A thorny hedge appeared, running away to left and right into the

darkness, where the old road wound and wooden gates arose before him.

These were latched shut, though not locked, and after fumbling about for

some moments, the stranger found the cross bar through a hole in the

rough boards and lifted it clear, so that the timbers creaked back upon

their rusted hinges. Entering, he pushed them shut again and turned

toward the village. None it seemed were abroad at that late time, and so

he and his lamed horse ventured farther down the deserted way that led into

a square of sorts where shuttered buildings stood, firelight

glimmering from chinks at door and window.

Eventually, he stood beneath a weathered sign, creaking at its moorings.

'The Old Oak Inn,' he whispered, staring at the letters drawn in red by

the side of a painted tree, picked out in greens and browns. And beneath

these, he continued, 'Room and bed. Ale and wholesome food to be had.

Master Spiggot. Innkeeper.'

The thought of a warming hearth and welcoming folk within swept over him,

and he raised his hand to ring at the bell rope.

Then he checked such impulse, a chord of fear staying folly. 'It is far too

risky to chance a meeting here,' he thought. 'Better to seek shelter in

He was about to turn away, when a voice close at hand said, 'Why don't

you ring? Old Spiggot is a bit of a coot, but not so bad as to refuse

lodgings, even at this late night.'

A figure emerged from the lane that ran beside the inn, and came forward

until the lamp lit his squinting face. He was a squat man, with greying

hair about the edges of his balding pate, and a wisp of peppery

moustache beneath his rather red, rounded nose.

The horse snuffled, flicking its ears, whilst the stranger, though

startled, remained silent.

'Beggin' yer pardon Master, or is it Miss,' said the other, peering

closer, 'my eyes aren't what they was once. Ah, but I see now,

ye 're all but knocked up after long on the road by the looks of ye.

Well, heh, I say come in to you. Innkeeper Spiggot at yer service.'

'I... wish that I could,' answered the stranger, 'yet I have nothing to

pay for such comfort. Still, good innkeeper, if you would accept this

lamed animal, I should be glad of a straw bed beside him, and perhaps

fodder for he and myself.'

'Ah well then,' returned Spiggot, wrapping his muffler closer about his

neck, 'just let me tweak the lantern-wick a wee bit, and then follow

down thither to the animal's quarters out the back. I come up the lane,

do ye see, to run the bounds of the Oak, as is my practice. There, that

does it, now mind your way in the dark.'

The stranger did as he was bidden and soon saw the twinkle of a lantern

at the end of the lane, where loomed the outline of the stables. Once

within, Spiggot set about applying a salve to the old horse's hocks and

shins, whilst the stranger removed saddle and bridle, mindful to keep

his scant belongings thrust over his shoulder.

As the innkeeper finished his work, brushing the animal down and

watering him, he asked absently, though not without a little humour to

his tone, 'Ye have travelled many leagues, Master...er ?'

'Corin... that is my name, and yes I have,' replied the other, testing

the straw of an empty stall with his muddied boot.

'Oh, but ye can't bed here,' said Spiggot, squinting away as he closed

the animal into the next stall. 'Not when me and my daughter have an inn

almost empty of folk, and plenty of room to spare. Why, that would be

most unfair if ye were to deny us of yer company this night. We seldom

get folk from the southlands come winter. None at all these past many

days,' he added with a wink. 'There's a goodly fire a burnin' in our

parlour's hearth, and Flora putting up late supper for me now. Come and

warm yeself, the nag will be fine in a day or three, and we would have

news o' faraway, that is if ye've a mind to talk a bit.'

The stranger, Corin, hesitated whilst Spiggot ambled past, gesturing him

along; the balding head nodding, red nose pointing the way.

'Perhaps I could take a bite with you and your daughter, and wash,

before hand, if that be all right?'

'And with certainty, if only to get us out o' the cold and indoors,'

said the innkeeper. 'But be sure, the Old Oak is still the same;

welcomes all, alike to the times of my dad, and his dad afore.'

Flora met them in the kitchen, where pots and pans bubbled and steamed

on the wood stoves. She was a winsome lass; glowing cheeks, bright

lipped, ringlets in her hair. Her eyes glistened brightly when she heard

all that her father had to tell, and she fairly swirled about the supper

things. 'Well, this was to be another night alike enough to many,' she said,

smiling, 'and now we have a visitor unexpected. Go in, go in. I'll bring

broth and mead, and that to follow, when ye've got settled in the

parlour.'

The innkeeper burst through a further door, where leaped a light of fire

and greeting, and Corin followed at his heel, only to pull up short at

the sight of faces therein; and at once was aware and frightened by

them, and the severity of his peril.

'Come along with ye now Master Corin,' said Spiggot, bustling between

trestles and boards toward an oaken portal, 'I'll introduce ye to this

pair after ye've cleaned up and knocked the mud offen yer boots.'

Corin had but a fleeting glimpse of the two men seated before the huge

fire-place as he hurried after the innkeeper, to find himself in a hall

where opened many other doors.

'In here,' said Spiggot, throwing one such wide. 'You'll find hot water

and towels for yer purpose, and victuals a' ready when you return.'

Alone within the little bathing room, Corin had time to gather his wits

whilst he laved his aching limbs and face from an ewer dipped to a great

pot that overhung a fire in the ingle. He was safe enough for the

moment, he reasoned, for if the men had been of those who pursued him,

they would have taken him then and there. 'Better to face them, whoever

When he had completed his brief toilet, he made to the hall door that

led into the parlour, halting to listen for sounds within before

entering. There came a steady drone of voices as he pushed the heavy

timbers open a crack.

'...won't be any more drays, roads too heavy with mire shortly.'

'Aye winter's on the step, and land sleeps the sounder for it.…'

'Ah! There ye be, young Master,' exclaimed Spiggot, lurking by the

shelf-lined wall next to the entrance, polishing pewter. 'Well do come in

and meet these fellow travellers. This here is Badger, and this 'un,

Rudd; timber haulers they be, out of Burdarrow, a village you must have

passed through afore Ways End.'

The two men nodded as Corin stepped inside, the innkeeper squinting at

him all the while.

'And this is Master Corin,' continued Spiggot, leaving off to stir the

fire and heft in several logs. 'He's come up with a gammy horse, and him

near frozen as well. Still, rest and good food will see that a' right,

and warming by this blaze as well; set yeself down here, next the

hearth, young sir.'

'Where do ye hail from?' asked Badger affably enough, taking a long pull

at his tankard as Corin moved closer to the fire, where warmth began to

seep into his body.

'I come from beyond King's Ford, Mydarrow way,' he answered evenly,

glancing from the flames to the men.

Their eyes regarded him with appraisal.

Badger's eyes were a curious deep blue, set in a weathered face.

A scar at the corner of his mouth, just above his close-cropped beard,

gave him the appearance of a continual mocking smile.

The other, Rudd, was bigger boned, with dark brown eyes almost hidden beneath

heavy brows and long black hair. His lips seemed a vivid red amongst a tangle of beard,

and when he spoke, his teeth flashed white.

'Mydarrow you say? Well we have carried timber that far, and I've never

laid sight to ye afore.'

'Nor I to you,' Corin answered in truth, making as light as possible of it.

'And what brings you all the long road here to the last village south of

the mountains?' inquired Spiggot, rattling goblets and platters on a

sideboard, and fussing away with his cloth.

'I seek any useful work for my keep that might be had,' and here Corin

feigned a slight embarrassment. 'I have left my home, you see, without

proper consent.…'

'Run away, you mean,' muttered Rudd, filling his cup from a jug near to

hand.

'Well, yes, I suppose so,' he returned, somewhat sheepishly. 'But I had

a great longing to see all this wide land, and those of my family have

no real need of me now. And so I took horse and these few belongings for

this adventure.…'

'And left without so much as a goodbye!' The innkeeper laughed. 'Still,

I suppose you'll return to them when ye've had yer fill of wanderin'.

That's nay so bad. Mind, I figured as much when I clapped eyes on ye.

Even if they be short a sight, you had a sort of look about ye. Well

don't fret over it; you're here now, and I won't turn you out on a night

like this 'un. Work enough, I can find for ye to pay yer way till horse

is cured a what ails him; then you can be off wherever ye like.'

'Must have lived off the land in all your travels,' said Rudd, eyeing

the bow and sword and other trappings at Corin's feet, where he had

dropped them. 'That looks like a blade fit to skewer more than rabbits.'

'I was told that there are still wild creatures in these parts,' Corin

replied, trying to make his words plausible, if tinged with innocence.

'Mayhap there are.' Badger grinned. 'Though inglet or iron would needs

be swift against bear or boar.'

The conversation was interrupted at that moment by Flora, entering with

a large tray, laden with mugs and bowls and plates, which she set to

table, where they steamed out a variety of delicious smells, enticing

hungry folk to forego speech in favour of simple feast. Together, the

timber carters, Corin, Spiggot and his daughter tucked in with a will:

there was turnip and carrot soup, hot baked bread, stew of meats and

vegetables, and mead to quench thirst, though Corin took little of such,

not wishing the heady liquid to dull his wits.

Afterward, whilst Flora cleared the board and Spiggot worked the fire

into a gale of sparks, the others fell to speech once more.

'I should like to thank you for your kindness,' said Corin, directing

this to the innkeeper, whilst watching the wood haulers where they

lounged at ease. 'And too, I wonder if your guests might tell me

something of their travels in this part of Ravenmoor? Does the road go

on beyond Ways End, and what lies there?'

'What lies there is shadow,' murmured Rudd. 'Shadow that hides a secret

kept within dark ways. There is a forest, so vast and deep that few have

ever entered that have come out again. Forinth, was it once named; now

it is called The Forbidding Forest, and the less I hear or know of it

the better. Why, if it wasn't for our work, you would never find me at

its margins. I hate the place.' He fell silent, and such was his

vehemence that a time passed where only the crackle of fire broke the

stillness.

Badger, at length, went on, 'Rudd and I go up there to bring out timber.

Some, better than can be found anywhere else in all Ravenmoor. The

woods-folk who dwell inside Forbidding Forest cut it, and we bring it

out, where it be used, even by the highest of this realm at Penda, our

King's high-roost.'

'The woods-folk,' said Corin with interest, 'then some do dwell in the

forest?'

'Away to the east, yes; for there, after generations, they have made a

settlement,' Badger nodded. 'Yet even so, comes winter and they stay

close within their bounds, mending and making and planting, where they

deem it safe to do. Then, in the spring, we, and other timber haulers

will go up there to take out what they've cut; but none of us dare the

northern roads, old and overgrown as they've gotten.'

'Besides,' said Rudd, stirring, 'even them folk are queer, what with

messing about the unknown, and disturbin' who can tell?'

'Aye, but that's their living,' Spiggot intervened, pouring out more

mead.

'Not for me, innkeeper.' Rudd halted him with an uplifted paw. 'I go

where sleep calls me. The morrow, we have an early start, if we're to

get through The Rises and Rushall Marsh.'

He threw a glance at Badger as he took his way to bed, and after closing

the door to the hall behind him, his companion laughed softly. 'Aye,

he's right enough. One more draught and I'm to bed.' And turning to

Corin, the timber-hauler said; 'Ye mustn't be offended by Rudd's

gruffness. When he was no more than knee high, his father was lost in

Forinth, and even after all this time it grieves him. Truly, he means it

when he says he hates Forbidding Forest. Still, like those woodsmen and

their kin, he and I have our living out of it.'

'I suppose that is why this village is named Ways End,' said Corin, a

little wistfully as he stared into the flames dancing on the broad

hearth.

'Too true,' chirped Spiggot, downing a goodly gulp and warming to some

tale-telling.

There came the sound of Flora scrubbing pots in the kitchen, and a faint

sighing of winter's winds, as the innkeeper held forth. 'Travellers

Rest, was it called in the long ago, when our ancestors first built it

up. Ah, but then I should begin at the beginning, which ye may or may

not know a' ready;' he looked askance at Corin, who shook

his head, keen to hear more.

'Well now,' went on Spiggot, pleased it seemed to chat, 'as I have had

it from my dad, and he from his afore him, all we folk who live, to this

very day, in Ravenmoor are descendants of those fewest who came here

from out the lost waterways beyond memory. Since then, five kings have

ruled this land; the first no more than a wee child. Weldun. King

Weldun, I recall his name to be. And as the story goes, when those first

folk landed in Berry Bay, down south, they found the ruins of a mighty

castle on the high cliffs over lookin' the ocean. And later they found

the old road, the same as ye have followed the long length of Ravenmoor.

Ha!' he exclaimed. 'It must have puzzled them sorely; saved as they were

from wherever they 'ed come over the wide seas, to find landfall in a

realm empty of any kindred peoples, though sure sign was there that such

had once dwelt here.'

He mopped at his brow with a green kerchief, whilst Flora returned,

wiping her hands upon her apron.

'At any roads,' he continued, 'that is what happened. Our early settlers

took a hold o' the soil and dug they-selves in. They must've been hardy

enough, lasting through those cold winters at the beginnings, their

animals as well; but so be it they did. And after, they cut new stone

and timber, and began to build on the broken foundations, so that the

kings to come would have a seat; now our King Erryldene's stronghold of

Penda. Yet to this day, none have ever learned more of those mysterious

peoples who dwelt in this land before the coming of our own kind. As to

the highway, that has been mended and kept open from earliest times, as

villages began to spring up along the way: first Darrow, that was later

called Mydarrow; then Kings Ford and Burdarrow; and finally, Travellers

Rest, here on this very spot.'

The innkeeper halted his story a moment to ask his daughter if she would

turn down the covers of a bed for their unexpected guest, and light a

fire to warm his room, then he resumed. 'Now, when our forefathers

explored into the north, they came to the beginnings of a forest that

spread both west and east towards the surrounding mountains o' this

realm, and beyond the forest, far off north-away, they spied a taller

chain, that links the ranges and forms a barrier there. The forest they

called Forinth, in honour of their leader, and the cloud covered peaks

they glimpsed got named The Tumberimber, though I can't say why.

Still and all, the Long Road, as it has become known, wandered into that sea

of trees and they followed as best they could, cutting through overgrown

tracts long unused. The trees they felled went into the making of this

thorp, and it became a way-stop for all who ventured after.'

Spiggot rubbed a hand across his balding head, and rose to take a

blackened poker to the smoking logs. With a flick he turned them, and

they burst anew into yellow and blue flames.

'Mind you,' he went on, grasping his mug of mead and sipping from it,

'all this comes by word o' mouth for the most, down from father t' son.

There were little book writin' way back then, and perhaps some o' the tale is lost,

But,'-and he smiled as the warmth and liquor seeped into him, 'as I have it, from

the beginnings inside Forinth Forest, unknown dangers and mishaps

followed those who dared cross the borders of that wild place. The

further they ventured, the worse it got, folk vanished and were never

seen again; others were struck down by falling trees. Some came out,

witless as mad hares, to wander addled all their lives. Meantime, the

boldest, under this Forinth, scrambled on until they broke through to

the beginnings o' the lofty mountains; and there the road ended, led to nothing.'

'Aye,' nodded Badger, bearing out the innkeeper, 'that's about what I've

heard of the old times; yet I seem to remember talk of uncovered

quarries or mines.…'

'So 'tis told,' went on Spiggot, unwilling to let go his ramblings.

'Lost shafts and digs, and hewn places by the feet of towering

mountains, as goes the ancient tale.'

'But what of the way there?' Corin asked. 'The old road, surely that

must have pointed somewhere further?'

'If it ever did, young Master, that path lies under stone, as was it

when Forinth and his early folk first beheld the Tumberimber's

fastness,' murmured Spiggot.

Flora entered the parlour as the three fell silent, and her presence

broke the sombre quiet. 'I'll be off to bed now,' she said, and wended

her way to a stair that led aloft, after first kissing her father and

bidding the others good night.

'I have one last question,' said Corin, whilst Badger drained his

tankard and Spiggot stood up, yawning. 'Have none ever climbed the

mountains of the Tumberimber and seen what lies beyond?'

'If any have, I've never heard tell that they returned to speak o' what

they discovered,' answered the innkeeper. 'Why, it is said that of old,

folk made attempts to build ships and sail out o' Berry Bay; the only

place where 'tis possible, and there at best o' times dangerous and full

o' treachery. Most were sunk afore they passed through the Wave Races;

and those that were not, never came back. It has been lives of men since

they last tried. And as to daring the Forbidding Forest and the high

peaks that vanish into cloud there, even Forinth was lost without trace,

so the stories go. Whether he took it into his head t' see what he could

up there, who knows? But his name has lasted all the seasons of

Ravenmoor. He was master of the ship that brought our kin and their

flocks to land, and one of the founders of the realm; and afterward, an

explorer who, it's my guess mind, desired to probe the deep ways and the

lofty mountains. Aye, his name, and those who were lost at sea, King

Edrun, Queen Brenna, and their children Qwilla and Ernole, their names have

all lasted.'

He shook his head as if to clear it somewhat.

'Kings have come and gone since then: Weldun, the Child-King first, and

after him, let me see, Tiernan his son, then Kean, and after him,

Edrazza... And now Erryldene.'

Spiggot sighed, resting an arm upon the tall mantle of oak that breasted

the width of the fireplace. 'All o' them too occupied with other

concerns: the building of this land, the crops and cattle, the day to

day growth, seeing to the needs of the kingdom, and that mostly down

south, so that to worry over things up here in the distant regions would

ha' been the last thing on their minds...'

'Besides,' Badger went on, the scar at his mouth dragging it to a mock

grin, though his eyes belied that, 'who would want to venture too far

beneath the eaves of Forbidding Forest? Only old tools, rusting and

broken, and old bones are left there. We few may tarry on the outskirts,

and the woodsfolk dwell just within, where they have cut a space, east

of Ways End; yet tale and fear mingle across the boundaries of the

innermost hidden depths. A legend that has grown from the beginnings,

tells of the Sleeping Lands, where our forefathers trod after unknown others

had abandoned it. Mayhap the soil itself, and everything thereon and

therein, will give up the truth one day; and then we, or our children or

theirs, will learn what was the truth of those Sleeping Lands, the same

fields and pastures tilled to this time.'

The timber hauler lurched to his feet and joined the innkeeper at the

hearth. 'You ask if any have ever found a way out of Ravenmoor? Well

here is a verse that was told me when I was but a chit of a lad, and

I've never forgotten it.'

He began, as the last of the logs burned and broke apart, crumbling to

coals that glowed, hissing and dying.

'In this country of bear in lair and fox in den, of marsh and river,

wold and glen: the eagle, the hart, the rabbit, the moke, the elm, the

yew, the pine, the oak. The dene, the dell, the dale, the glen; the

forests of trees, the abode of men. The ouzel, the owl, the shrike, the

stoat. The raven, the roe, the brock, the goat. The ghyll, the rill, the

babbling brook. The foxglove and buttercup, the haughty rook. The

kingfisher. The old man boar. And no escape from Ravenmoor.…'

Later, when Corin was alone within a cosy room where burned a little

fire, and the others had gone to their beds, he thought a time upon all

that he had learned. And he pondered too about those who pursued

him. 'They may arrive here on the morrow,' he thought to himself. 'Best I

He unlatched the shutters of a window and peered out to where lay the

lane, silent and deserted. Leaves rattled about whilst the wind whisked

them in their deadness toward the faint glow of the lantern where his

mount was quartered.

'Out this way,' he thought, absently scratching at the whiskers on his

chin. A great weariness seemed to be overtaking him; probably caused by

food and the comfort of fire. 'I'll just put my head here for short

The bed, which almost filled the tiny room, welcomed him, and even

though he thought but to rest, the softness of the coverlet drew him

down into a snug warmth that closed about his aching body.

The village of Ways End slept, the last lights winking at their

moorings, as Corin too, dozed.

Southward, those who sought him also slept, muttering where they lay,

rolled in their blankets beneath the tumbling clouds.

All Ravenmoor slumbered, land and tree and creature. Though for how much