by Robert Evert
As Pond flexed his leg approvingly, Edmund cast the spell on his ribs. “Smerte av reise.”
The tenderness faded. He could breathe without stabbing pain.
That’ll help.
“Thanks!” Pond said. “I can go much faster now. Lead on!”
They ran southwest along the rocky bank of the distended river as the shadows around them deepened. Their panting breath appeared as ghostly clouds in front of him.
Edmund glanced back.
Behind them, two goblins had reached the river’s edge. But the way they were lying in the snow suggested that they were never going to get up again. The other goblins plummeting down the slopes weren’t faring much better. Their shields, helms, and pieces of armor were being thrown about the mountainside as they struck trees and smashed into exposed rocks.
A horn blew.
In the mountains to their left, the remainder of the goblin horde was descending where the slope was less steep.
It’ll be completely dark soon. Maybe we can hide from them.
They’d follow our tracks right to us. Besides, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The stars this far north will be bright enough to read by. Running is our only option.
“Come on!” Edmund said, urging Pond forward.
They ran with renewed strength, putting even greater distance between them and the black dots descending the snowy slopes. But the cold was numbing their skin. Their bodies shivered under their sweat. Their feet began to feel heavier and heavier. Soon, their speed diminished to a quick jog, then a brisk walk. After another mile, they were plodding along the river in silence, the half moon rising above the towering pine trees blocking the goblins from view. An eerie cobalt hue reflected off the shimmering snow.
Somewhere in the surrounding hills, something howled.
Oh no!
“Wolves?” Pond asked.
Great! That’s all we need!
You can’t outrun wolves . . .
Edmund’s staggering quickened.
“Ed. Did you hear that? Do you think it was a wolf?”
“If it was, we’re—”
A distant voice cut him short. “Hey,” it shouted. “Up here! Hey!”
Something familiar slapped Edmund’s exhausted mind.
They spun around, scanning the tree-lined ridges above them. High overhead a figure on a huge horse was silhouetted against the twinkling stars.
“Hey, you two,” a voice from a different life shouted to them. “Have you seen anybody else around here? A woman?”
Not stopping at the ridge, a dog raced toward them, bounding through the snow as fast as she could, dragging one of her rear legs lifelessly behind her.
Edmund cried out. Pond started to run.
When it reached the bottom of the slope, the black and white dog catapulted herself into Edmund’s arms. Dropping his sword, he grabbed ahold of her and fell backward into the snow.
“Thorax! How—?” He squeezed the dog as she licked his face.
“Get off him!” Pond kicked Thorax in the side. She squealed.
Hollering, the rider urged his great horse forward.
“Get off of him, you damn beast!” Pond Scum brandished his knife.
“Stop it!” Edmund shielded Thorax with his body. “Pond! It’s Thorax! It’s Thorax!”
“Thorax?” Pond repeated. “I thought you said she was dead.”
Thorax continued licking Edmund’s face. He held her close to his bare chest, repeating her name over and over.
Above them, the warhorse slid down the slope, plowing a sizable pile of snow in front of its hooves.
Pointing at the shouting rider, Pond inched away. “What about him? He doesn’t look like a goblin. But they employ human spies, it’s said.”
From the grey Percheron, the rider yelled, “Leave her alone or I’ll cleave you in two!” He raised his sword and shield as he charged.
“It’s all right,” Edmund called to the rider, still clutching Thorax tight to his chest, his cold face sticky with her saliva. “She belongs to—” He caught sight of the rider’s face.
Norb?
“Norb!” Edmund cried.
Startled, the stable hand checked the horse, his sword and shield lowering slightly.
“Norb!” Overcome with joy, Edmund sputtered, “What the—? How? Where—? What are you doing here?”
But then, in between beats, his heart faltered, realization dawning on him.
Wait. “Have you seen a woman?”
A woman?
My ‘wife’ . . .
Molly!
Dropping Thorax into the snow, Edmund lunged at Norb. “How’s Molly? Is she okay? She’s back in Rood, right? Everything is fine, right? Tell me she’s fine!”
Norb backed the horse away.
“Ed?” he whispered.
With the desperation of a drowning man, Edmund latched onto the stable hand’s woolen coat. “M-M-Molly! Molly! Where is she? Do you know? Where is she?”
Grimacing, Norb stared at Edmund’s gaunt face. “Ed? Is that really you?”
“Damn it, Norb, you know it is! Now tell me . . . where’s Molly? She’s in Rood, right? She’s, she’s, she’s there, isn’t she?”
“Ed,” Pond said, urgently. “We have to get out of here. The goblins are coming.”
Edmund shook Norb hard. “Where is she? Norb . . . where’s Molly? Tell me!”
Norb tore his gaze away from the hole where Edmund’s left eye used to be. “Ed! My god, we looked for you . . . honest.”
“Norb! Tell me!”
Norb stammered. “She’s, she’s . . . gone, Ed. Molly’s gone.”
The night wind carried with it cries of goblins. Norb’s horse began to snort and stamp.
“Wh-wh-what . . . what do you mean gone?” Edmund asked, nearly pulling him out of his saddle. “She . . . she . . . can’t be!”
Glaring upriver, Thorax growled, the hair between her shoulder blades standing on end.
“Ed,” Pond said as both he and Thorax stared at the hundreds of black shapes swarming down the ravine toward them.
“What do you, you, you mean—gone?” Ed repeated.
“Things,” Norb said, trying to pull away from Edmund’s possessed grip, “ . . . things . . . things have happened, Ed. Back in Rood. Bad things.”
The goblin voices were clear now. They were waving their scimitars over their heads and shouting hoarse battle cries, gloating at their impending victory.
“I don’t believe it,” Norb said, staring up the slopes. “Goblins . . . here . . . this far north?”
“Yes,” Pond told him. “And there’re hundreds of them. We have to get out of here! Ed, talk later.”
“What happened?” Edmund demanded, his breath appearing as puffs in the frosty air. “What happened? To Rood? To Molly? Where—?”
“We gotta get out of here,” Pond said to Norb. “Can we all ride?” He looked doubtfully at the horse.
More shouts.
I can’t believe she’s gone.
Further up the mountains another horn blew, as if announcing the presence of goblin reinforcements about to cut off their only route of escape.
“Quick,” Pond said. “Give me your shield and rope.”
“Shit,” Norb said, still staring at the goblins swarming toward them. “You weren’t kidding. There . . . there’re hundreds of them! Shit!”
Pond seized Norb’s shield and the coil of rope hanging from his saddlebag. He gave an end to Norb. “Tie it to your saddle horn! Hurry!”
Molly!
Thorax barked viciously.
Gone . . .
Molly’s . . . gone.
Edmund’s hands slipped lifelessly off Norb’s chest.
Kravel . . .
Pond guided Edmund to the shield, now fastened to Norb’s rope. “Ed, we have to go. They’re coming.”
Edmund collapsed onto the shield as the Percheron reared and snorted.
Grabbing Thorax, Pond shouted to Norb. “Ride!”
Snow kicked up under the warhorse’s massive hooves, showering Edmund and Pond as they clung to the shield’s arm straps.
Molly . . .
Chapter Forty-Two
Pond draped another heavy blanket around Edmund’s shivering shoulders as Edmund stared through the flames growing in front of him. Norb handed Pond a hunk of hard bread and a tin cup of steaming coffee.
Norb had ridden south for many hours while Edmund, Pond, and Thorax clung to Norb’s shield as it bounced off the rocks under the melting snow. Dawn was approaching and they hadn’t seen any goblins since the volley of arrows that fell around them as they sped away. Everyone hoped that their pursuers had given up the chase, but Edmund knew that they wouldn’t—not while they wanted the answer to the riddle and he was still alive.
“My god, what the hell happened to you, Ed?” Norb asked, holding out another tin cup of hot coffee. “Where have you been? And what happen to your—?”
“Never mind all that,” Edmund said. “What happened to Molly? Where is she?”
Still holding the tin cup, Norb slowly withdrew his hands.
Staring into the crackling flames dancing in front of him, Edmund whispered, “Where’s Molly, Norb?”
Brushing the snow off his bedroll, the stable hand sat on the other side of the fire. “I, I honestly don’t know where to begin—”
“At the damn beginning,” Edmund snapped. Norb flinched. “Begin at the beginning. What happened after I left?”
“Okay,” Norb said, trembling. “The beginning. All right. Well, I felt bad. You know, about what I said to you. You know, when we was back behind the Rogue and all. I can’t remember exactly what I said—”
“You said that M-M-Molly wouldn’t be interested in a guy like me. That I wasn’t a hero like the storyteller.”
“Yeah . . . that. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Ed. Honest.”
Edmund continued staring, unblinking, at the fire.
“Well,” Norb took a tentative sip of the coffee he had offered to Edmund. “I-I felt real bad afterwards. I did. Then I heard what you had done, given all of your things to Mol and all and how you up and left.”
Edmund didn’t move.
Sparks floated up from the fire and dissolved into the blackness above them.
Throwing a pinecone on the snapping flames, Norb went on. “When you hadn’t returned in a couple days . . . well, we was all worried. Me, Molly . . . everybody.”
At the mention of Molly being worried about him, Edmund’s head lifted.
Norb examined the rim of his cup. “Anyways, we searched for you for a bit, you know. Went as far as some of the eastern ranches and to the Barrens, but you were nowhere to be found. Nobody had seen hide nor hair of you. Then . . . ” He took a tentative sip of the coffee.
“And then? And then what? What happened to Molly?”
The wind whistled between the fir trees on the surrounding hills. Above, cold stars shimmered blue and green.
Norb hunched closer to the fire, orange light flickering across his uneasy face.
“Molly?” he repeated. “Well, you know, we . . . we all thought that you were good and gone. Happy for a change and all that. Doing what you always said that you would do, you know. Adventuring and such. Honest. That’s what we figured.”
Appearing like a man needing to be absolved of some evil treachery, Norb looked at Edmund. But Edmund just glared at the hissing flames as they fought their way around the damp wood.
“Go on,” he demanded.
Swallowing hard, Norb gave a tired shrug. “So . . . so Mol went on with her life. She sold a few of your books to poor ol’ Tom and toasted to your health at every meal.”
Edmund’s cheeks flushed a bit, the corners of his lips lifting as he thought about Molly toasting him. For a moment, his body finally felt warm.
She loves me.
But she’s gone. Kravel has her. He thought she was my wife.
She should be my wife. She will be once I rescue her! I’ll ask her the moment I see her again. Damn that Kravel!
Kravel…. . . .
His scowl turned to confusion.
Wait a second . . .
“Poor ol’ Tom?” Edmund repeated.
Norb fingered the handle of his cup.
“‘Poor ol’ Tom’? You, you, you hated Thomas. What’s happened?”
“Who’s Thomas?” Pond asked, his mouth full of bread.
Edmund waved him to be quiet. “He sells antiques. My father bought a short sword from him years ago. I’ll explain later. Go on, Norb.”
“Tom is dead,” Norb said. “A lot of people are, Ed.”
Edmund’s heart lurched. “Dead! Who? How?” He stammered. “Wh-wh-what, what happened?”
“That’s just it,” Norb said. “We don’t rightly know what happened, or who or what is responsible. But some are talking about wights coming down from the hills like in the tales of old, you know? Everybody’s beside themselves. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Dead?
“Anyway, Thomas was the first to go missing. Then a few others, William the glassmaker for one. Henry and Bryce the night watchmen were two others.”
“Wait. Are they missing? Or dead?”
Norb threw another pinecone on the fire.
“Well . . . both. They were gone. And then we found them in the woods outside of town. Thomas was hanging from a tree with this big hook under his jaw like he was a caught fish or something.” Unnerved, Norb exhaled, his breath appearing in the cold. “His lower half was clean gone, like it were eaten by wolves. Fishing bait for wolves . . . that’s what he was like. It was horrible.”
A hook?
Damn goblins.
I can’t believe this . . .
Edmund’s body sank as if deflated.
You shouldn’t have said where Rood was.
I caused this. I caused all of this.
“Do you know what’s going on, Ed?” Norb asked, a pleading tone in his quivering voice. “’Cause nobody back home has a clue. Not even these Highmen, these knights that appeared in Rood right after you left. After Mol disappeared, they took over the town. They’re running things now. Organizing watches and everything.”
“Knights? In Rood?”
One of the hissing branches in the fire popped loudly, sending a large spark shooting into the snow. Norb jumped.
“Where’s Rood from here?” Pond asked. “Can we walk there?”
Edmund held up a finger, motioning for his pit mate to wait a moment. “Why are knights in Rood? Are they from Eryn Mas?”
“Yeah, King Lionel sent them.” Norb scanned the dark hills around them anxiously. “He wants Rood back in the Kingdom. He sent a company of these knights storming into town to help with what they call the ‘readjustment.’ Nobody was none too happy about it, I can tell you. The knights are bullying everybody something terrible. And this King Lionel wants us to start paying outrageous taxes and worse.”
“Worse?”
“He wants us to send two hundred young lads to Eryn Mas to join his army. Everybody told them that there weren’t two hundred young men in Rood and all of the surrounding farms put together. But they wouldn’t listen. Anyway, these knights took over everything, kicked Harris out of office. They say they’re running the town until a new lord of the Highlands is named. I thought that there was going to be bloodshed over the whole thing. There still might be, I don’t know.”
Behind him, the grey Percheron snorted and tossed her mane.
“Is that where you got the horse?” Edmund asked, trying to piece everything together.
Norb turned as white as the snow.
“I had to, Ed! Molly disappeared and . . . and these highfalutin knights and their nasty, arrogant squires weren’t going to do anything! So I . . . I . . . borrowed one of their horses and some of their gear. I had to! How else was I going to find Mol?”
Edmund shook his head in disbelief.
Knights in Rood . . . Goblins in the mountains . . .
It’s like history is repeating itself.
Pretty soon there’ll be war.
And Rood will be caught in the middle again.
Poor Rood . . .
When Edmund was finally able to exhale, he said, “Go on. Tell me everything. You said you thought I was okay and, and, and Molly finally had money and was toasting to my health. Tell me everything in order.”
How many people have died because of your little adventure? How many people are dead because of you? You should’ve stayed in Rood. You were content there, but you were too stupid to realize it.
“Like I was saying,” Norb went on. “She was happy that you were happy. So she . . . she went on, you know.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing for a few months.” Norb gestured to Thorax lying up against Edmund. She was licking the calluses and cuts covering his shivering hands. “Then this dog comes limping into town like she was looking for someone, all upset-like. She was hurt. Somebody shot her in the leg or something.”
Edmund stroked Thorax’s head.
“Anyways, the dog is smart, you know what I mean? I can’t really explain it, but it was as if she knew something. So when Mol disappeared, I said to her, I said, ‘Do you know where Molly is?’ And she went wild. Barking and all. That’s when I took the horse and everything and rode out of town. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been following her ever since.”
Good work, Thorax! We’d be dead without you!
Edmund patted Thorax’s side. “Go on.”
“Well, we found this ruined tower and some traces of an old campsite. But no signs of Molly. Then the dog here led me up this way, toward these mountains, like we were hot on Mol’s trail.” He threw another dead branch on the fire. The flames spit and snapped as ice on the wood dissolved and fell into the glowing coals. “There isn’t much left to tell.”
Wagging her tail, Thorax rolled onto her back. Edmund petted her.
“What, what about Tom and everybody? You said . . . you said that a lot of people are dead. What happened?”
“Tom is the guy who sells the swords, right?” Pond asked.
Edmund hushed him.
“It’s hard to say,” Norb said. “Thomas just up and disappeared one night. That was a month or so after you left, maybe two months. I don’t know. Anyways, days later Steig and Mary’s youngest kid, the one with the curly red hair, found him strung up like I said.”