“I’ll tell you what I saw in a moment. Right now, we have trouble somewhere close,” I said. “I don’t know what, but my sword and ring are glowing and that’s only happened when enemies are nearby.”

  Tharin and Hajeet immediately set their food to the side. They rose, Tharin withdrawing his sword—long, cool steel. Hajeet unsheathed his double-bladed hand axe, the blades of which were wickedly sharp. We spread out around the area.

  “What do you think it is?” Tharin asked, keeping his voice low.

  I shook my head, scanning the clearing. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s out there watching us.” I had no more finished speaking when there was a roar from behind one of the nearby trees and out charged a group of creatures that I didn’t recognize, but who were clearly intent on causing us harm, judging by the way they carried their daggers and spears.

  “Goblins!” Hajeet shouted. “Watch for poison on their blades!”

  I had never seen a goblin before. The creatures were lean and wiry, with patches of fur all over their heads, faces wrinkled with tight folds of skin, and narrow, beady eyes spaced wide on their faces. There were at least seven of them and they raced toward us, spears out. I thought I saw more in the bushes, but as we engaged, I focused on the fight.

  Before they could even get near, Ayo let fly two arrows, taking down two of the creatures. I pushed forward, swinging my sword.

  The crystal hummed as it sliced through the air and met its mark. One of the goblins tripped as he ran toward me and my blade slid neatly through the creature’s body, piercing through to the other side. I darted forward, thrusting harder to make sure that the blade did its work, then yanked the sword back, watching as he fell to the ground at my feet.

  Hajeet was on one, too, and quickly dispatched him. Ayo let fly another arrow, landing it in the shoulder of another goblin.

  Tharin engaged two of them and I raced forward, swinging to bring my sword through the side of another goblin. It turned toward me, taking the brunt off of Tharin. As we engaged, the goblin attempted to drive me off to the side. I swung again, darting around. As I lured it back toward the clearing, two more goblins raced out from near the trees.

  “Trying to ambush me?” I muttered, focusing on the swing of my sword, timing my steps so that I leaped over the roots that gnarled their way through the clearing.

  Tharin took down his goblin but another came at him before he could stop for breath. Ayo took a running leap and caught hold of a branch, swinging herself up into the tree. She balanced on the thin limb, taking aim at one of the creatures and let fly with yet another arrow. She met her mark perfectly, then swung up on another branch.

  I darted forward, swinging in a great arc, bringing my sword to bear on the brute in front of me. I caught his blow before he could reach me, parrying it to the side. Then I twisted in the other direction, spinning in the air, holding out my sword so that the blade whirled with me. As I spun, the blade caught my opponent directly at neck level, and his head went flying to the ground, rolling along the forest floor to bump against one of his comrades.

  The next few minutes felt like hours as we fought our way through the mass, but when Ayo took down the last goblin standing and leapt out of the tree, the sudden hush was as unnerving as the sound of battle. We were surrounded by carnage and splattered blood.

  “I think we’re done,” Ayo said, taking a breath as she squatted on her heels. “We should check them over before they—”

  But a hiss put a stop to any thought of looting the bodies as they began to dissolve, turning to ooze. I stared at the patches of goo, dumbfounded.

  “What happened?”

  “Goblins don’t leave remains,” Tharin said. “A few other creatures follow suit, but goblins in particular.”

  “Then any coin they have is—”

  “In the goo. If you want to wait for a little bit, the remains will soak into the ground, leaving the clothing and whatever else they were carrying behind. But don’t touch the remains—it can be acidic on the skin,” Hajeet said.

  We decided to wait. You never knew what your opponents might be carrying that could be of help. As we sat down to rest, it finally hit me that I had moved into a new phase, and life would never again be what I thought it was.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The goblins must have been heading home after a successful raiding party because we eventually gathered up quite a bit of coin, plus several sturdy and well-made weapons—three daggers and a short sword. They also had a number of spell components on them, but they were of questionable origin and none of us were comfortable carrying them on our persons. We scattered them so they couldn’t be used, made sure the weapons were wiped clean of poison—goblins were notorious for using poisoned blades, Hajeet told me—and then headed on again.

  By evening, the forest was seething with mist, though it seemed to be thinning out a little. The trees still offered shelter from sight, but it was obvious the forest was shifting into open land. Tharin led us into a dense thicket near dusk.

  “We need to make certain we’re not seen. While the forest continues for a while, we’re approaching the grasslands of Illeyut and we’ll have to be even more alert. The goblins come out of the fens, and then there are nomadic riders who live in the open lands and they can be friend or foe, depending on their moods.” Tharin began gathering wood. “We’ll need a fire—it’s going to be cold tonight. Notice how clear the sky is?”

  I glanced up. There were no clouds to be seen. “Clear skies this time of year bring freezing temperatures,” he observed. “While it’s warmer here by far than the northern realms, it’s still chill and damp.” I set up my tent, unrolled my bedroll inside it, and then helped Tharin gather more wood.

  Hajeet was gathering rocks to ring the campfire while Ayo had closed her eyes and was sniffing the air.

  “What are you looking for?”

  She turned to me. “Water. We need to refill our water bottles, and if we’re going to have a fire, I can cook us some soup. There are a number of bengo roots in the area and they make for hearty fare, if we add some of the dried meat we have.”

  “Is it wise to eat anything from this land?” I asked.

  Tharin shrugged. “I’m not too sure I’d want to chance it.”

  “I have a purification spell that can cleanse food and water,” Ayo said. “It will be safe.”

  “I wish I could summon rain instead of lightning—we’d have plenty of water then. But then again, I have no desire to add to the mud of this woodland. It’s already difficult as it is.” I paused, reaching out with my senses. “But while I can’t summon water, I can sense it, given my connection with storms, and there’s a stream nearby.” I held out my hands and they began to tingle as I turned to the west. “This way.”

  We broke a trail through the undergrowth and, less than a quarter mile later, we were standing at the edge of a river that cascaded between two banks of the forest. The swollen waters cut us off from the other side as they rolled along, white caps forming on the surface. The recent rains must have fed into the rivers and their tributaries, pushing them near to flood level.

  “Well, Storm found us water,” Ayo said. “The banks are steep and slippery, though, so refilling our bottles is going to be tricky.”

  “I can do it,” I said, eyeing the ravine that led to the river’s side. It wasn’t long, but it was steep and the rocks were covered with moss. “I’ve got the strength to climb down there and back—” I paused as Tharin and Hajeet broke through the trees behind us.

  The Elf frowned. “A river? Good, we need the water. I’ll be back with a water bucket.” And without a word, he was off again.

  Hajeet glanced over his shoulder at the forest. “I’m going with him to make certain he’s all right. The forest is treacherous.” He disappeared, following Tharin.

  Ayo and I waited, sitting on the slope staring down at the water.

  “Where were you born?” I asked.

  Ayo shrugged. “I was born in Japan, then my parents moved here shortly after that. I have very few memories from living over on Earth. A few hazy ones, but nothing concrete.”

  I paused. The word concrete threw me, but then—thanks to Väinämöinen’s gift—the meaning filtered into my mind. “Before I left the Forgotten Kingdom, I had never heard of Earth or Annwn, or a number of other places. I think I’d like to travel. There’s so much out there that seems out of my reach, but that I now have a faint connection to.” I told her what had happened, as far as Väinämöinen implanting the languages in my head. “I’ve noticed that at times, I’m not sure what language I’m thinking in, he did such a good job of integrating them into my mind.”

  “That must seem odd,” Ayo said.

  “It is. It’s like someone pouring memories into your thoughts that you never really experienced.” I glanced over my shoulder as Tharin and Hajeet returned.

  Tharin was carrying two folding buckets with zippered lids. He handed them to me. The material was the same stuff our tents and bedrolls were made from.

  “Well, I’m not sure what this is made from, but it’s handy as hell,” I said.

  “It’s an Earth design and material.” Tharin grinned. “I’d move over there to take advantage of all they have, but from what I understand, it’s loud and there are too many lights all through the day and night. I like my quiet.”

  I tucked the buckets under my arm and crept down the side of the ravine while Ayo held out one of the flashlights that they had given us in Briar Shore to guide my way. Dusk had arrived and it would soon be dark.

  The side of the ravine was slick and dangerous, but I pressed against the ground and half slid down to the edge of the shore. It wasn’t wide—two people might stand side by side, but it would be tricky. I lay down on my stomach and dipped the buckets in the water, holding tight to the handle. I brought them up, full of water, and zipped them tightly, making sure that the water couldn’t spill out. Hooking them to my belt seemed the easiest way, and I began to creep up the ravine again. It didn’t take me long, given my strength and height, but several times my boot started to slip on the moss and mud, and I had to pause, regroup, and start again. With the water in hand, we returned to the campsite.

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll refill the individual bottles,” I said.

  Ayo used the flashlight to locate enough bengo roots for the stew, and she peeled the outer skin off with her knife, then cubed them into a small cooking vessel that Hajeet was carrying. It was metal, and about the size of the collapsible buckets. He carried it hooked on his pack.

  After adding the roots, Ayo shaved some of the dried beef into the pot, added water, performed a purification spell, then nestled it into the coals of the fire, keeping it out of the main flames. “That should take about an hour,” she said.

  We finished making up our tents, and by the time we were done, the stew was ready. It wasn’t fancy, but the hot meat-flavored broth and the tender cubes of bengo tasted wonderful after a long day’s walking.

  “That hit the spot,” Hajeet said. “We should take watches. We can’t afford not to. I’ll go first.”

  I offered to stay up with him but he shook his head. “We all need as much sleep as possible. Go ahead and crawl into bed.”

  After I washed some of the mud off of me with the remains of one bucket of water, Tharin, Ayo, and I retired to our tents. Sleepy and warm within the bedroll, I once again whispered a prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening that I had run into Raven and Kipa, and that Lady Ember had been so generous. Even though the forest was rife with noises around us, within minutes, I was out.

  Ayo woke me shortly before dawn. “Your turn to keep watch,” she said. “Wake us when morning hits proper.” As she retired to her tent, I huddled near the fire, sword beside me, my cloak wrapped around my shoulders. My breath came in puffs in front of my face and the forest was covered with a light frost. In the darkness of early morning, sounds that the forest was waking up began to echo around us as the morning birds took over from the evening owls.

  I was trying not to doze off again when a loud wheet echoed through the forest. I jerked my attention up to the top of a nearby tree. That was the sound of a riza bird, and they were a lot like chickens. Thinking that we could use a little variety, I softly crept over to the bottom of one of the bare-limbed trees that mingled with the fir and cedar. Sure enough, in the faint light of dawn, I could see the nest, about three body lengths above, secure in the crotch of a branch.

  Riza birds were stupid, and they were fearless, both traits would serve me well to catching our breakfast. We had food, yes, but hot food cooked over an open fire always settled best in the belly. I was nearing the tree where the birds were nesting. They wouldn’t have eggs this time of year, but they still stuck close to their nests during the off-season.

  I was about to climb the tree when I heard something coming from the direction of the ravine. I paused, turning back to peer through the trees. There was a faint glow—a pale green—emanating from one of the tall fir trees. Hand on my sword, I slowly crossed the campsite. I didn’t want to wake up anybody until I knew we were actually facing trouble.

  As I approached the massive tree that soared into the heavens, the green glow became stronger. It was a swirling mist that coiled and swept in knots. Sparkles flickered from within the mist, and I held my breath, pausing a few yards from the tree, watching the mist as it formed and reformed.

  A moment later, a figure began to coalesce from within the mist, giving form to what looked like a lithe woman with long black hair and skin the color of the tree needles. Her eyes were glowing yellow, and she was naked, but somehow that seemed natural.

  “Who are you?” I asked in Elvish, hoping she would recognize the language. But she merely tilted her head, shaking it. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing, and I unsheathed my sword, warning her to come no closer.

  “Who are you?” I tried again, this time in the Common Tongue.

  She froze, then pulled back closer to the tree, her hand on the bark. “What is it you seek?” Her words dripped with warning, but still, I didn’t sense she was an outright threat.

  “Only a place for the night. We’ll be moving on as the sun rises.” I caught her gaze. There was something earthy about her—something connected deep into the soil and the rocks and the roots of the trees.

  She straightened. “You are one of the Bones of the World,” she said, again her voice was hushed and raspy. Her eyes widened as she leaned forward, her hand still on the trunk of the tree.

  Bones of the World? I had never heard that phrase before. “What do you mean?”

  “Your kind—you are the Bones of the World. You are as the gods, you form the spine of the Mother.” She looked perturbed, like I had answered wrong on some test.

  I had no clue what she meant, but if I pressed her, she might lash out. There was something inherently feral about her. She might look like a woman, but I sensed that a wildness ran through her blood that shrouded her.

  She smiled, and I could see the razor-sharp teeth that filled her mouth. “My sisters of the river told me you and your entourage took water from the River Mother last night. You should have left an offering.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. Forest spirits weren’t all love and light. Many of them were deadly, and they left no doubt about who ruled the woodlands. If this creature said we should have left an offering, it would behoove us to do so before we filled our water bottles again.

  “My apologies. We didn’t realize the river belonged to anyone.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to put things, but it was the easiest I could think of. “We will remedy that before we leave.”

  I wasn’t sure what the River Mother wanted as an offering, but we’d better find out so we didn’t find the forest at odds with us.

  As if reading my thoughts, the creature said, “The River Mother will accept flowers or jewels.” Then, before I could say anything, she turned back and vanished into the tree.

  Staring at the spot where she had disappeared, I hoped we’d soon be out of this forest.

  Back at the camp, I woke the others and told them what had happened. “I’ve never heard of the Bones of the World, nor of the River Mother.”

  Tharin glanced at Hajeet, then said, “You met a dryad. She’s part of the woodland itself—one of the forest devas. They’re neither Fae nor Elf, and they’re incredibly dangerous. She might not be able to kill you, given you’re a hedge dragon, but she could easily take out any of the rest of us. The River Mother is an elemental deity, part of the river devas.”

  “Do you know what the Bones of the World are?” I was still confused. “She said I’m ‘of’ the Bones of the World.”

  Tharin sighed. “She senses your dragon nature. The forest devas consider the Dragonni to be part of the natural world. They believe the Dragonni emerged from the bowels of the deep—that’s why they call them the Bones of the World. She probably doesn’t know about the hedge dragons.”

  “Then she thinks I’m Dragonni, wandering in disguise.” I shrugged. “That can’t really hurt, I guess. But we do need more water before we break camp, and so we’d better come up with a good offering for the River Mother. I don’t think we’ll be allowed to leave in peace if we raid the water supply a second time without leaving a proper offering. I doubt we’ll find any flowers around here this time of year, so does anybody have a piece of jewelry they don’t mind sacrificing?” I slowly withdrew the sapphire ring I’d taken from my mother. “I can contribute this.”

  “I can give my ring, too,” Ayo said, drawing a moonstone ring off her finger. “It’s a bauble, and of no sentimental value.”

  “Will that be big enough?” I asked. “Not to impugn your ring, but it’s…”

  “Not particularly impressive? Right.” She frowned. “Will they take coin?”

  “Wait,” Hajeet said. “I have a spare brooch for my cloak. It’s got Lord Kipa’s energy in it, so it should attract her notice.”