They made good time through the friendly Helberion countryside, stopping at inns and boarding houses for the night and exchanging greetings with the other travellers they passed on the road. They rode in silence for the most part. They had gotten to know each other so well over the past few years that words were not necessary. One of the men would see a group of good looking women working a field and would give a grunt to attract the attentions of his fellows, followed by a nod of his head towards the objects of interests, bringing smiles and chuckles of appreciation. Or one of them would scowl at a fly buzzing around his head, waving at it with his hand, causing the others to exchange amused glances.

     The Brigadier himself rode at the head of their little column, eyes fixed straight ahead, thinking thoughts that he kept to himself, and Malone rode beside him on his much smaller horse. Now and then he silently cursing legs that still had not quite adapted themselves to a bipedal gait and that were sore from being spread wide on the saddle for hours at a time.

     It took them a couple of weeks to reach the end of the civilised, well populated lands that surrounded the great city of Marboll, after which they found themselves passing through the much emptier, less friendly lands that covered the greater part of the world they lived in. There were still towns and villages to be found here, but they were a full days travel apart and suspicious of strangers, heavily defended against the wild tribes and bands of outlaws that preyed upon the weak and unprepared. Soon they found themselves passing beneath the dense canopy of the Great Southern Forest and felt the air growing heavy about them, humid and filled with clouds of biting insects. Every man kept himself wary and at full alert as they passed along the narrow road, knowing that unfriendly eyes could be upon them at any time, searching for signs that they would be easy prey. They kept swords, pistols and crossbows in plain sight, therefore. A warning and a deterrence in case the uniforms and armour of the Helberion Ranger Corps were not enough.

     They spent their first night after entering the forest in an abandoned woodcutter’s cottage. They left the horses in the conveniently empty woodyard whose surrounding fence had been hastily repaired some time in the recent past, indicating that other travellers came this way on occasion, probably passing to and from the nearby market town of Thellow. The Brigadier detailed two of his men to keep watch in case they had visitors, then returned to where Malone was cooking a stew.

     “Found some wild carrots growing out front,” the batman explained as the Brigadier bent over the cook pot. “Probably used to be a vegetable garden. Adds some much needed bulk to the mutton.”

     “As do the globs, I see,” the Brigadier muttered to himself without enthusiasm.

     “Nothing wrong with globs, Sir. My parents used to practically live on them. My dad said they’re ubi... ubi... What was the word? Ubiquitous. That means they’re good for you.”

     “Your father had a rather larger vocabulary than you, didn’t he?” chuckled Crane, grinning at the others to share the joke.

     Malone shot him a savage look. “Back home, we had a big metal tank full of globs that we dropped all the food waste in. Potato peelings. Carrot leaves. All the animal bits we didn't eat. The globs ate it all and multiplied like rabbits. They split in half when they get too big, you know. Then, anytime one of us fancied a snack we just scooped out a few with a big ladle, washed them, boiled them up and ate them like berries. Just popped them into our mouths one at a time. We never went hungry in our family. I was thinking of carrying a few here, with us. A small sack or something...”

    “Please don't,” said Crane, looking around at the others and winking.

     Malone ignored him and spooned one of the small, gelatinous creatures out of the stew with the ladle. Its original transparency was turning a milky white. Another few minutes should do it, he mused, dropping it back in.

     “It had wings!” one of the men exclaimed with horror. “Little fly wings! I ain’t eating that! And that one’s got legs!”

     “Makes it crunchy, Harper,” the batman replied curtly, taking a sip from his canteen.

     ‘Globs that are starting to turn taste funny. I ate one that had turned half into a snail. Tasted of goat turds.”

     “I’m not going to ask how you know what goat turds taste like.”

     “You got to throw away the ones that’ve started to turn. They’re no good for anything. Probably just die anyway.”

     “It’s the ones that haven’t started to turn you should throw away,” put in another of the men, chewing the end of his pencil. “They might get adopted by something.” He bent back over his diary.

     “Only one glob in thousands get adopted, you know that.”

     “Yeah, but that one might be a human one day.” He began singing a childhood rhyme. “The glob gets adopted by the spi-der. The spider gets adopted by the field mouse. The mouse gets adopted by the puss cat. The cat gets adopted by the hound dog...”

     “Dogs can’t adopt cats,” pointed out Harper. “They’re on the same rung,”

     “It’s just a stupid rhyme...”

☆☆☆

     The Brigadier got to his feet and went outside, leaving the men to their banter. It was almost dark, and an almost full moon was rising above the treetops to the east. He passed a word with the two men guarding the horses, then went to stand by the ruined gates leading out into the countryside. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders against the chill and stood there for a while, listening to the starlight chorus of the night creatures. After a while Sergeant Blane came out to join him. He stood there in silence for a few moments, until the Brigadier turned to look at him. “Something on your mind, Blane?”

     “Just thinking of the road ahead. The silk road takes us pretty close to Radiant territory. You remember Elleron? Back in our army days?”

     “The Wiltsman. Not many foreigners join the Helberion army. Small guy. Tiny little eyes, always darting all over the place. Always had trouble making out what he was saying, that strange accent of his.”

     “That’s the guy. Wasn't sure you'd remember him.”

     “I remember them all. All the ones who died under my command. What about him?”

     “He came from Forthold. Close to the Overmoors. That's Radiant territory, as you probably know. He was always talking about it, telling us all the stories they told about that place. People stayed well away from it. Those who got too close said they saw things. Lights in the sky. Not Radiants, other kinds of lights. And they said they heard voices. Human voices, but strange. Ellison always looked scared when he talked about it. The place genuinely spooked him. He said he joined the army just to get away from it.”

     “Never took you for a superstitious man, Sergeant.”

     “I'm not, but I've heard similar things from other people. We all have.” The Brigadier nodded. “I was thinking we could turn west, go through the Maybells. Just to be on the safe side.”

     “That would put weeks on our journey. Princess Ardria may not have those weeks.”

     “Better to get there late than not at all.”

     “The Radiant lands aren’t any more dangerous than any other lands. I've been through a Radiant zone myself, during the Bailey incident. I actually came within sight of a Radiant city, and I know of others who've done the same thing. Merchants do it too, to get away from raiders and outlaws. People avoid the area for superstitious reasons.”

     “There has to be something behind the stories. Something real.”

     “Possibly, but we can't let our course be determined by such things. As it happens, I wasn’t thinking of taking the silk road.” Blane nodded in relief. “I was thinking of turning south.”

     Blane stared at him. “Through Radiant territory?”

     “Other people have done it. I've done it, as I just said.”

     “And other people have disappeared without trace. Probably adopted by the Radiants, or killed for trespassing.” The Brigadier made no comment, and Blane sighed. “If you lead us there, we will follow. You know that. But are you sure this is a good idea?”

     “It’ll save us six weeks. That could make all the difference.”

     “As you say, Sir. I’ll tell the men.”

     The Brigadier nodded, and Blane left him to his thoughts.