Circle of Stone (reprieve)

They were woken by Canthiss what seemed like only a few minutes after slumping into sleep. One of the advantages of the Druids homebrew Tain had noticed was that it seemed that there was no hangover, as if a cure was preconceived in the brewing.

It was quite dark still; the sky was starless and overcast. It was with much reluctance that they stepped back out into the gloomy looking marsh.

The Druid led the way with Tain close behind offering occasional helpful advice and comments on direction. The Baron came next; Tain could constantly hear the sound of armour behind him clinking as the Baron moved. Canthiss took up the rear close to his master.

Their pace was slow in the dark but it increased as a pale dawn came to the sky. They stopped only twice. The first when something close by but unseen splashed wildly away through the reed beds, setting their hearts racing with its suddenness, and once again just before the sun rose when the Druid insisted they stop in order that she could say a prayer to her Goddess.

To Tain the green sheen in the Druids eye seemed brighter as she finished her prayer and when they moved off again he noticed that she now moved like someone who had just woken from a good nights sleep. As Tain wearily plodded on behind he considered to himself whether there might not be something to religion after all.

They had decided not to stop on the rocky outcrop crowned with the gorse bush and its straggly birch trees but to press directly on to the island with the hermits hut. The marsh however was treacherous and distances seemed vague and to change day to day as the ground and water levels altered. By the time they arrived on the next island they were behind schedule and it was approaching midday.

Immediately Tain called out as they strode up onto the shore raising an arm in signal as he did so, “Everybody stop where you are.”
He crouched low to the ground, examining, “Someone’s been here since we last were,” he reported.

“Who?” the Baron immediately demanded to know.

“Give me a moment will you?” Tain barked annoyed.

He continued to scan the area before himself and went forward towards the hut quickly examining the ground before it and around the fireplace.

“Four or five people, bare footed. They were searching the island by the look of it.” He followed the track up onto the slope behind the hut, “They came from the marsh, from the direction of the mountains and they went back that way too. I’d say they were here yesterday,” he said and turning to the Druid added, “The day after we left.”

The Druid looked out towards the nearby mountains, “Are they the same footprints as those that took Grul?” she asked.

“One pair is for definite,” Tain said indicating a print close by, “He has a big heel. But the tracks crisscross and are badly scuffed, I can't tell with the rest. Either way I think it's a sure bet that when we find the owners of those tracks we’ll find Grul too.”

“Well whoever they are, they certainly are not Dead,” the Baron commented wryly.

They all took a brief meal together and a short rest before shouldering their packs once more. The afternoon had become overcast and it was threatening to rain but never managed more than a few large drops squeezed from the grey blanket of cloud.

They had gone a few hours towards the now large and looming mountains when they spotted another, flatter island a short way ahead. It was close to the foot of the nearest of the mountains whose great slabs of blue cliff jutted down into the marsh. After a brief discussion they decided to bear towards it.

The island rose no more than a few feet above the water level. It had no trees but instead was crisscrossed with a series of ancient walls of the white stone. They had all but crumbled away and most stood no more than a foot from the ground. Almost its entire surface had at one time been flagstones and she followed them with her eye as they continued out under the brown water. This 'island' must once have been but a small part of some much larger structure.

Beyond the island, and only a few minutes wading across the marsh, was the base of the closest of the tumbledown cliffs that formed the outreaches of the mountains.

Tain was looking in that direction, having wandered over to the edge of the island in search of more tracks. He noticed that a path of sorts ran around the cliffs cracked base and went out of sight around an outcrop of rock to his right.

He followed the path with his eye and caught sight of it again further on where a second cliff face jutted out behind the first. At that point there seemed to be a wider area of dry land in front of the cliff and although he was not sure he thought that some of the marks on the cliff face, that at a glance he had taken for random cracks and crevices, had the appearance of worn carvings. Unfortunately from where he stood he could only see a small corner portion of it, obscured as it was by the nearer cliff.

There was something else too he noticed, on the ground before the carved (if it was) cliff face. He moved along the islands edge further to his right and away from the others to try to peer round the outcrop and saw that the object was a pole or spear stuck into the ground. It had something small and rounded attached to its top. He was about to call to the others to come over and see it when something moved. A figure emerged close by to the pole.

Whoever they were they must have been previously hidden from his view by the out jut of closer rock.

He dropped to the ground, pulling his cloak close round himself and over his head. He waved in signal to his companions to do likewise, which they did, looking towards him with quizzical expressions. Fortunately the stranger was walking away from them and was looking in the opposite direction.

Tain watched the figure, it was mannish, heavy set and squat, he guessed at no more than five and a half foot tall. It had unkempt long black hair. It held a crude spear in one hand and its clothing was of furs patched together to make rough trousers and a jerkin.

As Tain observed it passed by the pole and went to the far right base of the cliff where five more figures emerged, they were all of similar appearance. These five had it seemed come down a staircase cut into the rock that was mostly hidden from Tains view, but now he could see where it was and was looking for it he could discern more steps further up, cut back into the cliff.

The first creature greeted the newcomers and gestured back the way he had come and then all six disappeared again behind the shelf of rock from which the single creature had first emerged. Cautiously Tain crawled back to the others. He took them to the opposite side of the island, furthest from where they might be espied before divulging what he had seen.

“Goblins,” the Baron said with great distaste when Tain finished his description of the men.

“Goblins? I thought they had all been driven into the Central Mountains long ago?” the Druid enquired.

“They were, but some have made new tunnels beneath the mountains. They are little more than animals,” the Baron vehemently replied.

“I thought they were all long dead. There hasn’t been goblins in Stenor for generations. I don’t know anyone who’s ever seen one. What are they like?”

“They are thieves, horse and cattle rustlers and in desperate times, cannibals it is said,” Canthiss offered by way of a fuller explanation. “They hate all ‘Hehlann’s Slaves', as they name all who live beneath the sun. We have had skirmishes with them before, on the western borders of Northolt. But it has been long since any were sighted this far south; their lairs are hidden in the north as the Druid says. And it is rare to see them above ground at all except when great need drives them there. They do not fight well in the sun for their eyes have become unaccustomed to it.”

“They have been getting bolder for years, moving southwards in secret under the mountains,” the Baron growled and privately added in his own thoughts, ‘Since Baron Erwin arrived.’

“Could they be responsible for the water rising?” Tain asked.

“No,” answered Canthiss dismissively, “They have not the wits nor the organization nor the means. They live in clans as often at war with one another as in alliance.”

“But maybe they could be pressed to some purpose by someone with a mind cleverer than their own?” the Baron suggested half to himself.

“Well they have the answers. But they do out number us, sun or no sun,” Tain said.

“They are primitive fighters and their iron, when they have any, is poor. We can manage six of them, there are four of us after all,” the Baron said unsheathing his long sword silently, “That is if you have powers other than brewing,” he said to the Druid “And if you know how to use that bow for more than catching your dinner with,” he added with a nod at Tain.

Tain, who was holder of six out of seven of Stenors Archery Championships (and had only lost the seventh due to extreme drunkenness) and who had left behind at home a small hall decorated in trophies and pendants, did not deign to answer.

They moved slowly to minimize their noise, this time with Tain in the lead and the Baron and Canthiss following. The Druid hung at the back keeping a sharp lookout in the direction of the stairs, which Tain had pointed out to her, ready to yell out if any more goblins descended.

Fortunately the waters between the island and the closest of the cliffs was relatively shallow and they successfully navigated it without drawing any attention to themselves.

They stopped under the looming cliff. They were close enough to hear the guttural sounding voices of the goblins speaking in their own harsh language- they were obviously not worried about being overhead as they spoke loudly and freely.

The Baron crept up behind Tain, armour clinking as he came and Tain turned to him looking annoyed. The Barons breastplate was gleaming wet in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Can I ask you something?” Tain hissed at him.

“Very well? What?” the Baron whispered back.

“How many shiny objects have you seen out here?”

“What?”

“You, and all that armour, if I was tracking you I’d see you a mile away, even if you were under the marsh. And you clink when you walk. Nothing else out here clinks.”

“Do you have a point?” the Baron asked fiercely.

“Not one I expect you to see, no,” Tain responded bleakly.

Canthiss and the Druid edged up to them. “So what is the plan?” the Druid asked in a hushed tone.

“I think we should split into two groups,” Tain began, “I believe the Druid and I are capable of circling back in beyond the island and getting round the other side without being spotted, then when we’re in place,” he stopped, the goblins had ceased talking and they heard the splashing sound of people entering into the waters.
Five of the goblins had waded out, they now wore stiff hoods over their heads so that their eyes were protected from the harshness of daylight. They began picking something out from the shallows; boxes of some kind. The Druid watched as one of the goblins opened up a panel at one end of the box and dragged some long writhing creature out of it, stuffing it unceremoniously into a bag at his waist.

Tain was considering an alternative course of action when the Baron went striding passed him hefting his shield and sword from his back. Before Tain could grab him the Baron let out a mighty cry of “Northolt!” and went charging out at the men sword waving.

Tain stared after him dumbfounded. “What the hell does he think he's doing?” he cried to Canthiss.

“Being the Baron Ironfang,” Canthiss replied simply and took his bow and set an arrow to it.

still reading

(And quick too!)-next bits shorter! (I think!)

The Baron charged across the shallow water. The goblins had all turned to face him when he had cried out, there were two off on his left in the shallows and one on the shore, two more were further out in the marsh to his right.

The sixth goblin, the closest, had dropped his catch and was lining up with his spear at the charging Baron. With a guttural cry the goblin let it fly and it whistled through the air striking the Barons shield and glancing off without even slowing the Baron down.

A second later and the goblin was shrieking his last as the Baron cut him down.

Tain took his own prize-winning bow from his back, cursing Ironfang as he did so and fitted an arrow to it. The Baron had killed one of the men and was charging at the other two, oblivious to the ones nearest the shore who were drawing crude small swords and preparing to attack the Baron from the rear.

“I am left you are right,” Canthiss said to Tain and fired. Almost simultaneously so did Tain.

Canthiss arrow swept by its target and cracked against the far cliff wall and he cursed. Tains’ shot was better and found its mark; the goblin dropping to his knees clutching the side of his throat.

Canthiss took a second aim and this time the other goblin fell forward with an arrow in his thigh, as he stumbled towards the ground Tains’ second arrow hit his chest and he splashed into the muddy water dead.

“Very good shooting Master Tain,” Canthiss commented, genuinely impressed.

The Baron was by now engaged with two of the goblins who howled like animals as they fought. He parried a poor thrust from one but a blow from the second and from the side rung of his armour. It caused him to stumble backwards into a mass of tangled roots partially submerged in the waters. He tripped and fell with a mighty splash of water onto his back but even as he did so he brought his sword up and forwards, stabbing through his enemy’s chest even as the goblin stooped eagerly over to finish him.

The goblin’s red eyes stared down in pain and shock into the Barons face but found no mercy there, the Baron swept his sword back out from the body and let the dead carcass fall bleeding into the marsh beside him.

Ironfang could feel his own blood pounding in his ears, his sense of smell had become acute and the multitude of marsh odours contended with the sweet stench of fresh warm blood from the slain lying beside him. The stench of battle. He immersed himself in it. The eyes he turned on the second goblin were enough to make the savage step back in fear but before the Baron could rise to strike something whistled passed his ear and the second man fell dead with a splash before him.

The remaining goblin on the shore had made good use of his time and even as Tain ran up to the Barons position the goblin was loping up the stairway in the cliff wall for all he was worth.

Tain sighted his bow and fired but the goblin was too quick and disappeared round a curve of rock some twenty foot up the cliff face and the arrow harmlessly struck stone.

“Damn! Damn!” cursed Tain.

“Are you all right Baron?” Canthiss asked anxiously of his master coming up to join them.

“Yes, thanks to your quick shooting,” the Baron replied putting his hand warmly on Canthiss' shoulder.

“Actually most of the credit must go to Master Tain. I hit only one of my targets,” Canthiss generously replied turning to Tain.

“I feel obliged to admit that on that second shot I’d missed, he fell into its path. If you’d not struck his leg and made him stumble I’d have been half a yard off,” Tain replied honestly.

“Modesty too,” noted the Baron.

“Oh, I don’t know about modest Baron,” Tain said, “Because my other shots, now they were absolute perfection. Which was as well for you. Just what the hell did you think you were doing?”

“I do not answer for my actions to you,” the Baron admonished.

“Yes you do. You damn well do if you’re endangering my life,” Tain insisted angrily, “That was really stupid. People who try to be heroes die. We just got lucky here. You do know that? How’d you know there wasn’t a whole horde of them hidden round here?”

“The Barons of Northolt have never feared goblins nor shunned battle,” the Barons eyes fixed Tains.

“Well from now on we stick to the plan, when we have one. No more heroics,” Tain demanded, “I was hoping to question one of them. Fat chance when you’ve finished slicing them up. And you let one get away, how long do you think before the reinforcements arrive?”

“I will not take instruction nor be spoken to in such fashion by a commoner!” Ironfang roared and his eyes blazed, “A Baron needs answer for his actions to none but the King.”

“Would that be the same King who sits on a sick throne unable to control his own children let alone a kingdom?” Tain retorted and Ironfangs eyes blazed and he shot a sharp look at Canthiss.

“It is late now to argue the point,” Canthiss interrupted raising his hands in a calming gesture, “I suggest we make better use of the day than in argument, and before more goblins return.”

Tain broke his stare first with a grunt and turned away to the fallen goblin.

They quickly examined the bodies but found the dead had nothing that might shed any light on what they were doing out here.

The Druid began hunting out all their traps and releasing any creature that still lived whilst the others went up onto the shore to examine the object on the pole. They found much more than they expected.

By the time the Druid approached them a few minutes later she could see that in a cleft of the cliff, hidden from their previous vantage point, there was a massive doorway into the mountain.

It had once been carved with wide pillars either side and with figures cut into the rock face above but the years and weather had rendered the images indistinct and blurred. She could not make out their design. The stairs the goblin had fled up wound up above this doorway and disappeared from view around the rock.

Tain, the Baron and Canthiss were standing looking at the object on the pole as she approached, the Baron in particular looked deeply troubled. Coming closer she could see clearly for herself that it was a head, small, perhaps shrunken. But when she got closer there was no doubt that it had once been the head of an old Gnome. It had been severely abused so that little more than species was recognizable and the marsh insects had already eaten away at its rotten flesh.

A shape like a wolf or of a great dogs howling head in profile was branded onto its forehead, made partially unclear now by the degradation of the flesh.

“Seems like we’ve finally found Grul,” Tain intoned grimly.

You think Im reading quick ? Im loving this story,so Im trying not to lag behind,but to keep up. & I do look forward to each instalment !

I am always worried about how much to post- I reckon ideally about a chapter a day to get through it in reasonable time.
And that was the end of chapter five just then.

As you are my main reader for now I am quite happy to post at a rate that suits you however- I dont want to rush you, or make you feel you have to read just to not fall behind- so just let me know.

Next up chapter 6 First Circle. (I can post some of it for tonight or leave it till tomorrow- Ill leave that choice up to you)

Let the writting flow Petty, Im happy to read whatever amount you post ! I usually stay up late, & as I said before, I like reading this at the end of the day,just before I go to bed, as its relaxing, its a fantasy tale that feels real, so I get into it, & in turn,I relax. Its not a hardship to "keep up", as Ive enjoyed this story ! & its because I enjoy it that I dont want to fall behind. Im reading Mrs figgs Freaky bean, & thats so funny ! & Eldo's "Sauron" story has popped up also. When I read your story I see it as a proper,Ink & paper,book, with a Vibrant cover. Something I could hold in bed with a cup of tea & the lamp on, Snuggled into a cosy pillow.

i feel so bad about not keeping up with this story.

And so you should too Norc! (At least you canalways come back to it at a later time when you might have the chance-it'll still be here)

Azriel- I think as of tomorrow I will go for putting up 1 chapter per evening that way you have something to read before bed.

cheers me dears ! excellent.

i'll print them out one day, Petty, promise ^^

what's it about?

They removed Gruls remains from the pole. After a brief discussion they silently gave him to the marsh in which he belonged with a blessing from the Druid. The Baron uprooted the pole and snapped it in half and threw it against the mountainside in disgust and anger, his dark eyes flashing.

The doorway, when they finally turned to examine it more closely, was tall and wide. It was at least twenty or thirty foot in height and fifteen or so across. However just beyond its pillared entrance the ceiling had collapsed.

Huge chunks of rocks and slabs of carved stone had long ago crashed down; they lay at angles to the ground and would have blocked the way if someone had not industriously cleared a passageway through them. Stones had been dragged aside and the rubble was piled in a deep ditch by the base of the cliff.

Thick wooden joists were propping up the more dangerous areas of ceiling and creaking under the weight, every so often a shower of dust would spill down in a sparkling cloud, caught in the gleaming shafts of light coming through the doorway.

Tain examined the ground leading up to the passageway reporting, “These tracks are nearly all made by goblins, they’ve been coming in and out of here regularly. But there are other tracks here also,” he pointed to the dusty floor, “They’re too damaged to be certain whether they were made by one person or many but they’re booted feet, not bare and these tracks are newer.” He scanned the ground again frowning at what he now spotted, “That’s interesting, this is the print of a ladies' boot. A woman’s entered here.”

“The question is,” the Druid said, peering into the gloom of the unstable passage before them, “Do we follow them?”

“I am,” Tain responded promptly, “This is what I came here to see.”

“And I will go also,” the Baron agreed, “The security of Northolt and of the Kingdom may be at risk.”

“Someone should stay here and guard our back,” the Druid recommended, “In case that goblin has more friends nearby.”

“Then that will be your task,” Ironfang said turning to Canthiss.

“Very well, if you are sure that is for the best Baron,” Canthiss replied with a bow of his head but the look on his face said he did not think it was for the best.

Tain led the way with the Druid close behind and the Baron last. As the Baron ducked down into the passageway Canthiss put a hand on his shoulder and said in a low voice, “And what if you become injured?”

The Barons face hardened, “You have my orders. If we do not return before nightfall you have my permission to come in search of us,” he said in flat tones that permitted no arguement.

“As you command,” was the reluctant agreement.


The portion of doorway that had collapsed was some thirty-foot deep and the passageway that had been made through it wound occasionally around immovable lumps of huge masonry, but after only a few cautious minutes they stepped out into a long, cavernous corridor. Currents of air moved through it.

They were standing inside the mountain.

There were arches down either side that opened off into dark spaces but at intervals down the corridor someone had set torches in the walls, all where they emerged were unlit. Tain took one down from its bracket and taking out his flint expertly set a flame to it in short time. He held it up before himself to take a better look around.

There were he noticed recent tracks going off down the massive corridor into the gloom. Holding the torch through one of the arches he glanced into the emptiness beyond. The dancing light showed up a far wall filled with dark alcoves, moving closer he could see that they were sarcophagi.

They had been torn open from the walls. Scraps of burial shrouds and ancient leather armour lay all about. There were ancient beads and pieces of yellowed, crumbling tablets strewn about the wide floor. Tain stepped further into the chamber for a closer look and very nearly fell down into an exposed grave.

He held the torch aloft over the gaping hole. At its bottom lay a shattered wooden coffin with the remains of a once tall skeleton lying dishevelled within it. If it had anything of worth when it had been buried then it had been pillaged of it now. He stepped back out into the main hall, “Someone’s been grave robbing in here,” he informed the others darkly.

The Druid, whose eyesight in the dark was keener than her companions, had taken a look through the arches on the opposite side and found several partitioned sections, whose original use she could not guess at. Currently they contained straw mats lying on the floor with filthy animal hide covers, crawling in lice. A half-empty water jug sat nearby and there were some discarded bones and strips of dried meat.

“We are definitely not alone down here,” she warned her voice echoing hollowly out between the arches.

Tain turned his eye to the walls and noted there were water fonts built into them at intervals, cracked now, dry and filling with sand. He took a look up at the high ceiling and saw the remains of a large fixture of some kind in the shadows above, copper once, from the green appearance of it, a large brazier of some sort he guessed. Looking further on down the passage he could see where another must have been, it was long gone but the hook on which it had hung was still there, embedded in the roof.

“This place must have been important once,” he said as they moved on down the passage, “and rich,” he added.

“This passageway is wide enough for two carts. I wonder how far into the mountain it goes?” the Druid pondered looking around as they went forward,
“Was there an entire city here once?” She turned to the Baron who was bringing up the rear, “You really have never heard anything of this place?” she asked.

“No,” Ironfang confirmed firmly, “It must be very old indeed. None knows the early years of Futura, it was not recorded. Besides it was so long ago that for most people it is as if the kingdom has existed since time immemorial. We have no tales that I know of that speak of what was here before. For who knows how old the world is?”

“Older than you would believe,” the Druid muttered.

The passage they were in was joined by another a little way ahead forming a wide crossroads in the centre of which there had once been a large statue. It was so damaged that even when they got up close it was still almost impossible to make any sense of the original intention of the sculptor. Most of it lay in pieces upon the floor.

It seemed to have been of some type of beast with two clawed paws; the paws grasping the pedestal at the base of the statue being the only piece left intact. The detail was so worn that most of the carving had become smoothed away and the fragments gave few clues. One piece, lying on the floor at the base was however clearly shaped like a large tooth. Tain picked it up from amongst the dust and examined it in the dancing torch light and then held it up to the Druid who was examining some other pieces in one corner of the passage. “What do you make of that?” he asked, “I’d say a large dog or maybe a wolf.”

The Druid picked up a larger piece, it was long, with a slender shape with a suggestion of musculature, “Yes, but this looks like part of the arm of a man.”
“What do you think Baron?” Tain said passing the tooth fragment over to Ironfang.

The Baron, who had been staring unmoving at the remains of the statue glanced down at the object and then tossed it aside into the dark without a look, “How should I know?” he snapped, “And what does it matter? We are wasting time here, outside evening draws nearer.”

They peered down the choice of passageways; the way they had been going was clearly out, they could see that not far ahead there had been another rock fall and it was completely blocked. The passage to their right went on as far as their eyes could see in the poor flickering light and sloped gently upwards, the way to the left however swept steeply downwards and disappeared round a tight left-hand bend.

Standing before this passage the Druid realized she could hear a sound. Something, rhythmic yet faint.

“Can you hear anything?” she asked the others drawing their attention to it.

They all listened for a moment; the Druid pressed her ear to the rock wall. At first it was hard to make anything out above the crackle of the burning torch and their own breathing but eventually the Baron nodded in agreement,

“Yes,” he said his keen ears picking up the sound, “But what is it? An underground waterfall perhaps?”

“It's voices,” Tain said straining to hear, he knelt down on the smooth rock floor and put his ear to it, “Listen carefully. It’s people, chanting.”

“You are right,” agreed the Druid surprised, “They must be below us. It is coming up through this passageway.”

“Well,” the Baron snarled drawing his sword, “What are we waiting for?” He strode forward down the passage.

“Wait a moment,” Tain ordered reaching up and putting a restraining hand on the Barons wide shoulder, “I just want to get one thing straight with you.”

The Baron turned round and Tain stared up at him, fixing the bigger mans gaze, “If there’s a crowd of them down there and you go rushing in again, like you just did outside, I’m warning you now, I’m not risking our lives to pull your arse out of the fire again. Do we understand one another?”

“Perfectly,” the Baron said so lowly that almost it was a growl and turning he strode on down the passage. Tain and the Druid followed.

I like Tain !

The weird thing is- I can actually tell him that!

OOh now I AM curious,

I am sure he will be flattered Azriel!

Im sure you are !
Ok, I was trying to be clever,but it back fired ! im off to bed now, but I will carry on reading the next bit 1st thing in the morning!

No really, I can tell 'Tain', at least my friend who was Tain in the original game.



They quickly found as they rounded the first corner and found another corner a short way ahead that the passage was a spiral going down beneath the mountain at a fairly steep angle.

With every bend of it they took they went deeper and the murmuring grew louder, echoing off the walls. It was clearly now a chant, sonorous and religious but the language was either foreign to all their ears or too indistinguishable, because they could make no individual words out.

Around the next bend there was a dull orange light that reflected off the stonework; light coming up the passage from below. The chanting had now died away and a voice had begun to speak, clear and loud it echoed in the unseen chamber below but the language it spoke was still unknown, harsh and unfriendly in their ears. It was strident and zealous. Every so often the voice paused and a roar would go up from other voices in response, then the speaker would begin again, building up to a new climax.

Tain edged alongside the Baron, “You wait here,” he ordered in a hiss, “You make too much noise in all that armour. The Druid and I’ll go and scout ahead. We’ll signal for you to come up when it's clear. And if it's not clear we’ll be coming straight back. No risks. No heroics.” He handed the torch to the Baron, it had almost burnt out.

The Baron seemed to grind his teeth, whether at the suggestion he should stay or at taking an order from Tain it was hard to say, but he grudgingly nodded his consent.

“Ready?” Tain asked the Druid who nodded in affirmation and they silently moved off.

They kept low on their hunches and crept slowly round the corner, Tain again in lead. In front of him the passageway sloped down another twenty feet and met a level floor through an archway, it was through the archway that the light was spilling. It was torchlight, enough torches to create a steady constant orange glow.

Together they inched their way quietly down until they reached the archway. Tain glanced out, saw nothing but a wall some ten foot opposite and swept across the doorway pressing back into the shadows on the other side, opposite the Druid.

The Druid peered out, getting a view of the hall off to the right; they seemed to be in a corner of the chamber as the wall Tain had seen joined a second wall here at right angles. There was nobody to be seen.

From Tains vantage point at the other side of the door, looking out left, he could see that the first wall stretched off some hundred foot or more and that torches burned all down its length. There were two large archways in this wall; halfway down and at the far end respectively.

There was a balcony that seemed to run from the foot of the passageway they were concealed in down the length of the hall. It was broken and crumbled in places but for the most part still whole. It was no more than four foot high but it would provide minimum cover. Tain pointed it out to the Druid and crept forward, keeping so low as to be almost on his stomach.

From the other side of the balcony and a little ahead the voice continued to echo out unbroken.

The Druid signalled up to the waiting Baron to advance and then crept out following Tain.

Tain did not go too far, indeed only six foot or so out from the bottom of the passageway as he had no idea what might lie on the other side of the balcony. He could sense the presence of a group of people near by; occasionally as the speaker intoned someone coughed or altered their posture making their clothes rustle or they moved and their feet scuffed on the floor.

He decided to brave a glance and edged his head up towards the top of the balcony. He had chosen a spot where the smooth upper stone had cracked and it meant he could peer out between the gap whilst keeping his head concealed an inch below the top.

What he saw was a long hall, its floor some five foot below, it had once it seemed been tiled with an intricate mosaic, most of which was now lost to time, but some pieces survived in vivid patches of red and blue among the dust and sand.

Most striking of all there was a circle of stones that took up most of the far third of the hall. Each stone stood eight foot tall and they were not carved or adorned. They were irregularly shaped, of a dark material that had an odd allure to them that drew in the eye; a sparkle hidden somewhere deep in their strata.

Standing within the stones, and in a ragged circle themselves, were eight people, one before each of the standing stones.

They were not as many as Tain had expected, he reasoned the cavern must be amplifying the chanting; the echoes and reverberations making their number seem larger. Nor was their appearance as he had expected it to be; these were no goblins.

Instead they were tall, capable looking men. They were dressed in furs and their hair was fair and braided. They wore fur boots on their feet. Before them and raised up on a dais of stone was the owner of the strident voice, though this close the voice impressed less and seemed to lack the timbre that echoing up the spiral passage had given it. The speaker was hooded and robed at his side stood a second taller man in white robes whose hair was long, dark and braided.

A third robed and hooded figure stood just behind these two, the third figure was a bit fatter than the others and the face was concealed in the shadow of a deep hood.

Even as Tains eyes alighted upon the speaker for the first time it suddenly dawned on him in a terrible flash of realization what action the man was about to perform. The speaker had an infant before him, naked.

It was not crying but its podgy arms were clearly moving, pawing curiously at the air in tiny circular motions and its small legs bicycled energetically. What happened in the instant Tain looked up happened far too quick for him to have responded and yet the tiny movements of the infant seemed precise, vivid and timeless in his mind. Every gesture seeming exaggerated in space, enlarged in his memory. With this sense of suspended time the robed arm swept down above the innocent soul, cruel dagger in hand.

It seemed to fall at the speed of a feather and yet agonizingly it was at the same time too fast to prevent or even cry out in protest against. The point came straight down into the throat of the child who only managed a horrible choking gurgle as its final contribution in a pitiless world.

With its miserable death the group of fair-haired men roared triumphantly with one voice, one word, “Astagoth!”

The speaker lifted the dying infant up by one chubby leg, letting it dangle and jerk obscenely as its blood drained out to pour over the front of the dais, dark and sticky, running down channels that led out to the stones.

In response to the sacrifice the light at the heart of the stones sparkled brighter and a dull throb, a deep hum, seemed to emit from them.

Then the speaker spread his arms out wide and exalted in the tongue of Futura, “The way is now open. Long live the Adamanti-li. Life to Astagoth. Past and Present.”

Tain was in most matters cool headed, but he did have moral bounds that he adhered to automatically and without thought or pre-emption and this cruel act of infanticide in the name of sacrifice was something that demanded an immediate, unthinking response.

Before the Druid could do anything to prevent him Tain had drawn his sword and leapt over the balcony.

The Baron was holding position crouched in the shadows at the base of the passageway. He could see the Druid and Tain further down the balcony but was unable to see much else. He heard the shout of “Astagoth!” and the mysterious words of the speaker that followed and was pondering their meaning when unexpectedly, and not without some annoyance, he witnessed Tain unsheath his sword and leap alone over the balcony.

The Baron was not one to wait on invitations; he wasted no time in charging out after him with his roaring cry of, “Northolt!” booming off the walls around him. Flakes of dust and small stones fell from the ceiling in response.

As usually happened to Tain when he had a rush of moral blood it quickly passed. And invariably he would find himself in unfavourable situations resulting from it. This was clearly one of them. The men before him were no savage goblins caught in the sun. Though the weapons they bore had a made-at-home look about them they were still expertly constructed made-at-home weapons and they were as deadly as any. The enemy looked comfortable handling them. To a man they had short swords at their sides and small hand axes, it was about fifty-fifty on who had chosen which do go with; some had chosen both.

Tain did have the advantage that two of the circle stones, which were still vibrating and humming, were between his position and theirs. It meant they could not all rush him at once which was his chief fear. They would have to pass between the stones to get to him and could do so in no more than pairs.

That would not of course stop them spilling out the sides and slowly surrounding him. He was just seriously regretting that he had not thought this through and elected to use his bow from a relatively secure and more distant location when he suddenly got the opportunity thanks to the distracting shape of a very angry Baron.

The Baron had expected to see more goblins when he leapt screaming round the corner. Now he saw they were Barbarians and from their dress Barbarians from the mountain lands north of his own lands, with whom the Ironfangs had fought many a bloody feud down the years, including the one in which he had lost his father. His blood coursed and he felt his temper rage, which he had to fight to control. Things could get complicated without Canthiss here if he got badly hurt or lost his concentration.

He let out an involuntary yell that was all about vengeance, leapt over the balcony with a bound and landing squarely charged recklessly between the stones to meet his enemy.

The Barons first blow was expertly turned aside by the Barbarian that challenged his passage but the Baron simply brought his armoured elbow back into the mans face with such force that it split the cheek open, he tossed the unfortunate Barbarians head sideways against one of the stones. The man sank swiftly to the ground and the Baron strode over him. Satisfyingly he heard the quaking voice of another Barbarian from beyond the stones, “Astagoth have mercy on us. It’s Ironfang!”

Tain had sheathed his sword whilst this was happening and retreated to a safe distance were he now drew his bow. Two of the robed figures were turning to leave up the far passage but the speaker was still on the balcony and seemed to have his attention entirely absorbed by the fighting figure of the Baron. It was a fair distance but a clear shot and Tain really wanted to take it but the Baron was outnumbered seven to one and Tain did not favour those sorts of odds. He felt he had no choice. Cursing under his breath he instead took aim at one of the fair-haired figures between the stones and let fly.

The Druid had edged unseen further down the hall, hidden still by the balcony. She drew two of her throwing daggers from their sheaths and sat them carefully down upon the floor. Then she drew from a pouch the vial containing the venom of the water beetle which she had collected in the marsh. Taking from her belt a pair of leather gloves she put them on and then very cautiously she took a swab and dipped it in the venom, staining the tips of the daggers with it before returning the vial to its pouch. She picked up the two daggers with great care before proceeding. The Gnomes had assured her that as a deadly venom the beetles was amongst the best and this murderer should get nothing but the best she deemed.

Below from the other side of the balcony she could hear as she crept by the clash of weapons and the war cries of Ironfang. Now as she snuck ahead there came the accompanying twang of Tains bow followed by the thud of the arrow hitting its target or occasionally the clink of a miss against the rock walls. The only sound from the Barbarians, who fought it seemed in near silence, were their cries as they fell.

It sounded to the Druid, as she passed what she reckoned was the middle point of the hall, (where she could see that the first of the archways was filled with rubble and rock) that her companions were gaining the upper hand as the clashing of weapons was not so frequent now and Tains bow not so constant; as if he had fewer targets.

Tain was in fact moving sideways at this moment in time, skipping to his left trying to sight on one of the last three Barbarians left standing. Between the stones he could see the wide back of the Baron, two of the Barbarians were engaged in fighting him but where was the third? Tain had observed as he had been taking aim the Baron in action and had noticed that the Barbarians seemed to be afraid of him.

When they should have been charging as a group they hung back as if reluctant to engage. And Tain thought it was a real primal fear they showed, not the fear of battle or even of death both of which they looked hardened to but a raw fear that struck deep and seemed to paralyze all but the bravest of them.

He wondered why.

A sudden sound above him made him throw himself instinctively backwards to the ground. The missing third Barbarian had leapt down from a wide crevice in the broken wall above through which he must have crept; he struck with a long dagger as he landed.

It missed Tains chest by an inch as Tain fell backwards but as it swept downwards it tore a long gash down his left thigh and he cried out letting his bow fall. It clattered to the ground beside him. He swung instinctively out with his right hand in a powerful punch as the Barbarian scrambled up over him. His blow caught the man in the side of the face, knocking him to the left and momentarily away.

Gasping, Tain clasped one hand to his wound trying to stem the blood flow and drew his sword out from under himself with the other just as the Barbarian scrambled up to his feet and swung downwards, a dagger aimed at Tains chest. Tain struck upwards from the ground as the Barbarian advanced and impaled the man with his own momentum upon the sword. He watched as the light flickered and went out in the Barbarians eyes which drew ever closer as the man’s own weight slid his body down the length of the cold blade, until finally he finished up against the hilt breathing his final breath against Tains face. The sigh he made as he died sounded like, “Astagoth.”

Tain pushed the body aside noticing as he did so that the Barbarian wore a cord necklace with an unusual leather pouch attached. He tore it from the Barbarians neck out of curiosity and stuffed it into his pack but he forgot about it almost immediately; shooting pains from his leg were beginning to register and make him feel light headed. He put a hand out to the floor to steady himself.

From within the circle he heard the final painful cry of another Barbarian as the Baron fought on but at the moment he was losing too much blood too quickly to worry about that. He unslung his pack and took some strips of cloth from it that he tied tightly around his thigh in a simple tourniquet before awkwardly dragging himself to his feet and taking up his bow again.

The Druid was slowly closing on the speaker. So far she had remained concealed from sight and still had the element of surprise on her side. She was not however three quarters of the way there when her target came round the far corner of the balcony, running. He was making for the same archway his companions had exited through; which was in the far right-hand wall.

She realized he would be gone in a matter of seconds if she did not stop him; she made a decision and dashed out towards the fleeing figure.

The robed man who had no idea another person was present momentarily stopped in his tracks at the sight of the Druid advancing but he did not pause long, running for the safety of the high arch.

The brief delay though had been enough time for the Druid; she was now in throwing range. She hurled for all he was worth putting all her forward motion into it.

One dagger struck the man’s shoulder, spinning him round, his robe flapping. The other missed by an inch and spun harmlessly away ringing against the wall.

The man went down in a heap of billowing robe but he was already reaching for the dagger and managed to pull it out with a grunt, letting it fall to the floor where it bounced, clattering against the stone. The hooded head turned up in her direction but it was too distant and dark within to see the face but she got the distinct impression it was laughing at her.

At any rate the poison did not seem to be having the desired effect as the man confidently got back to his feet.

“Tain!” she cried out over the ringing of the Barons sword, “Kill him!” she pointed to the target.

Beneath her Tain was taking a bead on the last Barbarian standing but at the Druids cry he spun round, bow still held ready to fire, saw the figure stepping into the archway took aim and released. He reached for a second arrow without bothering to look to see if the first had hit its mark. He put the new arrow to the string and sighted along its length. Good. The first had been an excellent hit; the arrow was stuck in the man’s back, below his right shoulder. He had fallen to his knees right in the shadow of the archway. But even as Tain let the second arrow go, the man snapped of the shaft of the first leaving the head embedded deep in his flesh and started to rise.

Tains second shot neatly pinned the man’s robe to the mortar between the stones in the wall. Tain reached for a third and cursed. He had used his last arrow.

The Barons vision was tinged with red, a bad sign he was vaguely aware, concentrating was becoming harder. The blood was coursing through his veins and the beating of his heart was a heavy throb in his ears. His sense of rage had become heightened and what provoked it was the presence of his enemies, of those who had taken his father from him. And it made him furious, the fury of an impotent bereaved ten year old boy.

He brought a brutal backhand slash down on the last Barbarian, cracking open the back of the man’s skull so hard that he had to put his foot on the dead mans shoulder to release his sword from the depths of the wound.

The floor was sloppy with gore all around the Baron in a wide arc and the stones, whose humming was fading now, were dripping with blood. The stench of it was making the hairs on his neck stand erect. His wide nostrils flared and his fingernails were itching. Fortunately there were no more Barbarians left to kill though he was fighting the desire to tear apart the bodies of the dead.

Dimly through the bloodlust the Baron could hear the Druid calling to Tain and he heard the bowstring sing, once, twice. Turning to look at the target using it to focus his mind away from the pounding in his chest, the Baron saw the robed man trying to rise but his robe had been pinned. Even as the Baron watched the man tore it off and cast it aside. The Baron stared in shocked outrage at the face revealed.

The Druid closed in. She had drawn the last two daggers she carried; she had no time to coat them with any poisons but as that did not seem to have met with much success it did not seem to matter. She was now close enough to be able to more clearly see the face that had been hidden beneath the hood; it was a grey haired man, middle-aged, with penetrating eyes that reminded her of the Barons. The man’s face was thin with an exceptionally wide brow but it was also very red and puffed, the mouth was set in an animal snarl. The Druid drew back her arm, dagger at the ready, so near now that she was absolutely certain of hitting her mark. The man looked up at her and his eyes flared deep within. He smiled unnervingly up at her. She threw.

The Baron saw the Druid draw back her arm and release, point blank range, square in the chest it seemed from Ironfangs vantage point. First one dagger then a second.

As they struck the Baron roared, “Erwin!” in a mighty voice that bellowed from him with a tone and volume which seemed almost more than human. It echoed all around the chamber. In the distance there was the collapse of unstable masonry and dust began swirling down from the roof.

Tain was taking the opportunity to search for reusable arrows when Ironfang cried out. Almost immediately the chamber roof at the far end began to collapse. The Barons roar had been the final straw for the crumbling stonework and it came down in a violent jumble of rock and debris. Sweeping out from under it and before it was a thick pall of dust that rolled over Tain and the Baron and swept on up the length of the room. More than half the torches were snubbed out by its passing.

“You bloody idiot!” shouted Tain retreating and coughing through the blanket of grey. He could dimly see the huge looming shape of the Baron in the swirling particles of debris and faintly he could discern the balcony and the circle stones, which seemed to have ceased their low hum and had become mere dark shadows. The Druid and Erwin were lost in the whiteness.

The Baron, emerging from the cloud growled back at Tain, “You were the one who warned against charging recklessly in. No heroics. Remember?”

“This was different,” Tain snapped back feeling in the mood for an arguement, “You didn't see what was going on out here.” But then he noticed that Ironfang was drenched in the blood of the Barbarians, his face smeared red, his armour had little rivers of blood running down it and there was a look in his eyes that made Tain pause. He decided not to pursue the point.

The Druid had been looking at Erwins face when the Baron had cried out. A look of complete disgust had passed over it in response to his recognition. His facial muscles twitched and contorted, expressing some unleashed inward fury. Clasping his hands to one of the daggers protruding from his chest and screaming Erwin drew it out and let it fall and then did the same with the second. And he was laughing now as he did so, a long low malicious chortle that she could clearly hear.

Cautiously she took a step closer, the whites of Erwin’s’ eyes were completely bloodshot, but just then as she stared the roof began to cave in. A swirling cloud of dust and debris billowed over them both.

There was a minute or two of pure whiteness in which she had to close her eyes, cover her mouth and nose and during which she was aware of nothing but the dust. When it had subsided enough to make out shapes and edges she could just distinguish Erwin from the surroundings. The man was on all fours it seemed. The laughter had stopped and he was jerking violently as if having a seizure.

Mucus, or more likely blood given his wounds, was being coughed up onto the floor in heaving retches. It occurred to her that her poison might be finally having an effect. Better late than never she supposed.

In the dusty dim atmosphere shapes were indistinct and it was hard to keep the eyes open as the air was still full of sand and dirt, even so it seemed to her that something was seriously wrong with Erwin’s profile. Carefully she took another few steps closer till the murky outline became more defined.

Erwin turned his face up towards her as he had done before but it was not the same face of a few moments ago; that one had looked human.

She stared in surprised dumfounded shock then Erwin growled menacingly through razor teeth and more animal than man leapt up through the archway and away up the stairs. A moment later the roof above the stairs came crashing down and a second choking dust cloud flowed out of it.

Tain and the Baron were making their way through the grey cloud when there was a second rumble of falling masonry followed by the dim shape of the Druid appearing spluttering at the balcony.

“He got away,” she called, “and the stairs he went up collapsed behind him.”

Tain hauled himself up over the balcony and the Baron followed, they were both coated in a thick lair of dust. They retreated into the relative sanctuary of the spiral passageway. Even as they entered it they heard the sound of hurrying feet coming down from above. Silently they all pressed back against the walls and drew their weapons. A figure came charging round the corner, a sword drawn.

“Canthiss,” the Baron said stepping forward, relief in his voice, “You were supposed to remain above,” he admonished.

“I heard a rock fall and feared you might be buried alive down here,” Canthiss replied taking in their dust covered appearance with a questioning look, “But what has happened?” He looked scrutinizingly into the Barons face, in a way it occurred to Tain that was almost as if he were searching for signs of something, maybe in his master’s eyes, but the Baron turned quickly away saying, “First we should get out of here, preferably before the whole place falls down upon our heads,” he pushed passed Canthiss and went up the stairwell.

Nothing else did collapse on their way out and they were soon enough once more standing at the marshes edge. They had remained below longer than intended and evening was drawing in. The eastern sky was already filling with the first dim stars.

Tain slumped down against the cliff face the adrenalin that had sustained him was draining away and he suddenly felt faint. With hands that were trembling he slowly unbound the cloth binding from his leg, which was already heavy with blood.

“Damn it,” he cursed when he saw the long, evil looking gash.

“You are hurt,” the Baron stated.

“No? Really? Where?” Tain retorted with a voice laced with sarcasm and weariness.

The Druid unslung her pack and searched through it emerging with a series of clean bandages, a small metal tin; which turned out to contain a needle and some sort of thin twine. And finally she produced a jar containing an evil sickly sweet smelling ointment. “Let me see it,” she said kneeling close over Tain.

The gash was long, but not deep. She drew her face close to it and blew gently across the wound chanting unknown words softly between each breath, which was oddly soothing but made Tain a little unsettled as it was also quite intimate. He could smell her hair as she bent over him, given she had been where Tain had been and done much the same things he marvelled that she could still smell so distinctly of woman whilst he simply stank of marsh, blood and sweat.

Taking her water bottle and a clean cloth she then washed the wound out thoroughly, praying over it softly whilst Tain winced.

“Who’s Erwin?” he asked through gritted teeth, trying to distract himself.

The Baron did not respond, he was sitting with his back to them at the waters edge cleaning the blood from his face and hair, little rivers of red swirled away from him in the eddies. He was lost in thought, times were changing again, fortunes and power were there for the taking at times of upheaval; for those who were ready to do what was necessary to seize them. The Ironfangs had never been that sort before, but he would be different.

He watched the blood flowing from his hands and away upon the unseen currents of the pool and thought, “If blood must be spilt then so be it. The Ironfangs have no fear of blood.”

“So won’t anyone tell me who this Erwin is then?” Tain asked again wincing from the Druids ministrations.

“Erwin holds the Keep at the Toll Road, forty miles north of here, I mentioned it to you once before,” Canthiss answered, speaking for the silent Baron, “He maintains the only land route between Futura and Domina, a pass through the mountains. But why do you ask after him?”

“We just met him, down there. But who were those other people that we just killed, with the fair hair?” Tain went on as the Druid jabbed a needle through his flesh, “I like to know who I’m killing,” he added through gritted teeth.

“They are Barbarians,” Ironfang grumbled coming out of his revere but without turning round, “They dwell in the Inner Plains to the north beyond Futuras borders,” he paused and splashed water onto his face before going on in slow leaden tones, “They are mostly a nomadic people, a very ancient people, but they are uncivilized, primitive and warlike. In Northolt we have had to repel them from our borders many times before now. It was Barbarians like them that killed my father. They are savages.”

“And does anybody know,” Tain began as the Druid finished sewing up his leg and began applying the ointment, which stung as much as its smell hinted it would, making Tain pause to gasp in pain, “Does anybody know,” he repeated struggling on, “What a Baron of Futura is doing in a chamber under what's left of a lost ancient city, with this kingdoms natural sworn enemies, chanting in a circle of stones and sacrificing infants? Does this sort of thing happen in your kingdom often?”

“No,” said the Baron swiftly, “It does not.” Canthiss just looked troubled.

The Druid wrapped the bandages round Tains thigh and tied them off. “I have a better question,” she said standing up and going over to the Baron,
“Exactly what is Erwin?”

Ironfang stood up also, saying as he did so, “I do not know what you mean?”

“I put poison on those daggers, poison that will kill a man in seconds, yet to no affect. Tain put an arrow in him and I put two daggers into his chest. I know I did not miss. I watched him pull them back out.”

Tain noticed as she spoke a look, brief but there, that passed between Canthiss and the Baron, they knew or guessed something they were not divulging.

“And after the ceiling collapsed,” she went on watching the Baron closely, “Erwin altered.”

“Altered?” Tain queried, “What’d you mean?”

“He became a different shape, beast like. Wolf like, or like a great hound. But not like any I have heard tell walking this world.”

“You speak of things to frighten children not that walk under the sun,” Ironfang admonished with considerable force, “You were mistaken. Your vision impaired by the dust.”

“No, I was not,” she replied, equally forcibly.

“What kind of people have you got running this kingdom Baron?” Tain asked.

“Until now,” the Baron said, “only the right and proper sort.”

They all fell silent for a moment. Eventually Tain said, “So what do we do now? We can't stay here.”

“Can you walk on that?” Ironfang inquired with a gesture at Tains leg.

“I'll manage,” Tain said determinedly.

“It will be dark in a few hours,” Canthiss commented, looking out over the marsh.

“We can skirt the foot of these mountains until we reach the southward road,” the Baron suggested.

“No we can't,” Tain said, “I came that way originally, there are pools of deep water that go right up to the cliff edge, we’d have to swim and there were big predators there too. No we need to go back the way we came, through the marsh. It's the only route out of here.”

“Anyway it is the only way we are certain of once it gets dark,” agreed the Druid, “Will you be all right?” she added as Tain struggled to his feet.

“Don't worry about me, if I need a shoulder to lean on you'll be the first one to know.”

They went as quickly as the ground and care allowed and Tain kept pace for the first hour or so but he began to lag a little after that and they had to slow to allow for him.

Night was now fully about them. The sky overhead was overcast and no stars or moon could be seen in it. There was a light breeze that hissed through the reeds and rattled the dead stalks as they passed them by. The insects once more dominated the dark but occasionally they heard a distant unknown cry, or a panicked splashing in the pools as something met its end.

The Druid led the way with the Baron behind her; Canthiss was a little further back where he occasionally assisted Tain through some of the deeper bogs.

Tain took advantage of one these occasions, when the ground they were traversing was full of small hidden pools and treacherous mud and the Druid and the Baron were some way ahead, to speak quietly to him.

“What’d you think your master will do now?” he began.

“Baron Erwin would seem to have allied himself with enemies of the King, I believe my master will therefore go to King Mefron. Or more likely to Prince Mekhal his eldest son,” Canthiss replied but he still wore the slightly worried, thoughtful expression he had been wearing since leaving the underground chamber.

“You and the Baron know something about Erwin,” Tain gambled, “Or you suspect something at least. What is it?”

“I cannot speak of that,” Canthiss hissed back.

“Then there’s something to speak of?”

Canthiss was silent a moment as if struggling with himself, eventually he said, “I found the words of the Druid to be troubling. In my heart I deem you a man of some honour and your companion also, so I do not doubt her word, and yet I cannot understand how this could be.”

“And his transformation? That statue we found could’ve been a wolf but it was a man too. And what about the branding on Gruls head?” Tain pressed.

“I have said enough,” Canthiss replied firmly.

“No, I don't think you have,” Tain said fiercely in a hoarse whisper, “Be straight with me Canthiss. What do you know?”

The ground now was firmer under foot and level.

“I believe you can manage this next stretch without my aid,” Canthiss said stiffly and quickened his step so he was a good few paces in front and out of discreet conversation range.

They had gone on perhaps another two or three hours with few words and night was well advanced. They had opted not to stop at any of the islands but for as long as Tain could sustain it to keep marching. All were keen to put as much distance between themselves and the mountains as they could, dawn could not arrive quickly enough.

They were passing by the edge of a wide pool, its dark water barely visible in the night, when what they most dreaded occurred.

The innumerable calls of the marsh insects faded away from millions to hundreds to a few, then to just one chirping lonely voice and finally to none.

Silence descended.

The air became still even the breeze fell away as if fearful. Ahead they could see the dark silhouette against the stars of the island with the oak tree. It was hours off yet. There was no guarantee they had come far enough south.

As one they turned to look back the way they had come and saw the wall of black tearing across the marsh towards them. Darker than the night sky that it ate up in its passage it swept around and passed them.

Holy heck ! this is brilliant ! wasnt even fazed by the child sacrifice. the build up flows, & its getting so exciting. my only nit-pick,(god, I hate to say it !) is I might have replaced the word you used..."fatter".. with maybe "stockier" ?
Im enjoying the atmosphere youve created here !

Thanks Azriel-oddly enough I changed that word three times- and you are right its still not the right word-but as I know who is under that robe stockier isnt quite right for them either. But it does need changed!

I was going to put rest of that chapter up-roughly about same as last post in length-that way ready for a new chapter tomorrow if thats ok?