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Chapter 672: The Blood Fang Hunters
🕑 Added 2025-10-17 07:48:59 +0000 UTCA scream broke the silence of the forest. Drale and Nalindor glanced at each other, a silent exchange of words. Leaping out of their hiding place among the bushes, they dashed towards the sound of the screams. They slung their bows on their backs and pushed their legs as fast as they could take them.
Where, for a moment, there had been a single scream, now there were several joining in. An ear-splitting roar drowned out the screams and shook the scarlet leaves of the ashen trees all around. The screams grew louder, then began to fall one by one.
Nalindor prayed to all the gods that would listen that they would make it. As if a spiteful deity had heard his pleas, Nalindor broke through the treeline and came across a stream.
The third hunting team was strewn about the river and rocky shore. Nalindor froze at the sight of the carnage. His fellow goblins dyed the water red around them. Half their bodies had been torn to little more than viscera. A massive bear larger than any he had seen loomed over the corpses, dark scales covering its back.
Urseid, the term echoed in the back of his mind. Old Lenore had mentioned the species from her days reading about them and other Vulture fauna as an acolyte in the Celestial Shrine. He had hoped her stories had been exaggerated. They were not.
A single woman lay among the dead, her leg torn wide open from a long gash. She whimpered quietly and dragged herself away, but the urseid had its yellow beady eyes on her, and moved in for the kill.
A chill ran through Nalindor’s body and he thought of his little girl. Had she managed to escape Lunis’ ransacking? Had she made it to Evenfall? He had to live, if not for his own sake, but for hers. He couldn’t leave Nelli alone in this world.
Nalindor stood still with indecision until Drale almost crashed into him from behind, breaking him from his fear. Nalindor met the wounded woman’s eyes, Alia, and his decision was made.
“Get Alia out of here!” Nalindor shouted and drew his bow and let two arrows loose on the Urseid in quick succession.
“Yes, Captain!” Drale said.
The arrows did little and bounced off the dark scales harmlessly, but they did grab the monstrous bear’s attention. It roared with indignity and charged Nalindor. He glanced at Drale, who was throwing Alia over his back, then turned back and fired one more arrow before running in the opposite direction from Drale.
Memories of Nelli rushed through his mind. Carrying his little girl in his arms as she fell asleep. Watching her take her first steps. Teaching her how to swing a wooden sword as he pretended to be a troll. Having to say goodbye to her when he left Lunis for war.
Something sharp swiped at the back of his leg and caught his calf. Nalindor went tumbling to the ground and his head smacked into the dirt. Dazed, he looked up at a scarlet canopy until the urseid came into view, casting a shadow over him.
The urseid bared its salivating maw and opened wide. A spear fell from above and sank into its eye. The bear flinched and the spear failed to go deep enough for the kill, yet it had done its job. Roaring in pain, the urseid stumbled backwards, lashing out at nothing.
“Avoid the scales! Go for its underside!” shouted Stryga as she rushed out from the trees and stood between the Nalindor and the urseid.
He had never felt so relieved to see the cursed one. Several more goblins came into view, and quickly surrounded the giant bear. Nalindor recognized them as the unofficial fourth hunting team, formed from a ragtag group of goblins who had chosen to follow the vampire’s teachings rather than stay back at camp.
Half the goblins in the fourth team hadn’t even qualified to be accepted into the three hunting teams and had been remanded to stay at camp doing other jobs instead. Nalindor himself had deemed them unfit for excursions into Vulture Woods. Many were refugees from Lunis who had been barred from entry into Evenfall. They weren’t soldiers. They were too scared, inexperienced, or simply lacked what it took to be a soldier in this damned forest. And yet, here they were. Unafraid, bows in hand, arrows notched, eyes steely in focus.
With her single remaining arm, Stryga drew a simple steel sword from her hip and pointed at the urseid. “Loose!”
The fourth team fired in unison. Several arrows splashed harmlessly off the urseid’s scales, but several found their way into its thick hide. The bear roared, but Stryga didn’t give it a chance to react. She sprinted forward in a blur and dived below the bear’s massive body. With four quick slashes, she sliced at its ankles, and rolled out from underneath it.
A deep moan of pain erupted from the urseid and it collapsed, unable to hold its weight. Blood frothed at its black lips and it tried dragging itself towards Stryga to no avail.
“Fire at will!” Stryga ordered.
The fourth team didn’t hesitate. They fired volley after volley at the beast until its moans of pain became nothing more than dying whines. Finally, the beast fell silent.
“We did it!” Shouted one of the younger hunters, a young man hardly older than seventeen.
“It’s no time to celebrate,” said Halrin, gesturing to the grim sight of their fallen comrades from the third hunting team.
“Dear gods…” the young man grimaced in horror.
“I’ve seen dire bears before but this was… something else,” muttered another hunter.
“That’s because it isn’t a dire beast. It is an urseid. They’re uncommon this far from the mountains.” Stryga turned to Nalindor, “Captain, are you alright? Can you stand?”
How he wanted to say yes and to shrug her off, but the sharp pain in his calf told him otherwise. “...I can’t,” he sighed.
Stryga crouched down, ripped off the last bloody tatters of his pants where the urseid had caught him, and used the cloth strips as a makeshift bandage. “This should stop the bleeding for now. Myn.”
“Yes, Huntmaster?” Myn appeared at their side, standing at attention. Where once she had seemed timid and afraid, the last two years had hardened her. She held herself with an air of certainty and her yellow eyes tempered as steel.
“Take your squad and escort the wounded and Drale back to Sevryn at camp, he’ll take care of the rest,” Stryga said.
“Drop them with the healer, understood,” Myn nodded.
“Make sure to come back with haste. I will not leave the bodies of the third hunting team to be food for the animals. And I’d rather not linger here until nightfall,” Stryga said.
“At once, Huntmaster.” Myn beat her fist to her chest, bowed her head, turned on her heel, and went to work. With a quick shout, three others broke off from Stryga’s hunting team. Two of them helped Nalindor to his feet, wrapping their arms under his shoulders, while the last gave Drale a hand with Alia.
“Halrin, your squad is on lookout,” Stryga said. “The scent of blood may attract other beasts. The rest of you gather the bodies of the dead and line them up at the side of the stream. When you’re done, wash up, and help me with cutting this giant of a bear. I want us done and ready to leave when Myn’s squad comes back.”
“Yes, Huntmaster!” the fourth team said in unison.
“Stryga, a word,” said Nalindor. Myn’s squadmates paused in their steps and brought him over to Stryga.
“Yes, Captain?” A flicker of uncertainty crossed her purple eyes.
“...Thank you,” Nalindor whispered. He hated to thank the woman who had commanded the armies that ransacked Lunis, but she had saved his people’s lives today, and his honor wouldn’t let that go without comment.
Stryga relaxed her tense shoulders. “No need to thank me. My hunters are doing most of the work.”
“When you first started training them, I thought you were up to something, possibly sabotaging us or worse. When I realized you were earnest in your endeavour, I thought you simply stupid. But now… Well, your Blood Fang hunters are quite something,” Nalindor admitted begrudgingly.
“Are they still calling themselves that?” Stryga blushed and winced.
“Well, whatever you call them, you’re doing something good here,” Nalindor said in a gruff voice.
“That sounded almost like a compliment,” she beamed.
“Forget I said anything.” He shook his head and urged the two goblins at his side to help him along.
“Thank you, Captain. When I came to you, I had lost everything…” Stryga whispered, her voice turning raw. “But these men and women who dare believe in me and call themselves my Blood Fang hunters, they give me purpose. I cannot return that trust with nothing but my all. If you need me, Captain, I will be there.”
Nalindor grumbled in acknowledgement and went on his way.
~~~
“How are they doing?” Stryga knocked on the door and stepped inside into one of the few buildings in their camp, or as like many had taken to calling it, a makeshift village. The small log cabin, made by a couple of carpenters who had joined them in the last refugee wave, served as the infirmary. It was a simple affair, but Sevryn kept it clean and made sure the carpenters had added several windows to air out the stale air of the sick and wounded.
“Ah, Stryga, you’re back,” Sevryn lit up at the sight of her. “They’re hanging in there.” He shrugged with a yawn, “I used all my mana, but they’re hanging in there.”
“What would we do without our healer?” Stryga smirked.
“Probably die. Were there any other survivors?"
“No,” she whispered. “We can’t keep losing so many people.”
“I know… but what else can we do? There is only so much we can forage for, we need to hunt for food. The plants in this forest are practically magic. They’re so rich in nourishment that the deer herds are incredibly abundant. It’d be foolish not to hunt them.”
“Except we’re not the only ones hunting deer.”
“That’s the problem. But if we can get more people to learn your hunters’ methods, we might have a shot at surviving in this place.”
“Maybe…”
“Maybe? Do you really not know the effect you’re having on those goblins? Your hunter ‘squads’ have the least amount of deaths by far. People want to know your secrets.”
“It’s just some advanced military tactics and simple weapons training, nothing more. Most of the people here were never trained to fight, let alone hunt in packs. I’m just teaching them how to fend for themselves when I’m—” She stopped herself from saying anymore.
Sevryn narrowed his eyes. “When you’re what?”
“...When I’m gone. I can’t use my magic anymore and I only have one arm. So far, I’ve been lucky. I don’t know how long that luck will last in this forest. There are far more dangerous beasts than urseids in Vulture Woods.”
“That’s why you have your Blood Fang hunters, right? To support you when your luck runs out.”
“Oh, please, don’t call them that?” She grimaced abashedly.
“Come on, you know they love it, right? They’re building up a reputation and not just in our camp but the few others we’ve encountered have all been impressed by the ‘Blood Fangs.’ Don’t shy away from it, you’ll only embarrass them.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” She pleaded. “Have you had dinner yet?”
Over the last few months, she had grown used to sharing dinners with the only other mage in the camp. He had been the only one to treat her with openness from the first day they met. Stryga was surprised to find how much she enjoyed his company and without realizing it, dinner had become the part of the day she looked forward to the most.
“Not yet. I’ve been busy taking care of the wounded. The third team wasn’t the only one that took losses, I’m afraid,” Sevryn said.
Her expression grew dark. “How many did we lose?”
“Four dead. Nine wounded.”
“We can’t keep this up.”
“I am well aware. Maybe if you took over all the hunting teams, we might stand a chance.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. The soldiers hate me. They’d never listen to any of my commands, let alone training.”
“That was before. For the last two years, they’ve kept seeing their friends and loved ones dying around them. You’d be surprised how many are willing to swallow their pride if it means living another day.”
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Just think about it, okay?”
“Fine. Dinner, please? I’m starving,” She gave him a pleading look.
“Yeah, let’s go— Oh wait.” He winced, “I actually ran out of a few herbs for some poultices I was going to make. I still need to go collect them before it gets dark.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Just give me a list.”
“Stryga, I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already been out of the camp all day. You need to rest. I’ll get a couple of the foragers to join me and we’ll be done in an hour.”
“I can halve that time. And unlike the medically untrained you call ‘foragers’, I actually know what to look for. I won’t need to risk anyone else by going out of the camp.”
“I don’t know…”
Her lips curled in a mischievous grin. She drew close, until her chest was at his eye level. “Come on, Sev. I can take care of myself.”
He looked away, to her disappointment. “F-Fine. You can take one of my medical journals. I have written down all the herbs I need on a single page. I’ll put a bookmark in so you can know which page.”
Grinning wider in success at her little ploy, she stepped back and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
He rummaged through his table, his back turned to her. “One sec, just need to find my bookmark.”
“You lost it? You love that ugly thing,” Stryga teased.
Sevryn had carried a strip of cloth with him ever since his days as a novice mageborn. It had once belonged to a washcloth that he had on him the night he discovered his magic while he was working at a tavern. Ever since then, he had called it his lucky washcloth. Over the years, it had grown frayed and torn. Now all that was left was a narrow strip that was stained through the years.
“Don’t mock my lucky washcloth, it’s saved my life more than once.”
“It should be an injustice to even call it a washcloth, you know.”
“Says the princess.”
“I’m not a princess.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t grow up with a household of servants at your every beck and call.”
“That makes a noble lady, not a princess.”
“Yeah, same thing. Ah, here we are. Now, don’t lose the bookmark. Keep it close.” He turned around and handed her the journal.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have your precious journal and bookmark back to you soon,” she winked.
“Thanks, Stryga. You’re a good friend,” he said with genuine warmth.
“Friend. Yeah, you bet,” she said stiffly and walked out. Why Sevryn’s words threw her off, she didn’t know. They were friends, weren’t they? That was a good thing, right? So why did his words bother her so much?
There was no point in dwelling on such thoughts. The sun was already beginning to set. She needed to hurry. Opening the journal, she found a pressed blue flower instead of the usual strip of cloth.
She held the flower up and felt the faintest of blushes touch her blue cheeks.
Comments
Brad
I wonder what the average height for a goblin is. TFTC.
