Lera conceded.

She sunk back on her haunches, absolutely spent. She had been too slow to act. Too slow to save her...friend? She wasn’t certain about their relationship. Too much had happened over the last fortnight.

Her gaze fell upon the face, still twisted in agony. Despite the exhaustion, the emotion welled up within her. Her tears began to flow. She wept.

Earlier, the day had dawned magnificently. The sun rose above the rocky hills to the east casting its golden rays out across the world.

Lera looked out across the broad moorland, at the clouds blowing in from the south-west. The light caught their leading edges, highlighting them in shades of amber and vermilion. The wind gusted, bearing with it the delicate tang of the sea, but also the smell of rain.

They rested amongst the jagged boulders on the windward side of the hill, each sitting alone (too tired for companionship or speech). They ate, almost finishing off what little remained of the food they had salvaged. It would lighten their load, Ifonsa had told them.

Lera sensed Fahesha move up to stand beside her. The little woman watched the approaching storm front for a moment, then uttered a simple, “Heh,” It summed up the situation perfectly, Lera thought.

Just before departing they filled their water skins, and whatever else could be used as a receptacle, from a spring. Cold, clean water bubbled from the side of the a large, jagged rock, into a small pool that had formed in the rock beneath it.

“We are heading to the north-west,” Ifonsa told them. “There may not be another opportunity to find fresh water amongst the swamps and marshes beyond.”

They left the hills behind, instead moving down onto the heath. Ahead jutting from amongst the heather, there was a wide expanse of off-white flowering plants. As they skirted around the patch, Lera could see that each of the flowers were almost spiny in appearance, like a lop-sided brush. The bristles a pale yellow and white.

“What flowers are these?” Lera asked.

“Cottongrass,” Ifonsa said.

“I didn’t know cotton grew wild in the swamp.”

“It doesn’t. It looks similar when it flowers, but as far as I know its useless for making thread. That doesn’t stop people from wading out to collect a sackful in the hope of easy money. If the bogs don’t get them, then the snakes usually do.” Ifonsa paused then added, “Some of the older wardens eat it. The leaves and roots can be infused.”

“To what effect?”

“To settle the stomach.”

“A moment, please,” Lera said as she moved towards the cottongrass field.

“Careful,” Ifonsa warned. “There is bog nearby.”

Heedless of the warning, Lera strode in amongst the plants. She soon found some to her liking, and tugged on the stem of the plant. The cottongrass came away easily from the soil, She quickly gathered several more plants then rejoined the group.

“What do you hope to do with those?” Tegalie asked.

“Settle my belly,” Lera told her. “And yours too, when the time comes.”

Tegalie held Lera’s eye for a moment. Then nodded, as she finally understood.

“There is a moss that can be found in Thelna Moor,” Ifonsa said coming to join the two of them. “It will need to be dried, but it is very absorbent. I will find some, if I can.”

“You believe that will be necessary?” Tegalie asked, fearfully.

“I had only a taste of the foul mix the creature poured upon you.” Lera said, “I would not wish my experience upon anyone. I will brew what I can when we find fire. These will help,” she said holding up the plants.

“How can you be so certain?” Tegalie asked.

“The full moon falls this night. We would not have been forced this way without purpose,” Lera answered. She noticed that Ifonsa was smirking at her, “What?”

“You’re not the same Lera that left Milardus,” Ifonsa said, grinning.

“This fortnight has been testing.”

“You passed, Holy Mother,” Ifonsa said. She bowed her head, but the mocking smile remained.

“You’ll have me believing like Ganthe.”

“It was you that broached us as The Chosen first.”

“That was a long time ago.” Lera said, “It will matter little if we fail here.”

“We will not fail,” Ifonsa told her.

Falduin joined them, “What are you three talking about?”

“Secret women’s business,” Ifonsa snapped.

All three women gave Falduin a look that left him in no doubt that he had intruded. Ifonsa stepped passed him, heading back to the front of their procession. Lera and Tegalie soon resumed their places as well, leaving Falduin standing by himself.

The storm broke over them soon after, bringing with it harsh rain and raging cold wind. It soaked them to the core, almost freezing their very bones. Yet still they plodded onwards. They had no other choice. Moving was all that kept them warm.

They sloughed over grasses and amongst heather, the rain threatening to turn the dirt to a slick sludge. Sometimes they had no other choice but to trudge through the thick mud shrouded in reeds and rushes that bordered the waterways. Yet only once did they spot an actual river. A break in the showers allowed them to see a brown ribbon in the far distance. However the water’s presence remained ever with them, and a myriad of life too.

Moorfowl wandered freely, even in the rain, and between downpours they spotted blue hawks returning from their winter havens, and pigeon hawks too. Snakes and lizards lurked in the rushes, seeking unwary prey, but none ventured near the group, and Ifonsa kept them well away from their lairs. While they saw movement within the grass and reeds they spied no rats, especially no dog-sized ones.

Soon after midday, Lera’s side began to ache. Ifonsa’s people had tended to her wound well enough (and crudely repaired her armour), but the journey after leaving the smashed boats had taken a harsh toll.

She struggled to breath without pain, especially as they journeyed up hills, but she tried not to show her discomfort. Fortunately only Falduin seemed to notice. He assisted her whenever she needed help, even if was just with a kind word and a helping hand.

Eventually near the end of that day, with the storm passed, they at last found trees sprinkled across the grassland. Thin and wispy (a type of dogwood, Lera guessed) they appeared, more like saplings than full grown. Ifonsa retrieved a staff-like branch from beneath one and used it to smack the ground loudly as she walked.

“It might drive off any snakes that lie in our path,” she explained.

“Might it also alert any trolls or fae?” Lera asked.

“Yes. But they are unlikely to menace us until nightfall.”

“Which is only a few hours away, at most.”

“We will be in The Ardúnfær by then. Trolls especially are wary of fire.”

Soon after, the trees thickened, both physically and in number. A dense growth of shrubs and bushes filled the spaces between them.

As they pushed through the crowded mass of vegetation, they began to smell a distinct odour, rotting vegetation coupled with aroma of eggs that have gone bad. During their journey across Thelna Moor, they had encountered many places that had a foul miasma, but none were so repulsive nor pervasive. Fahesha drew her coverings across her face again, but that did not help in the slightest.

They began to hear water lapping against the shore ahead, and soon between the brush they spotted a wide expanse of water, highlighted in gold as though the light had been caught within a mist. However, it wasn’t until they stumbled right up to the water’s edge that they saw desolation on the far side.

The setting sun made it difficult to discern details, but the shore was barren and blacken as though ravaged by many fires. Here and there, the charred stumps of trees, broken and bent looking like enormous crowsfeet, littered the area, some erupting from the water itself .

Behind these ornaments, a rise, covered with low weeds, continued at a gentle angle. It stretched back as far as they could see, leading to a featureless plain.

“That is The Ardúnfær.” Ifonsa stated.

“It looks pleasant,” Falduin commented.

“How are we supposed to cross?” Heric asked.

“The water is only shallow We can wade.”

“And Fahesha?” Tegalie asked.

Ifonsa just shrugged.

It was decided that Fahesha would go first. She would ride on Heric’s shoulders, and laden with as much as they both could carry. Ifonsa would walk with them, and then she and Heric would return to assist the others, while Fahesha waited.

Fahesha chuckled as she taunted Tegalie, “Me ride your boy first.”

“Don’t break him too much,” Tegalie said, which elicited even more mirth from the little goblin woman.

The sun had fallen very low before they were ready to wade across. Fahesha rode atop Heric’s shoulders, like a young child receiving a shoulder ride from her father. Yet both of them were burdened with packs, sacks and anything else that could be attached to them. Even Heric’s sword was strapped to him, to free up his arms. They didn’t have time for many trips, and needed to get as many of their belongings across the water as possible.

Ifonsa led them out, finding a path amongst the detritus. She glided rather than walked, sliding her feet across the waterbed. They continued out until the water reached Heric’s chest. Ifonsa was almost the same height so that posed no problems, but the water level would almost be up to the necks of Lera, Ganthe and Falduin. Even Tegalie would be mostly immersed.

That could prove a major obstacle. They were already cold, and shivered on the bank watching the three progress wrapped in their sodden cloaks. They risked cramp and worse.

Near the far bank, the waders encounter a problem. Hidden beneath the water, logs, branches, and the unseen stumps of broken trees lurked. Laden as they were, Heric could not hope to negotiate his way through them without great risk. They would need to find another route to the shore.

The sun disappeared below the rise, as they searched. That must have been the sign the insects waited for. Great clouds of them appeared from nowhere to pester (and sometimes bite) both the waders and those waiting on the bank. Even from this far away, Fahesha’s voice rang out across the water as she cursed the midges, mosquitoes and other flying things that tormented her.

Finally, Ifonsa found a clear route to shore, and they lumbered up through the mud to reach dry land on the far side. After depositing Fahesha and the gear on the bank, both sat. Heric lied back. Meanwhile Fahesha busied herself, drawing the kit further up the rise away from the water.

“I can barely see them.” Falduin said. He squinted, trying to pierce the shadowy far shore. “Why are they just waiting there?”

“They’re exhausted,” Lera said.

“Everyone is exhausted.”

“You wait until you have to wade across.”

“Swim,” Falduin corrected her. “I can’t by the way.”

“Neither can I,” Tegalie admitted.

“Then we can drown together,”

“I can swim,” Ganthe said. “I can help both of you.”

After a long wait, Lera stared across the water. “Can you still see them?” she asked. Only the palest golden glow leaked from beyond the rise, the last remnants of the evening twilight.

“This water has a foul reek about it,” Tegalie said abruptly. “And I’m not talking about the smell,” she added before Falduin could quip.

“What do you mean?” Lera asked.

Tegalie thought for a moment, peering across towards the far shore, “Death,” she said finally.

“Death?” Falduin asked.

“I sense death. That’s the only way I can explain it.”

“Whose?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps all of us. If the goblins were to attack us now....” Tegalie allowed the thought to linger.

Crack. A branch snapping.

As one all four of them drew their weapons.

Someone...or someone was moving toward them, creeping through the underbrush.

Drawing nearer.