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Brynn stayed focused on Grimcairn as he walked across the field, trying his best not to the let the gloomy spirits influence his emotions. As he approached the great mound of stones, he saw that it was even larger than he realized. To his surprise, the spirits of the individual rocks had somehow been convinced to stick next to each other. These magical forces were the only thing stopping the structure from crumbling into the ground. The sheer absurdity of it left Brynn astounded. Communicating with rock spirits was usually futile. A rock’s thought processes—if you could call them that—extended into eons. A mortal’s entire life was the merest blip in time to them. Finding a mutual common ground to understand each other was next to impossible. And yet somehow countless numbers of stones had been convinced into forming Grimcairn. ...

“You brought back a human?” Nessana spat the last word vehemently. “He was in the Hollow’s Glade, Scout Leader,” Seleeku replied. “He’d have been corrupted if I didn’t get him out of there. Once he saw me, what choice did I have but to bring him here?” “He could be corrupted already!” Nessana shouted. “Corrupted? Look at him! Does he look corrupted to you?” ...

“The spirits can speak to you?” Seleeku asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and awe. “Sometimes,” Brynn replied. “But just because they can speak to me doesn’t mean I can understand them.” He crouched down to inspect the dagger. A quarterstaff tapped him on the shoulder. “You better not pick that up.” ...

“Do you two know each other?” Seleeku asked. “No, not really.” “It sure seems like it.” “It must be mistaking me for someone else.” Somehow, Brynn was sure that the bonewalker thought he was Kodroth. “So, are you going to talk to it, or what?” ...

An elf? It was still dark, but the moon provided enough light for Brynn to make out the silhouette standing before him. A women with sharp features and pointy ears. An elf. “Am I still dreaming?” asked Brynn, sleepily. Elves were long gone. How could she be here? ...

Brynn stepped past the Fence and turned for one last look at Brightmyst. He immediately realized that he never had time to study the other side of the Fence, the one facing away from village. It looked in even worse shape. A dark mold was growing up the posts, nearly covering the runes, and wood everywhere was crumbling apart. ...

Kodroth and the raiders had already started to attack by the time Brynn made it down the palisade with the others. It was early, just before noon. Kodroth hadn’t kept his word, evidently. ...

It was twilight by the time Brynn returned to the village. To his surprise, he encountered a flurry of activity in the village square. Guards were handing out crude spears and shovels to anyone able bodied enough to hold them, while others were carrying stacks of sharpened logs down to the docks. A passing guard told Brynn that the mayor was in a long house that served as the community center. The soldiers at the entrance to it waved him through without a word. Inside, wooden benches that normally filled the interior were pushed to the side. Mayor Rhoddri stood at the center, surrounded by several sergeants of the guard. He was giving them orders about setting up a defensive line at the docks. As soon as Brynn stepped inside, Rhoddri paused and focused on him. “So, Druid, do you know how to fix the Fence?” ...

Brynn stood in front of the Fence. It was a simple wooden structure that surrounded the village. Faded runes were carved on each of the posts, similar to the ones he saw on the statue in the village square. The whole thing was slowly rotting away. ...

Brynn staggered off the small fishing vessel and onto the docks of Brightmyst. A summer storm to the south had caused huge swells on their voyage, leaving Brynn sea sick. The fishermen had expected him to cast healing magic on himself, but Brynn had yet to learn those rituals, and besides the rocking boat would have made them difficult to cast in any case. Instead, he had laid down, useless, in the hold, while they went about their business. ...