《SwornBorn: A Musical!》


 Chapter One: Prisoner of the Dwarves

    They had put me in chains. I stood clasped in cold hard relentless merciless ugly foreboding gripping doomful manacles before the granite throne of the Dwarf chieftain.


    His bare arms rippled with bulging rocklike practiced sinewy imposing impressive boar-fed battle-forged sweat-sheened muscles.


    He sat there, haughty, awash in orange firelight. Torches mounted on the walls ringed his audience room. It was all for show; the Dwarves always cut skylight shafts into the ceilings of their mountain chambers, so there would have been decent light in there anyway since it was still early afternoon, but he clearly liked the look of all the fire.


    He held a huge axe. It looked sharp, and was engraved with shining runes; the usual.


    He always used the axe when he gestured anywhere ¨C hey, you there, stoke the fire; hey, bring me that joint of yak meat on the bone; hey, drag that skinny prisoner man over here so we can all mock him and say hurtful things. It was all just needlessly aggressive.


    But worse than the chains, manacles, and axe-threats was the humiliating song they all sang at me. It was just uncalled for. The chieftain ¨C his name was Thorfin Nosecrusher ¨C signaled to his stout hall guard and they all lined up. They were formidable-looking warriors with beards up their faces nearly to their eyes, and, I knew ¨C because I had heard them before ¨C fine singing voices. They started a song while doing timed high-kicks (which were not very high, honestly; I think they could have done better):


    Who, then, shall shoot me a quizzical glance?


    Who can deliver me magical pants?


    Why am I prisoner of the Dwarves?


    I should be home working at the wharves


    hauling out slippery fish to eat


    ¡®cause I¡¯m too chicken to hunt red meat.


    I live on tubers and berries and nuts


    which I¡¯ll also serve to my weak friends in huts.


    I rolled my eyes. They always went on about how dumb we villagers were for living in houses rather than in mountain halls. The song was also annoying because we did, of course, hunt deer and boars and anything else we could find, but they had caught me when I happened to be out gathering mushrooms. I would never hear the end of it.


    I sang back to them:


    I was just picking up mushrooms;


    toadstools.


    I won¡¯t stand here for this mockery


    from fools


    who sneak to my town to buy socks


    on the sly


    and then deny that they do it;


    just lie.


    That hit a chord with them, as I knew it would. They all looked down at the stone floor, and avoided eye contact with each other. It got very quiet, and a couple of them cleared their throats.


    They always wanted to sell this tough-guy, or I guess tough-Dwarf, image of themselves wearing just leather and iron and wool, nothing else. Maybe they would admit to weaving some things out of hemp? I wasn¡¯t sure. But it would have to be rough hemp! Skivvies made of rope, essentially! But in reality, more and more over the past few years they had been coming down to our town all covered up in hooded cloaks to buy lumber and then ¡°I guess a bolt of cotton just for the wife.¡± Plus socks, long johns, nightshirts, you name it. Anything that could be hidden beneath their gambesons, chainmail, cloaks, et cetera.


    This had been getting more and more common as we people in Enkel Kanindal opened river trade with our growing neighbors to the south, the Venedians. All of our vendors were starting to keep cabinets of soft things within easy reach no matter what else they sold. The Dwarves would keep their purchases quiet, but they weren¡¯t fooling anyone. It was to the point where some of our storekeepers would stock small wooden items like matches and clothespins which the Dwarves would buy so they¡¯d have an excuse for a shopping trip in which they really just wanted to load up on underwear.


    And sometimes they¡¯d send down their beleaguered kobold servants to buy things. It would always be like, ¡°Master Thumbgrinder needs a new awl handle, and flus¡± ¨C they meant ¡°plus¡± of course, but couldn¡¯t pronounce their p¡¯s ¨C ¡°uh, just for me, you know, I¡¯ll take three Gossyfium tunics.¡± Yeah, like that wasn¡¯t obvious ¨C these oppressed dog-men just happening to have enough shillings of their own to get new Enkel-made clothes of fine Venedian cotton.


    ¡°All right then, we¡¯re not dwelling on those accusations,¡± Thorfin said, standing up suddenly and pointing his axe toward me (of course.) ¡°My warders tell me you were apprehended on SwornBorn land, taking our property without permission.¡±


    ¡°You all hate mushrooms!¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll share if you really want them.¡±


    ¡°NOT THE POINT!¡± he roared. ¡°We will ¨C not ¨C allow (he shook the axe at me with each word) outsiders to linger in our territory without the express leave of the SwornBorn.¡±


    ¡°By the way,¡± I said, ¡°since when are you this ¡®SwornBorn¡¯? I thought you guys were the OathBorn? What happened to that?¡±


    That really seemed to set off Thorfin. The small bit of his face which I could see now turned even redder than it had been already.


    ¡°We¡¯re not OathBorn anymore! SwornBorn is more cool. And . . . the Dwarf clan up north of us in the Death Crags was already using OathBorn, we found out, although they hadn¡¯t told many people. You would think they¡¯d have the courtesy to . . . ¡± but he kind of trailed off, sputtering. One of his hall guard captains noticed this, and jumped in front of him and started singing. His comrades joined in, and in an instant they were rolling:


    We rule these mountains ¨C we¡¯re SwornBorn!


    Terrifying goblins and dunters we see!


    They take one look ¡®round them, and they know we¡¯ll pound themThe author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Dwarves will always deal them a beating or three!


    No disaster we can¡¯t surmount!


    Got too many heroes to count!


    SwornBorn!


    SwornBorn!


    Masters of the Gray Mount!


    The Dwarves up in Death Crags are losers


    Can¡¯t get rid of dragons that live right outside.


    Chasing them with brooms and trying to use their slingshots,


    But they just will give up and go hide inside!


    Come and join us in our proud song!


    Let¡¯s dig deep, nothing can go wrong!


    SwornBorn!


    SwornBorn!


    Le - gendary strong throng!


    They went on like this, soon jumping up onto the tables. They would then do this thing in which they motioned to their friends and then jumped off into the crowd. They would be passed overhead, hand to hand, rolling around on all the upraised arms. I just watched, along with Thorfin on his throne, who was unmoved. Then an older gray-haired Dwarf came up to me and pulled out a big brass key.


    ¡°I reckon we¡¯ve accomplished what we wanted to do,¡± he said. He popped open my manacles one by one.


    ¡°Wutherby,¡± I said. ¡°Good to see you.¡±


    ¡°And you, Flicker.¡± He shook his head. ¡°The young folk today. You know. Thorfin has his hands full with them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I said, as I stepped out of the chains. ¡°I know he has to look busy and all, but I was gathering in the same place I have ten times before.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Come this way.¡± He led me out of the boisterous hall. The last I saw Thorfin, he was still just watching his guard dance. Someone had brought him a flagon of something. A number of female Dwarves had come to join everyone, which seemed to lower the temperature considerably. They were just as stout as their men, but wore lighter-colored clothing and of course were beardless. Or relatively beardless.


    Wutherby walked next to me down the hall.


    ¡°It¡¯s that upstart Vigbond Thighbreaker, you know,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s putting pressure on Thorfin all the time to crack down on ¨C whatever. Vigbond just keeps complaining about everything. And he has some of the young dwarves behind him.¡±


    ¡°When you say young,¡± I asked, ¡°you mean¨C¡±


    ¡°Forty and below. The kids, you know. The whelps. But Thorfin still has to demonstrate his strength for them, all that kind of thing.¡±


    I knew this, which was why I put up with the occasional slights from the chieftain. He was a good guy, really, a decent enough friend to our village, and a known quantity. We didn¡¯t want to see him deposed by some volatile Dwarf pup.


    ¡°It¡¯s not easy being a Dwarf-lord,¡± I told Wutherby.


    He stopped.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s so right.¡±


    He breathed in deep, held out his arms, and I knew I was in for it. He had a great voice, though. He started barking:


    It¡¯s not easy being a Dwarf-lord


    sitting high atop your gold hoard


    watching nephews, grands, and great-grands


    grow ambitious for their own


    Gotta keep one eye behind you


    worryin¡¯ some Dwarf brat will find you;


    take your seat atop the stone throne;


    steal your yak meat on the bone.


    He resumed walking, then, but kept singing:


    I don¡¯t envy any Dwarf chief


    who¡¯s just searching for some re-lief


    shoring up his iron doors


    and keeping one ear to the ground


    Fighting goblins, wyverns, wizards


    avalanches, mountain blizzards


    and he cannot let his guard down


    or they¡¯ll repossess his crown.


    I put my hand on his shoulder, then, and raised one finger in the air. I took over:


    It gets tiresome being a Dwarf-lord


    dreading some clown with a broadsword


    ¡¯s gonna say you¡¯re getting washed up


    and try to steal away your Guard.


    You¡¯ve been forging fearsome axes


    digging mines! Earning taxes!


    but there¡¯s rivals on your heels;


    you gotta work late, gotta go hard.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Flicker!¡± Wutherby said, and then he punched me in the shoulder. It was supposed to be a friendly, comrade-like little acknowledgment, a congratulatory whack, but it knocked me off my feet and into the corridor wall. His arms were just massive.


    ¡°Crying out loud, Wutherby,¡± I said. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I picked myself up.


    ¡°Oh, sorry there, mate. I kind of forgot who you were. But that¡¯s a compliment, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve got some fine verse in you.¡±


    ¡°Well, thanks. I guess.¡±


    ¡°Those last two lines could have rhymed, though. I mean, they don¡¯t absolutely need to. But they could have.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll work on it.¡±


    We had reached the exit of the tunnel. It had a heavy iron door that Wutherby pushed open with a nudge. We both squinted in the sunshine.


    ¡°There you are,¡± he said. ¡°Look at that, still daylight. You didn¡¯t even lose too much time. Oh, and I set your bag out there.¡±


    It was the sack of mushrooms, right outside on the grass.


    ¡°Kind of you, thanks,¡± I said.


    ¡°You know, I probably wouldn¡¯t come here to gather any for a few days. Maybe give it a week.¡±


    ¡°That sounds wise.¡±

 Chapter Two: Caiside

    It was late in the night, right before I was about to retire to bed, a few days later, that a knock brought me to my door. I heard just one rap, and then any others were drowned out by the barks of my loyal vigilant surging leaping snarling perky-eared ripply-muscled short-haired thick-leather-collared mastiff.


    ¡°Marley, come on. Good girl. Relax.¡±


    I opened the door. Before me in the moonlight stood a gaunt weathered ragged windblown uncombed sleep-deprived inadequately-bathed poorly-laundered traveler; a woman.


    She walked on crutches, for she had only one leg. She wore a long, soiled skirt.


    ¡°Flicker,¡± she said. ¡°The musician. Son of Becca and Landon, also musicians. Cousin to Freydis the leathermaker.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I know you ¨C ?¡±


    ¡°And you are nephew to . . . Slade the Luckless.¡±


    ¡°What? Uncle Slade? Well, yes. But the ¡®Luckless¡¯? I¡¯ve never heard him called that.¡±


    ¡°You have not seen him for some time.¡±


    ¡°No. We haven¡¯t seen him for ten years, probably.¡±


    ¡°May I enter.¡± She didn¡¯t tone it as a question. I stood back, holding onto Marley. She swung her way inside on the crutches.


    ¡°My name is Caiside,¡± she said. ¡°I am glad that I found you. And you will be glad, also. I have some life-altering news for you.¡±


    As she progressed, she started a song:


    You¡¯ve got gold stashed away that¡¯s too much to count.


    Jewels, silver, and chainmail, an astounding amount.


    Save or blow it, you don¡¯t really even have to pick which.


    It turns out, you know ¨C


    it turns out that you¡¯re filthy rich


    I¡¯ve got a map, and I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m gonna have to beg


    you help me out, ¡®cause as you see I¡¯m down to just one leg.


    When you see this stuff, I¡¯m telling you, you¡¯re gonna be floored.


    It turns out, guess what:


    it turns out that you¡¯ve got a hoard.


    It¡¯s guys like you who earn the envy of us, all the rest.


    You sit there set while folks like me just have to hobble our best.


    Just look at you, standing there on top of two sound boots.


    It¡¯s guys like you, with this news ¨C


    guys like you can never lose.


    As for me, my life has been hella harder than that


    I lost my leg in a bloody vicious marmot attack.


    But that¡¯s not you; you can just decide to run or jump.


    It must be nice to have


    two good feet and not a stump.


    There are people who don¡¯t realize what they have got.


    They think these crutches look fun, but let me tell you they¡¯re not.


    People like these that I¡¯m talking about don¡¯t think twice about just assuming the best all the time and taking everything for granted, but I don¡¯t think they are realizing ¨C


    ¡°All right,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°Would you like to come inside and sit down?¡±


    She was already creeping forward as I said this. While she did look haggard, she seemed strong enough, and she swung herself forward using her crutches. She carried a shoulder bag, and had a bedroll tied around her waist.


    ¡°I suppose I am very fortunate,¡± I said as she settled down into a chair by a small table in my front room, ¡°if what you¡¯re telling me is accurate, about this hoard you were talking about. I think that is your main point, right? Some sort of hoard for me?¡±


    ¡°A hoard,¡± she agreed.


    ¡°All right, then. But I feel I may be counting unhatched chickens right at the moment if I put too much confidence in that.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    She answered singing again:


    I learned about this trove of loot straight from your Uncle Slade.


    He let me know ¡®cause he¡¯s been thrown in prison by The Mage.


    He¡¯s afraid he¡¯ll never get out so he wants to share


    the secret of this hoard.


    And I¡¯ve got a map that tells you where.


    ¡°Slade has been thrown in prison by The Mage?¡± I asked. ¡°The Mage of Wastemoor, herself? How could that have happened? The last we heard of him, I think he just told us he was heading westward to try and trade some goods he had. We assumed he was doing all right.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± she said. ¡°This is no subject for a tavern song, I¡¯m afraid. Trouble you for grog?¡±


    I moved to my cupboard as she continued.


    ¡°Slade did come to our country some years ago with some things to trade, you are right. And you know, he looked a bit like you. I can see him in your eyes. And your brows. And those two marvelous working intact legs you have.¡±


    I thought about responding to this but just continued pouring her drink from a jug.


    ¡°And he traveled here with some easily portable items. He had a supply of amber, for one thing.¡±


    ¡°That tracks,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not so hard to find in the hills past town.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But once he arrived in Wastemoor, after some time, I¡¯m afraid he began to traffic in other wares; things which were controlled by The Mage. Or intended to be controlled by The Mage.¡±


    ¡°Such as what?¡±


    Her eyes lit up at this, and she hard-whispered:


    Long-buried skeletons; barrow wights¡¯ blades;


    dark-arts charm necklaces pilfered by maids;


    unaware unicorns trapped in a glade;


    these things wound up with your good Uncle Slade.


    Sacrificed scimitars thrown into rivers;


    jackalope antlers and hippogriff livers;


    Elven love letters and borrowed dwarf gold;


    these are all things that should never be sold.


    Votives from pilgrims and candles from altars;


    bright sterling censers and gold-embossed psalters;


    offerings left for some god or a spirit;


    are sacred to some, but our Slade wouldn¡¯t hear it.


    Thick hidden sovereigns dug up from fields;


    gifted gold axes with matching kite shields;


    veterans¡¯ discharges carved into metal;


    all this, and other loot, Slade tried to peddle.


    She stopped and just regarded me ominously.


    ¡°All right then,¡± I said, ¡°he would be taking some risks trading much of that, certainly. But ¨C look at jackalope antlers. You kind of have to admire someone who picks those up to trade, after they¡¯ve been shed. Don¡¯t you? That¡¯s not hurting anyone.¡±


    ¡°They are property of The Mage, all of them, by her decree.¡±


    ¡°Really? Throughout all Wastemoor?¡±


    ¡°Her power is absolute.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Uncle Slade wanted to live in a place like that. After living free here in Enkel Kanindal.¡±


    ¡°He did not want to, by the time I knew him.¡±


    ¡°In prison,¡± I said. ¡°And may I ask ¨C how do you get in there yourself?¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t have bothered inquiring. She began signing again:


    There are people like me who will not be ordered around.


    I¡¯m not like some folks walking smooth who want to settle down.


    I¡¯ve lived a life and I don¡¯t mind that I¡¯ve picked up some scars.


    Unlike some ones I¡¯ve met ¨C


    I¡¯m not afraid of a few bars.


    ¡°All right,¡± I cut her off before she could continue. ¡°I don¡¯t really need to know. I¡¯m sure the Mage imprisons people at a whim. And also of course for truly courageous acts of defiance,¡± I added quickly because she had started to object. All she ended up saying was:


    ¡°Defiance, indeed. Hand me that.¡±


    I gave her the mug of grog.


    ¡°In any event,¡± she said. ¡°Your uncle Slade, I¡¯m sorry to say, is despairing of his chances of being released. Soon, or perhaps ever. When he heard I was to go, he slipped me this.¡±


    From her shoulder bag she produced and unrolled a vellum scroll. It was larger than I would have guessed, and rather handsomely illustrated, with Enkel Kanindal depicted and then the rough lands to the north and east.


    ¡°I was expecting something rather smaller and simpler, in a map made in a prison cell,¡± I told her. ¡°How did he get vellum like this?¡±


    ¡°Well. You might not be surprised to learn that your uncle has a way of getting on well with prison guards.¡±


    She unrolled it completely on the table. I leaned over it. On its left it showed our town, with Gray Mount to the north. The remainder depicted the Wilds to the east. It showed streams, hills, and forested areas which I knew, and also many I didn¡¯t.


    Toward the far right of the map were a number of features which were completely unknown to me. We residents of our quiet town seldom ventured very far at all into the Wilds. One place up in the top right especially drew my attention: it was a simple drawing of a cave entrance titled Cursed Massacre Agony DeathHole.


    ¡°What on earth is that?¡± I asked, pointing. ¡°I hope we don¡¯t need to go in there.¡±


    Caiside leered at me conspiratorially.


    ¡°Then the art has done its job,¡± she said. ¡°That, of course, is the location of the hoard. That name is to dissuade others if anyone else were to get this map.¡±


    ¡°I see. My Uncle Slade drew that in?¡±


    ¡°He did.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. You know, I¡¯m afraid it might actually draw attention to itself, unfortunately. Well, apart from there being a number of places I¡¯m not familiar with, and it looking like a journey which is not short, it seems like it might not present too much trouble to follow this and ¨C locate this hoard.¡±


    She looked at me then as if she had been hoping to hear something more pessimistic, as that might have shown I was being appropriately cautious. She sang:


    This trip will be no summer outing.


    This brutal map from Slade is routing


    us through wilds and hostile zones;


    gullies of loss, gorges of bones.


    There¡¯s talus, glacial till, and scree;


    tricky for you and worse for me.


    We¡¯ll pick our way through haunted downs,


    and try to sneak past kobold towns.


    We¡¯ll wander through the awful Drearwolds


    susceptible to lumbering firbolgs.


    Slosh our path through boggy fens,


    and feel our way in foggy glens.


    We¡¯ll have to wend through witches¡¯ fells,


    and then be watched in shadowed dells.


    And you!


    -she finished, pointing at me suddenly; it reminded me very much of Thorfin shaking his axe at me, a few days earlier ¨C


    ¨C can¡¯t be a boggle-EYED lad


    if we chance upon a dryad.


    Again I suppose I was not showing the alarm she had hoped to see. She looked at me and repeated:


    ¡°A dryad.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± I said. ¡°And it sounds like there are a number of . . . creatures we¡¯ll have to be careful of.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she agreed. ¡°Very careful.¡± She seemed a little more content now.

 Chapter 3: Uncle Slade

    One late winter when I was eleven, or maybe twelve, we had a series of storms which dumped freezing rain on top of older snow. This accumulation ended up caving in the roof of a shepherd¡¯s cabin which my Uncle Danzig kept on a grassy slope further up in the hills from Enkel Kanindal. He used the cabin every spring when he would take his flock of sheep up there for a few weeks. The slope faced the sun and sprouted early frostgrass each year which was the best grazing available for that stretch. He had walked up there in advance of moving the flock, and had seen the fallen roof.


    He, my father, Uncle Slade, and my cousin Canute ¨C Danzig¡¯s loud son, who was just a year older than I was ¨C planned a trip up to repair the cabin.


    Uncle Danzig was the oldest of the three brothers; Slade, the youngest; my father, the middle. Danzig was a no-nonsense man who always worked hard; my father, for his part, also worked long hours playing all the musical performances he could line up; while Slade, on the other hand, was more loose, doing just enough at his farm to stay afloat, frankly, and also disappearing for days or weeks at a time to travel out of our town, or out of the area entirely. In those days Danzig¡¯s hair was largely gray, my father had a bit of gray in his, and Slade¡¯s was still solid brown.


    As for Canute, he was gangly and big, looking considerably more than one year older than me. I couldn¡¯t imagine that I would be his size in twelve months (and indeed I did not turn out to be; to this day he is bigger and meatier.) He also tended to . . . well, shout whatever was in his mind at any given moment without any sort of filtering. A lot of people called him Galoot, behind his back, and it wasn¡¯t intended to be a friendly nickname.


    My dad, Slade, and Danzig gathered in our house to plan the cabin repair, and Canute and I were there. This was to be a men¡¯s outing for whatever reason. They would need saws, axes, hammers, nails; some wood shingles, just in case any had broken in the collapse; plus food, and bedding. They would have to spend the night to get the work done, given how far of a walk the cabin was.


    When they talked about who would carry what, Canute was specifically included in the plan; I was not. My father and Uncle Danzig were clearly assuming I would not come along. They were apparently counting Canute as a young man who could be of some help, but me as a burdensome boy, still. This burned, for me, needless to say.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    As they discussed how many shingles Canute could carry himself, and so on, Uncle Slade glanced at me a couple times. I was in a chair in the corner of the room, rather than seated at the table with them, but I was listening. My little sister Daphne was six or seven, then, but she was off with my mother somewhere.


    Toward the end of the chat they wrapped up the details, and set the time when they would meet again, the next day. I confirmed to myself, silently, that I was not included.


    But Uncle Slade interjected, at the last moment:


    ¡°I¡¯ll be giving some of my nails and my hammer and whatnot to Flicker. I¡¯ll have enough to lug up there without all that.¡±


    My father and Uncle Danzig looked at him, and then at me.


    ¡°Flicker?¡± Danzig said.


    ¡°Well, someone has to climb up on the roof to nail down shingles, and I¡¯m not messing with that,¡± Slade said. ¡°He¡¯s got the sure feet for that.¡±


    That settled it; I was going. Slade¡¯s explanation was a fiction, of course. As far as my walking on the roof was concerned, Canute probably could have vaulted himself up there one-handed, and then pounded in nails with the side of his fist, or his forehead. And of course the roof would have to be built strong enough to hold any of them, not just me, because it was the inability of it to support all the snow and ice which had caused the failure in the first place.


    My father and Danzig spoke something like a quiet ¡°all right, then,¡± and Slade looked at me one last time, quickly, and may have winked.


    Later that day, my father told my mother that I was going, and she was confused that I might not have in the first place.


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s going ¨C ?¡± she told him. She was heading outside with a shovel to do something, but came up short at the news.


    ¡°Yes, well. Initially it was just going to be the four of us. But he¡¯ll come.¡±


    ¡°The three of you, and Canute, it was going to be,¡± she said.


    ¡°Well, yes.¡±


    She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good. Take plenty of food. And don¡¯t fall off the roof.¡±


    *


    So I went along on the cabin repair outing. I helped skin bark off of some new logs they sawed for rafters, among other things. And it was Uncle Slade who had thought of me.

 Chapter Four: The Alkonost

    ¡°So Slade is imprisoned now in Wastemoor,¡± I said.


    Caiside nodded. She was at this point into her third mug of grog.


    ¡°And that is a three week walk to the west,¡± I continued. ¡°At best. It might take even considerably longer than that.¡±


    She nodded again; I winced in anticipation because of the wording I had used; and sure enough, she responded:


    ¡°And you know whom it takes even longer for? People without two good healthy legs, that¡¯s who. I suppose someone like you, now, might be able to gallivant there with no trouble; but for someone like me, you know, things wouldn¡¯t be that easy. Not easy at all.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t intend to ¨C but anyway, my question is: if he has been there all this time, how did a hoard wind up here? How long has he been imprisoned, by the way?¡±


    ¡°Two years now, or more,¡± she said. ¡°Fortunately for him, he had spirited away this treasure before he was apprehended. It was flown here. Flown to that cave.¡±


    ¡°Flown? By what?¡±


    ¡°Let me explain,¡± she said:


    So Slade became aware that Wastemoor wouldn¡¯t be secure


    for gains from all these wares which he had managed to . . . procure.


    He made a plan to squirrel away some wealth, lest all be lost;


    so he called in a favor from a grateful alkonost.


    He¡¯d helped her once; he gave her back a cruelly stolen egg


    which had been taken from her; and so then of course she begged


    to let her help him anytime with favors small or light.


    She¡¯d kill for him. Or maybe just could help him with some flight.


    She¡¯d meet him in the hills and she would take all she could carry;


    the jewelry, torques and ingots, all of it, this girl would ferry.


    And bit by bit he built himself his nest egg far away


    from Wastemoor where he might get caught or bushwhacked any day.


    When he was nabbed with smugglers and he thought that all was lost ¨C


    and caught in chains he fretted that the final ball¡¯d been tossed ¨C


    his erstwhile golden summer had become a fall of frost;


    but Slade still has some means thanks to that partner alkonost.


    ¡°Very good,¡± I said. ¡°He had an arrangement, then. Just one thing I¡¯m not clear on ¨C what exactly is an alkonost? It is apparently someone who ¨C flies?¡±


    ¡°Legendary heroines of the far north,¡± she answered. ¡°Mostly a giant bird, but with the head of a woman.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of such creatures.¡±


    ¡°Many things you do not learn of, when you spend your entire life in Kanin Enkeldal.¡±


    ¡°Enkel Kanindal. But this is amazing. So that egg you mentioned; it must have been ¨C ¡±


    ¡°Her child,¡± she said. ¡°The alkonost¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°And Slade just ¨C found it?¡±


    ¡°He came across it in the possession of other smugglers. Occasional associates of his, I believe. They were taking care of it, keeping it in a padded crate which was warmed by a brazier, that sort of thing. But Slade had enough sense to abscond with it and return it to her.¡±


    ¡°Hence her indebtedness,¡± I said. ¡°An alkonost, then. I¡¯d be glad to have the opportunity to meet such a being.¡±


    ¡°And there the young man goes again!¡± she snapped, banging down her mug on the table. Grog sloshed out. ¡°He is beguiled already and hasn¡¯t even laid eyes on one! What am I getting myself into! Too old to be yanking some youth out of the path of dryads and alkonosts!¡±


    ¡°I,¡± I began, but I didn¡¯t know where to start. And I wasn¡¯t sure anything I said would matter anyway.


    ¡°I know,¡± I offered, ¡°that dryads lure the unwary with their beauty, and all, but you¡¯re saying alkonosts do too?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely! And usually young bucks in rut like you!¡±


    ¡°But they are ¨C mostly bird?¡±


    ¡°They have exquisite voices and bewitching eyes!¡± Caiside shouted. ¡°But you know, maybe you¡¯re a thick headed lout enough that you wouldn¡¯t appreciate them anyway!¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Listen,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m not even certain if this trip is for me. I¡¯m not ready to pack a rucksack. Despite that impressive map you have. And be assured that if I do go, I won¡¯t get ensnared by any dryads, or these alkonost characters, or anything else. And frankly, I¡¯m not sure if I can be positive that you really do know Slade. You know of him, certainly, and of my family, a bit, but none of that would be hard to learn after a day or two in town. How can I be sure that Slade really sent this with you?¡±


    ¡°Good question,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s a promising question. Shows you have some bit of cautiousness about you. A question I would have asked myself, in your shoes. Your two shoes. Your two equally-worn shoes.¡± She nodded, and took another slug of grog.


    ¡°He saw you,¡± she said, ¡°with the kobold you hid.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± I blurted. ¡°He told you that?¡±


    I wish I had not given her the satisfaction of betraying my surprise, but it was too late. Regardless, she sang:


    Down Gray Mount a kobold ventured:


    it was limping; glum; indentured.


    Slade watched it slink toward your farm


    and made sure Dwarves did you no harm.


    You were thirteen, maybe twelve?


    You hid it well, and asked no help.


    He guessed you thought no one knew


    you took it in and gave it food.


    Hid in an old barn, Slade said,


    you brought victuals. Straw for its bed.


    Smuggled porridge from the larder;


    proved yourself a noble guarder.


    She raised the grog to me, and then continued:


    He said you were brave as the Dwarves trooped down


    to search for their runaway and ask around.


    As they growled and hunted their serf gone missing


    you kept yourself quiet and stood around whistling.


    Of course it¡¯s not you the Dwarves would have throttled


    had they figured out this big secret you bottled.


    But as for your parents, and Uncle Slade,


    who knows what garboil the Dwarves would have made.


    But your parents knew nothing, Slade believed


    and the Dwarves returned home with no servant, deceived.


    Slade watched, the night you sneaked down to the water


    and sent the chap floating like a lib¡¯rated otter.


    On a raft to Venedia, did that kobold proceed


    and Slade was impressed by your kind and brave deed.


    ¡°Well then,¡± I said. ¡°I suppose you must indeed have spoken with Slade. I didn¡¯t know that anyone else knows that story at all.¡±


    ¡°I do. Now.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course. So. A hoard, and a map to it, and it¡¯s just there for the taking.¡±


    ¡°Getting there, however,¡± she said, wagging a finger at me.


    ¡°Certainly. But it sounds feasible.¡±


    A question occurred to me:


    ¡°Why did you pick me? Or why did Slade mention me? Why not my father, or Uncle Danzig? Or my mother, for that matter? Or my cousin Canute?¡±


    ¡°Your parents, and your uncle,¡± she said, ¡°are no longer as spry as they once were, are they? And nor am I, of course. I don¡¯t need someone with poor eyes and a bad back accompanying me up into those hills. And as for Canute . . . Slade told me he is not the keenest adze in the toolshed.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose some would say that.¡±


    ¡°Not the straightest nail in the box.¡±


    ¡°Again, that might be said.¡±


    ¡°Not the best-fletched arrow in the quiver.¡±


    ¡°Right, I understand.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps not the most uniformly-baked loaf which has been set out on the rack.¡±


    ¡°Very well. When would you have us leave?¡±


    ¡°As soon as we can. Tomorrow morning!¡± She looked down into her mug, then. ¡°Well, perhaps tomorrow would be a good day to sleep, actually. May I trouble you for a bed here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid all I have is that bench there, by the stove.¡±


    I pointed to it, across the small room. My house was tiny. It had been built as a single laborer¡¯s quarters on my parents¡¯ property. Their house ¨C my childhood home, where Daphne of course also still lived ¨C was just a narrow field away.


    I did at least have a separate bedroom in my place, thankfully.


    ¡°Such a small house,¡± she said. ¡°You have an instrument hanging on the wall, over there.¡±


    ¡°Yes. My slide trumpet.¡± It hung just past the cupboard.


    ¡°A musician,¡± she reminded herself. ¡°That would explain the small house.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s somewhat more room over in my parents¡¯ home.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I will stay with you. My questing companion.¡±


    ¡°In the meantime, while you rest,¡± I said, ¡°I will ask my cousin Freydis if she¡¯s able to come along.¡±


    ¡°No need for that!¡± Caiside said. ¡°The fewer, the better. We wouldn¡¯t want to ¨C self attention to our calls. Too many . . . weavers in the . . . souphouse, you know. I . . . ¡±


    She trailed off, again looking down into the mug. She was not making a compelling argument for wanting to go it alone, just the two of us.


    ¡°I do want to ask her,¡± I repeated.


    ¡°But we cannot let anything slow us down!¡± she said, reviving. ¡°Because if we delay, that increases the chances that the SwornBorn will find out. They¡¯ve been ranging further and further away from Gray Mount, you know. It¡¯s only a matter of time before they happen across that cave.¡±


    ¡°I shall not delay,¡± I promised. I looked out my window into the darkness, thinking of Slade¡¯s far-off adventures and imprisonment, and his hard-earned treasure. ¡°I appreciate you bringing me this news, and this map. I trust we will be an effective partnership.¡±


    I looked back at her, but now she was asleep, her head dropped down onto the table.

 Chapter Five, Part One: The Family

    The next morning I woke while Caiside was still asleep, and saw that she had indeed made her way to the bench by the fireplace. I had thrown a tick over it before I went to bed myself, and had then closed my bedroom door quietly. And securely.


    Now I wanted to walk over to the house of my Uncle Danzig and Aunt Lila, to speak with my cousin Freydis. They lived just a few houses away.


    I walked through my front garden and closed its gate behind me. It was a bright, beautiful morning; a promising morning, I thought. There had been some rain overnight, but the sun was warming up already and the air seemed washed and clean. I felt like the world was mine. Or at least Enkel Kanindal was. Or at least I was sharing the potential of the town in a proper way with all of my neighbors. Anyway, it was a promising morning.


    And then I noticed, to my right, the three girls who lived closest to me. They were nine, ten, and eleven years old. They stood close together, facing me, as if they had been waiting. They had adorable smiles.


    I really didn¡¯t want to see them, this morning.


    ¡°Mabel, Daisy, Twyla,¡± I said. ¡°Here you are.¡±


    ¡°And here you are!¡± Mabel said, while her sisters beamed. ¡°Off to see your cousin, we imagine? As you so often do? So, so often?¡±


    The three of them laughed.


    ¡°A good guess, as always, Mabel,¡± I said.


    ¡°And the route there would take you past ¨C hmm, let us think,¡± she said. All three of them then mock-frowned, tilted their heads, and put their respective right forefingers on their respective chins. They were quite a picture, standing there in a uniform trio. They nearly looked like triplets, what with the same dark eyes, long brown hair tied back, and matching yellow gingham dresses.


    ¡°Well, I suppose you must walk by Alderman Winford¡¯s,¡± Mabel said.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Daisy said. ¡°And also, hmm ¨C the Chandlers. And also ¨C ¡±


    ¡°That would leave, let me see,¡± said Twyla. ¡°The white house after the Chandlers. Who is it who lives there, again?¡±


    ¡°Miranda!¡± the three of them sang in unison.


    I had been walking all the while, but they kept after me. They sang:


    And now look at our hero as he¡¯s gathering up his wits;


    smitten with Miranda and it¡¯s giving him hot fits.


    Always has a reason to go wandering past her place.


    Standing straight, measuring his gait, and wiping off his face.


    Probably he has no chance with Kanindal¡¯s favorite daughter,


    but poor Flicker is drawn to her just like a sheep to slaughter.


    If we three don¡¯t quiet down we¡¯ll give away his crush;


    He will choke, or get heatstroke, and just stand there and blush.


    Flicker is more fluttery than ever,


    and he hopes to tell Miranda something clever.


    He just wants her in his life forever,


    but she may tell him . . . whatever.


    By this time we were past the alderman¡¯s house they had spoken of, and also that of the Chandler family. The next one was indeed the home of Arran and Morrya Waters, who did ¨C indeed ¨C have a daughter named Miranda.


    I stopped beneath a cluster of trees on the edge of their property.


    ¡°Thank you for the serenade, girls,¡± I told them. ¡°This might be a good time for you to head home?¡±


    But they pressed on:


    It¡¯s not hard to see why she would have him in her thrall:


    our Miranda¡¯s stunning, smart, and stands near six feet tall.


    Flicker probably finds her smile reminds him of mid-June:


    her voice floats around him like a summer afternoon.


    She is stately, generous, refined.


    Graceful and unfail¨Cingly kind.


    Flicker¡¯s here about to lose his mind,


    staggering like he¡¯s snowblind.


    ¡°All right then, girls,¡± I said. ¡°You should probably run along back home now.¡±


    ¡°Why, do you think she¡¯ll hear?¡± Mabel asked.


    ¡°Probably everyone around hears, Mabel.¡±


    ¡°There she is!¡± Twyla said, pointing.


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    I turned. Sure enough, Miranda stood there, outside her own front gate, looking at us.


    ¡°Hello girls!¡± she said.


    ¡°Hi Miranda!!¡± in three laughing voices. They then turned and ran back home.


    She walked toward me.


    Miranda.


    She was my height, so she was always looking straight in my eyes. She was wearing a brown dress today, with her hair in a long side braid. She looked . . . smart. Often when I spoke to her, I felt a step behind, as if she had done the reading and I had not.


    ¡°It¡¯s so lovely for you to have your own trailing chorus,¡± she told me. ¡°You are very lucky.¡±


    ¡°That is . . . one way to look at it.¡±


    She just smiled. As the girls had alluded to, seeing Miranda smile was conducive to one¡¯s believing that all ¨C we might say ¨C was right with the world.


    ¡°Going to see Freydis?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes. We may have a . . . small journey ahead of us.¡±


    ¡°Not too far or too long, I hope,¡± she said.


    It seemed to get hotter, all of a sudden.


    ¡°I, perhaps, well no. Remains to be ¨C I need to talk with Freydis about it. Would not be too far, I hope. Too.¡±


    I then realized that announcing a quest for treasure might not be wise, even here in town.


    ¡°I should probably not say too much about this,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not really ¨C my story.¡±


    ¡°Does it have to do with that woman with one leg who was looking for you last night?¡±


    ¡°Indeed it does. So you saw her.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Flicker is a sought-after man.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± I said. My face felt inflamed.


    It occurred to me to ask:


    ¡°You talked to her?¡±


    ¡°For a moment, yes.¡±


    ¡°How did she seem, to you?¡±


    ¡°Serious about finding you, certainly. But ¨C she¡¯s the one setting you on this journey you mention?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she is. If I go.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Well, I might be cautious about getting pulled away anywhere unsafe, if I were you. But I know you know that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking, yes.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re level-headed.¡±


    I had known Miranda my entire life, of course, and I knew this was the highest praise, coming from her.


    I mumbled something and shuffled away.


    *


    At my uncle and aunt¡¯s house I found Danzig, Aunt Lila, my mother and father, and Freydis, all together.


    Danzig: All gray-haired, now, and usually gray-clad, also; a confident sheep rancher who had found success in that endeavor he and Lila had begun many years ago nearly as a whim because they thought there might be an untapped market for wool and mutton. They had turned out to be very correct.


    Lila: Also gray-haired, but still light on her feet; always wearing an apron as she collaborated on the sheep husbandry; an ebullient counterpart to Danzig¡¯s reticence.


    My father, Landon: Clearly Danzig¡¯s brother, but slimmer. Usually better-dressed, given our proximity to weddings and other events, and our greater distance from sheep; but it was a bit of a straitened decorum, because we had not done as well with our music as Danzig and Lila had done with their farm and sheep. My father had been wearing the same wedding outfit ¨C for example ¨C for many, many years.


    My mother, Becca: A grounded woman who managed our performances, played mandolin, and sang. She also raised flowers, tended fruit trees, and did whatever else she could to try to provide more income for us.


    Freydis: My cousin, nearly exactly my age; strong, always with her sleeves rolled up.


    (Canute, not present: Freydis¡¯s brother, of course; Danzig and Lila¡¯s son. He had become a blacksmith, not surprisingly, and was off at a furnace somewhere probably pounding iron ingots flat.)


    Lila was telling my parents about an invitation she had heard of for them and me to play at a wedding.


    ¡°It¡¯s Selwyn and Amara, you know, the millers. The ceremony is in the pavilion in the Fair Glade. They¡¯re also bringing in the jugglers from over in Taperlandsby.¡±


    ¡°The fire jugglers?¡± I asked. ¡°In the pavilion?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d better play first. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re all here; I have news.¡±


    I told them of Caiside and her visit, and her news of Uncle Slade; the amber, and the jackalope antlers, et cetera; the alkonost; and his hoard, and the map.


    ¡°And I think it must be true,¡± I finished, ¡°because she knew of something that no one else but Slade does; something he told her while they were imprisoned together. About a kobold that I hid and fed back when I was thirteen.¡±


    ¡°That kobold!¡± Freydis said. ¡°So I can tell people I saw it too, now.¡±


    ¡°You did a pretty good job hiding it in the old barn,¡± Danzig added.


    ¡°You knew?¡± I blurted. I was doing too much blurting.


    ¡°We saw it,¡± Freydis said. ¡°We had a sheep wander off, at the time, over toward your place, and when we tracked it there we came across you doing something with the kobold behind the barn.¡±


    ¡°Maybe playing checkers,¡± Danzig said.


    ¡°You played checkers with it?¡± my father asked.


    ¡°Well, a few times,¡± I said. ¡°It seemed bored. And I thought if I could keep it occupied, it would stay longer and let its leg heal.¡±


    ¡°Why,¡± my father asked Danzig, ¡°didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    Uncle Danzig shrugged. ¡°I thought either you knew, or else Flicker was perhaps concealing it; and if so, it looked like he had it under control.¡±


    ¡°And then the night you led it away,¡± Freydis said, ¡°I saw the two of you moving through the field over there.¡±


    ¡°That was ¨C late,¡± I said. ¡°How did you see us?¡±


    ¡°I would go out walking. After midnight. Out in the moonlight. That was just my way.¡±

 Chapter Five, Part Two: More Family

    I asked my parents, and Danzig and Lila:


    ¡°Did you have any inkling what Slade was up to? That he was doing this ¨C trading, and getting himself into trouble in Wastemoor? Of all the places to try to earn a living like that.¡±


    ¡°We had heard just a few things, over the years,¡± my father said. ¡°Some time after he had left, when we had gone quite a while without hearing from him, he sent the four of us each a silver denier. Big things they were, wide and thick, with the portrait of Svord The Lucky of Daemdborg. Svord had minted those to celebrate his fortieth year on the throne, right before the Mage moved down to conquer his city and then had him strapped to a cave bear.


    ¡°Slade sent a little note with those, telling us he was doing well, and not to worry. Do you remember how it went?¡± he asked the other three.


    ¡°I do,¡± Aunt Lila said. ¡°I think it was:¡±


    A token of my good luck here, so do not be concerned:


    These coins, and many others, I have fair and squarely earned.


    Not stolen, and they¡¯re not false, and they don¡¯t carry a curse;


    They certainly won¡¯t turn to lead the others in your purse.


    ¡°So, that was a bit odd,¡± she said. ¡°We all had them melted down right away.¡±


    ¡°And do you remember,¡± my mother said, ¡°the poor river troll who delivered them?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Danzig said. ¡°Squat little trundling guy, waddling along. Nearly naked, but carrying that worn knapsack. Which was stuffed with the silver, it turned out. That was Slade¡¯s clever way of sending them without arousing suspicion; no bandits along the way would have thought a river troll would carry anything of any value.¡±


    ¡°I wonder it didn¡¯t just steal them,¡± I said.


    ¡°Eh, they¡¯re very loyal creatures, it is said. Once they decide to do something.¡±


    ¡°Did it just hand them to you, and then start its return trip?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Aunt Lila said. ¡°Or it may have headed down to the river to wallow about in the mud for a bit. We gave it a few shillings for its trouble, and it seemed extremely glad of that.¡±


    ¡°Well, Flicker,¡± my mother said. ¡°What do you think of this ¨C Caiside woman? Can you travel with her?¡±


    ¡°Slowly,¡± I said. ¡°What with her leg. But yes, I think she is, uh ¨C ¡±


    I realized that I hadn¡¯t really thought much about what it would be like spending days and nights with her for weeks on end. Her foray in my house the night before had not been very promising.


    The five of them were just staring at me, waiting.


    ¡°Well, she may be challenging. She seems to have some assumptions about how I¡¯ll do, questing through the wilds. And those assumptions don¡¯t indicate a lot of confidence.¡±


    ¡°Where is she from? Wastemoor itself?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°And you have to wonder ¨C what did she do to get thrown in a dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Again, I¡¯m not sure of the answer to that. But, you know, the Mage there imprisons people often, so I don¡¯t think that her status as a, uh ¨C¡±


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    ¡°Jailbird,¡± Danzig offered.


    ¡°Right. I don¡¯t think we can really necessarily hold that against her, you know.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe I was covering for this odd woman who was right then sleeping off a hard night.


    ¡°But regardless, I think I have to do this, for Slade. When he worked so hard to get that stash up there, from what she says.¡±


    ¡°Why not just wait for him to get it himself, when he is released?¡± Lila asked.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like we can count on him ever being released,¡± Freydis said.


    ¡°Slade will find a way,¡± Danzig and my father said, in unison.


    ¡°But even if he returns in a year, or two,¡± I said, ¡°that might be too late, because others ¨C the Dwarves, especially ¨C are exploring more and more up in those hills.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Lila said.


    ¡°And I¡¯m also confident,¡± I said, ¡°because I¡¯m hoping that Freydis will come along.¡± I looked at her.


    ¡°Accompany you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes. Would you? That way we would always outvote Caiside.¡±


    She didn¡¯t spend too long considering it:


    ¡°Very well. I will. I want to meet this woman first, however.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Lila shook her head.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to be careful, my love,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll be going places where few here have ever been. And those hills are teeming with more and more adversaries all the time, it seems like.¡±


    ¡°I will, Mother.¡±


    My parents had shown visible relief when Freydis said she would go along.


    ¡°One other little teeth-grinder,¡± my father said. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that getting there, as hard as it might be, could be the easy part? How are you going to lug back all this loot once you find it? Will you be pushing a wheelbarrow of gold through those hills?¡±


    ¡°I believe Slade kept his wealth portable,¡± I said. ¡°I get the impression it is a cache of jewels, platinum, that sort of thing. We¡¯ll just take what we can safely carry. And conceal.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    *


    Neither my parents nor Uncle Danzig nor Aunt Lila objected to the journey. Freydis and I walked back to my house, to talk with Caiside.


    ¡°Honestly,¡± I said. ¡°If we manage to do this ¨C bring back what could be a substantial haul ¨C I wonder if Slade might help me out to build a proper house. And you too,¡± I said. ¡°I mean, not a house necessarily, for you, but keep you in his consideration somehow.¡±


    ¡°He might.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to say anything in front of my parents, because of course they work so hard, and they would feel bad if they knew I felt that our profession was holding me back. But it is. We get by all right, but I¡¯ll never earn enough to ¨C ¡±


    I was going to continue, but we were right in front of Miranda¡¯s house, now, and I felt the wind go out of me.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re hoping to get out on your own, Flicker,¡± Freydis said. ¡°I know what you mean, and why.¡±


    Just then Mabel, Daisy and Twyla came up behind us. I hadn¡¯t seen them.


    They sang:


    When you speak to your love


    But your tongue¡¯s tied in knots


    And you try to impress


    But you¡¯re tangled in thoughts


    You will wonder how many


    More chances you¡¯ll get


    To charm her with your warmth


    As opposed to cold sweat


    You feel time¡¯s running out


    And she¡¯ll leave you to travel


    To a more lively place


    While you stay and unravel.


    ¡°We¡¯re working on more verses for that one,¡± Mabel said.

 Chapter Six: The Decision

    ¡°Well, you look firm enough,¡± Caiside told Freydis. ¡°Forearms and shoulders nearly thicker than your trumpeter cousin, here.¡±


    We stood in my tiny sitting room, with Caiside sitting on the bench by the stove. In the daylight now I looked at her perhaps more closely than I had the night before. Freydis was sizing her up too, I¡¯m sure:


    Caiside looked better for the sleep she had gotten. The night on the bench with the tick hadn¡¯t done her hair any favors; it was unkempt, and hanging down over her face. But now in the light, and rested, she looked more spry. She also was usually crunching her eyebrows together, which may have made her look a bit more . . . worn than she really was.


    ¡°Yes, you look firm enough,¡± she continued saying to Freydis, ¡°but I¡¯m not sure we want a third person coming with us. I don¡¯t want to draw attention to our party. The fewer, the better. I¡¯d go alone if it weren¡¯t for my leg.¡± She pointed down to her one foot protruding from her long skirt.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to draw attention?¡± Freydis said. ¡°With you on crutches like that, there¡¯s no way you won¡¯t be noticed.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s fair enough.¡±


    ¡°Let me see the map.¡±


    Caiside obediently pulled it out. Freydis unrolled it and held one side while I took the other.


    ¡°This implies we¡¯ll need to follow certain passes through those upper hills carefully. Hmm, ¡®Cursed Massacre Agony DeathHole¡¯? That must be the hiding spot.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a sharp one,¡± Caiside told me.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I said.


    ¡°And what sort of place is it in? Will we be able to just enter?¡±


    ¡°We will, yes,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Because we will have picked up a key along the way. To open iron double doors built into a hillside.¡±


    ¡°And how do we get this key?


    ¡°You see the gully in the hills below the DeathHole? And then one more gully, beneath that? And then, next to it, a boulder which looks almost just like a decoration? It¡¯s a real boulder, and the key is beneath.¡±


    ¡°And you were told that by Slade, of course,¡± Freydis asked.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°If this alkonost friend of his flew all of the items here, why can¡¯t she just retrieve them and bring them here?¡±


    ¡°Because Slade can¡¯t speak with her,¡± Caiside said. ¡°I suppose you might be thinking she could fly up and talk to him quickly through a barred window. Alas, he is deep in a dungeon. He cannot get out messages, except through me. And I cannot summon that creature. Alkonosts are proud, they will not take messages from anyone; if you want to speak to one, you need to be able to do it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Mm-hm,¡± Freydis said.


    She was silent for a moment. Then:


    ¡°So if you have truly obtained this map from Slade ¨C¡± she held out a hand to quiet Caiside, who was about to erupt ¨C ¡°and if it is accurate; and if the alkonost really placed all the items there, which Slade can¡¯t know for sure; and if we can really find this key, and it really opens the gate; and if no other creatures have found the hoard first; and if we can get it back here, or at least most of it; or even some it, from what you¡¯re saying ¨C then we will certainly be glad we went.¡±


    She paused again.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s worth a try. If nothing else, it will be useful to learn more of the wilds. And it will be good to show our faces there, if they are really getting busier, as people are saying. It won¡¯t hurt to let creatures there know that other Enkel Kanindalers may be around, after us. The OathSworn, for one, should know that they don¡¯t just get to claim it all.¡±


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    ¡°SwornBorn,¡± I corrected her.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be disappointed,¡± Caiside said. ¡°I am certain that Slade rendered that favor to the alkonost; and an alkonost does not forget a service like that.¡±


    ¡°How are you certain?¡± Freydis asked. ¡°You met this ¨C woman?¡±


    ¡°You know, you don¡¯t have to specify when they are women, although they are; because they are all female. There are no male alkonosts. Their lore holds that there once were males, but they disappeared at some point in the past.¡±


    ¡°How can they continue to exist, then?¡±


    Caiside shrugged. ¡°They continue to lay their eggs, and those eggs are always females. That¡¯s how. It would indeed be difficult to explain, were they humans.¡±


    ¡°And do they have individual names?¡±


    ¡°They do. This one which Slade knows is Ilhoniviastorovavisencilavina.¡±


    ¡°All that? Is one name?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you just call her the alkonost.¡±


    ¡°It is quicker. Anyway, I met her in the night, up in a mountain pass with Slade, under a full moon. Her feathers were silvery in the moonlight. It was breathtaking. They are grand, handsome creatures during the day, to be sure, but at night she looked ¨C simply regal.


    ¡°She stood taller than Slade, barely. She walked up to him and bowed to him. It was slight; their bows are just a quick bob, with them lowering their shoulders. But I was stunned. These beings are proud, and they typically bow to no one but members of their own kind who outrank them. But she did so with Slade. It¡¯s a sign of how thankful she is, how much she esteems him.


    ¡°But of course it was her flight that was the most majestic. I was assisting Slade with a . . . delivery. We had transported . . . some goods over that pass.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll just say it,¡± she said. ¡°There are certain goods made in Wastemoor which are not to be allowed out of the country. Goods, and animals. And that includes draft horses. Specifically, draft horses bred by the Imperial Cavalry of The Mage. But Slade managed to ¨C acquire several of them, for buyers he knew of among the proud horse-riding people of the high plateau to the north and east of Wastemoor.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a curious thing about horse-riding peoples,¡± I said. ¡°They are always proud. You never hear about, say, the bashful horse-riding peoples of the high plateau. You know? Or the self-deprecating horse riding peoples of the high plateau.¡±


    Caiside and Freydis fell silent, then, and just looked at me for a moment.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Caiside resumed. ¡°After I assisted him with this delivery, and we were returning with our payment, along the way he wanted to hand off something to Ilhoniviastorovavisencilavina to bring to the cache, here. He told me that if we arrived at that certain pass in the afternoon, and stayed past sunset, she would come, and indeed she did. And she came flying up, so gracefully; her wings seemed to be silent from a distance, but then as she neared and then landed, you could hear the wind through her feathers. It was magical, just the only sound in the world at that moment. Quiet, but all-enveloping.


    ¡°After her bow, she addressed him:


    ¡° ¡®It is a pleasure to see you in this pass again, my human savior.¡¯


    ¡° ¡®And you, Ilhoniviastorovavisencilavina,¡¯ he answered. ¡®I am here to ask you to once again take an item valuable to me to the hideaway in the hills near my home.¡¯


    ¡° ¡®Gladly,¡¯ she answered. And then she looked at me.


    ¡° ¡®And who is this?¡¯


    ¡° ¡®Caiside, of Fleethaven,¡¯ he said.


    ¡° ¡®Were your regular companions not available for this journey?¡¯ she said.


    ¡° ¡®She and I have partnered profitably in several deals already,¡¯ he answered.


    ¡°She looked at me then, and sized me up, it seemed like.


    ¡° ¡®Well, I suppose it¡¯s not easy to find help for the trading you do,¡¯ she said. And you know, I had both of my legs then, still. I¡¯m not sure what she was trying to say.


    ¡° ¡®Caiside is very capable,¡¯ Slade said.


    ¡° ¡®Is she,¡¯ the alkonost said. ¡°Very good. I only think that one should be careful who one selects to do business with the proud horse-riding peoples of the high plateau.¡¯


    ¡°So they chatted a bit more, in that somewhat formal language,¡± Caiside continued. ¡°The alkonost was just regal, as I said; and magnanimous. Just a very noble being. It was an honor to meet her.¡±


    I looked at Freydis. She was tilting her head a bit, at this, and may have been squinting her eyes slightly.


    ¡°And Ilhoniviastorovavisencilavina,¡± Caiside continued, ¡°then allowed Slade to hang around her neck a leather bag which hung from a long loop of cloth. She then turned, pumped her wings, and rose into the night sky. We felt the breeze which they left behind, and heard that rush of air again, and watched her disappear heading to the east.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Freydis said, ¡°I hope she did fly here.¡±

 Chapter Seven: The Cover Story

    Marley, who had been lying under the table when we came in, rose now and sat near my feet. It was as if she understood that we had decided to go on the journey.


    ¡°Will we bring her?¡± Freydis asked.


    ¡°Afraid not,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯d be glad to have her along at times, but at others she would give us away. She¡¯d also probably try too hard to defend me, defend us. She¡¯d likely attack some creatures we¡¯d be better off avoiding.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to need,¡± Freydis said, ¡°a cover story. No matter how careful we are, we¡¯re bound to run into others. It won¡¯t do for us to tell them what we¡¯re really up to. And no one will believe that you travel that far away from town to gather mushrooms.¡±


    ¡°Scoping out the land, for farming or for herding, would be one excuse,¡± I said, ¡°but we¡¯ll be too far away for that, too.¡±


    ¡°What does one find up north in the high hills?¡± Caiside said. ¡°How about pikas? Or hyraxes?¡±


    ¡°What are those?¡± I asked.


    ¡°High altitude animals. Very cute little ones.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think many people would believe that you¡¯re trekking up to the mountains on one leg just to see a glorified rabbit, or whatever they are.¡±


    ¡°We could say that we heard of an albino one. Mystical, portentous white hyrax of the high hills, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Even so.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we saw a meteor fall, to the north,¡± Freydis said. ¡°We would say we are sure it struck the ground some place not far from what is actually the hiding spot. And we¡¯re journeying to seek harmonic cosmic rock fragments from the divine heavens, and so on.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°Although others would think they would have seen it too, if we did.¡±


    ¡°And such stones are valued by many,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Such a story might set off a rush by other creatures. Which would not be a bad thing, in terms of being a distraction from our true path; but some would certainly follow us if they saw us break off. If we said we were trying to trap a pika, on the other hand, no one would likely bother following us for that.¡±


    ¡°Imagine if we actually do have to act out one of these cover stories,¡± I said. ¡°Pretending to comb the hills for blackened rocks, or terrified pikas, or whatever it is, while some clan of giants look over our shoulders.¡±


    ¡°How about a roc?¡± Caiside said. ¡°We say a roc carried off a small child from this town, and we are going to rescue him.¡±


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Anyone who knows us would expect a much larger search party than just three people, if that were to happen in Enkel Kanindal,¡± Freydis said. ¡°Think of it. Half the town would climb up there. Maybe we could pretend to be from somewhere where they ¨C don¡¯t care about their children.¡±


    ¡°We could say that we are going to see a healer,¡± Caiside said. ¡°A reclusive healer who can ¨C cure my ill. My lost leg.¡±


    ¡°That would be quite a medicine man, to grow a leg back,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure anyone would believe that.¡±


    ¡°Well then, how about visiting a wise man who lives up in the mountains. Or a wise woman. You hear of such people, sharing knowledge with pilgrims, that sort of thing. Living in a cave, or a stone lodge. Drawing sustenance from goat milk. Keeping warm with bits of firewood brought up by supplicants.¡±


    Freydis didn¡¯t respond to this, at first, but then she started nodding, slowly.


    ¡°That¡¯s not bad,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s not bad at all. A sagacious hermit, up in the hills. That¡¯s harmless, and believable. And we would be ¨C eager young people searching for answers.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for that,¡± Caiside said.


    ¡°What sort of wisdom,¡± I asked, ¡°would she share?¡±


    Caiside answered:


    ¡°Oh, something like ¨C ¡±


    Recipes for snake balm if you need an antidote;


    tricks for getting mountain trolls to let go of your throat.


    Sound advice for when to make a journey or stay home;


    how to find your way out if trapped in a catacomb.


    Ways to make your rye cakes bake all through but yet stay soft;


    how to banish possums which have nested in your croft.


    Words to win the heart of someone dashing whom you fancy;


    how to call your grandpa if you¡¯re into necromancy.


    How to find an armorer who makes a good ball flail;


    how to send a message to a smuggler stuck in jail.


    Ways to fall asleep when you are worried ¡®bout the morn;


    how to stop the crying of a colicky newborn.


    Which wild roots are safe to eat when you¡¯re at risk of starving;


    how to read a sigil you encounter in a carving.


    How to rescue someone if you see him start to choke;


    tips to start a conversation with a pleasant joke.


    ¡°So, things like that,¡± she finished.


    ¡°This hypothetical wise woman is quite ¨C well-rounded,¡± Freydis said.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±

 Chapters Eight and Nine: Weaponry and Provisions, and Flickers Departure Song

    ¡°We need to think about what all we need to take along,¡± Freydis said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already done so,¡± Caiside answered; and she sang:


    We¡¯ll need some face masks for stealing,


    Elven cloaks for concealing,


    and a shovel to dig


    our hiding holes;


    and a wizard¡¯s charmed armband


    to block curses and harm, and


    if you¡¯ve got them, I¡¯ll take


    some magic scrolls.


    An amulet of protection


    and an herbal collection


    so that we can ignore


    the evil spells;


    and we¡¯ll need three suits of chainmail


    and a mean-looking ball flail;


    ¨Cat this, she furrowed her eyebrows and mimicked swinging around a ball and chain weapon. She really put effort into it, and seemed to look forward to having the chance to do it for real.


    ¨Cand, in case there are bears,


    a set of bells.


    We¡¯ll need a couple of yew bows


    and a quiver of arrows


    and some knives we can hurl


    at enemies;


    and a satchel of witchbane


    and a vial of strength-gain


    and a bucket of pois -


    ¡®ning remedies.


    A fearsome axe for attacking


    And two hound dogs for tracking


    And a falcon to soar


    And see afar;


    a crosscut saw and a hatchet


    And a winch with a ratchet;


    And to force open doors,


    A big crowbar.


    I want some new iron cookware


    and a foldable lawn chair


    and a tent that¡¯s for me,


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    but not for you;


    and two chickens for fresh eggs,


    and some mustards and nutmegs;


    dill, paprika and thyme,


    and saffron too.


    We¡¯ll take a tin full of haggis


    and beignets in a bag; this


    walk behooves us to pack


    all that we¡¯ll want.


    Let¡¯s bring a magnum of brandy


    and some rose petal candy


    and smoked whiskey to fuel


    our humble jaunt.


    We¡¯ll need a halberd for grabbing


    and a fauchard for stabbing


    and a small arbalest,


    if it will fit;


    I would say yes to a squire


    and some way to throw fire


    but no white flag, because


    we¡¯ll never quit!


    With that last line, she actually raised her arms in the air and beamed at us.


    But in the history of awkward silences, the silence that Freydis and I held at that moment was ¨C


    Suddenly Caiside sang again, repeating:


    ¨CBecause,


    we¡¯ll never quit!


    ¨C and she raised her arms again with a flourish.


    Anyway, as I was saying: in the history of awkward silences, the silence that Freydis and I held then was surely one of the awkwardest and longest. We looked back and forth at each other ¨C in silence ¨C and then at Caiside.


    ¡°You know,¡± Freydis said. ¡°I don¡¯t really envision us taking along any of that. Except a bow, I suppose. We¡¯ll be hunting for meals if we¡¯re out there very long.¡±


    ¡°Right, a bow,¡± I said. ¡°And a shovel¡¯s not a bad idea. A small one. If nothing else, Dwarves always respect you more if they see you have a shovel about.¡±


    ¡°Very well, agreed,¡± Freydis said.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine then,¡± Caiside said. ¡°I travel pretty light myself. No worries.¡±


    Chapter Nine: Flicker¡¯s Departure Song


    It was two days later that we had gathered all of the gear and food that we were going to take, and we stood inside my parents¡¯ house. It was before dawn; we wanted to leave without drawing too much notice in town.


    I did carry a small shovel, and a bow and quiver. Freydis and I each had a long knife, but no other weapons. We had bedding, and wool cloaks. Freydis also carried a leather tarp that would just barely cover all three of us in the event we were caught in hard rain far from any shelter. Caiside carried the same shoulder bag and bedroll she had come to town with, although my parents and Danzig and Lila had loaded her up with food.


    We finished the take-cares and the back-as-soon-as-we-cans. I opened the door and the three of us spilled out.


    Miranda was there.


    ¡°I sensed a quiet commotion here,¡± she told me.


    ¡°Caiside,¡± Freydis said. ¡°Let¡¯s go ahead. He¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    ***


    I can hear still


    all my family¡¯s words and goodbyes


    when we set out on the pine needle path up to find the hoard.


    Under the near hills


    I saw the worry in Mother¡¯s eyes.


    Told her not to worry, this tale had to be explored.


    She gave


    us a leather satchel of meal


    and a


    long knife forged from Elven steel.


    She said


    ¡°Take care. Soon you will be back again.¡±


    An embrace from her froze me; and


    I wondered then


    about what kind of fool would walk


    away from them.


    [BRASS INTERLUDE]


    Daphne gave me


    an apple loaf she had made.


    Told me it would keep in case things got truly hard.


    It would save me


    on a night when I was feeling frayed.


    I thought of her out by those trees in our old back yard.


    Danzig


    Kissed his daughter and then he punched me;


    Miranda


    handed us a lunch for three.


    They said


    ¡°Take care. Soon you will be back again.¡±


    Then second thoughts wracked my mind


    in a dark mayhem;


    and I wondered what kind of fool


    would walk away from them.

 Chapter Ten: Forestaende Fall

    By the afternoon of our first day walking, we had departed the grassy inclines north of Enkel Kanindal and entered the pine woods; still on gentle hills, fortunately.


    We followed a path. It was not a worn path, any longer, although it had been, long ago, even long before the Pestilence. Now it was more of just a gap in the trees, although in many spots middle-aged trees had grown up in it. Freydis led the way, with Caiside behind her and me in the rear.


    Caiside did well keeping up with Freydis, despite having to swing on the crutches.


    ¡°Caiside, where are you from originally?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Far to the west, and south. An ocean city. Fleethaven, it is called.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it,¡± I said. ¡°Near Blygra Bay.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so.¡±


    ¡°And what are the numbers there?¡±


    ¡°The same as everywhere,¡± she said. ¡°Rebounding nicely now, from what they were before I was born. But they had bottomed out for the same decades, before that.¡±


    ¡°Is this your first time up here in the highlands?¡±


    ¡°It is. Although Slade told me much about them. I feel like I know them. And it does not look so different here than Wastemoor; although here there is not such a shadow always looming.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean a figurative shadow, or literal?¡±


    ¡°Figurative. The Mage always monitoring every movement, dispatching her minions to harass outsiders, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Although it is also,¡± she added, ¡°significantly less ¨C wasty.¡±


    ¡°Wasty.¡±


    ¡°Yes. More green here, less waste.¡±


    ¡°I would hope so.¡±


    ¡°But long ago these hills were more alive, Slade told me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so. There were many people here, in the highlands. A number of villages, with these paths and tracks and roads here leading up to them. They say even Enkel Kanindal was far larger, then, with people coming down to do business here. There were enough people around that other denizens stayed away. Even firbolgs kept their distance, if you can believe that. That¡¯s what the old stories say.


    ¡°The most prosperous town was far up there. Forestaende Fall, it was. It was named after a small mountainside waterfall ¨C at first. There¡¯s a song about it:¡±


    Forestaende Fall,


    a sparkling mountain town!


    A thousand bustling burghers


    who seldom would come down!


    Nearly all they needed,


    the Forestaends could take


    from their dale meadows,


    or their beloved lake.


    The lake had turquoise waters,


    a little island, and


    rock- and largemouth bass,


    and with a beach of sand.


    Even Elves would hike up


    to see the alpine jewel;


    The Forestaends all built their town


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    around that famous pool.


    But then one day one burgher


    walking westward amid rains,


    stumbled on a rock face


    which was showing off gold grains.


    And suddenly the lake and meadows


    of his simple town


    Lacked, for this young burgher,


    and he hewed that rock face down.


    Others joined and soon they all


    were breaking rocks for gold.


    Problem was, the Death Crags Dwarves


    had claimed that land from old.


    Death Crags asked politely


    that the townsfolk let it be;


    but the Forestaends kept cracking


    any veins that they could see.


    ¡°No Trespass¡± signs went up next,


    and a ring of boundary stones.


    But men with picks kept hauling


    the ore back to their homes.


    Dwarves had words with diggers then,


    and some would flash an axe;


    But the Forestaends ignored them,


    kept on working; turned their backs.


    And then the Dwarves went silent,


    left the Forestaends alone


    to chop the hills in peace and rip


    the gold ore from the stone.


    The villagers turned proud then,


    for they thought that they had won.


    They dug that pit into a mine


    from sun to moon to sun.


    And then one morning came


    and people walked out at day¡¯s break


    as usual, but they saw then


    they no longer had a lake.


    The Death Crags Dwarves had bored a tunnel,


    drained it from beneath;


    and all that water spilled out


    far downhill into the heath.


    The burghers had to move down.


    All their gold did them no good,


    with just a bare rock basin


    where their giving lake once stood.


    So that¡¯s how Forestaende Fall


    earned its name again.


    It once was for a small cascade,


    but now is for its end.


    We allowed ourselves a fire. We were no longer on land that anyone in town claimed, nor even visited very often, but nor were we into the acknowledged territory of the Dwarves, or the real wilds; so we weren¡¯t concerned about drawing attention. We had brought dried venison, but we warmed it up. We warmed up rye cakes also.


    ¡°Can you show me that Elven knife your mother gave you?¡± Caiside asked me.


    I pulled it out. Freydis carried a similar one and pulled it from its sheath too. They were about as long as my elbow to fingertips. They had some curve to them, and bore engraved Elven letters.


    ¡°How did you obtain those?¡±


    ¡°Our grandfather,¡± Freydis said. ¡°He traveled down to Umelthas as a young man. That was when they had put out the call for helpers to dig the canal across their peninsula. He came back with four of these, and some other items; a necklace, a bound bestiary.¡±


    ¡°Rather a healthier way to obtain such things than how Slade did it,¡± I said. I held up the knife to catch the gleam of the firelight.


    ¡°Very handsome,¡± Caiside said. ¡°But I would say it is ¨C more than a kitchen knife, but less than a sword.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Just the way we want it.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t be fighting off any crowds of adversaries with those.¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t be fighting off crowds of adversaries no matter what we carried,¡± I said. ¡°Anyone we come across ¨C kobolds, dunters, Dwarves ¨C will either be in a group, or will be able to gather one quickly. And as for Dwarves, if they feel like fighting, we wouldn¡¯t be able to defeat even two of them, certainly, and probably not one. And if we see a firbolg ¨C we either reason with it, or run. And you won¡¯t be running very well.¡±


    ¡°And if we come across a hill troll,¡± Freydis added, ¡°it would be just run, no matter what we were carrying.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re not completely unarmed,¡± I added, ¡°and if we happen to meet some lone troublemaker ¨C a drifter, something like that; probably more likely to be another human than one of these other creatures we¡¯re talking about ¨C we won¡¯t be forced to just, you know, throw jerky at them.¡±


    ¡°So. Those knives seem to be ¨C right in the middle,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Enough to stay out of a fight, but not fool yourselves you could win one.¡±


    ¡°A fair description,¡± I answered.

 Chapter Eleven: The Free Kobolds

    It was on the third day that I thought I was seeing things. We were still walking through pine hills, everything looking the same as the past two days ¨C carpets of needles, the very overgrown path, occasional stretches of ferns where there were expanses of sunlight ¨C but I kept glimpsing, or thinking I had glimpsed, movements on the peripheries. A darting form here, something dropping quickly there.


    ¡°Freydis,¡± I said. ¡°Do you happen to be seeing ¨C anything moving? Fairly far off in the trees?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer, but I saw her begin to look left and right periodically. After a time, she said:


    ¡°Indeed I do. Something may be watching us. Well, we knew it would happen. We¡¯ll likely be watched all the way to ¨C our destination.¡±


    To add to this unease, the sky clouded up. It looked like we would have to sleep in the rain, this night.


    *


    It was a short time after that the terrain changed, somewhat; it leveled out, and became rockier. It was still covered in pines, but I suspected we would see holes in the ground soon. Freydis noticed one first.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to watch our step,¡± she said. ¡°Good-sized pit up here on the left.¡±


    ¡°It will be any smaller ones we¡¯ll need to worry about missing,¡± I answered.


    The hole she referred to had been dug long ago, and was just large enough for one person to drop down into.


    ¡°What are those?¡± Caiside asked.


    ¡°Amber pits,¡± I said. ¡°Raw amber can be found right at the surface, in spots here. And when it was found, people would dig further down to see if there was more. Often there was. This is where Slade would have found what he took to Wastemoor to trade. Or others found it and sold it to him.


    ¡°And this means,¡± I added, ¡°this is as far into the wilds as I have ever ventured.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone still dig here?¡±


    ¡°You hear about a villager trying it now and then. Kobolds might. The understanding is that the amber is now too hard to find, though. The Dwarves don¡¯t bother, so there can¡¯t be much.


    ¡°It feels odd to me, you know,¡± I added. ¡°Oddly familiar. Walking through a jewel field, essentially. It reminds me of what I do, what my family does, with our music.¡±


    ¡°Your music?¡± Caiside asked.


    ¡°Yes. We play standards, you know. Traditional wedding songs, festival songs, and so on. We add our own flavor to them, though, and when we do, I can¡¯t help feeling a sort of kinship with their original composers, whoever they were. We might take a melody, for example, and change a few words here and there, and it gives me a sense of ¨C connection, I¡¯d say, to those who have gone before, like nothing else does. It¡¯s an odd thing. It¡¯s presumptuous, I know. But when I¡¯m thinking through one of those songs, I can¡¯t help but feeling I¡¯m standing in the shoes of some wise old musician, somehow. It¡¯s like walking through a field of jewels. Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Caiside said.


    *


    Late that afternoon we decided to stop whenever we saw the next level gap in the trees, as we had the two previous nights; but before we came to one that suited us, suddenly we cleared a ridge and saw, far off through the woods to our left, the ruins of what looked like an ancient mansion. It was either right before a slope, or else was actually cut into it. We turned left to get nearer.


    The grand old building ¨C for grand it was ¨C turned out to indeed be cut into the sheer side of a rocky hill. It had two levels; an expansive veranda out in front of the bottom level was bounded by fat columns, which supported a wide porch extending out from the top level. Large steps led up to the lower level; on either side of them were ornamental pools which were dry. Around the sides of them were long-overgrown flower beds.


    ¡°Very impressive,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d never heard of this place.¡±


    ¡°Who would have lived here?¡± Caiside asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. A well-to-do family, long ago. Or maybe a clan. Who didn¡¯t want neighbors. Maybe they had something to do with the amber fields back there.¡±


    ¡°And we don¡¯t know what might live here now,¡± Freydis said.


    ¡°If it is truly abandoned, though,¡± Caiside said, ¡°we could sleep on that veranda, under that overhang, out of the rain.¡±


    ¡°But who knows what¡¯s inside?¡±


    ¡°It may just be single rooms cut into that hill,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Behind that facade. Often that¡¯s the case, with cave dwellings like this; it¡¯s too difficult to excavate deeper into the rock hill for any distance. Easy enough to reconnoiter and find out.¡±


    We stood behind trees some distance away from it and just observed it for some time. Other than a bird alighting on a balustrade on the top level, there was no movement.


    We decided to approach.


    *


    Even with the pools dry, and the garden beds overgrown, and the gray stone stained, it was clear what a stately home this must have once been, if that¡¯s indeed what it was. As I walked up the steps I half expected to be greeted by a house steward.


    The home had a large center front doorway, but any doors that had once been there were long gone. Likewise there were several open window spaces to either side.


    It took a dozen steps just to cross the veranda from the steps to the doorway. Caiside peered inside.


    ¡°I believe it is indeed just one room deep,¡± she said. ¡°We should be able to see anything there is to see. And ¨C there¡¯s something right there.¡±


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    She lifted a crutch to point to a pile of shining objects in a far corner of the room. We stepped inside to get a better look ¨C


    And a portcullis slammed down behind us from a hidden aperture over the entrance. At the same time two crowds of kobolds, each apparently from a side room with darkened entrances, rushed in, surrounding us and brandishing spears.


    Freydis slapped her hand onto her head:


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we just fell for that.¡±


    The kobolds were a significantly better-put-together lot than the ones we would see about town ¨C most of whom were servants for the Dwarves ¨C or the one which I had somewhat successfully hidden many years ago. The ones around town would typically be wearing just rags, essentially, and would have fur that was unkempt or actually singed off from toiling at Dwarven furnaces.


    These here, however, mostly wore either short robes, or else respectable-looking gambesons. They nearly all had spears, and a number had knives at their belts as well. They barked at us, and thrust their spears in our direction, and hemmed us in; but they did not actually attack.


    And then they started to sing:


    We¡¯re the Free Kobolds of Fine Hills


    and we¡¯ll no longer be shills


    for the loudmouth SwornBorn,


    nor folk like you;


    we don¡¯t take orders from others


    aimed at us or our mothers.


    There is no way you¡¯ll tell


    us what to do.


    I spoke quietly to Caiside:


    ¡°This is the same melody as that song about our gear you sang just a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°There are timeless tunes that have spread all through the civilized world,¡± she answered.


    The crowd kept going:


    We¡¯ve taken over this mansion,


    and we¡¯re bent on exfansion


    in these hills to get room


    for all our kin;


    here we all have frotection,


    we don¡¯t live in abjection.


    There are no chains, no cuffs;


    we¡¯re not locked in.


    We¡¯ll only work for ourselves now


    and we may tell the Elves how


    Dwarves make fun of their bal-


    lads, and their harfs.


    And also ¨C now that we meet you ¨C


    well, the Dwarves try to cheat you


    when you trade; they say you


    are easy marks.


    And now we stay up for late nights


    and sit watching the north lights


    there is no curfew from


    some commandant;


    We won¡¯t get up before light now


    to go feeding their frize sow


    and we¡¯ll eat too much breakfast


    if we want.


    We don¡¯t take orders from tall folk


    To make toast or an egg yolk


    And to transfort a tray


    Right to their beds.


    We won¡¯t be feeling fotatoes


    Nor be blanching tomatoes.


    We will no longer serve


    you muttonheads.


    That was the end. They stood glaring at us.


    I was expecting to be thrown into chains ourselves, imminently, and to have our gear seized. We weren¡¯t carrying much, but if nothing else our Elven knives would tempt the kobolds, I would think.


    But what happened next was a somewhat larger, older kobold stepping to the front of the crowd. She wore a large black belt around her robe, and also a leather cap. She hooked her thumbs into the belt as she spoke:


    ¡°Well now, visitors. Do we make ourselves clear?¡±


    Caiside, Freydis and I looked at each other; I then answered:


    ¡°Yes, you certainly do. Ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Very well, then.¡±


    She said no more, for the moment. She and the crowd just stood there, staring at us.


    ¡°So then,¡± I said. ¡°We are just passing through. We didn¡¯t realize this place was occupied. We can head back outside, and we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±


    ¡°No one may move through Koboldlandia in Fine Hills,¡± she said, ¡°without faying a conduct fare of one shilling.¡±


    ¡°One shilling?¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Each?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    I looked again at Freydis and Caiside. Freydis widened her eyes slightly and barely nodded, as if to say:


    Fay them that fare already, finhead, and let¡¯s get out of here.


    I unlaced my purse and withdrew three shillings. A younger kobold carrying a scimitar stepped up with his hand out.


    ¡°There you are. And we will be ¨C on our way. You have a very nice hill fortress, here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to sfend the night out under the overhang,¡± the apparent chief said. ¡°No need to risk rain out under the trees.¡±


    ¡°Well. All right, then,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you for allowing us here.¡±


    She may have given us a slight nod, or it may have been a slight shake of her head, but either way she then just turned and walked back into the side room off to the left. The rest of them dispersed, too. A few stood around and spoke to each other; others wandered inside after their leader, or past us to head out into the woods.


    Some of them must have headed to the portcullis crank, wherever it was, because that heavy gate rose up again and disappeared into the slot in the ceiling.


    The three of us walked out onto the porch where we would spend the night.


    ¡°This is not what I anticipated,¡± Freydis said. ¡°Not when we approached, and certainly not when that gate fell down.¡±


    ¡°Should we tell them,¡± I asked, ¡°that they could really just ¨C run an inn, here? They could get their shillings without threatening anyone with the weaponry.¡±

 Chapter Twelve: Jump Rope

    We stood surveying the view from the covered front porch of the hillside mansion.


    Caiside dropped down into one of the flower beds.


    ¡°This is motherswort,¡± she said. ¡°Snake balm over here. Ramps. Mountain mint. This patch is not as neglected as it first looks.¡±


    The adult kobolds had left us, but a curious small mob of their young surrounded us. They ranged in age from what I would call young adolescent to very tiny pups, who walked on just two legs like all the others but would occasionally topple over and catch themselves with their hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to be out of any rain,¡± Freydis said, ¡°but these stone floors are going to be hard.¡±


    ¡°We could gather leaves, and maybe fallen pine branches,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that would offend them.¡±


    And then, although I thought I had been speaking quietly, most of the young kobolds ran off the porch. We were left nearly alone, but they soon started returning with armfuls of leaves, and indeed some pine boughs. They dropped them near us, making three piles, and then ran off the porch for more. After a lot of squeals and scurrying we had respectable padding for our bedrolls. We thanked them.


    ¡°I wish I had something to give them.¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be wanting to hand out sweets if we came across a colony of kobolds like this.¡±


    And then it did indeed start to rain. Even more young kobolds came up to the porch, then, as well as some adults.


    It was soon quite a scene under the overhang. Dozens of kobolds, young and old, crammed the space as if it were a festival. They were social creatures, clearly. The adult kobolds ignored us, and the young ones started playing: chasing each other around, snapping at each other, wrestling. Many would dash here to there in a blur and were constantly running into each other and falling; but that seemed to be expected, and no one paid them any mind.


    A group of relatively older ones came to a sliver of open area near us and produced a jump rope. They started jumping in pairs, with two others holding either end of the rope, and they all sang:


    For terrible Dwarves, Dwarves, Dwarves


    we tended fires, fires, fires


    and they would brand, brand, brand,


    all of our sires, sires, sires.


    ¡°Oh my word,¡± Freydis said. ¡°That¡¯s their jump rope rhyme?¡±


    The young kobolds continued:


    For lazy men, men, men


    we¡¯d weed their fields, fields, fields


    they would not share, share, share


    their bumfer yields, yields, yields.


    The cru-el dun-, dun-, dunters,


    chased us far, far, far


    From flots we¡¯d flant, flant, flant


    So we wouldn¡¯t starve, starve, starve.


    The giant firbolgs, -bolgs, -bolgs


    Don¡¯t have a rhyme, rhyme, rhyme


    And so that¡¯s how, how, how


    They sfend their time, time, time.


    The jumps and rhythm changed, then:


    Eunice in the Drearwold


    fioneering kobold


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    commandeers a castle we can


    all come to.


    If anybody finds us


    and they want to bind us


    in indentured servitude, we¡¯ll


    spear them through.


    Kobolds all are howling


    AN - cestors are growling


    warriors are frowling to


    frotect our land.


    Anyone who thinks that


    we are gonna slink back ¨C


    doing all their chores for them ¨C


    can go found sand.


    The jumpers, ropers, and watchers switched back to their first rhythm:


    There was a kor-, kor-, korred


    Who by here tread, tread, tread


    Seeking his tribe, tribe, tribe


    Who¡¯d marched ahead, head, head.


    We told him where, where, where


    That tribe had gone, gone, gone


    He scurried off, off, off


    And walked till dawn, dawn, dawn.


    Down through some trees, trees, trees,


    Flew an alkonost, nost, nost


    She was confused, fused, fused


    And seeming lost, lost, lost.


    We would have solved, solved, her


    incertitude, tude, tude


    But we bit our tongues, tongues, tongues


    ¡®Cause she was rude, rude, rude.


    We jolted at that, of course.


    ¡°What did they just say?!¡± Freydis exclaimed. She turned toward the kobolds.


    ¡°Pardon me, my friends,¡± she said. They stopped jumping.


    ¡°Freydis,¡± I said.


    ¡°Can you tell me,¡± she forged ahead, ¡°about that alkonost you just mentioned? She is someone you saw around here?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The oldest one of the group, a female with the fur atop her head combed up into a sort of sail, which was apparently fashionable for the young ones, answered. She seemed very respectful to Freydis, and spoke quietly.


    ¡°And when you say alkonost, you mean a creature with the body of ¨C ¡±


    ¡°A giant bird. But the head of a human.¡±


    ¡°And one came here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, one did.¡±


    ¡°How long ago?¡±


    ¡°It has been more than a year. Maybe two. The little ones won¡¯t remember.¡± She nodded to some of the smaller kobolds behind her. ¡°But I saw her. And my friends.¡±


    ¡°And the alkonost seemed ¨C lost?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And we asked to help her, to find out where she was going. But ¨C ¡±


    The young kobold considered her words.


    ¡°She made an angry face.¡±


    ¡°Not angry, more like arrogant,¡± one behind her offered.


    ¡°Not arrogant, more like sour,¡± a third said.


    ¡°Like we were vinegar,¡± a fourth confirmed.


    ¡°And did she eventually fly away again?¡±


    ¡°She walked, first. Through the woods a little. But then she did fly up again. Through the trees.¡±


    ¡°Did you see her again?¡±


    ¡°No. We think she learned her way.¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± her friend behind her added, ¡°she went home and never came back.¡±


    *


    The young kobolds jumped some more, well after dark, but eventually they did lose interest and wandered off. The three of us sat on our bedrolls on our piles of leaves.


    I reached into my knapsack, pulled an item toward the front, and then lifted the flap to show it to Freydis and Caiside.


    ¡°Do you think they would fancy a tune on this?¡± I asked. I revealed the tin whistle I had brought along. I wasn¡¯t going to carry the slide trumpet around, of course, but I didn¡¯t want to be without an instrument entirely.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d draw a crowd,¡± Freydis said, ¡°but they might not want the attention. Something out there listening might be accustomed to the kobolds¡¯ hubbub but still take an interest in anything else. An interest the kobolds might not want.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± I said. I lowered back the flap.

 Chapter Thirteen: Vigbond -- part one of two

    It was the next day that we came across SwornBorn Dwarves; and it wasn¡¯t the faction we would have hoped to meet.


    We had slept well on the porch of the kobold mansion-stronghold, once it had quieted down enough, which was later than we might have hoped for. In the morning, once we were all awake ¨C it was always Freydis getting up first, followed by me, and then the two of us making some mild noise to rouse Caiside ¨C the young jump-roping kobold who had talked to Freydis came out of the interior of the place. She was carrying ¨C astoundingly ¨C a plate of food.


    It was just some pale yellow biscuits, but we were amazed at the hospitality.


    ¡°Miss Eunice said to bring these to you. She says she doesn¡¯t know if you will like them. We call them tack.¡±


    We each took one and tried them. They were very hard, nearly impossible to eat. We did our best. They struck me like something I might have baked ¨C for a long time ¨C at home to feed to Marley.


    ¡°Thank you so much,¡± I said. ¡°I believe I¡¯ll put the rest in my bag to take along.¡±


    ¡°Of course. They¡¯re made for kobold jaws, really.¡± She laughed, and turned.


    As we were about to leave, Eunice herself actually came out to bid us farewell before we dropped down the steps. She was the same one who had addressed us after their song the day before, of course.


    ¡°You can stay here again when you return,¡± she said. ¡°And we won¡¯t wave all the sfears at you, if you do.¡±


    She still kept a very stern face as she spoke.


    *


    We continued north along the ancient path. The walking was pleasant, for now, but it would not be too much farther before we entered the Drearwold. The pine-needle-carpeted easy inclines would give way to a dense, dark maze of shadows and twisted trees. There would still be climbing, but it would be presented by ranges of hillocks which were steep on their sides and muddy in their troughs. I had never entered it, but had heard stories from the few Kanindalers who had dared.


    Miranda¡¯s father, Arran Waters, was one who had been there.


    ¡°Imagine being a field mouse in a plowed plot,¡± he had said. ¡°And you want to cross it against the grain. Up and down, up and down, over rows just higher than you. That¡¯s the Drearwold. And it¡¯s all dark, all close in upon you. The air is still, and unfriendly. And there are unfriendly creatures there, as well. Am I making it sound drear enough? It truly is.


    ¡°But you need to cross it head into the farther north. To the west, you have the slopes of the Gray Mount region, which are nearly impassable from that direction. To the east, the rushing Rupestrine, too wide and violent to cross. So up through the Wold you go, until you can cross the river closer to its headwaters.¡±


    So for the moment, I enjoyed breathing the pine air. I could only imagine how hard the broken Drearwold would be for Caiside to negotiate, but we would cross that . . . riven land when we came to it.


    *


    Hours later we had stopped to sit and eat lunch when suddenly, from twelve directions at once, a dozen Dwarves came charging at us through the woods. They had seen us, somehow, and distributed themselves to encircle us, without us seeing or hearing them. They then ran toward us, shouting and brandishing their axes.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Freydis said, continuing to eat as they closed in.


    ¡°Avast, Kanindalers!¡± their leader yelled. ¡°You are trapped! We saw you, and we distributed ourselves to encircle you without you seeing or hearing us, and now we have run toward you!¡±


    ¡°We are trapped,¡± I said. ¡°Are you Vigbond Thighbreaker?¡±


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    ¡°I am Vigbond Thighbreaker!¡± the same one said. He was wearing the largest helmet of any of them, and also carrying the largest axe. It seemed like it must have been heavy, even for him with his arms thicker than my thighs; it was obviously a token of leadership more so than an actual useful weapon.


    He was young. His beard had not grown quite so far up his face as typical with the older ones. He also ran quite fast and just looked more flexible and potentially twisty than the average Dwarf.


    I stood up, putting one hand on the handle of the small shovel that I had brought ¨C which I had plunged into the ground before sitting down ¨C to push myself up. Freydis and Caiside rose with me.


    ¡°I have heard of you,¡± I said to him. ¡°We are indeed from Enkel Kanindal. Well, my cousin Freydis and I. This is our fellow peregrine, Caiside.¡±


    ¡°You are on SwornBorn land!¡± he said. ¡°None shall pass here without our leave!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not taking anything. We¡¯re just walking through.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°And I thought we were beyond the SwornBorn lands anyway. We¡¯re too far east at this point, are we not?¡±


    ¡°We are claiming more territory for Gray Mount!¡± he said.


    The other Dwarves drew closer to him, and they all started singing:


    We are new voices in Gray Mount!


    We¡¯re not satisfied with our old-timers¡¯ ways!


    Thorfin thinks he rules us, but now no one fools us,


    We¡¯re not gonna wallow in a Dwarven malaise!


    Vigbond¡¯s here to lead the strongest!


    We can hold the high notes longest!


    SwornBorn!


    SwornBorn!


    We¡¯ve got a new song fest!


    We¡¯re SwornBorn and we¡¯re moving our borders!


    Scootching them way farther out into the pines!


    We are history makers, and we need more acres


    To feed more of our yaks and also dig more mines!


    Vigbond¡¯s here to lead the warbands!


    Hunting cave bears with his bare hands!


    SwornBorn!


    SwornBorn!


    Staking out the new lands!


    We¡¯re not going to soak in nostalgia!


    Spending all our barbecues rehashing the past!


    Dwelling on the ancients! We are losing patience


    for songs about achievements in the age before last!


    We are going to live our own tales!


    Epic! Uphill! Through the storm gales!


    SwornBorn!


    SwornBorn!


    Tougher than your steel nails!


    ¡°Don¡¯t they sound impeccable?¡± a Dwarf behind us asked.


    I had thought they had all gathered around Vigbond, but it turned out that one had been just watching them, from behind us; and it was an older Dwarf.


    ¡°Wutherby,¡± I said. ¡°We meet again. You¡¯re out with this young train?¡±


    ¡°They invited me,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m always glad to hike. Nice little shovel you¡¯ve got there, by the way. Very useful.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen: Vigbond -- part two of two

    ¡°So now,¡± Vigbond said. ¡°You say you¡¯re not taking anything here. What are you up to, then? We seldom see Kanindalers up here. We doubt you¡¯re just out for a stroll.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re on a mission,¡± Caiside answered him. ¡°We are traveling up to see a wizened woman who lives in the low mountains, well past the Drearwold.¡±


    ¡°A wizened woman? A human, you mean?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Far to the north? I¡¯ve never heard of such a person.¡±


    ¡°Word has come down to us, recently,¡± Caiside said. This was not completely a lie; we had indeed made up the story ourselves just a few days ago. ¡°What with the increased numbers of people and creatures moving about in these hills, in these wilds, her tale has been shared.¡±


    ¡°And so you are ¨C something like pilgrims, then?¡± Wutherby asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Caiside said. ¡°My young friends here are just embarking on their lives and have much to learn. As for me, I have been around more, but I like to think that I too am not too old to listen to wiser voices.¡±


    ¡°So Flicker and Freydis here have ¨C existential questions, something like that?¡± Wutherby asked.


    ¡°Of course we do,¡± I said. ¡°You can¡¯t find all the answers in Enkel Kanindal, we know.¡±


    ¡°Certainly not,¡± he said, but it was clear to me he had his doubts about our story. But he asked no more ¨C keeping his own counsel, I would say ¨C and let the others continue.


    ¡°So, what sorts of things does this woman speak about, to your knowledge?¡± Vigbond asked.


    I panicked a bit at this, and tried to conjure up an answer; but Caiside, it turned out, had more verses of her song ready to go:


    Why your favorite socks will wear out faster than the others;


    why you won¡¯t find cherry tart that¡¯s as good as your mother¡¯s.


    Why we should bear children, given this world of disquiet;


    why a key will seldom turn, the first time that you try it.


    When a question from your wife is a request to act;


    How to turn down invitations with some poise and tact.


    How to give your children proper help but not too much;


    Our advice to them should not just turn into a crutch.


    ¡°Hang on, say that again?¡± Vigbond stopped her.


    Caiside expanded:


    How to ensure children can take actions for themselves;


    how to build their self-esteem so they¡¯re not awed by Elves.


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    ¡°Good enough, sure,¡± he said, nodding, ¡°but I meant that bit prior to it. About one¡¯s wife.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± she said:


    Wives will tire of ord¡¯ring you to tend to this or that;


    might not want to say outright you¡¯ve donned a shameful hat.


    Oft a question from one¡¯s wife is really a request


    to change how you are working, or perhaps how you are dressed.


    Sometimes wives do chat, though; just ask questions for no more


    reason than to pass the time. To keep from getting bored.


    She could well believe that your green topcoat is just fine,


    but asks about it just to learn what style¡¯s in your mind.


    ¡°Now see,¡± Vigbond said, ¡°that¡¯s good. That¡¯s really good, right there. How is one to know? When she¡¯s phrasing it as a question either way? I think a lot of Dwarves could benefit from that. Wow. That is really fascinating, I must say. This woman up there can explain all that?¡±


    ¡°So it is said.¡±


    ¡°Well then, she sounds very helpful.¡±


    He turned to address the Dwarf behind him.


    ¡°Did you hear all that, Borlund? Does that ring a bell for you and Grunhilda?¡±


    ¡°Um, sure,¡± the Dwarf said. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    Vigbond shook his head, muttering something that sounded like ¡°ignorant lout.¡± He turned back to Caiside.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m thinking I might journey up myself. I believe I would have some questions for her. And perhaps some of these coalheads here would want to join me, I don¡¯t know.¡± He flipped his thumb back at the other Dwarves.


    ¡°So, definitely, thank you for that. For that lead about this counselor.¡±


    ¡°You are welcome to it,¡± Caiside answered.


    ¡°However,¡± Vigbond continued, ¡°you¡¯re all under arrest. We¡¯re taking you back to Gray Mount as captives. My captives, specifically.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Freydis asked. ¡°We¡¯re just passing through. We¡¯re harmless wayfarers.¡±


    ¡°Well, in truth you might be wayless harmfarers, I believe,¡± he said.


    ¡°Come on, Vigbond,¡± I said. ¡°I was just arrested last week.¡±


    ¡°By whom, though?¡± he asked. ¡°Thorfin, right? This is different. Come along now, we¡¯re heading west.¡±


    Caiside, next to me, rocked on her crutches and said something under her breath. Freydis shut her eyes in disbelief and raised her hands to her head.


    But Wutherby intervened:


    ¡°Listen, Vigbond. All respect, but you should think about this. What kind of prize would these three be? Ask yourself honestly, you know? What¡¯s it going to be like marching back into Gray Mount with, what ¨C¡± he glanced at us ¨C ¡°one woman who can barely walk, and this skinny trumpet-player, here ¨C who¡¯s already been arrested just a week or two ago, as he said ¨C and then another woman? Even if that one is, you know, maybe the most formidable-looking one of the lot.¡±


    He looked at Freydis as he said that last bit, but she was just glaring at him. He turned back to Vigbond.


    ¡°Do you see what I¡¯m saying? There are firbolgs trespassing out here, and maybe some brigands, all sorts of threats. We might run into some of those cretins from Death Crags, or maybe even farther out from Uaerlig Veikryss. But you come back with ¨C this?¡± He gestured toward us. ¡°And the one male is named ¨C Flicker? No one¡¯s going to compose a panegyric about you for bringing in a Flicker.¡±


    ¡°Come on now, Wutherby,¡± I said.


    And Caiside actually spoke up then in my defense:


    ¡°It is a noble bird, the flicker. Proud. Broad-shouldered.¡±


    But Vigbond seemed to be thinking it over.


    Wutherby continued: ¡°To set yourself apart from the old guard, you¡¯re going to have to, you know ¨C set yourself apart.¡±


    ¡°Well then, maybe you¡¯d like to personally befriend a wyvern we could capture,¡± Vigbond growled.


    ¡°But very well,¡± he continued. ¡°You three can continue your transit of our SwornBorn land. If we meet you on your way back down, I¡¯d like to hear about this sage, if you find her. Have you come across any other intruders out here?¡±


    Freydis, Caiside, and I all waited just a split second too long, I feared, before we answered:


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No one else, no.¡±


    -but Vigbond did not seem to notice our hesitation. Wutherby, though, once again looked at me intently; but he let it pass. We didn¡¯t know if the Dwarves were aware of the independent kobold colony, of course, but at any rate they didn¡¯t hear about it from us.


    *


    A bit later, as we continued our walk, Freydis asked:


    ¡°They must know of those kobolds, right? I don¡¯t know how they wouldn¡¯t come across them.¡±


    ¡°And their fields,¡± Caiside added. ¡°That many kobolds must be raising a good amount of crops somewhere nearby.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they know of them,¡± I said, ¡°but pretend they¡¯re not there. So as to claim that they have taken over this area. They may be glad to overlook them if we do too. Who knows.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen: Collina

    In the afternoon of the next day we were walking along, still on the gently rolling land, moving gradually uphill ¨C not in the Drearwold yet ¨C and suddenly Freydis stopped. She was looking up into the trees.


    ¡°Look at that."


    Up on the trunk of a tree, about twelve feet high, was a wreath. Green, with white flowers. It appeared to be made of laurel.


    ¡°What an odd place for a decoration,¡± she said. ¡°We are not alone here.¡±


    We looked around us, saw no one, heard nothing, and then resumed. We saw a few more of the wreaths, all at the same height.


    And not much farther along, we began to come across large gaps in the pines, where stands of fruit trees were growing. This included a group of apple trees, and then asiminas.


    ¡°There will be people about, now,¡± Freydis said. ¡°Or some creatures. These trees have been tended, and planted. And those apples have been regularly pruned.¡±


    ¡°We can hope they are friendly, whoever it is,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think your dunters, or firbolgs, or trolls, are caring for orchards like this."


    Next, we passed a stand of laurel trees, some of them flowering. Then the pines resumed, but now they seemed almost like a buffer zone, between the laurel and we knew not what.


    ¡°Eyes open,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Let¡¯s not be caught unaware by anyone.¡±


    And then of course a voice rang down from above us:


    ¡°Hello there, travelers!¡±


    It was a woman¡¯s voice. We looked up ¨C we must have looked like three surprised dogs jerking their heads up all together, ears cocked ¨C to see someone climbing down a tree. She lowered herself through the lowest branches and then stepped down the remainder of the trunk, grasping it with her hands and toeing with her boots.


    She looked older than Freydis and I, but younger than Caiside. She had nut brown hair tied back, and wore a green dress with soft leather boots. She had a yellow scarf around her neck. She looked ¨C healthy. I wouldn¡¯t say beautiful, although she certainly was, but more so just healthy. She looked very at home in the woods, among the trees.


    She hit the ground and turned toward us. She had bright green eyes.


    Caiside, who was to my left, lifted her right crutch slightly and brought it down onto my foot, hard, out of view of the woman.


    ¡°Dryad,¡± she whispered. ¡°Keep your wits about. Actually, close your eyes.¡±


    I did not. The woman was a pleasant and pleasant-looking person, but I did not feel entranced by her. (Of course, that may have been a component of an entrancement: one might be so entranced that one was not aware of being entranced at all. Perhaps this feeling of immunity was actually a giveaway that one was, indeed, irreversibly entranced. So whether one felt entranced or not, one might be entranced. It was hard to know.)


    (It struck me, however, that I doubted Mabel, Daisy, and Twyla would have started poking fun at me with a song, had they been present and watching. And that might have been indicative.)


    As she approached, she rubbed her hands on her dress, at her hips, to get dirt off them, and she then kept slapping the cloth to knock the dirt off it in turn. I had pictured a bewitching dryad ¨C if that¡¯s indeed what she was ¨C wearing a flimsier dress and standing demurely behind a tree, that sort of thing. But this woman here walked up to us like a farmer.


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    ¡°What welcome visitors,¡± she said. ¡°I am Collina. What brings you to the high pine forest?¡±


    I didn¡¯t feel like trying out our cover story, with her; and apparently neither Freydis nor Caiside wanted to, either, because we were all silent. Just in the few moments we had spent with this woman Collina, I guessed she would see right through that tale.


    ¡°Well, it seems as though you don¡¯t wish to share,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s fine. Things not shared may be better unknown. And just seeing our woods is reason enough to visit.¡±


    She looked at each of us, in turn.


    ¡°The two of you,¡± she said to Freydis and me, ¡°are from Enkel Kanindal, I would say. But not you,¡± she told Caiside.


    ¡°Not you,¡± she repeated.


    And then she said, more to herself than to us:


    ¡°A wanderer in these woods. One who has walked difficult roads but continues walking.¡±


    And then she added, more quietly yet:


    ¡°Continues walking though it be very wearing. Very wearing.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said to Caiside, in her regular voice again, ¡°I would say you come from somewhere that is lighter, and warmer; but you have spent many seasons somewhere that is darker, and colder. But no matter. Come along and I will show you all my home. You may spend the night here.¡±


    She motioned further into the woods. Freydis and Caiside made to follow her, but I spoke:


    ¡°Thank you for the offer, but we were hoping to cover more ground today.¡±


    Freydis and Caiside looked at me as if I were crazed. Collina just answered:


    ¡°Walking much more today will put you into the Drearwold. Better to rest before attempting that. If that is your path. Let me show you my home first, and then you may decide.¡±


    She resumed walking, and we followed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you,¡± she said.


    ¡°You had seen us coming?¡± Freydis asked.


    She shook her head, still smiling.


    ¡°Not you three, and not your path. But I know so many friends are out there. We mourn for people we have known who have passed on, and for those with whom we have lost touch; but what about those we should know but have not yet met? I wait for them. Come along. You¡¯re all safe here.¡±


    She led us through the woods as they became denser, eventually thick enough with trees that they concealed what was beyond ¨C and that turned out to be a clearing with her house. A twisting, very narrow path led through the dense forest growth, and then suddenly we spilled out near her cottage.


    It was made of logs, with a roof of shakes. Flowers grew all around, blue and red and orange and yellow, and bees were about. It had a porch on front, with wood columns.


    Behind it was an extensive clearing, with crops growing; potatoes, maize, various vines. The land dropped a bit, and there was a covered well. Behind the well were more farmed rows. Off to a side there was a small house for fowl which I later learned were ducks.


    The sun shone down over all, what with the large gap in the forest cover. The four of us stood there, taking in the beautiful clearing; and even Collina herself seemed charmed by it all.


    ¡°You have a wonderful hidden estate, up here,¡± Caiside said.


    Collina responded:


    My road ran through a pinewood forest.


    Others would have me stay below;


    but here I climbed, my tilth to grow.


    Kept on working when I was sorest.


    Each new spring, more seed to sow.


    I labored to bend the undergrowth


    until my home was near concealed


    while minding, too, my garden¡¯s yield.


    Each day attending to them both:


    received woods and planted field.


    The verdure flourished by my hands;


    within this soil a potence lay.


    Men below might hope me away


    but here will I be molding lands.


    I¡¯ll keep the dales for another day.


    The morning air that¡¯s bright with pine;


    diamond stars in a sky of black;


    a hill¡¯s expanse of laurel, lilac ¨C


    this glebe of woods I claim as mine;


    I doubt if ever I¡¯ll go back.

 Chapter Fifteen: Enthralled

    Collina served us supper, which was a very large cauldron of vegetable soup and a giant loaf of warm bread. The soup was red, and had dandelions floating in it. It looked and tasted lovely, but I felt uncomfortable all the while ¨C she seemed too solicitous, and it was also odd that she¡¯d had that much food ready to serve. Freydis and Caiside, however, seemed to enjoy themselves with no second thoughts.


    Collina arranged three cots for us around an iron stove in the front room of the cottage. The place still smelled like the bread she had baked. A fire had been going in the stove, although the day had been warm. Beside the cots, on the floor, were large pillows, and cushions, and comfortable chairs. The room looked very inviting, I suppose.


    I slept well; too well, because when I woke, Freydis and Caiside were gone. Their bags were still by their cots. I stepped out onto the porch, heard and saw nothing, and then retrieved my belongings. I wasn¡¯t afraid that Collina was going to sneak in and steal our things while we had left the cottage, but nonetheless I just wanted my bags, bow, and shovel in my possession. I walked out, and back into the garden.


    It was as beautiful in the morning as it had been the previous afternoon. Off to the sides of the clearing the tops of the pines swayed slightly. I couldn¡¯t enjoy it much, though, alarmed as I was about Freydis and Caiside leaving without waking me up. I suppose it might not have been reasonable to expect us to spend every single moment together on this quest of several weeks, but . . . in the presence of someone like Collina who clearly might have been a magical creature, I thought it would have been better to not split up.


    I walked down the garden far enough to see that they were not back there, and then turned back toward the cottage. I passed the duck house on the way.


    I took the twisting entrance path back out into the woods. I wondered if there might be some magic to it that would conceal it from me, and leave me trapped; but there was not.


    After the tight turns I was back out into the more shaded woods, and I noticed they seemed altogether more gray, or perhaps dull, than Collina¡¯s clearing. It wasn¡¯t just the high trees; the clearing seemed to have its own innate glow.


    I walked around the dense expanse that hid the cottage for a short distance, but I worried that I would lose the path back and so returned to it. Once back at the clearing, I sat down on the grass near one of the smaller trees that grew in the yard. I didn¡¯t want to accept the dryad¡¯s hospitality any further.


    I took out one of the kobolds¡¯ rock-hard biscuits and chewed at it while I waited. All of a sudden that tribe seemed more welcoming and comfortable, to me, than this woodswoman we had met.


    *


    It wasn¡¯t until nearly noon that the three of them appeared again, popping out of the pathway and ambling toward me and the cottage. Collina was in the middle, speaking quietly, with Freydis at her shoulder, listening intently, and Caiside on the other side.


    I raised my hand, but the three of them walked right past me. None of them even made direct eye contact, although Collina and Freydis both seemed to look quickly in my direction the way you might toward a child; or, actually, toward a dog. And not your dog. Maybe the neighbor¡¯s dog, which was harmless and not your concern.


    They entered the cottage. I stayed outside. I just did not feel like entering Collina¡¯s house, any longer, and I assumed that Freydis would come out soon to acknowledge me and perhaps talk about lunch.


    She did not. I stayed where I was for some time, just watching birds dart around. The clearing was silent, apart from occasional breezes through the bordering pines. So different from home. Enkel Kanindal was not a noisy town by any means, but there were always occasional hammer blows, wood being chopped or sawed, and so on. Here, the loudest thing by far was me trying to eat the kobold food.


    I grew more and more alarmed. My raging thoughts seemed incongruous in the calm clearing.


    Eventually I gave up, rose, and went inside.


    The three of them were gathered around the iron stove, sitting on the cots. Collina had made tea for them. The teapot was on a tray atop the stove, staying warm, but there was no fourth cup.


    ¡°Freydis, Caiside,¡± I said. ¡°We should be going. The hospitality here has been ¨C welcome, but we need to move on.¡±


    Caiside looked at me, and then away. Freydis turned her face in my direction but again did not make eye contact.


    ¡°Flicker,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t see the rush in leaving. I would not want to offend our host Collina.¡±


    The dryad ¨C there was no denying now that that was certainly what she was ¨C smiled at me, then, with just a sickeningly complacent look on her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to be taking up residence out in the yard, are you?¡± she asked me.


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    ¡°Freydis,¡± I said, ¡°please come out and talk to me.¡±


    I exited.


    No one followed me.


    *


    I continued my wait out on the lawn under the tree. I wished I had brought Marley along, then, for the company.


    An hour went by, or two. The afternoon progressed.


    Eventually I saw Freydis and Collina walk out of the cottage through a back door, and head into the garden. They walked very close together, again, and did not even glance back toward me.


    I rose and went inside. Caiside was still sitting on a cot. She was just staring vacantly out of a window.


    ¡°Caiside,¡± I said. ¡°You were right. This dryad is bewitching. But I¡¯m not the target, obviously. You need to get out of here. You and Freydis both.¡±


    She lifted her hands in the air in a sort of shrug.


    ¡°Plans change, Flicker. We travel, we meet people. Trajectories are altered. When I first walked into Wastemoor, I certainly never thought it would introduce me to someone who would eventually cause me to walk to Enkel Kanindal. But I¡¯m better for it. Better off knowing your cousin, and Collina here.¡±


    She reached into her bag on the floor.


    ¡°Here,¡± she said. ¡°You may take this. I think you can read it as well as I can. Slade was drawing it for you and not me, anyway.¡±


    It was the map. She held it out to me.


    I took it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have this for safekeeping,¡± I said, ¡°but we all have to leave. You are in thrall, Caiside. That¡¯s not like you. The Mage couldn¡¯t imprison you for good, but now this woman may have.¡±


    She didn¡¯t look up.


    *


    Back outside, under the tree, I went back and forth about what to do. Should I stay in the yard that night and sleep under the tree? Should I sleep out in the woods? Should I just leave, and continue without them?


    Just as daylight was beginning to fade, Freydis finally walked out of the house. I was relieved that she was alone, but she wasn¡¯t carrying any of her belongings.


    She came near. Her eyes were dull. She nearly looked like someone else entirely.


    She sang:


    The longer that I stay here and I think about Slade¡¯s hoard,


    I feel no trove can offer me an adequate reward


    for leaving this cute cottage and its dappled farm behind.


    Perhaps the offer with that map is better left declined.


    That loot won¡¯t be escaping iron doors placed under key;


    and Slade, or Flicker, or Canute, can go as well as me.


    And why trudge through the Drearwold, when that thicket¡¯s so well-named?


    A girl who stays here with Collina really can¡¯t be blamed.


    I think of Enkel Kanindal: mud streets; our endless sheep.


    With days lived just to rise and work, and then work more and sleep.


    With not much more to hope for as a break from constant slog


    than criers with some old news, or another¡¯s travelogue.


    To every day breathe in this mountain air so new with pine:


    why should I not tarry with Collina? She¡¯s divine.


    To start a home like this from virgin woods and watch it blossom;


    to do so on your own, with no one¡¯s help, is truly awesome.


    Everything I need¡¯s here ¨C stores for winter, wood for fires;


    butterflies like maypole dancers, treetop birds as choirs.


    Think of evening walks here washed with twilight¡¯s warm patina,


    followed by a warm hearth and a night next to Collina.


    She immediately turned and walked back to the cottage, again without looking at me.


    *


    In the twilight, I walked back out into the woods. I didn¡¯t go far, but didn¡¯t want to sleep in the clearing. I laid out my bedroll.


    Did it really matter if Freydis stayed here? I couldn¡¯t force her to go on the journey with me. We weren¡¯t youths anymore; she could do whatever she wanted, of course. The quest had been my idea, my invitation. And there was always a chance she would change her mind and come after me, I told myself; but that seemed very unlikely.


    And traveling by myself would be much faster, without having to slow down for Caiside. I had the map, and my bag. In the morning I could just go.

 Chapter Sixteen: The Cloak

    But of course the idea that I¡¯d let Freydis stay there without even trying to stop her was crazy; she was clearly not thinking straight. She was nearly enslaved to the dryad. And I couldn¡¯t very well return to town, either directly or after trying to find Slade¡¯s hoard, and then just tell Uncle Danzig and Aunt Lila that I had left their daughter behind with a wood sprite.


    *


    I woke up at dawn, among the pines, and lay there a while. When I finally sat up, I happened to see Collina and Freydis walking together, again, away from me and some distance away through the trees. Had I kept myself hidden from dryad? Probably not, I know; she probably knew exactly where I was. But I hopped up and trotted to the cottage to talk with Caiside. I found her sitting outside on the porch.


    ¡°Freydis is not here,¡± she told me.


    ¡°I know, I saw them out there in the woods. Caiside, listen. This wise woman up in the hills, the one we fabricated. You almost seem to know her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not real, Flicker.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you portray her so well. Tell me: What would her advice be to someone who was enthralled to a dryad? Or enthralled to an alkonost, say? How would she say to rescue that person?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said. She brightened up a little, seeming to enjoy the question. ¡°There would be some things to try. First, of course, would be to simply kill the dryad. But I don¡¯t believe ¨C ¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re not going to do that.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not. It would not be so easy, either, you know. Well then, next, I think the advice would be to box the victim on the ears. And you might have to do so with some force. To snap her out of it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not try that with Freydis, either. And I can¡¯t see that working; I think that would just entrench her in her thinking.¡±


    ¡°Likely,¡± Caiside answered. ¡°Another course would be to try to draw her out with something, some object, familiar to her. A keepsake from home, perhaps heirloom jewelry. A letter from someone else. A pet. Something along those lines.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± I said. ¡°So I should have brought along candy for fifty kobold children, and now a necklace or something from Lila. I¡¯ll know what to pack for this quest once it¡¯s over.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have anything from the list that Caiside proposed, of course. We were carrying mostly food, and clothing, that was all.


    But I did have a wool cloak. And that wool had come from a sheep which Freydis had raised.


    *


    I waited just outside the yard, amid the pines, still able to see the cottage, for most of the day. I hoped that Collina would leave the house. If she did, would she notice me trying to conceal myself? Again I assume she probably would, but I hid anyway just in case.


    Maybe I should have told Caiside to try to go for a walk with Collina, so that Freydis would be alone. I could have tried that right after she¡¯d told me about what the advice from the fake wise woman would be, when she seemed to be more herself. Or I could have tried to play upon any jealousy she might be feeling, with Collina and Freydis getting along so well, by telling her she was missing out on the dryad¡¯s attention. But none of that had come to me while I was on the porch talking to her. No one has ever accused me of being a quick thinker.


    But eventually, in the late afternoon, Collina did walk out, alone. She headed back to the garden.


    I ran in, past Caiside who was still out on the porch. Freydis was once again just seated by the iron stove, with its fire going as always, staring out the window.


    I started in:


    I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve fallen for this starry-eyed enchantment;


    like you¡¯ve run off with marauders to go live in their encampment.


    I¡¯m going to walk out, then, to continue on this quest,


    I¡¯ll just leave you with this hermit if you think that¡¯s for the best.


    I guess I¡¯ll tell your parents that you got seduced by pines,


    and then you and poor Slade¡¯s friend here went and calmly lost your minds.


    I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m being blunt, but now¡¯s no time to mince


    words about your doe eyes that are making me just wince.


    Where¡¯s the Freydis that I knew? The one direct and candid?


    The one that throttles rattlesnakes, and knocks down wasps barehanded?


    The one who throws two full-grown sheep at once over her shoulder?


    The one who¡¯s there to chop a tree, or dig up any boulder?


    Who gathers honeycomb by hand? Who roasts her own quicklime?


    Well ¨C


    Now she¡¯s prostrate by the fire, paralyzed by tea time.


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    All right then, cousin, you can stay here with your cloying friend,


    and I¡¯ll head out with Slade¡¯s map; see this journey to its end.


    But let me show you one thing that you will admit is crucial.


    And you can think upon it while this sprite works her bamboozle.


    This cloak, here. Here it is. I¡¯ll spread it out for you to see.


    It came from sheep raised on your farm. A thing you¡¯ve done for me.


    Your parents made that ranch from scratch, and you get credit too;


    Their trade would not be what it is without the sweat from you.


    Who else could shear those sheep like you, a score or more a day?


    Who will mend a fence for them? Throw around bales of hay?


    Who will train the dogs for wolves, ready to attack?


    When a lamb sneaks off at night, who¡¯s going to haul it back?


    Some people honor diving hawks, or eagles in the sky;


    they¡¯ll choose a boar to mark their clan, or ravens soaring high.


    For me, though, there¡¯s no beast around that weighs in more heroic


    than sheep. Consistent with their fleece. Calm, and nobly stoic.


    Before your family started ranching, wool was all the business


    of the Dwarves up there past Death Crags; all those cheats in Uaerlig Veikryss.


    Remember how they¡¯d rip us off, and try to sell us hare wool


    in bales that were sodden; underweight if we weren¡¯t careful?


    This cloak will keep me warm; and if it rains, I¡¯ll still be snug,


    thanks to the work your family¡¯s done. It¡¯s like an Enkel hug.


    I¡¯ll think of you as I trudge through the Drearwold, fogged or misted,


    And thanks to you, and to this cloak, they¡¯ll say, ¡°That man persisted.¡±


    Freydis finally made eye contact with me.


    And then she nearly leaped out of her chair, and ran out into the yard. Her footsteps banged on the porch, and she was off.


    Fortunately, she headed out into the woods, not back into the garden. I chased after her.


    *


    I caught up some distance from the twisting pathway.


    ¡°Freydis!¡±


    She stopped and turned.


    ¡°Go back there!¡± she shouted at me.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°To get my gear! And grab Caiside! And don¡¯t look at ¨C that thing.¡±


    ¡°Can you help?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she shouted. ¡°Are you serious, Flicker? I can¡¯t be around her again! Burn it down!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Caiside will listen.¡±


    ¡°She will. She¡¯s not as far in as I was.¡±


    I turned and ran back.


    *


    Once in the clearing I ran straight to the cottage. To Caiside, I shouted as I passed her:


    ¡°We¡¯re going! Freydis isn¡¯t coming back! Pick up those crutches and get your things!¡±


    I dashed into the cottage and found Freydis¡¯s bag by her cot. Caiside had risen and was now standing in the doorway; I grabbed her bag too and slung it over my shoulder. Her bedroll, I tossed to her.


    ¡°Flicker ¨C ¡± she said.


    ¡°Now! We can talk out in the woods.¡±


    I turned again and looked at the cots, chairs, and pillows.


    And the stove.


    It had the teapot tray on it, still, and a little pot of something. Its fire was burning, as always.


    It was not large.


    Its exhaust pipe ran up to the ceiling, but it wasn¡¯t very heavy.


    The stove was not bolted down to the floor. It was just sitting atop a brick platform.


    I was nearly certain that Freydis had been speaking figuratively, when she told me to burn the place down; but I kicked the stove, hard. The first time, it slid on the bricks a bit. The second time, I knocked it over. Its door fell open, coals fell out onto the pillows on the floor; the exhaust pipe broke and clattered down; smoke filled the room.


    Caiside was swinging her way across the yard, and I bolted after.


    To my left, Collina was chasing us, and she drew even; she ran very fast, like a deer.


    ¡°You may not!¡± she yelled. She reached out and pushed me.


    ¡°You need water,¡± I told her. ¡°You¡¯ve got a fire in there.¡± I nodded back toward the house.


    She stopped and looked back, aghast. Smoke was coming out the doorway. She darted back; all the way back to her well, I assumed.

 Chapter Seventeen: Into The Drearwold

    We ran away from the cottage as long as we could, eventually slowing down to a trot and then just a quick walk. I kept looking back at the sky wherever there were gaps in the pines.


    ¡°I hope I don¡¯t see towers of smoke back there,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to start a forest fire. It looks like I didn¡¯t, so far.¡±


    Freydis put her hands on her hips and bent downward to catch her breath.


    ¡°Do I owe you an apology,¡± she asked, ¡°for getting taken in by her?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Could have happened to anyone. Would have happened to me if Collina was ¨C so inclined. We had no chance.¡±


    ¡°If we come across another, I think we need to just move away immediately,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think of what I could have done differently. I think it just doesn¡¯t take her long at all to entrance one, and then it¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°That was the first I have ever actually met,¡± Caiside said. ¡°Worse than an alkonost. With them, their targets can typically ¨C get at least one or two moves in before the game is over, you know.¡±


    *


    We walked up to a point where the land dipped into a downward slope. We stood under the last of the pines. Ahead of us the trees, and the scrub below them as well, were lower, tighter. The growth was so dense that the expanse ahead of us was dark.


    We weighed our choices, still standing on a carpet of pine needles. They seemed especially familiar and inviting, now.


    ¡°Shall we sleep here?¡± I asked. ¡°One last night amid the pines before we move into ¨C that?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Freydis said. ¡°We have to go in, now. This is still too close to her, and she might come this far to look for us. She won¡¯t pursue us into the drear, though.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°She told me. On our walk. She doesn¡¯t like to enter it.¡±


    ¡°Even a dryad avoids it, then,¡± I said.


    We pushed in.


    *


    The trees were twisted, and gnarled, but it was the underbrush that made the going slow. It was overgrown and reached up higher than our heads, in many spots, and included vines with thorns. We wore our cloaks to push back the prickers, more than for warmth.


    There was no established path through the Drearwold; nothing to follow. Long stretches would pass in which the canopy completely enclosed us, so to navigate by the sun or stars we would need to wait for rare openings. Fortunately, the endless small ridges running east to west, as Miranda¡¯s father Arran Waters had described them to us, were indeed there; or perhaps I should say unfortunately they were there, requiring us to constantly climb and then drop down. One benefit to that, though, was we knew which way north was: perpendicular to the never-ending ridges.


    ¡°It would be very useful to know where we are, in here,¡± Freydis said, ¡°so that when we come back, we can avoid this section of the woods, and Collina. But I don¡¯t know how to do that, if there is no path.¡±


    ¡°And since the pine forest looks alike no matter where you are in it,¡± I agreed. ¡°On the way back we¡¯ll have to either start right next to the river, and follow it down, or else head west far enough that we¡¯re near the Death Crags hills, or the Gray Mount hills, and work south from there. But of course none of those Dwarves would appreciate that, and they¡¯d be much more likely to haul us in.¡±


    We would climb up a little ridge, enjoy walking its level summit for about ten paces, and then let ourselves back down, over and over again. It was nearly impossible for Caiside to climb straight up the hard inclines, as Freydis and I could, so we walked oblique to the crests so as to make it a gentler rise. This made it feasible for Caiside, but she was still much slower than she had been back in the pine woods.


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    Between the ridges, down in the troughs, there were often large puddles. All of our boots became soaked, gradually. The stagnant water, when disturbed, smelled of decay.


    It was getting late in the day, by now, so we did not climb too many ridges before we stopped on one crest and laid out our beds. There would be no fire tonight, and perhaps not for many nights.


    *


    It was the most horrible night of my life. There was no sky to see, no stars. It was nearly blindingly dark down on that forest floor. There was no breeze. The sounds we heard were all disturbing ¨C either odd creaks and cracks, or what must have been movement through the brush nearby. Several times we heard splashes in the standing water down in the bottoms.


    We had put our bedrolls very close together, closer than we had any previous night. I was close even to Caiside, from whom I¡¯d been keeping my distance when I slept. I thought of sleeping there alone, and I don¡¯t believe I could possibly do it.


    And beyond all of this ¨C the darkness, the creaks, the movements ¨C I saw something even more disturbing.


    I had woken up constantly, that night. The one blessing about the total darkness was that there would be nothing distracting to see, in those moments, and so I was able to fall back asleep.


    Until one time.


    There may have been a crack, or a footfall in water; regardless, for whatever reason, I woke up. And I saw ¨C on the ridge opposite us, about twenty or thirty yards away ¨C a ghostly form. It was pale blue, in the shape of a large man.


    And it was looking at us; at me.


    The man, or his reflection, whatever this was, was dressed like a traveler, in a long cloak similar to ours. He held a walking stick. While I stared at this apparition, I began to hear something. I was slow to even notice it, because it seemed to be coming from behind me. I was absorbed by the faintly glowing man, and ignored the sound, until I realized it must have been his voice.


    You dare roam


    ¨C I heard, barely; and then, again ¨C


    You dare roam


    I realized that the words were coming from the apparition, although they sounded as if he were right next to me while in reality he held his ground where he was.


    You dare roam in our still wold,


    and I would not see you leave.


    Each new mourned departure will another man bereave;


    another man bereave.


    A living human countenance.


    I must demand you stay;


    I must demand you stay and hold us through the doleful day.


    The plaintive wasted day.


    To be condemned to solitude


    and the reckoning recur;


    the sentencing recur, and all the memories that were ¨C


    the memories that were ¨C


    aspects that the seasons blur;


    the countenance of her;


    the countenance of her, and them,


    to lose them, and be cursed again;


    To be condemned to solitude


    and the loss of them, and her,


    is what no remnant would deserve.


    What no man would deserve.


    I moved my arm out of my sleeping roll to jostle Freydis, but then the apparition faded. It dissipated slowly, but it kept fading and then disappeared. I did not sleep again, and soon the dawn, somewhere far away, brought what dim light there was back to the Drearwold.