by Eric Ugland
“Have you heard of a place called Earth?” I asked.
“What do you know of Earth?” he replied.
“I know a little. And I know they have stories of the fairy world, is that the same as the Feedoheem?”
“The Feedoheem touches many places. Some would call it a great connecting web. But I call it home. And it is a home I have been cut off from for far too long.”
“Is it hard to get there?”
“No. Quite simple. And yet, the old Accord forbade it, and we abided by the Accords. If the new Accord is different, perhaps there will be a chance we could open a portal between the lands.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You do not want a portal?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t exactly know about the Feedoheem. But I have heard things. And considering I’ve got a whole village with kids and the like depending on me to keep them safe, I need to think about what might come back through this portal. If you wanted to just, well, go and close it after y’all stroll through, I think that is more along the lines of something I could consider getting behind.”
“You would help us open the portal?”
”I mean, does it involve child sacrifice or something?”
He laughed. “No. We can do it. It requires but a change to the Accord and your willing participation.”
“Then as long as you close it after you go through, sure.”
“And if not all of my people wish to leave our adopted homelands?”
“I mean, it’s kind of limited options, in that they can join me or they can run away from here. But I’m not sure I can save you all.”
“I doubt that would be necessary. Would you accept them into your holding as your own people?”
“I accept all those who are honest and good who want to work to make the world a better place, yeah, all of those things. I just want good people, man. I don’t care what kind of people.”
There was chattering among the brownies up in the tree, but nothing loud enough that I could make out exactly what they were saying. Which meant I didn’t pick up the language. Curse my lack of decent eavesdropping skills.
“Would you mind giving us a moment to discuss things?” the king asked.
“Certainly,” I said.
Pepperbush hopped off his perch, which magically shot back into the trunk of the tree, and he scampered up to talk to his people. I walked away from the tree, and spent a few moments checking my kill notifications against the bodies on the ground to make sure all the spiders were good and dead. Then I looked up into the sky, noting the position of the moons. High. Judging from where the moons had been in previous nights, I had a reasonable amount of time remaining before daylight, when the spiders would kidnap and/or execute my compatriots.
The brownies still weren’t done talking, so I started to wonder about things. Had any spiders been able to escape and let the Mothers know I’d been doing a little extracurricular extermination? Would that then cause the Mothers to order their young to exterminate my band of misfits? This debacle was an increasing debacling mess. What was the mess above debacle? That’s what this was becoming.
And what was I doing? Why was I going through all this trouble — because of a valley that was only sort of part of my holding and merely a through-line to the actual quest I needed to complete? This was stupid. I suppose getting more people into my holding was a benefit, and I could maybe, someday, get above the fifty percent of people in my holding who were loyal to me. But I didn’t really believe that could happen any time soon. I was just happy to have the year deadline off my chest. Granted, it was now replaced by the problem of killing off an entire species before they somehow destroyed the world. Which was also a bit of an issue, and—
“Duke Montana,” the king called out, once again on his tree seat, “if you would return, we would like to continue our negotiations.”
I finished forcing the spearhead through a spider’s eyes, and ignored the twitching limbs and spray of ichor as I pulled the spear back. Then I wiped it on the grass and sauntered back over to the brownies and their tree, wondering how the brownies could be as loud as they were with such small bodies. Magic?
“Okay,” I said, “game on. Let’s get back to negotiating.”
“We must first present you with a reward for saving us from this latest arachnid attack,” he said. “You have a hirð, yes?”
“I do,” I said, not exactly liking where this conversation was headed.
“Then we would offer you one of our own for your hirð. Sadly, we cannot offer more as there are so few of us left, and certainly even fewer with skills you might find useful.”
He barked out a word I didn’t understand. I really wanted him to say two more, because then I’d have the language. Instead, two brownies dropped down to the ground. One was a buff dude, as far as a brownie could be buff, while the other was a, well, a tiny version of a pinup model. A bit like Tinkerbell without wings. Which was slightly disappointing, because flying things were pretty useful. But tiny things? Not so much.
“You have the choice between Indigo Bumblemint and Bear Snowgust.”
The gruff fighter nodded at Indigo Bumblemint, and the pinup at Bear Snowgust.
“Indigo is our greatest fighter, and has been instrumental in keeping the spiders from rolling over us. And Bear is, uh, she can, she is, uh, she does some magic.”
“I mean, you, uh, you’re not really selling Bear really well.”
The king looked down at the girl, and smiled at me.
“It would be disingenuous to say magic is rare for us. The lifeblood of fairies is magic. Bear is good at it, sure, but it is quite rarer to find a great fighter.”
“Well then,” I said, thinking that I wasn’t exactly super-keen on taking a brownie onto my team, “who would be more useful to you? I feel like you might need protection as you take your people from, uh, the gate to wherever you’re going.”
“That is true,” he said, nodding. “The Feedoheem is not a safe one. Indigo, step back!”
Indigo seemed unhappy with this turn of events. Bear frowned at her king.
“Your choice, then,” the king said.
“Uh, Bear?”
“An excellent choice,” the king exclaimed. “Bear, you are now to be part of Montana’s hirð.”
“I mean, if you want,” I said.
“I want,” she said, with a nod, causing her ponytail to bounce.
“Okay,” I replied. “Uh, let’s, uh, get this going.”
The little brownie girl walked over to me, and looked at me.
As before, the words rose to my throat unbidden.
“Do you, Bear Snowgust, enter my hirð freely?”
“I do,” Bear said.
She then turned to face her king. Previous king. Prior king. I was now her liege. Which felt odd. Disconcerting. Everything about the interaction with the brownies was odd.
“Thus resolved, we can resume negotiations.”
“Yep, the Accord,” I said. “Let’s get it done.”
“You will assist us in opening a gate to Feedoheem. After we move through, we will close it. Fifty-one of our number will remain in this plane of existence, and will join your holding. You will take a cutting of our tree to your holding, which will become the home for my people. Do you object to any of this?”
“Not yet, but what about what I want?”
“What is it you want?”
“I want your people to swear allegiance to me. I want them to swear they won’t harm any of their fellows. And that they will tend towards good in any deals they make. They need to be model citizens. And they need to actively help get the witches to safety.”
“The witches will be coming with you?”
“They will. I mean, they don’t want to, but I think they’ll prefer to hang out in my town a bit instead of becoming spider food.”
“I imagine they underestimate the abilities of the spiders.”
“Is there s
omething I don’t yet know about them?”
“I believe they are developing certain magical qualities from having, uh, eaten so many brownies.”
“How many have they eaten?”
“What you see represents half of one Charm, we used to have twenty Charms.”
“Yeah, that’s quite a few.”
“We were on the precipice of doom, prior to you saving us. Hence our gift to you.”
“I would consider Bear a gift.”
“She is yours. You may do with her—”
“Let’s table that discussion for the moment,” I said. “I’m not exactly sure what that means, but your implication worries me. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page on the Accord, so I’m going to spell it out. First, we’re going to set up a portal. Those who are leaving will leave, but you, Pepperbush, will wait. The remaining of your people swear allegiance to me. You leave. You close the portal. I take a piece of the tree, and my new peeps, we go to the witch island. We pick up the witches and head out of the valley, picking up my other comrades on the way to Coggeshall. I will probably need to talk to the spider moms, see how they’re going to try and fuck me on the deal. Can’t see how it can wrong.”
“I believe we are on the same page,” he said. “However, you should know, you need to replant the tree within three sunrises, or it will wither and die. And any brownies who remain behind in this world will, likewise, wither and die.”
“Okay, some minor timeline issues, but I think I can make that work. Not too hard.”
He looked at me, his eyes hard, as if judging me. Then he nodded once, waved his arm across, and a scroll of paper dropped down onto the ground.
I picked it up, and as I prepared to read over it, the words popped up in my vision.
You are preparing to sign an accord. Do you wish to sign the accord?
Yes/No
I selected yes.
Did you read the accord?
Yes/No
I supposed it was nice that the gameworld was taking care of me, making sure I was reading things before I signed them. I took a deep breath, and, like a good duke, read over the thing one more time, looking for any spot where the brownies could act in bad faith. But it was pretty simple, and, I mean, I wasn’t looking for slaves or anything. That would be weird and deplorable. I just wanted, well, I wanted to help. To save these guys, ultimately. And I think they wanted the same thing.
Now you may sign the accord. Do you wish to sign?
Yes/No
So I said yes. Or you know, I mentally clicked the yes button. But then I also took the magically floating quill which hadn’t been there before, and I scrawled my signature for the very first time as Montana Coggeshall, Duke of Coggeshall and a bunch of other shit I can’t remember.
The king took the quill, read over my signature and giggled, then scrawled his own name.
Congratulations! You’ve completed a QUEST!
Accord-ing to Me
You signed a new accord with the brownies which does not leave the witches worse off.
Reward for success: Bixby’s loyalty, and the witches becoming followers of Coggeshall
“I have hopes for my people under your care,” he said. “You seem a good man.”
“Let’s not get too crazy,” I replied, “I’m definitely a work in process.”
“My friends,” he said, standing up and turning his face up to the tree, “WE RETURN!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The ritual to open a portal to the Feedoheem was surprisingly simple. I just had to plant seven red and white speckled mushrooms in a circle, then three white mushrooms in the same circle, and one purple mushroom in the middle. Normally, then there’d be months of waiting, as the mushrooms would need to grow. But with a little bit of brownie magic, the mushrooms went from seed, or spore, to, uh, mushroom, in no time. Basically, by the time I’d planted everything in the right place, all the mushrooms were grown. Then I had to stand outside the circle of the mushrooms with my eyes closed, and I had to, out loud, wish for access to the Feedoheem.
So I did.
There was a soft noise, like the most delicate wind chimes were rustling in a perfect little breeze. The smell in the air was sheer delight. I can’t articulate exactly what it was, but I’d guess it was really close to what a pie cooling on a windowsill might smell like, mixed with the laundry detergent from the cabin I used to go to every summer. It was like home and—
“Do not step across the ring,” the king’s voice came from my shoulder.
My eyes snapped open, and I realized I was about to take a step into the ring of mushrooms. I backtracked quickly, shaking my head to try and snap out of it.
The king patted my head. “I have heard it is quite alluring, and normally I might not have stopped you, considering it was not part of our Accord, at least not directly. But I tell you in confidence that this relationship between you and us is likely different than any other you will have with fairies. I am excited for the day I might return and visit you and my children.”
Something like a wall of glitter dropped down around the ring of mushrooms. The brownies cheered. They all were smiling gleefully, and they all looked to the king.
Pepperbush nodded. All the brownies who were going started a mad dash, hooting and hollering as they disappeared in grand sprays of what I can only assume was magical fairy glitter. It was over in just a few seconds. Then king hopped off my shoulder, walked over to the tree, and put both hands into the trunk like it was a Jell-O mold. He pulled out a monstrous-sized acorn, about the size of a fist. Right before my eyes, the tree withered. All its leaves fell to the ground, and the massive tree died. Just like that. The king brought the acorn over to me, solemn and slow, staggering a bit under its weight.
“This,” he said, almost reverently, “is the LifeSeed of our tree. It must have exposure to the air at all times, so you must not place it in your magic bag. It must be within the soil prior to seeing its third sunrise, so do not delay.”
“What happens if I don’t make it?” I asked.
“Then all of these brownies are in danger of death. Or worse.”
“So they won’t die immediately?”
“They will die, but I cannot tell you the means of their death. It is of utmost importance you do not allow the tree to die.”
“I won’t.”
You have been offered a quest:
Arbor Day
Plant the treehome of the brownies before the third sunrise.
Reward for success: The continued survival of the brownies
Penalty for failure (or refusal): Death of the brownies
Yes/No
I accepted.
“It is time to bid goodbye,” the king said, making a slight bow. “I shall return.”
He held out his hand, which had a small pouch in it.
“If you wish to call for me to come back,” he said, “the means to do so are in here.”
I took the pouch, we shook hands, and he darted through the glitter curtain, calling out two words in his foreign tongue. Or another foreign tongue since my skill didn’t proc, and I didn’t pick up the Brownie language. The glitter swirled together, went up into the sky about twenty feet in a blobby-sort of ball, and then slammed into the ground in a fantastic miniature light show before everything disappeared. A few specks of glitter flitted about in the sky for a moment it all vanished.
Then it was me, and I was alone. With fifty some-odd brownies. Plus Bear the brownie pin-up, who had her arms crossed and was scowling at me.
“Awesome,” I said, “let’s go talk to some witches.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I figured moving a group of brownies might be like herding kittens. At least, that is what made the most sense considering what I knew of brownies from fairytales and the like. Instead, it was a more somber march through what I realized was the remains of their village. Past spots where their families had made last stands, through battlegrounds and de facto graveyards
. There was no talking, but I did hear a few sobs here and there, and the scope of the situation started to become clearer to me. This wasn’t just a valley I was making a quick trip through. Rather, it was a place I had been directed to because I could make a difference. I had to wonder if there was something else working in the background.
The group got to the lake faster than I got to the brownie tree. Which was probably a factor of the lake being quite large, and the tree being quite small, relatively speaking.
Getting across took a hot minute, first because I had to signal the fucking student rower who was supposed to be watching for me but had clearly fallen asleep, and it wasn’t until I got a particularly lucky long rock throw that I woke her up. Second, because there was a little shuffling of brownies required, and I left the poor student to go back and forth from the beach. I ran across the island and up the hill, sliding to a stop in front of Bixby’s cottage. I gave a hard knock on the door, and waited.
A moment passed.
Then another. And before another moment could pass, I knocked hard on the door once again, and it swung open. Bixby stood there, her hair a bit mussed up and her face in a scowl.
“Sadly,” I said, “it’s time to go.”
“Go?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I went and I spoke to the brownies, as you suggested. And we came to a new Accord.”
“You agreed to their demands we leave the island?”
“No,” I said, “after saving the last few brownies from becoming spiderbait, I agreed to escort them to my town. And I’m offering you the same deal.”
“We need not leave, we can—”
“Witch, please. The spiders were focusing all their efforts on the brownies. Whatever you’ve been dealing with has been just enough to make you think you’ve got it covered, but the reality is worse. With the brownies gone, it will take a day for the spiders to overrun you, tops.”
