Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)

Chapter 203

“Is that the Druid?” Kosk asked.

Brightbriar shook his head. “No, no,” he said. But Glori could not tell if that was an answer or a denial of a truth he did not want to acknowledge.

Darethan had an arrow fitted to his great bow. “I have a shot,” he said, looking over at Shreskra. But the Ranger leader looked uncertain.

Kosk turned to Embrae. “Can you hit him?”

The elf monk shook her head. “Too far.”

Glori started to reach for her own bow, though it would be a long shot for her lighter weapon. But before she could unlimber it the shadowed figure spoke. They could clearly hear his words despite the distance that separated them, suggesting that he was using magic to augment his speech.

“You will go no further,” the strange figure said. His voice was scratchy, as if he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. “The corruption you have brought will not taint the Reserve.”

“Thus far it seems pretty corrupted already,” Kosk said.

“We come to speak with the Druid!” Glori shouted, her trained bard’s voice carrying easily across the distance. “We have the authority of Tal Nadesh behind us. Stand aside, or we will consider you our enemy!”

“We know why you have come,” the dark figure rasped. “You shall not have it!” He raised his arms, the black cloth sloughing back to reveal pale, thin arms.

“Shoot him now!” Majerion barked at Darethan.

The command in the bard’s voice had the elf Ranger drawing and firing immediately. The arrow arced on a shallow parabola before plunging down directly toward the dark figure’s chest. But instead of striking him, the shaft sliced narrowly past his head. Darethan blinked in disbelief before reaching for another arrow.

But he didn’t get a chance to try again before their unidentified adversary unleashed his power. His head tilted up and he shouted something at the sky, a string of harsh syllables that grated on the companions’ awareness but held no meaning. But the land itself responded. Plumes of water erupted from two of the pools at the base of the cliffs in front of him, followed by two hulking creatures that rose into view. They had the vague shape of men but were half again as tall, their forms covered in muck and growth that made it difficult to see what exactly they were. The water in the pools rose to their waists, but that didn’t seem to slow them much as they trudged forward toward the companions.

Darethan launched his second arrow, which struck one of the creatures in the chest. If the thing felt it, it wasn’t immediately obvious. The dark figure had disappeared during the distraction of their appearance.

“We cannot fight these,” Majerion said.

“We must fall back,” Shreskra said.

“Into the swamp?” Kosk asked. “Something tells me those things will be able to move a lost faster than we can in that mire.”

“Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly!” Embrae warned. “Look!”

They turned to see that more of the things were emerging from pools further back along the cliffs. There were four of them in view now, though none of them would have placed a wager that they were the last of them. The first pair had emerged from their pools, revealing the sheer massive bulk that comprised their forms. They looked like giant shambling masses of vegetable matter, held together with mud and tendrils of vines and roots. They shambled toward the companions, the sodden ground shaking with each step.

“We have no choice, now!” Shreskra hissed, her voice sounding almost as strained as the dark figure’s earlier.

“I think we can get around them!” Majerion said. “Circle around and scale the cliffs!”

“Either way, we have to move!” Glori said. She followed her former mentor as he led them at a sprint along a path that would take them north, paralleling the cliffs. The others fell in behind them, glancing back to confirm that the shambling mounds were in pursuit, as if there could be any doubt with their ground-shaking footfalls drawing steadily nearer.

But for all their size the things did move slowly, and for a moment it looked as though Majerion’s gambit would work. The ground was soft but not excessively so, and no more of the monsters emerged to block their escape. The cliffs remained a good distance away as they followed the edge of the forest, but it looked as though they would be able to cut over once they were well clear of their pursuers.

But then, almost as if conjured by that fleeting hope, Loriellan stumbled into a waist-high bog that had been rendered almost invisible by a dense carpet of floating plants. Once revealed they could see that the water curved around them in a broad arc, almost as if designed to pen them in.

“You led us into a trap!” Shreskra cried.

And it's not even Friday!

Chapter 204

Glori turned to face the approaching creatures. The first two were now within a hundred feet and closing fast. The other two were steadily narrowing the gap, approaching from an angle that would cut them off if they broke toward the cliffs.

Glori strummed her lyre, summoning her magic. She focused on a spot just inside the edge of the forest, close to the line of approach of the nearer creatures. A small group of elves suddenly burst from within the trees, waving their swords and shouting at the shambling mounds.

The creatures completely ignored them. The elves moved closer, threatening more aggressively, but the shambling mounds kept trudging forward. One even walked straight through one of them, the illusory outline of Glori’s major image shimmering as the creature passed through it.

“Glori!” Kosk shouted.

She turned to see that the others, lacking any other viable option, had started to wade across the pool. Loriellan was in the lead, and while the water rose to his chest it did not go any higher as he probed forward. But the clinging muck made it difficult, and to Glori it seemed as though they were crawling though the water.

But there was no other choice, short of remaining there for the creatures to reach her. She briefly considered turning invisible and trying to draw them off, but after seeing their reaction to her illusion she was not confident that the cloaking magic would conceal her.

Instead she sprang forward into the water, holding her lyre up so the strings would not get soaked. The mud sucked at her boots, nearly pulling her off balance. Even as she fought to remain upright a strong hand seized hold of her and steadied her. She looked up to see Embrae standing there.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Come on,” the monk urged.

Glori followed her. The elf woman seemed to slide through the water, but to Glori it felt like every step was a struggle. At least she was tall enough to remain clear of the surface; she could see Kosk ahead, his head barely clear of the water while his arms sent up great gouts of water as he splashed ahead. The Rangers were doing a bit better, but the far side of the pool still seemed like it was impossibly far away.

Glori resisted the urge to look back, but it was impossible to miss the signs of the closing creatures. The surface of the pool began to vibrate, and she could hear the sucking sounds of their massive tread drawing closer. With Embrae half-holding, half-pulling her she stumbled forward.

“We’re almost there!” the monk urged. Glori looked up in disbelief, but she saw that the elves were in fact rising up out of the muck, coated in mud and clinging bits of green growth but definitely surging up onto solid ground. They caught up to Kosk and each grabbed hold of an arm, helping to push the dwarf forward toward the shallows. The elves, to their credit, did not rush ahead toward safety. Darethan was plying his bow, firing shaft after shaft toward the pursuing creatures, while Loriellan was adding to the barrage with his smaller hunter’s weapon. Glori could not see that either of them was having an effect, but the display did help boost her morale a bit. Majerion emerged from the clinging mud and shook himself off. Strumming his lyre, he conjured a bit of magical potency that caused the muck to slough off of his body, leaving him looking only slightly mussed.

Shreskra and Tenaille turned back to help pull Kosk up out of the water. Glori glanced back to see that the pursuing creatures had reached the far edge of the pool; even as she watched the first took a deep stride forward, the mud and water offering it no difficulty.

“Come on, come on!” Shreskra said, but even as Glori pulled herself fully out of the pool Loriellan shouted, “We’re being cut off!”

They turned to see that the two flanking creatures had circled wide around the pool, taking them further from the companions for the moment but effectively blocking their route to the cliffs. And behind them, Glori could now see as she stood, was still another sodden mirk, this one tangled with an even denser nest of growth.

“We’re better off engaging those two than waiting to be attacked on both sides,” Kosk said. The soaked and miserable-looking dwarf started forward, but Majerion caught his shoulder and held him up. “I might be able to hold them off,” he said. “Follow that shoreline over there!” he commanded.

The indicated route would take them close to the slowly-approaching creatures, but lacking a better option they all headed in that direction. The two shambling mounds adjusted their course to cut them off again.

Majerion strummed his lyre, the instrument thrumming with strains of power that Glori remembered well. She could almost see the notes as he flung them out from the device, conjuring magic that took on solid form.

Once more flames surged up at the elf’s command. They formed a more or less straight line that sliced between several of the pools, the heat causing the water to bubble and steam. Glori flinched as the near edge of the wall of fire approached close enough for her almost to touch, but somehow the heat of it radiated away from them, toward their adversaries.

The shambling mounds clearly felt that heat. The two flanking them recoiled instinctively from it, giving the fugitives a brief opportunity to rush past. Once clear they sprinted toward the cliffs.

One of the shambling mounds stepped aside into one of the pools as flames licked its upper body. The other sank into the sodden ground.

“They’re giving up!” Darethan shouted.

“I wouldn’t bet on it!” Kosk yelled back.

The dwarf’s warning was proven true a moment later, as the ground on their side of the wall began to bulge upward. The muddy soil split open to reveal an arm formed of woven vines, followed by the rest of the creature. The two that had followed their quarry into the pool had likewise detoured around the edge of the wall of fire and quickly found themselves again on solid ground. But the companions were past them, and soon reached the base of the cliffs, where a twenty-five-foot ascent of crumbling dirt and rocks waited for them.

Tenaille did not hesitate; as soon as the Ranger hit the wall she sprang up and began climbing. She had drawn out two of her knives, squat, shovel-shaped blades that bit hard into the surface. At first Loriellan started to follow her, but he managed to get only five feet off the ground before the loose earth gave way and he slid back down to the ground. The others quickly gathered into a perimeter around the limp and choking figure of the Tender, who had collapsed against the base of the cliff.

“Can you manage another of those fire-walls?” Kosk asked. All four of the creatures had now bypassed the barrier, though the spell had bought them some distance.

“Only once per day, unfortunately,” Majerion said.

“I have a few more things I can try,” Glori said. “But I’ll have to wait until they get close.” She looked up and saw that Tenaille had already vanished over the crest of the cliff. She felt a momentary fear that the cloaked enemy had been waiting for her up there, but then a length of rope was cast over the edge, followed a moment later by a second.

“Go, go!” Shreskra said, thrusting first Embrae and then Loriellan toward the ropes. The monk hesitated for only a moment before scrambling up the ascent as if it was a flat surface rather than an almost sheer cliff.

“Majerion, Glori, you’re next,” the Ranger leader said.

“The Tender…” Glori began.

“Tie the rope around him if he can’t climb,” Shreskra said. “Around his neck would be fine,” she added in an undertone that Glori just barely picked up.

But Majerion had gotten the old man back to his feet, and with only a little prodding he started up the rope. Loriellan got to the top and tossed down a third length of rope, then began to help pull Brightbriar up.

“Going to be tight,” Kosk said as Glori grabbed hold of a rope.

“I can buy you some time,” she said.

“You can do that from up there,” the monk said, pushing her toward the cliff. He stepped forward to join Shreskra, who had drawn her sword as she faced the approaching monster. “You figure on sacrificing yourself here?” he asked her.

“I go up when the last of my people is safe,” she said. “What about you?”

“I don’t plan on getting killed by some overgrown bush,” the dwarf said.

Darethan fired off one last arrow before scrambling up one of the ropes. Shreskra and the dwarf were the only ones left on the ground now as the lead creature closed the distance. As it got close it seemed to be even bigger than it had looked while chasing them, looming well over twice the dwarf’s height.

“When I make a move, you go for the ropes,” Kosk said.

Shreskra hesitated. The creature stomped forward toward them, one huge “arm” coming up to strike. They could hear the sounds of a lyre being played, but whether it was Majerion’s or Glori’s, it did not appear to have any effect that they could see. A bright flash of a radiant sun bolt from Embrae struck the thing high in the chest. The searing energy blasted a black swath into its body, but the thing didn’t even flinch, sweeping its arm down toward the pair standing in defiance in front of it.

“Now!” the dwarf said.

Shreskra darted back, just barely escaping the creature’s unnaturally long reach. Kosk, by contrast, leapt over the arm, kicking off it as it passed and leaping toward its head. A seam opened there to reveal a waiting maw, filled with hard ridges and rotting foulness, but the dwarf shifted in mid-leap and landed on its shoulder. He fell into a crouch and then, with a sharp yell, unleashed his ki into a mighty leap that carried him across the twenty feet that separated him from the cliff. The jump wasn’t nearly enough to carry him to the top, but as he landed Tenaille flicked one of the loose ropes, snapping it close enough for him to grab hold of it. He quickly pulled himself up.

The shambling mound, frustrated by the sudden disappearance of its adversary, lunged forward to smash the climbing Shreskra against the rocks. But before it could strike, Majerion stepped forward and planted his foot against a boulder embedded near the top of the cliff. Strumming his lyre, the mass of rock shifted and gave way, tumbling over the edge. It narrowly missed the climbing elf woman and slammed hard into the creature’s face. The impact knocked the thing back a step, long enough for the Ranger leader to escape its reach. Loriellan leaned over to grab her arm and pull her up over the edge.

“If those things… can climb…” she gasped, “then this will be a very temporary escape.”

At that Glori couldn’t help but lean over the edge to take a look. A second shambler had joined the first, but both were just standing there. The other two had slowed in their approach.

“I think we’re okay,” she said. “They’re not doing anything. But we shouldn’t stay here, just in case.”

“What about that caster?” Kosk asked.

They all looked around, but there was no sign of the robed figure. The ground ahead of them sloped up slightly until the forest resumed with the same dense landscape of the Reserve with which they were familiar. That expanse could have held anything, but at the moment it was preferable to what lay behind them.

“Is everyone all right?” Shreskra asked. They had all gotten away with only scrapes and bruises, and after scraping away as much of the clinging mud and muck that they could, they stumbled to their feet and continued their march forward.

Chapter 205

They finally came to another outpost. This one they found by happenstance, since Brightbriar had become almost completely uncommunicative. The Tender followed where the others led but offered no further suggestions even when pressed. This time there was no doubt but that the place had been long, long abandoned. Little remained but a stone foundation and the remnants of the walls, all of it overgrown with dense vegetation. But even in ruins it was better shelter than they’d found that day.

It was still several hours short of sunset, but one by one the companions shuffled inside and collapsed in exhaustion. None of them were sure exactly how many miles they had covered since their escape from the shambling mounds. Even the Rangers’ minds were hazed from weariness. For long minutes they all just sat there, slumped against the broken walls, trying to catch their breaths.

After a time, prudence and other needs reasserted themselves. The Rangers went out to scout the area, find fresh water, and collect dead wood for their fire. There was no question about that last; they all desperately needed warmth both upon and inside their bodies. Stores were broken out and tallied. Even with spoilage from the repeated dousings in the swamp they still had enough foodstuffs for several days at least. Long enough to reach the Green Tower and the Druid, if the Tender’s words before had been accurate.

For a while the companions focused mechanically upon the preparation of their camp, but with the fire burning and the hearty smells of their evening meal filling the space they all began to recover somewhat. They waited until they had all had at least something hot to eat. They were all still exhausted, but enough strength had flowed back into them to allow them to confront what had happened to them earlier.

“We need to talk about what happened, and what we’re going to do,” Glori finally said.

“Let’s begin with who that guy in black was,” Kosk said. “He seemed to know an awful lot about us.”

“He sounded like he was insane,” Shreskra said. “Talking about us corrupting the Reserve.”

“There was more than that,” Majerion said. “He said that we would not be permitted to recover ‘it’.”

Glori glanced over at Kosk and Embrae. They had kept the detail of the Shattered Key close, but it had certainly occurred to them that it was that the black-cloaked figure had been talking about. “We need to get to the Druid, if we’re to help Ambassador Javerin,” she said.

Majerion’s look suggested that he knew there was more to it than that, but he said nothing more.

Shreskra’s gaze traveled between them. “I’ve already lost one of my people,” she said. “I don’t want to lose any more. It seems clear that this Tender, or whoever he was, is able to mobilize the power of the Reserve against us.”

“What makes you think he was a Tender?” Glori asked.

“What else would he be?” the Ranger replied. “Those two we fought at the outpost were Tenders, or at least they looked like them.”

“You froze back there,” Kosk said.

The dwarf’s quiet words provoked a response from Loriellan. The elf started to rise angrily, but paused when Shreskra placed a hand on his arm. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“When the guy in the cloak appeared, Darethan had a shot. You froze.”

“We didn’t know that he was an adversary. What if he’d been the Druid, or a Tender who was still… normal?”

“Even after he revealed his intent, it was Majerion who urged him to fire,” Kosk said.

“I have never seen Darethan miss a shot at that range,” Loriellan said. “The cloaked man was obviously protected by some kind of magic. I am told that the druidic arts include spells that can turn away arrows.”

Kosk opened his mouth to say something, but Shreskra angrily interrupted before he could speak. “Before you impugn myself or my Rangers, you should remember that one of us has already been sacrificed to keep you safe. If you want to make accusations, why not pick him?” she said, gesturing at Brightbriar. The Tender had not looked up since they’d stopped, and he seemed to hunch in on himself as the attention of the camp shifted to him. “He is the only one who has been this far into the Reserve. Or him?” she added, jerking a thumb at Majerion. “He almost got all of us killed with his reckless plan.”

“His magic allowed us to escape,” Embrae said.

“No one is accusing anyone,” Glori said. “But it’s clear that someone or something is actively working to keep us from reaching the Druid. The man in the black cloak…”

“Jakan,” Brightbriar said quietly.

They all turned to him again. “What did you say, Tender?” Glori prodded.

His head came up slowly, and they could see that his eyes were sunken and red. “Jakan. It was Jakan. I recognized his voice. It was him.”

“Was he a Tender?” Kosk asked. “I thought they all had forest names or somesuch.”

“He was the Barksinger,” Brightbriar said. “But he always remained Jakan, even to us.”

“Who is he?” Glori asked.

“He was a rising star when I retired from the Tenders,” Brightbriar said. “He was an important man before, and he gave up considerable wealth and influence to join us. It was impossible to forget who he had been, such was the force of his personality. There were many, myself included, who were certain that he would be the next Druid. We were surprised when Celestron was given the post over him. There were some who said that he had too much ambition for a job that required so much self-sacrifice… but he served as a loyal and effective second. I had not seen him for… five years? Before today.”

“So you don’t know what happened to him?” Embrae asked.

Brightbriar shook his head. “What he said… what he did today… is he mad? That is the only explanation I can think of.”

“It’s possible that something happened to him,” Glori said. “Altered him, like it altered those Tenders we fought.”

“I don’t know… what could do that?” the Tender asked.

“None of us know the answer to that yet, but it seems pretty clear that this Jakan is a big part of it,” Glori said. “He seemed more… more aware, more himself than those other two we fought.”

“This power is not like anything known to elvish lore,” Majerion said.

“We already knew that much from what happened to Javerin,” Kosk said.

“We have to stop him,” Brightbriar said. “Whatever it is… whatever’s happening here… it’s wrong.”

“Our mission is to get to the Green Tower and find the Druid,” Glori said. “I have a feeling that whatever is happening here, the answers will be found there as well.”

“If there are answers to be found,” Shreskra said.

“Tender,” Glori said. “Brightbriar?” When he looked up again she asked, “Will we reach the Green Tower tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Yes… yes. From here, yes.”

“I suggest that we stay close, and do not wander off alone at any time between now and then,” Glori said.

“A reasonable precaution,” Shreskra said.

“Indeed, we can watch out for each other… and watch each other,” Majerion said.

“What do you mean by that?” the Ranger leader asked.

“I thought it was clear from our earlier… discussion,” Majerion said. “One or more of us may not be trustworthy.”

“What are you saying?” Loriellan said. “That there’s a traitor among us?”

“That’s is one possible explanation for our experience since entering the Reserve,” Majerion explained. “Consider: our enemy has been one step ahead of us every step of the way, with repeated ambushes. Jakan’s soliloquy is another piece of evidence that supports this theory.”

“Or the explanation could be entirely external, and your words are only going to turn us against each other,” Embrae said.

“I acknowledge the possibility,” Majerion said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Glori said. “Our only way out of here is together. If there is someone working against us, then we will deal with them.”

“We all need rest,” Kosk said, standing up. “I will take first watch, with Darethan. Then Embrae and Loriellan, Glori and Tenaille, and Majerion and Shreskra.”

Loriellan turned to Shreskra. “Very well,” the Ranger leader said. “I will notify my people.” She rose stiffly and made her way to the exit.

Chapter 206

As Bredan rushed into the entry of the Temple of Hosrenu he stopped in surprise and dismay at what he found.

The large double doors that led into the temple had been blasted off their hinges, one of the great panels reduced almost to kindling. Dwarves were still clearing away a barricade of stone pews and other detritus that had been stacked in front of them. All of it—broken doors, pews, even the nearby walls—were splashed liberally with blood and gore, and a fearsome stench of death hung thick in the air.

“Bloody hells,” Xeeta said from behind him.

Dwarves were visible all over the room, most of them armed and armored. Some of them noticed the pair standing in the doorway and came over to block them, but then Darik arrived and at a gesture from him the guards let them past. Bredan barely noticed, moving forward into the room with Xeeta in his shadow.

The center of the temple was a cluttered, almost impassible muddle, so they circled around the edge of the nave to the sanctuary at the far side. Bredan could see that there was a large hole in the center of the floor, surrounded by more bloodstained pews. Extensive scorch marks suggested that fires had ravaged the place not long ago, and smoke and soot still hung thick in the air.

It was fortunate that the dwarves relied on stone rather than wood in their construction, Bredan thought.

The destruction on the far side of the chamber was even worse. At least a dozen dead trolls had been arranged in a line off to the side, the corpses leaving bloody trails across the floor. Bredan and Xeeta followed those to the doorway that led to the high priest’s chambers. The sanctuary had suffered damage, and somehow even the massive altar stone had been toppled and shattered, but that was nothing compared to what they saw when they got to the doorway.

The doors to the temple had been shattered, but the one here had been eviscerated; even the spots in the threshold where the hinges had been attached had been gouged out of the stone. The entire entry was scorched black and further caked in seared ichor. About five paces to the left of the gaping doorway there was another opening, a five-foot circle that had somehow been carved into the rock. Another troll lay dead in that breach, its skull caved in on one side.

Bredan hurried through the doorway, stepping over several thick puddles of gore that made the stone slick. Most of the blood trails from the bodies outside ended here. But not all of them; there were several more corpses strewn about the inner chamber as well. The destruction here had been more selective. Rich furnishings, decorative tapestries, and fully-populated bookshelves circled the room; some fully intact, some tainted by just a few drops of blood, and others transformed into blackened wrecks.

Bredan’s eyes were drawn to a figure covered in pale cloth, spread out on the floor opposite the entry. Blood had already soaked through the covering. When he saw a heavy mace lying on the floor beside the fallen figure he felt a sharp pang before he realized that the corpse was too small to be his friend.

“Bredan?”

The voice drew his attention to the corner of the room, where he was relieved to see Quellan. The half-orc was slumped in an armchair. A dwarf medic was helping him out of the remnants of his armor. Most of it was already lying on the floor, covered with blood.

“Quellan!” Xeeta exclaimed, rushing over to him. “Are you all right?”

The cleric nodded, though it was clear that he was anything but. “I’m okay,” he said. “They gave me a potion. My reservoir is completely drained.” His eyes shifted over to the covered body. “Akhenon saved me,” he said. “He held them off. He sacrificed himself. I’d never seen anything like it before.”

“We saw them, the cavern they were using as a base for digging that shaft,” Bredan said. “Xeeta believes that they were using some kind of magic to transform the rock.”

“Yes… we had a run-in with the wizard,” Quellan said. “He escaped…”

“We tried to get back, to warn you, but they saw us and gave chase. Koron… he held them off while we ran. We barely got away. If only we’d been faster…”

With an obvious grimace of pain Quellan reached up and grasped Bredan’s hand. “If you hadn’t distracted them, then they might have gotten past us,” he said. “You were in time, the reinforcements got here before they could get to… Ah, thank you,” he said as the medic pulled away the last of the heavy plate. The armor would need major repairs before it could be worn again. There were more wounds underneath, and fresh blood continued to seep into the fabric of the chair as the half-orc settled back.

“You should go to the infirmary, sir,” the dwarf said.

“I will. I am just going to rest here for a moment. There are other wounded, see to them, please.”

The dwarf glanced up at Bredan then nodded. He picked up his medical bag and headed back into the outer temple.

“What did they want here?” Xeeta asked once he was gone.

They were alone for the moment, but Quellan still leaned in close. “The key,” he said. “It’s here. Other treasures as well, but I’m almost certain that they were after the key.”

“But they didn’t get it,” Bredan said.

“No. They didn’t get a chance. There’s a vault behind that wall.” He let out a grim chuckle. “Hopefully there are others besides Akhenon who know how to open it.”

“They got very close, then,” Xeeta said.

“How did they know?” Bredan asked. “That it was here, I mean.”

Quellan considered a moment before responding. “This enemy,” he said. “It was more than just trolls and giants. I did not see what race the spellcaster was, but it wasn’t one of them.”

“So it’s like the Silverpeak, then,” Bredan said. “Someone else pulling the strings.”

“That would be my guess,” Quellan said.

“I’m worried about Glori,” Bredan said.

“I am too.” For a moment his eyes seemed distant, but then he focused back on Bredan. “You’re injured as well.”

“Just a few scratches. You know me, always getting my ass kicked.”

“This time I think I have you beat,” Quellan said.

“Company,” Xeeta said. Bredan turned just as Dergan came into the room. The dwarf acknowledged them with a nod then went over to the shrouded form. He knelt beside the fallen priest with a look of sadness on his face, then came over to the three companions.

“The enemy has retreated, for now,” the dwarf said. “The price was high, very high indeed. But it seems we are in your debt once more.”

“You said before that we needed to know what you face,” Bredan said. “Now you know what we face, all of us, together. This enemy will stop at nothing to block us. We can help you… but you need to trust us.”

The dwarf nodded. “I will speak to the Council.”

“I think I would like to go to the infirmary now,” Quellan said. “If you promise to accompany me, Bredan.”

“I will order a stretcher brought,” Dergan began, but the half-orc shook his head. He accepted Bredan’s hand, then pulled himself up. “I can walk.” Leaning on his friend, with Xeeta leading the way for them, the battered cleric made his way across the room. He paused only to offer a final bow of respect to Akhenon, then left the ruined temple.

Chapter 208 has the better cliffhanger, so I'm going to double-post today. Happy Friday!

* * *

Chapter 207

They reached the Green Tower around mid-afternoon the next day.

The forest thickened as they got further from the marsh, but the undergrowth receded and they were able to make good time. The ground rose slowly, enough to be noticeable but not enough to slow their progress.

At first, they were just relieved to be clear of the swamp, but as the day progressed they became gradually aware that something was wrong. They all remained alert for any sign of the fallen Tender and his minions, so it took them a while to notice the signs. It was subtle at first, a hint of decay in the air, a slight chill on the breeze, a thickening of the carpet of rotting leaves at their feet. Finally, one of the Rangers stopped, a look of confusion on his face.

“It feels like the seasons are changing before our eyes,” Darethan said.

Once it was pointed out they could all see it. The forest had been enjoying a late summer splendor when they had entered the Reserve, but here, approaching its core, it felt more like autumn giving way to winter.

The shift continued as they resumed their march. They passed trees that were dying from some sort of blight, a few scattered examples at first, with more appearing as they continued their climb. The ones that had succumbed to the rot were covered in shifting carpets of ugly black beetles the size of Kosk’s fist. The insects were harmless, but they gave off the putrid scent of rotting corpses when they were crushed, so the companions quickly learned to give those sites a wide berth.

Finally, the forest began to thin again ahead. The travelers readied their weapons, wary of another ambush, but this time all that they saw was their destination.

The ascending terrain culminated in a broad, flat hilltop maybe half a mile ahead of them. Rising from that crest, dominating the horizon, was a ring of ancient and massive trees. These trees made the giants where they had confronted the owlbears seem like saplings by contrast. The smallest of them had to be two hundred feet tall, but even those were thicker around at the base than a generous farmer’s cottage. Their trunks were a deep reddish-brown, but they were wreathed by lower branches that surrounded them with sprays of green that thickened until they meshed into a single vast canopy.

“The Green Tower, indeed,” Majerion commented.

“It’s wondrous,” Embrae said, her eyes gleaming.

“I’d be happier if we didn’t know that our friend the cloaked bastard wasn’t in there waiting for us,” Kosk said.

“Brightbriar, the Druid’s residence in the center of the grove, right?” Glori asked. “Brightbriar?”

The Tender had been staring intently at the hilltop, but jumped when Loriellan poked him in the shoulder. “The center, yes,” he said.

“We stay together from here on out,” Glori reminded them. She looked over at Shreskra to see if the Ranger leader would challenge her, but the woman looked almost as distracted as the Tender.

The ascent up the hill was not difficult, but they were careful in their approach. Each of them could feel the pressure of unseen eyes monitoring their progress. They lingered for a few moments as they reached the crest, right at the dividing line where the last rays of bright afternoon sunlight gave way to the shadowed gloom of the trees. Standing there at the base the ancient trunks seemed even more massive then they had at a distance. There was scattered growth between them, but nothing that would stop them from moving forward into the grove. None of them said anything, they just enjoyed that radiant warmth while they shared a common anticipation. They all knew that their destination, the goal that had sought from the moment they had set out from Tal Nadesh, lay directly ahead.

Then they moved forward, into the gap between two of the giant trees.

Chapter 208

The interior of the grove was quiet, almost hushed. Even the cold breeze didn’t seem to penetrate into the space between the giant trees. In fact, it was noticeably warmer, despite the lack of light. The interlaced canopy was so dense that the forest floor was wreathed in a perpetual twilight.

The ground was covered with a dense layer of decaying matter. It was slippery, and even the Rangers had to tread carefully to avoid a spill. Tenaille paused and drew a knife that she used to prod the ground. What came up was a thick mass of rotting vegetation that had the color and consistency of pitch. With disgust she cleaned her blade and moved to rejoin the others.

A trail of sorts led deeper into the grove. There were plants here, growing somehow despite the dearth of light. The trees were stunted and bent, the bushes covered in thorns that seemed to reach eagerly for the travelers as they passed. Glori softly strummed her lyre, summoning a string of dancing lights that added some brightness to the deep gloom. Their pale glow cast the surrounding growth into sharp relief, and only added to the impression that they were passing through some fey shadow-realm, with malevolent things waiting just beyond the edges of the light. Shreskra shot Glori an alarmed look when the lights appeared, but again she let it drop, perhaps recognizing that it was almost impossible that their adversary did not already know that they were coming.

The lights revealed a thicket up ahead, a massive wall of tangled growth. The thicket rose to almost twenty feet high, woven around the twisted trunks of trees to form a cohesive barrier. There were thorns, of course, but these were truly nasty, hooked blades like daggers with tiny glistening drops of something foul dangling from their tips. They did not need to ask Brightbriar to know that they did not want to come anywhere near those vicious points.

The trail led right up to the edge of the thicket. It was not until they were almost on top of it that they could see that there was a path that led through the barrier into the interior. The corridor was narrow, wide enough for only one of them to venture through at a time, but as the lights drifted forward at Glori’s command they could see that it led to another open space on the far side.

The passage through the thicket was nerve-wracking. The opening was wide enough that there was never any real threat from the sharp thorns, but close enough that they had to be constantly vigilant. The Rangers led the way, followed by the bards and the Tender, and then finally the two monks who brought up the rear.

None of them were particularly shocked with the passage closed behind them, sealing them in.

They found themselves in a dim area dominated by a single huge tree. This one was only a fraction of the height of the giants that had surrounded the hilltop, but it more than made up for it in sheer breadth. Its branches held no leaves, but they still managed to form a dense, overlapping canopy that extended over the entire space encircled by the thicket wall. The tree itself was black, and exposed roots projected up around its base, forming a warren of nooks and niches. Some of those spaces had been covered with drapes of canvas, turning them into small chambers, but they could not see anything stirring within.

“This way,” Brightbriar said, drawing them around the perimeter to the far side of the tree.

The others followed him, and as they circled around the massive trunk a disturbing tableau came into view. This side of the tree appeared to be diseased, with a massive, pulpy mass of ochre putrescence clinging to the gnarled bark. The stuff rose from the base of the tree almost up to the spreading branches. There were four smaller trees in front of the sickened ancient, stunted versions of the mother tree, their branches bent and sagging as if they were wracked by heavy pains.

“This is not going to be good,” Majerion said.

“What… what is this?” Tenaille asked.

None of them had any answers, but a voice sounded from the shadows that clung thick around the base of the tree. “Purity,” it said.

Strumming her lyre, Glori sent her dancing lights forward to illuminate the scene.

The shimmering witch-lights revealed that they were not alone. Standing next to each of the smaller trees was one of the altered Tenders. These seemed even worse off than the pair they had encountered earlier at the outpost. Their robes hung about them in shredded rags, allowing them to clearly see the growths that sprouted from their flesh. Their fingernails, cracked and filthy and long like claws, gently caressed the bark of their trees. The last of them seemed somewhat different than the others, but it wasn’t until one of Glori’s lights swung around to shine directly on its face that they could see why.

Loriellan let out a strangled cry. “Razelle!”

But before any of them could react to that horror, the lights revealed something else. As the darkness withdrew they could see that there was something embedded within the noxious foulness that coated the side of the tree. No, not something, but someone, a bulge that was barely recognizable as human. They each had suspicions about the identity of that imprisoned form, but Brightbriar confirmed it as he slumped to his knees and moaned, “Celestron.”

They had expected to confront their enemy here, but these revelations had overpowered even their worst fears and left them stunned. Thus they did not see the last figure until he stepped away from the tangle of roots near the base of the tree. Glori’s fingers jerked over the strings of her lyre and the four globes of light swarmed in that direction. They bracketed the figure, who was revealed to be the same cloaked form who had challenged them coming out of the swamp. Any doubt as to whether it was the same person ended when he lifted a hand and addressed them.

“Your quest, it ends here,” Jakan said.

Woah, they seem a bit outgunned here, to say the least! Ah well, it's all part of the circle of life.

carborundum said:

Woah, they seem a bit outgunned here, to say the least! Ah well, it's all part of the circle of life.

Click to expand...

Oh, it's going to get worse before it gets better...

* * *

Chapter 209

This time they didn’t hesitate. Even as Jakan spoke, Darethan lifted his bow and launched an arrow at him.

Once again, the shot looked to be true, but a sudden, intense breeze swept through the grove. It caught the arrow in mid-flight and lifted it into the air. It thudded into one of the thick upper branches of tree. The breeze faded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the interior of the grove almost preternaturally still once more.

But the lull lasted only an instant. The tainted Tenders, including Razelle, each pressed a palm against the trunk of their companion trees. The trees responded. With a groaning sound of straining wood and collapsing sod they extracted themselves from the ground, dirt spraying around them as their trunks split apart to become awkward but functional legs. They began to shuffle toward the intruders, their branches sweeping through the air in front of them.

Majerion played his lyre, the sharp notes filling the air of the grove. Flames surged up from the loam, forming a wall of fire that separated them from the advancing foes. One of the awakened trees was engulfed by the flames, transforming it instantly into a blazing pyre. The other three recoiled instinctively from the conflagration, lifting their branches in an almost human-like gesture.

“That won’t hold them for long,” Kosk said.

“I think I can get to the Druid,” Glori said. “I’m not sure what I can do to help him, or even if he’s still alive, but…”

“Go,” Kosk said. “We’ll keep them busy.”

Glori nodded and strummed her lyre. Her dancing lights faded as she summoned a shroud of invisibility.

The dwarf’s first statement was proven true as a wave of arcane power surged through the grove. Majerion’s magical flames wavered and then faded, leaving behind just a few scattered wisps of smoke that quickly dispersed. The burning tree remained as a giant torch, illuminating the scene. The other three, accompanied by the four Tenders, surged forward to attack.

Loriellan had drawn his sword, but as he took a step he staggered and almost stumbled. Tendrils of fresh growth had sprouted from the ground and wove around his boots. He was able to tear himself clear before more of the probing vines could seize hold of him.

“Ware the ground!” he warned.

“Let them come to us!” Kosk yelled.

“Wait, where’s the Tender?” Embrae said.

Kosk looked around, and saw that in the confusion both Brightbriar and Shreskra had vanished. But there was no time to look for either of them before the awakened trees and their terrible companions attacked.

Loriellan had won clear from the entangling vines that continued to sprout from the packed earth of the grove around them, but he was out of position as one of the trees lurched toward him. He ducked as the branches swept toward his face. He felt sharp pains as it scratched his flesh but it narrowly missed taking out an eye. He swung his sword at its trunk but only managed to carve away a fist-sized chunk of bark.

Tenaille launched herself at the tree from behind, trying to distract it from her companion. Her long knives tore at its exposed roots, hacking away several long stalks that caused it to list noticeably as it twisted around. She got clear before it could unleash another attack, but before she could come at it again she heard a soft, raspy voice from behind her.

“Tenaille.”

She turned to see Razelle standing there. The sight of her former companion, her chin and jowls covered with a slight fuzz of green, her eyes vacant, awakened a sudden terror in the veteran Ranger. Her knives hung limp in her hands as the other took a tentative step forward.

“Razelle?”

The only answer she got was a sweeping blow that caught her solidly in the chest and knocked her off her feet.

Embrae focused her ki as the remaining two trees thudded toward her and Kosk. A ball of light began to materialize within her grasp that she shaped with her open palms. The dwarf, seeing what she was doing, held back as the trees came close enough to attack. Even as they began to sweep their long branches around the elf woman unleashed her gathered power into a spray of white-hot flames. The fire engulfed both trees and drove them back, but even as Embrae recovered a slight figure leapt forward and landed lightly in front of her. The altered Tender smacked her hard across the face and she stumbled backwards. It stepped forward to finish her off, but before it could strike again Kosk barreled into it from the side. He swung his staff between its legs and used its leverage to flip the Tender onto its back. The thing recovered quickly, but the two monks were able to use the distraction to get clear.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“Do you know the Rock and Hammer technique?”

“I know that it’s hard on the rock,” she said.

“Just be ready with that hammer,” he returned. They barely had time to get into position before their foes attacked again.

The Rangers were being driven back, harried both by the awakened tree and the thing that had been Razelle. Two more of the altered Tenders moved to flank them, but before they could get close enough to attack Majerion stepped forward to intercept them. He strummed a whirling melody on his lyre, and as the two Tenders turned a sudden breeze surged past him, accelerating into a violent gale that caught up both of the creatures and lifted them into the air. They flipped end over end before crashing to the ground a few paces back. But an experience that would have left a normal man groaning with broken bones barely seemed to faze the two creatures, and they quickly shot back to their feet and charged at the elf. This time the wind wall barely affected them as they passed through it.

“It is possible that I did not fully think this through,” the bard said to himself as he retreated.

Brightbriar sobbed as he staggered against the reassuring bulk of one of the Elden Tree’s thick roots. What had been done to the sacred tree… it was an abomination, even before he’d seen the trapped figure of Celestron embedded in the vile oozing filth that now encrusted the tree.

He slowly pushed himself back up. The tree was sick. And the darkness that had taken root here would spread to all of the Reserve, if it wasn’t stopped.

“What are you doing here?”

Brightbriar turned to see Shreskra standing a few paces behind him. She had her sword drawn. He could hear the sounds of battle on the far side of the raised root-bank and wondered why she had followed him.

“I have to help Celestron,” he said.

When she didn’t move, he looked up and met her eyes. What he saw there almost knocked him down again. “It was you,” he said. “You… why?”

“You should know better than most,” she said. “You know how important it is to keep this place pristine. The Council that let these outsiders come in here… they do not care about preserving the heritage of our people.”

In his panic Brightbriar could think of nothing to say in response. Instead he turned and tried to run. He didn’t hear any pursuit before something hard slammed into him from behind, driving him back into the solidity of the bank. He felt pain explode in his back and looked down to see bright red blood staining the dark roots.

Loriellan staggered backward, fighting the thin strands of green that were still trying to trip him up with each step. His right arm hung limp at his side, the shoulder dislocated, and he’d switched his sword to his left. He looked up to see that Darethan had gotten Tenaille back on her feet, though the awakened tree was still coming after them.

The scout turned back to Razelle, who did not seem to be badly hurt despite the arrow jutting from her shoulder and the gaping slash that Loriellan had torn in her side.

“Razelle, if you’re in there, don’t do this!” he urged. “Fight it!”

But her only response was another lunging attack. Loriellan tried to dodge, but his wounds had slowed him too much. Razelle’s fist smashed into his gut with enough force to lift him off the ground. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. The twining vines snarled around his legs and arms but he was too weak to fight them. He couldn’t even look up as he saw the familiar boots step up next to him.

Majerion nearly fell into the thorn wall as one of the Tenders grabbed hold of his cloak and yanked him off-balance. He managed to spin out of the garment before it snagged him in a choke-hold. He twisted away only to find the other Tender blocking his escape.

The bard played a quick melody on his lyre and abruptly vanished.

Kosk and Embrae moved together in a complex ballet of shifting bodies and evaded blows. The dwarf was at the forefront, ducking and dodging and occasionally sweeping out his staff to block an adversary trying to get past him. Even though he seemed to be untouched by the two awakened trees and the tainted Tender, that was just an illusion; his robe was quickly torn in multiple places and stained with blood.

Embrae in turn seemed to be everywhere at once, unleashing pulses of positive energy at their foes, in some cases passing so close to Kosk that it almost looked as though she’d been targeting the dwarf.

Still it looked as though even the adept monks would have to give way before the assault. The ground was becoming increasingly churned under the monstrous strides of the awakened trees, and fresh tendrils continued to poke up from the furrows, seeking a foot to snare.

Finally, all three creatures surged forward together, seeking to overwhelm the two defenders through sheer raw momentum. The monks immediately darted to the side, but Kosk’s foot caught briefly and he stumbled. The first tree slammed a branch down at his head, but was hit by a radiant sun bolt that pierced its trunk and knocked it off-step. The other one immediately pushed past it, while the altered Tender rushed around toward his flank. For a moment it looked like Kosk would go down, but it turned out to be a feint; as the Tender reached for him he pivoted and knocked it off balance, thrusting the creature directly into the path of the tree. The two collided, the Tender getting tangled in the tree’s roots. The tree shook the smaller form free, stomping it a few times for good measure. The thing that resided in the body of the Tender wasn’t seriously damaged, but the delay gave the two monks ample time to get clear. Kosk shot Embrae a quick grin as they left their foes jumbled and confused behind them.

But then, without any warning, the ground suddenly erupted beneath their feet. Rocks drove up out of the ground, flinging the pair apart and showering them with a patter of stones. The two landed hard, now separated as their three foes rushed at them once more.

Glori tried not to let the sounds of battle distract her as she made her way to the black tree. She knew that her friends were outnumbered, but also knew that she had to trust them to hold long enough for her to get to the imprisoned Druid. She didn’t know that Celestron was even alive, but if there was a chance that he could be freed from whatever dark thing Jakan had summoned then Glori would have to take that chance.

She’d had to circle wide around to avoid the charge of the Druid’s minions, but once she was in the cover of the wide fan of exposed roots she felt more secure. Now that she was closer she could see that the material that coated the tree looked like some sort of fungal growth. It seemed to have taken root in the substance of the tree itself. Celestron was about fifteen feet up, out of reach unless Glori wanted to venture a climb. But that would require her to come into contact with the substance, which she wanted to avoid.

“Celestron,” she hissed softly. The sounds of ongoing battle made for a noisy backdrop, but she was reluctant to be any louder than she had to, invisibility or no. But she quickly realized that she had no choice but to take a greater risk.

She took hold of her lyre and began to play. She spoke again to the trapped druid, infusing her words with magic. She became visible as her concentration shifted to this new working, but she remained close to the mass of the tree, trying to use it for camouflage.

“Celestron,” she sang. “Druid, if you can hear me, you have to fight it. There is a corruption in your grove, you have to resist it.”

For a moment it looked as if her efforts had been in vain, but then the entombed figure seemed to twitch slightly. It wasn’t much of a sign, and it looked as if the Druid wasn’t going to be able to get free without help, but at least it offered hope that it wasn’t too late.

But as Glori reached for her sword, a fibrous strand of root twisted around her left leg, pinning it in place. She tried to draw the blade, but before she could get it clear of its scabbard several more tendrils lashed out and pinned her arms to her sides, dragging her up against the rigid solidity of the tree.

“Well now,” came a familiar voice. Glori could barely twist her head around, but it was enough to see the dark shadow of Jakan striding toward her. With a violent motion she tore her arm free and strummed a discordant tune on her lyre. She concentrated all of her rage and terror into an intense pulse of magical fear that seemed to waver in the air as she directed it at the rogue druid.

But Jakan barely twitched. His response was a raised hand and a grim chuckle. Glori barely had time to tense before a surge of utter agony washed over her. It felt as though every nerve in her body was trying to tear itself free. Drops of liquid sprouted all over her body, soaking into her clothes or spattering onto the tree. For a moment she thought it was blood, but then realized it was water, extracted by force from her body by the druid’s magic. She almost thought she could feel her flesh shriveling, and a dark blackness began to swell in her awareness as Jakan slowly approached her, laughter continuing to issue from within the shadows of his cowl.

Chapter 210

Majerion was finding that even greater invisibility was not enough to let him escape his foes. The two altered Tenders continued to press him no matter how much he tried to escape. Either they could somehow sense him through the cloak provided by his spell, or they were able to track the soft sounds of his boots or the subtle indents they made on the turf.

Either way, he was barely keeping ahead of them. His rapier had gotten stuck in the body of the first, torn from his grasp. If the thing was hindered by having a three-foot shaft of steel jutting from its body, it didn’t give any sign of it. With the need to concentrate on his spell he couldn’t work any major magics, not that his efforts had proven very effective thus far. He was aware of the fighting to either side of him, but it didn’t look like any of his companions were in any shape to help him.

As a last desperate move, he spun and broke toward the base of the tree, seeking the cover of the root structures there. He almost got clear, but a loud eruption of earth to his right startled him. A piece of rock caromed off his head, and he fell to the ground. He recoiled in revulsion at the sight of the tiny shoots of green trying to twist around his fingers.

Wait. Fingers. He was no longer…

That was all the thought he managed to put together before a green boot slammed into his face.

Shreskra moved slowly, caught in a daze as she emerged from the densely woven roots of the Elden Tree. She looked down at her hands. They were covered in bright red blood. More blood slicked the length of her sword. The weapon was called Starsteel, and it had been passed down in her family for ten generations.

Now it was covered with the blood of the elf that she had just murdered.

A sound drew her head up, and she was jolted back into full awareness by what she saw in front of her. A desperate battle filled the druid’s grove. She could see the outsiders engaged in battle some distance away, but her attention was drawn to what was happening not ten paces distant.

Loriellan was down, the corrupted form of Razelle standing above him. Tenaille was also down, but Darethan was standing over her, protecting her from the awakened tree that was trying to crush both of them. Even as she watched the elf swung his dagger at the monstrous thing’s trunk, inflicting little damage. The tree in turn slashed out at Darethan, delivering a solid blow that drove him to the ground, almost on top of his fallen companion.

The tree reared up, a foot made up of tangled roots poised to crush both of them.

Shreskra could not remember moving, or even deciding to move, but suddenly she was there, Starsteel sweeping up to meet the descending limb. The blade carved though roots and trunk alike, shearing off a large segment of the tree’s substance. It stumbled to the side, off-balance, but quickly recovered and slashed down at her with the same big branch that had felled Darethan. She met that attack as well, nearly severing the thick branch with one massive blow. The tree reared back but she pressed it, thrusting the point of her sword through a gap in the shell of bark into its body. All that was in there was hard wood, but she felt something, a brief tremor that shot up the length of the blade and through her body. The tree fell over onto its back and ceased moving.

Shreskra looked over to see that the Razelle-creature was straddling Loriellan, the elf’s throat clutched in its grasp. She could clearly see hints of movement as the growths that sprouted from its hands burrowed into his flesh. He was unconscious, perhaps dying, but his body twitched as those tendrils worked their way deeper into his body.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said. She brought her sword up. “Release him.”

The blank eyes met hers for a long moment, and then the creature that had been a Ranger dropped Loriellan and started toward her.

Majerion barely clung to consciousness. He was dimly aware of something standing over him, and he wondered why he wasn’t yet dead. There were noises nearby, voices, maybe, but he couldn’t make them out through the fog that hung over his senses. His mouth felt numb and he idly wondered if he’d lost any teeth.

Then a hand reached down and pulled him to his feet. He blinked and realized that it was Embrae. The monk didn’t say anything, she just turned and fired a pulse of light from her hand that almost blinded the bard. He swayed and somehow managed to stay upright.

When he could see again the elf woman was gone, replaced by the dwarf. He looked a sight, his robe shredded and bloody, one side of his face smeared with blood from a gash that had been torn open just above his left eye. He pushed something into Majerion’s hands. Even in his current state he recognized it at once: it was his lyre.

“You’re going to have to take care of yourself!” the dwarf shouted at him. “We’re bloody busy!” Without waiting for a response, he spun into a kick that drove back a Tender whose outstretched fingers had nearly closed on the bard’s throat.

Majerion’s hands instinctively found the proper places, and he began to play.

A massive blast of sound shook the grove. The canopy of the great tree shuddered as the thunderwave reverberated off the massive trunk. A portion of the sickly growth that covered the lower part of the tree had sloughed away, forming a noisome heap of matter at its base. But the part that held the Druid remained intact above.

Glori tore herself from the roots that held her and turned to face Jakan. The rogue druid had been knocked back by the pulse from her spell, but he did not look to be seriously hurt. His cloak fell away as he straightened, revealing thin, almost gaunt features. His skin was as pale as fresh milk, matched by hair that almost looked like spun silver. But there was a fire burning in his eyes, an intensity that Glori immediately recognized as a blend of inspiration and madness.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something else: a familiar figure that had crawled up out of the tangle of roots on the other side of the tainted streak. She could see that he’d left a trail of blood behind him. But she couldn’t look that way without giving him away to Jakan.

“We’re here to put an end to your plans,” she said, stepping forward to face the pale elf, drawing his attention to her.

“Foolish half-breed child,” Jakan hissed. “Soon your friends will join the guardians of this grove.” He made a broad gesture behind him, but all Glori could see was that the battle was still going on. She thought she heard Kosk’s voice, but it was overpowered by the stomp of the awakened trees and the loud swish of branches being swept back and forth. “You, I may keep alive for a time. He will be interested in you, I think.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked. “Someone else pulling your strings, eh?” She knew she had to keep him busy, though the thought of her friends being killed while she stood here bantering with the elf almost drove her to a reckless attack. But the druid’s spell had almost killed her, and she knew that she could not withstand another similar assault.

From the look on Jakan’s face, he knew it as well. “The power you see here is mine,” he said. “Soon all of the energy stored in the Reserve will belong to me, and then the fools in Tal Nadesh will bow to the true power within the elvish nation.”

“It all just comes down to power, doesn’t it,” she said. She softly strummed her lyre as she spoke, a regular cadence that let her trickle healing energy into her stricken body. She stepped away from the root mass, drawing his attention further away from the Tender who was still crawling slowly toward the base of the tree.

A soft creak was the only warning she got. She dove forward just as a branch as thick around as her waist descended from the canopy, slamming into the ground where she’d been standing. As it snapped back up twigs slashed at her face, adding fresh scratches to her tally but doing little real damage. Had it connected, she’d be lying broken on the ground, she knew.

“Is that the best you can do?” she taunted.

Jakan laughed. “No,” he said. “No indeed.”

He extended his arms and Glori tensed again, expecting another spell attack. But instead the slender elf’s form began to shift. His arms thickened and grew longer, hair sprouting from the pale flesh. His fingernails extended and became sharp points. His back peaked as the curve in his spine grew more pronounced, and he gained several inches of height. Worst of all was his face, which stretched out until the fearsome visage of a primal beast confronted her.

The transformation complete, the druid let out a sound that was half manic laugh, half wild growl, then he leapt to attack.