Chapter Text
"I've got our next job," Andraste proclaimed, coming to a stop at the edge of her makeshift family's table. Pelika didn't bother to look up. The black-haired teen had been whittling a block of redwood for the past several hours. Ketheruil blinked and turned in his chair, looking deceitfully like a cheerful old man wrapped in a dark-blue sweater. Callyss has his ankles crossed on the table, and had been watching her from across the room before anyway. They waited for her to continue.
That's how they had ended up in the Laughing Hollow, miles deep into the ancient forest and in near-constant gloom from the tall shadow of Mount Illefarn. It had taken some time to convince the three to wander into an ancient fey realm to find a dead ranger and steal his books; but the time was more than worth it, in her opinion. Geldon La Sarkil was legendary, and if she was the lucky bard to recover his original journals, her future was set. Or at least part of it.
The other part—the part that she had stuffed into the back of her mind only minutes after realizing it, would remain to be sorted. Ketheruil had mercifully limited his pitying glances to only one every other day. She managed to nearly forget about it all in the time between.
Pelika led the way through the undergrowth, painstakingly tracking what little was left of the famous ranger's trail. The pale girl may have had a permanently unsociable attitude and an odd disinterest in food, but her talents made her indispensable in the wilderness. Having offered to educate her, Andraste had struck up an unlikely friendship that verged on motherly. But Pelika rounded out their odd troupe, and did seem to enjoy their company in her own way.
The ranger stopped in a small circle of trees, taking a moment to survey their surroundings. Green-tinged light filtered down to them through the soaring trees, dropping in small rays to the tiny clover that carpeted the forest floor. The pale, glowing leaves of the plants were almost too beautiful to touch, and Andraste had been saying small prayers to every forest god she knew as they walked. Pelika crouched to the ground, brushing her thin fingers through the plants and examining the earth.
Behind her, Callyss sighed quietly. She knew the sound of his breath by now. Turning around, she saw the drow was staring blindly into the trees. The dark forest was lit here and there by the bioluminescence of the undergrowth, which ran in narrow fairy paths along the ground, or peaked out from hollows in the tree trunks. Ever since waking that morning, it had felt as though the forest was holding its breath. The air was heavy and still, and the small shafts of glistening light that made it through the canopy seemed to conceal more than illuminate. Callyss' posture shifted minutely as he came back to the present, and Andraste saw what had caught his eye. A brightly glowing green creature had emerged from behind a giant tree root, and was fluttering in the dark space between the trees. Its four transparent wings reminded her of slender elven knives, and silvery gossamer tails traced beautiful paths in the air behind it.
Ketheruil had been lagging behind, but just then he walked up behind the dark elf, shifting his shoulders in his pack harness. "What's going?" the older man asked, looking between them and landing on Pelika.
"She's making certain of the trail," Andraste explained, feeling the need to speak quietly. "What held you up?"
"Saw some mistletoe," the human replied, gesturing to his pack. "Thought Pelika could use it, if we get in a tough spot."
Andraste nodded, "Good thinking," and turned away from the men to check with the ranger.
Pelika was still crouched, though she had stopped fondling the ground and had her elbows resting on her knees. Her deep blue eyes were unfocused and fixed somewhere far ahead. The bard frowned to herself as she stood beside the younger woman. "Pelika?"
"There's something out there," the ranger's soft voice came back to her. "I can sense it, something large, and fey. It's somewhere ahead."
"Well, this is their forest, so I suppose—"
"Khal-abbil!" Callyss' voice cut through her thought moments before the earth beneath her feet shook violently. Pitched forward, Andraste nearly stumbled over Pelika. But the ranger was light on her feet and rolled forward with the force of the wave, turning to come to her feet and pulling the bow off her back. The bard heard the lightning glide of steel-on-steel from behind her. Whipping around, Andraste saw that Ketheruil had drawn his sword and taken a fighting stance. Callyss was poised like a spring, crossbow trained off where the glowing creature had been flying a moment ago. Blinking through her surprise, the elf realized the source of the noise.
A huge, monstrous shape moved through the trees. It raised a thick, wooded limb and planted it as it stepped forward, shaking the ground with a loud rumble. Lumbering toward them on all fours, the creature was made of twisted, greying wood that rose into tall limbed spikes from its back. Its broad torso and tail were big enough to fill up any empty space beneath the forest canopy, while its white glowing eyes seemed to emerge from gnarled holes in its barked suggestion of a face.
Her old friend suddenly drew a deep breath, and the air around him grew darker. Inky blackness melted over his eyes, and ghostly light burst from his back to form ephemeral wings. Andraste felt a shiver run over her skin, as she tried to shake off the chill of Ketheruil's change. With a snap, Callyss discharged his crossbow toward the blighted oak. The bolt struck, but it landed oddly, and the creature seemed unfazed. Pelika dashed off to the right between the trees, going wide of the lumbering creature. She melted into the darkness under the canopy, and Andraste found she couldn't follow her movements. She would have to trust the girl to herself.
Drawing a chalky stone from the pouch on her belt, Andraste squeezed it tight in her palm before throwing it up in the air with all her might. "Dalsein!" she cried, the clear ring of her voice rising into a piercing scream. The sound echoed through the forest space, sending a crack through the air that shattered into the monster. With a rumble, knotted wood from its right shoulder fractured, crumbling in fragments to the forest floor. The thing roared, shaking the trees. It pressed forward into the earth, sending another wave through the ground. Andraste felt her stomach drop to her knees, and she struggled to maintain her feet.
The earth around them began to bulge and break, as thick grasping roots shot up toward the adventurers. Andraste saw them flying up from the ground one moment, and the next she was thrown into the air. Hitting the uneven ground, she struggled to stay in control. Pain shot through her as the dense root slapped across her middle, causing her to gasp in response to losing all the air in her lungs. Choking on a cry of pain, the elf tried to roll onto her belly. The cloying, rich smell of dark earth overwhelmed her senses. Little clods of thrown dirt rained down on her back, tiny pelts of sound and feeling. Clenching her eyes to clear them, Andraste looked to the side for her friends.
Ketheruil was on his knees, having fallen to the ground where he stood. There was a cut spilling a sheet of blood down the right side of his face, and he was breathing hard. His dark hair had come a bit undone, and hung down around his black eyes. But the air around him was still whirling with dark energy. He hadn't lost his grip on his sword. Pelika was nowhere to be seen.
It was difficult to make out Callyss, except for his shock of white hair. He had also been thrown, and was laying crumpled on the ground ten feet away. The skin on his jaw was split open—a nasty red gash in his ebony complexion. His obsession with dark clothes made it difficult to tell immediately if he was bleeding anywhere else. Andraste groaned as she pushed herself to her hands and knees, trying her best to get closer to him.
She heard more than saw Ketheruil get to his feet. Gathering himself for a moment, the older man darted forward, roaring his frustration at the beast. The sound of his longsword striking the creature echoed through the clearing, and the ground rumbled once more as the monster moved.
Crawling over a few feet, Andraste knelt next to the unconscious drow on the moist earth. She reached out a shaky hand, brushing some of his pale hair away from his face, and accidentally smearing some of the hot blood on his cheek. "Faeyna, faeyna, faeyna Ssri'Tel'Quessir," she sang, feeling magic flow through her palm and into his body. His bright eyes snapped open, immediately finding her face with a look of alarm.
"It's alright," she said before she could stop herself.
"It's not," he immediately replied, grasping her hand and moving it off his face. The crossbow he had been using fell to his side on its tether as he sat up, still loosely holding her hand. "We should run."
"Well," Andraste huffed, looking back in the direction of the great cursed tree. "We're a little scattered." Glancing back to his face, she bent her lips in a grimace. "And maybe it can sprint."
The drow gave her an extremely flat look before hauling himself to his feet, and drawing her up with him. As he reached to draw his swords, another roar split the air between them. A look of shock crossed his face, and Andraste quickly turned to see what was going on. "Pelika," Callyss gasped, pointing toward the giant creature with the tip of his shining scimitar.
The lithe ranger was perched atop the thing, braced between a few of the tall twisted spines that grew from its back. Knocked in her shortbow was a flaming arrow, and as she let it fly toward the creature she quickly replaced it with another to fire again. The arrows ignited ethereal fire where they struck, catching and blazing against the monster's wooded flesh. Trying to turn around in the tightly forested space, the giant oak raised its fibrous front arm to swipe back at her. Ketheruil dodged as its blind turn caused some of the wood growths on its underbelly to glide past him where he stood at its feet. He brought his sword up and gave it a glancing swing, shattering some of its tough barked skin.
"We have to go!" Andraste yelled out to them, projecting her fine voice much louder than usual. She knew they would hear. Both drow and elf began moving simultaneously—in opposite directions. "What are you doing?" the bard snapped, reaching out as Callyss turned away. He jerked to a stop when she put her hand to his wrist.
"What do you think?" his voice was incredulous, matching hers in frustration.
"We aren't leaving without them!" Andraste replied, command in her voice. The look in his bright eyes was equal parts violence and disagreement, but the dark elf stood still.
Turning back to her friends, Andraste sprinted forward a few steps before skidding to a stop. Raising both her hands palms up, she gathered her thoughts and wove her fingers together, sliding them outward in a careful sequence. "Adon!" she called into the clearing, focusing her attention on the giant creature. Ketheruil spun toward the sound of her voice as her magic rolled through the space. She saw his expression firm up as it washed over him, and he met her eyes in acknowledgement. The monster slowed its attack, coming to rest all of its limbs on the ground. It stood still, arrested with calm. On its back, Pelika shuddered and almost fell, grasping onto one of its wooded spikes.
"K, Pelika, hurry, please," Andraste urged, still holding her hands out toward the creature. Immediately, Ketheruil began jogging back over to the elves. With her bow held loosely in one hand, Pelika moved toward the edge of the creature's broad back. She seemed to struggle with lifting her feet, and Andraste had a momentary fear that the ranger would simply tumble down to the ground.
But the girl's hardened will was stronger than the peace trying to still her body. Shaking her dark head, the ranger gathered herself and launched out into the air. She landed in the dirt beside the creature's wide front limb, planting her feet before following after Ketheruil.
"How long can you hold that?" the older man asked when he got within talking distance. He was flexing his hand around the sword's hilt. It was unsettling to look into his blacked-out eyes.
"Maybe another thirty seconds," Andraste assured him, nodding her chin toward Pelika. "Help her run, we need to get out of here." In his trusty way, Ketheruil simply turned and went back for the girl.
The bard took two deep breaths, steeling herself for the mental struggle against the cursed oak as she turned away from it. Callyss was still standing where she had left him, blood running in a small rivulet down his neck and smeared across his cheek still. She wasn't sure of the look in his eyes, but he reached for her shoulder when she approached his side. His grip was firm. The moment Ketheruil and Pelika came to them, the drow took point and jogged off into the woods. Together they ran, leaving the trail they had been following and plunging into the thick undergrowth. When Andraste finally felt her spell run out, the ground shuddered with the force of the creature's sudden movement. But it was far behind them, and the only threat that reached them was the deep rumble of its roar.