Tomorrow was the day, whether or not they stood a chance at winning or losing the challenge if it were actually fair, was uncertain. His student had come a long way in a week, but there’s only so much to cram into a goblin’s brain in so short of a time. Goblins were only capable of so much, and even though Gikx pushed himself, there was a limit. 

  He watched Gikx smoothly slice through another onion—tossing it into a small metal pan next to the fire runes. 

  From knife skills to learning to properly sear, even given the short time frame they’d managed to cover a few broad topics. Gikx learned to tell from touch whether or not a slice of game meat was rare, medium-rare, or burnt to hell. Gikx proved eager, almost hungry to devour the knowledge. The goblin seemed immensely satisfied by how angry Regis grew when he performed better. This drove him to top his achievements that even Vraz wouldn’t have thought him capable of. Not that Vraz thought it was a good idea to piss off the chef, but if it provided motivation, who was he to judge?

  Spite could let you accomplish a lot. It could make you do things you typically wouldn’t be capable of. Vraz set a hand on the wrapped up mushroom hidden in his tunic.

  The time was coming close. While he trusted in his student, he knew that this wasn’t going to be a fair challenge; Rurk likely devised some kind of trickery to guarantee himself the win. He was arrogant like the rest of this tribe, but not dumb.

  So Vraz did some digging. Asked around, maybe he offered a couple of bribes in the form of delicious meals. And lo and behold—he got one stupid hobgoblin to spill the chieftain's precious secret. 

  Who was going to be judging the food?

  There would be a panel of three judges. Mallik, of course. Strum, and then lastly that bastard, Rurk himself. A representative of the Ground-Father, the dungeon, and the chieftain. It was unfair, obviously. What sort of competition let one of the contestants judge the meals? But that’s why they put Strum on the panel too. Allegedly, not it made it better. But this savage tribe wasn’t one that played by the rules. And Vraz suspected that the manager didn’t know it yet—Rurk tried to keep it quiet ahead of time so the impulsive goblins wouldn’t have time to question or let the better thinkers among the tribe dwell over it for too long.

  All of these Shadow-Axe tribe goblins were laughably uneducated, and that was a weapon against them. But Vraz had the solution.

  Gikx finished his prep-work—setting the knife down on the table with a clatter, and stretching his hands out. That blue bandanna Vraz gave him worn as a mark of pride. Vraz couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He’d originally agreed to Gikx since he found the younger goblin’s attitude rather hilarious. But, there was a good heart in there, buried under all that ego. In an ironic way, he thought Gikx and Regis were two sides of the same stone.

  Which would make this next part much harder than he’d ever pictured it to be. 

  “Nice work! How about we go for a walk?” Vraz asked, tilting his head towards the exit. “Place gets stuffy if you sit in it too long. Ever since they added that oven.”

  Wort snorted from his corner of the kitchen, a firm disagreement from a lazy hobgoblin. 

  “Gikx want air.” The hero nodded along and eagerly followed Vraz out like a wolfhound pup.

  They passed by the main cavern—a small kitchen was in the midst of being set up in the middle of the space. Spectator seats lined around the makeshift kitchen made up of discarded pieces of wood which were more than enough for goblin asses to park onto. The tribe was abuzz and in good spirits. They loved a good challenge. Even if it didn’t mean shedding blood. Winners and losers were enough to amuse them. This tribe was a constant struggle for power over one another, Vraz blew past them all, trying not to let his anger sink too far.

  Vraz missed his tribe. He’d missed them for a long time now, and the wound in his heart never seemed to scab over. 

  Thankfully the night sky above was a sweet relief from the claustrophobic cave system of his enemies’ home. He led Gikx quite a distance away, taking some time to collect himself and enjoy the night air. The feel of the cold running across his damp skin, the scent of the spruce trees strong in the night as fall began to come into full swing. 

  Eventually, he found a good boulder to sit on and took his place. Eyes trained on the hero. Gikx stood, not even noticing he’d left behind his onyx sword in the kitchen. He’d gotten far too used to just using a chef knife.

  Go figure. Became a hero to escape the kitchen, and now preferred cooking in it.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Vraz said, folding his hands behind his head.

  “Huh? Gikx no get, what bush Vraz beat?”

  “No, no. Gikx. Listen. I know how things are going to go tomorrow. You’ve worked so hard and I’ve seen you working yourself to the bone to get better. I don’t know any other goblin who could learn as much as you did, as fast you have.”

  “Gikx good!” The hero flexed a bicep and smiled at him. It almost broke Vraz’s heart.

  “I know. You are, that’s why it’s unfair.”

  “Jealous of Gikx?”

  “No—not that. No, They’re going to cheat you Gikx. Out of all your hard work. All the effort you put into this. The duel is rigged.” The hero’s jaw dropped, Gikx continued looking at him with a dumb expression on his face. As if he expected Vraz to say he was kidding, or to explain further. But no. The cook let him feel the full sting of what he’d said. That despite all of his efforts, he’d been screwed from the start. He needed him to feel that edge of desperation. Gikx broke.

  “Gikx beat cheater! No fair! Tell how cheat!” 

  “I’ve found out who the judges are—Strum, and Mallik—” Gikx gave a smirk, relief breaking across his face. “— then Rurk himself.” Slowly the dumber’s goblin’s expression turned from triumph to confusion.

  “But Gikx challenge Rurk?” Gikx asked in a weak voice.

  “He plans to declare himself a judge, and Mallik will let it stand. Saying that because Strum is also a judge, it’s fair. But no matter what you do, the Shaman plans to vote for Rurk to win. He’s unhappy with how things went with the twins and he suspects that Strum is trying to oust him as well as Rurk. Along with whatever silly political games your self-destructive tribe is playing.” 

  Gikx deflated, sinking to the ground and burying his head in his hands. “Gikx try hard! Gikx learn much! Gikx cook!” He let out a scream, face turning to the sky. “Why everything Gikx try fail! Gikx hero but not hero! Gikx cook but not cook! Why, why, why!?” He began to whack his hands against his face as the tantrum spiraled.

  Vraz jumped off the rock—grabbing Gikx’s wrists and meeting his eyes. Stopping the goblin from hurting himself. A bit of doubt dwelling in him. He hated this. Hated it almost as much as he hated this tribe. 

  But it needed to be done.

  “I know, I know Gikx. I’ve seen it, seen you try your best. Only for them to throw this at you…” Vraz stopped, his voice catching for a moment. As he met those dumb hopeful eyes of the hero. Someone who considered him a friend.

  What does it matter to the ground? All of my family is with them. 

  Vraz straightened. “What if I told you I had a way for you to win? An ingredient so special that not even Rurk will be able to say your meal isn’t good?”

  Gikx tilted his head, hope in his eyes. “Vraz has trick?”

  He almost wanted to stop himself. To tell Gikx that no, he didn’t. That he was just trying to cheer him up. Almost. Vraz slowly put a hand in his tunic, withdrawing the nightshade cap, bundled in the leather. Gikx’s eyes went wide, excitement clear on his face. No idea that Vraz held death in his hand. He unwrapped the bundle to reveal the violent tinged mushroom.

  “This is the key ingredient to your dish. But you must only use it in the portion of the meal you make for Rurk. It’s got a bit of magic to it—if it goes into anyone else’s food—even a little bit, it won’t work. And you’ll lose. Do you understand, Gikx?”

  The hero nodded his head, hands pawing at the mushroom. Trying to take it away like an eager child, Vraz withdrew it. Stern as he looked at the goblin. 

  “I need you to repeat back what I said.”

  “Gikx put mushroom in Rurk food! Only Rurk food! Or magic mushroom no work!”

  May the Ground-Father see fit to forgive me. Vraz wrapped the mushroom back up again, handing it over to the hero. To see how gleeful Gikx was as he stashed it away, thinking his friend had just provided him the one and only key he needed to win. Little did he know that Vraz had condemned him. Had used him to enact the plan for vengeance that had burned in his chest since that bastard Rurk came for his tribe and slaughtered his people. 

  Vraz felt sick. Like a snake coiled in his stomach and spat venom. He couldn’t let Gikx see, or all of this planning and sneaking around would go to waste. His people would never forgive him in the afterlife. He set a hand on Gikx’s shoulder.

  “You’ve prepared all you can. Let’s head back to the cave and get some rest. Try not to stress out too hard, alright?”

  “Why Gikx worry? Vraz give win!” The joyful goblin hoisted the leather-wrapped death shroom into the sky, making Vraz almost cringe with both alarm and guilt. He grabbed the goblin’s wrist and yanked it back down.

  “Just make sure to keep it out of sight. Nobody can know.”

  “Gikx thank Vraz. Good friend.”

  With that, the two left the dark outside and returned to the kitchen. Gikx washed up the rest of his supplies and returned to the main cavern—no doubt to sleep in his luxurious room and bed. One last night before all hell rained down on his head for poisoning the chieftain during a challenge. 

  Vraz tossed and turned in his leather sleeping bag, the soft snores of Wort and the hum of the oven fire his only company as the hours ticked by.

  His chest felt heavy—heart beating in palpitation, as Gikx’s last words to him remained lodged in his head haunting him.

  Were they friends? Could he be friends with anyone in this tribe that slaughtered his own? Strum was an exception of course and even Wort. Jilde too—none of them were really with the Shadow-Axe tribe. They were with the dungeon. Separate in his mind. But Gikx was decidedly and unashamedly one of the Shadow-Axe’s finest. Down to his dumb logistics and status as a hero. He was weak, cowardly, and a liar.

  But, Gikx had considered him a friend. 

  And what was he doing? Using him? Found a way to poison Rurk? It’d be easier if it’d been Vraz in the cooking contest—hell, each day that passed Vraz had looked for a chance to feed the chieftain the mushroom. A guaranteed meal that would be delivered to the one who slaughtered his family. He wouldn’t have hesitated for a second.

  It hadn’t come. Until now. He was certain Rurk would be a judge for his own contest. There was no better chance, except, it wasn’t him delivering the poison. It’d be easy to take him out and accept the consequences that came after. If he’d done that, then he’d have had his revenge.

  But it was another thing entirely to trick another goblin into his dirty work. One that trusted him to a point of foolishness. One that called him a friend. 

  Vraz got no sleep that night. 

ZachSkye

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