“Many great and terrible gods rule over our mortal world. The Illyrians worship the Twin Suns, who shelters them from harm in their divine light. Goblins, Orcs and other nocturnal creatures venerate the Black Moon.”

Chapter 35

Wil held a hand up to protect his face from the stinging snow. The wind was howling and relentless. The heavy rain that Bell had been cursing on had changed to a heavy snow and was combined with a harsh drop in temperature.

The muddy road that had been causing them days of grief thankfully hardened as the ground turned rocky, just as Bell had said it would. The wagons made good time, despite the steep slopes and strong winds.

When the rain had first been replaced by the gently falling snow, large flakes lazily falling downward, he had been thankful. Growing up in the south, he hadn’t experienced the full breadth of winter. A light dusting at times would be the most he would ever see.

Bell recommended they not stop for the evening. They should push on towards Grand Falls, a large town that was about a day’s travel away. It was a walled settlement that was the trade hub for the surrounding villages.

Bell had argued that if they stop to rest, the delay will cause the storm to catch up them while they slept and the roads may become impassible.

Wil was shocked at how quickly the weather had turned. The wind picked up and the large snowflakes turned sharp and biting. The world was completely white, he could hardly see the other wagons in front of him.

Bell had experienced this before while traveling in the north and had provided ropes to the riders and wagons. Long lengths connected them and prevented anyone from getting lost.

At first, Wil had scoffed at the idea that he wouldn’t be able to see a large caravan of wagons. But after the storm truly picked up, he was once again thankful for the other man’s insight and experience.

His face freezing despite the thick hood he was wearing. Wil repeatedly cast a small heating spell on his cloak until it radiated heat. The spell would provide some small relief for a short period of time, but a gust of wind would soon carry the heat away and Wil would be forced to recast the spell.

The group traveled, fighting the wind and snow for hours. The world around them consisting of the tracks in the snow in front of them, briefly visible before the wind swept them away. Wil kept his head down, cloak pulled tightly shut, and focused on leading his horse onward.

The southern bred horse was unaccustomed to the snow as well. She was as miserable as Wil. She plodded along unhappily, head down and occasionally shaking her head to remove the snow from her mane.

Wil, in an effort to cheer himself, had named the horse ‘Snowflake’.

He had never learned the horse’s original name. No one had told him when he had taken her from his father’s stables.

The mare, to Wil’s imagination, didn’t like the name and would snort and shake her head when he called her by it. This only urged him on, and he was soon making up silly little rhymes about her. Bell joined in and soon they were both coming up with more ridiculous songs about his horse.

“Snowflake, Snowflake, it makes my heart ache. How you hate the snow, when it is yellow.” He sang, offkey and terrible, before Quentin hit him with a chunk of snow she had pulled from the top of her carriage.

The path the caravan traveled on descended once again, into a deep valley. The path hugged high cliffs on one side, with a deep evergreen forest on the other. The ever-present wind died down, and the snow drifted gently once more.

For the first time in over a day, Wil could hear clearly again. The constant whistling wind replaced by an almost eerie silence. It was broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the sound of horse hooves. It was as if they traveled in a bubble, the storm could be seen, violent and unending overhead, but couldn’t reach them in the sheltered basin.

Wil saw the wagon ahead of him slow to a stop. Curious, he dropped the rope connecting them and rode his horse pass to reach Bell, who was leading the group from the front. Wil assumed that they would be resting the horses here, protected from the wind.

Bell sat atop his horse, speaking to Quentin who had just exited her carriage. She was bundled tightly in heavy fur robes against the cold.

Wil approached and they stopped their conversation when they saw him.

“Are we resting here for a while?” Wil asked, glad that he could finally be heard without shouting over the wind.

“No. Bell’s convinced there’s trouble ahead. He claims to have seen a fire in the distance, although only the Heaven’s know how he would manage that in this weather.” Quentin scoffed at Bell, pointing into the white void ahead.

Wil squinted his eyes, trying to spot anything up front. The heavily falling snow wasn’t blowing strongly with the absence of wind, but it still obscured everything. He could only see the cliff wall to his right, a line of dark trees to his left, and a snow-covered road that led into whiteness after ten paces or so.

Wil looked doubtfully at Bell. He didn’t think anyone could spot a wagon twenty paces ahead, let alone a fire a couple hundred feet away. But Bell had proven himself correct in the past, and Wil learned to trust what he said.

“What do we do?” Wil asked Bell, supporting the other man.

Bell nodded gratefully, before turning to Quentin. “We’ll take ten crossbows ahead, the rest will stay here to guard the wagons. Stay in the carriage.”

Bell said to Quentin, before turning and gathering the guards together in a group. He selected ten men and women and had them carry crossbows, with bolts notched, while he ordered the rest to stay with the caravan. The remaining guards readied their crossbows and swords in case they were needed.

Wil dismounted and left his horse with Quentin. “Take care of Snowflake for me.” He said as he handed her his reins. She snorted at the ridiculous name, gently patting the horse.

One of the guards tried to hand Wil a crossbow, which he waved off. “I don’t know how to use it, I’m likely to shoot myself in the foot.”

Wil left his packs with Snowflake, only taking his spell component pouch and sword. Bell and the others started to walk up the path in a close group. Bell didn’t want anyone wandering off and getting lost, so he ordered them to stick together.

Wil walked beside Bell, who was carrying a large crossbow, along with a sword on his hip and shield slung across his back.

The path was covered in knee height snow, a flat and unbroken layer of white that looked to have not been traveled on recently. They walked for about a hundred feet away from the caravan, the heavily falling snow completely obscuring the wagons behind them. The surrounding white void left them feeling isolated.

Wil looked behind them, but he couldn’t see a single sign of their caravan. He turned to Bell with a doubtful look on his face. “I know what I saw, lad.” Bell said quietly, hefting the crossbow and leading the group into the swirling snowfall.

They had only walked for a few minutes when Bell stopped, pointing at the ground. A line of tracks, made by wagon wheels, were visible in a small patch of snow. A trick of the wind had left this set of tracks untouched.

Wil nodded at Bell, finally believing what the other man saw. Wil drew his sword, as the rest of the guards hoisted their crossbows, having them ready to fire.

As they walked, Wil could hear faint sounds, like the wind had begun to howl again in the distance. As they walked, the faint sounds turned into screams and shouts of anger. The group picked up their pace and soon they could hear the clash of metal on metal and the clear sounds of fighting.

The path curved slightly as the walked. Abruptly they spotted a large fire, glowing in the distance. In the light of the flames, Wil could make out a long line of wagons, over a dozen. Several were completely engulfed in fire.

Small groups of Merchant Guards, judging from their armor and weapons, were fighting against hairy, Goblin like creatures.

They were dressed in rags, hides and scraps of leather and stood at about chest height compared to the humans they were fighting. The hairy creatures were hurling themselves at the defenders, as arrows flew from the nearby tree line. The human defenders fired crossbows in response from behind wagon cover.

Wil could see unarmed people huddled in fear against the cliff wall, seeking protection from the falling arrows behind large rocks and wagon wheels. The defenders were about to be overwhelmed as Wil’s group approached. Already, dozens of bodies lay still on the ground, slowly being covered in a layer of snow.

Bell and the others ran swiftly forward, before lifting their crossbows to eye level and unleashing a volley of crossbow bolts into the hairy monsters.

The heavy bolts, fired from the large crossbows, ripped through several of the creatures, knocking some off their feet. The defenders realized that help had arrived. They cheered and renewed their assault on the attackers.

The hairy Goblins, seeing new humans arrived, ran quickly towards Wil’s group. A half dozen of them rushing to attack the human arrivals.

Bell quickly set his crossbow against a hook on his belt, quickly tightening the string and hefting it to eye level, ready to launch another bolt at the creatures before they were overwhelmed