Hob Goodfellowe

The stream delved deep and rocky as it plunged through the woodlands. It was soon cascading over cataracts and rushing little waterfalls. Above the banks, tangled grey-barked oaks and black pines draped their thick curtains of leaves over the soil, whilst mosses and ferns grew in abundance atop the round river boulders. In a few…

By the time they reached the edge of the woods, a grey dawn was in the air and the sun was a red promise on the eastern sky. Skirting along the southern scrubs and stands of trees, they spied a thin thread of water in the distance, marked out like a band of beaten silver…

They left Baght Town by the eastern small-gate, paying the gatesmen enough to let them pass quickly, and then promptly forget about them aftwards. Soon, the town was reduced to a mere a rumour of lights and far-off dwindling noises. Dog barks. Drunkards in the darkness. Occasional strands of music and piping. The sort of…

The boy came to his senses  At first he felt dizzy, as if he’d been spinning in circles for fun like a small child. Rapidly the dizziness cleared, and was replaced with a dullish ill feeling deep in his gut. He thought he remembered snatches of a voice, grim and old and tough, saying words…

Moliagul’s face passed in and out of a wan flicker of a smile. He shrugged. A long moment of thoughts passed through his eyes. At last he came to a decision, and gave a small, tired sigh. “My master, the Prince Morholt does sorely want Athairdrost’s head to be less connected to the rest of…

“Now, what to do?” said the Thegn of Moliagul. He cast a glance over the unconscious Caewen, Fleat, Dapplegrim, and finally to the shadow-demon Fetch, bottled up in its glassy prison. The boy followed his gaze. The shadow-thing also seemed to be… well… sleeping wasn’t the right word… inactive? It was just a motionless blotch…

Once back with the men, the Thegn gave whispered orders. Swords were drawn and shields were readied. It was only at this moment that the boy realised he had no weapon. He asked for something–a dagger perhaps–but the Thegn rested a not unkind grip on his shoulder, and said, “Give yourself a few years yet….

They moved through Baght Town in a single file, under black cloaks, surcoats inside-out. They showed no sign nor sigil. They went without a word spoken. As the men neared the inn, the boy felt increasingly nervous. It wasn’t long until he felt that there might as well have been rancid water boiling in his…