Author: Hob Goodfellowe

Caewen awoke with a start. It was dark. Night still. She had meant to stay awake until Fetch returned, but exhaustion claimed her sometime after the fire had burnt down to smoulderings and Seath had retired to his own bed in the little side room he kept for his private use. The door rattled and…

“Well,” said Caewen. “I don’t know if your Croft-Ward is unpleasant or merely mercenary.” “A little of both.” Seath stirred a pot of hot water over the fire. “Here, do you like riddles?” “As much as the next person, I suppose.” “What is full of holes and holds water?” Caewen puzzled for a moment over…

Some time later Caewen roused. She blinked, looked about, and discovered that the old man had been true to his word. Although Seath was not anywhere in view within the thatched hovel, Caewen’s sword, cloak and other belongings were in a neat pile on the same thick-set table where earlier the herbman had been preparing…

When Caewen awoke, she was somewhere warm and comfortable. Much more comfortable than the cold grass of the field that she remembered pressing against her face before the darkness and the dreams took her. Her eyelids fluttered. At first her vision was a blur. But, after a moment or two, stretched long and crisply fragile,…

In the delirium, there was a dream. Caewen found herself standing on a mossy path. All about her, tall grasses stood wetly under a thin, chill rain. She could feel it pricking at her skin, that rain. The outer fringes of her hair and clothing were growing wet, gathering little droplets of coldness, though as…

“Tsh, Tsch. Are you well? What’s wrong with you?” “What?” said Caewen. She’d heard a voice, dim and sort of underwatery sounding. She looked about before she remembered the darkness-thing she was carrying in her satchel. Strange that she should forget about Fetch. “Oh. Yes. Fine. Why?” “You stumbled. Tscch. You’ve been stumbling a lot….

The Other Caewen was a long way behind her now. Not forgotten, but safely put away into a mental place where she did not have to think about that particular problem at this particular moment. Caewen was doing everything she could to focus simply on the present moment. Looking at clouds trailing over the sky….

They passed Missus Woadmell, half-cowering in the doorway, and proceeded to the spiral stairwell. Although the sweep of steps was large and broad, the steps themselves were relatively shallow, so that Dapplegrim did have some trouble getting down them. Samakarantha gave him an arch look, but Dapplegrim just rolled his eyes and snorted, persisting with…

“Now,” said Samakarantha, rounding on Ode. “First things first. Who are you, and how is it that you can read ‘old weird dead languages’, as Dapplegrim put it? And where exactly is Caewen?” “Oh, I uh–sorry. I’m not really anyone. Caewen just took pity on me and let me come along with her. I was…