The moment they are beyond the fence, I put water on to boil and search the house for whatever potion ingredients we still have. This time, I do not have to venture into the wilderness empty-handed as I did during the Trial. And there is no one here to stop me— though I can easily imagine Virelda’s disapproving grumble—so I intend to make use of everything I know.

Into the first glazed clay pot, painted red, I scatter dried leaves and cover them with brandy. The colour marks it as a vessel used only for poisons. Whoever encounters this one will be in for an unpleasant surprise.

I prepare two more pots for healing draughts and another for a general antidote. Once the water boils, I scald the three beneficial pastes and stir until the liquids turn red, green, and gold. My poison is ink-blue. A single drop of water would turn it perfectly clear. A vicious little concoction. One of Virelda’s secret recipes. It took me a long time to learn how she made it.

Beyond these little bottles, I can't pack much. Whatever food will survive the journey and whatever equipment seems useful, I cram as efficiently as possible into the two bags we intend to take.

Eldric has agreed to leave most of his old equipment in the chest beneath the bench. He cannot make much use of it now anyway, and there are not many people capable of coming through our door without suffering permanent injury.

It is already past noon when I hear someone calling from the gate. A skinny boy stands beyond the fence. Raff’s middle son. Milan is only a year younger than I am, but he does not dare come any closer. He keeps craning his neck curiously. I assume he wants to see Eldric. I want to decide when my companion makes an appearance.

I ask Eldric to close the attic vent—he does not even need a ladder to haul himself up among the beams—and go out to Milan alone. He somehow manages to look disappointed while turning red all the way to the tips of his ears as he hands me the headman’s papers.

I do not let him leave until I have read through them. As I expected, Frederic has been collecting some remarkably creative taxes, many of which are unlikely to appear among the tax collector’s demands. He squeezed extra gold from the Potters because they have too many daughters. A dowry tax. Raff’s family paid handsomely as well—a community contribution—because they catered three weddings last summer. The woodcutters were charged for the newly designated grove they work, and the hunters for the game they sold. He even tried to catch Virelda with an artisan’s tax. The old woman must have driven him off. Beside the assessed hundred and twenty gold pieces, someone has written paid in kind. Knowing Virelda, that could very well mean a threat involving a moderately troublesome curse.

I tell Milan to let his father know that we are leaving, then return to our house to finish preparing. Our house. I turn the words over in my mind. I like them. Without Eldric, the place would feel empty now.

My companion sits in the corner, entirely unhurried. He has practically packed himself away. I make one final circuit of the house, then take a basket into the front garden and gather the herbs I am most likely to need.

By the time I finish, we are well into the afternoon. There is still no sign of the innkeeper.
“We’re leaving.”
Eldric picks up our bags.

Raff was not always this much of a coward.

I head towards the village square and do not stop until I reach the doors of the Lonely Willow. Eldric lumbers comfortably behind me. Doors close along the street as we pass. Curious eyes follow us from the windows.

Raff has arranged matters so that we are the villains who have come to drag him away. I will remember that.

I gesture for Eldric to follow me inside. He pushes the heavy double doors open with one decisive movement. The hinges yield without a sound; even their momentum ends in little more than a dull thud. The noise inside does not die when the doors open. It dies when Eldric folds himself into the doorway and blocks out the sunlight.

Even those who have seen him before stare. His head rises among the rafters, partly disappearing into the smoke. He has to mind every movement as he steps aside to let me through. Firelight paints the fresh shoots in his moss-beard orange-red.

A small child giggles somewhere to my right. His mother hurriedly hushes him and hides him beneath her shawl, as though afraid we might notice. We already have.

I leave the door open. I have no intention of staying long. Eldric fills the opening again. No one leaves until we are finished. My gaze sweeps across the room. Lowered heads. Downcast eyes. A murmur dying into silence. A woodcutter whose name I cannot remember spits onto the floor from his place at the bar.
“The bitch-witch brought a forest demon,” he mutters over his cup to Raff.

For a moment, anger freezes me in place. I do not let it reach my face. I let my magic answer instead. The lanterns and hearthlight dim. Silver mist seeps from the cracks between the floorboards. Darkness gathers in the corners while the fog slowly rises around their knees.

A few people cry out. Chairs scrape against the floor. Before fear can spread any further, I dismiss the illusion.
“Show some respect, my friend,” I say in exactly the tone Virelda would use.
No one has anything to add. I walk towards the bar. Raff is trembling so badly that the pewter cup slips from his fingers, hits the floor with a dull knock, and rolls away.
“Morgana, dear... I was... I was just coming to see you.”
“Wonderful. Then perhaps we should leave.”

I punctuate the suggestion with a nod, but before I can turn away, Donna emerges from the kitchen. Our eyes meet. Then she notices Eldric. The tension in her face sharpens into fear.
“Eldric.”
My companion takes one step.
“Stay,” I ask.
Less of a command this time. He obeys nonetheless.

Donna understands. Her attention leaves Eldric and settles on her husband. One glance is enough to read the desperation on Raff’s face. The innkeeper owes me.
“You’re leaving?”
She is already taking the leather coat from the peg beside the door. With almost the same movement, she tears the white apron from her husband and presses the coat into his hands.

Raff looks up at her pleadingly. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. Donna does not. She turns back towards the kitchen. Raff looks to his customers for rescue instead. No one volunteers. At last he shuffles towards the door, shrinking into himself as he passes Eldric.

He does not hear Donna’s almost whispered plea behind him.
“Bring him back.”
“That’s the plan.”

I give her one final nod and step into the tired afternoon sunlight. The silence behind us lingers even after the door closes.

Raff stands at the corner of the building, clutching his coat, still hoping I will take pity on him and send him home.
“Which way did they go?”
“East.”

Eldric and I turn east. Beyond the houses lie the fields, and the wagon ruts curve towards the trade road. It has not rained for several days, but water still lies in places inside the tracks. Perhaps the mud has preserved something.

Raff slowly puts on his coat while I consider this. He does not appear to be looking for an escape route, though he makes a point of keeping away from Eldric. My companion waits patiently for me to move. Both bags hang from him, and he barely seems to notice their weight.
“Right. Let’s go.”

I set off at a brisk pace. I leave the tracking to Eldric. He proved in my garden that he knows what he is doing. I do not even have to ask. He seems to find what he needs instinctively. I cannot explain why I am so certain we are following the right wagon tracks. I simply feel his confidence.

Raff, however, I keep close. Once both my companions are where I want them, I watch the fields behind us. Apart from a few buzzards, nothing moves until we reach the forest.

Not long afterwards, Eldric stops.
“Wagons. Two.”
He crouches beside the tracks.
“One was heavy. Very heavy. The other was not. Riders... and men on foot.”
He points out the signs for me as well.
After a few more steps, he adds:
“They were not hurrying.”
So they knew they had nothing to fear. I keep that thought to myself. Raff is pale enough already.

The road enters the forest here, and the wilderness in these parts has never been friendly. It begins to climb. Eldric stops again. This time he studies the ground for longer, then pushes into the bushes.
“They stopped here.”
By then, even I can see the remains of a camp. They robbed Duskhall and then made camp for the night only a few hours from the village. Comfortably.

Eldric, of course, notices more. They split up. One wagon continued along the road. The other turned into the forest. Raff clears his throat.
“I... I don’t remember this.”
Without even looking up, Eldric answers him. It is the first time he has spoken directly to Raff. For a moment, I forget about the tracks.
“What don’t you remember?”
Raff stares at him.
“That they had two wagons.”
I look at the innkeeper. This morning, in my house, he stated quite firmly that there had been two. And I believed him. I have already discovered that Raff is as timid as a rabbit. But lying to me—No.
“Dear Raff. Why don’t you tell me again exactly what you remember about the raid?”
My voice comes out sharper than I intend.

Eldric rises and waits. Raff notices. Whatever colour the walk brought to his face disappears.
“I... There were two wagons.”
Neither of us interrupts. Somewhere nearby, a woodpecker taps against a trunk. The silence does the rest.
“Two wagons left Duskhall. I remember that. I’m certain. They loaded grain onto one, and whatever else they took from the storehouse. The other...” He hesitates. “I didn’t see that one properly loaded.”
We wait.
“When they left, both wagons were with them. But I didn’t follow. No one did. We only saw them heading east.”
He gestures towards the tracks disappearing into the forest.
“What I don’t remember is this. I don’t remember them splitting up.”
“Because you weren’t here,” Eldric says.
Oh. Yes.
“Exactly. Thank you.”
Raff looks relieved. Eldric does not.
“Then why did you say it as though you should remember?”
Raff opens his mouth. Closes it.
“Because... I thought these were the same two wagons we saw leave. Then when you said one turned off, I realized I have no idea what happened after they disappeared from sight.”
Eldric considers this.
“You speak imprecisely.”
“Yes.”
“That is dangerous.”
“I’m beginning to notice.”

I press my fingers against my forehead. Perhaps I should let Eldric question people from now on. Then Raff finally answers what I actually asked.
“There were many of them. More than anyone in Duskhall would have dared face. They came armed. They didn’t behave like men grabbing whatever they could in a hurry. They knew what they wanted.”
He frowns, remembering.
“They took food. Mostly that. Grain, preserved goods. Things that keep. They gathered everyone together. They didn’t kill anyone. Threatened us, of course. Anyone who resisted...” He shrugs. “But I don’t think they came looking for a fight.”
I am ready to move on when he adds:
“There was one man giving orders. At least I think he was. He wasn’t the one shouting the loudest. Quite the opposite. He hardly spoke. But when he said something, the others did it.”
His gaze drifts towards the forest.
“I think he went with the second wagon.”

Eldric waits for my decision. Ultimately, we are here for the tax. And they probably did not load the gold onto the same wagon as the grain. I am still thinking when Eldric circles the place where the tracks divide. Then he crouches.
“Morgana.”
Something gleams among the fallen leaves. A gold coin lies pressed into the mud. Raff ventures closer. Recognition dawns the moment he sees it.
“That’s one of them.”
He reaches for it, then thinks better of it.
“It bears the Redhill guild mark. These are the coins we use in the village.”
Eldric wipes the mud away and hands it to me. One recovered. For a fleeting moment, my smile mirrors his.
“This way.”

I tighten my grip on my staff and nod towards the forest.
“Stay behind me, Raff. If you get yourself tangled up in there, there won’t be much left for me to bring home to Donna.”
The innkeeper looks into the trees.
“Comforting to know you at least intend to bring home whatever remains of me.”

Still, he falls into line.

Eldric enters the forest without another word. We follow. The old road is surprisingly easy to follow. The forest has been reclaiming it for years, perhaps longer, but the wagon passed without much trouble. Apart from a few young saplings bent or broken beneath the wheels, there is little sign of a struggle. The bandits knew where they were going.

Eldric slows ahead of me. Then stops. One hand rises. I stop. Raff does not. His belly bumps into my back before he recoils in alarm. Eldric turns his head slowly, studying the forest around us. I see nothing. But he does.
“Trap.”
Raff groans behind me.
“Have I mentioned how glad I am that I came?”
I ignore him and look where Eldric is looking. There. A rope stretches across the path ahead, carefully hidden beneath the leaves. I can see the tree it is attached to. Nothing else. Our bandits are prepared. Far too prepared.

Whatever happens, we cannot leave the trap here. Someone else could stumble into it. An animal could. I will not allow that.
“Eldric, can you dismantle it without hurting yourself?”
“Yes.” He considers the question. “Probably.”

I suspect the last word is for Raff. Eldric sets down our bags and clears the ground around the rope. He does not hurry. He works methodically, uncovering one part at a time until I begin to understand what we nearly walked into. A bent tree. A hidden trigger. Sharpened stakes. He knows exactly what he is doing. It is this sort of competence that made me trust him even during the Trial.

He disappears into the undergrowth. A dull crack follows. The bent tree springs upright. By the time I see Eldric again, he is carrying the stake-lined contraption in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.
“Useful.”
He offers me the rope. Of course it is. While I put it away, he dismantles what remains of the trap. By the time he is finished, there is nothing beside the road but a pile of firewood.

Raff emerges from behind a nearby tree. I decide not to ask.
“Right. I am now officially asking: what sort of robbers are these?”
Eldric has already picked up our bags. At the place where the rope crossed the path, however, he crouches again.
“Two made it. The wagon stopped. Two men got down and worked while the others waited.”
I cannot tell whether he is reporting to me or thinking aloud.

Either way, from then on we move more carefully.
“Who did they expect to come after them?”
I mean to keep the question to myself. Raff answers anyway.
“If Old Fred’s men came after them... wouldn’t they follow the larger group?”
“If they were soldiers,” Eldric says, moving a loose stone from the path.
Raff looks at him.
“And if not soldiers?”
The same thought reaches all three of us.
“If Virelda had returned to Duskhall by now, would Old Fred have sent her?”
Raff scratches his chin.
“Frederick needs that tax urgently, and Virelda...” He considers his words. “Well, she’s the sort of person you can send after bandits without immediately having to decide who brings back what’s left of her.”
Eldric glances over his shoulder.
Raff notices.
“Fine. Morgana too.”
I choose to accept the correction.

Our caution is necessary, but it costs us time. They are not travelling south towards Redhill and its soldiers. After another stretch of climbing, I stop and take out the old map Virelda and I used around Duskhall. Raff is delighted by the chance to breathe. I am less delighted by the map. I turn it once. Then again. Nothing.

The trail still leads northeast, but I cannot match a single bend, stream, or rise around us to anything on the page. Paths change. Forests grow. Virelda and I never came this far in this direction. We may have crossed from familiar wilderness into wilderness proper without my noticing. At least we are not truly lost. Eldric can follow our own trail home.

When I look up, he is watching me. Heat rises into my face.
“I don’t know where we are.”
He nods. That is all. By the time I have folded the map away, he is studying the tracks again. Raff has apparently been waiting his entire life for this moment.
“I know where we are.”
I look at him.
“In a forest!”
He beams.

I find myself wishing a fly would enter his mouth. Just once. The terrain saves him from whatever expression I am making.

The climb grows steeper. The bandits have slowed here as well. Eldric points out where the wagon slipped, where a wheel struck a root, where men had to leave the road and push. I still do not understand why they chose this route.

Then another problem occurs to me. They have the higher ground.
“Eldric.”
He stops.
“From here, stay closer. And slower.”
I do not need to explain why. He looks uphill and nods. Raff needs no instruction either. He has attached himself to my heels.

We continue together.

A few uneventful minutes pass. Then Eldric stops so suddenly that Raff almost walks into me again. The path bends sharply ahead and disappears behind the slope.
“I heard something,” Eldric whispers. “Above us.”
That is enough for me.
“Eldric, if Raff and I stay here with the equipment, can you go ahead and look?”
He surveys the slope.
“Yes. Not by the path.”
He puts down our bags and leaves his greatsword with them. Raff leans against a tree thick enough to hide him from anyone above.
“I would like it noted that I support this plan. Particularly the part where I stay here.”
Neither of us answers. Eldric crouches beside me.
“I’ll circle around, look, and come back. If I shout, run.”
Raff leans closer.
“Which way?”
Eldric looks at him.
“Downhill.”
Then he disappears into the brush.

If I did not know he was there, I would be left with the nagging thought that something might be watching from the undergrowth. As he moves away, the unpleasant sensation takes hold of me only gradually. By the time he stops, he has covered roughly twice the length of our house. If he takes another step, I will probably start retching, but fortunately, it does not come to that.

He waits there for a short while—and I feel a wave of relief when he finally turns back. Raff’s eyes dart between the trees. For once, he has the sense to remain silent. We wait. A bird bursts from the branches overhead. I flinch. Raff nearly jumps out of his skin.
Neither of us mentions it. Then I feel Eldric approaching from the wrong direction.

A moment later, he emerges silently from the brush to our left. If I could not feel him through our bond, I would probably hit him with my staff. He crouches beside our bags and draws in the damp earth with one claw.
“There are two. One is watching the road. He has a bow and a hunting horn. The other is sitting farther back with a sword.”
“Did they see you?” I ask.
“No.”
Of course not.
“The wagon?”
“The tracks continue.”
Raff bends closer.
“So they really are guards.”
Eldric ignores him.
“They were talking. They’ll stay until dark. If no one comes by then, they’ll follow the others.”
I study the marks in the mud. The ridge. The path. Two guards.
“The archer has a horn,” Eldric adds.
Raff closes his eyes.
“Of course he does.”
“What is the ground like? Can we go around them?”
Eldric draws another line.
“Yes. This way is dense and steep, but the bushes will hide us. The other side is worse—rocks and wet leaves. We would have to move slowly. The left is too exposed; the archer could see us.”
I nod.
“If we go around them, they stay behind us.”
“Yes.”
“And after dark, they follow.”
“Yes.”
Raff sighs.
“So right now they don’t know we’re here. But if we leave them alone, we end up with two armed men behind us who are heading exactly where we are.”
I look at him. He gives me a small, helpless shrug.
“Yes,” Eldric says.
“Wonderful.”
I study the little battlefield scratched into the mud.
“We could go around them,” Eldric says. “If you want.”
He knows why I avoid fighting when I can. Raff does not need to.
“If there were only two of us, I would.”
I glance at the innkeeper.
“But there are three.”
Raff looks wounded. Bringing him seemed like a good idea this morning. I am beginning to reconsider.
“I have a plan.”
Both of them look at me.
“Eldric and I go first. Raff, you follow with the bags, but keep your distance. Eldric, get as close to the archer as you can. Before you attack, I’ll curse him. If it works, he won’t be able to see you for a little while.”
If it works. I keep that part to myself.
“Take the horn. Break it, throw it into the forest, keep it for all I care. Just make sure he cannot use it. Once you have him, I go for the other guard. Raff, if either of them is still standing by the time you reach us, help.”
Raff stares at me. I turn to Eldric.
“What do you think?”
He studies the drawing. Then the ridge.
“It could work. I can get close the same way I scouted. If your spell works, he cannot shoot me. If not...” He bares his teeth slightly. “I have to be faster.”
Fair enough. He points to the second guard.
“He cannot see me until I reach the archer. He cannot see you either if you stay low. When it starts, his companion will warn him. Then you attack.”

I smile. For a plan assembled on a muddy hillside, it is not terrible.
“I’m keeping the horn,” Eldric adds.
Naturally. Raff clears his throat.
“So my task is to quietly carry a plant-giant’s luggage up a mountain, then fight bandits when I arrive.”
Eldric looks at him. For a moment, I think he is frowning.
“Yes.”
Raff sighs and picks up both bags.
“I just wanted to make sure I understood.”
Eldric retrieves his greatsword, then bends closer to me.
“Good plan. But when you curse him, do not wait for me. If it works, go. I will have enough.”
Then he disappears into the brush again. This time, I follow.

The climb is every bit as unpleasant as I expected. But I grew up in these forests too, even if on different hillsides. I know how to find a foothold without sending stones rolling downhill. I know which branches will hold my weight and which will betray me.
Eldric still moves almost silently. I do my best. Before I quite realize it, we are level with the guards.

They have noticed nothing. Eldric glances back at me. Now I can hear them.
“...fucking freezing by tonight.”
“Then light a fire.”
“Of course. So they can see us from Duskhall.”
The other man laughs. Eldric crouches behind a bush. I close the distance. There they are.

The first stands watch with a shortbow, the hunting horn within easy reach. The second sits farther back, sword at his side, looking thoroughly bored. A narrow hollow cuts through the ground between us. Deep enough for me.

Eldric waits. First the archer. Casting through the bond requires two things. Eldric must be close enough to the target. And I must still be able to see Eldric. He looks back. I nod. He moves.

By the time I raise my hand, he is already charging towards the archer on all fours. Magic answers. It runs through me, into the bond, into Eldric—and beyond him. I feel it find the man. Then I drop into the hollow and run.

Someone cries out behind me. The second guard leaps to his feet.
“What?!”
Eldric reaches the archer before he can use the horn. One strike. The man goes down. I am already moving towards the other. He catches sight of me. I curse him. For one heartbeat, he sees a witch coming through the brush. Then he sees nothing at all. His sword comes up. He backs away. I do not follow. I do not need to. Eldric is already coming. By the time the man realizes it, the fight is over. My companion does not toy with him. He does not make him suffer. A few precise strikes. Then stillness.

I let out the breath I have been holding. Raff arrives at the top of the slope carrying both bags and making enough noise to announce himself to Redhill. He stops. Looks at the bodies. Looks at us.
“Help however I can,” he pants. “Next time I’ll try to get here faster.”
He hands the bags back to Eldric.

I give Raff the dead guard’s sword instead. He stares at it.
“Is this mine now?”
“While you need it.”
“I was hoping you’d say while you need me.”
I point at Eldric. Raff looks at him. Then back at me.
“Right.”

Meanwhile, Eldric picks up the hunting horn and examines it. He keeps it. Of course he does. I could object to his growing collection of rubbish, but he owns very little and carries everything himself. Perhaps these things matter to him. I understand that better than I would like to admit.

I crouch beside the bodies. Their equipment is worn but cared for. One man has a few loose coins, the other a disappointingly light purse. The archer carries a dagger, fire-making tools, a little dried meat—and a folded scrap of cloth.

I open it. A rough map. The road through the forest is marked clearly enough, as is the ridge where we are standing. From here, the route continues northeast and uphill. At its end is a circle. Beside it, three marks.

There is something else. Both men wear the same metal token on a leather cord. I turn one over in my palm. A pair of stylized antlers pointing downwards. Or perhaps a forked branch. Between them, a single straight line. Nothing about it is familiar. I show Raff. He turns it over once, then shakes his head. Eldric examines it next. He does not recognize it either. Good. It proves nothing, of course. But after the Trial, I would be quite content to discover that some mysteries are merely ordinary ones.

I hand him the map instead.
“What do you think?”
He spreads the cloth across his palm.
“This is the road.”
A claw follows the line.
“This... I don’t know. A building. A camp. Three trees. Three stones. Or something only the one who drew it understands.”
Then he taps the route ahead.
“It gets steeper.”
I look uphill.
“Not far,” he adds.
Raff edges closer.
“How not far?”
“Closer than Duskhall.”
Raff sighs.
“Thank you, Eldric.”
“The wagon went that way,” I say. “We’ll find out.”

Eldric does not move. He studies the map again.
“I don’t think it is their destination.”
“Why?” Raff asks.
Eldric points towards the dead guards.
“They said they would follow the others after dark. If the others stayed there, they would say they were returning to camp.”
That makes sense. Annoyingly good sense. I put the map away.

So far, not one of my spells has failed. Perhaps that is a good sign. Experience has taught me not to trust those.
“Let’s catch the wagon before dark.”
Eldric looks at the sky.
“Before dark.”
Raff looks uphill. Then at his sword.
“Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to catch armed robbers after sunset.”

No one corrects him. We start climbing.

The road grows steeper with every turn, forcing us to slow again. The wagon tracks are impossible to miss now, carved deep into the soft earth. Whatever lead the bandits had when they entered the forest, the mountain has been steadily taking it from them.

Dusk comes quickly beneath the trees. Eldric does not seem to tire. I do. Behind me, Raff sounds as though he is fighting for his life. Every so often, metal strikes stone. He is using the sword as a walking stick. I decide not to look.

Then Eldric stops over one of the wheel tracks.
“Another trap?” I ask when I catch up.
“No. These tracks are fresher.”
A few steps farther, he crouches again.
“Much fresher.”
We are gaining on them. Raff braces both hands on his knees.
“Tell me... they... have it... worse.”
Eldric studies the churned earth.
“They have it worse.”
“Thank you.”

It does not make the climb any shorter. At the top of the winding road, the map finally begins to make sense. We emerge onto a plateau where the forest is older. The trees are enormous here and stand farther apart, their roots twisting among moss-covered stones. Mist gathers in the hollows between them. Three stones rise taller than the rest. The three marks on the map. Perhaps. There is no camp. No wagon.

Eldric stops. Listens. A horse neighs somewhere ahead. We are close. The sun has almost disappeared behind the mountain, and darkness gathers quickly beneath the old trees. I look at the three stones again. Whatever they mark, the bandits did not stop here.
“Well, we’re certainly not turning back now.” I glance at Raff. “You can drive the wagon
down on the way home. Just try not to roll it off the mountain.”
He looks back at the road we have climbed.
“It comforts me that you have such a precise vision for my journey home.”
Then he raises his borrowed sword towards the darkness ahead.
“First we need a wagon.”
For once, he has a point.

Eldric is already watching the forest. The light continues to fade. The spaces between the trunks deepen until the trees seem farther apart than they are. Mist creeps uphill, pooling around roots and stones before spilling slowly across the old road.

Eldric lowers his voice.
“No light unless we need it.”
Neither of us argues. We follow the tracks into the mist. A few minutes later, I hear metal strike stone. Not Raff’s sword this time.
“Lift that fucking lantern!” someone curses beyond the bend.

We stop. A faint glow moves between the trees. Then another. Lanterns. They sway back and forth ahead of us, their light appearing and vanishing behind the trunks. Eldric crouches behind a fallen tree. Raff and I follow. The trunk is enormous. Perhaps old enough to have been standing when Eldric last walked these lands. I do not ask him.
“Should I go closer?” he whispers.
“No.”

The answer comes too quickly. I do not want him at the edge of the bond again. Not now. Not when we already know there are armed men ahead and cannot know what is behind us.
“Find us a way closer. We stay together. Raff, behind me. If they notice us, get into cover. If I have to, I’ll try to draw them the wrong way with magic.”
Raff nods. Eldric studies the slope.
“Slowly.”
Then he moves. We follow.

He finds a shallow gully leading towards the lights. It is uncomfortable going, but deep enough to hide us. Halfway down, Eldric stops. From here, I can see the wagon. And the horses. Five men. I count them twice. Still five. Two hold lanterns. One handles the horses. Another works at the mountainside with a pickaxe. The fifth watches. Tall. Quiet. No one needs to tell me which one gives the orders. Raff tells me anyway.
“That’ll be the leader.”
I give him a look. He has the decency to fall silent.

The man with the pickaxe strikes the rock again. Except it is not rock. Not entirely. There is masonry beneath the earth and moss. Someone walled up an opening in the mountainside and concealed it well enough for the forest to begin swallowing it. The bandits are opening it again.

I look at Eldric. He is not watching them. His attention is fixed on the trees beyond the lantern light. Every part of him has gone still. The unease reaches me through the bond before he speaks.
“There’s something there.”
Raff’s lips move silently. Praying, perhaps.
“A man?” he finally whispers.
“I don’t know.”
That worries me more than if he had said yes. The bandits keep working. They have noticed nothing. I search the opposite treeline, trying to find whatever Eldric sees. Nothing. Mist. Trees. Darkness. The lanterns move, and shadows move with them.
For a moment, I wonder if that is all he saw.

Then something moves when the lantern does not. Pale. Low to the ground. Gone.
I stop breathing. If Eldric had not warned me, I would never have noticed it. Whatever it is, it remains just beyond the circle of light. Following it.
“It’s hunting,” Eldric whispers.
Raff says nothing. Neither do I.

The pickaxe strikes again. Stone gives way with a heavy crack.
“Got it!”
“Make it wider,” the leader orders.
The opening is already large enough for a man to crawl through if he bends low.

Eldric’s claws sink slowly into the earth.
“They’re moving.”
This time, I see them. Two pale shapes glide between the trees. Fast. Four-legged. Too long and too thin to be wolves. The bandits do not notice. The horses do. One snorts and backs away. The other jerks against the harness hard enough to move the wagon.
“Hey! Hey!”
The man holding them catches the reins.

One of the lanterns swings towards the trees. Its light catches something for less than a heartbeat. Pale flesh. Long forelimbs. A head—I see no eyes. Then darkness swallows it again.
“What the fuck was that?!”
A sword comes free of its sheath. The leader does not panic.
“Lights forward. Together. Don’t run.”
The men obey. They barely have time.

One creature launches itself at the nearer horse. The other moves with it. A lantern falls. Wild shadows leap across the trees. Then the flame goes out.
“Two,” Eldric says.
For now. I keep that thought to myself. Raff raises his sword.
“We need those horses,” I whisper.

He looks at me as though this is not the most important thing happening. It is to me.
“Raff, stay behind Eldric. Hit anything you can reach. Sharp edge cuts, pointy end stabs.”
“I know how a sword works.”
“Good. Eldric, three bandits first. Then the creatures. Watch the leader.”

I start moving sideways through the gully. Eldric glances towards me. Then the fight begins. He charges straight into the nearest bandit. Raff runs after him. I circle the wagon. The man who had been holding the horses lets go of the reins to defend himself. One of the pale creatures prowls at the edge of the remaining lantern light, driving the men closer together.

Their leader moves away from the others. Towards me. That will do. I cast my curse through Eldric. The spell crosses the bond and finds the leader. He flinches. Then turns. He sees me standing where the lantern light fades into mist. His sword rises. Good. Look at me. Not Eldric.

Behind him, my companion crashes into the others. I hear shouting. Steel. Something that does not sound human. The leader advances. I curse him again through the bond.
“Witch!”
So much for subtlety. He attacks. I twist aside. The blade misses me by less than I care to think about.

Then pain tears through the bond. Eldric. For one terrible heartbeat, I cannot tell whether the pain is his or mine. It is his. That does not make it better. Raff starts shouting somewhere beyond the wagon. I swallow my scream. Eldric is still moving. Still fighting.

Then the horses jerk forward. The wagon moves. Downhill. Everything else becomes irrelevant for a heartbeat.
“HELP!” someone screams.
Not one of mine. I find Raff through the confusion. He sees the wagon.
“Go!”
He runs.

I back towards Eldric, one hand already searching inside my bag. A little bottle wrapped in hemp. Healing draught. The leader follows. Of course he does. I curse him again. He staggers, but stays on his feet.

Behind him, Raff reaches the horses.
“Whoa!”
“Who the fuck are you?!”
“The innkeeper!”
Raff roars it as though that settles the matter.
“Get down from there!”
The rest disappears beneath shouting and snarling. He will manage. He has to.

Eldric strikes. A bandit falls. I reach him and press the little bottle into his hand.
“Drink.”
He does. Then he is moving again before I can even tell whether it helped.

The leader hesitates. He has lost track of Eldric.
“What the—”
He stops. Looks around. Then makes his decision.
“Back! To the wall!”
No one is free to obey him.
“GOT IT!” Raff bellows from the wagon. “GO!”

The leader turns towards him. A mistake. He has moved too far from Eldric for me to use the bond. So I do not. I cast the curse from myself. For the fourth time, the spell finds him. This time, he falls.

I do not wait to watch him die. Eldric is still fighting. One bandit goes down beneath his claws. Another is already gone—running blindly into the dark. I watch him disappear between the trees. Rest in peace. I doubt he will get far.

The pale creatures are still here. One turns on Eldric. I curse it. It recoils, confused by pain it cannot place. Eldric does not waste the opening. He strikes. The creature falls. The other is at the horses. Raff is shouting at it from the wagon, apparently trying to draw its attention. I have no idea what he plans to do if that works. The creature tears into one horse’s flank. The animal screams.

I cast again. There is no point hiding my magic from Raff now. Eldric attacks. The creature twists away, wounded. Then it runs. Not towards us. Into the forest. We let it go.

For a moment, none of us moves. Then the horse makes a low, shuddering sound. The forest around us is dark. Completely dark now. The remaining lantern casts a small circle of light over the road, the wagon, and the bodies. Beyond it, anything could be watching.

We have the wagon. Probably the tax as well. One horse is injured. Eldric is hurt despite the potion. There are bodies all around us. And behind them, a hole in the mountain that someone went to considerable trouble to seal. I am not going down there. Not tonight.

I give Eldric our last healing draught. He drinks it without argument. That worries me almost as much as the wound. Next time, I make more.

Raff climbs down from the wagon and goes straight to the horses. For once, he says nothing. I gather the lanterns. One is still burning. The other survived its fall, and I manage to light it again. I place one near Raff and the horses. The other stays with me.
Always between me and the opening.

Raff eventually unharnesses both animals.
“The horses stay,” he says. “I wouldn’t take the injured one down that road before morning unless we absolutely have to.”
His gaze shifts towards the broken wall.
“And I assume we’re not going in there now.”
“No.”
He closes his eyes briefly. Relief.

Eldric sits between the wagon and the forest. Even after the second potion, he looks battered. Through the bond, however, I feel his calm. The forest is waking again around us. Small sounds return first. Leaves. Insects. Something moving far away.

I do not like how quickly the wilderness forgets a battle.
“We need a camp.”
Raff looks around. I point at the bodies.
“Those go inside.”
His face changes.
“Inside.”
“Yes. Then we block the opening as well as we can.”
I turn to Eldric.
“I’m sorry, but I still need your strength. We need a fire big enough to last until sunrise.”
A grin spreads across his face.
“Still alive.”
Yes. He is. I smile back. For a moment.

Then Raff speaks.
“So there is an unknown place in the mountain that someone deliberately walled up; these men were desperate to open it, and we know absolutely nothing about what is inside.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re putting dead people in it.”
Behind us, Eldric rises.
“Good idea.”
Raff stares at him.
“Of course you think it’s a good idea.”
Eldric starts gathering deadwood.
“If something tries to come out, the bodies will be in its way. If something eats them, we’ll hear it.”
Raff goes very still.
“I take it back. Excellent idea. I hate it.”

I approach the opening with the lantern. The wall has been broken low enough that I would have to stoop to enter. I have no intention of doing so.
“Morgana,” Raff whispers behind me.
I raise the lantern through the gap. The rough stones around the entrance give way almost immediately to regular masonry. A corridor. Built deliberately. It slopes gently down into the mountain. The ceiling is low enough that Eldric would struggle to move beneath it. Dust lies thick across the floor. Not untouched dust. Something has been dragged through it. I lean closer. At the very edge of the lantern light, something glints.

I flinch. It does not move. Raff sees it too.
“This is the part where we wall it back up, right?”
“Yes.”
I put the lantern down outside.
“Quickly. Not neatly.”
We start with the bodies. There is no time for dignity and no reason for it either. We shove the three dead bandits through the opening without even searching them. The pale creature follows. I search only the leader. Money. A dagger. Fire-making tools. A key. And a folded piece of paper wrapped in leather. I open it. A short instruction.

Supplies east. The chest to me. We turn off at the Three Watchers. If the sign is true,
we will find the old road. Open the door. What lies below is worth more than the gold.

No signature. Only the same strange symbol as the guards’ amulets. Then I notice another line, added later. Do not remain outside the wall after dark. I read it twice.

The night presses close around our little circle of lantern light. Of course it does.
“Morgana.”
Something in Eldric’s voice makes me turn immediately. He is standing at the opening. Raff has already backed away.
“What?”
Eldric points.
“One of them moved.”
I bring the lantern closer. One of the bodies lying in the corridor has moved. I stare. Nothing happens. Then it moves again. Half a handspan. Towards the dark.
“Stones. Now!”
This time, I scream.

The leader is still outside. Raff and I shove him through the opening while Eldric brings the first stone. It is enormous. He sets it across the gap. A quarter of the opening disappears. Then another stone. And another. Something moves inside. I hear it. I do not look.
“I don’t want to know,” Raff mutters. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.”
For once, he speaks for both of us.

We do not rebuild the wall. We pile stones. Broken ones. Loose ones. Anything Eldric can lift and Raff and I can shove into place. We keep going until there is nothing useful left within reach. Then we stand before our work. It is ugly. It is hurried. It is not enough. It will have to be. A man would struggle to get through it. Anything larger will at least make noise.

Raff takes two steps back.
“Fire.”
Eldric looks at the barricade.
“Big.”

Wonderful. At last, all three of us agree.