Ysel walked to the large tree where Isa had first seen her and place her hand on the trunk. “My home is far from here. We will travel this way.”

The man in white, Doma, hurried past Isa. “Yes, my Lady,” he said and stepped through the glowing green tree trunk.

Ysel seemed to sense Isa’s hesitation. “Once we are at my home, we can get you weapons, and I will discover where they have taken Alice. Don’t waste time.”

Isa nodded and stepped through the glow. A shadow crossed her face, and then she was standing in a tall grove of oaks. Several elves and humans stood as if frozen in mid-motion. Then a murmur as people saw Ysel step past Isa.

“This is a new cleric of Lockwood! Isa Chamberlin. Mark her face. I name her friend of the Lady of Lockwood.”

A murmur went through the group. A few of them inclined their heads toward Isa. She nodded in response. “Come,” said Ysel, and she began to walk toward a large house set in among the tall trees.

“What if I don’t want to be a cleric?” Isa hurried after Ysel who whirled around and said, “Is that true? Are you unhappy with this task?”

“You mean I could change my mind?” She hadn’t expected to have a chance to discuss this. She hadn’t actively chosen to be a fighter, and part of her thought that perhaps that’s just how things go here.

“Are you not a healer in your world?” Ysel looked deep into Isa’s eyes.

“I’m not a medical doctor. I’m studying dentistry.”

“Huh. Well, you healed Doma. You healed me.”

“Yeah but that was just--”

“Do you turn away from your destiny?”

“My destiny?” Isa gave a laugh. “I’m just,” she shrugged, “you know….”

“Have you not been listening to me? You were sent here to heal the rift between our worlds.” Ysel frowned. “You and no one else. I have seen the visions, as have my druids.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Isa threw up her arms. “What rift? Where? Is it going to save Alice? Then let’s go.”

A young elf came running up. “My Lady, your body has been damaged; I sense it.”

Ysel waved him away. “It is healed.”

“My Lady, I fear that--”

“You and your fear leave us.”

The elf clamped his mouth shut, bowed, and let them pass.

“Is that a spell?” Isa asked her. “I could so use that sometimes.”

“Not as such, but command would do much that same. At least for a short time.”

“So you’re like a….” Isa didn’t want to complete the thought. She knew that the woman, no that wasn’t the right word, the entity walking beside Isa had given her a magical ability, and who could do that except….

“A goddess?” Ysel finished Isa’s comment. “Yes, I am.”

“How do you know I’m your chosen one or whatever? Is that why Fedru took Alice? Or rather me - why he wanted me?”

“Have patience, Isa.” As Ysel approached the doors of the house, they opened. Two white-clad women stood to the sides, holding the door. “My Lady,” they said in unison.

“Our stay is brief,” Ysel said to them. “Bring me my bowl, some food, and gear for this warrior cleric.” She glanced at Isa. “Two weapon, yes? That will do for now, but soon you may find you cast more spells than swing your sword.” She paused and nodded. “One of my shillelaghs will do, and….”

“I like a rapier,” said Isa. “What’s a shillelagh?”

“It is a sacred weapon of the grove,” one of the women answered.

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“It’s a club, a nice, heavy club,” Ysel said as she walked through the front room and into a small room with a large fireplace. She sat down at a table. “Where’s my bowl? I asked for my bowl.”

A woman rushed in with a large silver bowl, shallow and wide like a punchbowl. She set it carefully on the table in front of Ysel and poured water in to the brim.

“Isa, sit. Here. Beside me.”

Without another thought Isa sat in the chair beside Ysel. It was easy to forget that the slim, dark haired woman was not, in fact, a woman. “Should I call you something special….?”

“Ysel is fine. It is my name. Now sit still. To find Alice, I must see Alice. And to see Alice, I need to see with your eyes, the eyes of love.” She looked deeply into Isa’s eyes. Slowly Ysel brought her hand up to rest on Isa’s cheek. “Ah yes. Lovely.”

After a few more seconds Ysel turned away and focused on the bowl. Isa felt a hand on her arm. One of the white women said softly, “Come away. The Lady must See.”

Isa slipped out of the chair and followed the woman from the room. Another woman gently shut the door. “The scry,” she said, “will take at least 10 minutes, but still we must move quickly.”

The women each grabbed an arm and hurried Isa into a large, airy room. A fire pit took up the center area. Beside it stood a table and a bench. Weapons had been placed on the table and on the bench, a folded stack of clothes.

“Your clothes,” One woman said as she lifted Isa’s small bag from her shoulder.

“My bag!” Isa hadn’t thought about it since she’d slung it on before leaving the house. Would it have her car keys, phone, and wallet, or - as she suspected - would the bag have a small notebook and not much else?

She grabbed it as the woman tried to place it on the bench. “There’s no time,” the woman said.

“I’ll make time,” said Isa as she opened the bag. Inside was her notebook and a small pouch. Isa opened the pouch and saw the gold coin that Mery had given her just before they parted ways - Isa had kept that in her wallet as a souvenir - and 2 small black pearls.

She cinched the bag and pulled out her notebook. She’d never expected to see it again, never expected to need it again. And yet Isa’s hand trembled with excitement as she opened to the first page. She saw “Class: Fighter 4 / Cleric 1.” Below that she saw the notation: Strength -11, Dexterity - 16, Constitution - 11, Intelligence - 13, Wisdom - 13, and Charisma - 12.

Isa had certainly healed the man called Doma, and it had felt good to heal his wounds. Could she be a fighter and a healer? Ysel seemed to think so.

Isa brushed her thumb across the word Cleric, and these words appeared: The power of your magic comes from your connection with Ysel, the Lady of Lockwood.

One of the women said something to Isa, but she ignored them. Below the ability scores she saw the words “Prepared Spells.” There were 7 spells listed. Under “cantrips” - which Isa knew meant always-ready spells, there was Shillelagh, Spare The Dying, Sacred Flame, and Thaumaturgy. Under Level 1: Animal Friendship, Healing Word, and Bane.

Shillelagh. There was that word again. Is it a weapon or a spell? Isa brushed the letters to see what the notebook would reveal. Immediately Isa saw words appear on the page. When you speak the holy word, the club you are holding is imbued with the power of Lockwood. You swing it with the might of your spells, not your body, and because your spells are as strong as Lockwood Forest, your swing is strong, indeed. The spell ends when you lose contact with your weapon.

“Healer Isa? Please, your armor.” One of the woman held up a brown coat. It was similar to armor Isa had seen, but it didn’t look like metal; it looked like tree bark. Isa reached out a hand to touch it and felt cool metal, not bark.

“Wait, sorry - what did you call me? What was that name?”

“I called you Healer.” The woman pulled the scale mail closer as if Isa would strike out.

“Yes, but that wasn’t the actual word.” Isa shut her eyes in concentration.

“Another gift,” said Ysel from the doorway. “You can now speak Eli, the language of the elven people. Athay is the word you’re hearing, It is a title for clerics of the clan.” Ysel waved a hand at the armor and weapons. “Why aren’t you dressed? Why isn’t she dressed?”

The two women bowed their heads, but before they could speak Isa said, “I had some questions, that’s all. Did you find Alice?”

“I did indeed, which is why I need you ready for battle.” Ysel waved her hand to hurry Isa along. “The coat looks fine. Is that hide? She can wear the scale coat over that. She needs leggings and boots.”

Isa slipped out of the loafers she’d put on that morning. No Brooks for Gimble this time, but with any luck she and Alice would be back in Portland in a few hours. She pulled off her jeans, turning them inside out in her haste. One of the woman snatched them away while the other held out cloth pants with more of the brown metal scales sewn on. They were lighter than Isa expected, but then most of the scales were on the thighs and down the sides.

While Isa was getting dressed Ysel looked over the weapons. When the women had finished with the armor, Ysel handed Isa a rapier. It was longer than her last one, but lighter. The handguard was a broad metal oakleaf design. The club was dark, polished wood with a delicate vein of silver twining up the handle. The head was bulbous: sanded wood so that it was lighter than the rest. It glistened as if encased in glass. A strap ran through the bottom of the handle, and Ysel hung it from a hook on Isa’s coat.

“There,” she said to Isa. “We are ready for war.”