The pilgrims and Sirilyr along with Darvian head to Tir along the main road. They come upon the recently abandoned camp of four people, one of whom had come from Tir. 

[9.2] Goblin Hunt

Feorik, Tulane, and Rasoric travel to Tir to catch the caravan and discover two of Sola's Watcher's slain off the road. 

[9.3] The Ruins

Georan and Spencer prepare to return to the ruins and discover a much larger structure central to a ancient city of stone builders. 

[9.4] Goblins Outside Tir

Feorik, Tulane, and Rasoric track the goblins to their camp. Combat ensues and Sleene along with Delak are attracted to the melee while investigating the slain sheep.

[9.5] The Road to Tir

Sirilyr discovers a camp after following a set tracks coming from Tir and going into the woods. The absent denizens entered the forest, heading northwest. Just north of Tir, a large number of people entered the woods.

[9.6] Gathering

Feorik joins Durrant’s men in Tir while Orinden leads his militia into the forest. 

[9.1] On the Road to Tir

Storn regally led the small procession out of town. They attracted a small crowd that followed them curiously. Some of the small dirty children waved forlornly; their mothers or fathers just looked on. The priestesses on their mules followed their stoic protector, and Sirilyr, Darvian, and Brian rode behind. Feint shadowed the group in the damp but not muddy grass alongside the road. After they left Ziret behind, Darvian questioned Sirilyr, "You have been talking about an unholy beast. Did you see that creature yourself or is this one of those ghost stories the guards tell late at night?" 

Sirilyr said to the earnest Darvian, " Yer master 'as bade me to 'old my tongue on certain subjects. Yet, it be safe ta say be wary on the road ta Tir, fer odds are it'll no' be jest a country lark." Giving the man a speculative look, as if taking his measure. "Should yer master give me leave ta speak ta 'is men freely, I'll tell ye what Ay've seen tonight in camp, cozied down near a warm fire. An' I ne'er tell ghost stories lad, the spirits don' like ta 'ave their names taken in vain. Get right nasty 'bout it they do. 'Till then, be at yer best... Cause ye won't get a second chance if'n we get caught on that road wit' our pants down."

"It’s not me he was worried about spooking. I’m sure when Arnough asked me along with you to get more details, he wanted me to fill him in tonight in Tir. We’ll be upon him and the guards soon, and you’re right, my questions will have to wait. But we’ve a bit time now to get some more information about what is going on here without worry of curious ears," Darvian explained. "The Priestesses have not had benefit of your warnings either, eh?" He queried Mellody who glanced over to Linda.

Linda turned on her mule to look back at Darvian and Sirilyr, "I’m sure I ended our morning encounter prematurely. Do tell of this beast Sirilyr." 

Leaning forward in the saddle and loosening his helmet in an effort to hear the other men, Brian followed their conversation. "And why you assume it is the reason for the hunters absence?" Darvian added.

"Ay've assumed nothin'. I believe it may be the cause o' many a good seasoned woodsman's an unwary traveler's demise, because I 'AVE seen it." The ranger said with a pointed look at Darvian. He paused in memory of the dark stormy night. Then he filled his worn briarwood, lighting it before continuing further. "Lady Linda, I speak now in deference o' your request. Halt a moment an look 'ere." Sirilyr drew his longsword and leaned hard over to the right side of his horse, and after a few moments, the soldier was satisfied with his rough sketch in the dank earth of the road. Wiping clean his blade, "This be the devil I seen 'round Tir. We watched one o'nother for a good long while th’ night for last. I could sense it's 'ate. Feel it, like a damp 'eavy drizzle on a dark chill night, no sound did it make. 

The others maneuvered to look upon the sketch. Sirilyr drew from the briarwood and let the smoke slowly from his lips. "I found by the light o' day it can kill silently too, as the freshly torn asunder carcass o' what 'ad once been a ram attested to the next morn less than a score o' yards from the camp."

Brian asked, "Do you think this beast is hunting of its own accord, or is it some minion of a greater evil?"

"The druidess Sleene," smiling as the man thought of the young woman's leather clad curves, "'ad ne'er seen, nor 'eard o' one sech as this. It be an unknown an frightenin' thing. But, I figure if'n it needs ta eat, it too can be killed. This I'll trust true." He gripped his sword tightly as he sheathed the bright blade.

"It did not attack you?" Darvian questioned at the same.

"Ay've thought on why it did no', or tha others sleepin' 'ard by tha' night, the only thing I keep comin' back ta is this amulet 'ere given me by the old hag an 'er touched lad back in Cinclair," continuing as he fingered the small device hanging from a fringe cord around his leather collared neck. "Evil 'as often passed by me in favor o' others since puttin' it on. T'was so in the ancient cemetery, when I tracked down Spence an Geo. I still fear they weren't near so fortunate as I. As ta the other things I spoke of, they be true as well. Youn's will be hearin' o'bout 'em yerselves soon enough."

Tamping the ashes from his bowl Sirilyr announced, "Now, I feel the need ta scout ahead a ways. If'n I come back in a hurry get yerselves off'n this road an inta the woods an brush along the sides out o' sight an wait fer me." With a kick of his soft booted heels, he was off down the road. 

Linda looked down at the unnatural visage the ranger had carved in the mud. She directed her mule to corrupt it. "I believe there are evil forces at work here greater than most people imagine. We are only scratching the surface of the problems in Bilcoven, and it will get much more dangerous as we get closer to the source," Brian said.

"You may be right. Tonight we will perform a divination to reveal the nature of these things," Linda agreed then resumed down the road after Sirilyr.

Brian rode next to Mellody, and said, "I don't like this business of wandering spirits and murderous creatures in the wood. I pray that I can keep you and Canon Linda safe. Tell me if anything frightens you or seems unnatural in our surroundings. Your perception of the spirit world is far keener than my own." With a solemn glance at Storn, Brian again tightened his helmet and scanned the sides of the trail.

The sun shown starkly in the deep blue sky, brightly lighting the forested terrain, but conveying little warmth. They group shuffled on silently, the only conversation the occasional snorts from the animals. They spotted Sirilyr resting on the side of the road, but before they reached him, he mounted and rode on staying just out of earshot. They trailed him for about an hour before he allowed them to almost catch up; as they approached Arnough's small caravan. The ranger rode in ahead of Storn and the others and greeted the merchant. He had ridden on by they time they joined the merchant; although he stayed a short distance ahead, riding alone.

"Something's bothering him," Darvian told Arnough nodding toward the distant ranger. "He rode off after some story about seeing a monster kill some sheep in Tir."

"We'll get a few beers in him t'night," Arnough concluded nonchalantly. "Road's been clear, but I am still glad for your company," Arnough said leaning over and tipping his hat to the priestesses. They returned short-lived smiles, and silently rode along. 

Darvian sensed the unspoken tension that existed between Sirilyr and Linda. For some reason Sirilyr seemed to be unhappy after he had drawn the demon into the mud. Darvian didn't think he had ever seen such a disgusting visage before, but then Linda was quite quick to erase it again before he had time to study it carefully. That Sirilyr was riding out of earshot appeared strange to Darvian. He therefore rode up to Brian and asked him: "Do you know what is wrong with Sirilyr, why is he acting so strange?"

"He is upset because he had a quarrel with two of his best friends.He thought he was defending them, but they thought he was meddling.They nearly had a go at each other, and only Linda was able to stop them.Now things are weird between him and Linda too, for she won't speak anything about the evil he claims to have seen.He tried to warn us..."

[9.2] Goblin Hunt

Aiden woke them in the morning. It was cold and damp and the rain hissed incessantly on the roof. A tired looking woman gave them breakfast. Rasoric said he wanted to get some armor. Feorik nodded and said, "I could use some boots too." Aiden told them he would take them to the camp he found when they were ready. Feorik wore a grim expression as he slogged through the muddy thoroughfare of Sola's small string of shops.At Denn's provisions, he hurriedly purchased new boots and a spear. He did not haggle the prices down, Rasoric was.Feorik waited impatiently, his mood apparently as sour as the weather.

In fact he became quite impatient with Rasoric could not afford the leather at the price Denn was asking. Seeing Feorik's expression and getting nowhere with the insistent and fast talking Rasoric, Denn finally said, "Look, I sell my armor at a loss. Go to Tir and haggle with them, that's where this stuff is made anyway. You'll get a bargain there" 

Feorik chuckled unhumorously at the abrupt end of negotiations then interjected, "We've got to move before the rain totally destroys any sign of passage." 

"I can't go off without some protection," Rasoric insisted. Feorik argued, but neither let up. 

Finally, Tulane slapped some coins on the counter, "Get the armor. You can owe me."

"He's ripping us off!" Rasoric complained.

"Oh for the gods," Tulane threw his arms up. 

"Come on, take it and lets go," Feorik stormed out into the rain. Rasoric acquiesced unhappily, but was able to get Denn to throw in some sheets of paper and charcoals and an oilskin. He and Tulane took the bundle to the Watcher's where he oiled then put on the stiff armor. 

"My thanks friend," Rasoric told Tulane. "Sorry about that," he added getting both his companions attention, "You must realize I'm worried about facing goblins unprotected again. I still have nightmares about the sewers, and anyway haggling's in my blood, I can't help myself - but I say this to you know I will use my skills to the best of my ability, if I am to be of use to you I will practice my trade."

Not soon enough for Feorik, Aiden finished discussing the night's patrol with Eolen and another watcher named Mitchell. Other than the three travelers from Bilcoven, all was quiet in the rainy woods around Sola. They followed the senior Watcher out of the village and along a patrol trail into the forest. The rain had obliterated the signs as far as Rasoric and Tulane could tell, but Aiden and Feorik discussed at some length what had gone on there. They concluded that the two goblins had headed north paralleling the road. Aiden walked with them awhile helping Feorik spot the soaked signs of passage. He bid them farewell and set off on a eastward patrol of his village's region. 

Feorik watched as the older man departed, and cast his glance towards the trail.I'll lose that soon enough, he thought. At least we have the road to follow. Hopefully we will find the caravan before the scum. Sure enough, without the more experienced ranger's help, Feorik lost the trial, but he relied on that the creatures had been following the road through the wooded hills so it only bothered him a bit. They made better time on the grassy edge of the muddy road anyway. With heads bowed and tucked under their hoods to keep the steady rain from their eyes the walked along in silence. 

Rasoric broke the quiet as he said quietly to Feorik, "I've got to pay Tulane back. How can I do that?" 

Slogging through the rain, Feorik was still annoyed at Rasoric, but he knew the lad had nothing but what he carried with him. He tersely replied as he wiped the rain-matted hair out of his eyes, "Gold is not as valuable as someone watching your back, bathing your wounds, and guarding your sleep.There are many ways to repay debts."

The rain did not prevent them from casting wary glances at the misty woods and road ahead, but nothing stirred. Feorik also kept his eyes on the road looking for signs of the two men Aiden had sent the day before. It had not rained in the Marchy for awhile so any signs from the dry road of yesterday did not hold against the rains. The caravan certainly left a clear trail, large piles of manure mostly. It was a tedious wet hike.

It must have been mid-afternoon when something caught Feorik's eye in one of the seemingly hundreds of piles of cow shit they walked by. It had been kicked, not along the road by the hooves or feet of the caravan, but across it from the side. Curious, Feorik walked to the pile and discovered the offending footprint squashed into the messy plop: a booted foot too small to be human.

Suddenly on guard, Feorik motioned for his companions to ready their arms and watch the woods while Feorik sought out other signs. Rain and wind had cleansed the area, but for some reason the goblin had emerged from the forest quickly, crossed the road from the east to west, and, either out of stupidity or carelessness had stepped in and kicked the manure. While Tulane and Rasoric covered him closely, Feorik searched the forest nearby. His first grim discovery was a dozen paces into the trees on the west side of the road. 

Two young men were dumped bloody and dead. They had been stripped of everything they carried and wore; their drawers were stuffed in their mouths. Dark gaping puncture wounds riddled their bodies. Some flesh from the arms and legs was sheered off roughly leaving grotesque curls of skin dangling where the muscle had been torn off.Their ears and genitals were missing.Each had a jagged rend down their left sides exposing ribs. Unpleasant and nauseating as it was, closer inspection revealed their hearts had been torn out through the wound.

A cold wind blew through Feorik's heart as he saw the two naked men, lying there in a bloody ruin, joints twisting oddly and stiffly in the attitude that only corpses had. He headed towards them, steeling himself as he saw their mutilation.Feorik spat as he knelt next to the bodies, emotionlessly taking in the details of the missing body parts. Rasoric stood back greenish and motionless, but Tulane stepped up grim faced.

Quivering with rage, Feorik looked for tracks or signs any struggle.Had the men at least wounded one of the bastards?his thoughts spun.Would goblins really do this? he questioned.Taking ears and heart ... why? Feorik looked up at the Rasoric and Tulane and said nothing, his hard gaze sweeping around the area and back to the bodies. They had been dumped there, probably after being killed on the road; the only scant signs were between the bodies and the road.

Feorik stood up, and said gruffly, "We don't have time to take them to Sola."He sighed, "but we should at least cover them, and mark this spot." Without waiting, Feorik quickly started to drag brush and branches over the two dead men.The other two followed his lead. After fifteen minutes of vigorous work, they were more or less protected from the larger scavengers.Feorik carved the sign of the Watcher in a nearby trunk, facing the road.

Outraged, but powerless to exact revenge, Feorik scoured the ground around the victims. It seemed the beasts went back across the road after dumping the bodies. Feorik tracked them. Tulane and Rasoric kept an alert watch as the ranger concentrated on the wet ground. "I have you now!" Feorik exclaimed as he found clear signs of the larger goblin pack. Following their trail, Feorik discovered that they had rested on a low wooded rise with a view of the road to the south. They must have seen the men coming and ambushed them. All three felt a twinge of vulnerability as they looked out over where they too were recently so visible to unseen eyes. 

But the goblins were gone now. They had disposed of their prey and moved on north following the road a distance through the trees. The storm had stripped many of the leaves from the deciduous trees. Concluding that following the goblins would be safer than risking ambush on the road, Feorik concentrated hard on keeping up with the trail using every bit of knowledge Aiden imparted to him that morning on tracking in the rain. Fortunately this trail was much fresher than that of the pair Aiden discovered, and there were many more goblins. Still being wary of running into the goblins they dogged and having to pick their way through the stony ground covered with slick fallen leaves, the going was slow.

The rain quieted to a heavy drizzle then came and went as the overcast sky rolled over the upraised branches of the trees. The gray sky grew darker as yet again the trio was caught in the forest. None of them had been to Tir so no one had any idea how far away they might be. They assumed they could make it to the village if they used the road, but they all expected the nocturnal goblins to be watching between them and Tir. They decided it was best to use the light they had left to find shelter. Feorik scouted ahead to make sure the goblins were not close while Rasoric and Tulane explored the forest nearby. 

A ridge of rock rose out of the ground to the east. Approaching cautiously they found a small cave dug out at the base. It was vacant, but had been used before. A leaf filled mattress had been torn up at the back of the hollow, and a rusted through iron pan rested the ashes of a fire pit.It was dry and the leave were good kindling to get a fire going that dried enough wood to keep them warm. They were hungry though. They had eaten all their lunches thinking they would make Tir by evening. Now they sat hunched around a fire in a dirty hermit's cave trying not to visualize the grisly murders.

[9.3] The Ruins

Georan joined the sulking Spencer a few moments after he had placed his order with Sara, a heavy set woman much older than Pamela. Spencer just sat looking distant and confused. Georan look at him curiously then said, "Sirilyr found a cleric of Lugh in that grave. He got some items of it and reburied it." 

"What is the significance?" inquired Spencer. His aura of confusion seemed less. Georan shrugged. 

"I'm worried about Sirilyr," Georan added after a pause. "He's getting too paranoid. I'm thinking maybe that might be some effect of the 'curse' everyone was talking about. Perhaps the 'curse' is some sort of mind altering magic. You did notice he was easily affected by the priestess' spell." 

"Not you, too..." Spencer began. But at the thought of the scuffle upstairs, Spencer suddenly stopped with his mouth agape. He looked as if he had something else to say, but he did not continue. After a few moments in this silly posture, he simply leaned back in his chair and showed no sign that anyone had spoken at all.

"Something is going on that isn't natural." Sara returned and took Georan's order. When she left Georan pulled out some writing materials and proceeded to write a note. Sirilyr and Brian exited the common room while Georan wrote. Spencer leaned forward to read what Georan is recording on the paper.

"Just a letter to Durrant, telling him about the ruins, and warning him of Sirilyr," Georan told him. Then he sealed it with a blob of wax, "I'm going to give this the Canon Linda." He excused himself and went to ask Sara which room the priestesses were in.

Georan knocked lightly. Storn opened the door a suspicious crack then opened it a bit wider when he recognized the mage. He remained silent. Georan could smell a pungent incense burning and could see Mellody and Linda seated facing each other, eyes closed, singing softly. "Could I speak with Linda?" Storn shook his head. 

Georan said in a low voice, "I would ask a favor of you then. When you see Durrant could you please give him this note. Also, a word of caution, Sirilyr seems to be getting extremely paranoid. I would recommend you keep a watch on him during your journey in case he snaps again."

"Of course," the paladin took the sealed letter, and Georan went back to Spencer.

Done eating, Spencer announced he was going to pick up some rations and supplies. Ziret like Bilcoven was in disrepair and full of empty buildings, but at least some attempt was made to cover the decay. Within the surrounding palisade, also in dire need of attention, the roads were crowded with tightly packed rows of buildings. They found a square with a few open markets open and the pleasant smell of a brewery wafting from nearby. Spencer entered a general store replete with many dried meats and cheese logs dangling from overhead hooks. The proprietor and his wife and a friend stepped from a back room and eyed their customers a bit suspiciously for moment, but quickly smiled and welcomed them. 

The skinny shop had two racks of crude wooden and pottery flatware, cups, pots, pans, utensils, and other household goods. There was also other items, boxes, baskets, jars of pickled things, buds of spices, dried berries, and candle wax among them. Spencer and Georan perused politely awhile before gathering up the few things they wanted including a length of rope. The woman smiled warmly as she collected their coins and dropped them in her apron pocket.

They left and wandered the village a bit longer, walking by the brewery, and by what must have been the mayor's mansion. People were about, but generally kept away from them. They were all too used to such treatment, and all too tired of it. They headed for the gate, glad to get away. "Think we'll need anything to find an entrance to that temple?" Georan asked thinking about the day ahead.

"Who knows?"Spencer said tersely, not looking at Georan.He walked single-mindedly toward the stables.He quickly prepared Praedarus, encouraging Georan to hurry. On their way out, they spotted Brian and Sirilyr at target practice on the small list between the palisade and buildings but passed by without drawing attention to themselves. They proceeded the short way west down the main road toward the little used track that led south to the cemeteries, marked with a skull leering from a niche carved in a large tree. They could see Arnough's cart and escorts moving west down the road ahead, but Georan and Spencer took the track that would return them to the iron gate. 

The trip was much more pleasant under the bright sun in a cloudless sky.The ominous feel of the dark woods was gone, now the dormant trees and interspersed evergreens had a peaceful air. Spencer set a quick pace to the cemetery and said nothing on the way there. He paused only once or twice at opportune vantage points, scanning the landscape hastily. They arrived at the iron gate and looked upon the leaf strewn track beyond. 

After a brief struggle over the imposing obstacle, they were walking south along the track through sprinkled sunlight and shade. Their horses nickered behind them as they progressed out of sight into the trees. They came to the region of gravestones that had drawn them off the track the day before. They again left the road to the east toward the structure hidden from view by the tangled trees.The structure rose starkly in the sunlight. 

The two spent the morning and into the afternoon climbing, inspecting, and drawing the structure. From its size, they judged that there could indeed be chambers within. Spencer tapped the stones, but the blocks were thick and did not sound differently from one to the next. No loose or counterbalanced stones were found that might lead to any interior rooms. They could not budge the blocks on the sides, nor the etched slabs that formed the top platform. Spencer almost broke his knife and staff trying to move them. Collecting stout limbs from the surrounding forest proved unsuccessful as they broke under their less restrained efforts. 

They could move some of the smaller stones of the steps on the southern face revealed only bulky blocks below. Frustrated, they broke for a meal sitting on the ancient monument. Spencer then silently picked at his sketches and map, adding small details here and there. Georan dug out his notes and look through them. After a while he grunted, "The way this is going I'm going to need to buy more paper." 

"Let your magic get us in here," Spencer joked wryly.

Turning to Spencer he asked, "Do you think we should follow the track and see where it leads?"

Spencer sighed in frustration."A little, I suppose.But we could wander this place for days and get nowhere.I think a talk with Viatteni would be more productive." Spencer got a look and stood taking steps to the summit. Georan stepped up, curious, behind him. Spencer reached the top and spun around looking intently at the grounds through the leafless branches. Seeing Georan's curious look he answered, "Perhaps this structure only marks the place of a more expansive underground system."Trees towered another twenty feet over the summit of the thirty foot high structure. 

Seeing nothing that indicated a place for an entrance. Spencer then climbed down to examine the base of the structure with Georan. They spent a short time wandering around, digging through the underbrush before giving up. Annoyed Spencer paused for a few moments, his head in his hands. Suddenly, he looked up and cursed once at the top of his lungs getting Georan's attention.He returned to the ziggurat and, less than gently, he packed his things. "Let's head down that track."

They did and cooled down in the afternoon sun. The track ran south and suddenly the surrounding gravestones ended as if some invisible border had been set. A mile or so later, the track came between two stone obelisks set back twenty or so feet. Large trees had grown all around lending to an impression that the monuments had been there long before. The obelisks were two feet wide, square in cross section, and tapered down to a foot as they rose ten feet above. All sides were etched with yet another set of symbols, these runic like Brendil's common writing, but dissimilar.

Spencer left the transcriptions to Georan and he wandered a short way in all directions. Aside from the obelisks, the surrounding forest were mundane. The terrain was mostly flat. Spencer climbed a tree to see if he could get a view of any landmarks. As he peered around from high up, he caught site of a brightly lit stone pyramid through the tree tops to their south. He judged the structure to be between two and three miles distant. 

Spencer descended and returned to tell Georan, "There's another pyramid two or three miles south of here. I'd like to go."

Georan sighed and looked at the sun to gauge the time "This place seems pretty large. Let's go see the other pyramid while there's still light. I would rather be outside the gates come nightfall. Think we can still make Tir?"

Spencer seemingly anxious to go, "Maybe, but I want to see Viatteni."

[9.4] Goblins Outside Tir

To be safe, Feorik suggested they keep watch throughout the night. Complete darkness descended under the overcast, blinding the three men stuck in the woods. Sometime during the night the clouds blew away leaving cool winter air to dry the land. No one slept well on the gritty cold earth with terrible thoughts and anticipation about what lay ahead rolling through their minds. At the first hint of light they were eager to be on the way. Since they were there, they decided to look out from atop the ridge. The climb was not bad. 

The summit was flat and supported a few trees and the crumbling stone foundations of several buildings. The forests of Marchy were filled with the ruins of the "Old Ones", elves that lived there long ago. Most people were superstitious about the places and stayed away from them.Feorik had encountered many such sites, but he noticed his companions were a bit uncomfortable. They all had been told stories about the ruins being haunted with spirits or mischievous sprites that would make their lives miserable. From atop the hill they could see over the forest and even make out the line the road cut through the trees. No sign of goblins or of Tir; they were not as near as they had hoped.

They returned to track the goblins again. The creatures had steadily paralleled the road so even when Feorik could not find signs for awhile they pressed on. Their perseverance paid off a couple hours later, just as the sun was rising above the eastern treeline, when Tulane spotted a goblin on a hill north of them. It was leaning on a tree looking out to the west and northwest, probably at the road. Creeping closer to the hill, they spotted two other sentries in the trees at the base of hill and five crude canvass tents. The sentries hung in the shadows of the trees on either side of the encampment. They did not seemed pleased that the sun gleamed so brightly with not a cloud in the sky. 

Feorik whispered to Tulane and Rasoric as they lay prone, watching the Goblins. "Most will be asleep, for it is day.They can't see well in the brightness, but they can still hear and smell as well as any sewer rat." Feorik continued, eager and excited at the prospect to bathe his hands in Goblin blood before long."If we approach with the wind in our faces and keep quiet and low, then we should be able to get close. If we can silence the sentries, then perhaps we can slit the throats of the rest."

"I'll sneak up on'm," Rasoric whispered back looking very eager himself. "Tell me which one."

"I don't know if we can sneak up on the one up there," Tulane whisphered indicating the hilltop guard. "I can hit him with this though," he shook his javelin lightly, "when you take out the other two."

"Ah good idea," Feorik nodded. "Lets back up a bit and make a plan."They slowly retreated out of sight, but continued to speak quietly. "Here take mine too," Feorik handed Tulane his javelins. "Circle around the east side out of sight and come on the hill south and east of the watcher," Feorik gestured. "Ras, sneak up low and quiet on the eastern sentry, I'll take the western."

"We have to take these out quickly, if they wake the others before we fell them, just run away and meet back on the road where we left the bodies."

"What if they spot you?" Tulane asked.

Feorik set his eye on Rasoric to emphasize his point and judge the rogue's resolve, "Shout a battle cry and we'll all charge our quarry. But do not linger if the others awake too soon, or if they have unseen allies." Feorik let the plan sink in then said, "When we finish with the sentries, go for the tents."

"Watch for my strike," Feorik told Tulane and Rasoric, "and mind the leaves. It is good they are still wet, but step softly and slowly anyway." Tulane nodded and began his flanking by heading east-northeast. "We'll give him a few moments," Feorik said to Rasoric. They waited listening to their heartbeats quicken. Then they split west and east and slunk north toward their prey into the gentle breeze wafting down the hillside.

Feorik felt the cold wetness of the morning ground as he crawled near, belly to the ground. He looked over the root of a crooked tree at his victim. It stood leaning on its spear, Mine?, watching to the west, but occasionally looking up to the hill, and only throwing a glance to the south and over to the tents rarely. Feorik watched and waited until it looked up the hill, and slipped like a shadow over the root and onto the sunlit ground between him and the goblin. He let his cloak billow over his crouched form and he watched for signs his motion had been heard. It hadn’t.

Rasoric had also steadily stalked his unknowing prey. It faced southeast leaning on a tree with its short sword tip in the ground. Mostly it kept its eyes closed as the sun tipped over the eastern trees, but occasionally it squinted a glance out east or south. Rasoric crept up to a tree just southwest of the slacking sentry. He watched Feorik moving stealthily toward his prey on the other side of the camp. Then Feorik moved into the sunlight between he and the goblin; Rasoric thought the attack was on and peered over at his target.

It leaned there oblivious, so Rasoric made his move. But the new leather armor creaked and caught the ear of the sentry. Rasoric froze. He and it stared at each other, then a fanged grin spread across its pasty face as it pulled the sword into position. "Gcha!" it called and triggered Rasoric into action. He sprung at it with the heavy bladed throwing knife in hand for melee. Despite its short height, the thing was stocky and muscled, and fast. It beat Rasoric's stab with a parry that also jabbed its blade up along the sleeve of his armor.Pain and blood ran from the wound [2 HP] and Rasoric staggered back.Somehow he managed to keep the knife in hand despite the pain; and, had he not parried the beasts furious trusts, it would have surely scored more often [2 HP]. 

Feorik was three bounds from being upon the diminutive monster, but he had to wait for it to glance up the hill again lest he get a spear between his charge and the goblin. He hoped Tulane was in position, he could not image it taking the guard longer than it had taken Feorik to creep silently this close. Feorik waited, peering out sidewise from the slit his hood made in the awkward looking but measured contortion that may hide him in plain sight should the thing happen to glance his way.

Then the sound from the east. Feorik's victim spun to see, his eyes passing to fast to notice the encloaked ranger. Worry sunk Feorik's heart, but he sprung into action suddenly leaping out at the goblin. It turned its head as the motion caught its attention, but only its eyes reacted to the vision of terror it beheld. The ground transformed into an eye patched human sneering with hatred and sprouting a glinting blade nearly as long as it was tall. The frightened goblin did not even move the weapon in its hand before the sword arced up and down slicing through the dirty hides and drawing a red line across its pasty yellowish chest.

A high pitched gasp erupted from it and it awkwardly spun its spear to wallop its assailant, but Feorik's sword easily parried the blow and he back handed the blade through the creatures throat. Blood spilled down the blade as the goblin gurgled and died with Feorik's sword embedded in its jaw bone.He kicked it off and looked around to see the others. Tulane was running away from the hill. Worried, Feorik sought out the hilltop watcher. It was staggering with a javelin embedded in its side, it collapsed as Feorik watched. Puzzled the ranger looked to find the retreating city guard.

Rasoric defended himself until suddenly the beast threw his arms wide and looked in terror upon Rasoric who did not hesitate to stab his knife into its vulnerable chest. It collapsed and Rasoric saw the javelin embedded in its back.At that point Tulane was twenty feet away, but already readying another javelin to launch toward the camp. Rasoric looked west too and saw a goblin emerging from a nearby tent sword in hand. Too far for an accurate toss, Rasoric readied the bloody knife to throw as he approached the squinting goblin. 

Seeing them step toward the bustling tents snapped Feorik back into action; sword in hand, he moved to the goblin emerging from the tent nearest him. But as all three neared the emerging goblins, the brightly-lit blue sky dimmed rapidly to near night. Rasoric, frightened, slung the blade, but missed the thing. He grabbed for his club hanging at his side as the goblin approached in the twilight. His fear getting the best of him, Rasoric found himself again in a desperate defense that ended when he watched the goblin's dirty blade slip into his torso [6 HP] and he watched clouds of darkness fill his eyes. 

Feorik's goblin barred a fanged snarl at him and hefted a battle axe as he prepared to melee the human. Feorik continued his approach but his mind puzzled over the darkness and was not focused. The goblin parried his blow. Weapons temporarily locked, Feorik looked down into its no longer squinting eyes and saw the reflection of his own hatred. Then suddenly he was assaulted by another awakened goblin and found himself in a losing position, batting away the stabbing sword trusts of one and the heavy axe blows of the other; some of which scored [2 & 4 HP]. Strangely he heard chanting from somewhere. Rasoric knew he was on the ground and bleeding, but consciousness slipped away. He was listening to a faint, very odd chant that filled him with dread.

The eerie words seemed to infect Feorik and Tulane's minds driving out their thoughts, concentration, the burning drive for revenge. The short, vile creatures seemed excited, eagerly slamming their weapons as fast as they could, clumsy, but furious and unrelenting. Feorik kept his longer weapon moving and tried to keep the chanting from overwhelming his consciousness. He managed to keep their blows at bay and to get his hand axe into his left hand. The inhuman words kept flowing, but with a weapon for each attacker, Feorik felt safer. Tulane dispatched his opponent and hear something from behind; a goblin was rushing at him, but stumbled short.

Sleene and Delak had made it to the top of the hill chasing a fleeing goblin that had either seen them or heard the battle.They looked down on a very odd sight.The goblin they followed approached the foot of the south side of the hill where despite the rising sun, a circle of dimly lit terrain existed as if lit by a night sky. In the out-of-place twilight figures were battling, but it was difficult to make out details within the unnaturally darkened area. Their goblin was running toward two engaged combatants, it was obvious one was much taller than the other and he was unaware the goblin approached from behind. 

Delak extracted two heavy headed arrows from his quiver and stuck them into the ground. Sleene saw they were engraved with runes, but Delak moved so quickly she only glimpsed them for a moment. Sleene whipped her head to follow the first arrow to its target; the goblin had just entered the darkened area and took it in his back left shoulder. He skidded off balance but alive. Sleene heard another arrow loosed, but Delak had aimed elsewhere. "Damn," the Watcher cursed. Sleene spotted his target, two goblins were headed down the hill to their west toward the battle.

Not only could Feorik not take his eyes away from the flailing goblins' weapons, but also the dark of night that had descended over the camp obscured his vision. Gloomy light filtered into the unnaturally dark area from what should have been a bright cloudless morning. The ranger could not see how Tulane and Rasoric faired nor the source of the chanting. Glimpsing the full moon rising above the trees he faced to the east, Feorik comprehended that it was actually the sun. Unnerved, he barely managed to keep parrying. Then the goblins jumped back suddenly and as Feorik went to take his advantage, a sharp pain hit his back with force almost driving him to the ground. 

Eyes watering with pain, Feorik knew he was hit hard with a spear. The grinning goblin with the battle axe lifted it high to put an end to the human. But Feorik managed to get his balance and sweep his hand axe at the executioner. It caught the blade with its elbow and staggered back. Feorik was back on his toes staring with a burning eye of hate at both who were stunned the human was still alive. Feorik painful back stepped and noticed two spears one nearby stuck at an angle, the other at his feet. Taking quick glances behind him while threatening the two in front, Feorik did not see, smell, or hear who had thrown the spears. Just as the two before him resumed their onslaught, Feorik made out the goblin chanter on the other side of the tent the axe goblin emerged from. 

Frustrated with stubborn humans Sleene said sarcastically, "Delak, you didn't get that one."She just wanted to put an end to the battle so she could get back unhurt by events not her concern. Spotting the knot of dim figures on the east side of the gloomy circle, she calmed her mind and reached down to the earth, feeling it's seething life. Finding what she wanted, she gave a little twist and spoke the strange syllables Dricka had thought her, she did not know what they meant if anything, but she knew they encouraged the rapid, wild growth of grass and roots. She then closed gripped her hands tightly and looked to her targets calling for the plants to bind them. She felt the power flow from within her into the ground. She released the plants and, still squatting, let out a loud howl hoping to draw the attention of Nip and Snap

Acting mostly on instinct, Feorik knew his lifeblood was flowing freely from multiple wounds and he was no shape to continue.Like a wounded animal, he howled mightily in frustration, anger and pain. As he stepped back defensively to flee, his feet were suddenly bound. Desperate and fearful he looked down to see a mass of weeds and roots entwining higher and higher up his legs. More magic, he cursed. Panic welled inside Feorik's head with visions of himself lying dead in the dirt, ears and heart removed.He struggled mightily against the tugging grasses, almost wailing with the pain. He barred his teeth and weapons at his slayers. But they too were being entangled by the matted grasses and weeds of their campsite. 

A wolf howled nearby, and the chanting stopped. The dim figure seemed to be struggling as well, "Iga, Iga!" it shouted. Fearing more spells, Feorik yelled, "Retreat!" at the top of his lungs, hoping Rasoric and Tulane were in a position to understand and escape. As the binding plants held him tightly and fortunately out of range of the goblins, Feorik craned his neck for signs of the spear chuckers, but saw no sign of them. He cursed and eyed the struggling goblins hatefully. Small hope grew among the hammering fear of death and mutilation. What is this?Feorik thought pulling his legs futilely.More trickery? Or someone helping?Druids?

Sleene and Delak heard the uproar her spell caused. Two shouts, one a call for retreat in the common tongue, the other a high pitched exclaimation in the goblin tongue. The goblin Delak shot was backing out of the dark circle with the human close behind. Delak let another arrow loose at it, but it landed wide. The surprised human paused trying to find the source of the arrows, the little wounded goblin scurried away, first arrow still embedded. The goblins on the hill turned and fled as well. The human ducked back into the darkened area and vanished.

Tulane seeing the arrow in the goblin, let it go and turned to find Rasoric. The boy was stabbed and lying unconscious holding the bleeding wound. Tulane rolled him on his back and bundled some of the brown cloak the old druid had given them into a compress to stop the bleeding. "He's down Watcher!" Tulane called angrily to Feorik. Tulane's voice came from across the camp, but Feorik could not see him in the gloom. 

Feorik called back, "Tulane, I'm bound by the grasses!" Desperate to kill the two nearby goblins lest the magic fade, he hurled his hand axe at the nearest goblin to him who collapsed with the blade in his chest. The plants quickly entangled it. The other goblin stared dumbly then struggled vigorously as the human glared and grinned evilly while pulling out a knife. Feorik let the goblin's fear build as he prepared the shot over his shoulder. But just as Feorik slung the blade, the goblin yelped, lunged, and fell into the groping plants. The blade sailed by harmlessly. 

Snarling, Feorik bent to try and retrieve a nearby spear. As if sensing his heat or life force tendrils reached up and grabbed his hand. Before he could jerk back, the thin but woody roots and solid stems and leaves had him firmly up to the elbow bent in an awkward position that triggered spasms in his wounded back muscles. Involuntarily, he dropped to his knees with a wince and was quickly imprisoned to mid-chest by weaving and twisting plants. 

Sleene walked down the hill with a heavy sigh.She looked around as she approached the mysterious darkness and shook her head."By the Hills," she muttered to herself, What could cause this? 

"Who goes there? In the name of the March, it is Delak of Tir."

A man's voice called out from the western edge of the darkness, stressed with pain, "I am Feorik, Watcher of Dir.Beware! Goblins are in these tents, and two are near me entrapped in these grasses. One is a shaman!Kill it quickly, it has caused the very scrub to engulf me, but it seems to have backfired, somehow!"

Another voice called out from the south, it sounded desperate, "Help, Delak!Lady! My friend his down, he's bleeding like a river!"

Delak's voice was steady, "Fear not, the other Goblins have fled. Sleene," he called to someone else, "can you slay the shaman?I will help him, that sounds serious."

Sleene was staring at the nearby slain goblins and the mass of darkened space and was not paying much attention until asked to kill the shaman. She didn’t think so, "Delak, not without entering the entanglement.Can you kill it from outside?"

"Not without some light to see. Here I have a torch," he set down his bow, slung his pack to the ground, and kneeled to rummage. He pulled it and a flint and steel out then unwrapped the leather off the oil soaked brand. It took but a moment to light.The orange light fought back the darkness in the immediate area; the far side was still shrouded, but they could see the soldier bending over young man holding a blood soaked rag. "Feorik, we'll see to your friend then take care of the goblins. Can you wait?"

Feorik had given up his agonizing struggle against the entangling vines that had forced his wounds more open, he could wait for Ras, "Yeah." He saw the torch light held high, but its light was feeble.

Sleene and Delak approached the soldier and looked upon his friends wound.Delak paled as he bent closer. "This wound is beyond me. Can you help him Sleene?"

She sighed and bent to the stricken man.She moved the soldier's hand, and a gout of blood welled up. He was obviously grievously injured."But who are you that you should be saved?" she asked herself quietly.She shrugged and began a chant to focus healing magic upon the wound. When she finished, the wound had mostly closed, the bleeding was but a trickle that would soon clot. She sat back and let Delak clean and bandage the wound. At some point, the Delak had handed the soldier the torch. 

He was smiling at her. It was a grim sight. A young man, hands red with his friend's blood, mud or other battle splatter splotched and smeared on his face and clothes. The torchlight lit his face, but behind was a sky of blackness that should have been vibrant blue, "Tulane," he said offering her a sticky hand up, "Thank you." Sleene refused the offer, rubbing the boy's blood from her own hands onto the grass. She grabbed her staff and pushed herself up looking darkly at Tulane, who retracted his hand with a slight hint of embarrassment. The lovely druid's attention had simply moved passed him to their curious surroundings, which she obviously considered to be more important.

"Let him rest, I think he'll be okay," Delak announced. Standing, he said, "Let's end this." He walked to where he dropped his pack and picked up his bow. "Damn," he cursed as he drew an arrow. Tulane followed with the torch and Sleene watched them curiously. "Call out Feorik, your friend is okay." Feorik began a bar song tinged with pain.Delak smiled at the other Watcher's humor, and started cautiously toward the unpleasant sound. He tested his steps unsure where the plants would start to clutch at him. 

"Bastard's 'r playing possum," Feorik called out has he saw the light nearing.

Tulane extended the torch to Sleene who again had lapsed into mild awe at the surreal and unexpected events unfolding. "My spears," Tulane said when she hesitated. Sleene took it, not really sure why, and Tulane went and extracted two javelins from the corpses of two of his victims.

"Bring the light," Delak barked as he neared the edge of its fluttering radiance. Sleene grew irritated, but she approached the Tirian. As she stepped forth, an angry tittering voice spoke out loudly. Then the twang of Delak's bow punctuated the tirade. The goblin squawked and was silent. "The other?" Delak called to Feorik. Tulane moved in front of Sleene on her left javelin shouldered.

"'Ware the weeds. We're both 'mongst them on the other side of the tent betwixt us," Feorik could she the shadow of the Watcher flutter in front of the torchlight. 

"Release the spell," Delak told Sleene, "It'll not out run my arrow. You, the tents," he indicated to Tulane who nodded and proceeded to impale and knock over the tents in his vicinity. No goblins scurried out. Sleene uttered a brief prayer of thanks to the plants and released the energy that caused their wild growth. As the tension in the woody stalks and nettled weeds subsided Feorik fell heavily to the earth.He tried to stand immediately, but a wave of nausea and weakness washed over him. He could see he was covered in blood, could feel the numb other-worldly feeling of shock as he started to shake violently.His wounds oozed blood.Feorik looked about.

The darkness was still there, it was very unsettling, like someone had pulled a curtain over the sun. The goblin was not impaired by injury and it quickly extracted itself by crawling then getting on its feet. "It flees!" Feorik shouted. He began to slowly right himself while watching the goblin. It turned to face the humans, and Feorik could see the fear in the glints of its eyes.

"Na. Na. Na. Na!" it annunciated shaking its head. It was not looking at Feorik though; its eyes were locked on the point of a strongly pulled arrowhead. "Nag!" It ran. The arrow hit the side of its head before it had turned a quarter.

"Ha Ha!" Feorik rejoiced now standing. Even Sleene gave a slight smile at the sight. Sleene recognized him from her short time in Dir earlier this year. He was the one-eyed Watcher; orphaned and half-blinded during a goblin raid. A loner. He turned to Delak with a toothy smile, "Well done."

The killing over, Sleene ignored the celebration of carnage and went to find the shaman Feorik warned them of passing the Watchers as they exchanged some ritualistic hand greeting. It was not hard to determine; the goblin's filthy robe was grotesquely decorated with bones, insect carapaces. Worse, around its neck hung a string of dried creatures or parts, but four recently removed human ears had been added. Suppressing her disgust, she patted down the corpse finding a pouch under its robe. The odor was horrific as she lifted the vestment. She held her breath as she pulled the pouch off. It had some odd bits and a few copper coins. The druid dropped the pouch back on the creature's chest unpilfered.

Standing Sleene looked around.She walked to the center of the camp looking to see if the sheep slaughter is related specifically to this encampment. "Hey, bring the light back," Delak called to her. They were standing over where Feorik had been entangled at the edge of the camp. Sleene had grown use to the strange darkness.She approached them, "Feorik, do you know what caused this...whatever it is?" She gestured at the dark sky."It is most curious but I don't quite know what to make of it."

"It came on suddenly has we attacked the camp," he answered. "That one," he indicated the shaman, "began to chant as we battled." She looked down to the largest goblin, hand axe embedded in the center of its chest. "You saved us, I thank you, Delak.And you, Sleene."Feorik cast a worried glance towards Rasoric unseen in the gloom of the other end of the camp. "How is he?"

"He'll live," was Delak's reply."You three attacked this camp?"

Feorik nodded, and congratulated Tulane on his bravery, and aim.The young guard nodded blankly.Feorik began binding his own wounds with Tulane's help as he told a brief tale of tracking them from Bilcoven and Sola. Tulane was quiet, and looked to be in shock as he moved slowly.He was hurt as well, but not badly.The spear wound hurt terribly, it felt like it had scraped bone, and it had begun to swell.Feorik cast a nervous glance at the sky and asked Sleene, "When will the sun return?"

Sleene had bent to see what the large goblin carried. She stood with its pouch and dumped its contents into her hand, "It is actual only 'round the camp. Ten steps away and the sky's as blue as ever." She had a hand full of grimy coins, and stones. She brushed the grease of some of them and discovered some were gold and silver, and one of the stones was actually a polished but otherwise unfinished pink gem. 

"Feorik, you say you have been following the goblins since Bilcoven?Why? You are from Dir. 

"It’s a long story, but they're following that caravan and we're to warn them. But they killed two men between here and Sola; mutilated them." He looked hard at Sleene. He did not speak it, but she saw that it was his vengeance that had been served. 

"They may have mutilated sheep just over the ridge," Delak reasoned. "One of them ran from us to the camp."

"Delak.We have an appointment and we are quite late.Feorik, Tulane, I am currently engaged in trying to keep the populace of Tir from committing mass suicide by running off on a goblin hunt.What I have seen here further convinces me that there is more going on than goblins.I would appreciate it if you would accompany me back to town and tell your story. Perhaps you may talk sense into the people where I have failed."

Feorik and Tulane's wounds bound, they nodded. "Can we move Rasoric?" Tulane asked. 

"Carefully," Delak suggested. 

"What of this place?" Feorik asked. Feorik looked for his weapons but could not find his tossed knife in the gloom.

"This magic can not last long," Delak said, "Let us return later. Sleene is correct, the villagers are preparing to rush of into the woods. Perhaps to face the tribe these goblins were returning to."

"I'll be along," Feorik said as he bent and extracted the axe from the large goblin with a crack. He then grabbed the thing's greasy hair and walloped off its scalp.

Sleene gasped and fought off an urge to retch at the sight.Her eyes turned dark and hard."So, you too must mutilate the dead? You have a private trophy case dedicated to those who hurt you?" 

Feorik was surprised and somewhat unsure how to react. Standing with dripping scalp in one and ax in the other he said, "There is a bounty."

"For a bit of gold then?" The druid shook her head in disgust and said, "Not what I would expect of a Watcher," as she turned and strode off to search the central area of the camp. Delak shrugged and followed, but Tulane put his hand on Feorik's shoulder and said, "We do need those bits of gold."Sleene's words had stung and Feorik suppressed a red wave of rage that surprised him.He muttered under his breath, "You wouldn't understand," as he gripped the axe shaft so tightly that his middle knuckle popped.He nodded to Tulane and set about the bloody work.

Sleene looked briefly around the central area the tents surrounded. There was no sign of the sheep organs, but they had all been together moving in a circle there Delak observed. They both had visions of a goblin ritual of bloody devouring; they did not speak of it and headed away from the camp. Delak went to retrieve the second special arrow he had launched. Sleene stopped, knelt, and put her right hand to the earth, muttering a prayer of thanks and then another of healing for this desecrated spot. Finished, she rose and quickly followed Delak, then waited for the others.

Meanwhile Feorik and Tulane moved from goblin to goblin despite their painful injuries and collected their bloody scalps and dirty coins. Working on adrenaline, the energies of youth, and the satisfaction of bloody revenge they finished the task. Sleene and Delak had moved out of the camp by the time they had finished. They went to Rasoric and managed to lift him unconscious between them. They hobbled north, and just as Sleene had said, the darkness faded and they entered the bright light of day. Behind them was a wobbling dome of darkness over the goblins' camp rising into the sky. 

They had killed eight goblins. Tulane retrieved the javelin from one on the hill while Feorik held Rasoric. Feeling dizzy, Feorik passed the burden back to Tulane and pulled out his waterskin and drank deeply. He fed some to Rasoric who involuntarily took it. Incoherently he said, "Not in the Realm of the Gods," before swooning again. Tulane took some water and they continued up the hill. Where Sleene and Delak waited.

"We ought to burn the place to ash," Feorik suggested. "A fit end to filth and vermin," he spat.

"We can come back later, I must bring news of this to Orinden. He prepares to enter the woods northwest now, perhaps we can dissuade him," Delak said then he and Sleene led them down the far side of the hill.

Feorik patted the mat of scalps dangling from his belt and the pouch of coins they had pilfered, "You two deserve some of this." 

Delak kept walking.

[9.5] The Road to Tir

Sirilyr galloped until the pilgrims were out of sight behind him. The woods around him were comforting, peaceful despite the mysteries that surrounded them. Arnough's cart cut deep ruts in the still muddy road, it was a fresh trail and it would not be long before they were upon the merchant. His shield slung across his back and riding low in the saddle Sirilyr studied the ground and the treeline around him. The unfamiliar mount seemed to read his mind and kept a brisk but steady wald that did not jostle its concentrating rider. Sirilyr enjoyed the solitude away from the prying and doubting questions of those who seemed to presume too much, and accept too little to him. 

There was no sign of passage for next hour or so when Sirilyr finally saw the merchant and his crew ahead.He took the time to rest himself and his mount, eating some tasteless rations and exploring the sweet smelling autumn woods. The only sound his footsteps rustling the damp fallen leaves. What do you hide? He thought as he walked, touching the dormant trees. He then sat on the sunny, dry side of the road eyes closed and leaned back so the sun could impart what little heat it could and listened. He heard the sounds of the pilgrims animals approaching and opened his eyes. Before they were close enough to call out, he mounted and rode on.

Sirilyr approached Arnough who manned the wagon after nodding at the kindred rear guards."All's clear," Arnough announced, "A fine day for travel." 

"Aye. The others'll be along shortly. No troubles." Said the ranger as he rode alongside the merchant's wagon. "Have ye any scouts out ahead o' ye?" inquired Sirilyr. 

Arnough told him he had a man ahead, but the ranger did not care. He was gone with nothing else to say. He trotted alone until he spotted the forward guard and settled on a gate that kept in between the front scouts and the main body. He maintained his distance as the pilgrims rejoined the caravan, watching the sides of the road for danger and trying to avoid any further dealings with the religious group. Several hours passed. He was surprised to see how similar Arnough's guards were to Durrant's. Periodically the forward scout allowed the caravan to come within sight of hand signals that Sirilyr was able to understand. He even recognized that Arnough was calling for a rest.

Sirilyr joined Arnough's guards for the break, but completely ignored the pilgrims. In turn they left him alone. He was exceptionally friendly with the guards, playing with Feint and sending the dog to growl playfully at the gruff men. As they ate, Sirilyr mentioned the voluminous amounts of mud to be found around Tir. "Are ye travlin' light?" He knew they were not from the deep cuts the wheels were making in the roadway, but there was some hesitation before he got a negative answer from one.

Another said, with a glance at the first, "We bin in the wilds fer months; those pi'neers have nuthin' better ta do than carve trees and shape mud. We'll prob'ly ne'r sell the crap." Sirilyr judged the value of the information to be somewhat dubious, not that he did not respect the guards wanting to mask the fact that there were probably a chest or two full of coins weighing down the carts. 

The mid-afternoon break over, Sirilyr resumed his solitary ride through the pleasant forest road. Feint padded along silently behind the horse, apparently understanding his friends need to be alone. The ranger watched the woods and the guards. He liked the ordered methods of Arnough's group; it made him feel, if not safe, at least that he was among professionals that would stick together in battle. 

Late in the afternoon, Sirilyr noticed footprints that the lead had overlooked. The road had turned southward and Sirilyr assumed they were getting close to Tir. Someone, a heavy man, or one in armor, had come from the south and walked alongside the dirt road in the grass. It had to have been yesterday, in or shortly after the rains, because the prints had sunk into the earth despite the grass and weeds. 

Sirilyr backtracked a short distance, following the man's prints that he had missed. The prints led him to where the man had entered the woods to the west between scraggly bushes. Feint jogged up and let his tongue loll out of mouth while wagging his tail. Sirilyr dismounted and examined the ground fending off Feint's assault of sloppy kisses."Ug, bad breath," Sirilyr gagged and pushed the dog away. Probably eatin' horse shit, he thought disgustedly. Returning his attention to the ground, Sirilyr noticed that the lead scout, Jerr, hadn't missed the trail after all. Sirilyr saw where he had ridden up and hopped off his horse to investigate. 

Sirilyr followed the man's path cautiously into the woods. He discovered a campsite not far in. It was abandoned and apparently Jerr had seen no threat and raised no alarm, but Sirilyr had other things than bandits to worry about. There had been two tents sheltering one or two people each during the rains yesterday. They had made a fire pit after the rains. There were heavier, bigger prints and smaller. Male and female; one or two of each. Other than a few burnt skewer sticks, they left no artifacts, but they did leave signs leading northwest into the forest.

Cautiously, Sirilyr circled the campsite in an ever-widening circle for about twenty minutes, but found no sign that the party had doubled back. Despite hearing the caravan approach on the road, the ranger followed the trail from the camp into the trees. He moved as fast as he could while leading the horse through the close trees. The group moved with purpose following no natural path that Sirilyr could recognize. Other than that, they were not careful hiding their passage. After ten minutes, Sirilyr headed back to the road.

Sirilyr emerged from the trees and galloped to catch up the to the caravan. He slowed his horse to a trot and rode up alongside of Brian. "Nice day fer a ride, no?" Sirilyr said, as he pulled up to the crossbowman with a friendly nod of his helmeted head. "Ye never told me how many o' those red and black garbed folks ye saw back at the inn, were there any females wit 'em?" He lightly inquired, casting a quick glance and smiling at the hound trotting at an easy lope to his left.

"There were four strange folk.Two women wearing all black.One man wearing all red.Another man in armor.Thy spoke little, wanted nothing to do with me.Their skin was pale as though they'd never seen the light of day.Have you seen their like before?"

Darvian slowed his horse and came alongside. "Probably hired muscle. The two ladies were very young too, and I didn't hear them saying even a word to anybody outside their small circle the whole evening," he added.

"I wonder if these pale-skinned people who love to travel at night have anything to do with the bad magic in the graveyards or the appearance of this unholy beast?I wish that I had kept a closer eye on them and seen where they went," Brian though aloud.

With furrowed brow, Sirilyr asked, "Darvian, ye know this area? If'n a body were ta head due northwest from where I came out o' the woods back there, what would they find?" 

Darvian looked a bit puzzled at the question, "I wouldn't know myself, Sir, I have never been out in that direction. But if you stay here for a moment I will go and ask Arnough, he knows the Marchy like his own pocket." Without further ado Darvian sped on his horse and quickly caught up to Arnough. A minute later he returned back to Sirilyr and Brian. "Arnough says that the only things you could find in this direction are woods and hills all up until the high mountains. No village or town worth the effort of a merchant. But why do you ask me, haven't you been out there before yourself?" Darvian asked with a quizzical look.

Squinting a moment in pondering thought, Sirilyr answered. "Ehmmm, me first time on this road. Ay've only walked a few minutes in, beyond that short distance, Ay've ne'er been. I walked around Tir a bit, but not past the rim o' that dreary place." With a scratch to the back of his head, the soldier yawned, "Ye say thar's no place fer a merchant ta go that way? What if'n I was a lost 'unter? Thar any shelter out tha' way?"

"Well let us ride up to Arnough and ask him," Darvian led the way.

The merchant, mindlessly driving his oxen, welcomed them and their query. "I been thinking of that very thing along the way. The woods 're littered with ruins; probly hermits' shelters too. Lotsa folks left the towns to forage in the woods when food was scarce."

"An' maybe when the game gave out, turned ta banditry?" The ranger inquired with a tilt of his head. Arnough pursed his lips and nodded.

Still riding nearby, Darvian mustered up his courage to ask the warrior a few questions. "Sirilyr, what is this 'dreary place around Tir' that seems to bother you so much? And has it anything to do with the fact that your two friends are not riding in our company today? What were their names again? Spencer and Georan, correct?"

Pausing to look at at him and hawk and spit, Sirilyr said pointedly. "Naw. Those two scholars can look after themselves, though I still believe Spencer to 'ave a problem o' the spiritual kind." 

Sirilyr continued, "This o' all o' the places I've been in Bilcoven, feels... blacker than any other. Maybe it's tha' monster I saw tha' night in the storm, maybe it's the strangeness o' the plagues, famine, an missin' folks. Maybe the 'eaviness o' in the air generated from all three. But right now, I'm most worried 'bout yer four black an' scarlet clad acquaintances from the inn. I know they 'ave 'eaded off tha' way." Nodding to the northwest, "They'd not stayed long after 'avin' run across ye an seen yer 'eavy load. They were none too friendly from wha' Brian 'as tol' me."

"After all o' the talk o' missin' bandits an' 'unters, I figure somet'in' or one 'as filled the void an taken over. They're careful 'bout leavin' no witnesses. Do ye see where I'm a goin' wit' this? We're a small group, an obviously carryin' weighty valuables. Wha'cha got, two maybe three chests o' coin sides yer wares? If'n it's possible ta do us in by goin' through them woods, then thar's a good chance we're gonna get 'it. 'ow soon ta Tir if'n we don't stop ta rest, an push the animals? We need ta join up wit' Durrant's crew as soon as we're able ta do it." Nodding to himself in soldierly thought, "Better chance o' stayin' alive tha' way."

Listening to Sirilyr's ideas Darvian shook his head, "Those people in red and black didn't look like bandits to me. They were not friendly and shy to speak to anybody, but they didn't look the murderous type. They much rather looked like some clerical people, two female priests and their bodyguards, very much like the company of our friend Brian here. Though I would not like to find out just exactly what deity they would be worshipping." Turning to Brian, Darvian added, "I hope you will not take offence, but the similarity of the travelling arrangements just struck me as remarkable."

With a brief smile and a quick shake of his head, Brian replied, "None taken.I'm sure you understand that the two women in that group were not friendly missionaries aiming to help the people of Bilcoven.As you suggest, they may be worshippers of some darker cult, and I think as such they may well be linked to this unholy monster." Storn had closed the distance between the priestesses and Arnough. Brian turned to him, "What think you Storn?You saw the four that night.Did they strike you as dangerous in any way?"

"Inexperienced. That can be dangerous."

After a smile at Darvian's comment about similarities which he himself had also thought, Sirilyr said, "It 'as been my experience tha' appearances can be deceiving." The ranger finished with a raise to one bushy eyebrow. 

"I think it may be of interest to find out where they went to, though I'd rather get to Tir first," Brian said.

"We're practically there," Arnough announced then his attention was drawn to the lead scout.Jerr was signaling a non-threat alert. "Eldun, Darvian, ride up and see what he wants." 

"Come along," Darvian told Sirilyr who probably wasn't going to wait for an invitation.

Jerr waited for them to come. "Tir's just over that ridge," he indicated a low wooded hill beyond a pasture sparsely populated with sheep and cows. Not that he had to, but he pointed out a muddy trail along the road from Tir, across the grass, and into the forest. A group of twenty or more men had made the trail. "Looks like a army passed," Jerr observed.

Eldun looked at Sirilyr, "A monster hunt?"

Darvian looked from Sirilyr to Jerr to Eldun, "A monster hunt?" He repeated the question of Eldun. "Why do you think so?" 

"For all his talk of creatures of the night," he smiled and motioned to Sirilyr with his head.

"How fresh is this trail?" Darvian added, picking up on the sarcasm, in the direction of Sirilyr.

With a squint of his left eye as he looked to the down trodden grass, Sirilyr replied "Let's take a good look at this 'ere tale." The ranger dismounted, grimacing as he did so. Handing the reins of his sorrel to Darvian, "By the gods, my arse 'urts! Not used ta so much ridin'." He said with a rueful grin and rubbing his backside to bring more normal circulation. He proceeded to move carefully off and down the new made trail, squatting and studying the tracks at different points. Loosening his sword and pushing back his dark iron helm, the soldier circled the trail until his meandering outward spiral took him a full bowshot from the trail before he at last returned, puffing thoughtfully on his old briarwood. The smoke from the well-worn pipe wreathed his head like a fresh lightning struck and scorched tree. 

Arnough and his guards caught up and waited for his report.

[9.6] Gathering

They descended the northern slope of the ridge and passed through a pasture of grazing sheep.Sleene pointed to the dead sheep to their east, but they moved on wary that some of the goblins had run off and may still be in the area. A path lead from the pasture west through the woods to the road. In all Tir was not an hours walk from where the goblins had camped. They looked upon the small village from the southern edge of the bowl valley that sheltered the village below. A noisome smell wafted on the breeze; the smell of the village's famous tannery. 

They walked down the road to the village. The road through the center of town was filled with a square formation of at least thirty burly villages wielding a variety of weapons from crude swords to clubs, staves, and farm implements. Women, children, and old men lined the storefronts. The ragtag company faced north, away from the their approach. At their lead were three, including Orinden, dressed in rugged woodsman's clothes. He awkwardly bared a sword and was trying to inspire his force, but his words did not reach beyond the formation.

Feorik took in the militia intently.A score or more, he thought.If they had the will, perhaps the Goblin scum do have something to fear.But not until the threat had been properly assessed.These villagers could be slaughtered by a well-organized Goblin band led by more of the dark ones. "Sleene! Glad you've returned. That mad man's ready to march." A solid, darkly bearded man called from a well-armed knot of six people standing near a warehouse by two of the largest carts Feorik had seen. Tulane had seen them when they came in and when they left Bilcoven, but he was still impressed nonetheless. Durrant noticed her companions were wounded, "This is not good." 

So this is the iron monger, Feorik assessed.He stands apart from the men from Tir, who would kill the Goblins.Strange, considering his caravan is the target of the attacks.Perhaps he knows something. But his analysis was cut short as the five attracted the attention of the nearby villagers. Quickly the three wounded were whisked off to the tower, and the formation broke up despite Orinden's protests. Sleene did not manage to keep from getting jostled away from the soldiers, but Durrant pulled her aside anyway. "They'll be taken care of. It's Delak's town. Come, tell us what has happened. They entered the warehouse where Cecilia's boiling herbs managed to fight of some of the nasty stench of the place. 

When the general hubbub had quieted down, Orinden and his other "officers" pushed their way through the throng to the tower so they could discover what had happened. Delak had bared the door, but Orinden pounded until one of the women inside opened up. The crowd clamored to be told what had happened. They managed to get inside and get the door shut against the throng. 

An old woman fussed over Ras, Tulane, and Feorik. She and other homely women managed to wash and redress their wounds. Delak managed to keep the insistent Orinden at bay with a brief version of their battle against the goblins. As Delak finished, Feorik thanked the nearest woman with a gruff nod and tried to get her out of his way as he called out, "Orinden!I am Feorik, Watcher of Dir," Feorik gestured to Tulane and Rasoric, "and these are friends come hunting Goblins from Bilcoven.We have news for you.Delak is right.You are up against something more sinister than a ragtag band of goblin scum, which would in other circumstances perhaps be easy prey for the Tir militia." Feorik stood.

Orinden had shiny black hair and an angled face with just enough wrinkles to show that he had reached a mature age. The tanner studied the watcher with hard dark eyes. Seeing his hesitation, one of the officers, a younger man wearing leather armor that was a bit to big for his frame, stepped up and offered a hand. "Elgend. Son of Ingend, Flock Master. Welcome to Tir." 

"Jervis," the third officer introduced himself, "Head Guard for Master Orinden and Master Kipp." Of the three, this one was a true warrior. He had a stern look and heavy build of muscle. Feorik gave them appraising glances and nodded in response to their introductions.A shepherd, and one guard.It was as Aiden had said - the Watchers of Tir were missing.

"Or plans are set Watcher," Orinden stated clearly bothered by the other two. "Your warning is appreciated, but we must march now. We are ready and our men need rescue or retribution.

Holding up his bound patch of scalps so Orinden could see, Feorik said, "Delak and Sleene and my group have truly slain eight of the bastards just an hour ago.It was not easy..."

"Nearly fucking killed me," Rasoric muttered.

Nodding at the unexpected comment, Feorik continued, "And there was one, a truly foul one.It could darken the sky and move the grasses to its will." That statement seemed to shake Jervis and Elgend, but Orinden hue got redder as he got angrier. 

"The grasses were at Sleene's command and ended the battle, but indeed one of the goblins called upon some power to darken the sky. This must be considered, for we have no wizard on our side, and but a young druid."

"If it were not for the druid I'd be pushing up daisies by now," Rasoric told him then grimaced as his matronly attendant dabbed at his puncture."

Orinden rolled his eyes, "You have slain this one? How many more could there be?" Orinden questioned, not expecting answers.

Feorik did not answer immediately, as Delak's explanation of what Sleene had did struck home.If she caused the grasses to move, then she truly did save him, he thought and frowned, "These scum had killed two from Sola ... mutilated them.The scum are ... organized somehow.They're up to something ..."Feorik spat the last words out; it was hard for him to give the Goblins credit for anything.

"We stand for ourselves." Orinden turned from Feorik and faced his two officers. There was a pause as if his gaze conveyed some message that Feorik could not see. "Our force is ready, we must lead." He turned to Delak. "I shall tell them that you defeated the scouting band that killed our sheep with the help of Sleene and these folks. That will inspire them." He studied the three bandaged men. "I shall say that as soon as your minor wounds are dressed and you have rested, that you will join us."

Feorik set his jaw in a hard line.He had dealt with men like Orinden before.At least he did not seem like a coward like that teat-sucking Calgurn back in Dir. "Aye, I will join you.Any hunt that seeks Goblins I would join.Tell me, how many men are missing?I had heard in Sola three bands are missing, and three Watchers recently.What has happened since?" 

"Thank you Feork," Orinden said but ignored the question. To Delak, "We need you, but see to them and Durrant. We won't make very good time anyway. Let us go," he commanded the other two. They went to the door and exited. They could hear Orinden address the crowd and order them back together, but the heavy door muffled his voice. Despite Feorik's misgivings about Orinden's actions, he did not feel he could argue him down.At least by going along he could keep an eye on the villagefolk and do his best to keep them safe.

Delak looked annoyed, "Something has him worked up. I'm going with him, but you three should rest here today and catch up tomorrow if you feel up to it." He looked with concern at them, "They'll be moving slow and I'll be slowing them up once were out of familiar territory, I'm the last one that knows the land out there and I'm not going to lead them into an ambush." 

"Why doesn't he wait, didn't you send for help from the March?" Tulane asked.

Delak nodded, "Not a popular move. Tirans are proud, independent. Apparently not very smart. But they don't want the help even if they need it," he looked seriously at them letting the pause linger.

Feorik was angry too, "That man is a bloody fool.There will be casualties," Feorik sighed.Then he looked to Delak, "He didn't answer me…perhaps you can Delak.What is going on here?"

"Three bands missing this year. Game's scarce and they been going out farther and farther, beyond our patrols. We figured they ran across some creature. Then another this summer, and again this fall. I sent three Watchers to track them down," he looked like he really regretted that decision, "and they're gone too. I sent my last, Durin, with a hunter to Bilcoven to seek help. Thus Orinden's rush to go before that help arrives. I did not think it goblins, but maybe it is." 

"Goblins are usually not so brash, the cowardly filth usually don't show their snouts like this."

Delak nodded, "But something has them stirred up. Perhaps some ogre."

"What's more ... those we slew were not the ones who have killed sheep ... and whatever else."

"I think they did do the sheep, but why?" Delak thought. "That shaman's rituals," he considered looking to Tulane and Feorik.

"Those scum I tracked from Bilcoven, right from under the city.They've been after that ironmonger's caravan." 

"He does have a load of weapons. Probably a lot less now," Delak commented with a bitter glance at the door behind which his fellows gathered for war. Then he turned to Feorik, "They were ordered to get weapons, they failed, but that means an attack is planned. I'm going to talk with Durrant. He said he'd sent a couple of his guards along."

"I'd like to go too," Feorik said. 

"You should rest. We've bunks and I'm sure Muriem will heat a bath…"

"We've taken these wounds to protect the man, I'll go now," Feorik insisted.

Delak nodded, "Sure. Let's go through the alley." He eyed the front door and the commotion beyond. He then walked toward a dark hallway under the stair leading to the first balcony of the Watcher's tower. 

Rasoric made to join them, but winced and Muriem patted his shoulder and shook her head, "A bath for you." Rasoric shrugged.

Delak led them down the hall, the rear wall was stone with a stout barred oak door. He removed the bar and pulled it open. The dusty smell of the hall was replaced with the sour smell of the village and of the alley. The alley separated the main row of buildings from a region of forlorn looking homes, hovels mostly of loose stone, branches, and thatch. They walked along the alley to the south end where the dirt track from the homes ran to the main road. Across the track was a pen of animals and a stable. A big, simple looking man was there grooming horses. Just beyond the stable toward the main road was the warehouse, too small for Durrant's carts. 

His guards nodded to Delak as they approached the opened main door. Inside the smell of bad leather was strong there, but a woman was boiling herbs inside to try and make it tolerable. Sleene was finishing her description of the battle as they came in, Durrant looked at them. "So you've been watchin' my back have you!" he stepped up and clasped their hands in his large meaty one. He held Feorik's tightly and squinted one-eyed at him. Feorik could not tell if it was a mocking gesture or not, but the man was definitely sizing him up. 

"Thank you much friend. I see you've lost some blood about this. Come have a drink to dull the pain." Durrant grabbed a bottle off a nearby shelf, pulled the cork, and passed it around. He introduced his assistant Stellan, and a man with wavy black hair and neatly trimmed goatee, as his Master Guard. 

After days on the road, bloody and bandaged, and not a little hungry, Feorik was happy to have a roof over his head and friendly people to relax with.He took a good drink of the wine, it was good and not too sweet. "Ahhh, thanks ... that'll help replace the blood, " Feorik said as he passed the bottle to Tulane.Then he was silent for a moment as he regarded Sleene and the three men."Ironmonger Durrant, I am Feorik of Dir, and this is Tulane of Bilcoven.We've another with Delak's women, he's hurt but he's a strong one."

Durrant nodded to Stellan who left the warehouse. Jack kept a silent watch on the commotion from the door. "They're leaving," he said.

"I'll be much more at ease when that mob is gone," Durrant grunted then took the wine from Delak; Sleene refused the bottle. "I'm a bit short handed," he said after a long swig and passed it to Feorik again. "Three are off doing a bit of sight seeing," he said sarcastically, "and they are not as eager to get to me as you." He was obviously annoyed. "Tell me your story," he produced some bread and cheese and passed it as well.

"Well, where to begin," Feorik started, and he explained to Durrant how he had first heard of the attack on the caravan in Bilcoven. After letting it slip that he had disobeyed his orders, Feorik glanced nervously at Delak then explained simply, "Goblins killed my family, so I wanted to find out what was happening."He continued, explaining how he had entered the city sewers and found Goblins there. "Their trail led out of the city, and I followed.It soon struck me they were following you...for some reason," Feorik trailed off as he frowned and looked at the three men. "Well, we caught 'em today and finished the bastards.Delak and Sleene," Feorik nodded respectfully to the woman, "probably saved us, it was a tough fight."

Feorik told the story of the battle, including that one knew magic."It had body parts too ... sheep and ... men.I don't know why."

"Decorations," Sleene said disgustedly.

"Now, here in Tir ... that Orinden," Feorik growled the name and looked to Durrant."What does he know?What is out there that he seeks?A tribe's camp?Does he know where the missing are?"

Durrant did not respond immediately but kept his eyes locked on Feorik's. "They think there's goblins plannin' a raid."

"And they were after your weapons," Delak said.

"Well they didn't get them thanks to you all!" Durrant surprised them with a sudden burst of joviality that coincided with his receipt of the wine bottle held high in salute. 

"But now they are in the hands of Orinden's army," Delak said not sharing the mirth, "who march toward the gods only know how many goblins." He eyed the ironmonger angrily then turned to Feorik, "I am the last Watcher until Durin returns, hopefully tomorrow with a troop of the Marchion's cavalry. Please stay at the tower with your friends tonight, and wait for Durin and Beowert tomorrow."

"Beowert and Durin, aye, Aiden in Sola mentioned them.He also sent two here to warn of the approaching goblins. But we found two dead men on the road."Feorik briefly described the two dead, mutilated men, trying to keep his anger down."I don't know who they were, but they shouldn't be those two, unless they doubled back for some reason."Feorik frowned mightily.

"None from Sola have come since Durrant," Delak said gravely. He turned back to Durrant, "Your guards have not returned, and there are still goblins about so please keep them here, but Sleene would be welcomed, and possibly much needed."

"Aye," Durrant agreed now somber and serious, "I planned for her to go."

Sleene looked a bit frustrated and finally said, "I'll do you no good unless I commune, I exerted much energy at the battle." They all looked at her as she stood. "Tomorrow, I will follow with the cavalry." She looked worried as well as frustrated. She left the warehouse.

"Aye, she'd be welcome indeed," Feorik muttered after following her out with his eye. A true weapon against the bastards? Feorik wondered, or a mysterious Druid just like all the rest?Regardless, she did save my life…and the others'. Feorik shook thoughts of the woman out of his head and turned to Durrant, "How long will you be in Tir?With your weapons sold, things should be safer."He looked over to Tulane.Then we'll have some business in Bilcoven, he thought. Since Hernry had allowed them to escape, Feorik hadn't spoken of the events that had happened there, and neither had the others.But he could feel Tulane was still a little bewildered at what had happened to his life.One day a Guard, the next a Goblin-hunter, more or less exiled from his hometown.And as for Rasoric ... Rasoric and Mortlake.There were still things to understand there.

Durrant growled, "Safer ... maybe, maybe not.If a war party of Goblins meets Orinden's force, Tir could be in trouble if the battle goes poorly for him.Very big trouble, made worse if the Tarredule is not sending help.For whatever reason. I'll be heading to Ziret on the morrow."

Feorik returned his thoughts to the present as the reference to the March sans title struck him. "Yes.Orinden needs to win, or ... at least keep the militia intact.I'll help Orinden.And for that, we need sleep."Feorik grinned wolfishly at Durrant."Well met, Durrant.Many thanks for the wine.Any Goblins bother you in the night, let me know!"Feorik stood, winced, and nodded to Delak, to finish his thought on the men from Sola."The bodies of the dead men are covered in brush, just off the Tir-Sola trail.I've marked the area with a Way Sign, but we didn't have time to bury them.I'm sorry, if it turns out they were your men."Feorik blinked his eye apologetically.

Delak was grim, "We'll get to them when we have the time.Right now the needs of the living outweigh the dead.Before long there may be many to bury," he added bitterly.

"I could sleep for a year.Delak, I'll find you and Orinden's mob out there tomorrow; you'll leave a trail a half-mile wide.Now, where could a starving man get some food?"

"Use the bunks in the tower," he said with a sad look. "I'll send some food."

"Rest well warriors," Durrant told them as they wandered back to the tower. They both looked forward to a night of oblivion and then a fine day chasing Goblin scum.If only his wounds would heal a little faster, he thought, as the walking brought the pain back. Inside the tower, a washed Rasoric slept in a side room. Muriem had made up beds for them too. 

They sat on the straw mattresses and listened to the quiet, empty tower. It was a strange feeling sitting there in a candle lit room, sheltered from the world outside. It felt as if the tower could be rushing down some metaphysical river toward some unseen fall. Inside, unknowing of the danger without, they felt safe. Neither of them could find any words. Then the front door opened and Muriem and a young girl their age came in with trays of warm food. 

The food went down well and tired as he was, Feorik tried to keep his mind sharp.Thoughts ricocheted off of one another as he tried to understand what was going on.Goblins, raiding, men missing, sheep killed for some ritual, Orinden leading an army.It was all a confused jumble, but Feorik was sure of one thing.No good could come from any of this, nor restful slumber.