AGoblin'sTale

by Scott

  “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 g
houl 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.