Author's Preface
Merkra: Fletcher was playing at the castle while all this was happening. I honestly totally forgot. How did he know she was there?
Solana: We will get to that, but we are getting close to the end of the episode. Do we have any closing questions for Aisling?
Merkra: Yes, how do you feel about being a big sister?
Aisling: Oooh I love babies.
Merkra: See, she’s perfect. We can send my sister back to the druids and you can stay here with us.
Solana: *sigh* Do you have any real questions for our guest? Our guest, who occupies one of the most prestigious positions within her order?
Merkra: Fiiine. The Aether Syphon has a devil’s soul in it now…how fucked is everyone?
Aisling: Not sure, but judging by the fact that we aren’t living in some dystopian future where children are abducted at birth for military training…I’d say they’ll probably be alright.
Solana: We are about to reverse time a bit so we can tell you how Fletcher arrived in the chamber, but I also have one last question. Fletcher writes in one his journals that the Forest Walkers aided in infiltrating a stealing an artifact during these events…do you think you could fill in some blanks for me?
Aisling: I believe I know just the story you’re referring to.
Freya shook her head and sighed. “This is a terrible plan.”
Fletcher, leaned over a map with one finger place on the far west outside wall of the castle, frowned at her. “I think it’s alright. Maybe it’s not the most sophisticated, but the only thing better than one distraction is two right?”
“She’s only concerned because she knows I’ll be the one blowing the horn.” Selene’s enormous gray-skinned hand finger walked along the delicate elven shoulders.
“We’re not going to find a better opportunity.” Melrhos gnawed at a cigar poking out beneath the enormous waxed mustache and gestured to the newest, and most out of place, members of the rebellion. “Now that our new friends are here, I think it’s the best time to utilize the footholds we’ve set.”
Madra of the Forest Walkers grinned wide, “Never been a thief before, should be fun.” The elder woman behind him quirked her lip slightly and shook her head, obviously disapproving of the young man’s excitement. Fletcher had heard about druids, but he’d never actually met any. Or so he thought, at least.
“You know, they were very insistent about me not being a member of your grove when I took the job at the castle. You guys cause them a lot of problems?” Fletcher turned to Madra.
“King’s men like to come out to the wildlands. Take what isn’t theirs.” Madra’s pursed his lips and shrugged. “Sometimes they run into a pack of mysterious rimeclaws that have traveled down from the mountains. Sometimes ground beneath them opens up and swallowed them whole.”
“That’s horrifying.” Fletcher murmured.
“Alright, we all know what we’re doing?” Melrhos patted the table to get everyone’s attention. “If our friends can get into that vault and snag the cowl, this rebellion might just be ready to take a bigger step.”
Fletcher looked over the map again, mind wandering as Freya yet again voiced her concerns regarding the plan. He understood. Selene crossing the strait on her own to blow the horn and obliterate a castle wall was dangerous, but he couldn’t focus on it. He stared at the drawn walls of the castle, as if something in the penciled lines would tell him how to get that sweet little girl out of Penelope’s clutches.
And then there was Atania.
Walking through the tunnels a few minutes later, Fletcher glanced over his shoulder at Madra and his two companions. “How did you guys know where to find me? Not that I’m not appreciative of the help.”
“You’ve got a lot of fine qualities, Fletcher Sterling Lightfoot. Low profile ain’t one of them.” Madra chuckled.
“Fair.” Fletcher nodded and took in a deep breath as he stopped just outside the final shimmering gate that guarded the underground from prying eyes. “You guys ready?” he pulled the bag from his back and opened it, holding it out to the three druids.
“Got a preference?” Madra asked, as he and his companions stripped down to nothing.
“This is so wild,” Fletcher gave a breathy chuckle. “Surprise me.”
The three druids placed their neatly folded garments into the bag before their bodies started to quiver. Skin and muscle flexed and morphed, bulging unnaturally in places and shrinking down to nothing in others. The man and woman behind Madra sprouted muted brown fur as they shrank down to the size of his palm. Before he knew it, two rodents were scurrying up his boots and tucking themselves into the flared bottoms of his pants. Madra took on a different form entirely, his skin turning into deep purple scales. His arms and legs shrank into his torso, which was simultaneously extending in what would have been a horrifying display were it not so damned captivating.
Fletcher reached down and scooped up the snake, who naturally slithered up his forearm and under his sleeve. “Gods above, that is so cool.” He whispered.
Merkra: Most important question of the interview. Can you do the shape change thing?
Aisling: It’s not that common of an ability. You’ve gotta have a deep connection to the forest spirits. *dramatic pause* But yeah, I totally can.
Merkra: I knew it! What do you change into? Something awesome, right?
Aisling: Kinda a personal question…
Merkra: Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I had no idea.
Aisling: I’m just fucking with you. Mostly small birds now, but as I get better and closer to the spirits the animals I can turn into will expand.
Merkra: Oh, that is so cool!
Solana: You’ve done it now. He will hold you hostage here until you show him.
Aisling: Don’t mind at all. Like now? Or…
Merkra: Yes!
Solana: Let’s finish the episode first.
Merkra: Ugh…fine.
Aisling: You mind if I give a little anecdote?
Solana: Please do.
Aisling: So the two druids with Madra Trunkhart here are Haran Twistedleaf and Muntair O’Shea, one of my ancestors. They’re going in to steal an artifact for Melrhos and his rebellion, but that’s not the only thing they’ve got planned. The Briogan told them about the portal and they planned on closing it before they left.
Merkra: I thought you said someone has to be on the other side of the portal to close it.
Aisling: I did.
Merkra: No, one of them?
Aisling: Worse than that.
The worst part was the waiting. As Fletcher played from the stage in the dining hall, nobles and foreign dignitaries dancing and conversing in front of him, all he could do was imagine three naked druids getting caught slipping through the cracks of a heavily guarded vault. Then there occasional glances from Atania across the room which were nicely juxtaposed by the uncomfortable stare Penelope had locked on him the entire time he’d been in the room.
Hopefully, his internal clock was as tight as he thought it was.
About halfway through his set he started to pick up the pace, switching to a more upbeat song than he’d ordinarily play at an event like this. It was more suited as background music to a tavern brawl, and that’s precisely the feeling he needed to exude.
So fill your cups, let’s raise ‘em high,
Put it down for the barrel’s dry.
But mind the fool sits at your side,
It’s not the drink for which he eyes.
The miller’s son is at the brink,
The blacksmith boasts more than he thinks,
The hunter lies, the sailor cheats,
Watch that fool as he trades seats.
The horn should be going off any moment, but Fletcher finally found his target. Near the bar a young man in deep purple breaches was chatting up a noblewoman somewhere in her early fifties if he had to guess. Beside her, gazing up at him with a blank, wine-addled stare, was a balding man whose tightly groomed goatee faded to gray. Perfect.
So who’s the rooster? Who’s the hen?
It’s not your ear the lady bends.
Stand and prove what words conceal,
Or cock turns cuckold ‘neath mother’s wheel.
Gasps rang out from the bar as Lord Baldington ambled around his wife and began to wail on the younger man with a fervor someone of his age and physique should not have been able to accomplish. The party came to an abrupt, yet chaotic, halt. As expected, high society had no idea how to handle a proper fistfight.
His eyes scanned the crowd that were not allowing the Deviltouched or the guards through the circle that had formed around the two men trading blows. Finding Penelope within the shit show was a lost cause. His only hope was that finding him would be the same. He hopped off the stage, slung his lute around his back and fell into the group of people that were trying to cram through the exit.
Another roar of collective screams sounded as the ground shook and a war horn’s call reverberated through the castle halls. He was a little early, but it should work just as well. He narrowly slipped out of the stampede of normal-sized folk that would likely have crushed him beyond repair and set off down the hall in the opposite direction. As he turned the corner at the far end of the hall, a sound cue he was not anticipating gave the castle a shake that rivaled the magical horn.
“That is not an answer! Where is she?” the voice roared like wildfire, burning down the hall with a blast of hot air that nearly took him off his feet. Bouncing in his direction, head cocked and apparently totally unphased by the roar, was little Yasha.
“Fletcher!” she squealed as she skipped toward him, closing the distance with a flourished leap to stop right in front of him. “Are you and Penelope kissing partners?”
Fletcher opened his mouth to answer, grimaced, looked past her to where the noise came from, and then back down. “I’m sorry?”
“Penelope says that you’re annoying and handsome, and she doesn’t know whether to rip you into tiny pieces or kiss you.” She said…as if that somehow clarified the situation.
“I…what? No, no. I have never kissed Penelope. That is interesting information to have, though. Thank you, Yasha. Do you know what that sound was?”
She shrugged. “Penelope said I’m not allowed down there. She went in to talk to Atania.”
Fletcher’s eyes widened as a sickening chill flowed through his body in an instant. “Penelope is in there with Atania?”
“Mhmm…Where’s your fairy?”
“My…what?” Fletcher shook his head, pushing the next of the confusing questions away as he reached out and took Yasha’s hand. “I need you to do me a favor. Could you get Penelope out of that room for me?”
“She told me to go see Miss Terran…” Yasha cocked her head and looked down at their hands, splaying her fingers within Fletcher’s palm. “She doesn’t like it when I don’t listen.”
“It’s very important.” Fletcher said, pulling in a sharp breath. “If you can get Penelope to leave that room I’ll owe you a favor.”
“Oooh, what kind of favor?” Yasha grinned down at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Anything you want. We’ve just gotta be quick.”
“You swear?” Yasha stared at him through narrowed, skeptical eyes.
“On my fairy.” Fletcher said, finally putting together in his mind what she’d asked. She thought the sprite was a fairy. Not exactly, but smart kid.
“Alright.” She nodded and took off down the hall the way she came.
He ducked around the corner again and closed his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. It didn’t take long for the little voice to call out for Penelope and the hushed bickering of a mother admonishing a child in a public place to head off in the opposite direction.
The sweltering heat became all but unbearable the closer he got to the heavy iron doors. His hands cried out in pain just from the act of reaching for the big circular handles. He finally pulled off his flowing blouse and wrapped his hands in it. It wasn’t a particularly thick shirt, but he’d expected more from the barrier than to make the act only slightly less painful.
The air buffeted against his face, drying out the inside of his nose and his lips in an instant, but he pushed inside anyways. The thin sliver of light that pushed into the room from the door was just enough to light up Atania’s prone body, struggling to turn over, and a few feet past her an enormous scarlet skinned humanoid…thing.
“Don’t come near me! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“That would be rude.” Fletcher said as he strode up to her side, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the monstrosity that seemed to be hanging out of a steel brazier in the center of the room. “What the fuck is that?”
“Fletcher, now is not a good time. You need to get out of here.” Atania snapped at him, craning her neck to try to look behind her.
“Seems like you could use a hand.” He glanced down at her, circling so she didn’t have to contort to look at him. “Are you alright?”
“Am I…” She shook from head to torso as a growl he wasn’t sure was meant for him resonated in her gut. “My legs…”
“Yeah, they look fantastic.” Fletch glanced down her body and nodded. “Big approve. Let’s get the hell out of here. Big Red is making me nervous.”
“They don’t fucking work! My legs don’t work you fucking idiot!” She roared at him.
“Oh…” Fletcher grimaced and walked around to grab one of her ankles and lift it into the air. It fell to the floor lifelessly. “Look at that…I might be able to carry you out of this room, but we ain’t getting much farther. Should I go get the big Orc guy? He’s the healer, right?”
“No! Fuck!” She groaned and threw her head back. “Rekk. Go get Rekk.”
“What’s a Rekk?”
Atania took a slow, deep breath, her head turning to look past him at the lump of crimson flesh. He watched her closely, a strange expression crossing her face, someplace between grief and contempt. “Okay…” She spoke a moment later, her tone having calmed considerable. “I need you to…”
“Fletcher?” Madra’s voice called from the door. The man stepped inside holding a walking stick, its head holding a flame like a torch and lighting up his and his companions’ completely nude forms as well as the space around them.
“Who is that?” Atania hissed at him.
“By the spirits…” Madra muttered as he stepped toward them. “Fletcher, did you kill the devil?”
“Devil?” Fletcher glanced behind them, the puzzle falling into place in his mind suddenly and generating an audible squeak from his throat as he scurried around toward Atania’s legs and away from the big red corpse. “Nope, no, no, no, no…did not do that.”
“Oh,” Madra stepped around, spotting Atania trying to crane her neck to see him. He crouched, offering her his hand. “Madra, good to meet you. You look in a bad way.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you people are, but you need to get out of here now!” Atania snapped, ignoring the hand.
“This is not good.” The elder woman spoke as she circled the brazier. “Devil dead. Portal still active.”
Atania protested touching the brazier, but the druids paid her no mind, the three of them circling it to discuss. They spoke in a language he recognized, but couldn’t understand. He’d heard it a number of times in the old elven villages within the Mistwood, but had never stopped long enough to learn it. The discussion turned to a hushed, but heated argument that ended with the woman shoving a bundle of cloth into Madra’s hands and shooing him away.
“We need to leave, Mr. Lightfoot. Things are about to get very hot in here.” Madra’s voice was low, his eyes refusing to leave the ground.
“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here then. Can you help me carry Atania?” Fletcher glanced between Madra and the two other druids. “Are they not coming?”
“What ails you?” Madra knelt in front of Atania again, scanning her as he moved the torch to get a better look.
“My legs. It’s a long story.” Atania grumbled. “Please get your testicles out of my face.”
Fletcher stifled a laugh and shook his head. “If we don’t hurry, Selene is going to have to leave us.” He jumped as the brazier behind them lit with a flame that reached the ceiling. Through the orange light, he could see a room with opulent onyx floors and jewel-laden walls. The mesmerization only lasted a split second before the older woman climbed onto the brazier and stepped through the portal.
“You’ll need to carry these…” Madra turned his head slightly at the sudden flare of light in the room, but couldn’t bring himself to watch his companion step into the portal. Fletch took the staff and bundled up clothing from him as his body started to morph, sprouting thick black fur on his shoulders and back, his voice morphing with his body. “Put her on my back. Hold on t…” the sentence finished with a sharp bark. Where the man once stood, a wolf taller than him at the shoulder took his place.
“Fletcher…what the fuck…” Her deep amber eyes had gone wide, flickering with the fiery portal behind him.
“Yeah…probably a bad time to mention that I lied during our interview.” Fletcher slipped her arms under hers and grunted as he pulled her up. “Grab his fur or something…” he gasped out through struggled breaths. “Mother Below, you’re fucking heavy!”
Atania grabbed two handfuls of fur and helped him get her up onto the wolf’s back. Fletcher grabbed one of the noodle-esque legs and threw it over the other side of the wolf so she was effectively straddling it and then picked up the items Madra had handed him.
“Alright, let’s go.” Fletcher followed the long strides of the wolf, glancing back at the druids they were leaving behind. He didn’t understand exactly what they were doing outside the basics of closing the portal, but he knew a sacrifice when he saw one. Which meant the argument was the two elders forcing Madra to leave them behind.
Getting out to the castle was a simple enough task. The halls were eerily empty, which, as he feared, meant that anyone who might question an enormous black wolf stalking through the halls was waiting for them just outside. The vast hole in the outer castle walls had thankfully drawn most of their attention.
Fletch struggled with the staff for a minute before he finally got the flaming head to extinguish and the three of them slinked off into the darkness of the court yard, skirting around the edges of the castle walls opposite where Selene had blown a hole with the horn until they got to their designated meeting point on the other side.
A rope connected to a grappling hook waited for them at the top of the battlement, thirty feet below on the other side the Titanblood woman beckoned them. Madra shifted back into his human form, Atania still clinging to his neck. The three of them climbed down the castle walls and slipped into the dingy with Selene’s help. She took the oars in hand, and with several powerful strokes, they were out to sea.
“I’m so sorry, Madra.” Fletcher used the condolences as an excuse to not look at Atania who had been glaring at him for the last several minutes.
“Thank ya, Mr. Lightfoot.” Was all he said, looking up at him through welling eyes before looking back at the floor of the boat.
Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck before swallowing hard and finally meeting Atania’s eyes. Her nostrils flared, vibrant flecks of jade catching the moonlight like fireworks in her eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill you…” she muttered.
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