The goblins were sitting around their fire, chattering in their strange, high-pitched language, waiting for their catch to be done roasting. They were barely clothed in rags and furs, each with a club, knife or sharpened stick next to them. On the improvised spit turned what looked like a chunk of charcoal, but Edwin guessed it might have been a rabbit at some point. He wasn’t even sure they had skinned it before hanging it much too low over the fire.

Edwin had made better time than he had feared, sticking to the outskirts of the forest where the underbrush was lighter and fewer fallen branches and trees forced him to climb over or detour around them. The weather had been nice, only a few clouds languidly drifting across the sky. The goblins’ fire had alerted him to their presence early, which he was thankful for. Otherwise, he would have probably stumbled right into their little camp, his eyes on his feet to keep from tripping over roots and stepping into holes.

There were five of them around the fire, small, hairless humanoids with light green skin, big heads and long arms that ended in clawed, four-fingered hands. When they spoke, probably arguing about the food that the self-styled chef of the group seemed adamant needed more time in the fire, Edwin could just make out the needle-like teeth that filled their mouths. He had never seen a goblin, having spent most of his last life in a well-protected city or deep underground. From what he remembered of Walter’s schooling, the creatures were a common pest, especially in the northern part of Harvand, with small groups like this one springing up whenever people thought they had eradicated them for good. They looked deceptively weak but were a real threat, and many a traveler or poor farmer had been taken unawares, only to end up in the place of the blackened rabbit.

Edwin clutched his small belt knife tightly, beads of sweat rolling down his back as he slowly inched backwards, trying his hardest not to step on any twigs. For the first time he cursed Walter’s decision to lock away his magic. What good was being inconspicuous if he got eaten by a goblin on his first day? Not for a moment did he consider fighting, even though he had dreamed of slaying goblins by the dozen when he had pictured Edwin’s life not too long ago. But now, all alone and basically unarmed? That was not what he had bargained for.

Once he was far enough away that he couldn’t see the fire anymore, he turned south, heading deeper into the forest. He rounded the camp at a distance, increasing his pace once he was safely out of earshot. Three Faces needed to be warned, else a hunter or woodcutter might stumble into them, never to be seen again. This could even turn out to be to his benefit. He had worried about the villagers asking too many questions, but if he came into town exhausted, telling of Goblins nearby, they would surely be too distracted to care about where he had come from. At least, that’s what he hoped.

--- ----- ---

Edwin reached Three Faces with the sun creeping towards the horizon. Walter had visited it once, years ago, when he had still been looking for a location for his laboratory, and it hadn’t changed much from his memory. A rickety palisade surrounded a smattering of houses made mostly of stone. By the cliffs north of the village, not far from the wall was the entrance to the mine. Most of the villages that abutted the mountains had one, digging up small amounts of iron and the odd gemstone they were just lucrative enough for the families that worked their depths to not starve. The large silver mines further west were tightly controlled by wealthy merchants, nobles and the crown, supplying the main ingredient for the ever-important Magesilver. The independent miners of villages like Three Faces all dreamed of finding a rich silver vein under their mountain, everyone knowing someone who knew someone that got lucky, and they braved the dangers of cave-ins, pockets of suffocating fumes and monsters of the deep in their belief that they would be the next to make it big.

Edwin had circumvented the village in the south, just as he had done with the goblins, then followed the road that circled the palisade on the west side. There was only one gate, probably because they didn’t have enough people to man two, so it made sense to build it facing the mine. When he came around the bend, the last miners were just returning home for the night, and he approached them with a smile that he hoped was friendly and inconspicuous.

“Hail, traveler.” One of them called, his accent thick and drawling. “What brings ye all the way out ta our village?”

“Hail to you too. I’m a wanderer, on my way east to see the Rift. I bring bad tidings, I’m afraid”

The miners gathered around Edwin. They were burly fellows, hardened by their unforgiving life, and it drove home the difference between Edwin’s and Walter’s bodies. Where he expected to be crowded in and towered over, Edwin instead found himself the tallest in the group, his wide shoulders and powerful build affording him an equal space in the circle. Still, he felt intimidated by the rough-looking men. Edwin wouldn’t be intimidated here, he told himself. And neither would Walter. So suck it up.

“Earlier today I almost stumbled into a goblin’s cookfire. Only luck saved me from the spit, as the creatures were too preoccupied to notice me.”

The miners shared a look. “Aye, tha’s bad. How many of ‘em gobbos did ye see?”

“Five, though I wouldn’t swear that there weren’t more. I felt it safer to be on my way than to stay and count.”

This provoked chuckles all around, and the speaker slapped Edwin on the back.

“Aye, yer a smart lad, that ye are! Come on in, ye’ll ‘ave ta tell yer story ta the ‘eadman. Ye can call me Rodig.”

“A pleasure, Rodig. I’m Edwin.”

So far, so good, he thought, as they led him towards the gate, the sinking sun painting the clouds pink.