bothering me, and I won't turn you over to the unicorn in small meaty chunks. How's that?'
'Do we get our weapons back?' asked the goblin leader.
Rupert smiled. 'Do I look crazy?'
The goblin leader shrugged. 'Worth a try. All right, sir hero, you got yourself a deal.'
'And you won't try to follow me?'
The goblin leader gave him a hard stare. 'Do I look crazy? Personally speaking, sir hero, I for one will
be extremely content if I never see you again.'
He led the goblins off the trail, and they vanished quickly into the trees. Rupert grinned widely, and sheathed his sword. He was finally getting the hang of this quest business.
An hour later, the light faded quickly away as Rupert left the Tanglewood and crossed into the Darkwood. Far above him rotting trees leaned together, their leafless interlocking branches blocking out the sun, and in the space of a few moments Rupert passed from mid-afternoon to darkest night. He reined the unicorn to halt and looked back over his shoulder, but daylight couldn't follow him into the Darkwood. Rupert turned back, patted the unicorn's neck comfortingly, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
A faint silver glow of phosphorescent fungi limned the decaying tree trunks, and far off in the distance he thought he saw a brief flash of light, as though someone had opened a door and then quickly closed it for fear light would attract unwelcome attention. Rupert glanced about him nervously, ears straining for the slightest sound, but the darkness seemed silent as the tomb. The air was thick with the sickly sweet stench of death and corruption.
His eyes finally adjusted enough to show him the narrow trail that led into the heart of the Darkwood, and he signalled the unicorn to move on. The slow, steady hoofbeats sounded dangerously loud in the quiet. There was only one trail through the endless night: a single straight path that crossed the darkness from one boundary to the other, cut so long ago that no one now remembered who had done it, or why.
The Darkwood was very old, and kept its secrets to itself. Rupert peered constantly about him, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He remembered the demon he'd fought in the Tanglewood, and shuddered suddenly. Entering the Darkwood was a calculated risk, but if anyone knew where to find a dragon, it was the Night Witch.
Assuming she was still alive, after all these years. Before Rupert set out on his journey, the Court Astrologer had helped him delve into the castle archives in search of any map that might lead to a dragon's lair. They didn't find one, which pleased Rupert no end, but they did stumble across the official record of Grandfather Eduard's encounter with the Night Witch. The surprisingly brief tale (surprising in that the most recent song on the subject lasted for 137 interminable verses), included a passing reference to a dragon, and a suggestion that the exiled Witch might still be found at her cottage in the Darkwood, not far from the Tanglewood boundary.
'Even assuming that I am daft enough to go looking for a woman whose main interest in life is forcibly separating people from their Hood,' said Rupert, dubiously, 'give me one good reason why she should agree to help me.'
'Apparently,' said the Astrologer, cryptically, 'she was rather fond of your grandfather.'
Rupert studied the Astrologer suspiciously and pressed him for more details, but he refused to be drawn.
Rupert trusted the Astrologer about as far as he could spit into the wind, but since he hadn't a clue of how else to find a dragon . . .
Gnarled, misshapen trees loomed menacingly out of the gloom as Rupert rode deeper into the endless night. The only sound was the steady rhythm of the unicorn's hooves, and even that seemed somehow muffled by the unrelenting dark. More than once Rupert reined the unicorn to a sudden halt and stared about him, eyes straining against the darkness, convinced that something awful lurked just beyond the
range of his
'Do we get our weapons back?' asked the goblin leader.
Rupert smiled. 'Do I look crazy?'
The goblin leader shrugged. 'Worth a try. All right, sir hero, you got yourself a deal.'
'And you won't try to follow me?'
The goblin leader gave him a hard stare. 'Do I look crazy? Personally speaking, sir hero, I for one will
be extremely content if I never see you again.'
He led the goblins off the trail, and they vanished quickly into the trees. Rupert grinned widely, and sheathed his sword. He was finally getting the hang of this quest business.
An hour later, the light faded quickly away as Rupert left the Tanglewood and crossed into the Darkwood. Far above him rotting trees leaned together, their leafless interlocking branches blocking out the sun, and in the space of a few moments Rupert passed from mid-afternoon to darkest night. He reined the unicorn to halt and looked back over his shoulder, but daylight couldn't follow him into the Darkwood. Rupert turned back, patted the unicorn's neck comfortingly, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
A faint silver glow of phosphorescent fungi limned the decaying tree trunks, and far off in the distance he thought he saw a brief flash of light, as though someone had opened a door and then quickly closed it for fear light would attract unwelcome attention. Rupert glanced about him nervously, ears straining for the slightest sound, but the darkness seemed silent as the tomb. The air was thick with the sickly sweet stench of death and corruption.
His eyes finally adjusted enough to show him the narrow trail that led into the heart of the Darkwood, and he signalled the unicorn to move on. The slow, steady hoofbeats sounded dangerously loud in the quiet. There was only one trail through the endless night: a single straight path that crossed the darkness from one boundary to the other, cut so long ago that no one now remembered who had done it, or why.
The Darkwood was very old, and kept its secrets to itself. Rupert peered constantly about him, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He remembered the demon he'd fought in the Tanglewood, and shuddered suddenly. Entering the Darkwood was a calculated risk, but if anyone knew where to find a dragon, it was the Night Witch.
Assuming she was still alive, after all these years. Before Rupert set out on his journey, the Court Astrologer had helped him delve into the castle archives in search of any map that might lead to a dragon's lair. They didn't find one, which pleased Rupert no end, but they did stumble across the official record of Grandfather Eduard's encounter with the Night Witch. The surprisingly brief tale (surprising in that the most recent song on the subject lasted for 137 interminable verses), included a passing reference to a dragon, and a suggestion that the exiled Witch might still be found at her cottage in the Darkwood, not far from the Tanglewood boundary.
'Even assuming that I am daft enough to go looking for a woman whose main interest in life is forcibly separating people from their Hood,' said Rupert, dubiously, 'give me one good reason why she should agree to help me.'
'Apparently,' said the Astrologer, cryptically, 'she was rather fond of your grandfather.'
Rupert studied the Astrologer suspiciously and pressed him for more details, but he refused to be drawn.
Rupert trusted the Astrologer about as far as he could spit into the wind, but since he hadn't a clue of how else to find a dragon . . .
Gnarled, misshapen trees loomed menacingly out of the gloom as Rupert rode deeper into the endless night. The only sound was the steady rhythm of the unicorn's hooves, and even that seemed somehow muffled by the unrelenting dark. More than once Rupert reined the unicorn to a sudden halt and stared about him, eyes straining against the darkness, convinced that something awful lurked just beyond the
range of his
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