, so Blacknail peered in that direction as well. However, the long dusty road that ran through the forest looked empty. The hobgoblin grunted in annoyance. Hopefully this wasn’t another stupid human waste of time. The trumpet was giving him a headache.

“How do you know Lord Strachan’s men are on their way back? I don’t see them,” Sir Masnin asked.

Saeter grunted in annoyance. “Herad had mounted scouts sent out to trail your friends the second they left. Apparently they didn’t go all that far. They picked up a few more men from the first village they crossed, then headed straight back here. Now they’re sitting up on the hill that lies down that road. It’s just out of sight from here.”

“You must mean Datshire. It’s the village we stopped at yesterday. We left our supplies and some of our retainers there,” the paladin commented.

“I know it was Datshire. There aren’t many villages left hereabouts, and I’ve been to them all,” Saeter replied scornfully.

Before Sir Masnin could reply, Herad shouted in their direction. “Come here, paladin!” The bandit chieftain motioned him closer.

“Mistress Herad, if my companions are really returning, I need to talk to them. There is no reason for this to devolve into a fight,” the paladin said as he approached.

“That would be nice,” Herad replied sarcastically. “I didn’t call you over to play peacemaker though. If these damned idiots plan on charging to their doom, I want you within arm’s reach where I can keep an eye on you.”

“I know you outnumber Sir Devos’s force, but they are trained and mounted knights,” the paladin explained. “Your victory is far from a sure thing and would undoubtedly cost you in blood and souls. It would be better for everyone if it didn’t come to violence.”

“You underestimate the options at my disposal,” the bandit chieftain replied. “I was quite happy letting you fancy high bloods leave unmolested, but your friends had other plans. This my territory and you’re intruding, so whether you like it or not, there’s going to be a fight, one I intend to win.”

“If you let me talk to them, I’m sure I can prevent any bloodshed. If they see I’m free to leave, then they will turn around. This expedition’s goal was to root out ghouls, the enemy of all mankind, not skirmish with bandits,” Sir Masnin begged.

“Or then I’d have one more enemy to worry about, and unless I miss my guess, you’d be more dangerous than any of the others,” Herad countered angrily. “The order of Helio-Lustria rarely accepts anyone but the best, then they make sure their warriors are equipped with everything they might need to fulfill their duties, like Elixir.”

“I give you my oath that I wouldn’t betray your hospitality,” the paladin told her.

“Even when your compatriots are dying right in front of you? You’d do nothing? That’s not a risk I intend to take,” Herad replied with a scowl. “Besides, even if Sir Devos leaves, he’ll probably just be back later with more men and time to prepare. We’ve insulted him by existing, and he sees our deaths as a chance to build up his name.”

Sir Masnin sighed and looked frustrated, but he didn’t say have anything else. His shoulders hung loosely under the weight of both her words and his chain mail shirt.

A sudden burst of activity got everyone’s attention. The noise and movement around Herad had grown quieter while she talked to Sir Masnin, but now it redoubled. The cause was obvious.

“It seems like they got their shit together,” Herad growled as she stared down the road.

A large formation of soldiers appeared around the bend in the road and marched into sight. Blacknail had to squint to see that far, but there was no mistaking who it was; the knights were back.

In the front rode a large formation of mounted men. They were even more heavily armored than the last time Blacknail had seen them. Almost all of them had steel plate armor and helmets with visors that concealed their faces. Above them, the flag of Lord Strachan waved and snapped in the wind.

Behind the riders came a smaller formation of foot soldiers. Their armor was much lighter, but they were still heavily armed. Some of them held spears while others had swords and round shields. There were definitely fewer of them than there were knights. Blacknail wasn’t that good at counting, so he wasn’t sure of the exact number. After staring at his hands and wiggling his toes, he concluded that there were a lot more than twenty though.

As bandits all around Blacknail rushed to prepare for battle, the horsemen suddenly charged and clouds of dust rose up behind them. Their horses’ hooves pounded against the earth and roared like thunder as they closed in on the camp’s entrance and the men guarding it.

“Everyone get to your positions now!” Herad roared as she waved her sword above her head.

A good dozen bandits with spears had taken up position behind the wooden barrier that partially blocked the way into the camp. Alongside it, men were climbing into the watch towers and stringing bows.

Blacknail’s eyes went wide and his ears went flat against the back of his head as he watched the charging enemy. He was fairly far from the front line, but not nearly far enough. The knights were closing in quickly, and they certainly didn’t look like they expected the spearmen to stop them. Blacknail was sure he agreed with them. The speeding wall of steel, horse flesh, and drawn blades terrified him. Something seemed to be squeezing his heart and stifling his breath.

The hobgoblin quickly looked around. While he had been focused on the enemy, almost all his tribesmen had wandered off. Only a terrified-looking Khita was left, and she wasn't good for anything!

Saeter had somehow ended up off to one side with a squad of archers. Herad, Red Dog, and the paladin were now surrounded by the chief’s bodyguards and headed toward the center of the camp. Blacknail wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go…

Suddenly, a heavy crashing sound was followed by screams as the knights slammed into the barricade, then blew right through it. Uh oh, that wasn’t good. The riders were barreling straight toward Blacknail, so the hobgoblin decided to retreat in an orderly fashion. There was no way he was going to stay back there! That furious stampede of horses would crush him into paste! Their riders also looked sort of dangerous.

“Eeeekk,” he squeaked in unrestrained terror as he fled as quickly as he could. The hobgoblin hesitated only for the split second it took to push Khita and get her moving as well before dashing off the road. The stupid woman had been in his way.

As they broke into the clearing, the charging riders were greeted by a hail of arrows from bandits positioned at the edge of the woods. Almost instantly, the knights’ formation split into two and accelerated out of the way. The knights avoided most of the arrows, and the rest failed to penetrate their armor.

However, their sudden course change meant they were no longer directly headed toward Blacknail and Khita. The pair kept running though. At least one of them wasn't stupid.

Behind them, the enemy footmen charged into the remaining bandits at the broken barricade. A melee broke out as the two sides fought for control of the entrance to the camp. The bandits there were outnumbered and steadily giving ground until a large group of reinforcements detached from the woods and rushed over. The new group of outlaws smashed into the side of the soldiers, and the fighting intensified.

The two formations of horsemen were rampaging through the camp. They had split up and headed in different directions, but they were now circling around to meet back up. The speed and weight of their mounts made them seemingly unstoppable. They rode through the camp unopposed, trampling tents and cutting down stragglers.

Herad and Red Dog had reached the center of the camp and joined up with more of her men. Her house and several sturdy timber buildings guarded their flanks. So far, the knights were sticking to the outside of the camp, where the buildings were thinner and their path was clear.

A minute later, a gasping hobgoblin made his way over to Herad’s group with a still-shocked Khita right behind him. As Blacknail leaned against a building for support, he spotted several of the band’s horses off to one side. They were tied up and didn’t seem like a threat, but he kept an eye on them anyway, in case they decided to join their fellows in trying to kill him. You couldn’t trust horses.

Red Dog cursed. “We can’t form up and launch a counterattack with them charging around like that; we need to slow them down.”

Herad frowned and turned to her left, where Mahedium was standing. “I don’t suppose you’ve got something impressive hidden up your sleeves?”

Mahedium took a moment to study the nearest group of riders tearing their way through the camp. “It depends… I could try to hit them with some force bolts, but unless they’re headed straight for me, I’m unlikely to be very accurate. I would end up wasting a lot of valuable crystals for little gain. As for fire… it’s a bad idea if you don’t want me to burn the camp down.”

“What about slowing them down? Can you create some mud or freeze the ground?” Red Dog asked. “I’ve seen that kind of thing work before.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the correct tools or components to use such a strategy,” Mahedium admitted.

“How useful,” Herad shot back sarcastically. “Just keep your head down and wait for a clear shot then, mage.”

“They’ll have to confront us eventually,” Red Dog pointed out.

“Not soon enough. I’m going to go out and meet them. Be ready to attack when I’ve stopped them,” Herad told him.

Her lieutenant frowned in disapproval but knew better than to try to argue with her. “The paladin may not be their only Vessel. These are knights. One of them may come from a family line of Vessels in service to Lord Strachan. Mounted combat is also kind of their thing.”

“Do you have a better idea?” the chieftain asked him.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing before we commit,” Red Dog suggested. “If we send some men over to that pile of timber by that hill, it’ll draw their attention. When the knights charge, the men can cut the timber loose. That’ll slow the riders down so that most of the men will survive long enough for you to hit the enemy from behind.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Herad mused as she looked over the suddenly nervous bandits around her. “Who should we send?”

Blacknail grinned from where he was standing out of sight behind a cluster of bandits. Red Dog’s plan sounded as though it would be amusing to watch. He approved of any plan that involved hitting a bunch of unsuspecting horses with logs.

“I suggest sending the hobgoblin,” Red Dog said as he pointed Blacknail’s way. “He’s fast, and horses act skittish around him.”

Blacknail stood up straight in alarm. Wait… what was this now? This plan was terrible; he wanted no part of it!

“Fine. You over there will join him,” Herad told several bandits as she followed Red Dog’s advice.

There was nervous muttering from everyone who had been selected, except Blacknail. The hobgoblin was slowly and silently backing away. Herad hadn’t technically given him an order yet. If she didn’t look his way in the next few seconds, he would be able to disappear around the corner of the building behind him…

Everyone grew silent as the sound of Herad drawing her blade filled the air. A second later, the bandit chieftain leveled it at the nearest group of subordinates she’d chosen to use as bait.

“Get moving now,” she commanded as she glared at everyone she’d selected.
She gave Blacknail a particularly unamused look.

All he could do was smile nervously back as he pretended he hadn’t been about to run away. “Yep-ss, sure thing, mistress.”

Herad motioned with her blade, and the reluctant men and women stepped out from between the buildings with Blacknail in their midst. Seconds later, they broke into a run toward the woodpile. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

It didn’t take long for them to draw the attention of one of the groups of knights. Sure enough, the riders shifted their direction toward the now-exposed bandits.

Blacknail picked up speed and pulled ahead of everyone else. He had been planning to stay sheltered in the middle of the group, but on second thought, he realized that was dumb. He doubted the humans around him would even slow the charging warhorses if they got trampled, no matter how fat they were.

The hobgoblin sprinted toward the lumber pile. His feet pounded against the ground, but his footsteps were drowned out by the sound of the charging cavalry descending toward him. He sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder to see a wall of heavily armored knights bearing down on him. He didn’t like this one bit! He was so going to get back at Red Dog for this!

With speed brought on by desperation, Blacknail leaped forward and drew his sword. He landed on the lumber pile. His blade sliced through the air and the nearest clump of rope. The hobgoblin quickly moved on to the next knot and severed that as well.

The first of the bandits reached the timber stack. They quickly hacked away at its restraints as well. Sensing something amiss, the knights slowed their charge.

There was a loud crack as the last of the ropes came loose, and Blacknail kicked the top log off the pile. The timber rolled toward the knights with surprising speed. It was swiftly followed by others as the bandits got to work.

The first rolling log barrelled toward the riders. Startled knights pulled on their reins as they urgently guided their mounts out of the way. Most had no trouble evading it, or managed to jump it, but not all of them were so lucky. One rider in the middle of the formation was too crowded in and had nowhere to go. The log clipped his horse and took out its legs. There was shriek of pain from the horse as it tumbled over sideways and crushed its rider.

A ragged cheer went up from the bandits as more timber spilled down toward the knights and they were forced to turn away from their targets. However, none of the other riders went down and they swiftly reorganized.

The bandits pushed more logs down to keep the knights away, but the riders split up and encircled their targets. Infuriated by the loss of their comrade, they drove their mounts toward the sides of the timber pile that remained clear of falling timber. Desperate bandits tried to back up toward the top of the pile, but the knights cut down the closest ones. The scent of blood oozed out as the sounds of fighting rang forth.

Herad’s men frantically tried to slow the advance of the armored riders. With their shining, if now bloodstained, armor and warhorses, the knights seemed unstoppable. Bandits fell one after another as the knights advanced over their corpses.

Atop the pile, Blacknail loosed another log and sent it sprawling down. When that failed to do anything, he drew his sling and flung stones. He got a satisfying whinny of pain from one of the horses when he struck its flank, but the stones he sent toward the riders bounced uselessly off their armor. Whelp, that was bad. He was completely out of ranged weapons and he really didn’t want to get in a sword fight with these enemies…

To Blacknail’s left, a bandit screamed as a knight’s blade sank into his shoulder. The man was silenced by another blow to the side of his neck that almost decapitated him and sent a spray of blood toward Blacknail.

There was no one between the hobgoblin and danger now. Warily, Blacknail drew his sword and turned to face his heavily armed attacker. The knight's mount snorted as it stepped forward and gazed evilly at the hobgoblin with its huge, insane-looking eyes. Its visible breath steamed out from its ugly flaring nostrils and rose into the air.

Blacknail really hated horses.

Chapter 34

Blacknail jumped backward as the mounted knight’s blade sliced toward him. It cut through the edge of his hood but didn’t draw blood. A second later, he landed lightly on another log atop the now depleted pile.

His landing wasn’t perfect though. The hobgoblin let out a surprised grunt as his back hit another bandit’s. The man shrieked in alarm as he was sent sprawling to the ground. The unlucky bandit was then promptly trampled to death by the attacking knights' horses.

Blacknail winced. Oops, it was getting kind of crowded up here…

More and more of Herad’s men were retreating up what was left of the stack of logs. They were being pushed ever closer together by the circling ring of riders, and there wasn’t room for all of them. As Blacknail watched, the bandits around the edges of the pile were cut down one by one. Meanwhile, the knights worked inward. Their bloody blades flashed in the sun.

The hobgoblin struggled to keep his balance and his guard up, but someone knocked into him from the side. He hissed in frustration as he barely managed to duck under another swing of a knight’s sword. The man behind Blacknail wasn’t fast enough. The blade tore into his chest, and he toppled from the lumber pile.

Beneath his feet, Blacknail spotted a gap between a pair of logs. He let the people around him worry about the knights for a second as he kept his head down and examined it.

It was too small for most humans, but they were all fat anyway. Blacknail, on the other hand, was healthy and thin. If he squeezed through, it looked as though he could work his way deeper into the pile and hide.

Blood splattered down on the hobgoblin, so he glanced up. A knight had eviscerated the man standing to his left.

“Time-ss to hide!” Blacknail exclaimed as he turned back to the gap.

Yep, going down there seemed like the best idea. It would even free up some room at the top of the pile for his tribemates, so it would be doing them a favor. For his fellow bandits, the hobgoblin dropped down and hurriedly squeezed into the gap below him.

Halfway down, the sound of familiar mad laughter made him hesitate. Through the press of bodies around him, Blacknail looked up to see Herad leap off a charging horse and land behind a startled knight. As the knight’s horse bucked and the man flailed in surprise, the grinning chieftain grabbed him around the waist with one hand and stabbed a long knife into his neck with the other. The blade slipped through a gap in his armor and sank deep into his flesh.

Still laughing, Herad tossed the rider’s corpse aside and seized the horse’s reins. As she steadied herself, her mounted bodyguards slammed into the knights’ rear. Behind them came the forces Herad had been keeping in reserve.

“Charge the bastards and pin them down. Follow me!” Herad roared as she led the counterattack.

The knights were now badly outnumbered. Several of them fell or were pulled from their horses by the attacking throng. They quickly rallied though and began to cut their way free from the bandits. They had been caught off guard, but they were still masters of the battlefield.

The hobgoblin found himself with his hip awkwardly jammed between two logs as the bandits around him surged downward to rejoin the fight. Several of them almost kicked him in the head. One of the bandits was a tall woman. She noticed the hobgoblin and gave him an irritated look.

“What-ss? I slipped,” Blacknail told her defensively as he pulled himself free.

“Bloody hobgoblins,” the obviously unconvinced woman muttered as she shook her head and jumped down the pile.

Bah, who cared what she thought anyway! Once free, Blacknail looked around for something to do. For some reason, he felt the need to prove himself now. Besides, he kind of wanted to kill a knight. Herad had made it look so fun.

The enemy were no longer scattered around the woodpile though. They had quickly formed into a wedge and were managing to keep most of Herad’s men away.

There were a lot of bandits and pointy weapons between the hobgoblin and the knights now—too many. It would take too much time to push through, and it would also be stupidly dangerous. What were his other options though? Ah, he could copy Herad!

Blacknail leaped off the timber pile and into the crowd below him. He landed on a startled man’s back. Before the bandit could react, the hobgoblin jumped again. This time he grabbed the back of a nearby knight’s saddle. His claws sank into the leather, and Blacknail pulled himself up and onto the horse. The hobgoblin’s light body and long strong arms allowed him to move nimbly. The stupid beast bucked and neighed in alarm, which threw its rider off balance.

“What the hells?” the surprised knight exclaimed as Blacknail took a seat behind him.

Just like Herad, the hobgoblin grabbed the man around the waist and stabbed him in the neck. He then pushed the human’s heavy but limp body off the mount. With that done, the smiling hobgoblin reached for the reins of the horse. When he got the stinking beast safely away from the fight, he was going to slit its throat as well. The knights’ horses counted as enemy combatants as far as he was concerned. He’d seen the evil look in their eyes.

Before he could grab the reins though, the mount beneath the hobgoblin neighed in terror and bucked madly. Blacknail tried to keep his seat, but this was his first time ever riding a horse. The humans had made it look so easy! Blacknail struggled but was swiftly knocked loose and catapulted off the beast’s back. Damn all horses!

For what seemed like several seconds, air rushed past the free-flying hobgoblin. Then he hit the ground. His back slammed into the earth and the breath was knocked painfully from his lungs.

“Ughh, what?” Blacknail groaned as he sat up. A wheezing gasp escaped his lungs and tiny bright stars whirled around his vision. Ow, that had really hurt. He should never have trusted a horse, even for a second. They were vicious, treacherous beasts. Undoubtedly they would soon turn on their human masters…

A scream woke Blacknail from his head-trauma-induced thoughts. Right, he was still in the middle of battle. That was important. The fighting had moved away from him, but that didn’t mean he was safe. The hobgoblin cast a nervous look around as he picked himself off the ground. His clothes had gotten dusty when he’d fallen, so he brushed himself off. Oh well, there would be time after the battle to pick out some new clothes.

What was he supposed to do now? He didn’t really feel like charging back into the fight. He’d already shown his tribesmen how awesome he was by taking down that knight! He really hoped Herad had been watching—except for during that last bit. He wished no one had seen that part.

Movement flashed in the corner of the hobgoblin’s eye. He looked over to see what it was. He stared at the scene for several confused seconds. Hmmm…

Then he stared for several more. Well, that wasn’t good. A squad of bandits ran in front of him and blocked his view for a second. They didn’t slow or seem to notice anything odd.

Blacknail shook his head to clear it. The vision in front of him didn’t change. He looked around. No one else was paying any attention to what he saw. That was weird and more than little worrying… maybe it was a stupid human thing? Perhaps this happened all the time to humans and they didn’t find it weird. No, that was stupid. This thing was far too dangerous to ignore.

Carefully, Blacknail backed up and went to find someone to ask. He heard Red Dog screaming orders over the other noises of the battlefield, so he headed that way. He found the man at the back of a regrouping mob of outlaws. The hobgoblin walked up behind Red Dog and politely tapped him on the shoulder.

Red Dog flinched and jumped at the unexpected contact before whirling around. “Ah, what the bloody hells do you want? Shouldn’t you be busy stabbing people in the back and then eating them or something?”

“I’m not-ss hungry, and I saw something weird-ss. It could-ss be important,” the hobgoblin explained.

“This is a bloody battlefield! I’m damned busy right now, so you’d better not be wasting my time,” Red Dog replied angrily.

“It’s right over-ss there,” Blacknail told him as he pointed toward the oddity.

“Where? I don’t see anything,” Red Dog replied with obvious frustration.

“It’s right-ss there; the giant snake eating that-ss guy!” Blacknail hissed. Now he was annoyed too. Had Red Dog gone blind?

“What?” Red Dog exclaimed in surprise as he stared in the direction Blacknail had pointed. “There’s no damned giant snake there!”

“Yes, there is! Are you blind?” Blacknail waved his hands toward the monster.

The commotion drew the attention of the green scaled creature. It had been leisurely lying next to an empty wagon while it swallowed whole the remains of a slain bandit. Its forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth as it drew itself up and turned to gaze at Blacknail and Red Dog. It had noticed them looking in its direction.

Red Dog froze and stared with a confused expression at the snake. His mouth kept opening and closing, and he was blinking rapidly. “There’s something there. Ugh, I’m getting a headache.”

So was Blacknail. He didn’t know what was going on. Even Red Dog didn’t usually act quite this stupid. Also, no one nearby had noticed the snake either. This called for desperate measures. Something was obviously very wrong here.

The hobgoblin stepped over to the right, where it would be easier for him to take cover behind a group of nearby bandits. He drew his sling and did that which came naturally to him—violence.

He snapped the sling around and sent a stone whirring toward snake’s head. The projectile slammed into the beast’s forehead with a muted thud then dropped to the ground. The snake turned toward Blacknail. The scales where it had been hit were undamaged. It narrowed its red slit eyes at the tiny hobgoblin that had dared to throw a rock at it.

“Ssissiruss” the gigantic snake hissed loudly as it drew itself up until it towered over a dozen feet off the ground. It looked mad.

Blacknail moved to place some meat shields between himself and the monster, but all of a sudden, his head throbbed painfully. Ow, it felt as if his brain was trying to vibrate out of his ears. Had the snake done something?

He wasn’t the only one affected either. All around the battlefield, the sounds of combat slowed as the wave of mental pressure washed over everyone. The knights pulled their mounts away from combat and disengaged as they tottered in their saddles. Herad’s men didn’t give chase. They could only grit their teeth and fight to keep standing.

“Well, fuck me. There’s a giant snake right there.” Red Dog groaned as he held his head and stared.

People were looking around for the cause of the mental shriek that had come out of nowhere, and they quickly found it. The massive emerald serpent looming over the battlefield wasn’t subtle.

“Ssissiruss” the beast hissed again. Its voice was clearly audible to everyone in the now almost silent camp.

One of the bandits closest to the beast panicked. He turned to try to run. He didn’t get far.

Like emerald lightning, the snake lunged and its maw seized the man. A second later, it tossed him into the air. The man screamed as he tumbled almost straight upward, but only for a moment. The beast twisted around, caught the bandit in its mouth, and swallowed him in one gulp.

The other nearby humans didn’t learn from his mistake. They panicked and ran as well. As they fled, the monster flailed and lashed out. Its tail smashed into one particularly loud group and scattered them like broken twigs. Its fanged jaws closed on another bandit, then tossed his mutilated body aside.

Blacknail kept absolutely still. He turned to Red Dog and gave him a level gaze. “Can you see the snake now?”

The man groaned as he massaged his furrowed brow. “I can see it, you green ass.”

“Then do something,” the hobgoblin told him.

“What, why me? You bloody do something!” Red Dog growled.

All through the camp, Herad’s minions and the attacking knights had ceased fighting. Everyone was either fleeing from the creature or regrouping. Both sides occasionally threw each other hateful glances, but they made no move to resume combat.

“I did-ss do something. I’m helpful like that,” Blacknail told Red Dog. “I hit-ss it with a rock, and now you can see it. You can thank-ss me later. Now it’s your turn to do something.”

“Ugh, damnation, my head feels like a smith’s anvil,” Red Dog complained. “Helpful my ass, this is probably all somehow your fault. You bring this company nothing but trouble!”

Blacknail watched the beast crush a pair of men under its bulk. He thought back to the creepy feeling that had bugged him as he’d walked back from finding the cave. Oh, the cave…

“This isn’t-ss my fault. It’s probably yours,” the hobgoblin replied defensively.

He and Red Dog kept a watchful eye on the rampaging monster. For now, it seemed to be heading away from them.

“Why would it be my fault?” Red Dog remarked as his face flushed with anger.

“Because you-ss smell funny all the time, that’s why.”

“I don’t smell funny!”

“How would you even know? You have a useless human nose!” the hobgoblin countered.

Before either of them could say anything else, they were startled by shouting from off to one side. Blacknail looked over to see that most of the knights had regrouped into one large formation well away from any of the bandits.

“Now you face your doom, you baseborn scum,” Sir Devos yelled from the front of the group of knights. “You have abandoned your loyalty to your good lords and turned against your fellow men. The gods have seen your evil ways and sent this terror to aid us in our quest to wipe you from the face of the earth. Once it is done feasting on your corpses, we will ride the last of you down like dogs.”

“What an asshole! I hope someone guts him like a fish,” Red Dog said as he studied the knight.

Blacknail nodded. That sounded like fun.

“Cease this foolishness, Sir Devos,” another voice challenged the young knight commander. It was Sir Masnin. His steel war helm once again concealed his face, and he had somehow reacquired his sword. It hung from the scabbard at his side. “This battle is nothing but an extension of your arrogance, and all the lives lost here shall weigh down your soul. Now you speak of turning the rampage of a foul mutant to your own advantage! Where is your honor?”

“You are the fool here,” the other knight replied “Why do you turn your blade from these criminals? They are honorless thieves and killers who prey upon the weak. The lands of men will be a better place once I have killed them all. Certainly there will be fewer widows weeping for honest men.”

“Be that as it may, it is not my duty to slay men and women. I am charged by holy writ to pursue the forces of darkness wherever they may be found and to take no side in the struggles of men while I work. You were seconded to me, and that means you swore to do the same while at my side,” the paladin countered.

“This is not politics, and these are not some foreigners with which we are in dispute. They are nothing but rabble to be crushed!” Sir Devos exclaimed angrily.

"That is not your decision to make; it is mine. Now my duty is clear. Darkness has once again risen before me, and I must test my blade against its serpent. You should remember your oaths and aid me,” the paladin announced as he let his gaze slide over the knights.

His stare was harsh enough that several of the riders flinched, but none broke rank and came to his side. With a regretful sigh, the paladin turned from his former companions and faced the rampaging serpent.

That was when Mahedium and Herad stepped out from a nearby crowd. The mage aimed his staff, and before any of the knights could react, a furious explosion tore through their formation. It incinerated Sir Devos first—he died instantly—then its flames tore into the men around him. A dozen knights staggered and fell as their mounts screamed inhumanly high. Blacknail smiled as the scent of roasted horse flesh reached his nostrils.

“It was nice of him to line them all up like that,” Herad remarked as she walked forward with a small group of spearmen.

Chapter 35

Sir Masnin drew his sword and spun toward Herad. Behind him, the remaining knights reeled in shock from the fiery explosion that had torn through their ranks. They had to fight to keep their terrified mounts under control. The knights were now leaderless, and it showed. Several of them looked as if they wanted to try to charge Herad’s mage before he could strike again, while others were pulling back toward their militia at the entrance to the camp.

“That was not necessary,” Sir Masnin snapped at the bandit chieftain. The paladin had one hand firmly planted on his sword hilt and looked ready to draw it at any second. His usually calm face betrayed barely contained rage.

“Of course it was. The leader of those men just publicly announced his intent to attack me from behind when I tried to deal with the beast in our midst,” Herad replied scornfully. “There’s no reasoning with a man like that, and I don’t have the time to try.” In a louder voice that was clearly meant for more than just Sir Masnin’s ears, she added, “I’m not without mercy though, so I’ll let the others live if they’re out of my camp within the next minute.”

The knights were certainly close enough to hear her. They had managed to regroup but had yet to attack or retreat. Herad’s words washed over them and were apparently enough to make up their mind; they broke and retreated. Leaving their dead behind, they rode toward the road and the men they had left there.

“Now, shall we deal with the latest horror the deep green has spat up? I believe it’s your holy duty,” Herad told the paladin smugly.

“You expect me to fight by your side?” he remarked with indignant surprise.

“That’s up to you, but I’m sure that if this serpent escapes, it’s going to kill a lot of innocent peasants and such, not to mention any wounded knights left behind,” the bandit chief pointed out.

“Very well, as long as you allow all Lord Strachen’s men to retreat unharmed,” the paladin replied before he ground his teeth in frustration.

Herad nodded. “Mage, the beast now. This headache is getting very annoying.”

Mahedium turned and unleashed another shimmering blast. This time it was aimed at the serpent snapping at a squad of sluggish-looking spearmen. Flame washed over the monster’s emerald scales and all around it. The serpent’s head twisted under the impact, but a second later, it righted itself and turned toward the mage. Curls of flame still hung in the air, but the monster lunged through them.

“Sissiruss,” the massive serpent screeched as it blasted through the few spearmen between itself and the mage.

Mahedium’s face went white with terror, but he dropped to one knee and tried to line up another shot. The monster was speeding toward him far too quickly for him to be able to run. Another round of flame burst from his staff as the creature was about to hit him.

The serpent saw it coming and tried to dodge. The blast glanced off the side of its head. Again, the beast was knocked backward, and this time, its momentum was lost. It was only two dozen feet from the terrified mage though, and it recovered almost instantly.

That was all the time Herad needed. At full sprint, she leaped under the beast and stabbed a spear upward toward its exposed throat. The tip of the weapon sank several inches into flesh, then she rolled away without it.

Behind her, a squad of bandit spearmen moved up to help. Their movements still looked slow, but they rushed into the gap between the serpent and the kneeling mage. The serpent hissed again, and Herad had to dodge a lash of its tail.

The monster slithered backward slightly and tried to focus on Herad, but Sir Masnin attacked. He stepped forward and slashed at the side of the gigantic snake’s neck. The armored warrior’s blade parted the scales on the beast’s neck and drew blood, but only barely.

Surrounded by enemies and with its target out of reach, the serpent flailed about madly. One unlucky bandit was sent flying by a wild lash of its tail. The others quickly fell back.

Meanwhile, beside Blacknail, Red Dog ran toward Mahedium. The hobgoblin followed him. It seemed like a good way to look busy without putting himself in danger. Together, the hobgoblin and man helped the mage to his feet. His face was still pale, but he seemed steadier than most of the other bandits. The mutant’s magic was still squeezing everyone’s brains.

“Can you finish the thing off? The boss is cutting it up, but it doesn’t seem to be bleeding much,” Red Dog asked Mahedium.

The mage shook his head and gripped his staff tightly. “No, I don’t have enough crystals to do much more. That thing’s scales are too tough for any of the spells I have.”

“Hells, I don’t like our odds then. If the boss doesn’t get in a lucky blow, then we might have to abandon the base,” Red Dog said.

“Including my lab,” Mahedium muttered.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything in reserve?” the bandit lieutenant asked.

The mage frowned, and his brow creased as he fell deep into thought. “Nothing that would work from the outside, but if we targeted a weak spot… maybe poison? No, wait—the flawed gems. If they detonated inside its mouth, that would definitely kill it. The timing would be unpredictable though. A mage would have to get very close…”

“I suppose you’re going to walk right up in front of it and throw the stones in its mouth?” Red Dog asked with obvious sarcasm.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that. It probably wouldn’t work anyway,” Mahedium responded carefully.

“Then we need something else.”

Blacknail had an idea. He scratched his nose and tilted his head as he thought it through. Yep, it would probably work, and it would remove a thorn in his side as a bonus. “Use Scamp.”

The men turned toward him with questioning looks.

The hobgoblin sighed and clarified his response for the two slow humans. “Give-ss Scamp the crystals and throw him-ss at the snake. When he gets-ss swallowed by the thing, he’ll get scared and then boom!” Blacknail explained using all the appropriate sound effects and hand gestures.

“That might just work… I’ll lose a valuable sample though, and Varhs might get upset,” Mahedium said.

“I’ll buy him a dog. Just do it,” Red Dog countered.

The mage nodded, then turned to the hobgoblin. “Blacknail, you’re the fastest runner. Get Scamp and bring him here. I already have several flawed stones on me, so he’s all we need for this to work.”

“Go now,” Red Dog commanded.

The hobgoblin gave the man a messy salute, turned around, rolled his eyes, then ran off to find himself a goblin. He had a good idea where Scamp could be found. After Mahedium’s demonstration, the goblin had been led away by Varhs to be tied up. Blacknail raced through the camp. He passed scores of trampled tents, corpses, and moaning bandits. Some were injured from fighting, but most seemed to just have terrible headaches. The serpent’s hostile magic was slowly crushing everyone nearby.

When he got to Varhs’s tent, it only took the hobgoblin a few seconds to find Scamp. All the unexpected noises from the battle had frightened the goblin, but not enough to make him bite through his leash. Instead, he was hiding under a nearby scrap of cloth.

“What’s happening?” the terrified goblin blathered as Blacknail pulled him from his hiding spot and cut the rope tying him down.

The hobgoblin ignored the question, picked up Scamp, and ran back to Mahedium. The surprised goblin was momentarily limp in his arms.

Up ahead, Herad and the others were struggling to keep the serpent at bay. It twisted and writhed across the ground as it struck at any nearby humans. It hadn’t managed to hit Herad or Sir Masnin yet, but the bodies of several bandits littered the ground.

“I’ve got him!” Blacknail announced as he reached the mage. He brandished the goblin above his head for everyone to see.

“Let me down!” Scamp wailed.

“Here, Scamp. Take these. They’ll, um… protect you. You just need to make them glow,” Mahedium told the goblin as he pressed several large crystals into his hands.

Scamp gave the two men and the hobgoblin an uncomprehending look as he stared in surprise at the crystals in his hands. His eyes were wide with confusion, and he looked overwhelmed.

“What now?” Blacknail asked.

The mage gave the goblin a wary look, then leaned close to Blacknail so he could whisper, “Throw him at the snake’s head, then run for it.”

Scamp’s long ears twitched. “Ah, I heard that! Stop!”

But Blacknail was already running. With a struggling goblin held above his head, he dashed toward where his chieftain was fighting the serpent. As he whipped past Sir Masnin, the man froze and did a quick double-take.

Herad twisted through the air as she dodged a snap of the mutant’s jaws. The snake pulled back and coiled in preparation to strike again. Herad brought her blade up into a guard as she readied for another strike. Her spearmen leapt forward to help.

The serpent ignored the Vessels for a second and turned toward the bandits supporting them. Its eyes drifted across the spearmen, and those unwise enough to meet its searing gaze fell screaming. One man curled up on the ground and wept while cradling his head. A wailing woman began to gouge out her own eyes with her fingers, until a pale-faced man beside her knocked her out with a blow to the back of the head. Even the bandits that were still standing flinched, and their charge was broken.

“Sissiruss,” the serpentine monster growled smugly as it turned back to face Herad.

That was when Blacknail got close enough to throw Scamp. He held the goblin by one leg and gave him a good twirl. Then he let go and Scamp sailed through air, smacked into the serpent’s snout, and fell to the ground with a muted grunt of pain. The mutant snake reared backward in surprise and suspiciously eyed the goblin on the ground in front of it. There was a second of silence as it tilted its head and tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Sissiruss?” the beast hissed in apparent confusion.

“Did he just throw a goblin?” Sir Masnin asked in startled disbelief.

Scamp rolled to his feet and looked around. His gaze met the curious serpent’s, and he seemed to notice it for the first time. He froze. As they stared at each other, the goblin’s eyes slowly grew so wide, they seemed to fill his face.

“Ahhh! Monster! Run!” Scamp shrieked in terror as he turned tail and tried to flee.

Blacknail was already turning to run back to Mahedium, but out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the crystals in Scamp’s hands flicker.

“Run and take cover; he’s going to detonate!” Mahedium yelled.

Instinctively, the serpent targeted the fleeing prey. Any traces of confusion disappeared as it lunged toward the little goblin with jaws open wide enough to swallow him in one bite.

Scamp wasn’t completely stupid though. He had survived in the woods for years before being taken in by Varhs. He knew better than to run in a straight line, and luck favored him. The goblin happened to change direction at the right moment. The beast’s attack missed and caught empty air. Its scaled bulk whipped past Scamp without harming him. The serpent hit the ground, turned one yellow eye toward the goblin, glared at it in annoyance, then shifted its weight to strike again.

Scamp turned to see what had happened. He met the serpent’s gaze, shrieked again, panicked, and threw the contents of his hands at its closest eye before turning to run again. One of the flickering crystals caught the serpent’s eye. Its long forked tongue flicked out and grabbed it. A second later, the mana stone disappeared into its mouth.

Blacknail kept running. Behind him, all the slow humans were starting to do the same. Several long seconds went by as everyone fled. The beast had pulled itself up to its maximum height and was hissing in triumph. No one was fighting it anymore.

Mahedium and Red Dog were already sheltering behind a small pile of crates. The mage was peering out around the side to see what was happening. A few more seconds went by. The hobgoblin raced past them without slowing down.

Mahedium looked confused and disappointed when nothing happened. “Huh, I thought that would work.”

“The goblin must have fucked things up. He didn’t even get eaten right,” Red Dog muttered darkly.

Blacknail tentatively slowed down. He was probably safe from any blast at this distance, if there was even going to be one. Blacknail suspected Mahedium wasn’t very good at magic. He was always whining about not hav—

Crack! The air ruptured. Mahedium was thrown against the ground as the world was consumed by violence. Dust and debris rushed in an unstoppable wave from the blast zone.

Blacknail yelled as the wind caught his cloak and threw him into the air. A shocked and flailing Scamp flew past him, swiftly followed by a rain of bloody snake parts.

Several seconds later, the fun abruptly ended and the hobgoblin hit the ground with a heavy thud. Blacknail tucked his head in and rolled to protect himself. He bounced across the ground until he was lucky enough to hit a tent. Unfortunately, it felt as if the tent had been full of frying pans.

The hobgoblin groaned as he slowly disentangled himself from the canvas and rope. His head was ringing like a bell and his ears had popped, but Blacknail got unsteadily to his feet and looked around. No one else was still standing. An eerie silence filled the camp, or the blast had deafened the hobgoblin. He wasn’t sure which.

A crater now dominated the space the mutant serpent had filled. A scattering of scaly meat bits littered the ground around it, and several of the pieces were on fire. The last dozen feet of the snake’s tail lay to one side of the crater. It was a burnt and blasted wreck.

“Did we kill it?” Red Dog asked from behind the barrel. At least, that was what Blacknail read from his lips.

“I think-ss it’s dead,” the hobgoblin yelled as he surveyed the blast zone.

Bandits lay strewn across the ground. Most of them seemed alive though, judging by the feeble movements they were making. The blast had simply knocked them off their feet.

Red Dog peeked out from his hiding spot. A second later, he got to his feet and brushed himself off. Mahedium copied him a few moments later.

“The damned headache is gone, that’s for sure. Where’s Herad?” Red Dog asked cautiously.

“Right here!” The bandit chieftain stalked over to him. She looked mad enough to chew nails, and a little worse for wear. Her armor was scratched and covered in dust and grime.

Red Dog cringed away from her furious expression. Behind her, Scamp picked himself off the ground and madly dashed deeper into camp. Huh, the little thief was tougher than he looked.

“What in the name of all the gods was that?” the bandit chieftain snapped.

“Mahedium came up with a way to kill the beast, and it worked,” her lieutenant answered as the mage gave him an annoyed look.

“The hells! Regardless of whether or not it worked, I dislike it when people start throwing around magical explosives. Especially when all the warning I get is a last second heads-up,” she responded with a snarl.

“We were planning to tell you, boss," Red Dog said hurriedly. “The hobgoblin just sort of ran ahead without asking.”

“Hey, I-ss just did was I was told. They made-ss me do it!” Blacknail told Herad as he pointed toward Red Dog and Mahedium.

The hobgoblin and Red Dog locked hateful stares while the mage tried to distance himself from them. The chieftain scowled at all three of them and gritted her teeth. Blacknail didn’t like where this was going. How dare Mahedium come up with such a terrible plan, and how dare Red Dog order him to do it! Now they had made Herad angry, and they were trying to pin it on him!

Chapter 36

Herad scowled at the three minions in front of her. Red Dog and Blacknail were alternating between staring hatefully at each other and looking nervously toward her. Mahedium was trying to stand back and pretend he hadn’t been responsible for the fiery explosion at all.

“Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again,” Red Dog said fervently.

“I believe we were all under the serpent’s influence and its mental attack was impairing our judgment,” Mahedium added respectfully but with a poorly concealed hint of worry.

“It was messing with everyone’s heads, yet they didn’t all go around throwing exploding goblins in my direction,” Herad replied coldly.

The mage’s face was carefully blank and his posture stiff, but the rapid movement of his eyes betrayed his worry. He was obviously trying not to let his fear show. Blacknail could respect that, but he had a different plan.

“Oh-ss merciful chief, spare me please!” Blacknail groveled as he dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the ground. “I will-ss kill a hundred of your enemies in thanks and lay their corpses at your feet.”

Herad blinked in surprise. The three humans looked at the hobgoblin for several silent seconds. No one seemed to know how to respond.

Blacknail kept groveling. He didn’t think he’d said too much. The hobgoblin was pretty much planning to do all that stuff anyway. It was what he did for fun. “Also, it was all Red Dog’s fault, not mine.”

“Hey, you little green liar!” exclaimed the bandit lieutenant.

The corner of Herad’s scowl twitched. A second later, an actual smile broke across her face, and she let out a snort-like chuckle. Red Dog shut up. Blacknail peeked up at her. He was fairly sure that meant she wasn’t going to kill him.

“You’re amazingly lucky your stupid plan worked so well and that I can’t afford to be rid all three of you,” Herad announced. “I’ve killed people I liked much more than you for far less.”

“Thank you, boss, I’ll make it up to you,” Red Dog said before anyone else could say anything.

“You’re right about that. You owe me one for this, so how are you going to pay me back?”

“Um, whatever you want…” he said uncertainly.

Herad laughed in his face. “What, you’re not going to promise the same as Blacknail?” Red Dog tried to stutter out an answer, but Herad cut him off again. “How about you and Mahedium just get this mess cleaned up? I need to deal with more pressing matters.”

Mahedium was still standing off to one side and looked satisfied with his decision not to speak up. Blacknail took advantage of the momentary shift in her attention to scuttle backward out of sight. He then got up and slowly backed away. When the boss was mad, begging and sucking up worked, but it was even better if they simply forgot you existed.

As the hobgoblin retreated, Red Dog yelled out orders, trying to get everything organized. The camp was in shambles. Flattened tents and wounded bandits littered the ground. Blacknail’s hearing had fully recovered, so he could hear them moaning and groaning, but that wasn’t all he heard.

The hobgoblin’s ears twitched as he recognized Sir Masnin’s voice. Huh, he hadn’t been sure the man had survived the explosion. Oh, maybe he was wounded and bleeding out somewhere!

The hobgoblin crept over to the remains of the once-tall lumber pile. He crouched behind it and peeked carefully over the top.

Sir Masnin was on the other side. He didn’t seem to be dying or anything, which was a shame. The man had a lot of shiny equipment Blacknail would have loved to rescue from neglect. The paladin was, in fact, kneeling over the burnt and horribly mangled remains of the knights Mahedium had killed with his magical fire. The corpses smelled a lot like barbeque pork, and that made Blacknail kind of hungry.

“In life, we all make mistakes, for the gods made us flawed,” Sir Masnin whispered solemnly. “They will forgive you your pride and wrath, young warrior. When I was young, I threw myself foolishly into danger as well. The only difference between us is I didn’t drag others in my wake. May you find solace and belonging in the gods’ embrace, Sir Devos.”

With his prayers complete, the kneeling paladin gave a grunt of effort as he stood. His chain mail shirt shifted over his dirty torn leathers, and he snatched up his helmet from the ground at his side. The still young but weathered-looking man threw a piercing glance toward Blacknail’s hiding spot.

“I see you there, creature. You can come out of hiding; I won’t attack you. Your mistress wouldn’t like it. Besides, my vows don’t mention hobgoblins any more than they mention rats. They’re more of a job for exterminators than paladins,” Sir Masnin said.

Blacknail glowered at the paladin from behind the log. Their gazes met, and the hobgoblin felt anger tighten his muscles. The man’s gaze and words were clearly a challenge, one Blacknail intended to meet. The hobgoblin got up and walked over to the paladin. This was his territory, and he hadn’t just defended it from a whole bunch of shiny people, horses, and a giant snake to back down now. He wasn’t afraid of the man just because he was a Vessel with a sword sharp enough to cut through flesh like mud… because the paladin was right—Herad wouldn’t like it if the man hurt him. Besides, Blacknail was confident in his ability to run away and yell for help. He was tricky like that.

“I knew there was something wrong about you when I saw you earlier. Did Herad send you to keep a watch on me again?” Sir Masin asked warily as he studied the creature in front of him.

“No, I was just checking to see if-ss you were dying,” Blacknail replied as he came to stop in front of the paladin. The hobgoblin’s green face, long nose, and pointy ears were plainly visible. His hood had come off earlier, and he hadn’t bothered to put it back up.

“So that you could offer your aid?” Sir Masnin asked doubtfully.

“Maybe,” the hobgoblin replied as he gave the man a blank look.

The paladin stared cautiously at the hobgoblin for a few seconds. He seemed at a loss for words. “I’ve never actually talked to a hobgoblin before, or even seen one. You’re not much of a conversationalist, although I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“I talk to human idiots all the time, so I don’t-ss have much to say to you.”

“I take it back; you’re a mouthy creature after all. I’m curious why you hang around with these men and women. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Your kind is supposed to be violently solitary.”

“The food is good,” Blacknail replied with a shrug.

He wasn’t lying. The grub in Herad’s camp was much better than what he’d eaten in the sewer, and he had to fight less for it. The goblins in the sewer had been mean little scrappers, and the rats had been huge.

The paladin grinned and chuckled quietly. “You seem like an interesting… fellow, so I’ll give you a warning.” Sir Masnin stared coldly into Blacknail’s eyes with sudden intensity. “If you start killing people, then I will hunt you down.”

The hobgoblin didn’t blink as he stared back. The man’s stare was now definitely a challenge. A savage grin broke across Blacknail’s face, revealing the full length of his sharp jagged teeth. He enjoyed a good game of threats.

“You hunt me? How silly. I’ll be right here-ss waiting for you with my tribe at my back. Attacking-ss them didn’t work so well for you today, so save your little threats. I am not-ss afraid. I will kill as I wish and as I am told. Why shouldn’t I slay men when everyone else here-ss does the same, including you? You have to kill to live. It is the only way here,” Blacknail said with a gleeful chuckle.

“You’re smarter than you look, but while Herad and these thieves might seem strong to you, in the grand scheme of things, they are nothing. Their time on this earth is limited, and they can’t protect you forever. Soon enough, someone will bring them down,” Sir Masnin said coldly.

Blacknail’s hackles rose at the other man’s harsh tone, but he didn’t back down. The man’s threats against his tribe angered him. “If-ss you come back here and try to slay my tribe again. I will hunt you and yours through-ss the green and your dirty cities. For every death-ss or injury you deal, I shall kill three people close to you and hang their corpses for all to see.”

“That is a threat you have no chance of ever fulfilling. You are nothing but a weak little green runt,” the paladin replied as his eyes narrowed angrily.

Blacknail’s smile widened. Oh good, now he’d gotten the man really angry. “Do you ever-ss grow tired and sleep, human? I have seen that all men do. I would follow your putrid human stench to your home. Your pathetic human eyes would-ss never see me as I watched and waited.”

The paladin and the hobgoblin stared at each other for several moments, with neither of them yielding. Blacknail was uncomfortably aware of the warrior’s greater strength and skill, but he was also confident the man wouldn’t start a fight here where he was so outnumbered.

“Hmm, I can see you’re not going to back down. Just try not to stick out too much, or you’ll be hammered down,” the paladin warned the hobgoblin before he turned and walked away.

The hobgoblin grinned as the man left. He had totally won the game of threats. The man hadn’t been terrible at it either, so it had been a lot of fun.

When the paladin was out of sight, the hobgoblin went back to his original activity—trying to find stuff to loot. Blacknail wandered around the camp, searching bodies and rubble for anything that caught his interest. He didn’t find much though, because he was soon rudely interrupted.

The sound of familiar voices approaching reached his ears, and he looked up to see Vorscha and Geralhd walking his way. Each seemed more than a little roughed up, especially Vorscha. They were both covered in dirt and sweat, but her left arm was completely bandaged up and pinned to her chest.

“You really shouldn’t be moving around so much,” Geralhd pointed out as he leaned in close to examine her bandages. “Your arm is broken and needs to be kept still. You’re lucky you were only hit by the edge of a shield.”

“It’s fine, you had my back anyway. Now I have stuff to do. Officers have responsibilities, so I can’t afford to slack off right now,” Vorscha replied as she kept walking.

The pair stopped behind the hobgoblin as he was rummaging through a sack that had been dropped. Vorscha coughed to get Blacknail’s attention, so with a heavy sigh, the hobgoblin turned and met her gaze.

“I need you to find Khita. No one has seen her since the fight ended, and I’m worried she got injured,” the woman told him.

“I don’t wanna. I’m busy.”

“You’re the only one who can track her through this mess. Now go find her scent or I’ll beat you black and blue… er, green during your next sword lesson,” she countered.

“Ugh, fine, but you owe-ss me.” Blacknail reluctantly rose to his feet.

“I’ll double the treats I normally give you,” Geralhd offered.

Blacknail grudgingly nodded in acceptance.

“I need to get back to Herad by the front entrance. When you find Khita, meet me over there,” Vorscha added.

“Whatever,” the hobgoblin replied as he sniffed the air for signs of his new quarry. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. He would find Khita, then get back to the important things he had been doing before he was interrupted.

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to track her down. The young woman was seated on a crate in the shadowy space between two buildings. It was an out-of-the-way corner of the base, but she wasn’t all that hard to find since she was making so much noise. The sound of her sniffling was easy to track down.

With extreme reluctance, Blacknail made his way to the sobbing girl’s side. He stared at her for several long seconds before speaking up. “Vorscha wants-ss you. You’re not dying or anything are you? I’m supposed to check.”

“I almost wish I was dying!” Khita wailed without looking up.

Blacknail eyed the young redhead. That seemed like a stupid thing to wish for. “So you’re perfectly fine-ss and I can leave?”

“I froze—twice!” Khita cried. “When the knights charged, I just stood there, and I almost let that bloody beast eat me! I’m useless.”

Blacknail wasn’t going to argue that; she was totally useless. However, her crying was disturbing him and making it impossible to get the answers he needed out of her.

“There, there,” the hobgoblin told her as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. That was what humans did, right? He’s seen at least one of them do it before…

“This isn’t even the first time. I got my brother killed. I just stood there as he died!” Khita sobbed.

The hobgoblin winced in irritation. This sounded like it was going to be a long and complicated story.

“Back in Riverbend, my big brother was the one who looked after me,” she told the frustrated hobgoblin. “He was the one who brought me into the gang. He taught me how to steal, fight, and look after myself. I was afraid of nothing when he was around. He just had this strong, reassuring presence that attracted people.”

Blacknail looked around for someone who would care, but they were alone. Maybe he could pick her up and carry her to Vorscha? The big woman seemed to be the one who took care of this sort of thing.

Beside him, Khita kept talking. “One day I messed up a job… I froze, and he was cut down by some fat stupid guardsman while covering me. The worst thing about it was how all his supposed friends laughed about it. That was the real reason I left. I couldn’t stand to be in that city with those people anymore, so I joined up with Herad when Red Dog came around recruiting. I thought that maybe with a fresh start, I could put it all behind me, but I’m just a coward. I froze again.”

The young redhead was hunched over with her head down toward the ground. The hobgoblin grimaced in frustration. There was no one around but him. What was he supposed to do? Slowly creeping away sounded like a good idea, but Vorscha had given him a job…

Wait, she was just being weird and human-like. He could probably explain to her why she was being stupid, then she would shut up, right?

The hobgoblin coughed to get Khita’s attention. “Freezing doesn’t make you a coward. Sitting here whining makes you-ss stupid though.”

The hobgoblin placed his hand on her shoulder and forced himself to smile reassuringly. Khita looked at him and frowned in confusion. Her eyes were red and wet with tears. Blacknail put a little more pressure on her shoulder so she couldn’t get up and hug him or something.

“I freeze all-ss the time, and then run away. What matters is that you’re still alive so you sneak back later and stab-ss them when they’re not paying attention,” Blacknail explained. “They can’t laugh at you or gang up on you if you hunt them down and kill them in their sleep. When all your enemies are dead-ss, you win!”

“I’m not sure that would really help me at all,” Khita replied sulkily.

“Sure, it will. You’ll feel better, and then you can take all-ss their stuff.”

“I don’t think I could kill them all myself anyway,” the young woman replied, but she was smiling slightly.

Blacknail sighed. Of course Khita couldn’t. She was useless. “I’ll do it then.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” she asked in surprise.

“Sure,” Blacknail replied as he shrugged. If it shut her up, then he had no problem killing some people. Hmm, would Khita’s enemies count as Herad’s? He owed the chief a hundred corpses after all. Oh well, he was sure he could slip them in without anyone noticing.

The young woman hopped up and reached over to hug Blacknail. The hobgoblin tried to push her away, but somehow she slipped past his guard. How did she keep doing that?

“Thanks, Blacknail, but I think I need to solve my own problems. You’re right; I shouldn’t waste the life my brother gave me. After a few more lessons from Vorscha and the others, I’ll be able to stand on my own. I’m a ruthless bandit now, after all!” Khita said gratefully as Blacknail slipped away from her.

The hobgoblin grimaced and eyed Khita skeptically. That didn’t really sound like what he’d just said, but whatever. As long as she stopped being annoying, it was fine. It also certainly looked like Khita wasn’t wounded, and that meant he could leave finally.

“You do-ss that. I think I hear someone calling me, so bye,” Blacknail said as he stepped backward and made his escape.

Chapter 37

Blacknail quickly reported back to Vorscha. The warrior woman was right where she’d said she would be—by the entrance the knights had attacked. The hobgoblin sauntered over and informed her that Khita was perfectly fine, if still annoying and useless.

“Good. It’s hard to keep track of people during a battle, and that one was fairly chaotic. I couldn’t afford to worry about her then,” Vorscha explained. She was leaning against a post and watching a group of bandits work to repair the barricade the knights had crushed.

“You owe-ss me. Now all the good stuff is taken.” Blacknail watched a bandit with a dented but new steel breastplate walk by.

“I’m sure Geralhd will give you something nice,” Vorscha replied distractedly.

By now, all the enemies had disappeared—except for one. The knights had ridden out of camp as if a horde of monsters had been on their tails and their footmen had followed, which left only Sir Masnin behind. The paladin had retrieved his mount and was saddling it in preparation to leave.

As he finished, Herad detached herself from her bodyguards and walked over to him. Somehow, she’d found the time to switch into cleaner armor and her short dark hair had been combed. “Headed away so soon, are you? Now that things have calmed down a little, are you sure you don’t want to stick around for a bit and rest? There’s no point in rushing away.”

Sir Masnin eyed the bandit chieftain warily. Complex emotions stormed behind his eyes. “Earlier, I may have underestimated how dangerous you were and the exact nature of that threat. You caught me off guard. I won’t be making that mistake again. I intend to make for my order’s closest chapter house and submit a full report. After that, I will go where they will me.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Just make sure you tell your superiors who controls this territory. It’s not the merchants, the nobles, or even the king. It’s me.” Herad replied with a predatory smile.

“I’ll make sure they’re aware of your strength,” the paladin remarked as he surveyed the bandits. His eyes stopped on Blacknail. “Good-bye, Herad. I can’t say it has been a pleasure, but it has certainly been interesting.”

The hobgoblin noticed the attention and gave the man a friendly wave. Sir Masnin didn’t wave back, which was rude of him.

“Maybe you can stop by again,” Herad replied. “Just come alone next time so there are fewer distractions.”

With only a vague nod for a reply, the paladin jumped up into his saddle and rode away.

When he was gone, Herad turned toward Vorscha. “Go round up Red Dog and the others. I need to talk to them.”

Vorscha nodded and quickly obeyed. She walked toward the center of the camp, and soon Blacknail heard her shouting for her own subordinates. The hobgoblin stayed where he was, out of sight. He had taken a seat off to one side. If he stayed still, then Herad probably wouldn’t even remember he was there, and having to sneak back to hear what she told everyone was too much work for him right now. He had tired himself out by bravely defending the camp and delivering the blow that had finished off the mutant snake.

Herad took a seat at one of the nearby campsites. Two of her bodyguards took up position behind her. Several crude chairs circled the unlit fire pit in front of her. Most of the campsites had been trashed or trampled, but not this one.

Saeter was the first person to arrive. The old scout strolled up behind Blacknail without making a noise, much to the hobgoblin’s surprise. Blacknail flinched, and the action drew Herad’s attention. Her gaze slipped past Blacknail and onto Saeter. As usual, she looked displeased to see him. She sat up, and her posture became defensive.

The old scout noticed her reaction and frowned. “She’s not exactly welcoming, is she? You’d think she would appreciate all the work I do.”

“It’s all your own fault,” Blacknail told his master as he poked Saeter in the shoulder.

“What? That’s ogre shit!” Saeter said angrily. “I do everything she asks me without complaint.”

The hobgoblin stared at his master for a second before sighing in disbelief. Did he actually believe that? “You don’t show proper respect-ss for her as the tribe’s leader.”

“What in all the hells does that mean?” Saeter asked.

“You glare instead of cowering when she stares at you. You also never give-ss her tribute or offer to fight for her. You should go talk to her and do those things,” Blacknail answered.

“That’s stupid. I’m not a hobgoblin. Why would I do that crap?” Saeter asked scornfully.

“So she doesn’t think you’re going to challenge her,” Blacknail said slowly so that his words would penetrate his master’s thick skull.

“Why would she think that?” Saeter asked in surprise.

Blacknail didn’t reply. He just stared at his master in a way that clearly showed he thought the man was being stupid. The hobgoblin knew a thing or two about sucking up to authority figures.

“Ugh, maybe I do need to have a word with her,” the old scout admitted.

“Just remember to grovel like you mean it,” Blacknail said as he nodded sagely.

After a brief hesitation, Saeter made his way over to the bandit chieftain. Herad threw him a questioning look as he sat down across from her.

“I’d like to talk to you, if that’s all right, boss,” Saeter said.

Herad glowered at the scout suspiciously, which made Saeter glance away uncomfortably for a second. Blacknail noticed and threw his master a supportive grin until he looked back. Herad noticed the interplay and looked confused. The bandit chieftain took a few seconds to think before motioning for her bodyguards to leave. They obeyed, and a moment later, they were leaning against the side of a building out of earshot.

“So what’s this about?” she asked Saeter suspiciously.

The old scout hesitated until a loud cough from Blacknail’s general direction made him to sit up straight and meet his boss’s eyes. His voice was subdued as he spoke. “You know… I have no intention of ever leading a band again. There are those who say I was a good leader, but I’m not sure they’re right.”

Herad scowled darkly. She appeared surprised by the old scout’s words. Blacknail’s ears perked up. It sounded as though his master was finally offering Herad his loyalty—in a stupid human way. Still, it was something.

“What, you’re admitting to having faults now?” Herad asked the scout mockingly.

Her words took Saeter by surprise. He sat up, and a look of understanding flashed across his face before it was replaced by careful neutrality. “I have plenty of those, and I’ve made more than few mistakes as well. I didn’t start off as the leader of the White Ravens. I started off as a greenhorn like everyone else. I had charisma though, so over time I somehow ended up in charge.”

“And you became a legend, a king of thieves!” Herad spat harshly.

Saeter laughed morosely. “I certainly succeeded in becoming a tragic figure! The White Raven, the champion of a country long dead and a noble thief who was never caught. They sing songs about me, and when I listen to them, all I hear are the wails of the fallen. It’s true, I was never caught, but others were. I lost many friends fighting for a lost cause. Such a victory is like ashes in my mouth.”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of warning? I don’t need any of your damn advice, old man! I’m nothing like you. Victory will be mine for the taking!” Herad said scathingly.

“You’re right. You don’t need advice from me. You’re already closer to taking the prize than I ever got. I think you can do it—conquer the North. I could never have done such a thing,” Saeter admitted as he calmly met Herad’s gaze.

The bandit chieftain looked shocked. Uncertainty was plain in her eyes.

Saeter sighed and looked away from her. “They called me a gentleman, but really I was weak. I chose the easy road. I shied away from making hard choices, which is what a real leader has to do. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t question my actions. If I had been more ruthless or bloodied my hands more, would my friends still be alive?”

Herad clearly had no idea how to respond. She stared at the scout as he spoke.

“If I had played the noble bandit less and been the savage unifier instead, would this land have suffered so much? Every empty farmhouse I see is a reminder of death and suffering I might have been able to prevent. I kept my hands clean while the land drowned in blood around me.” Saeter’s voice dropped off, and he stared at the ground.

There was silence.

Herad eventually replied. “I’m in this for myself, so keep that in mind. Anyway, don’t get so full of yourself, old man. You’re not responsible for an entire country. You’re just a scout. You work for me.” The bandit chieftain’s voice was strong and her face had retaken its cold and distant expression. However, the usual enmity that burned in her eyes when Saeter was nearby was absent.

“Now give her something shiny!” Blacknail whispered to his master.

Before Saeter could reply, Vorscha came back. Red Dog and a few others were walking behind her.

“I believe this is everyone, boss,” she shouted as she strode over to Herad.

Herad turned toward the new arrivals. Without another word to Saeter, she got up and headed their way. The old scout watched Herad walk away and sighed. There was a look on his face that Blacknail didn’t know how to interpret. Maybe he regretted missing his chance to offer her a shiny gift?

“Well, that actually went better than I thought it would,” the old scout grumbled as he massaged his temples. The ranger looked exhausted. The battle earlier had taken a little out of him, but not nearly as much as his speech to Herad.

As he walked over to the fire pit, Red Dog noticed the hobgoblin sitting off to the side. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he gazed at Blacknail thoughtfully, then he quickly looked away. His quick change of facial expressions drew Blacknail’s attention. Under his hood, the hobgoblin’s ears perked up and he licked his lips. Was something going on?

Red Dog spoke up when Herad came his way. “Why did you want us, boss?”

“Plans have changed. Recent events have messed with my timetable,” Herad replied.

“It was blasted unlucky of us to get attacked by those knights and that mutant at the same time,” Red Dog grumbled. “The camp’s a bloody damned mess. I imagine that this is going to slow down the plan.”

“Ha, unlucky? We’re foxes in the henhouse now! We just smashed, with minimal losses, the only mobile force the nobles in this area could send against us! Nothing short of a royal expedition will be able to force us away now!” Herad announced.

“We lost more than a few good men and a lot of bad ones. I wouldn’t call that a minimal loss,” Vorscha countered.

“So what? We’re in the middle of a recruiting drive anyway. All that means is that it will last a little longer and we’ll have one more victory to brag about,” the bandit chieftain pointed out.

“So you won’t be delaying your trip to Daggerpoint this winter?” Saeter asked.

“No, in fact, I’ll be speeding up my plans. It’s time to go for our enemies’ throats,” Herad said confidently. “Now that this base is secured, it’s even more important that I announce my claim to the other large outlaw bands. They need to know that if they move into my territory, it will mean war.”

“Can’t you just send a messenger?” Red Dog asked.

“No, some of those bastards would challenge me right away. I can’t give them time to plan and work to undermine me. I need to be in Daggerpoint so I can confront the other bandit captains directly and put them in their place,” Herad replied.

“You won’t be able to bring too many men with you if you want to hold this base. What happens if one of the other large bands takes up your challenge?” Red Dog asked in concern.

The bandit chieftain almost seemed to shiver in excitement. Her dark eyes gleamed madly, and her smile widened to show teeth. “In Daggerpoint, I’ll be able to recruit real hardened bandits. Then if anyone tries to stand in my way, I’ll paint the streets with their blood and take their skulls as trophies.”

Blacknail smiled with her and rubbed his hands together gleefully. Herad was such a great chief! He couldn’t wait to feel the blood of his tribe’s enemies run through his hands. Glorious days were coming, and he was going to have such fun.

After her speech, Herad sent everyone away. There were lots of things that needed to be done. Blacknail and Saeter left together. As he was walking away, the hobgoblin felt eyes on his back. He glanced over his shoulder at Red Dog and noticed another man at his side. While the bandit lieutenant was acting slightly odd, the other man was glaring daggers at the hobgoblin. Blacknail could practically feel the man’s hatred like hot breath on his skin. Something was definitely up.

“I think I’m going to head back to the tents and get a drink,” Saeter told Blacknail.

“I’m going to check the rabbit traps,” the hobgoblin replied louder than he had to.

Saeter grunted in reply, and a second later, the hobgoblin was walking toward the edge of the forest. The sun hung low toward the horizon, and soon Blacknail passed the last building and stepped into the long shadows cast by the trees.

The hobgoblin ducked under a low tree branch, then stepped around a thorny bush. He trudged through the underbrush with heavy steps. A loud snap reverberated through the forest as he stepped on a twig.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the place he had set the snares. Blacknail looked around and spotted the larger trap he had set up as well. He had placed it next to the trail as both an experiment and in order to catch larger game that tried to poach from his rabbit snares. It hadn’t been sprung yet.

The hobgoblin stepped around the trap and over to where his smaller traps had caught a few rabbits. With a bored yawn, Blacknail took off his cloak and hung it on the branch of a nearby bush. He took a few seconds to position it correctly before lying down next to the bushes.

It was time to take a nap. He was safe here from people trying to make him clean up or do work. Blacknail yawned quietly as he closed his eyes and laid his head against a small rock. A few minutes went by before the sound of something large moving through the underbrush reached his ears. Blacknail frowned, but he ignored it and didn’t move. He was feeling lazy.

There was a loud snap. Blacknail’s eyes opened just in time to see a crossbow bolt tear thought the cloak he had hung up. It caught the fabric and ripped it completely off the branch. The cloak fell onto the ground and was held there by the quivering bolt.

“Damnation, did I get him?”

The hobgoblin remained lying on the ground. Idly, he looked at his cloak. It seemed as though it had been completely ruined. That was annoying.

The crossbowman moved closer with cautious steps. There was another loud snapping noise, but it wasn’t a crossbow bolt this time. It was Blacknail’s anti-poaching snare.

“Ah, fucking hells!” he yelled as he was pulled into the air.

With an exasperated sigh, Blacknail got up and looked over the bush he was behind. The bearded man from before was hanging from his trap. A rope was wrapped firmly around his ankle, and it was tied to the branches of a nearby tree. The man looked stunned. His crossbow lay on the ground out of reach.

The hobgoblin sauntered over to the anchor of the snare and cut the rope using his knife. With a heavy thud and a yelp, the man he had caught hit the ground and the air blasted from his lungs with the impact.

“Why do all you stupid pinkies keep trying to kill me? I have done nothing but help you!” Blacknail protested as he walked to the man and sat on his chest.

The stunned man struggled, but Blacknail easily overpowered him. He slapped the bearded bandit across the face to get his attention, then placed a knife next to his throat. The man froze, but it took him a few seconds to recover enough to answer.

“Hells, how did you know I was coming?” he said between coughs.

“I saw the way-ss you and Red Dog were looking at me. Both of you smelled acrid and nervous. Fear and hate mix together-ss often in humans. Impatience is common as well,” Blacknail said as he gloated. “Did Red Dog send you? Has he become my enemy?”

“Red Dog? That coward told me to bide my time,” the man replied dismissively. “No one had to send me, monster. You killed my friend!”

Blacknail frowned thoughtfully as he considered his attacker’s words. So Red Dog hadn’t been directly involved. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t hostile. He might just be a smarter enemy than this man, which wouldn’t be that hard. He would have to keep an eye on Red Dog.

Also, who was this friend who had died? The hobgoblin didn’t recall killing anyone in the tribe. Of course, he had killed quite a few people lately. He honestly didn’t remember them all.

“Who are you talking about?” the hobgoblin asked as he squinted and thought back over the last few days.

“Dantius, you inhuman wretch! He was my best friend!”

“Hmm, I still don’t know who you are talking about. Was he new?”

A lot of humans tended to look the same, especially if they had facial hair. What kind of creature had fur growing from their chins? It was ridiculous.

“During the battle, you pushed him off the lumber pile! He fell and was trampled by those inbred horse-fucking knights! Damn you, you murderous beast!” the man roared.

Blacknail giggled. He actually liked that title. “Murderous beast” sounded savage! Also, he would have to remember that insult about mating with horses. It was a good one.

“Okay, I did that,” the hobgoblin admitted. “It wasn’t on purpose though. You shouldn’t blame a person for an accident during a fight. Aren’t we all part-ss of the same band? Aren’t we both loyal followers of Herad?”

“You’re not a person. You’re a heartless thing,” the man replied in a tone that revealed the hatred raging within him. “Saeter has trained you like a dog. That’s not real loyalty. You’re nothing but a broken puppet pretending to be real. Someone has to put you down before you kill other good men.”

The smile slipped from Blacknail’s lips until only his eyes betrayed his anger. He felt them shimmer with a cold fury that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t like being called a dog or less than human. He had been looked down on by humans his entire life, but he was different now. He had grown beyond their scorn! This stupid human was nothing to him!

Dark, cold hatred rose from the hobgoblin’s gut and twisted through his insides. He stared as his prey and growled softly in a tone no human could match. Blacknail’s lips curled up into a snarl and revealed his long jagged teeth meant to tear through flesh. His attacker pissed himself and went white as a sheet.

The hobgoblin leaned in next to the petrified human’s ear. “Liar. I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be! You humans are the broken ones, so full of fear and weakness! You see things that are not there and miss so much that is obvious. I see clearly though. I will lead the tribe’s way forward! You, you’re dead.”

Before the man could reply or remember to breathe, Blacknail sat back up, placed a hand over the man’s jaw, and pushed. The helpless man’s head smashed against the ground, leaving his throat exposed. With lightning speed, Blacknail lunged forward to bite out his throat. His teeth sank into soft flesh and tore it apart. The man jerked around savagely as the hobgoblin tasted his lifeblood. Blacknail kept chewing until the movement beneath him stopped, then he stood and spat out the chewy bits onto the forest floor.

The excitement of the kill quickly faded, leaving only an unfamiliar empty feeling in Blacknail’s heart. He felt hollow in a way that couldn’t be filled by food or blood. How many humans did he have to kill before they all stopped being so wrong?

The sounds of the forest continued unabated as the hobgoblin stood absolutely still. Unaware of the struggle within the hobgoblin, birds called to each other and small animals scurried through the underbrush. Eventually, the feelings that had Blacknail paralyzed ebbed and drained away.

Feeling better, the hobgoblin planned were to hide the body. No one would look twice at blood near the rabbit snares. Why had he been upset? He already couldn’t remember.

What was a puppet anyway? He would have to ask Saeter later. Humans seemed to be bottomless pits full of trivia and surprises. He had so much to learn from his tribe, and so much to teach them.

Epilogue: Rumors on the Wind

The streets of the village were strangely empty. It wasn’t a large town and the day was growing late, but there should have been at least a few signs of life. Instead, the only sound to be heard was the wind blowing through the streets.

Regardless of the uneasy stillness, a tall woman strode confidently down the main road. The homes around her looked as though they had once been prosperous but had now fallen into disrepair. Few of the buildings were more than one story tall, and the forest could be seen in the distance behind them.

The woman was wrapped in a white fur cloak that hung down to ankles, and below that, a pair of tight leather boots could be seen. Her hood was down, so her long blond hair blew back behind her as she moved. Two armed guards walked behind the woman. Their rough appearance contrasted sharply with her sophisticated look. The men’s faces were unshaven and their armor dirty and worn down. Nonetheless, there was no doubt that she was in charge. They followed her like loyal hounds.

Ahead of them, a sign above a tavern door creaked on its chains in the chill breeze. The sky was cloudy and the sun hidden from sight. Shadows lay thick upon the village.

The small group headed toward the tavern’s entrance. Before they got to it, one of the men stepped forward and held the door open for the woman. Without acknowledging him, she stepped inside and looked around. The inside of the building was darker than outside. Flickering candlelight and a pair of windows were the only sources of illumination.

The floor of the tavern had been cleared. All the tables had been shoved aside so that the center of the room was empty.

A man in a large apron was behind the bar. He looked nervous and flinched slightly as the woman’s cold eyes looked him over. When he stared at the floor in fright, she turned to look at the rest of the tavern. Bandits lined the walls. Some of them were drinking or entertaining themselves in other ways, but most of them were watching the sword fight going on in the center of the room.

Two men warily circled a third. Their blades were out in front of them as they looked for an opportunity to attack. It was the third man, who was fighting alone, who drew the woman’s attention. He was taller than the other two. She stepped away from the door and waited for the fight to end.

The tallest fighter had brown hair that touched his shoulders. Streaks of grey ran through it, and it curled slightly. However, his face wasn’t marred by wrinkles, and he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that was tight around his thick, muscular shoulders.

All of a sudden, the two swordsmen attacked as one. Their blades flashed through the air as they lunged toward their opponent. With speed that belied his size, the larger man stepped aside and parried one of the blades. However, before he could counterattack, his opponents reacted. They adjusted and struck again with even faster speed. Their first move had simply been a test.

Their blades moved so quickly and with such precision that they were beyond a doubt Vessels. Yet the third man once again managed to avoid both their attacks, and this time, he struck back. His long sword smashed one of the blades aside as he spun around. A second later, he dodged another attack and moved in to deliver a solid kick to one of his opponents’ chests.

The man was sent flying into the far wall with a loud thud. A trio of drinking bandits had to jump out of the way before he flew through the space they had occupied a second ago. Several other watchers laughed at the commotion.

The remaining swordsmen exchanged a flurry of attacks. The clang of steel filled the room as they fought. Both men were obviously veteran swordsmen, but one of them held the advantage. He pushed his smaller competitor back with the strength of his strikes, and soon enough, the man was forced to the edge of the ring. He hesitated when his back hit the corner of a table, and it cost him. The larger man grunted and redoubled his attacks. His opponent tried to fight back, but then his weapon was knocked from his hands. A sliver of a second later, the larger man’s blade was at his throat.

“I yield, boss!” the man cried.

The other fighter instantly smiled and dropped his blade. “Aha, I love a good fight!” the winner roared happily as he turned away and raised a fist triumphantly over his head. “I accept your surrender.”

There was laughter and cheering from many of the watchers. They raised tankards of ale or clapped in appreciation of the display.

“Werrick! Werrick! The Wolf always wins!” several of them cheered.

Their voices echoed through the tavern and drowned out all the other sounds. The man in question basked in their attention for a few seconds before turning away. He passed his sword off to one of the watchers and turned toward the newcomers.

“I see you lurking over there, Zelena. You don’t usually enjoy this sort of thing. What brings you here?” Werrick asked the blonde.

Zelena stepped forward, away from the wall, and gave Werrick a polite bow. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as she bent. She was a slender woman, and while her face was attractive, it had a severe cast as well. “Lord, I have news from the East. It seems not all the bandit chiefs are acting as you thought they would. One of them has noticed your actions and decided to copy them.”

Werrick motioned, and one of the watchers threw him a cloth. He wiped his face clean as he considered Zelena’s words. “Which one?”

“Herad, my lord,” Zelena explained. “She has moved into Northern Eloria and claimed that territory for her own. Rumor has it she is charging tolls instead of outright raiding caravans and villages.”

Werrick grunted. “Imitation is the purest form of flattery. However, her actions are problematic. I was hoping to take my time and destroy her after I made my move, but if she is doing as you say, then she has become a thorn in my side.”

“What would you like done?” the blond woman asked.

Werrick took a seat on the table next to him. It creaked beneath his not-inconsiderable weight. He leaned back and took a few seconds to think. “I’m sending you to Daggerpoint. I know Herad; if she really is setting up her own territory, then she’ll want to brag about it to her peers.

“Thanks to our new friends, I have more than enough gold. You can take all you need with you to the city, and you can also have as many soldiers as I can spare. Use the gold to purchase every sword in the city and bribe every petty bandit chief in residence. I want all of Daggerpoint to rise up against her when Herad arrives. The entire city will be our trap for her.”

“You won’t be traveling to the city this year?” Zelena asked with hint of surprise in her voice.

“No, I have more important things to do this winter,” Werrick said as he smiled confidently. “Practically all of Northern Hulgaron is now directly under my control, including several local lords. Herad is annoying, but nothing more. She’s just a petty bandit chieftain squatting over the edge of civilization. The world has changed, and she has no understanding of the forces arrayed against her.”

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