ZachSkye

And with that, this version is caught up with my Royal Road version, meaning releases will happen for both at the same time! Happy holidays!

 Glares flew at Strum, coarse rough orc hands shoved him step by step through the fortress. Though none spared him a glance, Trolls, gremlins, and even unfamiliar goblins roamed free within the fortress. None paid him close mind.  A constant sense of disgust lingered within him after meeting Murdoc. Like an eye hovered over his shoulder, always watching.

  She’d walked in and burned sage, uttered archaic words. Then left him with the faint smell of ash and this unwelcome shadow. 

  His only saving grace existed in his apparent anonymity. Neither Yrx nor Pox spotted him entering, or his trip now as the orcs pushed him out. To the plethora of monsters here, he was just an odd goblin below their scrutiny. They appeared quite busy preparing to receive their Dark Lord. For that, he felt relief. So, for now, his knowledge of Lord Cygan’s existence remained obscured.

  But he wondered if he should even return to Regis. With the unknown hidden in his shadow, would he be leading the enemy to their cave?

  With a grunt, Strum lurched forward and fell onto the dried pines of the ancient forest. The orcs glared at him as he turned from their push. The expression was clear on their faces. Practically screaming, ‘You can go anywhere else, but here. It’s in your best interest to go quick.’

  Strum looked around at the Ancient Woods ahead and shivered. The sun dwindled above the treeline. Shadows reached their claws out towards him. Moss clung to a tree to his left, peat and mud reeked out and dominated the lonely forest. His nose scrunched as the tang of ash still polluted him. He clambered to his feet and hesitated. A goblin didn’t get very far in life by wandering along through unknown forests, let alone one so deadly. Jilde should have gotten far enough away. As he turned his left and right, a frown clung to his face.

  Which way is back?

  Cold sunk its fangs into his skin and bones. He forged ahead, slinking into a crouch. 

  Deeper into the forest, an alien landscape of leering pines. It grew darker with each second. He, like all goblins, knew that when the moon rose to its throne the deadliest creatures roamed. 

  His fingers shook, unaware how long he’d already wandered alone. He settled into a crevice, skin prickling, breath quickened. Did that gremlin intend this? To provide an illusion of freedom? A way to make me crawl back and beg to be his? If I didn’t, I’d realize I was going to end up something’s breakfast?

  Strum's fretful mind conjured the picture of Phizos tearing into his smoked meat with vicious pointed teeth. Aware that to many creatures, a goblin posed an ideal midnight snack. No good. If I don’t pull it together, I’m doomed. Strum set his shaking hands together in his lap. His breath slowed.

  Warmth from his core spread and battled with the cold seeping in. There was no fire, yet within something shifted. I’m not the same goblin. I don’t know what I am anymore, but I know who I am. I. Am. A. Professional. I’ll manage my way through this, return to Regis, then continue our operations. If we are to combat Mallik or this Cygan, I cannot afford to be halted here. Another deep breath steadied the shaking. A faint glow radiated from his skin, pale crimson light from the runes etched on him. 

  “Ah! Strum! Excellent! Your work ethic is remarkable! To have established a connect—What the hell is this awful taint clinging to your soul!?” Regis’ buzzing tone appeared out of nowhere, causing Strum to yelp and slip backward. His head banged against the coarse bark behind, drawing wet blood on the back of his head. “Calm yourself. There is little necessity for such dramatics. It’s simple, you’ve focused and called upon our bond. A pleasant consequence of our new covenant. I’ve been doing my utmost to contact you for the last hour, and I was growing quite irate. I’ve routed a group to retrieve you.” Strum could have imagined it, but it seemed like that buzz held an undercurrent of… joy? The emotion lingered behind the words like a shadow. 

  He had no way of communicating back. Glancing around to make sure nothing was stalking him in the dark, he spoke in a low voice. “Uh. Who did you send?” 

  No response.

  His fingers clenched while his eyes scanned. Goblins saw well in the dark, given they lived a semi-nocturnal lifestyle. Yet that could lead to false confidence. Predators that stalked used night like a cloak. They hid in plenty of spots, and they enjoyed sinking fangs into unsuspecting prey.

  Strum shuffled and muttered, “Regis? Regis? Can you hear me? Who did you send?” Still, nothing. He sat for another five minutes, the glow of his etches long faded away. He drummed his fingers on the dirt.

  Paranoia lurked like a goblin with a knife. Perhaps the dungeon’s voice was a manifestation of that paranoia. Crickets chirping, then an abrupt stop of their noise as something snapped a twig in the dark. 

  He couldn’t stay here. 

  Within the Ancient Forest dwelled a wide range of creatures. Deer and simple prey, to the deadly monsters and apex predators. The previous shaman of the Shadow-Axe clan speculated that a dungeon lived within the pine forest. Such a large gathering of dangerous species was a usual common symptom of an active dungeon. Yet no conclusive proof was ever discovered. Mallik suppressed further investigation following his rise to power. 

  Strum dismissed the voice, and with a desperate focus, he gathered himself. Broaching his way back into the forest. A lone goblin without any weapons. 

  Hours slipped by, his mental state like walking on ice an inch thick. Without a singular sense of direction, he made next to no progress in escape. But he became accustomed to his surroundings. Soon he could hear the snakes slithering in a bush, or the wolves as they howled in the distance. An almost supernatural ability to pinpoint their location and numbers. A week ago, Strum would have been meat for a pack of hounds. His strength wasn’t in survival skills, but rather people. However, the transformation Regis inflicted changed him. His senses were on a new level. 

  Pure survival. A goblin that flickered between trees. Feet that refused to touch fragile branches. More precision behind him then should have been possible. Without a guide, he only could rely on himself. For all the impressive evasion, he still came no closer to discovering an exit. Stuck playing cat and mouse with a dozen predators.

  His concentration broke with the sound of whispered voices. He slunk next to a tree as he heard the low-toned chatter. Did I double back to the fortress by accident? Nervous, but needing an answer, he crept forward. 

  A sigh of absolute relief escaped him. The familiar yellow-hued eyes of Jilde greeted him through a dark bush. The hobgoblin clutched at his chest. His employee was not alone, two other goblins escorted her. At a shove from Jilde they looked in his direction, Vraz giving a small wave as Jilde lept forward with a wild grin. Unlike any other goblin, she didn’t even need to pay attention to her feet, silent as a ghost as she jogged to his spot.

  Vraz and Gikx took a little longer to follow in her wake, the scrawny pair giving worried glances everywhere.

  “Oh-Strum! Regis said-they-let you go! How could they throw-you-out-like-that!? This-forest is deadly!” She began to half-yell, her voice uncontrolled and laced with emotion. Strum set a finger to her lips, causing her to freeze with arms outstretched. She blinked at him, face growing flush.

  “I’m… so happy to see you. But we uh, have to be quiet. We don’t know what’s listening.” He removed his finger from her lips, her eyes wide.

  An embarrassed nod escaped her, and she turned her attention towards the other two to hurry. They gathered in a tight circle. Gikx gripped his sword savagely and twitched every so often as he stared at the dark. Strum couldn’t fault him. Up until he saw these three, he’d reverted to nothing but instincts. Every year a handful of goblins never returned from this forest. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

  “You know the way back?” he asked, not having to raise his voice much. Jilde pressed up against him, no doubt to maintain their secrecy. The skin contact and sparkle in her eyes were completely coincidental. 

  “Yea-I-do. We-can-go-now…” she paused, watching Strum frown and stroke his chin. 

  “Do you know the way back to the fortress from here?” Vraz crinkled his brow.

  “Why the hell would you wanna go back? This place is dangerous, right? Take a peek at Gikx, he’s about to leap out of his skin at every noise!” Vraz muttered, dangerous eyes lingering on their hero. The hero straightened and lifted his sword above his head.

  “Gikx not afraid! Gikx Hero!” The shout escaped without warning, causing the three other goblins to stiffen. Vraz launched himself at Gikx, pushing the hero to the ground and shoving a hand over his dumb mouth to prevent further declarations of bravery. Of course, Gikx refused to go down without a fight, scrambling against the cook. Neither were particularly strong, but Vraz’s surprise attack gave him an advantage.

  The brief scuffle ended with Gikx pinned to the forest floor, quite pissed. Vraz sported a new purple spot on his chin from a stray elbow. 

  “Idiot! Keep. Your. Lips. Shut the fuck up!” Venom laced Vraz’s words, watching as Gikx begrudgingly gave up. “Promise to keep your damn mouth closed?” 

  Gikx nodded.

  Vraz sighed and clambered off him, rubbing his new bruise. He offered the hero a hand to his bring him to his feet. Soon, all four were standing again. Tensed like a rabbit preparing to run. Nothing to do about that. We have to move and hope nothing heard him yell. “Can you find your way there or not?” Strum tried again, needing this conversation to return to some semblance of productivity. The half-gremlin’s smile faded away, and she kicked her foot at the dirt. Refusing to meet his gaze.

  “I could get-us-there… but can we please not?” 

  “Did Yrx or Pox return before your group left?” Strum began to pace around the group, head cocked. Instincts took over once more. The rest of them shared a look, Jilde stood straighter. 

  “No,” Vraz crossed his arms. “They did not.”

  Jilde rose a finger to clarify, “They haven’t. Like-I-said, usually they return-in-the-morning when they go missing. I guess-its-because-they’re here all night.” 

  The hero cleared his throat, causing all of them to tense. “Gikx no understand. Why care Yrx or Pox? Find Strum. Bring Strum back.” 

  “He has a point, what the hell are you doing Strum?” Vraz said.

  “They’re traitors. We don’t want them reporting to Mallik. I don’t think they learned anything, but I’m not completely certain. We need to know what the plan is with this Dark Lord. Without all the information, we’re swimming in place. Those two have what we need. I don’t like not knowing. But I’m very sure that this Lord Cygan is nothing but trouble for our tribe,” Strum cleared his throat and softened his expression. He paused in place. “We need to set up an ambush, and grab the two of them.”

  “So-we-can outside-the-forest.” His employee grinned her vicious smile as positive energy thrummed through her. She no doubt recalled witnessing those two switching into the uniform of another tribe. No matter where a goblin sat in the hierarchy, an offense like that deserved no quarter. 

  Strum shook his head. “We have to stay the night, somewhere near the fortress out of the sight of the guards. Since it’s dark, they shouldn’t spot us. If they do, then I submit again and claim I had a change of heart. It leaves them no opportunity to escape our grasp. There’s another thing too…” he let out a small cough, “I’m not sure I can uh, return to the tribe.”

  “We did not come this far, to fuck up at the very end,” Vraz shook his head, dismissing the thought. 

  Gikx bristled and pounded his chest. “Come back with hero. Hero job to protect. Take two be-tray-or, and punish! Right way! No leave Strum! Hero take care of!” The angered goblin stepped up to Strum’s face.

  “If you want to be an uh, hero, do so Gikx. But, do it my way. If you don’t, Mallik will deny any involvement, and uh, nothing will change. Goblins support Mallik without thinking, he speaks for the ground-father in their eyes. Some will believe you, but most won’t. Help me get those two, then you can help me find out what they know. Then we can use that information.” The hero deflated and scratched his head. Too many words. Did he understand?

  “Think I missed you explaining why you can’t come back,” Vraz rolled his eyes.

  “It’s a hunch. Somethings uh, not quite right with me. They had a strange woman perform some ritual. I don’t know what it is, but until it passes, I’m not returning to Regis. Besides, someone needs to keep eyes on those when we catch them.”

  “Strum scrawny. Not enough to watch.” The hero flexed his bicep and patted the nonexistent bulge of flesh it produced. 

  The rest exchanged a look. Strum cleared his throat, then nodded reluctantly. He wanted to use Gikx’s influence within the tribe. Despite the dungeon’s feelings regarding the goblin, Gikx could be a useful tool. Besides, in his experience, Gikx was fine. Not the worst employee. Better to humor him. “I would uh, appreciate any help. Thanks. I’m sure you’ll help keep them in line.” 

  “Gikx swears.” The goblin gave a solemn nod. With that, Strum crouched down and grabbed a stick. The four huddled around as he drew lines in the dirt drafted a plan. Through their combined efforts, they’d catch those two traitorous goblins, and return victorious.

  The moon crested past the highest point in the sky, and the team set off to enact their plan.