Chapter 9:

  Stryg twisted between the crowds of Hollow Shade. A few shouted curses as he accidentally bumped into them. He didn’t look back, instead he turned a corner whenever he had the chance. He needed to put as much ground between himself and the poacher as possible. He paid no mind to the strange beings he passed by. After about half-an-hour he finally managed to lose the human. At least he hoped, because his lungs were killing him, and he didn’t think he could run much more. He stared at his hands. They felt red-hot, as someone had lit a fire within them. He expected his skin to melt off at any moment, but they looked their ordinary cyan, no sign of burn marks, not even a drop of sweat.

  He remembered when the searing sensation had begun. He had been trying to break through the ropes, when they suddenly darkened and broke apart like fragile reeds. It shouldn’t have been possible, but here he was. If mother moon hadn’t blessed him, which she clearly hadn’t based on his strange appearance and weak constitution, then there was only one logical answer. Was it magic? Could he be a shaman? He recalled his ability to see in the dark when he had been in that damn cave. His enhanced sight hadn’t left him. He could still see everything in perfect clarity last night. It really seemed like magic, though he had to admit he didn’t know much about magic in the first place.

  But, wait, weren’t shaman’s chosen by Lunae herself? There was no way he’d be chosen, especially after he had abandoned his tribemates. He thought of Cruvor’s final words, of how he’d taken away Stryg’s last hopes of having a place within the tribe, how his destiny of being the tribe’s champion had been a lie. Hell, he was basically an exile at this point. Stryg shook his head, now wasn’t the time to think about that. He had to stay positive, there had to be a way to get back in good graces of the tribe. He was a goblin of the Bloodfang tribe. He’d figure out a way to escape this place and get home.

  Stryg was in a new land. He needed to be as sharp as a hunter. He rested his hands on his knees as he scanned the area. The buildings here were made of wood, compared to the stone houses by the gate. While buildings in both areas were only a single story tall, the wooden houses had fared worse, the logs were decrepit. Rain and wind had clearly done their worst, the wood was bleached and small cavities poked out through some. Even the people who milled about seemed to have known better days. When Stryg had entered the city he had assumed that most of the inhabitants were covered with layers of lavish clothes and shiny metal trinkets. But, the people who walked past him now were dressed in simple woolen spun clothes.

  They must have been the weaker members of their tribes. Gatherers and builders probably, Stryg guessed. From the sorry state of the houses, they seemed to be pretty terribly builders. The Bloodfang tribe’s village mainly consisted of tents, but the few wooden structures they had were made of strong healthy timber and designed to hold against any storm that flew past Vulture Woods. These buildings seemed to have so many cracks riddled all over them the rain would easily get inside. They were in dire need of goblin carpentry.

  Stryg spotted three humans walking towards him. Two boys and a girl, roughly around his age, he inferred from the stubble growing on the boys. Though Stryg’s face was bereft of hair, another oddity he had among the tribe. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure if humans aged like goblins. For all he knew they could be forty years old, or five. Their clothes were even shabbier than the passerby, with torn holes throughout the fabric. Their hair was a mess of unkempt mottled browns.

  “Who do we have here? A nasty goblin?” the first boy said.

“Ew, I bet he has warts all over,” the second boy snickered.

  Stryg glanced at his muddy hide shirt and pants. It was true he hadn’t been able to take a shower in over a week. That wasn’t very strange was it? No one wanted to take baths in cold rivers often. But warts? He had only ever known one goblin with warts, and they had killed him before it could spread to the rest. Diseases of any sort were not tolerated in any tribe. He was confused. Did they think he was sick?

  “He looks different than others I’ve seen,” the girl said as if studying a new fascinating animal.

“You mean ugly,” the first boy laughed.

  Ah, insults, Stryg thought. He should have expected humans to insult differently. He was in a new land, the terrain may have been different, but it was still like the forest. You had to be quick or else you’d get eaten by the largest predator. He was tired, but he couldn’t show weakness in front of an enemy. There were three of them and they were all two feet taller than him. The odds were stacked against him. He needed to act calm and run at the first chance he got.

  “What’s the matter? Too dumb to talk?” The first boy drew closer.

The girl pulled on his tattered sleeve as she turned her head back and forth, “Dan the sun’s setting. Everyone’s already gone into their homes. We should get out of here before we get caught.”

  “Relax, Lily, we still have time.”

Stryg bolted away as soon as they looked at each other.

  “Hey get back here, you freak!”

  Stryg focused on keeping one foot in front of the other. He had been running too much these past few days, his leg muscles were spasming in pain. The crowds had dispersed and the streets were empty. There was nowhere for Stryg to hide. He took a turn and glanced behind. The three humans were still chasing him.

  "Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

They were fast. Or maybe he was just slowing down, he couldn’t tell. They were gaining on him, only half a dozen feet now. He swung into an alleyway only to be met with a stone wall. A dead end.

  “Where are you going in such a rush,” Dan laughed. The three of them had blocked the exit and began drawing closer.

  Stryg backed up, his eyes flitting around the walls. They were made of wood, similar enough to the trees back home. He could climb them. But could the humans follow? Were they fast enough?

  “Give us your money.” Dan threatened.

“Money?” Stryg asked, confused.

  They didn’t want to kill him? They wanted money? Like the coins the poacher had? What was he supposed to say to humans? The only human Stryg knew had ignored him for the most part and forced him to eat some food and then sleep the rest of the time. He had to think quickly. They wanted money, like the brown coins the poacher had given to the guard. Copper was it called? Think! What should he say?

  “I don’t have any?”

“Liar! Grab his arms!”

  And that was clearly the wrong thing to say, Stryg grimaced. He should have said he had money, lots of it. Now, they were going to kill him. The rattling of chains echoed through the alley. The humans froze, the blood draining from their faces. They turned to run, but two figures stood in the way. They wore black cloaks. Their faces were shrouded by solid steel masks with no eye sockets. Their hands, covered in dull grey gauntlets, held a long metal chain that dangled on the floor.

  “I-i t-told you.” Lily whispered in fear.

  Dan pushed Lily away and ran past the cloaked figures. The metal chain whipped by, smashing into the back of Dan’s head. His neck bent at the force and fell to the ground, blood pooled around his head. Lily screamed as the other boy tackled the cloaked man to the ground.

  These predators were clearly higher up in the food chain, Stryg realized. The other boy began punching the masked man, who made no effort to block. Instead, its hands reached out and grabbed the boy's face. The boy shouted as the metal gauntlets squeezed his skull. The other cloaked figure flicked his chain across Lily’s hip. An audible crack resounded as she fell to the floor screaming. The masked man slowly turned to the end of the alley. But, Stryg had seen enough, he had already climbed to the top of the house and darted away in the dark. His perfect night vision aiding him as he jumped from one roof tile to another.

  Once he couldn’t hear the cries of Lily anymore he stopped and laid flat on a rooftop. He sucked in deep breaths of air as he tried to catch his breath. His body felt as heavy and rigid as stone. He wasn’t sure he could get up from here. Honestly, he was surprised he had lasted as long as he had. His stamina was normally never this extensive, then again he normally wasn’t running for his life either. He looked at his arms, they were finally cooling down.

  Stryg heard the rattle of chains in the distance once again. He ducked his head and dragged his body forward until he could peer past the roof’s edge. To his dismay he saw dozens of cloaked figures walking the empty streets. They each moved in pairs, skulking the neighborhood for more prey.

  Stryg backed away and waited without making a sound. He hoped they’d leave soon. They didn’t. The night’s air was frigid. Stryg’s scrapes stung, but his weariness was greater and he fell asleep partway through the night. His internal clock woke him up before dawn, as usual. As the sun began to rise the masked men left, Stryg wasn’t sure where to. In the morning light people began to leave their houses and mill about the streets. They all seemed so busy, filled with purpose. Stryg wondered if they were hunters. He hadn’t noticed any fauna since he had arrived. Perhaps they were hiding. But, there were no trees. Everything was so strange here. Even the few goblins he had spotted seemed strange, which was ridiculous coming from him. But, Stryg didn’t know any other way to describe it. They were sweeping the streets, or doing other menial jobs for others. While he expected humans to behave this way and some did, it seemed odd for goblins to do the same. Goblins were a proud warrior species, they weren’t supposed to serve others. Stryg would have thought they were some kind of slave, but they had no collar. They must be weak, the betas of their tribes, he judged.

  His eyes caught one familiar sight however. A pair of goblins were beating up on a human in an alleyway. They must be hunters going in for a kill. Stryg’s stomach grumbled, he had barely eaten anything in the past few days. He really wasn’t a fan of the taste of human flesh, but at this point he could go for anything. He climbed down from the roof and made his way to the goblins. He almost slipped as pain shot through his sore legs. He hadn’t had enough rest. All the more reason why his next course of action was clear.

  “*Ahem*” Stryg spoke from behind them. He made sure to keep a few feet of distance. He didn’t want them to think he was going to steal their food.

The goblins stopped kicking the man on the cobblestone and reared their yellow eyes towards him, “What do you want?”

  Stryg straightened his back and spoke as firm as his tired voice could muster, “I am Stryg! And I wish to join your tribe. I am skilled in the way of the spear and hand-to-hand combat. I would prove an excellent hunter in your ranks.”

  He did know how to use the spear, yet he knew he wasn’t excellent hunter material, but he had to embellish. He needed to join their tribe to survive. At least long enough to prepare for the long journey home.

The goblins stared at him, their eyebrows crunched, heads tilted.

  “Um, I’m also good at reading and writing …” His voice grew quieter as he spoke, ending in an almost inaudible whisper.

“I think he wants to join our gang, Jax.”

  Gang? Is that what they called tribes here?

“Uh, yes! I would like to join your gang,” Stryg adjusted his vocabulary quickly. He was getting good at this.

  Jax glanced at his friend. “What do you think, Leroy? He looks a bit off to me.”

Leroy raised his hands, “Hey, you’re the boss. But, please, whatever you decide, can we be quick? I don’t want the guards to catch us with this guy.” He kicked the human on the floor. The man twitched. Stryg was surprised he was still alive.

  Jax rubbed his chin as he thought. “Alright you can join us, but first you’re gonna have to prove yourself.”

“Of course,” Stryg nodded in affirmation.

  An initiation challenge was always expected when joining a new tribe. You had to prove your strength after all. He may have failed his first night challenge, but this was different. This wasn’t to get with some girl or to prove his honor. This was survival, if he didn’t manage to win here, he’d never get in the tribe and would probably starve to death.

  Stryg took a deep breath, rolled his neck, and wiggled his shoulders. He bared his teeth, “It is my honor to fight the chief himself. I will do my best.”

“Wait. What?” Jax took a step back.

  Stryg rushed him, and swung his fist in a right hook. Jax’s eyes widened as he barely managed to duck, but Stryg was prepared. He slammed his knee into Jax’s waiting face. This chief was slower than Stryg had expected.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Jax tumbled to the floor as he held his face, blood dribbling from between his hands.

“Jax! Are you okay!” Leroy grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “The motherfucker broke my nose! Shit it hurts!”

“You piece of shit, I’ll kill you!” Leroy turned to Stryg and pulled out a knife.

  “Huh? Eh, eh?” Stryg didn’t understand. All he knew was that he really was running too much.