YAZ

  A flicker of motion at the edge of his vision. Yaz instinctively ducked and rolled away before he could pursue his foe to end the life of the dreaded goblin chieftain.

  Blood splattered one side of his body.

  He looked overhead. A long shaft of twisted black wood pierced the air where his skull had been. Looking left, he saw that the spear stretched tens of meters, having gone right through a dozen different goblins, killing many.

  The spear retracted, and the impaled goblins collapsed on the dirt, those still alive wailing in agony.

  Yaz rose from the bloody dirt and turned so that both the chieftain getting to his feet and whatever had launched that spear were in front of him.

  Goblins panicked and scrambled in all directions.

  From across the gully, a frightening being approached. It was twice as tall as Yaz and vaguely humanoid in shape but looked like a mobile tree without leaves. Flesh was rough black wood. Gangly arms had long, knobby fingers as sharp as needles that nearly dragged on the ground. From within the creature’s eyes and mouth emanated a sickly yellow light.

  Yaz, who understood goblin, heard the monsters screaming in terror as they ran:

  “The fey dryad!”

  He grimaced. Fey creatures came from another realm, one very different from this one, different even than the elven lands. While someone from Drearia might think of Heartstone as incredibly magical, the Fey world was a step above. The denizens of that realm were often incredibly powerful, dangerous, and hostile to all non-fey lifeforms. When they took up residence in other worlds, they often exuded a corrupting influence, their innate magic so strong it acted like a cancer on the natural environment, turning it into something more fey-like. That must have been the strange tree he’d seen earlier. The dryad’s home.

  The black fey speared the ground with a finger. A couple of moments later, sickly yellow-green vines erupted from the ground to curl around Yaz’s bony legs. Wet leaves emerged from the vines, and the liquid ate into Yaz’s bones like acid.

  He screamed in a kind of pain that he hadn’t felt in centuries. But only for a moment. With swift swings of the axe, he cut the vines and leapt away.

  The butchered vines steamed in a pool of green acid sap.

  The fey dryad marched toward him, eerie yellow glowing eyes locked on Yaz with malevolent intent.

  He hefted the axe. He wanted to kill the goblin chieftain, but the fey was moving to protect him. Was a fey creature truly in league with these rapacious monsters? If they were a team, this wasn’t just a serious threat; it was a deadly disaster. What could have brought these two together? Whatever it was, Yaz had to stop them both — now. He prepared to attack the fey. His enchanted axe would likely chop that evil being down. Maybe. Hopefully.

  Before he could move, a red fireball hit him from the side.

  He staggered.

  Another hit him from the other side.

  He wasn’t hurt, but he was blinded and thrown off balance for a moment. He backed up out of the bubble of hot air he was now in.

  Goblin shamans stood inside groups of regular goblins all over the gully, aiming spells at him. They’d held back when he’d been duelling the goblins earlier but now strove to protect their leader at all costs.

  The goblin chieftain, clutching his wound, sprinted in the direction of his sword, desperate to reclaim it.

  The fey lashed out, and fingers turned to multiple wooden needles that shot right at Yaz.

  He dodged, lopping one finger off and getting an unearthly howl from the glowing yellow mouth in return.

  Arwin’s voice called from the edge of the gully. “Yaz! Yaz! Run!”

  The former knight backed up, first slowly, then with greater speed. He itched to wipe out this entire encampment, knowing they would be a dire threat if allowed to continue unchecked. The goblins and their fey ally were already large enough to wipe out a village. And they would only grow more powerful.

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  But he wasn’t going to be able to finish them off on his own. It would be suicide to try. Against regular goblins, he might triumph, being relatively immortal. But a magical being and a magical sword swung the odds against him.

  The fey’s fingers dove into the soil once more.

  Yaz turned and ran. And almost ran face-first into a giant carnivorous flower swelling up from black foliage in front of him. He lashed out and bashed the dark pink bud before it could fully blossom, the enchantment on the axe crushing the thick, spiny petals. A cloud of green spores and droplets of acid burst forth.

  Goblins tried to bar his way, but he chopped them down like fodder. A pair attacked Arwin up on the gully rim, but they were only armed with daggers, and Arwin punched and kicked them back down the side of the gully.

  More fireballs exploded on either side of Yaz.

  An echoing shriek carried through the air.

  Yaz glanced over his shoulder as he ran.

  The fey dryad squirmed, the lower half of its body trapped inside a massive, white calla lily.

  Yaz would have blinked in surprise if he’d had eyelids. Instead, he turned his skull forward again and bolted up the edge of the gully to join Arwin.

  A white-and-green nymph ran up at the same time. That must have been her magic used on the fey!

  “Run!” Arwin repeated. He took off.

  The nymph sprinted away — in a slightly different direction.

  While correcting course to follow her, Arwin nearly toppled.

  Yaz was right on their heels.

  The three ran through the old forest, feet stirring up beds of brown needles, weaving around trees both standing and fallen, many with trunks as wide as a house. For a minute or two, they were pursued. Fireballs crashed into tree trunks or exploded in the air. Goblins chattered and screamed warcries.

  But goblins also have really short legs compared to humans. The trio soon left the monsters behind.

  Arwin called out to the nymph, “We’re holding you back. Just go. We’ll be fine on our own.”

  She gave a worried glance in the direction of their pursuers. “That…creature. I do not know what it is. But—“

  Before she could finish, the bark of a redwood tree in front of them seemed to melt, a black-and-yellow portal opened, and the fey dryad emerged, angry eyes glowing. It reached out and grasped the nymph in one large hand, lifting her off the ground.

  She yelped in fright and struggled, kicking to get free, but the knobby fingers pressed into her flesh and denied her.

  Arwin lowered his shoulder and ran straight into the dryad, his muscled frame slamming into it at full speed. And, of course, he bounced off like he’d run into a tree, wincing in deep pain. Because the dryad pretty much was a tree.

  Yaz ducked the dryad’s other hand as it reached for him. Then he swung the axe and lopped the arm off at the wrist. He was about to do the same to the other arm to free the nymph when hard, black roots grew out of the ground. They coiled up his leg bones and yanked him down to the dirt. He grunted. Looking up, he tossed the axe in Arwin’s direction, where it fell by his side. “Arwin!”

  The other man groaned as he pushed through his pain, scooped the axe up with one hand and aimed himself at the dryad. With a fierce swing, the half-moon blade dug into the black trunk.

  The dryad battered his back and shoulders with its cut limb. The hand was slowly regrowing.

  But though Arwin faltered with each hit, he continued to chop, and the heavy enchantment broke through the wrinkled, black bark of the dryad’s torso. Yellow sap appeared from a crack.

  The dryad hissed and bodily turned away, slapping Arwin with the hand holding the nymph and knocking him down.

  Arwin began to rise. The edge of the axe gleamed yellow from the light of the fey’s eyes and mouth.

  The fey threw the nymph at him and backed up, opening another dark portal before disappearing into it. The roots around Yaz retracted, and the fey was soon gone.

  Yaz pushed himself to his feet, eye sockets scanning the forest around them in case the creature decided to appear out of another tree. He waited, but all was quiet. Even the sounds of the goblins had ceased. They must have given up the chase. For now. Which was odd. They had to know that letting anyone escape risked others finding out about their nest, and that would spell the end of the tribe.

  The nymph’s worried voice rang out. “Are you ok?”

  Yaz turned back to his new friend. The nymph was helping him to his feet.

  The young man grunted. “I think I may have broken my shoulder.” He looked badly beaten and had a new wound in his thigh, but he stood on wobbly legs. “You ok?”

  She tenderly checked him over as she answered, “I’m fine. Quick. Let’s meet up with the others back at the glade.”

  Yaz stooped to pick up the axe and was dismayed as the haft, badly cracked, broke apart at last, rendering the weapon useless. The half-moon fell to the first. “Wolf piss. Could have used that.”

  Arwin questioned Yaz as they walked, Arwin slowly limping. “What was that tree thing? Treant?”

  “Fey dryad.”

  “Are those…common here?”

  “Not at all. Fey creatures come from another world, like you do. A world most often unfriendly to all others. The fact that fey and goblins are working together spells big trouble.” He mused for a few moments. “We’ll have to warn the local villages.”

  The nymph shook her head, long tresses waving as she did. “Two of my sisters have already gone to do that.”

  Arwin paused his steps for a brief second as he thought of something, then continued walking. “Hey. We can’t go back to the glade. The goblins know it. They’ll be coming for you, won’t they?”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “We’re going to a different place nearby. We’ll meet my sisters there and help you heal. Then we’ll decide what to do with ourselves.”

  Yaz added, “And we’ll go on our way. We have a quest to fulfill. Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing an end to those goblins personally. And the fey, though making enemies of them is dangerous indeed.”

  Arwin reached out and put a hand on Yaz’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming for us. That was…incredible. Really.”

  The nymph turned to Yaz and gushed appreciatively as well, though she did keep her distance, perhaps uncomfortable with the undead. “Yes…friend. Thank you! You were very brave.”

  Yaz bowed his head in return. “Don’t burden yourself; it’s what I do. I’m a knight. Or I was.”

  Arwin lightly rattled his bones. “We find that princess, and you get to be a knight again, right?”

  Yaz chuckled. “Perhaps.”