Full night lay on the valley, a nigtht of moons in crescent pale above the smoke that hung like a layer of smudgy cloud just at the treetops.

Bonfires, dozens of them, glowed at ragged intervals along the course of the winding stream that fed the valley from the south. Out in the meadows, near the treelines that marked the grazing fields and burned-over stubbles, other fires marked a perimeter. And through it all, suffusing the acrid pall of smoke, was goblin-stench.

Mounted, Wingover ranged out on the forward flanks of the little band of travelers – first warning and first defense for the group, should they be discovered. He went silently, keeping to shadows where he could. Chane

Feldstone led the rest, his hammer ready in his hand, the ancient path of

Grallen visible before him as a faint green mist.

Chestal Thicketsway was a small, darting shadow, sometimes among them and sometimes not, but never far away. The kender's sheer, wide-eyed excitement and curiosity was a source of real concern to the rest, but there was little enough anyone could do to curb him. A kender was always a kender.

Had Chess been as tall as a goblin, Wingover might well have chopped off his head when the kender appeared unexpectedly in shadows beside him and said,

The sharp sword that whisked past the top of Chess's head would have taken a goblin at the gullet.

"Oops," the kender said. "Did I startle you? Sorry."

"Keep your voice down!" Wingover whispered. 'What are you doing here?"

"I'm part of this group, remember?" Chess held it to a whisper now. "I just wanted to tell you, there are goblins moving back and forth among the fires. I saw a handful of them right over there, just a minute ago."

"A handful?"

"Five. They have a dead sheep."

"I wish you'd stay with the dwarves," Wingover hissed. But there was no answer. Chess was gone again, off on some adventure of his own. At least,

Wingover reassured himself, the little creature could move silently when he felt like it.

They were nearly a mile into the valley when Wingover saw movement near the end of a hedgerow a hundred yards away. He signaled, a downward thrust of his spread hand, and reined into shadow. The stench of goblin and smoke was everywhere, and the sky above was a low, drifting fabric with fireglow on its belly. Only rarely was any trace of the moons beyond visible.

Crouching in silence, Wingover chanced a glance back and saw that the rest were out of sight. They had seen the signal and faded into a clump of trees at the edge of a field.

At first there was nothing to see, then there was movement just ahead.

Dark shapes appeared, coming over a low knoll, directly toward Chane's party. Wingover counted three silhouettes with wide, round heads, wearing inverted-bowl helmets. The glint of weapons showed amongst them.

The shadows came on, moving quietly, their only sound an occasional muted clank of metal on metal. Wingover dismounted and raised his shield an inch, peering over the top of it, his sword ready. The goblins were so close that the man could hear their guttural voices:

"… not much farther. Don't get too close. Want to ring them, not run into them." A few steps more and they stopped. Wingover saw a tiny flare of light made by a hooded lamp, its top lifted an inch to light a straw.

They had torches! Suddenly Wingover realized what they were doing. They were part of an encirclement, preparing to flare torches.

Somewhere a hoopak whistled, and one of the goblin shadows stiffened, gurgled, and fell. The human didn't hesitate. Still crouching, he launched himself at the remaining two, clenching his teeth to stifle the battle cry that built in his throat. Like a darker shadow, Wingover was on them, and his sword sang softly as it clove between the helm and collar of the nearest one.

Without stopping, Wingover thrust at the remaining goblin, and his blade rang on metal. In the fitful light he saw its glittering eyes, wide with surprise, saw its mouth open to shout alarm. He clubbed the goblin with the edge of his shield. It crumpled at his feet. Before the hooded lantern could strike the ground, Wingover caught and covered it. Then he took a quick look around, raised himself slightly, and signaled.

In moments the others were with him.

"They know we're here," Chane said.

"They know, all right. Stay close and follow me -straight out across that field. And hurry!"

They moved, trusting to no more than luck to see them to the next cover.

The searchers crept across a narrow field of stubble, where dead things they could not make out were beginning to rot, then down a slope into a gully that would carry seasonal runoff toward the main flowing stream.

"Lead," Wingover whispered to Chane. "We need distance, quick!"

The dwarf went ahead silently, and they increased their pace, staying low in the gully.

Wingover glanced back, looking over the cut just where it deepened.

There, where they had been, torches were springing alight by twos and threes – a wide ring of lights that would have bathed them in glowing fire had they been there.

He went on, catching up to the rest, counting them as he passed. There was no sign of the kender. Chane eased back to cover the rear now, and

Wingover led, choosing the best and most silent route down through the gully.

"How do they know we're here?" Jilian whispered.

"Worse than that, they knew exactly where,"

Wingover pointed out. "They may find us again." He motioned ahead. "This cut winds around farther on.

There could be an ambush. One of us should scout ahead."

"I'll go," Jilian said, then paused. Just ahead a small figure was running toward them. It was the kender. Chess reached them and pointed back the way he had come. 'There are goblins ahead, waiting," he whispered.

"I think they know we're here."

Somewhere behind, there were guttural shouts.

"They've found the dead ones," Wingover said. "If they didn't know before – which they probably did -they certainly know now. How many are ahead?"

"I don't know." Chess shrugged. "A bunch."

"Hold up here," the man hissed, and Chane came forward to see what was happening.

"There's an ambush ahead," Wingover said. "They've found us, and now they'll close in."

Chane turned to the wizard, who had remained silent for much of the trek. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I can't rely on magic here," Glenshadow rasped. "Not with you carrying that crystal."

"Not even a little spell?" Chess suggested. "Just something innocent, like conjuring fifty or sixty armed fighters to back us, or -"

"Make us invisible," Chane said. "Can you do that?"

"A spell of invisibility? Easily… except for Spellbinder. I don't know what would happen."

"You had the dwarf put that thing in a hole earlier," Wingover said.

– How about trying it that way? I saw your staff glow when he did."

"I'm going back down there to look at those goblins," the kender said.

"Let me know what you decide." He was gone before anyone could stop him.

"It might not work," Glenshadow said. "Spellbinder's power is -"

"We'll try it," Chane decided. He looked around, then crawled on hands and knees to the edge of the gully, explored there for a second, and whispered, "Here's something. Like a small animal's burrow. it's – ouch!"

"What happened?" Jilian asked.

"Something bit me, then ran up my arm and across my head. It's gone now, though. This hole is… uh!… arm's length. I'm putting Spellbinder in here! Try it, wizard. It's our only chance."

A fat drop of rain splatted into the dust at the wizard's feet, then several more. Faint thunder rumbled overhead, and the murk deepened. "I'll try," Glenshadow decided. He raised his staff, its own crystal device glowing faintly, and spoke sharp words in a language that meant nothing to the rest.