Gathering their gear, they left the Lion's Den, and headed south down the dirt street towards the main gate. This was open for the day's traffic, if any, and manned by two scruffy guards who squatted by the wall, laughing and playing dice. They barely glanced up as the group passed through the gates and turned west towards the river.
They reached the river's edge, where a group of wooden docks protruded out into the water. Most of the fishing boats had already gone out onto the river, and Deft could see them out in the middle of the Shrill, already working for the day's catch. The fighter's eyes went up to the Hill beyond. All he could see were trees, and here and there a craggy slope or a gout of steam issuing from some hidden vent on the mountain's surface. Lake of lava or red dragon breath? The fighter smiled grimly.
Ganth led the others down the length of one of the piers, to a serviceable rowboat. An old man stood at the end of the dock, and when they had gotten close enough, Deft recognized him as the Old Timer from the inn.
"Good morning, Timer!" Ganth waved to the oldster.
The Old Timer returned the greeting. Deft noticed he held three tiny glass vials in his weathered hands.
"Good morning, friends! Good morning, Master Bladehaft! I have come to give you a parting gift. I am impressed with your courage and determination, and I wish you well. Were I a younger man, I would come with you on this quest. But I am no longer young, as you can see. But I can still give you aid, in my small way."
He held out the glass vials, which glittered with a pale green liquid.
"The liquid in these bottles helps to heal wounds. I present them to you with my prayers for your success in this endeavor."
Ganth looked at the proffered bottles, and squinted up at the Old Timer. "You old rascal, where did you ever get Potions of Healing?"
The old man laughed. "I have my secrets, Master Glintspear. I can't give them all away, now, can I?"
"I shall agree with you on that. And I thank you. These will certainly be needed if we run into any trouble over there."
Deft took the potions, and stowed them in his pack.
The Old Timer bade them farewell. "Good luck, all of you, and may the Gods watch over you and bless you."
Deft shook the Old Timer's leathery hand. "Thank you, my friend We'll be back across before you know it, with Ganth's nephew and friend in tow."
The old man bowed. "I certainly hope so, friend Deft."
The four adventurers stepped into the boat, and Ganth picked up the oars. The others settled themselves, with Bloom in the bow and Deft and Runt in the stern.
"I shall take the first turn at rowing," said the cleric. "But I am certainly not rowing the entire way. We shall not doing all of it. We shall switch halfway across the river."
"I can row," Deft said. "I'm not very good at it, but I'll certainly pull my weight."
They stowed their backpacks in the bottom of the boat, and the dwarf took to the oars, rowing with strong, powerful strokes. The Hill loomed closer with every pull.
Deft turned to his to see that Runt had something in his lap in which he was completely absorbed. The fighter noticed a golden ring with a large ruby on one of the goblin's fingers, and he wondered if it was magical. But it was the group of assorted objects that the magic-user was fingering that gave the fighter pause. He saw rose petals, a rolled ball of cobwebs, a clear chunk of rock, some pieces of parchment rolled up into a cone, several chicken eggs, and a several chunks of hardened sap from the acacia tree.
"Runt, what is all that stuff?" the fighter asked. "Your collection?"
The magic-user laughed softly. "A collection of sorts, Master Bladehaft. These are my spell components. Many of my spells require these items in order to cast. Without them, I couldn't complete the spell. I am just checking to make sure all is in order."
After poking the items with his finger a few more times, the goblin busied himself with putting them back into the three pouches that hung from his belt.
"And that ring on your finger, is that magical as well?"
The magic-user held up his finger so the fighter could better see the ring. "Why, yes it is. It is a Ring of Protection. Bloom and I found it on the body of a dead sorcerer. He tried to cheat us, and he got what he deserved."
The goblin chuckled, his runny, yellow eyes blinking.
"I'm sure he did," the fighter remarked, his eyes going to Bloom in the bow.
Halfway across the river, Deft took up the oars. By now, they could all see that the Hill had two accessible landing points, roughly a mile apart. The one further to their north stretched for a long distance along the riverbank. The ground looked low, flat, and muddy. Most of the grass had been choked off by hardier marsh plants.
The clearing almost directly west of them was a pleasant expanse of grass and flowers. At its western end, a stream plummeted down a rocky outcropping and ran down to empty into the river.
"We are making for that clearing yonder with the waterfall. That is where my nephew and his friend landed, or at least that is what the fishermen who saw them disembark told me."
"It's too bad we don't have a bard in the party," the fighter said. "He could have tracked their footprints. It would make finding them that much easier."
"Yes, it is unfortunate. I had hoped to employ one. But we shall do the best we can, the four of us."
The fighter turned the boat towards the northern edge of the clearing, where they could see another similar boat lying carelessly up on the shore. Ganth saw it and pointed, and the others nodded.
Deft slowly brought the boat into shore, while the others scanned the field for any sign of monsters or other enemies. Nothing showed itself, and they grounded without incident. They jumped out of the boat.
"Bloom, you stand guard," Ganth barked. "Deft, help me with our boat. I would like to hide it. If there are any monsters here, I would rather they remain unaware of our presence."
"And I," Runt said, "shall examine the ground surrounding the other boat, to determine if there are any signs to indicate which way our quarry has gone."
"We can't track them," the fighter said. "None of us is a bard."
"Nevertheless," said the goblin, "we might find some clue as to which direction they have gone."
Deft and the Ganth picked up the boat, and moved it into the heavy undergrowth among the trees. They dropped it in between two thick clusters of bushes, and returned to the clearing, verifying that it couldn't be seen from the edge of the glade.
"Now what?" the fighter asked the cleric.
"Now we shall have to see if there are any trails leading out of this place. If not, my nephew might have followed the stream uphill."
The two returned to the boat, where the goblin was finishing his inspection of the sand around Gareth's boat.
"There are some footprints," said the magic-user, "but only a few. I'm afraid it's not going to help us much."
"Pay it no mind," Ganth said. "We are going to look for trails leading out of this field. Gareth most likely would have taken one of those, if they exist. And if we find any, and they are still passable, that is a good indication that something does live here."
"And it's up to us to find out what kind of something," Bloom grinned. "Well, let's get to it. The sooner we find these two, the sooner we can get back to the Lion's Den. Drinks will be on me, at least the first round or two."
The dwarf scowled at the thief. "I hardly think this is the time to start discussing victory, at this early stage."
Bloom sighed. "Just trying to stay positive, dwarf."
The group moved off to the west, staying in a tight formation with Deft and Ganth in the lead. They moved through the multi-colored flowers, glancing into the tangled forests to their right for any signs of a trail.
As they neared the northwestern edge of the glade, Runt suddenly whispered in his whiny rasp. "There's something standing in the forest, right at the tree line."
Deft and Ganth stopped suddenly.
"What are you doing?" Bloom hissed. "Keep walking! Otherwise they'll know we saw them!"
The dwarf ignored her. "What is it, Runt?"
The goblin peered forward. "I…I can't be certain, Master Glintspear, but it seems to be some sort of humanoid, about the size of Master Bladehaft."
Deft studied the area closely, and saw something sticking out from behind a tree. It looked like an orange colored arm and hand.
"There's definitely somebody standing there," he whispered.
As if to prove him and the goblin right, six figures detached themselves from the trees and strode into the clearing.
They were medium-sized humanoid, standing just over six feet tall. Their skin was a dark orange, and they had blue noses. Their eyes were yellow, like Runt's, and their braided hair iron gray.
They wore cuirasses of black leather, and carried crude wooden shields and long swords. Their hateful gazes bored into the intruders.
Deft grabbed his bow, rand reached into his quiver for an arrow. "Hobgoblins."
Ganth brought up his shield and mace. "That would explain the disappearance of my nephew, and all the other travelers who have come over here to explore."
The hobs began laughing and catcalling, making crude gestures with their weapons and fingers.
"Shall we attack?" Bloom asked, her sword already in hand. Runt was already running over the words in his mind to a magical incantation.
"Of course," Ganth frowned. "There are only six of them. We are slightly outnumbered, but I assume you have dealt with these curs before? Get ready. I am going to charge."
"Right behind you," the fighter said grimly.
With a dwarfish battle-cry, the cleric charged at the row of hobs. Behind him, Deft heard the raspy voice of the goblin chanting a spell in a strange, convoluted tongue. Two of the hobs suddenly slumped over and fell to the ground, most likely in response to Runt's spell.
Ganth's mace smashed against his hob's shield. Deft nocked an arrow to his bow and fired at one of the monsters. The shaft stuck into the brute's leg, and he howled in pain. Bloom streaked past Deft's left flank, and closed with another hob. Their swords clashed together in fury. The hob countered, ripping open Bloom's leg. The thief cried out in pain and rage, and doubled her strokes. The other hobs were on the move, running to engage Deft and Runt.
The fighter dropped his bow, unsheathed his sword, and spoke a single word, "Cinder".
The blade erupted in flame. This was a magic sword, enchanted to be sharper and quicker in combat, than a normal blade. It also burst into flame at its wielder's command.
Deft ducked under the clumsy swipe of the hob, and slashed out with his own blade. The monster's head sailed clean off his body, and the corpse dropped to the ground, blood gushing out of the severed neck in rhythm with the dying heart. Deft felt sick. He glanced up to see how the others fared. Ganth had dropped his foe with a powerful blow to the head which had crushed the thing's skull. Runt was fending off his opponent with his staff, and Bloom still struggled with her foe. Deft knew the magic-user was the most vulnerable member of the party, and he moved to aid the goblin.
The hob turned his attention to the fighter, blocking Deft's jab with his shield. The two blocked and parried for several seconds, each seeking an opening in the other's defenses.
Runt threw his dagger at the hob, and it stabbed deep into the monster's leg. He howled, turning towards the goblin in rage. This distraction gave Deft the opportunity he needed, and he brought his sword down on the hob's head, splitting it nearly in two. The monster crumpled to the ground.
Silence reigned on the battlefield. Deft drew in a deep, ragged breath, and knelt by the goblin. "You okay, Runt?"
The goblin grinned expansively, revealing his tiny, yellow teeth. "Yes, thank you, Master Bladehaft. I am well. The hob didn't cut me one bit. But I thank you for coming to my rescue. I am a magic-user, after all, not a warrior."
The fighter put his hand on the goblin's shoulder. "No problem, Runt. I'm glad you're okay."
Deft spoke the name of his sword, and the flames extinguished. He looked to Bloom and Ganth, who both stood around the body of the brute the thief had been battling. The fighter jogged over to them.
"Anyone hurt?"
Ganth pointed to Bloom, and the fighter glanced down to the bloody slash on the thief's leg. "Is it bad?"
"No, not bad at all," Bloom smiled sweetly. "Feels real good, too!"
"Nice. I meant do you need healing? Those potions the Old Timer gave us…"
Ganth glanced up at the thief. "We should save them for an emergency. Can you walk? The wound does not appear to be mortal."
"Naw, save those potions. I'm fine. It'll take more than a sting like this to put me out of the adventure."
Bloom busied herself with ripping some strips of cloth off the tunic of a hob and binding her wound.
Deft looked down to the dead hobgoblin, whose face was smashed in, most likely by the cleric's mace. "We should check these bodies over. They might be carrying something of value."
"Leave that to me, Deft!" Bloom winked at the fighter, and began a thorough search of all the bodies. Runt called Deft and Ganth over to the two hobs that had fallen from the effects of his magic spell.
"I put them to sleep," the magic-user said. "But it won't last long. We should tie them up, and try to learn some information from them."
"Of course," Ganth grunted. "Anybody bring a rope?"
"No," said Deft.
"No," said the goblin.
The cleric sighed. "Runt, go ask Bloom if she has a rope. If not, we shall have to cut strips from the shirts of the fallen to use as binders. I do not want these two to escape. Where there are six of them, there are more than likely three hundred or more."
Deft sighed. "Great. I hope we're not walking into an entire tribe of these things. Four of us aren't going to do much good against those numbers."
"Which is why we need information. The goblin was smart to do what he did. Otherwise we would have no one to interrogate."
Bloom had no rope, so she and Runt cut strips of cloth from the hobs' clothing, and they quickly rolled over the two sleeping monsters and tightly bound their hands and legs.
"Drag them into the woods," Ganth said. "I do not want to be out in the open if another scouting party wanders by. This may take a while. Hobgoblins are notoriously stupid and stubborn."
The hobs woke up while the cleric and fighter were dragging them into the woods. Luckily, Ganth had thought to gag them as well, for they began struggling and trying to scream through their gags. The cleric waved his mace threateningly at them, and they settled down, although their eyes seethed with hatred.
Bloom and Runt joined them. "I didn't find any coins on them. None of the arms or weapons looked like masterwork quality, so they're not magical, either."
Deft shrugged. "I didn't expect to find much of value on them, but you never know. That's how I got my sword here, off a gnoll chieftain."
"That blade is pretty fancy," said the thief. "I've heard of these. They're called Flame Tongues, right?"
"I suppose. This sword is quite deadly against the likes of trolls, winter wolves, and especially the undead."
The thief sighed. "And we'll probably run into all three up here."
She pointed to her leather boots. "You're not the only one with some fancy magic, Deft. These are Boots of Elvenkind. I can walk undetected with these things. I got them off a dead bard. Of course, he wasn't dead when I first met him."
She flashed the fighter a devilish grin.
Ganth knelt down next to one of the hobs, and removed its gag.
"Listen to me, you ugly bastards. You are going to tell us where your tribe lives, its numbers and disposition, and what happened to a dwarf and a human youth who landed on this shore last week. If you do not tell me the answers I want to hear, I shall cut your fingers off, one at a time. Once I have finished hacking off your fingers, I will start on your toes. Then I will move to the ears, then the lips, then the nose, then the eyes. If you still have not told me what I want to learn, I will slice your throats and leave you to die. The choice is yours. But know that I am deadly serious."
The blue dwarf's eyes glinted with a barely-contained fury that Deft found disconcerting. He hadn't seen this side of the dwarf yet, and he wasn't sure he liked it.