“Ren.”

A murmur.

“Ren, wake up.”

Renwil stirred in his sleep.

“Please, Ren.”

He rolled over and sat up. Serra was standing in his room, breathing hard, her cloak damp with rain.

“Renwil, something got my sister.”

“What?” Renwil staggered out of bed. He was barefoot, and the floor was freezing cold. 

“It got Elinor. She’s gone.”

“Who got her?”

“I don’t know. I woke up and she was gone. Something came in through the window. Mom told me to stay home and barred the door.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t sit there.”

Renwil dressed quickly and followed Serra out the door.  His grandfather was asleep by the fire, snoring softly. With a twinge of guilt, Renwil padded lightly across the room, and shut the door behind him. He would fess up later.

Serra lived on the riverbank with her mom, in a house with a sturdy thatched roof and windows that overlooked the rushing stream. 

The road wound among many foothills before it came to the river. Small farmhouses lay tucked among those hills, and in the morning they would seem comfortable and homey, but now the windows were dark. Rain fell in a fine mist. Soon they were both damp. Renwil felt very alone.

Without warning, a figure loomed up in the road. Renwil suppressed a cry, but the mist cleared and a familiar face appeared.

“It’s Leland!”

Leland was a farmboy. He lived among the hills with his mom and dad, and their three boys.. 

Leland laughed, but his face was drawn and tired. “When I heard you coming down the road,” he said, “I thought you were… I don’t know. I was afraid. There’s something going on tonight.”

Serra and Renwil shared a look. 

“What do you mean?”

Leland looked back and forth between them, shifting the bundle in his arms. “I’m not sure. The animals are screaming in their pens. Dad says they know something.”

Serra took a deep breath. “Elinor’s missing.”

Leland’s mouth formed a silent, “Oh.”

“I woke up and she was…” Serra trailed off.

Renwil put a hand on Serra’s shoulder. “Mrs. Godwine already went to sound the alarm. We’re going to look for clues.”

The near bank was choked with mist. Leland shifted anxiously from foot to foot as they approached the thatched hut. “Shouldn’t we wait for the sheriffs?”

“There’s no time.” Serra strode forward and pushed open the door.

The house was dark and warm inside. 

Leland pulled a lantern from his bundle. “Hang on. The wick’s frozen.”

Inside was a round kitchen table, a wood stove, and walls lined with shelves. When the lantern flickered to life, there were shelves packed with root vegetables, salted fish, and dozens of tools. 

Renwil held the door open as Serra and Leland crept in. 

“This was her room,” said Serra, pushing open another door.

The room was freezing cold, and the river thundered outside the open window.

The room was sparsely furnished, with a bed against one wall, and a rug over the floor, blankets on the bed, and a huge pillow stuffed with hay.

Serra went in first and stood aside. The lantern light flooded past her and Serra gasped. Leland shone the light on the carpet and Serra knelt down. 

“Is it blood?” she said, her voice a barest whisper.

Renwil knelt beside her, but Leland kept his distance. He had no stomach for blood. 

The stuff was dark, and it stuck to the carpet like an ooze. But it stank. If it was blood, then it was not Elinor’s blood. 

“Did Elinor keep any knives in her room?” Renwil looked around.

Serra shook her head. “I don’t think so. But she wouldn’t have cut anyone. Elinor wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Leland moved the lantern beam higher, and their eyes fell on the windowsill. The ooze dripped slowly down the wall. Moving ahead, they peered through the window, and Renwil gave a shout. 

A trail of dark ooze ran downhill to a place on the riverbank where two cloaked figures stooped. They seemed to be lifting something between them, and lowering it into a rowboat.

Serra leapt through the window, and the boys followed her. 

The two cloaked figures stood up and peered back at them. Their eyes were huge and yellow as harvest moons. They seethed with hatred. A shadow of doubt fell on Renwil, but he forced himself to go on. 

One of the twain leapt into the boat, and grasped the oars. The other heaved the boat into the current, and leapt inside.

Leland gave a yell, half-terrified, half-enraged. 

Serra made no sound, but raced toward the boat.

It wobbled in the water, the oars found purchase. 

With a final burst of speed, Serra threw herself into the water. Her hand closed on the gunwale, just as the cloaked figure lashed out with its hand. 

Serra dropped into the water.

Renwil stooped to pick up a stone and hurled it toward the boat, but his hand fell lamely by his arm. He was just as likely to his Elinor in this light. 

Leland ran into the water and lifted Serra. It was not deep, but the water was icy cold, and Serra’s teeth chattered. Blood dripped from her face. It was some time before they could understand her, and she was practically dragging them to the shed by her mother’s house. 

A boat! Of course.

The three children pulled away the cloth that covered the boat and dragged it toward the river.

Renwil and Serra leapt aboard. Leland hesitated on the riverbank. “Shouldn’t one of us go tell somebody?” 

“There’s nobody around. My mom ran to warn the sheriffs. She’ll be halfway across town by now.”

Renwil nodded grimly. “She’s right. We’d lose their trail. We’re already losing them. Get it!”

Leland opened his mouth to protest, then shut it, and leapt into the boat.

Serra took an oar and threw it to Leland. Renwil found a second oar, and the two boys rowed with all their might. 

Serra skipped to the back of the boat and gripped the keel with two hands. “We’re losing them! Row faster,” she hollered over the rushing water. 

The rain fell hard now, drenching them all. For a while they rowed in silence, listening only to their own laboured breathing.

At last, Renwil broke the silence. “Where are they taking her?”

“I don’t know,” Serra shielded her eyes against the rain and peered ahead. “This river doesn’t go anywhere. It flows right into the old forest.”

“The old forest?” Leland’s eyes were wide in the moonlight.

“Don’t worry, farm-boy. The old forest is miles away.”

“Are you sure,” Renwil squinted into the mist. A dark line of trees towered before them.

“I must have lost track of time,” Serra’s voice faltered.

“Look out!” Leland, ducked as a tree branch swept over his head. Renwil and Serra followed suit, and when they stood up again they had lost sight of their quarry. 

“Great Gond,” Leland cursed under his breath. “How are we supposed to find them now?”

Just then, the boat lurched, and began to pick up speed. 

“Hang on!” Serra crouched low and clung to the railing. 

Renwil tried to crawl back and help her steer, but the boat shook violently. He fell flat on his back. He was dimly aware tree branches whipping overhead as the boat hurtled forward in the dark. 

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Then it was over. The boat slowed, and Renwil sat up unsteadily. 

The white-water rapids spilled into a wide circle of sluggish, green water. Some way ahead, a long narrow island split the river in two.

“Great. Did you see which way they went?” Leland was shivering. 

“I think so,” Serra breathed. “Keep your voice down.”

They were drawing close to the island now. It was quiet, and the forest was close-knit. The moon illuminated its leaves, but it was pitch dark under the trees. In the shadow of a large oak, two hunched figures were climbing out of their boat and pulling it up on the sandy beach. 

Serra steered hard against the current, and soon their own boat scraped on the cool sand of the beach. The hunched kidnappers were nowhere to be seen. Their boat lay empty on the sand.

“Can you guys see any footprints?” Serra crouched low, passing her hand over the sand in front of her.

“I can’t see a thing,” Renwil said. “Hang on a minute,” Renwil chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Leland, can you find some dry twigs?”

“Sure, but we’re gonna lose them if we don’t hurry.”

As Leland ran up the beach to the forest, Renwil threw his pack on the sand and dug through it.

Serra knocked an arrow and stalked back and forth on the beach, her eyes trained on the woods. Something came crashing through the underbrush and Serra whipped her around to face it.

It was only Leland. He stopped in his tracks and threw his hands up.

“Sorry, Lee.” Serra put her bow down, and lowered her gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but we don’t have time to make a fire.” Leland tossed a pile of dry twigs at Renwil’s feet. 

“I know, I know.” Renwil struck his flint and steel and threw sparks over the twigs. They lit. Renwil gingerly lifted the pile of burning twigs and scanned the beach. The twigs burned brightly. Just as the fire reached his hands, Renwil dropped the pile of twigs. He had seen no footprints. Then Leland gasped and stooped low to the ground. Grinning over his shoulder, he beckoned forward. 

Serra and Renwil shared a look. Serra swallowed hard and followed. Renwil took up the rear. 

Leland followed the tracks to the edge of the beach and under the trees, forgetful of his fear.

As they passed under the eves, the forest seemed to hold its breath. They had been walking for some time when something caught Renwil’s eye. In the lighter space between two trees, he saw the faint radiance of moonlight on water. 

Renwil slowed and stopped. Something else had caught his eye, glittering just beneath the surface of the water. He stepped between the two trees and found himself looking over a small pond. Reeds and cattails grew thickly on the far end. 

Renwil knelt next to the water. A sword lay before him, its blade wavering in the shallow water. 

Standing up, he waded in, but the water was deeper than it looked. He stole a glance at the trees. Leland and Serra were almost out of sight. Renwil took a breath and dove for the sword. 

A stream of bubbles blocked the sword from view. Renwil held his breath and kicked downward. When the bubbles cleared, the sword lay before him on a bed of yellow sand. The blade was bright blue, and caked with barnacles near the hilt, but the tip looked razor sharp, and the bronze hilt was bare, its leather wrappings rotted away. His hand closed around it. 

Gasping for breath, Renwil dragged himself back to shore, shivering violently. 

Leland and Serra were out of sight, but sword in hand, he ran after them, following the sound of their movements in the underbrush.

In the dark, he couldn’t see them until it was too late. He tried to slow down, but he tripped over Serra and Leland and fell head over heels down a steep rocky slope. Serra clamped a hand over her mouth and Leland gaped openly. 

Renwil landed hard on a floor of packed dirt. The sunken courtyard was thirty feet across, and thick with foliage. The flagstones were cracked and upturned by the slow-moving hands of the Green. 

The two werogs hunched beside a fire in the center of the quart yard. One was binding Elinor’s ankles with a thick rope. The other hunched over the beginnings of a campfire. 

The flickering light case long and wavering shadows. 

For the first time, they could see the Werogs clearly. A shudder ran down Lelands spine. 

Elinor stirred in her sleep. 

Renwil staggered to his feet. His shadow danced huge against the wall. Serra and Leland watch in terror as the Werogs rounded on him.

“Well, well, well,” they said. Their laughter was cruel.

Renwil tried to puff himself up, but he could see the Werogs up close now, huge and threatening. 

“Another gelding,” the creature laughed softly. Its voice was thin and menacing.

Renwil said nothing. Fear seemed to engulf him. They were taller than he by a foot, and their long arms were thick as tree trunks. Their claws were long and looked sharp, and their eyes seethed with glee and hatred. 

“Finish tying her legs,” said the one. “I’ll manage him.”

“And then?”

“Feed her to the Wither.”

The other Werog grinned wickedly and yanked the knot tighter around Elinor’s ankles. The little girl’s eyes flew open. Her gaze fell on the monstrous face above her. Then she saw Renwil, and her eyes pleaded. The Werog stuffed a cloth into her mouth, and tied a gag swiftly.

Renwil’s throat began to close from terror. There was nothing he could do. Nor was there any chance of escape. The walls of the sunken courtyard had many footholds, but they were steep. He would never get up the walls unscathed. Even if he could escape, how could he leave Elinor, bound hand and foot, so scared she could hardly breathe? The best he could hope for was that his friends escape. He could see them out of the corner of his eye, frozen in fear on the lip of the dell.

Renwil looked at Elinor again, and she screamed through her gag. Something snapped in him. With a strangled cry, Renwil launched himself forward, his sword raised high, and charged the Werogs. 

As he ran closer to the fire, huge shadows leapt up behind him and danced on the walls. 

Serra’s bow sang, and an arrow buried itself up to the feathers in the Werog’s shoulder. It dropped the ropes and bellowed in rage.

Renwil swung his new sword in a mighty arc and slashed into the bulk of the Werog. It howled, and dark blood oozed from the gash. 

But it was far from dead. Huge, and quick as a fox, it threw Renwil back and pinned him to the ground. A long, thin knife appeared in its hand and it wrestled him down, pinning him to the muddy ground. The creature's long arms wrapped around him like snakes. 

Leland appeared behind, a flaming branch in his hand. Arrows flew past him, as Serra skirted the lip of the dell, pausing only to take aim, and slid down the wall nearest her sister. Raising the branch high above his head, Leland brought it down on the back of the Werog.

The Werog hunched beside Elinor spun this way and that, between Leland and his flaming branch, Serra with her dark arrows, and Renwil, who though pinned to the ground, still held his sword. Fear clouded its sneering face, and it fled toward the dark back of the courtyard, and slipped among the ruins there. 

Surrounded, and seeing his only friend flee, the second Werog scrambled after. Renwil leapt up and ran after them for a few paces, bellowing and brandishing his sword. Then he collapsed.

Leland dashed to Elinor’s side, cutting the ropes with his sax knife. 

Serra scrambled after him and casting her bow aside, threw her arms around Elinor. Elinor breathed hard. She looked back and forth between Leland, whose eyes were wide with fear, and Serra, who began to sob. 

Renwil rested with his hands on his knees. He let the sword fall and collapsed against the wall of the sunken courtyard.

“You okay, Elinor?”

The little girl nodded. Then her eyes brimmed with tears and Renwil saw the terror was over her. Sobbing, she buried her face in her big sister’s tunic. Serra picked her up and rocked her back and forth, murmuring gently. 

Leland stood up and looked around the sunken courtyard. “What is this place?”

The floor was blanketed with moss and patches of snow, but faded, green tiles peaked through. 

At the back of the courtyard, all was draped in shadow, but a maze of ruins stood there. At one time, the stones must have been richly carved. 

Beyond the maze of ruins, they saw a tower of dark stone, looming over the treetops, huge and threatening.

“We should go.” Serra stood up and took Elinor’s hand. “We’re all soaking wet, and this fire isn’t going to last.”

“Your face!” Leland gaped at her. 

The left side of her face was caked with blood. Serra’s hand shot to her face, and she felt the blood. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Renwil opened his mouth to protest but Elinor shot him a look. They all looked at Elinor.

When they reached the boat, Renwil used a spare cloak to wrap his sword, and stowed it under his seat. 

Leland whistled softly. “That thing sure came in handy.” 

“I know. Thank Gond I found it.” Renwil picked up an oar.

“Yeah. Thank Gond.” Leland sat beside him and they began to row.

“Where did you find it?” Serra propped Elinor against the back seat. The little girl was fast asleep.

“You know that little pond we passed on our way to the sunken courtyard?”

Serra looked at Leland. He shrugged.

“That’s where I found it. I saw it under the water.”

“Is that why you were soaked?” Leland laughed. “I was wondering.”

“Yeah, I had to dive for it.” Renwil grinned.

“Sorry we tripped you,” Leland had stopped laughing. His face was grim. He looked over his shoulder at Elinor. 

Serra gazed a long way up river. “Thanks for saving my sister’s life,” she said quietly.

When they got back to town, Serra and Leland dragged the boat into its shed. Renwil lifted Elinor onto the beach. She was shivering, but no longer afraid. 

As they climbed the gentle slope to Serra’s hut, the back door swung open. Mrs. Godwin stood in the doorway, and Renwil’s grandfather behind her. Mrs. Godwin grasped a quarterstaff with both hands, but her jaw dropped when she saw the four kids.

She ran down the sand and pulled her daughters into her arms. When she pulled away, there were tears on her face. “Don’t you ever do that again. Tonight I thought I lost both my daughters.”

Serra mumbled an apology, but she was smiling. Mrs. Goodwin listened, and quietly pulled her daughter close again. “I forgive you,” she said. 

Then she stood up tall and looked down her nose at Leland and Renwil. “You boys should never have gone along with my daughter’s plan. But it worked, so… I don’t know whether to laugh or yell.”

Renwil’s grandfather stepped onto the sand. He said nothing at first, but his gaze fell on the bundle in Renwil’s hands and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “It seems you three have been busy. You’d better put Elinor to bed.”

When they had, Mrs. Godwin and Renwil’s grandfather sat them down around the hearth. 

Mrs. Godwin wrapped a blanket around herself. She had gone out again, to call off the search. Renwil’s grandfather had sat on a stool by the fire while he waited. 

“Alright,” he said at last. “Out with it.”

When they had finished telling the story in full, Renwil’s grandfather shared a long and knowing look with Mrs. Godwin. 

They both nodded approvingly. 

“You did well. Mrs. Godwin is rightly furious that her daughter would risk her own life so foolishly. But you saved Elinor’s life. We shan’t forget.”

“I am. But it will pass. You’re all safe now. And,” she looked at Serra. “You can make it up tomorrow on the river.”

“You’re taking me fishing?” Serra’s face lit up.

“It’s about damn time, don’t you think?” 

Serra looked at her hands, but she was happy.

Renwil looked at his grandfather, waiting for his punishment. But his grandfather just sighed and glanced at the sword again. “Better get you home, Ren.” He stood up and put his arm around Renwil’s shoulder. “Leland, we’ll walk you home.” 

Leland nodded gratefully and yawned. “Thank you, Sir.”

As they walked home, the first light of dawn appeared over the foothills. Leland scampered home. Renwil gazed down river. The dark mass of the forest was miles away, but a chill ran down his spine. Somewhere out there, the two werogs were licking their wounds. They would not forget his face. He gripped the sword tighter through its cloth wrapping. 

“You going to tell me about that?” His grandfather raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry.”

His grandfather shrugged. “Some things are better left unsaid. But not forever. Not usually. Maybe not in this case.”

Renwil looked up at his grandfather’s face. The old man wore no expression, but Renwil sensed a deeper meaning behind his words.

“Here,” Renwil pulled the cloth away and held up the sword.

They stopped. His grandfather looked up and down the pale blade. 

“Right before we found Elinor, I saw a pool through the trees. It seemed to call to me, and when I came, this was at the bottom.”

“Ah.” His grandfather smiled, but his face seemed older and more careworn than usual. “Swords can have that effect. They are made, you see, to be used.”

They walked home in silence after that, and a slow smile spread across Renwil’s face. They’d done it. Elinor was safe in bed. 

Tomorrow morning, Serra would go fishing. Leland would go about his chores, and Renwil, too. When all the work was done, Renwil had a feeling they would meet again.

That night, he dreamed of werogs, of gnashing teeth and bright swords, warriors on horseback, and a dark tower in the moonlight. 

The sword lay hidden under his bed, wrapped in a spare cloak, and tied with bits of chord. The sword gave no sign, but it knew his dream.