AGoblin'sTale

by Scott

  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 pr
oud!

  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?