I pull my final boot on, unable to wipe the smile from my face as I spy upon my past or is she, my former wife? Bah! Who cares as my eyes drink in every moment of the powerful feminine display before me? Her new hobgoblin body bends to her will as she brings her attitude to every predatory posture and smooth movement. How could I be so blind? I decide to blame distance and dusk …
Examining my body, I realise the disparity, she is a mature adult, and I am a youth trying to discover adulthood.
“Yes, Lord Hob, most would consider me your older sister if they were kind, maybe your mother …” Her hand reaches for her belly as laughter bubbles from between her lips.
“You were moaning a different tune not so long ago …”
Her arms drape across my shoulders as her hands pet the back of my neck. “Purely trying to adapt Lord, your body … I mean once Lord Hob and now …” She shrugs.
“I am aware.”
She kisses my lips while her hands rub my bald head, it seems hobgoblin males never grow hair there.
“You still satisfied me Lord and that is enough.”
I nod, somewhat mollified. That still leaves me with what to do next. Overnight, the delicious, delightful memory of Duzsia connected with a residual memory from my host, a glimmer of peace, only during early childhood. Then afterwards, constant fear from ever oppressive danger. Feelings, no facts.
“Did your host leave you with any memories?”
“I knew of the goblin village and about the general crusade to rid this valley of Klugites, some other general knowledge …”
Kissing her, I then ask, “How did you find me?”
Her head tilts slightly. “You called to me. Walking to the goblin village satisfied that call, but once there, staying felt wrong in a way difficult to explain. I feasted, slept and to the relief of the goblins left. Once outside the gates, the lure of you became irresistible, your hiding futile. Lord.”
“But my appearance, how could you be certain?”
“We are bound. Although given your lapse this seems a one-way recognition, your wives know you, yet you don’t know them … Did you not expect us to return to you? Did you not believe in our faithfulness?” Moisture gathers around her eyes.
My arms reach around her waist, and I draw her body to mine needing to overcome a slight resistance. “When alone on my first night, preparing for sleep, all I could think of was my wives, their love, their companionship, their warmth …”
She slaps my back. “Warmth?”
I murmur, “My first night was wet from escaping the river then a chill breeze.” Indignant I say, “I was cold.”
“Never mind Lord Hob, I can be your lover, wife and mother if you wish.” She pats my head playfully and then giggles.
Lover it is then, although … instead of rushing into action I pause. Please don’t tell me the former youth of this body is now an influence? I shake my head and continue, time to prove that theory false.
---
Middle of the day, naked, hand in hand we lay side by side on a bed of leaves without a care in the world. Rays of sunlight pierce the sparse forest canopy in a wonderous display lulling us both.
“Lord Hob, you were correct about the black.” Her head turns towards mine and our eyes meet. “The lonely darkness yet knowing of it during life and expecting it at death allowed me to accept my fate, the sole consequence of binding my life to yours. I knew I would return to your side, not knowing how … I needed to believe you would call for me …” She leaps upon me both of our bodies rolling in the dry leaves. Her once bound black hair is now loose and flowing, tree leaves being caught within adding to the moment. This close and my mind more present, I make the effort to inspect the wound between her breasts, not only healed but now never was.
I run my fingers across the location and look up into her eyes. I know the reason for this, of course, nanorobots. Yet does she?
“You like them?” She smiles without knowing the real reason I touch her.
“This body was slain by an arrow to the chest, an arrowhead broke through the skin, which is now whole.”
Her eyes squeeze shut. “I know. Upon return to this body, I felt the pain …” She opens her eyes.
I kiss her forehead and pick some leaves from her hair. “And then?”
“Pain meant life instead of the black, so I opened my eyes upon a blue sky, rejoicing. Water lapping upon my hand reminded me that water healed you of your wounds and with all the strength I could summon I rolled my new body into the river. I laid there until late afternoon listening out for others as I knew I would be helpless and probably attract attention being naked. You know the rest.”
A dry branch or stick cracks, in a heartbeat, both of us glance backwards over our heads. I roll to my feet on my side of the bed of leaves and Duzsia does the same on her side, both of us naked, hands curling into fists and ready to charge. No one is there. We straighten and relax our hands while scanning the trees and brush surrounding us.
Laughter. Open loud and clear from a single female goblin looking down upon us from a nearby tree in an instant solves our mystery.
I glance at Duzsia, who shrugs. “Get down here wife,” I demand. An educated guess given the goblin didn’t take advantage of an easy ambush. I refuse to be accused of not recognising the return of another of my wives, after all, I did call upon all of them to return.
The female goblin slides from the branch twisting around to grab the tree limb and go into a swinging position. She then drops swivelling, to land without a false step facing us.
Now I need to guess. Koria Keen Eye or her sister Luda.
“Welcome, Luda.”
I receive a slap on my shoulder. “How did you recognise her, yet I am a stranger?” howls Duzsia.
“Goblin body perhaps?” I offer and then I need to brace as Luda springs into my arms. I recall our parting, including Koria Keen Eye, the betrayal …
She whispers in my ear, “The black allows a great deal of time to think, Lord. Until that thinking time traps you in an endless circle of thought and doubt grows. While I can’t speak for my sister, in the short while since answering your call I apologise and will suffer any punishment to earn your forgiveness.”
I make my adolescent voice as cold and dead as possible. “We will see.”
I then release her. She hangs by her arms around my neck for a moment and then drops. Duzsia, now standing well away from us I notice is half-dressed, she gave us some privacy. The last of my wives, Koria Keen Eye is yet to be revealed, what of Zeb Stone Grim and his spirit bond, can I call him?
‘Zeb my faithful second return to me, I summon you.’
Luda holds out my clothes and armour before me. I swallow down a mix of emotions. Is this a return to me being Lord and Master? Against all the odds they have answered my call and I assume I must thank the Klugite faithful for this unbroken belief. On a whim, I applied medical knowledge to secure the loyalty of primitives by creating a false superstition and now with their return a miracle has been proven true. Aren’t they more, don’t they deserve to be more?
I secure my loincloth as I think, my long linen pants and shirt next. What is our relationship?
What is my role going to be this time, my third life after two deaths? The faithful will need protection as they seem to be the hunted ones. Their religion I suspect needs to be spread far and wide for them to be safe. Perhaps that is where I start … I will need to find them first and I don’t need servants I need companions of unbreakable loyalty.
My finger is under Luda’s chin, straightening her posture, breaking her attempt to assist me with my leather armour.
“You are reborn, wife still, yet I prefer a companion or partner instead of a servant. You understand?”
“Yes, husband.” Her eyes dart about the nest of leaves. “You will need to guide me …”
“As a start, we need to journey to our original valley, do we have enough of everything we need to make that journey?”
“No Lor…, husband, yet the goblin village will be able to provide some of what we need if we have the coin?” Her arms are stiff by her thighs.
My hands surround her cheeks. “Relax wife. The former owner of your body, do you know if she was important? One of a large family?”
She shakes her head and then closes her eyes. “Sorry husband, my memories aren’t strong. I awoke in pain much like Duzsia and asked for water. Once drunk, I asked for more, my thirst unquenchable to begin with. An arrow through my gut I learnt, removed and re-bandaged yet my death was certain. My mother or the former owner’s mother never gave up hope. She decried the hunting of Klugites especially as mercenaries for the Bounty Hunter and his female companion.” Luda’s eyes flash towards Duzsia.
“I suspect her return from the dead a great surprise?”
“While not entirely healed, Duzsia’s arrival finally lured my mother from my side, and I took the chance to escape. Your call is strong husband, and I couldn’t resist any longer with you so close, so I grabbed my kit and several waterskins and walked out the front gate. The surprised guards thinking I was another who should be dead, now walking, letting me through.”
A twinge of sadness in her words? Did her former self transfer ill feelings? Her boot scuffs the ground cover as the silence between us grows.
“You witnessed Duzsia’s arrival and everything after?”
She nods. “My wound, husband. Until now … I wished to join you, being in sight though the urge quietened, so I waited in a tree.”
I kneel before her. “Where is my wife, Luda?”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “I don’t know husband, I don’t know. My emotions are mixed, my heart hurts. I miss this body’s mother. Why is that? I feel I have betrayed my tribe, yet I am your loyal wife and have no thought to return, except we must, I guess. I am me and yet other feelings and loyalties haunt me.” Her warm tears splash upon my neck.
Did Luda’s spirit dwell long enough with the lingering spirit of the dying goblin to assume more of her memories than either I or Duzsia? Given, the multiple lights I could pick from while in the dark her return in this goblin body means the former owner must be an ancestor of mine.
“You are my spirit bound wife, proven because only a spirit bound wife could answer my call and so you are mine. Any confusion is a result of your spirit claiming your current body. Talk to me whenever you wish, and I will listen offering what I can from my experiences. Eventually, you will grow anew, and I will love you, even more, fierce.” I crush our bodies together.
Her cheek rubs against my neck as she nods. “Yes, husband.”
We release each other and as I rise, her hands slide down my chest. Before separation, she rushes forward again to hug me. I allow her several moments.
“Think about returning to the village …” I ask.
She looks up, her bottom lip trembling. “How will I explain to her mother?”
I am the evil Klugite so will be unable to accompany her. Duzsia is the only option.
“Duzsia will return to the village with you.”
Right on cue, Duzsia kneels beside Luda and whispers, “Us wives have to stick together.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Luda stands tall. “Yes. Enough of this and of the inner her who haunts me. I will inform her mother I am leaving the village with the Bounty Hunter’s companion to make a name for myself as a slayer of Klugites and I only return now to gear up properly.”
“You …”
Her finger crosses my lips to silence me. “You are right husband, I will grow stronger, but I must take the first step and facing the echoes of the former life of this body is necessary.” Luda marches off towards her tree, leaving Duzsia and I staring at each other.
“Will she be alright, husband?”
“Keep an eye on her, no, do more than that, don’t leave her side, insist upon escorting her, especially when she meets the mother.”
---
Late afternoon I observe both approach and enter the goblin village gate. As time ticks by I wish to pace, to work off the nervous energy within me slowly building. Dusk is almost upon the village and still no sign of them. I contemplate scaling the wall of the village or perhaps a ruse of some sort to lure the guards away from the gate. Brute force?
In the shadows of dusk, three silhouettes exit the village gate. One hobgoblin with attitude, certainly Duzsia and two goblins, one must be Luda, who is the other … I scramble back from my hiding position under the forest eaves and crouch behind a thick enough tree with a good view of our makeshift camp.
After a time two burning torches bounce along towards our camp, one held high until they reach the camp. Duzsia and Luda look about while the third, an older female goblin seems – grumpy.
“Husband?” calls Luda in her quiet voice.
I step from behind the tree. “Who is our guest?”
“My former mother.”
I march forward trying to contain my anger, or pure frustration or who knows what. My words are full of disbelief. “You told her?”
Luda holds her ground while our guest takes a step back, shaking her head. Fortunately, Duzsia is behind her and blocks any further retreat. In fact, well-positioned to end her if necessary.
“A feeling beyond my control, I couldn’t lie …”
“My daughter loved her mother, it was only us two against everyone else,” barks the goblin mother.
“I needed to confess, explain. I am sorry, husband.”
I clench and unclench my hands, my inner Hob is ready to unleash, feeding off the sense of betrayal. Again, a daughter of Zeb choosing a mother over her loyalty to me.
“I didn’t believe her story at first of course. Then that one.” She looks up, over her shoulder at Duzsia. “Well, she tells of her takeover of the Bounty Hunter’s companion. When she first visited, she was all over him, not an independent thought in her head. Then after her supposed death she returns full of confidence, with a swagger to match, scares the Head Goblin, him almost dirtying his pants upon first meeting him. Barely holding on until she leaves. Then my daughter’s body tells me her story. Upon death’s door, she takes my girl’s precious body and breathes life back into her corpse. I knows when she died, I cared for her every moment after her return. Slowly dying from a gut wound, just takes time they said. Can’t change that, they said.”
Tears roll down her cheeks. Her hands shake with emotion as she tries to wipe the glistening tears away.
“I knew some sort of miracle happened when my girl asked for water, lots of water. She had beaten death I thought, and she needed water to make sure. Fetching more is when I saw the new, she-hobgoblin and asked others in the tribe about her. I did enjoy seeing the Head Goblin’s scared face, I must say. By the time I returned my daughter was gone and almost healed, it didn’t make sense. I threw much about the hut, enough to distract some trying to impress our guest to check on me given my daughter was once in her search party. By that time, I don’t mind admitting I was a defeated mess on the floor rejecting their help, suffering a mother’s loss.”
She finally clears her tears or perhaps they stop flowing and looks me directly in the eye.
“You look after my daughter’s body, make her a famous goblin. Can you promise me that?”
I fold my arms across my chest to give me time to gather my thoughts. I really want to strangle two of the three sentient beings standing near me now.
“I cannot promise fame for any of us, yet if the opportunity arises, I will not deny Luda if she wishes to take it.”
She nods with a snap of her head. “Good enough. Anything more and I wouldn’t have believed you.”
With that, she holds out her hand for the torch Duzsia has and upon receipt, calm as you like, leaves. I watch as her silhouette disappears into the forest.
From the right of me a finger lifts my jaw shut. “I think that went well, husband,” offers Duzsia.
I swivel to face her, ready to unleash given the stupidity of telling a random and bereaving mother goblin to boot of our presence, our uniqueness, our … our … everything when I feel the squash of Duzsia’s body against mine, kissing me deeply. Not to be outdone, Luda tackles me from behind in an embrace.
“Duzsia said you would understand, husband. You would trust our judgement in this because we were there and needed to make a decision,” says Luda, emotion thick in every word.
Duzsia breaks off her kiss. “Yes, husband, I reassured Luda, such would be the case, after all, we are his loyal wives and if he can’t trust us, who can he trust?”
Outmanoeuvred and defeated. Are these the early signs of what a partnership is? I sigh and relax into Duzsia’s embrace. I then grab Luda with one arm and drag her around, so we face each other. A triangle of bodies and faces.
“What if she tells others?”
Duzsia shakes her head. “And tell everyone her daughter isn’t her real daughter because of a strange takeover of her body upon death? The village would call her mad and exile would be the least they would do.”
Luda grabs my hand and places the palm upon her cheek. “Plus, husband, her wish for her daughter to be famous would be impossible if she told.”
I study each of their faces, they believe in what they are telling me at least. “What did you happen to bring back from the village to eat?”
My stomach growls and both my wives belly laugh at my expense.
---
I am the first to wake for a change. Yet the awakening is unpleasant. My hands, one upon each of their chests, are black with ichor, both Duzsia and Luda exuded a healthy quantity while they slept. The nanorobots have been busy overnight. As I draw my arms from around their necks, they slide freely due to the black waste.
Both of my wives rise into a sitting position, observe, and then shrug. I expected more of a reaction …
They both giggle, the hobgoblin voice of Duzsia deeper than the goblin voice of Luda, yet joyful all the same. They reach across me with devilish grins and embrace painting my torso as they do.
“Do you wish to kiss?”
They laugh again after asking as one and I take the opportunity to scramble back and climb to my feet, waving the palms of my hands at both.
They pout. Duzsia speaks first, “You weren’t as shy last night husband, what are wives to think?”
“We need to return to the river.” I inspect the black on me and look back towards them. “Both of you need a good scrub down. I will tidy camp and carry everything.”
They clap their hands and celebrate further with bouncing, which I endure to enjoy the consequences.
After receiving a great deal of advice on how to pack up camp, especially their possessions I escort a hobgoblin and goblin wearing black soaked loincloths and white cloth breast wraps darkening with each step we take towards the river. I ignored the protests from my wives as I used their breast wraps to wipe myself down first before giving them back for their use.
Upon reaching the smooth stones of the river my wives break into a jog and with a splash fall into the river. I did shout to caution them, listen for danger at least, yet they paid little attention. They were on a pleasant stroll to the river with their husband under a brilliant blue sky, what could go wrong?
Dropping my load into their respective piles beside the river their alluring calls capture my attention.
I lift my gaze, and both have their breast wraps waving above their heads using one hand while the other rubs down a breast cleaning away the ichor.
“We could work faster if you were to take the wraps,” purrs Luda.
I shake my head while smiling and take a step forward intent on relieving them of their burdens.
A squealing snort silences them and draws my attention.
Upon the far bank of the river, a steep cutting instead of a shore of smooth stones like this side sits a male Hob astride a massive boar. Even from across the river I evaluate the saddle as an exemplary piece of craftsmanship, high front and back, stirrups set to match the riders leg length. The sophisticated and decorated stirrups explain his choice of weapon, the long spear. I imagine he enjoys charging, lancing those standing and trampling those on the ground under hoof. For now, the spear butt rests upon the ground, one dark green hand on the shaft, the other holding the reins of his beast as his eyes study my wives and his tongue licks his lips.
In a cloud of dust two other riders rein in on either side of him. Their beasts are smaller, yet both riders nock an arrow and drawback on their bows.
“You will gift me the female.” His spear tip points at Duzsia. “Or I will slaughter you and the goblin and take her anyway.”
There isn’t a threatening growl or absolute demand in his words. This is a chat between two hobgoblins. Him obviously being the stronger can demand as he pleases from a youth with more treasure than he can defend.
“The one you want is my mother. I will trade her though for one of the riders with you, whichever female requires the stronger hand, so she will learn to know her place.” My words are clear, strong and certain.
They both glance at the male, who shifts slightly in his saddle. My offer is a clear surprise. My youthful appearance suggested to him an easy mark and instead he receives a counteroffer. Duzsia and Luda for their part remain silent and continue to wash and thereby inadvertently display their curves. Inadvertently? My pair of minxes have no shame and no fear. What do they know that I don’t?
He rubs his chin between his finger length tusks, glancing left and then right. Both companions stare at him and then lash him with their bows. He growls and they stop immediately. My wives provide a further distraction as Luda using her tongue meticulously cleans Duzsia’s breast, lingering on her now erect nipple. My ‘mother’ moans on cue. He needs to sit high in his saddle to fully appreciate the sexual frolicking and this time ignores the bow lashing he receives.
“Send one down the bank and I will ask my wife to test her suitability,” I shout.
The beating stops as both of his companions eye their master.
He points at one using his spear and whispers. There is a short and sharp conversation, I imagine them protesting and him threatening. One of his companions helps the other out of her armour, until only fine linen clothes remain, long-sleeved shirt, long-legged pants. With a rope tied off around the front of his saddle, the companion in armour lowers the other down the bank of the river.
Domestication of boars has proceeded, the crafting of weapons and armour, including saddles has advanced. I wonder if any have been able to learn to swim? I am certain he is wondering how I will claim his companion to test her as I have said. He is calling my bluff and I am certain if it appears he is losing, his other companion will pincushion me with arrows. And why am I playing this game? I would rather ride than walk.
As they lower her, I stroll back from our side of the shore to locate a suitable tree past the rocks, all the while eying the far bank. I then tie one end of the rope around the base of the tree and the other end around my waist and amble towards the river, pushing into the flowing water until chest-deep. My wives, now clean are busy onshore deciding what to wear, taking advice from each other of course and generally putting on a show trying on this piece and then that piece while maintaining a half-naked state of dress. They of course have no idea what my plan is; they do know they are the distraction, and I am counting on them to be superb. Otherwise, I would have ordered them from the water immediately instead of making a counteroffer, and we would be running away from the river now instead of continuing this pantomime.
I dive into the water and splash about. I want to balance the pretence of panic with progress while allowing the current of the river to carry me towards my prize, but not all the way. Occasionally I glimpse the expression on his face. He is looking forward to my demise in between enjoying the show. I note my wives are back in the water trying to wash clothes for some reason while allowing their shirts, wet t-shirt competition like cling to their breasts. It takes effort yet I drag myself away from the show and struggle on until I am in waist height shallows on the other side of the river.
I wave my hand towards me, encouraging my prospective wife to join me. She is directly below her master and would need to wade for a distance through the water against the current to join me. She shakes her head. My hand waves her away and I turn back to the river. I hear a growl and look over my shoulder. She is wading towards me.
Like both my wives, I notice the linen of her shirt cling to her breasts, the dark green of her areola and darker still nipples visible yet with a hint of mystery.
She licks her lips. “You like?” she purrs.
“The female form is to be worshipped and devoured,” I reply without delay. As she drinks in my words I lunge forward and knock her down. She releases a dagger, choosing to use her hands to grab at me or anything to save herself. Our altercation of course can’t be observed by her master or companion as the piece of bank we stand under due to my careful choice has a gentle curve blocking their line of sight. They would need to move towards us along their side of the bank until in line with our position and unfortunately, even then they would need to push through heavy brush and work around a tree to view us from above.
Her face breaks the surface of the water. “Quiet or I push you under. Understand?” I growl. My hobgoblin body is youthful, yet my nanorobots have been working their magic and the strength of my grip upon her arms is intimidating.
She nods her head, eyes wide, the ends of her lips drawn down despite her feminine tusks.
I wade out into the river until chest-deep, my hands strangling her upper arms and then let go. In her moment of confusion, possibly panic, I place my hand under her chin and push off from the bottom of the river with my legs. Her legs are unable to touch the riverbed, her arms begin flailing about, the river has her!
“Be still or I will let the river take you.”
She doesn’t hear me. I stop stroking through the water with my other hand and smack her on the top of her head, say the words again and resume stroking to keep our heads above water while increasing my kick rate to assist. She shakes her head, and her eyes must catch sight of the high bank across the river, where her boar waits. Her body goes limp. This moment has the taste of victory about it. She realises we are one-quarter of the distance across the river, and we are not drowning. She is at my mercy going forth into an unknown future outcome.
The eyes of her master and companion are now on us. His mouth opens trying to find words while the she hobgoblin beside him has her hands clasped before her mouth.
As I cross, I drift downstream with the current until I feel the riverbank once again under my feet. I pretend to tread water, so my captive believes she still needs me to prevent her drowning.
“Duzsia, release at the other companion, wound her in the stomach so she bends over and falls into the river.”
My captive begins to yelp, so I lower her into the water until she gurgles.
With his attention on me, the show wrapped up. Duzsia and Luda retreated to the riverbank proper and where I left our gear. Upon hearing my words Duzsia cautiously reaches for her bow while Luda positions herself in front of Duzsia and keeps a lookout. Once in her hands yet bent over she waits for Luda’s tap and then swivels around and stands. Choosing her target, she releases.
The flight is perfect. The arrow smacks into the companion’s lower abdomen with a solid thunk. Then the arrow bounces back.
“Run for cover,” I yell. Good weapons, better armour, I wonder if they can swim … grr my words come back to bite me.
“We are his pride and joy. Our armour is the best his money can buy. You are a dead fool,” she scoffs.
I lower my head over hers to scowl while my grip on her chin tightens. “You may not live to celebrate.”
The swish of an arrow passes over my bald head, and I realise my danger, both companions are archers and given that deliberate miss, experts. I drag my captive under the water with me. Her body thrashes, from fear of drowning, of death. Does death by drowning still hold the same taboo? She strives for breath and instead gulps down water. As I continue to drift underwater with the current I feel her struggle end, her body limp.
Time for me to leave the river also. Positioning her body behind mine, both of her arms draped over my chest I wade towards the bank and as the water shallows, I grab her arms and as I rise her body is a shield for mine. I spy a clump of brush and make a dash towards the prospective cover while listening for the swish of another arrow.
Upon reaching cover I lay her body down, wet clothes hugging her like a second skin. Could I?