The light let go of him, and Cormac landed on wet moss instead of the dirt of the forest he’d left behind.
Fog sat low and thick between the trees, unmoving except where it thinned and thickened on its own slow schedule.
Above the canopy the sky had gone a deep, bruised blue with no sign of morning in it, and the branches overhead had grown into each other so tightly that no real starlight came through at all.
Sir knight solidified beside him at the same time, sword already drawn, the blue cloak settling around him with its usual faint whisper of age.
“A curious forest,” sir knight murmured.
“A curious everything, lately,” Cormac muttered back, and then went very still, because the fog around them had just moved wrong.
They came from the fog itself, pale and thin, the rough outline of a head here, a trailing edge of what might once have been a limb there, dozens of them, then hundreds, drifting between the trunks in loose, hungry little clusters, faces hollow and lightless.
‘That’s a lot of uninvited guests.
Let’s not introduce ourselves just yet,’ Cormac thought, flattening himself against the nearest trunk.
He caught sir knight’s invisible eye and gave the smallest shake of his head.
Sir knight’s sword lowered, and both of them folded back into the tree-line and the dark.
From somewhere near them, a voice drifted down, light and entirely unconcerned by the fog full of hungry ghosts underneath it.
“No offense.
Would you please pass me my heel?”
Cormac looked at where the voice came from.
A woman sat perched on a high branch, one bare foot tucked beneath her, the other dangling loose and shoeless into the dark.
Moonlight caught the pale, wood-grained fabric of her gown, a small hat shading her face while she held a bouquet of leaves.
Somewhere in the branches above her, crows shifted their weight and said nothing at all.
‘More company.
Hopefully not trouble… Ok, a little trouble would be nice actually’ Cormac thought.
He did not answer her.
The question wasn’t for him.
It was answered a few moments later by someone else.
A figure in a long blue coat looked up to the crooked tree, still a little exhausted from the ghostly things, a small floating apple trailing close behind her shoulder.
She stopped short at the sight of a single silver-heeled shoe half-buried in the roots, bent, picked it up, and then looked up to where its owner sat.
“…
Who are you?”
“I am Druvis III, the owner of the woods.”
“…
The heels …
here you are.”
“Thank you.
Then I will come down and clean up the mess.”
Druvis dropped from the branch, balanced in the wet moss below, and raised both hands toward the swarm around them with her staff standing firm on the ground in front of her.
Green light bloomed from her body, cutting through the fog, and roots tore up out of the earth in answer, thick and fast, lashing through the drifting shapes in the air and pulling them straight back down into the soil they’d risen from.
Hundreds went in a single sweep.
Then hundreds more.
“It’s fine to land barefoot,” she said, roots coiling and striking around her feet with steady, unhurried precision.
“However …I don’t like touching them directly …
These invaders.”
For one moment, the green light reached far enough to catch the edge of the tree line where Cormac stood, throwing his shape out of the dark.
Druvis’ gaze flicked to him.
She said nothing.
The light passed, and the shadows folded back over him, and she turned her attention forward again.
The small floating apple near the woman in blue’s shoulder spoke up.
“She beats hundreds of them with one single move?!
Is it the power of her wand …?
No, the arcane circle she cast is pretty archaic.
She must have a European arcanum background.”
“It has been a long time since I saw the arcanist visitors,” Druvis said, roots still moving around her feet, cleaning up stragglers.
“Thank you for helping me expel the critters.
Then, as for the ones left …
Just as the wood prophesy in whisper—invaders, you shall offer your sacrifice for the peace.”
“Please allow us to assist you,” Vertin said, and drew something bright from beneath her coat while APPLe shimmered with his own light.
The last of the swarm went down against the three of them, root and light from Druvis and APPLe with whatever Vertin brought.
Cormac watched from his shelter of bark and fog with a thought, not one pale shape came anywhere near him.
‘Are they undead spirits?
They do look like ghosts’
They swarmed close, thick enough in places to blot out the ground, and every one of them curved around him, giving him two clear meters of untouched fog even as roots and light tore through their fellows on either side.
Light grazed him again as another cluster split cleanly rather than cross the gap.
Druvis noticed.
Her eyes flicked to him again, sharper this time, and then away, not ignored, simply put for later.
She said nothing about it.
She only watched him a little more closely after that.
“Finally, we are safe now,” APPLe said, once the clearing had gone quiet.
“Thank you very much for your help, Ms.
Druvis,” Vertin said.
“You ran a long way into the woods,” Druvis said, tilting her head slightly.
“Are you looking for the girl with orange hair?”
“Yes.”
“I ‘see’ her get rid of the critters, and take a dark green Bentley to the northwest.
The woods know where the visitors go, leading them astray, or to the light.
And your friend, she has good fortune.”
“The exit on the northwest …
It’s quite close to The Walden on the map.”
“The Walden?
Now I see.
You are also here for the Storm Gathering tonight.”
“What is the Storm Gathering?”
“It is a gathering of elite arcanists from all states.
Besides, celebrities and frequenters familiar with the barkeeper are also invited.
I think …
there will be the regular duel performances, a banquet that is too noisy, and the announcement of “good news.””
“Do you know what exactly the “good news” is, Ms.
Druvis?” APPLe asked.
“My apologies.
I am not interested in that.
Hmm …
but if you want to know the “good news,” you might as well take my invitation and take a look.
This is a secret gathering in a speakeasy.
It’s by invitation only …
and a stock coupon of at least 50,000 dollars is needed.”
“Stock?
Why does it always have something to do with financial securities …”
“We had a subscription agreement before, but …
it was burned by our friend …” APPLe said with some regret.
“…
That’s all right.
But you can actually get here with nothing.
‘Stock prices have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau.’ Have you heard about this?
Nowadays, cash is not used for transactions.
The application of arcanum has made stock exchange surprisingly convenient.
The urban agglomerations expand rapidly in the new era, and even the critters have lost their home.
Only loans and the infinitely soaring stock market could satisfy such a huge desire.”
‘A permanently high plateau?’ Cormac thought, grim under the amusement.
‘I think I know where this is going, maybe I’ve been thinking about Nazis too much.’
“It is similar to the history this APPLe knows, but sounds a little different …”
“…
This is the Gift Agreement for the 50,000 US dollars coupon.
If you’re still going to the gathering, take it with you.”
“You are not going?”
“Thank you for asking, but I …
do not want to leave the woods for now.”
Vertin took the offered paper and signed her name against the moonlight with a green fountain pen given by Druvis.
A plain, unmistakably male voice rose straight out of the page, pleasant and rehearsed and entirely too eager.
“Hello, I am your personal stockbroker.
Your grantee application has been received …
Application approved …
Account updated.
Thank you for your support to blue-chip stock.
The real estate market is on fire today.
Now we have customized recommendations for you …”
“We’re good, thank you,” APPLe said quickly.
“The exit of the woods is at the end of the road, next to the three cypresses,” Druvis said.
“I will leave you here then.
May the woods bless you with fortune.
And… If you see the barkeeper, please send him my best regards.”
Vertin inclined her head, tucked the paper away, and turned back into the trees the way she’d come, the small floating apple drifting after her, the fog closing over both of them within a dozen steps.
Druvis did not move to leave as she said.
She stood alone in the clearing for a long moment, the roots settling back into stillness around her bare feet, and then turned, unhurried, to face the exact patch of dark where Cormac had spent the whole conversation not being seen.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
She said it looking directly at him.
Above them, a crow gave one low caw, and another answered it deeper in the canopy, and the sound spread branch to branch until it had covered the whole stand of trees.
One of them dropped and landed on Cormac’s shoulder, head cocked sideways, one black eye fixed steady on the woman across the clearing.
Cormac said nothing.
Druvis said nothing further either, watching the dark patch of fog hiding what she can only see as a figure, patient and unhurried.
He took his fedora off, slow and deliberate, and pressed it once to his chest.
Then he bowed, retreated a step, and let the fog close back over him.
Druvis moved to follow, one bare foot already lifting off the moss, but the ground between them rose up in pale, hungry shapes before she’d finished the motion, another wave of the drifting ghost-like creatures rising thick enough to block the path entirely.
By the time the last of them had been dealt with, the clearing behind them was empty.
She stood there a moment longer, looking at the space where he’d been.
Somewhere deeper in the woods, moving calmly and thoroughly pleased with himself, Cormac thought,
‘Fifty thousand dollars in 1929.
I wish I could fleece that much off of someone… Maybe I should just steal it.
It’s not too late to switch to Marauder.’
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________ most of this is the conversation in game since most readers don’t know the story, I don’t like just copy pasting the convos though so I might just summarize them in the future, we’ll see so I’ll be posting the extra chapter right after this or tomorrow