Shadow Blizzard

14 The Labyrinth

Glo-Glo was wrong—the detachment of orcs we had been waiting for all this time didn’t arrive on the sixth day, but on the seventh, and only when evening was already drawing in.

With nothing to do, I was quietly going out of my mind, and I tried either to sleep (until Fagred’s boot drove sleep away), or to watch what the orcs were doing and observe their habits, until some fang-mouthed brute advised me (in the most polite manner possible, I hasten to add) that it was time to sleep. I couldn’t get what Olag had said out of my head—that after all these centuries of peace the orcs had decided to tickle the bellies of Valiostr and the Border Kingdom.

Well, the Border Kingdom might hold up, but the southern borders of my native Valiostr (with its slack garrisons, where the men didn’t know how to properly hold a sword) would falter and break, and the Firstborn would drive our army all the way back to the Iselina. It would be at least a week before the armchair generals gathered their wits and moved forces down from the north and Miranueh, and that was enough time for the orcs to cause catastrophic damage. And would we hold out, even if the army did arrive in time? Our only hope were the barons, like Oro Gabsbarg—and the towns like Maiding and Moitsig, which lay right beside Zagraba. Their walls could hold back the army of orcs for a little while. At least, I hoped so, I really hoped so.…

I hadn’t forgotten about the little flinny, either: If he had carried out my assignment and found my group, then help should already be hurrying on its way. The question was—would they get here in time?

Well then, about the detachment of orcs that arrived. In the early evening a bird called somewhere in the trees. The orcs sitting round the campfire and beside the obelisk pricked up their ears, and one of the Firstborn shouted in reply. A few moments later the orcs spilled out into the clearing. They just kept on coming, and when the last orc emerged from the trees, I had counted seventy-six of them. And they had prisoners, too.

Most of the prisoners were elves, but there were also four men, and they were all Border Kingdom warriors. When Mis saw them, he started in surprise.

“I know them! They’re lads from the garrison at Drunken Brook. How did they manage to get here? Maybe you’re right, Harold, and these subhuman monsters are already on the march.”

“I don’t think so,” said Glo-Glo. “If they were, there would be a lot more prisoners. They probably came barging into the Golden Forest and ran into trouble, the same way you did.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Mis sighed.

“Now it’ll start again.”

“What do you mean, Glo-Glo?”

“The usual thing, Harold. They’ll chop a few elves’ heads off!”

The goblin was right, but not completely. They only executed two elves, and not in the clearing, they took them off into the forest. The others were led to the obelisk under double guard and Shokren’s wary eye and left there with the men until their time came.

“Maybe they won’t cut their heads off,” Glo-Glo said thoughtfully. “Maybe this time they’ve decided to make an exception and put the dark ones into the Labyrinth.”

“Can you see what badges they’re wearing?” I asked the goblin.

“The same as the others—Walkers Along the Stream. A middling sort of clan, not very strong.”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I was asking about the elves!”

“A-a-ah … I think it’s the House of Black Water. They’re really vicious, the Dark House closest to the Golden Forest, they make the orcs weep tears of blood, but it looks as if it’s the elves’ turn to cry now.”

That inseparable pair, Olag and Fagred, were heading toward us.

“Get ready, monkeys, we’re moving out in five minutes. I hope you haven’t got any ideas about escaping? If you have, just let us know. Better to lose your head straightaway than end up dangling from a tree, gutted like a fish.”

Naturally, none of us was planning to escape, or if anybody was, he certainly wasn’t thinking of letting the Firstborn know about it. Olag nodded contentedly, adjusted his yataghan, and tramped off toward the obelisk. Fagred was about to follow him, but he stopped, bared his teeth in a grin, grabbed hold of my hair, and whispered in my ear, “Yesterday a raven arrived for Shokren, moth. You’re not needed anymore, so get ready to run ’round the Labyrinth.”

Then, feeling very pleased with himself, he went hurrying after Olag.

“I’m sorry, my boy,” said Glo-Glo, giving me a comforting pat on the back.

“I’m not really all that upset,” I answered quite sincerely. “Sooner or later…”

“Ah, we’re not done with this fight yet!” the goblin told me with a cunning wink.

Well, naturally, I hoped that if we really did start fighting, the orcs would remember us for centuries to come, because where could you possibly find any finer warriors than a slightly crazy old shaman and a thief stupid enough to come calling on the Firstborn?

“That Olag was telling the truth,” said Glo-Glo, plumping up a genuine straw mattress. “The orcs have gone. All the villages are empty—nothing but women, children, and the minimum number of warriors. The Firstborn have moved their forces to the north. Oho, now there’ll be fun and games.”

“Isn’t that stupid?” asked Mis, who was lying with his hands behind his head, staring up at the low ceiling. “While they’re busy with us, the dark elves will take their homes.…”

“No, I don’t think so.… I’m sure they’ve moved large forces to the west as well, and now there’s a band of orc garrisons between the Golden and Black forests.”

Maybe the goblin was right, who could tell? In any case, during the five days we’d spent tramping through Zagraba, all the orcs had talked about was the great march. We had swerved farther and farther to the south, moving into the very heartland of the orcs’ forests. Along the way, every now and then we came across little villages. In fact, I’m not even sure I would call them villages. They were well fortified and camouflaged settlements. The forest itself protected their inhabitants against attack by enemies. There were just enough warriors in these fortresses to hold out against a sudden attack. The houses of the civilians looked substantial and prosperous, built of stone and wood, and there were also little houses with two, or even three stories in the trees.

Light, airy bridges had been stretched between the trees, making it possible to move quite freely from one tree to another—provided, of course, that you didn’t have any fear of great heights. These bridges and houses were ideal sites for archers if the enemy managed to break through the lines of defense and flood into the settlement. While the adversary was running around down below, the archers would make him pay a heavy price, and enemy warriors who tried to scale the massively thick trunks of the majestic trees would have no cover against the arrows and be killed in droves.

We’d spent the last two nights in villages like this. The three of us were kept separately from the other prisoners—Glo-Glo said we were Bagard’s property, we were his racehorses for the mid-autumn festival. We were fed, treated well, and given a place to sleep in some shack that even had straw mattresses. But we were guarded in grand style, too—as well as Shokren’s circle, there was a sentry posted at the door.

The weather had hardly changed at all while we were traveling. Every day was bright and sunny, although it was rather cool. There wasn’t even a hint of rain, although autumn was already almost half over.

“Tomorrow afternoon we’ll reach the Labyrinth,” Glo-Glo informed us casually.

I felt a nasty stabbing sensation in my belly.

“And the day after tomorrow is the orcs’ lousy festival, so get ready.”

The goblin started muttering to himself again, as if we weren’t even there. May the Nameless One take me—did all goblins like to ruin other people’s mood at bedtime? Or was it just my luck to meet the feeble-minded representatives of the green tribe?

The old goblin was right again! The next day we reached a low, half-ruined cliff, overgrown with a forest of fiery-red maples, and the Labyrinth was only a stone’s throw away. At least, that was what the goblin said. Speaking for myself, I couldn’t see any sign of a labyrinth. We were surrounded by forest, low cliffs that looked more like hills, and the silence of autumn. And then there was a little orc village without any sign of walls or fortifications.

“Is this the Labyrinth?” I asked. I’d never felt so disappointed in my life.

“Of course not,” the goblin said with a shrug. “The Labyrinth is farther on, Harold.”

“Shut up there, you lousy beasts!” an orc growled, waving his spear at us threateningly.

We had to postpone the conversation for a while. They put the three of us in a deep pit at the very edge of the village. And just to be on the safe side, they closed it off with a steel grille.

“Great,” Mis grunted. “We can’t reach it, even if we jump. If it rains, we’ll get soaked.”

“As long as we don’t drown—getting soaked’s not so terrible,” Glo-Glo replied. “Now, what was I saying? Ah! The Labyrinth! Right … It’s just beyond that spinney that we passed on our right. Ten minutes’ walk from here.”

“You mean there’s a city only ten minutes away from the village?”

“Who said that?” he asked, gaping at me in amazement.

“You did.”

“I didn’t say anything about a city,” the old shaman objected. “I was talking about the Labyrinth.”

“Well, isn’t the Labyrinth a city—something like the elves’ Greenwood?”

The shaman gave me a very leery kind of look, but when he saw I wasn’t joking, he snorted disdainfully.

“Greenwood and the Labyrinth are nothing like each other! Greenwood is the city of the Black Flame, the biggest city on Zagraba and, as it happens, the former capital of the elves, before the light ones and the dark ones fell out with each other. But as for the Labyrinth … Your “experts” have got something confused there. It’s not a city, it’s a structure. Just a labyrinth, in fact. The orcs don’t live there; the Firstborn come here once a year for the mid-autumn festival, to enjoy themselves and watch a few goblins run.”

“Ah, so that’s it…,” Mis drawled.

“Only don’t expect packed grandstands. This won’t be a good year for applause. The orcs are going to war, so I don’t think there’ll be many Firstborn here.”

“Never mind that.… But I thought Shokren was going to meet the Hand here and give him the Horn.”

“Oh no, Harold. The Horn’s not that urgent, the Hand doesn’t need it yet. What would he do with it? Until the Firstborn come face-to-face with the Nameless One, who they’ve nominally acknowledged as their lord, they have no use for the Horn. And unless I’m mistaken, Shokren won’t be able to monkey about with it on his own; that will take a powerful group of sorcerers. So first Shokren will enjoy himself watching the runners in the Labyrinth, before moving north with all the detachments. At least, that’s what I think.”

“Is he the only shaman here?”

“How would I know? I’m not a clairvoyant. I hope he’s the only one, and I really hope he’s not as strong as they think he is, otherwise my magic isn’t worth a copper coin.”

“Take your mittens off first, before you try working any magic,” Mis chuckled.

“We’ve got a hard day tomorrow,” said the goblin, avoiding an argument. “We’ll need all our strength, may the gods help us.”

Of course, I was hoping for help from the gods, too, but usually when I’m in a really tight spot, all the gods are somewhere very, very far away, and I have to cope with the cunning wiles of fate on my own. So I could only rely on myself—and my comrades, who should have been here a long time ago.

“Eat, Harold,” Glo-Glo said with his mouth full, holding out the food that the orcs had lowered into our pit early in the morning. “You mustn’t go hungry today.”

“No thanks, I don’t feel like it,” I muttered.

I couldn’t eat a scrap, even though I’d slept remarkably well. The goblin and Mis ate breakfast until it was coming out of their ears, but I couldn’t stop listening to the roaring. The orcs, may the darkness take them, had started their entertainment first thing in the morning and they’d already put someone in the Labyrinth. Perhaps elves, or perhaps the captured warriors from the Borderland, perhaps someone else, I didn’t know. The roar of the crowd died away and then grew louder again, reminding me of the rumble of distant thunder.

“They’re enjoying themselves, the lousy scum,” Mis hissed through his teeth as he listened to the shouts of the crowd.

No one answered him. I was too tense, and Glo-Glo was still mumbling those goblin tongue-twisters to himself. Eventually our turn to take part in the performance arrived. The grille moved aside and Fagred’s face appeared against the background of the cloudy sky. With the help of an orc we didn’t know, he lowered a ladder into the pit and barked, “Hey, bald monkey! Time to join the show!”

Mis got up without hurrying and stretched.

“What about us?” I asked quietly.

“We’ll be in the next round,” Glo-Glo answered just as quietly.

“Remember me kindly,” Mis said in farewell, and set off up the ladder.

He clambered out of the pit and the orcs set the grille back in place.

“Listen to me very carefully, lad,” Glo-Glo suddenly whispered. “I didn’t say anything before, because I wasn’t sure who I would be tied to, and speaking too soon would have meant losing the one tiny chance that we still have. But since the forest spirits have chosen you to be my companion … listen and remember. I won’t have time to tell you this again. I’ve already run round the Labyrinth, a long time ago, more than thirty years ago, in fact. That time I managed to get away from the Firstborn unharmed, so I know what I’m talking about. They always put the prisoners in the Labyrinth six at a time—in three pairs. Each pair is fettered with a single chain. And they fetter them in completely different ways—however the forest spirits happen to whisper. The easiest way is hand-to-hand. But there are others: hand-to-foot, foot-to-foot. Or even worse: foot-to-neck or hand-to-neck. We can’t manage the last two—if they put the chain on your neck and my foot, we won’t run very far, so let’s just pray that’s not what happens. When they take us to the Labyrinth, don’t forget to limp.…”

“Why should I do that?” I interrupted.

“Listen, will you!” the goblin said furiously. “Limp, but make sure it’s convincing. Sometimes the Firstborn get the idea that their prisoners can run too fast, and that’s not good. To slow some of them down, they cut a tendon in their leg. You don’t want to crawl round the Labyrinth, I suppose? I should hope not. When they let us go, we have to run to the center of the Labyrinth. At the center there’s a stone, and all we have to do to win is stand on it. But that’s not so easy; in fact, it’s almost impossible. Only one pair in fifty ever gets there. If we run along the path that leads to the stone, we’re doomed, but there is another way round. I came across it last time, when I was stupid enough to run in the wrong direction. The path is guarded by ‘pillars,’ and if we can get past them we can slip through a narrow passage to the stone. It’s not much of a chance, but it’s better than running like everyone else.”

“What’s in store for us in the Labyrinth, what are the dangers?”

“Firstly, the Hunters. Four orcs. Their job is to get our heads, but we’re allowed to kill the Hunters, too, and none of the Firstborn watching this stupid show will touch us if we do. I don’t know how the Hunters will try to catch us—working separately or together. Secondly, the traps. Ordinary traps and magical ones. I think I can handle the second kind. Thirdly, the beasts. They’re created by the orcs’ magic and there are different kinds, but the most dangerous of them are the ‘pillars.’ They can all be killed, you just have to know how, but let’s hope we won’t have to go that far. Remember the most important thing—do what I tell you to do, no matter how strange it seems. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly. But do the orcs know about this secret passage of yours?”

“They do, but they don’t think they need to block it up. It adds a pleasant edge of uncertainty to their bets. The forest spirits be praised, they have no idea I’ve already had the dubious pleasure of taking a stroll around their Labyrinth.”

“This information could have saved Mis’s life.”

“What can I say to that, Harold?” Glo-Glo sighed, without trying to make excuses. “Perhaps you’re right, and it would have saved him, or perhaps you’re wrong and he would just have lost his way in the winding corridors and never found the right place. All I know is that if I’d told him, my chance of survival would have been immeasurably reduced. The orcs will never allow more than one prisoner a day to squeeze through that passage and reach the stone. That’s just the way life is.”

I didn’t say anything to the goblin. Probably he was right. But maybe he wasn’t. Who could tell? There was no way I could judge.

I listened to the distant roar, trying to guess when our turn would come. We had to wait a long time before anyone came for us. More than two hours. I was shivering a little, or rather, shuddering. Those damned nervous shudders really unsettled me, and I was longing for just one thing—for the cursed waiting to be over.

The metal grille moved aside, the ladder was lowered, and Fagred’s face appeared again.

“Your friend has departed for the next world. Out you come, monkeys! It’s your turn now.”

So Mis had failed. May he dwell in the light!

As soon as I clambered out of the pit, I was knocked down and my hands were tied, and then they did the same to Glo-Glo.

“Follow me, keep quiet, and listen. Do you understand?” asked one of the orcs.

“We understand,” Glo-Glo replied.

“Pick those feet up, moth,” said Fagred, shoving me forward, but this time the shove wasn’t rough at all. He was treating his racehorses gently, the lousy snake.

Anyway, I hadn’t forgotten the old shaman’s instructions and as I walked I limped picturesquely on my right foot.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Fagred immediately asked.

“I turned my ankle climbing down into the pit,” I lied. Fagred frowned anxiously, but he didn’t say anything.

“Before you go into the Labyrinth, they’ll tie you together with a chain,” said the orc, beginning our instructions. “In the Labyrinth, you have to find a triangular stone lying on the ground. Stand on it, and the game’s over. Four Hunters will come after you—trying to kill them isn’t against the rules. You have the right to choose any of the weapons offered. There’s no limit to the time you can spend in the Labyrinth. That’s all. Do you understand?”

“We understand everything,” Glo-Glo answered again.

The cries of the crowd grew clearer as we left the village behind and the maples parted to reveal a valley squeezed between the forest-covered cliffs. I had the impression that magic had been used on this place sometime in the past. In any case, about fifty yards away from us the valley ended in a gigantic steep-sided pit that stretched on between the overhanging cliffs for as far as the eye could see. Observation platforms had been cut into the cliffs. Many of the platforms were empty, but I could see orcs on others. Glo-Glo’s calculations weren’t exactly right—there were more than three hundred Firstborn. I reckoned there were thousands of orcs on the hillsides, watching the action unfold in the pit. Not everyone had set off on the march to the north.

“We’ll wait here,” Fagred growled after they led us to the very edge of the pit.

I had a unique opportunity to look down. The pit was about twenty-five yards deep. It was divided up by walls set in a haphazard, hit-or-miss fashion, and this chaotic disorder created the so-called Labyrinth. I was a bit disappointed. I never expected the orcs’ grandiose structure to be just an ordinary hole—even if it was deep—in the ground, with a few partitions set up in it. The partitions were made of some kind of wild creeping plant that was still green, even in the middle of October. At least, that was what it looked like to me.

“Glo-Glo, what are those plants down there?” I asked in a quiet whisper.

“I advise you to keep as far away from the walls as possible,” the goblin hissed back. “Those are yellow eyes, and they eat absolutely anything, apart from happening to be poisonous.”

“Thanks, that’s really cheered me up.”

Just then Olag came up and led us along the edge of the pit toward a stairway leading down into it. At the bottom we found ourselves in a pen fenced off from the main part of the Labyrinth by a heavy grille. As well as Glo-Glo and me, and the five orcs who had followed us (including Olag and Fagred, who were making sure no one did any premature damage to us), there were at least ten other Firstborn, as well as two men and two elves. The elves were dirty and had been beaten very badly, but they maintained a proud bearing, as if the orcs were their prisoners and the entire Labyrinth belonged to them.

“The final group?” an orc in a leather apron asked Olag.

“Yes.”

“Let’s get started.”

“Hand-to-hand,” he said, jabbing a finger at the elves.

“Foot-to-foot.” That was for the two men.

Two Firstborn started carefully chaining the runners together for the Labyrinth. Leather Apron came over to us, thought for a moment, and announced:

“Neck-to-foot.”

Glo-Glo gave a dull groan, but then Fagred stepped up, grabbed Leather Apron by the sleeve, and dragged him aside. I noticed one of my emeralds disappear into Leather Jacket’s hand. The orc came back to us for a moment and announced:

“Hand-to-hand.”

They put a heavy bracelet on my left wrist. The bracelet at the other hand of a yard of heavy chain was fastened on the goblin’s right wrist.

“Don’t let me down, moth,” Fagred whispered menacingly into my ear. “We’ve wagered too much on you.”

“How fast can you run?” Leather Apron asked me.

“Can’t you see he’s lame?” the goblin answered for me, and immediately collected a slap to the back of his head from Fagred.

But luckily enough, Leather Apron left me alone after that.

“How fast can you run?” he asked one of the two human warriors.

“Very fast,” the man replied gloomily. “Too fast for you to catch me.”

“That’s good,” Leather Apron said with a serious nod, and moved away.

“Choose your weapons, but don’t try anything stupid!”

No one was going to try anything stupid—not even the proud, taciturn elves. How far could you get with a sword, if six bowmen had you in their sights?

There was a whole heap of steel lying on two large tables right beside the railings. And the same amount lying along the walls. Nothing for throwing or firing, of course. No bows, no crossbows, no javelins, no throwing knives, not even a sling. The clever orcs didn’t want any of the prisoners to try killing the spectators. So we had to choose from an assortment of cutting and stabbing weapons.

While the goblin and I wandered round the tables, the elves each chose themselves a s’kash, and the two men settled for a sword and a single-handed ax. Of course, I would have taken something like a spear or a pike—with a weapon like that you can keep any enemy at a distance, or almost any. But for that you had to have both hands free. And you couldn’t do much running with a spear. So after hesitating briefly, I chose a short sword with a broad blade, the kind that armored infantry use. It was about the same length as my knife, although it was wider and heavier. And it had a scabbard, so I didn’t have to carry the weapon in my hands.

The goblin inspected the hardware and snorted in disappointment, but then he rummaged for a while in the very last heap and pulled out a Sultanate dagger with a blade shaped like a flame. He tried waving the weapon through the air a few times and then stuck it behind his belt.

“That’s it, out you go!” Leather Apron ordered, and on his sign the orcs started raising the heavy grille.

Without waiting until the grille was raised, the dark elves leapt forward into the Labyrinth and then ran off as fast as they could go. The lads obviously also had some kind of plan. At least they certainly weren’t planning to face the Labyrinth together with us.

Then it was the men’s turn. Glo-Glo didn’t waste any time, either; he dragged me forward and jumped out into the Labyrinth. The grille started slowly descending behind us, creaking so terribly that I barely heard Leather Apron shout, “Hey, runner!”

We all turned at the same time, and one of the orc bowmen put an arrow into the leg of the man who’d said he could run very fast.

“Now try running fast, little monkey!”

The orcs roared with laughter.

“And you told me they cut the tendons,” I muttered, setting off toward the fallen man.

“Times have cha— Look out!”

Glo-Glo leapt aside and dragged me after him. The goblin might have been small, but he had plenty of strength, and I had to struggle to keep my balance. Two creatures came darting out of the passage the two elves had just run into. They looked pretty much like ordinary human skeletons, but they were a bit taller and had four arms instead of two. And the creatures were exactly the same dark green color as the walls of the Labyrinth—they seemed to be made out of plants, not meat or bones. The orcs’ roar of delight thundered along the cliffs. The show had begun.

“Run!” the goblin yelled. “There’s nothing you can do to help them!”

Cursing all the gods and the damned goblin into the bargain, I dashed after him, forgetting about the creatures advancing on the two warriors. Following my companion, I dived into a narrow passage with high walls. The little shaman was incredibly agile, and I could hardly keep up with him.

“Left … past three corridors on the left … right … straight on … left again…,” the goblin muttered, leading me along the route that only he knew.

I glanced back anxiously, but the green creatures apparently weren’t following us.

“Who were they?” I asked Glo-Glo.

“Creations of orcish shamanism, not really dangerous, unless you get under their feet. A petty nuisance.”

“They why did you beat it so promptly?”

“Don’t distract me! I think we go right now.… Yes! This way!”

And the goblin set off again at a run, dragging me behind him. In the last three minutes I’d completely lost my bearings in the green labyrinth and I ran after the goblin like an obedient dog. Eventually Glo-Glo turned sharp left and we found ourselves at a dead end.

“That does it!” I panted, and the hills replied with a rumble of joy.

Tell me, if you please. How could the orcs see us? But they could, may the demons of darkness take them!

“Now where have you brought me, Glo-Glo?”

“Keep quiet for a moment and let me think! It’s thirty years since the last time I was here, and my memory’s not what it used to be. Ri-i-ight now, where could I have gone wrong?”

“Maybe…”

“Shut up!”

I had to do as the goblin said and wait for him to be struck by another brilliant idea. I really regretted ever having anything to do with goblins. Scatterbrains, every one of them; they always did everything back to front.

While the goblin was thinking, I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, casting anxious glances along the green corridor. Sagot be praised, everything was quiet (that is, if you didn’t count the yelling of the orcs and the goblin’s furious argument with himself).

Now I could take a proper look at the Labyrinth. The thickets of green towered up ten yards into the air, and it was pointless even to think of trying to climb over the wall. Apart from being so appallingly high, all these bushes were so dense and thorny that it was frightening just to look at them. I was very surprised by the floor of the Labyrinth—it was completely paved with small gray tiles, set tightly against each other. And there wasn’t a spot of dirt anywhere, as if the place was cleaned every day.

“I didn’t spot a single trap.”

“No, you won’t,” the goblin growled. “They’re all on the central pathways, and usually nobody’s stupid enough to run that way.”

“Apart from us, perhaps,” I sniped.

“Uh-huh. Let’s go, know-it-all, I have a short cut!”

Glo-Glo led me back the way we’d come. When he was sure he was going in the right direction, the goblin started running. We plunged back into the green abyss of the Labyrinth and dashed along between the walls until a creature that looked like the twin brother of the ones that had attacked us near the entrance appeared ahead of us. But some zealous individual had hacked off one of its four arms. Spying outsiders, the green skeleton started trotting briskly toward us.

“Ah, darkness!” I swore, and took out my sword.

Glo-Glo had obviously lost it completely, because he went running straight toward our death—he even growled in outrage when I tried to stop him. There was nothing I could do but run after him and hope he knew the right thing to do. The goblin suddenly stopped, held out his hand, swung round on his axis, swinging me round with him, said something in a rapid whisper, and wiggled the fingers in his mitten. At first nothing happened, and then the creature hurrying toward us stopped and lots of little yellow flowers started sprouting all over it. The same thing was happening to the nearest section of the wall, too.

“Let’s get as far away as possible,” Glo-Glo said in a perfectly calm voice. “Just in case it hasn’t worked properly.”

We retreated.

“It won’t work a second time; I had that spell ready since before they put the mittens on me,” Glo-Glo declared smugly.

Meanwhile the little yellow flowers completely covered the wall and the creature that had attacked us. Then they burst, and the creature fell apart into something that looked very much like dry hay. The same thing happened to the section of the wall. It simply collapsed, opening up a way through into the next corridor.

As bad luck would have it, an astounded orc walked out through the gap. The Firstborn was armed with a long spear with a broad head, which I was not glad to see. The orc spotted us and promptly got down to work.

Neither I nor Glo-Glo had any intention of letting some Hunter have our heads just like that. So we went dashing off in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for us, the orc was rather quick on the uptake, and he came dashing after us, shaking his spear. The orc spectators started baying.

I took my lead from Glo-Glo again and simply followed him. The goblin ran to an intersection and took a couple of turns, and we found ourselves in a corridor running parallel to the one where we met the orc.

“That Firstborn thinks he’s smarter than I am,” the old shaman suddenly said with a giggle.

He’d definitely flipped! What kind of time was this to gloat!

The secret of the goblin’s happy mood was revealed a few seconds later. There was the huge hole that had appeared in the wall thanks to the goblin’s shamanism; we dived through it, and were back in the corridor we’d just been forced to run out of.

“Now straight … right … straight, past four intersections … that’s it … three … four … fifth on the left…”

I was amazed that the goblin, who had only been here once, could be carrying such a precise route in his head. We came out into a fairly large round space with six passages leading off it and started dashing across.

“Third on the right!”

But we stopped short of the passage we needed, because Glo-Glo hissed: “Freeze and don’t move a muscle!”

I squinted sideways at the shaman, who had turned into a very convincing statue. What was wrong with him? Then my eyes moved from the goblin to the center of the open space, where something green had appeared out of nowhere. It looked like a cross between an immense soap bubble and a spider, except that instead of legs it had human arms—either six or eight of them. I couldn’t see any head, or eyes, or mouth. The creature just sat there with its arm-legs folded up under it, gurgling quietly.

“Harold, don’t move, and keep quiet,” said the goblin, keeping his eyes fixed on the spider. “It won’t touch us as long as we don’t move.”

“What is it?” I whispered anxiously.

The goblin decided not to favor me with an answer. Then a very smug-looking orc came dashing out into the space with his spear held at the ready. When he spotted the spider, the Hunter’s face suddenly fell and he stopped dead, too. The spider jumped to its feet (or rather, its hands), gurgled a couple of yards toward the orc, and then sat back down on the ground—it had clearly lost view of its motionless quarry.

The Firstborn glared at us furiously with his yellow eyes, and even though the situation was so dire (at least, judging from the way the orc and the goblin looked), I couldn’t resist winking at the Hunter. The orc seemed to find this gesture quite unbearably annoying, and he started growling. The spider promptly moved another two yards closer to the orc, who was forced to shut up.

Glo-Glo started muttering to himself again and then he made a sound as if he’d snapped his fingers, even though he was still wearing those idiotic mittens. The orc howled in surprise and jumped a yard into the air, as if someone had stuck a red-hot needle in his backside.

The spider leapt forward nimbly and grabbed the howling Firstborn with all eight of its arms. I didn’t see what happened after that, because I was dashing like grim death after Glo-Glo. But I don’t think the orc was to be envied. Well then, we’d got rid of one of the Hunters; that just left the other three. Eventually Glo-Glo decided that after such a long run it would be a good idea to get our breath back, and we stopped at an intersection.

“What … was … that?” I wheezed, gasping for air.

“That? It’s a monster that appeared … in the thickets of the forest after the elves and the orcs experimented with battle shamanism. That’s what the experiments produced. In principle, it’s perfectly harmless.”

“I thought you said the same about those things with four arms?”

“No, it really is harmless. The important thing is not to disturb it. A bubblebelly is just very protective of its territory and thinks everyone who enters it is an enemy. You just have to stay still and wait for it to crawl away. It doesn’t even eat anybody, just chews them up into mush and spits them out again.”

“That’s a very encouraging thought—being chewed into mush. By the way, that was a clever trick with the orc.”

For some reason Glo-Glo seemed a bit flustered by that and he muttered, “Actually, my magic was supposed to strike the bubblebelly with lightning, but thanks to the mittens, it made the orc jump.”

Mmm, yes. The gods be praised it wasn’t us who jumped!

“And by the way, what are you doing with lightning? I didn’t know goblins had any battle magic. You only have defensive shamanism.”

“Who says so?”

“Well, I thought you said—”

“We told you men that so we wouldn’t have these Orders of yours wandering around in our forest! Why should we want to share our secrets with your magicians? Shall we go?”

“Is it far now?”

“About the same distance again,” the goblin told me after a moment’s thought.

I groaned.

Left, left, right, right, straight on, left again, then right, then straight on, then back at full speed to get away from another of those skeletons with four arms. Those beasts were agile, all right, but they turned out to be pretty stupid. We ran into a dead end, waited until the creature made its final leap, and simply dropped to the ground. The creature went flying over our heads like a huge grasshopper and smashed into the wall. The wall immediately came to life, wound its branches round the green creature, and sucked it in.

“Ugh!” was all I could say at the sight of this wonder.

“Nothing surprising about that,” said Glo-Glo, dusting off his cloak. “Those things were created by the same spell as the wall, so if they touch each other, they just merge together.”

“The things you know!”

“I’m a shaman, my boy, not some marketplace charlatan! And a shaman has to know all sorts of things, otherwise his tribe won’t last very long. Come on, get those hooves moving, there’s not far left to go now.”

And we didn’t go very far, because at the next intersection we came across another Hunter. Fortunately, he was standing with his back to us and gazing off into the distance, holding an arrow ready on his bowstring. Was he lying in ambush for someone?

The Hunter was no more than seven yards away from us. No distance at all but, speaking for myself, I wasn’t too sure that if I tried to attack him, I wouldn’t end up with an arrow in me. Glo-Glo and I looked at each other, and he pointed to my sword with his eyes. I sighed and started slowly pulling the sword out of its scabbard. Fortunately for me, the orc never turned round. But then, as bad luck would have it, our chain clanked.

There was no time to think, and I flung the short, heavy weapon at the orc with all my might. And something impossible happened. Luck must have been on my side that day, because the sword turned a few somersaults in the air and buried itself in the Firstborn’s chest before he had time to shoot. It hit him so hard that he went flying backward and smashed into the wall.

“Well, may the forest spirits take me!” Glo-Glo exclaimed, shaking his head in delight. “I had no idea you could do that.”

“Neither did I,” I told the goblin, watching ruefully as the orc’s body disappeared into the thick green barrier, taking my sword with it.

“Come on, Harold, only two more intersections to go and we’re there. Orcs! We’ll diddle the lot of them.” And Glo-Glo stomped on, paying no attention to where the orc’s body had disappeared and my lost sword.

“Are you sure that in the last thirty years the orcs haven’t blocked off your little passage?”

“No, but we have to hope for the best.”

Two intersections after that the goblin grabbed hold of my arm and said, “Look.”

We were facing an open space exactly like the one where we met the bubblebelly. But there weren’t any exits leading off this one, and there were three tall green columns standing in it. Two of them were just plain columns, but the third one had two arms growing out of it, and they looked very much like the jaws of a praying mantis.

“What are we in for this time?” I groaned.

“These are the pillars I told you about,” the goblin muttered. “The ones without claws are sleeping, and that one’s on guard. They’re terribly quick, but if we can slip past them, we’ll be right beside the passage.”

“But where is the passage?” I asked. The pillars didn’t seem to be taking any notice of us, and I relaxed a bit.

“There it is, look!” the goblin said, as cool as a cucumber, pointing to the other side of the open space.

I had to strain my eyes to make out the goblin’s passage.

“Are you kidding?” I roared almost at the top of my voice. “A pregnant mouse would have a hard time trying to get through there.”

“Let’s not forget that last time I got through without any problem,” the goblin replied peevishly.

“But I’m not you! I’m not climbing in there!”

“Oh yes you are!”

“Why in the name of darkness did I ever listen to you?” I groaned.

“Because there’s a very good chance that thanks to me, you might survive.” Nothing could embarrass the goblin. “Believe me, my boy, the passage is a lot bigger than it looks. All right, if we waste any more time, one of the other Hunters or some other beast will find us. Just sprint for the passage as fast as you can and don’t get in the way of that pillar’s claws.”

“What about the others?”

“The others will take half a minute to wake up. Ready?”

I gulped hard and nodded.

“Run for it!”

Before we’d covered even a quarter of the distance, the pillar started moving toward us very fast, without making a sound.

In a single heartbeat, it was already towering up over us, and it took every last drop of agility I had to avoid a descending claw. I avoided it, but the pillar immediately struck again, after swinging its arm back round in some incredible fashion. I jumped one way, Glo-Glo jumped the other, and the claw hit the chain fettering us together close to the goblin’s arm.

The chain snapped, and Glo-Glo was left with just a bracelet, while I had all the rest. Setting the Labyrinth ringing with choice obscenities, I launched into a run, winding the chain onto my arm as I tried to catch up with the goblin.

The pillar was treading on my heels, so I dived into the narrow entrance after Glo-Glo like a fish. Somewhere behind me, claws clattered on the stone slabs, and I started working desperately with arms and legs, hauling myself as far away as possible from the rather agitated pillar. Fortunately for me and the goblin, the rotten beast didn’t try to storm the wall, and gave up on us.

“Glo-Glo, may you…,” I growled at the goblin crawling along in front of me. “Go slower, I can’t keep up.”

The goblin obligingly stopped and waited for me to catch up with him.

“Well, we pulled that off neatly, eh?”

“If you ignore the fact that your pillar very nearly nailed us and your passage is narrower than the space under a tight-fisted merchant’s bed, then yes … it was very neat.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll fit through here just fine!” Glo-Glo was much too pleased with himself to take any notice of my whinging. “Only don’t lift your head up, or you’ll end up in the wall!”

He didn’t have to remind me! I already knew that one twitch to the left or the right, and I’d touch the green walls of the patch.

“How far do we have to crawl?”

The shaman didn’t risk turning his face toward me. One wrong move in this place could lead to a grotesque death. It would be like escaping from the Gray Stones, tripping over your own feet, and breaking your neck. The law of universal swinishness in action, so to speak.

“Can you manage a hundred and fifty yards?”

I ground my teeth and said, “What choice do I have? I’ll manage it. Just as long as it doesn’t get any narrower.”

“It won’t. Keep crawling.”

We crawled on. The only place I’d ever “enjoyed” myself so much was in Hrad Spein, when I crawled through that long, narrow stone tunnel. When I reckoned we’d already covered most of the distance, Glo-Glo suddenly stopped moving, stopped panting, and announced: “Er, Harold … we’ve got a little problem here.”

“What kind of problem?” I asked in a trembling voice, already imagining that the goblin had come nose to nose with some other monster of the Labyrinth.

“There’s a skeleton lying across the path.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that he’s lying right across our path,” he repeated patiently. “I might be able to crawl over him, but I doubt very much if you can.”

“Just don’t tell me we have to crawl back,” I hissed angrily.

“Absolutely not! I’ll take him apart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bone by bone. Wait.”

I had to lie there, listening to the goblin snuffling. Eventually even my patience ran out and I hissed like a grass snake with a cold: “Well, how much longer?”

“It’s done. I hope the deceased isn’t offended with us. Right, I’ll just get the skull out of the way.… Why, you! There … that’s it. Crawl!”

I didn’t know how the goblin had managed it, but all I found on the path were a few bones pressed into the earth (there weren’t any stone slabs in the passage). Glo-Glo had fed everything else to the wall. The rest of the journey to safety passed off uneventfully, and when the shaman and I emerged from the passage, we were greeted by a roar from the stands.

We were in another round space, with a massive triangular gray stone lying in the middle of it. And standing between the slab of stone and us was the third Hunter. When he caught sight of us, he smiled and bowed (which was surprising enough in itself) and drew his yataghan.

The Firstborn was in no hurry to attack. He was clearly waiting for us to try to get through to the stone. I looked at his yataghan, and regretted the untimely loss of my sword.

“Now what do we do?” I hissed through my teeth without moving my lips. “This snake’s just dreaming of slicing you and me to ribbons.”

“I have a dagger,” said Glo-Glo, taking the Eastern trinket out from behind his belt.

“Are you counting on this lad laughing himself to death when he sees your toothpick?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the smiling orc.

“What if you throw the dagger at the Hunter? Like the sword.”

“Two miracles in one day would be too much. It won’t work. But how’s your magic doing?”

“Out of the question. In the mittens it could go very wrong. Better not to try.”

The orc was clearly starting to get impatient, and he beckoned to us with his finger, keeping that smile fixed on his face.

“Come on, Glo-Glo, go all the way round him,” I suggested. “He won’t get two of us at once.”

“Nonsense.”

“That way at least someone will reach the stone.”

The shaman didn’t argue, and started running round the orc in a wide circle. The Firstborn hadn’t been expecting such an original move from the monkeys and he stopped smiling and dashed to intercept the goblin.

Glo-Glo stepped up the pace even more. I dashed toward the stone, and the orc immediately forgot about the goblin and started for me. I hurtled toward him, twirling the chain round above my head—a full yard of it.

The smart shaman did what I’d told him to do and didn’t get involved in the fight. He hopped up onto the stone and instantly disappeared.

The orc was blocking my way. I flung the chain forward, trying to hit him in the face. He dodged to one side as smoothly as if he was dancing and slashed with his yataghan. I dropped to the ground rather clumsily, rolled, and swung the chain. The warrior obviously wasn’t trying to kill me straightaway, he’d decided to entertain the crowd. Now I was between the orc and the stone, and I wasn’t about to let an opportunity like that slip. I dashed for the stone, leaving my opponent with his mouth hanging open.

Had that cretin really been expecting me to tempt fate and take on a yataghan with a pitiful length of broken chain? The Firstborn really did underestimate men far too much! Maybe we were monkeys, unworthy of living in Siala, but we certainly weren’t fools!

“Stop, you coward! Fight!” I heard him roar behind me, but it was too late, I’d already hopped up on the stone.

Bang! I was back in Leather Apron’s pen. And there was Glo-Glo, grinning. Some of the orcs were rubbing their hands in delight, and some were swearing blue murder. For an instant Olag and Fagred’s leering mugs actually looked like those of friends and family. No doubt they, their commander, and the shaman had won a whole heap of valuables, or whatever it is orcs use for wagers.

“Hold your hands out, monkeys!” Leather Apron growled. “I’ll take your chains off.”

“Congratulations, Harold!” Glo-Glo chuckled. “Now you can count yourself one of the few who’ve been through the Labyrinth and lived.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry, greeny,” Leather Apron rumbled. “We’ll see how you run tomorrow, when they close that passage off.”

I just stood there with my jaw hanging open until Olag and Fagred took me and the goblin back up the steps.

“You didn’t tell me anything about a second run in the Labyrinth!” I told Glo-Glo angrily, after we’d been sent back to our pit.

“I didn’t want to upset you before I had to,” the goblin began cautiously.

“Glo-Glo,” I began, speaking from the heart, “when were you going to tell me?”

“This evening,” he replied promptly.

“So how many times altogether do I have to go down into that darkness-damned Labyrinth?”

The goblin hesitated and tried not to look at me.

“So, how many?” I asked, determined to be pitiless.

“The festival starts in mid-autumn and lasts for eight days.”

“Eight days?” I repeated after the shaman, like an echo.

So we had to entertain the Firstborn and risk our skins another seven times.

“Well, if I’d told you about it this morning, just think what a state you’d have been in when we entered the Labyrinth!”

“Eight days?” I still couldn’t believe in such an absolutely swinish twist of fate.

“There, you see?” the goblin sighed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“So tell me, has anyone ever managed to last that long?” Naturally, I asked the question rhetorically.

“Actually, no,” the shaman replied reluctantly. “No one ever has. The longest is three days.”

“Then what are we hoping for?”

“Maybe I’ll be able to think of something.”

“How did you manage to avoid the troublesome attention of the orcs during your first visit to the Labyrinth?”

“A-a-a-ah…,” said the goblin, with a smug grin. “That time I escaped straight after the first run. There weren’t any pits back then, and the orcs did a poor job of guarding us. And bearing in mind that the orcs got truly plastered in honor of the festival, then in the distant halcyon days of my youth it was fairly easy to escape. Not like now.”

“But that means the orcs will have more than a few drinks tonight, too.…”

“Yes, but you and I can’t soar up into the air, and even if we could, that grille wouldn’t let us out.”

At that very moment the grille slid to one side and Olag and Fagred looked down on us.

“You run well, little monkeys. Bagard and Shokren are very pleased with you.”

The orcs lowered a bag full of food and two flasks down to us.

“Eat and build up your strength. You have to run again tomorrow.”

The grille slid back into place, but Fagred still felt he had to remind us that he was keeping his eye on us.

That evening we had a real feast. They’d given us heaps of food, all sorts of things. One flask was full of water, the other was full of wine.

The orcs weren’t just sitting about doing nothing, either, and every now and then we heard singing and drum rolls. The rotten snakes were making merry and, basically, they had every right to. They weren’t the ones sitting a damn lousy pit!

“Pssst! Psssst! Hey! Harold, are you there?”

Through my dream I could hear the hissing of a frantic skillet. I decided to take no notice of this extraneous noise and sleep a bit longer, but it was hopeless! The hissing carried on, and then it was joined by pokes in the ribs. That was Glo-Glo. I had no choice but to wake up.

“What?” I asked the goblin.

“There’s someone up there!”

I looked up, but the clouds had hidden the stars and moon, and the night was dark, so there was no point in trying to make anything out. I heard that squeaky sound above me again.

“Pssssst! Harold, are you there?”

“Who’s tha— Kli-Kli, is that you?”

“Well, at last!” the royal jester jabbered in delight. “I was beginning to think that flinny had lied!”

“Are you alone?”

“No, with Egrassa.”

“Can you shift the grille?”

I never thought I could ever feel so delighted. I almost launched into a dance!

“No, Harold,” Egrassa replied. “There’s a lock on it. If we break it off, the orcs will hear. Do you know who has the key?”

“Wait a moment! If I get your mittens off, can you shift the grille quietly?” I asked Glo-Glo, who hadn’t said a word all this time.

“Yes.”

“We don’t need a key. Have you got anything thin and sharp?”

“I do! A nail!” Kli-Kli informed me.

“Throw it to me!” I said happily, trying not to think about what the goblin would want a nail for on the march and whose boot he was planning to put it in when the time came.

The nail was very, very small and very, very thin. It could have been made to order.

“Have you found it?” a voice asked from above.

“Yes, now wait.”

“Get a move on! The orcs could turn up at any moment.”

“Don’t rush me!” I hissed, and started desperately fiddling with the lock on Glo-Glo’s left mitten.

The shaman waited patiently.

“How much time is there before it starts getting light?” I asked him in a quiet voice.

“About two hours…,” he replied just as quietly. “Maybe a bit more. It will start to rain in about ten minutes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Shamans have to know when it’s going to rain.”

“Like frogs?” I asked with a stupid giggle.

Was it my imagination, or was the goblin really smiling in the darkness? Just at that moment the lock gave a gentle click and the shaman took the mitten off. I started on the other lock.

“If it starts to rain and the alarm hasn’t been raised, we have an excellent chance of covering our tracks.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Imagine what the Firstborn will do to us for ruining their festival after they sober up.”

I gave an involuntary shudder, but then the second lock clicked. Now Glo-Glo was free of his mittens.

“That’s great,” he muttered. “Get back against the wall and tell your friends to move away from the grille.”

“Egrassa! Kli-Kli!”

“Yes? How did it go?”

“Fantastic! Get away from the grille. About ten yards! There’s going to be a bit of conjuring!”

“But you…”

“Kli-Kli, for once just don’t argue!”

“But…”

“We’re moving,” said Egrassa.

The elf probably just grabbed Kli-Kli by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away. In the darkness I couldn’t see what the goblin was doing, but a wind suddenly started humming in the pit, then it darted upward, and the grille went flying off and up into the sky without making a single sound.

“That’s all,” Glo-Glo sighed. “Call your friends and get them to hoist our backsides out of here.”

“Won’t it fall back down on our heads?” I asked. I must admit, I thought the demonstration the old man had given was marvelous.

“Don’t worry, my boy.”

Then the ladder was lowered down into our pit, and I clambered out first. At the top I was grabbed by a pair of strong hands and there it was—the surface of the earth. There was much more light up here than down below, and I could make out the contented faces of Kli-Kli, Alistan Markauz, and Egrassa.

“Alive, thief?”

“Yes, milord.”

“That was some conjuring trick you just did!” Kli-Kli jabbered. “Whoosh, and it went flying up into the sky! I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

“I’m not alone,” I warned my rescuers, and just then Glo-Glo appeared. “This is the venerable Glo-Glo, a shaman.”

“Oi!” Kli-Kli squeaked when he saw my friend, and for some reason or other, he hid behind the elf.

“Pleased to meet you,” Milord Rat said with a nod. “And now, if nobody has any objections, let’s get away from here before the orcs turn up.”

“They’ve got the Horn,” I announced.

“Not anymore,” Egrassa contradicted me, and handed me my bag.

“But how?” I asked, unable to believe my own eyes.

“The flinnies made a special effort. For that ring you gave them they’re indebted to us to the grave,” the elf explained.

“And Shokren?”

“What Shokren?”

“The shaman who had my bag,” I explained.

“He got an arrow in the throat,” Milord Alistan said, and I felt delighted. “So we’d better get away from here before they raise the alarm.”

I didn’t ask them how they’d managed to steal into the heart of an orc village, then kill the shaman and take the bag with the Horn, all without being noticed. And I also tried not to think about the fact that they’d saved the Horn first, and then me.

“Follow me, but quietly,” Egrassa warned us, and set off.

I followed straight behind the elf, but Kli-Kli overtook me and installed himself in front of me. Glo-Glo and Alistan brought up the rear. We could see fires burning somewhere on the edge of the village and hear singing. Eel rose up out of the tall dry grass like a phantom. He noticed me and gave a sight nod, then looked Glo-Glo up and down in surprise, but didn’t say anything until Alistan Markauz asked him, “All quiet?”

“Yes, but these two were going toward the pit, so I had to deal with them.”

I saw the two dead bodies now, and I couldn’t resist going closer. I was right. Olag and Fagred. Both killed with throwing knives borrowed from Kli-Kli.

“Was there any noise?” Milord Alistan asked anxiously.

“They never knew what happened,” Eel said with a chuckle.

Glo-Glo spat juicily on Fagred’s body.

“Everyone into the trees!”

We crossed the clearing at a run and took shelter under the sleeping maples. Two short figures detached themselves from tree trunks.

“I told you they’d do it, beard-face!”

“And if we hadn’t been stuck here in the forest, it would have been done even better, hat-head! Cheers, Harold! I haven’t seen you for ages! Ugh! You’ve grown yourself a beard, just like me! And who’s this with you?”

“Looks like a goblin,” said Deler, moving closer.

“I couldn’t stand another jester!” Hallas groaned, but Egrassa promptly told them both to shut up.

Something rustled through the leaves of the maples and the first drops of rain fell on my face.

“We need to get away, honorable sirs, and get away quickly!” said Glo-Glo, taking the initiative.

“So now a goblin’s going to tell us what to do!” Hallas grumbled.

“We should go east now,” the old shaman continued as if he hadn’t heard. “As soon as we get past the cliffs, we can walk along the stream, and I can try to confuse our tracks.”

“Agreed!” said Egrassa—for some reason he trusted the goblin straightaway. “Will you show us the way?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

We moved deeper into the wet forest. The rain whispered a lullaby to the leaves. It was wet, cold, and very dark. I was walking behind Hallas, so I didn’t notice when Mumr joined the group. He simply appeared beside me, gave me a friendly punch on the shoulder, and hurried on ahead to report to Alistan.

“Eel,” I called to the Garrakian walking behind me. “Didn’t the orcs set any sentries for the night?”

“We took out five of them round the perimeter, but otherwise things were quiet,” Eel replied. “What would they be afraid of in their own home, and at the start of the festival? I think without it we wouldn’t have got you out of there so easily, never mind the Horn.”

“The flinnies told us everything,” said Kli-Kli, appearing beside me. “About the Horn and about you.”

“Is that ring worth so much to them?”

“Yes. And by the way, we had to hurry to get here in time. Galloped all the way to rescue you, and you haven’t even said thank you!”

“Thank you, Kli-Kli.”

“Don’t mention it,” the jester replied magnanimously. “I’m very glad you survived, Dancer in the Shadows. Wordofonner.”

“Me, too.”

“By the way, how did you come to meet him?” the goblin asked, nodding toward Glo-Glo, who was walking at the front.

“We ran through the Labyrinth together.”

“Aaaaah,” the goblin drawled in surprise, and left me in peace for a while.

After that we walked on without speaking. Glo-Glo kept pushing up the pace, and sometimes we had to run after him. The rain kept falling, getting stronger all the time, and I wrapped myself tighter in the jacket of the newly deceased Fagred, may a h’san’kor devour his bones! We walked for an hour without any rest, and I imagined what it must have been like for the warriors who had rushed halfway across Zagraba to help me, and were now running away from the orcs with me. Just as it started to get light, we left the area of the old cliffs and found ourselves beside a very wide stream that babbled merrily. Our path now lay along its banks. About twenty minutes later Egrassa asked Glo-Glo to stop and raised his hand to ask for silence.

“What’s going on?” I asked Kli-Kli.

“Shhh,” he hissed at me.

Like everyone else, I started listening to the morning silence and the sound of the rain. And eventually I heard that other sound, too. It almost merged into the rain, so I didn’t realize what it was at first.

Boo-oom! Boo-oom! Booo-oom!

Very faint, barely distinguishable—the rumble of the orcs’ war drums, sounding the alarm.

“So they have noticed the pit’s empty and the shaman’s turned his toes up!” Hallas said, and spat.

“We have to hurry.”

“How can we hurry any more, Harold?” Deler grumbled.

“Go in under the trees, I’ve got to do a bit of work here,” said Glo-Glo.

Milord Alistan was about to object, but Egrassa shook his head. The count frowned in annoyance, but decided to follow the elf’s advice.

By this time the rain had changed to a fine drizzle, which made things a bit more pleasant, and the trees at least offered some sort of protection. Everyone walked away from the old goblin and started watching as he twirled like a top, waving his arms about and stirring up the leaves. All this went on for quite a long time, and Milord Alistan started getting a bit nervous—and so did all the others.

“How long are we going to watch the old crackpot prancing about?” Lamplighter asked when he couldn’t take any more.

“He’s not an old crackpot,” Kli-Kli snapped. “He’s Glo-Glo, one of the very greatest shamans of our time!”

“So how do you know?” Hallas sneered.

“I just know, that’s all!” Kli-Kli said sulkily, and stared down at his boots. “And by the way, he happens to be the keeper of the great shaman Tre-Tre’s Book of Prophecies.”

Boo-oom! Boo-oom! Boo-oom! The orcs’ drums sang faintly in the distance.

“We have to be sure they don’t overtake us, milord!” Now it was the patient Eel whose nerves were feeling the strain.

“Oi!” Kli-Kli squealed and put his hands over his eyes.

Lamplighter swore. Everybody stared at what Glo-Glo had done. And there was something to stare at! The goblin finished casting his spell, and for as far as we could see, all the leaves fell off all the trees and hung in the air. Then they were joined by the leaves that had been lying quietly on the ground.

And what came after that was really strange—I had the impression that thousands of hands started tearing up the poor leaves and didn’t stop until every leaf had been reduced to a hundred little pieces. In another instant they were transformed into thousands and thousands of winged creatures. A thick, dark cloud rose up and hung, trembling, above the forest. And then every part of this vast cloud started to grow, and grew until it reached the size of a large fist.

“May the gods save us!” Hallas exclaimed, trying to shout above the droning roar.

“They won’t!” Eel shouted.

And then the goblin waved his hand in the direction of the rumbling drums and the cloud of magical hornets went darting away. There were thousands and thousands of them, and it really was frightening. One of the hornets broke away from the cloud and flew to us. I got a very clear look at its impassive, glowing silver eyes, its shaggy black and yellow belly, and fearsome purple sting.

We only moved again when the drone of hornets’ wings had faded into the distance.

“Well, what kind of leaves do you call those?” Hallas blurted out, looking at Glo-Glo warily.

“I’m glad you liked it, gnome,” said the shaman, scowling wearily as he walked over to us. “I spent a week preparing that spell, so I was curious to see how it would work out, myself. Now I have to rest for half an hour. You don’t need to hurry anymore. The Firstborn will be too far busy to think about you. Gnome, do you have any water?”

Hallas hastily held his flask out to Glo-Glo, who took a mouthful, handed the flask back, and said, “Everyone take a stroll in the rain for half an hour, and I’ll sit here under a tree and recover my strength.”

Egrassa agreed with the goblin again, and we walked off, leaving the shaman alone. Without its leaves the forest was naked, and it seemed colder.

“Did you see that?” Deler asked Lamplighter in amazement.

“Did you? I wouldn’t change places with the orcs for all the vessels of Sagra.”

“I told you he was the great Glo-Glo!” said Kli-Kli, with his eyes staring wildly. “Be thankful he didn’t turn you into worms!”

Hallas gave the goblin a frightened glance. Glo-Glo was sitting with his eyes closed. He looked as if he was asleep.

“He is a very powerful shaman. The most powerful I have ever seen. To work the Hornets of Vengeance would have taken five of our First Ten sorcerers,” the elf told Milord Alistan in a low voice.

As usual, the count nodded without speaking, and sat down under the nearest maple.

“I don’t think we’ll lose anything by waiting for him to recover.”

“Have you noticed the drums have stopped?” the jester yapped from under his hood. We listened. He was right. Zagraba was totally silent, not a sound apart from the cautious babbling of the stream trying not to attract the great shaman’s attention. A very interesting little thought was gradually taking shape in my mind. Supposing that …

“Oh, Harold!” Kli-Kli’s voice shattered my reverie. “Of course, you didn’t hear a thing I just said to you, did you?”

“Ah? Sorry, Kli-Kli. I was thinking.”

The jester sighed and asked me again: “Where’s your crossbow? Did the orcs take it?”

“No, I left it in Hrad Spein.”

“Will you tell me what happened there?”

“Not now. Some time later, maybe.”

“I understand,” Kli-Kli sighed, and stopped pestering me with questions.

“Did you have a hard time?” Hallas asked sympathetically.

“Yes.”

“But you still did what the king told you to do. Well done. I’m glad I was wrong about you,” the captain of the royal guard put in unexpectedly.

“Thank you, Milord Alistan.”

I pulled my hood off and raised my face to the streaming rain, which had grown stronger again. Kli-Kli gave a quiet gasp.

“What happened to your hair?” asked Eel.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Kli-Kli hastily fished a little mirror out of one of his pockets and handed it to me. In the mirror I saw that my temples were completely gray.