Landor's sleep was restless. Disjointed images filled his brain, along with a seemingly endless flow of memories. Dûrost. The forge. The Arka, carring Dûrost off. But there was one other image, one which Landor had never seen before, yet it seemed familiar. Horribly familiar.

An expanse of land, vast and barren. On all sides but one, it was surrounded by dark  mountains. On the one side where there were no mountains, a huge cloud swept towards Landor. It stretched between even the land and the sky. A black wall, streaked with flashes of lightning. The cloud drew nearer, and from it came a deafening thunderclap.

A solitary black figure materialised out of the air, immediately towering over all nearby. This was no Arka. The darkness of its cloak defied the Sun itself. It's face could not be seen, for it faced away from Landor. It could not see Landor, but when it spoke, Landor felt as if a needle was piercing him. The words it spoke were amplified inside Landor's head, as if the figure was within his mind. Controlling his thoughts.

I know that one of them has been found. I have seen many signs, the figure said. There are many things which have been hidden from me. I know not which one has been found. where it is. But I do know that you have what I seek. I cannot see who you are, or what you have done with it. However, soon I shall see you. And you shall give me the sword. Regardless of what you do from now on, you are in my way. You will be destroyed.

The figure rose to it's full height. It spoke one word.

Instantaneously, Landor's head felt as if it might explode. The word was forgotten; irretrievable, the very moment it had been uttered. Landor felt unable to breathe. The power of what the figure had said had nearly paralysed him. His vision blacked out, and Landor made one last attempt to breathe...

... and took a breath of the cold night air. He wiped away the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. He breathed heavily, his heart still pumping wildly from the dream. 

He stood up, flexed his limbs, and ambled towards the exit of his shelter. He walked around the glowing embers of the fire, which had turned a dull red. Bending down, he made his way outside. A cool, refreshing breeze blew past his cheek. Landor tried to sort out his thoughts- what he knew. What he needed to do. As he did so, he realised how contradictory everything was.

He was a farm hand; yet he was also in a line of ancient warriors. He was the hope of a nation; yet he had not faith even in himself. And looking up to the sky, he thought about how the stars -such bright, pure things- were surrounded by the night sky; an inky black void, so cold and empty. It made no sense. It was just the way life was- it could not be changed. 

As Landor stared into the distance, he noticed a faint light through the trees. It came from the direction of a distant bend in the river. The light seemed to be moving- every so often it disappeared behind a willow and then appeared further on. Curious, Landor walked to the nearest oak and, grappling for footholds, he began to ascend the trunk. When he was about three metres up, he clambered along a thick branch until he had a good view of the river.

After a moment of searching, he saw the light. Already it looked closer; it had drifted smoothly downstream towards the island, solitary in the darkness. Landor could now see that the  light came from a lantern, hung on the roof of some sort of strange vessel. In fact, there were three of them; they were lashed together in a line, and must have been pulled along by the current, for they had nothing rowing them and no sails. The lantern on the front boat lit up some of the cabin-like structure, and Landor could see the movement of shadows now, as the boats neared the island, The smooth, but swift movement of the boats, combined with the flickering of the lamp seemed almost otherworldly; it was quite mesmerising. But the silence, and the darkness around it, gave Landor a sense of foreboding.

Whatever creatures drive them, they certainly aren't here for merrymaking. They must be on a sinister errand. That would explain the stealth, Landor reasoned.

When the boats were about a stone's throw away, Landor heard the soft splash of a paddle, and the rear boat veered off, towards the shore. A small creature, black in the darkness, jumped onto the shore, carrying a rope that was attatched to the boat. It gave the rope a sharp tug, and the boats jerked to a sudden halt, swinging round until they al touched the riverbank. It then drove a peg into the ground, and tied the rope around the peg.

Landor was surprised that the boats had moored there- he had assumed that they were going to the Fords to attack travellers, where there would be more people and a slower current.

Seeing that it is night, and these boats have come from the direction of the mountains, these creatures must be goblins. Why they moor here is what is confusing me. They must be here for a purpose apart from looting.

Something inside the boats stirred, and a procession of goblins crept out of the boats, onto the shore. Some carried lanterns, which lit up their features. Their skin was a vile yellow colour, and wrinkled in texture. Their faces, if you could call them faces, were ugly and deformed, often with bulging eyes. The goblins moved around slyly on spindly legs, and their arms were short and stubby. They were, however, quite pot-bellied and hunched over.

Landor took his eyes off them for a moment as he made his way down the tree, and then back across the island towards the fallen pine. He looked to see if the goblins were still exiting the vessels. They weren't. He cautiously began to cross the river using the pine tree, making extra care not to make noise.

When he reached the riverbank, he could see that the goblins had grouped together by the Road and were making their way towards what looked like another group of goblins waiting for them, on land.

So that is what they are doing. Picking up the land troops and moving to a goblin hideout, probably downstream from here, Landor realised as he watched them. He had never seen anything like it before – the goblins or their boats. It explained why nobody had ever crossed the river at Arnas and returned. They had probably gotten caught by one of the goblin troops. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought before forcing it to the back of his mind. 

Landor drew his dagger from its sheath, aware that there might be guards in the boats. He did not want to be a victim to their looting. There were lanterns left in each of the boats, but no sign of life came from them. He could not be sure, however; he had just witnessed the silence and stealth of the creatures, who no doubt were equally as cunning.

Landor treaded gently, with muffled footfalls, towards the boats. All he could hear was his own breathing, as he decided how he would sabotage whatever dastardly plans the goblins had in mind.

I could let loose their boats – leave them stranded and forced to walk the night – and possibly even swim, if they can. They'll never know who did it. 

*

A large, imposing goblin stood at the head of a group of smaller, rather scrawny goblins. They were tired from a long march, and were waiting for the scout from the river troop. The large goblin, the Leader, searched the horizon for any sign of his coming. The Leader needed to report back to Lugnar that he had been alerted to the existence of a dangerous spy- an accomplice to another spy who had recently been captured. One of them was in the area that they had been searching, but he could not be found. 

Yet.

All soldiers needed to be alerted - as quickly as possible.

"Leader! The scout has been sighted!" a smaller goblin squealed. "-The boat soldiers are near. About half a league from here."

The scout came running towards them, bearing a torch.

"How were the raids? Any news?" It panted, gulping in air. Before waiting for a reply, it continued, the words spilling out of its mouth. "The other soldiers are waiting by the Road. The boats are ready." The Leader looked relieved at this. The cold wind had battered the whole troop and they would be glad of a sheltered journey, as they weren't as tough as the Arka.

"Good," he grunted. "and yes, we crossed paths with a band of Arka. Unordered miscreants they were, but they carried a prisoner with them: a spy of the resistance; he had an accomplice that escaped their 'Leader'.  Hardly deserves that title, as I should know. Anyway, this accomplice is supposed to be quite dangerous. Slippery too, it seems, as we were unable to find him in our long search. Lugnar's forces need to be alerted to his presence, unless you want that trouble-making bandit to make his merry way freely to that darned pale city."

"Of course, Leader. We will make haste immediately - you know, march." the scout replied, bowing low in a strange way (that must have been polite to the goblins.)

"Soldiers! Get off your lazy backsides and march!" The leader called out to the troop of goblins.

* 

The riverboats bobbed innocently on the curent, giving nothing away. Landor's dagger glinted in the dim light. After his encounter with Balgor, he felt more ready to confront opposition. And this time, he was the hunter; he was in control- for now, anyway.

Landor carefully placed his foot over the side of the boat, onto the wooden deck. He winced as the boards creaked under his weight, and remembered that he was much larger than the goblins. Lifting his other leg over, he crept into the cabin of the boat, ducking because of the low entrance. As he raised his vision, he saw a small goblin huddled in the shadows. It looked petrified, shaking in the cold. It opened it's mouth, no doubt to alert the other goblins, but before it could, Landor pointed his dagger at it, and gestured that it must be silent. Or die. The extra threat gave Landor more confidence, and shut up the goblin. Just to be sure, he picked up a scrap of cloth from the floor and tied it tight over the goblin's mouth.

Landor did not want to have to deal with it when he left the boats loose, so he carried it over to land and, using some mooring rope that he found in the cabin, he tied the creature to a tree trunk. It flailed about whilst he did this, but eventually it gave up, resigning itself to its fate. Landor felt slightly guilty tying it up, but he reminded himself that if they found him, he would be tied up, or even killed. For a second, he considered letting it go and going back to the island, but the thought of allowing these goblins to do their evil work ended that.

Landor walked back over to the boats and once more boarded the middle boat, and, bending down, walked through the cabin to the cramped stern. Dagger in hand, he reached over the back of the boat and slashed at the morning rope until it frayed apart. Landor re-sheathed his dagger and grabbed an oar. He felt the boats slowly begin to move.

*

The Leader marched at the head of both the land and river troops. The boats were not far away, and another three would be coming soon. The scout had gone ahead. They marched through the forest next to the Great Road, but all the travellers and traders were at the inns except a small few. The Road was silent - work was over for the night. They needed to be at Lugnar before dawn, especially since they needed to report about the loose spy.

Despite the darkness, the Road was just about visible to their right, but the soldiers knew that, even if the fugitive was still about, he would not take such a route. Arka would have to be sent out to Rïduren and the Fords during the day, and they would continue the search by night. Every night. Until he was found and captured.

"Why are we doing this?" one soldier spat, who was obviously tired, and consequently not in the best mood for marching long distances.

"The fugitive we hunt holds valuable information that the Master needs. This information is worth, say, a large pay-rise for us all. Success. Fame. We will be known as the troop that saved Lugnar by our hard work", the Leader replied, subtly appealing to a goblin's greatest virtue: their greed.

"Will it be carrying much gold? Silver?" the soldier asked hopefully, with an expression of lust on its grotesque face.

"Oh, yes. Lots of gold. Plenty of silver to go around," the leader lied through his teeth, grinning sickeningly. Quite suddenly, the soldiers around him became very polite - or as polite as it is possible for a goblin to be.

"I have been a loyal soldier, O most... wondrous Leader. Surely I get a large portion of the bounty," one impish goblin screeched.

"Of course you have been loyal -" replied the Leader " - which is why you ran off when you saw that the traders had swords!" The goblins around him cackled and sneered. He looked sullen and sulky at their insults and jokes.

"So loyal..." one jeered, in a mocking voice.

"Aaah! It's a dagger - save me!" another mimicked in a high pitched voice and an expression of fear on its face that was greatly exaggerated.

"Silence! You lot 'aven't been too brave either, so shut your mouths!" the Leader shouted. A sudden hush descended on the troop, and for a while they marched on in silence, watching the path as it turned through a bend in the valley. The Leader passed some boulders and the forest came to and end. The River was now in sight.

A/N: *sneaks in, trying not to be noticed* Yes, I know that it's been ages since I updated. I'm sorry! I've just been so busy these past few months, but I'll try my best to publish Part 2 of Ch. 7 much quicker! I hope you enjoyed Part 1 - if you did, then please vote and comment! Have a great day/night everyone :)

I dedicated this chapter to Cynarr for her encouraging, supportive comments, and for being one of my first readers! Thank you!