* * *
They passed a series of crests and low hills shrouded in ever-thickening bush and tall, wide-trunked trees. The savanna forest had indeed turned into a jungle proper, full of mangroves and palm trees, thick grub and lush flower plants blocking their way. ‘Theo’, which was how everyone called Hanultheofodor for practical purposes, knew the terrain well enough to avoid the thicker parts, but occasionally he had to use his machete to cut a path through. The air smelled of sweet but deadly flowers and acrid sweat as the wetness of the place became bothersome.
Their progress was just as slow as before; Parcifal had dubbed it half-man pace and Winceham had insisted on at least calling it a halfuin pace for the sake of proper interspecies etiquette. He had quietened down soon afterward though when he became acutely aware that being so short and therefore close to the jungle floor bed was disadvantageous at best; the realisation came after he had stepped on a snake thicker than his arm and longer than imagination allowed for.
The snake had been easily dealt with a chop from Parcifal’s blade. She made Winceham owe her one and even placed a bet that he’d owe her more further down the road.
With the woodkin village still out of view, Parcifal and Theo were leading the way. Encelados was drawn in her hand should anything try and surprise them; she had more than balked at the idea of using her blade as a grass-cutter. Even Lernea admonished she had only once seen her sister so frightfully indignant.
They walked silently, taking care not to step on something that could bite back, each one lost in their own thoughts, for their own reasons. At length, Theo asked Parcifal:
“So none of them followed you?”
“None that we could see, no.”
“Which reminds me, I have to ask: How is it that your sister could see me?”
Parcifal found the question nonsensical at best, but her blinking stare failed to convey that feeling to Theo. He waited for an answer, smiling affably, while the only thing Parcifal could conjure in words was:
“Is that a question? You want to know how it is that my sister could see you?”
“Of course! Counter-spelling an illusionist’s Ethereal Trance is a remarkable feat for someone not versed in the art of Choujou,” said Theo and Parcifal raised an eyebrow. She suspected Theo, their informal but helpful impromptu guide, had thought he could turn invisible for some weird reason that might or might not include an unreasonable amount of dreamhops or fuddlegrass, just like the kind Winceham had shared with her.
“You are the illusionist you are referring to, I’d wager?”
“Indeed. Are you familiar with the Choujou school of magic?”
“Not really, no,” replied Parcifal with a weary voice.
“Ah, its tradition goes back thousands of years. The ever-grazing mist of time has long ago obscured its deepest secrets, but my people have preserved its legacy and the source of its real power,” he said as he cut a thick, rich cluster of foliage with a few chops of his machete.
Parcifal was suddenly intrigued at the mention of the words “secrets”, “power” and “my people”. The thought came to her that perhaps Ned had been right to convince them to seek the Woodkin.
That was, if of course the rest of Theo’s kin had a firm grasp of this witchcraft he talked about. Because it was her informed opinion that the young woodkin elf was a bit lightheaded, to put it mildly. She had no idea what to make of his peculiar animal companion though, other than stew.
Bo hopped in and out of the ground, the flames in his eyes lighting up the path ahead with a warm orange light. The bunny would at times pause, raise itself on its hind legs and shoot the party a glance before burrowing in the ground, only to appear a couple of minutes later down the path as suddenly as it had disappeared. But it never strayed away from Theo for too long; that did not escape Winceham’s attention.
“See it? There; and there it is again. It just keeps doing that,” said Winceham to Ned with a raspy, aggravated voice.
“It’s just a bunny, Winceham. Leave it be. There are far worse things that may roam about.”
“It keeps staring at me at the oddest of times, Ned. I swear.”
Ned shook his head and looked at Winceham sideways while he said: “It’s just your imagination, Winceham. It’s been a long, difficult night and it’s only a couple of hours until dawn breaks. Your eyes are playing tricks, that’s all.”
“What about its eyes, Ned? Hm? What about those flaming eyes?” asked Winceham with a worried expression.
“Like he said, it’s some condition or other. I’ve heard of stranger things; of wild beasts that will turn you into stone, and lurking horrors that can drain your soul with a single touch of theirs. A rabbit with flaming eyes doesn’t sound all that dangerous.”
“Those were the drunken tales of rabid sailors, Ned! While this.. This abomination is right there, watching me,” said Winceham with a half-crazed look on his face.
“I recall yourself as well sharing such morbid tales of fascinating creatures in the past. Could this be just another fantasy of yours?” asked Ned with a gentle smile.
Winceham made a gesture of acceptance with both hands and replied:
“Now, I may have from time to time exaggerated concerning some of my former adventures, especially when women and riches were mentioned, but it was merely in order to put some polish in the boring details. This though. . . This rabbit. It has its eye on me, I tell you.”
Ned stopped and took Winceham by the shoulder. His face became grim, his voice unusually stern and cold:
“I’ve invoked Nadragatea on you, Winceham. This is one tale you’ll have to follow to the end, you know that. Don’t just pretend; your life depends on that as well.”
Winceham looked instantly and genuinely hurt; his eyes searched Ned’s face for signs of the young lad who had grown into as much as a friend as his father. He saw little of the boy he remembered; instead, he was looking at a strong-willed man, indeed more than the boy’s father had ever been.
“You’re right laddie, I’m full of it. Well, sometimes. I’m just saying, I don’t like that bunny one bit, that’s all,” said Winceham, sounding apologetic.
Ned nodded with an understanding look. He motioned them to move on again even as Lernea caught up from behind, where she had been scouting from the last hilltop they had climbed down from.
“Nothing, for as far as I could see. No-one is on our trail. If someone’s out this far to get us, they’re probably lost someplace or coming at us from a totally different direction. No torches or lamps, or light of any kind,” said Lernea, a little short on breath.
“You don’t know what to expect from Hobb. It does make sense though; they sent a mob after us, but we weren’t there. As long as we’re out of the picture, Hobb will have the Sniggering Pig to himself anyway. As far as he’s concerned, we’ve turned tail and ran, never to show our faces again,” Ned told Lernea, who in turn asked:
“What about the ape-man? Won’t that man, Culliper, seek revenge for his comrade?”
“Culliper?” cut in Winceham with a snorting laughter full of disbelief and added:
“That sea-maggot is a slave-driver, pure and simple. The only thing he cares about is his hide and his loot. For the right coin, Culliper could be working for anyone. Though I hear those ape-men are hard to come by, I wouldn’t worry about Culliper. Not until we meet him on our own terms.”
Ned nodded in agreement. He had a bitter, austere look carved across his face when he said:
“You leave Culliper to me when the time comes.”
“When the time comes, Ned,” repeated Winceham with rare somberness. Lernea was about to ask something when she saw her sister only a few dozen yards up ahead signal a message with her hands. Parcifal had stooped low, her gaze wandering, searching for something in the night. Lernea nocked an arrow when she saw Encelados’ suddenly glow faintly; the glow became stronger with every passing moment. She signaled back at Parcifal who acknowledged with a simple nod. She had to r
eign in Theo’s mouth with her free hand. It seemed to her that the woodkin had a very vague idea of danger, as something that could only affect other people.
A faint hope of Winceham being mistaken in his assumption that something was amiss sprung up inside him. He felt he had to ask in a low voice:
“The sword’s glowing? Is that normal?”
She simply shook her head and without turning her head replied:
“Something evil lurks nearby.”
Ned fed a bolt in his crossbow and readied it in his hand, even as Winceham drew his stiletto and headed off amidst the thick brush.
“Where are you going?” asked Ned with urgency.
“I’ll scout around. Need to make myself sparse if I am to strike from the shadows, lad.”
“It’s a moonless night, there’s shadows everywhere,” said Ned sounding confused.
“Exactly,” said Winceham and nodded to Lernea who afforded him a thin grin. Within a few moment, he had melted away into the shadows that abounded, as if he’d never really been there.
“How did he do that?” whispered Lernea to Ned.
“He’s a thief,” said Ned as they warily made their way closer to Parcifal and Theo.
“Retired,” she hissed and Ned simply shrugged.
“Makes for a weak alibi in some lands,” he replied and Lernea shook her head. As they approached Parcifal, they saw her hand-signaling furiously; her face was almost obscured in the shadow of a nearby tree but they could see her face was taut with bone-breaking intensity. The hand signals were confused, hasty; Lernea couldn’t make out what her sister was trying to tell her in silence. She shook her head and waved her to repeat, while Ned was right beside her, aiming his crossbow at a thick patch of utter blackness that seemed most inviting for something that could be lurking out of sight.
He then noticed the bunny; it was looking straight at him, the flames from his eyes having died down to a pair of crackling embers. The bunny curled its tiny lips into an impossible grin just for Ned alone to see and hurriedly burrowed inside the ground in an instant.
Parcifal seemed to sigh even as Encelados began to glow fiercely, casting harrowing shadows of Parcifal and Theo around the thick brush. Parcifal repeated her message but to no avail; Lernea shook her head again.
“What is she trying to say?” asked Ned.
“It’s either large flying beast lurking on the treetops or mythical magical beast wandering up ahead, I can’t tell.”
Ned swallowed hard at that piece of information; he couldn’t understand what the difference really was, so he simply asked, his voice trembling slightly, hinting of mounting tension:
“How is one, better news than the other?”
“It’s really important to know which one’s which. I claim flying kills first, while Parcifal claims the land-dwellers,” she said matter-of-factly as she signaled her sister they were about to sprint within whispering distance.
“Oh, isn’t that wonderful? What happens if it’s a sea creature, or something that lives underground?” he asked ironically, surprised at the nonchalance of Lernea, as well as his own reaction.
“Coin toss,” she said as the irony was lost on her. She nearly dragged Ned alongside her as they ran, stooping low, to cover the distance between Parcifal and them. Their feet shuffled over the thick boggy ground with a squishy noise. When they were within earshot, Parcifal turned around and whispered to her sister:
“I said, it’s a bleeding flying lizard!”
To which Theo managed to answered promptly when he finally pushed Parcifal’s hand aside. Completely heedless of the need to remain as silent as possible, he made sure to stand up in order to deliver his point more acutely:
“That’s utterly absurd! It’s not a lizard, that’s a dragonkin pure and simple. It is a fairly easy mistake to make though, since-”
Theo was cut mid-sentence as a loud screeching noise like a sad, horrific growl was quickly followed by the figure of a muscular, nine-foot tall lizard-like creature swooping down from the treetops towards them. A set of unnervingly sharp-looking claws the size of short curvy blades extended from its feet.
“Get down you muttering fool!” said Lernea and thrust herself on Theo, bringing him down even as Ned shot his crossbow reflexively. Ned’s shot missed wildly, unlike Parcifal. Timing her thrust, Encelados met with the creature’s belly as it tried to leap upwards again, to hide in the lush canopy or have another go at them at its leisure. That was no longer possible, as Parcifal’s blade brought it down after a couple of yards thrashing, wailing its high-pitched death throes in anguish, blood gushing freely from a lengthy wound, the creature’s ghastly innards freely exposed.
Parcifal quickly walked over to the dying creature and stood above it as it lay there, dying meekly. Theo exclaimed:
“Jah be with us! That dragonkin-”
Lernea could not resist the urge; she slapped him hard across the face and told him as he stood in frozen disbelief:
“That’s for being an idiot. You can thank me for saving your life later.”
Theo tried to force his mouth to make audible sounds form into a semblance of speech, while Parcifal held Encelados shoulder high and said ceremoniously:
“Unto the abyssal chasm I comment thee, beast.”
She swung Encelados down sharply and the creature’s head came off its neck clean, like a slice of fruit. The pool of blood around its lifeless body was already beginning to clog, while the cut below the head was almost clean dry. Parcifal looked at her sister with a mischievous look, underlined by a gleeful grin:
“That’s one more for me, sister.” Lernea bit back a reproachful answer:
“You had no right for first kill! That’s bad etiquette and certainly counts as cheating!”
Theo swallowed hard and managed to regain a measure of composure. He laid himself down near the creature, muttering mostly to himself:
“The dragonkin..”
The sisters exchanged terms and conditions loudly, fighting over first kill rights and standing scores, while Ned noticed something peculiar and said to no-one in particular:
“If that thing was evil, and that sword of yours detects evil in all its forms, why is it still glowing brighter than ever?”
Theo chimed in morosely:
“Because that dragonkin was Vulsek, my flying steed. He wasn’t evil, just scared.”
The sisters heard that and paused to wonder even as Parsifal shot a look at Encelados. It was indeed glowing with dazzling ferocity. They exchanged knowing worried looks when suddenly Winceham burst forth from a patch of tall grass running with all the speed his stature and years allowed. He shouted something indelible to the others without turning around to look, and lost himself through another thick bush behind the crest of a ravine.
“What did he say? Something about a rat and a tip?” asked Ned as he fumbled with his crossbow, trying to reload it in a hurry, shooting worried glances at the wild grass in the meantime.
The bunny then popped up in front of him from underground, and started running around in circles, the flames from its eyes whirling in a blinding fashion.
“Bo looks excited about something. Maybe Mr. Abbermouth was excited about something as well,” said Theo and then suddenly a trio of bipedal mushrooms holding iron spears and using their tops as shields came out of the thick grass running awkwardly, exchanging long-winded moaning sounds and pointing at Theo and the rest aggressively, if one were to judge by the way the spears faced towards the group.
“I’m not sure Winceham has a thing for mushrooms,” shouted Lernea and let the string of her bow sing sharply.
“I’d say he’s more into greens, I assure you,” said Parcifal with a shake of her head and rushed the warrior-mushrooms head on, whirling Encelados with wild abandon. Ned was looking at the scene in front of him as if it were only a dream; he had a sudden epiphany then and told Theo who was waving his hands about him in a ridiculously complicated manner in what seemed to be preparation for a sp
ell:
“Did you hear the joke about the fungus?”
“No, what joke?”
“I could tell you now, but it might need time to grow on you,” said Ned and grinned while Theo stood pondering as his hands filled with a shiny, blue ball of crackling energy. Ned let a bolt fly straight through the mouth of a raging mushroom-warrior which plucked half its head off and brought it down with a flop. Lernea was reloading her bow after her first arrow got stuck on a mushroom cap, and Parcifal poised Encelados for yet another slash at the wild mushroom-man directly in front of her, expertly avoiding its thrusts and hacking it to death; it was a matter of few strokes.
Theo suddenly shook with hearty laughter as the joke struck home, and at the same time hurtled a ball of lightning at a mushroom charging Lernea, its spurious gait almost laughable. The mushroom promptly exploded into a cloud of charred dust with fleshy bits of what used to form its torso flying around. The smell of burning fungi permeated the air. Parcifal made sure Encelados wasn’t glowing any more before saying triumphantly:
“Such is the way Encelados pierces through the shadow of evil!”
Lernea sounded demoralized, distraught even:
“That’s not fair! Even Ned killed one!”
Ned ignored the comment on his abilities as a marksman and walked over the body of his kill, looking for his bolt.
Theo sounded deliriously giggly, barely able to make sense when he said:
“See, I get that! Fungi grow, and so will the joke, which is to say, already said! Great stuff, great stuff Ned!”
Ned smiled thinly but pretty soon the smile vanished when Bo the Bunny reemerged in front of him and afforded him an uncannily wide smile. Ned had another flash of mind and asked everyone:
“Where is Winceham?”
Only the bunny knew that Winceham was still running through brush and wood, over bog and marsh, muttering incoherently:
“Bad trip, it’s a bad trip’s what it is, bad trip, that’s all it is..”