“…what the hells was that?” Hart asked. “It felt like someone just walked over my grave. I saw all this fire and a great, big fight. Did you guys see that?”

The Sage muttered an incantation, conjuring a huge forceball to light the cavern.

“Yeah,” Cedric said. “I saw somethin’ like that. Bunch o’ monsters and fire burnin’ in front of a big tower o’ rock.”

“Same here,” Hart said. “There were a whole lot of blasts coming from the tower. From the look of it, I’m guessing mages or priests were working their power.”

“I didn’t see that.” the Sage looked at him.

He shrugged. “My eyes are better than yours.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It was a magical vision, Hart, we’re not seeing it with our eyes.”

“All I know is that I saw more than you did. ‘Cause, like I said before, my eyes are better than yours.” He pointed to his eyes.

Drestra clicked her teeth together. “But that doesn’t make any sense, we should be seeing visions with our souls: our eyes shouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t know how it works, but did you see magic explosions?” He cocked his head.

“…no.”

“Have you ever had a vision before? Got a lot of experience with them?”

The Sage’s face flushed. “No.”

“Then I guess our eyes matter in visions, then, don’t they?”

“Ugh, nevermind,” she said. “As for what the hells that was? …I couldn’t say.”

“I dunno what any o’ that was, or even where it was.” Cedric scratched his head. “Never seen o’ heard anyone describe a place like that in all o’ Thameland…not that geography was my best subject when I went t’ school.”

“I’ve never heard of it, either.” Drestra frowned, thinking back to some of the stories her adoptive father had told her about different places he’d been to. He’d spent a lot more time travelling around than her mother, but she couldn’t remember one single story the old man told with a giant escarpment in it anywhere in Thameland. “Cedric, do…do you think Aenflynn gave us a prophecy? Uldar used to make prophecies.”

“I’ve heard o’ fae pronouncin’ the future,” Cedric said. “But everythin’ I heard had to do wit’ ‘em cursin’ folk and lettin’ ‘em know how their magic was gonna pull their guts out n’ such. But I ain’t never heard o’ no deep fortune-tellin’ in faerie tales.”

“Maybe he was showing us the past,” Hart said. “Or maybe they were just crazy illusions to mess with us: he was kinda mad we weren’t dancing around like his puppets anymore, so maybe he was getting some revenge. Anyway, whatever it was, if it’s the past, we might find out. If it’s a threat? It doesn't matter. If it’s the future, we’ll meet it sooner or later anyway.”

“Aye…I suppose you ain’t wrong, there. We’ll bring it up with the Generasi-folk or somethin’. They know magic shite better n’ us. But, never mind all that fer now.” He pounded his knuckles together. “We bloody did it! We bloody well did it!”

The Chosen laughed and leapt in the air, dancing an elated jig, his gold tooth lighting up his smile. Hart whooped and clapped in time with Cedric’s steps, tapping his foot in time to an unheard beat.

Glee surged through Drestra, filling her with a fierce urge to take to the sky, roaring in triumph for all to hear. Their armies could soon travel from place to place at speed, they’d soon have reinforcements, and those benefits would be theirs for monsters she’d always have control of. But, in her mind a clear warning whispered: barter with the fae lord would always bring trials.

So, it's best to keep their pact and avoid contact with him whenever they could; only spirits and fae knew what schemes and spiderwebs he might try weaving into other dealings. But for now? This was a good day.

“Bloody hell, this’ll be great…this’ll me…” Cedric paused. “Hold on, mate, he left us here. Now, we gotta walk all the way back t’meet up wit’ Merzhin.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth, than a sound like bells tinkling in the distance reached their ears. Galloping hooves and clinkling bells were coming closer, ringing through the cavern, mingling with deep, jolly, laughter.

“What in all hells is that?” Cedric shouted, his morphic weapon changing to a long halberd.

“At least, it doesn’t sound like Ravener-spawn!” Hart drew his bow, nocking an arrow and pulling the string taut.

Drestra called upon her mana, chanting an incantation.

What was that? A cultist attack? A demon? Lord Aenflynn betraying them so soon?

The Heroes tensed, ready for whatever came through that entrance. Beneath the light of Drestra’s forceball, the clatter of hooves on stone grew louder. A belly laugh repeated, rippling through the caverns.

A bulky shape advanced, hoofbeats pounded the cave floor.

With one leap from the shadows, a majestic bull moose thundered into the chamber, his nostrils puffing, expelling golden steam. Bells tinkled on his branching antlers, and their merry sound mingled with the belly-laugh of the creature’s rider. The man astride the beast’s back had an otherworldly cast to his skin, like frostbite mixed with blueberry stains.

Mistletoe, blood-red holly, and many more Sigmus plants were braided throughout his snow-white beard and scarlet clothing, and a satchel—bursting with shining golden scrolls—hung from his side. No saddle adorned the moose’s back, nor did the rider need any tack to control its movements; the moose and its rider moved as though they shared a single will.

​​A wide grin bloomed across the rider’s face and his faded grey eyes danced with mirth. “Hello Heroes and friends of my Lord Aenflynn! Many fine mornings to you!”

He brought his mount to a skidding halt before the gawking young Heroes and released a booming laugh, then leaping from its back, he landed squarely on the cavern floor with barely a sound.

The moose-rider stood no taller than Drestra’s waist, though his shoulders were as broad as Hart’s. His long pointed ears twitched as he spoke.

“I can see from your faces that you’re a tad in shock—y’look like you just walked in on your mums dancing naked in a storm—but, have no fear, I come in peace! Well, I come in peace as long as you keep peace with me!”

He gave Cedric and Hart’s weapons a meaningful look.

The two Heroes glanced at each other before cautiously lowering them.

“Who’re you?” Destra asked.

“I’m known by many names through many times and in many roles, all of them important!” the fae said, puffing out his broad chest. “And you, you can call me the Guide, for that’s what Lord Aenflynn has sent me to do for you: guide…and fight for you, if need be, but that’d be such a waste of my many, many talents.”

“So, you’re the first of the fae who’ll be aidin’ us?” Cedric eyed the scrolls rising from the Guide’s satchel.

“Hah! And to think folks say that mortals are dullards, look at you, figuring that out all on your own,” the stocky fae chuckled and drew a golden scroll from his satchel, snapping it open with a flick of the wrist. “You’re right, and I will be the first of many, if I understand the contract between you and my overlord. And I’ll likely be your best: at least better than some surly redcap, or as some mortals prefer to call them; powries! Aren’t you lucky? Redcaps don’t bear gifts like this.”

He offered the scroll to a stunned Drestra who stared at the Guide for a few moments before catching herself and taking it. Her two companions peered over her shoulders. Engraved in green shining ink was a detailed, yet odd map of the entirety of Thameland.

It noted no mortal settlements—as if none existed—but notations and symbols identifying fae homes, the dens of large beasts, and various forests and green spaces scattered throughout the countryside were spread across it. What was most interesting were the fae-gate symbols; realistic sketches of mushrooms that looked real enough to pluck from the page and drop into a pot of bubbling mushroom stew.

“Fancy map.” Hart touched one of the circles. “Those mushroom things, are they the fae-gates?”

“The cleverness of mortals almost has me speechless!” the Guide shouted, his moose shaking and jingling its bells. “That’s right, my friends, these are your lifelines—the doorways between your land and mine—and they’re all open to you as per your arrangement with my Lord Aenflynn. You can follow the map to any of them and pop right out in the fae world, and, when you do, just say Bielgloc!”

“Bielgloc?” Cedric asked. “What’s that—Oh holy hells!”

The green ink shattered, bursting from the golden paper and breaking into dozens of tiny, verdant particles that buzzed around each other like a swarm of bees. They swirled through the air for a heartbeat, then shot back onto the scroll, settling into an entirely new map.

One that was even stranger. There wasn’t much outlined on it beside a vast, confounding network of roads that connected each other in a large web. The other notations aside from the roads were house-shaped symbols beside them, and mushroom-circles indicating the fae-gates. A quick glance told Drestra that these gates matched gate locations on the map of Thameland.

“This map shows you the roads you’ll be using to go from one gate to another in the fae wilds,” the Guide explained. “If you’ll notice, near the roads are symbols for hostels you can stay in if you’re travelling a far distance. They’ll be open to you and anyone with you: you’ll find fluffy beds for any number of guests, stables for your beasts, and the finest food that mortals can handle.”

“I like the sound of that,” Hart squinted at the map. “But there’s nothing around the roads. No countryside. Nothing. What if we get lost?”

The Guide’s laughter reverberated off the walls, and now it had a vicious edge to it that chilled the blood. “Well, you see, that’s the thing. The fae wilds are suitably named because of what they are; wild. Changeable. Keep in mind that you really don’t want to step off the roads or you could find yourselves in for a bit of a nasty surprise. Your realm’s not like ours: yours is all stable, and samey and dead. Ours is alive; it lives, breathes and actually moves.”

He gave another wicked chuckle. “Our roads stay in the same place, but everything else wanders about like a bird on the wing: we have our ways of finding what we need to find and getting to where we need to go…but few are the mortals who would be able to find their way through our realm, aided or unaided. And, not everything in the fae wilds is as friendly as your loyal Guide!”

“So what happens if’n we wander off the roads?” Cedric asked.

“Lord Aenflynn grants you and your followers protection…as long as you stick to the roads. For you lot—” The Guide’s eyes fell on the Heroes fingers, taking in the rings gifted them by Drestra’s mother. “—I see you’ve been given the witches’ rings. That means most fae will guide you back to the nearest road. But in the case of your followers, if they’re alone, they won’t have any such protections…”

The Guide made a ripping sound while running a long finger across his throat.

“I thought we had a deal: that we’d be safe in your realm anytime we travelled through it.” Hart frowned.

“And you will be…just as long as your companions stay on the roads. Think of it this way. Do your mortal kings control every wolf, bear and angry drake lurking in your forests? They don’t, do they? The boar doesn’t have any idea that there’s a king who says who can or can’t hunt in the woods where it lives! It just gores anything that comes into its territory!”

He glanced left and right then leaned toward the Heroes and whispered conspiratorially. “I once heard of a king who ruled over one of your mortal realms and got himself gored to death by a boar while he was on a hunt. That little incident kicked off a nasty little war.” He giggled. “I watched the progress of that war for seven winters, but eventually lost track of it. Sometimes I wonder if it ever ended. In any case, my point is that Lord Aenflynn doesn’t rule every beast or ruffian in his realm anymore than your mortal king does in his. Keep it in mind, my friends. Or don’t! I’ll be guiding you on your trips through our realm, so you won’t have to worry your heads about a thing. The best way to safely use the fae-gates to get to where you want to go is to stick to the paths, keep things civil, and you’ll be there and back again in no time.”

“We got it,” Cedric said. “No messin’ about or harmin’ fae, an’ keep to the roads.”

“Exactly. Now, if you’ll kindly follow me. I’ll take you to the first fae-gate so you can get used to travelling and using the map. I’m sure that we’ll get along famously, like fish and water.”

“Right…” Cedric said. “Lead on, I suppose.”

“I’ll do it and do it well.” The Guide laughed, leaping back onto the back of his moose with a single twitch of his legs. “Let’s get going, I might have all the time in the world, but you mortals no doubt have places to be.”

The moose pranced toward the mouth of the cave with Hart staring after him, a deep frown lining his forehead. “Watch him,” he whispered to the other Heroes. “Watch him like a mouse would a snake.”

“Aye,” Cedric agreed. “I'll be keepin’ an eye on ‘im fer sure.”

“Both eyes,” Drestra added.

The petrifier’s nine eyes glowered down on the Hunters. “You lost the usurper? Were we not close?”

The pack of Hunters grovelled, pressing their scaly forms into the snow. Each trembled, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“Apologies,” the lead Hunter growled, its voice wavering. “We were close, but they vanished. We don’t know how.”

The petrifier’s eye-stalks twitched. “Show me.”

“Right away!”