Cob and Baetha walked along a path through a thick patch of forest. Cob’s wooden arm swayed gently as he trod. Golden rays of light shone down through the trees, spotlighting the dense undergrowth.

“When do you reckon we’ll get there?” Cob said, trying to hide his excitement.

“Soon enough.” Baetha was wearing his best coat, a brown bearskin, and a nice fur hat. Both came from the same Bear; Cob had been told.

“Do you think Trout and Miru will be there? Perhaps they’ve rode south to get help.”

“Cob, there’s no use fretting. Just be prepared for whatever happens.”

“What if they’re all dead? We don't know what Nyal's plans are. Maybe he had them followed.”

“I would sense such a disturbance. From what I can tell, the village is calm, happy, and bored. It’s a nice place at a nice time. Don’t worry.”

Cob sniffed and nodded. “Ok then.”

They walked for a few more minutes in silence.

Cob finally broke the silence. "Can I be angry at them? It's unreasonable, sure, but they still ran. I can't help but-”

“We’re here.”

They walked into a wide field. To their right, a small farmer's cottage sat rather sadly amongst a yard full of rusted tools and broken furniture. A woman was assaulting a bundle of clothes with a bat..

In front of them was the village proper. It could be described well with few words, and bustling was not one of them. It was a collection of roughly thirty buildings huddled together seemingly for warmth, none were above two stories tall. Wood and plaster made up most of them, with a few having roofs of clay or brick walls.

Baetha sighed. “I haven’t been here in a long time. Very long time.”

“What’s it called?”

“Blackrest.”

“Black Crest?”

“No, Blackrest.”

“Oh aye. Strange name that.”

“Indeed. I believe it originates from a famous hero resting here, or maybe living here. Maybe it started as a camp of theirs, or the village renamed itself for them. The details are lost to me.”

“Smells good.”

“Ale and bread.”

“Do you want to go in first?”

“No.”

“Alright then.”

Cob took a deep breath and walked purposefully through the field of dirt and weeds. He passed through the gate, Baetha close behind him, and walked into the town square. A group of small children who were playing with a barrel hoop stopped to stare. The eldest, who had just begun to grow his horns, hissed at them.

Cob turned to Baetha. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

“It’s now or never. Just walk.”

Cob turned back and walked towards the nearest building. It looked like a tavern. Cob tried to keep his hand from shaking as he pushed open the door.

The room was dark and smelt sharply of spilled beer. Cob’s stomach fell as he saw a figure sitting hunched at the bar. The man was unconscious, his horns cradling his head, preventing it from touching the sticky surface of the bar. Cob walked to a table behind the figure and sat down.

The sleeping person's snores sawed away at the stuffy air. Cob swallowed and looked at the door worriedly. When was that bastard coming in? He couldn’t face this alone. Cob shook his head and stood up. Perhaps the person in front of him wasn’t Trout. They were most likely some local drunkard. Almost certainly.

“Excuse me?” A small girl in an apron tapped Cob’s elbow. “Would you like something?”

“Yes. Some… stew. And beer. Please.”

She nodded and left. When Cob turned back around Trout was staring him in the face. Trout, wide eyed, could not speak. Eventually, he stammered out one pitiful word. “Dreaming?”

Cob shook his head.

“How?” Trout stumbled up and grasped at Cob. He was laughing and crying. It was a sorry sight. “You died! I saw it.”

“I didn’t die. I’m right here, aren’t I? You great oaf.” Cob smiled.

“Nice dream.” Trout whispered into Cob’s chest as he hugged him. “Smell of grass, you know.”

Cob’s smile slipped. He felt strange. A terrible weight seemed to have dragged his mood into dark waters. A hateful twinge arose in him as he watched Trout sniffle like a giant toddler. He was drunk, was he? This self-pitying bastard had been lying here for months, doing nothing. Cob was the one who had been damaged, and he hadn’t had time to drink himself into oblivion. Cob could stand the fool no longer. He firmly detached Trout from him and sat him back down on his stool.

“I’ll be back.” He said, before walking out of the building. His mood was black now. Where was that big-headed beast? He’d wandered off. Wandered away. Cob couldn’t stand it. Any of it. How unfair it all was. Cob started pacing up and down the street in front of the tavern. This was his greeting? He had been through so much, and this was what was waiting for him. Perhaps he should take a horse and ride, just ride. Away from all of it. The world deserved what was coming to it.

With that thought, Baetha arrived. Miru was walking behind him. She looked awful. Gaunt and sad, as if she’d betrayed every friend she ever had.

Cob stared at the pair. “Miru. You’re alive.”

She nodded, unable to meet his eye. Baetha put a hand on Cob’s shoulder.

Cob put his head close to Baetha and snarled, “Get your grimy hand off my shoulder. I’m done. These two are worthless! They’re worthless!” Cob backed off and pointed at Miru. “You left me for dead. You ran away. That is something that cannot be forgiven.”

Baetha grasped Cob’s temples.

**********

Cob stood in an enormous cathedral. Pillars of white stone soared high to a domed ceiling, and pews of gold sat empty. The pews were facing an altar, and a woman.

“Come. Come closer.” The woman’s voice seemed to caress Cob’s ears. She was wearing an illustrious white robe which was draped with magnificent bands of golden, jeweled chain. She was standing in front of a large glowing orb.

“Who are you?” Cob asked. He was next to her now.

The woman’s dark skin contrasted with her robes, and her smile was almost infectious. A pretty woman. “Look at it. It’s so beautiful.” She gestured towards the orb. It was a bit larger than Cob, and was suspended in the air, although it was attached to nothing. It was a deep blue, and it shone with an uncomfortable brightness.

“Who are you? What is this?” Cob said.

“I’m Tacolos, good sir. And this,” She looked up directly into the orb, “is the answer.” On bent neck, she turned her head to Cob. “Do you know the histories?”

Cob shrugged. “Not really.”

Tacolos chuckled and walked beneath the orb. “Let me show you something.” She took Cob to the roof of the temple through a small flight of steps. The view at the top was almost too much for Cob to bear. Impossible buildings leaped far into the sky. They twisted and struck out at beautiful angles, always differing from the next. Each stone looked as if it were crafted with the most painstaking care.

Far off into the horizon was a mountain range. On the top of one of the mountains was a vast palace. Although it was impossible for him to do so, Cob saw that its front door was red.

Tacolos sat on the ledge of the roof and beckoned Cob to join her. Cob sat and opened his mouth to ask a question.

Tacolos pushed Cob’s jaw closed with a finger. “I will answer your questions Cob of Two Horns. My power is of creation. Not of life, but of things.” She motioned around her, to the buildings and the temple. “At first I was cynical of the gifts I was given at creation. ‘Why,’ I asked, ‘must I be chained to making trinkets and structures for these mortals? I cannot reach into souls, I have not the knowledge of everything, I cannot travel time, bend reality, or pull the elements to my will. Oh, what a cruel joke on little Tacolos!’”

She laughed and swung her legs, almost childlike. “But I was ignorant. I didn’t know that I was the best of them all. Structures, you see, can be more than the sum of their parts. What is at its basest reality a pile of bricks, can be the monument to which untold masses tie their lives, their identity. Effigies, which are crude replications of life, can enhance it, fostering myth and legend and shaping histories, or providing examples of virtue with which others shape their own lives. And pride! What people are capable of if they are proud of where they live, you cannot know. If a man walks into a city that fills him with discontent, that man works in spite of his city, in order to prove against it or else leave it altogether. A man who is proud, who is filled with joy and gratitude at structures made to please, is a better man. There is a man who will shape reality, at great costs, to be a better place, because he truly believes it can be done, and that it should be done.”

Tacolos looked to Cob, who was adequately enthralled, and nodded. “With structure's I have reached into souls, into time, and have bent reality. And my other gift, trinkets! Oh what trinkets can do! Pull the elements you say? With my trinkets, one could become an element. What fire can burn one that is made of fire? What wind can remove the sea, or lift the earth itself?”

Cob squinted into the horizon and swayed. He felt dizzy. “Why? Why do you wish to do all of these things? To what end?”

“That is a grand question, young Cob. I must admit, I have a big heart.” She placed her hand to her chest. “Unlike some of my brothers and sisters, I yearn to serve. Mother put me on this world to help you.” She moved the hand to Cob’s shoulder. “And doing so fills me with such joy you would never know.”

Cob blinked his eyes and shook his head. Something felt wrong. “Is this real? I am so lost here. I do not belong”

“Real? Of course. All of it was real.”

“What happened to it?”

The smile that had been constantly plastered on Tacolos’ face, disappeared. Strangely, her face wasn't pretty anymore. It was hard to believe it ever seemed so.

“I believe it is time for you to go.” She said coldly.

Cob put his face in his hands. “Where are all the people?” He began to cry hot tears. “Who are you?”

“You begin to grate.” She took a step forwards, onto the air in front of the ledge. She stood in front of Cob and grabbed his arms. “Come here, my big friend. Just step forwards.”

“No.” He looked her in the eyes. “You’ll have to pull me.”

Tacolos scoffed. Her anger seemed petulant, aimless. “You lot never know what’s good for you.” She pulled him off the ledge, and he soared to the ground.

**********

Cob opened his eyes. Baetha still had his hands clasped around his temples.

Cob brushed Baetha away and looked at Miru. “I’m sorry. I was in a dark mood Miru. Don't mind what I said.”

Miru raised an eyebrow and looked at Baetha. “What did you just do?”

Beatha shrugged. “I fixed him. He’s fixed.”

Miru stared at them both for a while. “Let’s get inside. We’ve much to discuss.”

As they entered, Baetha gave Cob a big smile and a pair of thumbs up.

Cob smiled back, weakly.