“I offer up the wand of a witch who’s hat was as old as time. She was young as love, and cold as rime. The witch’s eyes held blades within, and on her words did my head spin.”
— Wizard Barnibus Jefferson Montgomery Barnwinkle
* * *
“I offer yee the wand of a witch that never was. Th —”
“A Stick?!” Leinan interrupted without thinking and thankfully managed to do it without flinching. Victory apparently had a numbing effect on anxiety. “What am I supposed to do with a stick?!”
The Forerunner glared at her with slitted eyes. “Doubt not my offering!” She hissed. “Thee knowest not what thee speaks. I offer yee a tool grander than —”
“It looks like a stick to me.” Leinan hedged belligerently.
Leinan had more than one reason for rudeness.
Despite still reeling from her victory, Leinan’s mind was racing, and she was absolutely, completely, and uncomfortably certain that she did not at all want The Forerunner to explain exactly what that thin rod she was holding actually was.
The reason was simple. Leinan had been to market and she was more than familiar with the concept of bartering. You exchanged value for value, and this game was similar. Leinan was certain that if The Forerunner actually managed to tell her what that stick was, it would come out that Leinan was woefully and inadequately poor. And, she couldn’t be poor! Not now.
Leinan didn’t think anything she had on her right now would compete. So she did the only thing she could do.
She attacked. Again.
And The Forerunner pouted unhappily.
“For a pretty stick…?” Leinan tapped her lips thoughtfully, and only belatedly realized she was mimicking The Forerunner.
‘Shadows’, Leinan thought. ‘What did she have that could compete with a even a pretty stick?’ It wasn’t like she had prepared for this. She had just left the village with her cloak, her knife — first knife — a basket which she’d long since dropped, and the twins in tow. Leinan didn’t even have her coin pouch!
And something told her she shouldn’t try to trade back her new knife that had joined her Un-Forged Blade at her belt.
Despite herself, Leinan studied the stick that The Forerunner was brandishing before her, still very careful to not meet her eyes.
It was a pale stick, about as long as her forearm from the tip of her longest finger all the way to her elbow. It was smooth and rounded, expertly cut and polished so that wood gleamed almost wetly in the fire light.
Against her will, Leinan was reminded of the game pieces and their oddly perfect contours, and a traitorous part of her mind wondered whether she had anything that she could offer comparable to even such a stick!
‘No,’ Leinan thought. ‘Perspective. Attack.’ She narrowed her eyes.
The wood was pale, Leinan noticed again. Paler than any wood she had ever seen. Except one, Leinan thought with an ugly sneer. This stick was made of the same wood the switch had been.
And that was all that was required to devalue the stick in her mind.
And then Keimen, who had been watching, silently as always, rummaged in her own small pouch — Keimen had a pouch — and pulled out a hand carved whistle and handed it silently to Leinan.
Leinan studied it and smirked wickedly. The whistle was carved out of a dark wood, roughly done, but functional, with four holes for four fingers to adjust the pitch.
There was nothing special about this whistle.
Which was good, because there was Nothing special about that shadows damned, pale stick!
“I offer thee a hand carved pipe which hast never returned a single gripe. With wind and wood thee certainly could whistle away and never stray beyond the boarders of the Werwood.”
It was poor rhyme, and even sweet Keimen turned and looked at her reproachfully.
The Forerunner gave her long, baleful stare. “That yon whistle is not more than poorly carved artifice an’ not thine besides,” The Forerunner huffed.
“I swaddled them. I clothed them. I rocked them to bed.” Leinan repeated, biting off each word like hard tac. “I stood over and taught them and loved them in their mother’s stead! My wards they be, and Keimen’s whistle doth cometh from me!”
The Forerunner opened her mouth to respond, but then she just flipped her hair unhappily and sneered, “I shall enjoy returning thee to thine place mortal girl. And they reset the pieces.
* * *
The game they played now was different from before. More tempered and more thoughtful.
The Forerunner opened up this time by passing Leinan a pale, white piece that was so coated in frost that it burnt her hand just to touch it, and then playing her Crowned Piece immediately.
It was a bold play, and Leinan girded herself for what she was certain would be another harrowing game — and yet, it wasn’t.
It felt more like the games Leinan would play against the men in the tavern, almost friendly, in fact.
The Forerunner probed at her, tested her, and surrendered ground willingly rather than fully engage, and her whirlwind attack patterns never emerged.
This was sedate. Almost —
“Sister Lei,” Aemon hissed into her arm.
Leinan didn’t so much as blink, but she squirmed on her log for that searing flash to wipe her mind clean and —
Ah. There it was. ‘Finally,’ Leinan thought, as a pale tower appeared where only one of her black pieces had been before. It was situated perfectly to capture two of Leinan’s towers in a fell swoop, and end the game two moves later.
Leinan smiled grimly as she spun a piece across her fingers. They were nicely weighted for that sort of thing. Even better than Slats pieces.
Leinan played her Crowned Piece, and when The Forerunner sprang her trap, Leinan sprang her own and punished the deception. Brutally.
The whistle went back to Keimen’s pouch and Leinan became the proud owner of a stick called a wand which was worth absolutely nothing to her, but which felt as solid as stone in her hands and gleamed wetly in the firelight.
* * *
“Hold up. Hold up! Mothballs, boy! You’ll put wrinkles in my brim.” Hat glared at him.
Barnibus paused, his hand raised and the words to a Greater Dispelling hanging from his lips. He blinked guilelessly back at his hat.
Hat sighed and Barnibus thought Hat looked like he would have dearly loved to have eyes to massage in Consternation… and, of course, hands to do the massaging with.
“So your plan, boy, if I am understanding correctly, is to spend a considerable amount of your own personal Anima breaking my rather wondrous construct and then… what? Challenge The Forerunner to some games with slightly reduced inhibitions, a renewed will, and a passion to succeed?”
Barnibus harrumphed and shuffled his feet awkwardly. That had NOT… at all been his intent! Not even…. Barnibus coughed into his beard.
He lowered his bushy eyebrows and looked anywhere except directly at his head covering sitting on the desk in front of the fire and looking spectacularly aggrieved.
“Of course not!” He muttered eventually, tugging hard on his beard. “I am a Wizard! And wizards are wise! Therefore I must engage wisely. A plan, Hat! I require a plan!”
“Ye-es.”
Barnibus breathed deeply and Pondered. He paced between the shelves, backwards and forwards. To and fro.
Finally Barnibus said, “You know, Hat, I think it might be helpful to review the situation academically.”
And his hat breathed a long sigh of relief as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
* * *
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
There was no byplay before this next round, and neither was there breathing room.
The Forerunner produced a circlet of worked silver ornate enough for any queen, and without even looking at it, Leinan pulled her own hair tie — nothing but corded leather with several red stones worked into it — from her head.
And they played again.
It was hard and fast this time and there was none of the artistry of the first game, nor the sedate nature of the second. This was a stand up knock down fight, with Crowned Pieces breaking down walls as they landed and towers crashing against each other titanically in the center of the board.
Leinan risked a narrow glance up at The Forerunner and caught The Forerunner doing the same, with the finest of fine creases in her perfect brow.
The Forerunner was uncertain and it showed, childlike on her face. It showed on the game board too.
Leinan’s armies cut across The Forerunner lines like a black-stone scalpel, and her towers scattered The Forerunners invisible formations like chaff.
Leinan was shifting in place almost constantly now. Those clouds were boiling over the board again as soon as they dispelled and piece’s colors kept trying to shift.
For the life of her, Leinan didn’t think she had ever wished she had gotten more of a switching. But now she did. ‘Four more?! Why hadn’t the Wizard said six! Ten even! Why just four?’ A distant, insane part of her thought. ‘Maybe she should pour more tea on her hand?’
Leinan won with tears in her eyes, but there was a snarl like storm clouds on her face.
Leinan won to a cry like a wounded creature from The Forerunner, and she barely had time to drop the circlet at her feet — nothing but a thin weak metal circle which she could fold in her hands — before the game was reset.
* * *
“It seems to me the situation is as follows,” Barnibus continued, ignoring his hat. “We are trapped in the Fae Realm with The Forerunner of all the Fae. We need to return back to Grandfather’s Library post haste! There are children in danger. And we must entertain The Forerunner lest she takes —”
“Stop! STOP! Seamstresses, you’re hurting my trunk. Did you forget all of your Plotting coursework?”
Barnibus stumbled to a halt.
“Hat,” Barnibus said reproachfully after a moment. “You know that Plotting was removed from the Wizardly curriculum following the determination by the Quorum of Pondering Grand Wizards that Plotting and Scheming were synonymous.”
“…What?”
Barnibus nodded solemnly. “And since witches refused to cease Scheming….”
“…What?!”
How a hat managed to look so visibly appalled was beyond Barnibus.
“Oh, boiled velvet! That. Is. Simply. Ridiculous. Wizard’s have Plotted since… Merlin’s Hat! Wizards have plotted since before I was sewn! This is outrageous! This —”
“How is this new material?!” Barnibus retorted, exasperated. “This is old gossip! With several re-determinations and Grand Reviews and… and entire Libraries of Wizards are still Contemplating the determination.”
“Barnibus,” Hat sighed. “Your head is not a cornucopia of excitement.” Hat drew himself up. “I… confess, that I may have slept through parts of your schooling which were… more or less… completely mundane.”
Barnibus glared at him.
“It… seems,” Hat continued uncomfortably. “That I may have… accidentally missed some rather pertinent information….
Barnibus glared harder at his hat.
“Oh, You try sitting through the same Wizardry 101 lecture for the hundred and third time!” Hat groused. “We are wasting thought! I shall Plot for us both then.”
And Barnibus nodded decisively.
* * *
A wall she, thought. Blunt the attack this round and capture the ne — but Aemon was shaking his head minutely against her arm, hidden from The Forerunner’s gaze and Leinan paused with the wall hovering over the board.
Not the tower? That tower in the far left corner of the board was quite threatening all by itself, Leinan thought grimly. Something else?
She was tempted to deal with this threat first and locate the second later, but… Aemon had not been wrong yet. If Aemon was cautioning her….
Leinan set her piece back down and she heard The Forerunner make a small sound in the back of her throat.
* * *
Leinan found the deception. Eventually. But it took a while. A long while.
Long enough that The Forerunner had begun taunting her and then started flicking ornate snow flakes into her face.
In the end she found it after auditing her pieces and not being able to recall placing a stone down in a white intersection near the edge of the board.
Leinan tested it by making to move the piece and watched The Forerunner stiffen minutely through half lidded eyes.
It was an insidious deception, as her black piece placed there was a hard stop for any conquest in that region.
As a white piece, that was another story entirely, and no amount of squirming on the log caused that fake black piece to so much as flicker.
Leinan massaged her head, and hissed softly under her breath. Another dimension, then. How many more could she handle?
* * *
The game became less friendly.
It wore on and on and in its own way was even more taxing than the first one.
More fake black pieces appeared on the board and Leinan had to identify and memorize their placements. She had to isolate them and that took resources.
Resupplying those resources took turns and left her with even more pieces to keep track of.
It was hard! Possibly one of the hardest mental exercises Leinan had ever engaged in.
More than once, she mistakenly isolated her own real pieces and once she accidentally shattered a wall with her Crowned Piece that she only later remembered placing.
This opened up a road opportunity for The Forerunner who capitalized on it with aplomb and fortified with a nearly purely white tower besides!
Once, The Forerunner went so far as to switch their Crowned Pieces underneath Leinan’s nose, and it took all of Leinan’s presence of mind to realize that she would never have trapped her own Crowned Piece behind two layers of walls for her to catch on.
Leinan never did figure out whether The Forerunner had actually swapped the pieces or just flipped the colors, but by this point Leinan was passed caring.
Instead, she layered the other capstone behind its own walled jail cell and moved on.
And all the while, The Forerunner watched her with that same fine crease in her brow.
* * *
“We have objectives!” Thundered Barnibus’s hat.
Barnibus nodded his head once and lowered his bushy, wizardly eyebrows decisively.
He was committed now Barnibus realized. The fundamental question had changed. It was a How question now, not a Could question.
The Great Winds had come as Fell as could be. Now, what he — Wizard Barnibus Jefferson Montgomery Barnwinkle — had to do… ‘was stand firm and weather’. That was the decision. To stand firm and weather and allow None to stop him, ‘not even this Fae.’
How that was achieved… was a different hat entirely.
Barnibus sat up straight in the arm chair, and pulled a long, tapered quill from his robe and a notepad, and specifically did not pull out an ink pot. He was not pretentious! This was a Wizard’s quill and wizardly quills had no need for auxiliary apparatus.
He also tried to adjust his hat on his head, but of course, his Hat was staring at him from the desk and had no need for additional adjustment.
So, instead, Barnibus adjusted himself in his seat, and did his best to radiate that aura of Wisdom of Ages Past that Hat kept pestering him about.
From his hat’s expression, he was only moderately successful.
Hat coughed. “Er… echem! If you are quite finished… We. Have. Objectives!” He restated more quietly but no less intensely. “One. Entertain the Fae. Is progressing nicely.” And Hat’s brim turned upwards slightly in a rare smile.
“Two. Escape this fray and live to fight another day.”
Hat’s smile flipped upon itself, and Barnibus suddenly found himself intensely interested in the bound, sixth edition volume of The Novices Compendium of Basic Cantrips he could see peaking out from a bookshelf over Hat’s quivering tip.
“Unfortunately, you lost that game before I could drag you in here. Still, it is an objective. One we must accomplish. Thankfully, I doubt we are in Fae proper. A pocket realm more likely,” Hat muttered. “One layered closely enough to mirror the land’s topology.”
Barnibus raised his quill into the air. “Why do you think that?”
Hat thought for a moment. “It is a hunch.” Hat hedged. “But I could not help but notice that The Forerunner’s description of her homeland made no mention of cozy pine forests and running rivers.”
“Of course. Of course!” Barnibus muttered, scribbling furiously.
He remembered The Forerunner’s description.
‘From the fair lands of ice and snow,
where the fell winds doth come and go.
Where glaciers tower an’ rivers freeze,
Where auroras dance 'midst the trees.’
Yes. Barnibus thought, shuddering. From that description, this dark, foreboding, chilly forest they found themselves was quite cozy. He jotted that into the margin.
“It might make the rest easier,” continued his hat. “Not fully in the Fae realm, nor fully in the… Fell Doom and Grand Demise realm. But somewhere in between. It means, she has no claim on the children. None save through conquest.” Hat cast a sideways look at Barnibus. “Which I assume makes up Objectives Three through Five?”
Barnibus nodded vigorously.
“Figures. She is your guest though, a masterful play if I at all believed it was on purpose. Neither of you have a claim, but both can win through conquest. And,” Hat ended dramatically, “You have thoughtfully provided a means of conquest! Bravo.”
“But I am losing.”
“But you’re losing.”
“We must Plot victories, Hat.”
“Quite.”
Barnibus paused, his quill raised above his notepad in a moment of uncertainty. “Do… do we really need five objectives, Hat?” He asked in a voice hiding just the barest hint of a tremor. “Could we not just lump the two twins into a single objective?”
Hat looked at Barnibus for a long time.
“Nay, Barnibus.” Hat said darkly. “The time for nice, even action is passed. From now, we engage significantly. We battle a Fae in a war of wits, words, and will. And your life shall change forever.”
Wits, words and will, were three words, though, Barnibus noted silently. And since for each objective he would be battling The Forerunner with his wits, his words and his will, then, he was in fact fighting fifteen battles.
Fifteen devolved into one and five which equaled six. This was comforting… even though it was nonsense.
* * *
Leinan won again, but barely, and by the time she won, her clothes were almost soaking with sweat.
The Golden Apple of an Elder Giant fell at her feet next to the circlet and Leinan didn’t even glance at it.
‘She was winning,’ Leinan thought grimly. ‘But how does that help me? How can I use this to get us out of here?’
The problem was, Leinan thought, as the wind howled with The Forerunner’s displeasure, was that they were playing for trinkets.
She needed something bigger. Weightier. She didn’t think she would be able to purchase safety for her children and herself by offering something like her cloak, no matter how she talked it up.
What would she even say?
‘A cloak as dark as midnight’s hue, and worn by only a meager few. The cloth is spun of wholesome wool…’. No. She didn’t think that would work.
And the Wizard?
Leinan cast her eyes sideways to the hunched over, bearded man with his Hat pulled low over his brow, and his eyes half lidded and vacant.
‘What was he even doing?! Where was he in all of this? Was he just…’
An ugly thought entered Lienan’s brain, and no matter how she tried she could not shake it.
‘Was the Wizard just going to leave her to play The Forerunner? All by herself?’
Leinan’s hand clenched into a fist hard enough that her nails dug red furrows into her palm.
‘How dare he be useless!’ She raged. ‘How dare he be insane!’
But when her fist opened back up there was another thought squirming its way through her brain. A traitorous thought which she could not banish.
‘H-how much longer can I last?’
The board reset.