The Goblin Hunt

Neris had discovered three things before the sun had properly risen.

The first was that old leather armor pinched under the arms.

The second was that a shield became considerably heavier when carried for more than ten minutes.

The third was that everyone in town had apparently been waiting their entire lives for an excuse to tell her what to do.

“Don't drink from standing water.”

“I know.”

“Keep your socks dry.”

“I fish for a living.”

“That's why I'm telling you.”

“Don't eat mushrooms you don't recognize.”

“I know which mushrooms—”

“Then don't eat the other ones.”

Neris opened her mouth.

Mara pushed another wrapped parcel into her pack.

“What is this?”

“Breakfast.”

“You already gave me breakfast.”

“That was breakfast.”

Mara pointed to the pack.

“That's lunch.”

Neris looked helplessly toward the three adventurers waiting by the road.

Corren, despite nearly dying on a tavern table the previous night, was visibly enjoying himself.

The big fighter leaned against his shield with a grin on his face. Fresh color had returned to his cheeks, and if not for the sliced, bloodstained shirt beneath his mail, nobody would have guessed that Neris had watched the life draining out of him only hours ago.

Beside him stood Lysa.

Neris had learned the ranger's name over breakfast, along with the fact that she and Corren had been together for three years, disagreed about virtually everything, and apparently considered this a satisfactory arrangement.

Lysa wasn't laughing.

She kept looking at Corren.

Every few moments her eyes dropped toward his side.

Every few moments Corren noticed.

Every few moments he pretended not to.

The third adventurer had introduced himself as Silas.

Silas was laughing enough for everyone.

“You could leave her here,” he suggested. “We'll come back next week when you're finished packing.”

Mara rounded on him.

Silas stopped laughing.

“You.”

“Me?”

“If she doesn't come back—”

“Mara,” Neris protested.

“—I'm holding you responsible.”

Silas glanced at Corren.

“The goblins stabbed him.”

“Yes.”

“Why am I responsible?”

“Look at you.”

Silas looked down at himself.

Black leather. Several knives. Short sword. Lockpicks. A dark hood he'd been firmly instructed not to wear inside during breakfast.

He looked back at Mara.

“Fair.”

Neris hugged her.

Mara squeezed hard enough to make the newly fitted leather armor creak.

“Come home.”

“I will.”

“You don't know that.”

Neris went still.

Neither did Mara.

For a moment the noise around them seemed to fade.

Then Neris hugged her again.

“I'll try very hard.”

Mara released her.

“That'll do.”

Someone called Neris's name.

She turned.

An old wooden shield came sailing toward her.

Neris yelped and barely caught it.

“Bren!”

“You'll need to learn that.”

The innkeeper stood in the doorway.

Someone had painted a ring on the shield.

Badly.

It wasn't even round.

Silver-gray paint described an enthusiastic oval across the wood, with several little blue lines around it that might have been waves.

Neris stared at it.

“Tellen did the painting,” Bren said.

“I can tell.”

“He says it's holy.”

Neris ran her thumb over the crooked ring.

“Is it?”

Bren shrugged.

“You're the priest.”

“I am absolutely not a priest.”

From somewhere in the crowd, someone coughed.

Neris looked around.

Several townspeople were suddenly extremely interested in other things.

“Oh, don't you start.”

Corren pushed himself away from the fence.

“We should move.”

Lysa immediately looked at him.

“I'm fine.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was thinking.”

“You think loudly.”

Silas walked between them.

“And this is why I steal things.”

Neris looked at him.

Silas faltered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He rubbed his neck.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know.”

Neris smiled.

Silas decided he had imagined it.

They started north.

For the first mile, Neris knew exactly where she was.

She knew every path between the town and the cliffs, every place the earth turned boggy after rain, every little stream that could be trusted and every one that tasted faintly of peat. She knew which farm owned the broken fence, which patch of trees belonged to a widow who became furious if children picked her berries, and where the ground dipped enough to collect fog in the morning.

She walked easily.

The shield was awkward, but everything else felt familiar.

Her fishing spear rested over one shoulder. Her knife sat at her belt. A coil of rope crossed her pack. The pale shell from behind the tavern hung around her neck on a simple cord.

Lysa watched her choose the higher fork without hesitation.

“You know the country.”

Neris glanced back.

“This bit.”

“You didn't even look at the trail.”

“The lower one floods.”

Silas stepped around a puddle.

“It hasn't rained since yesterday.”

“Exactly.”

He frowned.

Neris pointed ahead.

Twenty paces later, the lower trail disappeared beneath brown water.

Silas looked at her.

Neris smiled brightly.

“I like her,” Corren said.

“You like everyone who saves your life,” said Lysa.

“I have very reasonable standards.”

“You married me.”

“We aren't married.”

“Exactly.”

Corren looked wounded.

Silas leaned toward Neris.

“They've been doing this for three years.”

Neris whispered, “I think it's sweet.”

“It isn't.”

Lysa called back, “We can hear you.”

Silas sighed.

“They always can.”

By midmorning, Neris knew where she was only approximately.

By noon, she was following Lysa.

The change was subtle but unmistakable. The ranger stopped walking through the landscape and began reading it.

A bent fern.

Mud disturbed beneath a root.

A mark against tree bark that Neris would have dismissed as nothing.

Lysa crouched beside a patch of damp earth.

“Three.”

Corren's humor disappeared.

“Same group?”

“Maybe.”

Silas squatted beside her.

“Small feet.”

“Goblins generally have small feet.”

“Thank you, Lysa.”

“You're welcome.”

Neris peered over them.

She could see footprints once they pointed them out.

After that she saw more.

“What happened yesterday?”

Corren answered.

“We found a cart.”

Lysa's jaw tightened.

“Overturned. Blood around it. No bodies.”

“Tracks led into the woods,” Silas said. “We thought somebody had been taken.”

“So you followed?”

“Yes.”

Neris nodded.

That seemed reasonable.

Silas grimaced.

“Don't encourage us.”

“We found them,” Corren continued. “Five at first.”

“Seven,” said Lysa.

“Five that we saw.”

“That is not better.”

“We killed three.”

“And then?”

Corren touched his side unconsciously.

“Then we discovered there were more.”

Neris looked ahead into the trees.

“How many?”

Silas smiled without humor.

“That is what we're hoping to learn before Corren tries to stop another sword with his organs.”

“It worked.”

“You nearly died.”

“Nearly.”

Lysa stopped.

Corren stopped too.

Neris watched them.

The ranger's voice became very quiet.

“Don't.”

The humor vanished from Corren's face.

“Lys—”

“Don't make that joke.”

He looked at her for a moment.

Then nodded.

“All right.”

She reached for his hand.

Only briefly.

Their fingers touched, squeezed, separated.

Silas had turned away before either of them did it.

Neris pretended to be fascinated by a tree.

Something warm settled beneath her ribs.

Not magic.

Just affection.

She liked them.

That was inconveniently quick.

Lysa raised a fist.

Everyone froze.

Neris froze a moment later.

“What?” she whispered.

Lysa pointed.

There was a body beneath the bushes.

Neris's stomach dropped.

Corren moved first, sword coming free with a whisper of steel.

Silas disappeared.

Neris blinked.

He had been standing beside her.

Now he wasn't.

“Where did—”

“Silas does that,” Lysa whispered.

They approached the body.

Goblin.

Neris had never seen one dead before.

She had seen goblins from a distance. Once, years ago, a pair had come into town to trade badly tanned hides and left after an argument about the price of salt. They had been loud, suspicious, and very much alive.

This one was small.

Smaller than Neris had expected.

An arrow protruded from its chest.

Lysa frowned.

“Mine.”

“From yesterday?” Corren asked.

“Yes.”

Neris looked at the goblin's face.

Its eyes were open.

She wished they weren't.

“Neris.”

She looked up.

Corren was watching her.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

It came too quickly.

Corren waited.

Neris looked down again.

“No.”

He nodded.

“That makes more sense.”

She swallowed.

“You did this?”

Lysa answered.

“Yes.”

Neris looked at her.

There was no pride in the ranger's face.

No shame either.

Just fact.

“It was shooting at Corren.”

“Oh.”

Neris looked at the arrow.

Then at Corren.

“Oh.”

Yesterday, this creature had been alive.

Yesterday, it had tried to kill a man who was now walking beside her.

Lysa had killed it instead.

Neris understood every piece of that.

Understanding did not make the corpse smaller.

A rustle came from the brush.

Neris jerked upright.

Corren's shield came up.

Lysa had an arrow on her string almost instantly.

Something whistled through the trees.

Corren shouted.

An arrow struck his shield.

Another hissed past Neris's ear.

She ducked.

“Down!”

Lysa loosed.

A goblin screamed somewhere among the trees.

Neris's thoughts vanished.

The world became terribly fast.

Corren stepped in front of her.

“Stay behind me!”

A goblin burst from the brush.

Neris saw yellow eyes.

Teeth.

A curved blade.

It was coming toward her.

Her hands remembered before her mind did.

Shield forward.

Spear down.

Feet apart.

Don't watch the weapon. Watch the body.

Old instruction from years ago.

The goblin struck her shield.

The impact ran all the way through her shoulder.

Neris screamed.

Not heroically.

Just loudly.

She thrust the spear.

Missed completely.

The goblin hacked again.

Wood cracked against metal.

Neris stumbled backward.

“Neris!”

“I'M FINE!”

She wasn't sure who had asked.

The goblin lunged.

Neris shoved the shield into it with both hands.

It staggered.

Corren's sword swept past her.

The goblin dropped.

Neris stared.

There was suddenly blood on her spear.

She hadn't hit it.

No.

Corren had.

Another arrow flew.

Lysa shouted something.

Silas appeared behind a goblin as if the forest had spat him out.

His knife flashed.

The goblin collapsed.

Neris stared at him.

Silas looked up.

“What?”

“You disappeared!”

“Later!”

“Right!”

A goblin archer rose behind a fallen tree.

Lysa's arrow struck the wood beside its head.

It ducked.

Neris saw Corren advancing.

She saw another goblin coming around his blind side.

“Corren!”

He turned too late.

Neris didn't think.

She reached toward him.

“Look out!”

Something moved through her voice.

The world caught it.

A faint shimmer, warm and pale as sunlight beneath seawater, flickered around Corren.

The goblin's blade came down.

Corren caught it.

His sword answered.

The goblin fell.

Neris stood with her mouth open.

Corren stared at her.

“What did you do?”

“I don't know!”

“Do it again!”

“I DON'T KNOW HOW!”

Silas laughed somewhere to her left.

“Excellent!”

Lysa fired again.

“Less talking!”

“Right!”

Another goblin rushed Neris.

This time she remembered the spear.

Point forward.

Distance.

The goblin saw the point and changed direction.

Neris blinked.

Oh.

That was why you did that.

She followed it with the spearhead, keeping it away.

It snarled.

Neris snarled back.

She hadn't intended to.

The goblin looked almost as surprised as she was.

Then Silas's knife struck it from the side.

It ran.

Not fell.

Ran.

Silas reached for another knife.

“Don't!”

He looked at Neris.

The goblin vanished into the trees.

Silas lowered his hand.

A horn sounded in the distance.

Lysa's head snapped up.

“More.”

Corren looked toward the sound.

“How many?”

A second horn answered.

Then a third.

Silas swore.

Lysa grabbed Corren's arm.

“We move.”

Corren hesitated.

“The cart—”

“We know they're here. That's enough.”

Neris looked toward where the goblin had fled.

Something was wrong.

Not with the goblin.

With the direction.

“Wait.”

Lysa turned.

Neris pointed.

“That way goes to the river.”

“So?”

“The river's high.”

Lysa's eyes narrowed.

Neris was already thinking.

“Not here. Farther east. The bank narrows near the old mill.”

Silas understood first.

“Crossing.”

“Yes.”

“Can we?”

Neris grinned despite herself.

“If you don't mind getting wet.”

Corren looked at the approaching woods.

“I have discovered a powerful new appreciation for water.”

They ran.

Neris knew where she was again.

That changed everything.

She took the lead.

Branches tore at her sleeves. Her pack bounced painfully against her shoulders. The shield seemed determined to hook every tree in the forest.

Behind them came whistles.

Calls.

Once, laughter.

Goblins.

A black-feathered arrow struck a tree beside Silas.

“Faster!”

“I am being pursued as fast as I can!”

Neris broke through the trees.

The river spread before them, brown and swollen.

Corren stared.

“That?”

“Yes!”

“You said we'd get wet!”

“We will!”

“We'll drown!”

Neris was already running downstream.

“Not here!”

They followed.

The old mill had been abandoned since before Neris was born. Only part of the stone foundation remained, jutting into the water.

And beside it—

“There!”

A rope stretched across the river.

Old.

Green with moss.

But intact.

Lysa stared.

“Why is there a rope?”

“Fishing!”

“That explains nothing!”

Neris grabbed it.

“Hold this. Face upstream. Sideways!”

Corren stared at the water.

“Neris.”

“Yes?”

“I am wearing mail.”

“Oh.”

Silas doubled over laughing.

“This is how he dies.”

“He is not dying!”

“I appreciate the confidence,” Corren said.

Lysa stepped into the water first.

It hit her thighs.

Then her waist.

The current shoved her sideways.

Neris grabbed her belt.

“I've got you.”

Lysa caught the rope.

Together they moved.

Corren followed.

Silas came last.

The goblins reached the bank as Neris stepped into the deepest section.

An arrow flew.

It struck the water.

Another struck her shield.

The impact twisted her around.

Her hand slipped.

For one horrifying instant there was nothing beneath her feet.

The river took her.

“Neris!”

A hand caught the back of her armor.

Corren.

His other hand clung to the rope.

The current dragged both of them sideways.

Lysa turned.

“Hold!”

“I AM!”

Silas grabbed Corren's belt.

For several seconds the entire party became a miserable chain of wet adventurers suspended from an old fishing rope.

Neris found her footing.

“I've got it!”

Corren hauled her upright.

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“You said that last time!”

“This time I mean it!”

They reached the far bank.

Lysa crawled onto the mud.

Silas rolled onto his back.

Corren simply sat in the shallows.

Neris collapsed beside him.

Across the river, goblins shouted.

One stepped into the water.

The current immediately knocked it down.

Its companions dragged it back.

Silas raised one hand.

“Ha.”

An arrow landed beside his head.

He lowered the hand.

They retreated into the trees.

For a while nobody spoke.

Then Corren began laughing.

Lysa looked at him.

“What?”

“I almost died crossing a river.”

“You almost died yesterday.”

“I've had a difficult week.”

Neris laughed.

Then Lysa did.

Silas tried not to.

Failed.

They stood there soaked to the skin, muddy, scratched, exhausted and laughing like idiots while goblins cursed them from the opposite bank.

Neris suddenly realized she was happy.

Terrified.

But happy.

Then Lysa's expression changed.

“What?”

The ranger was looking at Neris's arm.

Blood ran from beneath the leather.

“Oh.”

The arrow hadn't merely struck her shield.

It had cut her.

Neris touched the wound.

It hurt now that she'd noticed.

Corren stood.

“Sit.”

“It's little.”

“Sit.”

Neris sat.

Lysa knelt beside her.

“Let me see.”

Neris pulled the sleeve aside.

The cut wasn't deep.

She reached automatically for the cloth in her pack.

Then stopped.

All three of them noticed.

Neris looked at her hand.

Yesterday.

Warmth.

Corren dying.

Help him.

In the forest.

Corren turning too late.

Look out.

She touched two fingers to the cut.

Nothing happened.

Silas leaned forward.

Neris frowned.

“Don't stare.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm observing a religious experience.”

“Go away.”

He grinned.

Neris closed her eyes.

How had she done it?

She'd asked.

No.

She hadn't even really asked the second time.

She'd simply wanted Corren safe.

That was—

Oh.

Neris opened her eyes.

She looked at Lysa.

“Are you hurt?”

“What?”

“Anywhere.”

“No.”

“Silas?”

“My dignity.”

“That doesn't count.”

“I disagree.”

“Corren?”

“Fine.”

Neris looked at her own arm.

The answer arrived with embarrassing clarity.

She wasn't worried about herself.

The warmth didn't come.

Neris started laughing.

Lysa stared.

“What?”

“I think I'm bad at being holy.”

Silas nodded solemnly.

“I suspected.”

Neris threw the bloody cloth at him.

He caught it.

“That's disgusting.”

“You deserved it.”

Corren crouched beside her.

“Can you heal it?”

“I don't know.”

He looked concerned.

Neris smiled.

“It's all right. This one doesn't need magic.”

She cleaned it.

Wrapped it.

Tied the bandage with her teeth.

Silas watched her.

Something thoughtful entered his expression.

“So it only works when it's important?”

“I don't know.”

“When somebody's dying?”

“I don't know.”

“When your god feels like it?”

Neris looked at the shell around her neck.

“No.”

That answer came surprisingly easily.

Silas raised an eyebrow.

“You've known him for two weeks.”

“I don't think that's how it works.”

“How does it work?”

Neris opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Silas smiled.

“Excellent religion.”

“I told you I'm not a priest.”

“You have a holy symbol.”

“It's a shell.”

“You called it a holy symbol.”

“You asked what it was!”

Lysa interrupted.

“Children.”

They both looked at her.

She pointed upriver.

Smoke rose beyond the trees.

Not campfire smoke.

Too much.

Neris stood.

The laughter died.

They followed the river east.

Lysa found the trail again within minutes.

This time there were many tracks.

Goblins.

Boots.

Something dragged.

The tracks led toward the smoke.

They found the cart first.

Another one.

Burned.

The horse lay dead nearby.

Neris stopped.

Silas didn't.

He went immediately to the cart.

“Empty.”

Lysa crouched by the road.

“Not empty when they found it.”

Corren's hand tightened around his sword.

“Prisoners?”

Lysa pointed.

Human footprints.

Several.

Mixed among the goblins.

Neris felt cold.

“Alive?”

“When they walked from here.”

Silas looked toward the smoke.

“Well.”

Corren nodded.

No one suggested going home.

The goblin camp occupied the remains of an old charcoal burner's clearing.

Lysa found it before they saw it.

She made everyone crawl the last fifty feet.

Neris discovered that crawling in armor while carrying a shield was an experience she deeply disliked.

Then she looked through the bracken.

Goblins.

A lot.

Nine that she could see.

Maybe more.

A crude palisade surrounded half the clearing. A fire burned near the center. Two ragged tents stood beside a lean-to.

Three prisoners sat against a tree.

An older man.

A woman with blood down one side of her face.

A boy perhaps fourteen years old.

Their hands were bound.

Neris's fingers tightened around the grass.

“We have to get them.”

Corren whispered, “Yes.”

Silas glanced at him.

“That was disturbingly immediate.”

“Do you disagree?”

“No. I wanted to be the irresponsible one.”

Lysa studied the clearing.

“We can't fight all of them.”

Neris whispered, “Then don't.”

Three heads turned toward her.

She pointed toward the rear of the camp.

“What's that?”

A little stream ran behind the palisade.

Silas's eyes followed it.

Then he smiled.

“Oh.”

“What?” Corren asked.

Silas was already backing away.

“I can get in.”

Lysa caught his wrist.

“Alone?”

“That's generally how sneaking works.”

“No.”

“Lysa.”

“No.”

Neris looked between them.

Silas's humor disappeared.

“I can reach the prisoners.”

“And if you're seen?”

“Then Corren does something heroic and stupid.”

Corren nodded.

“I can do that.”

Lysa glared at both of them.

Neris touched her arm.

Lysa looked at her.

“What if we're ready?”

“For what?”

“When he gets them loose.”

Silas smiled.

“See? Priest likes me.”

“Not a priest.”

“Still counts.”

The plan was terrible.

They all agreed on that.

It was simply less terrible than the alternatives.

Silas disappeared into the stream.

Neris watched the place he'd been for several seconds.

“He really does do that.”

Corren whispered, “Annoying, isn't it?”

They circled around.

Lysa found a rise overlooking the camp.

Corren positioned himself near the trail.

Neris crouched beside him.

“You stay behind me.”

“You said that before.”

“It remains good advice.”

Neris adjusted her shield.

“I'm not helpless.”

“I know.”

She looked at him.

He smiled.

“That's why I'm asking instead of telling.”

Neris considered.

“All right.”

A goblin shouted.

Everything went wrong.

Silas appeared inside the camp beside the prisoners.

A goblin appeared behind Silas.

Silas stabbed it.

Another screamed.

Lysa's arrow flew.

Corren charged.

Neris stared.

“That was the plan?”

“No!”

She ran after him.

The camp erupted.

Lysa's arrows came down from the ridge.

One goblin fell.

Corren hit the opening in the palisade like a battering ram.

Neris followed.

A goblin came at her.

Shield.

Spear.

This time she didn't scream.

Well.

Not as much.

She caught its blade on the wood and thrust.

The spear struck.

The sensation traveled up the shaft.

Neris almost let go.

The goblin staggered back.

Corren finished it.

Another came from the side.

Neris saw it.

Corren didn't.

Again.

That strange certainty.

She pointed.

“Left!”

Warm light flashed around him.

Corren turned.

Blocked.

Struck.

Neris felt something inside herself shift.

Not diminish exactly.

Open.

Like a door she'd never known was there.

Across the camp, Silas cut the boy's bonds.

“RUN!”

The prisoners ran.

A goblin raised a bow.

It aimed at the woman.

Neris saw.

Too far.

She couldn't reach her.

“NO!”

The word tore out of her.

The goblin loosed.

Light blossomed around the woman.

The arrow twisted in flight.

It struck the ground.

Neris stared.

The woman stared.

The goblin stared.

Silas stared.

“What the hell was that?”

“I DON'T KNOW!”

“DO MORE OF IT!”

“I'M TRYING!”

A goblin slammed into Corren.

He fell.

Lysa screamed his name.

Neris's heart stopped.

Not again.

She reached him.

The goblin raised its blade.

Neris put herself between them.

Her shield came up.

The blade struck.

Pain exploded through her arm.

She held.

The goblin struck again.

The shield cracked.

Neris screamed through clenched teeth.

Then Corren's sword came from beneath her arm.

The goblin dropped.

Corren rolled upright.

“You all right?”

“My arm hurts!”

“You're doing great!”

“THANK YOU!”

An arrow took another goblin in the shoulder.

Lysa came down the hill.

The fight changed.

The prisoners were clear.

Three goblins were dead.

Two fled.

Another threw down its weapon.

Corren raised his sword.

The goblin cowered.

He stopped.

Neris was breathing hard beside him.

The goblin looked from the sword to Neris.

Neris looked at Corren.

Corren lowered the blade.

“Go.”

The goblin didn't understand.

Silas appeared.

“Run.”

That it understood.

It ran.

No one followed.

Silence settled over the clearing.

Neris could hear her own breathing.

Then crying.

The boy.

He stood near the stream with the older man and woman.

Alive.

All three.

Neris lowered her spear.

Her hands started shaking.

She dropped it.

Lysa reached Corren first.

She seized his face in both hands.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Take off the armor.”

“Lysa—”

“Take it off.”

Corren looked toward Neris.

Neris raised both hands.

“I am staying out of this.”

“Coward.”

“Yes.”

Silas was wiping his knife.

“You did put her through a lot yesterday.”

“Thank you, Silas.”

“You're welcome.”

Lysa hugged Corren.

Hard.

He wrapped his arms around her.

Silas looked away.

Neris smiled.

Then she heard a whimper.

The woman prisoner had sunk to the ground.

Neris ran.

Her wound was worse than it had looked.

Not immediately fatal.

But bad.

Neris knelt.

“Hello.”

The woman looked at her.

“I'm Neris.”

“I know.”

Neris blinked.

“You do?”

“You've said your name several times.”

“Oh.”

The woman laughed weakly.

Neris smiled.

“Good. Laughing is good.”

“Is it?”

“I've decided.”

She examined the wound.

Her hands knew what to do.

Clean it.

Pressure.

Cloth.

But something else was there now.

Waiting.

Neris placed her palm over the injury.

She didn't pray.

She didn't invoke a name.

She simply looked at this frightened stranger and thought:

Please.

Warmth answered.

Light slipped between her fingers.

The woman's breath caught.

The wound closed.

Not entirely.

Enough.

Neris sat back.

Everyone was staring again.

She looked down at the shell hanging against her chest.

Silas was the first to speak.

“Your god is useful.”

Neris smiled.

“He's kind.”

Something flickered across his face.

Gone immediately.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it's true.”

“You don't know him.”

Neris tilted her head.

“I know what he did.”

Silas looked away.

Neris watched him.

There it was again.

That tiny tug of familiarity.

She couldn't place it.

Then the boy hugged her.

Neris squeaked.

His arms locked around her neck.

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

She hugged him back.

“That's all right.”

His shoulders shook.

Neris held him tighter.

Across the clearing, Silas stared.

Something in his expression changed.

He remembered sunlight.

A market.

A ring lying in his palm.

He remembered taking it almost without thinking.

Remembered the thrill of the lift.

Then the disappointment.

Silver.

Seven gold if he was lucky.

He remembered the beggar sitting beside the fountain.

An old woman, perhaps.

No.

A man.

He couldn't remember.

He remembered the hand.

Dirty fingernails.

The astonishment when Silas dropped the ring into it.

He remembered walking away before gratitude could become conversation.

He had forgotten the face of the person he'd stolen it from before sunset.

Now he looked at Neris.

Blue skin.

Blue hair.

Those enormous eyes.

No.

Surely not.

He looked at the shell.

At the crooked ring painted on her shield.

Silas felt suddenly ill.

“Silas?”

He looked up.

Neris smiled at him.

“You all right?”

“Fine.”

“You look strange.”

“I always look strange.”

“That is true.”

“Thank you.”

She grinned.

The moment passed.

By late afternoon, they found what the goblins had stolen.

Food.

Tools.

Blankets.

Two purses.

A crate of lamp oil.

Three silver candlesticks from somewhere.

And, to Silas's enormous relief, no silver ring.

The prisoners came from a hamlet several miles east. The goblins had attacked their wagon the previous morning. Others had escaped.

There were no other captives.

No great goblin king.

No ancient evil.

No artifact.

No prophecy.

Just frightened people preying on other frightened people along a road because they thought they could.

It was, Neris decided, quite enough evil for one day.

They camped beside the river rather than risk the road after dark.

Mara's seven days of food became dinner for seven people.

Neris tried to object.

Nobody listened.

The rescued boy ate two portions.

Neris quietly gave him half of hers.

Silas noticed.

He said nothing.

Corren sat beside Lysa, shoulder against hers.

She had finally stopped checking his side every five minutes.

Now she checked every ten.

Neris sat across the fire repairing a strap on her shield.

The painted ring had acquired a deep scratch.

She frowned at it.

“Battle damage,” Corren said.

“Tellen is going to kill me.”

“You survived goblins.”

“Tellen is nine.”

“Ah.”

Silas lay back against his pack.

“So.”

Neris looked up.

“So?”

“You're an adventurer now.”

She considered.

“I don't think that's how it works.”

“You fought goblins.”

“Yes.”

“Rescued prisoners.”

“Yes.”

“Performed miracles.”

Neris frowned.

“Maybe.”

“You crossed a raging river under arrow fire.”

“It wasn't raging.”

“Neris.”

“It was somewhat cross.”

Lysa laughed into Corren's shoulder.

Silas pointed at Neris.

“Adventurer.”

Neris looked down at herself.

Old leather.

Mud.

Blood.

A bandage around her arm.

Fishing spear lying within reach.

A wooden shield painted by a child.

A shell around her neck.

She thought of the Gull and Lantern.

Of Mara.

Bren.

The docks.

Her boat.

Tomorrow's tide.

It felt impossible that all of that still existed.

It felt impossible that this morning she had walked away from it.

“Do adventurers always feel this tired?”

“Yes,” said all three.

Neris sighed.

“Then maybe.”

Silas smiled.

Corren poked the fire.

“We make a decent group.”

“We nearly died twice,” Lysa said.

“Once.”

“Twice.”

“When was the second?”

“The river.”

“That doesn't count.”

Neris raised her hand.

“It counts.”

“Traitor.”

Silas pointed around the fire.

“Big shield.”

Corren nodded.

“Bow.”

Lysa raised an eyebrow.

“Knives.”

Silas flourished one.

Then he pointed at Neris.

“Magic.”

Neris looked offended.

“I have a spear.”

Everyone looked at the fishing spear.

Then at her.

“What?”

Lysa smiled.

“Nothing.”

“It worked!”

“It did.”

“I stabbed one!”

“You did.”

Neris narrowed her eyes.

Corren's face remained impressively serious.

She picked up the spear.

“I'm going to bed.”

Silas watched her stand.

“Where?”

Neris looked around.

They had three bedrolls.

Four adventurers.

She looked at Silas.

He immediately clutched his.

“No.”

“You have a cloak.”

“So do you.”

“Mine's wet.”

“So is mine.”

“You owe me.”

Silas went very still.

Neris meant the fight.

Of course she meant the fight.

He stared at her.

Neris stared back.

“Why are you doing that again?”

“Doing what?”

“Looking like you've swallowed a hook.”

Lysa was watching him now.

Silas stood.

“I'm taking first watch.”

Corren frowned.

“You took last watch yesterday.”

“I've discovered a passion for vigilance.”

He walked away.

Neris watched him go.

“Is he all right?”

“No,” said Lysa.

“Yes,” said Corren.

They looked at each other.

Neris smiled.

“I like him.”

Lysa groaned.

“Don't encourage him.”

Later, with Corren asleep and Lysa curled beside him, Neris woke.

The fire had burned low.

Silas sat beyond it.

He had something in his hands.

A coin, perhaps.

No.

Just a knife turning idly between his fingers.

Neris sat up.

“You're still awake.”

He glanced back.

“So are you.”

“You were supposed to wake Corren.”

“He needs sleep.”

Neris looked at the fighter.

Even asleep, one arm rested around Lysa.

“He does.”

Silas turned the knife.

Neris crawled out of her blanket.

She sat beside him.

For a while they listened to the river.

“You really believe it?” he asked.

“What?”

“The thief.”

Neris smiled.

“Yes.”

“Because he gave away one ring.”

“It wasn't one ring.”

Silas looked at her.

“It was.”

“No.”

“It literally was.”

Neris tucked her knees beneath her chin.

“It was mine.”

Silas looked back toward the river.

“My last silver.”

“I heard.”

“I was furious.”

That surprised him.

“You don't sound furious when you tell it.”

“I was.”

“You built him a shrine.”

“Afterward.”

Silas snorted.

Neris nudged him with her shoulder.

“He stole from me. That was wrong.”

“Very.”

“He gave it away.”

“Also stupid.”

“Kind.”

Silas's jaw tightened.

“You don't know why.”

“No.”

“What if he felt guilty?”

“Then he felt guilty.”

“What if he just didn't want it?”

“Then he didn't want it.”

“What if he had plenty of money?”

“Did he?”

Silas glanced at her.

Neris's eyes were bright in the firelight.

Not suspicious.

Curious.

He looked away.

“Hypothetically.”

Neris smiled.

“Then he had plenty of money.”

“You don't know anything about him.”

“I don't need to.”

Silas laughed once.

“That's convenient.”

Neris was quiet.

Then she pointed toward Corren.

“You saved him today.”

Silas frowned.

“When?”

“At the river.”

“I grabbed his belt.”

“Yes.”

“That isn't—”

“You could have let go.”

Silas stared at her.

“You would have gone down too.”

“Probably.”

“So I grabbed him.”

“Yes.”

“That's not holy.”

Neris smiled.

“Why not?”

“Because that's just what you do.”

Something in her expression changed.

Not triumph.

Recognition.

“That,” she whispered, “is exactly what I mean.”

Silas looked at her.

The river moved in the darkness.

He thought of a silver ring dropping from his fingers into someone else's palm.

No thunder.

No revelation.

No reason worth remembering.

Just something he'd done.

Neris stood.

“Wake Corren.”

“Yes, priest.”

She made a face at him.

“Not a priest.”

“Founder?”

“Neris.”

“Prophet?”

She picked up a pinecone.

He raised both hands.

“All right.”

She threw it anyway.

He caught it.

Neris went back to her blanket.

Silas sat alone for another minute.

Then two.

Finally he stood and crossed to Corren.

He nudged the fighter's boot.

Corren opened one eye.

“My watch?”

“Yeah.”

Corren carefully disentangled himself from Lysa.

Silas handed him the blanket.

Corren frowned.

“You're giving me your blanket?”

“Don't make it weird.”

“You've never voluntarily given me anything.”

“I've given you lots of things.”

“You gave me a stolen belt.”

“It was a good belt.”

Corren smiled.

Silas didn't.

That caught his attention.

“You all right?”

Silas looked across the dying fire.

Neris was already asleep.

One hand rested near the shell at her throat.

Her battered shield lay beside her, crooked silver ring facing upward.

“Yeah.”

Corren waited.

Silas exhaled.

“Do you remember that market two weeks ago?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He walked away.

Corren stared after him.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Lysa, apparently awake after all, murmured from beneath her blanket.

“It's Silas.”

“Fair.”

Morning came cold and clear.

The rescued travelers took the safer road east.

Four people turned west.

Toward home.

Neris walked between Lysa and Silas. Corren led for a while until Lysa informed him that he was going the wrong way.

He disputed this.

Neris sided with Lysa.

Silas sided with Corren purely to make matters worse.

Eventually Neris took the lead.

By noon, the sea appeared between the hills.

She smelled salt.

Her pace quickened.

Then the rooftops appeared.

Someone on the watch platform saw them.

A bell rang.

Neris stopped.

“Oh, no.”

Corren looked alarmed.

“What?”

“They've seen us.”

“Isn't that good?”

“You don't understand.”

Children appeared first.

Tellen was among them.

He sprinted down the road.

“Neris!”

Neris barely had time to brace before he hit her.

She laughed and caught him.

Others followed.

Bren.

Mara.

Fishermen.

Neighbors.

Half the town, apparently.

Mara shoved through them.

She looked Neris up and down.

Mud.

Blood.

Bandage.

Cracked shield.

Her eyes narrowed.

Neris smiled weakly.

“Hello.”

Mara hugged her so hard her feet nearly left the ground.

“You're hurt.”

“Little bit.”

“I told you.”

“I came back.”

Mara released her.

She looked at the other three.

Corren raised a hand.

“She was very helpful.”

Lysa said, “She saved people.”

Silas looked at Neris.

For once there was no joke waiting.

“She was.”

Mara's expression softened.

Tellen had discovered the shield.

“My ring!”

“I'm sorry.”

“You scratched it!”

“There were goblins!”

“You let goblins scratch my holy symbol?”

Neris stared at him.

“Your what?”

“The holy symbol.”

“The shell is the holy symbol.”

Tellen frowned.

“Why can't there be two?”

Neris opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Around them, townspeople were already listening.

Silas began to smile.

Neris pointed at him.

“Don't.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I would never interfere in matters of theology.”

“You called me a prophet last night.”

Someone nearby gasped.

Neris's eyes widened.

“No.”

Another person whispered, “Prophet?”

“No!”

Silas backed away.

Neris advanced.

“Silas.”

“I think Corren needs me.”

“I do not.”

“Lysa?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Cowards.”

Neris chased him halfway to the tavern.

The town followed.

By evening there were four new candles behind the Gull and Lantern.

One for each adventurer.

Someone left a tiny wooden shield beside Neris's shell.

Someone else left an arrow.

A child stuck a little wooden knife into the driftwood.

Neris added a piece of fishing line.

Nobody agreed what any of it meant.

That didn't stop anyone.

And much later, after food and retellings and increasingly inaccurate descriptions of the goblin fight, Silas slipped outside alone.

He stood before the little shrine.

The shell gleamed in the candlelight.

Bread.

Water.

String.

Four candles.

A crude ring.

He looked over his shoulder.

Nobody.

For once, absolutely nobody.

Silas reached into his purse.

He took out a silver piece.

He stared at it.

“Don't.”

He whispered the word to himself.

He could almost hear Neris.

Blessed is the one who says stop and then keeps walking on.

“Oh, shut up.”

He put the silver back.

Then frowned.

Slowly, Silas took the coin out again.

He left it beside the bread.

“That's for the kid's shield,” he muttered.

Nothing happened.

No light.

No warmth.

No voice from heaven.

Of course not.

Silas turned away.

Behind him, one of the candles guttered in the sea breeze.

Its flame should have gone out.

It didn't.

Silas never saw.

Neither did Neris.

And perhaps that was the point.