---GOBLIN CRONE, KEEPER OF SECRETS POV

Yes. I wish to scream and shout, but I hold back the urge with great effort. Can I tell my tribe our lineage is traitorous yet seeking amends? He squats on the ground, a deep sadness in his eyes as pooling tears threaten to overwhelm them and flow down his cheeks.

My hand reaches out to his cheek. “No. Your mother gave us a grand purpose. You have supported us for generations. I avow we are your mother’s avengers, known or unknown to her at her death.”

“She knew.” Our eyes meet. “In later years, Rexa suspected she had given the secret of Lord Hob’s blood to others, and she had her son fetch her. Between the two of them, they tortured her.” His face flushes green as he forces himself to say the following words. “Flaying her skin and then restoring her skin with Lord Hob’s blood until she could take no more pain. Duzsia, Koria and Luda, I am certain, never knew their goblin daughters by Lord Farmer Hob gave birth to male Hob’s after also being raped by Klugrath. My mother shared the secret of Lord Hob’s blood so they could survive childbirth. Under pain of torture, she revealed this to Rexa.” He wipes his hands down his face and then swallows. “Satisfied, she then ordered Klugrath to hack off my mother’s head to ensure her death, Lord Hob’s blood or not. She never found out about me but despises my mother for sharing the secret, which is why she hunts and slays all of Zoria Oath Keeper’s line when found.”

I grab at his two bodyguards for support. High emotion, low emotion, disappointment, and joy run through my aging body. My eyes search his sad face, and I chuckle. Then I laugh wildly. They suspect I have gone crazy, and yet the three wait for me to recover, which after a while, I do. Lord Klar’s seed flows through me, and maybe this explains why an old crone like myself has survived his storytelling. “She must know of you because without an heir, how would Zoria Oath Keeper spawn a linage?”

I watch his face drop. He missed such simple logic, and in a way, I am glad. The long-lived aren’t perfect, which is a relief. This also removes some of the aura of mystery around him, which makes him more approachable. Like everyone else, he is simply trying to do his best.

“What became of the three male Hobs of Duzsia, Koria and Luda’s daughters?” I ask while he tries to recover.

He glances at his two bodyguards. “My protectors found or were gifted directions to Milga Stone Blood’s settlement. A plateau of great height and isolation. Oath Guardians visited, but the only news they shared was the conquering of the southern valley by Rexa and Klugrath. Rumour was Luda’s daughter rallied a goblin tribe and escaped to the mines, caving them in behind them. Since none have tasted the blood of her lineage, the assumption is they have perished. What became of the other two, I know not.”

Have I tasted Luda’s lineage? I can’t remember for sure. Duzsia and Koria, I have, which means they survived somehow, somewhere. I feel a warmth, Duzsia the Relentless and Koria Keen Eye. Their bloodline still lives. Who cares about the nameless one?

“What now? Why do you reveal yourself to me now?”

“My seed fails, Matriarch. Many attempts to beget daughters from my daughters and nothing. Given the rumour and evidence, perhaps this Lord Klar and his seed, is more potent.”

The shallow sniffling from both of his bodyguards doesn’t escape my hearing. They would submit to another laying with them because they are Oath Guardians. He is their life’s mission and for no other reason. They have not thought beyond the present. What will their daughters do to fall pregnant?

“Are you still undying?” My words are almost a whimper. Am I afraid of the answer?

His head shakes slowly from one side to the other. “My seed failing is probably the first sign. Physically I am weakening, but I believe I am still superior to most hobgoblins.” His hands wrap around mine, drawing them to his chest. I feel his strong heartbeat. “Is this answer sufficient?”

“You are still the living son of Zoria Oath Keeper. This tribe and I would follow you into the jaws of defeat if you requested.” I climb to my feet, lean forward, and wrap my thin arms around his neck. My tears roll down my cheeks and splash on his shirt until damp.

He rises with my arms around his neck. His hands grab my waist, and we are eye to eye. “Matriarch, how do we secure Lord Klar’s services for my Oath Guardians?”

I bow my head slightly. “Well, while I admit I am a glutton for his seed, I saved some for a future meal.” He lowers me to the ground as gently as a doting father. I grab two clay bottles from my robe’s deep pockets and present them. He kisses my forehead and hands a bottle to each of his bodyguards.

“Now?” they ask.

“Perhaps I should get you both in the mood first?” he suggests with a cheeky wink.

His recovery from heartbreak is rapid or perhaps another sign someone long-lived doesn’t dwell on the present as they will have plenty of time to make amends or reap revenge as required.

“I will take my leave. We will talk again, I am certain.” I try to make haste and succeed. Surprising myself, I find an additional bounce in my step.

---NUDIA AND KORIA KEEN EYE POV

“Our tribe know of Yalo and Argro, Koria. They are the most virtuous of all Oath Guardians, the saviours of Zoria’s son. And her son still walks amongst us!”

“We must return and tell Lord Hob. This is our chance while they fuss over the crone and her fainting.”

Yalo and Argro settle her body on a bed of leaves and wipe her brow with a wet cloth. Xorbrim the Undying observes without moving except to catch a look from Yalo.

After a time, the old goblin wakes, and I inwardly curse Nudia. We could not retreat from under the leaves and from within the brush soundlessly enough to avoid detection from three sets of improved ears. I assume from observing his bodyguards that Xorbrim the Undying’s seed is as potent as Lord Klar’s for enhancement, at least.

Internally we hug as we hear of Zoria’s suffering, something she has never mentioned. As one sister to another, I must tell Luda of her daughter and her grandson, although I wonder about mine and Duzsia’s grandsons.

“They are going to apply Lord Klar’s seed?” I can’t keep the thought quiet, sharing with Nudia, yet sense her equal feeling of desecration.

The crone leaves the clearing, making a new way through the undergrowth because of her small body. Somehow, unless I am mistaken, she heads off on an almost direct route towards Goblin Town. Xorbrim and his bodyguards wander off arm in arm. I assume to find a secluded clearing in the forest to do their business.

“Now we leave Nudia.”

There is dissatisfaction in her thought speech. “Who said we needed to follow her tonight? Who? We wouldn’t be here except for me insisting.”

“Yes, I know, and I am certain what we have learnt will satisfy Lord Klar. Why risk following them? You want to see how others have sex?”

I feel her distaste. “No, for after-sex talk. They will feel secure and in bliss, their tongues loose. He has lived for two hundred years at least, and his bodyguards haven’t. Maybe he will reminisce?”

“I don’t…”

The pain is brief.

I float free of Nudia’s goblin flesh. The bright light I know well draws me away from this world. A pulse of green, and instinctively I know Luda’s spirit flies free, taking a different path. Sharing her body was intimate, beyond knowing or even possibly loving another. As she rises, there is no deviation. Therefore, I am confident she has no light to head to, no second chance. I fight and try to resist. The light draws me. I desperately search for Lord Farmer Hob, trying to grasp for and establish our shadowy, thin link. I continue to rise towards the light, and then like reaching the end of a rope, a tug holds my spirit in place, and I hover. Below, Yalo peers over Nudia’s body.

Secure because of my connection with Lord Farmer Hob; I reel in the tether to inspect. Argro and Xorbrim join her as she finishes cleaning Nudia’s blood from her sword.

“Nice killing stroke, Yalo,” says Argro.

“Yes, well hidden, but light brush and leaves offer no protection from Stone Blood Steel.” Yalo sheathes her sword. “Father-husband, how will the Matriarch take the news of her death?”

He crouches down and pokes Nudia’s head, which rolls free. Decapitated, and I can’t scream or avenge her. “She carried a Hob child, but the Matriarch thought her cockiness and reputation in the tribe exceeded her value. The Matriarch also thought her too close to Lord Klar, and given we find her here spying, confirmation. She, like several others, would not have survived childbirth when their time was due. Her death simply earlier. The tribes’ purpose and unity take priority over individual whims and delusions.”

“Why didn’t she move or otherwise try to escape my blade?” asks Yalo. Xorbrim and Argro exchange looks. “Didn’t she, as you have said, hold a certain reputation in ambush and forest craft beyond the fact goblin hearing would have at least given her some warning?”

Argro waves a hand at Yalo. “More like asleep, distracted, or her mind dreaming about Lord Klar and his potential reward for her spying.”

“Perhaps, truly odd though,” says Yalo.

Argro faces Lord Xorbrim. “So, our total loss is one Hob babe?”

“Yes. On her ride here, the Matriarch also mentioned how Nudia somehow gained an extraordinary skill in archery. Not an improvement, a great leap. An arrow in the eye, an arrow splitting the difference between the rim of a helm and Stone Blood chainmail hidden under a cloak.”

The bodyguards share a chuckle, Yalo the first to speak, “We can do that, Father-husband.”

“No doubt. Except she did this at an incredible range and the arrow missing bone both times, impaling the target.”

“What? Koria Keen Eye or Vuzsia Dead Eye like?” gasps Yalo.

I shiver at their mention of my name. Do I truly live on?

“I would say more Koria Keen Eye like myself,” says Argro. Both Yalo and Xorbrim stare at her. She places her hands on her hips. “Vuzsia’s feats, if the tales told are true, were always close releases.”

Argro slaps Yalo. “What was that for?” she yelps.

“You forget the one hundred paces release at the last battle. Her arrow impaled the eye of Armour Hob.”

“No, I didn’t. The Armour Hob, for reasons unknown, wore no armour unless you count his leather apron. No wind. The sun was behind Vuzsia and, therefore, in his eyes. She never repeated this feat. When she, like a few others of the remaining Flint Arrows, defended their lands, all did so with short range, stop and prop releases. To then dash away.”

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“Are you saying Vuzsia got lucky?” retorts Argro.

“Wives, enough. Both archers are long dead, and while many have tried to claim their titles, none have. This means Nudia’s feat, not once but twice, is beyond luck. The only explanation is Lord Klar’s seed.” He shares an intense stare with both.

“Will you help us apply his seed, Father-husband?”

He chuckles and wraps an arm around each of their necks. Yalo pauses, causing the three of them to stop.

“What about her corpse?”

He winks. “You and Argro can bury her after, assuming you have any strength left.”

They slap his chest, and he chuckles. I declare I need to avenge my host, Nudia, especially since my pride placed her under suspicion. In her name, I endure their coupling and hope the reason we stayed, their pillow talk is worth her sacrifice.

“Well,” he asks. He lays naked on his back, their necks in the crook of his arms.

They lower their eyes and whimper. “His seed is virile Father-husband.”

He chuckles. “I am not threatened by a youth with vigorous seed daughter wives. The truth is more important. Perhaps we need another goblin so you can compare killing strokes?”

Yalo faces him, a dazzling smile on her lips. “Can I?”

I notice Argro’s body shiver as she turns towards Xorbrim. “I have a feeling we are being watched, father-husband.”

“Far be it from me to ignore a wife’s feelings, so ready yourselves wives for a hunt.”

So much for pillow talk… I didn’t notice before, but as they dress, they don armour like the ten—heavy woollen coat, chain, and leather. Concealing the chain between the coat and soft leather would suggest to any observers they wore simple soft leather armour, at best. As Nudia’s archers found out, any chest hit, for example, wouldn’t find flesh, maybe not even leave a bruise.

They pat themselves down, and he inspects. As one, they stare through me or my presence. If I held a bow, I would have dropped it. If running, I would have tripped. As for a hovering spirit, I lose my concentration, and after a momentary loss of distance towards the light, Lord Klar’s tether draws me back to him.

---LUDA, GOBLIN CONCUBINE OF LORD KLAR POV

I shift my bottom again. There is a tree knot which, while ideal to hold me in my position in this tree, stabs at my bottom, putting the entirety to sleep. Settling again, I recall how I ended here, high on a tree limb, hoping tonight would be the night.

I had to search for Lord Klar, didn’t I? Special mission, he told both Izga and I and yet nothing except him on the hill erecting a tent with what I eventually found out to be his scribes. I didn’t so much look as listen, the snickers of the goblins beside the river ringing in my ears as they pointed towards the forest beside the stream.

As their snickering faded, her yelps of pleasure increased.

He heard me approach, deliberate on my part, like a polite excuse me, perhaps. Anyway, him being naked, my sister-wives being naked, simply an acceptable normal. One more naked female neither here nor there, and I am confident he had finished more than once before my arrival, and I was right, of course. My single thought was wondering why she deserved his attention while leaving his wives wanting.

She tried to hide by clinging to him, yet nothing could conceal the ugly holes in her cheeks. He suggested I venture into the northern forest early. Perch in a tree; the higher, the better and observe. There was also no need to intervene as the essential thing was to discover the crone and the hobgoblin stranger’s meeting place if it existed. I paused, thinking I should say something. His attention returned to pleasuring her, so I left to follow his command.

The sounds of the forest come alive as dusk descends. Nothing or no one draws my attention until night. Two of them, I am certain, their stealth almost perfect, yet a subtle scuff here, a heavy footfall there, and I can hear their progress. They need to rustle leaves. Cover? Camouflage? Then the dragging of a log for a moment, then nothing. The other one must have picked up the end of the log. I edge my head around the tree’s trunk and push my face through leaves and foliage until my eyes spot them. They are female hobgoblins by the size of their breasts, nesting within a bowl of leaves and brush, like my position, their heads amongst the foliage. The difference, they are on the ground with a heavy log shielding them. In fact, most without basic forest craft would probably walk the length of the log and never know two lay in wait underneath.

A male hobgoblin arrives in the small clearing under the observation of the two female hobgoblins, and a goblin slides from his back. The crone! It seems like my job of spying is done. However, I must wait, of course, for them to leave. To eavesdrop is effortless, though.

Woah, Yalozansia and Argrovsia are his bodyguards. So? They saved Zoria’s babe. He is that babe! Xorbrim the Undying. What a simple way to earn a name. Am I jealous? In a word, yes. Did the crone faint? Heart attack? They fuss over her until she wakes. Pity. Maybe her death would serve Lord Klar better. Oh, poor Zoria, all alone with Rexa, her only choice. My plan was best: returning to the Farm and caring for the bees. No, I can’t tell anyone about the bees because she found me and while drunk on my mead, I betrayed everyone. Yet she said her mother, The Matriarch of the Grim Weavers, had a plan. I silent chuckle. Well, that plan didn’t go well. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in the mess we are now.

What did they say? Zoria saved Rexa from childbirth death! She is more a traitor than me! Somehow, my guilt becomes lighter because Zoria could have let Rexa die in agony and pain. We could have all avoided the miserable lives her living inflicted on us. Worse, while Zoria plotted for and against Rexa, the First Wife of Lord Hob declared my daughter a traitor, banished to eke out an existence in the Southern Valley with my grandson by Klugrath. A grandson I never got to see, let alone play with and help raise. I am certain I could have been a splendid mother yet denied by Rexa. I allow my tears to fall.

I shiver. Torture, then Rexa hacked off Zoria’s head. Is that the fate of all traitors? I must avoid that. I need to earn my name in this life. I must. Then, of course, there is the oath I made to this life’s mother. She trusted me to see her daughter’s name made famous. Her daughter’s name, not my name, Luda… I blot out the rest of the world for a moment. I didn’t think about that consequence. I am Luda, yet this body belonged to another, and her name will gain any title I earn. Recalling my last lonely sunset, the bees buzzing around me after I freed them then as now, Luda, daughter of Zeb Stone Grim, will once again die without earning her name. I wish to feel the stings of my bees once again and find release.

Wait, my daughter? She disappeared into the mines of the southern valley. Why do such a thing, foolish, desperate girl? None of her lineage? She perished in the dark, alone, starving. Did she pay for her mother’s betrayal?

Their words reach and alert me. Lord Klar’s seed! The crone has no right to share, especially with those two. Let them feast on Lord Farmer Hobs’ two-hundred-year-old blood. She is leaving. They leave, and then one of the bodyguards winks at the other and, breaking his embrace, they skirt the clearing. Both crouch low and weave their way towards heavy brush, a mountain of dry leaves on one side, which even now dances on the wind. I withdraw my head and push through the foliage on the other side of the tree trunk. The bodyguard who circled the shorter distance now stands in the brush, her hip holding back a long branch, sword drawn. She nods to the other, who draws her sword and steps boldly into the clearing again. A diversion? Lord Xorbrim the Undying remains where they left him.

She swings her sword downwards, cleaving any thin branches until she strikes into the pile of leaves on the ground.

A wet darkness sprouts from where she slashed. The darkening spreads. He hurries forward and looks down. A head rolls aside, and I catch my breath. I shove my hand into my mouth to prevent the horrific scream from trying to escape. My eyes sting. The face. I recognise the face. Nudia. Oh no, Koria leaves me alone again… With effort, as if my life depended on it, I held back a sob while they chatted and celebrated. When did she sneak by me to lie in wait? Did my eavesdropping distract me? Why didn’t she detect the hobgoblins and move or simply defend herself? Can Nudia and Koria argue and remain aware of their surroundings? I think I know the answer now and take a deep calming breath.

A scuffle. I freeze. Another, closer. Do they know where I am? Don’t look up, I inwardly chant. No, I recall now they did plan to get ready to make busy. The male promised to prepare the females to steal Lord Klar’s seed. Their nest is beyond my tree. There is a minute window through the foliage, where parts of their writhing bodies show and then vanish. I don’t relax. Gathering what little courage I have; I need to peer through the foliage as they have gone silent. The need to know where they are, overrules my good sense to stay still.

Three sets of eyes meet mine. For a heartbeat, they lock me in place, and then I break free. How can they spot me? The distance, the foliage… I strain my ears filtering out known noises, concentrating on their noises. Nothing. Do I risk another look? Their three sets of eyes haunt me now. I remember their intensity sucking out my very life. No, I can’t look and wrap my arms about my chest. I rock forward and back. Will I die again before earning my name? Break an oath to a mother? Didn’t I beg for a release moments ago? Traitorous though I am not, I am loyal to Lord Klar. I am sure there will be another time to confess and ask for Lord Farmer Hob’s forgiveness.

After a time, I couldn’t stand not knowing any longer. If my fate is to join Nudia and Koria, so be it. I edge my face forward. With effort, I keep my eyes open. Somehow, I sneak a look and withdraw my head. Too quick, I admonish myself. My hands cover my face. I must remain hidden. No, I must know. I lean forward until the gap and force my head to stay. No sets of eyes, no hobgoblin male or female limbs or torsos. Where are they?

Random noises in the forest are my sole company. My listening detects neither them nor anyone else, yet I remain where I am, safe on a tree limb.

---LORD KLAR POV

Stroking Thalgora’s growing round belly amazing me every time. She demanded my attention this night in a frenzy of lust until sated. Exhaustion finally called her to sleep. As I close my eyes, there is a tug of annoyance. Like hearing a sound, but you know you haven’t. I shake my head and close my eyes again. The annoyance grows until I believe my headaches, like the noise, are an echo. I doubt they happened.

This game repeats until I sit up. The frequency of false feelings reduces but doesn’t stop. I lay down, and immediately I feel an intense barrage of false feelings, ear buzzing and headaches. I sit up and then climb to my feet. The false feelings are still present yet tolerable. I fetch and dress in my clothes and head towards the tent flap. The false feelings are overwhelming and drop me to the ground. I squirm and crawl. The torment reduces. Holding my head, I crawl towards the bedroll and once again, my hearing and mind suffer a hammering. Withdrawing the intensity eases.

Crawling in a few different directions rewards me with pain. The sole direction of relief is toward my armour and weapons. I can take a hint. The goblins carted all the cleaned weapons and armour to the top of the hill, and at dusk, my wives and I fitted ourselves out. Strapping my new sword to my waist, I take a tentative step towards the tent flap, and nothing torments me. Once out of the tent and into the night, I follow the only pathway down, passing the tents of my wives and concubines. After passing the first, the pain in my head drops me to my knees.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I nod to whoever knows and mumble, “Stop, I understand, don’t go alone.”

My tormentor approves of Zergoa and Voria to accompany me. Thalgora, I don’t disturb, and Klaria must remain behind. My hunters, Gorgrin, Zoria and Duzsia, are away with the Wild Ones. Luda is probably sitting high in a tree, bored out of her mind, and Izga I commanded to look after a spoilt brat. Leading my wives across the ford, I am painfully discouraged from visiting Goblin Town and Luda. I discover the only pain-free direction is north along the river.

Much to my regret, I miss taking a game trail, yet I make up for my mistake by backtracking. The buzz in my ear, my choice between my two punishments, becomes intermittent. The buzzing picks up as I follow the game trail. I take longer strides, and immediately my head explodes in pain. I crouch, and Zergoa and Voria join me.

“I believe we are here. Wherever here is, whatever here means. I believe we need to proceed with caution,” I whisper. I nock an arrow while Zergoa and Voria drag their newly gained shields from their backs and draw their new swords.

Taking point, with Zergoa and Voria flanking me, we crab forward, crouching as low as we can.

A slight buzz. Look left, another buzz. I look straight ahead, to be certain, another buzz. I swallow and look right, but nothing. There isn’t a trail. Instead, broken-off twigs and branches signpost the way, unavoidable if the creature responsible was the size of a hobgoblin. Although the night air is cool, sweat runs down one of my temples. The three of us in a single file can follow without needing to break any foliage. I take point once again.

I crouch in cover. My eyes scan a clearing ahead. Maybe the size of two goblin cottages in area. Zergoa leads, shield covering her crouching body and then Voria. As they break cover, I join them, my bow ready. There is another forced pathway into the clearing. Zergoa and Voria head towards the opening. A buzz sounds in my ear.

“Wait.” I scan the clearing and then the edges. Underneath a log, a bowl of tossed fresh and dry leaves, a couple of depressions. Further along the perimeter are a clump of dark leaves. I take a step towards the log and receive a buzz. I then change direction and, crouching, head towards the clump. Zergoa and Voria seal the other opening with their bodies behind their shields.

I rummage around in the wet leaves and find nothing. Sniffing them reveals recently dried blood. Dragging my tongue across one, I taste, yet I don’t recall any exacting flavour, if that is the correct word, except to know this is goblin blood, not hobgoblin.

My mind immediately asks the question; Luda or Nudia?

With purpose, I stride towards Zergoa and Voria, surprising both as I push passed them. I mean to end this mystery quickly and efficiently.

Three empty bedrolls greet me. I check the warmth of the campfire, recent. Voria uses her sword to flick back a blanket while Zergoa crouches to study another. I scan the forest and receive a buzz. My eyes face the river.

“Zergoa and Voria, with me,” I hiss.

The broken-off twigs and creased leaves are obvious to me now. The path is as clear as a road, and while I want to charge and slaughter, a steadying hand rests on my shoulder. I glance back. Zergoa bites her lip and shakes her head slightly. I take a deep breath. We make ourselves the living embodiment of stealth, our progress cautious and meticulous.

P.S. If you are not reading this chapter for free on Royal Road or Scribble Hub, then the website you are on has stolen my story.