City of Daggers (The Iron Teeth Book 2) Page 2

  The hobgoblin’s next arrow also flew off into the grass without going near the target. Blacknail eyed the bow in his hand skeptically. There had to be a trick to this. Maybe if he screamed threats really loudly while shooting or if he pretended the target was Scamp...

  Chapter 2

  “All right, that’s enough, fall in you two,” Vorscha shouted to Blacknail and Khita.

  The hobgoblin and the young redhead were going through a simple two-person sword form. When they heard Vorscha’s command, they immediately stopped, sheathed their practice blades, and started walking toward her. Both of them were sweating and panting after almost an hour of hard practice under the large woman’s supervision.

  “All right, it’s time for something a little different. If you two keep repeating the same stuff, you’ll both develop bad habits,” Vorscha explained.

  “Great, I’m ready for the real stuff. No more babying around,” Khita exclaimed excitedly.

  Vorscha threw Khita a skeptical glance. She didn’t seem to agree, and she was the expert on the subject, so Blacknail thought she was probably right. Vorscha was one of Herad’s most trusted lieutenants and one of the most skilled fighters in the camp.

  “All right Geralhd, get up here,” Vorscha called.

  The smaller man was sitting off to the side of the patch of trampled grass that Vorscha had claimed as a training arena. At the sound of his lover’s voice, he looked up from the book he was reading with a startled expression.

  “Who me?” he asked in surprise. Geralhd didn’t look or act like much of a fighter. He was shorter and less physically imposing than Vorscha or most the other men in camp.

  “Ya, you, loverboy. Come over here,” Vorscha told him with a bemused roll of her eyes.

  Geralhd stood and put his book down on the crate he had been using as a seat. Then he reluctantly dragged himself over to join Vorscha and her students. Vorscha gave him a quick smile of greeting, and looked over both Blacknail and Khita with a thoughtful expression.

  With Vorscha and Geralhd side by side, it was easy to compare them. Vorscha was unusually large for a woman and taller than Geralhd. She wasn’t masculine looking though. She had a shapely body with more than its fair share of curves. She also had short, curly brunette hair and there was almost always a cheerful grin on her face. Geralhd was a bit skinny for a human male and wasn’t very physically imposing. He usually wore fancy clothes, and his brown hair was currently pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Right, so Blacknail, you’ll be sparring with Geralhd,” Vorscha announced as she held out her practice blade for Geralhd to take. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not as useless as he looks.”

  “I will watch him carefully, and he will not fool me,” Blacknail replied and smiled in anticipation. He had nothing against Gerlahd—in fact, the man frequently gave Blacknail treats—but he seemed like an easier opponent than the people Blacknail usually sparred with.

  However, Geralhd looked more than a little unsure about fighting Blacknail. He stared blankly at the sword in Vorscha’s hand for a few seconds before reaching out and taking it.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? It might be too much of a challenge for a beginner like him,” he asked Vorscha confidently.

  “Go easy on him then,” she replied as she smirked in amusement.

  “Hey, what about me?” Khita interjected irately. The young redhead had an annoyed look on her face, and her arms were crossed in front of her. She was clearly annoyed at being ignored.

  “You can go sit over there and wait your turn,” Vorsha replied dismissively.

  She gave the much smaller woman a shove in the direction of the crate Gerahld had been sitting on. Khita scowled but did as she was told. She grumbled to herself the entire way over though.

  “Now, the rules will be the same as when you spar with Khita. I’ll give points for knocking your opponent off-balance and for touches. I expect Geralhd will be more of a challenge for you than Khita though, Blacknail. He has a somewhat different style,” Vorscha explained.

  “Hey now, not everyone is a former mercenary. I learned swordplay from a proper dueling master, even if I wasn’t a very good student,” Geralhd remarked as he swished his sword playfully through the air with one hand.

  “I understand, mistress Vorscha,” Blacknail replied as he narrowed his eyes and observed his new opponent.

  With a quick smile, Geralhd took a few steps back and brought his blade up to assume a stance. Blacknail took a stance as well, but there was a frown on his face. He didn’t recognize the stance Geralhd was using. It was very different from any he had seen before. He wasn’t even holding onto his sword with both his hands.

  “Are you ready, Blacknail?” Geralhd asked the hobgoblin.

  “Yes-ss, I’m ready,” Blacknail answered lazily and let his posture loosen.

  Without warning, the hobgoblin sprang into motion. He lunged forward in an attack designed to take full advantage of his hobgoblin speed, but Geralhd was already slipping to the side. The hobgoblin’s attack passed him harmlessly by, and Geralhd’s own blade sliced into Blacknail’s way.

  Blacknail’s eyes widened in surprise, and he had to immediately duck under the unexpected counterattack in order to avoid walking right into it. The startled hobgoblin recovered and quickly took a step back so he would have time to figure out what had happened. He had never seen a move like that before.

  “Hmmm, you’re very fast,” Geralhd remarked thoughtfully.

  “And you’re sneakier than you look,” Blacknail replied with a nod of approval.

  “Umm, thanks?” his amused opponent replied as he carefully circled around the hobgoblin.

  When Khita fought, she was energetic and daring, and when Vorscha fought, she was graceful yet unstoppable. Geralhd was like neither of them. He was constantly moving but always watching as well.

  Blacknail took a small step forward. His opponent stepped to the side and slightly adjusted his stance. The hobgoblin took a step back, and Geralhd moved again as well. Blacknail frowned as he realized his opponent was preparing to counter his moves before he even made them. He didn’t know what to do about that, so he decided to just rush in. Blacknail started another lightning-fast attack, but this time when Gelalhd moved to deflect his blow, he was ready. He shifted the angle of his blade and swung again. His first attack had been a feint to set up his second.

  Geralhd grimaced but managed to block the second blow. Blacknail launched a series of rapid-fire slashes, in an attempt to knock his opponent off-balance. However, a frantic-looking Geralhd managed to avoid or deflect all his blows. Growing impatient, Blacknail felt a spike of anger and stepped forward to try another attack, only to have Geralhd meet him halfway and bat his blade down. The man then delivered a solid blow to Blacknail’s shoulder while he was off-balance.

  “Point for Geralhd,” Vorscha announced.

  “Damnations-ss!” the hobgoblin hissed as he let his blade drop. He should have been able to block that. There was no way he was a worse fighter than Geralhd.

  Sensing his control was slipping, Blacknail focused on his breathing, and his anger began to subside. Usually, swearing like his master and the other bandits helped him quench his fury, but this time it hadn’t been enough. In the past, he had allowed his rage to take control, and he had paid the price. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Just thinking about it almost made him angry. He also hated losing. However, what really annoyed him was that unlike when he was fighting Saeter or Vorscha, the fight with Geralhd had actually been close. If he hadn’t lost control and grown angry, he might have actually won.

  “That’s one point for me and zero for you,” Geralhd bragged as he smirked at the hobgoblin.

  “Enough talking, start round two,” Vorscha interjected loudly.

  “I’ll get-ss you back, little man,” Blacknail told Geralhd as he raised his blade again and took a stance.

  The unconventional bandit and the hobgoblin fought for several mor
e rounds. Blacknail lost the first few, but then he managed to adjust to Geralhd’s style and win two bouts. He simply overwhelmed Geralhd’s ability to predict him by constantly changing the direction of his attacks.

  Eventually after both combatants grew exhausted and sweaty, Vorscha called a halt to the sparring. Seeing the other two were done, Khita got up and walked over.

  “Huh, I thought you’d be even worse than that,” she told Geralhd.

  Geralhd wasn’t insulted though. He gave her a smug smirk. “If I was actually a terrible duelist, I wouldn’t be here or a wanted man. I would be dead at that bastard Byron’s hands. Instead, I did the world a great service and put that thrice-damned son of a whore in an early grave,” Geralhd replied cheerfully.

  “You shouldn’t brag about not being terrible at something, aim for excellence instead. You need to practice as much as Blacknail, and I don’t know how you can think your petty vengeance was worth exile,” Vorscha told him with obvious disapproval.

  “It wasn’t petty. Byron hurt my family and ruined my sister’s reputation. Beating him in a fair duel, and running my blade through his heart as I looked him in eye, was the best moment of my life,” he replied.

  “And having a murderer for a son didn’t hurt your family?” Vorscha replied dryly.

  “Dueling may be illegal in Eloria, but it’s still considered an honorable way to end a dispute. So I might be a criminal, but I didn’t dishonor myself. Besides, if I hadn’t done it, I never would have met you,” he replied with a suggestive grin and wink at Vorscha.

  “Oh, I make it all worth it, do I? Stop trying to deflect, you silver-tongued demon. Sometimes I swear you’re pigheaded enough to be a noble, instead of just a merchant’s son,” Vorscha remarked with a smile.

  “Ha, I bet your bounty is really tiny though. Only the real dangerous criminals get good bounties,” Khita told Geralhd in a condescending tone.

  “It’s three silver, but don’t worry, I have a plan to increase it. I’m going to murder a whole bunch of innocent villagers and dump their bodies in front of the nearest bounty office,” Geralhd remarked sarcastically as he glared at Khita.

  “Huh, I was right, that’s almost nothing,” the young woman countered.

  “It’s enough to get me hanged by total strangers if I don’t watch my back. It’s also more than you have, since you’re the only one here completely without one,” Geralhd replied.

  Khita looked around for a second and frowned, but she smiled when she saw Blacknail.

  “Blacknail doesn’t have one either,” she told him.

  “You are once again proven ignorant. He has one. All hobgoblins have a bounty of five silver on their heads. For some reason, people dislike having them as neighbors. Their bounty can even get higher if the local peasants find something to blame them for. I figure if he keeps hanging around with us, his bounty will rise quite a bit. He might even become famous, or infamous anyway,” Geralhd explained.

  “A high bounty isn’t a good thing,” Vorscha added with a frown.

  “Oh, what’s yours then?” Khita asked with obvious interest.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Vorscha replied stiffly.

  “I can answer this question,” Geralhd explained with an amused glance toward Vorscha. “She got a price on her head when the count that was employing her refused to pay her mercenary company its due. Instead, he decided it would be cheaper to just trump up some charges and put a bounty on her head, a quite spectacular five gold bounty at that.”

  “It wasn’t even a tenth of what he actually owed my company,” Vorscha replied in disgust.

  “I could buy a mansion for that much!” Khita exclaimed in surprise.

  “Well, a half-decent house anyway, as long as it was fairly small,” Geralhd corrected her.

  “One day, I’m going to get an even bigger bounty than that. Everyone will be terrified of me,” Khita announced proudly.

  Geralhd gave her a doubtful look, and Vorscha frowned in concern.

  “That’s enough talking, Khita. It’s your turn to spar with me,” she told the younger woman.

  Vorscha and Khita then started sparring, and predictably, the larger woman dominated the other inexperienced fighter. After they finished training, Blacknail went to rest in his tent for a few minutes before getting back up. Now that he was done being trained, it was time for him to do some training.

  As Blacknail wandered through the camp, he passed groups of bandits that were working or loitering around. None of them paid him any attention, and he soon arrived at his destination, the tent that belonged to Varhs. Most of the bandits lived in log cabins now, but several of the scouts still stuck with their tents, and Scamp was tied up outside of this one. Of course, the goblin could have gotten loose by chewing through the rope, but that would have led to punishment. Blacknail had been the one to tie the goblin up, and he had made it very clear he would rip the little fellow’s eyes out and eat them if he tried to escape. The rope was simply there to remind the forgetful goblin that he wasn’t supposed to move.

  Scamp whined pathetically as Blacknail approached, but the hobgoblin was completely without pity. Scamp deserved to be tied up. He was an undisciplined menace that constantly stole things and got into trouble.

  “Shut up,” Blacknail barked as he looked around. He wasn’t impressed by what he saw.

  Today, he had given Scamp the job of scrapping a pile of rabbit skins clean so they would be ready for drying. Blacknail hissed angrily as he noted the goblin’s poor progress, and Scamp flinched at his reaction. The hobgoblin knew the lazy little runt was just trying to get out of work by acting pathetic though. Varhs may have let him get away with that, but there was no way Blacknail would.

  “No food-ss for you until you’re done!” he reminded the goblin before turning and walking away.

  The routine over the next few days was much the same. Blacknail worked on all the tasks he was given and gave Scamp work similar to that which he had done himself when he had been a goblin. Eventually, Blacknail was able to get Scamp to act at least sort of disciplined. He even began letting Varhs take the goblin out for walks, as long as the scout promised to be stern with the goblin. The man was probably lying, but Blacknail didn't care that much. He had grown bored with yelling at Scamp already.

  After a week had passed, Blacknail was having a bite to eat with Saeter at their campsite at the edge of the bandit encampment. They had just come back from hunting, but their meal was interrupted by the arrival of another bandit.

  “Herad wants to see you. She’s calling a meeting,” the large, muscular man told them. He was one of Herad’s personal bodyguards.

  “I doubt she actually told you she wants to see me,” Saeter huffed as he stood up.

  “Close enough. Just follow me,” the bodyguard replied indifferently before walking back the way he had come.

  Saeter grunted sourly, but he did as he was told and followed the other man. Blacknail hadn’t technically been invited, but no one had said he wasn’t either, so he quietly shadowed his master. He wanted to know what was going on. Herad was the leader of the bandits, so if she was calling a meeting, it was probably important.

  Saeter soon reached the old farmhouse Herad used as her headquarters and stepped inside. Blacknail waited a minute, and when the coast was clear, he took up position outside one of the windows. The bushes there concealed him from view, and his sensitive ears could hear everything being said inside perfectly, although a human would have had problems.

  “Tomorrow I’ll be leaving for Daggerpoint with several dozen men. As I told you before, Red Dog will be staying here to command in my stead while I’m gone, and Vorscha will serve as his second,” Herad told her minions.

  Blacknail snuck a quick glance through the window before ducking back down. Herad was seated in a simple wooden chair, and a matching table had been placed in front of her. Everyone else was standing in a loose group before her.

  “I can’t say I like the idea of you leaving
with so few men. We have powerful enemies in Daggerpoint,” Red Dog replied.

  “I agree. Werrick has sworn to kill you, and his men will easily outnumber yours if he’s in town,” Vorscha added.

  “So what? That’s always been the case. Four dozen is about what I’ve taken every time before this. It’s only recently I’ve even had more, and when we arrive, the first thing I’ll be doing is recruiting. I know somewhere I can get some trustworthy men,” Herad replied.

  “The rookies will need supervision to make it through the winter, and they won’t be up to the march north either,” Saeter remarked to Red Dog.

  “True, I guess that does limit how many men you can take,” Red Dog admitted with a frown.

  “Everything in life is a gamble of one sort or another, but enough of this. I didn’t call you here to question my decisions,” Herad told them coldly as she stared up at them from her seat.

  “Yes, mistress,” Red Dog immediately replied and snapped to attention. He was a bit of a boot licker.

  “On top of my personal guard, I’ll be taking you and Mahedium with me,” Herad told Saeter.

  “Why me and the mage? He’s gonna be slow, and I’m not much use in a place like Daggerpoint,” the old scout replied with a frown.

  “Oh, you’re wrong as usual, old man. I’ll have a use for you there. Your name still carries weight in certain circles, if only the gods know why, and that will help me drum up some muscle,” she replied smugly. “As for the mage, he asked to come and promised it would be worth my trouble. He wants to try digging up some fellow black spell-slingers to trade notes with.”

  “Well, Daggerpoint is probably his best bet for that. There’s usually one or two mages around, and they won’t be guild members, but anyone he finds in that pit is likely to be just smart enough to know which end of a staff to point at the enemy. Despite what they claim, you don’t need too much in the way of brains to be a combat mage,” Vorscha commented.

  “He thinks it will be worth his while, and who knows, maybe he’s right,” Herad replied in a dismissive tone.