“Don’t you think we’d better leave a bit early so we’re sure we don’t miss mister Mus? I don’t want to fail him,” said Gramm to his sister.
At the same time that Dûae was heading back to Ga-Ga’s, a shadowy figure (even in the daylight) sneaked off in the opposite direction. Though the streets were now deserted, the man was used to remaining unseen. He moved quickly, quietly, and confidently, using alleys and keeping close to the walls of the village buildings. He was inconspicuous, yet without seeming furtive. He wore soft dark clothing that seemed now black, now grey, now darkest blue, now many other shades. A low hood kept his face from view. Continue reading “VI: The Hooded Figure”
One person who certainly had not forgotten about Herling was Dûae. When she left GaGa’s house she walked to the center of town, where she found the schemer addressing a large (by ToadChapel standards) and growing crowd of listeners.
“I don’t know why we have to look for these stupid chickens. You didn’t steal them. I certainly didn’t. You always drag me into your messes! Come on. Let’s go to the stream and I’ll show you how to catch a trout,” said Mills to her brother.
No sooner had this Tù-bïdi Herling hustled away from GaGa’s (he didn’t want to be seen in this part of town) but two frightened human heads appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Who’s that?” said Amelia.
“I didn’t steal those chickens, I just had fun chasing em,” said Graham.
“Come down here, both of you.” GaGa said. Her tone was serious. The children crept down the stairs as if a creaking step might still somehow alert the swaggering dwarf so recently and rudely met. The kids nervously followed GaGa as she walked outside to join Duae. “Sister*, would you go and see what this fuss about a party is all about?” Continue reading “Chapter III: A Quest… of Sorts”
Trouble had occurred during the night, and by the time a weak sun was well clear of the Western horizon the tale of that trouble had spread like a nose-drip through the town.
On the night of the red moon no storm had come, no lightning split the dark nor thunder spilled frail old men from their beds. All through the night streaks of cloud had raced swiftly across the sky, obscuring and discovering the ominous rust-colored moon which hung above the village. The wind wickered across the fields around ToadChapel, but it was not quite savage. It drove on through the night, as if on some mission of grave importance. Continue reading “Chapter II: Robbers and Rogues”
This story begins with ribbons of grey cloud gliding quickly across an Autumn evening above a small village named ToadChapel.
It was the kind of village that bigger towns would call names. So they called it ToadChapel. The unimaginative locals mostly didn’t call it anything at all, since few of them had ever travelled more than a day or so from their homes. Where else would they talk about? Continue reading “Chapter I: Blood Moon”