Sir Lyman and the Morning Gate

Git Got Gut

The roadside shrine, with its single stone wall and timbered roof, doubled as shelter for passing travelers in inclement weather. It looked less than inviting now. Three bodies sprawled in lifeless poses, a good fraction of their blood staining the ground.

Hoolie halted, mouth open in shock, taking in the grisly scene. Sir Lyman drew his blade and turned a slow circle, scanning for trouble. A ghost of movement flashed in the trees—but when he turned... nothing. Leather gauntlets creaked as he squeezed the grip of his sword.

The dead men wore bloodied sunbursts. Just like the pilgrim on the road. The one who had pointed the way here. Hoolie's mouth closed to a grim line. Stepping gingerly, he examined each of the bodies. The last one confirmed his suspicion. It had no face.

"We've been Gitten." Hoolie let the man's head droop back to his savaged chest.

"Gitten? You mean gotten. I think. What do you mean?" Sir Lyman asked distractedly. He was still outside the shelter, trying to shake the eerie feeling that something watched from the trees.

"Git. But Got won't be far behind." Hoolie cast about worriedly. "We are in grave danger."

The knight spun—sure of a noiseless slinking, just on the periphery of his vision—but there was nothing there.

"It's that wizard, Kysic," continued Hoolie. "Gods have mercy! I was afraid something like this would happen."

"What? Kysic is dead. Whoever killed those men, it wasn't him."

"No, but his meddling in the Dreamworld is the root of this problem. He opened a door... and now nightmares walk the waking world."

Sir Lyman turned a skeptical look on the little gnome.

"Giant spiders don't sly along the forest road—except in people's fears—until now," Hoolie jabbed the ground with his staff to punctuate his words. "The Brothers don't trick, terrorize and butcher pilgrims..." Hoolie indicated the bodies with his staff. Until now.

"The Brothers?" Walking nightmares? Sir Lyman grimaced in anticipation of the explanation.

"Git, Got and Gut," Hoolie named the three brothers.

The knight raised an eyebrow. Names more fit for a children's rhyme.

"Git is the trickster. He works by deceit." Hoolie lifted the head of the faceless pilgrim for Sir Lyman to see. "He can steal a person's identity."

Sir Lyman stared at the blank visage, an icy tremor chilling his spine. With a cold certainty, he knew which face belonged to the dead man. "That pilgrim on the road..."

"... was no pilgrim," finished Hoolie. "It was Git."

Hoolie joined the knight outside the shelter, glad to step away from the gruesome scene.

"After Git comes Got," Hoolie ticked off a second brother on his fingers. "Once you're lost in the woods... the terror begins. You see things... hear things. That's Got."

"He's here," whispered Sir Lyman.

A branch snapped behind them. Gnome and knight spun in unison. At the edge of sight, a still, silent figure regarded them.

"Run!" yelled Hoolie.

For all his knightly bravery, Sir Lyman needed no further urging.