AGoblin'sTale

by Scott

  “That could get messy,” Saeter said critically as he frowned.

  “As long as we get the shipment, I couldn't care less. If you don't have the stomach for it, then you can stay here,” Herad told him with a cold look.

  The others looked away from Saeter and stayed silent. No one backed him up against their boss.

  “We'll get ready to head out immediately,” Herad ordered. “We need to be well ahead of them for this to work out correctly. Saeter, you'll take charge of the camp when I'm gone. Vorscha and Red, you're both with me.”

  Saeter looked dissatisfied but could do nothing but agree. Behind him, Blacknail tried to keep out of Herad’s sight. She looked even meaner than usual.

  At daybreak the next day, most of the bandits marched out of camp. It was an overcast morning and the birds were singing loudly in the trees. Very few people were left in the camp with Saeter and Blacknail, making the bandit base feel empty. Hopefully nothing would go wrong while most of the tribe was away.

  Chapter 15

  The next few days were boring. Herad was gone, and she had taken most of the bandits with her. Blacknail spent his time doing chores and, when boredom caused his curiosity to overcome his self-preservation, a little exploring.

  One afternoon, Blacknail was walking to his master’s tent. He had been out in the forest gathering plants for Saeter. He didn’t know why his master wanted them. They certainly didn’t taste good—he had checked.

  Suddenly, the loud crack of wood splintering startled the goblin and made him flinch. The first noise was soon followed by the sound of panicked human yelling. That was almost never good. Blacknail grew concerned. Then he realized the noise was coming from the nearby forest, and it was getting closer. He immediately ran away. Just to be safe.

  He made straight for his master, but the noise steadily grew closer. The nervous goblin risked a glance backward and saw a scout burst from the edge of the forest and run frantically into the clearing. The man's face was pale with terror, and he was gasping for breath. Not good! Something bad was about to happen, and he wanted as far away from it as possible. Blacknail tried to run faster. His little legs pumped frantically.

  “Help,” the scout yelled between gasping breaths.

  The goblin was pretty sure the man wasn't talking to him, so he just kept running away.

  The camp came alive with movement and shouting as others noticed the commotion. Blacknail heard several bandits swear or shout in surprise. He couldn't help but shoot another panicked look over his shoulder to find out what the men had seen. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

  He was not disappointed. The forest exploded as a massive creature barreled out of the bushes. It was headed straight for the running scout. The beast snorted and squealed in rage as it tried to run down the fleeing man. The scout was, of course, leading it straight toward Blacknail.

  The creature was as tall as a man and heavy with both muscle and fat. It easily weighed more than a horse. Its body was covered in dark brown spiky hair that was especially long and bristly on its back. It also had a flat snout protruding from its face—because it was a giant pig.

  Even with its unbelievable mass, the boar moved frighteningly quickly. Blacknail had no doubt that anyone hit by it would be smashed into paste, then crushed under its hooves. That was, of course, if they weren't first impaled on the long yellow tusks that jutted out of its mouth.

  Blacknail was running on all fours now as panic and adrenaline set in. Both the scout and the huge pig were gaining on him. Saeter had risen to his feet and was quickly going through his things. Blacknail raced past an empty tent. He really hoped his master would do something soon—as in really soon! He didn’t want to be trampled to death by a giant pig!

  From just behind him, the running goblin heard a horrible scream, which was quickly followed by a wet crunching sound and a triumphant squeal. Ouch! Hopefully the beast would leave now that it had caught its target.

  Nope. The sound of heavy hooves pounding the earth continued toward Blacknail. Why did these things always happen to him!

  “Bad piggy, don’t chase me,” the terrified goblin wailed as he ran.

  Suddenly, he heard the crack of a sling and a surprised squeal from the boar. Blacknail looked back to see what had happened. One of the nearby bandits had hit the pig with a rock. With a furious grunt, the boar shifted its beady-eyed gaze to the woman who had hit him. The woman's eyes widened as they met the small black eyes of the boar. Blacknail could practically see anger and hatred rise like steam off the boar’s back. It looked pissed.

  With a dreadful squeal that tore through the air, the beast switched targets and made for his assailant. After a second of looking regretful of her recent life choices, the woman turned and fled. Her sudden departure surprised several bandits who had been standing right next to her.

  “Hey, wait!” one of them squeaked.

  The entire group of bandits turned and dashed in every direction like a swarm of insects someone had just waved their hand through. None of them tried to stand their ground.

  Blacknail slowed to a jog. Whew, he needed catch his breath. The boar was no longer chasing him, thank the spirits. He should be safe for now.

  As the boar closed in on her, the woman dove behind a stack of solid wooden crates. That didn’t stop the boar. It hit the boxes at full speed with a thunderous cracking noise. The beast’s long tusks scooped under the crates and, with a jerk of its wide head, launched them into the air. Its bulky body smashed right through the remaining boxes and crushed them under its hooves. An explosion of splinters was soon all that was left of them.

  The noise was deafening. Even from far away, Blacknail winced in pain as the sound assaulted his ears. The goblin couldn't see where the woman had ended up among all the debris. He didn't even know if she was alive or not. If she was dead, he would remember her fondly. She had probably saved his life after all.

  The boar apparently couldn't find her either. It snorted and stomped around the ruins of the crates for a few seconds before focusing his attention on the nearest visible bandit. A startlingly angry squeal escaped the beast’s lips, then it charged after him.

  “Oh hells,” the man yelled as he looked around for somewhere to hide.Much to Blacknail's alarm, the man started running in his direction.

  “Eek, not again!” The goblin cursed as he picked up speed.

  All the nearby bandits were either running away or hiding behind tents and equipment. Several had made for the old farm house, and one was climbing a tree. It wasn’t even a large tree. After seeing the boar go through the pile of crates, Blacknail was pretty sure those were all terrible ideas. He just wished he had a better one.

  The man and the beast were quickly closing in on the goblin, so Blacknail took off toward Saeter. Bad things from the forest were kind of his thing. The heavy beat of hooves closed in on Blacknail. He wasn’t going to make it to safety!

  “No, no, what to do?” the goblin squeaked as he panicked.

  Blacknail turned and dashed toward a nearby line of wooden lean-tos. They wouldn't stop the charging boar, but maybe he could hide there. As the goblin dove into the nearest lean-to, the man running behind him leapt to the side. The bandit barely managed to avoid being impaled on the beast’s tusks, but he landed safely.

  The boar didn't try to chase him. Instead, it hit the lean-tos full force. The crude wooden structures exploded as the beast smashed through them. Blacknail watched the small building come apart around him. Splinters and broken pieces of wood flew everywhere as the boar narrowly missed the goblin. Blacknail's eyes widened and he turned pale as a descending hoof narrowly missed his head.

  He stiffened in terror as the powerful musky smell of the boar and a deafening chorus of squeals washed over him. The terrified goblin shut his eyes and curled up into a ball, wishing he was somewhere safe. There were no boars in his old lovely sewer home.

  Then the noise stopped and the beast was gone. It had passed through the shattered
lean-tos and continued on. Blacknail's heartbeat was out of control, and he started twitching uncontrollably. Was he still alive? He couldn't believe it. The goblin patted himself down and was surprised to find his body intact. Still somewhat stunned, he sat up and looked out from the ruins of the lean-to.

  The wide-eyed goblin watched as the beast rampaged through the bandits’ camp. Blacknail noticed several arrows sticking out from the creature’s hide. Those were new. Apparently some of the humans were actually doing something other than running away in terror—what idiots. The goblin was going to run the second the beast turned back in his direction.

  As he watched, several more arrows hit the boar. It grunted in pain and squealed angrily. The arrows were coming from almost every direction now as the bandits got organized. The constant pricks were confusing the beast; it couldn’t focus on a single target. The squealing giant stomped and spun around in circles as more and more arrows descended upon it.

  Before long, it slowed and stumbled as it bled out from an ever-increasing number of wounds. Then an arrow took it in the throat, and the boar collapsed. It gave one last gasping wheeze before shuddering and going still. Its gigantic fallen body was pierced by too many arrows to count.

  Saeter approached the fallen giant with sword in hand. He quickly stepped in and stabbed it under the ribs. The sword sank over halfway into the beast’s side, but the boar didn't so much as twitch.

  “Well, it's dead now,” Saeter announced as he withdrew the blade. He scowled sourly as looked around the now-ravaged camp.

  Other outlaws cautiously approached the beast. Some of them had bows, but others had just popped out of hiding and were unarmed.

  “At least we'll eat well tonight,” one of the bandits remarked, which earned him a few chuckles.

  “True, but we're going to have a lot of cleaning up to do,” Saeter replied.

  Blacknail shakily got up and wandered over as well. The goblin plopped down at his master’s feet and leaned his head against Saeter’s leg for support. He felt like sitting there for a while; it felt nice and safe.

  “We have at least one grave to dig,” another bandit added with a look toward the remains of the boar's first victim.

  Blacknail looked over as well. He had realized an important truth today—never hit a boar with a sling.

  With one of his usual annoyed grunts, Saeter took charge and got everyone started on cleaning up. There was a lot to do. The titanic boar had done a huge amount of damage. Saeter put himself in charge of cooking the boar. He had a giant spit roast made, and the boar was cut up and put on it. The sky soon grew dark, and when the meat was done, Saeter allowed everyone to stop for supper.

  Blacknail joined his master at their campfire. The smell of roasting meat was making the goblin drool all over himself. It smelled so nice! He wanted to bite into it so badly.

  Saeter saw the goblin and threw him a small piece of greasy meat. Blacknail caught it right out of the air with his mouth and instantly chewed. The goblin shivered happily as he smacked loudly. His mouth tingled with glorious deliciousness. Unfortunately, he soon swallowed the last bit of meat. His stomach wasn’t full. The goblin opened his eyes wide and gave his master a pleading expression, but the man ignored him.

  Blacknail cried a little as he sat next to the fire. Why did his master never give him enough food? It wasn’t like Saeter was a cruel master—far from it. Oh well, it was fine. Blacknail had a cunning plot to secure more food. He was going to go beg from Geralhd. It worked every time.

  After a brief walk around the now dark and campfire-lit camp, Blacknail found the man at his usual eating place. He was seated around a fire with several other men. They were all listening to a skinny bandit with a long bread.

  “They say it came in the middle of blizzard. When the wind was roaring so loudly that no one could hear the screams at first,” the bearded bandit announced dramatically.

  The fire crackled in front of him, and in its light, his eyes were obscured by shadow. Behind him, the night was dark and intimidating.

  “It was a drake unlike any other, a mutant whose breath could freeze men’s hearts,” the man continued. “It crushed buildings beneath its feet as it fed upon the citizens of Coroulis. Nothing could stop it from feasting on man, woman, and child. Nothing.”

  Geralhd leaned forward with obvious interest as the man spoke, but his face had a pale cast. He looked frightened. Several other listeners had similar expressions.

  “As it glutted itself on human flesh, the people tried to flee, but there was nowhere to go. The roads were long and under the winter’s snow. They say a million people died when the City Killer, Myagnoir the Great Drake, destroyed Coroulis and took up residence in its ruins,” the speaker said in low voice that was almost a whisper. He paused dramatically for a few seconds.

  A few of the listeners leaned in closer to hear him clearer.

  “The greatest city in the North was destroyed by a monster that no one had seen coming. A mutant twisted by magic and unleashed by chaos against humanity. An unstoppable beast that simply walked out of an untamed forest, like that which surrounds us all right now,” the man finished in a sinister tone as he leaned back away from the fire.

  There was silence for a few seconds as everyone mulled that over. Subtly, several people glanced nervously at the trees that lay out of sight in the darkness.

  “And that’s why sensible people live down South, where all the forests have been cut down,” someone muttered darkly.

  “Enough horror stories. Being around you all is scary enough,” a female bandit commented.

  “How about a hearty campfire song to raise our spirits?” a pot-bellied man suggested hopefully.

  “I’ll stab the first person who starts singing,” the woman replied coldly.

  Before anyone else spoke up, Blacknail wandered over to Geralhd. Normally he would be wary of approaching most of the bandits, but the ones who had stayed behind with Saeter left him alone. Geralhd was also easy to get food out of, and not very threatening.

  Geralhd noticed the goblin approach and smiled at him. He picked up a piece of meat that had been set aside. “Sit, Blacknail. Who’s a good boy?”

  One of the other men groaned, and another chuckled as Geralhd spoke.

  “Me, I'm a good boy,” Blacknail answered happily as he sat at Geralhd's feet.

  Geralhd smiled again and tossed him the treat. As he chewed and slurped down the meat, Blacknail smirked. He clearly had Geralhd well trained.

  “It's not a bloody dog, Geralhd. It's a goblin. They're very different,” one of the bandits remarked in an irritated voice.

  “He's a good little boy nonetheless,” Geralhd answered as he shrugged and petted Blacknail's head. It actually felt pretty good.

  Blacknail smiled toothily at the other man, which made him look exasperated and sigh loudly.

  “I still don't understand why Saeter decided to get a goblin, or why Herad let him. It’s not like every scout in the band wouldn't give their last prayer to be his partner. I would have thought the boss would have said no just to spite him,” one man told the others.

  Geralhd gave him a confused look. “Why do Saeter and Herad have such a problem with each other anyway? Also, why in all the gods’ names would every scout want to partner with a grumpy old man like Saeter? I mean, sure, he's the most experienced of our ever-so-hard-working scouts, but he's also more than a bit of an ass as well.”

  Most the men chuckled, but one gave a nervous glance at the darkness over his shoulder before replying. It was almost like he wanted to be sure no one unexpected was listening.

  “Well, the answer to both those questions is sort of the same. You obviously don't know who Saeter is, or at least who he used to be,” the man said quietly.

  Blacknail's ears twitched as he grew interested and started paying attention. He was almost done eating anyway.

  Geralhd leaned in closer and raised an eyebrow, an invitation for the man to keep speaking. “Oh, who d
id our resident old-timer used to be then?”

  “Saeter used to run his own gang of thieves, years ago. They were one of the first successful bands, and they built quite a name for themselves. That was way back, of course, when things were very different. Eventually, they all retired or died until only Saeter was left,” was the other man’s reply.

  “You must be joking. Who would follow Saeter, and why would Herad have a problem with that?” Geralhd asked with disbelief.

  “Think about it for a second. Every bandit chief’s worst fear is being killed and replaced by one of their subordinates. Who could possibly feel secure knowing someone in their band used to be a successful leader?” the other bandit pointed out.

  “That’s a good point. Herad has always struck me as more than a little paranoid. However, if Saeter used to be so famous, why is he serving under Herad instead of leading his own band? Geralhd asked.

  It was different man who answered this time. He had remained quiet until now but Blacknail recognized him as one of the older scouts. “Saeter is an odd sort of bandit. He didn't become an outlaw because he was wanted or for the money, although he certainly got both. No, he chose to become an outlaw because he was a Northern patriot. He was fighting the control of the North by Eloria and Deveshur. I'd guess he's serving under Herad because he has nowhere else to go. He’s more at home out here in the wilds than in any city, and he won't surrender and live under the Southern boot.” He stopped and took a quick drink from the cup in his hand.

  Everyone waited expectantly for him to finish.

  “As for why he's not the band's leader, well, that's simple. The age of rebellion and causes is pretty much dead. We're fighting for money and power, and no one is more dedicated to that than Herad. Of course, that means that under her, we do a lot of things Saeter doesn't approve of,” the scout told them.

  Geralhd leaned back with a contemplative look on his face. Everyone around the fire was silent. Only the crackle of the fire and the chirp of insects could be heard.