Loners

Chapter 1

Bounty hunting is a complicated job; some love you, most despise you. But if Jari Rockjaw showed up with a poster, it was your final day on Labrys.

Goblins always attack when the dew still clings to the long, green grass. They are easy quarry . . . too easy. With a loud rip, Jari sliced off another ear, then touched his temple and winced. One of the goblins clubbed him in the head as he was engaged with two other brutish ones. After all three had been dispatched, he cursed himself for not paying closer attention to his surroundings.

I hate these shitty goblins.

The battlefield in front of him was slick with blood. With a sigh, he spat a large wad of phlegm from his parched throat. The field was not only choked with scores of goblins, but most of his mercenary company lay dead or dying around him.

A large minotaur approached him through the grey mist. "Betha," Jari said in greeting.

She growled a greeting in return and dropped her bag of ears. Gently, she slid her fingers across the deep gashes peppering her chiseled body.

"Couple more scars to add to your collection?" Jari asked with a wink.

"Don't need armor," she growled and with a grunt, hacking off an ear of another goblin nearby. "Shitty goblins."

Jari chuckled. The thing about Betha was she didn't like her own kind, often preferring the company of dwarves as companions (they were the most loyal). The two of them were allies, well, for the most part anyway. Wherever Jari went, Betha was always close behind.

Jari and other hunters like him really didn't care what race of beings they hunted—just the prices for their ears or scalps. They frequently hunted rogue dwarves, goblins, orcs, minotaurs, elves, centaurs, harpies, and any other group that raided the kingdom. This week, it was a pesky group of goblins raiding the settlements closest to the city of Port Agu.

There wasn't much money in goblin ears, but plenty of money in other groups like elves and dwarves, who sometimes put aside ancient feuds to pillage the lands around them . . . most no better than brigands and highwaymen. Jari had recently heard a rumor that a leader had started organizing the rabble into an army, far-fetched as it may have seemed.

The other members of their small group struggled in with their own spoils of war. A young dwarf with a hook for one hand gave a mock salute to Jari and smiled wide.

"Surprised you lived, Toli Hookhand. How many ears have you claimed?" Jari asked.

"Not enough to retire, but enough for a few mugs of gut-rot," he said.

Jari shrugged. "Always thinking about a drink, aren't you?" he asked.

"Or lasses. Large dwarven asses," Toli said, grabbing his crotch.

Toli was short, even for a dwarf. He stood two and a half feet tall, closer to a goblin in stature than his own kind. His black braided beard hung to his waist, knotted by silver beads, and the hair on top of his head was shaved on the sides and dyed bright blond.

Toli whistled a melody and started to sing. "Oh, the beautiful dwarven lasses' asses make me so eager for a drink, but Jari likes . . ."

Jari frowned. Toli smiled and sang, "A big fat stink!"

Jari shook his head and went back to scalping. Toli jiggled his open canteen over his mouth. "Not even a drip," he muttered.

A goblin lying nearby tried to crawl away from the group. Betha spotted it edging his way out, his entrails dragging along with him. She snorted, rattling the bronze septum ring in her muzzle. The goblin made a quick glance over its shoulder and crawled faster. She took two giant leaps, landed on the goblin's back, and pulled its head back in one motion. Jari heard the sickening tear as she cut its ears off. The goblin screeched until Betha cut its throat with a knife fastened to her hoof.