We reached the other end of the village very quickly. There, we heard screams and cries. The wooden wall that had previously shielded the village from the fields was breached. Small greenish-brown creatures darted from house to house across the nearby area. They were armed and wore ragged scraps of cloth barely better than my own robe. They attacked every person they saw—beating, slashing, torturing, and tormenting them in every way possible. As soon as their victim stopped moving, they immediately switched to a new target.

  A man who had tried to fight back now hung upside down, held by the legs by a tall brown creature. The monster sniffed him as the man bled out and couldn’t move. The oversized goblin wore animal hides; two uneven, broken antlers stuck out above his head—perhaps once belonging to a deer. Noticing us, he roared and began swinging the man in his grip.

  Drodul rushed slightly ahead, shield raised, and with light, sweeping motions cut down two goblins in his path. In a couple of strides, he closed the distance to the brute and was about to split him in half—but noticed the goblin was trying to strike him with his hostage. Drodul recoiled and cleaved another goblin nearby with a single blow.

  However, the oversized goblin didn’t stop after the first swing. Whirling the man in his hand, he slammed him into the ground in a burst of rage. Blood, broken bones, and chunks of skin flew in all directions. I don’t know if this deserves thanks, but due to the darkness, most of the scattered entrails weren’t visible. I took it fairly calmly—but the girls beside me handled it far worse.

  — “Stupid beast!” Drodul shouted in fury, and with two unusually sharp movements, he was right next to the monster. He struck, slicing open half the creature’s belly. But the wound didn’t stop it—in fact, quite the opposite. Fueled by pain, the monster flailed its arms, trying to crush the small human. Yet his efforts failed: Drodul easily parried the attacks with his shield or simply dodged, striking back with a wound whenever he got the chance. It was clear the monster couldn’t match the fighter in either speed or combat skill.

  Perhaps the other goblins darting around could have helped him—but Lerry wouldn’t let them near the fight. She shot arrows, preventing the small creatures not only from reaching Drodul but also from approaching us. She always knew exactly where a new enemy would appear and instantly felled them with arrows.

  I stayed close to them, gripping my small dagger and covering their backs. Scanning the surroundings, I saw a pair of goblins slip into Granny Brin’s tavern. They were armed and clearly hadn’t gone there to spend the night. Damn! I was about to rush to her aid immediately, but a girl’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  — “Where are you going?” Berry asked.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  — “Granny’s there. Goblins. I have to help,” I replied, pointing toward the inn.

  The girl hesitated for a few seconds, glancing between me and the old two-story building made of dark wood. Finally, just as I was about to move again, she said:

  — “Go, but be careful. Goblins are cunning and love attacking from behind.”

  I nodded at her words and ran at the fastest speed this body could manage. Reaching the door, I flung it open, thrust my weapon forward, and stepped into the familiar corridor. I moved slowly, occasionally checking rooms—but they were empty. The building was very old, yet neither the floors nor the doors showed any signs of rot or decay.

  I entered the main hall—but still saw no one.

  Not long ago, yellow eyes had glared at me from behind that counter, but now it was empty. Deciding to check the second floor, I started climbing the stairs—but then heard cries from below. I leapt nimbly off the staircase and dashed toward the noise.

  I climbed over the counter and spotted a small open hatch on the floor, darkness within. Muffled sounds came from there. Without hesitation, I jumped down.

  I landed on something relatively soft. The creature grumbled and tried desperately to throw me off. Grabbing its head, I realized it had a huge nose and sharp teeth now trying to bite through my hand. Figuring Granny Brin wouldn’t act like this, I wasted no thought and plunged my dagger into the creature beneath me. It began to shriek—but a moment later gurgled and stopped thrashing or making any sound.

  But my troubles weren’t over. I heard movement in the darkness slightly to my side—two bodies. I tried to stand, but apparently the fall hadn’t been kind; my left leg gave out, and I dropped to my knees. My actions and noise must have drawn the nearby creature’s attention—the commotion ceased.

  I caught a faint glint—and then the beast pounced on me. It knocked me down and started hitting me.

  Blow after blow. Something kept piercing my clothes and lightly scratching my bones. If I’d been alive, I’d have bled to death long ago—but as just a skeleton, this strategy didn’t work on me. I wanted to use my dagger, but realized it was stuck in the body of the enemy I’d already killed. So I started punching back and trying to find the opponent’s head.

  Thus, our futile fight in the darkness dragged on. We hit each other, but neither gained an advantage. My opponent, realizing his usual winning tactic had failed, resorted to using fists. Strange as it may seem, this actually worked better—and I understood I might lose.

  I grabbed his head with one hand and pulled him toward me as best I could. Opening my mouth—long unused—I sank my uneven rows of teeth into him. Luck was on my side. My fangs clamped down precisely on his neck.

  The monster shrieked and punched me even harder—but it was too late. I’d found the weak spot and tightened my jaw. Liquid flowed over my bones—my chin and ribs. At first it dripped, but the harder I squeezed, the stronger the flow became, while the creature’s movements slowed in turn. It no longer shrieked—only groaned occasionally, then went completely limp. Its body stopped moving.

  I had won.