My chest is in pain. The crushing bruise from the log, not the source, that hurt almost gone. The pain is sharp, like a cut. My eyes flash open into the pre-dawn of the next day. Both sisters no longer at my side and Dega’s body limp upon my chest, two arrows impaling her back. I spare Dega a silent prayer of thanks.

“Go Milga Stone Blood, he has our spirits, and his death will ensure they never return to us.”

“I have slain him?”

“No, one of the skinny goblins slept upon his chest, you have slain her.”

The younger sister spies upon my awakening as I shift Dega’s corpse to one side and climb to my feet and she knows my doom is upon them. “Hold Milga, I command you both or you forfeit your sister’s spirit.”

With a great deal of satisfaction, I witness the stunned look on Milga’s face when her tribeswomen hold her as I advance to inspect my newest recruit. She spits at me, and I smile as I wipe away the insult and Dega’s black blood from my chest.

“How many are with you?”

She shakes her head, “None”.

My hand reaches out and the fingers wrap around her throat. “You crossed the river alone? Risked your spirit alone?” I throw my head back chuckling, exaggerating my disbelief.

Words spit like venom from her mouth, “I am the Stone Blood, when I hunt my stone arrows always return bloodied from striking what I hunt … I need no others to keep me! Others ask me to keep them safe on a hunt.”

“Koria, scout the river and lure more of your tribe to me, anything else will be a failure.”

She glances once at her sister, good she understands and then she leaves crouching with a bow, quiver, and stone knives at the ready. There is a momentary flash of fear in Milga’s eyes.

“Why do they heed your orders?”

“They tried to explain to you if I overheard correctly, I have their spirits, I die, and they will never die with their spirits and never join their ancestors.”

She struggles under my grip, “You lie, none has such a power. You are false, only upon death does a spirit leave the body.”

“You can soon judge for yourself. We only await Koria’s return.”

I drag her to a nearby tree and bind her. Standing up I place a hand on Luda’s shoulder. “Watch her, if she escapes for any reason, your sister will forfeit her life, spiritless.”

With that, I gather some weapons and follow Koria’s tracks. Once certain of the direction, I swing wide sprinting to make up time, I plan to approach the river with the rising morning sun behind me. Panting, I crawl into position, the pebble riverbank in view and the sight before me I must acknowledge wonderous.

Koria is talking, perhaps shouting is a better description, at one of her tribesmen on the South or Farm side bank of the river. Behind him, a rope stretches across the river to the low island with another anchoring that end. In the river are two more hanging on for grim death, the fear obvious on their near-white faces and I am not sure why. On the North bank, tribesmen of all ages and sex gather sharing a quiet chant.

I creep closer along the bank, taking cover to ensure those in the river or on the North shore will have difficulty spotting me and given the show Koria is putting on I doubt their attention wanders. I draw back the string on my bow and I am certain Koria spies me through the light brush, the best I can conceal myself from her direction. She captures her tribesmen knowing full well I have witnessed her betrayal yet trying with her final act to save her sister’s life. My arrow releases and arcs nicely taking the island goblin in the throat. His body falls away from me and into the river. The current taking hold of new flotsam and sweeping him back towards me.

The next goblin in the water is frantic. His hands at his waist and as he begins to follow the island goblin, he throws up an end of the rope. Short ropes, which explains the others in the river. Those on the North bank surge forward and yet at water’s edge they are helpless. I charge up the riverbank, those in the river are attempting to make the shore and I notice a knife in Koria’s hand. Does she slice the rope and leave them to their fate in the river or does she allow them to come ashore, so I can steal their spirits? I take the choice away, yelling, “Don’t cut the rope.” The knife is still in her hand yet at ease. Her prisoner is busy anchoring the rope trying to save his tribesmen.

Both come ashore, they try to rise at my approach and fail. Limbs of jelly from the long stay in the river and then the strain of saving themselves. I untie the rope around their waists and secure their necks instead, pulling them along at my own pace, a female, and a male until I reunite with Koria and her captive.

“I have captured him, Lord Hob, as tasked.”

I stare at her and only her, my eyes trying to burn down the lying bitch. Her eyes tear and she roughly ties her captive, trussing hands, and feet, moving on to each other prisoner in turn. The tribal audience across the river howls insults at her for the betrayal then turn their backs. She crumples to the ground, and I believe welcomes the jabs of pain from the riverbank pebbles as some sort of penance. I kick her, with all my strength in the ribs and she flies into the river screaming.

“Names?”

When none answer I approach the shore male first. Although difficult for me to be certain, I believe he is the oldest. I drop to my haunches and grab his throat until his face is level with mine, his body bends, his face contorts.

“Name?”

“Zeb Stone Grim.”

“Father and husband to whom?”

“Father to Koria Keen Eye and Luda, Husband to Suda the Faithful.”

I drop my grasp and move to the next male, who has managed to roll on his side, so I roll him back over on his other side and stand over him, my shadow moving to and fro, now able to flash morning sunlight into his eyes.

“Name and relationships?”

He crushes his eyes shut. “Duz promised to Luda.”

My gaze turns upon the final captive, a female. “Name and relationships?”

Her tired eyes open. “Duzsia who is looking for her name fails.” Her eyes slowly close shut.

Coughing, alerts me to the return of Koria, crawling to shore. Standing I take enough steps towards her, so my shadow bathes her.

“Why does Milga Stone Blood join your family to rescue you and your sister?”

Another cough and I step forward feigning to swing my leg back. Her hands weakly rise. “Payment …”

I return to Zeb. “What is your promised payment to Milga Stone Blood?”

He shakes his head, the green of his face brightening. “If you hold onto your silence, I will slay both of your daughters.”

“Who are you? Why do you torture us so?”

I stroll towards his daughter, flint in my hand.

“Wait …”

I pause, looking under my eyebrows in his direction. “Yes?”

“I … we have promised I will mate with her until she gives birth to a daughter.”

Alright, I didn’t expect that answer and I take a moment to try and digest the implications.

“What about your wife, Suda the Faithful, won’t she be upset with you sharing your seed?”

With an unassuming calmness, he replies, “She has only two children and can bear no more, better I give my seed instead of us losing our daughters.”

“What of Milga Stone Blood?”

“She desires a daughter to pass on her legacy and I am the one father in the tribe who only conceives female children …”

This is bullocks I think to myself. “What two daughters and you are the chosen one?”

“Five …” Emotion hits his eyes, moisture gathering. “Three have been lost to the hunt.”

I leave the father and advance upon the loner, sparing a look at Koria. “Koria fetch your sister and Milga.”

“Are you … my failure.” Sobbing, her chest hitches. “She … I …”

I storm over, grab her around the neck and hoist the now limp body of my sworn servant up, my face level with hers. “Fetch your sister and Milga.” I grind out each word and then throw her to the ground. She slowly picks herself up and slinks away. I am trying to recruit utterly loyal, almost fanatical followers and the spirit taking ruse is only as good as the mystic I create. A ruthless unforgiving Hob is expected, so when I show kindness the change my lure them into absolute belief.

The smell of urine hits me as I approach Duzsia, her eyes staring at the pebbles beneath her. “I will lead you from your shame,” I declare, as I hoist her up by the neck. The fear in her eyes doesn’t fade and as the river water splashes against her legs, she begins to struggle.

“Calm yourself, I will lead you from your shame …”

I hold her under, pulling her up to snatch a breath and then back down again. In between, I listen to her fear of losing her spirit and I am now satisfied the tribe shares the same superstition. Finally, her body goes limp no longer desperate for air, lifeless and I drag her to shore and administer CPR. The resuscitating takes some effort, eventually though, while coughing profusely her airways are clear of water and she sucks in a huge breath while my lips are upon hers.

Eyes wide, she splutters, “The darkness, the cold …”

“The river claimed your life taking your spirit upon your death and I have stolen your spirit back from the river and using it returned life to your body. I am now the guardian of your spirit. When you die, if you have served me faithfully, I will breathe your spirit back into you so in death you can join your ancestors, this is my solemn oath.”

She opens and closes her mouth several times … “I understand now, you have Koria’s spirit, don’t you?”

I lean down and untie her ropes.

“You are freeing me?”

“If you slay me, both Koria, Luda and your spirit will be destroyed and none of you will ever join your ancestors in death,” I reply, coolly.

I leave her to her thoughts and approach Duz.

“I curse you. I pray to our ancestors they seek revenge and snatch your spirit and deliver forever torture,” he screams.

I silence him by dunking him in the river. Luda arrives as he takes a final breath, and their eyes meet. One betrothal meeting my arse unless love at first sight. Lifeless I drag his body from the river and begin CPR. No matter my effort he refuses to revive. Luda drops to her knees, hand on her mouth.

“He chose darkness,” I declare and move along to the father.

I drag Zeb Stone Grim into the river, Koria and Luda stand at the water’s edge, while Duzsia stands suspiciously close to Milga.

I return my attention to Zeb, “Are you going to decide on darkness or servitude?”

“Death in darkness, or returning to my ancestors will not save my daughters, Koria has failed you, so Luda is forfeit her life is she not?”

I dunk him again and then drag him back up spluttering.

“Yes.”

“I will never betray you if I can live near both my daughters. I will tell Koria I have taken on her debt and any failing big or small will mean my spiritless death.”

I dunk him again. Can I trust him? He doesn’t call for his ancestors or bemoan the possible loss of his spirit. Before he is lifeless, I pull him up for air.

“Like Duz, I believe you don’t fear the darkness and an after-life of never seeing your ancestors, but I will take your spirit and hold you to your oath. If either daughter transgresses again though, the other will forfeit their life.”

I dunk him for a final time and drag his lifeless body from the water. I perform CPR and make a show of stealing his spirit by drawing in his breath. Then I free him. He embraces his daughters, both waiting, fearing to act without my consent.

Waving to Duzsia, she escorts Milga to me as I wait beside the river.

I drag her into the river without complaint or struggle. A quiet determination exudes from every fibre of her being, yes, she is different and therefore extremely dangerous.

“I am not going to steal your spirit. I will pretend to of course but your death serves me better.” I dunk her before she can answer and of all the goblins, she holds her breath and floats sedately beneath the water. I inwardly smile and punch her in the stomach. Shortly after bubbles of air erupt from her mouth and for a moment her eyes are ablaze with shock. She recovers, although her face is passing from green to blue-green.

I drag her up to gasp for air and then slowly submerge her again. I hold her until the air in her lungs exhaust and once again her face changes colour. She nods, not in desperation or panic, a signal. I lift her out once again.

“You must allow me access to Zeb Stone Grim’s seed. Once I birth a daughter, I will solely be responsible for her upbringing. If I chose afterwards to return to the tribe you will allow me to, holding my daughter hostage if you believe my oath to return not strong enough. Finally, I wish to hunt beyond this valley when my daughter is of age, and you will swear to let me do so.”

All her demands return to having a daughter. Never being a mother, I wonder if she realises once children begin to think for themselves, they don’t always follow the wisdom of their parents and the plans they envision.

“You hold no allegiance to your tribe?”

“They are my tribe and nurtured me into adulthood, which I have repaid countless times. I am now ready to spread my wings as does a bird, the valley is too small for me …”

“And they wish you to remain, and I assume the promise of Zeb Stone Grim’s seed their final bargain, which I now own, yes?”

She nods. I think I understand her as much as I can anyone.

“I will not take your spirit. While not debilitating, you would not be as strong or as skilful as you could be which I cannot permit to be inflicted upon one as accomplished as yourself.”

She nods.

“While you await the birth of your child, you will assess all the goblins living on my farm and if any have potential to be an archer, select and train them to within a hairsbreadth of their lives. They eat, sleep and train … nothing else. Once your daughter can suckle at your teat, you can either leave her in the care of others you trust or take her with you as you teach those archers you have trained to hunt. Once your daughter can draw a bow and hit a target dead centre at fifty paces you can select any three you have trained to be your personal followers and no one else, except perhaps myself and only in an emergency will anyone else be able to command them.”

The water swirls about us, my skin beginning to wrinkle and those on the shore now bored with our meeting, not understanding the import.

“You trust me to hold to my oath?” she asks.

“Perhaps we disagree, and you attempt to slay me. You will need to succeed on your first attempt, you won’t survive a second and as you have witnessed, I am at times lucky …”

She chuckles, clear crisp joyful. “You can’t sleep with a goblin on your chest every night, can you?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No Lord Hob, that is what they call you do they not?”

“Yes, but we have an understanding, so Lord Klug is more appropriate.”

She nods, “Lord Klug, I swear to serve you as your faithful servant, protecting you as I would expect you to protect me.”

I consider her words and agree although my protection has certain limits.

“My protection will extend as far as possible, even if you are in the wrong and haven’t wronged me by your actions. Still, I council you to be wary of the Hunter Hob and Head Hob in this valley, they would see you first as a primitive goblin, something worthless. Such opinion will not change for a long time, perhaps your daughter’s daughter will live in such a time …”

“Surely you talk of a possible future only, how would you really know?”

“I profess a quiet wisdom, perhaps if you stay as my servant long enough, I will share more … For now, I need to get both of us out of the river before I shrivel up.” I purposefully look down at my groin.

Quick as a whippet she understands the reference and chuckles once again, even though I have her arms and legs bound behind her back. I reach behind her and cut her bonds away, if, at all possible, she should walk out of the river as a sworn servant instead of bound servant or slave.

She leans on me, on occasion, although in the main travels under her own efforts over the pebble bank and back to my modest camp. Father and his two daughters make their way back, keeping their distance from me, with Koria flashing me uncertain looks. Duzsia though is my new best friend.

“What did you and Milga discuss?” I ask.

“Escape plans Lord Hob,” she quips.

I raise an eyebrow. “When are you two leaving?”

“Well, she told me she plans to stay. Anyone who can survive being hit by a log and recover as if never struck and then have the luck to survive two of her arrows meant for their heart is special in some way and she means to walk in your footsteps and hunt down her share.”

I mull over her words and recall Milga and my conversations and resulting negotiations. Perhaps I am special and yet these are early days and for all my efforts so far change is still slow to come by.

“What of you then?”

“You may have my spirit, you may not, either way, I want you to farm my loins and fill my womb with the arms and legs of a future champion. I think Milga a fool to want Zeb when your seed could father a giant amongst goblins, male or female.”

I come to a dead stop. A few paces ahead of me she turns to face me a sly grin on her face.

“You are too young, and a giant of a goblin baby would tear you apart during birthing …”

Her hands rest on her hips. “I am of age, if from a proper family my parents would be organising betrothal meetings, I will have you know. As for birthing, I need to fall pregnant first, one step at a time Lord Hob.”