Faabar bellied down to the ground and crawled to the lip. Padric followed his example. Deglan beat him to the top and lay to Padric’s left. When he settled in Padric looked over to catch the gnome’s eye and recoiled, clamping his teeth shut against a cry of alarm. It was not the herbalist lying next to him.

The body was of a size with Deglan, but where the gnome was solid and husky, this creature was wiry of limb and ill-formed. It wore a leather jerkin, studded with metal and on its feet were armored boots of heavy iron plate. A vicious looking billhook lay clutched in its knobby fingers. But the worst was the face, pinched and narrow, ears and nose sharply pointed, a wide gap-toothed mouth lying open and slack. The body was belly down on the ground, but the pale eyes stared up at the night sky, the flat head turned completely around on a broken neck. Padric had seen a face like it once before, rotting on a pole. That goblin, like this one, had been dead. The dozens in the small valley below were very much alive.

They thronged around a large bonfire, the blaze illuminating them in a harsh, hot radiance, their twisted shadows stretched and capering. The leaves of the trees, normally soft gold and honest orange, were molten hands shimmering above the furious clamor of the goblins. All were armed and armored similar to the corpse next to Padric, their heavy boots stomping, spears, scythes, bills, halberds, all thrusting into the ember filled air. The goblins cavorted and cheered. The fire burned and everything was awash in red anger; the boulders, the dirt, the trees, the skin of the goblins and the rough, shapeless bonnets atop every head. Padric locked his teeth together.

Red Caps.

Padric learned today that not all fables are false; that history and legend are sometimes one, but he needed no tale to tell him these were dangerous creatures. These fanatical killers had plagued the mortals of Airlann for generations and were spoken of with as much fear and disdain as the gruagach. But where a changeling worked its evil with trickery, deceit and quiet murder, the Red Caps brought theirs with the torch and the sword, razing whole villages, using the blood of their victims to dye their hats that horrible color. Even the warriors in Stone Fort grew grim at the mention of Red Caps. Padric heard they slaughtered other Fae-folk with equal impunity.

He looked over at his companions. Piskie, gnome and fomori. Each face a carved mask of disdain, the firelight etching their features in burning shadows. Rosheen felt his gaze and looked over. Her expression was pained, almost shameful, her eyes wishing him a thousand miles away. Beyond her, he saw Deglan lurch forward, his eyes wide, the muscles of his jaw working beneath the skin. Padric turned back to the valley and saw the goblins settling as one of their number stepped next to the bonfire.