Changing sites

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So I've written a few things here that have been viewed by at least a few people. If you've enjoyed what you've read here, consider purchasing the kindle version of Durist that just went live on the Kindle Store yesterday.

Here are the links: Durist Kindle Book, NOOK Book


Future stories will continue to be available for free, but I'll also be releasing Kindle versions alongside them in case you're interested in that kind of thing.

Cheers!

Noisy Magic

Magic in fantasy stories is generally accepted as a defining element of the genre. Often this is interpreted by writers as wizards throwing fireballs, people with wands warding off curses, mythical beasts, and so on. There was once a time when this magic actually helped to make the story feel more fantastic, to inspire the sense of wonder and adventure that is key to the genre’s appeal.

However, our world has changed since the myths and fictional works that the modern fantasy genre is based on were first written. Things that would have seemed like magic just ten to fifteen years ago seem commonplace, even mundane at times. The smartphone in your pocket would have been difficult to believe in the year 1999 when most people were sitting in front of giant CRT monitors waiting for Windows ‘95/‘98/NT to load (probably to play Starcraft). The rapid explosion of technology that has facilitated the ability to project power and automate tasks has basically made magic a reality. In some ways reality has more magic than many fantasy stories.

In response to the technological explosion causing magic to seem less magical, fantasy content creators have entered a kind of arms race. Every film tries to be more fantastical than the last, every book has more and more colorful stories, every game has more and more outlandish art. Unfortunately, this has the opposite of the intended effect. Instead of the fantastical elements popping out at us and eliciting that genre defining sense of wonder, it just adds more to the noise. The audience filters it out, and too often there’s little left to enjoy afterwards.

So what is a fantasy creator to do? I can see two basic solutions, one is to systemize the magic in a story, and the other is to reduce the ambient magic so that magic in a story is more strongly felt.

For the first method let’s look to the works of Brandon Sanderson (he does a lot of things right, but for now, just think about how he handles magic). All of Sanderson’s works include magic which permeates through each story, but, unlike other works of fantasy that turn into a slog, magic moments in Sanderson’s stories never feel like a drag. The reason he can do this is because he systematizes the way magic works in his stories. There are things that magic can do and things that it can’t, and in this way he can pump out high intensity magic encounters without losing the audience. Instead of creating noise, magic is contained and coherent.

It’s like Brandon is a master guitarist blasting through an epic solo, whereas someone else would just be making a racket. By making magic a system, the author has control and the story never breaks free to make a mess that the audience is just going to skim over.

The second method is to simply reign in the use of magic, to make the fantasy story more relatable by rooting it more closely to reality (this is my preferred method). By doing this, you don’t have to create a system, but you do have to restrain yourself. This can create its own problems, for example, plot issues can’t as easily be hand waved out of the way by saying “a wizard did it,” and any time that magic is used in a story, it should always be to impart a specific emotive response, never simply to move through the plot. Use of magic should be oriented toward the goal of evoking emotions that are inaccessible or unnecessarily difficult to reach by other means.

Tolkien’s use of magic can be described using this framework. It’s obvious that there is magic in his stories, but he never really laid out a rhyme or reason for it, other than that they furthered the goals of the narrative. For example, when discussing the eagles, he always said that they must be used carefully or the stories would become trivial (Letter No. 201, 1957 and No. 210, 1958). Instead, they serve an important role in establishing the magical tone of the story, and help to evoke the characteristic sense of wonder and adventure.

Regardless how a content creator may choose to do it, magic will always be an important and defining part of the fantasy genre. Because of this, it’s imperative to know how to use it as a narrative tool. The main thing to do is to reduce noise by exercising restraint, either by making magic a system, or by only using it at absolutely necessary narrative moments.

The Road to Menidurtoc

"There will be more this time," Iedrid informed his family. They had gathered in their home while waiting for him to return with news. Now the four of them, his wife, daughter, and father-in-law,  sat around the table together discussing what was to come while late afternoon sunbeams danced on the wood and plaster walls of their humble home.

"How many more?" his wife, Keothieg, asked.

"Enough that the goblins are willing to move in the open, confident that we don’t dare to assail them," he responded, "and I fear they are right."

"How will they be stopped then?" Keothieg's father, Eldieg, asked.

"I think the plan is to stand against them once they have reached our fortifications nearer the town," Iedrid replied.

Eldieg was troubled. "That's too close."

"I agree," said Iedrid, "That's why I think it's best that Keothieg takes Keothrid and heads east."

Keothieg gave her husband a stern look. "I will not abandon my home to be looted. If you're not fleeing then I too will stay."

"But it's dange-"

Keothieg interrupted him, "I'm staying." With that she left the circle and climbed into the loft. Keothrid watched her mother go with wide concerned eyes.

Iedrid lowered his gaze. After several long seconds he let out a sigh and looked from his daughter to Eldieg. "You will take her then."

"I assumed it would come to that, but I you must know that I'm not as quick as I once was."

"The inevitability of age, but we both know that there's still some strength left in you."

"Perhaps, but I haven't put it to the test in a long time." Both men fell into grim silence. Iedrid looked down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, while Eldieg turned to look out the window.

Keothrid interrupted their revery, "Why can't we all flee together?"

Iedrid smiled a thin smile at her, "There's no need for that, daughter. Once we've turned away this rabble your mother and I will send for you."

"Then why must I flee at all?"

He considered her for a moment, wondering what would be appropriate to tell a child. "Precaution," was all he ended up muttering.

Keothieg returned from the loft carrying sundry items. "Don't worry about packing, I've taken care of that."

"I've got your cloaks and blankets to keep you warm," she said producing each item in turn, "Here I've packed a flint and knife so you can make a fire. There's enough food here to last about five days for the two of you."

Eldieg was satisfied with the inventory. "When should we leave?" he asked Iedrid.

"Within the hour. It will probably be dark before you reach Menidurtoc, but the goblins will be upon us before long. You cannot wait."

"So soon?" Keothrid exclaimed.

"Yes dearest," Iedrid said comfortingly, "but you won't be gone long. Do not fear."

Keothieg busied herself making a meal so that the travelers could start with something warm in their bellies. Keothrid helped in an attempt to stay near her mother for as long as possible.

The family ate a simple meal of hot oat porridge with leeks. The two travelers donned their cloaks and packs, but were reluctant to leave. They shuffled about and dragged their feet but they could not stop time, and soon enough there was no more time to waste.

Before they could leave, however, Keothieg brought out a long wool cloth wrapped bundle.

"I can't believe I nearly forgot this. I should have gathered it up earlier with everything else. Here," she said as she removed the cloth cover, "Your sword and buckler."

The old blade was austere and plain, two edged with parallel sides and an unadorned, functional cross guard. The leather of the grip still held fast but was beginning to show its age, and the wheel pommel was marred by small black spots that needed to be buffed out. It was a simple tool in an even simpler scabbard. The small domed buckler hung off the sword's grip by its handle. Eldieg reached out, as though to grab the scabbard, but instead pushed it toward his daughter.

"You take them. Your need may be greater than ours, and your ability to wield them is undoubtedly so."

"We can't be certain on either account. Besides, I've never learned the sword, and I have my knife," she said fiercely while gesturing to the substantial curved blade suspended in a scabbard from the belt around her waist.

"At least take the buckler, then. I cannot leave feeling that I've left you here defenseless."

"I don't really know what good it'll be," she retorted, but regardless she slid the buckler off the grip of her father's sword and again thrust it out for him to take.

Taking his sword, Eldieg attached the scabbard to his belt. The familiar weight tugged at his waist and for a fluttering moment almost he imagined himself young again, ready to see the next horizon, the next challenge. Keothrid's eyes met his and immediately he returned to the present. He was being sent away by his children to watch after their child. Other people would do the fighting this day, and he would just be getting in the way.

Keothrid and Eldieg stepped over the threshold and he turned back to bid his children farewell. Keothrid said nothing, electing instead to examine her shoes.

"Well, until we meet again, then," he said.

"Exactly," Iedrid replied.

Keothieg stepped out and embraced her father. "Make sure neither of you are hurt. I'll give you a thorough scolding if either of you are," she said into his ear. She held out her hand to her daughter, but Keothrid was too busy drawing in the dirt with her toes to notice.

"Ah, well," Keothieg said dismissively taking a step back toward the house, "See you two soon."

Eldieg nodded and, tapping Keothrid on the shoulder, headed away from the house toward the lane with his granddaughter in tow. It was late Autumn. Most of the leaves had already fallen and a cold breeze whipped about their faces adding a red glow to their cheeks. The dark overcast sky glowed slightly in the southwest from the evening sun.

The road ran ahead of them, to the east, into forested hilly terrain that was flanked on the north by high mountains. That forest had once been considered impenetrable, wild, and lawless. Generations of pioneers had managed to tame the surrounding area and carve out a space for themselves. Along the road, at least their route would be safe enough, but the forest was large. Untamed areas still remained.

They walked at a steady pace for about an hour. The road was unusually quiet. On a normal day, one could expect to run into people coming and going on this or that business, but today the few people they did see all seemed to be going. These other people were all able to walk faster than Keothrid and Eldieg. Some passed without seeming to notice the two at all, while others would look at them in concern, but then hurry on ahead casting a furtive glance behind.

Soon the land began climbing upward and the two found themselves on the steps of the hills. Continuing to climb they crested the top of a ridge. Looking back to the west they could clearly see over the steeply peaked roofs of their homes a line of villagers standing shield to shield with spears held high before an army of discordant goblins. Sunlight glared off from the villagers’ helm and harness as the goblins rushed against the wall of wood and steel. The writhing mass of goblins clashed against the line, and the spear points flashed red in the setting sun as they plunged down to repel the charge. There was a brief, intense moment as the opposing sides commenced the labor of death against each other before the goblins were repelled. Injured and dying men were dragged away behind the line, and the gaps were filled with grim efficiency. Spears again held ready, the villagers braced themselves against a second blow. The two lines engaged again, and again the villagers’ points glittered grimly as they inflicted wounds upon their foes. This time, however, the line wavered and bowed in the center, but with much labor the villagers were able to collapse around the knot of goblins that was pushing forward and repel the onslaught. Again the two lines separated, and again the wounded and dying were moved back and others moved in to fill their places. The villager’s line had grown thin and ragged, however, and Eldieg and Keothrid, watching, knew what must come next.

Again the goblins surged forward, pushing with the weight of their many bodies against the villagers’ shields. For the last time the the men’s spears delivered their deadly touch, but there were too few to repel the many goblins. A man’s shield shattered and he fell to a thrust from a goblin sword. There was no other to fill the gap; the line broke in one place, then another. Soon the villagers found themselves in a desperate melee and their swords could be seen flashing about in deadly arcs from behind their thick shields. They fought for several minutes longer, but their doom was already written. They were surrounded and enveloped by goblins. The battle was lost.

Their foes defeated, the goblins set about rummaging through the belongings of the fallen. They took the coats of mail and weapons, leaving the bodies in disorderly bloody heaps. A large party of the goblins had drifted across the field and started stalking between the houses, and before long they began smashing in doors and windows searching for loot and slaves. Soon pillars of smoke could be seen rising above the tops of the houses, and flames followed not long after.

Keothrid watched. Her face was drawn and pallid, and her eyes were wide. Eldieg rested his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t try to pull away or run.

Sorrow, regret, and shame flooded through Eldieg. “Come on now, ielith,” he said, giving Keothrid a little tug. “We must run from here. There will be time for grief later.”

Keothrid looked up at her grandfather, and he couldn’t see any sadness or grief on her small face. Just an anger that gave him a moment’s pause.

The two turned away and Eldieg escorted his granddaughter away from the ridge toward the forest. Snow began to fall just as they reached the cover of its leafless branches. The setting sun tinted the dim clouds with a red blush. The twisting canopy of branches blocked the last remaining feeble light, and the two travelers were left in twilight. The path was barely discernable.

It ran steadily uphill. On the right hand, the land rose steeply and on the left it plunged down into a tangled thicket and before rising up again to another hill. The falling snow gathered on the branches of the trees and together they worked to mute any sounds other than the traveler’s footfalls and the occasional creak of a branch. The cold air felt fresh in their nostrils and they blew out small streamers of mist that coiled about their faces. Keothrid pulled her orange hood closer to her cheeks that blushed from the cold.

A path opened up to their left that led down into the thicketed area and Eldieg came to stop. Looking behind he saw their footprints cleanly laid out in the freshly fallen snow. In the thicker trees there would be less snow on the ground, and they would leave less sign of their passing. On the other hand, the other path was more difficult, with more rising and falling portions, and didn’t lead to anywhere safe very quickly. Staying on the main, well groomed, path seemed like the better choice, but Eldieg’s feet instinctively carried him down the path into the thicker trees. Eldieg glanced at his granddaughter, but she was too busy trying not to slip down the path to offer any opinion on his choice.

The bottom of the descent was guarded by thin low hanging branches. They pushed their way through as twigs swished about, threatening to snap at them for the disturbance. As Eldieg had suspected, there was less snow here, and they left little sign of their passing except for the swishing of the trees and bushes. The ground was basically level with a slight upward incline as it ran parallel and underneath the main path, but soon it hit the hill on their left and started to wind up its slope.

They climbed up onto the side of the hill. There was little cover here other than some overgrown grass and scrubby bushes. The snow had stopped at some point while they were pushing through the thicket, and the moon and stars began to show themselves through cracks in the cloud cover.

As they ascended Keothrid had begun to pull ahead, and Eldieg was running out of breath. His legs were tiring quickly with the steep climbs and drops, and his granddaughter was often forced to wait for him. His old body just didn’t have strength left in it to keep up with her youthful energy.

The path took them along the southern slope of the hill for a time before another bone of the hill split it further to the left away from the main path. More trees grew alongside their track and they were soon under their protective cover.

Almost immediately after reaching the trees, they saw a glowing patch of light moving up the main path from behind them. As it drew nearer, it became obvious that it was a group of people carrying torches, and from the stilted, wildly pitching sounds that came across the thicket between them, it was obvious that it was a group of goblins. The two of them could not see any individuals in the trees, but the glow that their lights cast was passing quickly by. Much more quickly than either of them could have traveled. Eldieg said a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god had guided him off the main path.

Keothrid watched the glowing patch move by with an increasingly dour expression. As soon as the goblins had rounded a corner and their torches flickered out of sight, Eldieg tapped his grandchild on the shoulder and silently indicated that they should keep moving. She nodded stiffly.

The night was growing very cold, but not so cold that the constant motion and warm clothes they wore could not hold it at bay.

The ridge continued to split their path away from the path that the goblins were following, and Eldieg began to relax. The goblins had passed them by, and if they walked through the night they would reach the town, Menidurtoc, nestled in the hills at the feet of the mountains. It was defended by a reinforced stockade with enough men to repel any siege that the goblins could muster. Another year, maybe two, and their little village could have been just as well defended…

Garbled voices that pitched spastically up and down drifted across the wind, breaking Eldieg from his thoughts. Looking behind, he saw two goblin forms silhouetted by the torch they carried against the empty hillside he and Keothrid had just left.

The frosty night chilled Eldieg’s blood. Goblins, while smaller than humans, were sturdy and closely acquainted with darkness, which allowed them to cover long distances at night. Given his old age and his granddaughter’s small size, they would be quickly outpaced. If caught, he would probably be immediately murdered and she be taken slave as a trophy.

He grabbed her shoulder, “Go down the path a short way and hide in a spot where you can see me. If things go poorly, run, and don’t stop running until you reach Menidurtoc.” She made a shocked nod at him, and trudged quickly down the path before lodging herself under some densely growing bushes.

Eldieg swiftly ducked behind an ancient beech tree, its gnarled roots and trunk hiding him from the light of the approaching goblins. He unclasped his cloak and swiftly wrapped it around his left arm. He silently slid his sword from its unadorned leather scabbard. The sound of the goblins’ talking grew louder, and their light began to bounce about, casting shadows of branches and twigs about them. The voices grew louder and louder, until it seemed they must be right beside him.

Eldieg waited until the goblins came into sight around the side of the tree’s roots before he struck. Holding his sword above his left shoulder he stepped into striking distance behind one of the goblins while simultaneously cutting at its neck. The goblin’s decapitated body slumped lifelessly to the forest floor.

Eldieg stepped again to bring himself into distance with the other goblin before it had time to react, but his forearm flinched and he was unable to recover his blade quickly enough. This resulted in an off balance, wild blow that the goblin easily deflected with the torch.

The goblin drew its short, broad bladed weapon from its scabbard. Only its true edge was sharpened, but it had a deadly triangular tip. The guard had no cross; the grip was enclosed by a simple bar that swept down from the true edge to the pommel. The sword slashed out at Eldieg as it came free of the scabbard, but he escaped injury by slipping back and disengaging from the bind with the goblin’s torch.

The goblin held its sword over its right shoulder with the tip pointing back and upward and brought it down in a heavy sweeping cut for Eldieg’s shoulder, using the torch to protect its extended arm. Eldieg deflected the sword with his cloak wrapped arm, opening a tiny gap between the torch and the sword’s guard. He whipped his blade through, severing the goblin’s hand. It and the sword it still grasped toppled to the side. Immobilized by shock, the goblin wailed loudly and pitifully for the brief moment it took for Eldieg to silence it by cutting its throat.

Eldieg sighed and his relaxing body slumped, the exertion and stress taking its toll. He leaned over one of the fallen goblins and used its yellow linen tunic to clean his blade before returning it to the sheath. Unwrapping the cloak from his arm, Eldieg noted the gash where the cloak had met the goblin blade before throwing it back across his shoulders. Holes in cloaks were easier to fix than holes in arms.

He stumbled, suddenly feeling very tired, down the path to where Keothrid was hiding, “Come out, ielith, we have to hurry faster now.” The goblin’s dying cry would have echoed through the hills, and it was likely that others had heard. Eldieg didn’t want to wait and find out if they had.

Keothrid pulled herself out of her place between the low branches of the bushes, and primly brushed off the snow that clung to her clothes. She looked back at the dead goblins with grim satisfaction that didn’t match her face. “I’m proud to be your granddaughter,” she plainly stated to Eldieg.

Eldieg felt both glad and concerned.

For the time being, however, there was nothing to do but move, so they mustered their strength and started moving down the trail as quickly as their legs would carry them. At times they were able to move at a distance covering jog, but often the moonlight was blocked by trees and they were forced to move more cautiously. Injury from an unseen obstacle could mean death.

They traveled onward toward Menidurtoc in constant fear of a goblins. Often Eldieg would think he had heard some sign of pursuit and would pull them to the side of the path to listen. There they would wait for several long minutes, trying not to breathe too loudly despite their forced pace, before setting out again. They repeated this process many times. There was never any sign of goblins.

Coming around a corner, they saw an orange glow in the sky coming from in front of them. At first Eldieg thought that it was the rising sun, but that shouldn’t happen for a couple more hours unless he was completely mistaken.

“What is that Grandpa?”

He simply shook his head in reply: he didn’t know. Keothrid cast her eyes around above her, and, choosing the thickest tree, walked over to it and began to climb. “I can see what it is from up higher.”

Eldieg wanted to object, but he was too tired to argue.

The little girl scampered expertly through the branches. Tree climbing was one of her favorite pastimes, but she wasn’t usually allowed to climb as high as she would need to to be able to see over the plants blocking their view.  Disturbed snow fluttered down and cold branches creaked as she climbed, but her light weight allowed her to take many routes that would have been impossible for a larger person. Before too long she was high enough to see what was making the glow.

“It’s campfires Grandpa! There are so many campfires!”

“Can you see the town?” He called up to her.

“Yes! It’s over next to the mountains. The fires are between us and there,” was her reply.

Eldieg suddenly felt the entire night’s efforts weigh him down. They had been cut off, beaten in the race. A goblin war band now stood between them and safety. “Alright, ielith, that will do. Come down.”

A few moments and many rustling branches later, Keothrid dropped to the ground. “What do we do grandpa?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Eldieg said, twining his fingers into his grey mane of hair, “We can’t go back, and forward is blocked.”

“I don’t want to stay here and wait,” Keothrid said.

“Neither do I, ielith, but that leaves us only one option. We must head into the mountains.”

Keothrid simply nodded at that plan. Eldieg wondered if she understood what that could mean. The temperature in the hills would never be called warm, but it was a manageable kind of cold. The cold in the mountains was relentless and the deep shifting snow could bury their corpses until spring.

Regardless, it was the only plan they had.

They continued down the path. Eldieg had spent much time in his younger years exploring the many paths that crisscrossed these foothills, and not far from where they were another track would lead them up a canyon. Once they reached the top of that canyon, they could make choices about what to do next.

After about another hour of walking they found the trail and turned onto it. The path grew more steep as they climbed, and hulking shadows of the mountains loomed overhead in the darkness. The snow grew thicker too, at times obscuring the path. If not for Eldieg’s memories of the area they could have easily gotten lost. The air became colder, and they huddled up more tightly in their cloaks.

Away in the east the sky began to shine a dull grey. The false dawn was had come, and the world began to lighten around the two travelers. They were now able to make out that they were walking north,  up the crease between two peaks, and the path had taken them up the eastern face of the one on their left. To the south they could see their footprints descending to the hill forest that they had left behind, and in front of them were only fir trees, peaks, and drifts of snow. On all sides large cliffs of twisted granite curled skyward.

Eldieg stopped for a moment to catch his breath in the freezing air, taking a moment to take in the massive landscape. He cast his gaze down the canyon back the way they came, and continued out across the valley.

Something moving below snapped his attention back to the path they had come up. Several small figures were moving at a fast walk up the snowy trail. In the predawn light, they looked like the shadows of ants against the white snow, but they were unmistakably goblins. What was worse, they could just as easily see him silhouetted against the white backdrop as he could see them. Even as he watched, one of the figures gestured toward him. Goblin voices raised a hungry cry that reverberated up to where he stood.

Eldieg grabbed his grandchild’s arm and started churning up the trail as fast as he could. He knew that they couldn’t outrun the goblins; he was too old, and Keothrid was too small. As he hurriedly shuffled up the trail, tugging at a surprised Keothrid, he searched for a place to hide. On their left, a barren slope shot steeply upward before becoming a straight cliff a few hundred feet above them. On the right, the mountain fell away into the crevice between the two peaks just as steeply. Below there were some trees and brush, but they were being hunted. In such a tight space they’d be found quickly, even if they could descend without harming themselves.

Glancing back again, he counted four goblins. Too many to ambush with any expectation of success, and there could be more that he couldn’t see. The only option for now seemed to be run.  Keothrid slipped on the ice, letting out a curse that someone her age shouldn’t know. The goblins were going to overtake them, there was just no way to prevent it.

Regardless, they hurried as quickly as they could. For about half an hour they pushed up the mountain in the snow. Ahead they saw that what appeared to be the top a ridge, and they hurried toward it. It turned out to be a flat high meadow area that was supported by the meeting of multiple mountains. Above their heads peaks rose in every direction, and all paths (excepting the one they had just followed) lead upwards. Dark fir forests lined the whole area and many of the trails vanished under their boughs. They shuffled doggedly along the way that provided the shortest route to tree cover, leaving behind a trail of footprints in the snow.

Suddenly the goblins were upon them. Before they could reach the protection of the trees, the goblins came running up the trail breathing hard out their oversized nostrils. They howled with sinister pleasure upon catching their quarry out in the open, shouting something indecipherable, but obviously fowl, in their goblin language.

Eldieg simultaneously drew his sword and pushed Keothrid behind him, turning to face the goblins. They raced across the flat snowy meadow, spreading out to box the old man and his granddaughter in. The two of them backed toward the treeline and the goblins started to tighten in around them.

One of the goblins lunged forward with its blade, testing Eldieg’s defense. He deftly rebatted the blow, but was unable to riposte, because he had to immediately turn to move an attack from another goblin off line.

The goblins were surprised by this old man’s agility, and collectively flinched. In that brief tempo, Eldieg began moving his sword in wide sweeping motions. It wasn’t enough to break the defense of any one goblin and disable it, but he could threaten them all and scare them from coming into distance until he could find a chance to attack. The whole while he continued to shepherd Keothrid back toward the treeline.

One goblin moved to cut off their path to the trees, and Eldieg’s sword came swirling in toward its head and neck, forcing it to skip away. Another made a move toward Keothrid and nearly lost its hand for the effort.

Eldieg’s blade continued to whirl. The goblins’ faces twisted grotesquely in the dim morning light, their eyes wide with fear, anger, and bloodlust. The four of them snarled at him, showing their beast-like incisors.

One of them made a cut at Eldieg’s forward leg. He slipped it back, but his foot hit a root or rock hidden under the snow. He transferred his weight to the other leg, and it gave out. The hours of flight through the hills and mountains, all the energy spent trying not to slip in the snow had finally caught up with him, and he fell to the ground. He fell on his left side, looking up at the goblins now surrounding him.

The nearest goblin stepped forward with a triumphant howl, and swung its blade down at him. Suddenly, Keothrid appeared next to him, holding his sword with both her small hands above her head in a hanging guard that deflected the goblin’s sword to the side. She staggered to the side a few steps from the force of the blow and fell on her bottom.

With a spray of blood, one of the goblins collapsed, and another was thrown into the other two. A dwarf wearing a woolen cape and a fur lined hood laid into the goblins with a hammer mounted on the end of a pole. The fist sized piece of metal whirled and one goblin’s skull collapsed. Another tried to stand, but the dwarf hooked its knee with the spike on the back of the hammer before ramming the pointed butt end of the shaft through its stomach.

The last goblin had been able to avoid being knocked over and tried to escape. The dwarf proved to be too fast and the reach of his poleaxe too long, however, and the soon there were four goblin corpses littering the ground of the clearing. It had taken the dwarf only a few seconds to decimate all of them.

The dwarf took a moment to clean his poleaxe of the blood and gore, while Keothrid helped her grandfather to his feet. She handed him his sword, and he dried it on his cloak before returning it to its sheath.

Eldieg and the dwarf stood face to face in the cold mountain snow, goblin gore spread out around them. The dwarf wore simple clothing under his cape, a belted tunic that went to its knees and trousers with thick shoes. That all served be even more starkly contrasted with the brilliantly golden chain he wore around his neck that held a single a large emerald that caught the morning light and threw it about in impossible green patterns. His beard was trimmed just above where the gem sat, seemingly, to avoid blocking it from view.

The dwarf spoke first, “I hate goblins.”

“We appreciate that,” Eldieg replied, his voice more ragged than he remembered it being.

The dwarf stood with butt of his poleaxe stuck firmly in the snow in front of him. “What’s brought an old man and a child to these mountains at such a time as this?”

“Our home was destroyed by goblins, and they chased us here,” Keothrid said. Eldieg nodded in agreement before adding, “There’s a warband threatening to attack Menidurtoc, so we couldn’t go that way.”

The dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully before coming to a decision. “Durist at your service,” he said with small bow, and then waited expectantly.

It took Eldieg half a beat to understand. “Eldieg,” he started with a slight nod of the head, “and Keothrid,” he added, awkwardly gesturing at his granddaughter, “at yours.”

“I think you had better stay at my home for a while,” Durist said, “I’m starting to think it’s the only safe place for you two around here.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

They were interrupted by goblin voices echoing up the canyon. They gave each other a slight concerned look before Durist pointed them toward one of the many mountain trails and led them down it.

Soon they were under thick cover of tree branches that blocked most of the snow from reaching the forest floor. The path forked and branched so many times that it would be very difficult for any pursuit to guess exactly which way they had gone, and Durist even took the trouble to remove evidence of their passing and occasionally create a false lead.

The goblin voices became more and more distant as they walked deeper into the mountains until they couldn’t be heard at all.

“How much further is it?” Eldieg asked. Keothrid was visibly exhausted, and he was also finding it difficult to continue to put one foot in front of the other.

Abruptly the trees ended, giving way to a vast snow field that sloped gently away up toward a ridge about half a mile away. A branch of the ridge ran down past where they stood, creating a wall of stone and earth that cradled the area.

“Just on the other side of that snow, on the mountainside there.”

Eldieg felt a small knot of despair growing in him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk across that depth of snow for long. It was nearly as deep as he was tall.

Durist interrupted his thoughts. “Luckily for you,” he said, “I’ve made a tunnel.”

To the right, the dwarf tucked his hand into a small crevice while simultaneously pushing into the cliffside beside them. To their surprise, the stone gave way, creating a portal that led into unknown darkness. Keothrid scowled at the thought of going in, but they didn’t have any other options. Either trust this dwarf, or die from exposure in the highland cold.

They decided to trust Durist.

The tunnel was cut directly into rock, reinforced at weaker points by stone buttresses. It was tall enough for Eldieg to stand up straight, but only just barely; he had to duck several times to avoid hitting his head on a protruding crag. Durist lit the way with a simple oil lamp that he had stored by the door when he had exited.

“I dug this tunnel a few years back when I got sick of scrambling through that snow all winter,” he informed them, “Where I put the door never gets as much piled up for some reason, so I just dug it to there. It's been very useful.”

Eldieg listened silently to the dwarf’s good natured prattling, but he mostly just felt the pain in his whole body. Their flight, his struggles against the goblins, and the cold mountain ascent had taken a hard toll. Just a few more steps, though, and he could rest.

The tunnel ended abruptly at a wooden door wedge firmly in the stone. “Here we are!” Durist proclaimed.

Opening the door they were greeted by a room full of sundry goods anyone would need. Against one wall a pile of firewood had been neatly arranged, an oven for smoking meat stood next to a pile of roughly tanned pelts, and half finished projects and tools were tucked here and there on various work surfaces. At the far side of the room a staircase had been carved into the rock and a wooden railing erected along the side.

“This is where I keep my necessities and such. You'll find a warm fire and blanket upstairs.”

They followed him upstairs to another room about the same size that had a stove that was open on the sides which was heating the room with some low burning coals. The dwarf’s bed was also there, as well as a workbench that held a pile of glittering stones next to tools of curious design.

“Do you cut gems then?” Eldieg asked.

“Yes,” Durist said, “I trade for uncut stones or find them on the ground. It's not as hard as you might think. Anyway, then I sell the jewels for supplies. It's been enough for me.”

Durist gathered some blankets and furs off from his bed and set them in front of the stove.

“I don’t usually have guests, so you’ll have to share,” he said, “but I can keep the fire burning a bit brighter tonight.”

Eldieg calculated uncomfortably. He was grateful for the hospitality, but he knew they would probably need to stay longer. With their home destroyed and the lowland area threatened by goblin warbands they would need help, and Durist was the only person they had come across that could help them.

“Ah, well,” Durist said, coming to the same conclusion, “I guess if you’re going to be staying a bit longer we can work something out. It could be nice to have some help around here!”

Eldieg gave the shorter person a grateful bow and a pat on the shoulder, but he was so tired, he couldn’t think of the proper words. The warm fire and blankets piled in front of it called to him, and his aching bones were drawn in.

Before long he and Keothrid were bundled up next to each other, finally able to sleep after their trial. Durist tidied a few things up, scratched his beard, and wondered how exactly he was going to take care of these two stray humans.

In the end he simply shrugged, he would find a way.