“Take more than a little tap to keep me down,” Halfdan growled in defiance.

“Why don’t they come in larger numbers?” Val questioned. “They could easily overwhelm us if they sent more warriors.”

“A game,” Sindar answered softly. “It is a game to them. Goblins love to gamble, and we have given them the perfect opportunity.”

“What do you mean?” Alex questioned.

“They gamble on who will come against us,” Sindar answered. “They place bets on how many will return, on how many of us they will kill or capture. The lives of others, even others of their own kind, mean little to goblins. They will gamble all night if they can.”

“And when morning comes?” Bregnest questioned.

“If we can hold until morning, we may have a chance to escape,” said Sindar. “If we try to run now, we have no chance at all.”

“Then we’d better build up our defenses,” said Halfdan. “We can pile up their dead and make a wall to funnel their next attack into a smaller space.”

The night seemed endless, as did the number of goblins that came out of it. Alex and his friends would fight for a few minutes, killing eight or ten goblins. They’d move the dead goblins to form grotesque walls around the small square of stones, and then Alex and his friends would rest and wait for the next attack.

Alex always knew when the goblins were coming, and where the most goblins would be, and Bregnest never questioned how he knew. Alex’s knowledge was keeping them alive, but he wasn’t sure it would be enough.

At first his magic let him know which direction the main attack would come from, but as the night wore on, Alex’s magic showed him more. He knew there were more than the sixty goblins Sindar had originally estimated. Several hundred goblins encircled the hilltop, and at times he could even hear what they were saying.

“It will be dawn in about two hours,” Sindar said after another short battle.

“A long time to hold our ground,” said Val. “Perhaps we should try to cut our way through. Head south. The goblins are less likely to follow us toward a city, and—”

“No,” Alex interrupted. “We can’t fight our way out to the south.”

“Why not?” Bregnest questioned. “What do you see?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” Alex answered. “Someone has arrived, someone in charge. He’s not happy that we are here. The goblins need to be someplace else, and we are slowing them down. The leader is sending something to put an end to this problem—to us.”

“Sending something?” Halfdan questioned.

“I don’t know what it means,” Alex went on as if he hadn’t heard the question. “A hand, a fist . . . I don’t understand.”

“A fist,” Sindar repeated in a worried tone. “That’s what goblins call their shaman. Goblin shamans have powerful magic, and they are normally escorted by a hundred of their fiercest warriors.”

“Then our troubles just got worse,” said Val. “We need to make a run for it, before this goblin shaman gets here.”

“But without horses, how far can we run?” Halfdan questioned.

“We can’t stay here,” said Andy.

“Alex,” Bregnest said softly, “can you tell where their lines are the weakest? If we can hit them where and when they don’t expect it, we might be able to break through.”

Alex didn’t answer for several seconds as he let his magic search around them. Most of the goblins were to the south, expecting them to run. He wasn’t sure where the shaman and his escort would be, but the leader of the goblins was to their west.

“North and east,” Alex finally said. “That’s where the fewest goblins are.”

“Then we move, as soon as their next attack is defeated,” said Bregnest. “If we head out as soon as the attacking goblins are down, the noise of our movement might go unnoticed.”

“If we are attacked before we can make our escape, do we stay as a group, or is it every man for himself?” Val questioned.

“A coldhearted question to ask, but one that must be answered,” said Sindar. “Some of us must escape to take a warning to the people of Norsland if nothing else.”

“The words are bitter, but it is every man for himself,” said Bregnest. “Sindar, Halfdan—you are both able to see better in the dark than the rest of us. You two will lead. Alex, Val, and Andy will follow you. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“As soon as the next battle is over then,” said Sindar, bowing to Bregnest. “May fate smile on us all.”

“They are coming from the north,” Alex said after a few minutes of silence. “Only from the north this time. There are no other goblins approaching.”

No one said anything as they all prepared for the fight and the desperate flight that would follow. Alex didn’t like the idea of leaving his friends behind if they couldn’t escape, but Bregnest had said the words. “Every man for himself” meant exactly what it sounded like. Each of them was to try to escape, not stopping to help their friends or to fight off the goblins. They were to escape at any cost, and then take a warning to the people of Norsland.

“Here they come,” Sindar whispered in the darkness.

Alex and the others didn’t wait for the goblins to reach the rocks, but charged out to meet them head on. The goblins were taken by surprise, and it didn’t take long for the company to finish them off. Sindar and Halfdan headed northeast at a trot as soon as the last goblin was down. Alex let Val and Andy move ahead of him as he followed, hoping to keep as many of his friends as safe as he could.

They went on for a time, and Alex searched the land around him with his magic. He couldn’t feel any goblins near them, and for a moment he felt relieved, but then he realized his mistake. Something was hiding the goblins from his magic, something he had never encountered before, and that could mean only one thing. The goblin shaman was close by, working his own magic to hide his warriors and trap the party on open ground.

He had to warn the others, but Alex knew that calling out would be a mistake. He looked behind him, but Bregnest was nowhere to be seen. Cursing himself for not noticing the shaman’s magic sooner, Alex raced after his friends. Bregnest would catch up in a few minutes—he couldn’t be that far behind—and then they could make a new plan for their escape.

Running as fast as he could and still being silent, Alex sent his magic out ahead of him. He couldn’t see far in the darkness, but he knew his magic would lead him to the others faster than his eyes could.

Alex hadn’t run far before he stopped short. His magic didn’t feel anything ahead of him, not even the empty land. It was as if a cloud of darkness had covered him, smothering his magic and leaving him blind. He was completely helpless, and his friends were running into a trap.

A flame of anger came to life inside Alex’s chest and he started forward once more. He had failed his friends, and he was angry with himself. He had been foolish, trusting magic that he didn’t understand and had never used before. It must have been easy for the shaman to use him, to turn his confidence against him. Now he would die—worse, his friends would die—because he hadn’t been smart enough to see the trap.

He drew Moon Slayer and the magic of his sword flowed into him, joining with his own anger as it came. Alex didn’t try to hold back his anger or his desire to destroy goblins; he let the feelings grow inside of him. The goblins would pay for the lives of his friends before this night was over. He would kill them all if he could, and he would destroy the shaman that had used him.

He started running once more, letting the magic of his sword guide his steps. It wasn’t long before Alex saw three dead goblins lying near a narrow path. His friends had put up a fight; perhaps there was still hope. When at last the path came to a meadow, he found what he was looking for.

The first three goblins never knew he was there, and the six who were close to them only had time to scream in fear before Alex hacked them down. The screams alerted other warriors, but that didn’t save them. Goblin weapons and armor shattered under the force of Moon Slayer as Alex drove headlong into his enemy. Broken steel and goblin blood fell like rain in the clearing, and then the unexpected happened.