I startle awake because of the sharp sounds of birds chirping and a cool breeze caressing my naked loins. My bedding is at least clean or clean looking. My armour and weapons are in a neat pile nearby and hedges hide me from casual observation. So far, so good.
Where are my wives? I dress myself and as I lash and tie the throngs of each piece of armour in place, my anger grows. Kicking through the wilting brush gate, I stomp off into the forest. Mid-morning would be my guess, given the length of tree shade, therefore late.
Each step takes time and allows me to think as my throat runs dry. I stop and take a huge swig of water from one of several water skins I found with my armour and strung across my shoulder. Where am I going and why? I throw my head back and finish the first water skin. What would storming into the Clan village achieve? Yelling and demanding… My wives would not have left me without covering for me. I upend the second water skin and drink. The village isn’t the proper destination, nor the new farming land, otherwise, I would be there already, first thing, like yesterday and the day before that, after breaking my fast at sunrise. No, I must have decided something else was more important and delegated my wives to supervise the planting…
“Nudia,” I call.
I guess she would be the only one my wives would trust as a go-between and since I attended to her entire tribe last night, there would be a more than decent chance that I have some favours owed to me.
“Yes, master?”
I locate her by listening, easing her way through a tangle of brush off to my right. An exaggerated delicate hand push against a branch here, then an overly generous sway of the body around another branch there, all in slow noise-making motion… What is going on with her?
“What did my wives tell you to tell me?”
She flicks her eyelids and places a hand on her heart. “Do you think they would trust me with such secrets?” She giggles.
I grab her by her linen shift and growl, “I am not in the mood for games.”
She dangles limp and unrepentant. Her bright morning smile irritating in the extreme. Is she drunk or something? Her hands reach for my neck, while her head strives towards mine.
“Stop this!”
“Is your seed special or every hobgoblin’s seed special?” She quirks her head, goofy smile in place.
“The message?”
She shrugs.
“Which way to the river?” With nothing else to guide me, I believe the easiest thing to do is capitalise on some boar hunting and stir up trouble.
She rolls her head about, which eventually settles in a direction, pointing this out with a limp hand.
I lower her to the ground. Her body is jelly, boneless, and sways.
“I was greedy.” She giggles.
I release my grip on her shift when she seems stable. “How so?” Don’t ask me why I asked her. All I have is an urge to return a polite conversational response, a throwaway question not expecting an answer.
She giggles again. “You took me three times, Lord, filled me right up to overflowing. You did every...”
My hand is over her mouth before she can finish. Dropping my hand and taking a step away, I pause and then shake my head at her lidded eyes and flirtatious dreamy smile. What is done, is done, I decide. I half sprint, half jog away from her in the direction she pointed to. Middle of the afternoon I hear the tumbling of water through the forest and hurry, eager to cool myself and drink fresh running water. My nanorobots still crave replenishing after last night; no, this morning’s activity. How many did I service?
---
“I am better now,” I say to myself out loud.
Loincloth only, my bare feet cool in the running water and my nanorobots feast. There is also a secondary purpose, my appearance of vulnerability, deliberate, as I am trying to attract a certain prey. Nudia’s appearance beside me is a surprise. When I left her, she could have easily bumped into a tree and knocked herself out before doing anything sane.
“Are you here to assist or annoy?”
She snuggles against me. “I apologise, master, except your seed is…” I feel her head do circles on my arm. “Is wonderful. We convinced the old crone to sample some, and she keeled over, her eyes wide open. We thought her dead and then she demanded more… Her son, the one you met at the campfire, was called to drag her away.”
Oh sheet, now what has my seed started, or to be more exact, the nanorobots contained within?
“Start skinning my boar.”
She separates from me and looks about. “I don’t see or smell one Lord, also, even if I did, I don’t know how.”
“Fetch my boots. I guess we will have to hunt for one…” My broad smirk is a reward in itself.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Her pleading eyes look into mine once she stands.
“Possibly. Depends on how well you act as bait.”
She fetches my boots. “How? I won’t attract boars, master, will I?”
Grabbing the pair, I add them to my cloak, currently full of my weapons and armour, and tie a knot by gathering the four corners together. I shove the bundle into her arms and scoping her up; I stand and begin fording the river barefoot, wearing a loincloth.
“Lord, please don’t drop me. I… I will drown. Please don’t let me drown. I carry your valuable seed, your future lineage, your hobgoblin child.”
I could reply, suggesting, for example, the fertile females of her entire tribe do, and losing one is probably insignificant. I remain silent initially because I want to avoid any conversation as I am uncertain of her state of mind, but then I think of another reason: I don’t want to know how many goblins I seeded, how many sons and daughters I have conceived.
Middle of the river, I place her upon my shoulders, the depth eventually reaching below my nose before reducing and we are across. Perfect. There will be no quick retreat, anyone can trap us. How could I make such a basic mistake? I shiver, of course, yet the sun’s warmth is pleasant and fast-acting as a gentle breeze dries off my body before the wind chill becomes a significant factor.
Plucking her off my shoulders, I then drop to my haunches and look into her eyes. “I need you to trust me.” She slowly nods. “To hobgoblins, you are worthless, so if, by chance, one captures you, don’t resist.” She nods again. “I promise to rescue you if need be, but I am certain it won’t come to that. They will ask you to say and possibly do things, do them. Nothing you do will place me in any more danger than I place myself.”
“Master?”
I take my cloak bundle from her. “Remember, you are bait, nothing more. Do nothing more. Now run through the forest nearby and try to find me a boar.”
“Master?”
I undo the knot and release my armour and weapons. “You feel stronger, faster now? More than yesterday?”
She grins and twists her body slightly. “Yessss, my wonderful master.”
“Well. Let us test this out. Off you go then.”
She dashes off and then halts before entering the brush proper, taking a long look back at me. Her threadbare shift flapping in the breeze as if waving goodbye. I armour up as I hear her yell and crash through the forest in an ever-widening semi-circle from my position. I chuckle. This will probably chase any boars further away if they don’t simply ignore her, yet she isn’t a bait for boars.
Blowing on the fire pit embers to make them glow, my head looks up when her yelping stops. Contact then, and I am sprinting along the river shore.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
Her ever-increasing semi-circle accustomed me to distance and direction. I am reasonably confident I can run along the river and circle wide to approach her captors from the landward side. This should avoid any ambush set for someone rushing in from the riverward side, which is my ideal goal.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
This will rely on speed. I must arrive before they suspect I either have no interest in their goblin captive, a very reasonable assumption for a hobgoblin or worse, I am playing a trick of some sort, which I am. With my nanorobots sated by water, my body rejuvenated by rest, I push myself to an athletic extreme…
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
Her voice is also a measure of distance. The closer I am, the easier to hear and the more cautious I approach, exchanging speed for stealth.
“What was that?”
Laughter. “Probably all the game, which her yelling and stomping disturbed before we caught her,” replies a second.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
“Yeah, he will approach from the river,” says a third.
I creep forward.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
“He isn’t coming, she is worthless to him,” the first grumbles.
“Maybe he isn’t as dumb as we think. He stalks forward rather than crashing through the brush…”
Laughter.
“A town hobgoblin? A youth at that?” offers a fourth voice.
“Well, he slew and captured boar two days running.” Back to the first voice.
They have set up well. Nudia, legs and arms are bound, tied to a stake in the ground in the middle of a game trail. A hobgoblin watches her and is also the rear guard. Another hunter positions himself further along, on my left-hand side if charging in from the river. Then further along again, where the game trail curves, waits another hobgoblin on either side, with bows ready for an opening volley after I dash past them. All hidden from anyone approaching from the riverside direction with eyes forward.
The rearguard has my dagger around his throat before he realises much else. “Quiet or death?”
He swallows with a gulp. I feel like asking them to ‘take me to their leader’, but I fear the meaning of my request would be lost in translation. I drag him back out of his cover and then nudge him forward, towards Nudia. Her ears, of course, have heard my words to my prisoner, so she keeps yelling as per their instructions.
I cut the leather cord tying Nudia to the stake while hiding behind my prisoner, who I have forced into a crouching position. I hold his dagger steady in my left hand while she saws at the leather cord binding her hands.
“What are you doing there, Gorgrin… what the!” He leaps from the cover spear at the ready. “Zolag and Zorg, we have company.”
Nudia’s hands are free, and I leave her with the dagger and pay more attention to the three now gathering before me. Zolag and Zorg, mm, twins? They have their bows drawn at me, yet Gorgrin, bless his generous girth, easily shields my slim, youthful body from them. The spear-carrier tries to edge off the game trail.
“Stay on the trail, otherwise Gorgrin here will bleed.”
“Stay behind me, slave. Use your ears. Any others?”
Nudia casts me a venomous look, and then I grin. Her face transforms, and a knowing look rolls down her face.
“No master, this pathetic slave can hear no others, except a distant boar rutting.” Her rutting comment and salacious grin are a return serve for my slave remark, and I need to stifle a chuckle. Her legs are free, and she holds the dagger as if trained to use the weapon, although more of a sword stance. I shake my head and because of her fumbling act, the weapon falls to the ground, which she then picks up awkwardly.
“Stab your master and we will free you,” shouts the spear-carrier.
I sigh in his direction, and he shrugs in reply. “Is there anyone important I can discuss a deal with, negotiate terms?”
“We are Clan Beastbane snotling, we don’t gather for an evening to chat about our day, we hunt for days on end and return when our sacks are full of game and not before.”
I whisper to my captive, “Is he the smart one?” I then say aloud, “I am certainly feeling less of a hobgoblin now given your scathing description of me, so well done to you. Now, who can I speak to?”
The twins release the tension on their bows and chuckle.
“Shut up you two,” shouts the spear-carrier, turning his head towards them. “You do better if you think you can.”
I whisper again, “I could remove him from your clan, so his seed doesn’t spread to infect others. Simply nod and I will throw your dagger at his ear, which he kindly shows me.”
His head shakes once. “He is Clan Head Jarlgren’s son, Morgren. I doubt the Clan Head will suffer your existence if you slay him.”
“Right.” I let his dagger fly.
Morgren staggers and stares back at me and then collapses.
“Sheet!” shouts the twins in unison as they rush over to Morgren.
“Is he still alive?” I ask. “I am counting on him having a thick skull to go along with his dull brain.”
Their heads bob up and down, and their faces display an extreme amount of relief, to the point they fall back on their bottoms, wiping their brows.
“What are they doing? Why aren’t they at least pretending to guard against me?”
“If you take their lives, their deaths would probably be fast, clean. His father would skin them alive if they died while under their protection.”
That seems a more than adequate answer, I decide.
“Why are you being so informative?”
He shrugs. “I am one of the many bastards of Jarlgren. I hoped to rise when he does.” He nods in Morgren’s direction. “But alas, I doubt my chances if a whelp, such as yourself, can outsmart the four of us.”
“Slave, bind his arms and legs.”
“Master?”
I go to kick Nudia but miss deliberately, of course. “Stand still when I need to punish you for disobedience!” I growl.
She dances away, a leather cord in her hands towards Morgren. Zolag and Zorg lean forward, I assume, trying to stand.
“Sit back, both of you.”
They frown. Wondering what I can do to stop them from grabbing my slave and threatening me with her death or offering her in exchange for Gorgrin. Then it occurs to me, could ‘gren’ apply to legitimate sons, while ‘grin’ to bastards. Just need confirmation now.
“If you capture her, you will need to kill her, because I won’t surrender my position for her. Just pissed off, as I will need to purchase and train another goblin slave,” I say. They relax.
Once bound, Nudia skips back to me. “Did I do good master? Did I?” I try to kick her again, without success. “Aw, master, I deserve encouragement, at least sometimes…” She drops her bottom lip.
My prisoner turns his head towards me slightly. “Are you certain you trained her, right?”
“It is a fine line. Train them only to obey and they do nothing unless you tell them directly. Offer them some latitude and with the sass comes some independent thought.”
“Zolag and Zorg, make a stretcher for Morgren, please.”
They stare back at me, so I explain the construction. By the time they finish, Morgen murmurs and rolls about, eyes blinking. Before he even tries to struggle against his bonds, I tell him to stop. Zolag and Zorg shift him onto the stretcher.
“Can I trust you not to do anything stupid? In exchange, if I make a deal with Jarlgren, I will cut you in as best I can. I don’t know him, so I don’t want to offer you anything without limits.”
Gorgrin doesn’t answer for a time as we watch the twins gather weapons and backpacks and place them on the stretcher as well.
“You are not who you seem, are you?”
“Of course, I am,” I reply.
During his thinking time, his head was down, ever so slightly. I glance around his body and at his face and follow his eyes. He has been watching Nudia all this time.
“You are not her master. She is your willing, perhaps wilful servant. Perhaps does more on chilly nights…”
Nudia’s head snaps around to catch us both staring at her. “What master? I am busy helping you with your grand plan. See, I help load the stretcher.”
“The offer still stands, although if you harm her, you will find out about the depth of our relationship,” I murmur.
“In that case, I not only agree to accept your offer but also swear blood oath loyalty to you,” he grunts.
Blood oath loyalty… What is that? Do I ask?
“Zolag and Zorg, over here,” he calls. To me, he whispers, “Release me please and return my dagger.”
Nudia looks my way and I nod. He takes a sidestep as Nudia places his dagger in his hand, handle first. An answer to his questioning look can come later.
“I have agreed to swear a blood oath loyalty to…?”
“Lord Klar,” answers Nudia.
He smiles at her. “To Lord Klar and I wish for you to bear witness, I do this of my own free will.”
In unison, the twins shake their heads. “Jarlgren, won’t be pleased. While he doesn’t treasure his bastards like his acknowledged sons, he could still acknowledge you, given time. Are you certain you wish to bind your fate to this youth?”
“There are several bastards older than me and several bastards younger than me. Above all Clan Heads, this world blesses my father with sons. I am going nowhere waiting, so yes, I have agreed to bind my future to Lord Klar.”
They snicker. “Well, at least you know his reputation if you need any females seeded, although according to the stories I expected him to be… erm, larger? Older? Anything but the hobgoblin standing before us.”
Nudia’s face twists and before she voices her opinion in my defence, I reach out to slap her. Which she dodges.
“I am decided. I just need you to bear witness.”
They each lay a hand on his shoulder and murmur agreement.
Gorgrin slices across the palm of his hand to draw blood, and I follow his lead. His hand, larger than mine, swallows mine in a firm grip. Our handshake ‘hangs’ for an awkward amount of time as he tries to best me without success. I apply enough strength to match his only and even this surprises him. Then we release, no words exchanged, simply a witnessed mixing of blood and we are done.
“Grab the stretcher and lead on Zolag and Zorg,” I say.
As they hoist the stretcher, Morgren speaks. “You are a fool, Gorgrin. Our father will not be pleased and look at what you have bound yourself to and who you now call your Lord. Gorgrin!”
My blood oath-bound partner ignores his half-brother. With a furrowed brow, he concentrates on placing one foot after the other. I glance at Nudia, and she places a hand over her mouth. I have shared seed and blood with female hobgoblins and goblins. Without knowing I shared seed with one hobgoblin, but Gorgrin, I am certain, is the first hobgoblin I have shared blood with.
The twins lower the stretcher and swap facing. Morgren now looks ahead, not behind. He complains and subject Zolag and Zorg to cursing and threats which they ignore and continue. We climb into forested foothills by the end of a long day and call a halt before dusk. Nudia races to collect firewood, while Zolag and Zorg fish out cured meat and what I know as potatoes.
Nudia takes over the cooking, surprising me as much as my willing and unwilling companions with the pleasant taste and solid consistency. With full stomachs, we swig water from waterskins and relax around a blazing campfire.
“Gorgrin, watch the twins and Morgren while I take my slave into the night and beat her for her insolence today.”
“Err, yes Lord.”
Nudia and I reach the edge of the campfire when she stops. I take another step and turn to face her.
“Master, if you pound my loins senseless, I promise to be a better slave tomorrow!”
I am speechless, as in no words. I go to shape my hands to throttle her and drop them, striding into the dark instead.
---
“Gorgrin, this is a mistake. Allow the twins to ambush him and his slave, free me and I will speak to father on your behalf.”
“I have sworn a blood oath of loyalty. If I break this, none in Clan Beastbane will trust me. Most will try to slay me on sight. There is nothing you or our father can offer to improve my situation. I am all in with Lord Klar. There is no turning back for me. You know this, why do you waste your breath?”
Moments of silence pass by.
“I can’t return to father like this. I will be a laughingstock. My brothers will remind me until the end of my days how a whelp captured me. And you two, why did you let this happen?”
“When he threw the dagger, we thought the worst, everything else unimportant…”
“No, no, no! You feared my father and the bringing of a corpse back to him. Instead, you bring a trussed-up son, like an animal, to be tamed. What would I give now to have simply ignored the mad yelling goblin…?”
Gorgrin speaks up, “Your younger half-brother Vormgren did.”
---
“They say no more, master.”
I kiss Nudia on her forehead and suffer her pouting. “Let us return. I wonder how I can free Morgren yet trust him not to do something stupid?”
“He seems slow for a Clan Head’s son…”
“There was a younger half-brother who ignored you, which means, given our pace, he could be in ambush ahead of us, or, if smarter than Morgren raced ahead to ensure they gather sufficient numbers to overwhelm us. We must be on our guard from now on, slave.”
As we approach the camp, Nudia comments, “I could do with another pounding master. I am certain to misbehave in the future and if you are dead, you won’t be able to punish me.”
Gorgrin almost loses his balance he is laughing so hard. The twins gaze at Nudia and I, dumbfounded as we close in on the camp. I take a spot around the campfire and get comfortable. Nudia leaps into my lap, curling up like a pet.
“Zolag and Zorg, what can I make Morgren swear upon so that if I free him, he won’t do anything stupid to force me to kill him?”
“Nothing Lord Klar. Blood Oath Loyalty is absolute. Anything less depends on honour.”
Morgren growls under his breath, “Do you doubt my honour? I will swear to you, Lord Klar, I will not break any peace with you until after you have spoken to my father.”
“Zolag and Zorg, do I have to bind you both tonight? Or will you swear to act with honour? If attacked by anything, I think we would all be safer with your bows.”
“We swear to keep the peace and defend the camp, Lord Klar.”
“Good. Please take the first watch and last watch. Gorgrin can take second, while I will take third. Ensure the campfire remains alight throughout the night.”
Nudia bounces up from my lap and rushes to our bedroll, holding up a blanket to allow me to settle in with ease. Without checking, I am certain four sets of hobgoblin eyes look on with distasteful envy. How could any proper hobgoblin invite a goblin into their bed?
---
“They approach, master.”
Pre-dawn. So predictable.
“At least ten, master,” whispers Nudia.
“Have you been wishing beyond hope, while awake, in your dreams for better hearing, my slave?”
“Yes, master.” A sniff.
“At least ten? Is that the best you can do?”
“They are stealthy for hobgoblins, master. Clan Beastbane hunters, I am certain.”
I pat her head. “Alright, sneak close to Morgren. Cut his bindings and ensure you keep a dagger to his throat.”
“Yes, master, I created a hide amongst the backpacks near his neck and head while you were on watch.”
I pat her head again. As she slinks off, circling Zolag or Zorg, I wait to be captured.
---
The cold steel slides across my throat and I remain perfectly still.
“Wake up or never wake up,” growls my assailant.
“Hello,” I answer with a chirp in my voice. “My name is Lord Klar. What would your name be?”
“Clan Head Jarlgren and you have held my son captive for one heartbeat too long.”
I ease myself into a standing position. Two other hobgoblins grab an arm each and I join Gorgrin, Zolag and Zorg, who stand in a group looking down upon Morgren. Six hunter hobgoblins stand beside us, Jarlgren off to one side, while three others stand in the shadow beyond the campfire light. What do we have to fear here, I wonder?
“Stand, son, and greet your father,” says Jarlgren.
“Not just yet, father.”
“What? Are you injured? I will flay this Lord Klar alive if…”
“No father, I have a dagger point in my ear! One thrust and I fear for my life.”
His voice cracks… Did Nudia draw some blood? I put my hand up… slowly.
Jarlgren notices and turns to face me. “What do you know?”
“I need you to swear on your honour that you will hear out a proposal I have for you. After which, well, I guess, we can renegotiate?”
“If I swear this, you swear to remove the knife from my son?”
“Yes.”
“What if I decide here and now, to slay you, accepting the loss of one of my many sons and perhaps legitimising Gorgrin to replace him?”
“That is your choice. My offer has no value to you until you have heard it, so I will accept my fate because I judged the great Clan Head Jarlgren poorly.”
He strokes his chin. “Clan Head Zinmog doesn’t speak highly of you. Clan Head Krilzak believes you have swindled him in some way, yet is hard-pressed to prove what he feels in his very bones is true.”
“I don’t believe Clan Head Jarlgren gives a cured hide toss what other Clan Heads think or believe. He makes up his own mind based upon his own judgement.”
His smile is predatory, teeth just so, eyes piercing, lining up the kill…
“I swear on my honour to hear out your proposal for the freedom and life of my son,” he states. Looking around, he then adds, “You of my personal hunt will all bear witness and attest to my part.”
They grunt in unison, and then he flashes me a fake welcoming smile. I think I prefer the predatory one. I expect to be eaten with that one and can prepare. What does a fake welcome mean?
“Slave, drop the dagger and join your master.”
Morgren jumps away from the backpacks and races to his feet while back-peddling from the stretcher. I feel Nudia hug me, her arms around my waist, clinging, yet her eyes are down, and she is silent, not a quip or a single word from her.
Clan Head Jarlgren takes a step back and then, recovering in a split heartbeat, returns to his original position. “You have a pest with you?” he growls, his eyes squinting.
“What you call pest, I call cook, foot warmer, footrest, campsite attendant, decoy, bait…” I pause. “I am certain there are more uses, but they escape me for now.”
He interrupts his look of disgust to check on his son, who keeps glancing at my pet pest, off and on from afar.
I startle awake because of the sharp sounds of birds chirping and a cool breeze caressing my naked loins. My bedding is at least clean or clean looking. My armour and weapons are in a neat pile nearby and hedges hide me from casual observation. So far, so good.
Where are my wives? I dress myself and as I lash and tie the throngs of each piece of armour in place, my anger grows. Kicking through the wilting brush gate, I stomp off into the forest. Mid-morning would be my guess, given the length of tree shade, therefore late.
Each step takes time and allows me to think as my throat runs dry. I stop and take a huge swig of water from one of several water skins I found with my armour and strung across my shoulder. Where am I going and why? I throw my head back and finish the first water skin. What would storming into the Clan village achieve? Yelling and demanding… My wives would not have left me without covering for me. I upend the second water skin and drink. The village isn’t the proper destination, nor the new farming land, otherwise, I would be there already, first thing, like yesterday and the day before that, after breaking my fast at sunrise. No, I must have decided something else was more important and delegated my wives to supervise the planting…
“Nudia,” I call.
I guess she would be the only one my wives would trust as a go-between and since I attended to her entire tribe last night, there would be a more than decent chance that I have some favours owed to me.
“Yes, master?”
I locate her by listening, easing her way through a tangle of brush off to my right. An exaggerated delicate hand push against a branch here, then an overly generous sway of the body around another branch there, all in slow noise-making motion… What is going on with her?
“What did my wives tell you to tell me?”
She flicks her eyelids and places a hand on her heart. “Do you think they would trust me with such secrets?” She giggles.
I grab her by her linen shift and growl, “I am not in the mood for games.”
She dangles limp and unrepentant. Her bright morning smile irritating in the extreme. Is she drunk or something? Her hands reach for my neck, while her head strives towards mine.
“Stop this!”
“Is your seed special or every hobgoblin’s seed special?” She quirks her head, goofy smile in place.
“The message?”
She shrugs.
“Which way to the river?” With nothing else to guide me, I believe the easiest thing to do is capitalise on some boar hunting and stir up trouble.
She rolls her head about, which eventually settles in a direction, pointing this out with a limp hand.
I lower her to the ground. Her body is jelly, boneless, and sways.
“I was greedy.” She giggles.
I release my grip on her shift when she seems stable. “How so?” Don’t ask me why I asked her. All I have is an urge to return a polite conversational response, a throwaway question not expecting an answer.
She giggles again. “You took me three times, Lord, filled me right up to overflowing. You did every...”
My hand is over her mouth before she can finish. Dropping my hand and taking a step away, I pause and then shake my head at her lidded eyes and flirtatious dreamy smile. What is done, is done, I decide. I half sprint, half jog away from her in the direction she pointed to. Middle of the afternoon I hear the tumbling of water through the forest and hurry, eager to cool myself and drink fresh running water. My nanorobots still crave replenishing after last night; no, this morning’s activity. How many did I service?
---
“I am better now,” I say to myself out loud.
Loincloth only, my bare feet cool in the running water and my nanorobots feast. There is also a secondary purpose, my appearance of vulnerability, deliberate, as I am trying to attract a certain prey. Nudia’s appearance beside me is a surprise. When I left her, she could have easily bumped into a tree and knocked herself out before doing anything sane.
“Are you here to assist or annoy?”
She snuggles against me. “I apologise, master, except your seed is…” I feel her head do circles on my arm. “Is wonderful. We convinced the old crone to sample some, and she keeled over, her eyes wide open. We thought her dead and then she demanded more… Her son, the one you met at the campfire, was called to drag her away.”
Oh sheet, now what has my seed started, or to be more exact, the nanorobots contained within?
“Start skinning my boar.”
She separates from me and looks about. “I don’t see or smell one Lord, also, even if I did, I don’t know how.”
“Fetch my boots. I guess we will have to hunt for one…” My broad smirk is a reward in itself.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Her pleading eyes look into mine once she stands.
“Possibly. Depends on how well you act as bait.”
She fetches my boots. “How? I won’t attract boars, master, will I?”
Grabbing the pair, I add them to my cloak, currently full of my weapons and armour, and tie a knot by gathering the four corners together. I shove the bundle into her arms and scoping her up; I stand and begin fording the river barefoot, wearing a loincloth.
“Lord, please don’t drop me. I… I will drown. Please don’t let me drown. I carry your valuable seed, your future lineage, your hobgoblin child.”
I could reply, suggesting, for example, the fertile females of her entire tribe do, and losing one is probably insignificant. I remain silent initially because I want to avoid any conversation as I am uncertain of her state of mind, but then I think of another reason: I don’t want to know how many goblins I seeded, how many sons and daughters I have conceived.
Middle of the river, I place her upon my shoulders, the depth eventually reaching below my nose before reducing and we are across. Perfect. There will be no quick retreat, anyone can trap us. How could I make such a basic mistake? I shiver, of course, yet the sun’s warmth is pleasant and fast-acting as a gentle breeze dries off my body before the wind chill becomes a significant factor.
Plucking her off my shoulders, I then drop to my haunches and look into her eyes. “I need you to trust me.” She slowly nods. “To hobgoblins, you are worthless, so if, by chance, one captures you, don’t resist.” She nods again. “I promise to rescue you if need be, but I am certain it won’t come to that. They will ask you to say and possibly do things, do them. Nothing you do will place me in any more danger than I place myself.”
“Master?”
I take my cloak bundle from her. “Remember, you are bait, nothing more. Do nothing more. Now run through the forest nearby and try to find me a boar.”
“Master?”
I undo the knot and release my armour and weapons. “You feel stronger, faster now? More than yesterday?”
She grins and twists her body slightly. “Yessss, my wonderful master.”
“Well. Let us test this out. Off you go then.”
She dashes off and then halts before entering the brush proper, taking a long look back at me. Her threadbare shift flapping in the breeze as if waving goodbye. I armour up as I hear her yell and crash through the forest in an ever-widening semi-circle from my position. I chuckle. This will probably chase any boars further away if they don’t simply ignore her, yet she isn’t a bait for boars.
Blowing on the fire pit embers to make them glow, my head looks up when her yelping stops. Contact then, and I am sprinting along the river shore.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
Her ever-increasing semi-circle accustomed me to distance and direction. I am reasonably confident I can run along the river and circle wide to approach her captors from the landward side. This should avoid any ambush set for someone rushing in from the riverward side, which is my ideal goal.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
This will rely on speed. I must arrive before they suspect I either have no interest in their goblin captive, a very reasonable assumption for a hobgoblin or worse, I am playing a trick of some sort, which I am. With my nanorobots sated by water, my body rejuvenated by rest, I push myself to an athletic extreme…
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
Her voice is also a measure of distance. The closer I am, the easier to hear and the more cautious I approach, exchanging speed for stealth.
“What was that?”
Laughter. “Probably all the game, which her yelling and stomping disturbed before we caught her,” replies a second.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
“Yeah, he will approach from the river,” says a third.
I creep forward.
“Master! Help! I am trapped! Please come quick.”
“He isn’t coming, she is worthless to him,” the first grumbles.
“Maybe he isn’t as dumb as we think. He stalks forward rather than crashing through the brush…”
Laughter.
“A town hobgoblin? A youth at that?” offers a fourth voice.
“Well, he slew and captured boar two days running.” Back to the first voice.
They have set up well. Nudia, legs and arms are bound, tied to a stake in the ground in the middle of a game trail. A hobgoblin watches her and is also the rear guard. Another hunter positions himself further along, on my left-hand side if charging in from the river. Then further along again, where the game trail curves, waits another hobgoblin on either side, with bows ready for an opening volley after I dash past them. All hidden from anyone approaching from the riverside direction with eyes forward.
The rearguard has my dagger around his throat before he realises much else. “Quiet or death?”
He swallows with a gulp. I feel like asking them to ‘take me to their leader’, but I fear the meaning of my request would be lost in translation. I drag him back out of his cover and then nudge him forward, towards Nudia. Her ears, of course, have heard my words to my prisoner, so she keeps yelling as per their instructions.
I cut the leather cord tying Nudia to the stake while hiding behind my prisoner, who I have forced into a crouching position. I hold his dagger steady in my left hand while she saws at the leather cord binding her hands.
“What are you doing there, Gorgrin… what the!” He leaps from the cover spear at the ready. “Zolag and Zorg, we have company.”
Nudia’s hands are free, and I leave her with the dagger and pay more attention to the three now gathering before me. Zolag and Zorg, mm, twins? They have their bows drawn at me, yet Gorgrin, bless his generous girth, easily shields my slim, youthful body from them. The spear-carrier tries to edge off the game trail.
“Stay on the trail, otherwise Gorgrin here will bleed.”
“Stay behind me, slave. Use your ears. Any others?”
Nudia casts me a venomous look, and then I grin. Her face transforms, and a knowing look rolls down her face.
“No master, this pathetic slave can hear no others, except a distant boar rutting.” Her rutting comment and salacious grin are a return serve for my slave remark, and I need to stifle a chuckle. Her legs are free, and she holds the dagger as if trained to use the weapon, although more of a sword stance. I shake my head and because of her fumbling act, the weapon falls to the ground, which she then picks up awkwardly.
“Stab your master and we will free you,” shouts the spear-carrier.
I sigh in his direction, and he shrugs in reply. “Is there anyone important I can discuss a deal with, negotiate terms?”
“We are Clan Beastbane snotling, we don’t gather for an evening to chat about our day, we hunt for days on end and return when our sacks are full of game and not before.”
I whisper to my captive, “Is he the smart one?” I then say aloud, “I am certainly feeling less of a hobgoblin now given your scathing description of me, so well done to you. Now, who can I speak to?”
The twins release the tension on their bows and chuckle.
“Shut up you two,” shouts the spear-carrier, turning his head towards them. “You do better if you think you can.”
I whisper again, “I could remove him from your clan, so his seed doesn’t spread to infect others. Simply nod and I will throw your dagger at his ear, which he kindly shows me.”
His head shakes once. “He is Clan Head Jarlgren’s son, Morgren. I doubt the Clan Head will suffer your existence if you slay him.”
“Right.” I let his dagger fly.
Morgren staggers and stares back at me and then collapses.
“Sheet!” shouts the twins in unison as they rush over to Morgren.
“Is he still alive?” I ask. “I am counting on him having a thick skull to go along with his dull brain.”
Their heads bob up and down, and their faces display an extreme amount of relief, to the point they fall back on their bottoms, wiping their brows.
“What are they doing? Why aren’t they at least pretending to guard against me?”
“If you take their lives, their deaths would probably be fast, clean. His father would skin them alive if they died while under their protection.”
That seems a more than adequate answer, I decide.
“Why are you being so informative?”
He shrugs. “I am one of the many bastards of Jarlgren. I hoped to rise when he does.” He nods in Morgren’s direction. “But alas, I doubt my chances if a whelp, such as yourself, can outsmart the four of us.”
“Slave, bind his arms and legs.”
“Master?”
I go to kick Nudia but miss deliberately, of course. “Stand still when I need to punish you for disobedience!” I growl.
She dances away, a leather cord in her hands towards Morgren. Zolag and Zorg lean forward, I assume, trying to stand.
“Sit back, both of you.”
They frown. Wondering what I can do to stop them from grabbing my slave and threatening me with her death or offering her in exchange for Gorgrin. Then it occurs to me, could ‘gren’ apply to legitimate sons, while ‘grin’ to bastards. Just need confirmation now.
“If you capture her, you will need to kill her, because I won’t surrender my position for her. Just pissed off, as I will need to purchase and train another goblin slave,” I say. They relax.
Once bound, Nudia skips back to me. “Did I do good master? Did I?” I try to kick her again, without success. “Aw, master, I deserve encouragement, at least sometimes…” She drops her bottom lip.
My prisoner turns his head towards me slightly. “Are you certain you trained her, right?”
“It is a fine line. Train them only to obey and they do nothing unless you tell them directly. Offer them some latitude and with the sass comes some independent thought.”
“Zolag and Zorg, make a stretcher for Morgren, please.”
They stare back at me, so I explain the construction. By the time they finish, Morgen murmurs and rolls about, eyes blinking. Before he even tries to struggle against his bonds, I tell him to stop. Zolag and Zorg shift him onto the stretcher.
“Can I trust you not to do anything stupid? In exchange, if I make a deal with Jarlgren, I will cut you in as best I can. I don’t know him, so I don’t want to offer you anything without limits.”
Gorgrin doesn’t answer for a time as we watch the twins gather weapons and backpacks and place them on the stretcher as well.
“You are not who you seem, are you?”
“Of course, I am,” I reply.
During his thinking time, his head was down, ever so slightly. I glance around his body and at his face and follow his eyes. He has been watching Nudia all this time.
“You are not her master. She is your willing, perhaps wilful servant. Perhaps does more on chilly nights…”
Nudia’s head snaps around to catch us both staring at her. “What master? I am busy helping you with your grand plan. See, I help load the stretcher.”
“The offer still stands, although if you harm her, you will find out about the depth of our relationship,” I murmur.
“In that case, I not only agree to accept your offer but also swear blood oath loyalty to you,” he grunts.
Blood oath loyalty… What is that? Do I ask?
“Zolag and Zorg, over here,” he calls. To me, he whispers, “Release me please and return my dagger.”
Nudia looks my way and I nod. He takes a sidestep as Nudia places his dagger in his hand, handle first. An answer to his questioning look can come later.
“I have agreed to swear a blood oath loyalty to…?”
“Lord Klar,” answers Nudia.
He smiles at her. “To Lord Klar and I wish for you to bear witness, I do this of my own free will.”
In unison, the twins shake their heads. “Jarlgren, won’t be pleased. While he doesn’t treasure his bastards like his acknowledged sons, he could still acknowledge you, given time. Are you certain you wish to bind your fate to this youth?”
“There are several bastards older than me and several bastards younger than me. Above all Clan Heads, this world blesses my father with sons. I am going nowhere waiting, so yes, I have agreed to bind my future to Lord Klar.”
They snicker. “Well, at least you know his reputation if you need any females seeded, although according to the stories I expected him to be… erm, larger? Older? Anything but the hobgoblin standing before us.”
Nudia’s face twists and before she voices her opinion in my defence, I reach out to slap her. Which she dodges.
“I am decided. I just need you to bear witness.”
They each lay a hand on his shoulder and murmur agreement.
Gorgrin slices across the palm of his hand to draw blood, and I follow his lead. His hand, larger than mine, swallows mine in a firm grip. Our handshake ‘hangs’ for an awkward amount of time as he tries to best me without success. I apply enough strength to match his only and even this surprises him. Then we release, no words exchanged, simply a witnessed mixing of blood and we are done.
“Grab the stretcher and lead on Zolag and Zorg,” I say.
As they hoist the stretcher, Morgren speaks. “You are a fool, Gorgrin. Our father will not be pleased and look at what you have bound yourself to and who you now call your Lord. Gorgrin!”
My blood oath-bound partner ignores his half-brother. With a furrowed brow, he concentrates on placing one foot after the other. I glance at Nudia, and she places a hand over her mouth. I have shared seed and blood with female hobgoblins and goblins. Without knowing I shared seed with one hobgoblin, but Gorgrin, I am certain, is the first hobgoblin I have shared blood with.
The twins lower the stretcher and swap facing. Morgren now looks ahead, not behind. He complains and subject Zolag and Zorg to cursing and threats which they ignore and continue. We climb into forested foothills by the end of a long day and call a halt before dusk. Nudia races to collect firewood, while Zolag and Zorg fish out cured meat and what I know as potatoes.
Nudia takes over the cooking, surprising me as much as my willing and unwilling companions with the pleasant taste and solid consistency. With full stomachs, we swig water from waterskins and relax around a blazing campfire.
“Gorgrin, watch the twins and Morgren while I take my slave into the night and beat her for her insolence today.”
“Err, yes Lord.”
Nudia and I reach the edge of the campfire when she stops. I take another step and turn to face her.
“Master, if you pound my loins senseless, I promise to be a better slave tomorrow!”
I am speechless, as in no words. I go to shape my hands to throttle her and drop them, striding into the dark instead.
---
“Gorgrin, this is a mistake. Allow the twins to ambush him and his slave, free me and I will speak to father on your behalf.”
“I have sworn a blood oath of loyalty. If I break this, none in Clan Beastbane will trust me. Most will try to slay me on sight. There is nothing you or our father can offer to improve my situation. I am all in with Lord Klar. There is no turning back for me. You know this, why do you waste your breath?”
Moments of silence pass by.
“I can’t return to father like this. I will be a laughingstock. My brothers will remind me until the end of my days how a whelp captured me. And you two, why did you let this happen?”
“When he threw the dagger, we thought the worst, everything else unimportant…”
“No, no, no! You feared my father and the bringing of a corpse back to him. Instead, you bring a trussed-up son, like an animal, to be tamed. What would I give now to have simply ignored the mad yelling goblin…?”
Gorgrin speaks up, “Your younger half-brother Vormgren did.”
---
“They say no more, master.”
I kiss Nudia on her forehead and suffer her pouting. “Let us return. I wonder how I can free Morgren yet trust him not to do something stupid?”
“He seems slow for a Clan Head’s son…”
“There was a younger half-brother who ignored you, which means, given our pace, he could be in ambush ahead of us, or, if smarter than Morgren raced ahead to ensure they gather sufficient numbers to overwhelm us. We must be on our guard from now on, slave.”
As we approach the camp, Nudia comments, “I could do with another pounding master. I am certain to misbehave in the future and if you are dead, you won’t be able to punish me.”
Gorgrin almost loses his balance he is laughing so hard. The twins gaze at Nudia and I, dumbfounded as we close in on the camp. I take a spot around the campfire and get comfortable. Nudia leaps into my lap, curling up like a pet.
“Zolag and Zorg, what can I make Morgren swear upon so that if I free him, he won’t do anything stupid to force me to kill him?”
“Nothing Lord Klar. Blood Oath Loyalty is absolute. Anything less depends on honour.”
Morgren growls under his breath, “Do you doubt my honour? I will swear to you, Lord Klar, I will not break any peace with you until after you have spoken to my father.”
“Zolag and Zorg, do I have to bind you both tonight? Or will you swear to act with honour? If attacked by anything, I think we would all be safer with your bows.”
“We swear to keep the peace and defend the camp, Lord Klar.”
“Good. Please take the first watch and last watch. Gorgrin can take second, while I will take third. Ensure the campfire remains alight throughout the night.”
Nudia bounces up from my lap and rushes to our bedroll, holding up a blanket to allow me to settle in with ease. Without checking, I am certain four sets of hobgoblin eyes look on with distasteful envy. How could any proper hobgoblin invite a goblin into their bed?
---
“They approach, master.”
Pre-dawn. So predictable.
“At least ten, master,” whispers Nudia.
“Have you been wishing beyond hope, while awake, in your dreams for better hearing, my slave?”
“Yes, master.” A sniff.
“At least ten? Is that the best you can do?”
“They are stealthy for hobgoblins, master. Clan Beastbane hunters, I am certain.”
I pat her head. “Alright, sneak close to Morgren. Cut his bindings and ensure you keep a dagger to his throat.”
“Yes, master, I created a hide amongst the backpacks near his neck and head while you were on watch.”
I pat her head again. As she slinks off, circling Zolag or Zorg, I wait to be captured.
---
The cold steel slides across my throat and I remain perfectly still.
“Wake up or never wake up,” growls my assailant.
“Hello,” I answer with a chirp in my voice. “My name is Lord Klar. What would your name be?”
“Clan Head Jarlgren and you have held my son captive for one heartbeat too long.”
I ease myself into a standing position. Two other hobgoblins grab an arm each and I join Gorgrin, Zolag and Zorg, who stand in a group looking down upon Morgren. Six hunter hobgoblins stand beside us, Jarlgren off to one side, while three others stand in the shadow beyond the campfire light. What do we have to fear here, I wonder?
“Stand, son, and greet your father,” says Jarlgren.
“Not just yet, father.”
“What? Are you injured? I will flay this Lord Klar alive if…”
“No father, I have a dagger point in my ear! One thrust and I fear for my life.”
His voice cracks… Did Nudia draw some blood? I put my hand up… slowly.
Jarlgren notices and turns to face me. “What do you know?”
“I need you to swear on your honour that you will hear out a proposal I have for you. After which, well, I guess, we can renegotiate?”
“If I swear this, you swear to remove the knife from my son?”
“Yes.”
“What if I decide here and now, to slay you, accepting the loss of one of my many sons and perhaps legitimising Gorgrin to replace him?”
“That is your choice. My offer has no value to you until you have heard it, so I will accept my fate because I judged the great Clan Head Jarlgren poorly.”
He strokes his chin. “Clan Head Zinmog doesn’t speak highly of you. Clan Head Krilzak believes you have swindled him in some way, yet is hard-pressed to prove what he feels in his very bones is true.”
“I don’t believe Clan Head Jarlgren gives a cured hide toss what other Clan Heads think or believe. He makes up his own mind based upon his own judgement.”
His smile is predatory, teeth just so, eyes piercing, lining up the kill…
“I swear on my honour to hear out your proposal for the freedom and life of my son,” he states. Looking around, he then adds, “You of my personal hunt will all bear witness and attest to my part.”
They grunt in unison, and then he flashes me a fake welcoming smile. I think I prefer the predatory one. I expect to be eaten with that one and can prepare. What does a fake welcome mean?
“Slave, drop the dagger and join your master.”
Morgren jumps away from the backpacks and races to his feet while back-peddling from the stretcher. I feel Nudia hug me, her arms around my waist, clinging, yet her eyes are down, and she is silent, not a quip or a single word from her.
Clan Head Jarlgren takes a step back and then, recovering in a split heartbeat, returns to his original position. “You have a pest with you?” he growls, his eyes squinting.
“What you call pest, I call cook, foot warmer, footrest, campsite attendant, decoy, bait…” I pause. “I am certain there are more uses, but they escape me for now.”
He interrupts his look of disgust to check on his son, who keeps glancing at my pet pest, off and on from afar.
