“I may have started to make some new friends recently,” he said, thinking of Grahk and Yan. “They invited me to The Wyvern’s Wish.”

  “Oh nice! Very nice. Is that the local tavern there in Ghun-Ra?”

  “It is. It was the first time I’d been there since I returned to Ghun-Ra. The glorb is good. There’s an excitement about the place,” Zarni said. “Especially when Jileva sings.”

  “Jileva, eh?” Tobin inquired, waggling his brows. Zarni hadn’t realized he’d said her name with whimsy, but apparently the halfling had caught it. “A lady goblin friend?”

  “I … Well … She …” Zarnikorek stammered. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he turned toward the raging river to hide his blush.

  Tobin chuckled to himself. “You know, when I first met Lenor, I was smitten. I could hardly think of anything else. I’d spend all day thinking about when I was going to get to see her again. Funniest thing, I was a halfling, and she was a very desirable dwarven woman. Good family, you see. With her brother, a garvawk warrior. He wasn’t the foredwarf at the time, but everyone knows the garvawk warriors in Galium.

  “Anyway, she had the brawniest and beardiest dwarves from all over the city lining up to take her out on a date. And here I was, an upstart wagoner with nary a hair on his chin. Though, I still don’t have any hair on my chin—never grows more than stubble—but I’d just finished apprenticing with Georl. My old wagon master. He was good friends with Lenor’s father for decades before he passed. That’s how I got my first introduction to her.

  “Anyway, I made quite the fool of myself. I couldn’t wait to see her again and had stopped along the road to pick summer flowers for her. I gathered them up and went to see her. Caught her just as she was preparing to leave her house to meet with a suitor for a date in the city. She looked so pretty at the top of the stairs. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest.” Tobin’s words came out with a fond softness.

  “Anyway, I ran up the stairs to see her and tripped, launching the summer flowers and scattering them all over her.” The halfling laughed and slapped his knee. “She knelt down and checked me out. And we spent half the night chatting while I picked flowers and stems and leaves out of her hair. She missed her date that night, but I think you might agree, it worked out quite right.”

  Zarni laughed. He hadn’t heard the story while he was visiting with Tobin’s family. The goblin thought back to the day they’d departed. How sweet it was to see Lenor, with baby Bandix wrapped up on her chest, and Button waving to them as they rolled away. How little Button had run to the highest point of the hill to wave as long as possible before they disappeared from sight. The moment had touched him. As much as he loved his pa, he wanted something like that. He wanted a family of his own someday. He’d thought that dream impossible, though. But was it?

  “Have you taken Jileva on a date yet?” Tobin asked, emphasizing the pretty goblin’s name.

  “Oh … well …” Zarnikorek hemmed again. “I couldn’t. I don’t think she’d want to go on a date with me.”

  Tobin stared back at him for a long moment. “You know,” Tobin said, slowly. “There’s this one thing about good friends that isn’t always comfortable, but is necessary.”

  Zarnikorek wasn’t sure where the halfling was going with this.

  “Friends are the ones who can say the hard things others wouldn’t.” Surprisingly, the halfling let the sentence linger between them for a moment, making Zarnikorek wonder what exactly he was getting at. “Can I say something that might be hard for you to hear?”

  Zarnikorek’s throat bobbed. Now he really had no idea where the halfling was going with this. “Sure,” he managed to reply.

  “We haven’t been friends all that long, but I’ve noticed you say ‘you can’t’ a lot. You shouldn’t talk yourself down before you even try things. I’d wager you’re far more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

  As Tobin’s words came out, a short burst of guilt exploded in Zarnikorek’s chest, but it quickly dissolved into gratitude. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a friend who would say such a deeply personal and yet genuinely kind thing to him. Maybe he never had. For whatever reason, it disarmed him.

  “You know,” Zarni started slowly. “I was on the wrong side of the war. Not by choice, mind you. I’d been working for King Sahr for a number of years. Most of them were horrible. But I was stuck. I didn’t have any other options. Regardless, I was in the employ of the fallen king. That left me in a rather bad spot when the ashes finally settled. It’s hard to make friends when everyone sees you as the enemy.”

  Tobin jutted his chin thoughtfully, taking a long draw on his pipe. “So, the others treat you like an outcast or a traitor …”

  Zarni nodded, but switched to shaking his head. “Actually, they don’t …” he said with an odd realization. “Now that I think about it, no one has mistreated me.”

  “No?” Tobin asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Zarni shook his head and scratched his brown hair, adjusting his grandpa’s goggles. “I’m a fool.”

  “I think you’re rather bright,” Tobin countered.

  “No. That’s not what I mean.” Zarni took a long breath to gather his words. “Tobin, you’re right.”

  “I’ve been known to be right on occasion,” the halfling said through a chuckle.

  “I mean, you’re right about me standing in my own way. I expected everyone we met south of Drelek to hate me as a monster. Hate me as one of the enemy. But everyone has been so kind and welcoming.”

  “When you assume what others will think of you, you isolate yourself and never give them the chance to surprise you with their kindness.”

  “Though not everyone exudes kindness …” Zarni said slowly. “We really ought to talk about those two ranchers who sold Gregory to you.”

  “What’s wrong with Gregory? He’s the king of all boulder goats!” Tobin proclaimed. Gregory’s chin popped and Zarni swore the wagon started moving slightly faster.

  “Alright, alright,” the goblin said, waving his hands in front of him in surrender.

  “And besides, that’s not the point.”

  “You’re right,” Zarni agreed.

  “There I go again.”

  Zarni smirked. “The point is that I’ve been getting in my own way for far too long. If I’m ever going to have a family like yours, I’m going to have to start letting people in.”

  “Right you are! Look at us, both right!”

  A long silence stretched between them while Tobin drove the wagon onward. The Palori River roared as raging waters slammed against ever-growing boulders.

  “You got all that from what I said?” Tobin asked with a cheeky grin.

  “Yeah. I guess you’re rather bright, yourself,” Zarni said, rolling his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile himself.

  Tobin shifted in his seat, sitting taller in faux pride. “So, you’ll ask Jileva on a date when we get to Ghun-Ra?”

  “One step at a time,” Zarni said. But in truth, he wrestled inside. His stomach fluttered at the mere thought of it.

  “No, no, no …” Zarnikorek grumbled. He’d climbed over the front railing of the wagon to sit on the driver’s bench and show Tobin the map. “There is no marking whatsoever denoting any kind of canyon here.”

  “Well, it’s not a very detailed map,” Tobin said, pulling his pipe from his mouth and pointing the end at the map as a whole.

  They’d driven northward along the Palori River until they could go no farther. The map’s lines continued to follow the river. Or so it seemed. But there was no way their wagon could continue through the canyon northward. Zarnikorek thought an army on foot could. Potentially. It would leave all the soldiers soaked, which would not be ideal for an army. And who knew how deep the river got farther into the canyon?

  “There’s no way the allied army went through here,” he ruminated.

  “Doesn’t seem likely,” Tobin agreed.

  The halfling climbed down from the driver’s box and pressed his hands into his back. With a groan, he extended his belly, then heaved a sigh as his back cracked. He raised his elbows and swiveled from side to side, before walking around the wagon, looking for some sort of sign.

  Zarnikorek’s eyes flitted between the map and the canyon ahead with no understanding. A little furry head appeared over the railing behind him. The horned marten let out a big yawn, clearly confused as to why the wagon that so lovingly swayed him to sleep had stopped. Gibs gently butted his head against Zarni’s.

  “Careful with that thing,” Zarni said, petting the creature around its singular horn. Gibs hadn’t hurt him. He was just wary of the horn.

  “It’s getting pretty late,” Tobin said, walking back toward the wagon. “Might be a good spot to camp out for the night, anyway. Maybe make supper. Then we can make some tea around the campfire.”

  Gibs butted Zarni again. “Alright, alright,” he said. The horned marten could obviously tell he was stressed. “Fair enough. It gets too much darker, we won’t be able to see the map soon, anyway.”

  “And it’s been a long day,” Tobin added. “It’ll do us good to eat something and get a good night’s rest. Start fresh in the morning.”

  Zarni smirked. The halfling had snacked almost the entire day. He couldn’t imagine still being hungry. But Lenor had warned the goblin that’s how the halfling traveled. That’s why she packed extra snacks and goodies for them.

  Tobin drove the wagon away from the river and parked it near a dramatic granite rock face. He offered to let Zarni unhook Gregory, but the goblin politely declined, not sure if he was ready to take on the stubborn boulder goat when he was in such a discouraged mood himself. Though, as Tobin joined him around the fire, Zarnikorek felt guilty for not even trying. I’ve got to stop telling myself I can’t before I even try.

  Tobin sizzled some sausage and potatoes in a skillet and they ate their fill, Gibs happily nibbled on the bits Zarni shared, and not long into the night, the exhaustion of travel and the relaxing sound of the river nearby had all of them snoring in the back of the wagon.

  Zarnikorek woke in the middle of the night. The moon rested high in the night sky, bathing the rocks and trees in a silvery glow. Zarnikorek sat up and looked through the railing of the wagon. The mountains appeared as black silhouettes that scarred the deep navy of the sky. The sight took Zarni’s breath away.

  Zarnikorek wasn’t sure what had awakened him, but since he was up, he decided to grab the stello glass from its bag. He lifted it high and looked through the orb, quickly identifying several of the constellations he knew, before moving on to the ones he didn’t. The ancient constellations were numerous. Teklahn, Bovak, Nolar, Mavro, and more. How interesting they all were. He had never been an astronomer by any means, but there was something about them that drew his interest. He’d have to show the stello glass to his pa when he got home. Zarni knew he’d love it.

  A moment of homesickness washed over him. His stomach clenched as he thought of his pa all alone. Hopefully, he was enjoying some time with friends while Zarni was away. He didn’t want him to grow sick with loneliness.

  Zarni smiled to himself. I certainly won’t grow sick with loneli—

  The thought evaporated as he looked at Tobin’s empty bedroll. Zarnikorek jumped to his feet in the back of the wagon. “Tobin?” He prodded the covers with his green toes.

  Nothing.

  It was then that he realized Gibs was gone, too. “Gibs? Tobin?” he called, looking out over the area surrounding the wagon.

  A large mound of fur expanded and contracted on the ground nearby. Gregory was still here. Great, Zarnikorek thought.

  He dressed quickly and crawled out of the back of the wagon. “Tobin? Gibs?” he called again.

  Pow! Crack!

  Zarnikorek dove to the ground as explosions rang out through the night, lighting the trees with orange and purple and green lights. What in Finlestia?

  “Tobin?” he called in an urgent whisper, wanting to find his friend, but not wanting to draw the attention of whatever …

  The mad sorcerer!

  Zarnikorek’s eyes widened in realization. Maybe Helenda’s gossip hadn’t been so far-fetched after all!

  Maker, help us … Zarnikorek prayed silently.

  What if the sorcerer had stolen his friends right out of their beds? What horrific things might the sorcerer do to them? What if he turned them into mountain mules? What would Zarnikorek tell Lenor and Button and baby Bandix? What would he tell Lotmeag?

  Zarnikorek gulped, trying to get his shaking body back under control. Think. Think, the goblin scolded himself. He couldn’t do nothing, but what could he do against a mad sorcerer? He was just a regular old goblin. Not even that. He was a small goblin. I can’t do any—

  He cut the thought off with a growl. “I have to do something,” he whispered to himself. The mere act of speaking the words aloud, even though it was a whisper, seemed to encourage him.

  What am I doing?

  “I don’t know, but we can’t sit by and do nothing.”

  Zarni pushed himself up from the ground and hustled over to Gregory’s snoring form.

  “Gregory, get up,” he said hurriedly.

  The boulder goat opened one eye to see who dared wake him at such an unholy hour. Realizing it was Zarni, Gregory let out a derisive snort and laid his head back down.

  Zarni pressed both hands on the boulder goat’s shoulder and heaved his weight to shake the creature. “Tobin and Gibs are gone, and I have to go find them. And if I do, we might need a quick getaway. You need to wake up and be ready.”

  The boulder goat opened both of his eyes, condescension evident on his face.

  Boom! Zzak!

  “Look at me,” Zarni growled, grabbing the goat by the horns and looking him squarely in the eyes. That seemed to get his attention. “I don’t have time to play games with you. The one that treats you like a king might be in grave danger, and I need you to be ready to get us out of here in a hurry. So, you’re going to get up right now, and let me get you hooked up as fast as possible so I can go help our friends.”

  Gregory pulled his horns from the goblin’s grasp and rose. His glaring eyes never left Zarni’s, but the goblin stared right back. I don’t have time to fight you … he thought, willing the stubborn creature to understand. The boulder goat eyed him for another moment, before puffing out an annoyed breath and lifting his chin as if to say, “Whatever.”

  “Thank you,” Zarni growled through clenched teeth and readied the boulder goat’s harness. He fumbled with the straps in his haste and wished he’d taken the chance to practice before they’d had supper. He cursed himself as he accomplished the task, but managed to get the boulder goat hooked up and ready to go. “Yes!” he whispered triumphantly. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Gregory rolled his eyes at his elation. Whatever, Zarni thought. “You stay here. Don’t go anywhere without us. Be ready for anything,” he instructed firmly.

  Gregory gave another annoyed huff, seemingly acknowledging the goblin’s orders.

  Good enough, Zarni thought.

  He patted his pocket, making sure he had the Traitor’s Map. He could mark it as he ran toward the direction from which he’d heard the explosions. The explosions … he thought. Was he really doing this? What was he even doing? He didn’t know. But what he did know was he couldn’t let his friends get turned into mountain mules.

  The morning had grown later than Zarni expected. Of course, he didn’t know how long he’d hurried through the high mountain pines, following the lights and sounds of explosions. But eventually, he’d caught sight of the mad sorcerer.

  Though he wasn’t really sure what he’d expected, Zarni knew it wasn’t what he discovered. The dwarven sorcerer sported a thick red beard only partially tamed by a few golden rings. Though he couldn’t make out the color of one of the dwarf’s eyes, the other socket glowed golden-yellow through the night. On one hand, the sorcerer wore a gauntlet that elicited yellow light from the knuckles. Glowing, emerald crystals adorned the wooden staff he raised high. Though, if Zarni was seeing things right, the gnarled staff seemed broken into pieces and held together by the ethereal green magic the sorcerer wielded.

  Crack! Bang!

  After finding him, Zarni followed the mad sorcerer, careful to stay hidden behind pines. He hadn’t caught sight of Tobin or Gibs, but knew in his gut that if he followed the sorcerer long enough, he’d find them.

  As the sun began to kiss the morning sky, not quite dawning upon Finlestia, the sorcerer led Zarni to a building that could only be the eccentric dwarf’s home. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the shape of the building, as it appeared to be a sort of octagon of logs with various other shapes shooting off the central building in all directions. Several of the offshoots rose into oddly shaped towers, peaked with pointed roof caps.

  The dwarven sorcerer looked about, and Zarni ducked behind the pine from which he’d been watching. The sorcerer grunted and nodded, seemingly proud of what he’d accomplished, though Zarni had seen nothing but a crazed dwarf running around a mountain forest at night, shooting colorful ethereal fireworks into the sky.

  As Zarni peeked around the trunk of the pine, he glimpsed the door closing behind the dwarf’s purple cloak. He watched the strange house for a long time, trying to see something through the oddly shaped windows. Unfortunately, they betrayed nothing of the interior, likely covered in dust on the inside and reflecting the pre-dawn light in an infuriating way.

  Zarni squinted, tensing his body to give his eyes every ounce of effort he could.

  Just then, something grabbed his arm.

  “Ah!” Zarni cried out and threw himself sideways into the duff of the forest floor. Whatever gripped his arm held fast. He jumped and wiggled, trying to free himself. But nothing freed him.

  He rolled over in a panic and finally saw what held him. Gibs blinked his black eyes, and his head lolled from side to side. The poor horned marten had been shaken dizzy.