Chapter 337: For a Price of Three Wasps

When Alex Roth awoke, he had no idea he was on the cusp of one of the greatest battles of his life. He wasn’t alone in this though, most folk tended not to see what was coming until it was staring them square in the face, so, many spent their last hours worrying about mundane things like life’s daily troubles.

As for Alex, from the moment his eyes opened, his mind was already taking stock of what he had to do.

First, there was organising the data from his special training.

With the results in—and no sign of muscle breakdown, no further increases in strength, or no side-effects, positive or negative—he was ready to review his notes and plan the manual.

Second, was getting ready for the Festival of Ghosts.

It was fast approaching, and this year, the city was giving it more attention than last year. Masks and costumes had been in shop windows since school began, and festive decorations hung everywhere downtown…but with a touch of sombreness that hadn’t been there last year. The victims of Leopold’s demon summoning were fresh in most minds, and lots of folks had newly departed loved ones to let go of this year.

Alex was already making his own preparations, which brought up the third thing playing in his mind. The fruitless hunt for Burn-Saw was still on, so the only way he was remaining patient was by telling himself that—with every passing day—he was better prepared for their eventual confrontation.

He performed his morning stretch routine while thinking about the fourth thing; a confrontation of a different sort. He’d soon be needing dungeon core remains to forge his staff with. Thameish agents had been tasked with supplying the expedition with information on dungeon locations so the wizards could raid them for cores, and at the same time, take some of the stress off the army. Cooperating with each other also worked out well for the Heroes since they couldn’t be everywhere at once. To date, the amount of dungeon core samples harvested could be counted on one hand—not enough to share any spoils among the expedition members—which meant, certain wizards were growing impatient and planning their own hunts to find cores for themselves.

Alex planned on being ready: he still didn’t have the material he’d need for his staff’s body, but at least, he’d be ready to harvest its power source. Wood was actually his preference for the body, but a material like metal would do, if that was all he could get his hands on. And it just might come down to him using a substitute. He’d been waiting on Gwyllain—the asrai fae he and his friends had saved from the blue annis hag’s cook fire—to appear, and fulfil a promise to settle his self-imposed debt by telling Alex where he could find an aeld tree.

But, months had come and gone and he hadn’t even seen the fae’s shadow. His thoughts lingered on Gwyllain, and while Wizard’s Hand poured him a glass of water, he began dressing, wondering if the little fellow couldn’t find a tree…or if something awful had happened to him.

“Hope you’re alright, little guy,” Alex said quietly in the dark room. “And I hope to see you soon.”

He downed the water. It was almost time to leave for Greymoor and what he thought would be just another day working with the research team.

“Steady, steady,” the younger of the hag sisters hissed. “We do not want to harm our lovely guest.”

Three crich-tulaghs paused at their master’s words, ceasing their rough handling of the young tree, then gently positioned its roots at the bottom of a newly dug hole. Two steadied it, holding its trunk upright, while the third backfilled the deep hole, covering the bare roots. Beast-goblins and silence-spiders scurried around the base, packing earth, brushing soil so it looked natural and undisturbed, and scattering fall leaves haphazardly, creating the impression that the aeld had always grown there. In the air, distress emanated from the tree in waves of greenish-golden light.

It was enough to set the final Hunter’s envenomed teeth on edge.

“You think this will work?” it asked, mimicking the voice of a wizard it had heard when hiding from a patrol a week ago. It was getting very tired of hiding from mortals. “Much time has passed, yet, our enemy remains.”

“They will not remain much longer,” the elder of the hags said. “Some of their most powerful will be lured into our trap and be wiped out in one stroke. And…once they are dead, the rest will grow agitated like wasps in their nest when the bear or badger comes! Then—”

The younger of the hags giggled and scraped her iron claws against one another like blades along a whetstone. “—we will whisper of the treacheries we learned of to the other mortals. And they will be sooo broken on hearing that their friends were eaten, they will react and strike! They will ruin each other for us! Soon your enemies will be dead, and my land will be mine again, just as it should be!”

The Hunter’s growl escaped its lips. This…hunting scheme the hags had planned was not a bad one. For weeks, it had fought growing frustrations, contemplating what to do to complete its mission. Time and again it felt its prey appear in the interlopers’ encampment, but it could not lay claws on the usurper. It was always blocked.

There were always too many powerful magic users around, and the moors were too heavy with patrols both night and day. The unfortunate assassination attempt had been costly: the failure had given the interlopers reason to be far more cautious. Patrols became too common for its liking, each made up of too many wizards, and even more warriors. The stench of mana dripping from them was offensive.

Another failed attack on their camp would likely lead them to more drastic measures, perhaps bringing them right to the Hunter’s lair. Then all would be lost.

The hags’ plan though, was a good one. Drawing many of the enemy’s more dangerous fighters out in a group, would make them ripe for ambush. Then—when they were slaughtered for meat—the Hunter would watch and wait, and when the interlopers sent out a search party to find their long dead companions, Ravener-spawn and the hags’ own servants would greet them with fury.

As the human blight was being eliminated from the Ravener’s territory, the hags would steer the interlopers into a fight with the ancient enemy, and pit the wizard who overflows with mana against the Heroes. And in all the chaos—if the usurper still lived—the Hunter would right that wrong.

For the hags’ plan to work, much depended on the first ambush.

Those fearsome interlopers had to be slain.

The Hunter took account of its forces. Packs of silence-spiders and venom-walkers had come to reinforce its numbers. Then, there was the Hive-queen, who even now lurked within a lair behind the windmill among a nest of silence-spiders.

Stealth. Venom. Power and the element of surprise.

All would tilt the coming battle in their favour.

And…if the last Hunter was fortunate…

It turned its head toward the interlopers’ camp. It could feel the usurper’s presence even now. If patterns held, they would remain there for the next three days. Enough time to spring the trap.

The usurper might even be among those to die in the ambush at the aeld tree. Flexing its claws eagerly, it imagined the taste of hot blood in its mouth.

It had been too long since it had made a proper kill.

“Oh? You’ve seen one!” Gwyllain cried in excitement. The asrai fae’s long ears wiggled. “Where? Where? I’ve been looking for an aeld tree across bog, wood and field for moons and I haven’t found one!”

“I’ve heard you were searching,” the little pixie said, poking his head out from a tree trunk. The edge of his wings caught the moonlight, shining like white jewels. “My cousin’s cousin told me you’d asked before the leaves had begun to turn. I don’t know where it came from, but an aeld tree’s sprung up near an old mill humans once used.”

“An old mill…” the asrai faerie mused. “I think I remember that place. Many years ago humans used it then left it. Then they started using it for a time again and then left it when the Times of Plenty came. I think there’s still flour in there…what’s an aeld tree doing there?”

“I don’t know where they sprout and why! That’s their business!” the pixie cried. “They pop up like toadstools wherever they please. …but you might want to hurry to find this one. My cousin’s cousin said it was sick. Stressed. It might die if you wait too long. Oh! And watch out for the monsters!”

“Monsters?” Gwyllain blinked his large eyes. He wasn’t too eager to end up in another cage, waiting to be something’s supper again. “What kind? Where?”

“Don’t know and don’t know,” the pixie said. “My cousin’s cousin just said there were monsters, but that they’d gone away. Maybe all these magic using mortals ran them off! Ugh, they’re so noisy! All the spells! All the booms! All the churning and building of stones! They’re ruiners!”

“Uhuh,” Gwyllain said politely. “Well, I’ll go see this aeld tree and see if there are any monsters around. Thank you!”

“Wait, what about payment!” the pixie put his hands on his hips. “You’re going to cheat me, Gwyllain! I told you something valuable and you’re going to cheat me! I’ll tell everyo—”

“No need for that.” The asrai rolled his large eyes then reached into a pouch at his waist and produced three large wasp queens, tied in gossamer. “I was saving these for my nightly snack, so take them and begone!”

“Ooooo!” The pixie rubbed his hands together then greedily snatched the wasps. “Delicacies! I’ll tell everyone that you’re generous, Gwyllain! Everyone!”

With a happy little flutter, he shot back into the hole in the tree where there was likely a portal to the fae realm.

“Well, there goes my snack,” Gwyllain pouted, but wasted no time in racing off to the windmill. Taking the fae paths and faerie ways, it didn’t take him long to reach where he was going and see that the pixie…or rather, the pixie’s cousin’s cousin, had not lied.

There was the greenish-golden light of an aeld tree.

But…something wasn’t right. The tree was distressed. Frightened. In pain. Maybe it was sick. Maybe it will die soon. Still, that didn’t matter. At least, he would have settled his debt with the human.

Debts were never good to carry for too long.

Especially debts to wizards.

Now…what about monsters?

Gwyllain didn’t check too long, but he saw no monsters…and besides, even if they were there, the wizard was strong with magic and had that four-armed golem, and all those strong companions.

Surely, they could handle a monster or two!

Taking the faerie-paths again, Gwyllain scampered across the moors until he came out from beneath a hill. He paused, blinking in surprise. Many times had he passed this way, but he didn’t remember any high stone walls being around the hill, and at its top!

And was that a half-built tower?

How curious!

The fae slipped closer to the wizards’ place and looked around for the young man.

…and luck was with him!

There he was, all tall and broad and walking atop those stone walls with a cloak around him, and that giant, four-armed clay man at his side. Gwyllain crept to the walls. It was a hard thing to do. There were plenty of folk on the lookout, and strange magics in the air: maybe wards, maybe things that could see him.

With his fae magics, he slipped between the guardians, sentries, and defences until he was at the foot of the stone wall at the top of the hill. It was atop that wall that the wizard was walking, so he waited patiently, until he heard the young wizard pass nearby.

Then he scaled the stones as quietly as a mouse, pausing at the top of the parapet. Just after the tall human passed, the fae poked his head up.

“Pssst,” a voice whispered.

Alex jumped and whirled around. There, poking out of the darkness was a small, green figure who Alex thought was a beast-goblin at first.

It took his eyes a few heartbeats to recognize the scales on the little creature’s form.

It was Gwyllain.

“Hello, Alex,” the asrai said. “I’ve been trying to find you…I think I’ve managed to find an aeld sapling.”