A silence fell over the forest as the last of the hobgoblins went still, broken only by the patter of the light rain on the pine needles of the forest floor and the sounds of ragged breathing.

Zero slowly pulled himself up from the floor, looking over at the boar to make sure it wasn’t in too bad a shape to cook and smiling at Tradden beside him and starting a small joke about pork.

Khalin immediately ‘shushed’ them, though, with a scowl, listening intently to the sounds out in the forest. There it came again, a soft moan, as though someone was in pain.

The scene when he arrived at the rear of the wagon was not pretty. The wagon was a bamboo affair, poles erected around the side of the cart like a cage. A simple door at the rear was wide open, the clumsy bamboo lock broken.

At the foot of the cart were a number of bodies, red and bloodied, cut down as they tried to escape by the sentry. Tradden thought there might be half or dozen, perhaps more, a mixture of humans and dwarves.

Then, at the far side of the macabre pile he spotted movement and heard a soft moan.

Rushing across he saw a young girl in a bloodied red sack-cloth, her hair long and white and streaked with the mud from the road. He rolled her over and to his relief saw she was still alive, her vivid red lips parched murmuring in stark contrast to her pale white skin.

‘Beltak! Beltak!’ the young fighter cried as he lifted her slightly and cradled her within his arms. ‘Get over here, there’s one still alive!’

He tried to think of some noble phrase to utter, but was lost for words when her eyes flickered open and his gaze met her startling violet eyes. As he held her, mesmerised, the light from Kireth’s spell began to fade, leaving the forest in a cold, damp darkness.

To his dismay there were none. It looked as though the prisoners had taken their chance when the hobgoblins had been ambushed, managed to smash the lock, and make a run for it. None of them had gotten very far, the sentry had seen to that.

Khalin sniffed the air. It was not that long after midnight he surmised, but some hours from dawn, and the drizzle and cold air would certainly not help the girl.

‘We need to get her dry and warm,’ he offered to Beltak. ‘Can she be moved? To one of the shelters, perhaps?’

Beltak nodded and Tradden picked her up easily, carrying her through the trees with care towards their makeshift camp. She was thin and light, perhaps only ten years old, but the grip on Tradden’s arm as he went was strong and firm. Not for one moment did she take her violet eyes from the young fighter’s face.

Tradden took the girl to his own shelter, which he hadn’t been sharing, so had a little more room for the girl and the scribe. She didn’t seem to want Tradden to leave her, gripping his arm ever tighter, so the young fighter sat cross-legged at the end of the shelter, his head banging against the wooden roof, as the girl laid herself down and Beltak covered her with a blanket.

Beltak continued to mumble softly, kneeling at the entrance to the shelter, and after a few minutes indicated to Khalin that the girl would survive.

Rhasgar, Sorrow, and the rest of the Talons slowly joined them, declaring that the rest of the hobgoblin party had been slain and that no-one was badly injured.

Kireth scowled from the rear of the group. The dwarf was fierce in battle, but his diplomacy could do with some polishing, he thought. He stalked back towards his own shelter, clicking his fingers to alight the torches in the centre of the camp. He would rest and meditate and find his own answers in the morning. Besides, he could listen to the girl’s replies more clearly away from the rabble in the comfort of his own bedroll.

Zero, although concerned over the plight of the girl, had decided that between the others they would be more than able to take care of her. He had always been nervous around children, not really sure what to do with them, so had convinced Aukan to head back to the road with him to retrieve the carcass of the boar. No sense in wasting it, he thought.

The girl gingerly pushed her white hair from her face, taking her eyes from Tradden and stared at Khalin. The dwarf felt a rush of blood to his cheeks as the violet eyes bore into his own. She seemed fragile and small, but there was a strength within.

‘We were been taken to the west,’ she croaked, ‘though to where or why I’m not sure. A keep, I think. The rest are dead, aren’t they, I saw them killed?’

Khalin nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. The girl seemed sad, but not distraught, perhaps none of the others were close to her. ‘We will give them a proper burial in the morning,’ was all that the dwarf could think of to say.

‘I am from Kiris Dahn, or was,’ she continued. ‘At least until the goblins took over. It was peaceful before they came, just me and the ruins, and now they lay waste, searching for whatever it is they look for, bringing slaves to help them look.’

Her brows furrowed and she tried her best to look fierce, but the combination of her strange eyes and white eyebrows did not have a stern effect. ‘They found me and then made me look for things in the ruins. They must have found some of what they were looking for as they began to send some of us west, as gifts I think. My home, my beautiful home, riddled with these filthy beasts.’

At that she closed her eyes as tears began to form and lay her head down, clutching onto Tradden’s arm with a tightening grip.

Khalin reached out an arm to hold the girl’s arm in an attempt to comfort her, but withdrew it quickly as he glimpsed the blood still running freely down his fingers.

‘I’m sorry for the hardships you’ve suffered. You’re safe now.’ He looked up at Tradden. ‘But it’s important that we know more so that we can protect you.’

The girl nodded softly and opened her eyes once more. They were rimmed with tears and she looked tired and frail. Khalin turned, searching out Aukan or Zero, spotting the pair closer to the centre of the camp around the carcass of the boar. ‘Zero, Aukan!’ he called, ‘Can we have some food for the lady over here? And water?’

The rogue shrugged his shoulders at the goliath as Aukan strode over to the wagon to grab some rations. With a waterskin and some of the dried fruits and cheeses the girl seemed to relax and Khalin cautiously continued his questioning.

‘I know you’re tired,’ the warlord began, looking around at the gathered group, ragged and bloody, ‘Moradin’s Hammer we all are, but we need to know how we proceed from here, how best to get to the Vale and keep you safe.’

Rubbing her side she sat up and set a brave face and began to tell her story.

The girl’s name was Iolanthe and she had been living in the ruins of Kiris Dahn for nearly a year on her own since her parents had been killed in a fire on their farm towards the southwestern corner of the Vale.

She didn’t want to talk about her parents much, which seemed obvious to Tradden, or why she had chosen to live in such ruins rather than seek refuge at another farm, or in one of the larger towns. She’d managed a meagre existence within the crumbled walls of the Shrine of the Moon, towards the centre of the city, living off what food she could find and rabbits she could catch.

Khalin had pressed about Kiris Dahn itself but the poor girl was too young to understand much of what he asked. It wasn’t dwarven, of that the warlord became sure, but more likely and old human settlement. It had been overrun by goblins many years ago, a long time before Iolanthe had been born, and had eventually been left desolate, ripe for the weeds and underbrush of the countryside to try to reclaim it.

At the end of last summer, though, it seemed Kiris Dahn was invaded once more, with tribes of kobolds and goblins pouring into the ruined city. From the safety of the shrine and slipping through the shadows of the roads Iolanthe discovered that the kobolds and goblins seemed to be looking for something in particular and their numbers grew the longer the search took.

Captured slaves, humans and dwarves mostly, were brought in, joined by troops of hobgoblins. The slaves were worked mercilessly, almost to starvation. When their energy was spent they were sent out somewhere to the west in bamboo wagons pulled by all manner of beasts. To what end Iolanthe wasn’t sure.

The hobgoblins brought a sense of order to the search and it hadn’t been too long before Iolanthe had been found herself and put to work as a slave as part of the search. She learnt the hobgoblins were part of the Sundered Gate clan, but did not find out what they were searching for, she was just told to look for anything that had been left in the ruins that wasn’t stone or weed and bring it back to the rubbled masonry of the old manor house to the northeast of the city.

Then, three or four tendays ago a dragon arrived, terrifying most of the slaves and even some of the goblins. It seemed to direct the searching in particular areas and was soon joined by a band of orcs. These orcs were cruel and vicious, prefering to torture the spent slaves rather than sending them away to the west. It was easy to tell which slaves had been tortured by them, a brand was placed upon them, a symbol of a slit eye across their face, often leaving one of their own eyes useless. Whether they lived afterwards did not seem to matter to the orcs, a tribe that called themselves the Severed Eyes.

A few days ago something seemed to change. Rumours were abound that the goblins and orcs had found what they were looking for. The orcs were let loose by the dragon and had set to slaughtering anything in their path. Goblins and kobolds scattered before them and the humans and dwarves were struck down where they stood. The hobgoblins, although a little fearful of the orcs, picked several of the healthier slaves, including Iolanthe, and packed them into the bamboo wagon that now lay just along the Old Road. With speed they were ushered out of the city and to the west.

As they had been ridden out of the ruins she had overheard some of the hobgoblins talking about the offerings being sent to The Mouth of the Sleeper, but she didn’t hear much more than that other than one of the offerings was some sort of ‘standard’.

Kiris Dahn is still riddled with kobolds, goblins, hobgoblins, and orcs as far as Iolanthe knows. It’s a terrible place now, not the serene and calm ruin of only months ago. There are now hundreds of them holed up in there and it should be a place to avoid. The goblins have called it Gorizbadd and as far as she knows they are there to stay.

Even the dragon remained, lurking in its lair near the old baths. Whether they have found everything they sought she does not know, but they seemed to have no need for the slaves any more.

Content with the amount of information the girl had managed to give them, Khalin bade everyone get some rest. ‘Let Iolanthe sleep,’ he had ordered, ‘Tradden, you take care of her, watch she comes to no harm.’

The comment was more for the girl than it was for Tradden. Khalin hoped it would make her feel safer during the night.

‘Dawn will not be long,’ the dwarf continued, looking up at the sky, half expecting to see the open wings of a dragon. ‘We should keep watches, though. Get some food if you need it and off to sleep — we can worry about our plans in the morning. We‘ll wait until noon until we leave, but no later.’

Thoughts of how the group would now get into the Nentir Vale began to run through the warlord’s mind — if Kiris Dahn was unsafe, what other way could they find. Or, could they risk running the gauntlet of skirting the city with the wagon and all?

The rest of the night passed without major incident, the rain abating at dawn and the wind dying in sympathy. Clouds still covered the sky, but at least it brought a glimmer of warmth and the prospect of a dry day.

The smell of slowly roasting boar wafted across the camp, raising many from their bedrolls, and most took to cleaning themselves from the gore of the previous night’s battle.

The remains of the hobgoblins were where they had left them, slowly putrifying in the muddy road, some having been nibbled or gnawed during the night. Nothing had come near the carrion crawler, though, the giant creature already starting to belch nauseous gases as it rotted quickly.

Further up the road stood the wagon and behind that the bodies of the captives, struck down where they tried to escape. Rhasgar had already started to dig a pit alongside the road ready for them to be buried.

Iolanthe had nodded, she was hungry. Famished, in fact. The gentle aroma of the cooking boar made everyone’s stomachs rumble in anticipation. From the cart Miri had found some clothes and furs and been able to dress the girl in something more respectable than the bloody sack-cloth she had been wearing, and sat down to talk at her side. Beltak’s healing powers had worked wonders, and although the girl would bear a scar for a while on her side, it would fade with time. In fact Beltak remarked how lucky she had been to survive.

Leaving the girl in the middle of the camp, Tradden headed off to help Rhasgar with the shallow grave for the victims of the sentry’s slaughter. Rangrim and Lee-da-Gaar had started to pull the remains of the hobgoblins off of the road and into the trees to the north. There would be no burial for them, the forest creatures would see to them.

Borik had gone to feed the oxen and make sure they were watered, checking their hooves and legs for sores, and fitting their harnesses for the day’s march ahead. With Aukan busy with the fire and the cooking, Beltak took it upon himself to dissemble the camp as best he could, and loading what he thought correct onto the wagon with the diminuitive help of Bekio.

Khalin stayed with Sorrow in the camp, stretching out their maps and scrolls of the land over a fallen tree, determining what course to take next. Kireth sat to one side, poring over scrolls of his own with a furrowed brow, half listening to Khalin and Sorrow’s conversation, half concentrating on his own thoughts.

Only Zero remained with no major role to play, so the rogue slowly padded over towards the bamboo wagon, with the thoughts to push it somewhere off of the road so their own wagon would easily pass by.

The harness for the dead carrion crawler was still attached to the front of the wagon and lay only a few feet away from the rotting corpse of the giant wormlike creature. Zero didn’t fancy getting too close to the thing but his curiosity was piqued on how the wagon was driven. There did not seem to be any footplates or bench for anyone to sit and take any reins, so he surmised that the hobgoblins simply walked alongside and controlled the beast in some other way.

He did, however, notice a small strongbox, crafted into the front of the wagon, that certainly took his interest, and he carefully stepped around to examine it more thoroughly, tracing the outline of the front of the wagon with his finger.

The strongbox — or at least what he had assumed was such — was simply a rectangular bulge at one side of the front of the wagon. However, the tell-tale iron of banding straps and a gaping hole longing for a key gave the game away to the rogue. With grace he was up to it in a moment, examining it with a rapidly rising heartbeat.

He felt confident that the strongbox did not contain any traps so quickly pulled out his tools and set to work to open the lock.

With a gentle click the lid of the strongbox felt loose and a broad grin spread across the rogue’s face. With a flourish he sprang open the lid, anticipating jewels and gold inside.

Disappointment struck Zero at first glance. Bundles of jerked meat and a couple of wineskins were all that greeted him, other than a crowbar and a copper kettle. The food and drink, he decided, might be unsafe to touch, he wasn’t sure what the hobgoblins ate. The only other thing in the strongbox were three thin candles which smelt quite acrid.

With a sigh he prodded the kettle, thinking it might be of use to Aukan, and was rewarded with a small tinkle. Opening the lid he at last found what he was looking for. The copper pot contained a small pouch full of coins — small silver ones, rough and stained — and his heart leapt for joy. Finally, he was beginning his road to riches in this godsforsaken land.

With a stifled laugh Zero pocketed the coins somewhere about his person and wandered around to the back of the wagon, content now to fulfil his original thoughts of getting the thing off the road.

The wagon was surprisingly light, much to the amusement of the rogue. As he pushed it into the undergrowth he made a show of the heavy work, straining against a false weight to try to impress anyone around. With a jolt the wagon came off the road and bounced up the bank and under the trees. With a final shove the rogue’s work was done and the wagon was more or less hidden from casual view.

Sorrow looked across at the dwarf, thinking. ‘It’s about a dozen leagues, over the lowest of the Gardbury Downs, I would think. Probably a couple of days travel with the wagon. There is a road, perhaps even an extension of this one, but it isn’t well travelled — not many people, if any at all, travel that way.

She thought for a moment, staring at their meagre maps. ‘There aren’t too many other options, though. We could keep south and then try going up over the Ogrefist Hills, but there’s no road and I’m not sure how the wagon would take it. The hills have their own defences, too. The other option would be to head to the Nentir River and try to find passage up from there, but I’ve never known anyone that has returned from the Witchlight Fens, and I’sve no idea how to build a boat. Going over the Cairngorms at this time of year would be suicide, even if you could find a way that the wagon could follow.

Slowly, she shook her head.

Iolanthe looked wide-eyed at Khalin, the dwarf held captive by her violet eyes. ‘I’m not really sure,’ she began. ‘There seemed to be quite a commotion at one point, in fact a few of the slaves tried to escape whilst the goblins were distracted, they certainly seemed to be excited about something. The searching stopped not much later and that’s when we started hearing the rumours. I‘m afraid I don’t know much more about it, I’ve never heard of this ‘mouth’, but all of the hobgoblins seemed to know.

The coins on the hobgoblin’s eyes melted away, silver cascading down its cheeks like tears. It burnt away the eyelids leaving the dead eyes staring out into nothingness at the skyline above.

Kireth’s smile grew, but there was a murmur from the back of the camp. It was Beltak. ‘I shall have nothing to do with this!’ stated the priest indignantly. Kireth merely shrugged.

‘Two questions,’ he smiled at Khalin. ‘Choose wisely.’

Again there was a short silent pause, only the corner of Kireth’s mouth rising to betray any sense of action. But before Kireth uttered the final words of the reply, the hobgoblin began to stir.

A stiff and lurching movement, one that would likely not be possible when the hobgoblin was alive, brought it to its feet. Its staring eyes looked straight ahead, past the mage, further down the road where Zero stood to one side.

With an awkward start it roughly pushed past the mage, knocking him off his feet easily, and with a stumble was upon the rogue in a moment. It reached out with locked arms and seized him around the shoulders in a brutal clasp, staring with those wide unfocused eyes through Zero’s head. A silvery foam began to build up around its mouth and the stench of death and decay began to overwhelm the rogue.

The foam and spittle amassed around its mouth and then its whole body started to convulse, shaking and twisting as the grip tightened on the rogue’s shoulders all of the time.

‘What the…’ Khalin began, motionless with shock at the speed of the turn of events. Tradden, however, was already running towards Zero.

With a gurgle and then a retch the hobgoblin’s mouth bloated wide and nausea overcame the rogue. Trying to move his arms up to protect his face Zero began to wriggle to pull himself free, forgetting the necklace around his neck that would teleport him away with ease.

Then the hobgoblin locked stiff, toppling forwards, and the weight of the thing bore Zero over, the wind knocked out of the rogue as the lifeless thing crushed him to the floor. The grip on his shoulders melted away, but there was no escape, its body too heavy for him to move alone and the face so close to his making him squirm with fear.

With a final shudder the corpse seemed to relax and issued a bubbling wave of silvery foam, cascading over Zero’s face. All went dark when two large, silver coins slid out of the hobgoblin’s mouth and over his eyes.

Zero gave a scream, before Tradden reached him and pushed the corpse over and away from the rogue, its lifeless open eyes staring at Zero as the heavy coins slid from his face.

It was the older dwarf, Borik, that broke the silence. His gruff voice was quiet behind his white beard, but the gleam in his eyes above those faded tattoos showed he was sincere. ‘There is perhaps another way, suitable for the wagon, but may contain its own dangers,’ he began, catching both Khalin and Rhasgar in his glare.

Such was the shock that the dwarf had spoken up that the silence of the camp continued. Tradden itched to fill the void, but an icy look from Kireth in his direction stopped the young fighter in his tracks. Fortunately, Borik continued his thoughts.

‘If we cannot go south of the mountains, then perhaps we can go to the north? The Cairngorms stretch but a score of leagues before the pass. Through there it is only a day’s travel to Timbervale and another to Winterhaven beyond.’

‘Sticking close to the foothills of the mountains as we travel north we may avoid the worst of any creatures from The Stonemarch and remain hidden within the scrubs, although the going will be slow. After all, if you,’ he nodded at Khalin, ‘are heading north, perhaps we should too?’

‘Twenty leagues would take us half a dozen days or more,’ retorted Rhasgar, his scaly face scrunching up into what appeared to be a frown. ‘And then there would be the dangers of the pass — the eastern side may be sealed and safe, but I’d wager the western gate and the pass itself are riddled with vermin like orcs.’

Borik thought for a moment, clutching at the short branch he carried as a walking stick. He looked up at Rhasgar with steely eyes. ‘The pass is clear, of that much I know,’ he said decisively. ‘Though you are right, the western gatehouse is taken. However, they have not managed to open the gate.

The old dwarf studied Tradden for a few moments, considering his reply. ‘I was captured, along with many of my fellow dwarves, from a mine not far from the pass. Orcs, mainly, some hobgoblins. They came over the north of the Cairngorms, through the forest and round the side of the Wintermist. A small party, but enough to rout us. Most were killed, but some, like me, were captured. They took us through the forest and around the north before throwing some of us in those bamboo cages and sending us down south and west.’

‘On the way we passed the western gate and could see the mess the orcs had made of the gatehouse. It looked strong, still, though, and we’d not seen anything come through before, so I suppose it stands still. The orcs were fewer in number, less than it sounds have infested Kiris Dahn, and there was no sign of any dragons. If we seek a way through to the Vale, then I’d suggest that was the safest route.’

Borik fell silent, perhaps thinking of his fallen comrades, both at the old mine and those that the rest of the group had seen within the ruined keep.

‘It’s possible, I guess,’ offered Rhasgar at last. ‘The pass has been disused for years as far as I know. Perhaps a way through, even for a wagon, still exists. Assuming we can get through the western gate,’ he added with a shrug. ‘With the south blocked, perhaps the only way is north? Khalin, what do you think’

The dragonborn turned back to Khalin, studying the dwarf warlord for his answer.

Khalin’s mind began whirling, forming plans on how best to travel. They needed to be travelling light, yet be prepared to spend perhaps even a tenday in the wilds. ‘Zero,’ the warlord called to the rogue, ‘start packing the gear. We’ll need three tents and enough dried rations to last ten days.’

The rogue groaned at the thought of the tasteless iron rations, rather than some of the fruits and meats they had aboard the wagon, but set to preparing packs and rolls for the group. ‘I’ll put a few torches in too,’ the rogue offered. ‘I’m not ending up anywhere where I can’t see again.’

Khalin nodded before turning back to Sorrow and asking to see her maps once more. ‘We’ll meet before the pass,’ he pointed at the top left of the map of the Nentir Vale with his finger. ‘Before we get anywhere near that gate. I want to make sure we scout that one out thoroughly. As soon as you break the forest line on the Old Road, head north and keep in the foothills of the mountains if you can, hopefully it will give you some shelter and some concealment from anything that is looking out for travellers. Borik, what do we need to look out for to be sure we’re near the pass?’

The old dwarf stroked his beard and described the cut of the mountain range at the point of the west gate. With a single high peak, capped by snow, surrounded to the left, right, and behind by lower peaks it would still be difficult to spot, but Borik described a shattered overhang, near the top of the main peak, that would help them identify it. The Talons would wait for a tenday from now before they attempted to storm the gate themselves, alone.

With plans laid with the other, Khalin turned his attention back to the Krakens. ‘I suggest we move quickly,’ he motioned, pointing to the trees to the north. ‘Keep a line as north as we can, getting through the trees. Hopefully it will not be too difficult on foot. It’s noon now, so let’s strike out. We can be at the treeline before dusk, it can only be a couple of leagues. We’ll take a break there and then see if we want to keep travelling through The Stonemarch through the evening or not.

Tradden agreed enthusiastically, Kireth simply nodded. Zero groaned from the back of the wagon where he had nearly finished the packs. ‘Kireth, we’ll need some way to find the Talons when we get close to that gate, I hope you have a plan,’ the warlord asked. ‘Of course,’ the mage replied with a shallow smile, but did not offer an explanation. Khalin simply gruffed and turned back to Tradden. ‘What about Iolanthe?’ he asked.

The young fighter had forgotten about the young girl. Khalin had seen something in her eyes that suggested a steely resolve. How had the girl survived so long at Kiris Dahn alone? Perhaps Iolanthe still had a part to play here, though for now she would best be kept safe with the Talons and the wagon. Khalin gesticulated to Tradden that he should go talk to the girl and ensure that she stayed with the other group until they met back up at the gate. With gritted determination the young fighter headed over to reason with Iolanthe.

The pair talked for a while, tears brimming at the young girl’s eyes, but she was nodding and seemed to understand. Khalin breathed a sigh of relief before checking Beltak was ready.

‘Let us strike out, then,’ the warlord finally proclaimed. He nodded across to Rhasgar and approached the dragonborn. The huge lizard-man towered above the dwarf, but Khalin did not seem to notice. He clasped the paladin’s scaly arm and held it firmly. ‘May Moradin bless your journey, Rhasgar,’ he said sincerely. ‘As Bahamut will surely bless yours,’ replied the dragonborn.

Turning and looking towards the trees to the north the dwarf finally issued to orders to depart.

Tradden piped up at Khalin’s command. ‘I’m ready, I’m always ready,’ he said lightheartedly. ‘Well, most of the time, I guess,’ he continued.

Khalin grunted and continued to fasten the straps on his pack, whilst Zero grabbed his own belongings. Kireth appeared to be ready and waiting but at the last minute changed his mind and took the sack containing the platolabe from the wagon. Khalin raised an eyebrow.

‘Safer with us then close to the girl or the infirm,’ he stated, nodding across at Iolanthe and Borik. ‘Besides, we have no idea what influence it may be having on the dead,’ he added, with a stare at the swaddled corpse of Ulmo on the back of the wagon.

Khalin did not seem convinced but kept his peace nonetheless, offering another hand of farewell to Rhasgar. ‘This time we leave,’ he nodded at the dragonborn. ‘We will see you before this pass, I promise.’

Rhasgar nodded back and started his own orders for the Talons to break camp and start to leave.

‘Zero, you’re up front,’ the dwarf called. ‘Eyes and ears and all that.’

The rogue sighed and took a last cut of boar from the cooling spit near Aukan, thanking the goliath for his last decent meal for a while, before heading slowly into the pines to the north at Khalin’s request. The dwarf followed, his craghammer held high, with Kireth behind. Beltak came next, a noticeable distance between him and the mage.

Tradden loped across to Iolanthe, lifting the girl’s chin and stared once more into her violet eyes. ‘Take care,’ he offered. ‘The Talons will look after you for now. I‘ll see you soon, and we‘ll find you a home.’ He wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was somewhere inside he missed his younger sisters, but he felt protective and responsible for the girl.

She smiled back at the young fighter, pecking his cheek sweetly and whispering into his ear. Tradden looked queryingly at her, before turning and striding after the others.

The going was difficult, but not overbearingly so through the trees. The pines were packed closely, with gnarled roots and clumps of brambles causing Zero to take a winding, twisting route. Low branches started to become and intolerable obstacle for all but Khalin, who seemed to duck beneath them with ease. Mostly it was Tradden and Beltak that were caught out.

‘Only a couple of leagues, boy,’ Khalin chirped at the young fighter at their first rest. ‘I’ve no idea why you keep walking into the trees.’

The young fighter’s height and the gloom beneath the thick canopy were his major stumbling block and the effort of dodging them was starting to tire him out. Still, he plodded on behind the others, watching their backs and the forest behind him in turn.

With three or four stops, mainly instigated by Zero, the group found themselves a couple of hours later on a gentle downward slope and a blessed relief of thinning trees. The murk began to clear and the late afternoon daylight began to poke through the canopy like golden spears in front of them.

Another ten minutes and the end of the trees was in sight.

‘Let’s take a break here,’ ordered Khalin. ‘Take some time to scan the area, we don’t want to get caught out as soon as we step out of the trees.’

The sun was low in the sky to the west and cast a warm glow across the grey wall of mountains to the east. The peaks took Khalin’s breath away, seemingly so close he could touch them, yet still leagues away, their snow-capped peaks a reminder of their majesty. Before them lay The Stonemarch, cracked and sharp hills, escarpments and scree, casting long shadows, littered their path to the north. Boulders and rocks studded the landscape with only minor scrub and the occasional twisted shoots of strange tree-like plants, scraggly and thin, but tall.

The rolling hills disappeared like a turbulent sea to the north with no major landmark to define scale or distance. Their path would be hard going.

Kireth looked disinterested, sipping his herbal concoction and studying the others with an intense glare. Tradden continued to look out across the plain as though contemplating several routes across its rocky hills. Beltak simply looked worried and unsure. Zero appeared the calmest of the bunch, lounging against one of the outcropping pines, humming his tune over and over again.

It didn’t look as though there was much moisture out there on the plain to Khalin, not enough to sustain any abundant growth like the forest they had been travelling through. The dwarf guessed that the scraggly trees would have very long roots, reaching deep into the ground to grab whatever moisture lay there for the taking. With a dry surface and moisture well below, possibly in small cave pockets, his dwarven nature warned him to be careful, lest a misplaced foot should go down a crack in the surface and twist or break.

The escarpments and scree here and there looked treacherous too, with little water to round them, the stones might be sharp. The jagged bluffs might give them some cover, though, with the right route providing some amount of protection from prying eyes.

Khalin couldn’t see any signs of movement out there. No animals, no lights or flames, and nothing flying about in the slowly darkening sky. Even the birds that circled the tops of the forest were quieter now they were at the forest’s edge.

The Stonemarch appeared to be living up to its bleak name. Whatever route the party took, they would have to pick carefully and tread with caution.

Khalin sniffed the air, a growing easterly, bringing cold down from the mountains and the clouds that swirled around their peaks with them. There would be clouds over the night, for that he was sure, if not rain and perhaps even thunder.

Kireth simply wrinkled his nose as he sipped his drink, he eyes never wavering from the scribe. ‘A starlit night,’ he offered without pause and turned away to focus on something more interesting to him.

Zero nodded in agreement with the mage. ‘Like Kireth says, I hope it stays clear. I could do with a night without rain just to dry out.’

Beltak took the task more seriously, concentrating on the sun, his eyes closed and the fading glow of the setting sun warming his face. ‘Pelor will grant us a clear night, I believe,’ he said piously.

Khalin scoffed at the others. ‘I think you’ll find they’re wrong, Tradden. I feel it in my bones. What do you think?’

The group unslung their packs and moved just back into the treeline for cover. With a good view out across The Stonemarch and shelter from the cooling breeze they felt quite comfortable and waited patiently for the sun to set off to the west.

The lengthening shadows grew slowly, joining one another and swamping the landscape before them. The cool air turned to a sharp chill as the warmth of the sun disappeared and they began to wrap their cloaks about them.

For Kireth and Khalin the light was plentiful enough to see, their eyes attuned to dimness. Khalin was not ignorant of the others’ senses, however, and let Zero make the decision on when to depart.

‘You give the call, Zero,’ the warlord offered. ‘When your eyes are attuned to the dark lead us on the best route you can through the hills out there. Keep us hidden as best you can from being seeen from afar.’

The rogue nodded, falling silent and looking out and up into the sky. He was all business now.

When the first star twinkled in the clear night sky he nodded at the others and rose with barely a sound. In a moment he was off at a good pace, down the slight incline with Khalin following not far behind. Kireth went next, pushing on with his staff, leading out the scribe, Beltak. Tradden took one last look at the forest behind him, dark and oppressive in the evening gloom, before scampering lithely to join them at the rear.