The Sword of Darrow by Hal Malchow Page A

He did not know the way to the forest or how to find this uncle of his once he was inside. He carried no sword and possessed no knowledge of the tactics of war. He was armed only with belief—a belief in the victory to come.
    Each step, awkward though it might have been, was infused with purpose. In every fiber of his body, he felt strength he had never known.
    On the second day of his journey, the path rose and he found himself standing before a cliff. Beneath him lay a great forest. To the right of the forest stretched a great plain. At first, this plain was speckled with woodlands, but toward the east the trees gradually thinned, giving way to what seemed an endless expanse of grass. The grass was still brown from the winter, and far, far away, it painted a perfectly straight line between land and sky.
    “It’s completely flat,” thought Darrow who had never seen land like this. “Perhaps this forest is Hexenwald.”
    To him, the tiny kingdom of Sonnencrest seemed vast and endless. He stepped back into the road, bounding ahead, eager to explore what lay below.
    The sun began to set and Darrow turned from the trail to find a place to sleep. At the side of the road, behind a tree, he found a pile of leaves. With his foot, he began leveling the pile. A voice cried out.
    “Can’t a man sleep in peace?”
    Darrow jumped back.
    From the leaves rose a head. The head was hairless and covered with splotches of dirt. One ear was gone and his small eyes squinted so tightly Darrow wondered how he could see. He stood up, his hands on his hips. He was a dwarf, heavyset, and even shorter than Darrow.
    “I am sorry, good sir,” Darrow responded. “I was only making a bed myself. You were completely covered by the leaves!”
    “You’d cover yourself, too, if the goblins were after you!”
    Darrow’s interest perked up. Perhaps this dwarf might join his band.
    “What are you wanted for?”
    “Tasting.”
    “Pardon? Is tasting a crime?” asked Darrow, wiping his mouth.
    “It’s a job, clunkhead. I tasted food for the goblin who ruled our village. He likes using dwarfs. Poisons work quicker in wee bodies.”
    “Were you poisoned?”
    “Not one bit. But that sorry spunkernick got sick, he did. And the blame was on me. I was lucky to escape with just the loss of one ear. That fish was delicious and healthy to boot, if you want my professional opinion.”
    “Another citizen wronged,” thought Darrow, seizing his chance.
    “Then perhaps you will join me. I am recruiting an army to fight the goblins.”
    For some time, the dwarf looked at Darrow, a boy, small, and with no weapon. He could summon no reply.
    “Well, if you won’t join me, then perhaps you will help me. I need to find the Hexenwald Forest. Is it far?”
    “What makes you interested in Hexenwald?” the dwarf asked, stepping back, his eyes narrowing.
    “I’m looking for a wise man.”
    “If he was so wise, he wouldn’t be in that forest. That forest is full of bat spiders. Have you ever seen a bat spider?” the dwarf asked.
    Darrow admitted he had not.
    “They have twelve legs and two tiny wings. They perch in the branches where they wait until their victim falls asleep. Then they leap. Those wings help them hover in the air so when they land, it’s so softly that the victim never wakes. Then they suck its blood. They roam in packs, and they can suck you dry in a firefly’s flash.”
    “Well, I will have to stay awake,” Darrow replied.
    “You can’t go there anyway. It is a six-day journey across the plains. And you can’t travel without the goblins’ permission.”
    “Do you have permission?” Darrow asked.
    “I do not. And I do not live on the plains.” With that, the dwarf grabbed his belongings and scurried away into the forest.

    Two days later, not heeding the dwarf’s warning, Darrow was walking through the plains of Sonnencrest. The fears of the taster had not come to pass. No goblin had stopped him and for good reason. Who would