They walked northwest toward the Leather Road and home.* The glow of the sun slowly brightened over the mountains to their right. Mid-morning they made camp on a hill and slept.† They awoke late-afternoon‡ and continued following the foothills until nightfall, and rested again.§ Toward evening of the next day, Charlotte said, “I hear something in the woods. I’m not sure how many, but more than one. They’re following us.”
Will and Sam loaded their crossbows. Gralen took his tiny arrows from his pouch.
Five goblins, living goblins, ran screaming at them from five directions.**
Will’s crossbow bolt killed one goblin. Sam’s missed. Gralen’s spellbolt killed another. The three remaining goblins turned and ran south.*†
The group continued walking. Gralen whispered to his raven. It flew into the air, then south. It returned an hour later.
“The night trolls aren’t following us,” said Gralen.
Through the next two days*‡ they walked the forested foothills of the High Divide, until late afternoon of the latter day they heard a fast trot ahead, getting louder.*§
“Everybody hide.”
Two horses galloped into sight. One was a burnished red, the other black with a white patch on its forehead.
“Are they wild horses?” asked Gralen.
“No,” said Will.
He lay his sword and pack on the ground, and when the horses rushed past he grabbed the red one’s saddle, flipped up onto the mount, grabbed its reins, leaned into the gallop. He kept it running to herd the second horse, turned them around, and brought them both to a stop.*
“These are well-tended animals,” he said. “They were scared.”
He patted the horse on the neck and dismounted.
“Too many people here talk to animals,” said Sam.
“Can’t talk to them. Just obvious they were running from something.”
Charlotte peered up the trail.
“From what?”
“I don’t know.”
Gralen sent his raven up. It returned a few minutes later.
“Vultures are gathering ahead.”
They reached the vultures at the end of the day. The vultures flew off as the adventurers approached. Five dead goblins, their eye sockets emptied and flesh torn from their bones, lay in the path.
They made that night’s camp well beyond the half-eaten corpses.†
Halfway through the next morning, coming over a rise, they spotted a log and thatch cottage nestled in the hills. A rough fence enclosed a plot of land around it. A tiny stream ran through the plot.
“Who the hell would live south of the Leather Road?” asked Gralen.
“The person who owns the horses,” said Will. “Their tracks lead here.”
The fence’s gate was flanked by two barrels, each filled with black dirt and planted with red and orange flowers. Violets grew around the cottage walls. Will knocked at the gate, and yelled a greeting. Hearing no answer he opened the gate and led the horses onto the path inside.
The doorway on the cottage was eight feet tall.
“Let’s tie them up and leave,” said Gralen. “Who would live out here?”
“Who would trespass out here?” yelled a gruff voice.
A tall, dark-haired man stepped around the house. He stood over seven feet tall, wide-shouldered, and carried a deer carcass. A large knife hung in his belt.*
“We mean no harm,” said Will. “We found these horses yesterday, and they appear to be yours, so we’re returning them. They were running like the devil.”
“We were attacked by a pack of giblens,” the stranger said, “and my friends here wisely ran at the danger; and unwisely kept running when the danger was gone.”
“Goblins?” said Will. “They’re all over the place down here. We saw five of them dead yesterday afternoon. Was that you? How?”
“A strong stand can send them packing,” he replied, “at least as long as they don’t have an hobgoblin leading them.”
He threw a rope over a tree branch, and hung the deer by its feet.
“Come inside,” he said. “You’ve obviously traveled a great distance, and must be thirsty, hungry, and tired.”
“Good god, yes. I’m Sam. These are William, Gralen, and Charlotte.”
“Burwell Cooper.† Step inside while I take care of Red and the Pirate.”
Burwell Cooper led the horses around the back of the house.
“I don’t like this,” said Charlotte.
“He offered us food and drink,” said Sam. “Don’t be rude. If we see dead bodies hanging from hooks, we can run.”
Will shuddered.
“The horses were well-treated. Those who treat horses well can be trusted, my father says.”
He opened the door and peeked inside.
“It’d be four against one anyway,” said Sam.
“It was more than five against one when he fought the night trolls, I think,” said Will. “No hanging bodies here, but there are heads.”
There was an antlered deer head above every door; each of which were also sized for Cooper.
“We’re like dwarves here,” said Sam.
They heard metal banging metal beyond their sight, and the flow of liquid.
“Who would build a house out here?” said Charlotte.
“Someone strong enough to keep it,” Sam replied.
Burwell entered from the back.
“Welcome, friends.”
He had a huge barrel over his right shoulder, and in his left hand carried a large tankard.
“A drink to the safety of friends in tight places!”
He filled the tankard with a brown liquid from the barrel, took a long drink, and passed it to Will. It smelled and looked like beer, and in fact smelled like good beer. He drank it, and handed the tankard to Sam. They passed the beer around several times.
“What brings you to the southern forest?” asked Cooper.
Will grabbed the tankard. It was empty; while he filled it from the barrel Charlotte answered.
“Tracking down rumors of an old castle.”
“And we found it,” said Sam. “But only after fighting goblins and strange things in the fog.”
“You came through the mist? I hope whatever you found was worth that.”
“The creatures in the mist,” said Will, “were unimaginable. It was hell come above ground.”
“That’s a good description,” said Cooper. “The mist is a baser world. It grows and falls with the moon. You went through the mist at its strongest.”
“So that’s what happened to Mistoles,” said Gralen. “He also went through during a full moon.”
“We found a lot of dead bodies in the castle,” said Will, “and a few coins.”
He tossed one to Cooper.
“What is this image?” he asked. Charlotte held out her hand, and Cooper handed it to her.
“That’s the ram,” she said. “The constellation, Aries.”
She handed it back.
“Ah!” he replied. “I thank you, then.”
“Isn’t it dangerous down here on your own?” asked Will.
“True, none can live completely by their own wits, south or north. I have my companions here—”. He raised his voice. “—though some of them cannot be trusted in a fight!”
Two horses outside whinnied. Cooper laughed and stamped his feet and took another long drink. Sam took the next one out of turn.
“Too many people,” she muttered.
The aroma of baking bread slowly wafted into the room as they drank and talked.
“How,” asked Will, “can the night trolls come out in the day down here?”
“What a strange question,” Cooper replied. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“That’s why they’re night trolls, isn’t it? Don’t they turn to stone in sunlight?”
“They prefer the night,” said Cooper. “Bright sunlight hurts their eyes. But I have never seen one turn to stone. Perhaps there are different races where you live.”
“There’s a town called Stone Goblin,” said Gralen, “with a sun-stoned goblin in its square.”
“Stone Goblin!” Burwell scratched his bearded chin. “I know someone there. He shares your name, friend William.”
“We may go there someday,” said Charlotte, “on the way to the Long Lakes.”
“Well, if you see Will Dearborn of Stone Goblin, give him a greeting from Burwell Cooper. And tell him of your adventures. He’s an old traveler himself.”
He went into the back room and returned with trays of warm bread and butter, roast venison, and steaming potatoes, carrots, and onions. Everyone tore into the food.* They talked further about events in west and east Highland. Sam told of her exile from Crosspoint.
“So old Riley was finally brought to bay,” said Cooper.
“Hanged,” she replied, “but the organization’s still there, and they’re pissed at me for testifying against him.”
“This is a feast,” said Charlotte. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“I receive guests rarely enough,” he replied. “It’s worth a little extra on the table—as long as it doesn’t happen too often.”
Early in the morning, Burwell Cooper woke them with a loud laugh and a deep “Rise up! Morning is come, and ‘tis time for men to walk the forest again.”
The sun had not risen, but they could see its glow over the peaks of the mountain. When they were ready for travel, Cooper handed each of them a skin filled with beer.
“Burwell Cooper,” said Will, “we thank you for your hospitality to strangers, and we are strangers no longer. If you find yourself north, my home is open to you.”
“And if you return south,” said Cooper, “bring more news, and we shall drink to it again. Do not forget me in Stone Goblin either.”
They shook hands, and left the strange man and his lonely cabin and resumed their journey north. They awoke two mornings later to the sound of someone going through their packs in the trees outside the tents. Will felt for his sword and peeked through the tent opening.
Two badgers were picking through their packs.†
“Shit!”
Will rushed out, sword in hand. The badgers scattered, one carrying salted pork in its mouth. Gralen, Sam, and Charlotte followed Will as best they could. He chased the badgers several hundred yards into a clearing among the trees.
It wasn’t a clearing, he realized, it was more of a pathway, and a big one, running east and west. He stopped short. Looked both directions—
“We’re back!” he cried, just as the others arrived. “This is the Leather Road, we’re back home! We made it!”*
