At the Leather Road a plank sign pointed west to Black Stag, east to Crosspoint. Below the arrows, themselves carved by some unknown hand decades if not centuries past, someone had scrawled in faded charcoal, “BEYOND LIE DRAGONS”.
Will rapped it once with his knuckles as they walked past, off the wide path that was the Leather Road, and continued south into the forest. The trees were in autumn bloom with leaves of red, orange, and yellow throwing shadows upon their dry and crunching brethren.
“I expected, I don’t know, an earth-shattering kaboom,” said Sam.
“The trees on this side of the road don’t look any different than north of the road,” said Will.
“There is one difference,” said Charlotte. “Nobody’s walked here for a hundred years.”
Will and Gralen strolled ahead, their longer strides slowly putting them a hundred or so paces beyond Charlotte and Sam.* The horse followed them.
…
“No one… human,” said Sam.
“Hmmm?”
“No one human has been here for a hundred years. Goblins have been here.”
“And dragons, according to the sign,” said Charlotte.
“What do we do when night falls?”
“We find a secluded niche in a hill, or a line of shrubbery, to make camp.”
“What if Will or Gralen snores?” asked Sam, and laughed.
“Smother them with a pillow,” Charlotte replied.
“Did we bring pillows?”
“I wish,” said Charlotte.
“You don’t like roughing it?”
“Love it. Walking in the forest, sleeping under the stars. There are wonderful animal trails throughout the forests near Crosspoint harbor.”
“Of course,” said Sam, “we have no goblins—the night trolls—around Crosspoint.”
“We do. But they aren’t bold.”
“Let’s hope the goblins of west Highland aren’t bold either.”
As the sun rose past the mountains, shafts of bright sunlight shone through the trees, throwing up beams of golden dust. Will and Gralen lazily picked occasional raspberries, putting them into their bags or mouths as they walked on.
“I haven’t been this far from my father since I started working for him five years ago,” said Will.
“Your father’s a nice guy,” said Gralen.
“To you. He doesn’t understand me.”
Gralen stooped down and picked up some long grass, and fed it to their horse.
“I mean,” said Will, “we just go back and forth, east and west, Black Stag to Hightown, Hightown to Black Stag. Black Stag to Hightown, Hightown to Crosspoint, Crosspoint to Hightown. For Christ’s sake, he’s been doing it for twenty years!”
“What do you want to do?”
“Start my own guard company. Go down to Great Bend. Or go to the bend without starting my own company. Or, when we go to Black Stag, why not head up the river and see the north country?”
“No money in it, probably.”
“Yeah, that’s what he says. Everything upriver comes downriver, we don’t need to chase it.”
They walked on, into the crunching leaves and the golden sunlight.
“I’ve heard there are Elfs up that way,” Will continued. “And Dwarfs.”
“And little pixies that live in holes and smoke big pipes.”
Will looked back toward Charlotte and Sam.
“Charlotte probably will follow the river someday,” he said.
“Probably.”
“What do you think about Sam?”
“She’s a tough one,” said Gralen.
“I don’t know about that.”
“I mean that literally: she knows what she wants, and she knows how to take care of herself.”
“Everyone knows what they want except me.”
Gralen stroked the horse’s mane once, and it stopped.
“Why don’t we wait for them,” he said. “Probably not a good idea to get too far ahead.”
…
They set up their tent just before nightfall in a small dell nestled in some hills.* They hung their food from the trees. Will built a small fire to drive out the chill.† They ate raspberries, and dried meat softened in water boiled over the fire.
Afterward, Gralen removed a large leather notebook and two smaller books from the saddle bags and sat to reading and writing with a quill pen and a bottle of ink. Charlotte lay back and began counting the stars. Will took his sword and walked through his exercises. Sam watched him as he fought imaginary opponents and blocked imaginary thrusts and slashes.
“Can you teach me how to use a real sword?” she asked.*
Will stumbled forward a bit in a half-finished movement, then looked at her.
“Uh, sure,” he said. “But… why would you want to?”
“I’m never going to be the girl who lets someone else protect her.”
“I noticed that.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
“Show me your positions.”
“My what?”
“Attack that bush with your short sword.”†
She hacked at the tall bush he’d indicated.
“You taught yourself, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and I did a good job,” she replied. “The tree didn’t lay a hand on me.”
“You can do better. Put down your sword, and watch this.”
He slashed across the bush; thrust his sword into it; and twisted, “like around a clock”.
“These are the three most basic fighting movements. Practice them whenever you can.”
He handed her his longsword.
“Yours is heavier than mine,” she said.
“I’m not touching that line with a ten-foot pole,” he replied.
“Touché.”
“So, you know the talk,” he said. “Let’s see if you know the walk. Attack your enemy.”
He pointed at the now-much-abused bush.
“Don’t look at your sword,” he said, as she trimmed the hedge. “Your sword isn’t going to attack you. Watch your enemy.”
“My enemy’s a tree.”
“Always keep your sword moving, even just a little left and right. And pretend that the bush can fight back.”
…
They shared a wide tent*, each in their own bedroll† on the grass. Sam and Charlotte slept on one side, Will and Gralen the other. They piled their pouches and packs between Will and Charlotte.
“I went camping like this once when I was twelve with a girl from down the hill in Black Stag,” whispered Will to Gralen. “I didn’t get anywhere then either.”
“Watch out for the thing that gropes the wood,” said Sam, and everyone chuckled, even Will.
“I know that monster well,” he replied.
Several hours later, but before the moon rose, Sam tapped Charlotte’s shoulder.‡
“I hear something,” she said. “Just outside our tent. At the tree where we hung our food.”
Charlotte reached around the bags and tapped Will’s shoulder.
“Something’s outside,” she said.
Will tapped Gralen’s shoulder.
“The girls are worried about something outside.”
“There’s something out there, you idiot,” said Sam. “We need to check on it.”
Gralen lifted the bottom of the tent and peered out.
“It’s dark. There’s some animal by our firepit. A deer or something.”
They heard a sudden noise of branches rustling together.
“What was that?”
“The deer ran off. We probably scared it.”
They heard a howl, very close to them.
“Or not,” he added.
Whatever it was, it did not return that morning.*
…
Halfway through the second day, they saw a ring of stones on a small hill rising through low trees. As they drew closer, they saw that it was a circle of columns set into the ground. The columns once held a circular lintel, but the lintel stones were in pieces on the ground between the columns. In the center was a round altar on a smooth black dais. Strange markings were inscribed on the altar, slashes, and straight corners carved into the stone.†
“It looks like writing,” said Charlotte. “Gralen, can you read it?”
“No,” he replied. “But there’s one between Hightown and Biblyon that I’ve deciphered. That one’s a dedication to a king, or god, of the silver hand.”
“And this one says the same thing?” asked Will.
“Who knows?” said Gralen. “Monuments like these lie scattered throughout west Highland. They might be altars to the silver hand, or they might each be dedicated to a different god or king or demon.”
He ran his fingers over the inscriptions.*
“Whatever it is, no one’s using it now,” said Will.
“You hope,” said Sam.
“That I do.”
“Nice view up here,” said Charlotte. “This forest is as wonderful as any back east.”
“Speaking of that,” said Sam, “don’t we have to turn east soon?”
“We should be running into a road,” said Gralen.
“Or see the breasts,” said Charlotte.†
“It might be possible to save time by going kitty-corner to the southeast,” said Gralen. “But it might also get us horribly lost. I’m thinking that on the return trip, after we turn east to the castle, we should be able to go straight north to the road.”
…
On their second night, Sam decided to scout the perimeter of their campsite.‡
“Something’s been following us,” Charlotte had said. “Neither animal nor human.”
Sam stepped quietly through the trees and brush. After a hundred feet they couldn’t see her.
“I hope she’s going to be okay,” said Will.
“Let’s set up camp,” said Gralen.
…
Sam avoided dry leaves and bright sunlight, kept to shadows and trees large enough to hide her. Within fifty yards of their camp were three human-like creatures half her size, each with splotchy white faces and two fangs hanging over their lips. Sam looked back; from where the creatures were, they could see Charlotte, Gralen, and Will putting up the tent and hanging the food.
Each of the creatures carried spears. One had a short sword of some kind in a rough scabbard by its side.
A red tongue slid out between two fangs and licked deep around its mouth.
…
“They’re goblins,” said Charlotte, after Sam described the creatures.
“They’re waiting to kill us in our sleep,” said Gralen.
“And eat us.”
“Where are they?” asked Will.
“Don’t look at them!” said Sam. “We don’t want them to know we know they’re there.”
“So what do we do?”
“I have a plan. Go behind the tent.”
Will moved tentatively back of the tent, then looked back at her.
“All the way,” she said, “so they can’t see you. Then load your crossbow.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to ambush them before they ambush us, and we need to do it now before they go for reinforcements. I need you to cover me.”*
“I should go first,” said Will, “I’m the guardsman.”
“You make as much noise as a herd of cattle. Just cover me with your crossbow, and we’ll be fine.”
He continued behind the tent.
“What about the rest of us?” asked Charlotte.
“One of you go behind the tent and count to a hundred, then follow me. Quietly. Come out ready for a fight when you hear me yell.”
Sam returned to the woods. Will returned from behind the tent, lay his crossbow carefully down by the tent.
“That’s a plan?”
“I need to get closer to be of any help,” said Charlotte. “I’ll follow her.”
She stepped behind the tent and into the forest.
“Pretend to keep working on the fire,” said Gralen, “in case they’re worrying about where their other two suppers went.”
They’d built their fire next to a large rock. Will leaned his sword against it and adjusted some of the logs. Gralen looked up into the sky and whistled once, then looked back to Will.
“Hold still,” he said. “I’m going to make it easier for you to hit from this distance.”†
He spoke for a few seconds in words Will did not understand, then touched Will’s eyes. Will blinked. When he opened his eyes, the world was new. Aspects of the landscape and foliage and animals he hadn’t previously noticed came into focus. He could see veins on leaves ten feet away.‡
“This is incredible,” said Will.
He glanced slowly around the woods.
“I see them,” said Will. “Three of them, just like she said. Shouldn’t we head over there now?”
“It’s her plan,” said Gralen. “Wait for her signal. We don’t want to screw it up.”
…
Sam stopped halfway to the goblins, put her feet into the stirrups of her crossbow and pressed down, dragging the crossbow up with one hand while loading it with her other hand, then continued on. After stopping, Sam could hear Charlotte behind her, which meant there was a chance the creatures could, too.*
Stepping out from the cover of the bushes, she aimed her crossbow at who she assumed was the leader of the creatures.
“Now!” she yelled.
Will grabbed up his crossbow, and, pointing it at one of the goblins, walked quickly toward them. Gralen walked alongside. His right hand went into his belt-pouch and brought out a small carving of an arrow.
Charlotte remained hidden as well as she could and approached the creatures, just as all of them screamed, leveled their spears, and charged Sam.
“Fuck!”
Sam pulled the trigger on her crossbow, but the bolt went wild.†
Will fired also; his bolt hit its target and the creature fell to the ground.*
Gralen whistled, and ran toward the fight in a slight circle away from Will.†
Before the goblins reached Sam‡, one of them began spearing at the air looking for all the world as if it were fighting an invisible opponent.§
Sam dropped her crossbow and tried to draw her sword against the remaining creature. Its spear scraped against her leather tunic. She twisted round its attack and, off-balance from dodging the attack, was unable to complete her riposte.**
Will threw down his crossbow and ran toward the fight, drawing his sword as he did.*†
Gralen mumbled an arcane formula and threw his carven arrow toward the fight. A burst of light slammed into Sam’s opponent.*
A raven swooped out of the sky and clawed at Sam’s attacker.†
The goblin thrust its spear at Sam again, drawing blood, but this time she twisted the spear away using her own short sword and followed the spear down to its bearer, slicing across the creature’s chest. The goblin fell back, keeled onto the ground, and bled silently.‡
The remaining goblin continued its strange combat with nothing, then stopped and looked around, confused.§
Sam turned from her prone opponent and pointed her sword at the confused goblin .** It tossed its spear away and fell to the ground, whimpering.
Will arrived with his sword ready and no one to hit.
“Great,” he said. “We’ve got a prisoner. Jesus, Sam, are you okay?”
“Fine. I think.”
Gralen came up behind Will.
“You were right,” she said to him, “about that raven being good luck.”
She put her hand to her side, inside her leather armor. It came back tinged red.
“Charlotte, get her back to camp,” said Will. “I’ll take care of the prisoner.”
Will pointed his sword at the goblin.
“This way,” he said.
The creature didn’t respond, but it did understand the gesture when Will prodded it with the tip of his sword. He led it at swordpoint back to the campsite and tied it to a tree.
“How bad is Sam?”
“I don’t know,” said Charlotte. “There’s not a lot of blood.”
Will walked over to take a look at the wound.
“It doesn’t look bad,” he said, after a moment, “though I’m no barber. The bleeding has already stopped. Find me some strips of cloth, strips from the blankets if we don’t have anything else. I’ll clean it. Dad taught me how to handle this.”*
Will turned to Gralen when he was done and pointed at the goblin tied to the tree.
“We’re going to have to keep a watch tonight,” he said, “to keep an eye on this thing. We can’t let it go, and we can’t just kill it in cold blood.”
“Sure we can,” said Sam.
…
Later, around the fire, Will asked Gralen about the legend of the silver hand.†
“This is what I read on the stones north of Hightown,” he replied. “The king of the silver hand, the father of kings, ruled a great city, and his brother ruled an underground kingdom. Evil creatures sailed in over the sea, creatures that could hear any word spoken if any wind blew near the speaker. They terrorized the countryside with full knowledge of their enemies’ plans and secrets.
“So the king held council with his brother in a cave of no wind, and his brother told him of a dream he’d had: that the invaders could be defeated by forcing them to eat insect mash, insects ground into water. The king must do this himself, for if he asks anyone else to do it, he risks telling it to the wind.”
“So the king mashes insects into a paste?” asked Will.
“And,” said Gralen, “he sneaks into the camp of the invaders and switches their porridge with the mash. They eat it, and can no longer hear the wind speak. The king and his advisors can strategize without being overheard, and they defeat the invaders.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Charlotte. “Wouldn’t the invaders have noticed insect mash?”
“It’s a legend. Strange things happen in legends.”
“And so they lived happily ever after?” said Will.
“Not yet. There was another problem. On each May’s eve, a scream permeated the land, a scream that curdled milk, killed crops, and made women barren. Warriors lost their strength, children and animals grew sick. The sick, animals and people, died. So the king consults his brother in the cave, and his brother says that the screams are dragons in the earth. They can be calmed by giving them strong mead. Every mayday he had his people bury crocks of mead in the earth to lull the dragons.”
“I take it that wasn’t the end of his problems,” said Will.
“Of course not,” said Charlotte. “These things always come in threes if they come in pairs.”
“And they did. The king’s provisions were disappearing. The court would eat a great meal when tribute arrived but the rest would be gone by morning. Then the court would have to go hungry until the next tribute, which would also disappear in the night.
“The king and his court tried to stay awake to discover who was taking the food, but they always fell asleep before morning. When they awoke, the food was gone.
“His brother told him that he didn’t know what or who was taking the food, but that when he felt tired he should bathe in cold water to stay awake. The king followed his brother’s advice, and discovered that a wizard was using magic to send the entire court to sleep. The king jumped out of his icy bath, took his sword, and beheaded the wizard, and the court was finally able to have breakfast.”
“How long was the king in the ice water?” asked Sam.
“What I want to know,” asked Will, “is who was the brother?”
“That’s a good question. It wasn’t in the inscriptions I deciphered. You’d have to ask the night priests, or the Druids, whoever built the monument.”
“Sleep well, kids,” said Charlotte.
“As long as the mist doesn’t rise,” said Will.
Gralen took the final watch in the early morning, and spent it studying his books to re-memorize his spells.
…
“I’m going to try to semi-interrogate our captive,” said Gralen over breakfast.
“Why,” asked Sam, “did you learn its language in the night?”*
“Sort of,” said Gralen. “The same way I could read the stones north of Hightown, but not the same stones yesterday. Now, I’m prepared.”†
“We need to know how many more there are,” said Sam, “and where they live, I guess. So we can avoid them.”
“We might also ask if there are any breasts nearby,” said Will.
“Funny. But I can’t ask it, I can only listen to it. You want to show it your nipples and see how it reacts?”
“Ask it about castles, to the east?”
“You’re missing the point, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Gralen took a finger-full of stuff out of his pocket, and pinched it between his fingers, releasing a warm, pungent odor. He spoke some words in an ancient language, and ate the stuff.
“What the hell is that?” asked Sam.
“Ginger,” said Gralen, and then he touched the creature on the forehead.*
The goblin flinched; then Gralen began gesturing to it. He pointed east. The goblin spoke again and pointed west.†
The others made their breakfast over the fire. They still had eggs and bacon, though they’d have to start living off hard bread and jerky soon.
“Well,” said Gralen when he was finished, “if you trust it, it lives directly west. There are hundreds—or at least ten handfuls—more of them. Something to the east frightens it. Also, it wants to know when we’re going to kill it, because it wants to kill us.”
Will partially untied the goblin, freeing one of its hands, and handed it some bacon and eggs. It ate as ferociously as it could one-handed.
“You notice he didn’t turn to stone when the sun came up?”
“Maybe it’s a different kind of troll that turns to stone,” said Sam.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked Charlotte.
“Let him go when we get further south,” said Will. “When he’s harmless.”
“He won’t be harmless if we let him go, or he escapes, and he comes back with a hundred more like him,” said Sam.
“We wait long enough to let him go, and he won’t have time,” said Will. “We’re not going back the way we came anyway, right?”
“You’ll regret letting it live,” said Sam.
“If I don’t do things I’ll regret, it’ll be a boring life.”
