by Drew Hayes
“They may not know we’re poor,” Timuscor suggested.
“But there were still travelers of more wealth and opulence leaving this morning,” Thistle countered. “While bandits are possible, we must logically deem them unlikely. That leaves either an agent of Solium or a threat we’ve not yet considered. Either way, our course of action is the same: stick to the ruse for as long as possible and hope they lose interest.”
“And if they don’t?” Gabrielle asked.
Thistle’s pacing stopped, and he looked everyone over carefully before turning his attention to the horse. “Then at the very least, we should endeavor to have the element of surprise.”
Chapter 7
In his travels, Grumph had seen an abundance of wonders (as well as too many horrors), but he still paused as they rode over a steep hill and the enchanted orchard came into view. It was a lovely sight in the late-afternoon sun, the ildenberries shining on their bushes like succulent fireflies, except they wouldn’t actually set the foliage aflame. Lush emerald grass ran along the ground, the sort that seemed so soft it would put even the finest bedding to shame. Throughout the orchard at regular— unnaturally regular—intervals were massive trees with thick, gnarly roots digging into the soil. They reminded Grumph of something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. It was a concern he quickly dismissed, since they had more pressing concerns to worry about.
As discretely as possible, Grumph met Eric’s eyes and received a small, almost imperceptible nod. The others watched the exchange, careful to keep such interactions as minimal as they could. Subtle a nod as it was, the message it conveyed was quite serious: Eric still felt the looming sense of being watched from behind them. None of them had really expected it to abate, not after it had followed them so far from town, but there was always the slender hope that it might. Seeing as they had arrived at their destination and the presence was still there, that hope was dwindling down to nothing more than a spark.
“Gather round, everyone,” Thistle said, perched atop his horse and surveying the scene. “It’s time we talked tactics. Given that we know the berries are defended, our most obvious options are one: enter the orchard as a team, with some collecting and others fighting off whatever tries to stop us, or two: sending a few to sneak around while the others act as lookout.”
“Seems like the second option would take a lot longer,” Gabrielle said. She shifted slightly in her saddle, betraying a bulge under her mage robes, which were no longer quite as taken in as they had been. “Plus, let’s be honest, the only one of us that could really sneak around would be Eric. One on collection and four on lookout seems unfair.”
“Grumph might be able to manage as well,” Eric said. “He’s quick when he needs to be, and he’s not weighed down by armor.”
“Axe is still heavy.” Grumph didn’t necessarily disagree with Eric, but they’d committed to this deception fully so far. It would hardly do to have a supposed barbarian enter a dangerous area without his very noticeable weapon.
“Right, forgot about that.” Eric’s eyes twitched. He physically stopped himself from looking around. No one knew how closely they were being watched, and one glance in the wrong direction could betray that they were aware of the pursuer. “It would just be me then.”
“Which still might not be a bad thing,” Thistle said. “Remember, though they sell at five silver per berry, we’re allowed to keep as many as we wish. Supposedly, these have quite the restorative and invigorating power. They won’t be a substitute for real food long-term, but we could use them to pad our rations and stay here for a few days in order to carefully gather more.”
While Thistle obviously didn’t say it out loud, this strategy also came with the benefit of potentially forcing the hand of their pursuer. If whoever was following them hadn’t brought adequate supplies, then they’d either have to retreat to town, hunt for food, or attack the party and finish the job. There was no guarantee that the gambit would work out in their favor, but theoretically, anything that forced their stalker into unexpected actions had the potential to give the party an advantage.
“Forgive me for saying so, but I’m not sure I favor the idea of spending several nights so close to an area where we might be doing battle.” Timuscor had moved a few paces forward and was staring unwaveringly at the orchard. “We know there are guardians of some sort here, and that they will attack those who steal the berries. What we don’t know is whether or not they’ll stop attacking if we flee. Perhaps they limit themselves to the orchard, but they might just as easily follow us to camp and mount a counterattack while we’re compromised.”
“They may not be intelligent enough for that,” Eric pointed out. “We don’t even know what these guardians are.”
“Which is precisely why Timuscor is right,” Thistle said. “Trying to form a strategy without knowing our enemy’s capabilities is risky at best, outright dangerous at worst. We should see what we’re dealing with first, then either suppress it or retreat and think of a new plan.”
Gabrielle nudged her horse forward, guiding it over to a nearby tree that was far smaller than the giant trunks jutting up from the orchard, and began to dismount. “Guess that means we’re all going in then.”
“If things go bad, I could get away easier than the rest of you,” Eric said.
“You’re fast, not magic,” Grumph rumbled. He was glad Eric was getting more confident in his skills—the gods knew the young man had needed a little self-assurance—but they still had to make sure he didn’t overestimate himself. There were some threats he’d be ill-equipped to handle, and for an adventurer, one mistake could be all it took. “We go in together; watch each other’s backs.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” Thistle had already moved over to the tree and was being helped down by Gabrielle as she finished tying off her horse. Lifting the gnome was even easier than normal since his armor was still packed away. “This is as much about learning as it is collecting, so we need to go in full force, testing our enemies’ capabilities as well as how far they’re willing to pursue. Everyone gear up. We’ll do our best to sneak in, but we should probably expect engagement as soon as we’re in the orchard.”
Dismounting his own horse—a hardier one than the others needed—Grumph carefully tied the creature to the tree and rummaged through its saddlebags. Unlike several of the others, Grumph wasn’t actually stripped of his usual tools. Gabrielle could hold the spell book, but so long as Grumph had a little time to review the contents in the morning, he’d still manage to cast. Although it had been risky, even with the others cleaning up the campsite and hopefully shielding him from view, no one wanted to walk into a situation with this much potential danger short their only mage.
Grumph didn’t need to debate much on what to bring into the orchard. He’d have to haul Gabrielle’s axe, that was a given, and he never wore armor in the first place, so that wasn’t an issue. The only question was whether or not to take along his blade.
Forged from the tail of a particularly nasty breed of demon, Grumph’s short sword could make quick work of many opponents. Or, at least it had been able to before. After using it to destroy a magical crystal in his trial for the mage guild, it had been singed and developed jagged chips along the blade. Even now, weeks later, he could spot the occasional spark of lightning flickering from one chip to another. It was clear there had been some sort of effect on his sword, though whether it had made the weapon more or less stable was entirely up in the air. It wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to test until he was sure it was safe, or the need was especially dire.
After a long moment’s pause, Grumph turned away from his horse, short sword still neatly stowed. There was already enough left to chance with what they were attempting. If he brought the blade along, he’d been tempted to use it if things got tough. That wasn’t how he needed to solve problems, though. Between Gabrielle, Timuscor, and Eric, there were more than enough frontline-capable warriors in their group. Grumph needed to learn to
solve his problems like a wizard, and that might not happen if he kept leaning on crutches like his sword.
The others finished tying off their horses and getting their gear. Eric paused long enough to remove his cloak, which actually made him more visible than the armor beneath it. Timuscor had his shield at the ready and his blade ready to draw, while Mr. Peppers snorted enthusiastically at his feet. Thistle, sans armor, checked his daggers in their sheaths, being sure they were ready to throw at a moment’s notice. Gabrielle merely stood nearby, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she surely felt. Many of the group were out of their comfort zones, and Grumph knew too well how that could hinder one in battle. He’d have to be ready to cover them until they found their rhythm.
Lovely as the orchard was, Grumph had no desire to dig any graves by it.
* * *
Even after days on the road, she still wasn’t quite sure what to make of this group. They were certainly careful—more so than most adventurers she’d seen—but if they’d been traveling in Alcatham’s outer lands, that was hardly surprising. One midnight attack by wild beasts would put any party on guard, or at least it would any that survived. These five were always ready, always vigilant, which had made tailing them something that almost bordered on a challenge.
Actually, if she were entirely honest, the man in the cloak had been a little too keen-eyed for her taste. There was something about the way he swept the landscape, carefully taking in every detail, that had made her just a bit more careful in her pursuit than she might normally have deemed necessary. Something about him just seemed a bit too on; it reminded her of dealing with the other shadows. There was always the chance that he was a fellow rogue, but that alone wouldn’t account for the unsettling way he seemed to see the world around him. Perhaps it was nothing; perhaps he simply had good eyes. Either way, she hadn’t risen this far by failing to trust her gut, so the elf was just as careful as they were, keeping out of sight, tracking them by spyglass and training.
Although she had gotten closer to them when they finally reached the orchard, she was still too far away to hear their discussion. Most of it was easy enough to piece together using body language, though. They were debating about what method to use for collecting the ildenberries. As they started to move as a group, she quickly realized they’d chosen the wrong one. A smart group would have sent in one, maybe two, to operate covertly. When they were discovered, the rest of the party would get a good sense of the enemy, and even if the one they’d sent in failed to escape, they’d still be four strong to make a more informed plan. Yet they were all entering at once, meaning failure to adapt and react would cost the entire group their lives.
Ordinarily, she’d have pulled out an apple and sat back to watch the show, but this presented something of an issue. If this was the group King Liadon was after, she couldn’t very well just let them all die—not without losing a downright blasphemous amount of gold. But by the same token, she’d seen no concrete proof that they were her targets, and she certainly wasn’t going to come to the aid of some random adventurers who’d gotten in over their head. Not unless there was a hefty payment in it for her.
Watching as they moved, she slipped closer, still making certain to stay out of sight. Once she finally reached a place to hunker down, she began the task of checking her weapons: repeating crossbow that was fully loaded with special bolts, a few vials of emergency smoke tucked away in her sleeves, throwing knives ready to pull free at the first sign of trouble, and, of course, her daggers, which were always at the ready. Those she didn’t have to check, as she could feel the slight weight of the enchanted bracelets on her wrists. While not normally one to splurge, having her weapons nearby at all times was a trade well worth the gold.
Suitably prepared, she pulled out her spyglass to keep careful watch. From here she could see them easily, but if they went too deep into the orchard, a little help might be needed. Truthfully, she still wasn’t sure what she would do if they ran into trouble. It would probably depend on how likely she thought they were to be the king’s targets.
As things stood currently, the elf couldn’t imagine that she’d do much more than grab a few berries while they had the guardians distracted. Ildenberries would make a nice snack on the journey home, and a small recompense for the time she’d wasted.
* * *
The ildenberries’ glow was a double-edged sword. True, it made them easy to spot, even in the slowly fading light of the afternoon, but since the light dimmed when they were plucked, it also made it very apparent when they were taken from the bushes. If Eric had been trying to sneak about and gather the walnut-sized fruits alone, it might have been a serious issue. However, since they had Timuscor clanking around in plate armor with a boar snorting at his feet, a few disappearing glows were the least noticeable thing going on around them.
Since no one was sure just how long they would have before the guardians arrived, each party member raced to pull as many of the berries from the bushes as they could, yanking the fruits free and stuffing them into the rough canvas sacks Grumph had bought along with their other supplies. Though the ildenberries clung hard to the bushes, demanding a bit of strength before they would be claimed, they did always pull away cleanly. At one gold for every two berries, that was a wonderful discovery, as it meant no mushed half-berries would occupy precious space in their bags.
For the first few minutes, it was remarkably peaceful. If not for the franticness with which everyone was picking berries, the scene might have been almost a tranquil one—harvesting enchanted fruit in a lush orchard, afternoon sun drifting down toward the horizon, the first few stars beginning to twinkle in the sky...
Grumph stopped, an ildenberry firmly clutched in his grip. While the day was wearing on, it was still far too early for him to be able to see the stars: there was still at least an hour until sunset. So then, what was shining in the air above them? It seemed there were more of them closer to the trees—those massive trees that had tickled something in the back of Grumph’s mind. And then it happened. He saw three of the lights move, clustering together. In that moment, he knew what the guardians were, and why those damn trees had felt familiar: they were spaced out like guard towers in a prison camp, meant to allow security to keep constant watch on the surroundings.
Dropping the berry and cupping his hand to his mouth, Grumph let out a massive roar that echoed across the orchard. Since they were already spotted, it was well worth it to give his friends some warning about what they were facing.
“Tree sprites! The guardians are tree sprites!”
Chapter 8
Tree sprites were, admittedly, not the most imposing or dangerous foe. Not in looks—assuming one could get close enough to make out the details on their tiny bodies—and certainly not one-on-one in battle. Thistle had traveled long enough to know that a tree sprite on its own was frail and had only a minor amount of magic to defend itself. Fortunately, he also knew that tree sprites, like nearly all sprites, never actually fought by themselves, and that was what made them so incredibly dangerous.
At Grumph’s yell, Thistle scanned the sky, eyes quickly locking on a cluster of five lights that seemed to be growing brighter. Moving as much on instinct as thought, he grabbed a dagger and whipped it through the air. The blade smashed through the cluster, failing to hit any of the sprites themselves but still driving them apart. That was what Thistle had been hoping for. He spared only a short moment to whistle and call his dagger back to its sheath before yelling an explanation to the others.
“Tree sprites are only dangerous when they work together. They can combine their magic to manipulate the environment around them. If you see any group up, do whatever it takes to knock them apart.” Though he kept his tone calm, deep down, Thistle couldn’t help but worry. Of all the things they could have faced, tree sprites might have been among the worst opponents. The blasted creatures preferred to work from a distance, weaving their magic to do the attacking for them. Annoying as that would have b
een in a normal situation, today it presented a serious problem. Only Thistle and Grumph had any ranged skills, and the half-orc couldn’t cast without giving their cover away, which meant Thistle and his pair of daggers would have to keep all the tree sprites at bay.
The ring of metal on metal filled the air as Timuscor drew his sword, all thoughts of berry-picking abandoned. He rushed toward the nearest grouping of tree sprites—three of them hanging low in the air—and swung as high as he could. To his credit, the knight did succeed in making the sprites move, but only a foot up in the air, where they continued to glow brighter and brighter. Thistle hurled a dagger through the middle of them, successfully driving the group apart. Even as the weapon returned to him, he could see four more clusters beginning to form, all farther away than the first few had been. They were pulling back, trying to test Thistle’s limits. If he’d been using a bow, the tree sprites would still have easily been in range, but with just throwing daggers, they’d soon be beyond what even his trained hands could accomplish.
“Retreat!” Thistle called. He didn’t take any pride in the order, but as things stood, this was a fight they couldn’t win. Better to run off now while they could, hope the tree sprites didn’t pursue, and try to come up with a new plan when it was safe. If nothing else, they’d managed to collect a fair amount of ildenberries; perhaps they’d even done well enough to undertake a quest more suited to their strengths.
In truth, Thistle had been prepared for some resistance from the others—after all, no one but Grumph knew how dangerous these seemingly innocuous creatures could be. It was all the more reassuring when he saw the others head toward the edge of the orchard. True, they were moving slowly, but that was because they were staying aware of their surroundings and bracing for attack. Gabrielle and Eric were the closest to the border with Grumph next. Thistle, Timuscor, and Mr. Peppers were the farthest out, which was not by coincidence. The knight was slowed by both armor and duty, refusing to leave anyone to fend for themselves, and Thistle’s already-hobbled body was further held back by the fact that he was pausing to hurl daggers at every tree sprite cluster he could see.