Chapter 8: City Gates (Part 1)

  Stryg woke to the smell of burning meat. For a horrifying brief moment he thought the poacher was going to cook him. But his nose picked up on the scent of venison.

  Stryg opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was lying on the floor. The poacher was sitting next to a small campfire, grilling meat over the open flame. The massive creature he had called a centaur was a few feet away, bent over, grazing on tall grass.

  There was something very wrong here. Stryg could see the blue sky. Not partly covered by rust-red leaves, but the entire sky. He looked all around, there wasn’t a tree in sight.

  “W-where am I?” Stryg asked. He tried to move, the ropes held tight.

  “Ah, so you can speak. Good. No point in moving so much, those ropes are made from ivlid weed, not even an orc can break free, much less a goblin.”

  The poacher had removed his mask. He had a long narrow jaw, with a thin hook nose. He was bald except for the few grey hairs that stuck out above his ears.

  Stryg stopped struggling as he studied the man. He had his suspicions before based on his height, but now he was certain. This was a human. Stryg had seen one before, though it had been dead. A few hunters had found that human traveling through the forest, before they decided to bring it to the village for dinner.

  “You hit your head pretty bad. You’ve been asleep for two days. The good news is that we’re out of those vile woods and only a day out from Hollow Shade. We’ll be rid of each other soon enough,” the poacher said.

  Stryg was silent as he tried to absorb that information. This wasn’t Vulture Woods? He had never been out of the forest, no goblin he knew had. If what the man had said was true, then coupled with the time he had traveled on the quest, he was about nine days of travel from the village.

  How would he get back?

  Stryg wasn’t sure if he could make it one day by himself in the woods, let alone nine. He wasn’t even a hunter. To make matters worse he wasn’t sure which direction Vulture Woods was. All he could see was tall grass and hills in the distance all around. The severity of the situation was beginning to settle in. He was irrevocably screwed.

  The poacher got up and rummaged through one of his leather packs. He pulled out a small piece of stale bread and threw it at Stryg. The goblin made no move towards it.

  “Eat up. I need you to look relatively healthy when we get to the city. Can’t have my merchandise looking half-dead,” the poacher said.

  “...Merchandise?”

  “Accent’s not bad. Clear pronunciation. I bet I could sell you to a family in one of the wealthier districts. Probably an eccentric woman, given that cyan color of yours.”

  “Sell me?” Stryg was confused. Was the poacher going to sell him to be eaten by another human?

  The man settled back down, “Obviously. Slaves make money. And a man needs to eat.”

  “Wait, what, slave? You plan on making me a slave?!” Stryg thrashed around as he struggled to break the ropes.

  He needed to get out of here. A pet was one willing to submit to another out of respect to the master, it was a choice. But to be a slave was the greatest shame, it was being forced to submit oneself to another forever.

  You’d never have a chance to fight back for your honor. Stryg had seen other tribes with goblin slaves. They were the bitches of the tribe, to be used in whatever way their masters wished. He wasn’t about to let himself fall to such lows, he’d rather get eaten live by a vulture.

  The poacher laughed, “You still got some energy in you. That’s great.”

  Stryg rolled on the ground. The ropes didn’t loosen a bit. He tried tearing them with his claws, but his hands were tied tightly. That didn’t stop him from trying. He toiled for the next hour, yet the ropes proved too durable. He quickly found himself worn out and hungry. So hungry.

  Stryg glanced at the stale bread.

  “Are you done trying to escape? Eat your food and get some rest, we’ll depart in the morning.”

  Stryg looked up at the sky. Judging by the position of the sun it was only mid afternoon. There were still several hours of daylight left. The poacher noticed his questioning look.

  “It’s too late to travel today. We’re too close to the city. I don’t want to be caught that close outside the walls at night. If we start moving in the morning we’ll reach the city a little before sunset. Relax, if I manage to sell you to one of those rich families you’ll have an easy life.”

  The poacher shrugged, “Relatively speaking. Now eat, before I make you.”

  Stryg recognized the threat, he had been the subject of many like it. The poacher was right, he needed his strength, and a fresh beating wouldn’t help.

  Stryg nibbled on the bread. He hadn’t ever had anything like it. It was hard, without much flavor, but most food he ate was like that. After he finished, he closed his eyes and tried to rest. He would need all the energy he could muster if he was going to escape.

~~~

  As night came Stryg opened his eyes to make sure the poacher was asleep. He then began crawling as quietly as possible. His goal was one of the packs the poacher had around him. There had to be a knife in one of them.

  “Where are you going?” A deep voice said from behind.

  Stryg turned around to see the 7 foot creature.

  The centaur stared down at him, “Master said you are to stay right there.”

  Stryg finally understood why the centaur wore the collar. “You’re a slave? Then why aren’t you trying to help me? We can escape together.”

  The centaur raised one of his front hooves and planted it on top of Stryg, not enough to break a bone, but more than enough to keep him from moving.

  Stryg gasped for breath. The weight was crushing him. Stryg mentally chastised himself.

  The centaur had been with the man for the past twenty years, of course he had already been broken in. Asking for his help had been foolish.

  The centaur’s upper body leaned down, “I am not a slave. I am a beast of burden. I will not be sold off, you will. I matter, you do not.”

  Stryg couldn’t respond if he wanted to, he couldn’t breathe.

  After a few agonizing moments the centaur lifted his hoof. “Sleep. Now.”

  Stryg gasped and sucked in deep breaths of air. His chest felt like it was about to collapse. His lungs burned as they greedily sucked in air. He glared at the strange creature with hate.

  Stryg would kill these two the first chance he got, but first he had to escape. How was he going to get home? What would First Mother and the chief think when they saw him alone without his tribemates and without the cave’s treasure.

  Was there any treasure to begin with? Or had that been another lie from the shaman as well. What could he say to convince the tribe that he was innocent, that it was the shaman’s fault that the others had died. Well, to be fair, Stryg had left them all to die.

  The Blood Fang tribe would call him a coward. They’d exile him at best, eat him at worst. He had to think of a way to convince them otherwise.

  “Sleep,” The centaur warned.

  Stryg closed his eyes before another hoof decided to deprive him of air.

  He spent the night trying to move unnoticed, but the centaur and the poacher took shifts watching him. Stryg had failed to do anything by the time the sun rose.

  Stryg sighed, he couldn’t do anything right, as usual. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to run from the cave right. He had been captured so easily and now he was going to be sold as a slave. He always botched everything.

  Stryg shook his head, that wasn’t true. He had killed that snake creature. It was something no other goblin had been capable of. If he could do that, then he could do this, he just had to stay focused. He wouldn’t pity himself. He couldn’t afford to.