Rain fell, pattering an offbeat rhythm on all it touched. Corvir hadn't realised he had drifted off until he awoke with start. Drool ran down his beard and he pawed at it as he looked around. As usual, he was in an alleyway - Corvir spent his life in the various alleyways of Red Fern - but this time he was camped out by the apothecary, sheltering with some old crates and barrels. The same apothecary where he'd been waiting for what felt like ages. He looked around for the young soldier he'd watched enter the shop but could see no sign of him.
'Maybe he's still inside,' he thought, getting to his feet and keeping his eyes fixed on the door of the shop. 'Wonder if he's visiting Wylie 'cause of the battle madness. If anyone could fix it, it'll be Wylie.' His eyes filled with tears. Corvir knew many soldiers - friends he had served with - who would have benefitted from a cure to the battle madness. It was a shame none of them were around to see if such a thing existed. They were either dead or had moved on. Most chose to live in the wilds and Corvir couldn't blame them. Sometimes he thought he should do the same. Taking his chances with the monsters and spirits outside the city walls almost seemed preferable to dealing with the people inside them. Corvir knew more than anyone that people were monsters too.
The door of the apothecary creaked open drawing his attention. Shortly after opening, the door closed again, but no-one emerged from it. In fact, from where Corvir stood, he couldn't even see who had opened and closed the door. It was strange, but it didn't worry him. Wylie was a strange woman, these kinds of things were almost expected.
He watched the door for a few more moments, willing it to open and reveal the young soldier, but it remained firmly closed. Standing in the alleyway, he weighed up his options. He could continue to wait, but how long would he have to wait for? What if the man had already left while Corvir had been sleeping? He'd be wasting his time and, for the first time in years, he didn't have time to waste. He had to tell someone about what he'd seen the night before, and the longer he left it, the worse the problem would become.
No, sticking around wasn't sensible. Taking one last look at the door, Corvir decided to walk back to the marketplace. Even if the young soldier didn't reappear, he could tell someone else. He wouldn't enjoy it, and they probably wouldn't believe him, but he could pass the message on. At least then the problem would cease to be his. He told himself this, but he knew that he'd be fighting alongside the official forces if an attack came. It wouldn't matter that he was no longer a member of the Queen's Guard. He wouldn't be fighting for her, anyway; he'd be fighting for the people of Red Fern.
Feeling like he'd been waiting long enough, Corvir turned away and started walking. As usual, he opted to stick to the alleyways and small, darkened roads. These were the kinds of roads that managed to stay in a perpetual state of twilight, no matter what time of day it was. Roads coated in shadow. Hidden away from the rest of the world, Corvir felt comfortable walking these paths.
As he walked, a chill started to nag at his skin. It didn't concern him at first, it was just mildly uncomfortable and Corvir had suffered far worse discomforts than feeling a bit cold. After a while, his breath plumed in front of his face, ghosting through the rain like a phantom. Was winter here so soon? It seemed to come earlier every year. Barren fields and trees were eager to leak into the earlier pre-autumnal months, reaching for folks like him with their icy fingers. When he'd been a young man in the Queen's Guard, the colder part of the year never bothered him. He'd always had a roof over his head, food in his belly, and a woman by his side. But things were different now. Things like the temperature and the weather had more of a say in your mood and health when you were out in the elements morning, noon, and night. In fact, they damn near controlled your mood and your health.
Corvir wrapped his tattered cloak around him, covering as much of his body as he could. It didn't matter how tight he wrapped himself, he still shivered. This was already getting on to be as bad as last winter. It didn't bode well at all. Finding somewhere to live out the winter months would need to be a priority. Maybe he could try tracking down his son. Or maybe he could find one of his old army buddies. There had to be someone to take him in, didn't there? Corvir didn't hold out much hope.
'I'd be better off in the Woods of Waiting,' he thought. 'It would be easy enough to build a shelter. And there's plenty of meat to be had if you know where to look.'
While he weighed up his options, he continued to walk, the cold biting into the skin of his face as he took each step. Something about this didn't feel right. Corvir had experienced the cold before and he'd been wandering the streets in the winter for many years, but this cold was something else. It drilled down into his bones. It found its way into the core of his heart. It froze his blood. He looked around to see how everyone else was coping with the bizarre weather, but there was no-one to be seen. The solitude that usually comforted him, now made him feel uneasy. The shadows surrounding him took on a malevolent tone.
"Hello?" he said, his voice shaking. Part of him felt stupid talking to no-one, but part of him felt sure there someone there. Someone he just hadn't been able to see yet. There were plenty of hiding places in these dark streets, so that didn't surprise him.
When it became clear there wasn't going to be an answer to his greeting, Corvir cleared his throat awkwardly and tried again. Louder this time. "HELLO?"
This time there was a response, but it wasn't what he was expecting. Something had landed on his shoulders, the weight nearly toppling him over. For the briefest of moments, Corvir felt relief. At least this proved that he wasn't alone, and - perhaps most importantly - whatever had taken up residence on his shoulders was now providing him with a bit of much-needed warmth. But, that relief was to be short-lived.
Whatever was on his shoulders wriggled and swayed to and fro like it intended for Corvir to lose his balance.
"What the FUCK?" Corvir said as he crashed to the ground, landing in a puddle of what he hoped was rain. His teeth were trying their hardest to bite through his bottom lip. A coppery taste filled his mouth, and he spat the offending matter out onto the ground. Corvir sat up and looked around. He still appeared to be alone. "Where are ya, ya little shit?"
There was still no answer, but there was giggling... if you could call it that. It was a horrendous sound, one that made a mockery of laughter and churned the blood. It definitely held some kind of glee, Corvir was sure of that, but there was no goodness. No innocence. Just dark malevolence.
Years in battles had taught him an attack was imminent. He unsheathed his dagger and prepared to fight an enemy he couldn't see.
*****
Angus raised the hood of his cloak and left the apothecary with Wylie's words hanging in his mind. To his frustration, she had told him nothing. The whole conversation had felt like a complete waste of time. It made no sense. Both Wylie and Pyggbe had been keen to take the vial from him, but now neither appeared to want anything to do with it. It made no sense. Angus couldn't shake the feeling that he was being played, but he couldn't work out why.
The strength and power he'd felt earlier was starting to fade. Perhaps he was returning to normal just as Wylie said he would. Soon he would just be him again. Normal and human. Unable to see creatures that shouldn't exist. Unable to feel power roaring through his veins. He knew he should feel relieved, but all he felt was disappointment.
What Angus needed was an ale. An ale and a chat. Ivonor would know what to do. Deciding to seek out his friend, he followed the dark alleyways and shadowed streets away from the apothecary. For a while, his thoughts were elsewhere, thinking about the vial, thinking about his time in Moonwich, but noises up ahead brought him back to the present. Grunts and moans lurked just around a corner. He reached for his sword before remembering he didn't have it. Not knowing what else to do, Angus took a deep breath and waited. Fighting against an enemy while you stood side by side with hundreds of other soldiers was one thing, going up against an unknown entity when you were unarmed and very much alone was quite another.
*****
Grunting and cursing, Corvir fought against his invisible attacker. Fighting someone he couldn't see was proving to be next to impossible, but every now and then he heard a screech that let him know his dagger had found its target.
"SHOW YERSELF!" he said, his voice bellowing and echoing around the street. "DON'T BE SUCH A COWARD!"
That cackling giggle filled Corvir's ears once again, telling him that the attacker was behind him now. He spun on his heel, slashing the dagger through the air. This time there were no squeals.
"You think you're sooooo brave, don't ya?" a voice said. It had a rough texture to it, but it was high-pitched, almost like an evil toddler. It would have made Corvir laugh if it wasn't so bloody creepy. "You wanna see me? Take a look."
Corvir looked in the direction the voice was coming from, but still saw nothing.
"I'm down here, fucktrumpet," it said, and Corvir looked downwards. To his surprise, he was faced with the kind of creature that only usually appeared in stories told to scare children into behaving themselves.
"What the fuck?" Corvir said. "You're a... goblin..." He said the words slowly while his mind tried to process what they meant. He already knew he shared the world with monsters, many of which people wouldn't believe in until they saw them, but... goblins? This was something else.
"Yep, a goblin," the creature confirmed. Corvir stared at it in disbelief, taking in its green scaled skin, its piercing yellow eyes, and its pointed yellowed teeth. "And the stories are true."
"The stories?" Corvir had never felt so baffled in all his life. This couldn't be happening. These creatures couldn't be real.
"You're not too bright, are ya?" the goblin said, closing the distance between them. "I'm here to eat you, ya idiot. I'm gonna crunch your bones."
Stories from his childhood filled Corvir's mind. Tales that didn't have any right in being true. The ones his mother used to tell about goblins hiding in the darkness, stealing babies, and eating people alive.
"No..." Corvir whispered, shaking his head. As he held up his dagger, he realised his arm was trembling. Corvir had seen many things in his life, but this little goblin was the first that had truly managed to scare him. "Leave me alone... please..."
A wide smile spread across the goblin's face, revealing more of its sharp and uneven teeth. It cackled again and then pounced, throwing its arms around Corvir's neck and pulling him into a close embrace. Rancid breath, stinking of decay, assaulted Corvir's nostrils and caressed his skin.
"You're going to be delicious!" it said almost squealing with delight as it moved in for a taste. As its teeth grazed against Corvir's throat, the man was pulled to his senses. Reaching for the creature, his hand grasped the back of its neck and pulled it back. Hard. The force was so much that the goblin had no choice but to release him from its grip, its clawed fingernails raking through Corvir's flesh. Pain stung and burned at him as he threw the goblin to the ground, but there was to be no chance for Corvir to examine his wounds just yet. Wasting no time, the goblin was back on its feet almost immediately.
Still grinning, the goblin came for him again, but this time it didn't jump up. It ran between his legs, giving his balls a quick punch before ending up behind him. Corvir bent double before lowering himself to the ground. This wasn't right. This little fucker fought dirty. Breathing between gritted teeth, Corvir turned to face his attacker.
"You... little... shit..." he said, forcing each word out.
Rather than attacking him again, the goblin turned. For a split second, it cocked its head as if listening to something Corvir couldn't hear.
"Perfect," it muttered, satisfied with whatever it was it had been listening to.
While it was still distracted, Corvir staggered forward, his dagger pointed out in front of him. At that moment, the creature turned, coming face to face with the end of the blade.
"Ooh, that's pretty," it said, as its fingers closed around Corvir's wrist. The creature's grip was strong. Too strong. Corvir tried to pull away, but he was trapped. "I'm done toying with you now," the goblin said, "I'm hungry."
Corvir could only watch as the goblin raised its other hand and grabbed for Corvir's fist. The dagger scraped against the creature's scales, but if it was hurt, it didn't show it. Under the pressure of the goblin's grip, the dagger dropped from his hand, clattering to the ground below. Once again, Corvir fell to his knees, landing heavily. Something cracked and a lightning bolt of agony shot through his kneecap.
"FUUCK!" he yelled, hoping that if he made enough noise someone would come to investigate. But... even if they did... who would want to help him? He was a nobody. People ignored him. It was at that moment, fear really started to set in. He was alone and he was fighting for his life against something that was - up until moments ago - a mythical being.
Refusing to ease its grip on Corvir's wrist, the goblin sniffed at him. "Ah yes," it said. "I can smell the terror oozing out of your skin."
Without saying another word, the goblin's hands twisted. A loud noise, something between a pop and a tear, took over Corvir's senses. It wasn't until a geyser of blood gushed over the goblin that Corvir realised the creature had twisted off his hand with about as much effort as it took to remove a stopper from a bottle. Corvir went to scream, but the goblin shoved the man's severed hand into his mouth, gagging him. Choking on his own fingers, Corvir looked on as the goblin put the stump of his arm - the part still attached to him - into its own mouth. The orifice seemed to expand in order to fit the whole thing in, but the creature showed no signs of discomfort.
Then it began to suck, feeding on the blood and marrow from the man's arm like it was a newborn on a teat. Corvir felt stuff being pulled from him and his vision swam. Seeming to notice how close Corvir was to passing out, the goblin stopped sucking and let the stump drop from its mouth.
"No sleepy time yet," it said. "We're not finished."
Corvir's world reduced down to the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his muffled whimpers and the sight of the goblin standing before him. Even kneeling down, he was still taller than the little fucker. It was a shame taller didn't mean stronger. Or faster. Or deadlier.
As it stood before him, the creature held up its blood-soaked hands, but this was no surrender. 'Hands soaked in my blood,' Corvir realised as something fluttered in his stomach. There was a creaking sound, one that reminded Corvir of an old tree moving in the wind, and something started to happen to those blood-soaked hands. Thick, black talon-like nails grew from the goblin's fingertips.
"You need to open up more," the goblin said as it plunged those talons into Corvir's stomach. For a moment, Corvir felt and watched his intestines being pulled from his gut. Then he focused on the gentle kiss of rain on his face. Then, to his unending gratitude, he saw and felt nothing.
*****
Still not having peered out from his hiding place, Angus listened in horror. He may not have seen a thing, but he'd been able to piece everything together as soon as he'd heard the word 'goblin' mentioned. Unable to stand by and do nothing any longer, Angus turned the corner. The scene before him changed him forever.
On the floor appeared to be a bundle of rags, meat, and blood. Standing over that bundle and crunching on a large bone was Pyggbe.
"I'm not usually the type to share, but would you like to join me for lunch?" the goblin asked between mouthfuls.
"What the fuck have you done?" Angus said, trying to avoid the blood as he stepped closer.
"What?" the goblin asked, trying to look innocent while covered head to toe in sticky blood. "We've all gotta eat, ain't we?"
"I oughta kill you!" Angus said, anger rising in his heart.
"Yeah? And how do you plan to do that?" Pyggbe said. "I'm stronger than you, faster than you, and I ain't afraid of gettin' a little dirty." The goblin gestured at the blood covering its body. As the effects of the vial's contents continued to wear off, the image of the goblin flickered in and out.
Knowing the goblin was right, Angus grunted. He looked down at the man Pyggbe was eating for lunch and saw he was a pretty big guy. Bigger than Angus, that was for sure. Angus wouldn't have stood a chance against the goblin, especially without his sword.
"Run along home, boy," Pyggbe said, sneering and picking something gristly out from its teeth. "See ya around, creep."
Wanting to do something to avenge the man, but feeling powerless, Angus walked away.
It was only after he was halfway home that he realised he'd had a weapon in his pocket all along.
*****
After watching Angus leave, Pyggbe smiled before walking away from the disembowelled corpse and headed back to the apothecary. Wasting food like that wasn't Pyggbe's style, but there was work to be done. Dark work.
Not bothering to knock, Pyggbe opened the door and strolled inside. Still wearing her mask, Wylie looked up from the piece of parchment on her desk. A quill dripped a small amount of ink onto the document.
"For fuck's sake," she muttered, trying to dab it with her sleeve. "I hate it when that happens."
Pyggbe smiled and leant against the desk.
"You're looking rather pleased with yourself," Wylie said, not commenting on the blood and gore that covered just about every inch of the goblin's small frame. "I take it everything went to plan."
"Absolutely," the goblin said. "He'll be guzzling the contents of that vial in no time at all."
"Excellent," she said, scribbling words onto the document. "I need you to take this to Queen Elsbeth. She'll be pleased with this development."
"Of course," Pyggbe said.
"When you're done, I need you to come back here as soon as you can. Our work's not over. More will need to be done before Angus truly is the Queen's man."
"Dark work?" the goblin asked.
"Dark work," Wylie said with a nod. She didn't look as pleased with the idea as Pyggbe was.
"The best kind," Pyggbe said, grinning widely, the creature's crooked teeth jutting out at all angles. As a member of the Claws of Shadow (Red Fern's first and only guild of assassins), all of Pyggbe's work was shrouded in darkness. It suited him down to the ground.
*****
Thanks again for reading. All comments and votes are gratefully received!
Anyone else really starting to like Pyggbe? I mean, he's AWFUL, but I kinda love him.