She stopped, and Regdar thought she might be crying.
“We should get some sleep,” Regdar said, waving his hand over the last fire, which had caught nicely. “I’ll take first watch. Naull, please relieve me in a few hours.”
Naull was tired, but she hadn’t slept. Eventually, she just couldn’t pretend anymore and sat up. Regdar barely spoke to her, he just curled up in his bedroll, looking a bit odd without his armor on. He was asleep in seconds.
She tended the fires and scanned the darkness around them for signs of movement. She kept her spells in mind, ready for anything, and was surprised to find that she wasn’t the slightest bit afraid. There might be giant spiders out there, or worse, but she was almost deliriously happy. She was out. She was doing it. Like Lidda, she was an adventurer. The word was like medicine to her. Adventurer.
She knew the instant she heard the sound of gravel shifting that it was a spider. She looked up and over at where the sound had come from and saw nothing in the firelight. Taking up her staff, she listened for a long time before she heard the sound again. It came from a bit farther away and to the left.
Naull reached down and touched Regdar on the shoulder, then yelped when the huge fighter sat bolt upright. By the time Naull realized Regdar was awake, he had tossed off his bedroll and reached for the shield that he’d been carrying on his back. Naull recognized the spindly red dragon painted on the shield as the sigil of the Duke of Koratia.
“Regdar—” Naull started, but he held out a hand to quiet her.
She heard the sound again, a bit to the right this time, then again almost immediately and from much farther to the left.
Lidda snored loudly and turned over in her sleep. Regdar bent and picked up a short bow. He slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder just as Jozan sat up, a crossbow already in his hands. Naull was amazed at how well armed these people were. Regdar nocked an arrow and lifted the bow. Jozan did the same, sliding up to his feet. Lidda was still breathing regularly, letting loose the odd dainty snore.
Naull brought a spell to mind that would launch a bolt of magical energy at a spider, one that would never miss its target, but she’d have to be able to see the spider to make it work.
She stood slowly, her hands on her staff but still ready to cast the spell, then something burst out of the darkness. She jumped away as something clattered to the ground next to her. Regdar let loose his arrow, and it streaked out into the darkness. There was a loud scuffling of feet in the shadows, coming from several directions at once.
She looked down and saw that what had come out of the woods was a straight wooden pole about four feet long, carved and burned to a sharp point on one end—a crude javelin.
“It’s not the spiders,” she said.
Lidda snored again, and Regdar nocked another arrow, scanning the darkness but obviously not seeing anything.
“Are those people out there?” Naull asked, looking at the javelin then at Regdar. “What do we do?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he fired another arrow into the darkness. Naull thought she heard it pass through tree branches.
“Regdar,” she whispered. “What do we do?”
He glanced over at her as he nocked another arrow, and a cold chill ran down Naull’s spine at the look on his face. He didn’t know.
Another javelin came out of the darkness and spanked off Regdar’s shield. The big man cursed. Naull realized all at once that they were standing in the middle of a ring of campfires. Whoever—or whatever—was out there could see them.
“Regdar, wait!” she gasped, grabbing his arm just as he began to draw his bow back again. He looked at her and she said, “We can’t see them, but they can see us.”
She touched the arrow lightly and nodded to him. He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. The look in his eyes was a mixture of curiosity and impatience. He was going to trust her but not for long.
With her staff leaning against her body, she started to chant the words of the spell as she fished in her pouches for the proper material component. She had to look through more than one and had almost completed the incantation when she found the right pouch and pulled out a dead butterfly, pinched between two fingers. The dried insect disappeared almost before she’d gotten it completely out of her pocket, and she spoke the last word of the spell.
The arrow blazed with a bright, almost blinding yellow light, and Naull said, “Shoot it!”
Regdar pulled back the bowstring and let loose. Naull squinted up at him and saw that his eyes were closed. The magically illuminated arrow shot out into the darkness, lighting a patch of the world as it went. Naull saw the trees, the ground, the stones all around in vivid, colorful detail—then there were new sounds.
Something grunted, growled, there was a sound that might have been a yelp, and Naull saw a shadow running through the trees. It was just the black outline of a person, a little person no taller than Lidda but more stoutly built. It was running from the light.
The arrow landed in the underbrush, and they all watched, listening, for the ten minutes it took for the light to flicker, then go out. There were no more footsteps and no more javelins.
Lidda yawned, and Naull looked over and saw the halfling sit up slowly. She looked around, squinting, and asked, “What… my turn to be the lookout or something?”
Everyone stared at her.
Lidda looked back at them and said, “What?”
6
“Small humanoids,” Regdar said, standing slowly from where he’d been crouching and examining the ground. “Goblins, maybe… or halflings.”
Lidda snored loudly, a response that elicited a giggle from Naull and a scowl from Jozan. Regdar blushed, glancing at Naull as Jozan began to stalk back to the campsite, no doubt to rouse the halfling, who had been sleeping for at least an hour after the others had risen with the dawn. As Jozan passed Regdar, he stopped, looking down.
“Regdar,” the priest said, “are you wounded?”
The big fighter looked down at his boot. It was crusted with blood that had been drying around the makeshift bandage he’d tied while the others slept.
“It’s fine,” he said.
Jozan sighed impatiently and squatted next to Regdar. “Was this a spider that bit you?” he asked. Not waiting for an answer, the priest added, “Take your boot off.”
Regdar opened his mouth to tell the priest again that he was fine but ended up taking off his boot.
“For Pelor’s sake, Regdar…” Jozan grumbled.
“Those spiders could be poisonous,” Naull said, squinting at the wound from over Jozan’s shoulder.
Regdar felt foolish and avoided looking at Naull.
“She’s right,” Jozan said, poking at the wound with one finger. “Still, I don’t see any sign of poisoning or infection.”
“Very well, then,” Regdar said. “I’m fine, and we haven’t even begun to explore the—”
He stopped when a rush of warmth enveloped his leg and the throbbing pain that he’d grown accustomed to was suddenly gone. Jozan was kneeling, with his head bowed, whispering something Regdar couldn’t hear. A dim golden light radiated from his hands, then faded just as Regdar realized what was happening. Jozan had called upon the power of Pelor to heal him.
The priest stood, nodded once at Regdar, then walked back toward their campsite. Naull was still looking at his leg.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
“Fine,” Regdar answered. He looked down at his leg and saw not the slightest trace of a wound.
The captured goblins stood in the center of the deep pit, keeping close together. Tzrg sat squeezed together with a line of his fellow Stonedeep goblins. Rezrex and his hobgoblins sat on the higher ledge above them, swilling the bitter fungus beer and laughing heartily at the goblins in the pit.