Elias and the Hunter

    Elias had tracked the band of goblins for weeks. If tracking was difficult enough, goblins never moved directly from place to place, often changing directions several times per day. After a grueling chase through all manner of rough terrain, in the nearly unbearable heat of mid -summer, he had finally caught up to one of the raiding parties that had been harassing the nearby villages.

    The fighting was over quickly, with the leader of the group surrendering shortly after seeing his companions’ heads removed from their shoulders. Now he sat bound, opposite Elias, at the campfire.

    From the beginning, these goblin raids didn’t sit well with Elias. Something was odd but they couldn’t be left unchecked. The villagers were growing restless and tensions were building with the news of each attack. It wouldn’t be long before they took matters into their own hands and innocent blood was spilled.

    Goblins weren’t known for their restraint, but up to now, none of the raids had killed anyone and very little was taken. A few villagers had suffered minor scrapes and bruises and what had been taken was of little value. The bulk of the damage had come in the form of fences pushed over and doors being forced open.

    “Why are the goblins attacking the villages here?” Elias broke the silence with a firm, confident tone. Goblins understood strength above all else, and as long as this goblin believed that Elias could kill him at any second, interrogation would be a simple matter.

    “We not attack de veellage,” the goblin spoke in a broken and crude form of the human language. “We hunt fo de wan dat hunt us.”

    “Are you saying the villagers attacked you first?”

    “No. Not veellagers. Wan man ond ees beasts. Ee wear de color of blood and funder. De beasts ‘ave skeen of fur and meetal.” The goblin’s eyes shifted nervously from side to side as if looking for an assassin in the shadows. “We call heem de Hunter.”

    “You say this man attacks you? And you look for him for what? Revenge?”

    “Dees man hunt my people. Keel my people weedoud merrrsssee. We luuuke for josteess.”

    The goblin’s story was intriguing, but Elias wondered if it was just that, a story. It was true that the behavior of the raiders was unlike any other goblins he had heard of. But goblins were cunning and deceptive, certainly not to be trusted. The simplest course of action would have been to kill the goblin and consider the situation resolved. But there was just enough evidence for Elias to want to investigate further. After several minutes of silent deliberation, Elias had made his decision.

    Knife in hand, Elias stood and approached the goblin. His eyes widened and his body trembled in fear. As the knife drew nearer, Elias could sense the terror followed by resignation in the goblin’s expression. For a moment, he almost pitied the creature. He gripped the goblin’s wrist and, with one swift slash, cut loose his bonds. “Go,” was the only instruction Elias gave. Without a reply, the goblin sprinted away into the wilderness.

    Elias gave the goblin an hour before he began tracking him. If his tale of a mysterious hunter was true, he needed to see for himself. It was another six days of winding and backtracking before he finally found the goblin camp and it wasn’t long after before the camp was moving. Although goblins were nomadic, it had often been observed that a goblin could always find its way back to its clan, in a manner not dissimilar to homing pigeons.

    For almost two weeks Elias observed the camp. Although they moved several times, there was no sign of outsiders. Interestingly, he noted that no raiding parties had left the village since his former captive had returned.

    Just before dawn on the sixteenth day, Elias noticed the bushes downwind of the camp stirred slightly. At first he thought it might just be the wind, but a closer look led him to believe the cause wasn’t natural. He slowly, carefully made his way down to the source of the disturbance.

    As he approached the edge of a small clearing, he saw a young man wearing chainmail armor under a tunic of maroon and grey. On either side and behind, sat three massive hounds with armored plates covering the front half of their bodies.

    “Will you remain in the shadows?” The young man spoke, keeping his eyes trained in the direction of the goblin camp. “Or shall we meet like civilized folk?” It was no doubt now that he was talking to Elias as with his final word, he looked directly into the trees where he stood.

    Elias stepped out of the trees. “I am Elias of Dorn. I mean no harm to those that harm none.” He kept his arms outstretched, avoiding anything that might be seen as a threatening gesture.

    “Baron Kerr Grothar.” The stranger gave a courteous salute. “I only mean to harm the vermin that infest my lands. Shall you join me in cleansing this filth?”

    “You.. You mean the goblins?”

    “Aye,” Grothar said with a nod. “Filthy creatures they are. Better the gods had never created them. No matter how many we kill, more spring up from the ground. A blight they are.”

    “They’re not so different than you or I. Their sense of justice is not so skewed as many think.”

    “Hah. You would put these vermin on the level of man? What kind of fool are you?” The Baron spit at his feet with a clearly disgusted expression. “You’re a disgrace to the title of Knight.”

    “It is you who disgrace your fellow man. Your damned fools crusade has brought chaos to the people of your lands. People whom you are duty bound to protect.” Elias had given up the pretence of peaceful pleasantries as his hand fell on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll not let you bring more ruin to the people of this land.”

    “As you wish.” With a snap of the Baron’s fingers, the three hounds ran toward Elias, gnashing their teeth a letting loose vicious growls.

    As the first hound leapt into Elias’s chest, he felt as though he had been hit by a falling boulder. He had barely been able to draw his sword and the force of impact loosened his grip enough to send it flying out of reach.

    As the three hounds pounced on him, Elias could hear teeth and claws scraping against armored plate. The beasts pulled at his body in all directions, attempting to tear him apart. As the hound pulling his right arm readjusted his grip, Elias tore his arm free and pulled the dagger from his belt.

    He plunged the blade deep into the hound at his leg’s neck. The pointed blade slid into a gap between the armor plates and into flesh. The animal let out a gurgling yelp as blood poured down its throat and filled its lungs.

    Rolling quickly to his left, Elias straddled the back of the hound on his left arm. Unable to free his arm, he placed his right forearm at the base of the hounds neck. Pressing down with his right arm and pulling up with his left, Elias strained until he felt the vertebrae snap and the animal’s body go limp.

    Returning to his feet, Elias looked around the clearing to regain his bearings. The Baron was nowhere to be seen. No doubt he had fled in the initial confusion after releasing his hounds. The last of the dogs circled cautiously, lunging several times and missing its mark. Apparently sensing that its task was complete, the hound turned and fled into the wilderness faster than Elias could pursue.

    It was clear to Elias that he had made an enemy that day. How dangerous an enemy this Baron Kerr Grothar would be, was yet to be seen.