AGoblin'sTale

by Scott

  As he climbed, Blacknail’s long ears detected sounds that were out of place in the forest. Carefully, he paused to listen. It sounded like several humans talking and moving, which meant the human camp wasn’t too far away. He examined the forest in that direction but didn’t see anything that would indicate anyone was close enough to see him. Reassured, the hobgoblin crept across the final stretch of bush between him and the human scout.

  His target was an average-sized man with black hair. He was still leaning against the tree while lazily scanning the forest below him for threats. However, Blacknail had already sneaked right under the man's nose and was now safely behind him. The sentry would never see the hobgoblin coming, which was just how Blacknail liked it.

  “See anything yet, Kratz?” the man suddenly yelled.

  Blacknail dropped to the ground in alarm.

  “Ha, I would have said something if I did,” come an answering shout from out of sight.

  “Ya, but the boss wanted us to check in with each other every once in a while. I guess you’re still alive since you’re still talking and all,” the first man replied in jest.

  The only answer the other man gave was a brief chuckle. Blacknail rose a bit and tried to find the second speaker, but much to his frustration, he couldn’t see him. Then there was the sound of a scuffle and a gasp.

  Blacknail’s target looked over and frowned with concern. “You okay, Kratz? I thought I heard something.”

  The only sound from where the other man had been was a distinct cheery birdcall. The sentry’s frown deepened as his concern turned to suspicion. He stepped toward the camp and opened his mouth as if to shout.

  But Blacknail had already launched himself toward the man. The birdcall had been a signal. Blacknail was sure it meant Saeter had just taken out the second sentry, and that meant Blacknail needed to act.

  The hobgoblin covered the ground lightning fast. His long muscular body carried his light frame forward with startling speed, and the wind whipped his cloak behind him as he shot out of the bushes. Before the man could even turn or yell, Blacknail was upon him.

  The hobgoblin hit the unprepared man with a flying tackle that ended with his arms wrapped around his opponent’s waist. Surprise and momentum allowed the lighter hobgoblin to knock the man off balance. It also knocked the air from his opponent’s lungs and prevented him from yelling out a warning.

  They careened off to the side together,and the sentry flailed uselessly. Meanwhile, Blacknail used his hold on the man’s waist to pull himself up and twist one of his legs so he could hook it under the man’s knee. Using the leverage that gave him, Blacknail flipped himself around so that he was clinging to the man’s back.

  They hit the ground with a loud thud. The man landed facefirst with the weight of the hobgoblin on his back. The breath was knocked out of the sentry for a second time by the impact, and all he could do was wheeze in pain. The fallen man tried to draw in a breath to yell, presumably, but Blacknail grabbed his hair and yanked the man’s head up. This made the man croak in pain and allowed Blacknail to wrap his other claws around the man’s neck.

  The sentry went still as he felt the hobgoblin’s sharp nails dig into the flesh around his throat. He whimpered in fright, and Blacknail smiled in satisfaction. The hobgoblin adjusted his weight so he could lean forward into the man’s line of sight. The man must have suspected something was strange about his assailant, but when he got a close look at Blacknail’s face, his eyes widened and he went white as snow.

  “Be very quiet,” Blacknail half whispered and half growled.

  The man’s head bobbed up and down. At first Blacknail thought the sentry was trying to nod, but then his eyes rolled up into his head until only the whites were visible and he went as limp as a dead fish. Blacknail released his grip on the man’s throat and slapped him across the face. The blow made a loud smacking noise and left a red handprint on the man’s face, but the sentry didn’t react. With a hiss of disappointment, the hobgoblin studied his prey. He had wanted to have more fun! With a sigh, Blacknail got to his feet and stared with dissatisfaction at the unconscious sentry.

  There was the sound of someone approaching, and Saeter pushed out from the bushes. The old scout frowned as he saw the corpse-white and unmoving man at Blacknail’s feet. “I thought I told you to try to capture them alive!”

  “He’s not dead, just stupid. Stupid-ss man went to sleep, so he’s no fun.” Blacknail hissed in annoyance.

  "I see,” Saeter replied in a confused tone that meant he didn’t really understand at all. Frowning, he walked over to the unconscious man and kicked him a few times. He seemed satisfied when the man flinched and moaned ever so slightly.

  “Prey’s camp is that way,” Blacknail impatiently told his master as he pointed toward the source of the noise he had heard earlier.

  The hobgoblin wanted to continue the hunt. There were more humans to catch and he had never had so much fun before. He was lightheaded with giddiness and anticipation, even if he was also a little disappointed he couldn’t eat any of the prey he caught.

  After throwing a look in the direction Blacknail had indicated, Saeter addressed the hobgoblin. “Good to know, but that’s not our job right now. Grab that fellow and hide him in the bushes along with the one I knocked out. Then sit on them until I get back with Red Dog. Er, you don’t actually have to sit on them. Just guard them.”

  “Yes, master,” Blacknail said with a disappointed sigh. Why couldn’t his master ever let him have fun? The humans were so close. He wanted to at least stalk them a little. No one would ever even know.

  Saeter turned away and walked back through the trees toward where Red Dog was waiting for them. When he was gone, the hobgoblin grabbed the man’s feet and dragged him into the bushes. He easily found the man Saeter had knocked out by smell and dumped the other sentry on top of him.

  He was almost disappointed that Saeter didn’t actually want him to sit on them. Piled up as they were, the unconscious men looked sort of comfy, and Blacknail liked the idea of resting atop the bodies of his defeated prey. Blacknail’s mind wandered as he waited for Saeter to return. He was getting kind of hungry. He wasn’t allowed to eat the humans, but maybe he could lick them. Or maybe he could maim a few and eat the bits that came loose. They would survive that… probably.

  After thinking it over for a while, Blacknail decided to take some jerky out of his pouch and eat that instead. He was in the middle of chewing it when he heard someone yell in his direction.

  “Kratz! Teriol! I’ve got your supper!”

  Blacknail calmly swallowed the last of the jerky and tried to come up with a plan. Obviously, this human was calling for the two who had been knocked out. If he didn’t get an answer, then he would probably raise the alarm, which would be bad. Should Blacknail try to mimic a human and reply himself? No, that wouldn’t work. He didn’t have a human-sounding voice. Human voices were all deep and dumb sounding.

  The hobgoblin licked his fingers clean. Should he wake a human up and force them to answer? No, not enough time. Blacknail’s eyes swept over the unconscious men he was supposed to be guarding, and they lingered on the smaller man’s cloak and gloves. He grinned as an idea occurred to him.

  “Guys, you there?” the voice called again. The speaker sounded a little nervous now.

  Blacknail saw that he had stopped walking and glanced warily at the bush in front of him for signs of his friends. He was balancing two plates of steaming food in his hands. The human’s nervousness disappeared, however, when a small man stepped out from behind a tree. His hood was up for some reason, but the man recognized the sentry’s cloak.

  He smiled as he realized his friend was in the middle of a coughing fit, which was probably why he hadn’t answered earlier. The sentry did wave cheerfully, however, as he strode forward and extended a gloved hand to take a plate of food.

  “Behind you,” the sentry said between coughs as he raised his other hand to point behind the man. His voice wa
s unusually raspy, probably from the coughing.

  “What is it?” the deserter asked as he turned to look.

  That was when Blacknail, who was dressed in the sentry’s clothes, smashed him in the back of the head with the wooden plate.

  “Wha?” The man groaned as he staggered.

  Blacknail hit him again and kept hitting him until he went down. Then the hobgoblin flipped his hood back to reveal his green grinning face and dragged the third man into the bushes to join the others. This was just too much fun!

  Chapter 24

  Blacknail was quite happy with himself. Not only had he tricked the stupid human, but he had managed to get some free food out of it as well. After hiding the human, Blacknail walked back and picked up all the food that had been dropped in the earlier scuffle.

  The hobgoblin spent the next few minutes watching the forest from the top of the hill and eating the red meat and hard bread that he had picked up. From his vantage point at the sentry’s post, he saw Saeter and the other bandits arrive and climb the hill below him.

  “Er, you changed your clothes?” Saeter asked Blacknail when he reached the top and saw him.

  The other bandits were right behind the scout. One of them gave Blacknail a horrified glance.

  “Forget about that. What in all the hells is he eating?” the other bandit asked in alarm.

  The hobgoblin sniggered at the man’s concern. He was sitting on the piled bodies of the unconscious men he’d knocked out, while casually chewing a piece of meat. He’d tried looking for something else, like a log, to sit on but hadn’t ended up finding anything. Besides, the pile of humans was actually comfy.

  “It smells, and looks, like boiled beef,” someone else answered condescendingly.

  The first speaker flushed slightly. Blacknail ignored the other bandits and focused on Saeter. As amusing as they were, only his master was important.

  “I had to be sneaky,” Blacknail explained to Saeter as he pointed at the third unconscious man.

  “Huh, well, I guess it worked,” Saeter replied. He looked as though he wanted to ask some more questions, but instead he turned to Red Dog. “We should get going. They’ll soon notice these men are missing.”

  Red Dog nodded, turned to Blacknail, and gave him a disapproving look. “Are those men still alive?”

  “Probably,” Blacknail replied with an indifferent shrug.

  Red Dog appeared unsatisfied by Blacknail’s answer, but he only scowled and turned back to Saeter. “Fine, let’s go. The hobgoblin stays here and guards these men though.”

  “I have no problem with that,” Saeter replied without concern.

  Red Dog gave orders to the other bandits. He got them organized and told them the plan of attack. Blacknail listened and was disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t be joining in the rest of the fun. Red Dog’s plan did seem like it might involve a lot of face-to-face fighting though, and Blacknail was fine with missing out on that. He much preferred attacking people from behind. It was safer.

  Besides, Blacknail knew he wasn’t a very good swordsman yet. So he had no problem with staying there while continuing to eat his food and sit on his trophies. Maybe one of them would even wake up. Then Blacknail could have some more fun.

  As the hobgoblin watched, the bandits finished their planning and drew their weapons. Most of them had swords, but others had bows or more exotic things like hand axes. Red Dog led the group toward the deserters’ camp. With their dirty unshaven faces and their worn-down and mismatched leather armor, the bandits looked savage and dangerous. They didn’t display the discipline and competence of the horsemen from earlier or even Persus’s guards, however.

  Blacknail watched them go, and he decided he wasn’t going to listen to Red Dog after all. When the other bandits were out of sight, the hobgoblin got up and followed them. He wanted to see what happened next.

  Saeter led Red Dog and the rest of their group of outlaws through the woods toward their target. They moved slowly in order to sneak up on the group of deserters who had set up camp ahead. The thick trees and hilly terrain concealed their approach.

  It didn’t take long for Saeter’s group to get within sight of the deserters’ camp. The old scout stopped at the edge of the forest where it ended in a cliff. He crouched low to the ground to help conceal himself and looked down. Below them and down a rocky incline lay a small recessed valley.

  The sound of rushing water could be heard from a small waterfall that rushed down the steep cliff across the valley. The creek it fed then wandered along one side of the valley and marked its boundary. The thick forest and sharp hills continued on the other side of the stream.

  A bunch of uniform blue tents had been set up within the gorge. Under an overhang on one section of the cliff, the deserters had also constructed a large crude wooden structure. A number of men moved about or lounged around the area. In the center of the tents, someone was cooking on a large fire.

  “Well, those are definitely standard Elorian infantry tents. That means these are our deserters,” Red Dog whispered.

  “It could be an entirely different group of deserters who just happen to be highwaymen as well,” one of the new recruits whispered back.

  Red Dog was not amused by the comment, and it showed on his face. One of the other bandits took that as permission to cuff the speaker. The man took the blow and shut up.

  “Look at the tents and that shelter over there. There are more of them than we thought,” Saeter told Red Dog.

  “How many do you think there are exactly?” Red Dog asked.

  “At least as many as us, even without counting the scouts we took out on the way in,” Saeter answered.

  “Then I guess we’ll just have to go back and ask Herad for reinforcements,” Red Dog muttered sarcastically as he scowled at the camp below them.

  No one laughed.

  “You’re in charge,” Saeter said indifferently.

  Red Dog gave him a dirty look. The bandit lieutenant clearly didn’t like any of the options available to him. “We have the advantage of surprise.”

  “Until we lose it,” Saeter added.

  “If you have nothing constructive to add, then shut up.”

  Saeter didn’t bother to respond or even turn around. He kept looking over the cliff at the deserters’ camp.

  “Fine, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go down the hill that way, then we’ll sneak around to those tents over there,” Red Dog explained as he gestured to various spots below. “They’re close to the edge of the woods, and there are quite a few men lounging about around them. We’ll rush out and capture them before they know what’s happening. That’ll give us the advantage in numbers and some prisoners to bargain with.”

  “With odds this close, I’ve always preferred less direct attacks. We could scout around a bit more,” Saeter recommended.

  “That could take hours. They could stumble onto our trail or notice their missing sentries at any time. No, we have to go in now,” Red Dog replied.

  “Fine, I’ll stay here as a lookout. That way I can guard the rear and cover you with my bow,” Saeter suggested.

  Red Dog appeared to think it over for a few seconds. The other bandits all around him waited for his response.

  “No, you can cover us better from farther down the hill, closer to the action. Besides, you just unpacked that sword of yours, so let’s give you a real opportunity to use it,” Red Dog said with a smirk.

  Saeter didn’t look happy with the other bandit’s decision, but when Red Dog led the rest of the outlaws down the slope, he followed them. Blacknail waited until they were gone before takeing up position atop the hill they had just vacated. It was a perfect spot to watch and listen from.

  Red Dog slowly and carefully led his group of twenty-four bandits down the slope and through the woods around the camp. The slope was rocky and cover was limited to the occasional large rock or bush so they had to move carefully, but they made it safely to the bottom and back into the for
est without being seen.

  As they moved through the trees, there were several times when a new recruit messed up or slipped and accidently made a loud noise. When that happened, everyone froze and listened nervously for any reaction from the men ahead of them. When they were sure that no one had noticed them, they continued warily on.

  Once they were only a few dozen feet from the tents and the deserters, they stopped to observe their targets. Eight enemies were seated or standing around their target area. Only a few of them had any visible weapons. An about equal number of men were visible in more distant areas of the camp.

  Silently, Red Dog signaled his men forward. Ever so slowly, they crawled through the last stretch of thick brush and toward the backs of the tents at edge of the woods. Saeter was with them but was lagging behind and holding up the rear.

  When Red Dog reached the edge of the forest, he burst out into a run.The large man raced around the tents and announced himself by punching out the closest deserter. There was a loud crack as his fist impacted the other man’s chin. As the now-unconscious deserter fell, his startled companions sprang to their feet.

  “What the hells, an attack?” someone shouted in surprise.

  The rest of Red Dog’s rugged outlaws were right behind him. They crashed into the unsuspecting opponents with a series of vicious yells. There were sounds of shock and alarm as they swept out of the woods and tried to encircle the nearby deserters. Saeter remained at the edge of the woods and drew his bow.

  In front of the tents, a melee had started, even if it was a one-sided one. Red Dog’s men not only outnumbered their opponents, but the enemy was mostly unarmed. Red Dog managed to lay another deserter low with a second solid punch before even having to draw his blade.

  However, it didn’t take long for the rest of the deserters to realize something was happening. From his lookout spot back in forest, Blacknail the camp came alive like an anthill that had just been kicked. Shouts of panic and alarm filled the air as they tried to figure out what was going on. The closest group of deserters began falling one after another. Some of the bandits used clubs, or were just strong enough, to disable their opponents with painful blunt strikes. Other deserters surrendered when swords and daggers were shoved in their faces, and they were then forced to the ground.