and booming, the sound of it thrummed in Will’s chest like the rumble of a kettledrum. Then he remembered the words of the shadow:
A stone will speak.
Will picked himself up and was about to run for his life, but the man-thing’s stillness made him hesitate.
“I don’t know…” the man-thing said haltingly, “…where I am.”
There was such fear and confusion in his voice that Will paused, then took a step closer.
“I don’t know either,” he said.
“My name…” the man-thing said. “My name is … Balor Gruff. That’s it. Yes.”
His eyes wandered about the dim landscape, then fixed on Will.
“I don’t know how I got here,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it of the dust that surrounded them. “And I don’t know who you are.”
There was no threat in the man-thing’s voice, Will realized. And the first part of the shadow’s message, it seemed, had come to pass. But did the first part have anything to do with the friend who would fall? Would whatever he did now make any difference? Will thought quickly and decided to trust his instincts about the man-thing.
“I’m Will. Will Lightfoot,” he said. “You were asleep on the ground. The dust had covered you and I thought you were a stone, so I sat down on you. I’m sorry about that, really.”
The man-thing’s brow furrowed. Then to Will’s astonishment he shook himself all over once more, like a great shaggy bear waking from its winter slumber.
“What happened to me?” he roared. “I was on night patrol in the Wood and then all of a sudden here I am, which is I don’t know where, and here you are, and … what did you say your name was?”
“Will Lightfoot. I’m on my way to—”
He broke off, having glimpsed the pin on the man-thing’s cloak: a small white five-petalled flower that he recognized. Finn Madoc, he remembered, had a similar flower on his cloak.
“You’re from the Errantry,” Will said eagerly.
“I am,” the man-thing said, in a tone of certainty. “Yes, I am. And what’s it to you?”
“I know Finn Madoc, the knight-apprentice. He’s my friend. I was trying to find my way to Fable and then—”
“Wait, wait,” the man-thing broke in, “did you say your name was Will Lightfoot?”
“Yes.”
“You’re
the
Will Lightfoot?”
The man-thing eyed him up and down, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Will was stung, though he had no idea why he should feel that way.
“It’s an honour to meet you, Master Lightfoot,” the man-thing said, breaking into a toothy grin. Evidently he had decided to believe Will. “My name is Balor Gruff. Oh, yes, I’ve already told you that. Finn is a good friend of mine, too, though he’s not an apprentice any more. Earned his knighthood a while back. But more to the point, if you’re Will Lightfoot, then I believe my luck has changed for the better.”
Will didn’t know what to say to that.
“I was on patrol near Fable,” Balor Gruff said, “when this …
dust
came up out of nowhere. I kept walking, expecting it to lift eventually, but it didn’t. So then I … well, I don’t know what happened exactly. I couldn’t have fallen asleep. I never fall asleep on duty.”
“So we’re not far from Fable, then?”
“Well, I don’t believe so. But as to which way to go to get there, I may need some time to work it out.”
“You mean you’re lost.”
“Balor Gruff never gets lost,” the man-thing rumbled. “Never. I’ll find my way out of this place eventually, no fear of that. But now you’re here, Will Lightfoot, the pathfinder. There’s no reason we can’t work together, and maybe get home sooner.”
“The
what
?”
“Pardon?”
“You called me a…”
“Pathfinder. It’s what they call someone with your gift. You’re famous for it in Fable. Will Lightfoot, the great pathfinder, slayer of trolls, friend of wolf and raven.”
“Slayer of trolls? I never—”
“You’re a legend, lad. It’s all the
A stone will speak.
Will picked himself up and was about to run for his life, but the man-thing’s stillness made him hesitate.
“I don’t know…” the man-thing said haltingly, “…where I am.”
There was such fear and confusion in his voice that Will paused, then took a step closer.
“I don’t know either,” he said.
“My name…” the man-thing said. “My name is … Balor Gruff. That’s it. Yes.”
His eyes wandered about the dim landscape, then fixed on Will.
“I don’t know how I got here,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it of the dust that surrounded them. “And I don’t know who you are.”
There was no threat in the man-thing’s voice, Will realized. And the first part of the shadow’s message, it seemed, had come to pass. But did the first part have anything to do with the friend who would fall? Would whatever he did now make any difference? Will thought quickly and decided to trust his instincts about the man-thing.
“I’m Will. Will Lightfoot,” he said. “You were asleep on the ground. The dust had covered you and I thought you were a stone, so I sat down on you. I’m sorry about that, really.”
The man-thing’s brow furrowed. Then to Will’s astonishment he shook himself all over once more, like a great shaggy bear waking from its winter slumber.
“What happened to me?” he roared. “I was on night patrol in the Wood and then all of a sudden here I am, which is I don’t know where, and here you are, and … what did you say your name was?”
“Will Lightfoot. I’m on my way to—”
He broke off, having glimpsed the pin on the man-thing’s cloak: a small white five-petalled flower that he recognized. Finn Madoc, he remembered, had a similar flower on his cloak.
“You’re from the Errantry,” Will said eagerly.
“I am,” the man-thing said, in a tone of certainty. “Yes, I am. And what’s it to you?”
“I know Finn Madoc, the knight-apprentice. He’s my friend. I was trying to find my way to Fable and then—”
“Wait, wait,” the man-thing broke in, “did you say your name was Will Lightfoot?”
“Yes.”
“You’re
the
Will Lightfoot?”
The man-thing eyed him up and down, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Will was stung, though he had no idea why he should feel that way.
“It’s an honour to meet you, Master Lightfoot,” the man-thing said, breaking into a toothy grin. Evidently he had decided to believe Will. “My name is Balor Gruff. Oh, yes, I’ve already told you that. Finn is a good friend of mine, too, though he’s not an apprentice any more. Earned his knighthood a while back. But more to the point, if you’re Will Lightfoot, then I believe my luck has changed for the better.”
Will didn’t know what to say to that.
“I was on patrol near Fable,” Balor Gruff said, “when this …
dust
came up out of nowhere. I kept walking, expecting it to lift eventually, but it didn’t. So then I … well, I don’t know what happened exactly. I couldn’t have fallen asleep. I never fall asleep on duty.”
“So we’re not far from Fable, then?”
“Well, I don’t believe so. But as to which way to go to get there, I may need some time to work it out.”
“You mean you’re lost.”
“Balor Gruff never gets lost,” the man-thing rumbled. “Never. I’ll find my way out of this place eventually, no fear of that. But now you’re here, Will Lightfoot, the pathfinder. There’s no reason we can’t work together, and maybe get home sooner.”
“The
what
?”
“Pardon?”
“You called me a…”
“Pathfinder. It’s what they call someone with your gift. You’re famous for it in Fable. Will Lightfoot, the great pathfinder, slayer of trolls, friend of wolf and raven.”
“Slayer of trolls? I never—”
“You’re a legend, lad. It’s all the
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