A monster raced toward me. I was too scared to run. The roar shook through my guts. My ears rang. I looked up. Two black eyes surrounded by a spiked black shell shone in the sunlight. I turned and ran as fast as I could. Wheat whipped my face as I sprinted away from the roar. I waved my hands in front of my face and ran blindly through the field. The ground bounced. I tripped and landed face first in the dirt. Two spiny claws snapped over my head. An antennae cracked like a whip as it swished past me. The wheat parted and the brown carapace of a giant beetle broke into view.

My teeth clacked together as I bounced on the heaving ground. I bit my tongue and the taste of fresh blood filled my mouth. Dirt sprayed into the air as the beetle drove through the soil. I was directly in its path. I jumped to my feet and ran. The beetle closed in on me. The pincers swept towards me again. I ducked. The outside of the claw struck my side. I flew into the air, the wheat beneath me went by in a golden blur. I turned several times in the air before I landed on my back. My bones crunched. I lay there, blinded by pain.

The beetle continued on its way, oblivious. Its bulk pushed mounds of soil out of its way. The soil moved under me like a wave. I was lifted onto a the side of a very deep trench. I was too tired to move. I lay exhausted on the edge. I mumbled a prayer to Kraken. The smell of freshly turned soil reminded me of the pit I’d recently escaped.

Eventually the rumbling vanished as the beetle plowed through the field and into the distance. I raised my head. I was at on the rim of a trench that went as far as I could see. Along its bottom were bits of wheat. The sun was high overhead. The clumps of fresh soil were already beginning to dry and turn from brown dirt to gray dust. I tried to sit up. The soil shifted beneath me. The dirt slid down. I scrambled and clawed to stay on top. I slid into the center of the freshly made lane. My ribs ached from the pincer, and the beating I’d taken before that. I let my head fall back against the ground and closed my eyes.

When I woke up I thought the sun had moved backwards in the sky. It was early afternoon when I’d fallen into the trench, but the sun told me it was late morning. Then I realized I must have slept through the night and into the next day. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth with thirst. My eyelids stuck to my eyes. I rolled onto my stomach. My hands were bruised, bitten, and sunburned.

On my right a rabbit watched me. It froze when I moved. My mouth watered. I reached for it. It darted up the trench wall and into the wheat. I plucked a few squirming worms from the walls of the trench to fend off hunger, but they didn't help for my thirst. I wobbled as I got to my feet and made my way along the trench. I had no hope of climbing out. Even if I did find a way up the side, I would have wandered in circles in the wheat until I died of thirst. At least in the trench I could walk a straight line.

After a few hours, the walls of dirt on either side vanished for a few feet. The beetle had crossed a road. Tall weeds sprouted between the worn stones on the old road. As I walked the road, I saw beetle trails cutting swaths through the grain at odd angles. The trails were everywhere. I took the road to the top of a small hill. At its summit I could see the full extent of the ruin. The golden wheat fields spread out as far as I could see. Ugly brown scars covered the fields.

An old, abandoned house stood at the edge of the wheat field, next to an empty stable. The house had stone columns on the front of it. It looked like it had been the farm of someone very rich, but now it was falling apart. I was weak but I thought if I could just make it to the house, maybe I’d find water. I staggered down the road to the house. When I approached the front door, I was surprised to hear voices. I crept into the front hall. A board squeaked under my foot and the voices stopped. I crept to the end of the hall and tried to peek around the corner. That board squeaked again behind me. Before I could see what it was, something hit the back of my head.

“I say we kill him now,” a male voice said.

I opened my eyes. I sat on a wood floor, in a room with a sloping ceiling, it looked like the top floor. My hands were tied behind my back. Rope wound around me, pushing in my ribs. The man who had spoken was a red-haired stilt, a long-legged human. He looked down at me from the tiny eyes in his narrow head.

“Wait, Ragnar,” a female said. She stepped from the shadows. I shook my head and looked at her again. Her skin was slightly green. She was a tree hugger, a nature freak. An Elf. Her cheekbones were high. She was not as tall as the stilt, but she was still taller than me. She wore a suit made of one leather strap that wrapped around her thin body. It was wrapped in a way that seemed to cover her and leave her completely naked at the same time. It was hard to tell if the strap was there to protect her from the gaze of others, or to protect others from the sinewy muscles it restrained.

Ragnar, the stilt man, stared at me and frowned.

"How did you find us?" He asked.

"I just escaped from a bunch of goblins." I looked around the room. "They were keeping me prisoner."

Ragnar eyed me suspiciously.

"Where did they capture you?"

"In Pusstown." I replied.

"Never heard of it." He said, "Where is it?"

"I don't really know anymore, it was destroyed" I said.

"Sounds like a lie," he commented to the Elf.

"How long were you their prisoner?"

"About twenty-five or thirty years I think" I said. Ragnar laughed.

"What a terrible cover," he scoffed. He turned to his companion, "Are you satisfied he's lying now? Lets get this over with."

"I am not satisfied at all" the elf said, "Let me ask the questions"

She knelt down next to me.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“I was looking for food,” I said.

“Poor little thing,” a female, another stilt, said as she walked in the room. She wore a white sheet which barely covered her. She patted my head.

“He just needs a little snack,” she said. She looked at the green-skinned female. “Can’t you feed him something, Freya?” she asked.

“No, Chastity. Not until we’re sure he’s telling the truth,” the green-skinned woman replied.

“What difference does it make?” Ragnar pounded his fist on a table. "We execute him. This discussion is over,” he said.

“No Ragnar! If he is a spy, he may know something that can help us,” Freya said. Her smooth cheeks turned a darker shade of green.

“And if he isn’t a spy? Do you suggest we turn him loose so when the Bupinders have him on the rack he can tell them where he saw us?” Ragnar walked toward me. His tall stilt body towered over me. He leaned down. His black velvet cloak was held by a silver clasp in the front. The clasp reflected the orange of his hair. As he neared me, I saw a tiny reflection of my bruised and battered face in the shiny metal.

“Bupinder spy,” he said. He stood and turned his back to me. “Or not. But let him live, Freya, and you’ll get us killed.”

“I don’t know what to do. But I’m not prepared to murder him,” Freya said.

Ragnar absent-mindedly fondled a string of beads in his right hand. Each bead was a different size. They were clear with a tiny spark in the center that faintly glowed.

“It is too dangerous Freya. I’m sorry,” he said. His fist closed on the string of beads.

“He needs food, drink, and a bath,” Chastity said.

“The bath first,” Freya said. Her greenish nose twitched.

“He smells like a wet dog,” Ragnar said. He curled his lip.

“Why don’t we have Jenna check out his story?” Freya asked.

“You can interrupt her studies if you want. I know better than to irritate a magician when she’s busy,” Ragnar said.

“Fine. I’m getting Jenna. She’ll settle this.” Freya turned to leave. She looked at me. “You’d better hope you were telling the truth,” she said.

“He wasn’t,” Ragnar said, "Thirty years a goblin prisoner? Goblins don't even live that long. What do you take us for?" He chuckled. His worked the beads in his right hand and grinned at me.

"I know they don't, they passed me down the family line like an heirloom" I looked away. My stomach growled again. I ran my tongue over my dry lips. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

“Kraken, may your horn miss me,” I prayed. It seemed wrong to ask him for help again. I was always going to him when I was in trouble. I just prayed that his will be done, even if that meant death. Peace washed over me. My hunger did not vanish, but it no longer bothered me. If I were to die now, so be it. Kraken was my companion, and would guide me through the after death.

“So this is what you’ve bothered me about?” A shrill voice yanked me from my meditation. I opened my eyes and saw a woman shorter than I. She was cloaked in green robes. A mop of brown curls covered her head. Her ears were wide and fanned from her head like palm fronds.

“He claims he was looking here for food,” Freya said.

“Not very creative for a spy,” The magician said.

"Oh he's creative" Ragnar said.

She walked toward me. “I do wish you’d found a cleaner villain for me to work with.” She sniffed and grimaced.

She reached out her hands and placed them on my temples. I was too weak to resist, and I’m not sure what I would have done if I could. Her hands were soft. They held my head on either side. Warmth radiated from her hands. The heat took on the shape of her fingers. They slowly penetrated my skull. I felt the heat ooze into my mind. It was as if the fingers were probing the matter inside my head. She massaged my mind.

“I’m looking now. Go ahead and ask,” she said.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” Freya asked. My mouth and Jenna’s mouth moved at the same time. My voice seemed to come from both our mouths.

“I am Telle Smellme. I was not sent,” I answered with a slight echo as my voice came from two mouths.

“How long have you been working with the Bupinders?” Ragnar asked. I became confused. The fingers worked inside my brain. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“There is no point in asking leading questions Ragnar. This is not an interrogation, it is a mind reading,” Jenna said.

“Do not scold me Jenna. I apologize if I cheapen the experience for you,” he said.

She ignored him and closed her eyes in concentration. The fingers in my mind pushed my thoughts around. The confusion grew and I felt an ache deep inside.

“Wait, there’s something in here, out of reach” Jenna said.

Ragnar grunted in satisfaction. "Dig deeper" he said.

“Bupinder.” Her voice echoed inside my head. She repeated the name. The ache in my head became a throb. Her face wavered in front of me. It slowly changed to the face of my mother. I looked down and saw that I was young again. I was no more than Six, the age when I was taken by the goblins.

“Bupinder?” I asked.

“Yes,” my mother answered. “They rule the land next to ours. Your father has a very important meeting with them today.”

“When will he be home? Why is he never home?” I asked. My voice was a pre-pubescent, high-pitched whine.

“Not now Telle. It’s time to pray.” She reached for the mantle. Above the fireplace was an altar. A statue of Kraken stood before two dishes. One contained fine grains of salt, the other was empty. My mother took the empty dish and poured a small amount of water into it from a tiny silver pitcher.

“Where did the water go from yesterday?” I asked.

“Kraken drank it. He needs water,” she said. She placed the water dish back on the mantle and bowed her head. As she prayed I looked at the statue of Kraken. He stood straight. His head was scarcely more than a round knob on a stick. At the top of his head, a curved horn stuck into the air.

“May his horn miss us, today, and always.” My mother finished her prayer. She put her right hand in front of her forehead. Her thumb was against her forehead so the edge of her hand stuck outward. She sliced the air in front of her head with her hand and then curved it away, bringing her hand to her side in a sweeping motion.

“Why do we do that?” I asked.

“Kraken’s horn is powerful, Telle. We bring our hands up to our heads and then steer them aside, to demonstrate his mighty horn missing our lives. Kraken’s might can be a guide, it can lend us strength, but it can also destroy. We pray that we don’t suffer under his power, but rather that we benefit from his strength. Pray every day, Telle, and Kraken will give you strength,” she said. Her voice was low and reverent. I nodded. My mother finished the prayers and rituals. I fidgeted.

I looked at my mother in prayer. She knelt before the statue of Kraken. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore a bright yellow shirt with a wide, beaded belt around her waist. Her skin was dark brown, her nose broad. Her gnomish ears were small and round. I quietly got to my feet and reached past my mother for the statue of Kraken. My sleeve grazed the dish of salt. It slipped off the mantle with a crash. My mother opened her eyes. I pulled my hand back and knocked Kraken to the floor.

“Telle!” My mother drew back her right arm. I squinted my eyes and cowered, waiting for the smack. A moment passed. I opened my eyes and peeked at my mother. She looked down at me with her hand raised. She couldn’t strike me.

“Of all things to break, Telle.” She lowered her hand and began to brush the pieces of dish into a small pile. Tears welled in my eyes, even though I hadn’t been struck. I almost wished I had been. The sting of her hand would have been less painful than her disappointment. She stopped cleaning up the dish and cocked her head.

“Do you smell smoke?” She asked.

I inhaled. The sharp smell of fire was in the air. I nodded to her. Just then I heard a scream in the distance. A crash followed and then more screaming.

“Telle, stay here!” My mother jumped to her feet and ran out the front door. I sat with the pile of salt and glass. I heard footsteps run past our window. There were shouts. People called out names. I heard screams and the smell of smoke grew stronger. I looked at the pile and saw the Idol of Kraken lying face down. I reached up to place it back on the altar. Just then the door burst open.

My mother rushed into the room. Her shirt was torn at her right shoulder. There was blood on it.

“Telle, quickly! In here!” She slammed the door behind her and locked it. Then she pulled me toward the bedroom. “You must hide, Telle! No matter what happens, don’t come out! Do you understand?” She tried to stuff me under the bed.

“What’s happening?” I asked. The shouts in the street died down. A guttural grunting took their place. The latch on our door rattled. I saw a fear in my mother’s eyes that I had never seen before. There was pounding on the door. Then a bang. The shiny blade of an axe appeared. It was forced from side to side. The wood split down the middle. Then the axe vanished. With a crash the door splintered. From under the bed I saw a yellow foot with giant toes kick the pieces of wood aside. A hideous, hunched monster stepped into the room. His skin had a purplish hue, mottled with yellow. Warts covered his face. He held a double sided steel axe in his right hand.

He stepped into the room. He barked something over his shoulder and then looked at my mother. More grunts came from his mouth. His lips twisted into a sneer. He kicked my mother, knocking her on her back. As she tried to raise herself, he lifted his axe above his head with both hands. The steel sliced through the air and struck the top of her head. The blade slid through her with sickening ease. I cried in horror from under the bed. The goblin turned his head. His eyebrows knit together. He stepped over her corpse and reached under the bed.

I tried to back away from him, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me from the bed. I hung upside down. The goblin sniffed my face and then grunted loudly. More of his kind appeared at the door. They grunted and barked at each other. He carried me out the door. I looked back at my mother. Her blood pooled around the idol of Kraken, which lay on the floor where I had dropped it.

“You’re killing him!” Freya’s voice cut through sounds of the smoogers grunting.

“Keep going, Jenna. I want to find out how this ends.” Ragnar’s voice came from the mouth of the smooger. The goblin’s face wavered in and out. The world spun around me until it was a blur. My stomach flipped over and over. My head pounded. Jenna’s fingers burned hotly inside my head. I sighed as they withdrew. I opened my eyes. Jenna stared into my eyes. She looked sad.

“He’s had enough, Ragnar. I think I killed him,” she said. She released my head. My chin dropped to my chest and I blacked out.