Their captive raised his head and sniffed the damp night air, apparently oblivious to their presence.
Chandra looked at Gideon. The grove of twisted, leafless trees that they were walking through cast so many shadows in the silvery light that she couldn’t see his face well. But she sensed that he was as tense as she was.
Then Jurl’s demeanor abruptly changed. He flinched, crouched low, and turned toward them, panting and making little noises of distress.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked in a low voice.
“Riders,” the goblin rasped.
“Riders?”
A moment later, Chandra heard the distant pounding of hooves. Approaching fast.
“Bad”
Jurl said, “Hide!”
Jurl scurried toward a thicket of bushes. The steel leash prevented him from going more than a few steps before he stopped, grunting in pain.
“Hide” The goblin sounded terrified.
Gideon took Chandra’s arm. “Come on.”
Moving fast, they followed Jurl into the bushes. The thundering hoof beats were already much closer. As the three of them crouched down low behind the bushes’ naked branches, Chandra was grateful for the dark. These shrubs were thick, even without leaves, but she knew that she and her companions would be visible in the light of day.
She leaned forward and looked off to the left, past Gideon, where the hoof beats were coming from. As she swayed slightly in that direction, unsteady in her crouching position, her shoulder came into contact with Gideon’s.
He turned toward her. It was too dark to see his expression, but she could see his eyes looking directly into hers. Neither spoke. Then he, too, looked in the direction of the approaching riders.
Chandra heard a sharp whinny as the galloping horses entered the grove. Peering into the darkness, Chandra could see them faintly now. Fortunately, they weren’t coming this way. They passed through the withered grove at some distance from where they crouched in the bushes, moving diagonally away. She counted three riders… No, four, she realized, as they galloped into a pool of moonlight.
They were racing through a dense, low cloud of fog…
No, she realized a moment later, the fog moved with them, surrounding them and traveling in their company, flowing swiftly across the landscape. It made the horses look as if they were running atop a shifting white cloud, galloping through the air rather than on the ground. Yet their hooves must be touching soil, because they made a sound louder than thunder.
Watching this spectacle, Chandra felt chilled. The horses were all dark, and they galloped through the night with heedless speed. Perhaps, like Jurl, their eyes were well accustomed to this perpetual night. Or perhaps, she thought, as she watched the fog move with them, they didn’t really need to see where they were going.
The lead horse appeared to be carrying two riders, one of whom was struggling, seemingly held captive by the other. She saw pale limbs fighting for freedom and dark-clad arms restraining them. Chandra thought she could hear a terrified wailing as the horses galloped out of sight. A few moments later, the sound of the riders had faded completely.
Now she heard only the pounding of her heart and Gideon’s rapid breathing.
“What was that?” she asked Jurl.
“Fog Riders.”
“Good name,” she muttered.
“Who are they?” Gideon’s voice was low. His body, so close to Chandra’s, was still tense. “What are they doing?”
“Someone run away,” Jurl said. “They find. Bring back.”
“Back where?” Chandra asked.
“Velrav Castle.”
She listened to Gideon’s breathing and knew they were both thinking about the captive on that horse.
After a long moment, Gideon said, “Let’s keep moving.”
“Fog Riders, bad,” Jurl said with feeling.
“Yes, I think we grasped that.” Gideon rose to his feet and turned to help Chandra extract herself from the clinging arms of the thicket.
Something tugged on her hair. She winced as she pulled against it.
“Wait,” Gideon said softly. He reached out to untangle her hair from a slender branch. Then he smoothed the rescued strand over her shoulder. “There.”
“Thanks.”
Feeling somber and sickened after what she had just witnessed, Chandra turned in the direction they had been heading before hearing the Fog Riders. Jurl grumbled a bit, but then he did the same. Gideon seemed preoccupied and didn’t even bother tugging on the goblin’s makeshift leash to get him to pick up his heel-dragging pace.
After a few moments walking in silence, Jurl nodded. “Village, near. You walk first,” the goblin said.
“Why?” Gideon asked suspiciously.
“Not like goblin,” Jurl explained, nodding in the direction of the village.
“What a mystery.” Chandra said to Gideon, “I’ll walk ahead. You keep a tight hold of his leash. If anything happens to me, cut off his hands.” She added, “Did you hear that, Jurl?”
“Yes.” He sounded morose.
Chandra moved past Jurl and walked ahead of him. Within moments, she saw a thatched hut. Then several others. They were part of a small village, nestled in the side of a hill and bathed in moonlight. It looked like there were about twenty dwellings here.
As she drew closer, she saw several people standing in the doorways of their huts, peering at her. By the time she reached the first few huts, she heard gasps and excited voices exchanging muffled comments. People were coming out of their huts and standing in the moonlight.
She thought at first that the gasps and the excitement were because of the goblin entering the village. But then she realized, as she stood surrounded by people, that they were all staring at her. And she thought she could guess why.
Although no one here looked like Gideon-they were too frail and hollow-eyed to resemble him-they had similar coloring: dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin. As Chandra looked around at the dozens of people who were emerging from their huts and gathering to stare at her, she saw, even in the light of the moon, that she was the only redhead present. Perhaps the only redhead they had ever seen.
“Hello,” Chandra said, looking around at the gathering crowd. “We’ve come to speak to the wise woman.”
A young woman, a girl by some standards, stepped forward, separating herself from the crowd. She approached Chandra hesitantly, and slowly reached out a hand to touch her red hair.
Her voice was soft and shy as she said, “You’re so beautiful!”
“Thank you,” said Chandra.
Behind her, Jurl said, “Wise woman.”
“My name is Gideon. We’d like to speak with the wise woman.”
The girl said, “You’re welcome here.”
Gideon said, “Thank you.”
Jurl said, “Wise woman.”
“Yes,” Chandra said, “if someone would tell the wise woman we’ve come to see her? It’s important.”
Sounding impatient now, Jurl repeated, “Wise woman.”
“Oh.” Gideon said, “Chandra…”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I think I understand.” Chandra looked at the girl standing before her. “You’re the wise woman?”
She smiled sweetly. “Yes, I am the village menarch. Why have you come to see me?”
The wise woman told them her name was Falia, and she led them to a hut where they could sit and talk.
As they entered the doorway of the small thatched hut, Jurl hung back, tugging a little on his leash.
“Free Jurl,” he insisted.
“So you can attack us again?” said Chandra. “And trade us to your hungry prince in exchange for goblin goodies? No.”
“Jurl bring here. Now set free.” The goblin added with reproach, “You promise.”
“No,” said Gideon, “I promised I wouldn’t kill you if you brought us here. Freeing you is a whole different subject.”
Jurl snarled in outrage.
Looking bored, Gideon tugged the leash sharply.
Jurl gasped in pain, went silent, and trudged into the hut with them. The interior was lighted by short, thick candles.
“Sit in the corner and be quiet,” Gideon told the goblin.