Traps, Tricks, and Beasts [Book 2 Complete][Fantasy, Adventure, Underdog]

It was another few days of travel before they got to the first village. They took their time, meandering after they crossed the border, allowing Squirt the opportunity to stop and actually observe the feybeasts. Much like with Riverlands, there were noticeable differences once they passed the river, but crossing the territory boundary itself was where the majority of the differences really came into play.

Titles were linked to the land, and over millennia had somewhat influenced the beasts born from them. It was an odd effect of the magic involved. Lord Everwinter’s personal magic might, over many centuries, affect the land, but it was more that the title simply amplified the elements around it. The mountains that surrounded Everwinter on two sides were volcanic in nature. For the Riverlands, it was the plethora of free-flowing water. In Norland, earth was the primary element.

Hidden as Squirt was, she was able to observe quite a few beasts. Already, they had evolved into forms that were sometimes over fifty feet in length.

Like the Purple Wyrm.

It was named such for the four purple petal-like protrusions that came together to make a head with a point. These then separated into four large prehensile lips with razor sharp teeth to capture their prey. Four long tentacles, one between each “petal,” would whip out and grab prey, where it would either swallow it whole, as the tentacles ended in poisonous barbs that would kill smaller prey, or they would tangle up the creature before it wrapped its long body around it, constricting the creature’s air until it suffocated.

The smallest beasts were the same size as Squirt herself, and often either had packs or had enough strength to make up for the size disparity.

This was nuts. The beasts shouldn’t be this big until fall. Early fall, sure, but it was still only midsummer.

The only explanation Squirt could think of was that the overpowered beasts from Everwinter had traveled east into Norland—some when the more powerful feybeasts had chased them out, and others seeking more powerful feybeasts to consume, creating a self-fulfilling endless loop.

Able as she was to slip by most beasts, she wandered farther ahead from the rest of the party, redirecting them as necessary to avoid things like treading on the flail tail snapper who had buried themselves in the middle of the path.

Or at least, she tried.

Then she watched as Cirn simply froze and obliterated it, and abruptly decided that next time, she was going to make sure she spent some time studying the thing before it shattered and reformed into a feystone in the blink of an eye.

There was nothing Cirn couldn’t seem to kill, and Squirt hated it as much as she admired it. They started sparring together every morning as she practiced her short sword and kept her dagger skills sharp, pun intended, which then turned into rotating morning training with all seven of them. Even Anvanil was apparently trained in swordplay. They all did bouts simultaneously. With the seven of them, each fey had six mock battles, each battle lasting roughly two minutes, while the seventh got to rest. Six battles, one rest, rotating through their entire group.

Squirt lost far more than she won, but she considered winning at all to be a major triumph.

As they approached the first village, Squirt diverted Mole further into the Wylds around the village itself to get a feel for the immediate area. Pakos kept pace, occasionally stopping to sniff something of particular interest, his tail alert and, when a smell was particularly good, wagging. She knew Zhadin and Qzi were both following at a distance, a request of hers since she could get closer to the beasts than they could, but they were close enough to hear a shout for help in an emergency.

Towards the halfway point, Pakos suddenly stilled, sensing something. Squirt slowed to a stop, her eyes scanning and her thoughts on the bond between them, waiting for Pakos to decide.

Abruptly, he then took off with a yip and a mental tug to make sure she followed, a sense of urgency passing from him to Squirt. The small recurve was already strung in her hands, and she leaned over the back of Mole’s neck while he took off after the moon hound, removing the saddle bracers and storing them in her pouch as he did.

In the distance, she saw what Pakos had already spotted—a fey slowly scooting back from a cloud of shadow. As she took in the scene before her, she noticed two things. The first being simply that the fey was a greenling. The second was the beast whose mouth appeared dripping saliva menacingly from the shadow.

A Shadow Whale-Wolf. A black, overly large, rounded head with wolflike legs and a razor-sharp horizontal fin on its tail. Black on top, white on bottom, with large white splotches over its eyes, it blended in well with the shadowy fog it had wrapped around itself.

And unlike most feybeasts, it was highly intelligent.

Shit.

Drawing out a slicer arrow—a u-shaped arrowhead meant for cutting off limbs and gouging bare flesh—she loaded it, stood, and fired before it pounced on the pixie. It landed in the thing’s shoulder, but a poor angle meant the cut wasn’t deep and it fell out before causing more damage.

Gritting her teeth, she locked one hand around a loop on the saddle, hooking her foot opposite as she leaned until she was almost standing sideways, and wrapping her other arm over the pixie’s waist as she grabbed him from behind, looking up and seeing why he hadn’t taken off in a flight. The shadow whale-wolves had claws and opposable thumbs on their otherwise wolflike feet, allowing them to climb almost as well as they could run. At least four of them were in the trees above them and snarled down at her.

In the same instant, the Whale-Wolf let out a pitying yelp as Mole rammed into it with his horns, gouging out some of its flesh and slowing himself enough that Squirt didn’t dislocate her limbs picking up the bigger pixie.

With a heft and helpful shift from Mole, she was able to toss him into her lap, freeing an arm to pull an arrow and call for help. She aimed and shot one of the ones gripping onto the tree trunk just above where the fey had been being backed into. The whistle was short but effective as it reared, slipping from the tree as it flailed from the arrow shaft lodged in its eye socket.

They needed out. It was possible there were more.

Pakos yipped, drawing her attention before he began running off into the trees. Mole barely needed encouragement, racing off after him.

“Hold on,” she commanded, pulling out another whistle arrow to signal her direction, turning and taking aim as best she could. With the other fey over her lap, she couldn’t stand, so her shot couldn’t be very accurate.

She shot it.

Missed.

Didn’t matter. The whistle sounded through the air, giving the two following her both direction and distance from the first shot.

Quickly pulling the bow over her shoulders, she reached into her pouch, pulled out a red powder bomb, and tossed it, but the creatures were smart. They simply dodged the plume of smoke and kept chasing, not scared off at all.

Gods damnit, what a waste—

She was trying to think of her next step when Pakos yipped for her attention again. Turning her gaze forward, she watched as he ducked into what almost looked like a willow tree draped over an oak. Another split second passed before she realized it was an oak, and the willow was instead vines of a deep wine red and a plethora of bright red fruits.

Pakos turned, clearly stopping inside the circle of the red hanging vines. Gripping onto the handle, she prepared herself and gave Mole the commands. He gave one last push before the leaping shadow whale-wolf could land on them, skidding to a stop at the base of the tree.

The chitter of a thousand birds screeched into life, and the whale-wolves all stopped, growling just outside the vines.

The hunched man turned towards them, pushing himself up enough that Squirt could slide her legs out from under him, dismounting before scaling the tree to get a better look.

The whale-wolves prowled, this pack dead set on both greenling pixies and seemingly content with the ceasefire.

As Squirt scampered up the tree, she noted a slight residue left over on her gear from her touch as she reached the lower branches of the enormous oak. Stopping to look at it under the light of the sun, her gloves and the climber tools she’d made for them had a reddish tint. She sniffed it, regretting the decision immediately as her sinuses caught fire.

Shit. This was basically pure capsaicin.

Her eyes snapped up to the vines that had draped over the branches, realizing the bright red fruits were, in fact, very large peppers.

And a good portion of them had birds with blood red feathers nesting in the peppers.

A snarl was followed with a chorus of angry chirps as one of the whale-wolves tried to brave the line of the ivy, and some of the birds began diving towards the feybeast before—

She stared in wonder as the birds dive bombed the feybeasts to shit on them.

They got one a few times, and it started yelping and rubbing its flank in the grass. When it stood again, the patch of skin it had landed on was gone, leaving behind a bloody wound.

Looking down, the grass had all died in a ring around the tree as well, right under where the vines hung from.

Fascinating. She moved a little closer.

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The birds began angry chirping at her until she slowly backed off, trying to show she wasn’t a threat as much as possible. It worked, and the birds settled back down.

Thank the gods, since Squirt was currently shirtless.

“Pricklebear!” came a shout just before a very loud and jubilant redcap landed on a whale-wolf’s back and stabbed it, “You called for help and help is here!”

Her expression flattened, but she grabbed her bow and notched an arrow, firing it at the beast just behind him to wound it. Shadowy tendrils then grabbed it, pulled half of it into shadow, and closed the portal.

Gross and terrifying all at once. That was a shadowfell alright. It certainly made more sense than one… gah, giving thoughtful gifts.

Gods. The audacity of them. She’d have rather they were a creep.

Qzi then engaged his own magic, creating a long, incredibly thin scythe from the blood of the beast he’d sliced into before stuffing his hat into the wound. The hat then proceeded to eat the creature from the inside out while he controlled the scythe with a maniacal, gleeful laugh, leaping around the beasts as he did.

She huffed, settled down, and pulled out her notebook to take notes on the birds. Perhaps one of the villagers would know—

“Squirt?”

She froze. Then, slowly, her eyes drifted down the greenling man staring up at her in mild awe.

How had she not recognized him?

“Leaf?”

He smiled, the expression full of soft emotions and his eyes filled with unspent tears. “Yeah.”

Her throat closed up. The noise of the fighting going on just outside the curtain of wine-colored ivy faded. He looked good. Better than good, really. Tanner than he used to be, and stronger, too. His hair was short now, like hers. Though his looked purposeful and well done as opposed to her angry tufts from when she’d get frustrated and hack it off.

And all her scars were on display.

He jumped at the noise from beyond the curtain, then fluttered his wings out, flying up and holding out a hand to her. “Come on, we should get out of here while we can.”

He didn’t know.

It was a shot straight to her heart, and her voice was tight as she changed the subject. “The village—that’s your village?”

He nodded.

She gestured, waving at him once vaguely. “Go on. I’ll meet you there later.”

He blinked a few times, pulling back and seeing her, truly seeing her for the first time since the shock wore off. “You’re… a hunter?”

“I am.”

Genuine surprise passed across his face. “I… thought you had found your fey?”

Her expression shuttered, blank without being unfriendly. “She died.”

“Oh, oh gods, I’m—I’m so sorry.”

She looked away rather than see the pity in his eyes.

“I don’t think… gods, if Mara ever… I think I’d die right there.”

She scowled as she twirled a charcoal pen in her hand, taking more notes on the birds. “… you found yours?”

He brightened into the most radiant smile. “Yeah. Her name’s Mara. We met after I… well.”

“After you moved here?” she offered delicately.

“Yeah. We have a babe and everything.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He paused, and she focused on her notes. “… a girl. Named Anya.”

She froze.

“I… Puds said you died.”

Smoothing out the leather scrap of her page, she slowly and carefully began writing again. “It was close.”

More pity. “… you’ve had a hard few decades since we’ve last seen each other, haven’t you?”

“Sixty years is a long time.”

“Yeah…”

They fell silent again, each one awkwardly looking anywhere but each other. Instead, both of their gazes drifted to the massacre wrapping up outside of the shelter of the vines with the maniacal redcap and bloodthirsty shadowfell.

Finally, he cleared his throat, drawing her attention again and said, “I… I hope the gods bless you with another, then.”

She should tell him. He should know. How many times had he saved her life? Weren’t they always supposed to have each other’s back? No secrets, that was them once.

Once.

Her voice a little hoarse from tension and tiredness, she asked, “You… happy, with this Mara?”

His smile split into one of radiant love, and her heart broke a little more realizing that he’d never once looked like that for her, and she had never looked like that for anyone. Instead of acknowledging that, she nodded a few times, focusing back on her notes before the redcap dashed into the circle of safety. Qzi blinked in surprise at the downcast expression on Squirt and the other greenling. There was an odd tension between them that set him on edge, and he palmed his blades.

Squirt dropped her head and sighed. “Qzi, you hurt him, I stab you, got it?”

He grinned. “Promise?”

“Gods damnit—fuck it, you hurt him, and I’ll… I’ll…” shit, she couldn’t think of a good threat and blurted, “I’ll ignore you for an entire day.”

His face paled and expression immediately dropped into deep regret. “No, wait, pricklebear, I promise—”

The other greenling floating just before her stared down at him before slowly turning a questioning eye on Squirt. “… did they already bless you?”

Squirt huffed. “No. He’s a fetishist with a knife kink.”

Leaf crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. “Really? A redcap? You sure he’s a fetishist?”

Confused, Qzi’s eyes darted between them. “You say that like being a fetishist is a bad thing?”

Before Leaf could say anything more, she said quietly to him, “You’re good now. The pack is dead. They have wide territories, so it’ll be a while before another shows up. You picking up firewood?”

“Ah, yeah. Dropped my basket earlier. I don’t get sent out when there’s a pack, but that’s not normally—”

“Until autumn?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She huffed. “Long story short, the beasts are about a season ahead around here. Go back to the village and let them know.”

“Ah.” Another pause. “You’re… staying here?”

“Mm. What type of birds are these?”

“Oh… capsaicin birds. Not the most original name, but—”

“And the vines?”

“Uh, lantern peppers.”

“Do they always house a flock? Year round?”

“Yeah, year round.” He gave her a warm smile. “Got a plan?”

“Possibly. Do the peppers feed on the oak specifically or will any plant do?”

He scratched his head. “Uh, anywhere there’s light.” He nodded up at the top of the tree. “There’s a break in the canopy here, so they drape over the tall branches to get to the light. They don’t actually harm the plant beyond stealing the light for itself. The birds are considered pests because they’re protective over their nests. Or at least, I always heard they were.”

Squirt spared a glance for Pakos, wondering if the birds being okay with their presence was some kind of influence from her goddess, or pure coincidence. For whatever reason, the birds didn’t sense them as a threat. It wasn’t based on power since neither Qzi nor Zhadin triggered the aggression, only Squirt getting too close to their nests did.

Nodding to herself, she said, “Go on without me. I’m going to stay here for a bit and observe. I want to see what happens if I lure more feybeasts this way.”

Leaf went pale, giving her a hard stare.

She gave him a sidelong glance before muttering, “A lot can change in sixty years.”

His shoulders dropped a little and he nodded, a melancholic smile on his face. “Aye. That it can.”

Then he turned, carefully fluttering through a patch in the vines, and headed off through the forest, leaving Squirt to her thoughts.

***

Zhadin watched the other greenling fly away. They had known each other. That interaction between them, the little bit they’d managed to capture, had been layered with meanings.

The huntress seemed back to normal again, focused instead on watching the birds, taking notes as she did. Zhadin watched from over her shoulder but found themselves unable to read whatever cipher she had used. Instead, they noted when a bunch of the birds took off en masse and shook the red vines, covering her with their shadow as it rained red mist everywhere.

She wore her handkerchief and goggles, but so much exposed skin was starting to grow red with irritation. The huntress didn’t acknowledge their contribution with more than a wary glance and scowl, but that was fine. They needed nothing more than to watch over her. The sheer volume of notes she wrote while observing the colony of over a hundred nesting pairs intrigued them to no end. What had she learned? What had she discovered?

Over an hour later, she hopped down to the ground, clearing a space in the forest floor for herself, and poured out a packet of glittering sand into a ring.

Ah. She was baiting.

Why?

The beasts had not entered this ring of vines—was that it?

She pulled out a feystone about the size of Qzi’s large toe, a chisel, and mallet. Breaking the feystone, she then scampered back up into the tree, standing in the upper branches and scanning the larger forest.

A pack of fiend hounds showed up first, but they remained behind the line, the birds angrily chittering at them when one disturbed a couple of the vines. It seemed once the birds were riled, they took offense to every and anything.

The ground began to shake, and Zhadin found themselves extending the shadows once again to cover the huntress when the red mist fell from the leaves. The hounds yipped in pain, one collapsing as the others descended on it violently. The earth burst by them and a nearby tree creaked as it began to topple from the earth drake that shot out from the ground. Powerful forearms ripped into a couple of the hounds as it dove back into the ground, it’s snake like other half and trowel-like tail whipping as it feasted while digging down with shocking efficiency.

“Hm,” was all she said, making a note in her book again.

Zhadin could not contain themselves. “What did you learn?”

“Hm. Hm? Oh.” The usual irritation was missing from her voice as she pointed. “You can see the trail of the earth drake. It’s going around, but it won’t get within a certain distance of the tree. You’d think it’d be able to just come up underneath… which might mean that the roots themselves are also a deterrent.”

Fascinating. They hadn’t thought beyond it hunting the hounds. “Could there be other reasons?”

“Mhm. It could be a lot of things… perhaps the vines aren’t the deterrent, but the birds themselves.”

“The birds?”

She blinked a few times before her brow furrowed. “Oh. Right. Right before you guys showed up, one of the whale-wolves tried to get in, and the birds all began dive bombing it.” She grinned. “They literally shat on the things, and the one they hit? Its skin melted off.”

She had never smiled at them before.

Before they could savor it, it was like she realized she had, and it was quickly dropped as she awkwardly cleared her throat. Then she frowned. “… I think I want to camp here tonight.”

They immediately saw the flaw in their plan to shield her from the mist.

She huffed and glanced at the bare skin of her arm. “… though I’d like a wash before I do. Wait until it starts getting dark—”

A chorus of twitters welcomed back the half of the flock that had returned, and the huntress darted up, squinting through the goggles to watch them as they flew in. She grinned. “Perfect.”

Yes, she was.

Decoded by Lord Everwinter using the Dex’at cipher:

Dear Lord Everwinter,

My scouts have informed me that Riverlands Keep has been completely overtaken by the Wylds once more. I must instead urge you, as the neighboring title holder, to help increase the number of protections and establish a solidified border. I understand what this will cost—all I am asking is that you fortify me as I take the brunt of it. Three days from now, we will be invoking this ancient rite and sealing off the Riverlands from most of those who could pass through it.

I’m afraid we have little other choice.

Troubling news comes from beyond the mountains. My spies speak of unrest and conflict between Prince Feldan and his father. Little is known as his heralds have been proclaiming their relationship is as strong as ever, but we’ve captured one mercenary they sent over the mountains hunting for Athereon, and I suspect more will follow. Their orders are to bring her back unharmed, yes, but we cannot risk the Hunt’s wrath again.

It is with a heavy heart that I must ask that you part with her for longer still. If this new strategy proves effective, then after she has finished with Norland, I ask she head east to Gloomwood and beyond. If she is a target, it is best that she be kept on the move where her goddess can keep her safe.

I understand what a cruel ask this is, asking you to part with someone special to your heart for longer than anticipated, and I swear to free you from your title as soon as I can.

Be well,

Queen Annabelle

Decoded by Queen Annabelle using the Dex’at cipher:

Dear Queen Annabelle,

I understand and am grateful for your assistance in the matter of Riverland. So far, the goddess has not turned her rage on Everwinter, but I confess relief to know that the royals will be taking such swift action, even if it risks Skye overrunning the land and claiming it for themselves.

The news from beyond the mountains is troubling, indeed. Particularly that they are specifically after Athereon, as that is not how Prince Feldan has ever referred to her. That tells me the spies have been busy. It heartens me greatly to know that you will continue to give her the freedom she deserves, though I confess I find myself a touch confused over your words. Athereon was always meant to be free.

If your concern is for the lands of Everwinter, I assure you that our hunters are very adept, and after your ritual we will be touring through the Wylds again to help reduce the populations of beasts further.

All I ask is that you pass the message of that to Athereon and ask if she has any advice or wisdom for us before we leave.

Be well,

Lord Bartos Regali of Everwinter

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