Shon sat on the log in front of the smoldering campfire next to Tarun as his arm was bandaged by the elf who had shot the arrow into Smitt’s sleeve less than an hour earlier. He couldn’t stop himself from constantly looking back and forth between the elf, the dwarf, and the orc, and wondering to himself how his plans for their journey could have gone awry so quickly.

Admittedly it had never been a very detailed plan. Find their buyer and deliver the Dragon’s Bane to collect payment. Then travel to the valley with his parents’ Soul Trees. And then… something else? OK, Shon admitted to himself, so it was an incredibly simplistic plan. But wasn’t that all the more reason it should have been easy to stick to it?

Instead, he found himself in the middle of a dark forest in the middle of the night, in the company of three dangerous-looking dragon hunters who weren’t even members of his own race. One of them was even an orc! Shon considered Tarun brave, but he reasoned this was one instance where he just didn’t know enough to be as frightened as he should have been.

“Thank you for stopping Smitt,” Tarun said to the elf, breaking the long silence. “If you hadn’t he probably would have killed me.”

A piece of thick cloth covered the elf’s right eye, secured by a leather headband, and the elf gave Tarun a stern gaze with the other eye. After a long pause, the elf finished binding Tarun’s wound, stood up, and said, “You owe me an arrowhead.”

Despite the cold and angry tone, Shon was surprised how regal and even the elf’s voice was. As Shon inspected the elf’s long blonde hair, slender build, and graceful movements, it suddenly occurred to Shon that he could not tell for sure if the elf was male or female. The realization instantly made him very uncomfortable.

Shon had a hard time imagining any woman choosing the life of a dragon hunter. But he also had a hard time believing that a male, especially a rough and dangerous dragon hunter, could move and speak like the person in front of him.

The elf suddenly spun around and glared at Shon. “What are you staring at?” the elf asked.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Shon stammered, “I’ve never met an elf before. What’s your name?”

The elf gave Shon a disgusted sneer and walked away into the dark woods.

The orc came and sat down by Tarun and Shon in front of the smoldering campfire. Shon made a conscious effort to not scoot away when he did. “The elf’s name is Solimar,” the orc said. “Solimar Silverbow. And before you get all worked up about it, you should know that Solimar doesn’t like anybody, not even me and Piggy.”

Shon turned his face to the orc with such surprise that he nearly forgot about the recent unpleasantness with Solimar. “Piggy?” he asked.

“That’s the dwarf,” said the orc. “At least, that’s what we call him, and he seems to answer to it just fine. Don’t know if he’s got a real name, but that one seemed to fit since he’s so attached to that boar of his.”

Shon looked over at the hairy, wild-looking dwarf, already asleep and curled up next to the large boar he used to crash into the woodcutters less than an hour earlier. “Why doesn’t he just tell you his name, if you don’t know it?” asked Shon.

“That’s kind of a long story,” replied the orc, “but the short answer is that Piggy doesn’t talk. Oh, and speaking of names, mine is Krall in case you didn’t catch it earlier.”

“Oh, right,” Shon said nervously as he looked away from Krall’s green face, “thanks for the reminder.”

Krall stood up and brushed the loose dirt from the back of his pants. “Well, you boys look tired, not to mention pretty shaken up,” Krall said. “It doesn’t sound like the inn at Duskwood is going to be an option tonight, so why don’t you just stay in our camp site for the night? We can sort out all of the details with your delivery in the morning when we’ve all got fresh brains.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Shon asked.

“Well, Solimar is a pretty light sleeper like most elves,” Krall said. “And my nose is almost as keen as Piggy’s boar’s is. I don’t think there’s much chance of anybody sneaking up on us. Besides, I really doubt those woodcutters will be dumb enough to come back here tonight.”

Shon didn’t have the nerve to admit that what he meant was, he wasn’t sure if Krall, Piggy, and Solimar were safe.

Tarun put his hand on Shon’s back and spoke up. “I think we can trust him,” Tarun said. “If they wanted to kill us, they could have easily done that already.”

Krall let out another deep, throaty laugh. “You don’t talk much, boy,” Krall said, “but I think I like you a little bit more every time you do.”

***

Sleep did not come easily to Shon that night. He lay next to the dying embers of the campfire in his sleeping roll with one eye open. Tarun was nearby on the other side of the fire pit, already fast asleep. Several times Shon would take the hood of his cloak off his head in fear, listening for any thoughts of anger or intent to do harm. Then his head would get cold and he would remember he couldn’t clearly understand the thoughts of the three dragon hunters anyway, so he would put the hood back over his head.

By far the easiest of the dragon hunters to keep tabs on was Piggy. The dwarf was curled up in plain sight next to his large boar. Shon couldn’t tell if the loud snorting snores were coming from the dwarf, his pet, or both. He couldn’t be sure, but at times it seemed that the snores were almost harmonizing in a grotesque kind of way.

Shon was fairly certain that Krall was asleep in the large green wagon. He had seen the orc climb into the wagon shortly after he finished talking to Shon and Tarun, and he had not seen Krall climb back out. However, he did not trust Krall, so Shon continued to assume that the orc could be anywhere. For all Shon knew, the wagon could have a secret trap door that could allow the orc to sneak out of the wagon and take his victims by surprise.

Most unsettling to Shon was the realization that he didn’t know where Solimar was at all. The elf had stalked off into the woods, and not returned. Shon had assumed that Solimar would come back to go to sleep when the others did, but the elf had not returned. Was Solimar asleep in the trees? Or watching from the shadows?

Between the loud snores coming from Piggy and his boar, Shon heard the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees around him, and the insects and other creatures active in the dark. Shon realized that the sounds he found so captivating earlier in the evening were now unnerving and sharp in his ears.

As the last of the heat and glow left the coals in front of him, Shon finally lost the will to stay awake, and his eyes reluctantly closed. And as the last of the smoke curled out of the charred and blackened wood towards the sky, Shon’s mind wandered into strange and winding dreams under his hood.

Shon’s dream began in a large and beautiful valley. In the distance he saw three tall trees covered in blossoms with two people standing underneath them. Shon could tell immediately that they were his parents. He called out to them, but they didn’t come, so Shon began to run towards them. As he came nearer he could see his mother’s lovely and graceful smile, and his father’s stern but determined gaze.

When Shon had nearly reached them he stumbled and lost sight of them for a moment. When he looked back he realized that they were not really two people, but one. Fluctuating between gracefulness and severity, Shon saw that it was not his parents at all, but Solimar. The elf notched in arrow and pointed it at Shon, and he began to run away.

Arrows rained down around Shon from every side, as he tried to run toward the shelter of the trees, now so distant from him. Too late he saw that the arrows had been corralling him into an ambush by Piggy and his boar, which had fused into one huge, hairy, snarling, creature. Like some kind of abominable centaur, the Piggy beast charged at Shon with four legs, two arms, and a war cry that sounded like harmonious snores.

Shon was pulled out of the way of the beast’s charge at the last second by a pair of strong arms. He turned and saw his friend Tarun next to him, and then in an instant Tarun had transformed into an orc with frothing mouth and sharpened fangs. The orc spoke to Shon through a mouth drool and slime. “Krall is coming to eat your dreams,” the orc said. “I’m coming to eat your nightmares.”

Suddenly, Shon heard a laugh so clear and sharp, that he realized how fuzzy and unfocused the rest of the dream world around him was. The laugh was lower and louder than Krall’s guttural laugh, but it also seemed strangely far away. The sound made his heart and stomach vibrate and drop.

The sequence of events in the dream continued on around Shon, but now that he saw how blurry and sporadic everything was, he could watch events as an observer. He still saw the dragon hunters attacking him, but he was no longer affected by it. On the other hand, he realized that his fear of the dragon hunters in his dream had been nothing compared to the fear that the foreign laughing had caused him.

As the dream continued, Shon heard the laugh again and it sent a shiver up his spine. It was not a laugh of mirth or amusement, but of mockery and contempt. He dared not move or breathe as he felt his every action was being watched and judged.

The laugh then turned into a cruel, distant voice. “Why have you stopped running, little larva?” the voice said. “This dream is not nearly as much fun when you just stay still like that. Could it be that you stopped running because you’ve grown a spine?”

At the last comment, Shon heard the dark laugh again, more bitter and terrible than before. “No,” said the voice, “larvae don’t have spines. Perhaps you have stopped running because you are now just paralyzed with fear.” Shon continued to hold his breath and his tongue, trying to figure out what was going on in this dream that was unlike any he’d had before.

“Bah!” said the voice, an angry tone mingling with its malice, “You cannot be one of them. Your companion perhaps, but never you. My enemies must be capable of greatness, and you are no more than a frightened bug, too young and weak to even know when to scurry away.”

The dream ended and all faded to black, but the voice continued in the utter darkness surrounding Shon. “The Obsidian Eye has been wrong before, and it must be again. That is why I never hatch only one egg at a time. I will focus my attentions on one of the others. Scurry home where you’ll be safe, little larva, and pray you never receive my notice again. If you do, you may never wake up.”

The voice rumbled an ancient and powerful growl as it slowly faded away. After a time, Shon became aware of the sounds of the night bugs and Piggy’s snores, and he realized that his eyes were open. Shon felt a chill on his head and found that his hood had slipped off in his sleep. Shon pulled the hood tightly over his head and tried to warm himself up, but he couldn’t tell if the chill he felt was from the cold night air, or the last lingering memories of the voice in his dream.