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It was supposed to be a quick trip into the mountains, half a day’s travel each way, to check on the stranger in the cabin. The man had passed through Gulden five weeks back, talking about rumoured sightings of a strange beast. He was old and rich, so his rambling got more attention than it would otherwise. Between the fat pouch of coins, two horses, fine clothes, and ornate sword he could have bought all of Gulden and had money to spare.
And now he’d gone missing, or at least not returned by the date he’d planned to. Making sure the stranger was safe and hearty was the neighbourly thing to do. And if it turned out his age had caught up with him, well, he had no family nearby and it was a shame to leave all his many possessions to the wind and rain and whatever scavengers roamed the peaks and valleys.
They came in force, half a dozen of the strongest men and women from Gulden, armed with bows for game and spears for wolves or goblins, though few creatures would tangle with so large a party. One of the village boys snuck out as well and by the time they spotted him, it was too far to send him back alone, so his ears were boxed and he was put in the middle of the group. A pair of hounds ranged up ahead, though never too far.
The cabin was a hunting lodge that hadn’t been used in a generation. The deer didn’t often go that way any more, and so when money had been offered for its use for a month – “just in case the search takes longer than expected” – there was no reason to turn it down.
The cabin sat in a clearing on a hillside, though the woods were only a stone’s throw away in all directions. It had clearly been well-stocked with supplies and amenities. Now it was empty, its door battered down and the inside ransacked. Torn clothing was strewn across the grass. Animals had gotten at the food stores and the horses were loose and either wandering the wilderness or inside a wolf’s belly, the villagers weren’t sure which.
“So, what now?” Carl the blacksmith asked. He was the stoutest member of the party and the slowest, brought more for the strength of his arms than the swiftness of his feet. His hands twisted around the haft of his spear as he looked around the clearing nervously.
Rosemary spat into the dirt. As the only former soldier among them, she was the undisputed leader in situations like this one. “He didn’t die here. No blood, and the marks aren’t the right kinds. Wild creatures got into the house after it was left empty for a while and ruined it while looking for food. The stranger might be trapped nearby with a broken leg or something.”
“Shall we split up and search?” Gordon asked, high voice trembling with excitement.
The others ignored him save for his father, Anthony, who threw a glare his way. “This is no place for a boy and no place for a boy’s opinion.”
“We were all young once,” Nathaniel murmured to Anthony. The baker and the hunter looked almost like brothers, with curly dark hair and strong chins, enough that there had been unsavoury rumours about shared parentage once upon a time. With age had come understanding and then a deep friendship. “I remember a time you would have done anything to have an adventure like this. He may have snuck out but we’re stuck with him now, so best make your peace with it.”
“As long as he keeps his fool ideas to himself,” Anthony agreed, reluctant but unwilling to argue. “I’ve been this way before, often, and I know my way around the dangers of the woods besides. There’s no-one who should be arguing with me – save Rosemary, of course,” he added hurriedly.
Rosemary ignored the byplay. Her hair was touched with a hint of iron to match the mail shirt she wore. “I’m not letting any of you out of my sight while we’re this far from home. There’s dangers in the mountains,” she gestured at the wrecked hut, “and we’re going to make sure we face them with the odds in our favour. We let the dogs find the trail and then follow them as a group.”
Anthony’s sharp whistle called his hounds to heel, and soon they were picking up the stranger’s scent. Tanya, the village priest, took a closer look at the torn clothing while they waited.
“This is from the capital,” she said, disbelieving. “Whoever he was, he must have been rich and important. A single shirt of his would cost any of us a year’s wages, if not more.”
“Shame it’s all ruined,” Nathaniel said with feeling. His own clothes were of a good cut by the village’s standards, though still thick with flour even this far away from his ovens.
Thomas the brewer shook his head. “His sword’s the most valuable thing in these whole damn mountains, though. God’s own truth, he told me the weapon had magical powers.”
“He was in his cups, Thomas. You make fine beer,” Nathaniel dismissed him.
Thomas shook his head again, stubborn as a mule. “He showed me the blade. It was sharper than metal has any right to be, I saw it with my own eyes. Every time it takes a life, he said, it cuts a little finer.”
“There’s no such thing,” Gordon interrupted. Despite his youth he was only a head shorter than his father, although with half the presence. The adults ignored him with the ease of long practice.
“I’ve heard tales of strange weapons, out on campaign,” Rosemary admitted. The others came a little closer. It wasn’t often she spoke of the decade she’d spent as a mercenary. “Weapons and armour and all sorts of strange goods, come from barrows and mazes underground. They can’t be bought for any price because the people who find them are the sorts of people who need the best gear. It’s a matter of survival. The only place you’ll get to see one is on a battlefield, and if you’re lucky it’s on your side.”
“Why don’t soldiers just loot them off of the corpses after the battle, then?” Anthony demanded. Rosemary glared at him. “If you’ll pardon my asking,” he added quickly.
There was a pause, long enough it seemed she wouldn’t answer. The dogs sniffed at the trail, eager to be off, but as they set out to follow the tracks Rosemary broke her silence.
“Some do, when they can, but I saw one in action once. Even half-dead, you don’t want to get too close to someone wielding a sword like his. And when the owner died the blade broke besides. A few friends of mine went back to the battlefield to see if they could recover the shards at least, but wild beasts had moved in and I never saw any of them again.”
Gordon opened his mouth to ask another question but Anthony laid a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him. They left Rosemary to her thoughts as they followed the pair of dogs into the woods.
Once they were on rougher terrain, Anthony took the lead alongside Rosemary. She might be the better fighter but as the village’s best hunter, his tracking skills were more important for the moment. The other villagers stayed in a close group a few steps behind them, spears pointed outwards.
“Stop,” Nathaniel called after about fifteen minutes’ walk.
The rest of the party immediately froze, eyes scanning the undergrowth. “What is it?” Rosemary asked, spear at the ready.
“I heard a twig break somewhere. We might be being followed.”
“Let’s find out who it is,” Thomas the brewer said, rushing into the underbrush. He was the tallest of them and younger than any except Gordon, though he already walked with a perpetual stoop from long hours spent over his barrels.
“Get back here,” Anthony called, and after a few moments of beating the bushes with his spear, Thomas obliged. “If there was anything out there, it was most likely just a goblin.”
“A goblin?” Carl squeaked.
Tanya chucked a pinecone at Anthony’s head. “You used to tease me about goblins all the time when we were kids, don’t mess with poor Thomas as well.”
“They’re real, and I’ve met them a time or two not far from here,” Anthony snapped. “They hunt in pairs with slings and clubs, and unless you give them a reason to fight you they usually just want to be left alone. There’s no chance they’d attack us.”
“So we can just talk it out?” Nathaniel asked, visibly relieved.
Thomas grinned. “I’m an excellent negotiator.”
“Leave the talking to me, if it comes down to it,” Anthony interrupted. “That goes for all of you. I know what I’m doing.”
“If steel’s coming out, give me a signal, otherwise do what you think best,” Rosemary said. “Twang your bowstring twice, or something, if you need heads to fly.”
“We won’t need to fight,” Anthony repeated. “And regardless of what Tanya says, goblins aren’t just a scary story.”
Tanya poked Anthony in the side. “I think there’s something in the–”
Three hundred pounds of porcine fury burst out of the bushes at the rear of the party and charged up the path, right through the middle of the group. They scattered before the flashing tusks and trampling hooves, and the wild boar carried on its rampage down the tracks.
It took a few moments for everyone to gather their wits. They stood up sheepishly, brushing dirt and leaf litter off their clothes.
“If it comes back, we can take it,” Thomas breathed, with sparkling eyes and a tight grip on his spear.
Carl the blacksmith shook his head, out of breath. “Don’t be daft. That thing will spit itself on your spear, break the haft and savage you to death long before it bleeds out. You don’t hunt boar on foot with a spear, not unless you want to die.”
“Carl’s right, wild boar are more dangerous than goblins or wolves, or anything else in these woods save for a bear. If it comes back, we get into cover and try to shoot it. If it’s slowed it’s less dangerous,” Rosemary said. She was brusque but the shock the boar had left behind meant not even Anthony argued. “We only have one bow, but it’ll have to be enough. We’re all going home at the end of this.”
“I hate to be the one to say this, but someone has to. Do we even press on?” Tanya asked. “I know you said the man could be injured out here, and it’s only right and godly that we lend aid to those in need, but I can’t in good conscience ask you all to risk your lives for a stranger.”
“That boar’s behaviour wasn’t natural.” Anthony studied the marks it had left in the soft earth. “And going by these tracks, it’s not the only creature here acting strangely. We’re not so far from the village, and better we investigate now than wait for crops to be trampled and livestock to be hurt.”
“We continue,” Thomas agreed, and the others nodded as well.
“When you say the boar was acting oddly, what exactly do you mean?” Rosemary asked, not moving yet.
Anthony shrugged. “It should have avoided us, given how many of us there are. When it came through anyway, I assumed it had young nearby or some other reason to attack. But it just passed on by, otherwise we’d have a few injured, if not dead, friends right now. And it was wounded as well, you can see traces of blood left behind. Boar don’t flee once they get into a fight, and if it killed whatever threatened it then why was it charging through here?”
“There’s more tracks in this corner,” Carl pointed out, still wheezing slightly.
“That’s odd as well,” Anthony said. “It’s too many animals using this trail in too short a span of time, and all going in the same direction to boot.”
“What’s affecting them?” Gordon asked eagerly.
“No idea.”
Rosemary gestured down the path with her spear. “Let’s go find out.”
The dogs kept leading the way, though as they made it deeper into the woods they became less and less necessary. Dense trees and bushes kept them from wandering off the trail and smaller, newer paths kept joining from the sides. Wherever all those routes converged, they were getting close to it.
And then the trail ended at a huge hole in the ground, under the spreading branches of an ancient oak.
“What now?” Anthony asked as the dogs whined and clawed at the dirt before the pit, which was around eight feet deep with sloped sides.
Rosemary shrugged. “We dig out the body, check it for valuables, and give it a proper burial. Or we bury what’s left, anyway. If all these animals have been coming this way they might have eaten most of it. Of him, I mean. And then we go home.”
The others looked uncomfortable, and Gordon seemed on the verge of throwing up at the description, but none disagreed. Gulden wasn’t a rich village, and the price of squeamishness here was high, considering the value of the stranger’s gear.
Rather than waiting around, Tanya hopped into the hole and poked around the soft earth at the bottom. “He’s not here,” she said, but then gasped.
“What is it?” Thomas asked eagerly. He didn’t wait for an answer and instead clambered down as well. He called up to the others. “There’s a tunnel here, tucked away in the shadowy corner where you can’t see it properly.”
“Is the body stashed in there?” Rosemary asked, following him. “We didn’t bring any lamps and we’re not grubbing around in the dark, it’s not exactly safe.”
“There’s no corpse, and I can’t smell one either, but I see a faint light.”
Despite the disbelief from the others, Thomas turned out to be right. The tunnel itself was low enough that they had to stoop to get in, but after a dozen paces where it gently curved to the right, it opened up. A steady glow, enough to navigate by even if it was still dim down here, came from a streaky lichen growing on the floor and walls.
The widening was accompanied by a fork, two larger passages stretching off to the left and right. They were both wide enough for two adults to get past each other, albeit without much room to spare.
“This is one to tell my grandkids about,” Carl said once he got further in. His voice was filled with wonder.
Rosemary shoved past him. “Make sure you stay alive to tell them, then,” she grunted. “There’s danger about. These are old mining tunnels and they could hold anything from a hidden shaft, to noxious gases, to wild animals.”
“I wonder what the stranger was looking for down here?” Thomas asked. “He must have had a map of the mines if he found that passageway outside, it was well-hidden and without the dogs we’d have walked on past it.”
“This is an old mine, to be sure,” Carl the blacksmith said. “But that shorter tunnel and the entrance, those are new. And I don’t know what made them or why, but I’ll tell you this: those were claw marks and not tool marks in the earth. It wasn’t humans that built that passage.”
“If we run into that boar again down here, I wonder what will happen to us,” Gordon said quietly.
Tanya cleared her throat to draw everyone’s attention. “We can either press on or go back. This is a dangerous place.”
“We’ll vote on it,” Anthony said. “Forwards or back, what’s it to be?”
“Forward,” Rosemary said, and Thomas and Gordon joined her.
Nathaniel paused for a long moment. “Back. The stranger’s either dead or about to be, and that means there’s nothing down these tunnels worth risking our lives for.”
“Back,” Anthony said too. “I don’t want to take my son into this without knowing more about it.”
With Carl also wanting to turn around, that left Tanya as the tie-breaker. “If we turn back, we need to make this place as safe as possible in the short term. That means blocking or collapsing the tunnel entrance, and it seems premature to do that until we know what happened to the stranger. We press on until we find a body or our path is blocked.”
“Let’s not waste time then,” Anthony said. His bow was near-useless in the cramped and gloomy confines of the tunnel, so he’d strapped it to his back. Instead he held a long branch in both hands, ready to use it as a makeshift club. “If we’re going forward, we should hurry to our goal and then get out of here.”
“Agreed,” Rosemary said. “The dogs want to go left. We’ll follow close behind.”
The procession set off, once again with Tanya and Gordon sheltered in the middle of the group. They hadn’t been relaxed before, exactly, but now there was a fresh urgency in the air. The tunnel split and split again, but the dogs unerringly led the way deeper into the tunnel complex. After fifteen minutes’ walk, they passed a side chamber with a foul stench wafting from it.
“What on earth is that?” Rosemary asked, sickened. “It smells like a days-old battlefield.”
Anthony nodded. “I’m not surprised they’re similar. That’s the scent of carrion, days- or weeks-old carcasses that haven’t been consumed by scavengers for some reason. There’s more than just one body in there, I can tell you that much, and at least some of them aren’t human. Probably most or all, to be honest.”
“I’m not digging through a charnel pit,” Nathaniel said, to murmurs of agreement. “But at least we know where the stranger ended up. Now we can turn around and–”
“The dogs are still going,” Rosemary interrupted him. “And judging by their excitement, we’re close.”
She was right. The dogs trotted another dozen paces and pushed through a small hole that was hidden in a bend in the tunnel. It was well-camouflaged by some dangling roots but once they knew where to look, there was enough space to crawl through to the other side. The earth around the tunnel bore signs of fresh work, although rather than digging into the dirt it appeared that someone had slathered clay onto the walls to narrow the passage.
“I guess this is it,” Thomas said, pushing his way forward. The others followed him with a touch more apprehension.
They filtered through the passage and formed up on the other side, where there was space enough for them to gather. What greeted the party was a much larger chamber with five bodies – two dead, one dying and two very much alive. A pair of froglike men, with moist green-and-brown mottled skin and distended features, kept overly-wide eyes on the villagers.
“What are they?” Gordon asked, breaking the silence as the two sides stared each other down.
Rosemary was the first to move, bringing her spear up and at the ready. Carl and Thomas flanked her, their own weapons less steady. Nathaniel dropped his club and nocked an arrow instead. The pair of goblins snatched up wooden clubs, vicious things studded with nails and covered with a faint patina of dried blood.
“We don’t need to fight,” Tanya said, voice soothing. “We’re only here to search for a missing companion.”
“That’s him there,” Anthony said, pointing past the goblins. The stranger’s body was half-covered by the same glowing fungus that spread throughout the rest of the tunnel system, although it was much thicker and brighter in this room. His sword was shattered, shards of metal strewn over half the room, and buried in his guts was a wooden spike that two men would struggle to lift. The other body was that of a cave troll, half a broken sword through its eye and fungus spreading over its head and torso.
Complicating the tableau was the boar they’d run into earlier. It was slowly bleeding out from a puncture in its side, and it had rolled over so the blood ran over the fungus. Its eyes were empty but its chest still moved with each laboured breath. Buried in the mould were the barely visible outlines of more swords, less ornate than the stranger’s but nevertheless functional-looking.
“They don’t seem interested in talking,” Gordon said, voice shaking. He was right. The two goblins advanced, with clubs raised high and traces of froth at the corners of their too-wide mouths.
“Shoot the taller one,” Rosemary ordered tersely, and Anthony obliged. The arrow cut into its stomach and it staggered, though it didn’t stop advancing. “Keep shooting. The rest of you, use the spears to keep them back.”
As the party formed up, shouting and screaming and instinctively backing away little by little, the silent goblins padded closer. It was a shoddy row of spikes that formed, but the goblins weren’t keen on spitting themselves on them. For a moment a stalemate ensued.
Anthony’s second arrow missed as one of the spearmen jostled his arm, but the third one caught an arm. Then the shorter goblin ducked and slipped between two spears. It swung at Carl’s head in a big arc. Carl stumbled out of the way with a cry of fear but the line was left in shambles. Rosemary ran the goblin through with her spear, and seconds later Thomas did the same, though it didn’t fall. They pushed the creature against the cavern’s wall and held it there, out of reach of any other targets. It flailed and kicked but to no avail.
The taller, injured goblin was fighting Carl, Nathaniel and Anthony at the same time, and it was winning. A slash of the club sent Nathaniel’s spear flying to the ground, and then the goblin kicked him into Anthony before the hunter could fire another arrow. Tanya hurled a rock at it but it was swatted aside, and with wide unblinking eyes it tried to bash in Carl’s skull, narrowly missing its mark.
The tip of Carl’s weapon found its leg and cut across the shin but it stayed standing and swung again–right into Rosemary’s arm as she leapt into the way. Her chainmail took the worst of the hit and she punched it in the throat with her other hand. It stumbled back but not far enough, so she hit it across the face twice. Carl grabbed onto the arm holding the club and dragged it back, but its other hand reached out and long spindly fingers wrapped around Rosemary’s throat. She tried to pry them loose but the angle was wrong and they were slimy and hard to grip.
With Carl hanging on one arm and Rosemary grasped in the other, there was no space for Nathaniel or Anthony to reach the goblin, blocked in as they were. The creature snarled as it stared through Carl, trying to shake him loose. It bared its teeth and lunged, about to bite at him and free its club. Anthony grabbed his bow but the arrows were scattered and out of reach. The next steps were clear – it would maul Carl then bash in Rosemary’s skull.
Instead it dropped straight to the floor as Gordon drove a sword through its head from behind. The handle was still sticky from the fungus that had covered it, but the blade was coated in blood and gore.
Carl scooped up his spear again and drove it through the other goblin’s mouth, ending its struggles to free itself. With two fresh corpses, the room was at peace once more, though heavy breathing echoed around the chamber.
“How’s your arm?” Tanya asked.
Rosemary peeled back the chainmail and the padding underneath to reveal a mottled bruise spreading from elbow to wrist. Her voice was raspy but otherwise she sounded fine. “I’ve had worse, and nothing’s broken. This won’t even scar. You all did better than I could have expected.”
“Well, we did what we came here to do,” Nathaniel said. “The stranger must have followed the troll’s tracks, followed it to its lair and killed it. Judging by the decay it was a few days ago at least, more likely a week. It’s a shame he died in the process but at least the village is safe.”
“That doesn’t explain where the fungus came from, though, and why the creatures here are acting so odd,” Anthony said.
“Here’s a question for you, since they’re your dogs,” Rosemary said slowly. “If the body’s this old, I highly doubt the stranger was walking around in the last day or two. And besides it’s unlikely he used the same mine entrance as us, since it’s too new. So what trail have we been following?”
Anthony frowned. “It must have been some other scent that was at the cabin and is stronger here. I’m not sure what, though. Not the dead bodies in general, or they would have led us to that other pit instead.”
The baker took a deep breath and flinched. “Can you smell that? Underneath the blood and gore?”
They all sniffed at the air, but only Tanya nodded. “It’s a strange smell, sweet and a little tangy. What is it?”
“I’ve been delivered bad flour before, and some of it stank like this,” Nathaniel said, eyes hard. “It comes from some sort of mould in the barley. One time I didn’t catch it before forming the loaves and it gave those who ate it visions, and made them act strange. Almost like they were possessed by something.”
Before he’d finished speaking, Rosemary and Anthony had already wrapped scarves across their faces. “It helps with fumes and airborne powders,” Rosemary explained. The others followed suit, though Carl the blacksmith and Gordon both cast longing looks back to the entrance of the tunnel, and the relative safety of the cabin beyond it.
“We should leave now, anyway,” Tanya said. “I feel a little bit light-headed.”
Rosemary shook her head. “There are stories of old treasure being found in troll-hoards. We should search the room and decide what to do about the fungus.”
“Burn it,” Nathaniel bit out. “It’s probably what’s making the creatures act strange.”
“We can’t,” Gordon said, slurring his words. “We mustn’t.”
“He’s the smallest of us, whatever’s in the air must have affected him first,” Anthony said. He spoke fast and clear, with no hint of compromise. “I’m taking him outside.”
Thomas picked his spear up again. “I’ll come with you. We can guard the entrance, make sure nothing else comes this way.”
“I can consecrate the body, then we cremate everything here,” Tanya suggested. “That gives the rest of you time to loot, if you must.”
They set to it immediately rather than wasting time on further discussion. The boar had bled out and the fungus was already spreading onto its corpse. Carl started a small fire in a nook with old ashes, where once the troll must have warmed its food. There was enough wooden furniture, now broken, scattered throughout the chamber to get a good blaze going. Tanya knelt by the stranger’s half-gone body and muttered her prayers. Rosemary and Nathaniel dug at the walls and floor, looking for a spot with softer earth, and after a few minutes found it. Inside was a clay pot, mostly empty, but they’d found some treasure at last. Their sighs of wonder echoed in the wide space, for lying at the bottom was a scattering of gold nuggets.
“This is enough to secure food for the village after a bad harvest,” Nathaniel whispered as he scooped them into a pouch for safe-keeping. “A lifeline for all of us.”
“That alone makes the last day worth it, although I’m glad we caught whatever this was before it spread further,” Rosemary said. “Can you imagine if it had controlled more creatures, maybe even some people? We might not have been able to defeat it at that point.”
“We’ll all be sleeping safely tonight, that’s for sure.”
“I’m finished,” Tanya called from the liquefying corpse. “We can light the pyre now.”
“Farewell, stranger,” Carl said as he carried a lit brand from the firepit to the fungus. “It’s a poor reward for killing a troll, but it’s better than winding up in its belly. Hey, what are you doing?”
That last part was directed at Anthony’s two dogs, which had stayed behind and were now defending the fungus pile with snapping teeth. Carl tried to step forward and they leapt at him, only backing away when he thrust the burning brand at them.
“It must be the strange smell!” Nathaniel yelled, hurrying to his aid. “Avoid hurting them if you can, we have to tie them up and get them out of here!”
Carl tossed the burning branch at the fungus-covered corpses and it took only a few seconds for the dry and dusty mould to catch fire. The dogs leapt at it in a futile effort to put it out, but Nathaniel and Carl wrestled them down.
Holding any animal that doesn’t want to be held is hard enough, but the hounds were tricky even by that measure. In the end, Carl and Nathaniel took off their jackets and wrapped the dogs in them, pinning their legs to their sides.
“Let’s go,” Rosemary ordered when they were done. She leaned on her spear, visibly tired from the fight and the injuries she’d taken. Between the four of them they dragged the still-struggling dogs back through the small passage into the main tunnel, then took turns prying at the soil with their weapons until the connecting route was buried under a pile of dirt. Afterwards they slowly retraced their steps. There were no other creatures along the route they took, although twice they heard shuffling steps in the distance.
Once at the entrance, they rejoined the others. Working together, the group – six adults and one child, though that title was a poor fit for someone who’d taken a life – brought down the tunnel entrance over the course of a sweaty hour. Thomas carved a warning into a chunk of wood that was placed against the pile of earth blocking the way in.
Danger. Here be monsters.
As dusk approached, Anthony led them back to the ruined lodge. The village was too far to make it home before dark, especially when there could still be creatures lurking about, but with its door reattached the hut made for a safe haven. They set a fire and gathered around, warming their hands and letting the tensions of the day slowly fade. The dogs had calmed, but it was considered wisest to keep them restrained until the morning, when the last vestiges of the mould’s influence would hopefully have passed.
“I could use a drink,” Thomas grumbled. “I’m not cut out for this kind of life.”
Rosemary scowled, but there was less bite to it now. “You lack the temperament, that’s for sure. You handled yourself alright, though. All of you.”
“See, father, I told you I’d be useful,” Gordon said. His new sword was still within easy reach; he’d not let it out of his sight since he first picked it up.
Anthony nodded. “Yes, and if you ever follow me into danger like this again, I’m going to chain you to your bed. Carl will help, won’t you?”
“Sure,” Carl grunted, staring into the flames. “Although if we’re tying up every excited idiot in the village, I’m going to need a lot more chain.”
A ripple of laughter went around the group, and Tanya elbowed Nathaniel in the side. “This one wouldn’t need much, he’s all skin and bones.”
“I won’t need any at all, I’ve had my fill of adventure for a lifetime,” Nathaniel countered.
Carl shook his head. “You and me both. I still don’t understand what happened, though.”
“I’ll explain what I think happened,” Rosemary offered, and the rest of the group settled in to listen. “So, it starts with the stranger travelling into the mine tunnels somehow. He must have taken a different route to us, but he tracked a mountain troll to its lair and killed it. His magic sword got broken and he got stabbed in the process. Then, somehow, that made that fungus grow and spread.”
“It’s a bit like the mothercorn mould, except it grows on dead bodies instead of grain,” Nathaniel supplied. “But like mothercorn it causes visions and urges.”
“Exactly. The fungus spread some sort of spore that affected the creatures around it, drawing them in and making them feed and protect it. Probably they spread some blood around so the fungus could grow along it, that would explain where the glowing trails came from.”
“Those goblins we found must have been a pair of unlucky hunters who tracked a possessed animal to the centre of the fungus’s domain,” Anthony added.
Rosemary nodded. “That would have been our fate if we’d spent much longer in those tunnels. Without the dogs leading us straight to the source, we’d be possessed or dead. As it was, we followed the trail straight to the centre. The fungus must have been fairly new because it hadn’t seized many creatures yet, and so we were able to fight past its few defences and burn it out.”
“What about the treasure, though?” Tanya asked. “And why the swords?”
“Does a troll hoard in the home of a troll need explaining, truly? It was still buried so it might be a coincidence that the gold was nearby to the heart of the fungus.” Rosemary jingled the pouch that Anthony had filled. “Either way, it’s ours now.”
“The swords might have been made by the troll as well,” Anthony added.
“Show me that blade,” Carl said to Gordon, who reluctantly handed it over. The blacksmith turned it over in his hands a few times, then sniffed the edge. He tapped his knife against it, listening carefully, and nodded. “It’s as I thought. This isn’t proper metal. It’s hard as steel, and even sharper, and I think it’s got some iron in it. But I know my way around a forge and this hasn’t been through any kind of fire.”
“What could it possibly be, if not metal?” Tanya asked.
“Well, if it’s not forged, it must have been grown. The why of it is another question,” Thomas said. “Still, there’s no harm in keeping it. Maybe Rosemary can give Gordon some instructions so he doesn’t accidentally cut his own hand off a few months down the line.”
“I don’t need teaching, I already killed a goblin!” Gordon insisted. He snatched the sword back from Carl, scowling.
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can spare a few hours a week, if it’ll keep him from doing something stupid.” She looked at Anthony and something in her face softened. “I won’t let him get any fool ideas about becoming a soldier, either. No need to fret.”
That wasn’t what Gordon had wanted to hear, but what could he do? He wasn’t an adult, especially not in the eyes of his village. One day, though, he vowed. One day he would take his sword and set out in search of adventure. Just as the stranger had.