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Doonira and I made the cover of the trees. Nobody shouted, nobody shone a light in our direction, nobody shot at us; whatever unexpected fooprints we left behind would be obscured by drifting snow soon enough. A near-perfect getaway. Or so I thought. As soon as we were well out of sight of the road, we turned downhill, heading in the same direction as the road and parallel to it. It was much easier going under the shelter of the trees: the snow cover was thinner and more compacted, and we were able to make steady progress. "Where are we going?" Doonira hissed. It's always slightly disconcerting to be talking to a person who you know is right next to you, where you can feel their hand in yours, but you just can't see them. This wouldn't have been the first time I had attempted this feat, but somehow it never felt entirely natural. I guess I rely on non-verbal clues in social interactions much more than I realise. I turned in what I thought was her direction. "We've got a few options," I whispered, "Maybe we can regroup with my friend Gamshack. He's prety reliable. We'll need to keep going in this direction to do that." "But what if he's not there? If we can't find him?" It was a good question. But we Goblins are tougher creatures than most humans: less sensitive to extremes of heat and cold, although we prefer cooler rather than warmer conditions as a rule. We can walk for days on end, go without food for a long time - although personally I very much prefer not to, thank you very much - and I, at least, was equipped with a variety of spells and glamours which would variously direct, protect and conceal us both. "We'll have to walk for a while," I told her, "To the nearest town, which is also in this direction." Which is where we would find, concealed under the graffiti that litters urban areas in the surface world, an entrance to the Lower Realms. "How far is that?" I still had the map that Gumshoe procured in my possession, although I had long since memorised most of the salient features. "Two nights," I replied, "We'll have to rest up during the day, get some sleep." "Tedious," Doonira said laconically. She didn't seem particularly fazed by this possibility. I was beginning to suspect that she had spent a certain amount of time on the surface, and that she had engaged in all sorts of expeditions in search of evidence as to the behaviour of the Old Ones. Just at that moment, the invisibility glamour that had surrounded me extinguished itself with a soft pop, followed a few seconds later by the concealment around Doonira. These cheap magics never last very long. But it wasn't a problem. By now, we were miles away from the roadblock and any sign of human activity, and all we had to worry about, I thought, was a long walk. We had nothing better to do than set off downhill. Over the years, my instincts for survival have been honed on a myriad of city streets and underground pathways. Perhaps they were not quite as sharp as they might be in the rather alien landscape we were walking through just at the moment. The winter wonderland of snow and fir trees deadened all sounds around us, other than the irregular shift of ice on the branches and the occasional gust of wind. Yet I was beginning to feel a prickling on the back of my neck. I glanced around, as cautiously as I could, using all the tricks I had learned over the years. Nothing to see anywhere. Still, I was convinced that eyes, and other more occult senses, were tracking us through the silent frozen forest. Wise old eyes, attached to a body which knew how to move as stealthily as I did. I touched Doonira on the arm to attract her attention, then beckoned her close. "We're being followed," I said grimly.
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Part 22