by Scott
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 i
n 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.
