Chapter 364: A Blood Fang Feast Part 1

In the late hours of the night, several cooks grilled eight deer carcasses over the fire pits while a few others roasted vegetables in large iron pans in a log house near the village square. With curious gazes, Plum and Tauri watched the goblins sit in small circles around the fires, waiting for some of the smaller and leaner goblins to serve them their meals. Skads were their name, or so Stryg had told her. Skads were goblins who had failed to find a proper tribal path and had been assigned whatever odd job the tribe currently needed. Serving meals was a common job for a Skad and one that wasn’t particularly respected if the quiet jeers the goblins threw at them were any indication.

While Tauri glanced at the surrounding goblins and their weapons, still tense after their recent skirmish a mere hour ago, Plum paid close attention to the way the Skads served the meals. The hierarchy seemed clear, the Mothers and the Chieftain were served first, then the hunters came next, and then the cooks themselves, though they were too busy cooking to even eat.

Tauri leaned over to Stryg and whispered into his ear, “They keep giving us weird looks. I don’t think they like us.”

“Who?” Stryg asked, though his own attention was on the Skads.

“Practically everyone, especially the hunters.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said casually. Most of the tribe hated him and had made their feelings clear on that matter many times. To him, it was simply the norm.

“Are you sure we should still be here? I mean, shouldn’t we go before they change their mind and attack us?” Tauri asked warily.

Stryg shook his head, though his eyes stayed on the Skads and the food they carried, a hopeful glint in his lilac irises. “Chieftain Jahn gave us his word. The tribe will not harm us.”

“How do you know that for certain? They were just trying to kill us a few minutes ago.”

“I know they won’t hurt us because, unlike Hollow Shade’s aristocrats, the Sylvan keep their word.”

Tauri grumbled something under her breath but she left it at that and kept watching the guards and hunters with a close eye.

A couple of Skads walked up to Stryg and his friends and handed them wooden plates full of steaming roasted venison and charred vegetables, along with a cup of red wine.

They haven’t finished serving the hunters, so they consider us equal to them? Or do they just consider us less worthy than the chieftain and Mothers? Plum wondered to herself.

Stryg seemed happy either way. He grabbed his plate and began devouring the meat with his bare hands, not even waiting to use the utensils.

Tauri stared at him with mild disgust, but said nothing and slowly began to eat her food. “It’s hot…!” she winced, then took another bite, “It’s good though… all things considered.”

Plum agreed, the food was too hot. She had already burned her tongue with a single bite, though the heat didn’t seem to stop Stryg.

The blue goblin ripped apart the meat with his teeth and growled a noise of contentment almost like a purr.

Tauri raised a questioning eyebrow. “You okay?”

He smiled softly, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had venison. It’s just as good as I remembered.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Jahn called out as he walked over to them. He snapped his fingers and two Skads appeared at his side, plates full of roasted meat in their hands.

Stryg’s eyes widened and a bit of drool slipped down his chin. “Is that… for me?”

“Obviously,” Jahn said. “Shamans eat as much as they want.”

“Really!?” Stryg didn’t wait for an answer, he snatched the plates from the Skads and started scarfing down the food with such ferocity it seemed as if he was scared someone might take it away.

Second Mother suddenly stood up from among the circle of Mothers and raised her cup high, “Tonight, I’d like to give thanks to the Mother Moon for giving us back one of our own from death itself. Tonight, we welcome back Stryg, son of Blood Fang, shaman of the Sylvan!”

The goblins raised their cups high and gave a mixed cheer of mild elation and worried grumbles.

“They really don’t like you, huh,” Plum noted sympathetically.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stryg muttered.

“They’re just uncertain,” Jahn clapped his back. “You left a small scraggly kid and came back a giant shaman. They’re still trying to get a feel for you. Give it time.”

Jahn raised his cup, “To the return of the shaman Stryg!”

The goblins cheered and raised their cups, then downed their drinks.

Tauri and Plum followed along and drank the wine, but they spat out the drink and coughed.

“Ugh, what was that!” Tauri moaned in disgust. “It’s foul!”

“It’s not wine.” Plum poured the rest of her cup’s contents onto the ground. A red thick liquid fell on the grass. Her eyes widened in sick realization, “This is…!—”

“—Blood,” Stryg said and took another sip. “Deer blood, with some herbs. It’s a ceremonial drink of our tribe.”

“You actually drink this stuff?” Tauri said in disbelief.

“It’s not great I know, but it tastes better without the herbs, trust me.”

“I really don’t think it will,” Tauri frowned.

“Now I’m beginning to understand why you guys call yourselves the Blood Fang,” Plum muttered.

Stryg abruptly stood to his feet and bowed his head as First and Second Mother walked over to them. “Mothers,” he said in a reverent tone.

“Sit. Eat.” First said calmly.

Stryg nodded, sat back down, and went back to eating.

“You’ve grown quite the appetite,” Second Mother smirked.

Stryg blushed, but said nothing and kept eating abashedly.

Plum stared at him as if he had grown a second head. She had never seen Stryg so… so… nervous? Around the two women who had raised him, he seemed almost like an entirely different person. He wasn’t the dangerous goblin she had grown to know, but instead a small child, almost too shy to speak up.

First Mother took a deep breath and looked at the young blue goblin, “Stryg…”

He sat up and looked at her with worried eyes.

Plum suddenly remembered the stories Stryg used to tell her about First Mother. She was the matriarch of the tribe and the strictest of all the Mothers. First was the one who had beaten and punished him the most out of all the Mothers and the fear in Stryg’s eyes seemed to reflect that.

It seemed that if there was anyone he wanted to impress, it was definitely First Mother.

First went to place her hand on Stryg’s head, hesitated, and settled on patting his shoulder once, “Thank you, Stryg. For sparing my idiot of a brother. You could have killed him, he even asked you to, but you didn’t. So… thank you.”

“I only did what I thought was right. Jahn is the chieftain of Blood Fang,” Stryg whispered.

“You let yourself be guided by wisdom, not anger. Well done, child,” First nodded.

Stryg beamed with pride and smiled, “Thank you, Mother.”

“And thank you, Stryg, for not taking my head off. I do like being alive,” Jahn admitted with a wink.

First kicked her brother in the shin. “And you! When will you learn that traditions have their time and place?! The good of the tribe comes first!”

Jahn fell to one knee and winced in pain, “I was trying to serve the tribe!”

“In what world would it be good for the tribe to lose its leader of the past two decades, hm!?” First snapped.

“Duly noted… sorry, sister,” Jahn bowed his head.

So it’s not just Stryg who is afraid of First Mother, Plum thought sympathetically.

Second Mother coughed pointedly, “Ahem, we actually came to ask you a few questions, Stryg. The first being where you have been these past few years?”

He blinked, “Oh, well, that’s sort of a long story, I guess.”

First crossed her arms, “We have time.”

“Right…”

“We’re waiting,” First said, a trace of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh! Yeah, um, well, after the lamias attacked us I managed to climb out of the cave and escape by myself…”

“So you really did make it out by yourself,” Second smiled. “Many of us thought you perished along with the others, but First never gave up hope you were out there somewhere.”

“Not the point,” First snapped angrily. “So what you’re telling us, Stryg, is that you abandoned your tribemates and ran from the cave by yourself?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Plum said.

“How do you know? Were you there?” First asked.

“Well, n-no, but—”

“Then be quiet, outsider,” First hissed.

Stryg moved between Plum and First to the Mother’s surprise.

“You’re right, Mother,” he nodded. “I did abandon my tribemates at the cave and that shame has haunted me for the last 3 years. But no longer.”

“What are you saying?” First raised her eyebrow.

“I killed the lamias, every single last living one in that wretched cave. They are all dead.”

The Mother’s yellow eyes widened, but no words escaped her open mouth.

“What did you just say?” Jahn jumped to his feet. “You killed those vile serpent monsters?”

Stryg nodded, “I paid them back for everything they took from us.” He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out several pairs of long hollow fangs.

“You really did it… You really killed them all…” Jahn muttered. He suddenly laughed, a deep brilliant sound. “Did you hear that!?” he cried at the top of his lungs, garnering the attention of the villagers.

Jahn held his hand up, a pair of lamia fangs between his fingers, “The shaman Stryg has gone back down into that wretched cave and slain the serpent monsters! He has avenged our fallen! After three long painful years, our fallen brothers and sisters can finally rest.”

The goblins grew silent at their chieftain's words. Many of their yellow eyes began to water, though they did their best to not cry in front of their tribemates. Slowly, one by one they turned to Stryg, and for the first time in his life he noticed there was no contempt nor suspicion in their eyes, there was only profound gratitude.

Stryg breathed in shakily and smiled, his own eyes burning.

“What are you all sitting down for, ey!” Jahn shouted. “This is a night for celebration!”

The other goblins cheered and jumped to their feet. The sounds of drums and songs echoed into the night.