The wagon creaked and swayed as it traveled down the uneven dirt road. It hit a hole hard enough to jolt Malcolm awake, but he stayed nestled in the back corner, his eyes still shut to the world. The events of the previous evening flashed in his mind, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He could almost hear Izzy’s melodic voice again, echoing in the quiet moments they shared long after the others had drifted away. The conversations they had lingered in his thoughts, filled with laughter. Something can happen there, just don’t screw it up.

  In an instant, the wagon slammed into a massive bump and violently catapulted him into the air. His body flew upward, and he instinctively flung his arms out to brace himself for a harsh landing. From the front of the wagon, a guttural grunt pierced through the chaos, echoing the shock of the disturbance.

  “What’d we hit?” Malcolm called to the front as he pulled himself together.

  “Nothing,” Steeyann replied. “Other than the drop-off in the middle of the road, looks like some water has made a decent gully.”

  “Sent me tumbling, but the only casualty was my beauty sleep,” Malcolm quipped as he rose to his feet. He shuffled toward the center of the wagon, where the triangular canvas roof arched high enough for him to stand upright. The flat strip along the top kept the widened maximum headroom. Stretching his arms overhead, he sighed and made his way past the crates and barrels to join the other three at the front of the wagon.

  “How much longer do you think?” Valgrin asked Steeyann.

  “I expect we’ll be there in a bit over an hour, might get close to two.”

  “So they weren’t exaggerating when they claimed their magic could get us there in half the time of ordinary rides,” Valgrin remarked.

  Malcolm glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “When did anyone mention such tales to us?”

  A sheepish grin crept onto Valgrin’s face. “You know me—always digging for answers. I got curious about travel times and also how they manage the transport business. Did you know they’ve got three types of wagons? There’s a small one just for passengers, this mixed-use one we’re on now, and a bigger one that’s not as enchanted. It’s all so they can zip folks over to Plarest quickly—it’s the only place they go regularly.”

  Malcolm chuckled lightly. “Sounds like quite the operation. Me, I’m just interested in knowing how long it’ll take to get from point A to point B.”

  The crew spent the remaining hour of the trip debating logistics with only one primary route. Their attention was pulled back to the outside when the wagon slowed down.

  Malcolm was the last one to jump out of the wagon, nearly slipping on the light snow that covered the ground.

  “Didn’t think about mountains and snow.” He grumbled.

  “And this be summer. Should make the trip when the weather gets bad,” remarked a member of the wagon crew as they passed by, pushing a hand-truck loaded with several crates.

  Tahlur pulled everyone’s attention to the large sign over the rustic stone building in front of them. “I can see how this got its name. Short for ‘The Place of Rest’.”

  Malcolm crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Creative.”

  Steeyann walked to the imposing double doors crafted from aged timber. He approached and saw bits of red paint, now grey and faded from years of wear. The rest of the group followed close behind.

  “Looks like this entire area,” Valgrin motioned at the other buildings close by and the ones a little further down the road, “faces a lot of bad weather. Seems stone and old wood are the construction supplies of choice.”

  “Makes sense to me, stands up to the elements,” Malcolm agreed.

  They caught up with Steeyann and walked into the Place.

  The first thing Malcolm noticed was the smoky scent of barbecue, a smell that worked its Pavlovian magic on him. “Need some of that food,” he mumbled to Valgrin.

  As they stepped into the tavern, the murmur of conversation faded, and the customers turned their heads, their eyes honing in on the newcomers with curiosity. Malcolm paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, and executed a graceful bow to the assembled patrons. While bent forward, he squinted, trying to discern the variety of races filling the room—sharp-eared elves occupied two tables, their delicate features illuminated by flickering firelight and what little sunshine made its way through thick windows. In a slightly shadowy corner, stout dwarfish types with braided beards clinked their frothy mugs together in a muted toast. Humans were interspersed throughout, engaged in animated discussions. Near the crackling firepit at the room’s center, purple-skinned humanoids huddled for warmth, their skin absorbing the glow. Malcolm’s curiosity peaked when one of them extended a third arm to grab a piece of bread from a plate. He shook his head, abandoning his attempts to categorize them. By the time he straightened from his bow, the patrons had fully resumed their conversations, their interest waning, except for the burly human bartender who continued to watch him with a keen eye.

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  “Welcome to the Place of Rest!” the bartender boomed, his voice warm and inviting like a crackling fire on a frosty night. He extended an arm as solid as an oak branch, directing the guests toward a row of empty stools at the bar. The seats nestled beside an elderly man who was nursing a tankard of ale, his eyes twinkling under bushy brows. The bartender’s grin was infectious, promising comfort and camaraderie in every corner of the cozy tavern.

  “Thank you for the welcome,” Steeyann replied as he took one of the empty seats. “We’re looking for someone called Chenolt.” Steeyann spoke while the others took their seats.

  “You’re in luck,” the burly man smiled. “I’m Chenolt. What can I do for you? Ale, food, or something else?”

  “All the above. Right now I’m most interested in the food. Smells amazing.” Malcolm interjected.

  Steeyann held up his hand. “Before we go placing orders. We’re here in answer to your request with the Adventure’s Guild.”

  “Ah, that was quick, just messaged it out a couple of days ago. Expected it’d take a while as remote as we are.” Chenolt focused on Steeyann as he spoke. “But, Gabbe here would be the one to talk about the what it’s about.” Chenolt pointed to the older man next to them. “He can get it started, I’ll take your orders and can finish up after him. So, I have yantka soup or chopped yantka, the meat is slow-cooked using tarrka wood for flavor. What do each of you want?” A few minutes later, Chenolt headed back to the kitchen to get the food they ordered. Steeyann turned to the older man. “So Gabbe, want to fill us in?”

  The man sat his tankard down, ran fingers through his long, greasy, grey hair. “It be a tale of some length and a bit unbelievable, even for me self and I was their for it.” He took a quick sip of his ale, “Sit back for a spell and I’ll tell yous.”

  Gabbe stared at the four until they all nodded their readiness. He took another sip then started. “I knows I can ramble more than a bit, so I’ll try ta keep it short for yous. Started, it did, the night I went after a boar yantka that I’d done spotted in previous days. T’was a slippery one that boar, though now I’m not sure all the tracking done ta lead ta it was the boar or the Gobblerins. Tis what I call the beings I’ll be getting ta soon. Anyways, I caught the boar’s trail a couple hours before sundown and started following, hoping ta get ta the boar while I hads light.” He paused, lifted his tankard and took a long drink.

  “This here boar, like I said, twas a sneaky one. Hard ta track but I weren’t a giving up, followed that trail far into the misty part of the forest. Nows I was getting a wee bit scared be the truth of it, jumpy like. The beast made its way to a clearing. Gots all excited, I did, clean shot there for the taking. But by the time I got me bow ready it took off again.”

  Malcolm let out a slight groan. “We getting anywhere to the end of this story?”

  “Is getting there,” Gabbe replied after setting his tankard back down. “Need to keeps the throat in talking form. I’ll skip the part about me having to track the yantka deeper in ta the woods. All them strange noises creeping up from the dark, enough ta frighten the strongest. And I never claimed ta be that. Ended up in a part of the forest I’d a never been in before. Rocky, with strange plants, what that glowed in the night. More scary noises, new smells that weren’t all that pleasant. ‘Gabbe,’ I said to meself, ‘time to be turning round now. ‘ Snorts from the boar changed my mind. Wish it hadn’t a changed. Snuck in all quiet like. The scrub opened up into another clearing, just light enough to see the shadow of the thing.” He lifted the tankard again, this time with shaky hands. “Then things went from scary ta terrifying.” Chenolt filled the mug, Gabbe let it sit in front of him untouched. The volume of his voice dropped to almost a whisper as he continued. “Happened fast it did. Though it felt like it lasted forever. Lights came from nowhere, somewhere, all around the clearing. At first I thought it were a goblins that surrounded that poor creature. It weren’t. Yous ever seen one of them toy balls? Their heads were round like that but big, too big for their gobliny looking bodies. They had long snaky tentacles right below their round heads. From there on down, like I been saying, they looked like goblins. Right then I knew these weren’t anything I’d heard about, much less seen, befores. Looked almost funny like, with a hint of awful. The light came from something in their hands, all pointed at the boar. I froze in the bushes not sure what was going ta happen. Then the light changed colors to a blueish light, nothin natural 'bout the color.”

  Gabbe rubbed his nose with a trembling finger, his eyes locked in a vacant stare. Malcolm watched him closely, the weight of past memories causing him to shudder involuntarily. After a tense silence, Malcolm placed a firm hand on Gabbe’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

  Gabbe’s eyes flickered rapidly, a haunted whisper escaping his lips, “Blood, there was so much blood.” He grasped his mug with a shaky hand, taking a long sip as if to steady himself, before turning to meet Malcolm’s gaze, setting the mug down with a deliberate thud.

  In a raspy whisper he continued, “Like I said, t’was a strange light that glowed and seemed to trap the boar. You could see the fear in it’s eyes, even from where’n I were. Then them things unhinged their jaw and seemed like nearly half of their round heads became gaping mouths and they started in chomping on the boar. It didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Blood flew, they kept chewing. In a matter of ten minutes, I’d say, all that were left of the boar was blood-soaked snow. It were gone, bones and all. They took off down the hill, I stayed hidden. When I thought it was safe I bolted back here. And that’s the story. I can take you to where I saw them last, maybe a clearing I think they headed to, but I ain’t going near one.”

  Malcolm reached out, resting his hand on Gabbe’s shoulder. “You lead us there, then you can get behind us.”

  “Can do that. Morning then?”

  A quick look behind him at the nodding heads of the group confirmed Malcolm’s thoughts. “Morning it is.”