---ZOROTTOR BLACK TOOTH, CHIEF OF OATH KEEPER GOBLINS POV
"Are you certain, Chief?" asks one of my two troopers.
"Nothing is certain, but they need to have an open area near the river to dip the heads of the new believers, and the far bank is still close enough to the town and temple."
"Shouldn't we wait from across the couple of places we know?" asks the second, who occasionally twitches. He needs more, like the three of us.
When on the mountain, we spied a couple of regular places, but there was always busy with other traffic. Groups tripping to the goblin's village or town builders gathering mud from the river. Worse were the potters, who would test and test the river's mud again.
No, this is a good place. We can remain in deep cover because we are within easy earshot of a place suitable for a priestess to bless new believers. This spot is close to the mouth of the valley and conveniently near a heavy forest riddled with small animal game trails, the size of which is perfect for goblins.
"No. We are closer to the old forest here. We will need a simple escape after swimming across the river with a priestess struggling against us."
---
As one, we cock our ears and then peer through the thicket. Three Klugites, one giving orders, a Priestess, the other two seem to be maids or acolytes. However, their robes are finer than the usual lackeys. They busy themselves preparing a small table and laying a carpet of sorts leading to the river. One junior straightens suddenly and scans the river. For a moment, of course, she stares directly at us, but her eyes continue past.
Maybe the wind is against us, and we smell after many days of waiting.
I dismissed worrying about my stink and paid attention to our quarry. Tomorrow, we will lie in wait on the other side of the river. We have confirmed they prepare before a crowd of hopefuls joins them. This wasn't always so clear from our mountain perch, or perhaps three people making preparations wasn't as attention-grabbing as a crowd from far away.
The three suddenly drop to their knees. The faces screw up in pain, and they strive with a desperate longing to crawl in fits and starts towards the river. All fail, the priestess finishing closest. Once alive and busy, their fine robes shift about their bodies because of a gentle breeze.
"Somehow, they are finished and so close! Just over there," says my second. The anguish in his voice is plain, and I know we both feel the absurdity of the situation.
The shapes are no longer bodies but clumps. Why can't we simply stretch our hands out across the river?
The snapping of branches and crushing of foliage draw our attention. Bursting out of nearby undergrowth is a huge four-legged beast. Massive hobgoblin-like tusks sprout from the top jaw of its maw. I gulp as I realise a goblin, let alone a head, would fit in the creature's bite. Golden-brown fur with splashes of black decorate the beast's muscular body. It nuzzles the two lesser ones first, its giant tongue licking out the contents of the robe, using one paw to keep the cloth in place.
Next, the beast stands over the priestess. With her, our view is better. The beast drags open the robe. The body of flesh is gone. Small mounds of dust are all that remain: a head pile, a chest pile, arms, and legs. The beast appears crazed as it licks about the robe, even though I am sure no dust remains.
Its ears flatten. We both hear the same thing. Worshippers are singing and chanting. A low growl, and the beast darts back into the undergrowth. As the worshippers round the path, we hear the beast break from the undergrowth and head downriver.
I nudge both my troopers, and we follow on our side of the river. I hope the beast has swallowed whatever turned the Klugites into dust, and it then turns into dust. This is not my first witnessing of a hobgoblin turn to dust. We, Oath Keepers, remember when the curse struck down Duzsia the Relentless because we could not with weapons.
A voice hisses at me during our heedless dash. One of my troopers.
Looking back at him, my eyes follow what he is pointing at. A hide. Not any sort of hiding place, a goblin hiding place. There must be others spying on the Klugites.
Shaking my head, I wave at him to continue the chase. He swivels his head from side to side. I tread lightly back to him.
He whispers, "We must find them before they find us."
I check with my other trooper, and he nods in agreement. I sigh.
"Conceal in wait here. I will continue the chase." They open their mouths to protest, and I wave them down. "As soon as I find the beast's lair, I will return. He will either survive and be gone far away, or the beast will be a pile of dust waiting for us."
"Shouldn't we be after blood?" asks a trooper.
"Probably," I say. "But I need an explanation. The beast purposely laid in wait and then licked up every mote of dust. An animal doesn't do that. An animal would have attacked and devoured the flesh."
I catch up to the beast, which is now wading and dipping its maw into the river close to the far bank. Low growls and the rapid movement of arms, legs, and head reach a peak and then suddenly calm. The beast drags itself from the river and heaves itself onto the shore. Once there, the massive body of the beast collapses. It is an easy kill, only a wide river away.
Remembering my two troopers, I sprint back to them.
---
At dusk, two goblins in black leather armour sneak silently into the hide we watch over.
"Has something died around here?" quips one.
"Dead fish on the riverbank?" offers the second.
Chuckles.
"You sleep first. By our calculations, there should be a ceremony at dawn tomorrow."
"We finally taking a hostage tomorrow?" asks the second.
"Only if enough of us turn up for a grab."
While overhearing this chat, there was no exchange of words between my troopers and me. This was our chance to eliminate a rival we didn't know about.
---
An almost impossible-to-hear flick of foliage is a signal for my troopers and a distraction for the goblin on watch.
He scans the forest behind him and then settles back.
Louder the next time.
This game continues until he shifts from his lookout position over the river and creeps slowly towards the source of the noise. Just as he lays eyes on me, my second trooper slits his throat from a blindside and lowers his corpse gently to the ground. My other trooper slits the throat of the sleeping one.
We feed and drink from their rations and then attend to personal business. Once we are all done, my troopers dress in their clothes and armour. We now must watch and sleep. I sleep rough in the undergrowth.
---
We deal with four groups of two after dawn. They are tired from travelling and trust the watchers. So, when I draw them to me, my troopers slit their throats from behind. By mid-morning, we move out, and I lead my troopers to the still-prone form of the beast.
We all share a glance to confirm what we see.
---ZINIA, DAUGHTER OF LORD TORNGUL HEARTSPLITTER POV
I try to hang back and exercise caution, but Klugak's goblin spies, former pets of Sakvorpa, hurry along as if their pants are on fire. They take the long way by following the river instead of dashing across the grass plains. Secrecy? Orders? Avoiding the chance to meet others? Perhaps I will ask them if I ever get the chance.
At last, I identify a landmark I have memorised from my father's map: the river ford, which leads to a walled goblin village. Nearby will be a waterfall.
They surprise me by going away from the river just before the ford. The two goblins straddle the edge of the healthy tree and undergrowth beside the river and the beginnings of the grass plains. They don't look back or stop in hiding to check if anyone follows them. I follow the signs they leave behind in their haste, the bent twigs and the occasional half-boot print. Everyone knows such hurried carelessness is unusual for goblins.
I am small for a hobgoblin but not as small as the goblins I follow. So, I must force my way through some paths the goblins choose. This delay annoys me. They could quickly go into the usual goblin stealth mode and leave me stranded. I need to be better than this. Thalgora certainly is. As for Shaza, she has her place, but only in the comforts of town.
By some weird chance, by the time I catch up to them, the two goblins I have been chasing face me. What saves me is they are confronting another broad, towering goblin who has their back to me. Their eyes fly open on spotting me, of course, and half mouth an alarm when two knives reach around them and slit their throats.
I make myself small by sinking back, instead of falling or stumbling, into the undergrowth. Calling on every bit of my father's good luck that they don't hear me. I convince myself the bushwhackers are busy with the two bodies. Nothing to worry about, goblin hearing or not. I steady my breathing when I only want to scream and flee through the forest.
The ambushers chatted, and I caught a couple of words. They sounded like reset and wait. I gather they expect more goblins to arrive but have already dealt with some. I quickly realised that the two I followed were simply another pair. A shiver runs down my spine.
Am I finally out of my depth? All I wanted to do was talk to them. Confirm that Kreldak and his father were false. Prove to my father I could be helpful, not like Thalgora, but at least smart or perhaps clever.
I backtrack as quietly and cautiously as my youthful body, full of nerves, permits. Father's ever-present warning about goblin hearing rings in my ears.
I should have moved off the path my two goblins took.
Two new spies, I assume of Sakvorpa's making but now loyal to Klugak, crash into me. Unknown to them, they hurry to meet their now-slain companions.
We sit up and stare at each other, except they have daggers drawn while I am still fumbling for mine. I swallow and lift my eyes. The daughter of Torngul Heartsplitter will look death in the face. I jut out my chin, thoroughly preparing for my death.
They exchange glances. This is my chance!
"I can save your lives." I splutter out the words in a rush.
They grin and twirl their daggers in their hands, a flick-like move faster than my eyes can follow. Are they going to impress me to death? Then they do the unexpected and sheath their daggers.
"What is a genteel female hobgoblin doing, hiding in the wilds, far away from Hobgoblin Town?"
The second slaps the chest of the first. "More importantly, how can you save our lives? Especially since we didn't skewer you the moment after we drew our daggers?"
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I wave a hand over my shoulder. "There is an ambush where you watch the river from."
"Tie her up first."
The second one nods. "Yep, let's get comfortable."
I drop my chin to my chest. Is this my fate? I back up on my bum to a sapling and hold my hands around it.
"That's better, isn't it?"
I nod. What else can I do?
"Name?" asks the first.
Do I ask them the same question? Do I lie? I breathe in deep. "Zinia."
One of them chortles. "What? The Zinia?"
Sorry, father. This will cost him a tremendous amount in trade goods or some sort of favour. Or my life. I nod, defeated.
"Glad to meet you, lady. This here is Xoge, and I am Torax."
"This is your lucky day! You are worth more alive than dead. You can't say that about most hobgoblins. So how much does your father love you?" asks Xoge.
Torax smiles with joy clearly in his heart. "In terms of goods, coins, or other substantial reward. You understand?"
"I, I don't know. I am the youngest of three. All his children are from different wives." I drop my bottom lip. Why did I babble? I drop my head as I feel a flush on my face.
They chuckle. Their jest at my expense burns. They only stop when I raise my head and project as much pride as I can muster.
The one called Torax approaches me with his dagger out. I keep my eyes open by fixating on his blade. I say to myself that I am the daughter of Torngul Heartsplitter, and I won't die whimpering.
My hands are free when he returns to stand beside Xoge, and they chuckle.
"Don't worry about us, dear. We are husband and wife and hope to have a child."
I blink at Zoge. She has breasts!
"I know they are small, but we have what we have."
I stumble over some words, an apology. It makes little sense, yet they chuckle again at my attempt with kindness.
Torax places a hand on my shoulder. "We owe you for saving our lives. We will know the size of that debt when we visit the ambush site."
They share food and water with me and seem content to wait.
---
Early afternoon, the goblin spies number six. The other four aren't happy that Torax and Xoge protect me. They show remarkable restraint in not killing me, which I appreciate.
They agree that the four new arrivals will approach their hide. Torax and Zoge will guard me.
Shortly after, one returns, his face grim. I glance at Zoge and then Torax. They hustle me forward, and there are two naked and eight, clothed goblin corpses in front of the hide.
"Well, she was right," says one of the four.
Another one kicks a corpse. "Who is the leader now?"
They all shake their heads. I glance towards Torax with my asking face. Just like I do with my father.
He chuckles. "Explain to her why none of us wish to be leader."
A third one answers, "You have to pretend to respect Klugak and during terrible meetings, Kreldak, when all you want to do is slit their throats."
"Oh. Hmm, why couldn't you slit their throats?" I ask.
The second one lets out a hissing belly laugh. "That would be the simple part. The tough part, living afterwards."
"No, I don't think so." I would make my sister a widow, but I am confident father would find her another match.
They question my response as one. I then explain that, as daughter to Lord Torngul, he has offered me the honour of commanding all goblins in Hobgoblin Town because of Sakvorpa's demise. I had followed two spies to find out what Kreldak and his father were up to, as Kreldak swore to my father that he was in person spying on the Klugites.
"No other hobgoblin clan wants us, do they?" asks one of them.
"The spies, yes. The others, not so much."
"You are looking at the last six," says Zoge.
"No. I have found two pretending to be night cleaners, and I am certain there are more, but they don't trust me. If you asked around, though, I am sure they would come forward."
"So, you want us to rat them out? They seem to have the best of it, and I am sure they will simply disappear after a while."
A goblin jumps in between us. The fourth one, that no one seemed to miss. "You all finished? I have been scouting while you have been chatting, and I have found the murders of our brothers and sisters. Three Oath Keepers."
---
I am feeling undervalued as they park me downriver from the Oath Keepers, who are apparently watching something across the river.
After a time, Zoge returns. "We killed two of them and wounded the third, who still got away. We suffered some cuts, but nothing life-threatening. They didn't expect anyone, as they were all keeping watch across the river."
"Yeah, they didn't want to stay down! But removing their heads fixed them good!" The four share a laugh with backslapping, but even I sense them trying to blow off unease. They are assassins; they know how to slay, and even with surprise, their targets don't all die instantly, and one even escapes.
---
Zoge leads me to the ambush site. Blood is everywhere. They must have removed the headless corpses elsewhere, but the heads they hung from a nearby tree.
Zoge taps my shoulder and points to a dark spot across the river.
A mass of black is curled up in deep shadow. With concentration, I glimpse protruding tiny spears of black fur. The prominent upper tusks are easier to observe, warning everyone that death awaits them.
Their singing conversation about me was about what to do. The Oath Keeper's interest bordering on fanatical meant there had to be value, but what?
"I will swim across."
The chat dies an instant later.
"I will swim across," I repeat.
Zoge gently touches my shoulder. "You don't have to do this, and in fact, I speak for all of us when I say that if you die, we will have no way out from under Kreldak."
"I am no warrior or spy. I have brains and talk. Let me go talk to the beast."
"How will you talk to it?" asks Torax.
I shrug. This is my gamble. The beast across the river is in pain or recovering. Three fanatical Oath Keeper goblins would have no chance to slay it so that only leaves negotiation. They could only consider talking in this situation, surely. I only hope the beast doesn't care which fanatic it meets.
---
Once across, I busy myself by chipping and leveraging off pieces of black ooze with my dagger. Daylight must have hardened an outer layer. The ooze bubbled out once I broke through in places using my knife, like cracking open a hard, tart crust. Where I removed the crust, I combed out a pocket of black ooze underneath with my hands. A surge of ooze initially replaced what I removed; afterwards, a steady stream trickled out.
By late afternoon, with sore muscles, I squat beside the beast, my body resting against its tummy. Hopefully, this is not a dire portent. I wish for a miracle instead.
I heard the goblins quietly yell at me to return to them, but this was my chance. Either the beast would snack on me as a first meal on waking or be aware of how I helped. It seemed clear that the hard shell of ooze prevented the vast amount from escaping. The beast's fur is the perfect binding agent, like straw used to make mud bricks. I would be instantly dead or wake up to find, at a minimum, a sympathetic beast.
I cough myself awake. There is a strange taste flooding my mouth. I wipe my lips and almost scream. On the back of my hand, red blood contrasts against my green skin.
Looking up, the cavernous maw of the beast hovers over my head. Red blood dripping from inside its mouth and over its lips.
When I blink, the beast shuts its mouth and then pushes against my head with its massive head. I think I may be an inconvenience. Force him to take two bites to eat me.
To say I am confused is an understatement. Communication? No other explanation makes sense. I concentrate. I am listening.
"You have a companion?"
"You lonely?" I reply.
"She said wait, but many sunrises have passed, and I haven't heard her in my head."
"I can be your companion if we are equals. I will not command you, and you will not command me. We will do something as one or not at all. Do you understand?"
"I used to be not so smart. When I first met her, I chewed off her legs. Food. She wasn't happy and shared her blood with me like I have with you. Now I know I am smarter. If you want, I can also make you smart and strong."
I glance at my legs and swallow. "How?"
"Eating the dust of my former companion's special people. We don't need to kill them. Something else does."
"Good to know. Do you think I could ride you across the river? I have some friends there that I need to show you to."
I sense a healthy amusement through our link. "My previous companion would ride me amongst others like her, and they would cower and become her friends. This is a simple thing for me to do. Jump on."
---
After a great deal of time, I eventually convinced them. Each of the wounded goblins permitted my Tiger to lick their wounds. As he promised me, their wounds and scratches looked to be healing before our eyes. With that simple gesture, my Tiger won them over to me.
With the goblins scouting ahead, they tracked the surviving Oath Keeper to the Old Forest.
"What do you want to do, Mistress?" asks Torax.
Every time they address me that way, I am filled with joy. What's better, they just addressed me that way, so I didn't have to ask.
"Leave him to sulk about in the forest. We need to see if we can hunt for something better."
---
We became marauders. Nothing and no one entered Hobgoblin Town Valley without coming under our scrutiny. They had to take the trail between the forest and the mountain if they didn't know the paths through the Old Forest. Even this method required them to march in a single file occasionally. Especially anyone with packs of goods or pack animals.
Klugite refugees sought their new Temple. Apart from typical goods and chattels, they also carried urns of their dead relatives. Some of them my Tiger would ignore, others he insisted I take. He explained that some didn't smell of his past companion's blood, but others did. I claimed one he ignored and compared it to the one urn he took. The one he ignored contained the ashes of the relative. The urn he kept contained dust. We took them all from then on. No point signalling to those who didn't know there was a difference.
I wasn't naïve. Each hold-up meant one more complaint to the High Priestess of Klug. Adding to our angst was the fact that my Tiger refused to fight the groups of priestesses and guards sent to catch us. They were her previous companion's friends, was all he said. We kept on the Grass Plains side of the river to avoid the worst patrols. This resulted in more pilgrims reaching the Temple without meeting us.
---
"Is our fun over, Mistress?" asks Zoge.
"Yes, I think so. We need to return to Hobgoblin Town anyway and announce you and the others are now under my protection."
As we enter the Grassplains, Tiger lifts his head. After a moment, he sharply veers off towards the river. Zoge runs to collect the others who still scout ahead.
The river tree line is in view shortly after leaving our goblins behind. Then we are through. Tiger leaps into the river with me on his back and swims towards the other bank. I don't know what has taken him over, and while I agreed we would be partners in all decisions, this one ran to the heart of everything for him. I found in his mind an unbreakable determination.
I clung to his back with an unbreakable grip.
As we made the opposite bank, a gaggle of singing and chanting worshippers of Klug emerged on the trail leading to this opening near the river.
"Gather the dust Zinia, my companion, from each of my former companion's people. Hurry while I scare these interlopers away."
Three robes lay near the river's edge as if stretching out to reach the impossible. The generous sleeves act as arms, the bottom of the robe, and legs. I open the closet and find, as Tiger said, dust. The easiest way to collect this bounty is to grab the ends of the robe and gather them into a bag. I repeat this twice more.
"I am ready." Our range had increased as time raced by.
Tiger is not in the clearing, and I wondered if I contacted him when he lopes around the bend from which the parade of worshippers had come. At least two arrows are sticking out of his chest, while another is deep in his rump.
"Someone injured you!" I scream. I can feel the tears welling up in me. This isn't supposed to happen.
He draws up before me. I tug at the arrows in his chest. When they come away, he bleeds.
"Mount, we must go back. Now!"
I slide onto his back. Running towards us, rounding the bend, are several hobgoblin warriors waving swords.
Tiger fearlessly leaps into the river and paddles. Several arrows fall around us. A couple strikes him, and he growls. Halfway across, he allows us to float downstream. During this time, I withdraw the arrows I can reach. In a state of disbelief, I feel his strength return. This is a thing, a tangible occurrence. The water! Tiger would always drink deeply after any fighting, not that there was much. His presence would intimidate most pilgrims.
He reaches on our side after a second burst of energy. Instead of gathering himself, he lopes back upstream. Our goblins are releasing arrows at a growing number of Klugite warriors.
"Away!" I scream at them and notice several limping and carrying wounds. Tiger's presence diverts most of the arrow flights away from them and at us.
We are through the tree line when we pause. Two goblins tend to Tiger, pulling arrows from him while he licks their wounds. I slide from his back, and everything fades to black.
---
To the amusement of my goblins, I wake to Tiger licking an arse cheek. In all the excitement, I didn't realise an arrow had struck me.
Torax runs from the river, shouting and screaming. Behind him, charging through the tree line, are several Klugite hobgoblin warriors.
"To the Old Forest, any way you can!"
"Can we pick up Torax? He may not escape otherwise?"
His muscles undulate under me as he lopes off toward Torax. This has the unintended consequence of causing the chasing Klugites to slow up. None want to be the first to die facing a giant beast. That break allows us to pick up Torax and make our escape.
---
We reunite under the dark green eaves of the Old Forest. The first thing Tiger says is we must find water. From studying my father's maps, I know the river that flows past Lord Klar's village empties into the Old Forest after passing Clan Greenfriend's plentiful orchards.
I promise all the goblins we will rest once we reach the river.
After several days, the broad, shallow river, like a shining blade, comes into view. Round stones of all sizes form its riverbed, unlike the sand and mud of the river running by the Temple of Klug. During this period, I commit the names of my other goblins to memory.
We stroll into the Old Forest, using the river as a path. The chat between my goblins picks up, and jokes and laughter return. A generous clearing opens ahead of us, which they dash towards, each picking a place. Beyond this idyllic place, the river narrows, and the current picks up.
The goblins encamp, even starting a small fire at the bottom of a fire pit they dug for that purpose. I wash out an urn previously used to hold ashes and pour in the dust I collected in the robes. Then, Tiger and I partially wade into the river at his urging.
"You must swallow the dust from the three. But be aware they will only listen to you if you are strong and take command of them. When you do, they will strengthen you, make you faster and smarter."
I nod. Is this what happened to Tiger? Will my body ooze black? Be strong, I admonish myself!
I take a mouthful and then wash the dry, fine dust down with river water. This continues until the urn is empty. My need for water rises rapidly, and I fill the urn and drink deep. My thirst dominates my mind. I can't think of anything else, but I must. What did Tiger say?
Strength. Command them.
I am familiar with them, from what Tiger shared with me. Nanorobots are their name. They thirst, and I must satisfy them and guzzle down another urn of water. Through this haze, Tiger's growl reminds me of his advice.
"Stop!" I force my will on them like I have done when Shaza, as an older sister, would tease me. I would take to her with my fists, then scream at her. When Thalgora would beat me and, as futile as it was every time, still strike out at her, only to endure her fading laughter. I scream at these nanorobots and find a sense of peace as I swallow another urn of water. A dizziness besets me as my legs fail.
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