“Ugh!”

I risk a glance in his direction. An arrow transfixes his left wrist stealing any strength to hold his bow, while another arrow spouts from his upper right arm. His eyes search both wounds for an explanation, the confusion plain even with dusk closing in. A torch approaches me casting light upon the field of mud catching the Hunter Hob and projecting his silhouette against the cottage nearby. The waving inconsistent firelight from the torch is like a signal to him as his face hardens into resolve, his body responding by turning away and taking the first step. His second is a stumble as an arrow pierces his thigh, the fall propelling him into the side of the cottage he hid beside.

A goblin hand reaches out to me, and I take the offer. Freeing my leg from the mud I note a goblin stands over the Hunter Hob, an arrow drawn. I recognise the voice of the goblin with the torch and while not entirely necessary, helps me out of my predicament.

“Well met Zoria, I thought I ordered Duzsia to keep the Quest Party together to guard the warehouse?”

“She must have misunderstood Lord, she thought you were ordering those pregnant to stay. The hysterical cook insisted you needed help, so I and Kor were sent to protect you from yourself. Lord.”

I shake my right leg flinging some mud away. “From myself?”

“Your wife thought it folly, upon dusk, to search for anyone let alone a sneaky conniving goblin when the night was almost upon you … erm, her words Lord, I am but the messenger.”

I cast my eyes towards Kor, unable to confirm her identity given the poor light yet she is guarding the whimpering Hunter Hob to the exclusion of all else. I frown in thought, my plan hasn’t changed, for the wounds I have suffered I need to reach the river, to drink water and allow the water to wash over me. With water available to them, my nanorobots will succeed all the better.

“You don’t have time for a prisoner? Lord.”

I shake my head, deep in thought of what to ultimately do and too late I notice Zoria draw a finger across her throat. Mouth open, and before I can shout Kor releases, and the Hunter Hob grunts.

“I didn’t …” I say weakly.

“He may still be alive …” she says with doubt. Zoria then shakes her head after glancing at Kor. “Sorry Lord, Kor has been practising targeting eyes and from a body length away this is an easy mark for her now.”

There is no anger within me, I doubt he would tell me much more and what does it matter. As near as I can make out all the Hobs from the valley over are dead and all the Hobs in this valley except for me are dead. Is this now victory?

I wave Kor over and once beside me I wrap an arm around her and Koria’s shoulders. I suspect tiredness from blood loss.

“Help me to the river, not the ford, go directly East.”

Both nod and assist. Once past the immediate block of cottages, we cross another pathway and further along, another pathway directly East materialises heading towards the river. Torchlight spills across the bank of the river, sand, and clay with a huge stone outcrop nudging into the river. A perfect fishing spot, high and dry, allowing a narrowing of the river ever so slightly to drop a line in.

“Lower me down.”

I groan as I finally rest upon my buttocks.

“Kor, hold the torch close, Zoria grab the arrow shaft in my upper chest and pull it put.”

“Lord, the blood loss, we have no bandages …”

I wave her concern away. “I have a secret, the water in the river will be enough, now pull the arrow out please.” I didn’t mean to be short, but in a moment like this, I know best.

She places a leg on either side of my hips and leans forward to grasp the shaft. She shares a look of concern with me and then pulls. A sucking sound and then I feel the arrowhead catch on the ring mail for a moment and then nothing. I breathe in deeply controlling the urge to scream and manage by the slimmest of margins to hold in the pain. The trickle of warm blood down my chest is not a good sign.

“Lift the ring mail from me.” I lift my bottom up using my arms trying to ignore the protest in the form of pain shooting from my chest. After Kor plants the torch in the riverbank of sand and clay, both goblins roll up the ring mail until past my hips and with a gasp of relief, I sit once again. I raise my arms as they both continue to lift the ring mail over my chest and then head. I point my arms forward towards them and with one last tug, the ring mail is off me.

“Good, good. Now cut away the remains of my shirt and remove my leather pants.”

“Lord?” they both ask.

“I need to immerse myself in the water, now hurry.” The flow of blood from my arrow wound hasn’t stopped, my nanorobots need water and quickly.

My shirt is cut away, boots off and they tug at the legs of my pants, and I am left in my loincloth. I slide towards the river, and they rush to help. My legs point towards the centre of the river and float, while water washes over my chest. All that remains is for me to keep my head up to prevent drowning. Shortly after a bundle supports my head.

Zoria looks over me. “Your leather pants Lord, there isn’t much else.”

I imagine my nanorobots singing, certainly, my body feels better or at least not suffering.

“Lord. No one knows you are here. I would feel better if at least a Ten Spears or some of your other wives guard you …” voices Zoria.

“I should be safe then if no one knows,” I jest.

“There are still the enemy tribes … they still hold the wall, and no one knows their numbers.” Her head peers about, searching the dark.

“Kor can keep me company, we can talk about her mother some more.”

“I won’t be long Lord.” Zoria hands me my axe and I raise an eyebrow. “You aren’t you, without a weapon in hand Lord.” She then jogs off, quickly out of my sight and beyond the waving circle of torchlight.

The lapping of river water relaxes my flesh and perhaps the frantic activity of my nanorobots lulls my senses. My consciousness drifts yet I know over time I sense I am recovering.

“My mother Lord?” asks Kor.

I am not certain of the passage of time but believe more than a couple of heartbeats as Kor wouldn’t prompt me, her new Lord, our relationship such as it is, fresh, without first building up significant courage.

The first intruder must have been overeager, celebrating before victory and because of her folly, Kor scrambles to the edge of the firelight while releasing an arrow in the direction of the rustling long grass. A yelp of surprise indicates at least a hit. I roll into the river to escape the circle of torchlight and suffer the sting of an arrow strike my lower back. As I make for the river proper two sets of charging footfalls rush along the riverbank and then nothing. I assume they scan the river for me and therefore make every effort to hold my nose above water and nothing else. My leather pants bundle would provide a hint of where I swam in, so I float downriver slightly with the current. Two speculative arrows strike the water upstream from me.

Traitorous Blood Suns, at least two, probably three of those who auditioned as bodyguards for the Head Hob. I pop my eyes above water and the torchlight illuminates them. An arrow transfixes the throat of one and her gurgling, convulsing body collapses like a puppet after its strings are cut. Before the other can react, I climb to my feet, the river water washing away from my frame and throw my axe as the second reacts drawing her bow and turning towards me. My axes lodges in her chest before she can aim, causing her body to somersault at the river’s edge. Possibly one left if they didn’t recruit others …

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I sink down into the river and then wade towards the shore by digging my hands into the riverbed for purchase and propulsion. My eyes and nose are all that remain above water.

The last rushes from the long grass to the water’s edge peering into the river, arrow ready in her bow, sparing a single glance for my axe sticking out of her companion’s chest and smiling. She believes me unarmed and therefore harmless, which is fine as I assume Kor will be finishing her off and yet nothing.

Finding a rock in the riverbed sand I climb to my knees and discover my prey turning her back to me. Finally, Kor distracts her and with the back of her head as a clear target, I fling my rock with every drop of strength I can muster. The rock lands high between her shoulder blades knocking her down. On my feet in a flash, I race towards my axe, dragging the weapon out of the impromptu flesh sheath holding it and strike down at the prone female goblin splitting her head.

“Kor it is done,” I call, while the flickering torchlight illuminates myself and several corpses. I reach behind me and pull the arrow out of my lower back with a grunt. Warm blood oozes from the wound and then cools.

Silence.

I pluck the torch from the sand and approach where she escaped into the dark. The path is clear of a corpse so where is she?

Twin stabs of pain, either side of my head slicing into the tops of my shoulders amongst my collar bones force a scream from my lips. I stagger under the weight now upon my back and try to reach behind me, yet the strength in my arms is slipping away. The attacker then wraps their legs around my waist, their heels digging in, gaining purchase. I hold the torch in one hand and my axe in the other, more to concentrate, gather my thoughts. Both blades slip out of the shoulder wounds and like lightning pain explodes from my chest as the blades puncture my lungs scrapping rib bone in the same plunging motion. Too late I remember the fishing rock, this must be where my attacker launched from … I heave back with my remaining strength and hear a crunch and gasp of ragged breath. The legs around my waist release and staggering forward I keep both daggers in my chest as prizes.

Careful step after careful step I turn around. I throw the torch to the ground near my attacker. My face contorts in confusion. The leader of the goblins at the warehouse?

“Ha,” he says, black blood bubbling from between his lips and at present, I know exactly how he feels breathing my own shallow wet breaths.

I can’t reply, my nanorobots need more time. Falling to my knees instead, my arm feebly stretches out to cushion the sudden stop.

“You have been all wrong since your first death and I am glad I welcome you to your second. For me of course I will die, yet that is simply a condition. The Ranger Hob sends his greetings. You won’t understand of course but he was me and will be again. Ha!” He spits up more blood.

In that singular moment, I realise the life before me is another Agent, the legitimate Agent of this planet. Upon his death he will return … what of me?

“I will enjoy hunting your women, slaying them one by one …” He says no more.

“Lord!” calls Zoria as she kneels beside me, her hands trying to stanch the blood oozing from my body. Ligia and Karo do better by applying bandages. Why they are with Zoria I haven’t the breath to ask or the lifeblood. He can’t be allowed to die. That thought grips me sending a shudder through my weakening body.

“Zoria,” I hiss, my voice labouring to draw breath through the blood wetting and filling my lungs. “Take some of my blood and feed him with it.”

She hesitates for but a heartbeat, grabbing a blood-soaked bandage from Ligia and squeezing several drops into his mouth.

“More,” I rasp fighting off a gurgle.

“Quiet Lord you must lay still,” urges Ligia.

“Take him to the water,” shouts Zoria. “Now,” she screams as Ligia and Karo stare back confusion upon their faces.

In jerks and starts, they drag my body to the water’s edge. In between Zoria exchanges blood-soaked bandages. The cool of the water laps upon my skin.

“Lord it is done, the enemy now breathes stronger,” says Zoria.

“Now, you must grab a rock and smash his hands, wrists, feet and ankles. When done you must swear, he will only die from old age, care and feed him as if you and your sister's lives do depend upon him living because it does …” My eyes burn into hers.

Ligia and Karo suck in deep breaths after hearing my words.

“As you order, so will it be Lord,” says Zoria.

“Zoria?” I cough.

“Yes, Lord?” She leans closer to my mouth as my voice is low.

“I name you Zoria Oath Keeper and welcome you as my wife if you accept.”

Her hands cuddle my cheeks, tears streaming down hers. “Yes Lord, thank you, Lord.”

I lose consciousness, only surfacing once again as the three now wail and swear over my body. I need to do more.

“Ligia …” I whisper.

“Yes, Lord I am here by your side, glad you are awake …”

I groan and with effort return to my purpose. “Kiss me, sweet Ligia …”

Her lips caress mine, her tongue darts about within my mouth licking up my blood I would suspect, while I concentrate to blow a deep breath into her mouth. She withdraws, eyes wide, I smile.

“I return your spirit Ligia, so upon your death, you will not wander aimless and forever in the darkness.”

“No Lord!” she screams. “You live, you will heal!” Her hands hover over my body, at a loss what to do, unable to help. None brave enough to withdraw the daggers, they fear massive blood loss if they do and yet if they don’t the outcome still death, more lingering, yet death all the same as they imagine my lungs filling with blood.

“Karo …” I whisper. She kneels on the other side of my body and is surely a witness to my and Ligia’s shared kiss.

She kisses me without prompting and I blow a deep breath into her mouth.

“I return your spirit Karo, so upon your death, you will not wander aimless and forever in the darkness. Fetch my other wives …”

“Zoria …” I whisper. I hear her shuffle closer, her ear hovering over my lips.

“I need another oath from you. Upon my death drain my blood, strong magic lives within. Like a plant, sunlight and water will make it grow … now kiss me, wife.”

My lips parting for a kiss is my last memory as Lord Farmer Hob.

---

“Mmm, so boring. Why do the adults get out of guard duty because of Lord Hob’s death, while I and other young goblins keep a lookout? For what?”

I can’t dance around my spear anymore; the grass is flat, and the game is no longer any sort of fun.

I return to my duty, able to see forever across the long grass of the plains swaying in the morning breeze. I wave to Tadoz and then in the opposite direction Nexeh and like me, they are on guard. They swore when told, but since they are older the Lord Hob’s wives didn’t beat them. I just clenched to hang on to my water as Zoria Oath Keeper ordered me to stand guard, dark rings under her eyes, voice growling. I didn’t sleep well the night after. We expected Duzsia and his other wives to be in charge, instead shock of shocks, Rexa, with the biggest belly, daughter of Jotor arrives to take charge. After a day and night, the village was put straight, many busy working on the wall and nothing else. Those from the Farm joking this is the first time they had seen the villagers work so hard. Who knows, none have witnessed them work before, so how can they judge between now and then. Adult thinking, I guess, which I am too young to understand.

From the direction of the village, a black speck walks closer. Should I ignore it? I only spied it by accident, looking towards the village recalling the horror of Zoria and my success; not peeing myself while before her. We are supposed to call to each other when goblins approach us from the plains, not from the village so I wait instead. I am certain Tadoz and Nexeh would have noticed as well yet maybe not, they stare outwards as bored as me.

An adult goblin, he is jittery, looking about, hands moving all the time. Strange. The enemy ran once all their Hobs’ heads were thrown to them and the Head Goblin, bloody hands and feet dragged before them.

“Hello,” I say.

He nearly jumps out of his skin! Perhaps he didn’t see me, the grass is tall.

“What are you doing here,” he asks.

Puffing my chest out I reply, “I am on guard duty!”

He takes a sneaky look at Tadoz and Nexeh. I recognise sneaky looks I use them to spy on the girls at the Farm, but we aren’t at the Farm now and there are no girls. I sneak a smile as I think a devious thought.

“Yes, I need to shout out to Tadoz and Nexeh when strangers pass by, such as yourself …”

“Oh!” he says, his voice making a funny squeaking sound. “I am Buf and you are?”

His name is three letters, everyone knows that is a tribal name and I am sure we are to stop tribal goblins, but he wears a shirt and pants like a Farm goblin.

“My name is Renon and why do you have a tribal name?” I feel right smart knowing this, so I want to make sure he knows I am smart, even though I am young.

“An accident, my mother couldn’t afford the cost of two more letters so sadly my name is short and everyone who is clever, like you, always asks about my name.”

Do letters in names cost? What do they cost? He doesn’t seem as odd now especially since he called me clever for knowing about names and such. Maybe he wants to see if I am good with my spear or sling! Clever and a young warrior!

“Do you want to see me hit that bush over yonder with my sling?” I can’t keep the excitement from my voice. If I do this, he will tell everyone I am sure that he met the best of guards, clever and a warrior even though young.

“Yes.”

I almost don’t hear him; his yes is so quiet. He takes a couple of steps away from me and it is my turn to smile. I have been practising my slinging. Now that I think about it, that is what I should do instead of dancing around the spear! Why didn’t this stranger visit me sooner?

I pick a stone up from the ground and toss it up in my hand checking for weight while sneaking a glance towards Buf checking to see if he knows I am doing this right. He nods, he must know. I am so happy.

Placing the stone in the sling pocket, I shout over my shoulder, “Don’t worry about the whirring sound getting louder …”

He nods and takes a couple of more steps back. He is funny, what is there to worry about, I am the best young guard on duty.

I begin to wind up the sling, faster and faster, my eyes on the target, the bush twenty paces away, an easy target but enough to impress Buf I hope. Aiming and about to release I sense my sling is at full speed and I am ready to prove my skill.

Tadoz shouts, “Check!” raising his hand and I instinctively raise mine likewise. This is the same hand swinging the sling around, which releases the stone. The is a heavy clung. Did I hit the bush anyway?

“Buf,” I call spinning around and then stop, staring down at Buf’s body, lying out on top of my flat circle of grass, not moving. I reach down to shake his shoulder, nothing. I examine the stone in his eye, and I blink, he had two eyes, not one eye and a stone eye, I am sure. The stone does look to have the same shape and size as the one I picked up …

I will need to pee before I face First Wife Rexa with my ‘news’. I hope they don’t take my sling away from me, after all, I did get a hit.