“Could be orcs inside that cave,” Myran suggests.

“I don’t think so,” Cyrus responds. “It was hard enough for us to make it through all that ice. I don’t see the orcs making it this far.”

Myran shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. This isn’t just a cave. This whole area is a maze.”

I squint at him. “A Maze?”

“That’s what I’ve heard about this place. No cave stands in isolation. Everything is connected in these mountains via underground tunnels. I bet the goblins can travers most of their land without even going outside. But if the orcs have them now…”

We’d be trapped like the fellowship in Moria.

I shiver. “That doesn’t sound appealing.”

“But is it any better waiting out here?” Cyrus asks. “Taking our chance in the elements, at night, unable to start a fire and having to watch for more orcs. Because if they can come through the tunnels they wouldn’t even need to use the path to get to us.”

It’s a fair point.

Myran sighs. “Well, I do need my beauty sleep.”

Clearly, both options suck. I spit on the ground in disgust.

Myran looks disdainfully liquid. “And it seems you could use some as well.”

I sigh. “I’m not going to be a dainty hero, Myran. Maybe a lazy one, but not dainty.”

Cyrus chuckles a little. “Arguments over spit. Good thing we’re focusing on the important things in life.”

“Not everything has to be a grand battle or spiritual nirvana, oh wise and wonderful Vicar,” says Myran.

The cleric’s face darkens. “I am well aware of that, my elven friend. But one need not generate needless arguments either. I believe we’ve both seen enough real conflict in our lives to not be so obsessed with manners.”

Myran grumbles but doesn’t openly challenge the cleric.

“Well,” I begin. “Personally I look forward to a time when the most important arguments are those regarding phlegm. But until that day, I intend to keep spitting. Now, let’s get in the cave. At least then we won’t have to worry about more rain. I’m so sick of rain.”

We set-up camp under cover but also close to the cave’s entrance. That way we can both see the outside if anyone else tries to enter and are less likely to be trapped if ors are in the tunnels.

We’re down to two tents now so Cyrus and I share one. I could’ve gone either way but I frankly prefer Cyrus so I picked him as my bunkmate ,and he’s taking the first watch anyway so I’ll get some time alone to relax.

Unless I have another vision or get harassed by the demon. You’ll never know when she’ll turn-up.

But nothing happens and I lie peacefully listening to the wind. Everything is ideal for sleep really. Except that I can’t actually go to sleep.

I suffer from periodic insomnia, or suffered at least. Back on Earth it would hit me once or twice

a week and I was among the dudes gaming at 3am on Steam when all the sane folks were asleep. I thought about sleeping pills but was afraid of getting addicted to them so avoided that option. Plus, it’s not like gaming at 3am is all that bad and I was still functional enough during the day.

But that was then. Now my days are packed and I need every once of strength I can get. Fortunately I’ve been able to sleep just fine since arriving in Astria.

But not tonight.

I toss and turn, and turn and toss. I try not to think about sleep or worry about not sleeping. That’s when you really get in trouble. The key with sleep is to not think about whether you’re sleeping or not. At least most nights.

Nothing is working tonight so I go to plan B: give-up. Sometimes the best way to ensure you sleep later is to stop trying to sleep now. So I throw back my tent cover and step into the cool, night air.

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I can hardly see the cleric. In fact, I wouldn’t see him at all if I didn’t know he was there. He’s pressed against the side of the cavern like some sort of forgotten stalagmite. We used no fire at camp to avoid unwanted attention and the moon reys don’t extend too far inside the cave.

I walk to the cleric and he barely moves. At first I think he’s asleep, and I start to give him a gentle nudge.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks suddenly.

I pause a moment. “How’d you know?”

“Why else would you be out here?”

Fair point.

“I suffer from periodic insomnia,” I say. “Or used to. Or maybe I still do. In any case, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm,” the cleric rumbles. “At least it’s only periodic. When I was in the army I had permanent insomnia.”

I gawk. “Permanent?” You mean you never slept?”

“I got no natural sleep,” the cleric says. “Any shut-eye I lucked into was done with the aid of herbs. And sometimes even those didn’t help.”

“Wow. So how long did you go without sleep? I mean what was your record?”

“Nine days.”

I collapse against the cave wall, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Nine days? Is that even possible?”

“Apparently so.”

My problem doesn’t seem so serious after all. “How’d you break the habbit? Get back to sleeping normally?”

“I left the army.”

“That’s it?”

The cleric nods. “Well, that and I became a different person, or rather, I became the person I was meant to be all along.”

I scrunch my brows together, not that Cedric can see them. “You needed to do that? Just to sleep?”

The cleric turns to me. “Many souls do not sleep because their actions do not match their hearts. They toss and turn, trying to convince themselves otherwise, and sometimes they even convince the mind. But never the heart.”

I’m quiet for a minute. “I don’t think that has anything to do with my issue.”

“Good. May you never experience such internal dissonance.”

We slip into silence. It doesn’t suit me though. I have difficulty just being quiet for extended periods of time, like the social awkwardness is going to gobble me up. The wind blows cold and I curl-up tighter and push further against the wall. Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind.

“I bet you’ve had to stand watch on far worse nights than this in the army,” I say.

He says nothing.

“I’m referring to the weather,” I try again.

“Sometimes it’s good to just sit, Ethan. Don’t talk to the wind. Just listen to it. And in doing so you may hear something else. Something hidden by the wind.”

Hidden by the wind?

“What do you –”

“Shh,” Cyrus cuts me off. “Listen.”

I sit still and focus on the wind. It whirls too and fro, whipping around the room and whistling as it works. It carries other noises too, like pebbles scattering about and tent flaps twisting churning as ropes try to keep the material taught. And I also hear…something else.

“Are those –”

“Shh!” Cyrus says again.

I listen again and am sure about it now. Among all the whirling and spinning I hear voices. Sounds echoing up from the tunnel. They grow in intensity. I can’t make out what they’re saying but I’m sure that they’re saying something.

I stand but Cyrus grabs my arm. “Wait.”

I pause for a minute, tempted to pull away and raise the alarm, but I calm myself and trust my friend.

The voices continue and are joined by other sounds: weapon sounds. There are clangs and shouts and groans. It’s like my ears are spectators at a grand confrontation but the rest of my body is not invited. Then, a few minutes later, the battle sounds are gone and all I hear is the wind.

“That was close,” I whisper.

“Sound travels in the tunnels,” Cyrus says. “Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s coming for us.”

“Do you think it was orcs?”

Cyrus shrugs. “Orcs and goblins most likely.”

I walk forward and the cleric comes with me this time. Being as quiet as possible we walk into the tunnel and listen. Just listen. The wind is softer now and in its place I hear the mountain. The stone groans and rumbles, like it’s tired and old.

But still strong.

“Hear anything?” I ask Cyrus.

“Goblins!” Myran says behind me and I spin on my heals.

I see the torches first, a whole row of them, held by stout goblin soldiers. They’re short, especially compared to orcs, and are definitely smaller than the average human. The goblins built though, ripped even, like they spend more time in the gym than college football players. Their brown leather armor is light allowing for fast movement, and their simple helmets leave their faces fully exposed, giving them a clear view of me and exposing their goblin features.

The faces of the creatures are gnarled and worn but they are not ugly. They don’t have giant noses or crooked teeth. Their skin is green though and the ears are elongated. One of the goblins raises his hand and it’s only now I notice that the goblins are archers.

And their arrows are pointing at us.