“Tobin!” Zarnikorek cut off the halfling’s nervous rambling.

  “Tobin!”

  “Tobin!”

  “Tobin!”

  The voices cooed. Cackling laughter bounced around the night.

  “No sudden movements,” Zarnikorek urged him, as they climbed out of the back of the wagon.

  “Grrrr …”

  “Grrrr …”

  “Grrrr …”

  Zarnikorek slowed his pace, moving as if he were stuck in a bog. “Gregory!” he called as quietly as he could.

  “Gregory!”

  “Gregory!”

  “Gregory!”

  The voices repeated.

  A creeping sensation slithered up Zarnikorek’s spine. The boulder goat seemed to be on alert now and watched the goblin approach. “We have to get out of here. Now. I need you hooked up. Don’t give me any guff.”

  Gregory rose to his feet without hesitation.

  “Grrrr …”

  “Grrrr …”

  “Grrrr …”

  “Easy now …” Zarnikorek said to the boulder goat. He looped some of the goat’s leathers around Gregory, and the pair ambled slowly toward the wagon.

  “Zarni,” Tobin called quietly.

  “Zarni!”

  “Zarni!”

  “Zarni!”

  “What is it?” Zarnikorek choked out. The way the snapplers said his name nearly stole the heart right out of him.

  When Tobin didn’t reply right away, Zarni looked away from his work. The halfling stood, paralyzed. His eyes, like saucers, stared at something above Zarnikorek’s head. The goblin couldn’t move his own muscles as fear crept from every limb up to his throat. He knew without looking that the halfling was staring at the exact same thing he was looking at above his friend.

  Glowing orbs of warm light floated about. It was hard to discern any details, but inside each amber orb of light appeared to be tiny, people-like creatures. Snapplers!

  Krakoom!

  The night exploded into chaos.

  Firepops erupted in the air all around them. Bursts of colorful fire appeared out of thin air and ruptured the quiet of the night. Snapplers scattered and buzzed about, the color of their glowing orbs changing to match the most recent firepop. The erratic lights were almost hypnotizing.

  Boom! Crack!

  The loud explosions were less so.

  “Hurry!” Zarni hollered to Tobin.

  The goblin finished cinching the boulder goat to the front of the wagon. Zarni had never seen fear in the goat’s face, but Gregory stamped at the ground, clearly uncomfortable and ready to get them out of there. Zarni whirled to the side of the wagon and hurtled toward the back.

  Bang!

  The explosion threw Zarni to the dirt. He pushed himself up quickly and churned his feet. As he rounded the back of the wagon, Tobin struggled to heave the last barrel back into the wagon. Zarni threw his shoulder into it and the two of them pushed it inside without bothering to upright it.

  Zzip! Kroom!

  “Get in! Get in!” Zarni yelled.

  They climbed into the wagon through the back. Zarni and Tobin ran past Gibs, who was burying a squealing Kliff with blankets and standing over him protectively. Zarni reached the front first, leaping over the railing into the driver’s box. He grabbed the leather reins and snapped. “We’re ready Gregory! Go! Go! Go!”

  The boulder goat didn’t hesitate. His legs had already been tensely coiled, and with one heaving leap, he charged through the night. The wagon lurched into motion with such force, Tobin nearly didn’t make it into the driver’s box with Zarni.

  Bam! Clack!

  Explosions continued to fill the sky above them.

  “Where are we going to go?” Tobin hollered over the cacophony.

  “We have to get to that bridge. After that, I don’t know.”

  Boom!

  Zarni saw the bridge, only a short distance away. The stone structure’s silhouette broke the moonlit, reflective waters of the creek. Motion caught his eye, and he turned to see a figure on the far side of the water. With a grace unlike Jorbinan’s, the figure maneuvered almost in a dance. Zarni’s keen ears picked up the figure’s voice, clearly identifying them as the one who was conjuring the firepops. Whoever they were, they were saving the companions’ bacon.

  “Across the bridge, Gregory!” Zarni hollered. The boulder goat muscled the wagon into a turn, and they bounced across the uneven structure.

  “Careful!” Tobin yelled. As they rolled onto the other side of the river, he quickly glanced down each side of the wagon. “Phew,” he exhaled, wiping his brow. A relieved smile crossed his round face, and he laughed. “Didn’t want to break a wheel.”

  The time between explosions extended as the group rolled into a wooded area and hid behind a large boulder. Once Gregory had them parked, Zarni and Tobin climbed out and used the boulder to get a better view. They crawled to the peak and, laying on their bellies, watched the rest of the light show. They couldn’t see the figure from their vantage, but they could see the firepops and the ever-dissipating snappler lights.

  Eventually, the firepops ceased altogether, and neither of them could see a single snappler. The night fell quiet once again. Zarni leaned closer to Tobin. “Can you see the mage?” he whispered.

  “I can’t see anything,” the halfling replied, adjusting the butt of his crossbow in his shoulder. “Who do you think that was?”

  “No idea,” Zarni said. “I didn’t think we’d actually run into anyone on this journey. Then we ran into Jorbinan.”

  “That wasn’t him, right?” the halfling wondered aloud. “He couldn’t possibly have kept up with us on foot.”

  “No. No …” Zarni said, shaking his head. “Jorbinan was really easy to see at night with his glowing green staff. And that golden eye. This figure was cloaked. I couldn’t make out any of their features.”

  “They’re probably still out there,” Tobin said.

  The thought did not melt the brick of concern in Zarnikorek’s stomach.

  “Might be nice to thank them for the help.”

  Zarnikorek looked the halfling dead in the eye. Tobin stared back. A completely unexpected grin crept across the halfling’s face. Zarni couldn’t help but match it. “What?” the goblin asked.

  “Tobin beware snapplers!” the halfling said, doing his best impression of Jorbinan.

  The two of them dissolved into laughter. Zarni couldn’t understand why. They must have been so full of nervous energy after their encounter that they were bursting at the seams.

  “Zarni beware snapplers!” the goblin said, trying to do his own impression through the uncontrollable chortles.

  “Ha!” Tobin cried, his laughs becoming a ridiculous roar.

  Soon, neither of them could breathe. They clutched their aching ribs as they gasped for air. The crisp mountain breeze blew over them, and they sucked it in between bouts of reverberating laughter. Tears streamed down their faces and into their ears as they stared up at the stars high above them.

  “You were amazing!” Tobin said, when he finally composed himself enough to speak. “You were like, ‘I’ll get Gregory hooked up. You get the supplies!’ You were so decisive.”

  Zarni chuckled at the compliment. “I don’t know. I just wanted to get us out of there.”

  “I was scared out of my wits,” Tobin said with another chuckle.

  “Me too.”

  “Well, you hid it very well. I’d wager even an orc gar wouldn’t have been so composed.”

  “Ha!” Zarni spit a laugh.

  He rolled back onto his belly and peered in the direction of the river. The whole thing had been a blur. His heart was still slowing, either from the excitement or the exorbitant laughter. Either way, he imagined there wouldn’t be any more sleep this night. He smirked as he remembered how grumpy he’d been about the notion when he’d first awoken.

  He watched through the dark, hoping to catch a glimpse of their savior. But with no sign of the mysterious figure, he resolved to at least take a look in the morning before they vacated the area.

  Tobin had also turned over to watch again. After a long while, laying there in silence, the halfling nudged the goblin with his elbow. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “Zarni beware snapplers!” he said again.

  But their laughter was cut off when a voice from the dark said, “Where did you hear those words?”

  The duo stumbled over each other’s words for several minutes, trying to explain themselves to the cloaked figure. Eventually, she removed her hood and revealed one of the fairest faces either of them had ever seen. Her hair was golden like the sun, clearly visible even under the silver moonlight. Her pale skin curved and ended in a charming, pointed ear, behind which was tucked a braid of her golden hair. She stood tall before them, but Zarni thought the elf couldn’t be much taller than a human woman, if at all. Her amused smile put them at ease.

  “How is my husband?” she asked.

  Zarni and Tobin shared a glance, their jaws unhinged.

  “Are you …” Zarni started.

  “Milirore?” Tobin finished.

  “I am,” the elf woman said with a short giggle. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

  “Zarni …”

  “Tobin …”

  Each stood dumbfounded, barely able to answer.

  She smirked. “My husband clearly warned you about the snapplers. You did not take his warning seriously?”

  “Well …” Zarni hemmed. His green cheeks rosed. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he hadn’t believed her husband, thinking him somewhat of a loon.

  Her smile didn’t fade, but somehow, her look turned compassionate. “He is … eccentric, to be sure.”

  Tobin laughed. “Maybe one of the most eccentric people I’ve ever met, my lady.”

  She nodded to the side. “He was not always that way. Long years have not been kind to him. But inside, he remains the dwarf I married long ago.”

  Zarni shook his head. He could hardly believe it. When they had talked to Jorbinan, the goblin had gotten the impression his wife was long since passed. But here she stood before them.

  “I’m sorry to say … my lady,” Zarni added the last part quickly. He wasn’t sure how to address the elf woman, but nothing but the highest honor seemed to fit in his mind.

  “Milirore is fine,” she said, putting them at ease. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Zarni couldn’t believe anyone would say anything negative to her. “I just mean to say, I … I mean, we got the impression that you were … well … passed.”

  Milirore let another giggle escape her lips. “What did my husband say?”

  “Well,” Tobin jumped in. “He said that you’ve been gone forever!” He emphasized the word just as the mad sorcerer had.

  She snorted. “My dear husband says that even if I’m gone for a day. I’ve only been gone three days this time. I was just on my way back.”

  “In the middle of the night?” Zarni asked.

  “I try to travel by night. I like to clear the snapplers. In Jorbinan’s addled state, he is rather obsessed with the little monsters. I try to do my part to alleviate the stress for him.”

  “What were those things anyway?” Tobin asked.

  “Distant cousins to faeries,” she said, the words sour off her tongue. “More depraved though. You two are lucky I came along. They would likely have flayed the flesh from your bones after they got bored of terrifying you.”

  Zarnikorek and Tobin shared an uncomfortable look. Neither seemed to think the situation very funny anymore.

  When they didn’t respond, Milirore changed the subject. “So, you said you’re establishing a new wagon route?”

  “Right!” Zarni said, snapping back to the conversation. Suddenly, he remembered the map. He pulled it from his pocket and held it up to her. “I believe you may recognize our path.”

  Milirore took the map from the goblin as if he’d handed her a delicate work of art. “Koris …” is all that she managed to whisper. A silvery tear streaked from her eye, down her cheek, and dripped off her chin. Regret slammed into Zarni. He wished he could have caught the tear before it fell to the ground.

  “So, it’s true then?” Tobin asked. “You really were there. You really knew Koris?”

  “I did,” she said, her nostrils twitched as she composed herself. “He was a dear friend. I have not seen this map in hundreds of years,” she said, tracing the text with her fingers. “Where did you acquire this?”

  “A master mage in Galium gave it to us. Said it would help us on our journey.” Zarni paused for a moment and watched her. “Do you know what that text says?”

  “I should hope so,” she said with a weak smile. “I was the one who inked it.”

  Tobin gasped as though some unexpected truth had just rocked the world. Zarni smirked.

  “It is an ancient elvish script that says, ‘Should you lose your way, be sure to set your sights. No path leads straight through the mountains. Follow the curve of Mavro’s bow.’”

  “Mavro’s bow,” Zarni repeated. He rolled the words around in his head. They sounded familiar. Where did he know that? He looked up to find the elf mage watching him expectantly. He held her eyes momentarily before glancing away. A billion stars shone through the night. “Mavro!” he said.

  Milirore nodded to him.

  “What?” Tobin asked.

  “The constellation,” Zarni said as he hurriedly climbed into the back of the wagon. He retrieved the stello glass and rejoined them. “Mavro is one of the ancient constellations. One of the ones I didn’t recognize. When I couldn’t sleep, I was familiarizing myself with some of the ancient constellations. See? This one right here!”

  He held the stello glass up above himself and Tobin drew closer to gaze at the stars through the magic item. The glowing blue lines marked out the constellation for them to see. And before their eyes, Mavro and his bow were clearly visible.

  “That’s why the map wasn’t clear,” Zarni said. “It was a Traitor’s Map.” Milirore winced and her cheek twitched at the name. “I only mean,” Zarni continued quickly, “that it was a map used during the Second Great Black War and needed to be secret. It needed to be coded, so that if it fell into the wrong hands, no one would be able to figure out the allied forces’ plans.”

  “Correct,” Milirore offered, seemingly impressed with the goblin. Zarni blushed under her praise.

  “But the Trait—” Zarni paused to correct himself. “But the Map of Koris would never have gotten us to the route they used because we didn’t know what the text said.”

  “We could only follow it so far before we needed to follow the stars,” Tobin added excitedly.

  “Well, not quite,” Milirore said. She reached her hand out toward the duo. “May I?”

  “Of course,” Zarni said, handing the stello glass over.

  She held it before them. “Can you still see Mavro?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Zarni said. He flinched. “I mean, Milirore.”

  She pressed her lips into another smile as she lifted the Map of Koris to the back side of the stello glass. Now, the constellation of Mavro glowed on the parchment. His bow curled along a path that matched much of the markings Zarni had added. Realization dawned on them.

  “We had to use the stello glass and the map together!” Zarni uttered.

  “That’s right.”

  “This is incredible,” Tobin murmured. “Have you ever seen such magic? I’d wager even Master Argus had no idea about this. You’d think he would have told us if he did. This wouldn’t be something he would keep from us. Considering how important this quest is. I suppose—”

  “I don’t think he realized,” Zarni stopped the halfling.

  “Well,” Milirore said. “I think your quest is more important than even you realize.”

  When they rolled into the canyon of Krik, Zarni couldn’t believe his eyes. Orc and goblin children ran and played with each other. They jabbed wooden swords and axes at each other, clearly fending off some pretend evil. Adults moved from one merchant stall to another, each stall pouring out of one of the myriad alcoves in the canyon walls. Certain spaces were empty, and as they passed, Zarni noted them as tunnels that led deeper into the stone. Red stone mixed with grey to create what looked like waves that painted the canyon an awe-inspiring color. High above, several wyverns and their riders sat perched on the cliff edges.

  “What is this place?” Zarni asked. He’d never seen this place on any map. To his knowledge, there weren’t supposed to be any people out here, let alone a whole orc community.

  “This is Krik,” Milirore said, a hint of amusement lacing her words.

  “How …?” The goblin could hardly string his thoughts together. His mouth gaped as an elderly goblin woman peered around the tapestry she’d been weaving and fixed him with a suspicious glare. He waved to her, and her whole body shivered as if to shake the scandal from her skin. “How long has this place been here?”

  “Since Koris founded it,” the elf said with a hint of pride.

  “Koris founded this place?” Tobin asked. The halfling was getting as excited at every mention of Koris as Zarni was now. “He was quite the orc.”

  “He was,” Milirore said fondly. The elf’s eyes shimmered, and Zarni wondered where her mind went with that far off stare.

  “How has no one known of this place? How have they been here so long without trade or … or …” he just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around a whole orc community so isolated from the rest of Drelek that they didn’t even know it existed. Sure, there were small towns scattered throughout the mountains. But one to the south of a major city like Ghun-Ra? Especially one that rested between them and their old enemies?

  “Krik has been forging their own path for generations,” the elf explained patiently. “Just to the west of here is where the farms are located. The same farms Koris planted all those years ago. They’re the farms that feed this place.”

  “But what … I mean, why?” Zarni wasn’t even sure how to ask what he wanted to.