AGoblin'sTale

by Scott

  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 t
oward 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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  The Iron Teeth: Book Two

  City of Daggers

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