7

KORATHAX WEED

Nameless hid in the branches above the large black cauldron and watched as Fiddlestick tended the stew. With every passing moment, he grew increasingly impatient. Since completing his mission with the human, he'd made a beeline directly for the cauldron, fully expecting to handle his task and be on his way; however, Fiddlestick hadn't taken his eyes off the pot. His whole plan hinged on getting the antidote into the stew before the human ate any, and he wasn’t about to allow Fiddlestick to ruin his plans. So, he’d come up with a lie, drop down, and give the second in command a reason to leave. All he needed was a good enough reason to make him leave and ensure that when things went south, Fiddlestick couldn’t trace the cause back to Nameless. Just as the germ of a plan started forming—involving some supposed instructions from Leadbelly—the big-bellied buffoon popped out of the darkness into the dimly lit circle below.

The red streaks running through his yellow eyes said the human had pushed the right buttons. If the man had any idea how short of a fuse Leadbelly had—especially when dealing with humans—he’d tread lightly. After all, he was more on edge than usual since the Master ordered him to capture the human. Still, the man was probably relatively safe since Leadbelly's fear of the Master was enough to keep his anger in check. After all, the Master was absolutely intolerant of failure. A fact Nameless fully intended to exploit.

“How much longer?” Leadbelly snapped. Reaching out, he snatched the large wooden spoon from Fiddlestick and slurped the stew. “Disgusting,” he said, spitting the juice back into the cauldron. “You’re sure this is what humans eat?”

“Absolutely.”

“You better be right, or so help me...”

“It only requires Korathax weed,” Fiddlestick interrupted.

Typically, interrupting Leadbelly was a sure way to get yourself a beating. Still, Fiddlestick was known for pushing Leadbelly’s buttons and getting away with it. Fiddlestick, through his knowledge of potions, herbs, and a few tricks he’d picked up from the Master along the way, had made him somewhat valuable to Leadbelly.

“Then add the Korathax!”

“Not yet, my lord. The stew isn’t hot enough to absorb the root. If I place it in too early, it won’t have its full effect.”

Nameless’ ears perked. Would the stew be hot enough to absorb the antidote root he planned to add when their backs were turned? He could only hope so since he'd likely only get one small window of opportunity to add the root.

“Well, you best hurry, or I’ll be forced to tear this human limb from limb. I nearly lost it when the filth called the Master’s city White Oak.”

Fiddlestick spat and muttered an ancient Wiggletwig curse.

“I should have ripped him to shreds,” Leadbelly said, waving his arms and kicking at the dust.

“Not to worry, my lord. The prophecies are being fulfilled, and the signs are sure. Soon, the Master will return to his rightful place, and Black Oak will rise from the ashes.”

“I don’t know if I can even look at his ugly face again without losing control.”

“Calm yourself, my lord. Soon, the Master’s guards will arrive and purge our village...”

“My village!”

“Of course, my lord, that is what I meant,” Fiddlestick corrected himself and bowed.

Smart, Nameless thought. Valuable to Leadbelly or not, Fiddlestick was cunning enough to only push the larger Wiggletwig so far. Long ago, Nameless had learned the easiest way to deal with Leadbelly was as simple as calling him lord and bowing. It was a ruse, of course, and soon enough, Nameless would execute his plan, and then all his worthless brothers would bow before him. Of course, he'd have to tear everything apart to reunite the Wiggletwigs under his command. Perhaps, he’d offer Fiddlestick the opportunity to remain as the second.

After several agonizing minutes of Leadbelly’s antics and Fiddlestick soothing him with flattering words, Leadbelly finally departed down the hill, and Fiddlestick wandered off into the night toward his tree. Seizing the opportunity, Nameless dropped to the ground behind the cauldron. He pulled leaves and roots from the pouch tied around his waist and sniffed each before settling on the brown root with the sweet odor. Ripping it into tiny pieces, he tossed it in the cauldron, snickered, and scurried off into the darkness.