Vendel drummed his fingers on his crimson helmet irritably. In all the excitement of finally reaching the village, he had forgotten to put it on and had missed a gilt edged opportunity to cause a stir. He and Orla were sitting on the only two chairs in the house while Arlen leaned against the wall. The chief’s reception room also served as a dining room, a kitchen, and a pantry, from the look of things. The furnishings were sparse, and his belongings were few. Through the window, they could see the villagers staring as they stood on the path that ran through the village.

Vendel was about to ask Arlen to draw the curtains when Carla, the girl who had led them to the house, entered through the front door.

“We will stable your horses for the night,” she said before taking up a position close to the door. “The chief will be along shortly.”

“That accent,” Arlen began. “You’re from the Three Lakes, aren’t you?”

Carla’s eyes widened in alarm. “My… my parents came from there.”

“You’re a long way from home,” Arlen remarked. “Where are your parents now?”

Vendel caught a flash of pain in the girl’s face before she lowered her head. “They’re… they’re gone.”

Orla, who had been content to stare at a corner of the room, muttering to herself up until then, gave Carla her complete attention. “How did you end up here?”

The young woman fidgeted with the ends of her threadbare blouse as she shifted her weight from side to side anxiously, and Orla exchanged a look with Arlen, who approached her slowly.

“Are you being held against your will, young lady?”

Carla jumped, caught off guard by the heavyset man’s closeness and darted away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he soothed, keeping his voice low and gentle. “On the contrary, we can help you.”

The blood drained from the young woman’s face as she looked up at him. At length, she glanced out the window before shaking her head. “No, I’m… no, I’m here… I want to be here.”

“He’s coming,” Orla warned.

Arlen backed away from Carla and turned to face the door. The village chief opened the door and gave the girl a baleful look. The others watched in silence as Carla bowed her head and fled out the door without saying a word. The old man then studied each of his guests in turn, allowing his gaze to linger on Orla for an uncomfortably long time, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m afraid I must apologize for my absence,” he began. “I’m afraid I had an important meeting that we simply could not put off.”

“We haven’t been served drinks,” Vendel blurted, more embarrassed for his host than irritated by his lack of hospitality.

Hogris gave Vendel a blank look, and the prince could see his companions shaking their heads in the corner of his eye, but he didn’t back down. It was basic etiquette to serve your guests, even Vendel knew that. Never mind when one of your guests was a prince of the realm!

“I’m afraid we are a humble people,” Hogris replied after a brief silence. “All I can offer is water from the nearby spring.”

“No thank you,” Vendel replied, making a face. He had seen the spring on the way into the village. The water had been brackish and smelled foul.

“If you can tell us a way down to the shore, we can be on our way,” Orla piped up. It had been clear even to Vendel that she couldn’t wait to leave this strange village.

“I’m afraid I cannot help you there,” Hogris replied. He paused and sighed deeply. “Our ancestors have warned us to stay away from that place, and we have thus far honoured their wishes.”

“This is a strange place to found a village,” Vendel remarked. “From what I gather, the water is poor here, as is the soil.”

The chief looked at him impassively before shrugging. “I was born here, as were many of the others. This is home, and it’s all we know.”

“I understand completely,” Arlen said as he placed himself between the Vendel and Hogris before the prince could ask about Carla. “We don’t choose where we were born. At any rate, thank you for your hospitality, but we really should continue with our journey.”

“You should spend the night,” Hogris said with a shake of his head. “The cliffs can be a dangerous place at night. Our village doesn’t have much to offer, but we can offer you shelter for the night.”

“That’s very kind but unnecessary,” Orla blurted, almost frantically. “We’ve imposed on you good people for long enough.”

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“No, I insist,” Hogris said firmly as he positioned himself to block the door. He was half the size of Arlen, who Vendel didn’t doubt could knock the village chief down in half a second flat. He thought they had good odds of fighting their way out if it came to that. Then he realized something that made his blood run cold.

“Where are our horses?” the prince gasped.

“Do not fear,” the chief’s voice was flat. “We have taken them to a richer pasture further inland. Enrick has told me that you have ridden them hard, and they need to regain their strength. We will bring them back in the morning.”

“You can take us to them,” Orla offered. “Save that pasture for your flock. It looks like they need it more than our horses.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible. Even if we were to set out now, it would be dark before we arrived, and as I said, traversing the cliffs isn’t safe at night. There are many pitfalls and sudden drops,” Hogris warned.

“We’ll take that chance,” Orla insisted. “We can even barter you some things for torches.”

“I’m afraid I cannot let my people risk walking out in the wilderness at night,” Hogris replied, shaking his head. “Please think of what would happen to my people if a prince of the realm were to be injured here. Our village might not have much, but it is safe.”

“But,” Orla began. The young woman fell silent when Arlen placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We graciously accept your kind offer,” he said.

Hogris nodded politely to Arlen before walking to the door that led off to the home’s only other room. “You three can sleep here, I shall give you all the privacy I need.”

“He’s not even going to offer me his bed?” Vendel asked incredulously once the village chief had closed the door behind him. “Do people in these parts simply have a different idea of hospitality to the rest of the kingdom?”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of spending the night, can you?” Orla hissed at Arlen.

“If they wanted to harm us, I can think of no better place than out in the field,” the heavyset man replied.

Vendel was unconcerned by the prospect of being attacked. The villagers were a sickly looking bunch. Rail thin with sunken eyes, barely clinging onto life. If they did try anything funny, he’d expect that he and Arlen would be able to dispatch the lot of them without much difficulty. What concerned him was the spare looking room that they were to spend the night in. Then, a realization hit him.

“Our bedrolls are with the horses!” he exclaimed. Arlen and Orla gaped at him in shock.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” the young woman asked incredulously.

“Do you think our host has some spare sheets?” Vendel mused out loud, having already forgotten the village chief’s name.

Though he was exhausted from the day’s travel, Vendel found sleep elusive. The floor was cold and hard, and the house rattled and groaned every time the wind blew. He cracked open an eye to see that Orla was sitting at the table. They had decided that it would be prudent for them to take turns to keep watch. Of course, the prince would not denigrate himself to such a menial task, so it was up to Arlen and Orla. Arlen had taken the first watch, and it was now Orla’s turn, which meant that it was after midnight. Idly, the prince wondered how many hours were left until dawn when they could be on their way.

Vendel’s heart began to pound when he heard a gurgle coming from the bedroom. Orla was the first to her feet and Arlen was as well half a second later. Vendel scrambled to his feet. When he noticed the sword in the older man’s hand, he reached for his hip and his heart sank when he could not feel the familiar touch of his hilt.

“You left your sword on the table, My Prince,” Arlen whispered. “It’s next to your helmet.”

Red faced, Vendel rushed over and retrieved his sword. He looked at his crimson helmet for a moment and decided against putting it on. Impairing his vision in these cramped quarters might not be the smartest thing. However, if they had to fight their way out of the village…

His deliberations were interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. Arlen moved closer to the others without keeping his eyes off the door.

“The most important thing is to stay together.”

Vendel’s head was drenched from sweat now, and soon, a shadow appeared at the bedroom’s doorway. The figure was small, almost the size of a child, and Vendel’s eyes were drawn immediately to the blood stained knife in its hand.

“Carla?” Arlen breathed. “What are you doing here?”

“You are looking for a path down to the shore, aren’t you?” her voice trembled with fear.

“Do you know a way down?” Vendel blurted.

“Yes,” she replied. “But in exchange for leading you there, I want you to get me out of here.”

“Where’s the chief?” Arlen demanded.

The girl cocked her head at the bedroom behind her before moving out of the way. Arlen and Vendel exchanged looks, and the trio slowly entered the small room with Arlen in the lead. The prince brought up the rear, not taking his eyes off the girl, who placed her blood stained knife on the ground.

“What have you done, girl?” Arlen gasped.

Vendel turned around to see the village chief lying on his back with a deep gash across his neck. His eyes were glassy as they stared at the ceiling, and his mouth was open in shock as he lay motionless in a slowly growing pool of his own blood.

“This village is built over the only way down to the shore,” Carla replied as she leaned against the kitchen table. “They would never have led you down.”

“How did you come to this village?” Vendel asked.

“We can talk about that later,” Arlen interrupted. “Speed is of the essence, we need to get down to the shore, retrieve the artifact and leave before anyone notices the chief is dead.”

“I thought the same,” Carla agreed.

“I need to know one thing before we leave,” Orla insisted. “If they wanted us gone, why did they keep us here for the night?”

“They took one of your horses to inform the others,” Carla replied. “If you realized it was gone yesterday, they feared you would insist they look for it at once and notice one of the villagers was also missing.”

Vendel glanced at Arlen who shrugged. The prince then widened his eyes in alarm when the older man drove the tip of his sword through the chief’s heart.

“Can never be too careful,” he muttered.

Carla looked out the window anxiously. “We must leave, the others will be up at dawn.”

Arlen nodded. “Lead the way.”

Orla bumped up against the older man as he walked past and warned, “This could be a trap.”

“I know,” he replied. “But this is a promising lead that we cannot afford to overlook. Just be on guard.”

“We could go back for reinforcements,” she suggested.

“No,” Vendel blurted. “We have been entrusted with this task, and there is no need to run for help just yet.”

Orla glared at the prince, and Arlen intervened quickly. “The prince is right. Besides, if we leave, we risk the villagers taking the artifact and disappearing.”

The young woman grunted. “Fine.”