Cecil traveled for several days down the winding road. The plethora of roadside inns meant the only time he saw the stars was from the window of his room. While Horacio had given him enough coin to pay for lodging, most innkeepers only had to see the house crest emblazoned on his armor and to give him a free stay and meal. A few recognized him as the Hero of Timberwood and offered him more luxurious accommodations which he politely declined. Many were taken aback by his modesty but nonetheless honored by his presence.

  On the morning of the fifth day, he set off down a stretch of road through the Darkwoods. Though the name was originally given to the abundance of trees that cast a permanent shade, in recent years it took on a far more sinister meaning. Goblins and bandits made the woods their home along with other, more dangerous, creatures such as fey and beasts. He made it a goal to reach the next village as soon as possible. The forest paths were long, twisting, and labyrinthine. Were it not for the abundance of signs he would’ve surely been lost. His horse grew tense in the absence of the sun and became more difficult to command. The only reassurance came from the whisper of the wind through the trees and the chirps of birds that sang their songs among their branches.

  After several hours of riding, Cecil came across a major fork in the road. Two paths lay before him with a large signpost marking the destinations. The leftmost path continued toward the village of Draven where Cecil was expected to pass through on his way to the capital. The duke’s medallion was supposed to waive the fee for the toll bridge, but Horacio warned him of the count’s less than generous nature. The rightmost path, however, was more intriguing as it led to a place known as the Citadel. It was described as a marble tower that stretched to the heavens, filled with mages that could conjure fire with a snap of their fingers. Such tales created as much distrust as intrigue for many. But for Cecil, it could be a path to answers about his curse. He stood at the crossroads in sheer contemplation. If there was any place he could find answers it would be a place of magic. The medallion in his satchel grew heavy, reminding him of his quest. His mouth creased into a frown, knowing the mages would have to wait. He commanded his horse to turn left and began trotting down the road.

  The birds grew unusually quiet the further he rode. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a presence other than his own. Before long, he heard a strange movement along the trees. It sounded heavier than a squirrel or a racoon, but just as nimble. Before he could conclude what it was, the distinct sound of an arrow being drawn from a quiver drew his attention forward. Up ahead he could make the outline of a man taking cover inside a large bush. Though it was difficult to see in the shade, Cecil could make out his leather armor and long brown hair that fell to the tip of his shoulders. A bandit, no doubt. Upon being spotted, the man raised his bow and aimed it at him.

  “You there, I need your horse,” the man spoke in a deep voice.

  Cecil instinctively hovered his hand above the pommel of his sword; a motion that the man noticed.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. “I can shoot that weapon out of your hand faster than you can draw it.”

  “You have a lot of confidence for a highwayman,” said Cecil, now fully grasping the handle.

  “All I want is your horse, nothing more. Dismount and you’ll leave unharmed.”

  Cecil wasn’t about to let some bandit stand in the way between him and his destination. He drew his sword from the scabbard and raised his shield for cover. His horse, realizing danger was present, pawed the ground in anticipation to charge. The bandit took several steps back, using the darkness of the woods to hide himself. It was clear the man was uncomfortable, but not entirely out of his element.

  “Now hold on, there’s no need for that,” said the bandit. “Maybe we can come to some kind of compromise?”

  “Compromise? And what kind of compromise can you offer me?”

  Cecil never heard the answer as a smoking sack landed on the ground from above. The sack immediately burst into flames which sizzled and popped loudly. The horse neighed loudly in fear, rearing itself on two legs and sending him sliding off the saddle. Unable to calm itself, it galloped down the road leaving its rider behind.

  “Come back, Astra!” Cecil pleaded. But the horse had disappeared before his words could reach it. His attention turned to the bandit, his blood boiling at the loss of his mount. “You’ll pay for that!”

  The bandit raised his hands, still holding a bow and arrow in each. “Hold on, that wasn’t me!”

  “Where are your bandit friends? I have a lot more to give them than a horse!”

  “I swear to Y’senta I’m not a bandit! There’s no one else here! Or at least…there shouldn’t be. ”

  His words gave Cecil pause. There was no trace of deception in the man’s voice. The tactic of a flaming sack was too crude to be the work of bandits. Even they knew better than to scare a horse away, which could fetch a large sum of coin. The only creature that would do such a thing would be one that didn’t care about coin, but easy prey. Four nasally laughs echoed throughout as he realized who the true culprits were.

  Goblins armed with crude axes sat on large branches hanging above. Their dark green skin blended seamlessly with the leaves, making it hard to tell them apart. Each one wore a crooked smile as saliva drooled from their mouth like a savage, hungry animal. Their equally crooked teeth chattered as they let out a set of snarls and laughs.

  “Haha, stupid softskins! No horse to keep you safe,” one taunted.

  “Horses make for tasty soup, but softskin meat taste better than horse meat. Best when flayed!” added another.

  “No, best when fried whole!”

  Cecil pounded his sword against his shield. The goblins responded to the taunt with snarls and growls. As always, they were very easy to provoke. As they stood on the branches, poised to strike, an arrow landed directly in the center of one of their heads. Its eyes quickly glazed over as its tiny body plummeted into the forest floor with a loud thump. The bandit stood over the dead goblin, flashing a smile at the other ones.

  “Well, are you waiting for an invitation?” he said.

  The goblin trio bellowed a collective cry of anger and leaped down with their axes raised. Cecil rushed toward them, bashing a goblin with his shield and followed with two quick slashes from his sword. Like a knife through butter, he cut off an arm, followed by an ear before finishing the creature with a stab. The other two, witnessing the brutality, began to panic and flee down the road.

  “Run! It’s the butcher!” one of them cried.

  The bandit quickly fired two arrows into each of its legs and pinned it to the ground, allowing Cecil to deliver the final blow by stabbing it through the back. The remaining goblin fled into the woods. An arrow soared past him, but only managed to graze the goblin’s side. After a moment, it disappeared and the road became silent once more.

  “Damn greenbloods,” muttered Cecil as he wiped the blood from his sword.

  The man plucked the arrows out of the goblin corpses, cleaned them off, and placed them in his quiver before approaching him. “You fought well. Gave them quite the scare as well.”

  Cecil pointed his sword at the man’s chest, forcing him to take several steps back. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, thief!”

  The bandit dropped his bow and raised his hands above his head. “Take it easy! I can explain!”

  “Explain what, exactly?”

  The man cautiously reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin the color of carmine. On its face was the symbol of two axes crossed together, on the other side was the phrase “through blood, the day is won” etched into the metal.

  “I’m a mercenary! Currently part of the Blood Axes,” he explained. “My comrades and I were on a job to investigate disappearances from a nearby village. We thought the source was a goblin camp here in the Darkwoods. But things went awry when they ambushed us and I got separated.”

  “How does this excuse your attempt at highway robbery?” asked Cecil.

  “I thought with a horse I could reach them in time. But it seems that isn’t an option anymore.”

  “So rather than ask for help, your immediate thought was to rob the first person you saw of their horse?”

  The man sighed wearily and lowered his head. “I understand you have no reason to trust me, and you have every reason to be angry. But I’m honest when I say they’re in danger! If we don’t hurry, they’ll be in some stew or roast!”

  The desperation in the man’s voice was thick. The described fate of his companions was no mere exaggeration. Goblins would often cook large groups of people in communal stews. The thought of such a sight made Cecil clench his fist in disgust. He pulled the tip of his blade away but didn’t sheath it. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Royce. And yours?”

  “Cecil. Do you have any idea where your friends were taken?”

  Royce pointed to a trail of green blood left behind by the goblin he injured. “I can track the blood trail and it should lead us to their camp. No doubt they’re being kept there.”

  “Very well. You lead the way and I’ll follow.”

  A look of surprise fell upon the man’s face. “Wait, you’re going to help me? Even after what I tried to do? Why?”

  He paused in his steps, unsure of how to answer him. “Nobody deserves to die in such a way. And it’s my responsibility as a guard of Timberwood to make sure they don’t.”

  “You’re a guard?” Royce asked, examining him from his armor to his hair. “Forgive me, you don’t look like one. You look more like a knight with that sword.”

  “I’m the guard captain,” Cecil clarified. “Let’s make haste and find your friends.”

  A dry laugh escaped Royce’s lips. It was evident that he was hiding something but Cecil couldn’t be sure as to what. For now, he focused on finding the goblin camp. With any luck, he could get his horse back and continue his quest. Assuming the goblins didn’t bake it into a pie first.

  ***

  Royce proved to be more than adequate at tracking than Cecil expected. Whenever they appeared to lose the trail, it didn’t take long for him to find another clue that put them back on. He was incredibly perceptive, noting the absence of wildlife the closer they approached the camp. Eventually though, the blood trail stopped as they came across the corpse of the goblin. Judging by its coloration, it died shortly before they arrived.

  “Well, so much for the hope of it leading us to the camp,” said Cecil.

  “It got us most of the way, at least,” said Royce.

  The faintest scent of cooked meat passed through their noses. It was a horrid smell, reminiscent of rotten beef thrown onto a fire. But it was to follow. As they followed the scent, they could make out a large circular clearing in the trees. Royce held out his hand, ushering them to stop.

  “Looks like we found their camp.”

  “We should head in while we still have time!” exclaimed Cecil.

  Royce shook his head. “We have the advantage of surprise. Let’s keep it that way.”

  With the grace of a cat, Royce kept low to the ground and moved swiftly. By comparison, Cecil was not nearly as dexterous and relied on slow, purposeful steps to prevent his armor from making too much noise. He hoped the goblins were too occupied with their feast to notice him. Stopping at the edge of the clearing, they saw four people bound together to a large tree with thick rope squeezing their waists. Each of them wore the symbol of the Blood Axes somewhere on their armor. Their weapons were haphazardly tossed in a pile on the side with some goblins playing with them. One captive caught Cecil’s attention: a woman over seven feet tall with skin the color of stone and hair the color of withered bark. Unlike the others, she was bound by multiple chains to a single tree and watched by several goblins with spears. Many of them drooled at the sight of her, no doubt enamored by the amount of meat they could eat off her bones. From time to time, Cecil saw bands of mercenary groups led by giantkin enter Timberwood looking for work. Though their prices were often hefty, and the guards loathed to work alongside mercenaries, the results spoke for themselves.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “That’s Ryne. She’s the leader of the group,” explained Royce. “I’m surprised they caught her too.”

  One of the goblins guarding her mustered enough courage to approach. “Large lady look like stone! Probably taste like stone too!” it said.

  “Careful! She dangerous!” another one yelled.

  “She tied up, coward! No danger—”

  Cecil watched as the woman kicked the goblin in the chest and launched it headfirst into a nearby tree. A distinct crack echoed through the trees as the goblin slid down and smeared green blood over across the bark. She narrowed her eyes at the goblins who took several steps back, their spears now trembling in their hands.

  Not counting the one smeared against a tree, there were eight goblins in the camp. However, the amount of supplies stockpiled in the corner suggested there were more. Most likely a hunting party had left some time before they arrived. Cecil could only hope they left recently, as more goblins would spell trouble.

  “Doesn’t look like too many. We’ll have them free in no time,” said Royce.

  “I think more are out hunting. What if they come back?” asked Cecil.

  The sound of footsteps came from behind. Thinking it was the returning hunting party, they dove deeper into the bushes and waited. Instead of goblins, two humanoid figures dressed in blood-red cloaks entered the camp. The goblins stopped harassing their captives and focused their collective attention on their new guests. They were fixated on their crooked black daggers as well as the wooden symbols hanging from their necks. The same symbol Cecil saw at the church.

  “What are cultists doing here?!” Cecil gasped.

  “You know them?” asked Royce, surprised.

  “I’ve seen them before. But nevermind that, we should get your friends free while they’re distracted.”

  “Good idea. You stay here and I’ll take care of them.”

  Cecil pulled on his sleeve. “Don’t underestimate them! They might not look smart but they’re clever.”

  “Relax, they’re just goblins. They’ll all be dead before you know it.”

  Royce climbed a nearby tree and vanished into the cover of the leaves. Cecil cursed under his breath. He couldn’t make out where he was nor could he hear him. The chatter among the goblins grew louder and called his attention to them. One of the cultists reached into their cloaks and pulled out a scroll before giving it to the largest goblin. This surprised it, and surprised Cecil more upon realizing they were able to read.

  “You promise softskin meat and loot if we fight with you?” asked the goblin as a toothy smile grew on its face.

  The two cultists nodded silently. While some of the goblins were enthusiastic, a few expressed skepticism in the form of spitting in the cultist’s direction.

  “Capital too big! Many soldiers with pointy spears and strong armor. Our weapons do no good!” one said.

  In response, the other cultist presented them with a dark box made of black ebony. The goblin opened it to reveal a set of black daggers, each one the color of a starless night. Even from a distance, Cecil could see the craftsmanship was unlike anything in Ebonhold. The greenbloods took turns passing them around. Most admired their malevolent shape while others used the sharp point as a toothpick. The cultists then gestured to one of the four mercenaries tied to the tree, seemingly encouraging them to test out the new weapons. One goblin gleefully raised its dagger over its head with both hands and ran toward them.

  “We make good stew out of bones!” it screamed.

  Cecil’s heart began to race. He drew his sword and readied to charge. But before he could, an arrow flew from above and knocked the dagger out of the goblins hand. The screaming stopped as it looked around in confusion only for another arrow to strike it in the head. The others watched as their friend glazed over and fell dead. Immediately, they panicked and dove for cover among the trees. Some didn’t make it in time and instead became pinned to them. A few desperately shot arrows to where they thought the attacker came from to no avail. Faced with a hidden foe and dwindling numbers, the goblins quickly into the forest. Amidst the chaos, the cultists vanished into the darkness as quickly as they came. Cecil was tempted to follow them, but he remembered the hostages. As they retreated, Royce laughed loud enough to be heard throughout the whole forest.

  “I think they weren’t as clever as you thought!”

  Cecil looked around and saw how none of the goblins dropped their weapons. A shiver went up his spine. Goblins always dropped their weapons when retreating. His suspicions were proven correct when he noticed movement among the branches. Though cloaked in shadow, their gnarly voices and chuckles gave them away. He heard the sound of arrows being drawn from quivers.

  “Royce! The hunting party is back!” yelled Cecil.

  The goblins let out a horrifying war cry as they unleashed a volley of arrows at Royce’s position. One grazed his shoulder, causing him to fall out of the tree and onto the ground, letting out a painful cry as he landed. By the time he pulled the arrow out, the goblins surrounded him, each one frothing at the mouth. A few picked up the black daggers the cultists left behind while most prepared their crudely made cleavers to chop.

  “You not as sneaky as you think! We boil you alive!” one of them yelled.

  “No, no! Flay meat now and roast it over fire!” one of them suggested.

  “Roasting softskin no taste good! Fry in fat instead!”

  As Royce struggled against the horde, Cecil’s scar grew tight around his neck as the time slowed down. He couldn’t leave him to be butchered by goblins. Nobody deserved such a fate, not even a horse thief. Nobody deserved to be a victim of his curse. He gripped his sword tight and, taking a deep breath, he sprinted out of hiding. They turned, expecting another easy meal, only to have their faces sink in horror as they saw their greatest fear.

  “It’s the butcher!” one cried.

  He rammed several goblins off Royce with his shield. Each one flew back and landed against the trees with a loud thud. Using his sword, he cleaved off a goblin’s ear followed by their head. The goblins pulled away, many of them trembling, but none retreated. It was only then did Cecil realize how many surrounded them. Each member of the horde looked at him not with hunger, but rage.

  “We skin you alive, butcher! We haven’t forgotten Grixil!” one of them yelled.

  Royce dusted himself off and readied his bow. “Can’t say I prefer to die like this, but I guess it’s better than being boiled in a stew,” he said.

  Cecil caught a glimpse of the mercenaries tied up to the trees. “If we free your friends, we have a chance against them!” exclaimed Cecil.

  “Good plan. I’ll cover your rear,” said Royce.

  Cecil clanged his sword and shield together and addressed the crowd. “Which one of you greenbloods wants to be the one who kills the butcher?!”

  The forest erupted into a choir of snarls and growls as the goblins descended on them. They hacked and slashed with their crude weapons; Their anger eroded what little cleverness they had. Cecil kept them at bay, either by knocking them away with his shield or culling them with his sword. He moved through the battlefield with the swiftness and poise of a dancer. Each slice spilled green blood onto the ground along with dismembered arms, ears, and even a few heads. The display was enough to keep the majority of the greenbloods back.

  Royce followed closely, dispatching goblins with deadly precision. The impact of every arrow could almost be felt when it landed. When a goblin came too close, Royce used the tip of an arrow to stab it before using the same arrow to take out another one. He scanned the crowd, taking out the goblin archers before they had a chance to fire. When a trio of goblins charged at him with axes, he grabbed a heap of sand from the ground and flung it in their eyes. The greenbloods clawed at their faces, unable to see the arrows that would silence them for good.

  Upon reaching the hostages, a squad of goblin archers pelted them with arrows from the trees. Cecil raised his shield, sheltering them from the attack. Royce quickly undid their bindings using one of the black daggers on the ground, cutting through the rope with ease. Once freed, the mercenaries grabbed their weapons as they rushed to free their leader. Cecil and Royce followed suit, defend them as best they could.

  The goblins grew more ferocious in their attacks. The nonstop shrieks made it difficult to concentrate. A few managed to land a grazing blow on Cecil’s leg. Royce suffered yet another arrow, this time puncturing his side. Although they put up an impressive effort for two people, they were quickly losing the momentum of battle. Cecil was forced to take a more defensive stance when the greenbloods grew more confident at the sight of his blood. Royce’s aim became less sure as the pain from his wound became harder to ignore. Though they had quelled an astounding number, their numbers kept coming. Cecil’s heart pounded faster and faster. This time, there were guards or Aaron to save him. He grew frustrated, not at the goblins but his own failure. To think his quest would end at the hands of goblins was shameful.

  Amidst the chaos of fighting, a loud, deep roar broke through. Cecil turned to see the mercenaries had successfully freed their leader. Armed with a massive two-headed axe that was as tall as him, Ryne barreled through the horde of goblins and painted the grass a new shade of green. Every swing from her weapon culled a massive chunk from the horde. Cecil, Royce, and the other mercenaries joined in. With their combined efforts, the goblins’ fury gave way to terror as they fled into the shelter of the Darkwoods.

  “Run! Run!” they cried.

  The weapons they left behind, in addition to their genuine screams, assured Cecil they were retreating for good. As the fighting subsided, all that remained of the goblins were the arrow-ridden and dismembered corpses of those who were too slow to escape. Cecil fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath and stop the bleeding in his leg. Royce collapsed to the ground as his wound grew in pain.

  “Royce! You’re hurt!” exclaimed Cecil.

  “I’m fine. It’s just…a graze,” he muttered.

  The mercenaries didn’t seem all that bothered by the state of their companion. A few, including Ryne, almost looked amused. Cecil took out one of Nina’s potions from his satchel and gave it to him. Royce downed the entire bottle, watching as the bleeding quickly subsided before coughing violently.

  “By Y’senta, this tastes like I’m drinking pine needles!” he said.

  “A waste of a potion. You were better off letting him bleed,” said Ryne, coldly.

  Cecil was taken aback by the giant woman, both in size and her tone of voice. Royce stood up and flashed an angry look at her.

  “Hey, I just saved your lives! Care to be a little grateful?”

  “No. He saved our lives,” she said, pointing to Cecil. “You merely helped if I’m being generous.”

  “The point is, were it not for us you’d be goblin food by now!”

  “Were it not for you, we wouldn’t have been caught in the first place,” said one of the mercenaries. “And to think they consider you ranger material.”

  Gritting his teeth and clenching his fist, Royce stomped forward. “Listen here you little—”

  Cecil stepped between them. “Listen, we just survived an entire goblin horde. I don’t think now is the time to grow angry with one another.”

  Ryne focused her attention on Cecil, taking particular interest in his sword and shield. “Are you supposed to be some kind of knight?” she asked.

  “No, I’m a guard captain.”

  “A guard captain?” she scoffed. “I’ll give you credit that you’ve fought better than any guard I’ve seen, but I wouldn’t bump my nose into mercenary business. Especially when it involves Royce.”

  “Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to save you! I wouldn’t have even known you were in need of saving!”

  “How did he rope you into this? Let me guess, did he try to steal your horse?”

  Cecil grew silent, unsure of what to say. It’s not like she was wrong, after all. Ryne smiled, taking his silence to mean she was correct, and turned her focus to Royce.

  “You might be able to fool him, but you can’t fool any of us. I hope you got what you wanted from this contract because you won’t get anymore.”

  As the mercenaries prepared to leave, Cecil scanned the camp in search of his horse. “Excuse me, have any of you seen a white horse?” he asked.

  One of the mercenaries pointed to a pile of butchered meat beside the fire. A wave of crushing despair hit him like a hammer. Most of the supplies in the saddlebags were ruined or in the stomach of a goblin. It seemed the goblins were hungrier than he anticipated. Before the mercenaries took off, Cecil approached Ryne with a desperate look.

  “Miss, I know this may seem like an unusual request but may I ride with you? I need to reach Ferrucia as soon as possible,” he asked.

  Ryne gave him a blank look. It was unknown if she found him amusing or just boring. “Not enough room on the horse, boy. You’ll have to find your own way.”

  “But—”

  She whistled loudly, signaling the other mercenaries to follow her as they rode out of camp and into the woods. A cloud of dust kicked into the air, causing him to cough.

  “Hey! You can’t just leave me here!” yelled Royce. But by then they were already gone. He angrily kicked a rock into a tree and yelled. “Flame father curse them! This is the thanks I get for saving their ungrateful hides?”

  Cecil paid little interest to his outburst. His mind was on more pressing matters. Without his horse, how could he reach the capital before summer’s end? How would he survive without his supplies? His heart sank with despair at the thought.

  “You said you needed to reach the capital, right?” asked Royce.

  Cecil nodded.

  “Why don’t we travel together? I need to head back as well and, as you saw, my ‘friends’ don’t give a rat’s ass about me.”

  He was hesitant to give an answer. Despite how well they fought together, he couldn’t bring himself to trust him. At least not completely. Royce noticed his hesitancy and sighed.

  “Look, I know you might not trust me. Truly, I’m sorry for trying to steal your horse. Had I known you would’ve helped, believe me I wouldn’t have done so. But more importantly, you helped me when the others wouldn’t. You saved me from those goblins and you helped me when I was hurt. You had every reason not to and you did it anyway. So, thank you.”

  A small smile formed on Cecil’s lips. He could tell from the sincerity in his voice that Royce was being truthful. “I think traveling together is a good idea. But I’m worried about supplies.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. This isn’t my first time in the wild,” said Royce, playfully twirling the black dagger.

  Upon closer examination, Cecil noticed a strange symbol etched on the blade: A metal gauntlet surrounded by flames. It was unlike any symbol he had ever seen before.

  “Do you recognize that symbol?” he asked.

  Royce shook his head. “I’ve never seen metal this dark or sharp either. I wonder if it’s magical?”

  “If it is, best be careful with it. Maybe those cultists enchanted it with dark magic.”

  “About that, you said you recognized those people as cultists. Care to explain?”

  Cecil was reluctant to tell him the complete truth. But he felt he deserved an answer now that they were going to travel together. “Those cultists were from the same group that attacked my town. They killed the messenger birds, so I’ve been sent to inform the king of their activities.”

  A puzzled look grew on Royce’s face. “They killed the birds? They obviously didn’t want knowledge of the attack to spread. I wonder what their plan is?”

  He questioned if omitting Vekkanor was wise. But it was unlikely that Royce would take him seriously. “What’s important is I need to get there by summer’s end. Do you know any shortcuts through the woods to get us there?”

  Royce frowned. “I don’t know any paths that would get us there quickly. But I do know a quicker way to the nearby village. We could stop there and see if we could get horses to the capital. I would say we could claim the bounty on the goblins, but more than likely Ryne and her mercenaries are going to get there first.”

  They gathered what remaining supplies they could before they set down the forest path. Even if he didn’t fully trust Royce, he felt a bit more comfortable knowing that he didn’t have to travel alone. But with every step he took, the medallion in his satchel grew heavier. If he didn’t find a faster way to the capital, he feared his dream would manifest into reality.