The woman looked intently at the men across the small clearing. She and a small boy were hiding behind the wagon in a bush nearby, the darkness and the shadow from the wagon concealing them.

She whispered with quiet urgency in her voice. "This is just like hide and seek, Thaddius. You need to stay quiet and do not let anyone find you. Promise me."

The child nodded in affirmation. The woman ruffled his hair with her hand then moved away from the broken cart, staying in the shadows. A few yards away, she stood up and ran down the path. She was fast, and the men across the clearing that had attacked the small group saw her and gave chase while shouting.

Thaddius looked around from under the small wagon. He saw the three men that had traveled with them laying on the ground, blood covering them. The woman running away was his caretaker, and she had taken Thaddius from the temple several weeks ago.

The wagon's one mule was still attached to the wagon. It lay on the ground; several long slashes ran across its bloody neck.

Tad had played this game many times with the other women in the temple. He knew that he needed to move to locations others thought were already searched to win this game. Most of the women who were his caretakers would never go back to explore the rooms or boxes they thought were empty.

As the cloaked men moved to capture the woman running into the woods, Thaddius moved out from beneath the cart to the other side of the clearing. He was looking at a bush where the men had already searched.

As Thaddius approached, he thought he saw a speck of light. As he closed the gap between him, the speck grew until he saw the soft glow of a small orb moving slowly among the trees. Tad looked back along the path. He still heard the men shouting and chasing his caretaker. The light appeared inviting, and he reached out to feel a sense of peace coming from the light, like a cool wind through the grass.

The blood and bodies didn't bother him much as he had seen those before in the temple during their rituals. They were boring rituals, and the priests made him sit for soooo long. He didn't like the smell of the rituals either.

He did not often speak to his female caretakers as he had a way of feeling what they wanted most of the time. He didn't talk much but he understood what he heard. They would always call him special, but most of them didn't mean it. He felt their dislike for the truth. He could feel their hatred for each other.

Working his way up the incline of the small hill was tiring for him, and Thaddius would stop every few yards to sit and regain his strength. He drew nearer to the light. The soft pulsing increased while it moved behind some trees, just out of his reach. It was dimmer now as if it was also trying not to be seen. Perhaps it is playing the game too?

As he reached the first tree, giant roots eased out of his way, creating a path around their great trunk. It took him several moments to walk around the trunk to see the light moving off towards the small rocky cliff jutting out of the hillside. Still sensing no danger, he continued. He felt an urgent pulse of intent from the soft glow, "follow."

Tad's focus on the orb was broken when he heard the men come back to the glade. He did not have to hear their angry curses; he already sensed a slush of emotions coming from them, disappointment, frustration, and fear. Tad turned back to the glow and began to follow it once more. The tree limbs, trunks, and bushes moved to the side, allowing the light and Thaddeus to pass. Many of the roots were several times his height in width and were dug deep into the ground, but they moved as the light passed, and he followed.

Tad reached the small cliffside. Part of this small cliff was made of large square stones. At the base of the square stones was a small opening emitting a soft glow. He knew the light had passed through the wall, and he thought he could crawl through the low opening to follow.

Tad liked this caretaker. He had never felt malice from her like the others, and he never feared she would punish him with a beating when he didn't follow directions. It is the reason he had left with her when she had told him they were leaving the temple many days ago.

She was very nice to him compared to the others. Perhaps it was because she was young and new. Sometimes she would call him by another boy's name, but he didn't fully understand why. She would catch the name, and he could feel a sense of loss as she corrected herself.

Tad hoped she had outrun the men and would come back to find him. Certainly, he had found the best hiding spot, Thaddius thought. He decided he would come out when she returned and called for him. He reached for the amulet he always wore around his neck. Thaddius often rubbed it between his fingers to soothe his thoughts. It was gone. He felt a small sense of loss when he realized the caretaker had taken his favorite amulet with her.

***

Beothorn

Beothorn was riding in the lead of seven wagons. His team had just made a trip to a local village several miles down this dirt road. They were now carrying food stocks, wood, and other items his boss needed to keep his business going. His usual trip would take him twenty more miles before he intended to stop for the evening.

The wagons consisted of one driver and one guard in each wagon except Beothorn's wagon. Beothorn was always in the first wagon, so he could lead any defense if bandits or beasts of the forest attacked them, and he always drove his wagon alone. The guards had chain hauberks and various weapons. Each had a round copper spangenhelm at their feet. Beothorn preferred his ax and always wore his helm when traveling.

This particular part of the woods was darker. The trees here were much larger than the surrounding forest. It had always felt spooky whenever they traveled through them. Beothorn never was much for large trees and the insects that called them home. Nothing was more irritating to him than a fist-sized spider dropping out of the sky while he was sleeping under big trees like these. He had never been attacked near here, but he didn't much like spiders or other bugs that fed them. The wagons would make camp much further down the dirt road in a meadow he was familiar with.

The stench of decomposing flesh wafted through the air and soon became overpowering as the wagon teams made their way up the road. Beothorn gave the signal to stop the wagons while scanning the woods and surrounding area on both sides of the road. He should probably find the source, or if this was an ambush, he thought to himself. It was most likely a dead animal, but he would take nothing for granted. He would not risk his wagons until he understood if this was a threat or not. He told the men of the wagons to hold tight and shout if they saw anything.

Beothorn again cursed the large steps on the wagon, thinking that his boss should buy more dwarf-sized wagons. Getting out of these long-leg wagons was a chore. After taking both steps getting to the ground, he unslung his ax from his belt and shield from his back. He judged the wind and walked towards the trees.

Following the slight breeze and his nose, Beothorn made his way along the road until he spotted the grass on the right holding the imprints of passage. He surmised the tracks were from a cart and several horses as he slowly followed the trail. The sun didn't beam down but occasionally broke through the dense foliage. These tracks are several days old, he thought. Given the smell, he was expecting the worst at this point. A few minutes later, as he came around some taller bushes, he saw the clearing. In it, there were three dead humans and a mule tied to a broken wagon. Scavengers had picked at the bodies, but the slashes to their bodies were still visible to a trained eye like Beothorn. A cloud of flies had formed over the bodies. Shaking his head, he went back to his wagon train.

"Stake out the wagons and horses and grab the shovels. We have some folks to bury," said Beothorn.

"Halko, I need you up on that ridge as a lookout," said Beothorn pointing to the outcropping of stone sitting higher in the trees nearby.

Beothorn followed this up with a loud command, "Full kit now, helmets and shields will be kept at hand. "

All the boss's wagons carried essential gear under the seats or attached to the sides. Shovels, ropes, some heavy leavers, and a couple of spare wooden spokes in case a wagon broke down or got stuck in the mud. Guards were posted around the wagons and grassy clearing to protect their property and the men that worked to dig the graves. They all knew it was best to lay the dead to rest or evil could find a home here.

As the men worked, Beothorn went to check the forest for any clues to what happened. He was looking around a bit uphill when he found a couple of stones that looked familiar. These carvings were common to dwarves who lived in the dark pathways under the earth. Beothorn moved some branches, and the ancient dwarven symbols could just be made out through the roots and undergrowth. This was an old path, thought Beothorn. This made him curious, so he started to head uphill into the forest. It could not have been far as the hillside above had an obvious flat side to it.

Beothorn had never seen large bears or cats along this road. He had passed this area more than a few times over the years to get supplies. Also, those animals left scat and would never have left that much meat lying in the clearing.

He was wearing his usual chain and had his shield on his back with a smaller one-sided ax on his belt. He should be fine, he thought, so the dwarf started up the hill looking for more carved stones. He found more beyond a couple of large tree trunks. Then a few more. He climbed over and then under several large roots. Beothorn saw part of a cobblestone path. The cobble wasn't rounded but flat on the surface, which was a technique the dwarven people generally created.

It is possible there was an entrance to a dark paths trading station here. This notion brought excitement and a bit more caution. Any entrance to the dark paths could hold virtually anything if the station were abandoned. The dark paths under the earth were not always safe.

He continued along the way as the cobbles led uphill. At the top of the overgrown path, he found a wall made out of worked stone with a large sealed entrance made of stone. Several large trees grew in front and above the entrance, and it was obvious this had not been opened in ages. Roots like that do not grow overnight.

Beothorn looked around for a counterweight or lever. He lowered himself to the ground, searching, and saw a medium-sized hole with an area of flattened dirt in front of it to one side. He noticed several small animal tracks in the dirt, and right in the middle was a small shoe print.

"Damn it." said Beothorn, "If this turns out to be another group of brownies, I'm going to be smacking behinds till they clear out." He was going to shoo them away and close the hole. Brownies shouldn't be squatting in dwarven structures.

He always hated when brownies would invade his tent and take his stuff in the night. This was a dwarven structure, quite possibly a trade station to the dark paths.

"Well," he said, "I best clear them out and seal up this hole. I doubt Brownies would be in there if anything dangerous was near."

Beothorn headed back to the clearing and told two of the guards to come with him and bring the rope and a few torches. The men had almost finished with the human corpses. He told them to leave the mule corpse, figuring the local wildlife would take care of cleaning that up over time.

Getting back to the cave, he tied the rope around his waist. He used his flint box to light one of the torches.

"Stay here. Hang onto that rope. If I give two yanks, pull me back out." he said while checking the knot one last time.

The hole is wide enough but not very high. Beothorn went to his belly with a torch in hand and pushed his way into the hole as the shield on his back scraped the stone block above him. In seconds he was on the other side with a large smudge of dirt rubbed into his chainmailed chest. He stood inside a large entrance chamber made of stone blocks. Near him sat the displaced stone that would fit the hole he had just crawled through.

Normally Beothorn could see well in low light, but he valued the torch and the light it gave off and the protection it gave him. Most wild animals and even the not-so-wild ones feared fire. Tree roots and partially collapsed blocks gave evidence of abandonment long ago. On the opposite side of the chamber was an entrance to a short hallway partially covered by leaves gathered up by the wind. Beothorn proceeded down the hall. He called back to his companions, "I see an entrance a bit farther in. I'm going to go check it out." As he moved cautiously down the hall, he could see a faint light coming from beyond the opening. He quietly laid down the torch and gripped his ax with both hands, preparing for what he may encounter. Reaching a partially opened door at the end of the hall, he could see clearly from the light that poured out. He stopped and stared. He did not understand what he saw at first. It appeared to be a very young human boy playing with an orb of light hovering above one of his hands. A million questions flooded Beothorn's brain all at once.

The toddler was just sitting in the empty stone chamber, moving the light orb from one hand to the next. The child's neck-length sandy brown hair, grey eyes, and a light complexion was a far cry from the swarthy men Beothorn was used to encountering in this area. The toddler's face, hands, and white garment were covered in dirt. His hair was disheveled, housing several small twigs.

Beothorn used his softest voice not to alarm the boy, "Boy, it is not safe for you to be here." The child looked up to where Beothorn had stopped inside the room. "Are you lost? Where is your family? What is in your hand?"Beothorn offered.

The child stared at him. Beothorn realized he was asking too many questions too fast and was probably scaring the boy. It did not take a genius to figure out he was probably a child of one of the people they had just buried. He must have been roaming the area for days. They both stayed their ground silently for a moment regarding each other.

Beothorn took a different tactic. He had no experience with children but knew he needed to get him out of there and hopefully with both of them unscathed. "Are you hungry?" Beothorn reached into a small leather pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out a biscuit. He tore it in half and offered it to the boy."

Beothron frowned, "How many days have you been in here?" He said it more to himself than to the boy, not expecting him to respond.

The child looked down at the light, then back at Beothorn's outstretched arm. Slowly the child tottered up to a standing position, still keeping the orb floating above the palm of his open hand. With his other hand, the child reached for the food and clearly stated, "Friend."

Beothorn was puzzled. He was not an expert on human children but figured this child could be no more than three.

"Do you have a name, boy?" he asks.

The toddler looked up and said, "Thaddius." His words were quite clear for a small child. This again puzzled Beothorn, but he had dealt with oddities of all types in the past. The child started munching on the biscuit.

A low rumble came from the back of the chamber. There were piles of rubble all around the chamber, and dirt started to sift down from the roof. The chamber didn't look stable. Even the small amount of noise they were making appeared to affect the old structure.

He decides he should get this boy out of here and to safety as soon as possible. Beothorn would have to take him back with them. He thought about how much time they had already wasted and how vulnerable their supplies were sitting there. Missing his delivery schedule for the wagons could cause all types of problems. It was days back to the nearest village.

"Thaddius, we need to get you out of here."

With his mouth still full of biscuit, Thaddius unexpectedly took Beothorn's hand with no objections keeping the orb in his other. Next to him on the floor is an old bronze statue of a bird that had turned green with age. The child reached down and placed the light into the front of the 8-inch tall statue. The wisp-like creature moved and settled there.

Picking up the statue in both hands with some effort, Tad moved to stand in front of Beothorn.

***