The four travelled through the forest, enjoying the air, the new plants, and the strange animals they spied through the trees and hid in the undergrowth. Foxes, rabbits, squirrels, and other small animals could be seen dodging through the brush, and from what could be seen, these all looked like exemplar examples of the species, grown stronger and better in the Fae air than those that lived elsewhere.

They enjoyed the journey, the sweet air, the bird song, and the trilling of insects. The only discomfort was the cloying humidity that caused them to sweat in their armour. Yet they heeded the warning of their training and did not remove it. The hours passed, and after a rest for a midday meal, they continued.

Leading them, Kilia slowed, holding her hand up to bring them to a stop.

“Do you feel that?” She looked around her, shivering despite the heat. “It just feels wrong, different.”

Gwynneth looked around, extending her senses while Hurnith sniffed the air. Martin cursed his lack of senses compared to the others and readied his hammer, holding it in his hands while being alert to anything that may come at them. He moved behind Gwynneth, turning to face the back leaving the Fae mage in the middle, protected in front by Hurnith and himself behind. The group moved, forming a circle, their backs to each other, looking at the forest around them.

The bushes burst, and a black wolf jumped out, far larger than any Martin had ever seen in a forest, its head almost as high as his shoulders, but its body larger than his, heavier. It was aimed at Gwynneth, the one in the group without armour. It flew at her, red eyes blazing, hair raised, spittle flying from its bared fangs. Before it smashed into her Hurnith jumped as well, pushing it to the side, throwing off its aim, it barrelling into Martin instead.

Martin turned just in time to throw his hammer up, jamming its handle into the wolf’s open mouth as its momentum carried him to the ground. He strained to keep the wolf off him as it strained towards him. Its great strength was forcing its fangs closing, and he saw the flames in its eyes regarding him, flaring up, growing larger…

A beam of fire shot out, barely missing him as the wolf’s head was pulled up and its aim disrupted. Relieved he saw Hurnith pulling back on the wolf’s head keeping its jaws away from him. He rolled away, getting out from under it, ripping his hammer from his mouth, a fang coming loose. He felt the familiar feeling of a mana release, of someone casting a spell, but could not turn to look, concentrating on trying to get enough leverage in a hammer strike to do some damage. Even with its enhancements, a tap remained a tap.

A wolf yelp came from the side, and from the corner of his eye he saw the sides of a hurricane around them, flinging the wolves that had approached slower than the one on top of him away from them

He pulled his legs back, kicking himself out from behind the wolf as Hurnith struggled to hold it in place. He sprung up, swinging the hammer around with all his might, the hammer smashing into its head, splitting its skull, brains flying out along with flames. Hurnith cried out as the flames flew across his arms and face, too close to the exploding skull for him to move away in time. He screamed, dropping the body and falling to the ground in pain.

Kilia dived into her pack, looking for healing gel, rushing to get it. She saw no more enemies aside from the one that had landed on Martin the other three wolves lay scattered around them, their bodies shredded by stones and branches that had been swept up in the hurricane, their limbs scattered, their bodies shredded, viscera flung out in a circle around them as the hurricane ended.

Hurnith was struggling to stay awake, shock and pain from his wound settling in. He felt the cooling effect as the healing gel was spread onto his burns. A flask was pressed to his lips, and he gulped down the water, the cold soothing his burned lips.

He opened sore eyes, looking at his three companions, “Honourable scars, that’s what we all desire isn’t it?” He coughed and sat up, wincing at his burns. “They aren’t that bad. Just a light frying, not a heavy roast.” He got up, looking down at his clothes. “though they have messed up my armour.”

Grimacing he stood up, looking ridiculous with blue gel spread across his face, the top of his armour blackened from the flames. “Well, let’s go my face is sore, but my legs are still working.”

Gwynneth laughed at his bravado, while Kilia muttered something under her breath about the stubbornness of Gwathur. Martin just looked at Hurnith, stunned at his resilience. He had been burned in the forge, and while Hurnith’s burns may not have been life-threatening, they were certainly painful.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Looking at the three looking at him, Hurnith just shook his head at them and started walking. “Come on, let’s get home and you can all get me to a proper healer. Plus, I hear that the Fae have wonderful drinks, that will take my mind off things.” He looked at them, “You coming?”

***

The rest of the day and night were quiet, nothing disturbing them. Hurnith remained quiet and uncomplaining yet stopped frequently to drink from his canteen, the water infused with herbs to dull the pain. He said nothing, but the others saw him stumbling, his coordination and concentration affected by pain and the herbs that dulled his senses. The others said, nothing, knowing of his pride and not wanting to appear weak. So, when they saw the treetop city ahead they rejoiced, their ordeal would soon be coming to an end and they would be able to get a proper healer to look at Hurnith.

They moved forward, looking for the signs they had been told to look for to gain entry to the city. From below most of the city was concealed and could not be seen. They had been travelling slower than expected, so instead of arriving in daylight, as planned, the night was well advanced, and finding the signs they looked for harder in the dark.

They looked for the tell-tale marker of the circle of flowers, eventually finding it. Standing within the circle they looked up, before Martin leaned down, picked one of the blue flowers set it alight. It sputtered at first, the moist petal not wanting to catch, but after it had dried out a blue smoke started rising from it, rising into the tree, leaving a fresh smell behind it, not the expected smell of burning. A short while later a ladder was lowered, and they started to climb up.

Martin climbed up the ladder, the last in line behind Gwynneth making sure nothing dragged her off. As a mage, she was the least physically resilient and protected by the rest. He heard nothing as he climbed, something he did not think about, until his head emerged in the middle of the platform and hands grabbed him roughly from behind, his arms being grabbed and twisted behind his back as he came up.

He saw the other three in the same position, one of the Fae watching them, patiently waiting as they were searched, and their weapons removed.

Gwynneth looked at him, her displeasure in her voice evident. “We were told we would be welcomed here, why are we being treated as enemies?”

The Fae regarding them looked at them, then seemed to decide, though he frowned at Hurnith’s gel-covered face.

“You have arrived at a bad time. We have just had an incident, an intrusion of the dark. We are a small settlement, on the outskirts of Fae, we are not used to this. We are on the outskirts, but far from the Dark and known incursion points. It is seldom we are bothered. From the looks of it, you ran into trouble of your own on the way, I hope it is all a coincidence.” He hesitated and then indicated to the surrounding Fae to hand back their weapons. “Follow me, we have no awakened here, but perhaps you can help. Please, come with me.”

He turned around, leaving the guard hut and leading them across the walkway between the trees. Martin looked down, gulping at the fall to the forest floor. He saw the others walking across, Kilia almost dancing, unbothered by the height. He hung onto the waist-high ropes, gripping them tightly as he walked. The walkway swayed a bit but stayed firm beneath him as he crossed. Once he got to the other side, he turned to their guide, “Couldn’t you make it sturdier? Not sway as much?”

The guide laughed. “It's deliberate. We have ways of bringing heavy loads where we need them, but the walkways form a choke point if an army comes from below. Can you imagine an army crossing them while under fire? They would be dumped onto the forest floor with just a few ropes cut.”

Martin looked at the other walkways they would have to cross. He conceded the need, that the reasoning for them was sound and that undoubtedly those who dwelled up here were used to them and found them fine, but still his stomach churned as they crossed each one.

Eventually, they came to a platform on which a small crowd had gathered. One walkway away from them they saw another platform, its access cut off by guards who barred the way. They could see smoke rising from the other side, but nothing else was visible to them. Their group moved towards the platform, the guards allowing them across at a nod from their guide.

On the other side, they were confronted by a gruesome site. A young Fae girl had been hung up upside down, long cuts along her legs and arms dripping down beneath her, but the pool of blood beneath her was much too small for what it should have been. As the body swung it twisted, and they saw her face, her eyes empty sockets, her tongue pulled out. Stunned and in shock, their eyes could not leave the body but eventually, they looked around, at the partly burned hut behind. They moved forward looking into the hut, seeing a man lying on the floor, his partly destroyed face staring at the ceiling. His chest and stomach had been ripped apart, his guts lying spread out around him, the stench of a perforated bowel assailing their noses. They moved further in and saw a burned body in the kitchen, beneath an overturned stove.

They continued through the hut, finding the parent's room, and another, with two child-sized palettes.

“Where is the last child?” Martin looked at the others, there is one missing!”

They ran outside, looking at the platform and at the scratch marks which led into the tree, at the scratch marks with blood in them, left by whatever was responsible for this.

“We follow.” Hurnith’s voice was cold. “We follow and we kill the Dark, whatever form it takes.