Table of Contents
Title Page
Part 1: Along Twisted Paths
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part 2: Den of Beasts
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part 3: A Tradesman's Tools
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Part 4: Queen of Swords
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Part 5: The Hunter's Feast
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
City of Daggers
Scott Straughan
Copyright © 2017 Scott Straughan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7750029-3-2
I dedicate this book to my readers. I couldn’t have gotten this far without the support of those first few brave/bored readers who were willing to give me a chance.
Part 1: Along Twisted Paths
Chapter 1
The hobgoblin stared down at his target with beady hate-filled eyes. Green trees lay behind the lanky warrior. Sunlight reflected off the axe he was holding as he raised it above his head. The motion was smooth and full of vicious intent, waiting to be unleashed.
“Arrrgh. Die!” he suddenly screamed as he swung his axe down with all his might.
The muscles in his back burned as he guided the sharp edge toward his defenseless target. The blade bit into the soft flesh of the log and cleaved right through it. Two equally sized pieces of wood flopped down onto the ground with a hollow thud, leaving the axe head embedded in the stump beneath it.
“Meh, that time wasn’t too bad. You're still putting too much effort into your swings though. Just let the axe fall, and you don’t need to yell every time,” the old human ranger, named Saeter, remarked casually from where he was seated several feet away.
Blacknail gave him an annoyed look as he tugged on the axe handle to free it. “Screaming makes the axe hit-ss harder and faster.”
“Maybe, but you’re scaring the neighbors,” the old scout replied.
Blacknail looked around. Their neighbors were all hardened outlaws and members of Herad the Black Snake’s bandit company. Most of them were used to the hobgoblin in their midst by now; a little yelling wasn’t going to alarm them too much. It wasn’t like he was burning down the camp again.
“Why am I even doing this? It’s boring and making me hungry,” Blacknail whined.
The hobgoblin had to suppress the urge to snarl and spit as a sudden wave of anger rose within him. The rush of energy made his teeth ache. Living among humans required he constantly fight his violent urges.
Yelling while chopping helped him suppress his rage, and it was one of the few ways to do it that wouldn’t annoy his chieftain or require him to dig any graves. Digging was hard work, and he preferred to avoid it.
“Chopping wood is great for your back and will help your swordcraft. Plus, it’s getting damned cold out at night, so we need the wood,” Saeter remarked.
Blacknail felt like asking his master why he wasn’t chopping wood, but he suspected he already knew the answer. Besides, his master was right; it was getting bloody cold out.
Over a week had passed since the attack on Herad’s camp by the knights that had come looking for the ghouls Herad had wiped out. The days had been steadily getting shorter as autumn grew older. The smothering white of winter would soon descend upon the North.
Blacknail wasn’t really used to staying above ground when darkness descended, so the cold bothered him. He used to live in the sewer under a city to the south, before he’d been imprisoned and placed in a merchant caravan. Saeter had been the one who had freed him when Herad’s bandits had attacked the merchants.
There hadn’t been a lot of perks involved in living in a mucky cramped sewer, but it had stayed warm in the winter. Of course, he’d only been a little goblin back then and not a magnificent hobgoblin. One night, after joining the bandits he’d fallen asleep a goblin and then several days later he’d woken up with a taller body and a sharper mind. The transformation had been a surprise to him, but Saeter said it was just something some goblins did.
Blacknail set a new piece of wood on top of the log and raised the axe above his head. With a grunt of effort, he brought it down again and continued his work. Chopping firewood was annoying, but it did supply him with a steady stream of stuff to burn. Blacknail loved feeding fire until it grew huge and roared wildly. The dancing red and orange flames were so pretty. They made him feel like laughing and clapping his hands together.
“Do we have enough twine?” Saeter asked the hobgoblin while he idly whittled away at a wooden figurine.
“We have-ss enough for all the snares and to tie up the wood-ss,” Blacknail replied dryly.
His master was clearly just looking for something to keep him busy. They always needed more rope and twine, but creating it was a chore. It had to be carefully twisted from specially prepared plant fibers. Ugh, it was annoying even to think about!
“Then I guess you can take a break now and grab something to eat,” the old scout told Blacknail.
The hobgoblin smiled and set the axe down. All right, he was super hungry! What did he want to eat? There was plenty of dried meat and leftovers around, but he felt like gorging himself on something fresher. Blacknail stared past the nearby tents and log buildings toward the forest beyond them. Yes, he was definitely going to go out and get his own food. It was time to go hunting.
As Saeter kept whittling away beside his tent, Blacknail stalked off toward the woods. He pulled his hood over his head and slipped through the bandit camp. No one gave him a second glance as he made his way to the edge of the trees.
Unseen, Blacknail stepped through the thick bushes at the edge of the clearing and disappeared into the shadowy forest beyond. The sun was high in the sky, but its light was blocked by a smothering maze of branches and leaves. The hobgoblin took a second to look around. Even this close to the human camp there could be dangerous creatures lurking around. Nothing moved in the green canopy overhead or on the forest floor. The only sounds were of birds singing and the faint rustling of leaves by the wind.
Satisfied he was alone, Blacknail sniffed the air and began to circle carefully around the camp. He crept slowly through the underbrush and tried to camouflage in with his surroundings. The prey he was looking for kept to a certain schedule that made them predictable. He knew almost exactly where to find his midday meal.
Sure enough, after a few minutes of sneaking through the bushes, he detected the telltale shuffling sounds of movement ahead. The cloaked hobgoblin dashed over to a thick brown tree trunk and pressed himself up against the bark. He then peeked out around it. His prey was in plain sight a few dozen feet away, and Blacknail had arrived at exactly the right
time. The hobgoblin smiled wickedly to himself and licked his lips hungrily.
The forest was incredibly dangerous and full of hungry beasts that would like nothing better than to devour humans and hobgoblins alike. Blacknail had run into more than a few of these while out with Saeter. There was also the possibility of another tribe of humans attacking the camp by sneaking through the woods. Thus, Herad had sentries posted around the perimeter of her base.
That was what lay before Blacknail, a human sentry, and he was eating his lunch. The delicious smell of roasted meat and gravy rose from the plate in front of the man. A torn-off chunk of bread lay next to it. Blacknail sniffed the air again, and the delectable aroma caused his stomach to gurgle in anticipation. Soon, it would be his.
The sentry was leaning against a tree trunk while he took a bite out of the bread. He held the plate in front of him as he lazily surveyed the forest out of the corner of his eye. The man was obviously more concerned with eating than watching, and thus deserved what was coming to him.
“Mmm, I love bread with herbs in it. I need to get some more of this,” the sentry mused to himself between bites.
From behind the tree, the hobgoblin withdrew a good-sized stone from one of his pouches. He squinted as he took in his surroundings and roughly measured the distance between the sentry and himself. Then, Blacknail whipped the rock off into a nearby clump of tall thickets.
There was a loud rustling sound as it tore through the branches and a muted thud as the rock hit the ground and rolled. The sentry twitched and spun around toward the unexpected noise. His eyes were wide as he scanned the bushes for any signs of a threat.
He was also looking in the exact opposite direction of Blacknail. This was a fact the hobgoblin took full advantage of as he closed in.
The sentry was frowning in concern as he warily watched the bushes. Without looking down, the man carefully placed his plate of food on a nearby log. He then took several wary steps over toward the bushes. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “If there’s someone there, come on out!”
Behind him, Blacknail silently prowled closer. The hungry hobgoblin put on a sudden burst of speed, hopped over a rotting log covered in moss, and grabbed the plate. It was his!
“Huh, weird,” the sentry remarked to himself as he studied the bushes.
With his prize in hand, the hobgoblin turned and hurriedly scuttled behind a nearby tree and away. He clutched the meat-covered plate to his chest as he ran. There was no stopping him now!
The sentry relaxed when nothing emerged from the bushes and attacked him. With a happy little sigh, the man turned and started walking back to where he’d been eating. Suddenly, he let out a frustrated yell.
“No, what the hells! Where did my bloody food go? This is the second time! What keeps taking my damn lunch? Ack, I’m bloody hungry!” the shocked scout swore in disbelief.
Blacknail giggled to himself as he cheerfully hopped back through the forest and toward camp. He was the sneakiest and cleverest member of Herad’s band for sure! Taking food from sentries was the perfect crime. No matter what happened, they were supposed to stay on guard, so they couldn’t give chase. They also couldn’t complain about losing their food to anyone, because doing so would be admitting that they hadn’t been paying attention on watch.
It wasn’t an actual crime though, and it definitely wasn’t thievery. Blacknail wasn’t a thief. He and the sentry had been engaged in a contest of skill, with the food being a prize for the winner. That was nothing like stealing. Blacknail would have given the man something if he had been spotted, but he hadn’t been.
The hobgoblin took a seat atop a large stone on the edge of the woods. From there, he could see into the camp but he was still mostly out of sight. The brown of his cloak and the green of his skin made him blend in with the forest. Swiftly, he began slurping down his meal.
When the last bit of food had vanished into his stomach, he belched and started to plan his next move. He wasn’t quite full yet, so he needed to get more grub. Luckily, he knew where to get some. Blacknail got up and headed over to meet with Varhs. The man owed him a huge favor and had promised him tasty treats. The young—at least next to Saeter—bandit scout had taken a goblin as a pet. The wretched little thing was named Scamp, and he was a stupid greedy little thief.
After a few minutes, Blacknail arrived in front of Varhs’s tent. The young scout was sitting in front of a firepit and frying up some eggs. They crackled and cooked on top of the pan he was holding above the flames. Scamp was tied up beside him and curled up close to the fire. There was a content look on the goblin’s dreaming face. Blacknail didn’t like it.
“Ah, I thought you might stop by,” Varhs remarked when he looked up and saw the hobgoblin.
A while ago, the goblin had stolen some magic crystals and raised a huge ruckus. Blacknail had heroically tried to catch him, but the little bastard had still managed to annoy Herad. As a result, she had wanted to get rid of Scamp.
Out of the goodness of his heart, and for the promise of a lot of treats from Varhs, Blacknail had agreed to become responsible for training the ugly runt of a goblin.
“I see Scamp still-ss hasn’t run away,” the hobgoblin observed aloud.
The goblin in question woke up and yawned. He noticed the hobgoblin, and a sulky expression appeared on his face. Blacknail didn’t like it.
“My little buddy wouldn’t do that. He’s a loyal companion and a great sniffer. He just needs some discipline,” Varhs remarked as he petted Scamp affectionately.
Saeter had almost never petted him when he had been a goblin! Blacknail would have to remember to give Scamp a good kicking later when Varhs wasn’t around. He was obviously spoiled rotten, and it would be for his own good.
“About-ss that training...” Blacknail slowly drawled.
“Yes, you can have some food. I have a spare egg here and some honeyed fruit tucked away,” Varhs told the hobgoblin with an obvious hint of amusement. Blacknail frowned at the man’s words. Apparently, he had gotten predictable. That wasn’t good. Well, whatever. It couldn’t be helped, if it was about tasty treats.
Several minutes later, the hobgoblin was once again walking through the camp with food in hand. He licked his lips as he sucked on the last bit of sugary fruit in his mouth. It was delicious! However, he was still kind of hungry. Should he go find Geralhd? That man was almost always easy to get food out of, and he tended to have good stuff.
Blacknail decided against it. Saeter would be looking for him; they had practice soon. His master was teaching him how to shoot a bow, and it hadn’t been going all too well.
“There you are. What took you so long? Don’t make me wait for you,” Saeter huffed as Blacknail arrived back at the spot where their tents were set up next to each other.
“Sorry, master,” the hobgoblin replied as he grabbed one of the bows that were laid out next to Saeter’s tent.
Now that lunch was over, the camp was becoming busier. Herad’s minions were getting back to work. The sounds of wood being sawed and hammered filled the forest clearing. It hadn’t been long since the bandits had set up here on top of the old abandoned farmhouse, but a lot of work had been done. Most of the bandits had moved out of their tents or lean-tos and moved into log cabins.
Several more buildings were still being constructed in the clearing. Winter was coming, and this was the North. Tents were fine for the other seasons, but the snow and cold would be deadly in the winter. If Herad wanted most of her minions alive come spring, she had to make sure they were prepared. Food, firewood, and clothing all had to be stockpiled.
Log cabins and barracks weren’t the only thing being built either. Defenses also had to be constructed. Wooden watchtowers had been assembled near the entrance to the camp. Barricades were being built to stop not only attacking monsters from the forest but also people approaching from the road. Herad had plenty of human enemies.
Off to one side of the clearing, there was an area that was still
mostly empty. That was where Blacknail and his master headed. They had set up a series of targets there yesterday.
“Just take your time and stay focused,” Saeter reminded Blacknail.
“No problem-ss, this is easy,” Blacknail replied cheerfully. The hobgoblin was good at everything, so he obviously couldn’t be bad at archery. All those misses and injuries from last time were nothing but flukes.
“Just remember that you have to retrieve any arrows that go astray, so no more shooting at birds,” Saeter reminded him with a glare.
“They looked tasty...” Blacknail muttered to himself in frustration.
“You get more than enough to eat! I’m surprised you’re not completely round by now. Focus on learning to shoot, you big green idiot,” Saeter harshly replied with a scowl.
With a sigh, the hobgoblin strung his bow and nocked an arrow to it. His master didn’t need to call him names, that was mean. Besides, he was still much thinner and prettier than a big fat pink human, and that was unlikely to ever change.
The steel point in front of Blacknail’s eye pointed right toward the red circle that had been painted on the piece of board he was aiming at. With a confident smile, the hobgoblin let the arrow loose. There was a muted thrum as the bowstring vibrated and the projectile whizzed through the air. The arrow raced toward the target and flew right past it without coming within five feet of it.
“I could hit-ss it easily with a rock from a sling...” Blacknail muttered in disappointment.
“Well, I don’t feel the need to stay here and watch this travesty. Just keep shooting until you get a feel for it, if you ever do,” Saeter told the hobgoblin. The old human scout then shook his head and wandered off.
Blacknail took his time lining up his next shot. There was no point in rushing, now that Saeter was gone. He would tire himself out, and it was still early in the day; he had other jobs to do later, like sword training with Vorscha. Life with Saeter was basically a never-ending series of chores, so you needed to know how to pace yourself.
City of Daggers (The Iron Teeth Book 2) Page 1
