“Two days up the road, he says.” Corwin puffed, jogging to catch up with Jabez yet again. “It’s been four! There are goat-carts that have been passing us!”

“Not my fault you can’t keep a book on your head.” Jabez shrugged.

“I thought that was to teach humility or something. I’m fucking humble at this point.” Corwin growled as he matched strides with the dwarf.

“Nah, it’s to teach balance. You’ve got a pretty good gift for bloodshed when you’ve got a mind to it, but you’re clumsy as hell.” Jabez spat in the dirt. “Book, head, balance. Once again.”

Corwin groaned but put the book back on his head, it stayed on longer this time. Maybe a minute or two it remained balanced on his head before toppling to the dust once again. Corwin shouted a wordless cry of despair before dropping again to do push ups in full gear. His arms and shoulders burned, but he knew better than to fake it at this point. Somehow Jabez knew when he skipped a few, that was when the dwarf would break into a run for a mile or more. The nights were just as bad. Jabez would drill him on placing his feet and basic sword strokes over and over again. He was given a set of drills right after making the fire, and he had to get it right ten times in a row before Jabez would let him sit down and take his supper.

Corwin also trained on the Tracking Talent that Jabez had showed him. He was getting pretty good at it. Jabez had also showed him a Talent to increase the strength and power of his blows. Corwin wasn’t as good at that one yet. When Jabez used it, his Warhammer would reduce logs to splinters. Corwin managed some deep cuts, but nothing as spectacular. He was also discovering that his body placed physical limits on how much he could use his Talents. Too much tracking and his eyes would start to burn, and his vision would go blurry around the edges. Use the Power Attack too many times and his arms would go limp making it so that he could barely lift his sword.

Everything we do has a tradeoff. Jabez had said when Corwin asked him about it. The power comes from somewhere. Luckily whatever they used to fuel the Talents seemed to come back after a night’s sleep. The more he used them the more efficient he felt with them. This was helping Corwin’s confidence, since Jabez had said that their next job was likely to take them deep into the Wayward Forest and he had always heard stories about what happened in the deep woods. None of them were pleasant.

Rounding a bend in the trail Corwin found Jabez stopped at a turnoff from the road. The turnoff was barely more than some wagon ruts leading vaguely westward, but someone had posted a signpost for travellers. It read: Holton, 5 miles. Beneath that someone had tacked another sign to the post: Travelers beware, unpatrolled road.

“Might as well ring the dinner bell for any bandit in the area.” Jabez said with a shake of his head.

Corwin couldn’t help but agree. Nyx had thrived on the little-patrolled paths and ‘roads’ that fed into the Silver Road. His gang had made a tidy living off unarmed farmers taking their goods to market. “Think we’ll get attacked?”

Jabez shrugged. “It’s not likely, we’re both armed and, well, we kinda look like shit. Dirt poor Wayfarers, not rich merchants. But you can never guess what a hungry man is going to do…or a stupid one for that matter.”

Corwin resettled his sword, he’d managed to keep it from tripping him up, but it still felt awkward to carry around. He started to put the book back on his head when Jabez shot him a look.

“I think we can dispense with the lessons for the moment.” He said with a pained expression. “Keep your eyes open. We should be in Holton by sundown.”

“First real adventure.” Corwin said, trying to sound confident, but unable to keep the tremor of fear and excitement out. “Your contact know we’re coming?”

“He doesn’t know that we’re not coming.” Jabez said, cagey, as they started down the wagon track towards Holton.

Corwin glanced at the dwarf, who kept his eyes focused ahead. “Is there something I should know about?”

“Not really, I’m sure it will be fine.” Jabez said, waving off Corwin’s concerns.

“That’s not suspicious at all.” Corwin said, his tone flat.

“We did a few jobs together and we didn’t end on the best of terms.” Jabez finally allowed. “It happens in this business, but he put out a general call for assistance so we’re on our way to assist.”

They walked on for a time. The brush became denser as the lightly forested edge of the wood gave way to the wilder interior. Clusters of bushes and ferns grew at the edge of the wagon track. Corwin eyed them as they got close, remembering the times Nyx had rambled on about how he would waylay travelers passing through the Dalewood Forest near Durron’s Ford. Find a place with brush, nothing you put up yourselves, just a nice and overgrown spot. Nyx had said, gesturing with his ale tankard. Then get yourself a felled tree or two, doesn’t have to be big, just big enough to make them say ‘oy! What’s that in the road?’

The tree that had fallen across the track had landed at about knee height. Bushes and a thick carpet of tall ferns obscured either side of the track. Corwin stopped, staring at the tableau. Jabez walked on a few paces before turning back to look at him. “Something the matter?”

“Just remembering something.” Corwin said, biting his lip. He pointed at the downed tree. “That look normal to you?”

Jabez turned and looked at the tree. “A tree falling in the woods? Pretty normal.”

“It could be an ambush.” Corwin whispered.

“Really?” Jabez asked, skeptically. He hefted Baldniruk onto one shoulder and eyed the fallen tree. “Because if it is, then whoever set it up is pretty fucking stupid.”

“Not so loud, they might hear you!” Corwin hissed.

“Good, because if they’re waiting to ambush Jabez Ironbiter, then they better come with something better than a felled sapling.” Jabez called towards the brush. “Or better yet they should head home since a Master Wayfarer isn’t someone they want to fuck around with!”

There was a rustle in the bushes and four men in leathers emerged. Most were wearing cloths tied around their mouths and noses. Two carried short bows while the other two had rough wooden shields and short swords.

“Hey, what d’you know, you were right, kid.” Jabez said, with a wide grin.

There was another rustle behind them, they turned in time to see two more men come out of the brush, similarly armed.

“Ooooh.” Jabez sucked in a breath. “That complicates things.”

“Master Wayfarer, eh?” One of the bandits called. “We were just gonna let you go on past, since you looked like more trouble than you were worth. But a Master Wayfarer, that’s just worth a look, eh, boys?” The other bandits chuckled, starting to fan out across the track. “So, if you’ll kindly lay down your weapons and drop those packs, we’ll consider sending you on your way.”

Jabez frowned. “Corwin, you take the two behind us, take out the archer first. And remind me to teach you the Dodge Talent tonight.”

Corwin blinked in surprise. “Wait, what…”

“BALDNIRUK!” Jabez roared, slamming his hammer to the ground with an almost casual one-handed swing. The ground rippled and rumbled as a wave of force shot out from hammer. The bandit leader was knocked off his feet and sent tumbling back down the track. The others didn’t fare any better, the two archers were knocked backwards, one slamming into the tree behind him with bone-cracking force, the other’s bow snapped from the impact, the tightened bowstring snapping and whipping across the archer’s face. The last bandit managed to plant his feet and bring his shield up, only to find himself the last man standing as Jabez screamed something in dwarvish and charged.

Corwin spun, facing the two bandits behind him, who were both gaping in surprise. Corwin looked at them, they looked at him. The archer blinked and raised his bow. Recognizing the danger Corwin charged the archer before he could take aim and draw, lowering his shoulder and carrying the archer off his feet. The man yelped and fumbled his bow as he fell backwards.

A flicker of movement to the side was the only warning Corwin had. He sidestepped as the other bandit lunged with his short sword. The blade missed him by scant inches, but it wasn’t the only weapon that the bandit had. The heavy wooden shield slammed into Corwin’s chest and knocked him back, he stumbled and fell to one knee.

The blade came again, and Corwin ducked launching to his feet under the sword and barreling into the bandit. The other man was shorter, but stockier, keeping his feet even as Corwin knocked him back a few feet. Off to the side the archer was getting to his feet, scrabbling for his bow and the scattered arrows on the road.

Corwin scowled and prepared to launch himself at the bandit with the shield, maybe if he could keep the bandit between himself and the archer—

“Hey idiot!” Jabez shouted from somewhere behind him. “You have a fucking sword!”

The bandits looked down at Corwin’s waist and Corwin blushed.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.” The bandit with the shield said sheepishly, then charged.

Corwin drew his sword and slashed as he backpedaled. The bandit caught it on his shield and pushed the blade aside, lunging again with his short sword. Corwin sidestepped, anticipating the thrust, there was a whistling sound about a handspan from his ear. He looked over the bandit’s shoulder and saw the archer nocking another arrow. He couldn’t sidestep or he’d open himself to the archer’s attack. Corwin licked his lips as the bandit came at him again, he had to end this quickly. He formed the Power Attack schima in his mind, felt the Talent click into place, the power flowing into his arms and shoulders. The bandit came at him again, shield raised. Corwin snarled and slashed at the bandit’s shield. There was soft boom of power released. The wooden shield splintered and fell apart, knocking the bandit backwards.

The archer gaped as the bandit went down hard, wind knocked out of him from the force of Corwin’s blow. Corwin turned and levelled his sword at the archer, giving him a slightly feral grin.

The archer dropped his bow and disappeared into the underbrush as fast as he could.

“Not bad.” Jabez said, slightly winded, but no worse for wear.

Corwin turned his head to see the four bandits behind him were either dead, or very seriously inconvenienced. The bandit at Corwin’s feet groaned and then looked up in terror as Corwin let his sword point drop and rest above his heart.

“Even got a captive.” Jabez grinned. “Bet there’s a bounty on these boys.”

“Tie him up, would you?” Corwin asked, maintaining the grin and locking eyes with the terrified bandit.

Jabez shrugged and took a length of rope from one of his pouches. Within moments he had their captive bound tightly. After the bandit was secured, he looked up at Corwin who still hand his sword pointed at the bound man’s heart. “You can’t move your arms, can you?”

“Nope.” Corwin grimaced, letting his arms fall like noodles at his sides.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” The bandit bellowed. “You mean I could’ve run like Waller and there wasn’t jack shit you could have done?”

“Probably not.” Corwin admitted.

“Just my fucking luck.” The bandit growled.

***

The bandit—who had told them that his name was Brannon—preceded Jabez and Corwin down the trail, arms tied behind his back. Jabez tossed a small purse that clinked softly as they walked. The fallen bandits had had a few coins each on them, not much, which was likely why they turned to banditry. Corwin had felt a bit squeamish about pawing through dead men’s belongings, but Jabez took to it with a decidedly unnerving ease.

The feeling was returning to Corwin’s arms, slowly, but now he could move them and pick up small objects again. Probably not fight if it came to that, but it was progress that he could now even use his arms after using the Talent.

Brannon kept eying them over his shoulder, glaring especially at Corwin. Jabez pulled a hunk of dried meat out of his belt pouch and began chewing it thoughtfully. “Got a problem there?” He asked the bandit. “You keep lookin’ back here like you’re going to do something. I’d say that’d be a bad idea since the boy beat you down and he’s pretty shit at this, no offense Corwin.”

Corwin started to protest, but Brannon snorted. “Nope, not gonna do anything, don’t you worry Master Wayfarer.”

Jabez chewed and eyeballed Brannon suspiciously. “Your little gang got a name or are you satisfied with just being ‘those dirtbags out in the woods’.”

Brannon chuckled at that. “Yeah, we got a name. Not that it’s going to do you any good, dirt-eater.”

“Dirt-eater?” Jabez’s eyebrows rose. “Must not get the really good slurs for dwarves this far south. Anyways, you inbred son of a whore, why don’t you tell me your little club’s name so that I can tell the local constable that there’s four less of you running around the forest.”

The bark of laughter from Brannon was unexpected. Corwin glanced over at Jabez, who kept his expression neutral. The bandit got his fit of giggles under control and looked back at them over his shoulder. “We’re the Laughing Men. You tell the constable that and see what kind of reaction you get.”

Corwin started to ask why, but Jabez shot him a warning look. “I think that’s enough conversation for now.” Jabez said, brows furrowed. “Eyes front.”

“Yessir, Master Wayfarer.” Brannon said with another chuckle.

They walked on in relative silence, Corwin was itching to ask questions, but thought it would be better to keep his mouth shut until they had rid themselves of their prisoner. The afternoon passed slowly, but they weren’t accosted by any more Laughing Men.

In the late hours of sunlight, just as the shadows were getting long, their little party stepped out of the tunnel of trees and found themselves at the open gate of a wooden palisade. Beyond the gate Corwin could see a small but bustling high street. Lots of people were milling about, mostly men, mostly rowdy, crowded in front of a few buildings close to the gate.

Jabez stopped at the gate and scanned the scene. Music and loud conversation poured out of one small building situated on the crossroads of the two main roads of the town. A shingle hung over the door: a stylized black dog snarled down from the sign. Most of the men seemed clustered around this building, several seemed already drunk even though it was barely sundown.

“What’s all this then?” A voice called to Corwin and Jabez. Corwin turned to see a burly man with heavy mustaches and a shaved head approaching. A tarnished brass badge in the shape of a diamond was visible on the breast of his jerkin, the badge of office of a constable of the King’s Peace. “A bit odd to see armed men leading a bound man into my village. Explain yourselves, quickly.”

“Jabez Ironbiter of the Guild of Wayfarers and Vagabonds, this is my apprentice Corwin Walker. We were attacked on the way to your village by a group of bandits. One got away, but we caught this one. Says he’s a member of the Laughing Men, mean anything to you?”

The constable frowned and shook his head. “Not really, but I know Brannon there, and he ain’t no bandit.”

Corwin blinked at this statement and shot a glance at Brannon, who was barely containing a smirk.

“He isn’t, is he?” Jabez said, slowly. “If he isn’t a bandit then what is he?”

“Works for the Blackwood Logging Company, don’t you Brannon?” The constable asked, hooking his thumbs in his wide leather belt, conspicuously close to a heavy mace.

“Yes sir, Constable Toban, that’s the truth.” Brannon said, not even trying to hide his smirk.

“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.” Toban said, voice heavy with concern. “Maybe Brannon was coming to help you against these bandits, and in the heat of battle…well, it’s easy to make mistakes.”

“Oh yes, I was just running up to help these fine gents when that one—" Brannon nodded at Corwin, “—knocked me down and told me to surrender or it’d be my life. I was mighty scared, I can tell you, Constable.”

“But that’s not what happened.” Corwin said, he was getting confused as to what was happening now. Why wasn’t Jabez protesting this obvious lie?

“Calm yourself, Corwin.” Jabez said, not taking his eyes off Toban. “Like the man said, it’s easy to make mistakes when your blood is up.” Corwin remained confused, but if Jabez wanted him to remain calm he would. The dwarf continued, “I’m sure if we hand over Brannon here into your custody, things will get sorted out.”

Toban smiled, a gesture that didn’t reach his small blue eyes. “I’m sure it will.” Toban gestured to Brannon, who gave Corwin another smirk and then crossed over to the big man’s side. “Now that we’ve gotten that sorted, what can the village of Holton do for the Honorable Guild of Wayfarers and Vagabonds?”

Jabez considered Toban for a few moments longer, then shrugged. “Got word of a contract, don’t know the details yet.”

“Really?” Toban asked, surprised. “You may be mistaken again; I don’t think anyone here has put in a request to the Wayfarers.”

“It’s possible, but I should check it out anyways.” Jabez said. “Just to be sure. Guild rules, you understand.”

“Of course.” Toban nodded, graciously. “Anything I can do to help?”

Jabez nodded. “Yeah, contract is held by the Broken Bough tavern. Know where I can find it?”

A bit of ice floated in Toban’s blue eyes. “The Bough, eh? Yeah, I know it, but it’s not got what you’d call a good reputation in these parts.”

“Guild rules.” Jabez shrugged, mock-ruefully.

Toban considered this for a moment then spat in the dirt. The gob landed a span from Corwin’s boot, he frowned and glared up at the constable who was doing his best to look nonchalant. “It’s down at the other end of the street, by the northern gate. Easy to spot, it’s the tavern without any customers.”

The grin Toban gave them this time was full of mocking laughter. Jabez nodded, graciously. “Thank you, constable. Be seeing you.”

Jabez started to walk down the road towards the north gate. Brannon called out. “Hey!” Jabez turned. “He took my purse when they knocked me down and tied me up. He should give it back.”

Toban turned to Jabez and extended a hand, palm out. “We’ll get it all sorted, don’t worry.”

Now Corwin could see that Jabez was getting mad. He gave Toban a flinty stare and pulled out the small purse. Toban was holding his hand at a height that meant Jabez would have to reach up to put the purse in the bigger man’s hand. Jabez did so with a slow and deliberate stare.

“Thank you for your help, master dwarf.” Toban said, closing his hand around the purse. “Come on Brannon, let’s get this all sorted out.

Corwin watched them go, standing next to Jabez who was counting quietly to himself. When he reached twenty Jabez took a deep breath. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna have to fuck that man up before I leave.”

***

The Broken Bough was indeed at the other end of the street, right next to the northern gate. Unlike the tavern at the southern end of town, it was surrounded by a bubble of quiet that seemed out of place. Jabez and Corwin had threaded their way through the mass of men who were clearly intent on having fun at anyone’s expense. They’d received half a dozen threats and invitations to fight, and a similar number of intimate invitations. At the other end of the street the crowds petered out, a few people went about their business with cautious looks and hurried steps.

“This place is very strange.” Corwin muttered. “Constables are shit at their jobs most of the time, but I never seen one like that.”

“I’m starting to see why we were called out here.” Jabez replied. “But let’s get some walls between us and prying ears before we talk about this further.”

The door to the Broken Bough was heavy wood with inlaid glass. A beautifully carved tree covered most of the door face, it looked delicate but when Corwin pushed on it the wood felt as solid as any door he’d ever used. Inside was a scattering of sturdy, but well-crafted tables and chairs. A long bar stood against one wall, casks and bottles arranged behind it. The stools along the bar, much like the tables behind them, were largely empty. In fact, there was only one other patron in the bar: a painfully thin man in a threadbare gray robe was nursing a tankard at the opposite end of the bar. A heavy wooden staff rested against the bar next to him with a floppy gray hat hung on top of that. The man had a short, wispy goatee, and ragged, greasy, brownish hair hung down over his face.

“Voloch’s beard, Odalf, I knew if you were involved that the job would be bad, but this is an absolute shit-show.” Jabez bellowed upon seeing the spindly man.

The man, Odalf, turned to regard Jabez and Corwin. He had watery blue eyes and a heavy-lidded expression that bespoke either a severe lack of sleep or a fondness for halfling pipeweed. “Jabez Ironbiter, just my luck. I send out a call to the Guild for help and they send you.”

Jabez shook his head. “They put it in the general call, was up for grabs two weeks ago. Guild didn’t mark it as especially urgent either.”

Odalf’s eyes narrowed. “I asked for reinforcements a fucking month ago! This isn’t some goblin hunt! I thought the delay was because they were sending someone like Red or Minos up here, some real heavy-hitters.”

“Sorry, you got us.” Jabez said through gritted teeth.

“And who’s us.” Odalf asked, eyes flicking to Corwin. “Jabez I’m familiar with your work, such that it is. But this one’s a new face to me.”

“New face to everyone.” Jabez said. “Odalf Odassius, meet my apprentice Corwin Walker.”

“It’s a pleasure—” Corwin began only to be interrupted by a snort from Odalf.

“They let you take an apprentice?” Odalf said, disbelief plain on his face. “You can barely take care of yourself! That’s why no one will partner with you, not after Akmar Keep.”

“They knew the risks, and so did you. By the way, you’re welcome for saving your ass.” Jabez spat. “Is anyone around here or do we have to serve ourselves?”

Jabez marched up to bar, kicking a spot on footrail marked with a dwarvish rune. Part of the bar flipped down, giving Jabez a step up so that he could stand at the bar on par with a human. Odalf rolled his eyes and drank deeply from his tankard. “Yeah, thanks for the recurring nightmares. Thanks for the black mark on my record. You think I can get anyone to trade spell formulas with me after what happened in the village?” Odalf snapped. “That wasn’t my fault, Jabez, but will anyone believe me, no, of course not! I’ve been stuck with godsdamned fourth Circle spells for the last five years Jabez! Ophea’s sake I’m like the oldest First Rank Journeyman I know in the Guild!”

Jabez began to respond angrily when the curtain to a back room opened and a woman bearing a heavy pot stepped into the room. She was in her early thirties, if Corwin were to guess, she had dark hair cut in a short, manageable style and dressed in a sensible but colorful fashion. She smiled at him and Jabez and shot a brittle look at Odalf. “Hello, welcome to the Broken Bough! I’m Saella, please don’t let Odalf chase you away, he’s been told not to bother customers.”

“They aren’t customers, love, they’re more Wayfarers.” Odalf said, peering into his tankard, trying to see if there were any dregs left to suck out.

“Really?” Saella asked. “You’ve come to help?”

“Yes ma’am.” Corwin said, interrupting Jabez. “If someone will tell us what the problem is?”

Jabez scowled up at Corwin but turned his attention to Saella. “The listing in Lewton just said that there was trouble up here and to meet with Odalf here in the Broken Bough. I’m Jabez Ironbiter, and this is my apprentice, Corwin Walker.”

“I’m Saella Bowman, this is my place.” She paused, eyes darting around the room. “Are you all they sent?” Saella asked, obviously trying not to sound disappointed.

“The Guild fucked up.” Odalf said, resting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry Saella, but this is what we’ve got for now.”

“We met Toban on the way in.” Jabez said. “If that’s the problem…I mean he’s a bully but isn’t that a matter for the local Baron?”

“Toban’s more a symptom of a much deeper problem.” Saella sighed, placing the pot on an alchemical hearthstone behind the bar. After a few moments the pot was bubbling happily to itself, emitting a savory smell. “He came in with the Blackwood loggers. Can I get you anything while we talk?”

“Ale.” Jabez grunted.

“Whatever you’ve got cooking smells great.” Corwin said, eagerly. Jabez shot him a look. “What? I’m hungry. Not all of us can survive on whiskey and beer.”

Saella smiled and ladled a bowl full of stew for Corwin, then turned to pull a tankard for Jabez. “We’ve always been a lumber town. Most folk around here either cull the hardwoods to the south or do woodworking to sell in Knightsbridge or Sothford. Everyone avoids the forest to the northwest. For the longest time the elves have been telling us that going that far into the Wayward Forest is dangerous, so we always avoided it.”

“Until some damn fool decided ‘what do elvish rangers know’ and decided to go poking around the deep wood.” Odalf said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Elves are dicks.” Jabez grunted as Saella placed a tankard in front of him. “Probably didn’t explain why you shouldn’t go into the forest, just don’t do it because they said so.”

“Pretty much.” Odalf conceded. “Still, damn foolish thing for Elyas to do.”

“Times had gotten hard.” Saella said, wiping the bar absently. “There were bandits in the southern wood, fellow named Albert Smiley and his gang, the Laughing Men, set up along the trail to the Silver Road. They’d jump merchants coming to buy lumber or our craftsmen heading to Knightsbridge to sell their wares. Elyas always was a bit headstrong, good boy though, wanted to help the village. Went up north, didn’t tell a soul, thought maybe he’d find something useful up in the wood. He definitely found something.”

“Blackwood.” Odalf said, darkly, staring moodily into his empty tankard.

“I was hoping that was just a colorful name for a bunch of drunken loggers.” Jabez sighed.

“What’s blackwood?” Corwin asked around a mouthful of stew.

“It’s wood harvested from a mature treant.” Odalf informed him. “You know, walking trees? Get pissed off when you cut down saplings or make a fire?”

“Last part of a treant’s life-cycle is they basically become a big-ass tree.” Jabez interjected. “Settle down and take root, eventually they sprout saplings and make more treants.”

“But when they’re just big-ass trees then they’re vulnerable.” Odalf continued. “They usually cluster in big groves over the centuries. They’re tough to harvest, but the wood that comes out of them…it’s special stuff.” Odalf rested a hand on his staff and grimaced. “Wizards like to make wands and staves out of it, blackwood absorbs magic, so you can store spells in there for a long, long time, and pull them out without burning your own power.”

“Dwarves also make shields out of it, put the right runes on a blackwood shield and it’ll just suck up a spell, then you can use it to power a Talent.” Jabez added.

“Like I said, it’s special stuff.” Odalf said.

“Anyways,” Saella broke in, “once Elyas returned from the blackwood grove he seemed…different. He told his family that he’d found something important and headed out the next morning, said he had a contact in Knightsbridge that would help him harvest the blackwood and bring some life back to Holton.”

“And he brought in Toban and the rest of the loggers.” Jabez concluded.

“No idea how he had made contact with that man, or the rest of them.” Saella said, shaking her head. “He was always a good boy, just wanting to help.”

“Is he something to you, Saella?” Corwin asked. “More than just a good boy in the village?”

Saella smiled, ruefully. “My big brother’s boy, been looking out for him since Alan’s wife died when he was a boy.”

“Doesn’t seem to be here now.” Jabez said, raising an eyebrow.

“He spends his evenings at the Black Dog with his new friends.” Saella said, her smile fading. “But it’s more than, that he’s different. There are new men who come to the village to work. They go up with the logging crews, a lot of them don’t come back. The original Black Dogs, that’s what the group that came in with Toban call themselves, they tell us about accidents, or that the men run off. It’s odd that it’s never the Black Dogs. The Black Dogs never get attacked by the Laughing Men, neither. Toban says it’s because they travel armed, but I’ve seen the Laughing Men attack one of our caravans, every man armed with crossbow and spear, the Laughing Men didn’t give a damn, raided it anyways.”

“So, she hired some Wayfarers to look into the whole mess.” Odalf said, eyes on the bar. “Me, and Tam, and Jonas, experienced fellows, not their first goblin hunt, if you hear me.”

“And what happened?” Corwin asked, listening with rapt attention.

“I stayed in town to learn what I could about the Black Dogs and Toban. Tam and Jonas headed into the wood, just to scout.” Odalf grimaced. “They were gone a week before I got worried and went looking for them. Found them about halfway up the trail. They’d been stripped and…melded into trees. I don’t think I’ll ever get the sight of their faces out of my head.”

“I don’t know what happened to them.” Saella said, quietly. “Or to Elyas, but we need it stopped, because it’s getting worse.”