Krazgul Runeblade's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The flytrap's head still rotted by the fire pit, but the goblins no longer looked at it. They looked at the old goblin who had tested Krazgul. He crouched apart from the rest, chewing, saying nothing. One kill had bought their oaths. Now a louder word spread through the huts. The king was sending a beast to crush them. And the old goblin's doubt was spreading too. "A flytrap sits in a pit," the old goblin said. He spat. "It waits to be killed. The king's beast comes to kill us. That is not the same." Around the fire, heads nodded. Spears leaned against huts, untouched. A warband that would not lift its spears was no warband. A new voice cut in. "Then stop waiting for it." Grizelda Hexwhisper pushed between two goblins. She was small, green, her coat sewn with charms and tiny bones. Krazgul had seen her at the edge of the village, muttering over a bowl of smoke, and had kept his distance. Even the old goblin leaned back from her yellow eyes. She tossed a handful of ash into the fire. The flames flashed blue and showed a shape inside the smoke. A troll. Blue, tall as two huts, a spiked club on its shoulder. "The king's gift," Grizelda said. "Coming from the dead woods. It will reach us by dawn." She looked at Krazgul, not the old goblin. "You wanted warriors. Give them something to fear more than the king." The old goblin barked a laugh. "He killed a plant. Now you want him to fight a troll?" Krazgul drew both daggers. The firelight died in the black blades. "I won't wait for dawn," he said. "I'll meet it in the woods." He whistled low. The smoke wolf rose from the dark and stood at his heel. He found the troll crossing a dry creek bed. It smelled him and swung the club. The blow splintered a dead tree where Krazgul had stood a breath before. He rolled under its legs and slashed the back of its knee. Black blood ran. The troll bellowed and stamped. A heel caught Krazgul's shoulder and threw him into the roots. The wolf lunged for the troll's throat. The troll grabbed it and hurled it aside. But its throat was open now. The runes on Krazgul's arms burned hot. He ran up a fallen trunk and leaped. He drove both daggers into the troll's eye and chest. The cosmic blades punched deep. The troll staggered, fell, and crushed the creek bed under its weight. Krazgul sawed through the thick neck and lifted the blue head. He carried it back and dropped it by the fire, beside the flytrap's. The old goblin stared a long moment. Then he knelt and set his bone knife at Krazgul's feet. "No more doubt," he said. One by one, the goblins took up their spears. Grizelda smiled. "Now you have a warband," she said. "The king will send worse."