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Chapter 4



    Nestled safely inside Old Kingdom ruin walls sat a halfway camp for travelers and traders. The amber glow emanating from within the walls held promise of a welcoming relief to the weary Hero and his charges. The trio of traders found renewed energy, pressing forward with joy in their voices. At Fable’s direction, Sid jogged along with them, just in case something dropped out of the trees atop them.

    Remaining wary, Fable looked out into the darkness behind them to see if anything would follow or make a last ditch attack. Thankfully, it seemed nothing was interested in coming anywhere near the sight of the camp. Satisfied they were safe enough, Fable turned to catch up with the others.

    The traders sat down among the merchants’ tents catching their breath, happy to be amongst their own kind for a while, while Sid seemed to be invigorated with a hitherto unseen source of energy. He approached the table where a game master was hosting blackjack, grabbing a chair to straddle it backwards, and struck up a chat. “’ello, Blane.”

    “Been a while since I last saw you, Sid,” the game master remarked.

    “Been a while since I ‘ad a job,” Sid replied. “Good pay, too.”

    “The Chapel is going to play sacrificial poker tonight.”

    Night? How does he know it’s night? In fact, how does ANYONE know what time it is? Fable thought to himself. The sky doesn’t change… and what, in Avo’s name, is sacrificial poker? Driven by sheer morbid curiosity, the hero crept closer to better eavesdrop on his hired hand’s conversation.

    “Oh, I’m well aware,” Sid smirked, setting some gold on the table. “Why d’ ya think I’m lookin’ so cheerful?”

    “I hate to break your ‘cheer’,” the game master started with an apologetic look, “but with fewer people passing these parts, it’s more conceptual now than literal.” The game master started dealing cards for Sid and himself.

    “That’s too bad.” Sid tapped and the game master dealt another card, Sid’s shoulders slumping at the losing hand. “Any other word ‘round these parts?”

    “No more than usual, I’m afraid,” the game master said with a sigh. “Bandits, balverines, and hobbes running amuck, though they tend to stay far enough away from the camp. Of course, you never know when the acolytes will wander from the Chapel looking for some more sacrifices, but they tend to leave us alone, thank goodness.”

    “Yeh,” Sid chuckled. “Skorm does need to sate ‘is appetite every once in a while. Just as soon it not be me.” He then looked up to notice Fable. “Oh, hey, boss. We was jus’ ‘avin’ us a game o’ blackjack. Care t’ join?”

    Fable shook his head. “No, thank you.”

    “Well then,” Sid tried. “Want t’ go play some sacrificial poker wit’ th’ acolytes?”

    “Certainly not,” Fable huffed. He turned to the game master. “How in the world do you know what time it is when the sky is always dark… and why is the sky always dark.”

    “No one knows,” the game master admitted. “Some think it’s Skorm’s presence, some think it’s a curse, but Darkwood has been Darkwood for a very long time.”

     “So then how do you know what time it is?”

    “You feel it. The wickedness of the wood is strongest at midnight.”

    Fable cautiously looked to Sid, who seemed to be smiling even larger than before.

    “Is that why you’re in better spirits?” he inquired his hired mace.

    “Only partly,” Sid said, standing up. “If we’re not movin’ on for a bit, then I’m gonna go play me some poker wit’ th’ boys.”

    Fable raised an eyebrow. “You sure they won’t sacrifice you?” he asked as Sid exited the alcove.

    “Acolytes don’t sacrifice other acolytes,” Sid said over his shoulder. With that, he vanished into the night.

    Fable shuttered, turning Sid’s former seat back and taking a seat with the game master. “How much do you know about Sid?” he inquired.

    “Not as much as you might think,” the game master admitted. “Strange fellow who seems to be bounced around from one employer or another. Not always strong-arming, either; I’ve even seen him hired to protect traders, like you’ve got him doing now.” He glanced up at Fable. “Seems to tolerate you just fine, though.”

    “Tolerate?”

    “Sid’s not the most patient with his pay,” the game master explained. “Sometimes he’ll force an advance, if you catch my meaning.”

    Fable shook his head, giving a sigh. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t get in more trouble because of it, then.”

    “Being as how I am a permanent resident here, I cannot say,” the game master replied with a shrug.

    “Would anyone else?”

    “I doubt anyone would know more than I, but you’re free to ask.”

    Fable nodded his thanks and excused himself from the table. He looked for his charges, finding them not far from where he’d seen them last. One was making idle chatter about the local gossip with the other merchants, while the other two were catching a nap.

    Seeing the sleeping merchants reminded the young hero just how long ago sleep had been. He found a good enough spot near one of the ruin’s walls behind a merchant tent, close enough to be available in case of trouble. He curled up, shut his eyes, and was almost immediately asleep.

    His return to the waking world came as Sid kicked his boot. “I’m only gone a couple o’ ‘our an’ ye’re sleepin’ on th’ job?” Sid raspy voice asked.

    “How long was I asleep?” Fable asked, rubbing one of his eyes and looking blurrily at Sid.

    “Like I’d know. I jus’ got back,” Sid said. “Good game o’ poker. Win some lose some. Traders were gettin’ a bit ‘airy. Wanted t’ know when we’d be leavin’.”

    Fable let out a wide yawn before answering as he got himself back to his feet. “If we’re all ready to go, then let’s go.” He followed Sid to the opening in the ruins where the other traders anxiously waited.

    “How’re you feeling?” Fable asked Bloody.

    “I’m alright,” he answered, somewhat less shaky than he’d been before.

    With the group gathered once more, they set off into the woods. Fable took the lead, with Sid bringing up the rear. They turned right, away from the Chapel of Skorm, pressing on through the muck and following the path as it hugged the cliff face to its left. The edge overlooked an ancient stone, bordered by four tusk curved shaped pillars. It looked to Fable like an ancient cullis gate, but as it lacked any of the usual glow and his Guild seal remained silent as they passed, it very likely stopped working long ago.

    The group followed the wide cliff path around until they reached the moss covered staircase, lined with vine overgrown pillars that lead down to the supposed ancient cullis gate. The blackened trees and ancient pillars seemed to line the edge of the region as if it were a central stage, or a type of an arena, or even as if it was once part of a central room. He held up a hand, motioning for his charges to wait on the steps while he investigated further. He drew his sword, moving carefully forward.

    As he suspected, four bandits were waiting on the other side of the steps for them. They charged the young hero, who blocked their attacks with ease, his blade biting into them mercilessly. Sid, hearing the commotion and taking positon between the traders and harm, dispatched the lone bandit who had managed to slip past Fable’s guard.

    “You knew that’d ‘appen,” Sid commented as he looked warily for more trouble.

    “It was too quiet,” Fable countered. He motioned for the others to join him at the bottom of the steps while he had a closer look at the ancient stone, now even more convinced that it was an inactive cullis gate.

    Four stone, tusk-like ornamental pillars stood at equal distances around the platform of the gate, each baring Archon infinity knots. Nestled at about head height on the pillars were translucent spheres. If Fable’s guess was right, the energies which powered a cullis gate would emanate from them, charging the platform and allowing travel.

    If only the blasted thing still worked… They could have gotten the injured trader to help a whole lot faster…

    “Boss,” Sid called, “yeh gonna look at ancient rocks this ‘ole trip or we gonna finish a job?”

    Fable looked back to Sid, giving a nod. “Coming,” he said, following up on the group.

    They’d barely made it a few steps before the next crisis took hold. “I’m not feelin’ to well,” Bloody commented.

    “Just hang on,” Fable insisted. “We’re almost there.”

    “No,” Bloody said, his voice curdling. “The change is upon me, get away!”

    The remaining four turned to watch in horror as Bloody transformed. Hair grew from his arms and face, his body distorting so that his torso stood twice as tall as it had when he was as a man, and his arms lengthening to nearly reach the ground. His agonistic cry turned into a howl as his face crinkled and long, needle, teeth emerged from his lips. His clothes ripped off as his body took on the full form of a balverine. He let out a roar and leapt at Fable, who dodged out of the way. The other traders fled, Sid falling back to protect them.

    The balverine turned, quickly spotting the traders and coiling itself up to launch its next attack. Before it could move, however, Fable rushed ahead faster than could be believed and buried his sword deep into the former trader’s chest.

    The balverine screamed out as it fell to the ground on its back, Fable holding on all the way. It thrashed, and then lay still.

    Fable, kneeling atop the monster, panted, clutching his still buried sword. He gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Damn it!” he screamed. “We were almost there!”

    “There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Gabber said, mournfully.

    “He was doomed from the start,” Nancy added.

    Fable knew they were right, not that he wanted to truly believe it. He had read the books about men becoming balverines. Once a man was bitten, there was nothing that could be done to stop the transformation, and the transformation itself was irreversible. Yet, it did not matter to Fable what the scholars said; he still felt failure at not being able to save him. He took one last sigh and stood, recovering his sword. “We still have the four of us,” Fable said, looking to Sid and his two charges that he still needed to see safely to Barrow Fields. “We’ve still a long way to walk, with plenty more dangers between us and safety.”

    “Sooner we get out, the sooner we get paid,” Sid also pointed out.

    Fable shook his head, but otherwise ignored him. He turned and led the remaining three past the ruin.

    They approached the head of a wood and stone bridge, another group of bandits waiting without much notice to their surroundings. Fable drew his bow to dispatch them quickly, clearing the path ahead. Safely crossing the bridge, they stopped before crossing the next. Fable spied a moving glowing light.

    “’obbes,” Sid hissed.

    “I know,” Fable replied coolly, notching his arrow. He pulled back, aiming for the small creature at center holding the glowing, magic stick. The sudden death of their wizard seemed to have little impact on the morale of the remaining hobbes, as they quickly banded together and turned on the culprit.

    Sid rushed ahead, leading the charge with a colorful string of obscenities as he started batting the ankle-biters away in droves, happy to have his swinging arm back.

    Fable drew his sword and quickly dispatched the last hobbe. He had to smirk at his and Sid’s shared hatred for the disgusting little creatures. They crossed the bridge, the dark, dirt path continuing deeper into the forest.

    More ruined stone structured sat just off the path as they continued. Fable idly wondered what the old structures really looked like, or what their function had been, as it seemed there was no end to them, and no escape from the imposing stone staircases. They approached the top of yet another staircase, seeing a hopefully shallow and probably stagnant river running right up to the staircase’s bottom. Once again volunteering to go first, Fable descended the staircase and carefully waded through the river, the water barely reaching his knees. Seeing that he had not been eaten by some kind of evil cross between balverine, hobbe, and fish, the others followed.

    The path led up a gentle slope, switching back several times before reaching another path. Fable could see a few streams of light beckoning them ahead.

    “We’re almost there,” Gabber cheered.

    “Oh thank Avo, I thought we were going to die here,” Nancy added.

    The quartet pushed ahead, making their quickly up the path. As they rounded the third corner, the ground beneath them began to quake, causing Nancy to fall back onto his rump. The earth at the top of the hill was torn asunder as a misshapen creature rose. Its body was made of rocks, roots, and moss, Fable immediately realizing just how much trouble they were in.

    “Rock troll,” Sid announced.

    They scrambled back down the path for shelter just as rock flew down at them, backs against the outcrop.

    Fable looked to the others for a moment. “So… By any chance, would any of you know how you fight a troll?” Fable asked.

    “’ow should I know!?” Sid demanded. “You’re the bloody ‘ero!”

    “I knew it,” Nancy cried. “We’re going to die here.”

    “No one else is dying!” Fable snapped. “Except that troll.” Once he figured out how, of course…

    He waited for a gap in between the crashing rocks and leapt out from behind the outcrop. In one smooth motion he notched his arrow and loosed it on the monster, stunning it more with surprise than with any sort of effectiveness. It gave a deep, rumbling laugh and picked up another rock to throw. Fable watched the small boulder closely, leaping aside just in time to avoid the resulting impact crater. As he regained his feet, he realized he’d rolled right into the path of another hurled rock. Before he could react, Sid appeared to knock it away with one hard swing of his mace, giving Fable a chance to regain his bearings.

    The rock Sid had knocked away found its way back to the troll, slamming straight into its ugly face and causing it to stagger backwards.

    “I didn’t think that’d work,” Sid admitted out loud.

    The troll recovered from the blow, grabbing another pair of boulders for its next volley. The two managed to dodge the rocks with relative ease and watched as the troll looked for more ammunition. They exchanged a brief glance and readied themselves for the next volley.

    Fable raised his bow and fired several arrows in rapid succession, agitating the monster but managing to chip away at its rootball torso. It growled and hurled its next volley, Sid one again able to bat away the first stone.

    Time slowed down around Fable. He saw the first rock fly away, but the next rock would be upon Sid before he could get his mace back up to a blocking positon. He surged ahead, shoving Sid away as the second rock came crashing through.

    Sid slid in the dirt, rolling onto his back to see the rock catch Fable in mid-air and send the hero tumbling to the hillside below.

    The traders flinched at the thud the hero made upon final impact.

    “We’re going to die,” Nancy moaned.

    “Get up, Hero,” Gabber encouraged.

    Sid sat up from his prone position to look down at Fable, holding his breath until he saw Fable cough. “Get up, ya lemon!” he bellowed. “Ye’re not gonna make me take this thing alone, are ya?”

    Fable looked around, his vision fading blurrily in and out. He forced the pain in his side out of his mind, hauling himself back to his feet and managing to hobble back up the hill just enough to clear his aim.

    The troll laughed again, though its laughter was cut short by a volley of arrows in its throat.

    “Go!” Fable’s shout came out as more of a cough, but his mercenary got the message.

    Sid ran towards the surprised monster and slammed his mace hard against it, knocking it off balance as Fable continued his withering fire upon it. Finally succumbing to the flurry of arrows and unending punishment of Sid’s mace, the troll monster let out one last cry and seemed to melt back into the ground from whence it came.

    “Take that, you bastard,” Fable half-heartedly stated.

    The traders ran out from behind their hiding spot, cheering and laughing. “You did it,” Gabber exclaimed, “and we’re here!”

    Just beyond the gate where the troll had stood, more streams of daylight breached the darkness.

    With each step, the dark brown mucky path turned to lighter, sandy dirt, bordered by grass and lovely oaks instead of swamp fungus and blackened shells of trees. After what felt like an eternity of bleak darkness, Barrow Field felt like a gift from Avo.

    As they stepped into the sun, the traders took a moment to breath in the far fresher air. “Here’s the money,” Gabber smiled, handing Fable a bag of gold. “Come see us sometime if you’re ever passing this way again.”

    Fable nodded his thanks, the pair turning and trotting off. He made his way down the gentle slope toward another cullis gate, this one ornamented with four winged lion bodies, and all missing their heads. Taking no note of his Guild seal, he sat down on its steps and leaned against one of the statues, overlooking the valley.

    “Yeh going to live?” Sid asked, taking a seat beside him.

    “If I don’t, you can have my stuff,” Fable jested, his hand resting on his injured side. He passed Sid a share of the gold with his free hand, beyond his already agreed upon fifty gold per day.

    The mercenary looked confused, at first, but finally spoke. “I wasn’t goin’ t’ ask, but if yer offerin’…” Sid shrugged, accepting the money.

    With no other words to say, the pair looked down into the valley below the cullis gate’s cliff. A river cut its way through the valley below them, with a bridge connecting the cliff side with the Barrow Fields proper, nestled lower in the valley. The trader camp laid on the far side of the bridge, the two traders already making their way across to join their fellows. A number of crop fields decorated the area, with several wooden stands and a number of tents nestled in between. Stretched sheets served as a makeshift roof for the various stall tables and gathering points for travelers. The color pallet, consisting of pinks, yellows, and purples, made the place seem more like a gypsy camp than any sort of permanent establishment. Large oak and sweet gum trees dotted the landscape, a solid tree line defining the region.

    Sid looked to the sky, the sun’s position suggesting that it was approaching the afternoon hour. He stood, looking to Fable. “I ain’t ‘ad a drink since Bowerstone,” he announced.

    Fable smiled. “I think you deserve one, friend.”

    Sid scoffed. “An’ you need a ‘ealing potion, I’d wager.”

    “Well…” Fable mockingly pondered, “you’re not wrong.”

    Sid extended out his hand and pulled Fable to his feet. “Thanks,” Fable said, steadying himself. Fable slowly walked down the hill, though not entirely due to his injuries. Truth be told… part of him wasn’t sure what he would find when he passed through Bower Field and approached Oakvale. He had no information on what the village had become, other than the simple fact that it still existed. As they reached the base of the hill, however, Fable spotted another Demon door, nestled in more ruins to his left. The wood and stone bridge lay before him, leading into the traders’ camp. In the face of his conflict, his academia side overcame him, and he tottered in the direction of the ruins.

    Sid did not restrain himself from rolling his eyes and tossing his head back. “Again with the ruins?” he exasperated.

    “Not just any ruins,” Fable explained, still holding his side as his pace slowed at the bottom of the hill. “A demon door.”

    “Freaky walls with faces?”

    “They’re doors,” Fable insisted.

    Sid shrugged, heaving a sigh. “Well, whateva does it for ya, Boss…”

    The door stood proud, set into the rocky cliff face, its columns adorned with Archon carvings and ivy. Just beyond the semi-circle stone landing before it was the river that flowed between the door and the crop fields in which the camp resided. Though they were scarcely two meters above the river, its sound was so muted that they could barely hear its flow.

    The pair looked up at the door, decorated with the face of a bearded man.

    “So if they’re doors, do yeh open them?” Sid asked.

    Fable gave a shrug, the pain in his side making him immediately regret the motion. “Somehow,” Fable admitted.

    “Why deal with the trouble?”

    “They contain treasures. Armor, potions, weapons…”

    “Well then, ‘ow do we open it?” Sid asked, suddenly sounding more eager at the potential of weapons.

    “From what I read,” Fable said, “they have a requirement or riddle which you’re supposed to solve in order to open them to gain their treasures inside.”

    “Then let’s bust its face open!” Sid declared, shouldering his mace.

    Before Fable could stop the gung-ho mercenary, Sid swung his mace at the door’s chin, only to have his strike bounce back with enough force to send him flying back and hard onto his backside.

     “And, they’re pretty much indestructible,” Fable said, trying not to laugh too hard as he helped his companion to his feet.

    “Well, NOW ya tell me,” he replied as he rubbed a sore arm. However, Sid’s attempt, doomed to failure as it was, did somehow manage to wake the door from its apparent slumber. Its eyes opened, showing a dull, blue-ish white glow. It looked from Sid to Fable, then back to Sid when the mercenary started to have a minor freak out. “Th- The door… That face… MOVES?”

    “Oh no, not again.” The voice of the demon door was deep and rumbled like an earthquake, its voice almost sounding as if it reverberated like wind through a canyon.

    Sid’s jaw dropped, the mercenary clearly at a loss for words. He shuffled over beside Fable. The pair glanced at one another, unsure if they were prepared for what followed the ‘oh no’.

    “More bony adventurers seeking to plunder my riches.” It sighed. Then in a more agitated tone, continued. “I’m not interested in your meagre frames.” Fable’s eyebrows furrowed on confusion. “Get some meat on you!” Now one eyebrow raised. “I want beefy! Blubbery! Plump! Porcine!” Now, BOTH raised. Impassioned, the door continued. “Stop being a slave to public perception, and treat yourselves. Pies, meat, beer, anything; but lots of it! Eat yourself large, and you’ll be welcome here!” With that, the door fell silent, returning to its supposed slumber.

    “Well, that does it,” Sid concluded, walking off.

    “What?” Fable called.

    Sid spun around, pointing his finger straight at the door. “I did not sign up t’ talk t’ doors! Even if it was right ‘bout yeh, yeh needin' more meat on yeh bones, but me, I’m good.”

    Fable looked at his companion with annoyance. “Eating once every two days doesn’t help, you know.” His stomach seconded his notion.

    “Well ye’re neve’ gonna grow any less lean if all yeh eat is,” Sid shuttered, “apples.”

    Fable’s lip twisted in thought. Sid was not wrong, but gaining weight in a matter of hours was just as close to impossible as it came. Or was it?

    At that moment, Fable looked across the river at the crops. He could make out the head of a pumpkin, which he was sure was atop a shaft, forming the head of a scarecrow.

    “I got an idea,” he said, his lips curling into a conspiratorial smirk.

    He and Sid crossed the stone and wood bridge into the Barrow Fields traders camp, Fable relaying his nefarious plan to Sid. If they were to grab a bunch of straw and stuff is into Sid’s tunic, it might just fool the demon door into thinking he had quickly become as fat as it desired. Beyond the camp were more fields with several well-built scarecrows scattered about, any of which would suit their needs. They approached one.

    “Do we really want t’ open a talkin’ door?” Sid asked.

    “Do you really want treasure?” Fable asked.

    Sid had to admit to himself that a potential new weapon sounded appealing. “Yeh really think this’ll work?” Sid asked, skeptical.

    “I figure it stands a halfway decent chance. Besides, it’s the best idea we’ve got on short notice.” Fable said, untying the scarecrow’s arms.

    “Why me?” came Sid’s better question.

    “You’re not the one with a couple of broken ribs,” Fable answered.

    “I bette’ be paid f’ this.” Sid muttered.

    Fable looked back at Sid with a raised eyebrow and a tired expression, clearly indicating to the mercenary that he would sooner jump back into Darkwood. “You’re ALREADY being paid for this.”

    The mercenary replied with an aggravated huff. Sid loosened his tunic and proceeded to aid Fable in stuffing the straw into his shirt until he sufficiently looked like a pillow. A deformed, fuming, and occasionally swearing pillow, but a pillow nonetheless.

    “This itches,” he grumbled. “I don’t care if yeh already payin’ me, yeh owe me a beer if this doesn’t work.”

    Fable smirked, tottering behind him until they returned to the demon door.

    “Hey,” Fable called to it.

    The door came to life once more, eyes quickly landing on the newly expanded Sid. “Ah, that’s more like it!” the door beamed, seeming completely unaware that Sid’s new girth was purely straw. “Go on in.’

    With that, the face of the door faded and parted open, revealing something that looked remarkably similar to a cullis gate, though more opaque and set back into the cliff.

    “Well… Shall we?” Without waiting for a response, Fable walked through the doorway, followed by Sid. As the world came into view, they were greeted with a cobblestone and grassy path leading down past low ruined guide walls.

    A scant few steps past the door, Sid pulled his tunic off and started thwacking the hay out of it, rather violently. After he finished, he noticed Fable staring at him.

    “What? It was itchy,” he moaned. “And I’m pretty sure somethin’ was biting me.”

    A peculiar black marking on Sid’s chest caught the hero’s eyes, Fable looking more closely for a moment longer to identify it. It was the word, or rather name, ‘Tom’, inscribed on Sid’s left breast. Though tempted to ask, he kept his question to himself and ventured forth down the path.

    Fable’s pain was temporarily forgotten as he examined his surroundings. The path curved down and to the left, a light burble suggesting flowing water. A few small clusters of trees dotted the area, but did little to block the view of ancient Archon era towers stretching skyward. As he walked down the path, he laid eyes upon the central focus of this place, a waterfall next to a large oak tree, running down into a crystal clear spring. The water stretched off around a bend, heading to some unknown destination. An Old Kingdom spring… Fable had to admit, it had a very peaceful quality, and allowed him to truly relax for the first time since they’d stepped into Darkwood.

    Near where they stood was a single chest. Sid, far more excited by the prospect of treasure than any of the natural beauty around them, broke the clasp with his mace and peered in.

    “Are you kidding me!?” Sid bellowed upon the realization of what was inside. Fable finally looked over to him. “I let you turn me int’ a stuffed turkey f’ a will potion?” He plucked the potion from within, tossing it over to Fable, who just managed to catch it.

    Fable blushed, holding the blue bottle of Will Elixir, his lips pursed in thought. He could not disagree with his mercenary, but he did not want to give up on the idea of opening other demon doors all together.

    “I’m outta ‘ere. I need a beer… or ten.”

    Fable put the bottle in his satchel and hobbled as quickly as he could, his ribs protesting to the renewed motion, after Sid. Unfortunately, there was no academic wonder to behold and distract him from his injuries anymore.

    They passed back through the door, reentering the light. The sun indicated that it had reached late afternoon.

    “Yeh finally ready t’ get that ‘ealth potion?” Sid asked, looking back at Fable with slightly more pointed eyes.

    “I’d say so,” Fable wearily answered.

    They made their way across the bridge and through the camp, approaching the familiar decorative stone and good gate. Oakvale laid not far beyond; Fable could spot a couple familiar farmhouses in the distance. Again, Fable paused in hesitation.

    Sid realized Fable had stopped once more, turning back to stare at him. “What now?” he demanded.

    “Nothing.” Fable’s voice barely reached Sid’s ears. The hero’s chest tightened and he clenched the strap of his satchel. Eight years since he set foot in his village. Eight years since he left. Eight long years, since he lost it all. His eyes stared at the path beyond the gate, unblinking.

    “Oy,” Sid waved his hand before Fable’s face until he had the hero’s attention. “I’m thinkin’ that rock did more than rattle yeh ribcage.”

    Fable’s face paled, but he summoned his resolve and followed Sid through the gate and toward the village beyond. His village. Oakvale…

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Chapter 4



    Nestled safely inside Old Kingdom ruin walls sat a halfway camp for travelers and traders. The amber glow emanating from within the walls held promise of a welcoming relief to the weary Hero and his charges. The trio of traders found renewed energy, pressing forward with joy in their voices. At Fable’s direction, Sid jogged along with them, just in case something dropped out of the trees atop them.

    Remaining wary, Fable looked out into the darkness behind them to see if anything would follow or make a last ditch attack. Thankfully, it seemed nothing was interested in coming anywhere near the sight of the camp. Satisfied they were safe enough, Fable turned to catch up with the others.

    The traders sat down among the merchants’ tents catching their breath, happy to be amongst their own kind for a while, while Sid seemed to be invigorated with a hitherto unseen source of energy. He approached the table where a game master was hosting blackjack, grabbing a chair to straddle it backwards, and struck up a chat. “’ello, Blane.”

    “Been a while since I last saw you, Sid,” the game master remarked.

    “Been a while since I ‘ad a job,” Sid replied. “Good pay, too.”

    “The Chapel is going to play sacrificial poker tonight.”

    Night? How does he know it’s night? In fact, how does ANYONE know what time it is? Fable thought to himself. The sky doesn’t change… and what, in Avo’s name, is sacrificial poker? Driven by sheer morbid curiosity, the hero crept closer to better eavesdrop on his hired hand’s conversation.

    “Oh, I’m well aware,” Sid smirked, setting some gold on the table. “Why d’ ya think I’m lookin’ so cheerful?”

    “I hate to break your ‘cheer’,” the game master started with an apologetic look, “but with fewer people passing these parts, it’s more conceptual now than literal.” The game master started dealing cards for Sid and himself.

    “That’s too bad.” Sid tapped and the game master dealt another card, Sid’s shoulders slumping at the losing hand. “Any other word ‘round these parts?”

    “No more than usual, I’m afraid,” the game master said with a sigh. “Bandits, balverines, and hobbes running amuck, though they tend to stay far enough away from the camp. Of course, you never know when the acolytes will wander from the Chapel looking for some more sacrifices, but they tend to leave us alone, thank goodness.”

    “Yeh,” Sid chuckled. “Skorm does need to sate ‘is appetite every once in a while. Just as soon it not be me.” He then looked up to notice Fable. “Oh, hey, boss. We was jus’ ‘avin’ us a game o’ blackjack. Care t’ join?”

    Fable shook his head. “No, thank you.”

    “Well then,” Sid tried. “Want t’ go play some sacrificial poker wit’ th’ acolytes?”

    “Certainly not,” Fable huffed. He turned to the game master. “How in the world do you know what time it is when the sky is always dark… and why is the sky always dark.”

    “No one knows,” the game master admitted. “Some think it’s Skorm’s presence, some think it’s a curse, but Darkwood has been Darkwood for a very long time.”

     “So then how do you know what time it is?”

    “You feel it. The wickedness of the wood is strongest at midnight.”

    Fable cautiously looked to Sid, who seemed to be smiling even larger than before.

    “Is that why you’re in better spirits?” he inquired his hired mace.

    “Only partly,” Sid said, standing up. “If we’re not movin’ on for a bit, then I’m gonna go play me some poker wit’ th’ boys.”

    Fable raised an eyebrow. “You sure they won’t sacrifice you?” he asked as Sid exited the alcove.

    “Acolytes don’t sacrifice other acolytes,” Sid said over his shoulder. With that, he vanished into the night.

    Fable shuttered, turning Sid’s former seat back and taking a seat with the game master. “How much do you know about Sid?” he inquired.

    “Not as much as you might think,” the game master admitted. “Strange fellow who seems to be bounced around from one employer or another. Not always strong-arming, either; I’ve even seen him hired to protect traders, like you’ve got him doing now.” He glanced up at Fable. “Seems to tolerate you just fine, though.”

    “Tolerate?”

    “Sid’s not the most patient with his pay,” the game master explained. “Sometimes he’ll force an advance, if you catch my meaning.”

    Fable shook his head, giving a sigh. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t get in more trouble because of it, then.”

    “Being as how I am a permanent resident here, I cannot say,” the game master replied with a shrug.

    “Would anyone else?”

    “I doubt anyone would know more than I, but you’re free to ask.”

    Fable nodded his thanks and excused himself from the table. He looked for his charges, finding them not far from where he’d seen them last. One was making idle chatter about the local gossip with the other merchants, while the other two were catching a nap.

    Seeing the sleeping merchants reminded the young hero just how long ago sleep had been. He found a good enough spot near one of the ruin’s walls behind a merchant tent, close enough to be available in case of trouble. He curled up, shut his eyes, and was almost immediately asleep.

    His return to the waking world came as Sid kicked his boot. “I’m only gone a couple o’ ‘our an’ ye’re sleepin’ on th’ job?” Sid raspy voice asked.

    “How long was I asleep?” Fable asked, rubbing one of his eyes and looking blurrily at Sid.

    “Like I’d know. I jus’ got back,” Sid said. “Good game o’ poker. Win some lose some. Traders were gettin’ a bit ‘airy. Wanted t’ know when we’d be leavin’.”

    Fable let out a wide yawn before answering as he got himself back to his feet. “If we’re all ready to go, then let’s go.” He followed Sid to the opening in the ruins where the other traders anxiously waited.

    “How’re you feeling?” Fable asked Bloody.

    “I’m alright,” he answered, somewhat less shaky than he’d been before.

    With the group gathered once more, they set off into the woods. Fable took the lead, with Sid bringing up the rear. They turned right, away from the Chapel of Skorm, pressing on through the muck and following the path as it hugged the cliff face to its left. The edge overlooked an ancient stone, bordered by four tusk curved shaped pillars. It looked to Fable like an ancient cullis gate, but as it lacked any of the usual glow and his Guild seal remained silent as they passed, it very likely stopped working long ago.

    The group followed the wide cliff path around until they reached the moss covered staircase, lined with vine overgrown pillars that lead down to the supposed ancient cullis gate. The blackened trees and ancient pillars seemed to line the edge of the region as if it were a central stage, or a type of an arena, or even as if it was once part of a central room. He held up a hand, motioning for his charges to wait on the steps while he investigated further. He drew his sword, moving carefully forward.

    As he suspected, four bandits were waiting on the other side of the steps for them. They charged the young hero, who blocked their attacks with ease, his blade biting into them mercilessly. Sid, hearing the commotion and taking positon between the traders and harm, dispatched the lone bandit who had managed to slip past Fable’s guard.

    “You knew that’d ‘appen,” Sid commented as he looked warily for more trouble.

    “It was too quiet,” Fable countered. He motioned for the others to join him at the bottom of the steps while he had a closer look at the ancient stone, now even more convinced that it was an inactive cullis gate.

    Four stone, tusk-like ornamental pillars stood at equal distances around the platform of the gate, each baring Archon infinity knots. Nestled at about head height on the pillars were translucent spheres. If Fable’s guess was right, the energies which powered a cullis gate would emanate from them, charging the platform and allowing travel.

    If only the blasted thing still worked… They could have gotten the injured trader to help a whole lot faster…

    “Boss,” Sid called, “yeh gonna look at ancient rocks this ‘ole trip or we gonna finish a job?”

    Fable looked back to Sid, giving a nod. “Coming,” he said, following up on the group.

    They’d barely made it a few steps before the next crisis took hold. “I’m not feelin’ to well,” Bloody commented.

    “Just hang on,” Fable insisted. “We’re almost there.”

    “No,” Bloody said, his voice curdling. “The change is upon me, get away!”

    The remaining four turned to watch in horror as Bloody transformed. Hair grew from his arms and face, his body distorting so that his torso stood twice as tall as it had when he was as a man, and his arms lengthening to nearly reach the ground. His agonistic cry turned into a howl as his face crinkled and long, needle, teeth emerged from his lips. His clothes ripped off as his body took on the full form of a balverine. He let out a roar and leapt at Fable, who dodged out of the way. The other traders fled, Sid falling back to protect them.

    The balverine turned, quickly spotting the traders and coiling itself up to launch its next attack. Before it could move, however, Fable rushed ahead faster than could be believed and buried his sword deep into the former trader’s chest.

    The balverine screamed out as it fell to the ground on its back, Fable holding on all the way. It thrashed, and then lay still.

    Fable, kneeling atop the monster, panted, clutching his still buried sword. He gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Damn it!” he screamed. “We were almost there!”

    “There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Gabber said, mournfully.

    “He was doomed from the start,” Nancy added.

    Fable knew they were right, not that he wanted to truly believe it. He had read the books about men becoming balverines. Once a man was bitten, there was nothing that could be done to stop the transformation, and the transformation itself was irreversible. Yet, it did not matter to Fable what the scholars said; he still felt failure at not being able to save him. He took one last sigh and stood, recovering his sword. “We still have the four of us,” Fable said, looking to Sid and his two charges that he still needed to see safely to Barrow Fields. “We’ve still a long way to walk, with plenty more dangers between us and safety.”

    “Sooner we get out, the sooner we get paid,” Sid also pointed out.

    Fable shook his head, but otherwise ignored him. He turned and led the remaining three past the ruin.

    They approached the head of a wood and stone bridge, another group of bandits waiting without much notice to their surroundings. Fable drew his bow to dispatch them quickly, clearing the path ahead. Safely crossing the bridge, they stopped before crossing the next. Fable spied a moving glowing light.

    “’obbes,” Sid hissed.

    “I know,” Fable replied coolly, notching his arrow. He pulled back, aiming for the small creature at center holding the glowing, magic stick. The sudden death of their wizard seemed to have little impact on the morale of the remaining hobbes, as they quickly banded together and turned on the culprit.

    Sid rushed ahead, leading the charge with a colorful string of obscenities as he started batting the ankle-biters away in droves, happy to have his swinging arm back.

    Fable drew his sword and quickly dispatched the last hobbe. He had to smirk at his and Sid’s shared hatred for the disgusting little creatures. They crossed the bridge, the dark, dirt path continuing deeper into the forest.

    More ruined stone structured sat just off the path as they continued. Fable idly wondered what the old structures really looked like, or what their function had been, as it seemed there was no end to them, and no escape from the imposing stone staircases. They approached the top of yet another staircase, seeing a hopefully shallow and probably stagnant river running right up to the staircase’s bottom. Once again volunteering to go first, Fable descended the staircase and carefully waded through the river, the water barely reaching his knees. Seeing that he had not been eaten by some kind of evil cross between balverine, hobbe, and fish, the others followed.

    The path led up a gentle slope, switching back several times before reaching another path. Fable could see a few streams of light beckoning them ahead.

    “We’re almost there,” Gabber cheered.

    “Oh thank Avo, I thought we were going to die here,” Nancy added.

    The quartet pushed ahead, making their quickly up the path. As they rounded the third corner, the ground beneath them began to quake, causing Nancy to fall back onto his rump. The earth at the top of the hill was torn asunder as a misshapen creature rose. Its body was made of rocks, roots, and moss, Fable immediately realizing just how much trouble they were in.

    “Rock troll,” Sid announced.

    They scrambled back down the path for shelter just as rock flew down at them, backs against the outcrop.

    Fable looked to the others for a moment. “So… By any chance, would any of you know how you fight a troll?” Fable asked.

    “’ow should I know!?” Sid demanded. “You’re the bloody ‘ero!”

    “I knew it,” Nancy cried. “We’re going to die here.”

    “No one else is dying!” Fable snapped. “Except that troll.” Once he figured out how, of course…

    He waited for a gap in between the crashing rocks and leapt out from behind the outcrop. In one smooth motion he notched his arrow and loosed it on the monster, stunning it more with surprise than with any sort of effectiveness. It gave a deep, rumbling laugh and picked up another rock to throw. Fable watched the small boulder closely, leaping aside just in time to avoid the resulting impact crater. As he regained his feet, he realized he’d rolled right into the path of another hurled rock. Before he could react, Sid appeared to knock it away with one hard swing of his mace, giving Fable a chance to regain his bearings.

    The rock Sid had knocked away found its way back to the troll, slamming straight into its ugly face and causing it to stagger backwards.

    “I didn’t think that’d work,” Sid admitted out loud.

    The troll recovered from the blow, grabbing another pair of boulders for its next volley. The two managed to dodge the rocks with relative ease and watched as the troll looked for more ammunition. They exchanged a brief glance and readied themselves for the next volley.

    Fable raised his bow and fired several arrows in rapid succession, agitating the monster but managing to chip away at its rootball torso. It growled and hurled its next volley, Sid one again able to bat away the first stone.

    Time slowed down around Fable. He saw the first rock fly away, but the next rock would be upon Sid before he could get his mace back up to a blocking positon. He surged ahead, shoving Sid away as the second rock came crashing through.

    Sid slid in the dirt, rolling onto his back to see the rock catch Fable in mid-air and send the hero tumbling to the hillside below.

    The traders flinched at the thud the hero made upon final impact.

    “We’re going to die,” Nancy moaned.

    “Get up, Hero,” Gabber encouraged.

    Sid sat up from his prone position to look down at Fable, holding his breath until he saw Fable cough. “Get up, ya lemon!” he bellowed. “Ye’re not gonna make me take this thing alone, are ya?”

    Fable looked around, his vision fading blurrily in and out. He forced the pain in his side out of his mind, hauling himself back to his feet and managing to hobble back up the hill just enough to clear his aim.

    The troll laughed again, though its laughter was cut short by a volley of arrows in its throat.

    “Go!” Fable’s shout came out as more of a cough, but his mercenary got the message.

    Sid ran towards the surprised monster and slammed his mace hard against it, knocking it off balance as Fable continued his withering fire upon it. Finally succumbing to the flurry of arrows and unending punishment of Sid’s mace, the troll monster let out one last cry and seemed to melt back into the ground from whence it came.

    “Take that, you bastard,” Fable half-heartedly stated.

    The traders ran out from behind their hiding spot, cheering and laughing. “You did it,” Gabber exclaimed, “and we’re here!”

    Just beyond the gate where the troll had stood, more streams of daylight breached the darkness.

    With each step, the dark brown mucky path turned to lighter, sandy dirt, bordered by grass and lovely oaks instead of swamp fungus and blackened shells of trees. After what felt like an eternity of bleak darkness, Barrow Field felt like a gift from Avo.

    As they stepped into the sun, the traders took a moment to breath in the far fresher air. “Here’s the money,” Gabber smiled, handing Fable a bag of gold. “Come see us sometime if you’re ever passing this way again.”

    Fable nodded his thanks, the pair turning and trotting off. He made his way down the gentle slope toward another cullis gate, this one ornamented with four winged lion bodies, and all missing their heads. Taking no note of his Guild seal, he sat down on its steps and leaned against one of the statues, overlooking the valley.

    “Yeh going to live?” Sid asked, taking a seat beside him.

    “If I don’t, you can have my stuff,” Fable jested, his hand resting on his injured side. He passed Sid a share of the gold with his free hand, beyond his already agreed upon fifty gold per day.

    The mercenary looked confused, at first, but finally spoke. “I wasn’t goin’ t’ ask, but if yer offerin’…” Sid shrugged, accepting the money.

    With no other words to say, the pair looked down into the valley below the cullis gate’s cliff. A river cut its way through the valley below them, with a bridge connecting the cliff side with the Barrow Fields proper, nestled lower in the valley. The trader camp laid on the far side of the bridge, the two traders already making their way across to join their fellows. A number of crop fields decorated the area, with several wooden stands and a number of tents nestled in between. Stretched sheets served as a makeshift roof for the various stall tables and gathering points for travelers. The color pallet, consisting of pinks, yellows, and purples, made the place seem more like a gypsy camp than any sort of permanent establishment. Large oak and sweet gum trees dotted the landscape, a solid tree line defining the region.

    Sid looked to the sky, the sun’s position suggesting that it was approaching the afternoon hour. He stood, looking to Fable. “I ain’t ‘ad a drink since Bowerstone,” he announced.

    Fable smiled. “I think you deserve one, friend.”

    Sid scoffed. “An’ you need a ‘ealing potion, I’d wager.”

    “Well…” Fable mockingly pondered, “you’re not wrong.”

    Sid extended out his hand and pulled Fable to his feet. “Thanks,” Fable said, steadying himself. Fable slowly walked down the hill, though not entirely due to his injuries. Truth be told… part of him wasn’t sure what he would find when he passed through Bower Field and approached Oakvale. He had no information on what the village had become, other than the simple fact that it still existed. As they reached the base of the hill, however, Fable spotted another Demon door, nestled in more ruins to his left. The wood and stone bridge lay before him, leading into the traders’ camp. In the face of his conflict, his academia side overcame him, and he tottered in the direction of the ruins.

    Sid did not restrain himself from rolling his eyes and tossing his head back. “Again with the ruins?” he exasperated.

    “Not just any ruins,” Fable explained, still holding his side as his pace slowed at the bottom of the hill. “A demon door.”

    “Freaky walls with faces?”

    “They’re doors,” Fable insisted.

    Sid shrugged, heaving a sigh. “Well, whateva does it for ya, Boss…”

    The door stood proud, set into the rocky cliff face, its columns adorned with Archon carvings and ivy. Just beyond the semi-circle stone landing before it was the river that flowed between the door and the crop fields in which the camp resided. Though they were scarcely two meters above the river, its sound was so muted that they could barely hear its flow.

    The pair looked up at the door, decorated with the face of a bearded man.

    “So if they’re doors, do yeh open them?” Sid asked.

    Fable gave a shrug, the pain in his side making him immediately regret the motion. “Somehow,” Fable admitted.

    “Why deal with the trouble?”

    “They contain treasures. Armor, potions, weapons…”

    “Well then, ‘ow do we open it?” Sid asked, suddenly sounding more eager at the potential of weapons.

    “From what I read,” Fable said, “they have a requirement or riddle which you’re supposed to solve in order to open them to gain their treasures inside.”

    “Then let’s bust its face open!” Sid declared, shouldering his mace.

    Before Fable could stop the gung-ho mercenary, Sid swung his mace at the door’s chin, only to have his strike bounce back with enough force to send him flying back and hard onto his backside.

     “And, they’re pretty much indestructible,” Fable said, trying not to laugh too hard as he helped his companion to his feet.

    “Well, NOW ya tell me,” he replied as he rubbed a sore arm. However, Sid’s attempt, doomed to failure as it was, did somehow manage to wake the door from its apparent slumber. Its eyes opened, showing a dull, blue-ish white glow. It looked from Sid to Fable, then back to Sid when the mercenary started to have a minor freak out. “Th- The door… That face… MOVES?”

    “Oh no, not again.” The voice of the demon door was deep and rumbled like an earthquake, its voice almost sounding as if it reverberated like wind through a canyon.

    Sid’s jaw dropped, the mercenary clearly at a loss for words. He shuffled over beside Fable. The pair glanced at one another, unsure if they were prepared for what followed the ‘oh no’.

    “More bony adventurers seeking to plunder my riches.” It sighed. Then in a more agitated tone, continued. “I’m not interested in your meagre frames.” Fable’s eyebrows furrowed on confusion. “Get some meat on you!” Now one eyebrow raised. “I want beefy! Blubbery! Plump! Porcine!” Now, BOTH raised. Impassioned, the door continued. “Stop being a slave to public perception, and treat yourselves. Pies, meat, beer, anything; but lots of it! Eat yourself large, and you’ll be welcome here!” With that, the door fell silent, returning to its supposed slumber.

    “Well, that does it,” Sid concluded, walking off.

    “What?” Fable called.

    Sid spun around, pointing his finger straight at the door. “I did not sign up t’ talk t’ doors! Even if it was right ‘bout yeh, yeh needin' more meat on yeh bones, but me, I’m good.”

    Fable looked at his companion with annoyance. “Eating once every two days doesn’t help, you know.” His stomach seconded his notion.

    “Well ye’re neve’ gonna grow any less lean if all yeh eat is,” Sid shuttered, “apples.”

    Fable’s lip twisted in thought. Sid was not wrong, but gaining weight in a matter of hours was just as close to impossible as it came. Or was it?

    At that moment, Fable looked across the river at the crops. He could make out the head of a pumpkin, which he was sure was atop a shaft, forming the head of a scarecrow.

    “I got an idea,” he said, his lips curling into a conspiratorial smirk.

    He and Sid crossed the stone and wood bridge into the Barrow Fields traders camp, Fable relaying his nefarious plan to Sid. If they were to grab a bunch of straw and stuff is into Sid’s tunic, it might just fool the demon door into thinking he had quickly become as fat as it desired. Beyond the camp were more fields with several well-built scarecrows scattered about, any of which would suit their needs. They approached one.

    “Do we really want t’ open a talkin’ door?” Sid asked.

    “Do you really want treasure?” Fable asked.

    Sid had to admit to himself that a potential new weapon sounded appealing. “Yeh really think this’ll work?” Sid asked, skeptical.

    “I figure it stands a halfway decent chance. Besides, it’s the best idea we’ve got on short notice.” Fable said, untying the scarecrow’s arms.

    “Why me?” came Sid’s better question.

    “You’re not the one with a couple of broken ribs,” Fable answered.

    “I bette’ be paid f’ this.” Sid muttered.

    Fable looked back at Sid with a raised eyebrow and a tired expression, clearly indicating to the mercenary that he would sooner jump back into Darkwood. “You’re ALREADY being paid for this.”

    The mercenary replied with an aggravated huff. Sid loosened his tunic and proceeded to aid Fable in stuffing the straw into his shirt until he sufficiently looked like a pillow. A deformed, fuming, and occasionally swearing pillow, but a pillow nonetheless.

    “This itches,” he grumbled. “I don’t care if yeh already payin’ me, yeh owe me a beer if this doesn’t work.”

    Fable smirked, tottering behind him until they returned to the demon door.

    “Hey,” Fable called to it.

    The door came to life once more, eyes quickly landing on the newly expanded Sid. “Ah, that’s more like it!” the door beamed, seeming completely unaware that Sid’s new girth was purely straw. “Go on in.’

    With that, the face of the door faded and parted open, revealing something that looked remarkably similar to a cullis gate, though more opaque and set back into the cliff.

    “Well… Shall we?” Without waiting for a response, Fable walked through the doorway, followed by Sid. As the world came into view, they were greeted with a cobblestone and grassy path leading down past low ruined guide walls.

    A scant few steps past the door, Sid pulled his tunic off and started thwacking the hay out of it, rather violently. After he finished, he noticed Fable staring at him.

    “What? It was itchy,” he moaned. “And I’m pretty sure somethin’ was biting me.”

    A peculiar black marking on Sid’s chest caught the hero’s eyes, Fable looking more closely for a moment longer to identify it. It was the word, or rather name, ‘Tom’, inscribed on Sid’s left breast. Though tempted to ask, he kept his question to himself and ventured forth down the path.

    Fable’s pain was temporarily forgotten as he examined his surroundings. The path curved down and to the left, a light burble suggesting flowing water. A few small clusters of trees dotted the area, but did little to block the view of ancient Archon era towers stretching skyward. As he walked down the path, he laid eyes upon the central focus of this place, a waterfall next to a large oak tree, running down into a crystal clear spring. The water stretched off around a bend, heading to some unknown destination. An Old Kingdom spring… Fable had to admit, it had a very peaceful quality, and allowed him to truly relax for the first time since they’d stepped into Darkwood.

    Near where they stood was a single chest. Sid, far more excited by the prospect of treasure than any of the natural beauty around them, broke the clasp with his mace and peered in.

    “Are you kidding me!?” Sid bellowed upon the realization of what was inside. Fable finally looked over to him. “I let you turn me int’ a stuffed turkey f’ a will potion?” He plucked the potion from within, tossing it over to Fable, who just managed to catch it.

    Fable blushed, holding the blue bottle of Will Elixir, his lips pursed in thought. He could not disagree with his mercenary, but he did not want to give up on the idea of opening other demon doors all together.

    “I’m outta ‘ere. I need a beer… or ten.”

    Fable put the bottle in his satchel and hobbled as quickly as he could, his ribs protesting to the renewed motion, after Sid. Unfortunately, there was no academic wonder to behold and distract him from his injuries anymore.

    They passed back through the door, reentering the light. The sun indicated that it had reached late afternoon.

    “Yeh finally ready t’ get that ‘ealth potion?” Sid asked, looking back at Fable with slightly more pointed eyes.

    “I’d say so,” Fable wearily answered.

    They made their way across the bridge and through the camp, approaching the familiar decorative stone and good gate. Oakvale laid not far beyond; Fable could spot a couple familiar farmhouses in the distance. Again, Fable paused in hesitation.

    Sid realized Fable had stopped once more, turning back to stare at him. “What now?” he demanded.

    “Nothing.” Fable’s voice barely reached Sid’s ears. The hero’s chest tightened and he clenched the strap of his satchel. Eight years since he set foot in his village. Eight years since he left. Eight long years, since he lost it all. His eyes stared at the path beyond the gate, unblinking.

    “Oy,” Sid waved his hand before Fable’s face until he had the hero’s attention. “I’m thinkin’ that rock did more than rattle yeh ribcage.”

    Fable’s face paled, but he summoned his resolve and followed Sid through the gate and toward the village beyond. His village. Oakvale…