Mark of the Fool

Gwyllain, the asrai, sincerely wondered what great and powerful being he had managed to annoy.

He couldn’t remember angering any fae lord, ancient dragon, mighty witch or irritable godling, but he must have, at some point.

Otherwise, there was no way his luck could be this bad.

No way.

In a time span that was a mere blink of an eye to a fae, he’d been captured and nearly eaten by a blue annis hag, almost killed by three of those hags and a horde of Ravener-spawn, and had crossed paths with the bloody Stalker.

After that, things had been peaceful for a while.

But now?

This very instant, his life had turned to shit.

The little fae sat in a small stream, with only the top of his face and head peeking above the water’s surface as the world burned around him. In the distance, he could see the burned out remains of an all too familiar—and highly traumatising—windmill.

This was a place he would normally avoid, but—this spring—he’d heard that clumps of absolutely delectable mushrooms had begun growing in the forest around here. After weeks spent considering the situation, he’d finally built up enough nerve to come and gather some for his own larder.

He’d slipped out of the fae wild easily enough, but he’d only managed to pick a single mushroom when the world had decided: ‘You know what, mate? Now’s a good time to end.’

And then, it started doing just that.

First came the patrol: a big group of foreign wizards and hirelings from a realm far beyond Thameland’s shores. They’d had sharp eyes and itchy sword-hands, so Gwyllain had scurried into this stream, hiding beneath the water’s surface until the loud stupid mortals passed.

That was when Ravener-spawn—much to his shock—had come boiling from the nearby fae-gate and attacked the patrol.

The battle was apocalyptic.

Mortal wizards wielded earth-shaking spells, while Ravener-spawn attacked with tooth, claw and their own magics. Those invisible monsters with the many eyes had come from the mushroom circle, attacking and paralysing some of the mortals, then turning them to stone and shattering them with their dreadful screams.

But the mortals had magics to expose the hidden creatures, and they struck them with fire, lightning and force.

Every time one of many-eyed beasts was defeated, it would explode, turning great swathes of the forest to ash. It was only by some miracle that Gwyllain hadn’t been blown to bits yet by one of those blasts.

He needed to escape…but there was no chance.

Even poking his head too far above the water risked him getting struck by some errant spell or Ravener-spawn’s eye-beam. So, here he sat, in this stream, trembling, desperately hoping that no explosion would vaporise him, and trying to figure out what powerful being could have it out for him.

‘No fae’s this unlucky,’ he thought fearfully. ‘No one is! Why? Why does this keep happening to me? This is supposed to be the time of plenty! So many of my friends filled their larders with honey, jams and other tasty treats many of the Thameish mortals left behind. All I’ve been getting is almost kill—”

That was when he was almost killed.

A great orb of darkness sprang to life in the distance, then another and another.

They began pulling in Ravener-spawn and everything else around them like starving beasts, obliterating the screaming monsters.

Moments later, an explosion tore through the air: fire bright enough to blind someone raged in the forest, consuming much of the woodland in an instant. Ravener-spawn withered, more magic came for the remainder, destroying them. Fire. Lightning. Earth and stone.

All came together, ending the monsters’ lives.

The army of spawn was destroyed, apart from those still flowing through the fae gate.

But there was no free pass for those either when another group of deadly warriors and mages attacked them, routing the monsters.

Soaring past the now retreating foreign patrol was…

…oh no.

Oh no!

Alexander Roth—the crazy wizard—was leading a horde of even crazier looking wizards and warriors right for the Ravener-spawn swarming from the gate. They fought their way through the spawn like wounded boars, trampling the monsters like they were simply fighting a nest of ants, then making their way to the circle of mushrooms.

“Everybody ready!” Gwyllain heard Alexander cry, as he destroyed a mass of bone-chargers with a wave of his hand. “We won’t know what’s on the other side so be prepared!”

“Got it!” A giant shouted, slicing a behemoth’s leg off with a stroke of his axe.

Soon, the group was inside the fae circle, shimmering, being pulled into the fae wild.

A breath later, they were gone.

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As silence descended on the forest, a trembling Gwyllain slowly crawled from the water, moving as fast as he could away from the smouldering battlefield.

“If I live through today, I’ll never have anything more to do with mortal wizards, fae lords or anything else great and powerful!” he promised himself. “Not ever! No matter how tempting the mushrooms near them are!”

When Alex and his companions stepped into the fae wild, he expected to be attacked by something great and powerful.

Maybe Ravener-spawn from Thameland’s ancient days on guard at the fae gate.

Or mighty fae warriors, waiting to slaughter them.

Even the Ravener itself.

What he didn’t expect…was…

“There’s…nothing…here…” Claygon said, with his iron head swivelling about and his spear raised. “Nothing or no one …at all.”

The group of warriors and wizards had emerged in a misty grove of fruit trees, ladened with silver coloured, apple-shaped fruit.

Beneath the evening sky, crickets peacefully chirped in the thick grass.

A warm breeze rustled branches, making the fruit jingle like cheery Sigmus bells.

The air smelled faintly of holly and honey.

Butterflies with glowing wings flitted about.

There were no Ravener-spawn present, and the only sign that the monsters had ever been there were tracks covering the clearing around the mushroom circle, and filling a wide path leading through the trees to the east.

“Well, if this don’ seem like a trap, I don’ know what does?” Cedric raised his weapons.

“Ravener-spawn was jus’ pourin’ through th’ fae-gate. This place should b’ crawlin’ wit’ th’ bastards.”

“Yet it isn’t.” Theresa and Brutus sniffed the air. “And they were just here.”

“And something still is,” Baelin said.

All eyes turned to the beastfolk archwizard. His horned head was tilted toward the wind. “Something spies on us from afar. To…the north of here.”

“Very good,” a strange voice spoke, seeming to echo from every branch, leaf, blade of grass…and even the air itself.

The group tensed, preparing to fight as the earth before them rippled, and began to rise. Mud, soil and grass extended into a column that began shifting, taking on a vaguely humanoid form. Soon, sharp, delicate features appeared on its face.

“You!” Cedric snarled, brandishing his weapons. “Bloody traitor!”

“Do not throw those words out so carelessly,” a voice came from the regal figure of a tall, narrow-shouldered fae.

“Lord Aenflynn, I’m guessing?” Alex asked.

“Indeed,” the Fae lord, his image transformed from earth, grass and soil said. “And you must be the General of Thameland. Greetings. And greetings to the rest of you.”

“Be careful!” Merzhin hissed between clenched teeth. “I…I feel Uldar’s divinity coming from this effigy of dirt before us!”

“Very astute, young priest,” Aenflynn said. “But worry not, I am not here to fight you. Quite the opposite: I actually drove the Ravener-spawn away to clear space for us when I heard you were to arrive here. I thought we might have a chat, before you did something senseless. Have ourselves a little parley—”

He looked from Cedric to Drestra to Hart. “—much as we did not so long ago.”

The Fae lord’s image gestured to another section of the clearing, and he whistled.

The ground beneath their feet rumbled, producing stone chairs and a massive table. The table was circular in shape and broad enough to accommodate eighteen seats, of different sizes.

“Shall we?”

“No way I’m accepting your supposed hospitality again,” Hart said.

“I think that goes for all of us,” Alex added.

“Why not? I haven’t met most of you before,” Aenflynn shrugged. “Do not be rude in my domain.”

His voice had a barb to it.

No one flinched.

“What the hells do you want?” Alex asked.

“So, will you be the spokesperson?” Aenflynn asked. “Have a sea—”

“No,” the General pushed the Fae lord’s offer away. “You’re here to parley? Then fine. What do you have to say?”

He threw Baelin the subtlest of glances. If the ancient archwizard had sensed what direction they were being watched from…

Through the slits of his mask, the chancellor’s eyes were slightly unfocused.

Alex knew exactly what to do.

Focusing the Mark of the General on drawing the fae lord’s attention, he returned Aenflynn’s gaze, adjusting his own body language to be just rude enough to set the fae’s teeth on edge. Not to attack…but to definitely disrespect.

The earthen image of the Fae lord watched Alex closely.

“If you will not sit, then so be it,” Aenflynn said. “You mortals become so rude when you’re thwarted. Alright, so this is how it is. The Ravener seems to have quite lost its mind. I do not think anyone can stop it now.”

Alex laughed at that. “We can.”

“Can you?” Aenflynn raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But can you do so before your realm is wiped from history? I know that you know much, and you likely know that the Ravener was able to cull all of Thameland once upon a time. Even if you kill it, it will take you time to do so. Plenty of time for your entire kingdom to die. Every second you spend is…how many of your army will be dead? Hundreds? Thousands?”

Cedric grimaced, glaring at the Fae lord.

Alex took a step forward, keeping Aenflynn’s attention on him. He put on a mask of anger, as though the fae’s words had gotten to him.

“And your point?” Alex asked.

“My point is that if we come to an agreement, then we can all walk away from this alive and much better off.” The Fae lord raised a hand. An image of Thameland on fire appeared above it. “Your kingdom is lost, nothing can prevent that…but what you can do is save those brave soldiers who fight for its survival.”

The image changed to one of soldiers marching away from the battlefield, their armour blackened by soot. Then the image changed to soldiers hugging their families, reuniting with their children and setting off toward new lands.

Leading them was King Athelstan, accompanied by the five Heroes.

“The Ravener has Uldar’s body, and is using—”

“We knows you gots th’ bloody body an’ throne!” Cedric interrupted.

Alex fought back the urge to wince as Aenflynn’s image smiled.

He’d made a probing statement. One meant to make the Heroes and their companions reveal more about what they knew, or had guessed.

And now Cedric had bitten and Aenflynn had confirmed a little more of their knowledge.

‘Point to you,’ Alex thought.

“I do have his throne,” Aenflynn admitted. “And I have spent much time mastering its energies. I wield the power of a god—not quite with the natural proficiency of Uldar—but it is still a deadly weapon in my hands. One that could either turn against you…or help you. The choice is yours.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asked.

“I think you deserve a little honesty, as a show of good will,” Aenflynn said. “I used Uldar’s throne as a weapon against Och Fir Nog’s many enemies. As Uldar helped me in the past, I used his power to wipe away many of my realm’s rivals in a single swoop. In short, I have what I want. Many of my enemies are now dead, and those who are left alive are in no position to strike back. So do not think of going to them for aid. But, this situation is a good thing for you.”

“And why is that?” Alex asked.

“Because it means I have no use for seeing the Ravener wipe all of you out,” Aenflynn admitted. “Make a pact with me, here and now, and I will use Uldar’s divine power to whisk you all away from Thameland and to your families…wherever they are scattered to. Blood calls to blood, and I can find them easily enough.”

Alex did not miss the implied threat.

“So we’re supposed to abandon our homes?” Drestra’s voice crackled.

“Yes,” Aenflynn said. “Precisely. What is more important to you? The dirt upon which you make your lives or the lives of your loved ones? Make peace with me now, and I will see to it that the armies of Thameland are saved, families reunited with families, and everyone free to restart their lives elsewhere. Make war with me now, and I will simply use Uldar’s throne to aid the Ravener in wiping out yet one more enemy of Och Fir Nog.”

The earthen projection’s eyes shone like jewels. “I leave the choice to you.”