Hob Goodfellowe

The Blade Henge ran in two rows of sharp rocks along the ridge of a steep and narrow hill. The hilltop was deeply grassed, wind-torn and lonely. The stones themselves were so dark a grey as to be almost black, and they were knife-like in shape, thin and angular–like flakes of obsidian chipped out by…

What fools would leave a grove of magic skulls intact? That Athairdrost would likely have known if the ropes were cut was momentarily forgotten in the boy’s mind. He was angry. He stood, fuming in the unpleasant glade, listening to the hollow slap and clatter of the skulls. He looked at them. It took him…

The boy took to a run. He tore along the stream bank, crashing through the wet ferns and down the slippery muddy slopes. His calves were soon on fire. His lungs felt as if they were barely drawing new air at all. His windpipe burned. He could feel his heart beating harder and harder. There…

Dapplegrim sailed like a spirit risen from a battlefield grave, and landed with a resounding thud of hooves not more than a few paces from Athairdrost. The prince looked up. His face was wrenched by sudden fright and shock. He looked for a moment like some frightened half-grown gangly youth. But then he mastered himself…

They all ducked, then hunkered down on the lip of the hill. They were well-hidden by rocks and ferns. Anyone who might look up at them from the pool below, or the cliffs rimming it, would see only the endless green-blue-grey of the forest. A figure cloaked in grey and silver came into view, trudging…

She listened. “Yes. Yes. I can hear that too, but just faintly.” She looked around, confused. “There is a whispering. A chant that sits beneath everything else. It’s very difficult to pick out from the rest of the pain and the rage. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all, if you hadn’t pointed it out….

The boy did a little of his own kicking at ferns. His whole face was a serious mask as he walked, staring down at the ground. The giant Eold didn’t seem to be a bad creature, at least from the brief exchange of words. But he had done some evil things. Or, at least Fleat…

“What about him?” asked the boy, indicating a nod towards the dead Eold. “Shouldn’t we–?” but his words tailed off. There was clearly no time to dig a grave, or pile up a cairn. The giant’s warnings had sounded both immediate and urgent. “Let the wild creatures eat him, if his flesh be edible,” said…

Soon the shape of a collapsed humanlike thing of huge size came into view. He was half-lying on the ground and half-propped against a tree. The giant did seem to be human in general proportions, but more heavily limbed than any humanfolk, and much taller. Sprawled as he was, it was hard to tell, but…