“Where is Tobin? Is he here?” Gram asked, looking about.

  “He is,” Zarnikorek shifted. Looking around as well. “He said he needed to talk to the barkeep about something and I should come and learn how to play Castle Brick.”

  “Ye’ve never played?” Dirk roared.

  “Come, come!” Gram said. “Take me seat. These Griffin Guard types might be mighty warriors, but they’re an easy mark in Castle Brick!”

  “Hey …” the pair of guardians said in unison. Their armored friends laughed.

  The dwarven game of Castle Brick turned out to make a lot of sense to Zarni’s logical side. The game accommodated up to four players. Each player got their own set of twenty bricks with their color on the back. Zarni got green when he took over Gram’s spot, a happy coincidence, as green was his favorite color. The other side of the brick was split into two colors—one of his own color, green, and one of the other three colors. That is, except for five bricks which contained double greens.

  Zarni quickly learned the mechanics. It was a stacking game where the four players competed to get the most squares of their own color built into three different towers. But they had to be careful not to play too many of one of their opponents’ colors into the tower, lest they give the tower away. A die was rolled for each tower, determining its value, and they took turns placing their bricks on top of the towers to grow them. If someone knocked over the tower, none of that player’s colors counted for that tower at the end of the round.

  The game was played in rounds until a player hit a certain number for victory. Zarnikorek scrutinized the other players while Gram coached him along through the first round. The second round, Gram started saying things like, “Wow, nice move,” and “That was clever.”

  By the third round, both Zarni and Dirk were in position to cross the victory number, but Zarni had to make sure he got more points than the dwarf this round. He realized that Dirk needed the tower with the most points to win, but the two guardians were also vying for that tower.

  When Gram realized Zarni’s strategy to take the second highest valued tower without much competition, the dwarf grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him with enthusiastic delight. Zarni’s bones rattled, but he couldn’t help smiling as well.

  “Oh, no …” Dirk muttered as he placed another brick on a tower and realized what was happening too late.

  Tobin leaned over the table, stuffing a huge bite of ham into his mouth. “Uh oh,” he said through a mouthful.

  Several of the guardians around the table leaned in as well.

  “Oh, no …” Dirk grumbled again, now resigned to the inevitable.

  The players at the table laid their last bricks. Each tower was demolished so color squares could be counted. Gram only got halfway through counting the tower Zarni had claimed before grabbing the goblin’s hand and raising it high. “Zarni wins! Taught my brother a new trick, he did! Plays like a natural, he does! This round’s on me!”

  The surrounding members of the Griffin Guard cheered.

  “You don’t have any coin,” Dirk said, his tone defeated.

  “Oh, right! This round’s on Dirk!”

  The cheering recommenced.

  For the rest of the evening, they played Castle Brick and shared merriment. Bellies were filled and hearts were warmed. Fellowship was had by all.

  At one point, the guardians convinced the bard to play “Rise of the Griffin Guard” and taught Zarni the words.

  Oh, come take to the sky

  For fair winds and fair nigh’

  We will rise as the Griffin Guard

  Over mountains and seas

  Against all enemies

  We will rise as the Griffin Guard

  Fly away, fly away

  Ours is vict’ry this day

  We will rise as the Griffin Guard

  We will rise as the Griffin Guard!

  Zarni couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. It made him think of Grahk and Yan, who had been so kind to invite him out to The Wyvern’s Wish. And that made him think of Jileva again. The whole scenario got him thinking. If these people, who were enemies of goblins for centuries, were willing to befriend him, maybe—just maybe—his own people could, too.

  Zarni and Tobin set out from Hill Stop early the next morning. They rolled northward along the road that followed the Palori River. The morning was warm, and the dawn painted the sky pink. They’d gotten good rest at the Hop Stop, and the goblin had been pleasantly surprised at how warm the people had been. Another farmer nodded to them as they drove by. Zarni smirked and lifted a brow. He supposed a large majority of the people south of Drelek had surprised him in one way or another. Maybe he should start expecting the unexpected.

  The hills rose toward the front range, and Gregory drove his legs with power and an even cadence, clearly not hindered by the rolling hills. As they came toward the last farm along the road before they forged onward into the mountains, Zarni’s stomach fluttered. On one hand, he was excited. They were about to do something no one had done in hundreds of years. On the other hand, there was an air of safety in this place where farmers faithfully went about their work, producing the food that people needed.

  Zarnikorek’s elbows slid along the railing as Tobin turned the wagon toward the last farm. “We need to make a quick stop here,” the halfling said. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Well, I hope I’ve got a surprise for you,” he added with a chuckle. “Could be a moot stop. But this is our last chance to get some, anyway. There’s nothing between here and Ghun-Ra for us. I’d wager—”

  “Get what?” Zarni asked, not quite sure what the halfling was talking about.

  “You’ll see,” Tobin said, trying to hide his excitement, but his tone giving it away. “I was asking the barkeep back at the Hop Stop if she knew of anyone who—Oh, hello there!” Tobin cut himself off and waved to a woman who appeared from around a barn with a couple of buckets in hand.

  “Hullo,” the woman said, her face scrunched. “What can I do for you?”

  “Ah, mighty kind of you to ask,” Tobin said as he climbed down from the driver’s box. “You see, we’re on a quest for the kings of Galium and Drelek. We’re in need of a particular supply. And I’ve been told you may be the only one around who can help us. Or at least, that’s my hope. I was chatting with Kendri at the Hop Stop, and she mentioned you make something called kips. And we’ve got a hard journey ahead and my friend here—” Tobin turned to find Zarni but nearly jumped out of his skin when he found the goblin standing right next to him. The halfling clutched at his chest, and Zarni placed a hand on Tobin’s back to steady him.

  The woman took the momentary pause in the halfling’s stream of words to respond. “Aye. I’ve just made a batch. Not many folks in Hill Stop looking for kips. But we like ‘em just fine. Come on into the house. I’ll pack some up for you.”

  “Thank you! Much obliged!” Tobin basically sang.

  “What are kips?” Zarni whispered as he caught up to the halfling, who was more than excited to enter the farmer’s home.

  And in an eerily short response, he replied, “You’ll see.”

  An outrageous laugh burst from Zarni’s lips, startling Helenda, the woman who stood at the kitchen counter, wrapping gibs into a cloth. “You make gibs?”

  “These are kips, dearie,” she said with a sympathetic smile, as though Zarni had mistakenly heard her.

  “Oh, sorry,” the goblin said, shaking his head. “We call them gibs in Ghun-Ra. How do you know how to make these? May I?”

  “Of course,” she said, sliding one across the counter for him. He sniffed it but quickly popped the savory fishbone crisp into his mouth and chomped away. The salty, seasoned crisp hit his tongue and, to his surprise, tasted almost exactly like the gibs his pa made. “Mhmm,” was all Zarni could say.

  “Good, eh?”

  “So good,” Zarni said.

  “Not many folks are interested in them around these parts. It’s an old family recipe. My husband’s great great great … well, I’m not so good with counting greats, but one of his great grandmother’s long ago learned the recipe … from an orc.” Helenda whispered the last part conspiratorially, but perked up when she realized, the pair likely wouldn’t think such a thing as scandalous as many of the nearby farmers.

  “Really?” Zarni asked excitedly. “What was the orc’s name?”

  “Don’t know,” the woman said, pursing her lips as she placed more gibs into the cloth. “Story goes, she didn’t tell anyone his name because he was some sort of spy or something from Drelek. This was way back during the Second Great Black War, mind you.”

  Zarni and Tobin shared a glance as the halfling requested to try a gib, himself.

  “That had to be Koris. Right?” the goblin mused.

  “Maybe,” Tobin said, licking his lips and nodding appraisingly at the gibs. “Better wrap an extra batch for us, if you please.”

  “Aye,” the woman said, her slender shoulders bobbing as she chuckled. “Not many of your kind among the northern farmers, but never met a halfling who didn’t like my kips.”

  Tobin chuckled and slapped his belly. “As you can see, Ma’am, I’m a pretty happy eater.”

  “Seems you two are an interesting pair,” she said, turning the conversation on them. A hunger glinted in her eye, as though she’d been starved for some good gossip for a while.

  “Too true. Too true,” Tobin offered without hesitation. “As Zarni has said, we are following the trail of an orc that may just be the same one your many-times-great grandmother may have encountered. We’ve been tasked with marking out a new wagon route between Hill Stop and Ghun-Ra.”

  “We’ve been hearing tale of new alliance initiatives popping up,” she responded with a nod, slowing her work, clearly prolonging their stay just to keep the conversation going. “Even heard about a couple of griffin guardians learning to ride wyvern. Did you ever think such a thing could happen?”

  Zarni had heard the same. Their peoples had rallied together out of necessity to protect all the lands of Tarrine from the wicked sorcerer that had infiltrated them from across the sea. There had been many joint missions during what was now being referred to as the War of the Stones.

  “… though, knowing how good my friend Zarni here is, I don’t know how I ever doubted such things could happen.” Zarni caught the end of Tobin’s response. “This new wagon route will open up trade for our peoples like Tarrine has never seen before. Maybe gibs—pardon me—kips,” Tobin corrected himself for the woman’s benefit, laughing at his own flub. “Maybe they’ll become a regular snack for our peoples too. You could be on the forefront of an entrepreneurial empire!”

  Zarni smirked. He might have a lot of words, but Tobin did seem to have a way about building others up.

  “As grateful as I am for you supplying us with these,” Zarni said, picking up one of the tied cloths, heavily dangling with the weight of all the gibs, “We must get back to our quest. We’ve got a long trail ahead, even if we don’t run into anything unknown.”

  “Yes, yes,” Tobin agreed. He inhaled deeply as though he were about to start another long stream of words, but the woman cut him off.

  “Be watching out for the wild sorcerer now!”

  “The what?” Zarnikorek asked, glancing toward Tobin. The halfling shrugged, each hand bobbing a cloth loaded down with gibs.

  “The wild sorcerer. Folks say he’s ancient as a wizard and crazy as a loon. Been known to turn folks into mountain mules. Heard a while back, some of the boys from Hill Stop thought they’d be brave and go into the mountains to prove their courage.” She leaned over the counter, fixing each of them with disconcerting eye contact. “Only three of them made it back. Story goes, the rest were turned into mountain mules and spend their days eating high valley grass and braying the day away.”

  “That can’t be true …” Zarnikorek said through a gulp. Then he turned to Tobin. “Can it?”

  The halfling chewed on his unlit pipe thoughtfully. “Not sure I could say one way or another. I’ve never heard the tale myself. I think—”

  “It’s true, dearies,” the woman said, her eyes wild.

  When her stare became almost unbearable, she popped straight up and said, “Or at least that’s how Linda says it.” She smiled at them with a twinkle in her eye that suggested they’d never been discussing such dire and terrifying things.

  Tobin and the woman started to laugh, and Zarni chuckled nervously along, not really sure he understood the humor in the moment. Regardless, the scenario felt a lot lighter suddenly. Perhaps the woman had merely been teasing them.

  She walked them out of the house and back toward their wagon. Gibs’s furry head popped up over the side of the wagon, his black eyes blinking wide and his nose twitching excitedly.

  “Good nose, that one,” Tobin whispered. “We’ll have to tuck these into a barrel so he can’t eat them all.”

  Zarni chuckled. “He can share a few of mine. But I’m not letting him eat all of them again.”

  They loaded up and Tobin clicked at their boulder goat. Gregory lurched the wagon forward, headed northward toward the immense and majestic Drelek Mountains that now filled their vision. Zarnikorek took one last look back at the farm. Helenda stood at the gate, watching them roll away. And if the goblin wasn’t mistaken, she fixed him with another one of her wild-eyed stares, worry etched on her face. Zarnikorek strained his eyes to see her, and he could have sworn her lips mouthed the word, “Beware.”

  For several hours that day, the Palori River burbled peacefully next to them. Birds sang their summer songs, and wildflowers sprouted up in meadows between forested tracts of land. The nearer they drew to the mountains, the rockier the soil, making much of the land in the front range difficult or even impossible to farm. Not to mention for hundreds of years, the people of the south had been wary of the orcs who inhabited the Drelek mountains. Zarni knew there weren’t any orcs living in the mountains this far down. But certainly, the people of the south didn’t know that.

  Zarni leaned over the railing on the front of the wagon, holding the Traitor’s Map out in front of himself. He eyed the map, then lowered it. Eyed it again, then lowered it. His lips pursed and his brow crinkled. He thought following the trail of an army would be easier. He’d expected to spot more signs of them. But everywhere he looked, the mountain grasses and trees had grown over, covering any trace that the army had ever existed at all. What did you expect? he wondered to himself. It’s been hundreds of years.

  “You keep looking at that map like something’s going to change on it,” Tobin said as he lit his pipe. “To me, it looks like we follow the Palori River almost the whole way to Ghun-Ra. I’d wager—” Tobin stopped himself, some internal conflict warring within. “I’d wager that would make the most efficient route. Wouldn’t you say?”

  Zarni popped a brow at the halfling, who bit at his now lit pipe. The goblin’s face softened. Tobin was really trying hard to communicate better with him without monologuing. “Well, I’ve been wondering about that. See, where we live in Ghun-Ra, the source of the Palori is on the other side of a mountain. The river in our valley comes from the north for us. This map is crude, but I’m not sure it makes a whole lot of sense to follow the Palori all the way to the end. To my knowledge, there’s no access to the Ghun-Ra valley from there.”

  “Perhaps there’s a secret tunnel? How neat would that be? I don’t know a single wagon route that has a tunnel. This one could be the first.”

  “I’m not sure …” Zarni mumbled, getting lost in his own thoughts.

  “I’m just excited to meet some of your other friends.”

  A sharp laugh escaped Zarni’s lips. Tobin glanced over his shoulder and side-eyed the goblin, clearly wondering what he’d said that was so funny. Zarnikorek turned away. He hadn’t meant to react. His insides turned, matching the tumultuous rapids that now raged against the boulders in the river they followed.

  “You must know loads of interesting folk,” the halfling continued. “I’d wager you’re quite the talk of the city with you being on this mission for the king.”

  “I don’t know about that …” Zarnikorek said. He really hoped not.

  “Oh, I’d wager they’re preparing a celebration in your name right now! Your friends must have been really excited about you being selected by the new king for such a quest.”

  “Yeah …” Zarnikorek huffed.

  Tobin turned on the driver’s bench and eyed the goblin. “You alright?” he asked, immediately gulping down the sentence that was ready to follow the question.

  Zarnikorek appreciated the halfling’s effort, but what could he say? How could Tobin possibly understand that he was a nobody and had no friends? The halfling was so outgoing and became fast friends with everyone he met. Not for the first time, Zarnikorek wished he were more like Tobin.

  “Zarni?”

  The halfling’s deliberate insistence snapped the goblin back to the present.

  “Ah, well …” he hemmed. “I’m not quite as popular as you.”

  “What?” the halfling balked. “You’re the most interesting goblin I’ve ever met! Well, you’re the only goblin I’ve ever met.” He paused to laugh. “I can’t believe you’re not friends with just about everyone in Ghun-Ra.”

  “Well, it’s a big city,” Zarni said with a laugh of his own. “Do you know everyone in Galium?”

  “Well, that’s fair.” Tobin’s belly rolled as he chuckled. “I just mean, you’re nice and smart and good company. Wanted to be your friend the instant I met you. I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

  The sentiment warmed Zarni’s heart, but he was pretty sure the halfling thought that about everyone he met. He thought back to the ranchers who’d sold them Gregory. They didn’t seem to be of the highest integrity, but Tobin had been overjoyed to make their acquaintance. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.