by Scott
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. Ye
s, 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.