Chapter 42: Lost in the Woods

The dragon’s head spanned a dozen feet across. The deep purple eyes studied the terrified goblin child.

Its mouth opened slowly to reveal razor sharp teeth the size of short swords, “So, you’re the one who woke me from my nap.”

Stryg whimpered in fear. The dragon’s body sauntered out of the pond. Its amethyst scales shimmered in various colors.

Stryg crawled away with what little strength he had. “Help, help me!”

The draconic neck slithered above the goblin, “You are very far from home, child.”

Stryg’s head slowly turned up to the dragon. His eyes widened to saucers, his lip quivered, but no voice came out.

The dragon’s clawed hand swept the child in a tight hold, “Why are you alone?”

Stryg’s face paled. “H-help,” he whispered.

“No one’s coming,” the dragon’s mouth opened wide.

Its serpentine tongue flicked out and slathered Stryg with its saliva. Stryg shivered at the touch. The dragon’s neck suddenly snapped back and tilted its head. After a long agonizing moment, the dragon lowered the child onto a nearby boulder.

Its pearl white teeth opened wide in a menacing manner. Stryg pulled back, only to realize the dragon was smiling.

“You taste horrible,” the dragon’s rumbling voice reverberated.

The indigo wings stretched out, expanding over a hundred feet, water dripping from the membrane edges. Its powerful wings beat the air with a thunderous force, lifting the creature into the sky within moments. The blasts of wind pushed Stryg off the boulder and slammed him into the rocky shore. He groaned in pain as he saw the giant dragon’s silhouette disappear into a speck in the sky.

“Stryg! What are you doing here?!” A hunter shouted from the top of the hill.

Stryg had never been so happy to see the eccentric goblin in his life. “Sigte!”

“We told you to stay in the village,” Sigte ran down the hill with haste.

Stryg’s fear of the dragon was quickly replaced with the fear of what the hunters would do to him. His fears came true when he noticed the other hunters at the treeline above.

“I-i’m sorry. I tried following you, but I got lost.” Stryg mumbled and hung his head in shame.

He was a pathetic excuse for a would-be hunter, no wonder they didn’t want him to join them.

“You’re lucky we were nearby. I heard your cries and we rushed right over,” Sigte glanced at the sky, then looked around, scanning for any threats. “We should get going. Our trails never cross this area. Get up Stryg.”

Stryg tried and whimpered in pain. Sigte glanced at the child’s quickly swelling ankle.

“Sigte, we need to go!” A hunter shouted from the top of the hill.

“One second!” Sigte shouted back. He crouched and looked over Stryg’s beaten state, “Did you fall down the hill?”

Stryg bit his lip and nodded.

Sigte turned around, “Get on my back, I’ll carry you.”

Stryg hesitated.

“I can’t have you hobbling, and slowing us down,” Sigte said, “Hurry.”

Stryg’s small arms wrapped around the older goblin’s neck. Sigte grabbed his legs carefully and stood up. He jogged up the hill with the swift deftness of a hunter.

“The village isn’t very far from here, I’ll take the boy back. You all go on ahead without me,” Sigte said to the other hunters.

Sigte ran off, before the others had a chance to respond. Stryg was grateful for the quick departure, he worried that the others would punish him severely.

Stryg stayed quiet on the way back. The rattling of red leaves and Sigte’s quiet footsteps were the only sounds on the trail. Stryg had never been given a piggyback ride before and he was afraid Sigte would push him off if he said anything incriminating.

“You know the forest is dangerous,” Sigte broke the silence. “Why did you leave the village on your own? You could have gotten killed. Even if you didn’t, First Mother might do the job herself. She ordered the children to stay in the village.”

“But...I wanted to show everyone I could track them. I wanted to be a good hunter.” Stryg could feel his eyes begin to burn with tears.

“And how did that go? Do you think you're good hunter-material now? Or maybe you realized you’re just a fool.”

“I-i just. I just wanted to be strong like you.” Stryg buried his face in Sigte’s shoulder.

Sigte could feel the soft shuddering of the child.

Sigte sighed, “There are better ways of becoming strong than learning how to track or hunt.”

“Like what?” Stryg sniffed.

“Well, you’re in luck. It just so happens I know a very secret method of becoming strong.”

“Really?”

“Really. I call it the secret ability of words.”

“Words? That doesn’t sound very strong…”

“Well, if you don’t want to learn that’s fine by me.”

“Wait, wait! I want to learn. Please, teach me, please.”

“Only if you promise to never venture into the Woods by yourself again.”

“I promise. I super promise with all my heart.”

“All your hearts? That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“No it’s not, I got a small heart.”

Sigte laughed.

“So, when can we start?”

---

“The reading came in useful. Writing too, I guess. I’m not much of a writer though, I could never get the words just right,” Stryg shrugged.

“That’s it? What happened to the dragon? Did you actually get in trouble with your parents? What about Sigte and the other hunters?” Plum asked on the edge of her seat. She had to know what happened next.

“I thought Sigte’s lessons were a joke. Turns out they were quite useful,” Stryg glanced at the bookshelves.

“He sounds like a great guy,” Kithina smiled.

“He was. It’s thanks to him that I even had a chance of being able to learn here. Had I been illiterate I would have been placed in basic literacy classes and I would have fallen behind.”

Stryg ran his hand through his grey hair. “I wish I could have repaid the favor, but a dire bear got him a few years later, ate him up whole... I was his apprentice, but instead of being there to help Sigte when he needed me, I was drawing pictures in the dirt. All because I wasn’t strong enough to go with him. He died alone.”

Stryg chuckled, “And you know what’s funny? No one cared. Not a single person made a fuss, only an off-hand comment of how there was one less mouth to feed. Just me. It was only me. They hit me for every tear I shed that day. Compassion was for the weak, they said. It’s easier not to feel, it makes you stronger, they said. A better warrior… I guess it did.”

“...Stryg, are you okay?” Plum touched his shoulder.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Stryg cleared his throat. “Anyway, to answer your questions, I never saw the dragon again. As for my parents? Well, the tribe’s children are raised by the Mothers. First Mother beat the crap out of me after Sigte carried me back that day. She broke my rib, I deserved it.”

“Oh.” Kithina sat back.

“You definitely didn’t deserve that Stryg. Kids run off to play all the time. It’s no excuse for child abuse. She should have never hurt you like that,” Plum frowned.

“Please, I got off lucky if you ask me. Others have been killed for far less. I was a weak little goblin who had no right to go off on his own. I endangered the hunter party by forcing them to go off track and rescue me,” Stryg said.

“Stryg…that’s...” Kithina muttered.

“What are you talking about? To think you called me an idiot. Stryg, you can’t just let some woman who’s not actually your mom hurt you like that. Please, tell me someone dealt with her,” Plum said.

“No, not really, I guess.” Stryg clasped his hands. “Actually, she threatened to kill and eat me last time we spoke. I never did return to the village after that…”

“So, the dragon just let you live?” Callum finally spoke up.

“...It found me disgusting, a freak. A dragon didn’t want to eat something like that. It wasn’t much of a surprise, we’re oddities of nature, right Callum? Not even fit to pass down our blood.” Stryg stood up. “I should get going.”

“Stryg wait up,” Plum followed him.

Callum watched them leave with a look of contemplation. Stryg’s story sounded ridiculous. Perhaps, a dragon’s palette was so refined as to not eat anything that might not seem normal, but it should have at least killed Stryg for interrupting its slumber.

Callum would have called the whole story a farce if it wasn’t for one little detail. Stryg had said the dragon’s scales shimmered in different colors. Of all the stories folk told of dragons, none mentioned such a feature. But, Callum knew otherwise. His father once told him of a Veres ancestor, who once encountered a dragon. The scales shimmered a variety of colors, as well. Though, the rest of Stryg’s story just didn’t add up. Callum wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Killing and eating him? That’s a dumb joke,” Kithina laughed.

Callum was broken away from his thoughts. He glanced at the red-headed dwarf, “Stryg’s from a sylvan tribe, right? I’ve heard stories about them, their fierceness and brutality. They are said to sometimes eat their enemies. If Stryg did something worthy of becoming their enemy, I wouldn’t be surprised if this ‘First Mother’ person would follow through with her threat. The very fact that Stryg hasn’t returned to his village and is here instead gives credence to that theory.”

“That’s horrible,” Kithina gasped.

In many ways this was good for Callum. It meant Stryg had nowhere to go back to. He could be the friend that Stryg needed, that Stryg would owe.

The other night had gone well. The Veres family practically owned the restaurant they had visited. It wasn’t hard for Callum to use his family’s influence to check their reservation ledgers. He needed to find a name. Stryg was normally standoffish, unwilling to be friendly to all but Plum. However, if there was one thing Callum could count on was Stryg’s ruthlessness towards his foes. Callum’s tender back was a testament to that.

Callum needed to find someone who would be Stryg’s enemy. Someone who could divert Stryg’s anger at Callum’s own enemies, yet not implicate Callum himself, not yet at least. Callum found the perfect name. Maeve Mora, his cousin, but not a Veres. A family member who hated him, yet loved his siblings. What’s more, she hated him because of her dislike of hybrids. The icing on the cake was that the cocky Maeve had made Stryg her enemy all on her own. Callum didn’t even need to lift a finger, all he had to do was make his own reservation line up with Maeve’s.

Things went almost perfectly. Callum had regrettably been forced to step in and stop Stryg from attacking Maeve in the restaurant. At least it seemed like a testament of Callum’s loyalty to family, or at least Maeve would think so. Sure, Maeve was annoyed at Callum for defending Stryg, but, in the end it didn’t matter. Maeve never liked him much to begin with.

As for Stryg, Callum and him now shared a common enemy, a reason to bond together. To become allies. He’d help Stryg get his revenge, eventually. First, he’d mold him into a powerful blade, sharp and deadly. Callum genuinely liked Stryg and he hoped one day the goblin hybrid would be his dagger in the dark.

First, Callum needed to deal with his would-be shield in the light. He stared at Kithina. He had counted on Maeve’s loathing for hybrids, but not her hostility towards commoners. The vampiress had made Kithina cry and run away. He was now left to clean up the mess. It wasn’t all bad he told himself. After all, he needed Kithina to become strong, mentally and physically. He had many plans for his two friends. But, like all the greatest plans, his began with small, precise, design.

“Kithina, I fear I owe you an apology,” Callum said.

“What do you mean? You didn’t do anything,” Kithina scrunched her brow.

“But, I did. I invited you to a restaurant and I was unable to protect you from my horrid cousin. I’m ashamed of myself. I failed to protect your honor,” Callum placed his hand over his heart.

Kithina smiled sadly, “It’s not your fault. I don’t even care about something like honor. It’s just... It was my first time being in a place like that. It was so elegant, lavish even. Everyone was so well dressed and seemed so important. I had never been to the villa district. I just wish it hadn’t ended like that, you know?”

Callum looked down in shame, “I do.” He suddenly shot to his feet, “I may not be able to change the past. But, perhaps, I may be able to change this very moment.” He turned to his maid, “Clear my schedule for the day.”

“Yes, young master,” the maid nodded.

“Huh?” Kithina glanced between them.

Callum bowed with a flourish and held out his hand, “Miss Kithina, would you honor me by joining me for a night of shopping at some of the villa district’s most elegant, dare I say, lavish, stores. There is a new shop that just opened that sells these little strawberry cakes, I hear they are to die for. My treat of course.”

“I-I, uh,” Kithina’s mouth hung open.

“That is if you want to. I’d hate to inconvenience you,” Callum tried to hide the pain in his eyes.

“Uh, no, no. It’s not an inconvenience at all. I’d love to go,” Kithina nodded repeatedly.

“Wonderful,” he smiled.