I have completed the Twelfth Chapter of my Third book, When Gods do Meddle, and here is an excerpt of that chapter. Any comments, feedback, or anything else would be greatly appreciate. Please Like and Share this and also subscribe to my page.
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Once the river exited the tunnel, just down from where they had entered the Tomb of Laggus, it was already getting close to evening and as had been feared the winds had again changed and the grey clouds were once more slowly approaching the mountain. Cold as it was in the fading daylight, they did not stop to dry themselves off and instead quickly mounted their horses and set off down the mountain. Not wanting to risk the steeper paths that led down from the valley were the Ruins of Rivaina lay, they chose to camp again in the protect hollow where they had spent the previous night. They allowed themselves a bigger fire, and Maelith stood night watch, less to watch for concerns and more to stoke the fire to keep them warm in the dropping temperatures.
The following morning they were greeted with a gentle snowfall and a thin layer of snow upon the ground around them. They ate a hot breakfast before dousing the fire and set off. The shallower parts of the light had a thin scum of ice floating on top and a mist clung to the top of the rest. It gave the ruined city an eerie beauty, but with the snowfall start to turn into a slushy rain as the day warmed, they did not stay around to admire what they saw. They made their way carefully down the winding path and by the time they reached the first of the plateaus the snow had given away entirely to a steady autumn rain.
Knowing the path they were taking, and going down the mountain now, allowed them to move more quickly and by nightfall they had reached the ridges that sloped down into the Forest of Danus. They made what camp they could in a stand of trees that allowed at least some protection from the rain although it was Wendon who had to again risk attracting attention with the use of his magecraft to light a fire for the group, and their horses, to huddle around for the night.
As they made their way further down the ridges, towards the bare and lonely lump of rock that was the their destination, they were on a sharp lookout for any sign of their pursuers. With both keys in their possession, it would be dangerous indeed for them to be captured or killed by the Children of the Night. Maelith also seemed on a regular lookout for any more the strange clouds that had passed over them several times and had been the source of many a strange rumor from those of the Caravan. No sign was seen of either cloud or rider as they made their way down the ridges.
Luck was with them that there were no travels on the road when they came to it, very near the point where they had left the Caravan, but nevertheless they crossed as quickly as they could and road as far into the forest beyond as they dared in the fading light of the day before they once more made their camp. If any of them were tempted to see if the Followers of Ymiron still held the river crossing, they did not say it and Maelith and Tanara both had decided to ride close with the others, only riding ahead a little way if they were approaching a rise or dip in the land to make sure nothing hid within or beyond, and to help them choose a safe path.
The rain had eased somewhat once they were out of the hills, but it still rained more often than it did not. Their progress was slow as the Forest of Danus grew thick around them, but they were thankful that it would be difficult to see them from any kind of distance. They made what fire they dared in what sheltered spots they could find at night, but all were cold and soaked and miserable. Even the normally impassive Maelith seemed unhappy in the gloom and wet and huddled close to the fire in an attempt to dry their robes.
On the later afternoon of their third day since crossing the road and entering the deeper forest, and Varna guessed about halfway to their destination, they came over a ridge and into a shallow valley through which a steady stream ran. The trees were thinner here, with evidence of home and farm, and a sizeable village built along the inner curve of the stream. At the northern edge was an inn and stable yard of some size.
“We should stop and rest here for tonight,” said Throm as they stopped to take in the sight.
Tanara turned toward the dwarf and said, “I wish for a chance to get properly dry and properly warm too, but with so many eyes down there, I fear it would not be safe. What is more, the rain is finally easing up and I see some breaks in the cloud cover moving in.”
Wendon shrugged, “I hear your concern, but our supplies are running low and the horses could use a proper rest as well as we could. Plus we might be able to pick up some news and hear if there have been any signs of our pursuers.”
Throm waived away both of these comments, “this is a safe place and this is the last such place before we move further into the Shifting Wilderness. We could use a proper meal and a proper rest. Plus, the village is sizeable enough and it gets enough travelers through that even should our pursuers be prowling around, we will blend in more easily, and have more protection.”
Belkor was stroking his chin at this conversation and, after an additional moment of silence, said, “is this the aptly named Edgewater Valley and that Inn the Last Rest?”
Varna, looked at her map, and Throm both nodded and said that it was. Belkor nodded, “then this is a safe place. Varna, Throm, and I have stayed here before. I did not recognize it initially. I think I’ve always approached it from the small road that leads towards the Tamlyc river on the east side of the valley.”
Tanara still seemed a little uneasy, but raised no further objection as they led their horses down into the valley. They still gave a wide berth to the dwellings the surrounded the village proper, and in turn were paid little heed by the various people, of several different races, engaged in their daily work, likely preparing things for the approaching winter. They also road along the near side of the village to make their way towards the inn. If any about thought this odd, they did not say or greet the travels. In fact, there was no interaction at all until they were approaching the wide entrance to the Inn
“Throm!” barked a voice as the door of the Inn flow outward to reveal a goblin woman, hunched with years and walking with a sturdy cane. A colorful scarf covered her head, knotted at the back, from under which some whisps of grey hair could be seen. She wore a long dress of a thick, brown wool and a blue apron with many pockets was over this. She was short, even for a goblin, with thin but strong looking arms visible under her rolled up sleeves and short boots upon her feet. Her face was angular and her nose long, and her yellow-brown skin was deeply lined with wrinkles. Her face bore a scowl and her eyes were fierce as she advanced upon the group with a finger pointed at Throm.
“So much danger going on in the world! Rumors of the Dark One rising again, and not a word from you in years! And here you are wandering out of the forest as winter is approaching! What madness are you involved in this time?!”
“Peace, Mother Hulma, peace,” Throm responded holding his hands up and looking guilty. “I should have written to you or come by to see you a long time ago. But you know how it is.”
“Yeah,” grunted Mother Hulma as she lowered her accusing finger and placed her hand on her hip. “I know how it is. Off having adventures and finding things that should be left alone. No time to come see those that took you in!”
“And you,” the goblin rounded on Belkor and the accusing finger returned. “Don’t think I have forgotten, or forgiven you, for coming to put such wild dreams into his head and taking him away from here.”
Belkor also raised his hands and looked sheepishly down at the goblin woman. “I only told a story in the common room. It was Throm that came to me and Varna and asked to join us.”
“Hmph,” scoffed Mother Hulma. “yeah, yeah, and then you took the best crafter that we had. That dwarf was as blessed by Arvana the Crafter as anyone I have ever met.”
It was Belkor’s turn to put a hand to his hips, “and wasn’t that why you and your family took him in too?”
Mother Hulma’s hand closed into a fist and this time both of her hands were on her hips. “We might have hired him when he wandered into the village, outcast by his Clan, but he had long become like a son to us. We love him and he could have been famous across the continent for his skill by now.”
Throm chuckled, “alright, you two, lets not get into rehashing this again. Yes, Belkor was persuasive but I left of my own volition. I did, and still do, consider you as family but this was never a life that was well suited to me.”
Hulma let out a deep size and unclenched her fists, “well, I suppose you all will be looking for rooms for the night. I don’t know where you’ve been, or where you’re going, but the six of you look positively soaked through. We’re are busy with the last flurry of travel before winter sets in, but I think I can find three rooms for you and see to your horses as well.”
The goblin turned back toward the inn and on reach the wide porch around the entrance wrapped her walking stick against one of the posts and whistled. Within seconds, half a dozen of the Inn’s staff, three goblins, two humans, and an orc, appeared from the door or around the side towards the stable yards.
As the group dismounted, Mother Hulma was barking orders. “Granth! Candon! Unga! See to these horses. They are to have a proper rub down, fresh bedding, and food and see that their gear is dried and properly stowed. Brula! Merrus! See these guests to the double rooms on the second floor and make sure a fire is going for them. Varca, see to it that baths are drawn for them. They look like they could use it with all this cold rain.”
As the Inn’s workers scurried to do her bidding, the goblin turned back to the group. “Now, once you have bathed and dried, I would recommend that you get down to the Common Room early. We’ve had a bard in the last two nights and she will be performing again tonight. Best we’ve ever had and she’s had half the village in here as well as the travelers.”
Throm walked up to Mother Hulma, pack slung over his back, and made a wide and elaborate bow. On rising back up he took the goblin’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I cannot thank you enough for the kindness you show to me, and to my friends, Mother Hubbard.”
“Oh, don’t start that,” the goblin said with a chuckle, taking her hand back. “I am still cross with you. But I am hardly going to turn away family. Plus I want to keep a close eye on this troublesome orc in case he tries to steal any of my other family members. Now, come on, its cold and wet out here and you all look like you could use to get the chill out of you.”
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