Book 5 Chapter 12

Joan struggled to make her way closer to the golden tree, slowly crawling her way through the leaves and confused villagers.

For once, luck was on her side. Everyone was either too confused, too scared or too sick from the sudden teleportation to impede her, instead just staring in bewilderment at the surrounding fae. Most didn’t even seem to notice when she slid past them.

“Where are we?”

“Who are you?”

“Why are you doing thing?”

People started yelling, seeking their answers and after a few moments there was another loud laugh that seemed to make the air shake. “Why, do you not recognize me? No. I suppose not. You mortals live such short lives, don’t you? I am Lord Neverdale of the Autumn Court. The creator of this absolutely breathtaking scheme and, soon, the winner of a grand wild hunt to speak of for centuries. You must have so many questions, allow me to enlighten you of just how foolish you all were.”

Joan rolled her eyes. Of course. The moment the fae felt he’d won, he decided to talk about how brilliant and superior he was. Well, as stupid as it was it at least worked in her favor. The more he bragged the more time she had. As annoyed as she was that it was him, she couldn’t help being a little grateful that the fae who pulled this little trick was one of the few who could match the Hero in terms of arrogance.

“The Golden Despair, a flower as rare as it is beautiful,” Neverdale said, his voice filled with a giddy whimsy. “For you see, the Golden Despair doesn’t feed off water, air or soil like other plants. Oh no. The Golden Despair feeds off pain, suffering, misery. A hundred years of suffering. Every death filling its roots with power. Every tear watering its branches. Every single scream, fearful whimper and second of pain making it grow. A seed of pure beauty, sprouting amongst the pain and despair of such… lesser creatures as yourselves,” Neverdale said with another laugh. “Judging by the beautiful golden sheen of its bark, this tree has absolutely gorged itself on your little village.”

Joan struggled to clamp down her rage. She’d get him for this. She’d make him pay for this. Had he really subjected all of these people to this so many times? Made them suffer and await an impending end? Had she really let it pass as the Hero without any response?

“Now, the final moment of despair,” Neverdale said. “A wild hunt. The rules are simple. You run. We pursue.” Low growls began to be heard from the woods around them and large, strange wolves began to rise from the leaves. Their bodies seemed to be made of vines and leaves, though it didn’t make them any friendlier looking.

“You can’t do this!” a voice yelled out. “The Chosen are here, they’ll stop you!”

“Oh,” Neverdale said. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. The Chosen, you say? A shame, then. Because they aren’t here with you. Did you really think I had spent the last century waiting for this to all come to fruition, just to let a small thing like that stop me? The Chosen were already led away. Now? There’s no way for them to arrive here. Perhaps they’ll make their way here, eventually. But by then you’ll all be long departed from this realm.”

Joan felt her stomach twist slightly. The threats that had come up and drawn the Hero away, had Neverdale been responsible? Had she fallen for his tricks just as easily then and left all of these people to die? She was going to make him pay, she swore. She was close. So close. If she got to her feet and ran, she was certain she could make it to the tree in a few seconds.

But it’d be obvious. Nobody was going near the tree. It was dark, but nowhere near dark enough that she could sneak over there. As arrogant as he was, as certain as he was of his victory, even he would surely notice her crawling towards it.

Or would he?

She glanced down at the obsidian ring on her finger. A gift from Andreas. A simple, if now very useful, magical ring. Allowing the user to cloak themselves in the shadows. To think she’d wanted to toss it aside because it was just another simple ‘hide and run’ tool.

Granted, she wished it was something a bit more powerful. Something that could hurl blades of darkness would be useful, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Joan focused on the ring for a moment, the shadows moving to wrap around her and hide her from view. She then flicked her wrist three times, each time a knife appeared in her hand. She paused a moment before she inched forward, through the leaves and praying he wouldn’t notice.

“Please,” One of the villagers pleaded. “Why? Why are you doing this? We’ve never hurt you! You were our hero!”

“Oh, I am a hero,” Neverdale yelled with another laugh. “Just not of you. But no, I am a fair huntsman. I will give you all, oh, let’s say five minutes. Then the hunt begins. For many of you? It will be your final minutes, so use them wisely.”

Joan took a deep breath before tossing the knives up into the air. The first slit through the stem of the flower, making it jump slightly to the right. The second missed, narrowly missing the plant itself. The last knife severed the stem entirely and the flower dropped from above, into her open hands.

Part one was done. Now came the important bit. How well could she leverage it? She reached up a hand and placed it against the strange fruit. Despite the fact it looked like crystal it was actually quite soft.

“Well? Flee. Run!” Neverdale yelled before giving another laugh. “Nothing can save you now.”

Joan blinked a few times and stared up at him. Had he still not noticed her? Was he really STILL too busy patting himself on the back to realize what she’d done? She really hoped she’d never been that bad as the Hero.

“Run little prey, put on a display worthy of the… of the…” Neverdale’s words trailed off and Joan could see he was looking right at her.

“This?” Joan asked before holding up the flower and ending her shadowy spell, her hand wrapped around the fruit. Time to play her cards. “Hope it wasn’t important.”

“WAIT!” Neverdale yelled, lifting a hand towards her.

“Why should I?” Joan asked. “You just said you’re going to kill us regardless, aren’t you?

She could almost see him sweating, his eyes locked on the fruit. Then, very slowly, a smile formed on his lips. “Not kill you, no,” Neverdale said. “A hunt, child. That is all. A game. Those who flee will--”

“Please don’t act like I’m stupid,” Joan said. “You’re not the first fae I’ve dealt with and you’ll likely not be the last. I know what a wild hunt is. I also know how this plays out. So, as things are, I have little reason to not destroy this right now.”

“Child,” Neverdale said, an edge to his voice now like a knife. “If you damage that fruit I will dedicate the next century to making you wish you were dead. The suffering you--”

“Oh spare me the threats, Neverdale,” Joan said. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with far worse. I know why you need this and I know just what will happen if you don’t have it anymore. I’m curious, did you already promise it to the archfey, or were you planning to surprise them?”

Judging by the look of fury on his face, that was not the answer he expected. Not that Joan could blame him. He’d won, they were all here. If she didn’t find a way out of here, then she’d just have to trust the Chosen to use the information she’d given them to save the world. As it was? Joan had nothing to lose. If her options were die, or piss him off a lot and die more painfully, it wasn’t much of a choice. She’d pick the second option every time.

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“You can’t begin to understand the forces you are tampering with, mortal,” Neverdale said, his form flickering slightly. She hated that about fae, you could never be sure what you were looking at. When they wanted to be beautiful, they were absolutely breathtaking. But now? He looked so much larger, darker, frightening. His eyes practically glowing red, the little bit of light peaking through the branches above making ominous shadows over his form.

Joan glanced around at the other fae above. Whispering amongst themselves. Fortunately, none of them seemed interested in moving against her. Yet. She imagined to them it was absolutely hilarious. Watching a ‘mere mortal’ mess with the host of their little game. She spent a few seconds to look around at the villagers.

Many of them were still on the ground, confused, frightened. Some looked ashamed, some looked to her with the same look of hope she had so often received as the Hero. Some were curled up, holding themselves, or each other, trying to keep themselves calm.

Hope that someone would save them. Fear of what would come. Shame at being powerless, of having to depend on someone else to rescue them.

Then she saw Rab, collapsed on the ground, seemingly asleep. For a moment she felt anger. Of all the times to be taking a nap, why would--

Of course. If he lured away the Chosen, obviously he wasn’t taking many risks. It took a few more quick glances to realize the few members of the Crystal Phoenixes she could see were all asleep. She really was alone here. But she wouldn’t be forever. She frowned when she realized she couldn’t see Zorn. Hopefully he wouldn’t interfere.

“I really can’t,” Joan said before glancing back down at the flower in her hands. “I just know that, in the end, the only thing I can do to get you back is destroy this. I also know that the Chosen are going to come back and find out what you did. They might not be able to come here. But if another one of these trees pop up anywhere, they’ll likely destroy it. So at the very least I can make sure whatever you needed this for will never come to pass.”

With those words, she plucked the small fruit from the leaves holding it. She braced herself and cast a spell she really, really didn’t want to. The golden leaves burst into flame and she tossed them into the air, moments before they turned to ash.

“STOP!” Neverdale screamed.

To be honest, Joan was thankful for it. She quickly moved her hand down to her side, hoping he couldn’t see just how badly it was shaking. It was just a little fire. Her fire. She had control of it, it couldn’t burn her. Even if it did, so what? She’d been through worse. It wouldn’t hurt as much as other things. Calm down. “Or what?” Joan asked, her hand wrapped tightly around the fruit.

“If you damage that fruit, I’ll make every last one of you suffer in ways that you mortals don’t even have words for,” Neverdale said, his voice quivering with rage. He was starting to turn red, the trees around him seeming to become darker, with branches that reached out like strange claws. She really hated this realm, the way it seemed to distort itself to the things around it was so unsettling.

On the up side, she was beginning to suspect that he had already promised the fruit to the archfey. If he failed to deliver, well…

She clenched the fruit a little tighter. “You can have it back, but there’s a cost.”

“Fine,” Neverdale said. “I will send you back. You may--”

“No,” Joan said. “Not me. All of us. Call off your hunt, send everyone back, leave them alone. That’s my cost. No more hunts, no more tricks. I want your solemn vow that you will not cause any more harm to them. Nor will you direct any of your friends to do it, either.”

Neverdale stared at her, his eyes narrowed. However, after a moment, he shook his head. “That I cannot do.”

“Why not?” Joan asked. “Don’t you want this back?”

“A hunt has been promised,” Neverdale said. “It cannot be called off, regardless of what agreements I make. The hunt will continue.”

Joan took a long, slow breath. The Hero had survived a wild hunt before, could she? Hell, he’d survived Neverdale’s hunt before. But she didn’t have a ton of power, magic or the Star to do it with this time. All she had was her knowledge.

She glanced back down at the people of the village. There were more faces of hope this time. More belief. More desperately asking for her to save them. Silently pleading with her to be their hero.

She had to at least try.

“Then hunt me,” Joan said. “I’ll be the target of your wild hunt. Under four conditions.”

“Conditions?” Neverdale asked.

“I get a ten minute head start,” Joan said. “You send everyone here to their village and leave them be, forever. There’s a time limit, after which I win. After all, not much of a ‘game’ if I can’t win, now is there?” Joan asked. Oh, he was getting madder and madder, she could see it. The way the area around him was turning red. The other fae were looking amused at his conundrum, at least. Now she just had one more card to play. “The final condition. Whoever wins the hunt gets this,” Joan said, before holding up the fruit.

“WHAT?” Neverdale asked, the fury radiating off his voice.

“Ten minute head start, everyone but me goes home, there’s a time limit and the winner gets the fruit,” Joan said with a small smile.

“And if I refuse your terms?” Neverdale asked, staring at her with a look that would have burned her to ash if it could.

“Maybe I crush the fruit, maybe I burn it. Hell, maybe I just eat it. It seems soft enough,” Joan said with a shrug. “Your choice. You have your hunt either way. But there’s only one way you get this.”

Neverdale was silent for a moment before, very slowly, a smile formed on his lips. “Very well, then. How about this. I will send all of them back to the remains of their little village. Then, for as long as you can evade the hunt, they will remain there. Should you last until, oh…” He glanced up at the sky. Not that there really was a proper ‘sky’ here in the Realm of the Fae. “Dawn, you will win. I will hinder them no further. You may even keep the fruit.”

Normally, Joan would have been more worried about the fact he was smiling. But she’d played this game with him before, even if he didn’t know it. So she knew exactly what would happen once the terms were agreed. She took a slow, deep breath before putting both her hands together around the fruit, holding it close. When she did, she felt the amulet pushed against her chest.

Ten minutes would be enough time to do what she needed to do. The amulet would be what she needed to make it through his first trick. All of the fae would want the fruit, either for themselves or as a means to exert power over Neverdale. Or perhaps they’d give it to the archfey in his place. Infighting would only buy her more time. Best of all, dawn was far enough away. There was no possible way she’d last that long. But if there was enough time remaining before she ‘won’, then they wouldn’t panic. Would toy with her. Would mess with her. Would delay. Would prolong her desperate, impossible hunt. As long as victory looked impossible, even Neverdale would continue along on his game, if for no other reason than to draw more satisfaction when he won. To make her despair as powerful as possible for opposing him. She just had to hope that it would be enough time for her to be rescued.

Assuming the Chosen would come for her.

Joan shoved that thought aside. Of course they would. They were her heroes. They wouldn’t leave her behind, so long as they had a way in. She could depend on them. She knew it. They’d come, they’d save her. All she had to do was give them the chance.

“Deal,” Joan said. “That’s more than-- grrk!” A sharp pain shot through her leg and she looked down. Sure enough, there was a small viper in the leaves, slithering away. Its fangs having bitten her, injecting its venom into her body. It burned for a few seconds before she could feel the amulet taking effect, nullifying the poison in her body. Still, she shuddered before ‘falling’ to her knees, a hand over the bite mark.

“You can’t--” A voice called out from the villagers. They never got a chance to finish, as they then disappeared. Joan felt a little sorry she couldn’t let them know she was okay. But part of her plan depended on the fae not knowing either.

“Well then, human,” Neverdale said. “Run along, now. You’d best find a place to hide. Who knows? If you hide enough, perhaps you may even last until dawn.”

“You cheating bastard,” Joan said through gritted teeth.

“Time is ticking,” Neverdale said again.

Joan turned and, as best she could, crawled to her feet and ‘limped’ away.

Once she was out of sight, however, she started running for real.

The hounds, letting the Chosen know where she was, ensuring that she couldn’t be tracked by magic and setting up some traps for the fae. It might be cutting it a little close, but she could do this. Play Neverdale at his own game. Entice him into believing that he’s still winning and the trap wouldn’t snap shut yet.

Joan gave a silent prayer to the gods to thank them for letting things actually go to plan for once. While also asking them to, please, let the Chosen hurry.