The hidden passage cut through the hillside like a secret vein of ore: narrow, damp, and smelling of earth and old dwarf smoke. The merchant had sold them the route the moment he accepted to smuggle them and a favor owed, back when favors still felt cheap. Now it was the only road left.
Byung rode in the middle, reins loose in his bandaged hands. The bruises along his jaw had ripened to deep purple, and every breath still tugged at cracked ribs, but the short, hard sleep in the brothel had done its work. His eyes were sharp again, ears pricked forward. Maui rode point, her bulk filling the tunnel so completely that the horse had to walk half-sideways. Murkfang lay across the saddlebow in front of her, wrapped in blankets, head lolling with fevered dreams.
They emerged from the passage just after an hour, stepping into goblin territory proper.
The air hit them like a wall.
