Cara rose to her sister kicking restlessly. Her handmaids, the sisters Keely and Kylie, slept soundly to her left. When she found she could no longer sleep, she slid quietly out from under her covers. Her skin turned all to goose prickles in the cold and damp air. She fumbled softly through the chest at the foot of her featherbed and found some warm clothes; two undershirts, a thick jerkin, woolen smallclothes, two pairs of stockings, a wool skirt and knee high riding boots. Over it all she wore a heavy velvet cloak. She then opened the flap of the tent and entered the cold night.

A thick and gloomy fog filled the predawn air and muted the glow of torches, stars and campfires alike. The only light that shone brightly through was the burning red candle above. The men had found a crack in the Titan's Arm to build their fires under, allowing the smoke to rise into the air and the new star to shine its scarlet light onto them.

“It's the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Hale. He was sitting on a long shelf of rock rising from the ground a few feet away from the wall of the Titan's Arm, directly beneath the crack in its arched ceiling. They had erected their tents alongside the Arm, party for shelter from the increasingly cold alpine winds, and partly to leave room on the road for any other travelers. Her father had resisted the idea, claiming that their purpose to Thrond was greater than any others, and that would be travelers should know to take another road. Her mother and Dennel convinced him to yield on the matter, and sure enough a caravan of clothiers had passed them an hour into the night.

“I’ve seen much stranger,” said Noxi Spijun Noxi, a goblin mercenary that had sworn himself to her realm many years ago.

“In your mercenary days, no doubt,” Salimod said. He was standing near their fire, Ichar on his arm.

“No, Your Grace, in the tent last night with Dennel. He took his togs clean off before going to sleep. All pale and shrunken he was.”

Laughter echoed off the wall of the Arm. Salimod forced a smile. “Noxi please, my daughter has awoken. I’m certain there are fairer things she’s meant to see with her mind’s eye.”

“Couldn’t sleep, Highness?” Noxi asked. His skin was a very light green, and looked almost white in the fog-shrouded firelight.

“Not with the little one kicking me.”

“Oy!” The jewels in Noxi’s ears chimed as he looked about the camp, then pointed at Cara. “Hear that, the Princess is with child, out of wedlock!” He drew his arming sword, “I’ll find the cheeky bedswerver who dishonored you, m’lady! I’ll find him and gut him!”

Noxi's raspy high voice echoed off the mannarim wall. Cara covered her face with both amusement and embarrassment. “I meant my sister! Noxi, have you no shame?”

The goblin sheathed his sword and bowed. “Just havin’ a bit o’ fun, Your Highness. Have me head off if you’d fare better without me humor. Go on, I won’t blame you. It’s an ugly head, after all. I doubt even I would miss it much.”

“You can keep it, for now,” Cara patted the tuft of orange hair that sprouted from Noxi’s pale scalp. She then sat on the rock by her brother and huddled against him for warmth. Hale held his spyglass for her to look at the star. She felt a strange sense of dread at the ring of red flame that flickered angrily behind the blue sphere in the center, but the steady blue light calmed her somehow. It seemed alive, and alert, as if it were keeping the red flames behind at bay. “What could it be? It doesn’t look like any other star.”

Ser Walsh, a knight who had sworn away his lands to the crown and devoted his life to protecting her family, produced a scroll from a pouch on his belt. “This chart shows the movement of the stars above Obrus,” he said through his bristling mustache. He kneeled down and held the chart in front of Cara and Hale. “This particular heavenly light is not on this chart, but as you can see, movement in the heavens is not unheard of. Some of the stars stray a long ways, ne’er to return for many a year.”

“Noxi,” said Cara, “you’ve been all over the world. What are your thoughts?”

“Oh, Your Highness, I have been around the world. But I’m always looking straight ahead. I only look up for directions.”

“What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen,” asked Dennel, who was frying a rasher of bacon, “besides my aged nethers?”

Noxi leaned forward. The light from the firepit turned his pale green skin a sickly yellow, and his voice was grim. “Gnolls mating,” he said.

Cara covered her mouth to restrain a laugh. Dennel sputtered. Some of his saliva landed in his skillet and sizzled next to his bacon. Salimod rolled his eyes and Hale laughed openly.

“Another fine image to have in our minds,” said the King. “Son, sing us a pretty song to chase Noxi’s ribald japes from our thoughts.”

“Yes,” Cara tried to keep her voice down in spite of her excitement, as there were still many abed in their pavilions. “Sing us something from Eruhal.” She patted him eagerly on the knee.

“Alright, alright,” her brother said, “keep your smallclothes on. Can someone hand me a cittern? Thank you, Ser Walsh.” Hale plucked at the strings of the guitar, tuning it to a low key. He then played a soft air, and in a voice both gentle and strong he sang.

“A man can search the sky at night, and find many a light. But every star is old and far, and cold air rules the night.

Oh I’d give it all away, I’d cast it overboard, Just to hear you say, that you’re mine and I’m yours.

“A man can peer through page and scroll, drink knowledge by the tome.

But can a book give the same look, as a bride when her man comes home.

Oh I’d give it all away, leave it on the sandy shore, I just want to hear you say, that you’re mine and I’m yours.

“A man may win both wars and gold, but will you answer this? Can castles, lands and treasure troves stand up to a woman’s kiss?

Oh I’ve given it all away, and I’ll give up even more, now won’t you come and say, that you are mine and I am yours?

“Yes I’ve given it all up, there’s naught left but my soul, I need to hear those words, for my heart to be whole.

Oh I’ve given it all away, left it rusting by the shore, now take my hand and say, that you’re mine and I’m yours, that you’re mine and I’m yours, that you’re mine and I’m yours, that you’re mine and I’m… yours...”

Hands met hands in applause when the cittern had finished the last notes of the song. Cara was stunned, and sad as well. The gentle and sweet voice Hale once sang with had grown deep and mannish. Back then he had sung of boyish fantasies; of knights and sages and ancient battles. Now he sang of giving all those things up for a woman’s kiss. Would he? Cara thought, would he abandon all Father has planned for him just to kiss some silly girl? She looked at her father, standing proudly over the gathered knights and men at arms he moved as pawns on a board, and at her brother, tall and strong but young still and innocent. I wish he would.

“That was marvelous, Your Highness!” said Ser Walsh. Another couple of knights agreed.

“I’ve heard this tune,” said Noxi. “It’s from The Orc Bride.”

“Is that from the Book of Tides?” asked Salimod.

“From the lay of Indigo Rev, the one and only ever Goblin Knight.”

“One Tide that is duly contested,” said Ser Walsh.

“I’m not familiar with it,” said Salimod, “and I’ve read all the Indigo Knight tales.”

“They have a few more Tides in their book at Castle Gwynd,” said Hale.

“Well,” Salimod replied, “I wager they have the most complete record of the Tides there is. The College of Esper is based there, after all.”

“I thought that would be one of the Tides.” Gislain had woken and come out, all wrapped up in blankets. She squeezed in between Cara and Hale. “Is there another one? Can you sing another one? Another Tide song?” She always repeated herself when she was freshly woken.

Hale set the cittern down and lifted Gislain onto his lap. “I can’t think of any more just now. Besides, we’re like to ride again soon, now that the sleepiest sleepyhead is awake.”

Gislain giggled and laid her head on Hale’s chest. A quiet moment passed and the little girl almost went back to sleep.

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“We should be on our way soon,” said Cara’s father. “It will continue to get colder as we ascend to the Horned Black Gate, but we’ll be warm inside the mountain. It’s best if we arrive before another nightfall.”

“The Horned Black Gate?” Gislain asked.

“Malgond,” their father explained, “the surface gate to Thrond. It has many names sweetling.”

“The Dragon’s Maw,” said Noxi, "the Path to the Flame, the Black Arbor, the Doom Door…”

“Thank you, Noxi, the point is made,” her father said.

“It is a fearsome thing to see,” said Dennel. “Obrus looks more like a fortress than a mountain on a clear day, with Magni shining like gold above the Brow. You can see battlements and artillery all up and down its stony hide. But be it sun or fog, the Horned Black Gate will give even Noxi the frights.” Noxi nodded in agreement.

Gislain’s eyes were wide, and Cara had to admit that Dennel made Thrond sound exciting. She scoffed at the gate, however. All those frightening names for a door. Even the gate to Eruhal’s massive western walls was simply called the Western Arch. These dwarves seem eager to impress people, she mused. We’ll see how frightening this Horned Black Gate really is.

In a couple of hours the entourage was back on the road. Cara rode toward the rear with the servants, merchants and tag-alongs. She enjoyed the sights and sounds of life that accompanied the small folk. The air was filled with the smell of jasmine and saffron, and her eyes feasted on the bright hues of maidens' dresses, foreriders' surcoats, and the many bolts of vibrant fabrics carried on cart after cart. Bells jingled, pots clamored, and children scurried about the road, playing or running errands, all while adults shouted at them not to scurry around. Cara drank it all in, breathing in the sharp, cold air and listening idly to Hedge knights and free riders boasting of unlikely deeds and promising undying love to young maidens.

And there was always the players troupe dancing, tumbling, and juggling about her as they merrily made their way under the Titan's Arm. The Stars of Casimir, they were called. Cara had known of them her whole life, and once saw them as a little girl. Her father had taken her and her Aunt to Golani Palace, doubtless in hopes of marrying Idana off to one of Cassimir’s courtiers or lords. She had marveled at the troupe’s gymnastics, dancing, and their beautiful costumes and props. But most of all it was their acting she enjoyed. She had wept in scenes that were tragic, laughed in scenes that were comical, and buried her head in her father’s doublet during scenes that were frightening. To be amongst them now was such a thrill.

Her silver mare sidestepped to dodge a little figure that darted in front of her after some other children. It was a small drow boy, black as a shadow with his head shaved bald. He must be one of the players, or at least part of the troupe. He turned and looked at her with bright yellow eyes and smiled. He wore a yellow vest, no shirt, and bright green trunk hose. She marvelled at how he seemed to stay warm in the chill foggy air with such sparse clothing. The fog had continued unrelenting, as if it had intended to mute the dawn and keep the world eternally cold. The drow boy leapt into the air and vaulted backwards, doing a partial somersault and landing on his hands and chest. He then lifted his legs and curved them back over his head so his feet were pointing at Cara. Then, with deft strength, he lifted himself off the ground with his arms and winked.

Cara clapped her hands. She reached in her pouch and took out a gold ram, the most valuable coin she had. “Here,” she leaned down and tossed the coin in front of the boy. In a blur of motion he had twisted his body around and stood back on his feet. He picked up the coin, ran back to Cara, and held it out to her.

“Keep it,” she insisted, “you’ve earned it. I want you to have it.”

The little boy put both his hands behind his back and bowed, then blew her a kiss. She laughed, and as quickly as he had appeared, the boy was gone.

Cara heard heavy footfalls to her right. She looked back and saw Noxi on his tarrasque. The lumbering beast crunched rocks under its massive bulk while Noxi sat cross legged on his riding stool, which was fastened to the tarrasque’s carapace by hooked metal chains. Cara could never figure out how Noxi stayed mounted on the creature. She had tried once herself and almost instantly fell off. Her ankle was sprained and her father just about had Noxi exiled from the castle. It took the combined pleadings of her mother and Dennel to convince her father to let him and his beast stay. She had been glad. Noxi always made her smile and laugh, and his skill at arms and knowledge of the wide world made him an asset at the Tall Hill. Besides that, his tarrasque was such a sweet creature.

“Aww, hello, Bolo,” she reached down and stroked the tarrasque head as he came up beside her. It had taken a while for the horses to get used to the saurian’s presence, and many of the people at the Tall Hill still were not. But Cara had always loved Bolo. He was a lumbering brute, and tales of his rage during battle sent shivers down her spine, but in her presence he was gentle and affectionate.

His long grey tongue wrapped around her wrist as she scratched his pebbled brow, pulling her hand down to the side of his jaw where he had a seemingly eternal case of mites. She scratched his jaw vigorously and he bellowed a deep and happy roar. Cara laughed as her silver bucked and stepped nervously to the side. Bolo continued his rhythmic plod undisturbed.

“Beasts know their friends,” Noxi said, “and their enemies. Best learn that yourself, Your Highness, before it’s too late.”

“And which enemy am I unaware of, Noxi? The bedswerver who left me with child?”

“Best stay clear of shadows in the fog, Your Highness. You never know what they may be ‘til they’re upon you, and then you’re at their mercy, supposin’ they have any.”

“You mean the drow boy? He’s a child. What harm could he be?”

“I was eight when first blooded, Princess Cara.” Noxi tapped a worn stud in his left ear. “Nine,” he said, moving his finger to another, “eleven,” he pointed to three jewelled earrings and a weathered bronze chain.

“Well,” Cara said, “that charming little boy has no clinks in his ears.”

“Ah, that’s just it, Highness. Them cave elves don’t ever show their killin’ off. They don’t put clinks in their ears like us gobs, or red stars on their shields like ole’ Dennel. They do their killin’ and betrayin’ in the dark where no one can see, and you lot are bringin’ that sneaky lil’ brat into one of the darkest places there is.”

“You really don’t trust that child? Simply for being a drow? Noxi, I’m disappointed in you. I’ll have you know that when I was but ten and three, my mother and aunt and I spent a fortnight in Protus of Drow. It was the most enchanting experience of my entire life. Every woman, man, and child there treated us with the utmost courtesy.”

“Oh sure. Protus has some nice folk. But every one in ten has the strain, the madness. Don’t you know that’s how Primus of Drow got its start? They sent all their crazies down there. Now there’s more drow in Primus than anywhere else in the world. That should tell you sumtn’ Princess.”

Cara withheld her argument. Nothing she could say would matter. Noxi was one hundred and fifty years old and had supposedly travelled the whole world o’er. “I’ll be wary around the child. But I’ll keep my own heart regarding his kin.”

“Fair enough, Princess. Oh, one other thing…”

Noxi clicked his tongue and Bolo trotted ahead. The goblin stood on his riding stool and leapt into the air. Twisting his body around he landed towards the rear of Bolo’s horned carapace on his chest and hands. He then curved his legs over his head so his feet pointed at Cara, and deftly rose himself up with his arms. Bolo’s tumultuous stride had no effect on Noxi’s balance. The old goblin held himself perfectly level as his mount plodded from side to side. He then winked and twisted about, landing in his stool. Another click of his tongue and Bolo slowed his pace until he was alongside Cara once more.

“I’ll have one of them coins now, Highness.”

Cara’s eyes narrowed to slits as she tossed him a gold ram. “Here. But blow me a kiss and I’ll have your head off after all.”

Noxi covered his lips with both hands, and Cara heard him make a muffled smooching sound. She laughed, then went completely silent. A chill worse than the fog crept down her back and into her bones. They had passed a sharp bend in the Titan’s Arm and their destination lay before them.

Two great spires of curving white granite jutted from the mountain’s roots. Between them was a wall of black stone with splashes of crimson smeared across its face. It was tall, higher off the ground than the Pillar of Autumn back home. Like a blood-stained black skull it looked, with long pale horns rising from beneath its jaws. Above it the dark slopes of the mountain rose steep and endless, becoming the sky as they disappeared into thick swirls of billowing nimbus clouds that flickered with purple lightning. Beyond the clouds was an expanse of snow that spread as far upwards as Cara could see, and at its pinnacle was a curved shelf of rock bearded with twisting spears of ice. That must be the Brow, she thought. Atop the Brow, on the very edge of sight, sunlight flickered off what seemed a city of golden towers.

Cara looked back to the black wall with its pale bone horns. “Is that Malgond,” her voice quaked, “is that, the gate?”

“It is indeed,” Noxi said. “Into the maw of the beast we go. The World Dragon, me mother calls ole’ Obrus. It’s mouth is the Horned Black Gate, which is about to swallow you whole. High above the gate is the Brow, where Obrus sees all the world and sky through his hundred golden eyes. And deep down, inside Obrus’s belly, is the hottest fire that’s ever burned.”

“And the dwarves of Thrond are its claws.”

“Aye, that they are.”

The entire entourage slowed as they approached Malgond. The Titan’s Arm grew shallow until it disappeared altogether, faded away into the gray and brown rock of Obrus’s sprawling foothills. Two walls of blackened steel sheltered the rest of the approach. They were spaced the same width as the gate, and ran all the way to the mountain. The tops of the walls were thirty feet above the ground with merlons fashioned after the heads of bears, the bodies of which were embossed into the sides of the walls. Each bear stood on its hind legs and held another creature under its foot. Some had snakes, some had lions, some had horned scarabs, some had antler crowned stags, others had eagles. The ground between the walls was covered by a level road of polished bronze that vibrated slightly with each footfall, and standing vigil at the road’s end were two silver statues of owls almost as tall as the gate.

A great banner hung directly over Malgond, held in the mouths of nine enormous ram's head gargoyles carved out of the mountainside. It was made of fabric that must have been miraculously strong, as it stretched over what seemed half a mile to Cara, and was almost as tall. It was black in color, and in its center was the crest of Narvi; a silver four pointed star within three circles, one blue, one red, one black. Around the black circle was a wheel of violet flame, and the entirety of the banner was bordered by rows of scarlet wolf heads with green eyes and blue teeth.

Cara saw the first sign of dwarves then. As they passed through the steel walls she could hear her little brother shouting. She looked ahead and saw him bouncing excitedly in his saddle while pointing upward. Cara looked to where Istan pointed and gasped. Within the crenellations, standing as still as the walls themselves, dwarven soldiers in blood-red platemail watched over their approach. Their faces were hidden by visored barbutes with aventails of broad metal plates that covered their beards. In their right hands were metal pikes pointing to the sky, and in their left were three-headed flails, drawn and ready to swing.

“Well,” said Noxi, "at least your aunt is marrying a nice one.”