by Drew Hayes
* * *
“Somebody drop a prayer to Grumble and tell him we appreciate the freebie,” Gabrielle said, biting back another coughing fit as she watched the towering monster with the elf in its hand grow bigger by the moment. “And then we should probably all run like hell.”
“Seconded,” Eric agreed. He leapt over the remains of a crumbling soil golem while Grumph threw his anchor rope into the last nearby cluster. More tree sprites were grouping up, but there were far fewer than had been around before. It seemed they thought this new monster would be more than up to the job, and Eric wasn’t inclined to disagree. Which was why they needed to beat a hasty retreat.
“The gods are on our side.” Timuscor and Mr. Peppers, both covered in dirt from fending off soil golems, made their way over.
It didn’t escape Thistle’s notice that Timuscor was walking with a limp, nor that his shield arm wasn’t fully raised. He’d taken a beating so the others wouldn’t have to, and the gnome would be sure to mend his injuries as soon as possible. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be quite as soon as the others were hoping.
“I think... I think I have to save her,” Thistle said, earning shocked looks from everyone, even Grumph.
“Her? The elf who stalked us for two days, tried to suffocate me with smoke, and took shots at you and Grumph?” Gabrielle said. “That’s who you want to save?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to. I said I think I have to,” Thistle corrected. “She did attack us, yes, but all her shots were to wound. And she also probably saved our lives by attacking the tree sprites. Whatever she wants, whatever game she’s playing, she ultimately helped us. More than that, though... I just don’t get a feeling of evil from her. Perhaps I’m still not fully aware of how to use my paladin sense, but in a moment like this, I feel that Grumble would let me know if I were dealing with an evil person. Because if she’s not, then that means I have to try and help. That is, unfortunately, part of what it means to be a paladin.”
“Then we’ll help, too,” Grumph said. He looked at the still-forming monster towering over them. “Somehow.”
“Ordinarily, I’d try to talk you all into leaving, but since we’ve got little time and none of you would listen, I’ll skip that part,” Thistle told them. “There might be a way to stop that thing. It’s a long shot, and if it fails, we’ll be in much greater danger, but since I doubt any of us can beat that monster in combat, it’s the best option we’ve got. See how almost all of the nearby tree sprites are glowing red, powering that root monster?”
“Sort of hard to miss at this point,” Gabrielle said.
“Aye, it is a spectacle. However, it’s important because it means that they’ve committed more to offense than defense. There’s too many of them to try and attack; even if a few were driven off, there would still be enough to keep the spell going. So what we need to do is split their focus, make them panic, and hope the magic comes undone,” Thistle said.
Grumph studied the situation carefully, a good idea of what Thistle had planned already in his head. Still, it was best to be sure they were on all on the same page. “How?”
“Quite simple, really. We attack the only thing they care about.” Thistle raised a small finger and pointed to the gigantic tree where the tiny troublesome guards had poured out of in the first place. “There is a reason they’re called tree sprites, after all.”
Chapter 10
It wasn’t really much of a plan, which was perhaps why everyone felt so comfortable with it. Grumph and Timuscor—and of course, Mr. Peppers—would rush toward the tree where Grumph could unleash his fire spells. Timuscor would act as shield and sword in case the tree sprites tried to counterattack before the burn began in earnest. Meanwhile, Thistle, Eric, and Gabrielle would work to keep the root monster from interfering, as well as make sure more soil golems didn’t surround them. As soon as the tree was on fire, they hoped the sprites would rush to save their home. At that point, assuming the root-creature collapsed, they’d grab the elf and run like hell. Once the tree sprites had finished putting out the flames, Thistle reminded them, they were going to be extremely unhappy.
So far as Eric was concerned, it might not be the worst thing in the world if the plan didn’t come to fruition. Yes, he wanted to escape with his friends, but he wasn’t quite sold on the rescue attempt. There was something about this woman—the certainty with which she’d moved, the skill when she fought, even the way she’d confidently tried to halt the battle—that was unnerving. She was strong, dangerous, and while Thistle might not sense evil, Eric was sure as the nine hells that she wasn’t good. If their first attempt failed, Eric wasn’t going to sign on for a second. Instead, he’d scoop the gnome up and carry him off the battlefield. There might be some anger and even a few dagger wounds for his trouble, but those would be a price worth paying if it kept his friends alive.
That would come later, if it came at all. For the moment, he had to keep himself concerned with helping to corral the root creature. It had finally stopped shifting, and as such had taken on a consistent form. Easily fifteen feet tall, it had two thick legs with wide feet, and a massive torso. Its two arms, far too long for its frame, ended in clawed hands, one of which was wrapped around the elf. Its head was almost kobold-like, except instead of simple spines, it had sharp roots jutting up at intermittent angles, and a mouth full of sharp stick-teeth. Eric wasn’t even sure why it had a mouth, since the whole thing was formed of interwoven roots that he could see right through, meaning anything it ate would just tumble through its gullet.
Looking at the creature’s composition gave Eric an idea. It was a mad one, certainly, but since he had neither Thistle’s range nor Gabrielle’s axe, it was the only thing he could think of that might actually help their situation. After all, their goal was to keep the monster distracted, and he imagined this would grab at least some of its attention.
Without running the idea by Thistle or Gabrielle, aware that they’d certainly try to stop him, Eric darted ahead, bounding over the bushes and lumps that were once soil golems to arrive at the interwoven feet of the creature. Leaping upward, Eric hooked a hand around the roots comprising its leg and began to climb. Though the material was rough and dug into his hands, he was able to get a firm grip and ascend steadily. When he was halfway up the leg, Eric released one hand, yanked his short sword free, and began to hack away at the section of the appendage where the roots looked the thinnest. They were tough and fibrous, but while his weapon lacked the punch of Gabrielle’s cursed axe, it had once been strong enough to serve as a paladin’s blade. Eric didn’t know much about his father, who had passed away when he was still a small boy, but at the moment, all he cared about was the man’s ability to choose a good sword, which he undeniably had. Even with attacks as comparatively weak as the ones Eric could muster, he still managed to sunder chunks out of the roots after three or four blows.
Having pierced through one section, Eric found himself staring at a large, oddly-shaped fruit. It was covered in dirt, like it had been buried deep below the earth, and somewhat resembled a fist-sized ildenberry, though it lacked the distinct glow of those on the bushes. Sheathing his blade, he grabbed the fruit and tossed it into the sack at his hip, then set about climbing once more.
Seconds later, one of the creature’s clawed hands took a swipe at him. Eric barely managed to dodge. Terrifying a moment as it was, hanging for dear life on the leg made of roots, it was also extremely encouraging.
He was definitely managing to keep the thing’s attention.
* * *
The elf should have been consumed by terror or crippled with a blind panic driving all common sense from her brain. In reality, she was more awash with shame than anything else. How many times, in how many lectures, had she told the paler shadows the importance of keeping an eye on the whole battlefield at once? Yet today, amidst a sky of tree sprites, she’d gone and let her attention center on her immediate opponents, forgetting the secondary threat. It was amateur stuff, rea
lly, and she fully intended to use it as a learning opportunity, as well as a bit of a humbler. Of course, she also had zero intention of ever letting the others find out about the situation. Personal growth was all well and good, but she had a reputation to uphold.
Letting the crossbow fall from her grip so it clattered loudly against the palm of the root-hand holding her, she made an identical gesture with each hand. There was a glow of purple from the bracelets around her wrists, and suddenly she was clutching her daggers. They felt good, a reassuring weight to hang on to as her captor swung her around through the air. Wasting no time, she began to saw at the nearest root. It was tough, but her blades were honed to a fine edge and had a bit of magic atop them. All she needed was a small space, big enough to shove a gnome through, and her trained flexibility would handle the rest.
While she was chopping away at the cage binding her, the elf was treated to a fascinating sight below. The human in veilpanther armor was actually climbing up the monster’s leg. Simultaneously, the gnome and axe-wielding woman alternated attacking its feet and the tree sprites, who were trying to summon more soil golems. Farther away, she could just make out the half-orc as he threw a bout of magical flame at the nearest massive tree. It seemed to catch, but the burn was a slow one. Not surprising; creatures like these would surely ward their home. If the fire hadn’t been magical, it probably would have sloughed right off the bark like water. Still, it was doing a bit of damage, and some of the few tree sprites that weren’t part of the red cluster zipped through the sky to defend it. There they met the knight and his pig, who refused to let a single one pass as another flame spell was cast.
It was a befuddling moment, altogether. They’d been on the verge of death when she arrived, so why were they trying to mount an attack instead of fleeing for their lives? This root-beast wasn’t guarding some massive treasure to plunder; it was just protecting the orchard. There was no incentive for them to destroy it. She was the only one in any actual peril.
At that moment, an idea struck her that was so ludicrous, so utterly insane, that she actually stopped sawing for a few seconds. They couldn’t be... they weren’t trying to save her, were they? She’d openly attacked them, and it seemed the whole party was aware that she’d been on their trail; hell, they might have known she was on them since the capital, though the very idea smarted a bit. So why would they do something as insane as try to rescue her? It didn’t make any sense, and so the elf was forced to dismiss the idea outright, pushing the madness out of her head and focusing on sawing through her cage.
It was impossible to work without seeing what was occurring below, however, and as she made progress, so too did the half-orc. A third spell had been thrown, and this one actually seemed to be gaining traction. If the plumes of rising smoke didn’t prove that, then the fact that the monster’s path suddenly changed certainly did. With one massive step, it altered its course, now heading directly for the half-orc attacking the tree.
She was almost certain these people were either idiots or touched in the head, but on the offhand chance that they actually had a plan, she hoped they kicked it into gear soon. Otherwise, there was no way she’d be able to collect that bounty.
* * *
Gabrielle had managed to take out a few chunks of the dense roots composing the monster’s feet, even if it had meant rolling out of the way when it tried to kick her. The only thing saving her from dealing with its claws was that both were occupied. One was holding on to the elf while the other futilely tried to knock away Eric, who was chopping away small sections of root as he ascended. With Thistle flinging daggers at tree sprite clusters to keep the soil golems at bay, it seemed they’d hit upon a functional strategy for containing the monster.
Until the giant mass of animated roots changed course, that is.
Taking a sharp turn, it walked toward the tree Grumph had finally succeeded in setting alight, albeit only slightly. With those giant legs, it would make the trip in no time, so Gabrielle redoubled her efforts, striking at its feet and heels, working desperately to get the damn thing’s attention back on her. Unfortunately, she might as well have been slapping it with a twig for all the notice her opponent paid her. Even the kicks to dislodge her had ceased; she was no longer a target worth even the barest of consideration. Although this really wasn’t the time to get offended, she still found the idea of being completely ignored infuriating.
This time, rather than try to push the swell of anger down, Gabrielle fueled it, allowed the simmering rage to build, grow, and eventually swallow her completely. Tactics and clear heads had their value in battle, but not at this moment. Right now, all she had was a task and an enemy. She had to slow this giant red-root bastard down, and the harder she swung, the better chance she had of pulling that off. The ever-present pain of the axe grew more powerful, reacting to her fury. It liked when Gabrielle allowed her anger to run wild. She didn’t give two goblin shits what a cursed object thought or liked, as long as it gave her the power she needed.
Charging forward, letting out a scream that would at both wake the dead and convince them that perhaps they were best off staying in their coffins, Gabrielle swung her axe at the monster’s left heel. This time, she tore off a chunk of it, a whole section of root blasting away like it’d been struck by a cannonball. It was a good attack, but it wasn’t enough. The creature continued forward, lurching toward Grumph, Timuscor, and Mr. Peppers. Two more steps and they’d be within its reach, which meant that, no matter what, she couldn’t let it have those two steps.
“Listen up, axe, I don’t know how in the nine hells you work, but if you’re still willing to trade flesh for power, then let’s make a deal.”
* * *
Grumph had grown as a caster by leaps and bounds since first picking up the dead wizard’s spell book. He’d mastered several new spells, learned a great deal about how magic worked, and even won a place inside the mages’ guild. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he worked or studied, there were some aspects of being a wizard that only long-term training could improve, and the depth of his mana pool was one of them. Between shooting magic at the clusters of sprites, conjuring the golden weapon to fight with, and now trying to light the tree on fire, he was almost completely tapped out.
While Timuscor fought bravely behind him, Grumph dug deep, trying with all he had to summon up just one more spell. The impending thuds of the approaching root-monster were certainly helping with motivation, but not focus. If the third fire blast had not managed to catch the tree aflame, Grumph might have given up the cause and tried to reason with Thistle. But now he knew it could be done. It took a focused shot near where the branches were thickest, something he’d managed the first time by sheer chance. Grumph’s best guess was that the trunk was more heavily warded than the branches; the relative lack of protection on the branches gave the fire something to cling on to and spread. Another blast might be enough to get a real blaze going, assuming Grumph could live long enough to cast the damned spell.
Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, Grumph’s entire train of thought nearly derailed at the sight that met his eyes. Gabrielle’s blonde locks had turned pitch black as she ran forward, eyes trained on the monster who would soon be able to reach him. With one swing, she sank her axe into a damaged section of its heel. The blade didn’t seem to cut as much as cause everything it encountered to explode outward, sending chunks of red, intertwined roots spinning through the air. With that lone attack, Gabrielle had crippled her enemy, leaving the remains of its shattered foot unable to bear its weight. The beast tilted to the side, slowed but not stopped. Gabrielle, on the other hand, seemed to stagger in place. Although it was hard to tell through her demon-hide armor, Grumph was almost certain he saw trickles of blood running down her arms. A lot of blood.
This fight couldn’t go on any longer. His friends were risking life and limb, and sooner or later, one of their gambles would fail. Pulling together every last scrap of mana he could, more than he even thought he h
ad left, Grumph took careful aim and let loose another fire blast. The effort was incredible. For a moment, his vision blurred, and the half-orc genuinely feared he would faint. Then it all stabilized, and he saw perhaps the most beautiful thing he could have ever pictured.
Fire.
Glorious, destructive fire was torching across the branches, slowly catching on the tree’s trunk. The sharp sound of a bell shrieked through the air, and suddenly the red glow vanished as the sprites descended on their tree, stamping and slapping to try and put out Grumph’s fire.
Moments later, the first of many massive cracks echoed through the orchard as the root monster, now without the magic needed to sustain it, began to come apart. It was exactly what they’d been hoping for when Thistle had hatched his plan to save the elf.
Except for the fact that she was still clutched in the remains of the creature’s hand, which had been swung high overhead. As the roots gave way, so too did the elf’s cage, sending her plummeting toward the ground below.
* * *
It was a... suboptimal situation. There was almost no warning before the cage broke apart, allowing the elf only the briefest of moments to reorient herself. Not that it did much good, since the whole damned thing came undone all at once. Her crossbow went tumbling out only a few seconds before she did, clattering to the ground amidst the tumble of breaking roots. With the few seconds she had left, the elf dismissed her daggers, preferring to try and use her hands for gripping if at all possible.
When her footing vanished and she went into freefall, her mind stayed steady. This would be a far drop, no doubt about it; however, if she controlled her body well, she might get away with only a broken leg or two. Not the greatest position when surrounded by people she’d shot at, but they didn’t seem the type to kill her outright. As long as she could bluff for her life long enough to take one of the potions hidden in her pockets, she’d be able to recover and either attack or sneak off to think of a new plan.
