"Servant of Empire" - Ch 15

Our journey began somewhat uneventfully, each of us riding a horse we knew we’d eventually have to leave behind if and when we found the cave entrance that Magistrate Charles had marked on the map for us. Two men from town accompanied us (Earl and Derrek were their names, if that matters), tasked with returning the mounts to the stable once we reached the cave. The trek into the forest was calm, the columns of stone rising from the ground contrasting the green all around us.

I was surprised at the level of relief I felt, getting away from town. I had grown up in cities, and had always felt comfortable there. I realized that being Shadrim in a land where we were no longer the aristocracy was a stress I was very unfamiliar with.

The granite columns rising from the fertile ground made for a really beautiful scene, but I wasn’t here to holiday. At some point or other we’d cross into the Fey, and we’d have to travel in it for several days before reaching the cave that had been laid out on our map.

“You’re looking apprehensive,” Rendo approached me on his pony. “Problem?”

“You ever traveled the Fey Paths?” I asked.

“Nope.”

I grinned ruefully. “Plenty to be apprehensive about.”

“Like what?”

I paused for a second. What I took for granted as basic knowledge just didn’t exist here outside of highly-educated circles, I guess. “It’s closer to the elemental planes, more vibrant, more chaotic. Imagine if everything that made our world wild were amplified, ramped up a notch. Animals are faster, tougher, hungrier, colors are brighter, everything is like it was, only more so. That make sense?”

He didn’t respond right away. “I think so. You’ve been here before then?”

I nodded. “I led my unit along several Paths during the war, but I can’t claim to be any kind of expert. We stuck to our track and didn’t stray, spent as little time as possible there.”

“You traveled there?”

“Yes. The Fey works strangely. Some parts are closer or further than others, some parts connect strangely to our world. Even time runs unpredictably sometimes. We used what we could to speed our travel, but we didn’t go there just to be there.”

We plodded along silently for a while, then he spoke up again.

“Do you know anything about why they hate iron so much?”

“It burns them,” I said. “Something about iron, might simply be symbolic, it’s the first metal that eats energy. It and everything heavier just hurt more. Maybe it’s an allergy though, they do genuinely react in contact with it whether they know they are or not.”

“But heavier stuff doesn’t burn them. Gold doesn’t.”

I shrugged. “It’s them being magic. Not all of it makes sense when you look at it straight. I just know they get really pissed at seeing iron and steel.”

“Wonder why elves don’t get burned like that?”

“That one I know,” I said. “Regular elves have lived in our world for a long time, thousands of years. They’ve become adjusted to living in our world, where iron is pretty common. The elves that live in the Fey are far more sensitive.”

I saw Nix studiously nod, not turning to face us. So I was right on that track, I guess.

“You think I’d burn if I lived there a long while?” Rendo was looking at his pony’s neck.

“Thinking of relocating, are you? You haven’t even been there yet.”

“What do you think? Maybe it’s in the nature of the place itself.”

“If it does work that way, I think you’d never find out. Something would kill and eat you long before anything like that would have time to affect you.” I grinned as I said it, to take the sting out.

“Nice,” he said. “How long before we get there?”

I shrugged. “Never used this Path before. We had wizards create rifts to take us in when I went, and I never wanted to stay long, our reception was…unpleasant. I’ve never used a natural gateway. Ask one of them.” I gestured at one of the locals who were guiding us.

“What was it like?” Rendo asked.

“What?”

“When you were here?”

“Well, it's been several years - for me, that is - since I was in the Sidhe world last. It wasn't a fun outing. I led a team through the Feywild as a shortcut to traversing a long stretch of land in our world back during the war. It was winter there at that time, and a more vicious cold I've never felt. That the fey didn't take kindly to my intrusion would be an understatement. I lost three men on that crossing.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah. There are some very strange, and very vicious, creatures there.” I looked around for our guides. “How long until we enter the Fey lands?”

“A day? Probably tomorrow morning. The cave is about five days further on, assuming a smooth way.” Said one of the men guiding us. Derrek, I think.

I watched ahead, seeing Cannon chatting aimlessly with Sered, who seemed to want to be somewhere else. Nix was trailing behind and talking to the other of our guides about something, moving her hands animatedly, like bird wings.

I drank a little water and kept looking around. We were in a really fascinating area of land – the granite columns that had begun back near town had grown in number and size, rising almost vertically out of the ground easily a hundred feet high. The ground on which we rode had a rolling, hilly feel. The big columns made natural avenues between five and fifty yards wide, their walls solid stone. Some had thin cracks only feet or inches across that led deep into dark shadows, the kind of place I’d expect nasties to hide in. Trees were sparsely scattered about, and leaves were everywhere on the ground. I could see that the tops of the columns and small plateaus had trees and actual ground cover, since they caught all the sunlight, but down here only indirect light could reach. The place smelled of green, and stony earth.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of troll. But then, that might be something still clinging to my clothes. Maybe under my fingernails, in spite of my cleaning them. Or just in my imagination.

Our ride was easy, and nothing interrupted us on our first day. We broke camp at dawn after a breakfast of roasted sausages and milk.

“Better not get used to hot meals,” Cannon said. “Once we’re in the ground, fires will be rare. Not a lot to burn down in there.” He slung his gear up over the saddle of his pony as he said this, and adjusted the belt for his long pole-axe over his back. Carved designs decorated its spiked head, which hung high above his shoulders, the haft extending down to his knees. His falchion was strapped horizontally across the small of his back.

“I heard that in the Deeps, fungus served a bit like trees.” Nix said.

“In a few places, yeah,” Cannon said. “But only the largest caverns and cities. Most places aren’t big enough to support shrooms that big. You’ll see farms making different kinds for food in almost every little village, but the big ones that get so strong need time to grow, and space. Be a shame to burn those, though. They’re good for making furniture, and doors. Best to assume that whatever fire you’re going to have down there, you bring your own wood.”

“Or a wizard,” I suggested while elbowing Nix gently in the ribs, “can conjure up something.”

“Ah yeah,” Nix thought about it. “I guess I do have a few things I can do.”

We didn’t have to ride long before things began to change. Sered, of course, was first to notice.

“Do you smell that?” He asked. I was actually a little surprised when he talked.

“What?” Nix looked puzzled.

“Flowers,” he nodded ahead.

He was right. The little blue and red mountain flowers along the way we were following were changing, slowly giving way to something different. They were becoming larger, brighter. And the trees were beginning to show some blossoms too.

The sounds were steadily changing as well – bird calls were becoming more frequent, and the insect noises increased gradually too.

Strangely enough, I felt the transition strongest amongst us – my head ached, and I felt a bit of butterflies, like nervous energy before a fight, stirring in my guts. I closed my eyes and let the horse continue on its own, and when I opened them I realized the colors were actually changing. Becoming brighter. Some I didn’t even have a name for, they were simply different.

“I’ve only read about these lands,” Nix said. “The people we meet here – the elves – they will be natives, and they will reflect the land they live in. Be careful, because they can be fickle and vicious.”

I remembered some of my old training. “She’s right. Trust no one, and accept no gifts. Although they are incapable of telling a lie, the peoples here can mislead you with the wrong truths. Gifts can obligate you in ways you will not wish to pay.”

“There goes one of your fungus,” Cannon grunted. “Didn’t think we’d see one till we were underground.”

Ahead on the trail – it wasn’t a road any longer – a wide, fan-shaped fungus lay on the ground. At first I thought it had broken off of a tree, but then I saw it move. I realized it had small pseudo-limbs on its bottom, and much as a hermit crab will drag its shell behind, this thing was dragging a huge, honey-colored fungal fan with it. The dark brown stripes across its top gave way at the edges to a white lining, and rings all across it gave some hint as to its age. We all pulled up short to watch it slowly work its way over the track.

“That’s not creepy at all,” said Rendo.

“Let’s get moving before we discover something else that moves here which shouldn’t,” Nix added.

Silently, the lot of us moved on, giving the fungus a decent space as we passed.

Throughout the morning, the wood became stranger – and more familiar – as we went. The granite columns remained, but the entire place took on a far more “jungly” sense than the temperate region we’d left behind. Huge, hairy vines descended along the walls, covering everything with their roots.

Rendo spent a great deal of time scouting ahead, seeming to have become energized by his sighting of the fungus rather than having been disturbed by it as he’d said. I will admit to a bit of guilty humor in half-expecting to hear a “yelp!” as he was snapped up by a hyacinth or some other local flora.

The Sidhe lands were a positive riot of color. All around were shades I didn't even understand, much less did I know such things existed before. Small flowers dancing with electrical sparks; vines that hugged their tree like the coils of a snake; mushrooms tall as a tree, with glowing spots. We heard singing birds, even saw some - and they put to shame some of the prettiest sights in our 'real' world.

The prevailing theory – at least among my people – is that as created stuff rises from the chaos of the Elemental planes, and closest to this it forms solid ‘worlds’ in the Sidhe territories, and later, perhaps more coolly, its raw stuff forms our world. I found myself wondering there whether our world wasn’t simply a shadow of theirs, a dimmer image cast on a more distant canvas. The seasons seem to reflect those of the closest regions of our world (or perhaps ours reflects that of the Fey lands), though the causes are different. Here in our world I remembered from my schooling that our seasons are the result of the procession of our world around the sun, whereas in the Sidhe territories the seasons reflect the dominant Court of royalty. There are four Courts, each corresponding to its season, and the various thrones come into prominence with the various Solstice holidays. Winter and Summer are most dominant, while Autumn and Spring are less powerful.

I’ve never seen the ceremonies of passage, although House Ashemdion maintained an ambassador to each of the Courts in my day. As my father had become Regent of the Empire, it was our duty to provide such representation. I had heard that the festivals celebrating a Transition were most magnificent.

I was marveling at the nature of the path we were on when it happened. Everything Sidhe seems to glow a little bit of its own accord, and I was somewhat distracted observing this. It doesn’t mean that it won’t try to eat you, but the look of it all was just terribly vibrant.

We were crossing a small stream in midafternoon, and Rendo saw him first. A man, sitting on a log a little upstream from the road, with a bow resting on his knees. He was of middle years, dressed in the leathers of an experienced ranger, watching us calmly from his seat.

“Hail, traveler,” Sered called out.

I glanced over at Nix. “Do people actually say that?”

She shrugged. “He just did. Guess some do.”

I shook my head.

“Hi,” the man called. “Where are you all headed?”

Nix held his hand out to the side in a staying motion. “Wait, don’t say anything. He could be…”

“Testing the old trail on our way into the Darks.” Cannon blurted out.

The man nodded. “Yep, didn’t think you were from around here.”

“Who are you?” Sered asked.

“You can call me Beam,” he said. “That’s what anyone calls me.”

“Hello, Beam. We’ll be on our way, if that’s alright.” Sered said.

“Your choice, that.”

I had a funny feeling about this, it seemed rude to just walk on without saying much of anything. “Give me a few, just wait for me a little ahead please.”

I dismounted and handed my reins over to Nix, who raised an eyebrow at me.

“Be careful, he may not be what he appears.” She said.

I nodded and turned back to Beam. “May I approach?”

“Free road,” he replied noncommittally.

I walked over and had a seat across the stream from him. He watched calmly. “Something I can do for you?” He asked. He could have been a shopkeeper for all the concern he showed. I sat on a log opposite him.

“How long have you been in this area?”

He pondered a moment. “I’ve been here for as long as I can remember. Mind you, that’s not very far.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my memory isn’t what it used to be. Live long enough, you start running out of room for the past.”

I pondered that as it would apply to my own context. Suddenly I was a little glad that if I was going to end up in this age, I skipped a great chunk of it.

“We’re on the hunt for trolls,” I said.

“Tough business, that.” He replied. I noticed as he spoke that what I had first thought was an extensive armor was actually color on his skin – he was tattooed, heavily. Both arms to the wrist, and others that must have covered his entire chest which extended up onto his neck. I couldn’t see beneath his leggings, but I would bet he had just as many marks there. For the life of me, they looked to be maps.

“Have you seen any nearby?”

He paused again. “Haven’t seen them. Smelled them, though. A few days back, I think.”

So he knew the smell of troll. He looked down at his bow, which was carved with a number of decorative runes. “Shot one a long time ago, took a lot of killing, that.”

I nodded. “We had a recent…engagement with them.”

“You’re from the world of men, then?”

I stopped for a second. Pondering whether to answer that directly, I decided to skip my own story. “Yes, recently.”

“I used to be from there,” he said. He touched his rounded ears. “Lost my way in this world. After a while, decided to stay.”

I looked more closely at the man, and realized with a start that the tattoos on him were maps. “How long ago was that?”

“Dunno. Days? Weeks? Years? Maybe centuries. I can never keep track of what’s what when it comes to time here. I was a very young man, then. A pixie led me on a chase through the woods when I was out hunting stag. Tricked me into this place.”

“Is that why you keep maps on your person?” I gestured to his tattoos.

He nodded. “Use the right faerie ink, and they keep up when the terrain changes.”

“How did you survive when you first came?”

He thought about it for a moment. “A princess of Autumn, I think, took a fancy to me. I remember being in a lot of court festivals back then. In hindsight, I think I was little more than a puppy to her. She lost interest a few years later, and I’ve been wandering since.”

“Pretty big accomplishment, to not only survive here this long but to avoid being trapped by one of the courts.”

He nodded. “They tried. They always try. I remembered my fairy tales and kept them to heart.”

My eyebrows went up. I reached into my sleeve pocket. “Smoke?”

Now it was his turn. His eyes widened and he nodded with a grin. “Haven’t done in ages, still miss it.”

I passed him a cigar and invoked a small lighting flame from my thumb. He cut the end off with a quick move of a knife and leaned in to light the fresh end. I pulled one for myself as well, and we both sat back, quietly puffing. I stirred the water of the creek with my tail.

He held out the cigar and examined it. “I’d almost forgotten what a good one of these was like,” he said. “Didn’t even realize how much I missed it.”

“Do you have a pipe?”

He nodded. “Never use it any more, can’t really find tobacco here.”

“Remind me before we go, I can spare some of mine. No obligations,” I held up an open hand as I said this. For all he knew I could be a Fae trying to trick him into owing me something. Come to think of it…

“How did you know?” I asked.

He didn’t respond, just raised his eyebrows.

“How did you know I wasn’t a Fae?”

“What do you mean?” His expression mirrored mine. There might have been a smile playing about in his face, but I couldn’t see it – I could only hear a hint of it in his voice.

“You took my cigar without even a question. You wouldn’t accept a gift from a Fae without a long conversation excusing you from any debt.”

“Ahh, you did notice,” he said. Suddenly I started to feel like I was in a snare and the noose was closing in on my neck. I’d noticed all right, just a bit late on the mark.

“I have a dream about you,” he said. “Actually, more of a nightmare. Quite often it returns.”

“About me, or about us?” I meant Shadrim, but I guess I could have meant our group too.

He nodded almost imperceptibly towards me. “You take me away from here, and I am forced to live in a drab city of men. I am made king, over a squalid land clawing for survival.”

“Being made king doesn’t sound so bad,” I pondered. “And me? Really? Why in the world would I do that?”

“Being made king over a prosperous land would not be bad at all, no. But a starving people constantly battling skirmishing hordes of goblins and worse? That’s a terrible fate for anyone who has the sense to care. I love it here. This is my home. The Fey know me and accept me. Why you, I have no idea. But I know your face from the dream.”

I shook my head, it was just so wrong. “I think somewhere in dreamland some signals got crossed. I don’t even have lands of my own, much less the intent to install anyone as king over others.”

He smiled. “It was only a dream. Perhaps you’re right, and it carries no weight. Your face is from it, though. That I’m certain of. Hence, you are mortal.”

“I’m still not clear why that makes a difference. Couldn’t the Fey appear in your dreams themselves?”

“They could, but they have no glamour in the land of dreams – they must appear as themselves. If you were intending to trick me here, you’d have put on a false face to lull me into a false sense of security.”

“Thought this through, have you?”

“Live here long enough, their logic becomes second-nature.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you going to take me away?”

“Not today, and not planning on it.”

“Glad to hear that. So what can I do for you?”

“Just wanted to know if you’d seen trolls and if you had, get whatever you could tell me about them.”

“I suppose we’ve covered that ground, then.”

“Pretty much. But now that we’ve met, I have another question.”

“By all means,” he scratched behind his right ear.

“Do you have any of those maps representing the underground nearby? We’re heading for the Deeps and if you had something we could use, that would be insanely helpful.”

He thought it over for a moment. “It doesn’t go very far in, but I do have a small bit on the tunnel works to the North of here. If you have some paper handy, you can see it.”

“I don’t, but hang on a second, a friend does.”

The rest had gone a ways forward, far enough to not be threatening but close enough to keep an eye on me. I waved to Nix and walked back to my horse while I did. He turned and rode slowly back to me.

“He’s got a map he’s willing to share with us. Can you please take some of your paper and transcribe it for us?”

“Yep, no problem.” She started scrabbling for paper from the backpack tied behind her saddle while I went to my own mount and dug out my tobacco supply. I also grabbed one of the three bottles of wine I’d brought and walked back.

I found Nix with a small roll of paper pressed to Beam’s back, scribbling with charcoal as she studied something on the man’s left shoulderblade. I noticed next to the map was a rather unique tattoo for him – a dagger surrounded by three stars. Everything else was maps, which made this stand out a bit.

I settled in across from Beam, who smiled at me with a hint of forbearance.

I produced my tobacco pouch. “Do you have a bag?” I asked. He passed me a small pouch, into which I shoved a large plug of tobacco before handing it back. As I did, I pressed it to the bottle I’d brought. “A little bit of joy from your home,” I added.

“Thanks,” he said. He looked at the unlabeled bottle. Held it up to the sky. “Red?”

I nodded. “It’s not something they’d serve a King,” I said with a grin. “But it’s good stuff. A Count would drink it.”

He smiled back. “A Count, huh?”

“Well, I think it’s good, and I used to be one.” Technically true. I realized it was good enough for an Emperor now, once I gave it some thought.

“Well then, I’d better drink it, hadn’t I?” He set it on the rock beside him.

“All done,” Nix said as he rolled up the paper and stuck his charcoal back into a small leather packet.

Beam shrugged back into his jerkin. “Hope that helps.”

Nix nodded. “No doubt it will, we only have guides to the entrance. Even our Dwarf hasn’t ventured into these caves.”

“Any trouble here we should be watching for?” I asked.

“Well, you’re already looking for trolls, so that’s trouble right there.” He looked thoughtfully around. “Tiandra is ascendant right now, so most of the Fey will be happy, friendly. But these woods are the realm of the Lady of Thorn and Leaves, and she’s a pretty mean piece of work. Usually doesn’t object to me passing through, but there’s a lot of you, and that might piss her off.”

He flipped his head to the left, suddenly remembering something. “And then there’s the dragon,” he said.

I went still. “Dragon.”

“Yeah, Voerhuentegar is what he’s called by the Sidhe here. Means something like ‘Rain of Tears,’ which is a pretty good description. His hunting territory overlaps a bit of the path you’re taking, but it butts up against the Lady’s own claimed lands. The two of them don’t really have a deep appreciation of one another, but there is a mutual respect there. They generally use the road as a dividing line and don’t cross into each others’ lands. Ironically that means the road is probably as safe as you’re going to get.”

“Is he a stone dragon by any chance?” Nix asked what I was thinking.

“Yep. Big, grey, and vicious. I’ve seen him twice in my life, both times at great distance. I’d rather not get a closer view.”

“That’d be our big bastard, I guess.” I said. Nix nodded and started back to the others.

“You’re not hunting him too, are you?” Beam asked.

“Hoo, no. We had a run-in with him a little while back, and I’d rather not repeat that experience. I don’t think he’d take kindly to us being nearby, regardless.”

“Smart.”

I paused a moment, then looked over to the rest of my companions. They were waiting patiently on the road, some distance away. “Where are you headed next?” I asked him.

“Azarath, it’s a city near here,” he said. “Moves around quite often.”

“It’s a tent city or something?” I asked.

“No, I mean the land shifts, the city moves. I’ve been looking for it for weeks.”

“Well that makes it hard to locate, I’d guess.”

“I think that’s why they do it, I don’t think they want to be found.”

“Someone you’re seeking there?”

“Just wanted to see it.” He shrugged.

I paused for a moment, thinking about it. I hadn’t really considered what I want to see here since I was…well, since I arrived. I’d been thinking about the world as a broken remnant of my world. But it wasn’t, was it? Enough time had passed, even though echoes of my people may still linger, it was a whole new one to me. Maybe that was a better way to see it, after all.

“I guess I’d better be on my way,” I said.

“Yeah, no problem. It was good to meet you.” He gave a half-salute, two fingers off one eyebrow.

I stood up and was about to walk away, when he called out, “Hey, stop.”

I did, and turned to look back at him.

“I have something here for you,” he said. He fumbled with something on his ankle, and extended a hand to me. A thin silver chain adorned with several tiny charms dangled from his fingers.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I started, but he cut me off.

“Look, a man like me doesn’t see tobacco or wine fit for royalty very often. You’ve done me a great kindness, and I’d like to return the favor. Plus, if you end up remembering me later, my nightmare won’t come true.” He smiled broadly. “This way you’ll remember not to find me.”

I took the chain gingerly. Pretended a bit that I understood what he was talking about with his dream of kingship. I could feel a prickling in my fingers as I touched the thin strand of links.

“Well, no promises on that front,” I said with a wink. “Thank you.”

He tipped the bottle in my direction in a gesture of thanks, and resumed re-wrapping the handle of his bow with a leather strip. He was humming something to himself when I last looked.

Chapter 16b – along the Fey road

As I approached the others, who had held up some distance up the road, I finished attaching the chain to my wrist and had a closer look at it. Very fine silverwork, the charms of various lucky symbols. Didn’t seem as though it would get in the way of anything if I was in a fight, so I kept it on my left hand.

“What’s that?” Sered asked crossly.

“A chain, he gave it to me,” I replied.

“And you just put it on? It could be cursed.”

“Well, he’s not Sidhe, or he’d have never accepted my gifts directly like that, so he didn’t just put the curse on it, and he took it off himself freely so I assume it’s not. He’d have been stuck with it if it were some form of curse.” I shrugged.

“Hmph.” He scoffed a bit and walked his horse forward.

Still, it did feel a bit magical. I’d have to have it checked out when I had time. I re-checked my bags and closed everything tight before mounting my horse. Nix rode past me at a walk while I did.

“Not on his life,” she said.

“What?” I was puzzled.

She gave an angry glance back over her shoulder, to where Cannon was seated on his smaller horse, and hustled forward without answering me.

“She was talking to me,” he said. “Doesn’t fancy Dwarvish affection, I suppose. How racist!” He bumped his eyebrows a few times to emphasize the joke.

She rode on, saying nothing.

Cannon continued while making a mildly lewd face. “She doesn’t appreciate that while we might be shorter than average, we’re a lot wider!”

I suppose my face probably scrunched up with the idea.

“What?” He said as he pulled up alongside. “You didn’t know that?”

I shook my head. “Thankfully that’s not something that has ever crossed my mind.”

“Until now!” He smacked my leg to emphasize his point.

I grimaced. “Yeah, until now. Some things I guess you can’t wash out, huh.”

“Oh yeah, we dwarves, we are the secret of why the elves stayed in the Middle Realm rather than return home. Didn’t you know? The first faeries to come to our world were so addicted to Dwarvish sausage that they couldn’t leave!”

Nix whipped her horse around, the angry scowl on her face showing that she was inches away from violence.

“Oh, yeah, see? She knows it, too.” He laughed with a wink. “Maybe got a bit of elf in her background there.”

I raised my left hand open to her to try to calm her, and glanced down at Cannon. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to spend time contemplating your mushroom-dick, and would rather think about the road ahead.”

“Ahhh! Mushroom dick! That’s a good one!” he slapped me twice on my leg, stinging where he hit. His laughter was probably audible back in Adelhome. “Never heard that before, that’s great. Mushroom dick! Yeah, you and me can be friends. That was a good one.”

As if to emphasize the point, my horse took that moment to experience a rather emphatic bout of flatulence.

“Cannon, really man, put a leash on it,” Rendo called from ahead.

“Wasn’t me, runt. I own mine. That was all Az here,” he thumbed in my direction and held his nose.

“My horse, jackass,” I muttered. I grinned as I did though. It was funny, after all. “Couldn’t have been him anyhow, if everything is wider, his bunghole can’t make that kind of sound.”

“If everyone is done with the dick and poop jokes,” Sered said, “Can we move along now? We have a map of the caverns, at least as far as the Underhighway.”

As we pulled out, Cannon chuckled quietly, muttering “Underhighway in my shorts,” and proceeded to start telling jokes, which I did my best to tune out. I’m sure they’d be funnier if I were drunk – and I was also quite sure I’d hear them again before long.

We rode on for several hours, and along the way the stream where we’d seen Beam turned into a wide and clear river to our left side. It’s water was crystal clear near shore, fading to a milky blue where it was deeper and the minerals in it showed. The road ran alongside it, some twenty paces from the water’s edge, trees forming a thick band on our right between it and the granite columns. On the opposite side, the land leveled out a bit into choppy hills instead of giant columns, and great trees dripping with vines lifted themselves heavily from the ground. An enormous mountain range was visible in the far distance.

The trouble hit us at a place where the river took a hard turn right and ended in a sizable pond butting up against the side of the granite columns. I had to assume the water exited into an underground track beneath the stone. The road hooked around to ford the water before it began to pool, at a shallow rocky area bordered by huge willows and thick beds of water reeds and cress.

Across the river, I noticed among the broken hills were three regularly-shaped ones, draped with wildflowers. In the gentle breeze swaying the grass I might never have noticed they were different, but something about them caught my eye. They had to be barrows.

We had stopped to let the horses drink, and I was filling my canteen when I noticed the fish in the river. Smallish, barely half a palm in size, they darted in small swarms here and there…but mostly here. When one nipped at my canteen I thought nothing of it, but the second made a distinct scraping sound against the wood. I lifted the filled container and squeezed the cap back on, turning it around to look.

Fresh grooves were carved in the wood.

Those little buggers weren’t just a school, they were a swarm.

A quick glance both ways, and I saw Rendo back along the shore a ways, about to leap in for a bath.

“Rendo, stop!” I called, just in time. He stumbled, but stopped short of the water.

“Huh?” His annoyance was clear.

“Careful of the fish,” I said.

“Those? They’re puny!” He stuck his toes in, just as he said it.

“Don’t…” I raised my voice in warning.

“Ow! Shit!” He yanked his foot back and I saw a glittering jewel clinging to his big toe. As I watched it fell back into the river with a gentle splash. A sprinkle of crimson went with it, and where the blood touched the surface, the water erupted into a froth.

“Hell’s gates!” Nix said. She’d been looking from where he was holding the mounts.

A thought struck me. “Get the horses away from the water. They were safe before, not bathing in it, but there’s blood in the water now.”

We drew them back, none of the animals appeared to be harmed.

“How are we going to get across that?” Sered pondered.

“I think I’ve got something,” Nix said. She was digging a book out of her packs and thumbing through the pages.

“Anyone have anything that can repel fish?” Rendo asked as he wrapped a strip of cloth around his toe. He winced as he drew it tight. I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“Cannon’s shorts?” Nix suggested.

“Hardee har har, my shorts stay put.” I couldn’t tell if Cannon was offended or not.

“Yep! I’ve got something.” Nix called. “I knew I had something here. Give me about half an hour.”

“What is it?” Sered asked him.

“I have a ritual here, makes the bottoms of our feet water-repellent. Says here that it’s useful for walking across short stretches of water, which is what that pretty much is.” She pointed at the fording area.

“Day’s not getting any longer,” Cannon said.

Our two guides looked a little pale, quietly standing off to one side.

“Did you know about this?” I asked them.

Earl shook his head, while Derrek said “No, this river was safe to cross last year.”

I nodded. We occupied ourselves for a bit while Nix muttered something and occasionally drew signs in the dirt with his finger.

I was eating a biscuit when Rendo perked up. “Who’s that?” He asked.

I looked to where he pointed with his bow, and saw a Sidhe woman in a gown of white standing beside one of the willow trees on our side of the river. She had one hand on its trunk, and the other rested at her side. She was easily as tall as Sered, her skin dark as ashes and hair a deep mahogany brown. She seemed utterly inexpressive, looking from one of us to the other with black eyes half-lidded.

“Wait here,” Sered said. He started walking towards the lady, and I couldn’t help noticing a glance he sent my way. He must have been upset from my working with Beam earlier.

“Be careful,” I said. “We were warned about…”

“I’ll handle this,” he said pointedly. Rendo walked up beside me, and as I started to extract and string my bow he nodded and retrieved his own.

We didn’t draw, just stood there watching as Sered approached the woman. Her eyes locked onto him before long and observed his approach without reaction.

He pushed some of the willow branches aside, and held them apart while he spoke. I couldn’t really make out what he was saying, just that he was gesturing back towards us and at the river. Asking permission to cross, maybe?

Whatever he was saying, it must not have impressed her much. A thick vine snaked down among the soft willows and wrapped itself around his neck quick as a snake, and hauled him off his feet. She didn’t say a word, just began clawing at him as his hands reflexively went to his throat and his feet kicked for ground that just wasn’t there.

Rendo muttered, “Shit. Yeah, he does that.”

I exclaimed something and we both got moving. I grabbed my quiver and ran for a flanking shot where Sered wouldn’t be in the line of fire, while Rendo went the other way. His shout of alarm got Nix’s attention away from her book. She slapped it shut and charged, leaving a strip of cloth as a bookmark.

I got into position and dropped to one knee, lining a shot up – this, I had to assume, was the Lady of Thorns and Leaves we’d been warned about. I drew back and just as I was lining up my shot, a blow landed on the side of my head just beneath my right horn that sent stars across my vision and had my ear ringing.

Doing my best to roll with the impact, I lashed out with the bow as I got back to a semi-standing position. I felt it hit my attacker and leaped back another pace to open the distance. Blood was flowing on my head, I could feel it dripping around my ear.

The Fey creature before me had the shape of an elf, but much paler skin than I was familiar with, almost white. Its eyes were empty sockets, its mouth a grim thin line almost drawn on its features. Long fingers tipped with filthy nails flexed, one free and one holding a cudgel of wood – which it had apparently hit me with just now. I drew my sword with my left hand while tossing my bow towards my quiver with my right. The elf tracked the bow with its face, but kept its body aimed at me as it approached.

We exchanged blows, dodging and weaving, moving forward and then back. From the corner of my eye I saw Rendo and Nix charging the Lady, who had extracted Sered from her vine and was hugging his body to hers – she had sprouted thin wooden thorns all over, an inch or two in length. He was groaning and thrashing, the Lady keeping him between herself and their approach.

Cannon had gone to Rendo’s side, defending him from a second elf similar to mine. He had dropped his long axe and drawn his sword, using it to thrust and swing quickly at the dancing Fey.

I recognized that while it was quick and vicious, this creature I faced didn’t have much in the way of combat experience. I teased it into making an overextension, trying to land a blow on my skull again – which was a full arm’s-length too close against an opponent with a sword. I leaned back out of its reach and met its forearm with my sword, cleaving it clean through. The cudgel went sailing away, and the severed arm fell twitching to the ground.

When it impacted, it collapsed into a bundle of wet, rotting leaves.

The creature pressed on, its bloodless stump waving while its remaining hand slashed at my face, but my follow-through riposte went through its neck at the point and exited the side, flopping its head over on a thin piece of what looked like skin. Suddenly disoriented, its movements became clumsy and ill-timed, enabling me to maintain my chosen distance and avoid its attack.

I watched, and in just a few long seconds my moment came: it swung a fierce slash that cut the air a foot or two before me, and as the momentum of its swing carried the arm past, my blade arced up and over and then down through the center of mass of the thing. The blade carved down through a shoulder, splitting torso and severing the remaining arm in one stroke.

The thing simply fell as a pile of rotten mulch. I think I saw an afterimage of dust and debris shaped vaguely like the elf image float off towards one of the barrows.

I turned to take stock of where we were.

Nix had occupied the Lady’s attention enough that she’d had to release Sered, his entire front a mass of bloody rags where he lay on the ground. He was still moving, so not dead at least. Meanwhile, Nix and the Lady danced in a strange exchange, neither sure of the other. Nix had some sort of sword-like fire extending from her right hand, weaving threateningly.

Rendo and Cannon were fighting another elf-façade, with slightly less success than I had – as I looked, the thing lashed out at Rendo, forcing him backwards where he promptly tripped over a large root and fell into the river. Even as he sat up sputtering I could see the tiny arcing wakes of dozens of fish dart towards him.

“Get up!” I shouted.

I needn’t have said anything, he had already guessed what was coming. He went to his feet like a marionette whose strings have been yanked, and as the water began to churn around his ankles he was already jumping for shore. He cried out several times, as the little fish chewed into his feet. I still saw easily a dozen of the little fish clinging to his feet as he ran, wriggling fitfully as they tore chunks out of his flesh and clothes.

Canon took advantage of the creature’s move to swing his heavy sword in a clean strike that impacted perfectly on the thing’s chest. Had it been a real humanoid I’m quite certain that would have cleft its body through and shattered both sternum and spine. Instead, it passed through cleanly, exploding out the back in a shower of dead leaves and twigs. The rest of the body fell, and again I caught sight of the thing’s spirit drifting back to the barrows in a cloud of dust, mold and crumbling wet leaves.

The thick vine that had first snared Sered had been joined by two others, whipping at Althea and forcing her into a defensive posture. The Lady stood well clear, thorns retracted and mouth gaping to reveal needle-sharp teeth hissing and leaning in as she prepared to charge.

I picked a vine close to me as I approached and traced it all the way to its tree. The old willow had a thick trunk, easily as wide as a horse’s body, and clinging to it in a meandering path a great thick vine stem rose up the bark and out of sight. Playing out the hunch I detoured to the tree and took a running chop at the vine’s thick trunk.

My first swing cut easily more than halfway through the vine. Greenish-grey fluid spurted from the gash, and the entirety of the form went into a writhing frenzy. I felt a trembling in the ground, something great heaving itself about. I turned to take a quick check on Nix.

And realized I was in trouble.

All three vines were sailing towards me almost faster than I could follow. I may have yelped in surprise, I can’t say for sure. I took one more swipe at the bole of the tree before me as I dodged behind it, severing the vine trunk completely. One of the three was definitely affected, slowing and shuddering. I could see it was paler than the other two as well, so the loss of its sap must have been giving it an additional source of distress.

That didn’t stop the other two from going at me full force, though. The first one to reach me lashed past my head and missed by a hair, its thorny surface abrading my cheek and forcing me to twist my face away, but the second hit me full in the gut, completely knocking the wind out of me. I would have fallen over, but the thing wrapped around my midsection and began to squeeze – and wouldn’t let me drop.

That wasn’t good. I hacked weakly at the vine that held me, scrunching my head as far down as I could while leaning back to let my horns protect my neck. I just couldn’t manage to get a breath. I vaguely recall the third vine falling before it could really reach me, but the first whipped about at me while the second simply tightened. Like a snake, it denied me every breath and tightened with each exhale. The funny thing was that I wasn’t really afraid of suffocating so much – I was more worried about a stroke. My vision was going red and stars were dominating my vision, telling me that the thing was squeezing all the blood out of my middle and into my head and extremities. If I didn’t end it soon I’d either die of a stroke or I’d simply pop and spew my gore all over the ground.

Which is probably what the plant would want, come to think of it.

I could see I was cutting the vine with my sword, but it would never be enough. The little scrapes I was doing would take a month to chop through the thick arm that had me wrapped up.

The red dominated my vision, I could see nothing else. The ringing in my ears became an ugly thunder before subsiding to a soft, faded rhythm. I didn’t recognize when the red faded to gray, and eventually cleared to show me the mossy ground pressed against the side of my face.

I wanted to snap back and get up, but all I could do for a moment or two was watch, not realizing what I was seeing. Nix was free of the distraction of the vines, and Cannon had reached her. I’m sure I heard him grunt “Here I am, honey, sorry to keep you waiting,” as he swung his retrieved poleaxe at the Lady. The fae creature dodged and weaved with supernatural speed, but I could see a few cuts had already landed on her – she had a greenish blood that seeped from long gashes across her body. Even with this, she was startlingly beautiful, just like everything in this land. Althea danced to the other side of the white-clad Fey thing.

Nix had taken a few hits as well, her blood glittering brightly in the sun. She didn’t seem to be slowed by this at all, her flame dancing around with her, but the Lady’s motions were amazingly fast.

I slowly rose to my knees as I got a grip on myself again, brushing bits of moss from my hair, and realized my nose was bleeding steadily. I crammed the end of a handkerchief into my nostril and picked up my sword.

Standing, I muttered a short arcane refresh for myself, and felt the wash of energy flow into me. I’d pay for it later, but on horseback I could sleep. I raised my sword and locked my gaze on the Lady of Thorn and Leaves. She had dared to sic her servant on a Shadrim lord, and for that she would pay. The tip of my sword was at eye level, and I roared a wordless challenge as I charged towards her.

Something must have caught her attention, because her gaze snapped to mine in an instant. Her pale complexion turned utterly pallid – or perhaps that was just my imagination – and she took two steps back towards the river, towards her willows. In a moment the Lady vanished.

The great willow opened what looked like a vertical mouth, a dark cavernous hollow into which the Lady jumped with the utmost grace. With a snap of her wrist she let fall a handful of sparks to the ground behind her, and the tree-mouth snapped shut with a sound like a vault chest. Across the river, she stepped freely from another tree to glare at me for a moment, then vanished into the branches and grass.

I wasted no time, sheathing my weapon while watching her depart, and staggered over to where Sered was laying. He’d taken a horrible beating, and the thorns of the Lady’s embrace hadn’t done him any favors. I extracted a bandage from my back-pouch and spoke the words that invoked healing. The old elemental incantation rippled through the air around us, settling into Sered’s flesh and knitting the loose bits together. I was gratified to hear him groan a few seconds later.

“Well that’s a bit unnerving,” Cannon said. “I thought that was the work of Meilitta’s priests?”

“The goddess of Happiness isn’t the only source of healing,” I said. “My people bent the elements to our will when we were still human, long before we ever Ascended to Shadrim.”

He knelt down and helped Sered sit up.

“You okay?” I watched his face as he did.

“Yes, thank you. I think I’ll be fine.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “We keep finding ourselves in this situation.”

“We get into fights. It’s what I do then. Where’s Rendo?” I looked around.

“Over here,” the Halfling called. Althea was helping him walk, and he stepped gingerly as he came to us. “I’ll live.”

His feet were a mess. Little chunks had been ripped out all over them, and the holes were bleeding into the fur on top of his feet. I sealed them off with a short chant as well, which he accepted with a grin.

Nix came up, leading the horses with our guides. “We should go before she comes back,” she offered. She caught a glimpse of the vines on the ground and her eyes brightened.

“Ooh! That looks like Audrificatus Duos!” She dropped the reins of her horse and hopped forward to slice some pieces off with her knife. She’d produced a jar from somewhere and was shoving pieces into it. “Just monstrous and fey…never saw this before…” she whispered to herself.

“She’s right, let’s mount up,” Sered said.

Cannon helped Sered stand and walk to his horse. I heard them talking while I retrieved my bow.

“Let old Cannon give you some advice, here. Next time you want to talk to girls…”

“I wasn’t inviting her to dinner.”

“No, no, of course not, but next time you wait until she goes for your pants before you ask for the back door…”

The conversation devolved into something mildly angry mixed with Cannon’s laughter, but I couldn’t make out the rest. I picked up my bow and quiver and headed back to my horse as quick as I could, scanning around to make sure we weren’t going to be ambushed again.

“Holy shit, sir, look at your neck,” Derrek said as he handed me the reins to my horse. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll probably live through this,” I said. I climbed up into the saddle and put my weapons away.

Nix had finished her dissection, and re-opened the book she’d set aside. She retrieved a couple of bottles from one of her bags, mixed something together, and quickly moved from horse to horse, applying a red paste to the feet of each one. “It’s ready,” she said when she had finished. “We should get gone while we have an upper hand!”

I motioned as I turned towards the others. “Nix, is this going to work?”

She looked back at me and shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Let’s not wait around, anyway.”

Everyone else migrated to their mounts quickly, and we crossed the river far more easily than I’d hoped. Nix’s ritual worked just fine, and after a ginger step or two our horses walked cleanly on the water. I took a position in the middle of our group, and when the exhaustion hit me I let myself sleep while riding.

When I woke, we were stopped and I was sitting on the ground with my back to a tree. Nix was dressing my neck wound.

“Thank you. Are we there?”

She nodded. “Been here half an hour. Everyone is unloading to make camp.”

“I’d better see if I can help.”

“Yes, good to get on your feet.” She jerked her head in the general direction of everyone. “Two more thorns and we’re done.”

I held as still as I could while she pulled the two sharp stickers out of my neck. I couldn’t even remember how they got there, the vine that had gripped me had been around my chest. I suppose the thin end of it must have wrapped itself up a bit around my neck while I was blacking out.

I winced a bit as she pulled the last thorn out, and held the bandage against the bleeding. “There,” she said.

“Thanks again.”

She just nodded, and walked back to the rest.

I looked about again, taking stock of where we were. We were at the edge of a deep forest, the trees spaced a good distance apart, the ground covered with ferns and other underbrush. The lovely green of the surrounds still struck me with its vibrancy, and I almost felt wistful to stay here. The sun was lower in the sky, shining through the leaves on us. Small bits of fluff drifted on breezes, and the smell of grass was everywhere.

Earl and Derrek were forming the horses into a small area where they could graze, while everyone else was prepping the site. Sered looked much better than he had been, sitting next to a cleared space on the grass, and Rendo was walking more steadily.

Walking over to my gear, I picked up my pack to pull out a small biscuit. It was a little heavy, but it would rest on the right spots of my back and shoulders, so I’d be able to march with it all day if I needed.

Rendo saw me and nodded. “Going to gather some firewood, maybe shoot something for dinner.” he said. “Come along?”

I set my pack back down and picked up my bow. “Sure,” I said.

We gathered dead wood for a while, not really speaking much. Twilight was just beginning, though it would be an hour or more before sunset. In the Sidhe lands, strangely enough, crickets don’t sing. I’d guess that’s because if they did, the tiniest pixies would track them down and eat them. Or maybe it’s because they’re too busy tracking down the tiniest pixies to eat them. We saw the corpse of a squirrel at one point – if a squirrel can be the size of a gnome – covered with insects. Great black spiky things easily a handspan across, gobbling on the body like vultures. Their mandibles made a steady, wet rustle that was more than a little creepy.

Rendo called over to me, an arm full of wood. “Better leave them be.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I agreed.

The river had widened out and smoothed, becoming a slow-moving and sluggish body. Waterfowl gathered on either side, beginning to bed down in the reeds. I can’t begin to think how they kept the little carnivorous fish off their feet. Rendo and I each shot one, some kind of duck analog about the size of a heavy dog. I slung these over my back while Rendo tied our gathered wood together with a canvas tarp and some rope to drag behind him.

When we made it back to camp, fireflies had begun to blink around the meadows, and the trees were dark silhouettes against the sky.

“Nix, can you help me?” Rendo started unpacking the wood and assembling a fire. Cannon had retrieved some water in heavy skins, and he brought one over to me. Together we butchered the birds and washed the carcasses. Remembering an old lady chef from the Caern Magistra who had spent time learning cooking in Ráth Ros, I ‘saved the livers’ to fry up as a nice side with some toast.

We put the birds on spits over the fire, salted and braced open with sticks, and sat back to appreciate the warmth in the cool evening air.

(All content here, outside of those elements attributed otherwise, is copyright (2025-) Thomas Theobald. With the exception of AI training, personal use with attribution is granted.)