CHAPTER 1

The small, narrow boat moved swiftly across Silver Lake. Three rowers, seated in the middle, leaned forward and pulled back in unison. A man in immaculate silver and green chainmail stood up front, holding a spyglass to his eye. His long, flowing mustache fluttered in the winds as he braced himself with one leg propped up on the bow. The man would occasionally lower his spyglass long enough to turn and look towards the back of the boat, where a huddled young woman sat in silence. She wore the same silver and green chainmail, though her helmet was removed and placed in front of her. Beside her was a bulging backpack topped with a bedroll. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. 

“Steady as she goes,” said the man to the rowers. “Steady as she goes.”

Barbara Dignity stood alone in her private chambers, looking around the room with a heavy sigh. “I will miss it here,” she whispered. She ran her hand along the luxurious green silk sheets of her canopy bed and tugged gently at one of the many silver pillows. A small stuffed unicorn, a gift from the King on her seventh birthday, lay ragged and frayed in the center of the bed. She picked it up and stroked its pink mane. “I think I will miss you the most,” she said.

“You will meet again,” came the sharp voice of the Queen. 

Barbara jumped. “Queen Mother. You scared me.”

The Queen raised her chin and tightened her lips. “Barbara, you are to be the High Commander of all my armies. It’s times like these that I second-guess myself. Return the toy and stand before me.”

“Yes, Queen Mother,” she said, clearing her throat. She quietly placed the unicorn back on the bed, lowered her head, and walked towards the Queen.

“Look me in the eyes, Barbara,” she ordered, raising her chin yet higher. “The royal guards standing behind me are watching their future High Commander sniveling and pouting over a silly carnival toy. Do you think this inspires their confidence?” 

Barbara glanced at the two guards standing at her door, wearing elaborate silver and green plate armor, their faces covered by closed helmets topped with green plumes. “No, Queen Mother,” she replied. 

“Guards?” said the Queen, her unblinking eyes fixed on Barbara. 

“Yes, my Queen,” they responded sharply.

“In ten short years, this young lady will return to us, seasoned by trials and experiences beyond your darkest imaginings. She will have faced horrors and challenges that would shake the strongest among you. Under the protection of our beloved Triskaris, she will have lived through what would take others ten lifetimes. Do not let the scene before you cloud your judgment of your future High Commander. When she returns, you will obey her every command as if it were my own.”

“Yes, my Queen.” 

The Queen’s eyes briefly flashed with pity as she slowly paced around the young girl. “Seventeen years ago, the King and I adopted the infant Barbara from a family of servants who could not care for her. I did this as a favor to my mother, rest her soul. We raised this infant as our own, with all the trappings of royalty. Of course, being deprived of our blood, she will never sit on any throne or be given the titles and privileges that my children will inherit.”

Though Barbara was keenly aware of her history, she felt ashamed to hear it recited yet again and in front of the guards, no less. “I am forever grateful, Queen Mother.”

The Queen continued, “Despite my reservations, the High Council has chosen Barbara as the successor to General Hadlok, recognizing her exceptional skill in swordplay, sharp reasoning, and unwavering devotion to Triskaris. Though I disagreed, I was overruled by my husband, Father Phadryn, and the rest of the council.”

She paused, her smile cold as she met Barbara’s eyes. “However, I secured a compromise. Barbara will embark on a ten-year expedition, venturing beyond our walls to survive without the protection of royal guards, royal privileges, or royal servants. Alone, she will navigate the lands beyond our home. ‘Let her prove herself,’ I insisted, ‘for she lacks the experience and courage of General Hadlok.’ The council agreed. We will wait a full decade, not a day less, for her return. I have every confidence she will emerge as powerful and formidable as the King and Father Phadryn believe her to be.”

“Thank you, Queen Mother,” Barbara replied. 

“Barbara,”

“Yes, Queen Mother.”

“I know I have not been as gentle towards you as I have my birth children. But I will say this, and I will say it only once: I do believe in you. And I do believe, with the guidance of Triskaris, that you will return to us.”

Barbara Dignity lowered her eyes and looked away, unsure how to respond. 

The Queen stared at Barbara for a brief moment, with something approaching affinity, and said, “Finish packing, my dear. Captain Treese is summoning the rowers now.”

“Yes, Queen Mother,” said Barbara, looking towards her stuffed unicorn. 

“Steady as she goes,” repeated Captain Treese to the three rowers. He returned the spyglass to his eye, scanning the distant shore for threats. 

Barbara stared at the back of the captain’s helm and the long strip of chainmail that hung below his neck. She looked to his shoulders, where he wore a green cape decorated in the royal family’s silver coat of arms that blew in the wind. In the center of the coat of arms was a shield depicting the holy symbol of Triskaris – scales tipped far to the right. Wrapped around the shield was Zephyraxis, the fabled water monster of Silver Lake. Zephyraxis appeared as a long, snake-like dragon with a strange smile, sharp teeth, and long tongue. The legend passed down to the children of Castle on Silver Lake was that at the end of the world, Zephyraxis will rise from the deepest, darkest part of the lake to defend the castle and all the true believers of Triskaris from the evil forces that might destroy them. Barbara knew dozens of songs and poems that mention Zephyraxis, but had a difficult time believing them to be true.

“Barbara Dignity,” Brother Heron called, singling the little girl out among the dozens of children seated before him in the royal courtyard. “Come, stand by me.” 

The little yellow-haired girl wearing a flowing green dress stood up and approached the young priest. “Yes, Brother Heron?”

“Sing us the song, O Zephyraxis, Father of Time, would you?” 

“Don’t make her sing, Brother Heron,” shouted Prince Ian, “The birds will fall dead from the sky!” The children giggled. 

“Then you’d drop dead along with them, you pudding-brained pumpkin head!” Barbara shot back. The children laughed at this.

“Enough, both of you,” Brother Heron said as he swallowed his grin. “Barbara, go ahead.” 

Barbara clasped her hands in front of her and began to sing, her voice trembling: 

O Zephyraxis

Deep under the lake

Watching for evil

Waiting to wake

Your eyes watch our kingdom

And the King and the Queen

You watch over the children

As they praise you and sing

O Zephyraxis 

When the final days chime

You will protect us

O father of time

The children clapped politely, all except for Prince Ian, who continued to glare at her. Brother Heron patted her back and smiled. “Wonderful, young Barbara.”

“Thank you, Brother Heron.”

“You do believe in Zephyraxis, don’t you, Barbara?” he asked.

The little girl looked nervously towards the ground. She cleared her throat and finally said, “I believe Triskaris will protect us from all evil, so maybe we won’t need Zephyraxis.”

“Of course Triskaris will protect us,” replied Brother Heron. “He will summon Zephyraxis to protect us all, isn’t that right?”

“M-m-maybe,” Barbara tried. 

Brother Heron looked down his nose at the little girl. “The correct answer, young Barbara, is ‘Yes. Yes he will.’” Barbara nodded her head and looked towards the children. “Have a seat,” said the priest.

“Barbara,” Captain Treese’s words cut through her thoughts. “We approach the shore.” 

Barbara stood up and balanced herself, donned her helmet and fixed the length of chainmail around her neck. She buckled the leather belt around her waist where her sword and dagger were sheathed and patted her pocket that held a small cloth pouch holding twenty five triangle-shaped gold coins, all stamped with the face of the Queen. She tightened her large iron shield, elaborately carved and decorated with the royal coat of arms, across her back. 

Barbara’s heart was heavy in her chest. Soon, there would be no Captain Treese or any other royal guards to protect her. Like most of its inhabitants, she’d never left Castle on Silver Lake, and only read about Thunder Hills or heard stories from traveling merchants and tutors. 

Barbara was ten years old when she met her first dwarf. His name was Kars Meadbrewer, and he claimed to be two hundred thirty years old. The Queen hired him as a seasonal professor to teach the children the history of Thunder Hills. 

Kars took up residence in one of the dozens of watchtowers overlooking Silver Lake. The children would walk up hundreds and hundreds of steps until they reached the open-air rooftop, where royal guards kept watch over the water. 

“Have a seat, young ones,” Kars would begin. 

Panting and huffing, the children would huddle together as the wind howled around them.

“Mr. Kars, why do you make us walk all this way? Wouldn’t the courtyard be easier?” asked a young noble. 

“Exercise is good for you,” Kars replied. “Besides, I think more clearly in high altitudes.”

“But you’re a hill dwarf. Don’t you burrow in the ground like moles?” asked another. 

“Burrow in the ground like moles?” Kars spat. “We hill dwarves live above ground, just like you! But, like all dwarves, we are descendants of the first dwarves, created by Gorenthar, god of ice, a very long time ago, in the Gotterok Mountains.”

“Is it true you are obsessed with gold?” asked a little girl.

“What a rude thing to ask,” said Kars. “You, the child of royalty and nobility, whose parents and grandparents sit on a vault of treasure so vast that it would make Skarlaxa drool, asking me if I am obsessed with gold?” Kars frowned, shook his head, and paused for dramatic effect. “Why, you got some?”

The children laughed. Kars laughed, too. He pushed his small eyeglasses up his nose and cleared his throat. “Today, I will teach you about the brutal and bloody War of the Tortoise, which occurred more than eight hundred years ago, some four hundred miles east of this castle. Tell me, who here has heard of Svernigan the Trollslayer?” The children stared at Kars blankly. “Svernigan was a hill dwarf, like me. You see, there once lived a wise old giant tortoise named Uffh. Uffh had traveled many miles to the city of Farr at the southern foot of Devil’s Horn Mountain to warn the hill dwarves of the coming invasion of trolls. The trolls had been displaced by Skarlaxa’s first born, Skarlaximus, a cruel young black dragon. Uffh, who hated trolls more than anything, having lost his mother to trolls, demanded to speak to the mayor of Farr, who at the time was Grinnzel-” 

“You’re making this up!” shouted a boy.

“I beg your pardon,” said Kars, peering over his eyeglasses. 

“Turtles can’t talk,” said the boy. 

“You poor sheltered lamb,” replied the dwarf. “Outside these walls, my boy, there are giant tortoises that can speak many different languages and live to be a thousand years old. Have you ever heard of Glennawar?”

“No,” said the boy.

“Glennawar is the goddess of beasts. She has seen fit to create all types of wonderful creatures and critters that are every bit as smart as you or I. Not every beast has been put here for the purpose of being slaughtered by your butchers and fed to you in that opulent monstrosity you call a dining hall. In fact, I once met a wolf that could recite poetry better than the bards of Bumblevine Haven.” Kars gave the boy a stern look. “Where was I? Ah yes, Uffh.” 

The boat slammed into the muddy shore. The rowers quickly jumped into the knee-deep water, their boots sinking into the muck as they steadied the vessel. Barbara walked silently towards the bow. Captain Treese jumped onto the shore and took a few steps forward. He turned and offered his hand to Barbara, who held it firmly as she stepped from the boat. 

“May Triskaris protect you day and night, Barbara Dignity,” said Captain Treese.

“And you, as well,” replied Barbara. 

“Head east on Valkarath Road. Don’t venture from the road. Be skeptical of everyone you meet. Don’t sleep in the open plains, find shelter-”

“Captain Treese,” said Barbara, “you’ve told me all this a hundred times. I will take the road east until I find Sunshower, the southwestern village of the Pentacle. One day of travel northeast of Sunshower stands a temple where fellow worshippers of Triskaris can be found.”

Captain Treese stoically hid the sadness he felt. “You will be missed. I will pray for you every night until you return. As will we all, even the Queen.”

“Thank you, Captain Treese,” Barbara replied. She reached out her gloved hand, which Captain Treese held for long moments. 

“Rowers, let’s move,” he finally said, letting go of Barbara’s hand.

Barbara looked across the vastness of Thunder Hills, bathed in the morning sun. She took a deep breath, staring down the journey ahead. 

When Barbara turned twelve, she began lessons in swordplay and shield defense. Her siblings and noble friends were not given this opportunity as they’d never need to defend themselves with all the royal guards protecting them. Though she was raised surrounded by guards and servants, she never felt comfortable with them hovering over her. She asked the King and Queen for permission to train with the royal guards. While at first hesitant, the King eventually agreed to allow her to try. 

Barbara was given clunky old training armor, along with a wooden sword and shield, and reported every morning at sunrise outside the barracks to train alongside her protectors. “Don’t hold back,” she would tell them. “Pretend I’m one of you.” 

And so they did. Barbara would arrive at dinner with cuts and bruises and sprains. She loved her wooden sword and shield more than anything. She hung them on the wall facing her bed, so they were the last things she saw before she fell asleep, when she wasn’t sleeping next to them with her stuffed unicorn. 

Barbara became proud of herself, and learned quickly. She looked forward to her morning routine. After a grueling exercise regimen, she would spar with other soldiers. In time, she could defend herself from two, and then three attackers. 

By the time she turned fourteen, she was every bit as capable as the young adult men and women she trained beside. They treated her roughly, as she did them. They celebrated her victories in the sparring matches, and picked her up from the mud when she was beaten. Over time, Barbara became respected by eager trainees and hardened instructors alike.

At sixteen, Barbara was teaching new recruits herself. She was every bit as strict and difficult as her instructors were to her, and they loved her for it. She built muscle, speed, and strategic intelligence, and worked hard to get better each day. 

“Today, you will defend yourselves from not two, not three, not four attackers, but five. Let me demonstrate,” Barbara would bark at the trainees. “You five, form a wide circle around me. Count to three, and charge towards me in unison. Do your best.” Almost instantly after their attack, all five would be disarmed and laying on their backs, wondering what hit them. “Again,” she would tell them. “Focus, try to anticipate my response. Find an opening at the farthest point from my shield.” 

From time to time, the King and Queen and members of the High Council would observe her from distant windows with amusement. Her siblings and friends would sit on the sidelines, eating snacks while watching their adopted sister spar with the most skilled royal guards in the castle. Barbara found her true self on those training grounds. 

She began eating meals with the guards in the barracks dining hall instead of with her family. She much preferred steak and potatoes to the ten-course works of culinary art prepared by nervous servants. The soldiers and recruits were enamored with her, and would follow her around, hoping for even a moment of her attention. “Sarge,” they would say with affection and respect, “could you show me that defensive maneuver from earlier? The one you use in an ambush.”

“Sure. First thing to remember, Elanor, is that grabbing for your shield will take too much time. You want to assess their numbers. As I said earlier…” 

Barbara set off east along Valkarath Road, a dusty dirt path cutting through the waist-high grasses of Thunder Hills.

CHAPTER 2

Thunder Hills stretched like an endless tapestry of green and gold, a vast expanse measuring over six thousand miles east to west and four thousand miles north to south. The region was divided into six roughly equal sections, each governed by various kings, queens, councils, and warlords. For nearly twelve hundred years, the entirety of Thunder Hills had been ruled by the legendary black dragon, Skarlax. Though Skarlax rarely intervened in local disputes and affairs, all regional leaders understood that she was the ultimate authority.

In the northwestern corner of Thunder Hills lay Zalkarath, the region governed by the King and Queen of Castle on Silver Lake. To the east of Zalkarath was the violent and mostly unexplored Thalassar Ocean. To the west stood the allied kingdom of Arboronia, and to the south stretched the unfriendly region of Drelgaroth, which was divided and ruled by a network of sub-regional warlords. At the far eastern edge of the Thunder Hills lay Pendaryn Forest, an independent region separate from Thunder Hills ruled by the red dragon Valdenbrand.

While the Thunder Hills was primarily rolling grasslands, there could be found many mountains, valleys, rivers, and lakes. A traveler could walk for days without seeing anything of significance, only to happen upon villages, towns, or cities, ancient ruins, active or abandoned mines, nomadic tribes, cemeteries or burial grounds, lone hermits, or a shepherd leading their flock to a distant ranch, for instance. 

Leading up to her departure, Barbara Dignity spent many hours studying maps and books detailing Zalkarath. The librarians warned her that Zalkarath, like anywhere else in the world of Farrenstar, was dynamic, and subject to change year to year, or even day to day. She drew several simple maps that lead to nearby villages and towns and labeled rivers and lakes and mountains. 

Currently, she was headed towards the village of Sunshower, the southwestern village in a series of five friendly villages known as the Pentacle. A four day trek lay ahead of her. She would resupply in Sunshower, then travel one day northeast to the Temple of Triskaris, which stood in the center of the Pentacle. There, she could live for some time among the holy elders.

Barbara walked purposefully down the dusty road, stopping periodically to rest and eat some dried meat. As she ventured deeper into the Thunder Hills, she marveled at the beauty of the wilds she was experiencing for the first time. She observed distant herds of elk and bison, hawks soaring high above, and even a procession of ants the size of large rats marching across the road. She encountered an arched stone bridge crossing over a fast-moving river. According to her map, this was the Fylaris River, which began in the mountains further north and traveled many miles south before feeding into the much larger Zyrell River, which formed the southern border with Drelgaroth.

Castle on Silver Lake, her home, was a massive island kingdom encircled by towering walls. Within its boundaries lay a sprawling city, where the castle towered over the populace. The island’s population of eighty thousand ranged from those living in cramped tenements on crowded streets to those in luxurious manors. The castle’s intricate watchtowers and spires made it an imposing sight, and its thousands of royal guards ensured its defenses were nearly impregnable.

The kingdom was governed by the King and Queen, with their subjects devoted to Triskaris, the god of righteous justice. The High Priest, Father Padryn, one of the rare elves within the walls, served as the spiritual leader. General Hadlok, the High Commander, oversaw the kingdom’s military forces. While the royal family’s authority extended across Zalkarath, rogue individuals and factions operated outside their control, often skirting the boundaries of the law. 

The sky was becoming dark, and Barbara Dignity could see nowhere to build a shelter for miles. She looked through her spyglass, scanning every direction, and found only tall grass and rolling hills. There were no trees or structures or stones to serve as cover. She felt a jolt of anxiety. Wolves or bandits might be drawn to her in the darkness. I can hear Captain Treese now, she thought to herself. 

As dusk turned to night, Barbara found herself with no options. The plains offered no refuge, and the road was too dangerous to travel in the dark. With a sigh, she walked a few hundred steps from the road, choosing a spot in the tall grass. There, she unrolled her bedroll and prepared for what would be a long, uncomfortable night. Despite the rising sense of dread, she tied herself tightly inside the bedroll. The weight of her full chainmail armor pressed against her body, the helmet’s cool metal encasing her head. 

Once cocooned within her bedroll, Barbara found herself in an unsettling silence, broken only by the muffled chirping of crickets and the sound of her own shallow breathing. The bedroll quickly became hot and humid, the heavy fabric trapping the warmth from her breath and body. Her sweaty, gloved hand gripped the hilt of her dagger, a small comfort in the face of the unknown dangers lurking in the shadows. She whispered a prayer to Triskaris. She reminded him of her unwavering loyalty, hoping that her faith would be enough to shield her through the night.

The nightmare began the moment she closed her eyes. A man emerged from the darkness, his skin pale as bone, wearing luxurious crimson silk robes. His head was entirely bald, reflecting the dim, sickly light. His face stretched into a wide smile. Holding a dagger in his hand, he took slow, deliberate steps towards Barbara, his feet making no sound against the invisible ground beneath them.

Barbara choked on her breath as her heart thumped with terror. She turned and fled, her feet pounding against nothingness. No matter how fast she ran, his slow, methodical pace never changed. He was right behind her, closing in with every heartbeat. The air grew thick and heavy, as if the darkness itself sought to engulf her.

She zigged and zagged, darting through the void. Shadows danced in the periphery of her vision. Panic clawed at her insides as she begged him to stop. “Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice echoed into the emptiness. He pursued her relentlessly, his shadow looming ever closer, stretching unnaturally long like a serpent poised to strike.

Finally, the hopelessness overwhelmed her, and her legs gave out. She collapsed. Her body curled up tightly, bracing for death. She screamed, expecting to feel the cold, sharp steel of his dagger, but instead, the man walked past her. His footsteps were silent in the vast nothingness. She looked up, only to see him receding into the blackness, his form dissolving like smoke.

Then, without warning, the darkness tore open, and Barbara found herself staring at the Queen. She sat still on her throne, a monstrous creation of twisted silver and green, as if the metal had been warped by devilish hands. The Queen’s eyes were wide and vacant, her lips moving soundlessly, as if trapped in some silent horror. She raised a trembling finger, pointing at the man. “Who do you think you are? Guards! Seize him!” Her voice was distorted and echoed endlessly. “Guards! Guards!? 

But there were no royal guards. The Queen was utterly alone, her throne hovering in the void. Her silver robes shimmered, and the fabric seemed to ripple with something alive. Her eyes, once commanding, now filled with a creeping dread, as she slowly rose to her feet. 

The man in the crimson robes stormed towards her, the space around him distorting and bending. He walked quickly and his smile widened far past his cheeks. He lunged at the Queen, and she shrieked.

The man’s arm moved with unnatural speed, the dagger slashing and slicing in a frenzy. The Queen’s screams were grotesque as the blades ripped through her. His arm became a blur, faster and faster, until it was nothing but streaks of crimson in the blackness. The Queen’s form began to unravel, her body dissolving into threads of silver and green, her mouth still open in a silent scream.

The sound of slashing and tearing grew louder, growing and swelling until it was all she could hear. The Queen disappeared, torn apart into the void, and Barbara was left alone. The man turned to face her, his smile widening until it nearly split his face in two.

Barbara jolted awake, gasping for breath, her body drenched in sweat. The oppressive heat in her bedroll made her feel suffocated, and she fought her way out, emerging into the early light of dawn. The endless grasslands stretched before her, serene and unthreatening. She removed her helmet, her sweaty hair clinging to her forehead.

“Hello?” she shouted over the emptiness.

There was no response. Cool waves of soft wind made ripples in the tall grass like waves in the water.

Barbara walked back to the road and sat on the hard dirt. She ate some dried meat, the taste of it grounding her in the present as she prepared to continue her journey.

CHAPTER 3

In the early afternoon on the second day of her journey, Barbara heard a distant grunting, shouting, and the jingle of bells. She quickened her pace, and soon the cause of the noise came into view. Parked awkwardly on the side of the road was the most bizarre carriage she had ever seen. Painted a vivid orange with oversized yellow polka dots, it looked more like a giant pastry than a carriage. The two horses hitched to it were equally striking, with bright yellow hair and their manes a bright shade of light green, shimmering like silk in the sun.

Beside the carriage stood an enormous man, his back turned to Barbara as he wrestled with a crooked wheel that had come loose from its axle. He was dressed in a chaotic patchwork of colors and patterns, adorned with feathers, beads, and a multitude of jingling bells that jangled with every movement. His long, bushy beard hung down to his chest, and from the back, he looked like a mountain of fabric come to life.

As Barbara approached, the man looked up, catching sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his brow, and grinned broadly. “Ah, you there! Strong young lady! Could you lend a hand to a traveler in distress?” His voice boomed with a deep, jovial tone, and a playful twinkle lit up his eyes.

Barbara nodded. “Of course. Happy to help,” she replied, setting down her pack. Together, they looked over the crooked wheel. He directed Barbara to push the wheel as he lifted the corner of the carriage with grunts and shouts. Before long, they had the wheel securely back in place.

“There we go!” the man exclaimed, clapping his hands together, his bells ringing merrily. “Excellent job, young lady. You have the eternal gratitude of Montague the Magnificent!” He bowed dramatically.

Barbara couldn’t help but chuckle at his name. “Montague the Magnificent, you say?”

“Indeed!” Montague declared. His wide grin revealed gapped front teeth. “And as a token of my deepest gratitude, I offer you a free fortune-telling session, right here and now! Step into my carriage, and I shall reveal the secrets of your future.” He swept his arm toward the carriage with an exaggerated motion.

Barbara nodded with a grin. “I suppose I can’t turn down an offer like that.”

“Splendid!” Montague bellowed, opening the door to his carriage. Barbara climbed inside, and the interior was no less flamboyant than the exterior. Richly colored fabrics draped over every surface, the walls were lined with strange trinkets from faraway lands, and the faint scent of incense hung in the air, making the space feel mysterious and cozy.

Montague settled himself into a large, overstuffed seat at the back, which creaked loudly under his weight. He motioned for Barbara to sit opposite him on an old, frayed cushion. “Now, my dear,” Montague began, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I shall peer into the mists of time and unveil your destiny!” He paused dramatically, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, before reaching beneath his seat.

Barbara watched with growing amusement as Montague produced a tiny cauldron, no larger than a teapot, and placed it on a small iron stove that sat between them. “This, my dear,” he said, his voice filled with reverence, “is no ordinary cauldron. It has been passed down through generations of my lineage, and its waters have revealed the futures of kings, queens, warriors, and wizards. And now, it shall reveal yours!”

Barbara leaned forward. Montague filled the cauldron with water from a small flask, his face full of concentration as he carefully measured out each drop. “Now, prepare yourself,” he warned, lighting the stove beneath the cauldron with a flourish. “For once the water begins to boil, the secrets of your future will be laid before us, for good or for ill.”

As the water in the cauldron began to bubble and steam, Montague leaned in close, his eyes narrowing as he peered intently into the rising vapor. His expression grew serious as he studied the boiling water, nodding to himself and muttering under his breath. Barbara found herself leaning in as well, caught up in the moment.

Finally, Montague straightened up, his eyes wide with the gravity of what he had seen. “The future is clear,” he declared. “You, my dear, are destined for a life of simplicity and joy. You shall marry a sword swallower from the deserts of Homm. Together, you will have many, many children, and you will live on a farm, raising chickens and goats.”

Barbara blinked. “A sword swallower? From the deserts of Homm?” she repeated.

“Indeed!” Montague affirmed, nodding vigorously. “A plain and simple life, but one filled with love, laughter, and more children than you’ll know what to do with! Picture it: your little ones running through the fields, the chickens clucking happily, your husband swallowing swords by the barn. It’s a beautiful vision, is it not?”

The image Montague conjured was so absurd, so far removed from anything Barbara could ever imagine for herself, that she found it impossible to keep a straight face. Her lips twitched, and despite her best efforts, a burst of laughter escaped her. “That’s… certainly a vision,” she managed to say.

Montague’s expression remained solemn. “Ah, but the fates rarely follow the paths we expect,” he said, tapping the side of his nose. “It is in the unexpected that true happiness is found, my dear! You’ll see! The simple life of a farmwife will bring you more joy than any grand adventure ever could.”

Barbara grinned politely. “Well, Montague the Magnificent, I appreciate your insight. I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out for this sword swallower.”

Montague nodded, clearly pleased with himself. “Indeed! The fates work in mysterious ways, after all. And when you do meet him, remember the words of Montague the Magnificent: embrace the unexpected, and your life will be filled with joy!”

As Montague extinguished the tiny fire with a dramatic flourish, Barbara rose from her seat and stepped out of the carriage. She turned to thank Montague once more, smiling. “Thank you. You truly are magnificent.”

Montague, his bells jingling as he adjusted his hat, bowed low. “The pleasure was all mine, my dear! May your journey bring you all the happiness you seek!” 

As she resumed her trek down the road, the image of a farm filled with goats, children, and a sword-swallowing husband stayed with her, a ridiculous notion that brought a smile to her face long after Montague’s carriage had disappeared from view.

As darkness approached, Barbara spotted the crumbling remains of a stone wall running alongside the road for several miles. She gathered some of these stones to construct a makeshift shelter in the tall grass, creating a compact space to sleep. After draping a dark green sheet over the top, she built a small fire outside of her shelter to boil some carrots in a pot with the river water she’d collected. 

Though still vigilant, she felt a little more comfortable than she had the previous night. Before laying down, she extinguished the fire and packed the pot into her backpack. She removed some of her armor and helmet as she prepared to sleep. She placed her sword and dagger and shield next to her bedroll within easy reach. 

She stood outside the small stone room and looked up at the billions of stars in the clear night sky. These are the same stars my ancestors looked up at in their travels, long before there was a Castle on Silver Lake, she thought to herself. And here I am, carrying on tradition, as will those that come after me.

Barabra prayed to Triskaris, thanked him for the day without danger, and begged him to keep the nightmares away. 

While there were no nightmares, Barbara awoke to the sounds of a horrible scream unlike any she’d ever heard before. This wasn’t a scream in her ears – it blasted through her mind. It sounded almost like a baby crying in terror, but it echoed, and it was terrible and shocking. Barbara instantly grabbed her spyglass and scanned every direction. The sun had not yet risen, making it difficult to see anything. In the distance, she noticed a pink flash of light flickering like a strobe. She pulled on her gloves, sheathed her dagger, and sprinted towards the flashing light wielding her sword and shield. 

Barbara ran as fast as she could, making no attempt to stay quiet. The scream grew louder, and louder, and louder, filling her skull with a horrible, high-pitched and relentless buzz. She held her shield out in front of her and pumped her sword arm, bracing herself for whatever she might encounter. 

Suddenly, the sound stopped. The pink lights ceased. The deep blue sky above her was empty and emotionless, as if nothing had happened. Barbara stopped and listened. Up ahead, she heard the muffled sounds of a male voice cheerfully talking and laughing. She ducked into the tall grass and slowly moved forward under its cover. 

Up ahead, in a clearing where three pine trees stood, she saw a man standing next to a horse, reaching into the saddlebags and muttering to himself. He removed something and walked towards the center of the clearing. She continued to move forward, tightening the grip on her sword. 

The man knelt down at a form lying on the ground, raising his hands above his head and slamming them down repeatedly. The horrible scream shot through her mind once again. She grit her teeth until she thought they would shatter. She saw the man driving a dagger into the forehead of some type of horse.

“Stop, in the name of the Queen!” she shouted as she stepped forward.

The man looked up but did not flinch. He sheathed his dagger and began yanking on the horse’s head. 

“What are you doing?” Barbara demanded. “What is that hideous shrieking?” It was then she realized what was happening and gasped in disbelief. 

The man grunted as he ripped the horn from the unicorn’s head. Blood dripped from the dangling tissue at its base. The unicorn kicked and writhed in pain. The man jumped to his feet and scrambled towards his black horse. She noticed a white stripe down its face. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Barbara said. She dropped her sword, drew her dagger, and launched it at the man. The dagger whipped through the air, blade over hilt, blade over hilt, until the blade nailed him square in the face. He cried out and fell to one knee, blood instantly gushing from the wound. He ripped out the dagger and hurled it back at Barbara, who easily deflected it with her shield.

“Stop in the name of the Queen!” she demanded a second time. 

The man wiped blood from his face and reached for his horse. “Go!” he shouted. He scrambled into the horse’s saddle and stormed past Barbara. 

She turned and watched in fury as the man escaped towards the road. “Coward!” she screamed. 

Barbara ran to the unicorn and knelt before it. She lifted its head into her lap and looked into its slowly blinking eye. It was gorgeous, even as it lay dying, with a light blue mane and white fur that sparkled in the moonlight. “What has he done to you?” she cried. There were two arrows sunk into its ribs. Barbara’s tears flowed freely for the magnificent creature. 

In her mind, a soft, young voice spoke to her. “He will kill more of us. You must stop him, Barbara Dignity.” 

“How do you know my name?” she asked through her tears.

“Triskaris isn’t your only ally in the realm of gods,” the unicorn replied. 

“What do you mean?”

The unicorn’s slowly closing eye rolled up to meet hers. “Our paths shall cross once more, in the days yet to come.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“This is only the beginning, Barbara Dignity,” were the unicorn’s final words. 

As the sun crept over the horizon, Barbara silently buried the unicorn in the clearing. She knelt by its grave, praying to Triskaris for guidance and swearing to avenge the unicorn. For a long while, she remained there, kneeling, lost in her thoughts.

CHAPTER 4

Barbara Dignity stormed down the dirt road at mid-morning. Her arms ached from digging the grave, her head throbbed from the ferocity of the screams, and her heart wept from watching the unicorn die. Fueled by raw vengeance, she decided she would skip meal breaks and forgo sleep to make up as much time as possible. 

She focused on her next moves. Reach Sunshower in two days or less. What then? Would traveling a day northeast to the temple be a waste of time? What if no one in Sunshower saw the man? Would he stay on the road or veer off and vanish forever? Would he die of his wounds, alone in the grasslands? 

She ignored the elk, the hawks, the deer, and the foxes. In the late afternoon, it began to rain. She paid it no mind. It rained harder, splattering mud on her boots and forming puddles in the road. She ignored it. Every minute lost was a minute the man would get farther away. 

Frustration boiled over, and tears streamed down her face. Painful doubts clawed at her. This is futile. He’s going to escape.

She forced herself to focus on the unicorn.

At midnight, the rain stopped as quickly as it began. Exhausted and starving, Barbara sat in the middle of the muddy road, quickly eating strips of dried meat. She held a waterskin to her lips and drank heavily. Her breathing was shallow as she collapsed to her side and fell asleep. 

“Back so soon?” asked the Queen, her voice echoing unnaturally. “Even the devil-god Kravenkoll takes a rest from time to time.” She sat on her throne in total darkness, her silver robes shimmering with an eerie, twinkling light. Her arms rested calmly in her lap, but the shadows around her seemed to breathe, writhing like serpents.

“My determination is greater than seven Kravenkolls,” said the man with the bald head, his crimson silk robes flowing slowly, as if underwater. 

The Queen glanced at her green-painted fingernails. “What do you hope to gain from murdering me? My lineage will simply assume my throne, and you will be tossed into the darkest dungeon to starve until you are dead,” she said.

“You will die never knowing who I am or why I do what I do,” he said. “Am I here for revenge? Am I an assassin? Was I paid? Am I fulfilling a prophecy? You’ll never know.” As the man spoke, the Queen’s throne began to twist and warp around her like devilish, grasping hands. 

The Queen looked up from her fingernails, her smile stretching unnaturally wide, far beyond the limits of her face. “You forget one crucial detail,” she said.

“Oh? And what’s that?” the man asked.

“Barbara Dignity.”

“Barbara Dignity. Barbara Dignity.”

Barbara opened her eyes and rolled over on her back. “Where am I?” she groaned. She blocked out the blinding mid-morning sun with her hand.

“You’re in the middle of the road,” said the voice. “How did you get here?” 

With a startled jump, she leapt to her feet and drew her sword. “Stand back!” she shouted.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarge.”

She saw a man and woman wearing green and silver armor on horseback. “Oh,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Royal guards.” 

“Did you run away from Castle on Silver Lake?” the woman asked.

“Not exactly. I’m… on an expedition for the Queen.”

“Where are you headed?”

“A village called Sunshower,” Barbara said. 

“We just came from there,” said the man. “Our six-month tour of duty ended yesterday. We’re headed back to the castle for some time off.” 

“You came from Sunshower? Wait, did you happen to see a man with a stab wound in his face riding a black horse?” 

The guards exchanged glances. “As a matter of fact, yes,” the woman replied. “He arrived last night at the Laughing Unicorn Inn and rented a room. He was positively disgusting.” 

“I have to get Sunshower quickly,” said Barbara. “Please, lend me one of your horses.”

“Of course,” said the man. “What’s this about?”

“That man is a despicable poacher. I must find him before it’s too late,” said Barbara.

“I don’t know how long he’s going to live. His face was infected and oozing.” The man climbed down from the saddle of his brown and white horse and handed Barbara the reins. “My guess is that he’s headed north to the temple to get healed by the priests.”

“They won’t heal him. He exudes wickedness,” Barbara said as she mounted the horse. “You have my endless thanks.”

“Of course,” they replied with a nod.

“Do me a favor,” she said as she turned the horse towards the east. “Don’t tell Captain Treese you found me in the middle of the road. He’ll have a stroke.”

“The campsite we found you in was both safe and sound,” said the man. 

Barbara smiled, and with a whip of the reins and a shout she took off down the road at top speed. 

Barbara, age six, sat on the edge of the grand, velvet-covered chair, her feet dangling above the floor, kicking nervously. The sun poured through the tall windows of the royal study, casting long, golden slivers of light across the room. She had always loved this room, with its shelves of ancient books and the comforting smell of parchment and leather. But today, something felt different. King Rafferty, her father, was sitting across from her. 

“Barbara, my dear,” King Rafferty began, his voice as warm as the sunlight that filled the room. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself down to her level. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Barbara looked up into his kind, boyish face framed with a short beard. She had always felt safe with him. 

“You weren’t born in this castle,” he continued. “Your mother and I… we brought you here when you were very small. You see, you were born to another family. They couldn’t care for you, so we brought you into our home, into our family.” He paused, letting the words sink in. Barbara stared at him, trying to understand what this meant. 

“But you are our daughter, Barbara, in every way that matters,” King Rafferty added quickly, seeing the confusion in her eyes. He reached out, taking her small hand in his. “We love you just as much as if you had been born here.” His words were meant to comfort, but Barbara’s young mind couldn’t fully grasp the complexity of what he was saying. She only felt a strange sense of loss.

As the King spoke, Barbara’s thoughts drifted. She wondered who her real parents were, what they were like, and why they had given her up. Were they out there somewhere, thinking of her? Did they miss her? She loved King Rafferty, and she knew he loved her, but this revelation made her feel different, like she was separate from the world she had always known.

King Rafferty squeezed her hand gently. “You are a part of this family, Barbara, always,” he said. “It doesn’t matter where you came from, what matters is who you are, and you are our daughter.” He smiled at her. Barbara nodded, trying to return his smile, but her mind was already swirling with questions she didn’t know how to ask. She clung to his words, to the love she knew was real, but deep down, the seed of doubt had been planted, and she knew things would never feel quite the same.

Barbara leaned into the wind. “Faster!” she shouted at the horse. There were so few horses on Castle on Silver Lake due to the limited island landscape, so this was something entirely new to Barbara, and she loved it. “Faster! Go! Go! Go!” 

The horse thundered down the road, the sensations of speed and power surging through her body. What would the King and Queen think? What would her siblings think? Or her friends or the guards? She drew her sword and held it high above her, slicing through the wind. 

Around nightfall, Barbara rode the horse up a gently sloping hill. She was tired, and she knew the horse was exhausted. Her gloved hand patted his neck softly. “You did well, new friend,” she said. “I’ll make sure they take good care of you.” 

As she reached the crest of a hill, Barbara saw Sunshower in the distance. Hundreds of torchlights lit up the large village. There were no gates, no walls, no watchtowers. She could make out small formations of guards patrolling the outer perimeter on foot. She was relieved, and exhaled in anticipation. 

Barbara, like her siblings, never left Castle on Silver Lake. The royal children and the children of noble families were sheltered from the unruliness of the Thunder Hills. It was rare that they interacted with the commoners that lived among them on the island, and even then it was during festivals and celebrations. She’d never been inside a shop, been allowed to buy trinkets from the outdoor market, or visited a lively tavern. 

The royalty and nobility filled their days with painting, dancing, gossipping, relaxing and napping, eating fine foods and drinking elvish wine. They were demanding of their servants and strict with their guards. Rarely did they make appearances in public, and never without a large contingent of protectors. 

From a young age, Barbara stood apart. She was kind and forgiving with her servants and guards, often asking about their lives and families and health. While her siblings were eating cake and listening to private concerts, Barbara was sitting on her bed with the chambermaids, learning to play cards and sharing jokes. She smuggled them food from luxurious dinners, gave them expensive trinkets from faraway lands and invited them into her chambers for sleepovers. When guards would return from protecting outside villages or towns or caravans, she insisted they tell her every detail of their experiences. 

When Barbara’s departure was announced, all the servants and maids and guards privately came to bid her farewell and express their affection. Many openly wept, and nearly all of them whispered their dread of being assigned to a less friendly member of the royal family. There would never be another like her.

It was dark when Barbara arrived at Sunshower. She walked her horse towards a group of four guards standing in a circle, talking amongst themselves.

“Good evening,” she called out. The guards nodded politely. Barbara didn’t recognize them, which wasn’t surprising given the tens of thousands of royal guards in Zalkarath. “Where might I find the Laughing Unicorn Inn?”

A guard stepped forward. “In the center of the village. The tallest building in Sunshower. Can’t miss it.” He noticed her green and silver armor. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe so,” she replied. “I’m new here.” 

“Didn’t that horse leave last night?” another guard asked.

“He did, and he’s tired. Is there a stable nearby?” Barbara asked.

“Where are you assigned?” the first guard asked.

“Assigned?”

“Where has General Hadlok assigned you?” The guard sensed her confusion. “Which village in the Pentacle are you going to protect?” 

“Oh. I’m here on orders from the Queen,” Barbara explained.

“Who are you?” the guard asked.

“Barbara Dignity,” she replied. 

“I’ve heard that name. You’re a noble, aren’t you?”

“Not for the next ten years, no. I’m alone, and as equal to anyone else in Zalkarath.” 

The guard nodded slowly. “Take the horse to the stables outside the Laughing Unicorn. We’ll see to it that he’s taken care of. Anything else?”

“Yes. I’m looking for a man with a wound on his face.”

The guard frowned. “He left early this morning, headed east. Why? Is he a friend of yours?” 

“Quite the opposite,” said Barbara. “Did he say where he was going?”

“I didn’t waste my time getting to know him. He looked like death and smelled worse. What did he do?” 

“Murder.”

“I doubt he makes it far. He’s in really bad shape.” 

Barbara nodded to the guards. “Thank you for your time.”

“Welcome to Sunshower, Barbara Dignity.”

CHAPTER 5

Sunshower was the largest village of the five that made up the Pentacle. Home to around seven hundred fifty inhabitants, mostly humans, it was a bustling place. The streets were paved with small white stones and were lined with decorative bushes and shrubbery, adding a touch of natural beauty and charm to the orderly environment.

The villagers lived in well-kept cabins and cottages, each uniquely adorned with plants and flowers. Brightly colored blooms cascaded from window boxes, and climbing vines wrapped around wooden trellises, creating a vibrant atmosphere. Every home seemed to compete in an unspoken contest of floral displays, adding to the overall enchantment of Sunshower.

At the heart of the village stood the busy center, where shops and colorful tents surrounded the renowned Laughing Unicorn Inn. This inn was not just a place for travelers to rest but a social hub for the villagers. Above the inn’s entrance hung a large wooden unicorn’s head with a wide grin. Inside, the inn was warm and inviting, with a large hearth that crackled with a welcoming fire.

Around the Laughing Unicorn Inn, merchants and artisans set up their stalls, offering a variety of goods from fresh produce and baked goods to paintings and handcrafted jewelry. The market square was always alive with the sounds of bartering, laughter, and the occasional street performer entertaining the crowd with music and tricks. The villagers took pride in their local merchants, and were hospitable to travelers passing through.

In addition to the commercial activity, Sunshower hosted several festivals and carnivals and fairs throughout the year. These events were eagerly anticipated, drawing visitors from the other villages in the Pentacle and beyond. During festivals, the streets were adorned with colorful banners and lanterns, and the air was filled with the sounds of music. The community would come together to celebrate, reinforcing the strong bonds that made Sunshower a special place to live.

As night settled in, most of the villagers retreated inside. Lanterns warmly lit up the streets and homes. Here and there, a few villagers sat outside their homes, casually strolled the streets, or engaged in conversations in small groups. Children ran wild, chasing each other and laughing. 

Up ahead, Barbara saw the tall, three-story inn towering over the shops and tents in the center of the village. Bright lanterns lit the bottom floor, and through the windows, she saw the moving silhouettes of the people inside. The sounds of shouting and laughing floated towards her. 

As she approached the inn, she noticed the large, wooden replica of a unicorn’s head with a light blue mane, pink horn, and big toothy smile watching over the entrance. Peering through a window, she saw people socializing. This was unlike anything she was used to. Anxiety rippled through her guts, and her hands became clammy.

With a deep breath, Barbara pushed open the door and walked in. Around three dozen people were inside, drinking and talking in groups. A few patrons glanced her way but quickly turned back to their conversations. She quietly made her way to an empty table against the wall, unstrapping her shield and sword belt and backpack and placing them beside her chair before sitting down. 

After a moment or two, the barmaid approached her table. Barbara gasped. It was a woman, a beautiful woman at that, with blue skin and long white hair. 

“What can I get for you?” the woman asked.

“You’re a moonborn,” Barbara said.

The woman looked from side to side. “Who, me?” she replied. 

Barbara nodded.

“Well! Here I’ve walked Farrenstar for thirty-five years, and this whole time I thought I was a dwarf,” she said sarcastically. “Thank you, young traveler, for enlightening me.” 

Barbara’s face flushed. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve never met a moon-”

“What can I get for you?” interrupted the woman. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never been here before,” Barbara said softly, feeling out of place and wishing she could disappear. 

“Foxtrot Ale, Pendaryn Reserve, Meadbrewer Family Mead in the bottle, Goblin’s Ass Beer-”

“A glass of Garwyn wine, please,” Barbara said.     

“Oh, pardon me, your majesty,” said the woman. “We seem to be short on Garwyn wine at the moment.” Several patrons laughed. 

Barbara became flushed with embarrassment. “Do you serve food?” she asked.

“Of course, your highness. Might I rouse the chef to prepare you roasted Faltimir eel?” 

“Go easy, Lunarana,” said a young woman sitting at a nearby table. “She’s clearly new here.” The woman had long brown hair and wore blue robes with gold trim. 

Lunarana rolled her eyes at the woman, then looked back at Barbara. “We have stew. Stew, bread, and lemon water.”

“That sounds fine,” said Barbara.

“Got any silver?” Lunarana asked.

Barbara handed her a shiny, triangle-shaped gold coin with the Queen’s face imprinted on it. “Is this ok?”

Lunarana held the coin and said, “So you are royalty.”

“I was born to servants, actually,” Barbara replied. 

“Honey, this coin will get you ten bowls of stew, a room for the week, and a round of drinks for every swingin’ willy in this place.”

“Give her the coin back,” said the young woman at the nearby table. “I’ll pay for her meal.”

Lunarana flipped the coin back to Barbara. “Works for me.” 

As Lunarana walked away, the young woman with long brown hair stood up and approached Barbara. “May I join you?” she asked.

“Please,” Barbara replied. “Thank you for rescuing me. I clearly don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Lunarana can be a bit much,” said the woman with a chuckle. “I’m Evelyn.”

“I’m Barbara. I’ve never seen a moonborn before.”

“She’s the only one in Sunshower. Probably the only one in the whole Pentacle.”

“Do you live here?”

“I live in Lucidia, the northeastern village of the Pentacle. I’m visiting my father. He’s sick.”

Barbara nodded. “By chance, were you here in Sunshower last night?” 

“I was.”

“Did you happen to see a man with a stab wound in his face?”

“Actually, yes. Truly awful man. They’re still trying to wash the smell out of the room he rented. Why?”

“I’m looking for him,” Barbara said. “I’m after him, to be honest.”  

Raising her eyebrows, she asked, “Is there a bounty on his head?”

Barbara paused. “There is now.” She removed her pouch and dumped the coins onto the table. “Twenty-five gold Queen pieces.” 

Evelyn laughed. “That’s all your money, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.”

“Put it away,” she said, “You’re going to attract swindlers.” 

As Barbara scooped the coins back into her pouch, a large, sweaty man swaggered up to their table. His short brown hair was matted and his beard was spotted with dried stew and bread crumbs. He pushed his eyeglasses higher up his nose with a stubby finger. “Evening ladies,” he said. 

“She’s not interested, Clovis,” said Evelyn. 

“She can speak for herself,” he said, sitting in an empty chair at their table. “I’m Clovis.”

“Barbara,” she replied.

“I heard you ask for Garwyn wine. Garwyn wine is fine, but have you tried Dark Sapphire? Far superior,” Clovis began, his ale-soaked breath filling the air.

“We were having a conversation,” Evelyn interrupted.

Clovis ignored her. “The climate of Homm is far more conducive for growing grapes. Warmer, dryer. Makes the grape more tart.”

“I see,” said Barbara.

“Let me buy you an ale, Barbara,” he offered.

“No-” Barbara began.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Clovis said, raising his hand and snapping his fingers. “Pendaryn Reserve. The barley is grown in Elysia. Ever been to Elysia? Farming village, north of the temple. It’s grown in a valley by a family…” 

As Clovis continued babbling, Evelyn closed her eyes, lifted her hand, and whispered the word, “Karom.” Barbara flinched as Clovis’ chair slid backwards, gaining speed until it tipped over, sending him crashing into a group of patrons. 

“Hey!” shouted a woman. “Not you again!” 

Clovis was struggling, half-drunkenly, to pick himself up.

Barbara turned to Evelyn, astonished. “You’re a mage?”

“I know a spell or two,” she replied.

Lunarana returned, placing a glass of lemon water and a bowl of stew with a half-loaf of bread in front of Barbara. “Pay up.”

Evelyn handed her two silver coins. “One for the food and one for your mood.”

“It’ll take more than a silver piece, sweetheart,” Lunarana muttered as she walked away.

Barbara dipped her bread in the stew. “How long have you been a mage?”

“Not that long. Lucidia is home to quite a few talented magi. One in particular, Kazamir, took me under his wing.”

Barbara nodded. “I trained with the royal guards at Castle on Silver Lake. I’m capable with a sword and shield.”

“Were you sent here to hunt down that man with the hole in his face?”

“Not exactly.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Holding the cards close to your chest, I see.”

Barbara smiled and took a bite out of her bread. “It’s a secret.”

“I’m sure it’s a good one.”

“It would give you nightmares if I told you.”

Evelyn leaned in. “Try me.”

“Not now. It’s a terrible story, and I want to finish my meal without getting upset.” 

Evelyn’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh? It sounds like you might need some backup of the spellcasting variety.”

“I can’t put you in danger, Evelyn. Besides, your father needs you.” 

“For twenty-five Queen pieces, I could hire a caretaker for my father, maybe even two of them.”

Barbara filled her spoon with stew. “Are you at all experienced?”

“I’ve never left the Pentacle,” Evelyn admitted, smiling. 

“This is my first time outside Castle on Silver Lake,” Barbara returned her smile.

“Together, we could cause real trouble.”

“Let me think about it,” Barbara said. “I will ask Triskaris for guidance after my meal. I need a solid night’s sleep after spending the last two nights outside.”

“Good luck resting here at the inn. This racket will go on until the sun rises.”

“What do you suggest?” she asked. 

“You can sleep at my father’s house, free of charge. He’ll even cook us breakfast.”“Ok, sure. I accept.” Barbara grinned as a small wave of relief washed over her. After finishing her meal, she felt a sense of comfort. It appeared she had found an ally, and for the first time since she left Castle on Silver Lake, she felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this journey won’t be so lonely after all, she thought to herself, as she gathered her belongings and followed Evelyn out of the noisy inn.

CHAPTER 6

Barbara awoke to the sounds of sizzling ham, along with the earthy aroma of a wood-burning stove. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She blinked, bringing the cozy interior into focus. 

“Good morning, Barbara,” Evelyn said from a small table, her voice warm and welcoming.  

“Good morning,” Barbara replied. She glanced around the small one-room house. Ruffled blankets lay on the floor where she and Evelyn had slept, and the shelves along the walls overflowed with charming trinkets. A wood-burning stove provided heat and cooking, accompanied by a bed, the table where Evelyn sat, and two large inviting chairs facing a large window.   

Evelyn’s father turned from the wood-burning stove and smiled. “You must be Barbara,” he said. “I’m Derik. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied. 

“You had nightmares,” Evelyn said to Barbara. 

“Yes. They’ve been happening ever since I left my home.”  

Derik limped over to Barabra, handing her a metal plate filled with slices of cooked ham. “Describe them,” he said.

“Queen Hildeburh, sitting on her throne in total darkness. She gets stabbed to death by a bald man in red robes.” She took a bite of ham. 

“By the looks of your armor, you’re some type of royal guard. Perhaps you fear the Queen is in danger without you?” Derik asked.

“I don’t think so,” she replied.

“And the man in the red robes?” he asked.

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen him before.” 

“Surely the Queen is surrounded by very capable guards,” Evelyn said reassuringly.

“She is, of course,” replied Barbara.  

Derik piled ham onto a plate. “Evelyn tells me you’re chasing after some kind of criminal. Tell me about him.”

“I discovered him between here and Castle on Silver Lake. I couldn’t make out his face, his hair, or even his clothing. It was dark, just before sunrise.” 

“Is he wanted by the Queen?”

Barbara cleared her throat as Derik slid the plate in front of Evelyn. “Have you ever seen a unicorn?” she asked.

Derik shook his head. “No, but there are many around here who have. There are stories of one that lives not far from here. His name is Aurion. He’s beloved, and it is said that those that encounter him will have four years of good luck. The Laughing Unicorn Inn was named after Aurion.”

“Aurion is dead,” Barbara said. 

“What!?” Evelyn and Derik shouted in unison.

“This man that I’m after shot him with arrows and dug out his horn with a dagger.”

Derik dropped his fork and knife. “This is horrific news. The children! They will be devastated.”

“This news should not leave this house,” said Evelyn. “Aurion is a beloved legend. Ripping him from the hearts of the people of the Pentacle will be too much.”

Derik stood from the table and stared out the window. “There are only six unicorns that wander Zalkarath,” he said. “Five, now. They don’t mate. Unicorns are gifts from Glennawar. This is truly horrible.”

“Why would this man want Aurion’s horn?” Barbara asked.

“Gold, probably,” said Derik. “That poor beast. Hurting no one, bringing joy and blessings to those that are lucky enough to lay eyes on him.” 

“You understand my motivations now. I won’t stop until I find him.” 

“Yes. May the blessings of Triskaris guide you,” Derik said. “A man like this shouldn’t be out wandering freely.” 

“Speaking of gold,” Evelyn said, hesitantly. “Barbara is paying me a small fortune to accompany her in her pursuit.”

Derik sat back down and picked up a slice of ham. He looked at his daughter for some time before responding. “I am not well, Evelyn. It would finish me off if you were hurt.” 

“Barbara is a seasoned, veteran master of the sword and shield,” she replied, glancing at Barbara with a small grin. “Besides, think of the caretakers I could hire with the gold. You would be taken care of, day and night.” 

Derik sighed. “How long do you think this will take, Barbara?”

“He’s a day ahead of us, on horseback. He’s also badly wounded. I think it’s highly likely we will discover his corpse.”

“And you will return here directly afterwards?” he asked.

“Of course,” Barbara replied. “My original plan was to spend time here in the Pentacle, at the Temple of Triskaris.”

Derik looked at Evelyn and nodded. “I have little say in this, truth be told,” he said. “You’re twenty years old, and capable of making your own decisions. Like you, I have never left the Pentacle, but I have heard many unsettling stories from travelers.”

“That were surely embellished,” Evelyn replied.

“Nonetheless,” Derik exhaled loudly. “Please be safe.”

Evelyn smiled, looked towards Barbara, and nodded.

“What do you mean you can’t spare any horses?” Barbara asked the stable guard in frustration.

The guard, a thick man with a weathered face and flat demeanor, crossed his arms over his chest. “I mean we can’t spare any,” he repeated. “We have so few, and we need the few we have to travel between the villages.” 

Barbara frowned. “It will be very temporary. We’ll return them in a matter of days. You won’t even know they’re gone.”

“Can’t do it, Barbara. Orders are orders.”

Evelyn, standing behind Barbara, looked at him with pleading eyes. “Isn’t there anything we can do? This is a very serious matter.”

The guard shook his head. “My hands are tied. Even if I wanted to help, I’d be in serious trouble for letting horses go without authorization.”

Barbara stepped closer to the guard, lowering her voice. “It is extremely important that I travel east, quickly. A very bad man is getting away.”

The guard shrugged. “I understand that, but my duty is to the Pentacle first. We have protocols in place for a reason.”

Barbara turned towards Evelyn. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

As they began to walk away, another guard, a younger man, approached them. He had been listening to the conversation. “Wait,” he called out.

Barbara and Evelyn turned back.

“I can’t give you horses from the stables,” he said, glancing nervously at his superior. “But there’s a small stable a mile south. The owner owes me a favor. He might be able to help you if you mention my name.”

Barbara’s eyes lit up. “Thank you,” she said, “We’ll go there immediately.”

The young guard nodded. “His name is Garret. Tell him Elias sent you. He’ll understand.”

“Thank you, Elias,” Evelyn said.

As they set off towards the farm, Barbara felt a surge of determination. Every minute counted in their pursuit of Aurion’s killer.

“It’s the best I can do,” Garret told Barbara. “Sold my last horse yesterday. This is all I got.”

“Donkeys?” Barbara asked, raising her eyebrows.

“The gray one is Biscuit and the brown one is Buttons. They’re not exactly racehorses, but they’re dependable. Biscuit’s got a taste for adventure, and Buttons… well, Buttons is Buttons.”

Barbara looked at Evelyn and shook her head. “Biscuit and Buttons.” 

“I’ll take Biscuit,” Evelyn said. 

“Why do I have to ride Buttons?” Barbara whined.

Buttons let out a dramatic snort, as if to say, “Why not me?” 

“We’ll take them,” Evelyn said. 

“I’ll consider my favor to Elias returned,” Garrett said as he reached for the saddles. 

Barbara and Evelyn, seated atop Biscuit and Buttons, rode east through Sunshower. “We’re headed to a town called Venora, about ninety miles from here. It should take us less than a couple days to arrive by donkey,” Barbara said. 

When they reached the edge of the village, Evelyn turned and looked behind her. “It’s hard to believe I’m actually leaving the Pentacle. This is exciting and a little frightening, to be honest.” 

“Don’t worry too much. Triskaris will protect us both.” 

Evelyn paused, and finally said, “I don’t worship Triskaris.”

Barbara looked surprised. “I thought everyone at the Pentacle worshiped Triskaris.”

“Most, but not all.”

“Who is your god?” Barbara asked.

“Vizzerex.”

“The god of magic? But Vizzerex isn’t a good god.”

“Nor is he bad,” Evelyn replied. “He just is.” 

“Does he protect you?”

“Not exactly. Through Vizzerex I am able to channel his energy and convert it into magic.” 

“Do you pray to him?”

“Not as you do Triskaris, no.” 

“Will you meet him in the afterlife?”

“That’s not how it works in the Realm of Wonder. When I die, my spirit will disperse across the universe in millions of particles.”

Barbara looked forward. “That seems terribly lonely.” 

“It just is.” Evelyn said. 

“Can these particles be accessed by mortals?”

“In a sense, yes, by other Vizzerexians to perform spellcraft.” 

“Can you be returned, if Vizzerex wills it?”

“I don’t believe so,” Evelyn said. 

“Are you even aware that you’re dead, spread across the universe?”

“No. The lights will go out, and I will be gone.”

“That sounds so cold,” said Barbara. 

“Do you think less of me that I don’t worship Triskaris?” 

“Not less of you, no. I do feel pity that you won’t have an afterlife in a heavenly realm.” 

Evelyn smiled. “Then let’s make the most of our time here on Farrenstar.” 

Barabra and Evelyn rode atop Biscuit and Buttons east through Zalkarath. Consulting her hand-drawn map, Barbara would point out landmarks she had penciled in prior to departing Castle on Silver Lake. She would hand Evelyn her spyglass and point out various mountains and valleys and lakes far in the distance. 

They crossed bridges over creeks, rode up and down hills, and rested under shade near boulders or ruins. Barbara was hopeful she would find Aurion’s killer once and for all, and finally begin her new life at the Temple of Triskaris.

The training grounds buzzed with energy as Barbara Dignity and Captain Treese squared off, wooden swords and shields in hand. The royal guards formed a lively circle around them, their voices a racket of cheers and laughter. Barbara’s heart pounded in her chest as she locked eyes with Treese, her grip tightening on the smooth wood of her practice sword.

Treese moved first, launching a quick strike toward Barbara’s midsection. She reacted swiftly, bringing down her wooden shield to block the blow with a loud thud. The impact rattled through her arm, but she held firm, immediately countering with a jab aimed at Treese’s ribs. The captain deflected her strike with ease, his shield sending her wooden blade skidding off harmlessly.

Barbara pressed the attack. She faked left and swung her sword in a wide arc toward Treese’s shoulder. He stepped back just in time, the wooden blade slicing through the air inches from his head. The guards roared in approval, their shouts of encouragement spurring Barbara on as she launched a series of rapid strikes.

Treese met her assault head-on, his movements fluid and controlled. He blocked and parried with precision. Despite his defenses, Barbara managed to land a solid hit on Treese’s shield, the force of the blow sending him back a step.

The guards cheered louder, their excitement reaching a fever pitch as Barbara pressed forward. She swung her sword in a swift downward strike, but Treese was ready. He sidestepped her attack and with a quick counterstrike, knocked her sword from her hand. Before Barbara could react, he swept her legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground.

Laughter and applause erupted from the guards as Treese stepped back, his grin wide and teasing. “You’ve got a strong arm, Barbara,” he said, offering her a hand. “But next time, try to hold onto your sword a bit longer.” Barbara accepted his hand, smiling despite the bruises.

CHAPTER 7

Around nightfall, Barbara noticed a lone wisp of thin smoke in the far distance. Through her spyglass, she saw a human and two shorter figures near a campfire in a clearing a few hundred steps from the road. She handed Evelyn the spyglass. “We should approach them,” she said.

“We should avoid them,” Evelyn replied. “They could be dangerous.”

“If you were dangerous, would you camp out in the open?”

“I see your point, but I still think it’s risky,” she said. “Besides, I’m not sharing my food with strangers. My father wasn’t able to pack much in my bags on short notice.”

“They might have useful information,” said Barbara. “Let’s go.”  

Evelyn followed closely behind Barbara on donkeyback as they approached the camp. The campfire flickered brightly in the dying light. Above the flames, a black pot dangled from a makeshift rig made of a broken spear lashed together with twine. 

A thin, shirtless man with an unkempt beard poked at the campfire. Behind him, a goblin with light blue skin and a red eyepatch hovered close by. A short figure with a cloth sack over his head growled and waved his arms in frustration, a chain around his neck tethered to a stake driven firmly into the ground.

“What in the four hells are we walking into?” whispered Evelyn.

Barbara’s eyes remained fixed on the camp. “It’s too late to turn back now. They’ve spotted us.” 

“Who’s there?” shouted the man as he jumped to his feet, wielding a shortsword.  

“I am Barbara Dignity of Castle on Silver Lake. I mean you no harm,” she called out as she dismounted Buttons. 

The man paused, a curious smile spreading across his face. “Barbara Dignity, you say? What a brilliant name.” He tossed his sword next to his bedroll. “Come, ladies, take a rest. I’m sure you’re tired and hungry.”  

“Who are you?” asked Barbara as she cautiously approached the camp.

“My name is Gorek Blak.” He gestured towards the goblin. “This is my partner, Glimmerknob.”

“Is that a goblin?” Barbara asked with hesitation.  

“Don’t worry,” chuckled Gorek. “Glimmerknob is civilized. Who might your friend be?”

“I’m Evelyn,” she replied, emerging slowly from behind Barbara.

Gorek looked her up and down. “Blue and gold robes, eh?” he asked. “A spellcaster, then?”

Evelyn nodded silently.

“Don’t be shy.” Gorek smiled. “Please, join us. I’ve got a pot of soup on, and there’s plenty to share.”

Barbara gave Evelyn a quick look before they both sat down near the fire.

“Who’s that with the sack over his head?” Barbara asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

Gorek’s smile faded for a fraction of a second. “That’s uh, that’s our unfortunate dwarf friend. He’s seen better days, I’m afraid.”

Barbara eyed the figure, then looked back at Gorek. “He doesn’t seem well.”

“Not well at all. The truth is… it’s a rather grim tale.” He hesitated, then looked towards Barbara and Evelyn. “The dwarf… well, he was once our traveling companion.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘was’?”

“He was one of us, a loyal friend.” Gorek said. “We traveled together for a long time. But then… we crossed paths with something… devilish.”

“What was it?” Barbara asked.

“A wizard. A wizard versed in the Forbidden Craft, so to speak. We encountered him in the lands south of here, in Drelgaroth.” He paused for dramatic effect. “He was a necromancer.”

Evelyn gasped. “The dwarf is undead? And you’ve kept him with you?”

Gorek nodded. “What else could we do? Leave him to wander the wilds? Kill him? No, we couldn’t do that. We thought… we thought maybe we could find a way to… help him. But it’s been hard, it’s been a long journey. Now, all we can do is keep him chained and covered, and pray that we find a way to set him free.”

Barbara appeared nervous. “You’re sure he’s harmless?”

“As harmless as the undead can be,” Gorek said. “The chains keep him secure and the sack keeps him from biting. It’s a miserable existence, a wretched state of being. We’re taking him to the Pentacle, where we’ll deliver him to the priests and see what they make of him.”

Barbara looked towards the dwarf again, then back at Gorek. “And this necromancer, where is he now?”

“Somewhere in Drelgaroth,” Gorek said as he passed steaming bowls of soup to Barbara and Evelyn. “You’re no doubt aware that necromancy was outlawed long ago. Centuries back, the ancestors of Zolderon purged it from Farrenstar. They destroyed every spellbook and magical relic they could find that was linked to the dark arts, or so they believed. But in the lawless lands of Drelgaroth, it seems the Forbidden Craft has once again surfaced.”

Evelyn shuddered, pulling her robes tighter around her. “Why would anyone choose to be a necromancer?”

“Power,” Gorek replied. “Perhaps immortality, perhaps domination. Perhaps both.” 

“We must inform the Queen,” Barbara said. 

Gorek looked at Barbara, the campfire casting an orange glow across his face. “I’m sure the Queen will learn of this wizard soon enough.”

Barbara nodded solemnly. “The priests at the temple surely have the wisdom to deal with such a curse.”

“Surely,” he replied. “Now, tell me, what brings you both to these parts?”

“We’re headed to Venora,” Evelyn answered. 

“Ah, Venora,” Gorek said with a grin. “It’s been years since I last passed through. If you’re after something rare or strange, there’s no better place to look. Keep in mind, Venora is a real jewel of a town, but it has its dark side too. It’s known for dealing in more questionable wares.” 

“What kind of questionable wares?” Evelyn asked.

“Oh, voidstalk, demonberries, spectershrooms, stolen art, strange weapons, even slaves. You might even come across phony gold or cursed orbs, if you know where to look.”

Evelyn looked intrigued. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Not dangerous, no. But still, be careful. It’s a place where the lines between right and wrong can get blurred, where you can find almost anything if you know where to look.”

Stirring her soup, Barbara asked, “What about a unicorn’s horn? Would Venora be the place to sell it?”

Gorek’s eyes flashed. “A unicorn’s horn, you say? Now that’s an item of immense power and value. Not the sort of thing you find every day.”

“We’re tracking a man who might have one,” Barbara said.

“Is that so?” Gorek grinned. “A man who can kill a unicorn… That’s no small feat. Takes someone with immense patience and skill, and surely a bit of darkness in their heart.” He leaned back, bowl of soup in hand, weighing his words carefully. “A unicorn’s horn is valuable to only one type of person.”

“And what type is that?” Barbara asked.

“A necromancer.” Gorek grinned. “The horn is a component in a very powerful spell that summons a devil-slave from the volcanic depths of Skullendor.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened. “A devil-slave?”

Gorek nodded. “Indeed. A powerful servant bound to the will of its summoner, spawned from the sacrificed corpse of a dark priest. And it all starts with the corruption of something as pure as a unicorn. There’s no greater symbol of innocence and light, and to twist that into darkness… well, it requires a soul utterly devoid of light.”

He paused, sipping soup from his spoon. “If this man you’re tracking truly has a unicorn’s horn, then he’s not just dangerous, he’s evil. Venora would be just the place to find a buyer.”

“How do you know all this?” Barbara asked.

“I’ve been around,” Gorek smiled. 

Evelyn glanced at Barbara, unsettled. “Tell us more about this necromancer in Drelgaroth.”

“I know so little about him,” Gorek said as he stared into the fire.

“What does he want?” Evelyn asked.

Gorek shrugged. “As I said, power. What else? It’s always about power with you magi, isn’t it, Evelyn? The kind of power that can bend the world to their will, reshape it in their image. And Drelgaroth is the perfect place for someone like that to build their strength. It’s lawless, outside of the authority of the Queen, a perfect breeding ground for dark magic.”

“This all sounds terrifying,” Evelyn said.

“It is,” Gorek agreed. “But it’s also fascinating, in a way. To think that such power exists in the world, hidden away in dark corners, waiting for someone bold enough to claim it.”

Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “You speak as if you admire him.”

“Admire?” Gorek laughed. “No, not admire. Respect, perhaps. Fear, definitely. You can’t deny there’s something… compelling about someone who dares to reach for such power.”

Barbara and Evelyn quietly finished their soup.

Gorek grinned warmly. “Enough of this dark talk. We’re safe here tonight, with a warm fire and good company. Let’s lighten the mood a little. Glimmerknob, tell our friends the story of the Great White Elk.” 

Glimmerknob stood quickly, his red eyepatch glinting in the firelight as he grinned, his jagged yellow teeth standing bright against his light blue skin. He rubbed his bony hands together. “Oh, me got a tale for you,” he began, his guttural voice filled with delight. “Once, there was a gang o’ goblins, mean as a sack o’ snakes. We lived deep, deep in the Pendaryn Forest, where no sunlight ever dared to peek. One day, our chief, ol’ Bumblesnatch, he says to us, ‘We’re gonna hunt the Great White Elk. Biggest beast in all the woods, pure white, with antlers that could tickle the clouds!’”

Glimmerknob’s one good eye gleamed with excitement. “We was starvin’, see, and the thought of that elk’s juicy meat made our mouths water. But this wasn’t no ordinary hunt, no sir. The Great White Elk, it was magic, see? Could disappear faster than you could blink, move like a ghost. But Bumblesnatch, he had a plan. ‘We’ll trap it,’ he says, ‘with snares and nets, and we’ll feast for a hundred nights!’”

He paused, licking his lips as if he could taste the elk. “So off we went, sneakin’ through the trees, eyes wide and bellies growlin’. We set traps all over, sharp spikes and snares that could snap a bear’s leg clean off. But that elk, it was clever. Every time we thought we had it, poof! Gone, like a puff of smoke.”

Glimmerknob’s voice dropped to a whisper, his good eye narrowing. “Then one night, we finally saw it, standin’ in a clearin’, all majestic in the moonlight, so bright it hurt to look at. Bumblesnatch, he gave the signal. We rushed at it, howlin’ and snappin’ like a pack of wild dogs. But the elk, it just stood there, starin’ at us with those big, calm eyes.”

He giggled. “We thought we had it, thought we were the cleverest goblins in all the woods. But just as we got close, that elk let out a loud snort. And suddenly, the ground beneath us gave way! We tumbled into a pit, deep and dark, full of muck and roots that grabbed at us like claws.”

Glimmerknob slapped his knee, cackling loudly. “We were stuck, wrigglin’ and squirmin’ like worms in a jar! And that elk, oh, it just trotted over to the edge of the pit, lookin’ down at us with them big ol’ eyes. Then, to mock us, it turned around, lifted its tail, and, oh, you won’t believe this, dropped a load right into the pit! Plop! Plop! Plop! All over our heads!”

He howled with laughter. “There we were, covered in mud and elk scat, tryin’ to scramble out, but the more we moved, the deeper we sank into the muck. That elk, it just stood there, tail still waggin’, like it was proud of itself! Then, with a snort that sounded like it was laughin’ at us, it pranced off into the woods, leavin’ us filthy and humiliated.”

The goblin slapped his knee again, cackling so hard he could barely breathe. “It took us hours to crawl outta that pit, all covered in mud, shame, and elk poop. And from that day on, the Great White Elk was known as the Goblin Pooper! Bumblesnatch, he never lived it down. Gave up huntin’ altogether, sayin’ the elk cursed him. But we all knew he was just too embarrassed to ever face that elk again!”

Glimmerknob wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “And that’s how we got bested by the cleverest, most disrespectful elk in the woods. We sure learned our lesson. Don’t mess with a beast that can dump on ye from on high!”

He finished with a wide, toothy grin, looking at Barbara and Evelyn, who exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

Barbara shifted slightly, her brow furrowing as she struggled to respond. “That’s certainly an unusual story,” she said. Evelyn forced a smile, trying to hide her unease. The awkward silence that followed was heavy, both of them clearly unsettled.

Gorek snickered to himself. “Thank you, Glimmerknob.” 

The goblin sat back down, giggling and proud of himself. 

“It’s late,” Gorek said. 

 Barbara nodded slowly. “Yes. We should get some rest.”

Gorek rolled out his blankets.“Barbara, you take the first watch.”

“Of course,” she replied as she unraveled her bedroll beside Evelyn’s.

Barbara sat perfectly still in the dark silence. There were no stars in the sky, no wind in the air. The campfire was nearly dead, with a few flickering flames and glowing embers giving out their final flash. She strained her ears, listening for any signs of movement, but the only sounds were faraway crickets and the distant squawk of a bird. Her breath was slow and heavy in the chilly night air. The weight of her sword at her side was comforting, a reminder of her readiness for any threat that might emerge from the darkness. She tossed a bundle of sticks on the fire, returning it back to life and restoring the light and warmth.

After a couple long hours, she woke Gorek with a gentle push. “Your turn,” she said. He rubbed his eyes briefly, pushed himself up into a seated position, and placed the shortsword across his knees. He nodded his head at Barbara, who quietly settled on her bedroll next to Evelyn. 

The nightmares returned. Barbara found herself in the small, narrow boat she had used to depart Castle on Silver Lake. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds, and the water beneath her was thick, like tar, clinging to the oars as she rowed frantically. The air was heavy with an unnatural silence, broken only by the echoing splash of the oars.

Queen Hildeburh sat at the bow, her face eerily calm, her eyes fixed on Barbara. The Queen’s silver robes flowed around her. “You can’t outrun him,” the Queen’s voice echoed.

“I can’t let him catch you, Queen Mother,” Barbara panted. Behind the boat, the man with the bald head and crimson robes swam toward them, his movements grotesque and unnatural, as if he were a shadow, gliding through the thick liquid. His hollow eyes fixed on Barbara.

The boat lurched to a stop, sinking into the tar-like muck that clung to it, pulling it down. The oars became heavy, impossible to move, and Barbara felt panic rise in her chest. She stood and reached for her sword, but her belt was empty. “Where’s my sword?” she cried, her voice desperate.

“This isn’t a fight you can win with a sword, my dear,” the Queen said with a disturbing calm. 

Barbara’s heart pounded in her chest as the man reached the boat with horrifying speed, his body moving like a sea snake. He pulled himself up and over the side, his crimson robes dripping with the thick, black water. Before Barbara could react, he shoved her violently overboard. She plunged into the lake, the water swallowing her whole.

The water was suffocating, clinging to her skin and filling her mouth as she struggled. Her legs kicked wildly. She clawed at the surface, but the water’s thickness trapped her and silenced her screams. Above her, she could see the underside of the boat, the wood cracking and splintering as if under immense pressure.

Through the distorted water, Barbara watched helplessly as the Queen’s body was thrust through the planks of the bottom of the boat, the wood shattering. The bald man quickly dove in after her and clutched her throat. With a bubbling laugh, he drove his dagger into the Queen’s chest, again and again, the blade plunging through her with a sickening sound that echoed through the water like a dull, repetitive thud.

As the Queen’s body was ripped apart by the relentless stabbing, Barbara’s vision began to blur, her lungs burning for air that would never come. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the man turning his hollow gaze toward her, the corners of his mouth curling into a cruel smile. 

“Queen Mother!” Barbara called out. “Queen Mother!”  

“Queen Mother can’t help you now, Barbara,” came Gorek’s voice. Barbara’s eyes flew open, and she gasped in terror. The undead dwarf’s rotten, snarling face was mere inches from hers, its sparse, matted hair and beard vibrating with fury. “Don’t move.”

“Evelyn?” Barbara’s voice was a panicked whisper. 

“I’m here,” she said, her voice choked. Glimmerknob held Barbara’s sword at Evelyn’s throat. 

“If she makes any moves, kill her,” said Gorek to the goblin. 

Glimmerknob giggled, his eyes gleaming with evil delight.

Gorek held the chain attached to the dwarf’s neck with both hands, keeping its decaying face dangerously close to Barbara’s, the rotten stench of its breath filling her nostrils. “It’s the bite you have to worry about, Barbara,” Gorek said. “Once he bites you, the infection spreads quickly. In no time, you’ll be just like him. You think the priests at the temple can cure this? They can’t.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Barbara asked, choking through the stench. 

“You weren’t a part of our plan,” he replied. “But you showed up at our camp, and I decided it would be a waste not to recruit you both.” 

“Recruit us?” Barbara’s eyes widened in horror.

“Recruit you into the army of Lord Thalrakus,” he replied. “After the infection takes hold, we’ll release you and Evelyn and this dwarf into a few houses on the outskirts of Sunshower to infect the families. Once the guards realize what’s happening, a small army of the undead will overtake them. Then we overrun Serenius, Lucidia, Elysia, Halcyon Heights, one by one, until finally we conquer the Temple of Triskaris. The Pentacle will crumble, and we’ll march westward with an unstoppable force. Then comes the defeat of Castle on Silver Lake, and Lord Thalrakus will rule over all of Zalkarath, as is his destiny.” 

“That will never happen,” spat Barbara. 

Gorek lowered the dwarf’s face until it was nose-to-nose with Barbara, its spoiled tongue whipping around wildly from its mouth. “Though your life as you know it on Farrenstar has come to an end, your service to Lord Thalrakus is just beginning.”

Evelyn cleared her throat. “If this goblin were to kill me, then I would be of no use to you.”  

Gorek narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

Evelyn quickly raised her palm, “Karom,” she commanded. 

With a squeal, Glimmerknob’s body flew violently over the campfire, tumbling end over end, vanishing in the distance. Barbara’s sword landed with a clang where the goblin once stood. Barbara rolled quickly, grabbing her sword and springing to her feet as Gorek released the dwarf and drew his shortsword.

“Karom!” Evelyn shouted, thrusting her palm towards the dwarf. The creature was flung backwards, disappearing into the darkness far from the camp. 

“Leave this one to me,” Barbara said, gripping her sword. She and Gorek circled each other cautiously, their eyes locked. 

“You’re going to regret breaking free,” Gorek snarled. “I won’t be as merciful as the dwarf.”  

Barbara tightened her grip. “The only thing I regret is not seeing through your deceit sooner.”

His eyes blazed with fury. “You’ve only caught a glimpse of what’s to come.” 

Gorek stomped forward with an angry growl, stabbing towards Barbara’s chest. She masterfully sidestepped the attack, her sword slicing upward with precision. The blade severed his hand cleanly from the wrist, sending his weapon tumbling to the ground. He shrieked as he gripped the gushing stump with his remaining hand. Barbara whipped her blade down sharply, slashing his leg just above the knee, followed by stabbing into his ankle on the other leg. Gorek dropped to the ground, writhing in agony and screaming wildly.

From the darkness emerged the dwarf, sprinting at an astonishing speed. It pounced on Gorek, sinking its teeth into his throat without hesitation. Gorek thrashed desperately, choking on his own blood and crying out in a frenzied panic. 

The dwarf continued to gnaw and tear at Gorek’s flesh long after he had stopped moving. Barbara held out her arm, shielding Evelyn, prepared to strike should the dwarf turn its attention towards them.

“How do you kill that thing?” Evelyn cried. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” replied Barbara, her eyes fixed on the dwarf. 

Suddenly, Evelyn screamed in pain. Barbara whirled around to find Glimmerknob behind her, stabbing at Evelyn’s leg with a broken wooden spear. Barbara raised her blade, but the goblin had already slipped into the darkness of the plains, his maniacal laughter echoing in the darkness.  

“Look out!” Evelyn shouted as the dwarf leapt towards Barbara. The creature’s eyes were wild with feral hunger as it grabbed Barbara by the shoulders, knocking them both to the ground, its rotting breath hot against her face once again.

Pinned on her back, Barbara struggled against the dwarf’s powerful grip, its decayed teeth snapping dangerously close to her throat. She twisted and pushed as hard as she could, but the dwarf’s strength was unnervingly fierce. Evelyn, her voice a frantic cry, stomped on the creature’s brittle ribs, momentarily distracting it and giving Barbara just enough room to draw her dagger. 

The dwarf’s jaws gaped open and snapped erratically as it pressed in for the kill. Summoning every bit of her strength, Barbara thrust the dagger upward. The blade drove into the zombie’s forehead, and it let out a final, guttural scream before its lifeless body collapsed on top of her. Barbara gasped and heaved, her neck and chainmail spattered in black, rotten gore. 

Evelyn yanked the dwarf’s corpse off Barbara, her hands trembling. “Are you okay?” Her voice was panicked. “Did it bite you?”

Barbara pushed herself up, wiping the thick blood from her neck. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the shock. She walked over to Gorek, lifted her sword and stabbed downward into his head, preventing him from rising again. “Get Buttons and Biscuit, we need to get out of here, now.”

CHAPTER 8

Barbara and Evelyn rode their donkeys eastward toward Venora, continuing through the night until the first light of dawn. Evelyn, now carrying Gorek’s shortsword, had also found a pouch of silver coins and a sack of potatoes among their belongings. Her leg, still bleeding and throbbing from Glimmerknob’s attack, flared with pain with every jolt from the donkey’s uneven stride. Although Barbara had wrapped it with a strip of cloth, it needed proper care soon.

“I reek of death,” Barbara said as she consulted her hand-drawn map. “We should reach Venora by evening, but there’s a river called Cyrus a few miles ahead. We can wash up when we get there. How’s your leg holding up?”

“It hurts,” Evelyn replied. “Every step Biscuit takes feels like a burst of hot lightning. Do you think we’ll see Glimmerknob again?”

“I hope not, why do you ask?”

“I want to gouge out his remaining eye and strangle him to death.”

Barbara glanced over at her friend. “What are you going to do with Gorek’s sword, cut open fruit?”

“I was hoping you’d show me a few moves,” Evelny replied. 

“You’re about as graceful as your donkey. I think I’d be wasting my time,” Barbara chuckled. 

As the morning sun rose over the Cyrus River, Barbara and Evelyn waded into the cool, refreshing water, letting its gentle current flow around their bodies. The riverbank was lined with smooth stones, and the surface of the water sparkled under the early light. Barbara and Evelyn, still shaken by their encounter with Gorek Blak, allowed themselves a moment of peace.

Standing close together, they worked silently, scrubbing their clothes and Barbara’s chainmail against the river stones. The gentle splash of the water and the rustling of tall grass filled the air. Evelyn winced slightly as she bent to rinse her leg, her face grimacing in pain. As they washed, their laughter carried through the breeze. In this moment, the river was more than just a place to wash up, it was a sanctuary where their shared experience forged a deeper connection. 

After drying herself and pulling on her blue and gold robes, Evelyn limped towards Biscuit. “I’m sure that goblin’s spear was filthy. Something is very wrong, the wound really burns. What if I lose my leg?”

Barbara, buckling her belt around her chainmail, looked concerned. “I want to try something, if you’ll allow me.” 

“Of course,” replied Evelyn. 

Barbara sat down on a large, flat stone. “Come here, put your leg in my lap.” 

Evelyn lay on her back in the grass, propped up on her elbows. She winced as she lifted her leg into Barbara’s lap. The wound, still inflamed and red, throbbed painfully with every beat of her heart. 

Barbara took a deep breath, her fingers gently cradling Evelyn’s injured leg. She closed her eyes, focusing her thoughts on Triskaris, and began to pray softly. Her voice was low but filled with sincerity. “Triskaris, grant your healing touch to my friend, Evelyn. Let your light mend what is broken and bring relief where there is pain.”

As Barbara’s prayer echoed softly in the quiet morning, a warm, gentle light began to glow around her hands. Evelyn’s eyes widened in surprise, and she felt a soothing warmth spread from Barbara’s touch. The burning sensation in her leg slowly eased, and the throbbing pain began to subside. The wound, previously inflamed and angry, started to close and heal before her eyes.

Barbara’s eyes slowly opened, her face reflecting awe and joy. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the transformation. “It’s working,” she whispered. “Triskaris is truly answering.”

Evelyn was astonished, and looked up at Barbara with gratitude. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Thank you. I thought I was going to lose my leg.”

Barbara smiled, her heart full. “I’m just glad I could help,” she said, gently holding Evelyn’s healed leg. “You’re going to be okay.”

As the healing light faded, Barbara and Evelyn sat together in quiet warmth. Evelyn flexed her leg gently, smiling at the absence of pain and the smoothness of the healed skin. Barbara’s hands, still warm from the touch of Triskaris, lingered for a moment longer before withdrawing. They exchanged a look of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of their growing bond. With a deep breath, Evelyn managed a smile, and slowly stood up. “I’m glad to know you, Barbara.”

Barbara grinned. “Let’s get moving.” Together, they mounted their donkeys, and rode towards Venora. 

When Barbara was nine years old, she fell gravely ill. The healers were unsure if she would survive the fever that wracked her body. She lay in her bed, delirious with heat, shivering under the thick blankets piled on top of her. The palace was unusually quiet, with the royal family anxiously awaiting to see if she would pull through.

One night, as the fever peaked, Barbara awoke to find the Queen sitting by her bedside. The Queen’s usual stern expression was gone, replaced by something softer, almost warm. Barbara blinked, unsure if she was dreaming. “Queen Mother?” she whispered.

“Hush, child,” the Queen said softly, placing a warm hand on Barbara’s forehead. “You need to rest.” Barbara had never heard the Queen speak so gently before. The touch of her hand, usually reserved and distant, was now warm and comforting. “I’m sorry,” Barbara said. “I didn’t mean to get sick.”

The Queen shook her head, a small smile appearing on her lips. “You foolish girl, there’s nothing to apologize for. You’re stronger than you know, Barbara. You’ll fight through this.” Barbara felt tears welling up, though she wasn’t sure if they were from the fever or the kindness from the Queen.

The Queen stayed by her side through the night, occasionally humming a lullaby that Barbara vaguely remembered from her childhood. It was the first time Barbara felt truly close to the woman she had always seen as unreachable. The next morning, Barbara’s fever broke, and the healers declared that she would recover.

As Barbara slowly regained her strength over the following days, she thought often of that night. The Queen had returned to her usual distant demeanor, but Barbara could never forget the warmth she had shown. It was a side of the Queen that few, if any, ever saw, a side that Barbara would carry with her, hidden deep in her heart.

CHAPTER 9

The merchant hub of Venora buzzed with activity, its sturdy palisades standing tall against the outside world. Several large wooden gates, wide open, welcomed travelers from across Valkarath and beyond. Inside, narrow streets wound through a maze of vibrant stalls and shops, each packed with a colorful array of goods. The air was filled with the lively chatter of shoppers and merchants haggling over prices. At the heart of Venora, the central square stood as the town’s crowded epicenter, where townsfolk gathered to exchange the latest rumors and gossip.

Barbara and Evelyn, riding atop their donkeys, observed the commotion of the town with curiosity. Merchants lured customers with loud voices over the clatter of wagon wheels. Banners waved in the gentle breeze of the plains, adding splashes of color to the earth tones of the wooden buildings. The smell of freshly cooked pastries and meats made mouths water.

Clusters of townsfolk and visitors, dressed in a variety of drab clothing and vibrant garments, moved quickly through the streets. Children darted between stalls, their laughter ringing out as they played. Nearby, a blacksmith hammered away at his forge, the rhythmic clang of metal echoing loudly. The occasional noble or high-ranking merchant passed through, their attire more elaborate, but they were a rare sight amongst the general crowds.  

The central square, paved with cobblestones and lined with neatly arranged merchant tents, lay at the heart of the town. A large fountain, featuring a stone sculpture of an elk spouting water, served as a gathering spot for visitors. Venora radiated an organized charm, where commerce flourished in a vibrant yet secure atmosphere.

While there were no royal guards posted in Venora, the merchants maintained a private security force funded through a tax on their goods. These guards, easily distinguishable by their black leather armor adorned with red bands around their arms, moved with efficiency through the streets. Each carried a thin, curved sword on one side of their hip and a small crossbow on the other, ready to respond to any sign of trouble. Their presence provided order amidst the lively chaos, their eyes scanning the crowd for trouble. Despite their readiness for action, the guards’ demeanor was generally relaxed. The sight of them offered reassurance to both merchants and visitors alike.

Evelyn glanced around at the tidy streets and colorful stalls. “I wasn’t expecting Venora to be this nice,” she said.

Barbara nodded, “Me either. The way Gorek described it, I was preparing myself for something a little darker.”

They rode Buttons and Biscuit to the stables. Evelyn handed a stablehand a silver coin. “Take good care of these two.” 

The stablehand, a boy with a dirt-smudged face, eagerly nodded. “I’ll fetch them some fresh hay and water now.”

“Wait,” said Barbara, grabbing his arm. “Before you go, could you tell us the best place to sell something exotic, like a unicorn horn?” 

The boy grinned and held out his hand. “That kind of information isn’t free.”

Evelyn handed him another silver coin. “Out with it.”

The boy quickly pocketed the coin. “There are a few places you could try. There’s Captain Harrik’s shop near the central square. He deals in magical items. Then there’s the Curio Emporium on the east side of the town. They’re known for buying and selling unusual goods. Also, you might want to visit Lady Thalina at the outskirts.”

Barbara nodded to the boy, and ushered Evelyn towards the central square.

As Barbara and Evelyn made their way through the lively streets, they were waved down by a scrappy street kid standing behind a small wooden table. His clothes were a patchwork of rags and his hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. He darted out in front of them, smiling widely. 

“Hey there, ladies!” the kid called out. “Wanna try your luck with a game? Easy coin for the winner!”

Evelyn glanced at Barbara, who shrugged. “What’s the game?”

The kid smoothly opened a small box on the table and flipped it over to reveal three small, intricately carved wooden cups. “Simple game. Guess which cup the coin is under, and you keep the coin. Guess wrong, and you owe me a silver piece. Sound fair?”

Barbara watched skeptically, but Evelyn was drawn in. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The kid placed a silver coin under one of the cups, then shuffled them around with a fluid, practiced motion. Evelyn watched intently, trying to follow the coin’s movement. But the kid’s hands were a blur, and despite her best efforts, she lost track of which cup held the coin.

“Ready?” he asked, removing his hands from the table. “Which cup’s got the coin?”

After a moment, Evelyn pointed at one of the cups.

“This one?” The kid smiled, lifting the cup to reveal nothing. “Looks like you owe me a silver piece.”

Evelyn frowned. She reached into her pouch and handed the kid a coin. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.”

The kid’s grin widened, revealing a few missing teeth. He pocketed the coin, and immediately began luring the next sucker, his shouts blending in with the buzzy sounds of the market.

Barbara grinned. “Let’s get to Captain Harrik’s.”

Evelyn seemed annoyed. “I’ll have to be more careful with my silver from now on.”

Barbara and Evelyn approached Captain Harrik’s shop, a small wooden structure painted dark green, pinched between two larger buildings in the central square. The sign above the door read “Captain Harrik’s Curiosities and Wonders.” The faint aroma of incense hovered in the air as they stepped inside.

The interior of the shop was cluttered with an eclectic assortment of items. On the shelves, there were old tomes, peculiar trinkets, and jars filled with strange substances. An older, grandfatherly man stood at the counter, with humor in his eyes. He wore the tunic of a royal guard, its green fabric faded with age.

“Welcome, welcome!” He greeted them with enthusiasm. “I’m Captain Harrik, and here you’ll find the finest oddities and magical wonders in all of Venora!” 

Barbara and Evelyn smiled politely as their eyes wandered around the shop. 

Harrik’s eyes paused on Barbara’s chainmail. “Ah, I see you’re wearing the colors of the royal guard. Haven’t seen that in years. Brings back memories of Castle on Silver Lake.”

Barbara nodded. “I’m sure it does. But we’re actually here on a different matter.”

“How can I assist you lovely ladies today?”

Barbara approached the counter. “We’re here about something unusual.”

Harrik clapped his hands together. “Of course, of course! But before we get to that, may I interest you in something truly unique?” He pulled a glassy, green-colored stone wrapped in silver wire from behind the counter. “This, my dear, is a genuine Frog’s Eye Amulet. Wear it, and you’ll walk through the deepest, thickest mud without any trouble at all!”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Absolutely! Well, most of the time.”

Barbara chuckled. “Not interested.”

Harrik nodded. “Perhaps something more magical, then?” He reached into a drawer and held out a faintly glowing blue orb in his hand. “This here, ladies, is one of my prized possessions. The Orb of Storms. Say the magic word and change the weather at your command.”

Barbara eyed the orb skeptically. “Interesting. But we’re actually looking for information. Have you ever been offered a unicorn horn?”

Harrik’s expression turned serious. “A unicorn horn? No, I can’t say that I have. Extremely rare and precious, a unicorn horn. Why do you ask? Have you heard rumors of one in Venora?”

“We’ve heard rumors,” Barbara said. “What about a man with a stab wound in his face. Have you seen anyone like that?”

Harrik shook his head. “No, I sure haven’t. But a wound like that would be hard to miss. If he’s been through here, someone must’ve noticed.”

Barbara nodded. “Thanks for your help. That’s all I needed for now.”

Evelyn leaned on the counter. “So, this orb, does it really work?”

Harrik’s grin returned. “Oh, it works, alright. Though not always as you’d expect. Magic is a tricky thing, you see. But I guarantee it’ll do something interesting!”

Barbara exchanged a glance with Evelyn. “Thank you for your help, Captain. We’ll think about it.”

Harrik nodded happily. “Of course! Come back anytime.”

As they left the shop, Barbara looked at Evelyn. “Let’s head to the eastern side.” 

As Barbara and Evelyn pushed open the door to the Curio Emporium, a tinkling bell announced their arrival. The shop was cluttered with bizarre items such as dusty potion bottles, preserved animal parts, and shelves of strange plants. Behind the counter stood young, red-haired twin sisters wearing identical white and green-striped dresses. Their faces showed an expression of disdain.

“Well, look who’s here, Mabel,” said one, eyeing Barbara’s chainmail. “A royal guard. How cute.”

The other leaned in, her voice dripping with mockery. “Yes, Fabel, it appears the Queen’s finest walks amongst us.”

Barbara replied calmly, “I’m not a royal guard.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, so you’re just playing dress-up. How delightful.”

Evelyn stepped forward, cutting through the sarcasm. “We’re here looking for something specific. We heard you buy and trade unusual items.”

Fabel spoke up. “You want unusual? Try this,” she said, placing a leafy potted plant on the countertop. “Ever see a Singing Fern?” 

“A Singing Fern?” replied Evelyn. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sing us a song, Fern. Sing us a song about the royal guards.”

The fern began to vibrate in its pot.

Oh, royal guard with sword held high,

Proud you stand, but soft inside,

You march and boast, but here’s the truth:

You’re all just cowards in metal suits!

The twins giggled as Barbara frowned. 

Mabel placed the Singing Fern back on the shelf behind them. “How about a few caps of spectershrooms? Guaranteed to show you the face of your god.”

“That’s not how I commune with Triskaris,” Barbara snapped. “Besides, spectershrooms are outlawed in Zalkarath.”

“Did you hear that, Fabel? Spectershrooms are outlawed in Zalkarath!”

“I’ll try them,” said Evelyn. “How much?”

Barbara looked at Evelyn with shock. 

“Gimmie three silvers for ‘em,” said Fabel, dropping several caps into a small jar and sliding them across the counter. 

Evelyn dropped the coins loudly on the countertop in front of the twins and slipped the jar into a pouch. She felt Barbara’s intense stare boring through her. “What? I want to see the face of Vizzerex.” 

Mabel sighed dramatically. “Hey, royal guard. If spectershrooms aren’t your thing, maybe this will light your candle.” She reached behind the counter and pulled out a metal display box lined with velvet, revealing a set of ornate wands, each topped with a different colored gem. “These wands summon various types of golems: iron, sand, copper, and mud. Ever wanted a personal army you could actually trust?”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “These work?”

Fabel grinned. “Oh, they work, but they’ll cost you a thousand gold pieces each.”

Barbara decided to get straight to the point. “What about a unicorn horn? Have you been offered one recently?”

The twins exchanged a derisive look. “A unicorn horn?” Mabel snorted. “That’s a new one. Haven’t had any mythical beast parts in here.”

Barbara’s shoulders slumped. “And what about a man with a stab wound in his face? Has anyone like that passed through here?”

Fabel shook her head. “A stab wound? No, can’t say we’ve seen that, either.”

Mabel leaned closer. “So, no royal guard duties today, just mythical horns and shady dealings?”

Barbara gave up and turned towards the door. “Something like that.”

As they left the Curio Emporium, the twins’ mocking laughter followed them through the door. 

Outside, among the throngs of customers, Barbara turned towards Evelyn. “Spectershrooms?” 

“What’s the harm?”

“They’re outlawed,” Barbara replied with disappointment.

“Which means I may never again get the chance to try them,” Evelyn replied. “Listen, I don’t follow the same strict code as you do, Barbara. I want to experience everything that I can.” 

Barbara sighed deeply and walked towards the outskirts of Venora in silence. 

As Barbara and Evelyn wandered through the rows of merchants, they found themselves drawn to the aroma of sizzling meats. A colorful stall, decorated with banners of pork and poultry, caught their attention. The vendor behind the counter was a burly man with a bushy mustache and a jovial grin. He wore a stained apron and a tiny tophat tied around his chin.

“Welcome, welcome, to my smoky den,” he bellowed. “For sausages and steaks, you’ll find none better, my friend!”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow as she approached the counter. “What’s good today?”

The vendor leaned close, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, we’ve got brisket and ribs, and tenderloin too. But I’ve got a special that might interest you!”

He dramatically pulled out a hunk of meat wrapped in parchment, laying it out with a flourish. “This here’s called the dragon’s delight, guaranteed to give you bottomless might. I cook it slow and I cook it tender, for a meal they say is quite a splendor!”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “This is what dragons like to eat?”

“Not quite,” the vendor chuckled, giving a wink. “It’s just a bit of beef, it provides you with relief. Add some spices with care, and it’s a feast beyond compare!”

Evelyn grinned. “Do you have anything else?”

“Of course, of course,” the vendor said. “Chicken, lamb, or a big juicy steak, bacon or mutton or even some snake!”

He picked up a few samples and began juggling them with surprising skill. “From the finest roast to a tasty stew, everything’s fresh and ready for you!”

Barbara and Evelyn exchanged amused glances. “Alright,” Barbara said, “we’ll take a few cuts of the steak.”

“Splendid choice!” the vendor exclaimed, his hands moving swiftly as he wrapped up their order. “This steak you’ll adore, fresh from my store. Take a bite and you’ll find, it’s the best of its kind!”

After they paid for the meat, the vendor tipped his tiny tophat with a flourish. “Come back soon!”

Evelyn chuckled as they walked away, carrying their fresh cuts of meat. “Well, he was certainly something.” Barbara smiled, momentarily forgetting her disappointment over the spectershrooms.

With their wrapped steak in hand, they continued toward the outskirts, the vendor’s voice fading in the background.

Barbara and Evelyn stepped into Lady Thalina’s shop, where the scent of incense hung heavy in the air. The dimly lit space was lined with racks displaying swords, axes, hammers, crossbows, and countless other weapons. Behind the counter stood Lady Thalina, a thin, stern-faced old woman with long, gray hair and sharp features.

“Well, well,” Lady Thalina said, her voice dripping with disdain as she eyed Barbara’s chainmail. “What do we have here? An agent of the Queen. How delightful.”

“I’m not a royal guard,” Barbara said as she gave a curt nod. “You must be Lady Thalina.”

Lady Thalina smiled coldly. “Indeed, and you must be looking for something a little… different than what the smiths at your castle forge. I deal in weapons for those with a taste for the extraordinary.”

“I am looking for something different,” Barbara replied. “Information.”

“There’s nothing for free in my shop,” Lady Thalina said. “Even information has its price.”

“I’m prepared to pay if you have what I need.”

“Try me.” 

“Has anyone tried to sell you a unicorn horn?” Barbara asked.

“A unicorn horn?” Lady Thalina spat. “Absolutely not.”

“What about a man with a horrible wound on his face? Like a stab wound. It’s said to be badly infected.”

Lady Thalina’s eyes narrowed as she held out her hand. “Ah, now we’re talking. Tickle my palm.” 

Evelyn stepped forward and placed a silver coin in her hand.

“One coin?” Lady Thalina said with disappointment. “Do I look like a street magician to you?”

Evelyn glanced at Barbara as she removed two more coins and dropped them in Lady Thalina’s hand. “Is that better?”

Lady Thalina nodded. “Yes, the man with the wound was here. Stank to high heavens and looked like he was on his last legs. He asked for directions to the infirmary. I gave them, and he left. End of story.”

“Anything else?” Barbara asked. 

“As much as I’d like to empty your purse, that’s all I know.” 

“That’s more than I expected. Thanks,” Barbara replied. 

Lady Thalina looked towards Barbara’s belt. “Your sword is rather plain, isn’t it? Standard royal guard fare. Let me show you something with a bit more… character.” Lady Thalina reached beneath the counter and produced a sword with a wavy, serpentine blade and a hilt designed like a snake that coiled tightly around her hand. “Do you want to poke holes or do you want to rearrange their innards?”

“I’m happy with my sword,” Barbara replied. 

Lady Thalina scoffed. “What about you?”

Evelyn smiled politely. “I carry no weapons. My mind is sharper than all the steel in your shop.”

Lady Thalina’s smirk faded. “Is that so? Well, let’s hope your mind doesn’t fail you when you’re staring down a blade, smart one.” 

“Thank you for your time,” Barbara said. 

“Wait,” Lady Thalina said. “I have something else you might be interested in. Something less deadly, but still useful.” 

“What would that be?”

“A dwarf.”

“A dwarf?” Barbara and Evelyn replied in unison.

“He’s not worth much more than his weight in scrap, but he’ll follow your every command.”

Barbara gave a sour expression. “I’m not interested in buying a slave.”

Lady Thalina’s expression softened. “Think of him more as a helper, a companion who’ll make your life easier. Why not at least meet him? See for yourself before you decide.” Before Barbara could respond, Lady Thalina snapped her fingers and called out, “Mr. Hardstone! Come here!”

From a wooden door in the back of the shop, an old dwarf shambled out. His white hair and beard were a tangled mess, his clothes tattered and stained. He looked defeated, his eyes downcast.

“This is Mr. Hardstone,” Lady Thalina announced with a cold grin. “Old and useless, mostly, but good enough to cook and clean. I’ll give you a price you can’t turn down.”

Barbara’s heart sank as she took in the sight of Mr. Hardstone. Her sadness was evident. “We’re not interested.”

Lady Thalina leaned in, unfazed by Barbara’s rejection. “Oh, don’t be so quick to dismiss the idea. He’s a reliable worker – strong, obedient, and discreet. Imagine having someone to carry your burdens, set up camp, handle the dirty work. And he’s as loyal as they come.”

Barbara’s face hardened. “Absolutely not,” she replied firmly. 

Mr. Hardstone gave Barbara an embarrassed look, then quickly averted his eyes. Lady Thalina shrugged dismissively. “Suit yourself.”

Barbara looked towards Evelyn and cleared her throat. “Thanks again for the information.” They quickly exited Lady Thalina’s shop. Venora’s vibrant colors and lively chatter seemed muted as they walked down the street. 

“So, he went to the infirmary,” Evelyn said. “That’s something.”

Barbara nodded. 

As they walked towards the infirmary, the sun began to dip lower in the sky. Barbara and Evelyn’s steps felt heavy. 

“Evelyn,” Barbara began.

“Yes?”

“We’re not leaving without Mr. Hardstone.” 

“We don’t have much silver left,” Evelyn said, patting her pouch. 

“We’re not paying,” Barbara replied, staring straight forward. 

CHAPTER 10

Barbara and Evelyn made their way to the infirmary, leaving behind the vibrant chaos of Venora’s market district. The large building was situated on the edge of the town, where the lively sounds of the marketplace dwindled into a more somber and subdued atmosphere. The structure itself was made of stone, with a faded sign that creaked gently in the breeze, bearing the words “Venora Infirmary” in weathered paint.

The interior was dimly lit, the only light filtering through grime-coated windows that struggled to let in the fading afternoon sun. Shelves and tables were cluttered with an array of herbs, dried plants, and an assortment of tinctures and salves. A half-dozen people lay in beds, some asleep, some groaning in pain. The air was thick with the scents of medicinal herbs and antiseptics. 

Behind a counter filled with jars and bottles, a plump woman with a kindly but worn face worked diligently, pouring colorful liquids into bottles. She looked up from her work as Barbara and Evelyn entered. “Welcome,” she said briskly, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. “I’m Bee. What brings you here?”

Barbara stepped forward. “I’m Barbara, and this is Evelyn. We’re looking for information about a man with a stab wound in the face. We’ve been told he may have been here recently.”

Bee gestured for them to sit at a nearby table cluttered with various medical paraphernalia. “Yes, I remember him. He was in rough shape. He traded his horse for a night of care. It was clear he was in considerable pain. I did what I could with the resources I have. He’d gone blind in one eye and deaf in one ear, likely permanently. Was he a relative of yours?”

“Not a relative,” Barbara replied. “You said he traded his horse? A black horse with a white stripe down its face?”

“Yes. Black horse, white stripe. He had no gold, just a metal box that he was very protective over.” 

Evelyn took a seat beside Barbara. “What kind of treatment did he receive?”

“I gave him a mixture of elixirs to help with the pain and to prevent infection. It’s not ideal, but it was the best I could offer. I cleaned the wound thoroughly and applied a salve. He was bandaged up and sent on his way. Without clerical aid, it was the best I could manage.”

Barbara’s brow furrowed. “Did he mention where he was headed after leaving here?”

Bee nodded slowly. “He said he was headed south, to Delgaroth. He didn’t provide many details beyond that. Just seemed focused on getting there. Honestly, I doubt he makes it very far on foot.”

Barbara and Evelyn exchanged a look. “Do you know what was in his metal box?” Barbara asked. “Or any details that might give us a clearer idea of where he was headed?”

“He wasn’t very talkative. His wound had almost completely overtaken him.”

Barbara stood. “Thank you for your help, Bee.”

Bee nodded. “I hope I was of some use.”

Barbara and Evelyn left the infirmary. The sun hung low in the sky, and the colorful market of Venora felt surreal. 

As they walked, the silence between them was heavy, each lost in their own thoughts. Evelyn broke the quiet. “So, we’re headed south?”

“Yes. We’re headed south. The man is on foot. We should be able to catch up to him, now.”

Evelyn glanced at Barbara. “And Mr. Hardstone?”

“Leave that to me,” she replied. “Head to the stables and prepare Biscuit and Buttons for a quick escape. Meet me outside Lady Thalina’s shop in thirty minutes.” 

As the last light of day faded into night, Barbara quickly slipped through the crowded streets. She’d donned her helmet and wrapped the long strip of chainmail over her neck and her lower face, exposing only her blue eyes. Merchants lit torches and lanterns to brighten their shops. A soft, orange glow emanated from their fires.

Barbara arrived at Lady Thalina’s door and pushed it open. Lady Thalina jumped when she saw Barbara. “I was about to lock up. It’s closing time,” she said. 

Without saying a word, Barbara walked inside and locked the door.

“I’m here for the two donkeys,” Evelyn said to the stablehand. 

The boy nodded and led Evelyn through the lamp-lit labyrinth of stables filled with horses. The smell of hay, sweat, and dung hovered in the air. Stablehands shoveled and swept out empty stalls, carried buckets of water, and led horses by their reins. At one point, Evelyn spotted a black horse with a white stripe down its face. 

Biscuit and Buttons were standing together eating hay in their stall. 

“How’d they do?” Evelyn asked the stablehand.

“No trouble at all,” he replied. “Very well behaved.” 

Evelyn gave the boy a silver coin. “You’ve done well,” she said. “Thank you.” 

“What do you want?” Lady Thalina asked nervously. “I told you everything I know.” 

“Where’s the dwarf?” Barbara asked, her menacing voice muffled by the chainmail.

“Mr. Hardstone?” the old lady asked.

“Yes. Where is he?” she asked again, firmly. 

The old woman’s eyes darted around the dimly lit shop before she finally called out, “Mr. Hardstone, come here!” She turned towards Barbara. “He’ll cost you five gold pieces.”

Barbara slugged the old woman across the face with a gloved fist. She fell to the ground with a yelp. 

Mr. Hardstone emerged from a back room, pausing in shock at the sight of the old woman laid out on the ground. 

“Where did you get him?” Barbara demanded.

“He was sold to me,” Lady Thalina said, her voice strained. 

“By whom?” Barbara asked.

Lady Thalina reached towards a low shelf and grabbed a small crossbow. Barbara swiftly kicked it from her hand, sending it clattering across the shop. 

Barbara turned towards the dwarf. “Mr. Hardstone. Take that crossbow, lots of bolts, and any other weapon you’ll need for your journey back to your home. You’re leaving with me.” 

Lady Thalina, fear overtaking her face, blustered, “I’ll report you to the Queen! This is unacceptable behavior for a royal guard.”

Barbara’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed Lady Thalina, picked her up by her arm and leg, and hurled her behind the counter. Boxes and crates collapsed over her head. “When you contact the Queen, tell her Barbara Dignity sends her regards.”

Outside, Evelyn maneuvered through the busy streets towards Lady Thalina’s shop. The crowd parted, nodding and smiling as she rode through atop Biscuit, with Buttons trailing close behind. 

In the distance, fireworks exploded high above Venora’s central square. The crowd cheered and watched in awe. As Evelyn drew closer to the shop, the intensity of the fireworks display became even more mesmerizing. Above the fountain with its majestic elk statue, the night sky was a canvas of explosive color. Families huddled together, their faces illuminated by the shimmering lights, watching in rapt attention as each firework erupted in dazzling patterns. The children, some clutching candy or holding sparklers, gasped in awe at the brilliant spectacle.

Barbara stood over the crumpled form of Lady Thalina behind the counter. “Who sold you Mr. Hardstone?” she asked again.

“If I tell you, they won’t do business with me again,” she replied from the ground. 

Barbara picked up the old woman by her shirt and slammed her against the wall. “That’s the point.”

Lady Thalina shielded her face with her forearm. “Slavers. They call themselves the Blue Bishops. Now please, leave me alone.” 

Mr. Hardstone, holding the crossbow in one hand, scanned the shop. His eyes settled on an imposing hammer with a spiked top and a handle adorned with intricately carved skulls. “Ah,” he muttered, lifting it with satisfaction.

“One day, I will return,” said Barbara, still pinning the old woman to the wall. “And if I find you trading slaves, I will toss you into the darkest dungeon to starve until you are dead.” Barbara released her grip, dropping Lady Thalina to the floor.

The old lady stared at Barbara, shocked and defeated. 

“Mr. Hardstone,” Barbara called to the dwarf. “Shall we?” 

Evelyn was waiting outside, sitting atop Buttons. 

“Hop on, Mr. Hardstone,” said Barbara as they quickly exited the shop. “You’re riding with me.” 

They urged the donkeys into a brisk trot. The group rode off into the night, through the southern gate and into the grasslands, the fireworks in the distance fading as they left Venora behind.

CHAPTER 11

Just before midnight, Barbara, Evelyn, and Mr. Hardstone decided to give Buttons and Biscuit a rest and set up camp in a small clearing. The fire crackled and popped, sending small embers into the cool night air. A gentle breeze rustled the tall grass surrounding them, and the stars glittered with a serene brilliance. They had traveled around thirty miles south, making good progress. They set up camp, tying Buttons and Biscuit to a wooden stake they hammered into the soft ground. 

Evelyn sat by the fire holding her jar of spectershrooms. With a glance at Barbara, she popped them into her mouth. As the earthy taste lingered on her tongue, she lay back on the ground and waited for the effects to begin.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Barbara said to her with a slight frown.

Evelyn smiled and replied, “It’s too bad you won’t allow yourself to experience this with me.” 

The world around Evelyn began to shift almost immediately. The firelight seemed to grow more intense, its flickering shadows dancing like spectral snakes. Her breathing slowed, and as she surrendered to the void, the darkness behind her eyelids erupted into a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns. Vivid fractals spiraled and swirled, merging into fantastical landscapes. She felt as though she was floating through an endless, shimmering sea of light, where time lost all meaning. Tribal drums and distant chanting hummed in the core of her mind. The boundaries of her body seemed to dissolve, and she became one with the pulsating rhythms of the universe. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Hardstone sat across from the fire, his deeply wrinkled face illuminated by its orange glow. He watched Evelyn with curiosity. He began to speak, his old voice carrying the weight of years and pain.

“My real name is Harkoriltharion Orinvaldirithar,” he began, the name rolling off his tongue with pride. “I go by Hark. I told Lady Thalina my name was Hardstone to protect my family’s legacy. I hoped it would be easier to forget my past if I concealed it.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I was born in Zalkarath, many miles south from here. For most of my life, I was an ironsmith, working with metal to forge mostly pickaxes for the miners in my village, but I also became proficient in making armor for the guards. I was proud of my craft, and over the years, I accumulated enough gold to buy land and build a home for my family.”

Hark’s eyes grew distant. “I constructed a big, secluded cabin far from civilization, a place where I, my wife, and my two sons could live in peace. As the years went by, my sons married and brought their own families to our home. It was a haven of warmth and love.”

He hesitated before continuing. “And then, two years ago, the Blue Bishops came. They were merciless and brutal. They raided our home, capturing us all. I couldn’t protect my family. There were too damn many of them. We were separated and sold to different buyers. My wife, my sons, their wives, and my grandchildren, all taken from me, scattered to the winds. I have no idea where any of them ended up.”

Barbara stared at the old dwarf. “Do you think you’ll ever find them again?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t know where to start. My sons had eight children between them. It seems futile, Barbara. My wife may be dead by now. She and I are very old, even for dwarves.”

Evelyn’s visions began to grow more focused, shifting to a grand scene. Evelyn found herself soaring high above a vast battlefield. Below her, tens of thousands of troops assembled, their armor shimmering in the light of a blood-red moon. The soldiers marched with precision, each wearing breastplates emblazoned with a letter D pierced by a lightning bolt. 

She observed Barbara at the forefront, riding a unicorn, commanding the legions with a formidable presence. She was courageous and powerful, her voice carrying over the furor of the battlefield. The troops moved with efficiency, their formation steady as they prepared for the imminent clash. The sight of Barbara leading such a vast army filled Evelyn with a sense of reverence and awe.

The battlefield itself was a scene of impending chaos. Undead armies surged forth from the darkness. Legions of rotting humans, dwarves, elves, goblins, and orcs marched forward. Ogres, their flesh barely clinging to their bones, lumbered with terrifying strength. Winged beasts circled overhead, their decayed wings beating with a chilling rhythm. In the midst of the conflict, a massive skeletal dragon roared, its lightning breath cratering the earth below it.

Amidst the undead army, Evelyn noticed a figure in crimson robes atop the dragon, holding a knotted wooden staff. The man had a bald head and an air of authority, his presence unsettling. His eyes were fixed on the battlefield, guiding the movements of the undead army from the sky.

The visions continued to unfold. Evelyn saw Barbara rallying her forces, pushing towards the undead horde with a determination that seemed to channel both her inner strength and a deeper, almost mystical power. 

Evelyn’s mind began to unravel the significance of what she was witnessing. The realization hit her like a thunderclap, an epiphany so profound that it sent her to her feet. Her eyes were wide, her breathing quick and shallow, as she stared at Barbara through the haze of the spectershrooms. 

“Who are you?” Evelyn demanded, her voice trembling with awe and fear. “What are you?”

Barbara, caught off guard by Evelyn’s outburst, turned to face her, looking concerned. “Evelyn, what’s wrong?”

Evelyn’s eyes were filled with a wild intensity. “I see it now! You’re more than just the daughter of servants. Your future has been written in the stars!”

Barbara took a step toward Evelyn. “Evelyn, you’re not making sense. What are you seeing?”

“The battles to come, the armies,” Evelyn said, her voice growing more frantic as she tried to make sense of the visions. “It’s all connected. You’re leading them, guiding them. There’s something more to you, something powerful. You’re a force of destiny, Barbara.”

Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “Evelyn, you need to calm down. You’re intoxicated.”

Evelyn shook her head vigorously, her eyes never leaving Barbara’s. “No, you don’t understand! The visions are clear. You’re a leader, someone who will shape the fate of nations. I’ve seen it. The symbol on their armor, the letter D with a lightning bolt struck through it, the way they follow you, it’s like you’re their guiding light. This isn’t just about us. It’s about a destiny that’s beyond anything we can imagine.”

Barbara’s expression softened. “Evelyn, I appreciate your vision, but I’m just me, hunting down a poacher.”

Evelyn grabbed Barbara’s shoulders, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “No, Barbara, you don’t see it. You’re destined to lead an army called the Dignitites, to fight battles that will echo through history. And we,” she paused, looking around at their small camp, “we’re part of that story. We need to understand what’s coming, what you’re meant to do.”

“Dignitites?” Barbara asked, almost laughing.

“The ones we call royal guards, they all become Dignitites.” 

Barbara smiled. “Your imagination is boundless, Evelyn. Let me help you to your bedroll. Here, look how comfortable it looks next to the fire.” 

Evelyn’s frenetic energy began to wane. She sat down on her bedroll, her breath coming in heavy gasps. Barbara sat down beside her.

“Rest now,” Barbara said, placing a reassuring hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.

Evelyn nodded, her mind still reeling from the revelation but finding comfort in her friend’s presence. The night grew still around them, the crackling of the fire a comforting backdrop.

Hark, who remained composed during Evelyn’s frantic descriptions of her vision, turned his attention to Barbara. “So then, tell us your story, Barbara.”

Barbara stared into the fire. “I am not a skilled storyteller, but I will try.” She took a deep breath. “I was born to royal servants at Castle on Silver Lake. My parents, I was told, were poor servants and unable to care for me, so Queen Serelith, the former ruler of Zalkarath and the mother of Queen Hildeburh, ordered Queen Hildeburh and King Rafferty to adopt me and raise me alongside their own children.”

She looked towards Hark, avoiding Evelyn’s gaze. “I was different from my siblings. The Queen treated me with a certain detachment because I wasn’t one of them by blood. Despite this, I excelled in swordplay among the royal guards and eventually began training them myself. I was a diligent student and outperformed my siblings and peers. Recognizing my potential, the High Council of Castle on Silver Lake selected me to become the future High Commander of the royal guards. The Queen insisted that I venture into the world for ten years to gain the experiences necessary to strengthen and refine me. And that’s how I came to be where I am now.”

Evelyn exhaled. “So it’s true. You are destined to lead armies.” 

“Maybe.” Barbara finally turned towards Evelyn and smiled. “I’m not sure about any Dignitites, but if I make it back in one piece, I will be the next High Commander of Castle on Silver Lake.” 

Hark smiled. “I’m honored to know you, Barbara Dignity.”

“Likewise, Hark.” 

There was a long pause as the crackling fire filled the silence. Hark finally spoke up. “So, what’s next? Where are we headed?”

“We’re headed south,” she said. “There’s a poacher we’ve been chasing down. After we deal with him, we’ll return to the Pentacle. Maybe you can start over there, Hark.”

Hark stared at the campfire. “Maybe.”

Barbara stretched her arms and yawned. “I think that’s enough for one night. We should get some sleep.”

“This will be the best night of sleep I’ve had in two years,” said Hark. He patted his blankets and chuckled. 

As Hark laid back on his bedroll, Buttons let out a loud, sustained fart that ripped through the quiet night. The sudden sound was so surprising that it cut through the heavy atmosphere like a splash of cold water. A moment of stunned silence followed, then the three friends burst into uncontrollable laughter. The absurdity of the situation provided a much-needed respite from the intensity of their stories and visions. They laughed loudly, and the tension of their earlier revelations seemed to dissipate, if only for a moment.

And with that, the three settled into their bedrolls. As they drifted off to sleep, the night air was filled with a renewed sense of purpose, and the distant stars seemed to shine a little brighter.

Barbara found herself in the middle of a violent storm, the winds howling around her, whipping at her clothes and hair. The sky above was a deep, unnatural red, and the polished stone floor beneath her feet was slick with blood. In the distance, she saw the Queen standing alone, her back turned to her, oblivious to the chaos surrounding them. The storm seemed to center around the Queen, with lightning flashing in jagged patterns across the blood-red sky.

Suddenly, the man with the bald head wearing crimson robes appeared beside the Queen. His robes thrashed around wildly in the storm but his movements were calm and deliberate. He raised his hands, and the storm intensified, the winds howling louder as the rain began to fall in thick, dark droplets that splattered against the ground like ink. Barbara tried to reach the Queen, but the wind pushed her back.

The man in the crimson robes turned to face Barbara, his eyes glowing with a malevolent red light. He slowly drew a dagger from within his robes, its blade flickering with energy that matched the storm above. With each step he took towards the Queen, the storm seemed to grow stronger.

Barbara screamed, trying to warn the Queen, but her voice was muted by the roar of the storm. The man raised the dagger high above the Queen’s head. Barbara lunged forward, fighting against the storm with all her strength, but she was too late. He plunged the dagger into the Queen’s back, over and over and over. 

Blood sprayed from the wound, mixing with the rain and blowing wildly in the wind. The Queen fell to her knees, her eyes wide with shock and pain as the storm raged around her. The man in the crimson robes stepped back, watching as the Queen collapsed into the blood-soaked floor. Barbara lunged forward, reaching for the Queen, but the storm surged again, sweeping them both away into the darkness as the man laughed coldly.

“Barbara,” came Evelyn’s voice. “Barbara.”

Barbara blinked open her eyes and gasped. “The storm!”

“There’s no storm,” Evelyn repeated gently. “You’re safe.” 

Barbara took a deep breath as she looked around, the darkened grasslands slowly coming into focus. The moon hung high above, shining a soft, dim light across the grassland, and the night was still and quiet.

Evelyn knelt beside Barbara. “It was just a dream,” she whispered. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you here.”

Barbara nodded, but the cold dread from the stormy nightmare still remained. She tried to shake it off, but the image of the Queen and the man in the crimson robes lingered on.

“Get some rest,” Evelyn said softly. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

Barbara swallowed hard, forcing a small, shaky smile as she lay back down, her eyes drifting to the stars above. But even as she closed her eyes, she knew that sleep would not come easily. Somewhere, in the farthest corners of her mind, the man in the crimson robes was still watching, waiting.

She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes.

CHAPTER 12

Barbara, Evelyn, and Hark pressed onward through the vast expanse of the grasslands beneath a wide, open sky. The sun rose slowly, shining on the rolling hills as they rode in silence, save for the steady clop of hooves. Barbara frequently raised her spyglass to her eye, scanning the horizon. 

The grasslands were beautiful in their endless green waves. The occasional flutter of birds or the distant silhouette of a lone tree were rare sights. Evelyn occasionally glanced over at Barbara, recalling her visions, while Hark seemed lost in the rhythmic sway of Buttons, which he shared with Barbara.

Barbara’s eyes remained fixed on the far-off distance where the hills met the sky, hoping for a glimpse of something more than the unending sea of grassland.

The silence was suddenly broken by Hark, who burst into song:

In the heart of the dwarven keep,

Where the shadows dance and the fires leap,

I stand with my hammer, strong and bright,

To shape the steel in the glowing light.

By the blaze of the molten might,

I bind my soul to the forge’s light,

Through sweat and toil, in the fire’s embrace,

I carve my legacy in iron’s grace.

The heat of the forge, the clang of the steel,

Each strike a vow, each scar revealed,

The metal sings a tale of old,

Of strength and honor, fierce and bold.

By the blaze of the day and night,

I bind my soul to the forge’s light,

Through sweat and toil, in the fire’s embrace,

I carve my legacy in iron’s grace.

So as I travel far and wide,

With iron’s strength as my guide,

Remember this, as embers wane,

The forge’s oath is my eternal chain.

Hark laughed as Barbara and Evelyn clapped. “I used to sing that to my sons when they were young,” he said. “They never had any interest in learning my trade. They were gemcutters, and became very skilled and well-known. Some of their work is displayed in prominent places. I’m willing to bet, Barbara, that you’ve seen their work at Castle on Silver Lake.” 

“Describe some of them,” Barbara said. 

“Oh, there were so many,” Hark began. “But they were best-known for their dragon carvings. Cut from sapphires, no more than four or five inches tall, usually. They’d use rubies for eyes, and the perch would be sculpted from pyrite.”

“To be honest, Hark,” Barbara said, “there were so many priceless works of art in the palace where I grew up that none of it really stands out in my memory.”

“I find that sad,” said Hark. “Extravagance can be a curse.” 

“I doubt I’ve ever seen any of their work,” said Evelyn. “The Pentacle isn’t known for its opulence.”

“Tell me about the Pentacle,” said Hark. 

“The Pentacle is five villages. Sunshower to the southwest, Halcyon Heights to the northwest, Elysia to the north, Lucidia to the northeast, and Serenius to the southeast. If you connect them on a map, you get a star, like a pentacle. Right in the center is the Temple of Triskaris, home to the priests and clerics. There aren’t many dwarves there.

“Lucidia, where I’m from, hosts a small college for aspiring magic users. It’s known for its potion shop, where many locals work foraging ingredients. Elysia is the farming hub, feeding the entire Pentacle. Serenius is the center of learning. It houses libraries, schools for children, a university for adults, cartographers, translators of old texts, authors of historical books, and other scholars. It’s the place to go if you want to learn just about anything.

“Halcyon Heights is where the royal guards reside. Halcyon is pretty drab and boring. Lots of barracks and training grounds but not much else. And then there’s Sunshower, which is a merchant hub. It’s not as big and lively as Venora, but it’s the largest village in the Pentacle, with lots of shops and things to do there. Sunshower is where they have festivals and carnivals and fairs. Visiting there is always a treat. It’s where I met Barbara.” 

“How did Barbara convince you to leave your home?” Hark asked.

“I had to convince her to take me with her,” Evelyn said, laughing. “I’ve been wanting to leave since I was very young.” 

“And your parents? Your siblings?” he asked.

“I am an only child,” Evelyn began. “My father is in poor health, and the gold I will earn from Barbara will be enough to hire him a caretaker to help him cook and clean and get around. He’s a good man. He raised me by himself. He worked most of his life as a carpenter, building and fixing the homes in Sunshower. He’s very popular there, or was. He doesn’t leave much anymore.”

“You haven’t yet mentioned your mother,” Hark observed.

“Nor will I,” Evelyn replied coldly.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s a sore subject. Maybe one day I will tell you about her.”

The old dwarf looked at Evelyn and said: “No one can hurt us like family.” 

“Up ahead!” Barbara abruptly interrupted them, holding her spyglass. “There’s a creek lined with trees and a flock of sheep drinking from it. There’s a shepherd and two children. Looks like a good place to rest.”

“Biscuit and Buttons will be pleased,” Hark said, smiling. 

Barbara, Evelyn, and Hark rode towards the creek, the soft clinking of their gear blending with the distant bleating of sheep. The creek sparkled under the midday sun, its clear water weaving through smooth stones and meandering around the roots of tall trees. Willows dipped their branches into the water, while sturdy oaks and elms stood along the banks.

The sheep, a fluffy array of white and cream-colored wool, grazed peacefully, occasionally dipping their heads to drink from the creek. Their fluffy coats seemed to glow in the sunlight. A shepherd, a kindly middle-aged man with a kind face and a warm smile, stood watch. Beside him stood two teenagers, a boy and girl, their bright blonde hair shining in the sunlight.

As they approached, the shepherd called out. “Good day to you!”

“Good day,” Barbara replied with a wave, dismounting Buttons. “We were hoping to rest here for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. You’re welcome to join us,” the shepherd said. “This is my son, Xan, and my daughter, Fiala. I’m Dermot.”

Evelyn dismounted Biscuit and gave a cheerful wave. “I’m Evelyn, and this is Barbara and Hark. Your sheep are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Fiala said warmly. “We love them.”

Hark, climbing down from Buttons, nodded in appreciation. “It’s a fine flock you have.”

“This is our favorite spot on the journey to the ranch,” Xan chimed in. “We stop here every time.”

Barbara smiled. “It’s a perfect place to rest. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

The group stood under a massive oak tree, the gentle sound of flowing water and the soft rustling of leaves bringing about a moment of peace and friendship. The midday sun created a warm, golden glow over the creek. Dragonflies darted across the surface, their shimmering wings catching the light, while birds chirped happily from the branches of the trees. The gentle buzz of nature surrounded the group.

Hark and Dermot strolled together to the water’s edge, discussing sheep farming. Hark listened intently as Dermot spoke, his eyes occasionally drifting to the sheep grazing nearby.

“It’s a rewarding life, working with these animals,” Dermot said, smiling. “There’s an order to it, a peace that’s hard to find elsewhere.”

“I can see that,” Hark replied. “You must have a strong bond with your flock.”

“I do. Each one has its own personality,” Dermot chuckled. “Keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.”

Nearby, Xan wandered along the bank, enjoying the tranquility. Suddenly, he froze, his eyes widening in horror. “Father!” he screamed, his voice piercing the calm. “There’s a man in the creek!”

All eyes turned to where Xan was pointing. There, lying partially submerged in the water, was a man. His face bore a gruesome wound, and he appeared barely conscious. 

“Get over here immediately, Xander,” Dermot demanded. 

Barbara walked into the ankle-deep creek and took big, splashing steps towards the man. “It’s him,” she said loudly. “It’s him!” 

“Who is he?” Dermot asked, but Barbara did not answer. 

Evelyn walked from the shade of the oak tree into the creek, following behind Barbara. “Be careful.” 

The wound in the man’s face looked like some kind of demonic flower, open and grotesque and full of reds and yellows and purples. One eye was completely bloodshot and ruined, the other eye tracking Barbara as she approached. His mouth gaped open and he compulsively smacked his lips. His nose was completely engulfed by the hideous gash. Next to him, under his hand and partially submerged in water, was a long metal box, about two feet long. His longbow rested next to him, which Barbara picked up and tossed into the creek. 

Barbara reached down and pulled the dagger from the man’s belt. She examined it closely, turning it over in her hand. The metal handle was intricately carved with a skull engulfed in flames. That, too, she tossed in the creek. The man whimpered weakly, his swollen tongue momentarily slipping from his mouth. 

Evelyn caught up to Barbara and gasped at the sight of the man’s face. She turned to Dermot and his children. “Don’t come over here,” she warned. 

Barbara’s eyes bore through the man. She spoke firmly. “Hell has been waiting for you.” 

The man exhaled weakly. He tried to speak, but could only groan. His hand tightened on his metal box. 

“That’s Aurion’s horn, isn’t it?” Barbara asked. She reached down and ripped the box from his grip. The man whimpered as she opened it slowly. Inside was a glowing unicorn’s horn, pink and white, twisting intricately to a pointed tip. Tossing the metal box into the water, she held the horn in her hand. She could feel the loving power still pulsing in its core. “Thalrakus would have used this to summon a devil-slave of some sort, so I understand.”

The man’s eye locked onto Barbara’s face. “How…” he began.

“Gorek Blak,” she replied, interrupting his feeble attempts to speak. “He told us everything, right before his little dwarf friend chewed out his throat. Tell me the location of your master.” 

The man’s eyelid weakly bobbed. “Never,” he whispered. 

Barbara stared at the man, whom she had relentlessly followed for days. Here he lay, mostly dead, unable to defend himself, but defiant until the end. She felt a surge of emotions – anger, sorrow, and a sense of satisfaction. This man, the murderer of Aurion, had been a shadow haunting her, driving her forward over many miles. She remembered the unicorn’s lifeless body, the vow she had made to avenge it, and the obstacles she had overcome to reach this moment. 

Now, as she looked into his eyes, she saw not just a murderer but a broken, pitiful soul, much different than the monstrous poacher she had imagined. For a brief moment, she hesitated, questioning whether this act of vengeance would truly bring her peace. No, she reminded herself, this is what he deserves, what Aurion deserves. 

Barbara took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she quickly drove the unicorn horn into the man’s forehead. She twisted and pushed it deep into his brain. His arms reached out for her in vain as his legs thrashed and kicked, splashing violently. Behind her, she heard the startled screams of Dermot and his children. Barbara pressed ever harder, grunting angrily as he gurgled and groaned. She gave the horn one final thrust and the man’s body went limp. She ripped the horn from his forehead, stepped back, and watched his lifeless body slump over. 

After a moment, Barbara knelt down in the creek and washed the blood and brain matter from the sacred horn. “Empty his pockets,” she said.

Evelyn ransacked the man, digging through his shirt, pants, and pouches. “Here,” she said, handing Barbara a soggy piece of paper. “This is all he had.”

Barbara held the paper up towards the sky. “It’s a map of Zalkarath,” she said. “Look, it’s marked with six Xs.” 

“My father told us there were six unicorns,” Evelyn said. “Remember?”

Barbara nodded. “Look, there’s an X near the Pentacle. I think you’re right.”

“Now we know where the other five unicorns are.” 

Barbara turned and watched Dermot hurrying his children and sheep into the grasslands. “I think we frightened them,” she said. 

Evelyn glanced at them. “Can you blame them? It’s not every day you see someone… do what you just did.”

Hark appeared on the bank of the creek beside them. “You certainly made an impression,” he said, nodding toward the fleeing family.

Barbara glanced at the dwarf. “I’m not here to win anyone’s approval. This man deserved worse than what he got.”

Hark raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Dermot told me he was headed for Cranford, a farming village about twenty miles east. That’s where he’s delivering his sheep.”

Evelyn perked up at the mention of the village. “Cranford? That’s perfect. We can resupply there before heading back to the Pentacle.”

Hark frowned. “You realize Dermot might spread word that Barbara is a ruthless murderer. The villagers might not welcome us.”

Evelyn waved off his concern. “We’ll smooth things over. Once we explain to Dermot what this man did, he’ll understand.”

Barbara, meanwhile, had turned back to the creek. She grabbed the dead man by the legs and began dragging his lifeless body from the water. “This lowlife doesn’t deserve a burial,” she muttered. “Let his corpse get eaten by coyotes and vultures.”

Hark watched her with apprehension. “What did he do?”

Barbara paused as she looked down at the man’s body. “This man murdered a unicorn named Aurion, near the Pentacle. The horn he carried was a key component in a dark ritual meant to summon a devil-slave. According to a scoundrel named Gorek Blak, there’s a dark wizard named Thalrakus who’s planning to build an army of the undead to attack Castle on Silver Lake, and this poacher was part of that plan. He intended to kill all six unicorns in Thunder Hills, which would have unleashed six devils on Zalkarath.” 

Hark nodded slowly. “Then I suppose he deserved to have his brains scrambled.”

Barbara’s voice was determined. “There’s certainly more poachers out there just like him with the same map we just acquired. My work isn’t finished yet.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened as she turned to face Barbara. “What do you mean, your work isn’t finished? We were supposed to go back to the Pentacle. You promised me, Barbara. We need to hire caretakers for my father!”

Barbara’s voice was firm. “Evelyn, I know what I promised, but there are other unicorns out there in danger. If we don’t stop these poachers, who will? They’ll wipe out the entire species, and that’s something I can’t live with.”

“And what about my father? What about our plan? We’ve been through so much to get this far, and now you want to change everything? I’ve been counting on you, Barbara.”

Barbara remained unshaken. “I know, Evelyn. And I haven’t forgotten my promise. I’ll still give you the gold, and I’ll accompany you back to the Pentacle. But after that, I have to do this. I can’t turn my back on the unicorns.”

Evelyn threw up her hands. “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave me to chase after more poachers?”

Barbara remained calm despite the tension. “You won’t lose me, Evelyn. I’ll make sure you’re safe and settled before I leave. But this is something I have to do. It’s bigger than us, bigger than the Pentacle. This is about protecting something sacred, something that can’t defend itself.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears. “But why does it have to be you, Barbara? Why can’t someone else take on this fight?”

Barbara looked directly into Evelyn’s eyes. “Because I’m the one who made the vow. Aurion’s death set all of this in motion, and I’m the one who can stop it. I owe it to him, and I owe it to every unicorn these poachers would harm.”

“And what about us, Barbara? I thought we were in this together.”

Barbara reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “We are, Evelyn. But sometimes, paths diverge. I’m not abandoning you. I’ll make sure you’re safe, but I can’t ignore this call.”

Evelyn pulled away, her frustration boiling over. “And what am I supposed to do, just go back to the Pentacle and pretend none of this ever happened?”

“You’ll go back and return to your studies, Evelyn. You’ll hire those caretakers, and you’ll ensure your father is taken care of. You’ll carry on, just as you always have.”

Hark, who had been silently listening, finally spoke up. “You know, Barbara, I’ve been thinking. I’m an old dwarf, and retiring in a village full of humans doesn’t sound very satisfying. If you’re heading out to hunt more poachers, I’d like to accompany you. I may be old, but I still have some fight left in me.”

Evelyn turned to Hark. “You too, Hark?” She stormed away to sit by the creek. 

Barbara looked at Hark, surprised. “Hark, you don’t have to do this. It’s going to be dangerous.”

The old dwarf chuckled. “Dangerous is better than boring. And besides, I’ve grown rather fond of you, Barbara. And Evelyn, once this poacher hunting is done, Barbara and I will come find you in the Pentacle. We’ll all sit by a warm fire, and catch each other up.”

Evelyn sighed. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Barbara turned towards her friend. “Evelyn, I know this isn’t what you wanted. But I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to protect you on your way back. And I’ll give you every piece of gold I have. You can take care of your father and find peace. But I have to do this. I need to finish what I started.”

Evelyn nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But you’d better come back to me when it’s all over.”

Barbara smiled. “I will. I promise.”

The three of them stood beneath the trees together, next to the poacher’s carcass. The tension of the argument still hung in the air, but so did a sense of understanding, a mutual acceptance of the paths they’d decided to take.

Barbara glanced down at the lifeless body, then towards the donkeys. “We should cook the steak we bought in Venora. We should eat before we travel to Cranford.”

Evelyn sighed. “I’ll start a fire.”

Hark chuckled softly. “Allow me, Evelyn. I quite enjoy cooking, and haven’t been able to for some time.”

Hark knelt by the fire pit, carefully selecting a few pieces of dry oak and hickory, the kind that would burn slowly and evenly and provide a rich, smoky flavor to the meat. He arranged the wood in a pyramid shape, placing some kindling beneath, and struck flint against steel to spark a flame. Within minutes, a small fire was crackling, its flames growing quickly within the wood.

As the fire began to build, Hark pulled out the cuts of steak. Using Barbara’s dagger, he sliced the meat into three even portions. The marbling of the steak promised a juicy, flavorful meal, and he nodded in approval at the quality of the cut.

“Patience is key,” Hark said, more to himself than anyone else, as he waited for the fire to settle. He didn’t want to cook the steak over roaring flames that would scorch the exterior while leaving the inside raw. Instead, he waited until the flames died down and the wood turned to glowing embers, producing a steady, intense heat without the risk of burning.

He used a flat stone he had found nearby, heating it directly on the coals to create a makeshift griddle. The stone would provide an even cooking surface, allowing the steak to sear beautifully while locking in its juices. When the stone was hot enough that a drop of water sizzled and evaporated instantly, Hark placed the first piece of steak on it, the meat making a satisfying hiss as it hit the hot surface.

“The trick,” Hark said, glancing at Evelyn as she watched him work, “is to let it sear undisturbed for a few minutes. Don’t poke it, don’t flip it too soon. Just let the heat do its job.”

He let the steak cook for about four minutes on one side, keeping a close eye on the edges as they began to caramelize and turn a deep, golden brown. The smell was mouthwatering.

After four minutes, Hark carefully flipped the steak using a small stick, revealing a perfectly seared crust on the first side. “Another three to four minutes on this side should do it,” he said. “We want it to be medium-rare. Tender and juicy.”

As the steak cooked, Hark seasoned it lightly with salt from Evelyn’s pouch, letting it enhance the natural flavor of the meat. The hickory and oak smoke continued to infuse the steak with a deep, earthy flavor that only cooking over an open fire could achieve.

Once the steak was cooked to his satisfaction, Hark removed it from the stone and set it aside to rest for a few minutes. “Letting it rest is just as important as cooking it,” he explained. “If you cut into it too soon, all the juices will run out, and you’ll be left with dry meat.”

After a few moments, Hark used his dagger to cut each piece of steak into smaller portions, then served it onto three metal plates. Barbara and Evelyn took their portions, and Hark watched with a satisfied smile as they took their first bites.

Barbara’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hark, this is incredible! I’ve eaten meals prepared by royal chefs, and this is right up there with the best of them.”

Evelyn nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think anything could taste this good out here in the wild. You’ve got a real talent, Hark.”

Hark chuckled modestly. “It’s all about understanding the fire and respecting the meat. The rest is just experience.”

The three of them ate in contented silence, enjoying their meal. The fire crackled softly, providing warmth as they shared this moment of peace.

The flies began to buzz around the poacher’s corpse as Barbara, Evelyn, and Hark loaded up Biscuit and Buttons with their gear and supplies. With a final glance at the lifeless body, they turned and began the trek towards Cranford.

“We should arrive shortly after midnight,” Barbara said. “There should be royal guards protecting the village, which means we’ll be relatively safe. But we’ll need to be cautious. News of what happened here might have spread. It’s best if we keep a low profile.”

Evelyn nodded, adjusting the straps on Biscuit’s pack. “Agreed. Let’s just get what we need and leave as soon as we can.”

With the plan in place, the three companions pressed onward across the grassland through the late afternoon. 

Once, when Barbara was thirteen years old, she was seated in the grand dining hall for dinner with the royal family and some of the kingdom’s most powerful lords and ladies. The conversation turned to modern military strategies. As the nobles praised the bravery and strength of the kingdom’s soldiers, Barbara began to share a story about her own recent training exercises.

“I’ve been practicing with the royal guards every day,” Barbara said, her voice filled with pride. “I can defeat three opponents at once. My instructor says I’m one of the strongest trainees he’s ever seen.” Her siblings looked at her with varying degrees of interest, but the Queen’s expression remained unchanged.

The Queen’s voice was calm, almost too calm, as she addressed Barbara. “Strength is not measured by how many opponents you can defeat in a controlled environment, Barbara. True strength is demonstrated on the battlefield, where lives are at stake, and where you must make decisions that will affect the fate of many.”

Barbara’s pride quickly turned sour as she realized the Queen was not impressed. “But I’m training to be strong, to protect the kingdom-” she began. 

The Queen cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Training is important, but do not mistake it for real experience. You have yet to face true adversity, Barbara. You have yet to be tested.”

The other nobles at the table remained silent, watching the exchange with interest. Barbara’s siblings exchanged glances, some with sympathy, others with amusement. Barbara felt the sting of the Queen’s words, her pride deflated.

The Queen’s eyes remained fixed on Barbara as she continued. “Do not be so eager to boast of your strength. It is not the strongest who survive, but the wisest. You will need both to lead one day. Remember that.” Barbara nodded, her enthusiasm gone, now replaced by embarrassment.

CHAPTER 13

The sun was just beginning to set when a small group of goblins appeared from the south. The goblins rode atop boars, their long, dingy black hair whipping in the wind as they bounced in their saddles. The goblins’ light blue skin seemed to almost glow in the sunset, and their beady eyes shined with mischief. The boars snorted and grunted as they came to a halt in front of the travelers.

One of the goblins, slightly larger and more scraggly than the rest, dismounted with a hop. He approached Barbara, Hark, and Evelyn with a wide grin that revealed several missing teeth. “Things for sale,” he said in a pinched voice.

Barbara took a step back, disgusted. The smell of the goblins and their mounts was overpowering. “We’re not interested,” she said, trying to wave them off.

Hark crossed his arms. “Move along, move along.”

But Evelyn, ever curious, regarded the goblins with a cautious interest. “Wait a minute. Let’s at least see what they have.”

The lead goblin nodded happily and clapped his hands. At his signal, the others began rummaging through the bags strapped to their boars. They produced a variety of items that could only be described as trash. There were rusty swords, their blades chipped and dulled, badly dented shields, jars filled with murky, dark-colored liquids, and strips of dried meat crawling with maggots. The goblins displayed their wares with pride, as if presenting treasures of great value.

Barbara recoiled. “Please. We’re not buying any of this.”

Hark nodded in agreement. “Aye. No one in their right mind would buy this garbage.”

Evelyn, however, had a feeling there was more. “Surely you have something of real value,” she said.

The lead goblin’s grin faded, then he reached deep into a sack slung over his shoulder. With a flourish, he pulled out an old, tattered book bound in faded blue leather. The cover was intricately engraved with silver stars and swirling patterns that shimmered faintly in the dying sunlight. He held it out to Evelyn with a triumphant grin and said simply, “Old man’s book.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in amazement as she grabbed the book from the goblin’s hands. It was titled The Astral Grimoire. She carefully opened it, flipping through the pages with growing surprise. “Barbara, this is a legitimate spellbook! It looks like there are instructions for six spells. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Barbara glanced at the book, then back at Evelyn. “We have limited gold, Evelyn. We were going to use that to hire caretakers for your father. Are you sure this is worth it?”

Evelyn bit her lip, torn between her responsibilities and the possibilities of the spellbook. After a moment, she made up her mind. “I’ll offer this shortsword,” she said, holding it out to the goblin. “It’s worth a fair amount of gold.”

The goblin eyed the short sword and shook his head. “More. More.”

Evelyn frowned. “This sword is in better shape than all that junk you have laid out. This is an even trade.”

“More,” was all the goblin replied. 

She sighed and looked at Hark, who stood next to Barbara, expressionless. She reached into her pouch and pulled out her small container of salt. It was worth next to nothing, but she offered it to the goblins, hoping for the best. “Salt,” she began. “Not just any salt. This salt was harvested from the Thalassar Ocean.” 

The goblins huddled together, chattering in their guttural language as they considered the offer. After a brief moment, they turned back to Evelyn, nodding eagerly. The lead goblin snatched the container of salt and the shortsword from her hands with a cackle. “Deal! Deal!”

Evelyn couldn’t believe her luck. She clutched the old book to her chest, smiling. “Thank you,” she said, more to the book than to the goblins.

The goblins, pleased with their trade, mounted their boars with gleeful hoots and hollers. They rode off towards the north, disappearing into the distance, their laughter and shouts echoing behind them.

As they watched the goblins vanish, Barbara turned to Evelyn. “I hope that book is worth it.”

Evelyn opened The Astral Grimoire again, her fingers tracing the ancient text. “I can’t decipher the spells just yet, but there’s real magic in here.” She looked up at Barbara. “Besides, what was I going to do with that shortsword, cut open fruit?”

Barbara chuckled, shaking her head. “Let’s just hope the magic in that book is as powerful as you hope it is.”

As the trio approached the outskirts of Cranford, the full moon hung like a lantern in the clear midnight sky, throwing a silver light over the landscape. The village was eerily quiet, with no signs of life stirring among the shadows. The usual sounds of a village at night, the low murmur of voices, the distant bark of a dog, the rhythmic stepping of guards’ boots on cobblestones, were absent. Instead, there was only the whisper of the wind through the tall grasses.

Barbara pulled on Buttons’ reins, bringing the donkey to a halt. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the scene before them. The silhouettes of barns and farmhouses stood in the far distance. The wheat fields swayed gently in the breeze, their movement the only sign of life in the still night.

“Where are the guards?” Evelyn whispered. “There should be patrols, torches… something.”

Barbara looked across the village. There were no torchlights flickering along the paths or lanterns illuminating the doorways. The entire village was shrouded in darkness, as if it had been abandoned in haste. The only movement came from the sheep penned behind wooden fences, their bleats the sole sound that broke the silence.

Hark’s eyes anxiously looked across the empty village. “Something’s not right. A place like this should show signs of life, even at this hour.”

Barbara nodded. The village center appeared as a cluster of buildings and houses huddled together. But there were no villagers milling about, no welcoming lights in the windows, no signs of life at all. The village seemed to be waiting for something, or someone.

“Stay alert,” Barbara quietly said. 

The three of them dismounted the donkeys and cautiously moved forward. The wooden fences that lined the path creaked ominously in the breeze. The silhouettes of the houses and shops stood eerily against the night sky. Every shadow seemed to stretch and shift, playing tricks on their eyes.

Barbara’s eyes darted from shadow to shadow. “This feels like a trap.”

Hark reached for his hammer. “If it’s a trap, let’s be ready.”

They pressed on, the eerie silence pressing down on them. The village, which should have been a haven of warmth and safety, had become a place of shadows and silence. Every step brought them closer to the unknown.

The trio approached the center of Cranford, their senses heightened by the stillness. Then, suddenly, the quiet was broken by the sound of running footsteps, echoing through the deserted streets. The sound was rapid, frantic, and growing closer.

Barbara’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword. She squinted into the darkness, and then she saw them. Two figures were sprinting towards them with unnatural speed. It was Dermot and his daughter Fiala. But something was horribly wrong. Their eyes were lifeless, devoid of any humanity, and their mouths formed grotesque snarls. A guttural, gurgling sound emanated from their throats as they closed in on the trio.

Barbara whispered urgently, “Undead.”

Without hesitation, Barbara drew her sword. In two swift, graceful slashes, she beheaded Dermot and Fiala. Their bodies crumpled to the ground and their heads rolled away, the dark blood pooling on the cobblestones. The action was over almost as soon as it began.

Hark, pale and trembling, stared at the headless bodies, his voice a whisper. “By the gods…”

Evelyn, her face a mask of shock, forced herself to steady her breathing. “Dermot’s son, Xan. He must be out there somewhere.”

Barbara wiped the blood from her blade and nodded grimly. “We need to find him, and quickly.”

As they caught their breath, Evelyn’s eyes were drawn to a faint flashing light coming from the second-story window of the forge nearby. The light flickered urgently, as if trying to catch their attention. She squinted and saw a figure in the window waving their hands.

“There,” Evelyn said, pointing to the forge. “Someone’s trying to flag us down.”

Barbara looked at the flashing light. “We’re being signaled.”

Just as they began to move towards the forge, a sudden, horrifying sound filled the air. A chorus of snarling, gurgling cries rang out from every direction. The trio turned to see hundreds of villagers, their bodies twisted and jerking, sprinting towards them from every street and alley. It seemed the whole of Cranford had been infected.

“Run!” Barbara shouted. The three of them sprinted towards the forge as fast as they could, the undead horde closing in from every side. The sound of their pounding feet on the cobblestones was drowned out by the roars of the undead, who were gaining on them with terrifying speed.

As they neared the forge, the door flew open, and the figure inside motioned frantically for them to hurry. Barbara, Evelyn, and Hark dove inside just as the undead surged forward and the door was quickly slammed shut behind them. The wooden door shuddered under the impact of countless bodies crashing against it.

The figure who had held open the door, a royal guard, grabbed a thick plank of wood from the floor. He jammed the plank into iron brackets on either side of the door, barring it shut. The zombies outside pounded against the door with a maddened fury. The relentless pounding echoed through the small room, but the door, reinforced by the barricade, showed no signs of giving way.

Inside, Barbara, Evelyn, and Hark caught their breath, their eyes quickly looking around the room. The windows had been hastily boarded up with planks of wood nailed haphazardly across the frames. Through the narrow gaps between the boards, they could see the flicker of the moonlight outside and the chaotic shadows of the undead pounding their fists against the walls. Despite their assault, the forge felt secure, for now.

The forge itself was a large, open space, dominated by a massive stone hearth at its center. The hearth was cold now, but the blackened stones around it bore the marks of the many fires that had once roared within. An anvil stood nearby, its surface scarred from years of use, and various hammers, tongs, and chisels were scattered across the workbenches. The room was thick with the scent of soot and iron.

The trio found themselves in the presence of eight survivors, their faces pale with fear. Four royal guards stood facing them. Xan, Dermot’s son, sat against a wall, knees in hands, rocking from side to side. A burly man with soot-streaked arms nodded in greeting. A terrified farmer held his young daughter close, her eyes filled with terror.

One of the guards, a younger man with a long brown beard, stepped forward. “Barbara Dignity, is that you? I trained with you when you were just fifteen years old. I’m Varik. It’s good to see a familiar face in this nightmare.”

Barbara managed a tight smile. “Varik. I remember you. Good to see you too, despite all this. Tell me what happened.”

Varik gestured to the others. “This is all that’s left of the village, as far as we know. Everything happened so fast. Earlier this evening, after sundown, it started with a few distant screams. But those screams quickly multiplied. One became two, two became four, and before we knew it, the whole village was in chaos. The infection spread very quickly.”

Varik gestured at the survivors. “We managed to barricade ourselves in the forge a few hours ago. There could be others out there, hiding, but it’s clear the village has been overrun.”

Barbara nodded solemnly. “How many people live in Cranford?”

“A little over three hundred,” Varik replied.

“Have there been any suspicious visitors?” Evelyn asked.

Varik shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Cranford exports wheat, so we get frequent buyers coming and going. The inn rents twelve rooms and is usually full. There’s no telling how this started.”

“It’s likely,” Barbara began, “that someone arrived from the south, transporting an infected carrier and releasing it into a farmhouse on the outskirts of the village. These newly infected farmers and farmhands and their families quickly began infecting others. From what I’ve heard, the time between a bite and turning is very short. It’s also likely that Cranford isn’t the only village in Zalkarath overrun by the undead.”

“What are you saying?” Varik asked.

“It appears the relative peace and order that we’ve enjoyed in Valkarath is coming to an end,” Barbara replied.

The burly, soot-streaked man stepped forward. “My name is Colm. I am… I was the smith’s apprentice. What are we going to do?”

Barbara looked around the room, her eyes passing over each of the frightened faces. The forge felt like a prison. “It appears we’re trapped,” she began. “We can’t outrun those things. They’re faster than us. We have some provisions, but they won’t last long. And make no mistake, there’s no rescue coming. No one’s coming to save us.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. “We can’t sit here and starve, waiting for death to find us. And we can’t hide and hope this will all blow over. This isn’t going to end unless we end it.”

Her eyes flickered as she continued, “There’s only one way out. We fight. We fight until every one of those things out there is dead, or until we are. There’s no other way. We face this together, or we die.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. 

After several long moments, the farmer stepped forward and faced Barbara. With a respectful nod, he said, “I’m Hale, and this is my daughter, Maribella. I’m ready to fight, but Maribella is only thirteen years old. You can’t expect her to swing a weapon.” 

Barbara grinned as she walked past Hale and knelt before Maribella. The girl’s red hair shone brightly in the torchlight of the forge. “Maribella,” she said confidently to the terrified child. “I’m Barbara. I grew up in Castle on Silver Lake, in the royal palace. You grew up here, in Cranford, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You helped your father on his farm?”

“Yes. Me and my brothers and sisters.”

“You rose early, worked hard all day?”

“Yes.” 

Barbara’s smile deepened as she lightly squeezed the child’s bicep. “These muscles! Maribella, you’re stronger than you realize. When I was thirteen, I would have given anything to have your strength.” 

Maribella looked away. “Thank you.”

“When I was twelve, I began training with the royal guards. I got to use a wooden sword. I realized then, like you will realize now, that you have a strength inside of you that is capable of great things.” Barbara unsheathed her dagger and held it by the blade. “Look at this dagger, Maribella. This dagger was forged by the same smiths that forge weapons for the royal guards. See the symbol of Triskaris etched into the handle? You believe in Triskaris, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Maribella replied.

“He’s going to watch over us. All his attention is about to be on us. He’s about to be very proud of you.” Barbara smiled. “We’re all about to be very proud of you, especially your father.”

Maribella looked at Barbara’s face, confidence appearing in her eyes. 

Barbara pushed the dagger’s handle towards the girl. “Take this dagger, it’s yours now.” 

“Wow,” Maribella whispered, holding it reverently. 

“We face a stupid, sloppy enemy,” Barbara continued. “When they get close by, you take this dagger and you stab them in the head, as hard as you can. They will drop like a sack of chicken feed. You keep stabbing, and stabbing, until they don’t get up. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Maribella said.

Barbara patted the child on the shoulder and stood, facing Hale. “She will protect you. And you will protect her.” 

Hale nodded solemnly. “I don’t have a weapon,” he said.

Colm stepped forward. “We forged scythes for the farmers, Hale. Lots of them. Take two,” he said. “Let me saw down the handles first. Give me just a couple minutes.”

“Hurry,” Barbara said to Colm as she faced the group. “We will fight in groups of two, back to back. Hale and Maribella, Hark and Xan, Evelyn and me, and two guards each. Colm, I have a special job for you.” 

Hark approached Xan and sat beside him with a groan. “My bones ache!” he groaned. “I haven’t had much sleep. Then again, I doubt you’ve had much, either.”

“No,” said Xan, shaking his head. “We led the sheep into a pen and were attacked right after. I haven’t eaten in hours.”

“Oh?” said Hark, removing several sticks of dried meat from a pouch. “Take these. I think it’s elk.”

Xan quickly grabbed the sticks. “Thanks.”

“How’d you manage to escape?” 

“I’m still not sure. I saw those things jump on my father and sister and I just ran. I’ve never ran so fast in my life. Colm shouted for me from this forge and somehow I made it.”

“You’re fast. That’s good, because I’m old and slow,” Hark said with a chuckle.

Xan managed a polite smile as he chewed the meat. Hark’s expression turned serious.  “I had two sons myself, but they were stolen from me by bad people. My wife and grandchildren, too. I know all about losing family, boy. The pain never goes away.”

“I still can’t believe they’re dead,” Xan said, his eyes red and swollen.

“Believe it,” Hark said. “But something you have that I don’t, is the chance for revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Aye, revenge,” Hark smiled, his eyes gleaming. “You and me, we’re going to destroy those bastards one after another until there are none left. It’s going to be a bloodbath unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You’re going to be a hero, boy. That woman I travel with, Barbara Dignity, she’s going to be some commander of armies one day, they say. She’s going to lead us to victory.” 

“She killed that sick man in the creek,” Xan said, brushing his blonde hair from his eyes. 

Hark nodded. “She wiped a murderous villain off the face of Farrenstar. If you knew what he did, you would have stabbed him yourself. She’s the best of us, Barbara Dignity. You’ll see.”

“I don’t have anything to fight with,” Xan said.

“Yes you do.” Hark removed the small crossbow from his belt. “Ever see one of these?”

Xan’s eyes widened. “Is that a crossbow?”

“Aye. It’s yours now,” Hark said, handing the weapon to the boy along with fistfuls of bolts. “Let me show you how to use it.”

Barbara approached the four royal guards. “I know Varik. Who are the rest of you?” she asked. 

A woman stepped forward. “I am Helena.” She motioned towards the other two guards. “This is Loric and Drave.” 

Barbara nodded. “Helena, Drave, Loric, and Varik. How many undead have been killed?”

“Not many,” answered Loric. 

Barbara nodded. “You’re trained in swordfighting. You’ve trained for combat in the battlefield versus intelligent adversaries. This will be much different. These enemies are mindless. You must aim for their heads. Slashing them about the torso or limbs will do next to nothing. Sever a leg, and it will still crawl. Chop off an arm, and it will keep running. Focus on the head. Decapitate them, or drive your blade through their skulls.”

The four guards nodded.

Barbara continued. “What they have are numbers. Let’s say there are three hundred undead out there, give or take. There are eleven of us. That’s less than thirty each. Those numbers aren’t so scary, if you think about it.”

The guards nodded again.

“Versus trained troops or orcs or even goblins, maybe thirty is concerning. But these are walking corpses. Every swing of your weapon should be a kill. And of course, avoid being bitten. Keep your throats protected and your wits about you. And above all, keep the name of Triskaris in your hearts and on your lips. He’ll do the rest.”

Barbara turned and faced the survivors, waving them over. “Everyone gather around. Here’s the plan.”

CHAPTER 14

The second story of the forge was accessed by a narrow staircase that ran along the stone wall. The steps, worn from years of use, groaned underfoot as the survivors ascended to the upper floor. The space above was a cramped, dimly lit storage room, cluttered with an assortment of supplies. Burlap sacks filled with coal were stacked in one corner, while bundles of firewood and a crate filled with bottles of lamp fuel were pushed against the wall. A workbench, worn down from years of use, was covered with rusted tools and iron bars. Nearby, shelves bowed under the weight of dusty jars filled with various powders. Coils of rope hung from iron hooks, alongside a tangled mess of leather straps and harnesses. 

In the center of the room, the chimney rose up through the floor and out through the ceiling. The single window, a large, grimy pane facing south, offered a view of the nearby rooftop of the trinket shop next door. A sliver of moonlight cut through the grime, illuminating the dust that floated in the air. 

Drave pushed open the window and peered down towards the street. The hordes of undead shambled mindlessly below in disorganized groups. He turned and nodded towards the others. From the top of the staircase, Barbara clapped her hands twice. 

Colm, gripping a lit torch in one hand and a pitchfork in the other, braced himself at the door. With a quick kick, he knocked away the wooden plank that had been barring the entrance. The door flew open, and without hesitation, Colm drove the pitchfork straight through the face of the nearest zombie. The creature collapsed instantly, but the snarls from the horde outside grew louder as they surged towards the open doorway.

Colm retreated towards the staircase, the snarling mass growing closer with every step. With a heave, he hurled the pitchfork like a javelin into the head of an advancing zombie. Without pausing, he snatched the bottle of lamp fuel he’d placed on the ground near the staircase and lit the cloth wick stuffed in the bottle. With a shout, he threw it into the oncoming horde. The bottle shattered, and a wave of flames erupted, engulfing the front ranks of the undead. Their snarls turned into twisted screams as the fire devoured them.

Colm yanked his pitchfork from the face of the fallen corpse, turned, and sprinted up the stairs two at a time.

“Jump!” Drave commanded, shoving Hale through the open window. Hale tumbled onto the rooftop of the trinket shop next door, rolling as he hit the wooden shingles. He scrambled to his feet and reached up, catching Maribella as she followed.

“Keep moving!” Drave yelled as the undead began running up the staircase after them.

Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs, her voice steady. “Karom.” A burst of invisible force sent the leading zombies tumbling back down the stairs, crashing into those behind them. The flames below quickly engulfed the fallen undead, filling the air with the sickening stench of burning flesh and the twisted, dying screams of the horde.

Xan jumped next, followed by Hark. Helena leapt after them, then Varik. Loric went, then Colm, each of them landing on the trinket shop’s roof and rolling to safety. Only Barbara, Evelyn, and Drave remained inside the forge. The horde once again began climbing the now flaming staircase. The wood groaned and splintered under the weight and heat.

“Drave, go!” Barbara shouted.

Drave vaulted through the window, landing on the rooftop. Evelyn was next, her leap graceful and quick. Barbara stood alone at the window, glancing back as the floor beneath her began to give way. The staircase collapsed with a deafening crash, sending flaming debris and undead plummeting into the inferno below.

Barbara grabbed a few more bottles of lamp fuel and tossed them one by one to Loric and Varik on the trinket shop’s roof. They caught them, quickly setting them down for Colm to prepare. With the forge collapsing behind her, Barbara leapt from the window just as the structure began to crumble in on itself, the fire consuming everything.

The trinket shop wasn’t a tall building. The undead began climbing up the northern walls, their rotting limbs creating a grotesque, living stairway.

“They’re coming!” Xan shouted, pointing to the writhing mass of undead scaling the wall.

Barbara, catching her breath, turned to the others. “Get ready,” she commanded.

Colm reignited his torch and smiled. “You didn’t tell us this would be fun,” he said as the undead crested the roof. 

“Now! Get to the alley!” Barbara commanded the others.

Hark grabbed Xan by the arm and led the group towards the south end of the trinket shop roof. They moved quickly and began scaling down the side of the building to the narrow alley below. Maribella, clutching Barbara’s dagger, followed close behind her father.

The royal guards charged towards the northern edge of the roof and began hacking and slashing the horde, but their sheer numbers began to overwhelm them. “Fall back!” Varik shouted as he decapitated a snarling zombie. The guards, sensing the danger of being overrun, retreated towards the south end of the roof.

Colm, who had stayed behind, grabbed a bottle of lamp fuel and quickly lit the rag stuffed into the bottle’s neck. He aimed at the cluster of zombies climbing over the edge of the roof. “Burn!” he yelled, hurling the bottle into the thick of them. The bottle exploded on impact, igniting the undead in a wild blaze.

The roof of the trinket shop caught fire almost immediately, the flames spreading rapidly through the bodies of the horde. The air was filled with the grotesque sounds of the undead growling and hissing as they were consumed by fire.

“We need to move! Now!” Barbara shouted, decapitating the last few flaming zombies that had made it onto the roof.

Evelyn and Colm sprinted to the south end of the roof and began climbing down to the alley where Hark and the others were waiting. The heat from the spreading flames grew more intense with each passing second. The fire spread through the trinket shop, and the structure began to crack under the strain. The guards backed towards the south end and quickly followed the others into the alley.

As soon as Barbara’s feet hit the ground, she turned to assess the situation. The alley ran east and west, with a burning trinket shop to the north, and the tall stone wall of the bakery to the south. The remaining hordes of undead were now rushing down the openings of the alley, their lifeless eyes locked on the group.

“We’re surrounded!” Xan cried out.

Barbara raised her sword. She glanced at Hark, who was holding his hammer, and the guards, who were already positioning themselves for the next attack.

“Remember, back to back!” Barbara ordered as she positioned herself behind Evelyn. 

The group split into their assigned positions as the undead closed in. The tension in the air was thick, every breath filled with the anticipation of the battle that was about to begin.

“Triskaris protect us!” Drave shouted as the first wave of zombies flooded into the alley.

Barbara’s sword was a blur as she met the charge head-on, cutting down two zombies with a single swing. “Stay strong!” she yelled amidst the chaos.

The royal guards fought valiantly, their swords slicing through the undead with precision. “Die! Die!” Varik shouted as he fought back to back with Loric.

Drave matched Helena’s pace, his sword slicing through the horde. “They just keep coming!” he shouted.

Hark swung his hammer with brutal efficiency, smashing the skull of any zombie that got too close. “Stay close, boy!” he barked at Xan, who was firing bolts into the foreheads of the undead as fast as he could load them.

Hale kept Maribella close, slashing away with his hand-scythes. “Stay with me. We’ll get through this,” he assured her. 

Colm pushed Hale to the side and skewered a zombie with his pitchfork before it could bite his throat. “Careful!” he shouted.

The undead pressed forward, their relentless advance threatening to overwhelm the group. Helena fought with wild determination, her sword cleaving through throats and skulls. But for every zombie she cut down, two more took its place. Her movements became more frantic as the sheer number of undead began to wear her down. She parried a clumsy swipe from a decayed hand, only to feel the cold, clammy grasp of another on her arm. She twisted free, but the distraction was all it took for a third to lunge at her, its teeth sinking into her shoulder. Helena screamed out in pain, her sword faltering as the horde began to pull her down.

“Helena!” Colm shouted, rushing towards her with his pitchfork raised. He impaled the zombie on her shoulder and kicked it away, but it was too late. More undead surged forward, piling onto Helena. Her screams were quickly muffled as they dragged her to the ground, the mass of bodies covering her completely. Colm, desperately trying to reach her, swung his pitchfork with all his strength, skewering one zombie after another, but he, too, was caught in the tide. A rotting hand clamped onto his ankle, pulling him down. He fell hard, the impact knocking the breath from his body. Before he could recover, the horde was upon him.

“Colm, get up!” Drave yelled, but his voice was lost in the growls and snarls. Colm struggled to rise, but the undead were relentless. One grabbed his arm, another his leg. He felt a sharp pain in his side as teeth sank into his flesh, and he knew it was over. As he was being ripped apart, Colm dropped his torch, where it rolled onto the bottles of lamp fuel he’d been carrying. The flames ignited the fuel and exploded with a deafening roar.

The explosion tore through the alley, a wave of heat and light that incinerated the nearest zombies and sent others flying. The shockwave knocked the group off their feet, and the force of the blast shattered the windows of the bakery as the trinket shop finally collapsed in flames.

“Move! Get inside!” Barbara shouted, scrambling to her feet as the flames engulfed the alley. The surviving members of the group climbed through the broken windows of the bakery.

The interior of the bakery was filled with the smell of flour and yeast. Wooden shelves lined the walls, displaying cakes and loaves of bread. The wide, wooden counters were covered with flour dust and remnants of dough, and a large brick oven sat against the far wall. The floor was scattered with broken glass and overturned chairs, evidence of the panic that had gripped the village when the undead had first appeared.

The group barely had time to catch their breath before the sound of splintering wood filled the air. The door to the bakery burst open under the weight of the undead, and the windows filled with zombies forcing their way through. The horde squeezed through the openings in a grotesque, writhing mass, their decayed bodies piling one on top of the other in their desperation to reach the living.

“There’s too many of them!” Xan shouted, his voice filled with panic as he loaded another bolt into his crossbow.

Barbara’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but there was none. The bakery had become a deathtrap. The undead were pouring in from all sides, trapping them in a nightmare from which there was no waking.

“We can’t hold them off much longer!” Hale shouted in desperation as the undead pressed closer.

For the first time, doubt crept into Barbara’s mind. The realization that they might not make it out alive threatened to paralyze her. But she pushed it aside, remaining determined. “Everyone, to the back!” she ordered. “We need to find another way out!”

The group retreated, their backs to the wall as the undead closed in. The bakery was filled with the sounds of the guttural growls of the undead. The futility of the fight began to eat at them, but they knew there was no choice but to keep going, to fight until the very end.

“Karom,” Evelyn commanded, extending her palm toward the oncoming horde. A surge of force sent several zombies crashing back into their ranks, but it barely made a dent in the relentless tide. Desperate, she tried again. “Karom!” Several more were flung back, but the horde pressed on. 

The situation grew more dire by the second. The undead were relentless, their emotionless faces twisted with hunger. Barbara raised her sword and cut down the first few that managed to reach them, but it was clear they were being overwhelmed.

Hale looked over at his daughter Maribella. She clutched the dagger Barbara had given her, her knuckles white with tension. He knew that this might be the last time he would see her alive.

“We can’t hold this line,” Hark grunted, smashing a zombie’s skull with his hammer. “There’s just too many of them!”

Barbara nodded, sweat dripping down her forehead as she sliced through another zombie. “We need to draw them away!”

Hale realized what he had to do. He could see the desperation in the eyes of the others, and could feel the impending doom closing in on them. And then he knew there was only one way.

Hale shouted over the noise. “I’ll lead them away! You all get out of here, take Maribella!”

Maribella’s eyes widened in horror. “Papa, no!”

Hale turned to his daughter and gripped her shoulders firmly. “Maribella, you have to be strong now. I need you to stay alive.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Don’t do it, Papa.”

Hale kissed her forehead, then looked at Barbara. “Get her out of here, Barbara. Keep her safe.”

Barbara nodded. “I will. You have my word.”

With one last look at his daughter, Hale took a deep breath, then turned to the horde. With a roar that echoed through the bakery, he charged at the undead, his scythes flashing in the dim light. “Come on! Come get me!”

The zombies, drawn by the noise and movement, turned their attention to Hale. He hacked and slashed with brutal efficiency, cutting down the first few that lunged at him. His scythes gleamed as they caught the light, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was a one-man army, holding back the tide.

But the horde was relentless. They swarmed him, their numbers overwhelming, but Hale didn’t falter. He kept swinging, buying the others as much time as possible. He turned and scrambled through a shattered window, emerging into the still-burning alley. The undead, driven by their insatiable hunger, surged after him, pouring out of the door and squeezing through the windows, their snarls and hisses echoing through the alley.

Inside the bakery, Barbara watched as Hale fought with fury. “Now! We need to move!” she shouted, rallying the others. Maribella openly sobbed as she gripped Barbara’s green cape.

“Stick close to me,” Barbara instructed as they ran towards the door.

Suddenly, two zombies burst back into the bakery, their decaying hands reaching for Maribella. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and drove her dagger into the first zombie’s eye socket, twisting the blade with all her strength. The creature growled before collapsing to the floor.

The second zombie lunged at her, but Maribella was faster. She ducked under its grasp and plunged the dagger into its throat, then yanked it out and stabbed again, this time through the skull. The zombie twitched once, then crumpled to the ground at her feet. 

They fled the bakery, bursting into the village’s open square. The flames from the burning forge and trinket shop illuminated the area, casting an orange light on the empty shops that surrounded them. For a brief moment, Hale’s sacrifice bought them a chance to catch their breath. 

The square was eerily quiet for a moment, save for the distant growls of the remaining undead. Barbara, drenched in sweat and gore, took a deep breath, her chest heaving from the relentless battle. She brought the group to a halt, allowing them a brief pause as they reached the center of the square. 

Maribella stood beside Barbara, her small frame trembling with exhaustion and grief. The blood and grime caked on her skin made her look older than her years, and the haunted look in her eyes revealed the depth of her pain. 

Barbara knelt beside her, placing a hand on Maribella’s shoulder. “You did well, Maribella. Your father, he would be proud of you.”

Maribella’s wiped gore and tears from her face. “He’s gone, my whole family is gone.”

“You’re not alone,” Barbara said. “I’m here. And we’re going to make it through this. For your father, for everyone we’ve lost.”

Before they could catch more than a few breaths, the growls of the remaining zombies drew closer. The group stood at the ready.

“Stay focused! We’re almost through this,” Barbara called out, preparing her blood-smeared sword.

As the undead advanced, Maribella’s grief hardened into a fierce determination. A zombie broke through the line, rushing towards her with a gaping jaw. Maribella didn’t flinch. With ferocity, she sidestepped, letting the creature lunge past her. In a single fluid motion, she drove the dagger into the back of its skull with a sickening crunch. The zombie stiffened before crumpling to the ground. She yanked the dagger free, and with a wild cry, she stabbed the zombie’s head, reducing it to a mutilated mess. Black blood sprayed into her red hair, but she didn’t stop. She plunged the dagger repeatedly into its skull, the sound of bone cracking under her relentless assault.

Barbara watched, her heart swelling with sorrow. This girl, barely old enough to understand the horrors around her, was a warrior in the making. But the brutality she displayed was disturbing, a reflection of the madness they were all sinking into.

“Get up, Maribella,” Barbara ordered. “More approach.” The girl was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and wild. She stood and readied her dagger as the horde advanced.

Nearby, Hark and Xan fought side by side. Hark’s hammer was a blur as he crushed skulls with each swing. The dwarf’s eyes gleamed with rage. “Hold steady, boy!” he barked as Xan’s crossbow bolt found its mark, dropping a zombie that had been advancing on Hark’s blind side.

Xan loaded his crossbow with shaking hands. Despite his fear, he was determined to make every shot count. His father and sister were dead, but he would not let their deaths be in vain.

A zombie lunged at him, its jaws snapping inches from his face. Xan fired quickly at point-blank range, the bolt driving through the creature’s skull. The zombie fell forward, its body twitching as it hit the ground.

Hark cackled in approval. “Good shot, boy!”

Varik, Loric, and Drave formed a tight circle, their swords flashing in the flickering firelight. The guards were exhausted, and the endless waves of undead had pushed them to their limits. Sweat dripped from their brows as they fought with valor.

“Varik, on your left!” Drave shouted as he cleaved a zombie’s head from its shoulders. Varik turned just in time to block a clawed hand aimed at his throat. He responded by driving his sword through the zombie’s jaw and out the top of its skull.

Loric, fighting with the fury of a man possessed, hacked at the zombies wildly. His sword was an extension of his rage, every swing a cathartic release of the pent-up terror that nearly consumed him.

But as they fought, a figure emerged, its movements disturbingly familiar. Helena, her body twisted and burned, barrelled towards them, her once sharp eyes now dull and lifeless. The sight sent a jolt of pain through the guards’ heart.

“Helena…” Varik whispered. There was no time for hesitation. The zombie that had once been their comrade was now a threat. Varik muttered a prayer under his breath before driving his sword through Helena’s skull. She crumpled to the ground, finally at peace.

Barbara fought with a controlled fury, her sword cleaving through the undead. She had trained for endless hours with the royal guards, but nothing compared to this relentless onslaught. The undead didn’t fear pain, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t retreat. 

As she slashed through another zombie, her eyes caught a familiar face among the horde. Hale, Maribella’s father, now one of the undead, staggered towards them, his scythes still clutched in his lifeless hands.

“No…” Barbara breathed, her heart sinking. “Maribella, look away,” she commanded.

But Maribella didn’t look away. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on her father. “I’ll do it,” she said.

Barbara hesitated, but seeing the determination in Maribella’s eyes, she nodded and stepped aside as Maribella approached her father’s undead form, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Papa,” she whispered, raising the dagger. With a swift, merciful strike, she drove the blade into his skull, ending his torment. Hale’s body collapsed to the ground.

Barbara placed a hand on Maribella’s shoulder. “He’s with Triskaris now,” she said. 

The thin horde of the remaining zombies surged forward. The group, now hardened by loss and fueled by anger, fought with a newfound ferocity.

Barbara led the charge, her sword cutting through the undead. She fought with the precision of a trained slayer. Every swing of her sword was a kill, every step a move closer to the end.

Hark’s hammer was slick with blood, and he roared with fury as he crushed skulls and shattered bones. Xan, standing close to Hark, fired bolt after bolt into their faces.

Maribella fought hard. She stabbed and slashed at the zombies with all her strength, her small frame moving with surprising speed and agility. Each kill was a tribute to her father, a promise to make him proud.

As the last of the undead crumpled to the ground, the square fell silent. The only sounds were the labored breaths of the survivors and the crackling of the distant flames. Barbara looked around at the scene of carnage. The once peaceful village square was now a battlefield, littered with bodies and heads. The stench of death and burned flesh was overwhelming.

Maribella, still clutching her bloodied dagger, stood beside Barbara. She had grown up in the span of a few hours, forced to confront horrors that no child should ever face.

The survivors gathered around Barbara. Their faces were long with exhaustion. 

Xan wiped sweat and gore from his brow, still trying to catch his breath. “I never thought we’d survive that.”

Hark gave a weary nod. “Aye, but we did. We fought like devils.”

Loric spoke up with bitterness in his voice. “Survive for what, though? Is there even anything left worth fighting for? Look around us. Cranford has fallen.”

Varik sheathed his sword, glancing around at the piles of undead. “Other villages may have fallen, too. We have to get to the Pentacle and warn them.” 

“It’s too late for the Pentacle,” a cold, striking voice interrupted. A woman emerged from the shadows in front of the village tavern. She wore flowing robes of crimson silk that caught the breeze, shimmering ominously in the light of the distant fire. Slung across her back was a long metal staff, its ends crowned with dark, shimmering spheres.

The group collectively tensed, turning to face her. Loric instinctively reached for his sword. Hark’s grip tightened on his hammer, while Evelyn felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Who are you?” Barbara demanded, placing herself protectively in front of Maribella.

The woman smiled darkly. “I am Maldrakara.”

Barbara glanced at Evelyn and then back to the woman. “What do you mean it’s too late for the Pentacle?” 

Maldrakara’s laugh was dripping with arrogance. “By now, it’s been overrun, one village at a time. First Sunshower, then Serenius, Elysia-”

“Lucidia, Halcyon,” Barbara interrupted with a confident smile. “Except you’re wrong. Gorek Blak is dead.”

Maldrakara tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Impossible.”

“He was eaten alive by his dwarf companion,” Barbara said, stepping forward. “Right after he tried to turn him loose on me. You should have seen it. Gorek died a miserable death.”

Fury flashed in Maldrakara’s eyes. “Who are you?”

“Barbara Dignity of Castle on Silver Lake. Tell Thalrakus that Gorek failed, right after you inform him of your own failure.”

Maldrakara’s eyes blazed with anger as she lowered her head. “I’ll be sure to inform Lord Thalrakus that the meddling paladin and her pathetic little band of fools were destroyed.”

Drave, Varik, and Loric drew their swords. Barbara turned quickly to Xan. “You and Maribella, get back by the bakery. Go, now!”

The three guards charged towards Maldrakara, their swords shimmering in the flickering light of the fire. Maldrakara’s hand moved like a blur as she unslung her staff from her back. With a swift motion, she twirled it in the air as lightning crackled along its length.

Varik struck first, his sword aimed for her heart. But Maldrakara effortlessly sidestepped the attack and brought her staff down on his arm. Lightning coursed through the metal, sending him crashing to the ground with a scream of agony. Drave followed with a slash, but Maldrakara spun, her staff colliding with his sword in a burst of sparks, knocking it from his hand. She swept his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground, hard.

Loric charged in with a yell, but Maldrakara turned and thrust her staff forward, lightning exploding from it, striking Loric in the chest. He convulsed, screaming in pain, but Maldrakara didn’t stop. With a cruel smile, she raised the staff higher, increasing the intensity of the lightning. Loric’s screams grew louder, his body lifting slowly from the ground, twisting in unnatural ways as the electricity tore through him. Maldrakara’s eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure as she watched Loric suffer, before finally, with a brutal twist of her wrist, she sent a final surge of power through him, causing his body to burst into flames. She then released him, sending him to the ground in a grotesque contortion of burning flesh and bone.

Drave and Varik tried to rise, but Maldrakara was on them instantly. She struck Varik across the face with the end of her staff, sending him flying into the nearby wall, where he slumped, unconscious. Drave managed to get to his knees, only for Maldrakara to drive her staff into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath, before she brought the staff down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Evelyn, her heart pounding in terror, raised her hand and shouted, “Karom!” A forceful burst of energy erupted from her palm, aimed directly at Maldrakara.

But Maldrakara merely raised her hand, palm facing Evelyn, and absorbed the spell effortlessly. She grinned wickedly as she redirected the energy back at Evelyn, amplifying its force. The wave of power slammed into Evelyn, sending her hurtling backward through the air. She crashed through the glass window of the bakery, the shards slicing into her skin as she hit the wooden floor with a loud thud.

Barbara’s eyes widened in horror. “Evelyn!” she screamed in fury. 

From the shadows of the bakery, Xan fired a crossbow bolt at Maldrakara. But she caught it in midair with a casual flick of her wrist. With a disdainful look, she dropped it to the ground as if it were nothing.

Barbara turned to Hark. “Check on Evelyn, now,” she ordered. Stepping forward, she locked eyes with Maldrakara. “You’ll pay for that,” she vowed as her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword.

Maldrakara smiled darkly. “Come collect your payment, Barbara Dignity,” she taunted.

Barbara raised her sword and shield, though her body screamed with exhaustion. 

Maldrakara’s eyes gleamed. “Come then. Let’s see how long you can last.”

Barbara surged forward, her shield held high as Maldrakara swung her staff at her. She ducked under the arc of Maldrakara’s weapon, then with all her remaining strength, she slammed her shield into Maldrakara’s face. The impact sent her sprawling to the ground, her staff clattering beside her.

From the shadows, Xan and Maribella cheered, their voices cutting through the tense silence. 

Maldrakara slowly rose to her feet, wiping a thin trickle of blood from her nose and lip. “You’ll suffer for that,” she hissed.

Barbara’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Before she could respond, Maldrakara jabbed with her staff, striking Barbara in the stomach with brutal force. The air was driven from her lungs, and she doubled over, gasping for breath. Maldrakara reached down and delivered three loud slaps to Barbara’s face in quick succession, each one snapping Barbara’s head to the side, leaving her reeling and stunned.

“Is this the great Barbara Dignity?” Maldrakara sneered, circling her like a predator. “You’re but a shadow cast by your own doubt. Valkarath will soon be overrun by my master’s armies, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Barbara forced herself to stand upright, but Maldrakara was relentless. She swung again, the staff connecting with Barbara’s back with a sickening thud. Barbara’s legs buckled beneath her, dropping her to her knees.

“You’re fighting a battle you’ve already lost,” Maldrakara continued, her voice dripping with hate. “One village at a time, our forces will rise, and yours will fall.”

Barbara tried to push herself back up, but Maldrakara’s staff slammed into her chest, sending her sprawling back on the cobblestones, wheezing for breath.

“Look at you,” Maldrakara laughed. “The mighty royal paladin, daughter of Triskaris. Pathetic.”

Barbara’s vision blurred, every inch of her body throbbing in pain. She felt the cold stone beneath her, her strength draining away with each passing moment. She tried to rise, but her limbs refused to obey.

Maldrakara raised her staff high, and lightning crackled along its length. With a malicious grin, she sent the electricity surging into Barbara’s body. Pain exploded through Barbara’s nerves, her body convulsing violently on the ground. She screamed and writhed in agony and despair.

“What’s wrong, Barbara Dignity?” Maldrakara taunted, sending another jolt of lightning through Barbara’s trembling body. “You’re nothing more than a stepping stone on our path to dominance.”

Barbara’s screams echoed through the square, her body twitching uncontrollably as the electricity ripped through her. Her mind raced, searching for some way to fight back, but the pain was overwhelming.

As Maldrakara prepared to deliver another surge of lightning, she paused, her eyes darkening with cold amusement. “This is the end for you, Barbara. And after you’re gone, Valkarath will fall, too.”

Barbara’s eyes fluttered, her body refusing to move. She’d fought so hard, but now she felt herself slipping away, the darkness closing in.

Maldrakara raised her staff for the final, lethal strike. But before she could bring it down, Hark suddenly appeared, his hammer raised high. With a thunderous roar, he swung with all his might, smashing his hammer into Maldrakara’s face. The impact sent her hurtling backward, slamming into the glass of the tavern with a deafening crack. The glass splintered behind her like a spider web, and her body went limp as she slid down the wall, collapsing to the ground in a dazed, half-conscious heap.

Hark didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Barbara by the wrist, his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. He began dragging her along the cobblestone toward the bakery. Xan rushed over to help, taking her other wrist and running alongside Hark.

Evelyn, bloodied and limping, appeared through the bakery doorway. She grabbed Maribella’s hand and pulled her quickly along down the alley.

Drave and Varik, regaining their senses, scrambled to their feet and ran towards the group, their injuries slowing them down. Together, they all made a desperate dash towards the edge of the village, where Buttons and Biscuit were waiting near a fence. The group was battered half to death, but alive.

CHAPTER 15

Barbara’s consciousness drifted through a sea of darkness, but a voice, steady and warm, began to pull her back. “Barbara… Barbara, can you hear me?”

Slowly, she stirred, the voice guiding her back towards reality. Her eyelids felt heavy as they slowly opened, and she found herself staring up at a ceiling bathed in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through a stained glass window. The light danced across the walls, casting vibrant patterns of silver and green around the small, serene stone room.

“Barbara?” The voice gently spoke again.

Barbara’s gaze shifted, and she saw an elderly man with kind eyes and a mop of white hair standing beside her bed. He was dressed in silver and green robes, the scales of Triskaris emblazoned on his chest. Beside him stood a younger man, also in robes, watching her attentively.

“Welcome back,” the older man said, smiling warmly. 

Barbara blinked, trying to process the information. Her body felt weak, and her limbs were heavy, but there was a comforting sense of peace in the room that helped to soothe her disoriented mind. As she tried to sit up, two figures appeared beside her bed.

“Barbara!” Evelyn’s voice was filled with joy as she rushed to her side. “You’re awake!”

Maribella, standing beside Evelyn, reached out and grabbed Barbara’s hand. “We’ve been so worried,” she said.

Barbara smiled weakly as she looked at them both. “I’m here,” she reassured them, though her voice was unsteady. “Just tired. How long have I been here?”

The elderly man offered a gentle nod. “You’ve been resting here for sixteen days, Barbara. You’re in the Temple of Triskaris, here at the center of the Pentacle. I am Father Finnian, and this is my assistant, Brother Percival. We’ve been caring for you since you arrived.”

Barbara’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to recall how she had arrived here, but her mind was still foggy. “Sixteen days…” she murmured. “I feel fine, just weak… and tired.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears. “We were so worried about you, Barbara. After Cranford, we brought you here to the Temple. Varik, Drave, Xan, and Hark – they’re all alive and well. Hark and Xan are out fishing together in a stream just outside the temple. They wanted to be here when you woke up, but they knew you needed rest.”

“I’m glad they’re safe,” she whispered. She looked at Maribella, who had not let go of her hand. “Maribella? How are you holding up?”

Maribella nodded sadly. “I’m okay, Barbara. I miss my family, but I know they’re in a better place.”

Barbara reached out and gently brushed Maribella’s cheek. “They would be proud of you, Maribella. You showed a lot of courage.”

Father Finnian smiled warmly, then spoke again. “Barbara, you have been through a lot, but you are on the path to recovery. The prayers of the Pentacle have been with you, and Triskaris has blessed you with healing. Brother Percival and I have tended to your wounds, and with rest, you will soon regain your full strength.”

Barbara turned her eyes to the younger man, Brother Percival, who had been standing quietly by Father Finnian’s side. He stepped forward and smiled, his eyes warm and thoughtful. “It’s an honor to meet you, Barbara. Your strength has inspired many within these walls.”

Barbara studied his face, something tugging at the depths of her memory, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. “Thank you, Brother Percival. I feel like I’ve seen you before… somewhere.”

Brother Percival tilted his head slightly. “Doubtful. I’ve been at the Temple for many years, serving Triskaris and his faithful.”

Barbara nodded slowly, letting the thought drift away for the moment. 

Evelyn, eager to lift Barbara’s spirits, chimed in. “Barbara, you’ll be pleased to know that royal guards have been sent out across Valkarath. They’re commanding towns and villages to tighten their security, build walls, and watch for any signs of the undead. The kingdom is taking this threat very seriously.”

Barbara felt a sense of relief. “That’s good to hear,” she said softly. 

Evelyn’s face brightened as she added, “And my father, he’s doing well, thanks to you. With the gold, I was able to hire two caretakers for him. He’s so grateful, Barbara. He wanted me to thank you personally.”

Barbara smiled. “I’m glad I could help, Evelyn. Your father is lucky to have you.”

Father Finnian observed the conversation with a satisfied smile before speaking once more. “Barbara, there is someone who has been waiting to see you.”

Before Barbara could ask who, the door to the room opened, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was Captain Treese, his presence anxious yet filled with warmth. His eyes sparkled with genuine joy as he saw her sitting up.

“Barbara,” Captain Treese greeted her with a broad smile, stepping forward with a slight bow. “It’s good to see you awake. You gave us all quite a scare.”

“Captain Treese,” Barbara said, her voice warm with affection. “What are you doing here?”

Treese chuckled as he stood beside her bed. “When I heard about what happened in Cranford, I knew I had to come see you for myself. Word has spread quickly, Barbara. Everyone is talking about how you led a brave group and cleared out the undead. That’s something to be proud of.”

Barbara’s cheeks flushed as she looked down at her hands. “I couldn’t have done it without the others. We were all fighting for our lives.”

Treese shook his head. “You’re too humble, Barbara. It takes a true leader to inspire others to fight as hard as they did. You showed incredible strength and courage. The King and Queen have heard of your bravery, and they are proud of you.”

Barbara looked up, surprise lighting up her face. “The Queen… she knows?”

Treese nodded, grinning beneath his regal mustache. “She does. The High Council as well. The Queen asked me personally to express her gratitude.”

Barbara felt a swell of pride and homesickness. “There’s still so much more to do.”

Captain Treese placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “And you will do it, Barbara. I have no doubt. But for now, focus on your recovery. The kingdom needs you strong.”

Barbara blinked warmly. “Thank you, Captain. That means a lot to me.”

Treese smiled and nodded to Evelyn and Maribella. “I’ll leave you to rest, Barbara. I must return to Castle on Silver Lake, but I wanted to see you with my own eyes. Take care of yourself, and know that you have the support of the Queen and the entire kingdom behind you.”

As Captain Treese turned to leave, Barbara’s heart felt lighter, lifted by his words. The door closed softly behind him, leaving the room in a comfortable silence.

Brother Percival stepped closer, his voice gentle but with an air of solemnity. “You’ve impressed many, Barbara. Triskaris is surely pleased with your courage and faith.”

Barbara looked him in the face, still unable to shake the feeling that she had seen him before. But the warmth in his eyes put her at ease, and she nodded. “Thank you, Brother.”

Brother Percival’s expression grew more serious, his tone shifting as he spoke. “Valkarath has enjoyed peace for more than three hundred years,” he began, his voice carrying solemnity. “But now, it seems that peace has come to an end. The undead that you fought in Cranford are just the beginning. The battle you faced so far is only a prelude to the greater darkness that lies ahead.”

“We’ll defeat it,” Barbara said quietly. “We’ll protect Valkarath, no matter the cost.”

Brother Percival’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a nod, he turned to leave, Father Finnian following close behind. As they exited the room, the door closing softly behind them, Barbara couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest.

Evelyn and Maribella remained at her side, their presence a comforting reminder of all that she had fought for. Barbara took a deep breath. She knew the road ahead would be long and filled with peril, but she also knew that she wasn’t alone. Together, they would face whatever darkness came their way.

And in the quiet of the temple, as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass, Barbara allowed herself a moment of peace, knowing that this was only the beginning.